[REQUESTS OPEN] Knickle One-Shots

In Sickness & Health

Requested by unpopularships
I lived, bitch. Happy to fulfill your request after being dead for two years
-

When Knife opened his eyes, he could feel a burning sensation in his chest. There was a throbbing sensation that rocked his head, and a sickly nausea pricked at his throat, Knife swallowing in an attempt to make it go away. The sky was a pale white, and the valleys were crisp, tinted a familiar color that he couldn't seem to remember the name to. His mind wasn't usually this unclear, and yet he didn't want to try thinking at all. It made his head throb even more, and he just wanted to stay where we was, unmoving and still. As the gears in his head began to spin, thoughts sprang up in his head slowly. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't feel the prickling sensation of the grass on the contestant grounds. The ground felt like a cloud, something that you could just melt into. The sun wasn't burning his eye sockets alive, and most of all, it seemed awfully quiet...too quiet to describe. As if just on queue, he heard a rattling noises, and the sound of what seemed to be a door echoed in his ears.

"...ife...ou doing...ay?"

He heard a familiar voice. He couldn't quite figure it out, and yet the cool hand on his forehead immediately loosened him up. It felt cool on his body compared to the sluggish heat that his body wore.

"..ill burning up."

In an instant, his mind came to one conclusion. This was Pickle. There was no way Pickle was still in the game. He wasn't even picked for season 2, was he? But in the end, that thought disappeared in a sea of other thoughts that cluttered his spinning consciousness. He loved the feeling of that cool hand, and he didn't want it to go away. He wanted to tell it to stay, but he didn't have the energy to. So in the end, all he could do was just embrace it while could. Getting a good view of Pickle's face, it was a mix of worry at first. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in bed for, nor could he keep track of time in the first place. But then, it cracked into a small, gentle smile.

"You probably don't....I'm saying....rist you're stubborn, you know that?"

He could piece his words together a bit more, but it didn't matter. His eyes were drooping away again, and just as fast as he'd woken up, he drifted off into a world of dreams.

-

Pickle sighed as he took the wet towel down to the kitchen. As much as he loved Knife, he couldn't deny how stubborn he really was. From the moment they'd become friends (and eventual lovers), Pickle knew Knife had a hard time opening up to others. He was kind of the loner type, but secretly, he was not only somewhat of a softie, but he was as stubborn as one could get.
This situation proved Pickle's point even further. In this type of situation, Knife would definitely deny sickness of any kind. