Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bomb scanned over the room of people yelling and dancing, he was just a little overwhelmed, only a little, by the loud music and sheer amount of people within the large room but he tried to stay mentally present and focused as Knife as he tried to explain exactly what they were going to do, he had to yell to be heard over the music but it was clear he was trying to keep his voice down with very little success and Paper giggled every so often, not even attempting to hide it with the loud music overpowering almost every sound made. Bomb was slightly worried; Knife had a reputation for stunts like this and there were rumours of Paper's involvement but Bomb? He had never even thought about stealing from anyone but here he was, about to steal anywhere from 5 dollars to well over 100 and it was making him incredibly nervous. Still, he tried not to focus on that and instead directed his thoughts on how much he could help his friends if he succeeded, maybe they’d get enough money that Knife could move into a better living situation since his current apartment was… not the best. Knife suddenly pointed at him.

"Pick!"

"Uh! Wh-what?" Bomb jumped back in his seat, his face heating up from either shock or embarrassment.

"Choose someone!" Knife loudly clarified, gesturing around the room at all the attendees, Bomb once again looked across the crowd and his gaze landed on a taller man with ginger hair, a little difficult to see through all the people but easily noticeable wearing a much brighter suit than many of the other guests.

"That g-g-guy! O-o-o-orange s-suit" He pointed in the general direction, Knife turned around to look and gave an approving nod, he then looked to Paper but Bomb was too focused on watching his chosen target to listen; he was actually quite attractive, he was laughing at something, his head was titled forward a little as he laughed into the back of his wrist for a few seconds before straightening his posture and continuing whatever conversation he was having, Bomb found his cheeks growing quite warm again as he continued to watch. He was snapped back into reality when Knife sharply called his name, the group of three discussed their strategies for a few more minutes before standing up and walking to their respective targets, Bomb was just wondering how Knife and Paper already knew the names of everyone here; they had probably actually done some research in preparation while Bomb had been randomly invited yesterday and decided just to wing it. He walked over to the taller man who was talking tall woman with green hair, tied into four buns, OJ noticed Bomb and flinched then quickly turned to face him with wide eyes.

“Hello!?” He called over the music, confusion and surprise still clear in his voice despite barely being heard over the music.

“H-h-hi, I- um- saw y-y-y-you and I th-th-th-think you’re r-r-r-really p-p-p-pr-pretty, or h-h-handsome! Whatever y-y-y-you prefer… Uhhh, w-w-want to dance?” Bomb wanted to slap himself, that was so bad! The man chuckled slightly and sighed; his face seemed a little redder than earlier, but Bomb was sure he was just imagining it.

“Can't say no to chance to dance to Rasputin.” He smiled and held out his hand, which Bomb took, and then he turned to the girl he was talking to “We can talk later?” she nodded.

“See you later!” She waved and then sent Bomb a slight smirk that he could not figure out the meaning of

“Bye Clover” the girl skipped off and the taller man turned back to Bomb and then took him over to the dance floor, their horrible dancing began and Bomb couldn’t help but laugh; the number of times they stepped on each other feet would probably be considered a crime by the other people in the room but he was having so much fun that he couldn’t find it in himself to care, the man was laughing loudly and smiling brightly at Bomb.

Ra-ra Rasputin

Lover of the Russian queen

There was a cat that really was gone

Ra-ra Rasputin

Russia's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

As they danced the taller tripped over his own feet and landed on someone behind him, who yelled a sharp "Hey!" at him as they harshly shoved him away, he stumbled into someone else and their heads collided, this person was considerably kinder but lost interest in making sure the other was okay them moment he found his way to Bomb. He leaned on Bomb as they started walking off the dance floor, Bomb realized how easily he could steal something, this guy seemed quite preoccupied with being in pain to notice something missing from his pockets, Bomb could do it so easily. He didn’t. They made it to an empty table where he helped the guy sit down and watched as he held his head in his hands and groaned a little anytime the music or crowd grew in volume.

“I’ll g-g-g-get you a d-d-drink! I promise n-n-not t-t-to spike i-it” Bomb tried to joke but he decided it was a bad joke and quickly apologised.

“Someone tried to spike my drink once, or that's what Pickle said when I got back from the bathroom” The guy pointed to two girls, Bomb wasn’t too sure if he meant the girl in black or the girl in white, but it didn’t matter right now, it was more important to focus on what was happening in this very moment.

