Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Only visible by the gleam of moonlight on his blade, Knife sat on a cliff in the forest, looking at the stars. He preferred being away from the other contestants when they weren't competing, leaving him with plenty of time alone with his thoughts. He'd usually reflect on the state of the show; his performance, what the next challenge might be, and more recently about all the conflict among his fellow contestants. But lately, there was something… or, rather, some one else on his mind as well.

Knife prided himself on being one of the more mature contestants as of late, keeping level-headed while everyone else had some sort of issue to work out with people they considered friends. He didn’t get involved and tried his best to keep to himself no matter what he noticed others going through. Sure, it got lonely sometimes, but he was content with the person he'd become, especially in comparison to how he used to act.

But, of course, he had ended up making one exception; Pickle.

He had known Pickle ever since the first season of Inanimate Insanity. They were on different teams, and so they'd never really talked to each other. Knife hardly ever thought about him beyond an acknowledgment of his presence.

After OJ won the first season of Inanimate Insanity, it was decided that everyone would live together in his new hotel, at least until the next season of the show. During the first few weeks living there, Knife had somehow ended up playing video games with Pickle on the regular. They ended up being each other's go-to second player since they both liked video games and didn't hate each other, requirements that a surprisingly small number of people met on Knife's end. 

Pickle ended up becoming his friend in a way, though most of their conversations were about whatever game they were playing, so their friendship didn't seem to be anything notable. It just worked out, whenever one of them wanted to play, the other would join. It was comfortable and didn't feel like it needed to be anything more.

There was the rare occasion where their conversation would deviate. Pickle had mentioned Taco a couple of times, never in a positive light, but never in a particularly bad light either, Knife had noticed. He just assumed Pickle had a lot of feelings about her that he was sorting out on his own, so he didn’t involve himself. None of his business. He just obliged with throwing the letters she'd written him into the fireplace; who doesn’t like an excuse to set something on fire?

After a few months, MePhone4 came back to host the second Inanimate Insanity season. Once everyone who would compete had been chosen, he did admit, he was a bit disappointed to see that Pickle hadn’t joined alongside him. He'd realized that Pickle was the closest thing he had to a friend (besides his Dora doll, of course) at that point.

Nevertheless, Knife continued with competing in the season. He tried his best in every challenge, got blackmailed, broke his leg, and had his most valued possession and the only thing he considered a friend destroyed-

...Actually, things weren't going too smoothly so far, and he'd given up on expecting them to start getting any better.

Before everyone began competing in Episode 7, MePhone4 had ended up in jail for a day, resulting in OJ hosting in his place. He had the contestants clean his hotel; but more importantly, everyone still competing had a chance to talk to eliminated competitors and everyone who hadn’t competed. Knife had planned to go and talk to Pickle but hadn't found an opportunity to do so besides defending him when Balloon had insulted him.

But… noticing how Pickle had reacted at his mention of Taco, Knife felt like it had become more important to talk to him. Of course Knife was going to break his own rule of minding his own business, it was obvious Pickle needed some sort of advice or comfort, and he'd feel awful about it if he didn't at least try.

After cleaning a few windows and sweeping a few rooms, Knife took a break to try and find Pickle. He eventually found him on the couch in the lobby playing video games. On the small table next to the couch sat a picture frame of him and Taco having a picnic, which worried him even more. He took a breath, began forming some sort of plan, and walked over to the couch.

“Mind if I join?” Knife asked.

A chance to at least give him some sort of advice. To try, at least.

“Yeah, sure, I guess… as long as you’re not here to break the controller or whatever.”

Knife instinctively growled. He wasn't sure if it was because Pickle assumed he'd do something like that, or because he didn't want him to. He didn’t dwell on the thought for too long before trying to bring up the photo.

“So, that’s an... interesting photo you got there.”

“Yeah, okay .”

He felt defeated- why did he even care that Pickle was brushing him off like this?! Just bring up Taco, it shouldn't be so-!

“Ugh! I can’t get past this level, I’m done with this.”

Okay, okay. Here goes nothing.

“Pickle! You can’t play the game that way. You have to be willing to go back in and try again. Just because you failed once doesn’t mean you’ll fail every time.”

“…Wait, what do you mean?”

“You can’t let one bad experience ruin it. Otherwise, you’ll... never move on to the next stage.”

Pickle paused, seemingly contemplating his words.

“...Wow, that means a lot, Knife. Nobody’s really been there for me lately.” He hadn’t heard Pickle say his name in so long.

“Um, I was just talking about the video game.” He hoped it was obvious.

“Really.” Pickle said, unconvinced.

The knowing look on Pickle’s face made something deep inside him tremble, a feeling he couldn’t bring himself to name.

“I was! Um, goodbye!”

Despite Knife’s embarrassment, Pickle seemed to appreciate the advice, so he walked away, swinging his arms and looking aloof. But he couldn’t stop himself from taking a moment to look back and smile. He didn’t say everything he wanted to, but he was still glad that he could be there for Pickle, and that he got to see him and talk with him after so long. Now, back to the challenge.

After MePhone4 came back from jail, Apple was eliminated, and the episode ended, everyone who wasn't competing in the season waved goodbye. Even Pickle had left the hotel to give Knife a wave as he left with the rest of the contestants, prompting a grin and a finger-gun in place of an urge to run back and hug him.

And so there he was, weeks later, still thinking about Pickle and all of the missed chances he had to talk to him when they were still together in the hotel. Over time, those thoughts trailed off into wondering about when he could see him again, and those inevitably trailing into a realization that he swore to himself he would repress and deny for the rest of his life:

He... might be just a little bit in love with Pickle.

Not even because he’s one of the few people he considered a friend! He’d had plenty of friends over the years, but had never felt this way about any of them. Pickle was just easy-going, and had a great sense of humor, and enjoyed the same things as him, and was always caring and lovely...

And wasn't it just his luck, that falling in love would ruin the entire identity he'd been building up for years.

Chapter Text

“You can’t play the game that way. You have to be willing to go back in and try again. Just because you failed once doesn’t mean you’ll fail every time.”

After a few hours of playing video games in his room, Pickle decided to head to bed. But the past few nights, no matter how hard he tried, all he'd been able to think about while trying to fall asleep was Knife.

His life advice thinly veiled as pointers for a video game had been genuinely helpful. He'd realized he was so hung up on Taco that he wasn't allowing himself to move on and spend time with people who were really his friends. Pickle didn't enjoy being miserable and paranoid that everyone was going to end up using him, even when he could rationalize that wasn't true. So he decided to begin making an effort to move on.

There were plenty of things to do and people to become close to in the hotel! Salt and Pepper were attempting to start a fashion club, the Cherries were forming an improv troupe, and OJ and Paper were in talks of starting a yoga class. He didn't have an excuse to spend his time moping, or at least he didn't want to have one. His struggles and insecurities weren't going to be alleviated overnight, but not making an effort at all had done nothing but worsen them.

And it wasn't like Knife wasn't the only person in the hotel who played video games. There was Tissues, who… well, just sneezed all over the controllers and screen, Trophy, who always threw a huge fit whenever he didn't win, and Yin-Yang, who just argued with themself until they couldn't even play the game anymore. He would play with Apple, but she didn't know how to play any of the games in the hotel and was impossible to teach.

He'd been trying to get to know all the new contestants that had been eliminated. For example, he'd gotten to know the Cherries fairly well, but they were busy working on recruiting members for their improv troupe and pulling pranks. Pickle wasn't very good at improv and didn’t feel like doing something that could harm others' opinions of him while he was still pursuing new friendships. Tissues was gross and always tired, reminding him too much of himself at his worst. Box was, well, not exactly the best conversationalist, Yin-Yang was annoying, and Trophy was rude  and  annoying.

On the thought of Trophy, Pickle did have good reason to hate him now that he was reassured that Knife was still his friend. He remembered watching Trophy blackmail him while watching early episodes of the new Inanimate Insanity season and feeling horrible the entire time. Knife didn't deserve to be treated so badly just because he liked a doll. It just made Pickle miss him even more.

Admittedly, he'd ended up pretty lonely without not one, but two of the people he had considered good friends as of late.

...

He  really  wished Knife was still with him in the hotel.

If only he were in Season 2, or if Knife wasn't. The next time he'd get to see him would be if he got eliminated, which he doubted would happen any time soon, or after the finale, which was even further away. So instead of thinking he was missing Taco, he was just genuinely missing Knife. Great.

Well, he supposed it was better than whatever he'd been feeling about Taco. She betrayed him, but... he missed the Taco that was random and fun and who he thought was his friend, even if she didn't exist. He ached knowing how long he spent missing a person who wasn't even real, and after so long he'd finally realized his best friend was imaginary.

There was a point where he thought he loved her or had been in love with her, but now he knew he didn't. He never did. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

“You can’t let one bad experience ruin it. Otherwise, you’ll never move on to the next stage.”

He could be sure of that because Knife would never betray him like she did.

...

Wait.

Pickle jolted up from his bed and covered his mouth, eyes wide, his train of thought coming to a screeching halt.

"Oh man," he muttered to himself, hands now on his cheeks. He'd started blushing, he could feel it.

Pickle flopped back onto his pillow with a long sigh, hands still pressed onto his face. He wished himself luck getting any sleep that night.

Chapter Text

Knife muttered to himself about having to spend another night trying to sleep outside instead of in a nice hotel and a comfortable bed. Despite not seeming to be the type, he did enjoy living in some sort of comfort. But no, the softest thing he had slept on lately was grass.

With all his persistent thoughts about Pickle, Knife had remembered the first time he'd talked to him; it was after Pickle been eliminated in the first season and they were both on Idiotic Island. Knife, ever the brilliant jackass he was, decided to make fun of him for it. After some argument and cutting words from, ironically, Pickle, the conversation ended up friendly to Knife's surprise. It was a weird start to their weird friendship, and one of the few times Knife could think back to the way he'd treated others in the first season and not feel entirely ashamed.

He'd also been thinking about their time spent together between the first and second seasons. Specifically whenever Pickle wasn't able to play video games with him and he'd end up pretty miserable. Knife figured the feeling was from not having anyone he cared to spend time with around rather than missing Pickle in particular.

With his feelings more realized, Knife missed him even more than he did then. Too much for comfort. It was about nine o'clock at night, nothing was technically stopping him from just sneaking into Pickle's room and spending some time with him besides some rule from MePhone and his producer saying he can't leave the show parameters.

Hm.

Knife stood up and started to walk through the nearby trees, not thinking of anything besides how to climb the side of a hotel.

After some hiking, he approached the shrubbery next to Hotel OJ. There were a few windows with lights on, most notably a dim light in what he assumed was Pickle's. Having lived in the hotel for a while, he had a rough idea of where his room would be.

He jogged towards the hotel past the orange trees near the building. Approaching the hotel, he stood under the windows that led to Pickle's.

As quietly as someone climbing the side of a building could, he hopped onto the bit of outer windowsill on the closest window. He began to climb up, grabbing the edges of each window until he hung from the window that was presumably Pickle's. He couldn't say for certain yet, curtains blocking the view inside.

Using the last bit of strength he had, he tapped on the window, hoping he wasn't about to be seen by some random contestant.

Suddenly, every part of him that usually kept him from making impulse decisions filled him with doubt. " You don't just climb the side of a building to see someone you're hardly friends with! I should just climb down, Pickle probably doesn't even want me here, or-"

Before he could change his mind, the curtains were pushed to the side, and there he was.

"Holy shit!" Pickle yelled, muffled by the glass.

Knife snickered at his reaction. To be fair he'd do the same if he saw someone outside danging his window. He smiled and waved quickly to not fall off.

"Here, let me help you in," Pickle said, opening the window. He grabbed Knife's arm and helped pull him into the room.

To Knife's surprise, Pickle wrapped him in a warm hug as soon as he was in.

"What are you doing here? Pickle asked, letting Knife go. You know you're not allowed here, right?"

"Well, I, um... just wanted to see how you were doing was all."

Pickle raised an eyebrow. "I'm doing alright, the advice you gave me about… um, the game, really helped me. Thanks, by the way."

Knife smiled awkwardly and gave him a finger-gun. "No problem.”

Pickle smirked and put a hand on his side. "But... is that really the only reason you came here?"

Knife's expression shifted as he tried to come up with an answer. "Well..." His instincts to being nonchalant and impersonal battled against his desire to be himself with Pickle.

Looking away, Knife muttered, "I was… kinda lonely, and I guess I wanted to hang out with the coolest guy I know." That was almost it.

"Aw, I'm the coolest guy you know? That's so sweet!" Pickle turned around, and thank god too because Knife definitely felt himself blush at that comment. He took the opportunity to close the window behind him.

He turned to see Pickle holding two controllers, offering one to Knife.

Knife grinned, now noticing the small television in front of Pickle's bed. Pickle went to turn it on, as well as the game console that sat on top of it. Knife sat down at the end of his bed, Pickle sitting next to him shortly after. They both kept quiet until they got to the game select screen. Without asking, Pickle chose the game that he and Knife played together the most, the same one that he was playing back when Knife had given him advice.

"So, how's… hotel life been treating you?" Knife asked stiffly, figuring it was as good a conversation starter as any.

"It's been alright, I guess. Pretty boring, actually..."

"Hm?"

"Yeah, like, there are things to do around the hotel, but not many are that appealing to me. Nobody here is fun to play video games with either." Despite what he was saying, Pickle smiled as he continued.

"Oh my god, there was this one time I tried to play with Trophy- he seemed pretty cool at first even with what I'd seen on the first few episodes of II," Knife was taken a bit aback by that; he'd forgotten that everyone in the hotel was watching the show.

"...but after I won in a match against him he started yelling about how I cheated, how the game was unfair, and about the controller being broken, then he ripped off the analog stick and left."

Knife chuckled. "You can see why everyone else hates him, right?"

Pickle hummed in agreement. "Must've felt good kicking him into the portal."

"Hah, yeah, he had it coming."

"Yeah! But, yeah, nobody's here who won't break the controller, sneeze on it, or is too busy to play at all."

"Geez, must be glad I'm here, huh?" Knife said, nudging Pickle and grinning.

"Yeah, I am." Pickle replied, earnestly enough to make Knife's heart melt. After realizing he'd just been staring for a moment, Knife quickly changed the topic.

"We should start playing then, right? Since you've got someone to play with now."

Pickle hadn't even realized that they’d just talked for a few minutes instead of starting the game. "Oh, right." He opened the save files menu and went to make a new one, the first being 100% completed.

"Woah, you finished the whole game?!" Knife was genuinely impressed, the game wasn't easy to complete, especially towards the end.

"Yeah, I, uh, had a lot of free time." Pickle said sheepishly.

"Nice, mind beating the entire game again then?"

"You plan on beating the whole thing in one night, sharp guy?" Pickle teased.

"I bet I could, or at least not take as long as a certain reject cucumber I know,"

Pickle snorted at that. Knife's heart swelled.

"...but actually, I could, uh, come back some other time to finish if we don't tonight."

"I'd like that." Pickle smiled. "But we're gonna have to actually start if you really plan on finishing this." Pickle teased again.

Knife grinned as Pickle started the new save file.

They spent the whole night playing through the game and catching up with each other. Knife complained about how awful the show was for him so far, and briefly about how he missed his doll after it was destroyed. Pickle talked about considering joining the Cherries' improv troupe and made fun of Knife for when he said "knife-eriffic" in the triathlon episode.

"That was so dorky, I wasn't expecting that from you!"

Knife covered his face and laughed as well. "I think there was a point I was trying to come up with a catchphrase?"

"Yeah, yeah, I also remember a "No More Mr.Knife-Guy?" That one was great too."

They both just giggled about Knife's nicknames, barely focusing on the game.

By the time it was one in the morning, they had only progressed a small amount, having been more focused on their conversation than playing well.

Pickle yawned, “Man, Knife, I'm gonna have to clock out.” Knife was admittedly tired as well, but had already decided he’d rather talk with Pickle than go back to sleep in a patch of grass. Despite that, he did think it would be best to leave if Pickle wanted to sleep.

"Alright." Knife stood up and began to walk towards the window. "Well, goodnight, and, um, I'll see you later."

"Wait,” Pickle asked, stopping Knife before he opened the window. “Where do you and the other contestants usually sleep? Like, tents, or a different hotel or something?"

Knife turned. "...No, I just sleep on a patch of grass near a forest, not sure about everyone else though."

Pickle’s expression changed to one of concern. "Sounds... comfortable."

"Not really. I've woken up with a mouth full of grass a few times."

Pickle chuckled at that. He was being sarcastic but decided not to correct him. 

"Would you... wanna sleep here tonight?"

Knife was quickly and visibly flustered, but tried his best to play it off as a joke. " Wow  Pickle, at least take me out to dinner first!"

"No! N-no, I meant, you know, my bed is pretty big, and it'd be nice not to sleep on the ground for once, right? You could just... leave early in the morning and not get caught by MePhone or whatever." Pickle hoped his explanation made the idea sound a bit more compelling, knowing Knife might reject getting a good night’s sleep for once with the caveat of being in the same bed as him.

In most circumstances, Knife would decline the offer, the thought of doing something so intimate rocking him to his core. But he was exhausted, and the thought of getting to sleep in an actual bed and spending just a bit more time with Pickle was calling to him much louder than the safer alternative. He figured he might as well make one last impulse decision tonight.

"Hm... yeah, six hours of sleep on a bed sounds better than what can barely be considered sleep outside."

Pickle went to turn off the television, the game console, and then his lamp. The moonlight from his window kept it just bright enough to see where the bed was.

Knife climbed into bed, Pickle joining him from the other side.

"Ah, here's to not waking up with a face full of grass." Knife said, stretching and sliding further under the covers.

"Here, I'll set my alarm so you can get up early." Pickle reached for his phone on his dresser and set an alarm for seven in the morning.

"G'night, Pickle."

"Goodnight Mr. Knife-Guy."

Knife snickered and swiftly drifted to sleep.

They woke up at just before noon.

Pickle woke up first. Upon seeing Knife he was a bit startled, but quickly remembered everything from the night before and sighed with relief. He noticed that his arm was interlaced with Knife's, and pulled it away awkwardly.

He panicked again when he picked up his phone to check the time. "Oh no..."

Knife started to wake up. "Mmf.."

"Knife, did the alarm not go off?"

He looked confused for a moment, then surprised. "No."

Getting Knife out of the hotel would be a lot more difficult now.

Knife got out of bed with a yawn and started stretching. "Man, that was the best I've slept in a long time. Thanks, Pickle."

Pickle smiled, despite his worries. "No problem, man. Well, you're gonna have to leave without getting caught now, so, uh, I could check and see if the hotel is busy right now,"

"Nah, nah." Knife waved his arms. "I've got it." He walked over to Pickle's window and opened it. 

"Knife, wait-" Pickle walked towards Knife to stop him, but before he could, Knife turned and hugged him tightly.

Knife let him go, grinned, and climbed out of Pickle's window.

Pickle laughed at the suddenness of the exchange, but still looked out the window with concern. Knife was climbing down the windows pretty easily, already nearing the lowest window.

Once he reached the ground and started to jog away from the hotel, he turned around for a moment to smile and wave to Pickle.

Pickle smiled and waved back, watching him disappear into the forest. He probably wasn't going to be caught considering how quickly he left, and that there wasn't going to be an episode recorded today.

They both had a pretty good night.

Chapter Text

Knife had been sneaking into Pickle’s hotel room to play video games and talk with him for a few weeks now. They'd ended up doing things besides play video games as well, like playing card games, watching movies, and listening to music (while singing badly) together. They’d reached a point where they considered each other to be close friends.

Pickle sat on his bed reading a book called “Improv 101”. He did end up joining the Cherries' improv troupe, more so as something to fill his time while he waited for the current season of Inanimate Insanity to be over rather than a real passion.

He also felt bad that there weren’t many members, but since Cheesy was eliminated he had joined (without any hesitation at all), so he did feel a bit better. Cheesy had also started doing stand up comedy shows at the hotel on Friday nights. He was actually pretty funny, as might come as a surprise to everyone who had seen the jokes he made during the show. They were so good that Pickle almost always went to them and had even considered recording a show to watch with Knife.

Suddenly, there was a loud thunk on his window, pulling Pickle out of his thoughts. He assumed it was Knife, albeit knocking a bit louder than usual. He quickly headed over to open the window so Knife wouldn’t have to dangle for too long. It was a bit early for him to come over, the sun hadn’t even set. He didn’t mind though and began opening his window.

Surprisingly, Knife wasn’t there when he looked down. Knife, standing a few feet from the hotel, laughed at Pickle looking down and reaching as though it were on instinct. Pickle looked up at Knife with an armful of rocks, having thrown one at his window. He ended up not needing as many as he had, having a pretty good aim. When he saw Pickle had looked up, he dropped the rocks and gestured for him to come outside.

Pickle was pretty confused, as Knife usually always came into the hotel rather than having him go outside. Regardless, he left his room and made his way to the front doors.

As he walked through the lobby, he was stopped by a voice just before he left.

“Where are you headed?”

Startled, he turned. It was just OJ, thankfully. Or rather, unfortunately.

“Oh, hey OJ, I was just…”

He was having trouble thinking of a lie since he couldn’t exactly tell OJ what he was doing, or rather, who he was going to see.

“…going to watch the sunset!”

OJ looked at him doubtfully. “You know you could go to the roof and watch, right?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to see it… around nature. So it's... more, um, authentic."

Real clever.

“...Okay, I guess. Just don’t stay out for too long.” He didn’t sound convinced but didn’t really seem to care either.

Pickle sighed in relief as he turned around and headed outside to where Knife had been standing. Once there he didn’t see him but heard him shortly after.

“Pickle!”

It came from behind one of the trees near the hotel.

Pickle approached it to find Knife holding a picnic basket and a checkered blanket.

“Sorry I took a while, OJ was in the lobby and… wait, why did you want me to come out here?”

Knife smiled and raised the basket and blanket. “Have you had dinner yet?”

Pickle began catching on to what Knife had planned and smiled. “No, but my dinner has been bagel bites and chips lately, so that’s probably for the best.”

Knife laughed and gestured for Pickle to follow him.

They walked through pine trees and up hills until they reached a secluded area near a cliff. There was a perfect view of the mountains, trees, and a lake below, as well as the sunset.

“Wow…” Pickle marveled.

“Pretty great, huh?” Knife said, putting the basket down and spreading out the blanket.

“Yeah… but anyways, a picnic? What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, just thought a break from pretty much just video games would be nice,”

Knife paused.

“…and don’t take this the wrong way, but, um, have you gone outside lately?”

Pickle thought for a moment and struggled to think of a time he had in recent memory. “You’re right, and this is proof,” he said, gesturing to the view below.

Knife finished spreading out the blanket and sat down, patting next to him. Pickle sat next to him as he picked up the picnic basket and put it in front of them.

"Where'd you get food?”

Knife looked caught off guard by the question. He rubbed the back of his blade and replied,

“Uh, you know how there was the episode when we had to bake pizzas? Well… the kitchens and ingredient dispenser are still there.”

“No way,” Pickle laughed, opening the picnic basket.

There were a few sandwiches, two jars of lemonade, and a plastic container with two cupcakes in it.

“Aww! Did you do this all on your own?”

“Nah, I actually got some help from Lightbulb with the cupcakes. She helped me in exchange for the other ten in the batch.”

“ Please tell me you didn’t need any help with the sandwiches.” Pickle joked, picking one of them up.

“No, no, I swear I know how to make sandwiches.” Knife laughed.

The scene Knife had set was relaxing and sweet. The sunset, the food, the conversation, it was just like a date.

Which they both realized eventually.

Knife worried that what he'd done was an obvious romantic gesture, one he genuinely didn’t intend. He just wanted to do something nice for Pickle, though that already had romantic connotations considering his feelings for him. 

Pickle wasn't sure if the romantic setting was intentional or not, but he didn’t mind either way. He talked with Knife, ate the food he had made, and admired the view, having a nice time even if it wasn’t intended to be as meaningful as he felt it was.

He did hold hope that the atmosphere was on purpose, though. It was nearly indistinguishable from a date, even the small things, like how they both reached in the picnic basket and their hands touched, or how Knife had made a cupcake specifically for him with green frosting. The only thing missing was the romance. But, of course, neither of them mentioned anything about it either.

Once the sun had set and they finished all the food and drinks in the picnic basket, they continued their conversation laying down on the blanket, staring at the stars.

“…I haven’t done this in so long. Just looked at the stars, you know?” Pickle said.

“I’ve done it a lot lately, having to sleep outside and all. I don’t exactly have a say in the matter.”

Pickle laughed softly.

“You know what, that reminds me that I should probably get back to the hotel. OJ’s gonna be mad if I’m not back soon.”

“…Oh, okay. I’ll walk you back so you don’t get lost.”

They both stood up and started to walk through the trees, leaving behind the picnic basket and blanket.

“Now that you’ve got a blanket you won’t have to sleep on the grass, huh?”

"I was just borrowing it. Still get the luxury of a bed of grass.”

“Damn. Well, you know you can always come over to my room and sleep. Probably not tonight though, I think OJ is already pretty suspicious of me.”

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, when I was heading out he was in the lobby and asked where I was going. I don't think he believed my excuse."

“Hm. Is he still strict with his rules?”

“Usually, but I guess not always since he let me leave so late. I wouldn’t put it above him to rat you out to MePhone if he saw you in the hotel, though."

Eventually, they reached the shrubbery near the hotel. They hugged each other and waved goodbye.

Pickle opened the doors to Hotel OJ and heard footsteps coming from the stairs. It was OJ again, looking a bit upset. He assumed it was because he'd ended up staying out so late.

“Hey OJ, sorry about coming back kinda late, I just-”

“Knife?”

Pickle felt his heart drop.

“I saw you and Knife near the hotel from my window.”

Pickle just stared at OJ, frozen.

OJ sighed and rubbed his temples.

“You know what? I don't care about whatever you’re doing with Knife as long as you don’t get caught by MePhone or disrupt business around the hotel.”

Pickle kept frozen. What did OJ… think they were doing?

Uncertain of how to respond, he awkwardly drifted towards the stairs. “Uh, thanks, and goodnight.”

OJ smiled. “Goodnight.”

Knife returned the blanket and basket he had borrowed from Suitcase and headed back to the spot where he usually slept.

He laid down and immediately began thinking of scenarios of the evening where he'd done something like hold Pickle’s hand, or confess how he felt, or...

It was the perfect setting, but he didn’t even know if Pickle liked guys, let alone him. And Pickle sure as hell didn’t know that Knife did.

It didn’t matter, no matter how hard he tried or how much he wanted to, he doubted he could allow himself to be open enough to confess to Pickle. All he could do was hope for the smallest chance Pickle would say something first.

Chapter Text

"Damnit!" Pickle exclaimed.

Pickle and Soap were playing a fighting game together, and Soap had beat Pickle for the third time in a row. After finding out about her love of video games, Pickle quickly became friends with her through them and started playing them with her during the day. Soap was skilled with a lot of the games they played, better than Pickle, at least. It had been nice to have someone else to hang out with even if he often lost to her. They had even become good enough friends that Pickle opened up about Knife to her.

Well, not voluntarily at first. She found out when Knife decided to surprise Pickle by heading in his room by opening the window himself, only to find Soap cleaning up. Pickle showed up just in time to explain before she ran and told OJ that Knife was breaking and entering.

...He may have also accidentally told her about his massive crush on Knife.

"Hah! I win again!" She exclaimed. "You weren't kidding when you said you weren't good at fighting games."

"Hey! I'm not good at any games!" Pickle joked.

Soap laughed and put down the controller. "We should take a quick break, my thumbs are starting to hurt.

"Alright." Pickle picked up the soda he had on the nearby table and started to drink it.

"Soooo... I haven't heard about him in a while, how's it going with you-know-who?"

