Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He groaned, His head hurt so bad. Game soundtrack played in the background and a bottle of booze was spilling onto the ground.

It was so hot and stuffy in here with his hoodie on, pickle zipped it down and let it slide down to his wrists before ripping it off and throwing it onto the ground, unexpectedly exactly on knifes head.

“What the hell man.” A strained voice peeked through the hoodie. 

“Wha- who’s there!” Slightly confused, pickle started looking around and moving.

”me, you wuss.” A barely muffled voice erupted from under the jacket, but pickle could recognise it.

“Oh. Morning knife, sorry about that.”

Pickle moved around, trying to leave without any interruption. 

“Where the hell are you going.”

”I dunno, im taking a drive around I guess.”

”Fuck you mean ‘A drive’?” Knife huffed, the last part was voiced in a harsh soprano.”it’s 3 am” 

“I guess I need some fresh air, just leave me alone for Now.”

”fine.. im going back to sleep.” He mumbled 

Pickle didn’t reply, instead he took his keys out  the sweatpant pocket and unlocked the car. It was twilight outside, the stars splattered against the night sky. It was beautiful and looked like a painting, it was quite breezy but calm.

Did he really need the car? Walking would be better he would get the breeze he needed instead of just looking through a window. By now the man had completely woken up, fresh air had sped up the process, and he was soaking up every second of this walk.

During these twilight hours, the world was quiet and life is put to a halt, no arguing, no accidents. Just him and the world.

Absolute freedom.

Pure silence.

Hotel oj, the loudest place on earth, was now invisible in the distance. The only thing ahead was a beach, a sandy, hilly beautiful beach. 
The starry night was most visible to the human eyes here. It was calling to him.

Pickle took off his sliders and let the sand absorb his feet, running towards the horizon. He took a sigh of satisfaction as the shallow water wrapped around his ankles.

Had he not gone here in time, pickle would have missed the most beautiful sunrise of his life, splotches of magenta, cyan and yellow were smudged against the sky like a painting. This light reflected on the sea, lighting up the entire landscape. 

Beams of light shot out of the low sun. This was the most magical moment pickle had ever witnessed. 

Looking at the sky was inspiring.

He got his legs out the water and lay on the sand. The grains engulfed his body. Slowly, these bright, saturated hues faded to black, Pickle was pulled into unconsciousness, truly relieving his mind of any trouble.

The sun beamed on his skin, sand in his hair and clothes. Although it was uncomfortable, that was the best sleep of his life. Filled with memories of the sunrise. Now it seemed like midday. The water was a warm blue. It brushed at his toes because of the high tide.

Pickle shuffled off the sand. Shaking it out of his hair and clothes, he sat up, admiring the veiw, when he woke up this time, he wasn’t all groggy and cranky, it’s like this sunrise did something to him, made him more happy.

Getting up was easy, putting on his shoes were easy, going back was the hard part. Sadly, pickle was starving, so he needed food regardless and hotel oj was probably the only place he could get a meal.

He smelt himself, “eugh gross… I need a shower.”

Arriving at hotel oj was overwhelming as per usual, but pickle never noticed unless it had something to do with him. stepping through the entrance, and heading straight to the stairs.

Powering up the stairs was sickening, the same orange wall over and over again until he reached his floor, sighing and wheezing. Sweat and sand stuck to him, it was disgusting and uncomfortable, worth it for the beach, but otherwise, it was absolutely horrific. The door was right there. He needed a bath, a nice hot one.

Warm water swished and swooshed around him, was it just today that he was more observant, a lot of things reminded him of her. But that was long gone, he was better than that scheming asshat. Wasn’t he? 
She hasn’t written in a while, not like he read them any ways, he just stacked them in his drawer. Probability told him that she’d be more focused on the fact mic just left her instead of him, that was probably better for the both of them.

It was what he paid for anyways, it’s what you get for being dumb and forming alliances with just anyone. Maybe she wasn’t just anyone because she used to mean a lot to him. He would laugh with her on their picnics and exchange gifts, but turns out she was using him as a staircase, just to get higher in the game. It was disgusting. So why did he care about her? Why did he care about this. She didn’t care. Why should he.

The difference between him and her was like the difference between water and wine, he was see-through but she was opaque. She was his best Friend Such a shame. So oblivious.

All her letters, growing more sincere with the day, she missed him as much as he did, or atleast he hoped, it had been almost five months since the last one, 148 days exactly. He missed her, he knew her, he loved her.

He loved her. He  loved  her.  He   loved    Her…

But did she. 

Because anyone who ever had a brain wouldnt.

But his heart, his heart loaned for her. But he knew better than to trust her again. Only a fool would do that, a fool.

Yet again, two days in a row. He pulled a beer out of the mini fridge in his room, popped the lid off and chugged it down.

“Pickle?” A knock on the door was heard after the muffled voice.” I heard crying, are you okay man.”

The man was stunned, to scared to speak or move.

”ookay… I’m coming in.”

The door creaked open by a third.

“Hey…” 

“oh.”

Pickle was in a towel, holding a beer, teary eyed. And a strained voice, damping wet.

”hi knifee.. what’s uup..” it was either a fake enthusiasm, or he was drunk.

Knife decided it was more likely he was drunk.

”pickle, again..?” He huffed.”come on, sit down.”

”dy’a want a beer?”

“No thanks.” Knife’s face soured up. 

Knife’s sat pickle down on his bed and shuffled next to pickle. He knew something was wrong, otherwise, pickle wouldn’t be drinking two days in a row, he sighed and let the Pickle’s lay his head on Knife’s shoulder. He huffed, it felt weird having wet curls on his shoulder. It was easy to comfort a drunk man, just listen.

knife knew what was going on, but speaking up would be worse, telling pickle would be worse, silence says alot. Knife wrapped his arms around pickle and lay Pickle’s head on his chest,

The silence was enjoyable, there was a warm feeling in pickles heart that wasn’t just alcohol, it was sweet and warm. He thought about the beach, little constellations surrounding the moon, he heard knifes heartbeat as they lay on the bed. 
Pickle was an honest one, one that aims for his desires, it was getting late now, they were there for hours, just staying silent. Pickle was on his fourth beer now, slowly he was falling asleep. The beer slipped out his grasp and landed on the floor, luckily it was empty,

Hours later, pickle wanted to ask a question.

”hey knife.. can you come with me to the beach..”

”not until you sober up.” He sighed, rubbing the tent between his eyes in disdain.”

”I am sober man..”

”How are you cuddling a man while being in only a towel, and telling me you are fully sober?”

”oh.”

He didn’t know, knife was a jerk but oddly enough, he had a comforting aura.

”Can’t we just go to the beach I have something to show you.”

”Only if you tell me what.”

”I really like the view there, with no light pollution, you can see the constellations so well I promise man.”

”Fine but put on clothes at-least..” knife pulls an exaggerated disgusted face and softly smiles afterward, a smile that seems loving? A smile that cares.”

Pickle raised his hands to head level and pulled a derp face

“woah woahh I’m sorry I was half naked and drunk when you walked in!” 

They both burst out laughing and wheezing, knife ultimately cheered him up, was that planned? The warm feeling in his heart grew unexpectedly, unbeknownst to both of them, so was knife’s.

Chapter Text

Right now, it was 3am, they had just left to go and stargaze, the sand was as warm as ever, but so was knife.

”you weren’t kidding when you said this was beautiful, were you.”

Constellations dotted around the sky, shining in a white hue, the moon lay central. It was perfection. Almost unreal. But so real at the same time, the way the dark night sky contrasted against the pale moon and glowing stars showed how much of a phenomenal picture this veiw was.

This summer night was one of comfort, they sat on the beach; stargazing, lighting a bonfire and talking. 

Pickle had really sobered up now, but still, the warm feeling sprung across his veins, it was weird of course. But comfortable.

Time passed by so slowly, the sound of the waves and the sea replaced speaking, everything they needed to communicate was already known.

Why was he more observant today?