“I’ll g-g-g-go g-get you that d-d-drink”

OJ drew in a sharp breath as another nauseating wave of pain overwhelmed him and he squeezed his head slightly, he wondered when that other guy was going to get back with that drink (hopefully it wasn’t anything alcoholic), that guy was kinda hot. OJ felt his face grow hot again and a smile appeared on his face, he was sure the guy was probably just trying to get some money out of him, but he was so nice that OJ thought he could just ignore that very likely possibility for tonight and have some fun. OJ will admit he got a bit of a fright when the shorter man had suddenly appeared next to him and he might have only accepted the dance because he had called him pretty, OJ was not a stranger to compliments but he had never been called pretty before; Hot, handsome, cute, and even smart but pretty? That was a new one, a very welcomed new one. Sudden screaming of lyrics pulled OJ from his thoughts and he clutched his head in pain as his headache flared back up, it felt like someone was holding and squeezing his brain into a bloody mush.

“I’m b-b-b-back!” he looked over to see the hot guy running back over “s-s-s-s-sorry I took s-s-s-so l-l-l-l-long, I was g-g-g-g-going to get you just w-w-w-water but then I r-r-r-remembered that this p-p-p-place does milkshakes so I g-g-g-g-got you one of those as-a-a-as-aswell” he placed a glass of water and metal milkshake cup on the table “i-i-i-it’s lime”

"Thanks" OJ mumbled as he slowly sipped the water, trying to will his headache away.

“B-b-b-by the way, wh-wh-wh-whats your n-name?” OJ almost spit his water out.

“My name!?” OJ’s smile grew as he realized that this guy couldn’t have been trying to get money out of him if he didn’t even know who he was, this guy really thought OJ was pretty. “Call me OJ” the guy smiled at him.

“B-bomb” Bomb said as he gestured to himself.

“Can I have your number?” the music quieted just in time so OJ could hear the sharp breath Bomb took before the new song started up.

“Yeah! I-I-I’ll put it in” OJ handed Bomb his phone and Bomb put himself in OJ’s contacts then handed the phone back, OJ sent a text.

Hi :)

Hello :D

OJ giggled and looked up at Bomb to see him staring at the dancefloor, he looked over (a bit too fast for his head's liking) and saw nothing but there was no way Bomb was that fixated on nothing. "Are you okay?"

"I think I s-saw T-T-Taco."

"Taco? Are you sure?" When Bomb nodded OJ stood up quickly, almost falling with his chair and making his headache so much worse, he needed to find Pickle.

Chapter Text

Knife placed his hands on Pickle’s hips and pulled him closer, he slipped his hand into one of his pockets and managed to grab some loose cash, he spun him around with one hand and placed the money in his pocket; he assumed that it wasn’t that much money because it wasn’t in any wallet. Pickle pulled Knife close and traced the scars on his face with two fingers, his breath caught in his throat as his face burned at the delicate touch, he leaned forward and Pickle pulled him in further by his hips, and then he gasped as the money he had taken was presented to him by the taller man.

“Nice try” Pickle practically teased him with the money, like someone holding a treat just out of reach of a dog, he looked closer at the bills and realized it was two fifties.

“Not my fault you carry $100 like it’s loose change” Knife rolled his eyes like he couldn't give a fuck but in reality, he was mourning their earlier interactions, he hadn’t expected Pickle to be so charming and he enjoyed the way he complimented his scars in such a kind and genuine way; he had never experienced that, his scars were usually either hated or sexualized and he’d just grown to accept that. Pickle chuckled and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer, Knife hadn’t even noticed how he’d stepped back when he took his money back.

“You’re lucky you look good” he winked at him, and he froze, Pickle noticed and let him go “Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable? I don’t want to-”

“No! No. Sorry, I- I’ve never been treated like this” Knife chuckled awkwardly, and the other man appeared surprised.

“Really? You’re pretty hot” he spoke bluntly then smiled again as he placed a hand on Knife’s face “You should work on your flirting though” Knife was about to respond but another voice cut in. A British voice.

"Insulting dates now, are we?" Pickle froze and the hand on Knife's face grew tense before leaving, the warmth from the hand remained on his face a few seconds longer "I suppose moving on is a rather tall ask for someone like you." The taunted man closed his eyes with a deep breath and turned around to face the short woman.

"Why are you here?" He muttered, quiet and miserable, Taco stood confidently as a smug look crossed her face; Knife wanted nothing more than to punch that look right off.

"Oh, you act like I've committed a crime just by being here, I didn't take you for the double standards type" Taco shot a glare at Knife, he reacted immediately, taking a few steps forward and throwing an uncoordinated punch that the short woman easily dodged "Wildly unnecessary. and amateurish" Knife resisted the urge to punch her again.

"What are you even doing here!?" He repeated Pickle's question, Pickle didn't seem pleased with this turn of events but remained quiet.

"Quick to make this about yourself. Yourselves." She turned her gaze back to pick for a quick second before staring daggers at Knife once more "I wonder, is your reaction about him... or Mic?" He refused to dignify her with a response, but he did discretely grab the handle of a dagger in his jacket, he felt like a coward but he knew this wasn't his fight so he stepped back, not completely part of the crowd but behind Pickle. Taco appeared as smug as ever, knowing she had stuck a nerve, she then looked over at Pickle who just avoided her gaze.

"Just answer the fucking question, why are you here?" Pickle's voice slowly rose in volume, breathy and brittle "Why won't you leave me alone!?"

"This isn't about you Pickle; it was never about you. I'm just climbing the ladder to success, and I don't apologize for using you to protect me from the broken steps; social status is just a game, a game I intend to win. It's not my fault you're just everywhere I need to be, and I can't help but remind you why you lost, sometimes I don't know why I bother with you. At least Microphone fights, she knows how to-"

"Leave my sister out of this!!" Knife ran forward with his dagger and drove it into Taco's arm, she gritted her teeth as she cried out in pain, she quickly punched him and he took his chance to pull the weapon out harshly, she tried to hold back a scream and ended up making a noise halfway to choking. The two continued to tussle, Knife mostly having the upper hand but losing his rhythm a few times due to him trying his best not to drop his weapon while also refraining from stabbing her again but soon Knife shoved her to the ground and held his dagger by her throat in an obvious threat before standing up and giving her gut a good kick before she could get up as well. "Get out of here you human-shaped swamp!" Taco glared at him, and he gripped his dagger tighter but she quickly turned and disappeared into the crowd, soon the only evidence she had been there in the first place was some blood on the ground and the bruises forming on Knife's body, for a woman who never did her own dirty work she surely knew how to punch.

"Pickle are you okay!?" Someone knew spoke up, Knife whipped around to face them and saw it was OJ, he glanced around the dispersing crowd to see Bomb and Paper talking, he was about to join them, but Pickle suddenly grabbed his wrist and stormed off with him (much to OJ's protest). Pickle dragged him over to a table and mumbled a quick 'wait here' before disappearing again, Knife sat down awkwardly and rethought the events; he probably shouldn't have stabbed her, it had been at least two years since he had actually stabbed someone (So what if he still had multiple different types of knives on him at all times, you can't prove anything!) and he wasn't sure how many loopholes he could exploit before he actually had to face punishment. Pickle returned with three different bottles of wine and set them on the table, he placed a glass next to Knife and then poured one for himself.

"I'm not really a wine person" Knife stated a bit sheepishly and he moved the glass a little further away from him.

"Me neither" Knife eyed the bottles of wine and the now empty glass that Pickle had practically chugged.

"Right..." God, what was he doing? He was just supposed to get himself some extra money and buy some actually good food for once, maybe another game for the PlayStation he stole and now he'd gotten stuck playing emotional support for his sister's toxic ex's first ex.

Knife officially hated himself for getting into this situation. He just had to plan for this party in particular, he just had to go for Pickle, and he just had to fight Taco. Pickle was pouring himself another glass from the second bottle and was quite drunk, he had moved on from the Taco drama and was now just chattering on about his seemingly chronic loneliness (Current topic being childhood), Knife had very deliberately decided not to drink so he could be a decent person and make sure Pickle got home but holy shit would a few drinks make this conversation so much easier. He cautiously pulled out his phone and texted Bomb while trying to make it seem like he was still listening and completely interested.

Bomb-Boy

Where are you?

I could use one of Pickle's friends right about
now

?

I need OJ. Pickle is drunk and explaining his
whole life story

You're a pretty good therapist ngl

But we left, OJ was getting antsy, and I
suggested that he go home and sleep

WHAT

WTF DO I DO

You left with him??
Read 1:37 am

Maybe Paper would be more helpful.

FLAT ASS

HELP

Police???

I don't see any yet

Are you sure

NOT THAT!!!

Pickle's explaining his whole life story

IT'S REALLY DEPRESSING

Don't be rude

PAPER

GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND HELP ME

WHAT DO I DO

PAPER

PAPER

PAPER

What

ATLEAST TELL ME WHAT TO DO

Idk make him stop drinking

Take him home before he passes out?

IDFK WHERE HE LIVES

Ask him

If he's telling you his depressing life
story then he'll probably tell you where
he lives

Now leave me alone

Still not the best-case scenario but at least Knife had some scrap of a plan, he sighed as he stood up and took Pickle's glass of wine out of his hands, he made no protest and just watched him with a curious drunken gaze, Knife grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his chair then pulled his arm over his shoulders to allow him to lean on him for support.

"Where... where are we going?" Pickle's speech wasn't exactly slurred per se, but it was nowhere close to how he had spoken when he was sober, Knife had hardly even noticed the change until now.

"I'm taking you home."

"Oh!" Pickle exclaimed cheerfully "Is your home nice?"

"What? No-"

"It's not...?"

"No! I mean- yeah...?? I- Oh my god. My home is shit!! But I meant I was taking you to your home." At that Pickle visibly deflated, it was a lot more difficult to keep him moving and Knife even caught a glimpse of Paper smirking from the crowd, if he wasn't trying to guide an incredibly drunk man out of the building he'd run over and punch that little smug grin right off his face.

"I don't want to go home" The taller mumbled slowly "I don't want to go back to life" Knife mentally paused, a certain relatability struck him, and he suddenly felt bad for the debatably pathetic man leaning on him "I'm going to wake up alone." Knife tried not to think of every morning when he had woken up on his shitty mattress in his one-person apartment with the only notification on his phone being an overdue system update.

"My apartment smells like cigarettes and cat piss, you don't want to go there" he half-heartedly tried to change Pickle's mind, desperately attempting to not let his heartstrings be pulled, he had unlearned this kind of behaviour years ago! This (hopefully unintended) guilt trip wasn't going to work.

"I love cats" Pickle simply stated and Knife knew he had lost. The two walked outside and Knife suppressed a shiver and the chilled night air attacked his exposed skin, he started guiding Pickle to his car but he soon took note of Pickle's sluggish body language and expression and realized he was probably going to throw up soon so he had the other kneel at the side of the pavement and lean over the bare garden; the held Pickle's hair and they just stayed like that for a couple of minutes, exchanging a few words before Pickle finally began to vomit, Knife cringed a little but didn't move as the taller practically threw his guts up. Pickle threw up a couple more times before he collapsed, almost into his own stomach fluids if not for Knife grabbing him under his arms and hoisting him to his feet, a little surprised Pickle had yet to pass out he continued guiding him to his car and helped him into the passenger seat.

"Last chance, sure you want to come to my apartment?" There was no verbal response, but Pickle just nodded a little so Knife started up his car with a sigh and began his way back home.

Chapter Text

OJ wasn't completely awake yet, he could still see the fading images of his dream but he slowly found himself becoming more aware of the fact he was dreaming and he could feel the bedsheets around his body despite the fact his dream had him standing, now that he was becoming aware of the waking world, he noticed himself snuggled with something warm. With the muddled drowsiness of the thoughts, he currently had, he pulled the source of warmth closer to himself and started to allow himself to slip back into the world of sleep until he felt something trying to move away from him, his sleep-fuzzled brain finally caught up to the situation and he came to the sudden realization that there was someone else in his bed. Without even thinking he sat up just to clutch his head in his hands and groan in pain, as he rubbed his face and brushed his fingers through his hair, he felt a lump on his head and the memory of his embarrassing injury came forth, he quickly checked his side to notice a large purple bruise blossoming where he had been elbowed "Great." he mumbled angrily. He felt the bed moving a bit and he looked over at the other person in his bed, his head ached as he searched through his memories for this person's name, Bomb? Bomb. Yeah, that's it. Bomb smiled awkwardly.