Pickle stopped drinking and thought for a moment.

"...Knife?"

"Oh!"

Not much had happened. They kept going through the same routine of Knife hanging out in Pickle's room or Pickle sometimes leaving the hotel, and having the occasional gentler moment where they'd brush hands or say something sincere that he swore had to mean something but could never be sure. Same old, same old.

"Well, everything's been pretty much the same. Just been hanging out like normal."

"Hm... Have you thought about opening up to him? About your feelings?"

"...No. Well, I mean, I've thought about it, but I don't think I'll do it. Like, I might-"

Soap interrupted him. "Pickle, you should be honest with him. I told you, he won't think of you any different if he doesn't feel the same, and if he does, then that's even better!"

Soap patted him on the back reassuringly.

"You've really got nothing to lose, just... listen to your heart."

Pickle sighed.

She was probably right. He doubted Knife would be upset with him, and there were at least a few signs pointing towards him feeling the same.

He was getting pretty tired of lamenting the fact that he could have told him or done something every time Knife left his room.

"...Yeah, you're probably right. I'm going to try to tell him soon, I guess." Pickle sighed.

"You'll tell me how it goes?"

"I mean, besides OJ, you're the only person I can. But, yeah."

Soap smiled. "Well, if you need encouragement, I'm always happy to offer some!"

Pickle smiled back. "Thanks, Soap."

"Of course! Now, let's get back to this game, I'm ready to win for the fourth time in a row!"

Knife sat in the forest on top of a rock, hands covering his face with his elbows resting on his knees.

His feelings were becoming unbearable, he just wanted to let all of it out. It was easy to channel his thoughts about the game and the drama with all the people in it, but this was different. It was personal. He hadn't felt this way for anyone in a long time, in fact, he wasn't even sure if he ever had. And not even just in the romantic sense, Pickle made him comfortable being the closest to his fullest self and made him happier than anybody else.

He wanted desperately to know if all this time he'd broken rules to spend time with Pickle was anything more than a boredom cure to him, if he felt anything whenever they'd sit a bit too close or when they'd hold hands for a moment when Knife led him to spots on the island he'd never been to before.

He felt his chest ache and his heart flush when he thought about Pickle, he wanted to give him the world, he wanted to tell him he loved him and that he deserves better than the life he's gotten, he wanted to tell him he's handsome and charming and wonderful, and he just wanted to hold him and kiss him, and...

He just wanted to say,

"I'm in love with Pickle!" Knife yelled.

He had gotten so lost in thought that he hadn't realized he had stood up and said that out loud; emphasis on loud .

He slapped his hands onto his mouth and began frantically looking around for anyone that could have heard him.

It seemed the coast was clear.

Until he heard the sound of leaves rustling.

Knife turned around to see Lightbulb, peeking out from behind a tree, staring at him.

Knife froze in place, mortified.

"What's up, blade-bro?" she said as she walked out from behind the tree.

...

"...Did- W-why are you out here?" Knife stammered.

"I could ask you the same thing! What are you doin' screaming in the woods?" Lightbulb exclaimed.

Knife just stood there, face blank, despite panicking on the inside. Did she even hear what he yelled? He decided to turn around and ignore Lightbulb, hoping she would leave on her own. She cleared her throat.

"Pickle?"

Knife froze again, and after a moment of considering whether to threaten her or beg for her to not to say a word about it, he gave up and slowly collapsed down onto the grass, covering his face with his hands.

Lightbulb hesitated for a moment, but walked next to him and sat down.

"Don't sweat, I'm not gonna tell anyone."

"...Then why don't you just leave?" Knife growled.

"Well, I'd say you were bottling up a lot if it could make someone tough as you scream their feelings like that."

He kept quiet.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No." Knife snapped.

Lightbulb cocked her eyebrow.

He sighed.

"...Fine."

Knife sat up, crossed his arms, and looked away from Lightbulb. He sighed again, as she just sat and stared at him patiently.

"He's really cool and sweet, I guess. I like him a lot, more than anyone."

He felt awkward telling her this. They weren't even friends.

"I sorta wanna tell him, but it might mess up things between us."

Lightbulb nodded. "I get what you're saying, that's no fun at all. But you gotta believe that he's still gonna like you even if he doesn't like-like you. And you can't just keep bottled up forever, you feel?

Knife gave her a look of judgment for the way she phrased it, but just rolled his eyes and turned away again.

"Don't tell anybody." He threatened, pointing his finger at her.

"I gotcha!"

Lightbulb stood up and began to leave.

"...Thanks." Knife muttered.

Knife turned around just enough to see her walk backwards and finger-gun him with a click of her tongue, and walk into a tree immediately afterward. Knife snickered quietly and turned back around. Despite her phrasing, Lightbulb did have a good point. This was exhausting, he should just say something about it and get it over with.

Begrudgingly, he promised himself that he would try to tell Pickle the next time he saw him. That, of course, didn't stop him from being terrified of the worst outcomes from doing so.

Chapter Text

It was another evening following the status quo of Knife sneaking into Pickle's room to hang out for a few hours. The change of pace over the past months was very welcome, especially in comparison to the state of things before they'd begun spending time together again. This time around they decided to take a break from playing games to watch a movie. A horror movie in particular.

"Pretty risky choosing a horror movie when I'm definitely not supposed to be here." Knife chimed as Pickle put the movie on.

"Oh please, It won't be scary enough to make you scream. Well, I mean, OJ had to make Salt and Pepper stop watching it because they kept screaming, but, like…"

"They're them?"

"Yeah, that." Pickle smirked, joining Knife on the edge of the bed as he used the remote to play the movie.

