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Knife watches Suitcase through the mirror, how she carefully curls her hair. He pops open his gel, gelling his hair back slowly.
He then opens his eyeliner, rubbing it under his eyes. Knife likes to think he looks naturally intimidating, but the eyeliner is just the cherry on top.
Finally, he sits back, watching Suitcase with a small smile. Suitcase makes eye contact through the mirror, turning off her curler and grabbing her lip gloss.
“Ready to go?” he whispers.
She caps it and rubs her lips together for a second. “Yeah, I guess.”
Today was another Hotel OJ party. Usually, either Suitcase or Knife would sit out, but this time OJ had wanted full attendance, probably because this was right before Paper and his wedding.
Knife gets up, looking at himself in the mirror, then lazily popping the top button off of his shirt. Suitcase giggles a little, and Knife tilts his gaze towards her.
“What, you like what you see?”
“Whatever floats your boat,” she quips back, opening the door. Knife grins toothily, but instead of getting up, he falls back on the bed, arms splayed.
The door slams shut in the background, and he hears Suitcase snort. “Knife, we gotta go.”
“But do we? It’s just a party, let’s be fashionably late.”
“You said that before, and now we’re thirty minutes late.”
“C’mon, sit with me, Suits.”
Knife hears her heels clack on the ground, then feels his face get lifted up. Her fingers are laced under his chin, something that sends shivers down her spine. Her face is unimpressed, but she has a playful look in her eyes.
“You were also saying how much you want to get black out drunk. You can’t do that here.”
“Mmmph. I guess.”
“And OJ is gonna get pissed at us.”
“I guess.”
“So, get up. Let’s go,” Suitcase grabs his wrist, the contact sending a soft shiver down his arm, making his arm hair stand up. Knife lets Suitcase lift him up, then exits the room.
Knife isn’t a weirdo, but he does like seeing Suitcase. It’s not his fault she’s so cute. Especially with that black dress she’s wearing. Knife forces himself to look away as they enter the elevator to go down, acutely noticing Suitcase’s eyes on himself.
They land on the ground floor, the sounds of the party flowing their ears. Suitcase hops out of the elevator, making eye contact with Balloon and waving. She turns around, smiling widely at Knife. “I’m gonna go to Balloon now. I’ll find you later. Go have fun. Don’t make stupid decisions.”
“I’ll have fun, but I can’t promise ya on that last part,” he smirks, carefully scanning Suitcase’s face. The way her sweet brown eyes roll, the cute smile that lifts her face.
“Just don’t go complaining about your hangover tomorrow.”
Knife snorts a little and shoves her slightly, walking towards Pickle and Bomb. He keeps Suitcase in the corner of his vision. His best friend, and his nothing more.
After that finale, being able to call Suitcase his best friend felt like it should’ve been obvious. After everything they went through? No one could relate that much.
So, when they got to choose their roommates, Suitcase immediately asked him. And, after being able to spend as much time together as they have, Knife can’t help but admit that she feels like… more than a friend to him.
But, no matter. Tonight was for Knife to forget everything.
Pickle hands him a controller as he sits down. Knife throws it back, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and not even bothering to grab a glass.
“S-s-s-someone’s feeling risky,” Bomb says, smiling.
“Yeah, I’ll just watch y’all. I haven’t gotten drunk for a long time. Just, uh, make sure I don’t do nothing embarrassing.”
“We’ll try,” Pickle says, turning on the game again.
Knife rolls his neck, and takes a big gulp of the alcohol, feeling it scrape against his tongue and down his throat. God, it’s been so long, since probably before season two, that he’s been able to just unload like this.
Pickle shrieks in dismay as he loses a game, and Knife kicks his leg sullenly. “C’mon, Pickle, lighten up!”
“Easy for you to say! You haven’t lost BFDIA 5B seven times in a row.”
Taking one more swig from his glass, Knife feels a shudder go through his body, and he smiles at Pickle. “You’re right! I haven’t! Because I’m too busy having a goood time. C’mon, you can play this any day!”
“And you can get drunk any day.”
Knife scratches his chin, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, but it’s not every day I have a hot chick waiting for me at the end.”
Pickle raises an eyebrow. “Suitcase? Ohhh, you think she’s hot?”
“Wwwwwell, o-o-of course he does! H-h-have you sssseen how he a-a-a-a-acts around her?”
“Yoo, shut up!” Knife drawls. “I mean, yeah kinda. Can you blame me? And she even told me to have fun, I- I mean, I’m can have fun and not get yelled at!”
“Ahh, explains why you went straight for the alcohol. Well, I hope you both have fun later. You’re a very honest drunk, y’know?”
“I mean… yeaaah?” Knife takes another sip, expecting to feel the liquid stream down his throat, but realizes he finished the bottle. He sets it down, then pinches Pickle. “Heyyy, can I have more alcohol?”
Pickle’s eyes widened. “YOU FINISHED THAT?! That was like… half full! That’s a lot of whiskey. No more for you, mister.”
Knife groans, letting his head flop on Pickle’s shoulder. The night bores on, intercepted by a speech about true love! and marriage! by Paper and OJ, but Knife doesn’t pay attention.
Soap ends up leaving, surprising Knife because he didn’t even register that Soap and Mic even joined them, and Knife realizes that almost everyone is leaving. Suitcase is still in animated conversation with Clover and Balloon (and Nickel), and Knife settles into glancing at her while looking at Pickle and Bomb’s game. And, not to brag, but he’s being really conspicuous.
Finally, Knife feels a tug on his shirt, and he glances up to see… Suitcase.
“Suitcase! Hi!” He exclaims.
“C’mon, we gotta go.”
“Whhhyyyy?”
Suitcase raises an eyebrow. “Everyone else has gone. Oh Meeple, you’re wasted, are you not?”
“Uuuugh, I guess.”
“You guess? Gosh, come on.”
Suitcase slips an arm under Knife, hoisting him up. He sees like a few other people - so Suitcase lied, how could she? - but lets Suitcase hold him because he can’t lie - he likes the feeling of her arms around him.
He’s pretty sure he could walk by himself, but Suitcase looks cute, all red trying to carry him. Knife isn’t big, but he’s certainly not small (hmm, how did i mean for this to be read? even i can’t answer that), and Suitcase isn’t that strong. Eventually, Knife takes most of his weight on his legs, but still keeps an arm around Suitcase.
In the elevator, Knife can’t keep his eyes off of her - can you blame him? She keeps glancing into his eyes, then away, then at his eyes.
And then, Knife has the smartest realization! What if, he tells Suitcase how cute she is. He knows she’s had issues with her confidence in the past.
“Y’know, Suits,” he drawls as the elevator reaches their floor and he stumbles out of the elevator, “you look, like, really cute.”
She freezes. “H-huh?”
“I mean, you always look good, even when you’re not dressed up. I always notice that.”
“Y-you do?”
“Yeah! C’mon, Suits, haven’t you noticed how, how,” he hiccups, “beautiful you are?”
“Not especially…” she mutters, sliding her key into the lock and stepping into their room.
Knife enters, tossing off his shoes, and hopping on his bed. The room is spinning for some reason.
“How drunk are you?” she mutters, sitting next to him.
“Pretty wasted. But I’m not lying when I say you’re beautiful. You are! You just gotta realize it!” He glances at her, seeing her red as a tomato without even having to lift his weight. “Aww, no need to get flustered!” Knife sits up a little, smiling in her face. “I- I think I might even love you!”
Suitcase’s eyes widen. “Love me?”
“Yep! Love you! You’re- you’re awesome! Mhm, I love-love-love- you!”
“Wha- no you don’t. You’re just drunk.”
“Mmm. I might regret this in the morning, but I know I mean all of my words. Wow, you think I’m a liar?” Knife raises an eyebrow and chuckles.
Suitcase looks at her feet. “There is no way this is happening.”
“Better- b- believe it baby!” Knife strokes his hair, feeling the hard gel in it. He groans throwing one leg on Suitcase’s lap and flopping on the bed.
“C’mon… get up.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Then what do you wanna do?”
“Glad you asked!” Knife smirks playfully. “I want to kiss you.”
“Kiss me. Really?”
“Yep, I’ve wanted to forever! I’ve just… never thought you wanted to kiss me back, or something. And I didn’t want to ruin this friendship.”
“O-oh. Well…”
“Well, what?”
“…I would be fine with you kissing me…”
Knife throws up his hands, sitting up. He hates to admit it, but he’s dreamed of this. Of Suitcase actually wanting to kiss him. “Really?!”
“I… mean, yeah.”
Leaning forward, Knife smirks in her face. “You’re sure?”
“Stop being a gentleman and just kiss me,” Suitcase mutters.
“Didn’t know you were the forward type,” he whispers back, before kissing her.
This is, by no means, his first kiss. He’s kissed Paper, Fan, some other random people that don’t matter right now because he’s with Suitcase. He’s kissing Suitcase.
Suitcase gasps, but leans into the kiss, which makes Knife smile. He pulls back after a few seconds, smiling happily at her.
Suitcase brings a hand up, as if in disbelief that this happened. Knife just smiles.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asks involuntarily.
She raises an eyebrow. “Only if you sleep right after. You seem very drunk.”
“If I get to kiss you, sure.”
“I’ll do you one better,” she says, then she pushes up and kisses him. Hard. Knife tilts his head, feeling his head start panging from his escapades. But, Suitcase was kissing him.
And nothing could be better.