"Sorry f-f-f-for w-waking you, I just r-r-really need the b-bathroom" He explained before glancing around the room a bit and walking into the bathroom with some hesitance, OJ was left lying in his disbelief that he had completely forgotten about everything that happened last night, he didn't even drink enough to excuse it; he barely drank at all! His thoughts were forcefully turned to the pain he was in as his head throbbed, he laid back down and covered himself with the covers, deciding to just pretend he was asleep so he didn't have to deal with social interaction while his head hurt. Soon he heard Bomb emerge from the bathroom and approach the bed again "OJ? A-a-a-are you s-s-still a-a-awake?" OJ didn't respond; Bomb sighed and sat on the bed and after a long time of awkward silence OJ decided it was time to get up and actually talk to the man he invited over; he sat up again with the best 'just woke up' face he could manage and looked over at Bomb.

"Morning" He grumbled, cringing at the sound of his morning voice.

"Oh! Hi! I h-h-h-hope you d-didn't mind me st-st-staying" OJ shook his head with a yawn and stood up

"No, no, it's fine" He replied as he walked to his kitchen, Bomb trailing behind, he opened the cupboard and eventually grabbed some unmixed pancake mix "Pancakes?" he offered "Just some cheap stuff" the other nodded as he leaned on the bench and OJ got to work making breakfast, occasionally asking about allergies and what Bomb wants with his pancakes, their conversation was pretty bland and dry (mostly on OJ's end) but they managed to keep it going without creating an overly awkward atmosphere. OJ stacked the pancakes and handed the plate to bomb "Sorry if I'm being unsociable, not a morning person" he muttered as he started on his own pancakes.

"All good! D-don't talk to me b-b-b-before my c-c-coffee and all th-that" Bomb joked and OJ chuckled in response.

"I actually don't like coffee"

"R-really?" Bomb said sceptically "I don't b-buy it."

"What?? I don't!" He defended himself, a small smile making home on his face

"Okay, m-m-maybe not c-coffee but some o-o-o-other c-c-caffeinated drink?" Bomb's own smile turned into smirk, OJ could hardly take him seriously with that whipped cream on his nose.

"What!? I swear, I don't drink coffee or energy drinks!"

"C-c-c-caffeinated tea?"

"No!" OJ chuckled as he chucked a sliced piece of strawberry at the other, earning a laugh in response "You talk very confidently for someone with a case of whipped cream nose." Bomb made a surprised 'Huh!?' noise as he quickly wiped the cream off his noise, light-heartedly glaring at OJ after getting most of it off. They fell into a comfortable silence as OJ finished making his breakfast and begin to eat, every now and again throwing food at each other like little kids, he tried not to cringe at the amount of syrup that ended up in his hair.

The silence started to drag a little and Bomb finally decided to break it with a polite “How’s your head?” which caused OJ to start thinking about the light headache he didn’t even notice he still had

“Mmmm. Fine.” And they fell back into silence again, Bomb checked his phone and gasped

“Oh! I have to get home!!”

“Huh? Why?” OJ watched him clumsily get up and head for the door, making sure he had everything before rushing out without answering; OJ found himself a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten the chance to ask for Bomb’s number, upon accidental inspection of his contacts (accidentally clicking the wrong app) he realised his already had it, that probably happened sometime after he hit his head, his memory gets all fuzzy at that point. He kept thinking about the events of last night after he injured himself, Taco had been there, hadn't she? Did Pickle know about that? Wait- she had talked to Pickle and then Pickle started drinking, did anything else happen? He was with someone OJ didn’t recognise, with grey hair and a leather jacket, Bomb had been telling him that Pickle was perfectly safe with that guy and then convinced OJ to go home and sleep. OJ decided he needed to go check up on his friend.

He left his room and walked through the hall to the elevator and went to Pickle’s floor, he swiftly approached the door and knocked loudly but was met with no response... maybe he’s still asleep, OJ knocked louder but was still met with no response. “Pickle?” he called out “Pickle!” and was still met with nothing he started to worry that Pickle may have gone home with someone else, OJ grabbed his phone and immediately called Pickle “Pick up, pick up” he mumbled to himself, he breathed a sigh of relief when he was met with a very tired

“Hello....?”

“Pickle! Are you okay!?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?”

“You went home with a stranger!”

“So did you” OJ paused and huffed slightly

“Well, yeah but-“

“OJ, I’m going to be so honest with you, I’m really fucking hung over right now so can we have this conversation later? Thanks” and Pickle hung up, OJ made a small noise of shock and offence from being hung up on and called Pickle again but his call was declined; he sighed and started walking back to his room with the intention of going to bed, his head starting to really hurt again.