As the time passed, they grew closer, it was too minute to be noticed, decimal even. But every second, the beating of hearts matched, breathing matched. Everything matched.

They looked into eachothers eyes.

This feeling was something raw, something new, something different. A fire in their hearts, one that got put out when looking away, the heating up of face, the aversion of eyes, the awkward silence. A heat that builds up.

Without noticing, they got closer, and closer until they could feel warm breaths, almost as If they were entranced,

Pickles hands moved up to cup knifes face and kiss it, just a little peck, nothing major.
The reaction from the latter was more than enthusiastic. The only question is..

If that were so good, how good would sex be?

’kindly’ knife returned the kiss, deepening it, wrapping his arms around Pickle’s waist. His lips softly pressed on the others, pickle opened his mouth, just enough for knife to slip his tongue in.

The oral muscles twisted around each other, dancing and turning, completely in unison.

They could taste each others mouth, feel the others beats. Kept licking and suckling and kissing. It was a tango of the tongue. A battle of the best and a fire inducing action. Passionate like flames.

Caringly placing his  hands under pickles shirt and  slowly dribbling the kisses down his neck, biting and suckling and licking and kissing.

 Knife caressed pickles torso and nipped at his neck, leaving love bites, it was quite frustrating, knowing his crewneck was in the way. Looking up for approval to take off the other man’s shirt was his intent.

What he saw was instead, a very aroused pickle, covering his mouth with half lidded eyes, and a red face, that inspired him to go further, knife trailed kisses and bites up his neck lovingly.

Something was bubbling inside pickle. He managed to flip knife over so he’d top. 
Sweat beads formed on his forehead, barely noticeable. Their lines of sight connected, one looked at the other, and the same was reflected. What good would it be to stop this hour of living, this hour of loving. 

Pickles chest pressed onto knife, this made it so he was lying atop the other, playing with his hair, breathing sweet nothings into the others ear. His hand moved to cup knifes face. Lips connected yet again, hips rocked, hands moved. Deep and alluring groans fell out the both of them, an orchestra of feelings played around, lust and love, two completely separate things combined into this beautiful concution.

Their erections grew as their crotches rubbed against eachother, wanting more, needing more.

Pickles hand traced over the knife’s quite obvious bulge. The other nodded in response. Pickle dug his hands into the sweatpants and moved them around knifes member, successfully arousing him, 

“So.. would you like for us to do it here, I mean it’d be way more convenient on a bed ya know..” he kept rubbing knifes cock but looked away a burgundy, painting his face.

Knife snapped out of his trance and sat up.

”if you don’t want go do it here it’s fine. We can always go back.”

Pickle pulled his hand out as knife got up too. 
knife ran his hands through his hair, a mix of both their saliva dribbled from his bruised lips.

Coming back to the hotel was harder.. the door creaked open as they tiptoed in, nobody would be awake of course but in the distance, tissues sleep sneezing was heard.

”of course he’s sneezing, lord.” They both let out a breathy laugh, putting arms around one another’s shoulder. 

Knifes pants were tighter than usual, he thought it wasn’t noticeable but it very so was,  pickle was still stroking his cock through the material, almost getting him ready for what was to come. A huff escaped his lips, pickle knew it was working, yet they hadn’t even got to their rooms. 
“I swear to god knife. If you bust before we get to a room.”

”Can’t promise, you’re treating me so well.”

That shut him up. Was knife drunk too? This flirtatious personality was completely new, I mean who really cares. Maybe this was all in his mind to begin with. But something was new, he saw more. They dragged each other up the stairs in silence, they knew what was about to go down. This hornyness spreading through both of them like electricity, sparks of life through their fingertips and toes. Jolts of sexual tension that neither could admit. They had to get upstairs quick. Everything was happening so quickly yet so silent. 

They had come to the room. Back on the top floor. Pickle fumbled for keys in his pockets, the scent of sea still lingering. A shell on his keychain. His lucky charm. A gift from.. taco. He had truly forgotten about her during this time. Was this truly what he wanted all along, I mean, she didn’t need him, he didn’t either. 
Was this truly what he wanted all along. Was this last letter her goodbye? He stood there for a minute, unmoving.