He ended up being right, the movie was awful. It was predictable and was only considered a horror movie because of the jump scares and blood. It was still the kind of bad movie that was fun to watch ironically, so it wasn't all bad. Once it progressed to a scene where the murderer held a knife above one of the protagonists, Pickle smirked and looked over at Knife.

"You know, knives aren't that scary..." he joked, winking at Knife and elbowing him gently. Knife snorted and leaned into his hand, Pickle smiling for having made him laugh. 

No longer paying attention to the movie, a loud and sudden scream from the movie's protagonist made them both jump and gasp.

"Come on , the only time we actually get scared is when we aren't even looking?!" Knife complained with a grin. Pickle hesitated to reply, seemingly distracted by something. Knife hadn't even noticed; Pickle had grabbed his hand when they had jumped.

"Yeah, that's... pretty lame." Pickle eventually replied.

Pickle still hadn't let go. Knife felt his face become warm and hoped it wasn't visible in the room lit by nothing but the sun that had almost set and the television screen.

Knife decided not to say anything about it unless Pickle did. He held hope that he wouldn't let go, and for once, didn't try to convince himself he felt otherwise. Struggling to pay attention to the movie, Knife gathered his courage and eventually interlaced their fingers. He gave a careful glance at Pickle to see his reaction, but couldn't see him entirely in the dark. 

He couldn't help but begin worrying that Pickle didn't want to hold hands but didn't want to upset him. He felt embarrassed by how intimate small things like holding hands was to him, and felt like it was really stupid he couldn't just watch the damn movie instead of-!

His thoughts were interrupted by Pickle rubbing his thumb over the side of Knife's hand. It felt so natural, like he'd done it a hundred times before. Like it… wasn't weird. Knife felt that was a pretty convincing argument to stop worrying about the situation.

They held hands for what remained of the movie, eventually making commentary and jokes like they were before. Out of fear or because questioning it would make it harder to believe, they didn't bring it up once the movie had finished, eventually letting go of each other's hands without a word.

"...That movie sucked. Sorry for making you watch that." Pickle apologized.

"I had a pretty good time making fun of it." Knife replied, smiling sweetly.

"Hah, well, yeah, making fun of bad movies is pretty fun, I guess."

There were a few moments of silence as Pickle got up to put the movie's disc back in its case. 

"Well, it's pretty late now, so, if you wanted to..." Pickle cut himself off mid-sentence, biting his lip.

"...hey, Knife?"

"Hm?"

Pickle hesitated. It felt like now was a good time to try and be honest with Knife.

"...Thanks for all the time you've spent hanging out with me, and for opening up to me so much. I know you aren't the best with that, so I'm… glad I could be an exception."

Knife's face flushed.

"I was...really happy when we started hanging out again, and I'm still really happy every time we do.  You  mean a lot to me, Knife."

He finally looked at Knife.

"Thanks."

After a moment of staring that felt like an eternity, Knife stuttered, "N-no problem! I mean, you mean a lot to me too! I-I love you,"

Pickle felt his heart skip a beat. Knife panicked and instinctively tried to back out of being too sincere.

"...you're my best friend."

Pickle paused before replying. Something didn't feel right about that sentiment.

"That's really sweet of you, Knife... I love you too."

Pickle watched Knife's expression change. He looked surprised, but he kept from making eye contact.

Knife moved his gaze to his and Pickle's hands, still sitting on the bed. They were close enough to touch again.

He looked up at Pickle, and they just stared at each other. Neither of them started talking again or started another movie or started doing  something  normal, but were getting close to not minding.

Knife changed the position of his legs from hanging off of the edge of the bed to laying by his side to face Pickle.

Pickle slowly lifted his hand to the side of Knife's blade. It was dull, and didn't hurt his hand to hold. Pickle slowly ran his hand down his blade as Knife made a valiant effort to steady his breathing. Pickle started to move his other hand towards Knife's cheek, which he noticed hurt more than holding his blade. He'd begun blushing hard, making the surface warm. 

"Knife," Pickle said gently.

Knife reciprocated the contact and moved his hands to cradle the hand Pickle held on his cheek. Pickle's hands moved, one sliding down to the back of Knife's tang, his other on the back of his blade. He fluttered his eyes closed and he started to lean in towards Knife.

It's too much.

I don't deserve him. I don't deserve this to be so easy.

I need to back out, or I'll regret it. I always do.

Suddenly, Knife pulled away and let him go.

"Um, hey. I've gotta go."

Pickle didn't expect...  that . He thought they were going to…

"Oh, um…?"

"You know, um, it is getting late. Well, um, goodbye." Knife stammered as he stumbled over to the window and opened it quickly. He started climbing out before Pickle could even process what was happening.

Pickle came to his senses and ran towards the window, looking out at Knife already letting go from the window closest to the ground and jogging towards the forest.

Pickle clung to his windowsill and stared out, trying desperately to understand what just happened. Things must've been moving too quickly, or he'd misinterpreted things, but he knew that Knife's excuse had to be a lie. He didn't have anywhere to be but away from him.

He began walking out of his room and towards the stairs of the hotel without thinking. He made his way down the stairs, through the lobby, and out the doors, ignoring whoever was sat on the couch that watched him rush out. He hurried towards the part of the forest that his window faced. He went through what he hoped was how they got to their usual picnic spot, though he was uncertain if he was heading in the right direction as not only was it dark out, but Knife usually led the way.

Eventually, Pickle came to a break in the trees, having found their picnic spot, but with Knife nowhere in sight.

He looked around, his emotions welling up. He hoped for the best but still thought of the worst reasons as to why Knife would leave in the middle of a moment like that. He was terrified that this was it, that he'd messed up too badly and that Knife would never want to see him again, and that he wouldn't get an answer as to why beyond the guesses he could make from how he left. 

He could feel himself on the brink of tears. He didn't want this to happen again.

"Pickle?"

Knife cautiously walked towards him from the trees.

As much as seeing Knife brought him some sort of relief, it also quickly brought him to his senses.

"Oh, oh my god. I shouldn't have followed you. Sorry, I just… you obviously wanted to be alone, I'm sorry. I'll go."

Pickle turned to leave but was stopped by Knife putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No, I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left like that." Knife apologized.

"Hey, it's fine, I get it if you didn't want to, uh..."

"No! No, I really did. I do."

Pickle looked up at Knife.

"You do?"

Knife nodded quickly, now making eye contact.

"Why'd you leave?"

"I'm not used to… this. I didn't… I didn't think I was  this  not used to it though." Knife looked miserable, and began lowering to sit down. Pickle joined him.

"It's really okay Knife, you can take all the time you need, you know."

"I've taken more time than I need! I want to be used to this, no matter how…"

Knife sighed, lowering his gaze to his lap.

"But this is still the hardest thing I've ever had to do," he said, voice cracking at the end of the phrase.

Pickle found himself remembering how long Knife had been pretending to be a tough guy. Too cool to talk about his feelings, too cool for an intimate moment. But it wasn't like that now, was it? 

"I get it. It's not easy talking about feelings and stuff. For anyone, I don't think."

"Yeah, it's just… I've spent a lot of time being ashamed I was feeling… at all." Knife admitted softly.

Pickle stifled a longing to spew reassurances that Knife never needed to be ashamed of feeling, or how much he hated the thought of him living that way for so long. He knew a thing or two about loathing, and the thought of Knife going through anything even remotely similar made him ache. But he figured that Knife may already know some version of that speech, and he'd already come up with an idea he hoped was better.

"You know how when you talked to me on the couch? When OJ was hosting II?" Pickle asked.

Knife looked up from his lap, nodding.

"Well, you gave me some pretty good advice, and you were saying it like it was advice for the video game. But it was pretty obvious you were trying to help me out with... with life, yeah?"

Knife nodded again.

"Maybe you could do that again? Try talking about this whole situation like it's something easier to talk about."

Knife thought over the suggestion for a moment. "I could try..."

Pickle sat patiently as Knife took a moment to think of what to say.

"It's like I've been... playing a game for a long time in a certain way, and now I've realized that there's a different, better way to be playing it. But... I've been playing the old way for such a long time that even though I know playing differently would be better, it's really hard."

He paused, looking to check that Pickle understood. Pickle nodded gently, so he continued.

"I'm always trying to play in the different, better way, but... every time I have to do something different I have to put in a lot of effort. And... right now it's like I'm playing an entirely different game than before."

The realization of how new this all was for Knife began sinking in for Pickle as he continued listening.

"...and I know I like playing this way more than the old way I was playing, but that doesn't make it any easier to change. I still want to try right now though, I might just... need a little help."

Pickle put a hand on Knife's shoulder gently.

"...I wouldn't mind doing that. I could try to make things easier, the best I can." Pickle smiled.

Knife hesitated for a moment, but smiled back at him. His expression quickly changed to confusion as Pickle turned to face him.

Pickle took a deep breath. 

"Knife, I'm- I've, felt, uh," he stuttered in an attempt to form a confession, but eventually gave up, lowering his head into his palms with a groan.

"It's hard, huh?" Knife chuckled, giving Pickle a light pat on the shoulder.

"It's SO hard! I was so right! You were right." Pickle laughed into his hands. "I feel like we're on the same page but... god, it's hard."

"...Then maybe we don't need words." Knife said, easing his laughter. "Just for right now."

All of Pickle's luck in understanding Knife conveniently ran thin. Knife's mouth moved as though he were about to say something, but he bit his lip as he stopped himself. 

Instead, he gently put his hand on Pickle's cheek, prompting a soft “oh”. Soft enough that only they could hear. 

And it was just them, no one to judge them, no one to remember the moment but them. There was a wordless understanding that they'd run out of good reasons this moment couldn't be theirs, so Pickle leaned in again, and Knife met him halfway.

They kissed for just a few moments. Pickle thought Knife's face felt like a warm frying pan, the thought of where one would usually be filling him with a familiar fondness he felt when imagining a domestic life with Knife after the stupid show that kept him from doing this sooner was over. The thought made him smile into the kiss, but he figured he would've done so without thinking anyways. 

After pulling back, Pickle, despite smiling himself, was almost surprised to see Knife beaming, nearly crying.

"Hey," Pickle breathed, placing his hand on top of Knife's.

Knife chuckled nervously, clearly processing a myriad of emotions.

Pickle smiled, interlacing their fingers. After waiting a few moments, he began, "Do you want to-"

Knife cut him off with the press of his lips, catching Pickle off guard, though he didn't mind getting the answer to his question early.

The kiss was as gentle and simple as the first, anything more conceivably being overwhelming, but with an underlying warmth and excitement for having found the opportunity for something so intimate.

When they pulled away again, they both just smiled and held each other, basking in the revelation of affection being returned.

"I could get used to this." Pickle said softly, breaking the silence.

"You think?" Knife asked fondly.

"Yeah! I love it when you're sincere… makes me feel so special. Like when we're alone you're really yourself, how you'd be when you're alone, but I'm there too, and it just feels so intimate… I don't know, I'm just rambling."

Knife chuckled. "You always make me feel special."

"Aww. You do too, it's just been so nice seeing you like this."

Pickle raised his hand that held Knife's to press a kiss to it, making him giggle.

"Like that!" Pickle said with a laugh. "It feels so right, letting yourself be sweet, you know?"

"I think I'm starting to feel like it's right." Knife smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."