”hey pickle are you okay?”
Pickle didn’t answer. But he got a hug in return. They leaned against the door for a while. Knife stared at him. Heavy breaths both blew out.

”We really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to pickle. I care about you. I know your upset, and I’m here man.”

sobs escaped pickle, was it taco, or were these happy tears? Knife hugged him. Letting pickle lean on his shoulder as he took the keys from his pocket and pushed them into the door. 
His room was a mess. A lot of things astray, wasn’t a bad mess though? A lot of clothes on the floor, knife hadn’t noticed this earlier, he sat pickle on the bed, picking up the beer bottles as pickle watched,

“you don’t have to do this.”

”I want to.”

Pickle felt like this was unearned, he didn’t deserve this, wasn’t he just pickle, and that was just knife, so why did he care so much? Knife normally stayed in his lane. What happened to him? It couldn’t just be him, he had heard about knife caring for suitcase and mic. Why did this feel special, when it wasn’t. 
How wasn’t knife sick of him, with his sob stories about taco, he was a weight that just dragged things down. A thousand things raced through his mind right now, it was too much. Too overwhelming. Pickle got up and opened the window. Without saying a word to knife, he walked to the bathroom and shut the door.

Water sploshed down onto him, nothing could scrub the guilt off of him, but it could get rid of the sand. Soap slithered through his fingertips as he worked his way down his body stopping at his hips, he had at scrub his cock too. Basic hygiene of course. He started soft. Trying to get everywhere, it seemed him and knife were going to have sex later regardless, knife. knife. Knife. Knife. Knife. Did he just think he was going to have sex with knife. The image clouded his mind. Knife ontop of him. He unconsciously started moving his hand faster, the scene on the beach reminding him. Sex. Knife. Sex. Knife. Sex. Knife. Words ringing like bells in his head, his hand moving more bold. Quiet whimpers escaped his lips.

Just imagining knife touching him already drove him over the edge. He stopped touching his cock as it was completely washed clean. He couldn’t bust before the sex even started.

knife sat there. He finished cleaning and he heard the shower stopped running. He felt bad. Poor pickle, he’s being constantly reminded about something that wasn’t his fault. Pickle soon left the bathroom and looked at knife, who looked at him in a towel, damp and clean, contrasting to a knife with sand in his hair and on everywhere. 
“I should probably go shower huh?” 
“please, please be quick.”

Pickle rummaged through his stuff. Trying to ignore anything that taco had given him, lemons.. they’re probably expired by now.

”gross.”

it still had wads of her saliva on it, weird, gross and definitely not what he wanted to reminisce. 

Chapter Text

It’s not fun anymore. Taco stopped sending letters to pickle, a response to her guilt. Was she really talking to pickle, was she really sending him embarrassing letters just for him not to write back.

She was infatuated. The letters became more desperate, it was clear she was looking for an answer from pickle, any reassurance that he still thought about her. Even if it was hate. It was a headache just trying to write to mic even once, that would be like putting salt on a fresh wound. She was the one that walked away from him, despite the fact she only wrote letters to him. Was it just that she wanted Freinds again.

Maybe because she lied to pickle, maybe because she missed that feeling of not hiding, maybe she didn’t miss him at all, just the surroundings of sun and games and joy. Was she truly made to win?

Maybe she just shouldn’t care, he clearly doesn’t care. They all hate her now, it was all her fault no? II2 should be over now anyways, or Atleast that’s what me-pad said. 

Me-pad clearly worried about her too much, that wasn’t his problem anyways, being her ‘assistant’ wasn’t all he was if he even was at all. 

“Taco, you shouldn’t worry so often, it’s not good for you.” He would say, so very often.

And he was right. It was irritating, it prickled under her skin, being so wrong yet adamant. She knew the ugly side of her perseverance would come to bite her back in the arse. 
 
God forbid she ever sees him again. To see that pained look on his face once more would  push her off the edge,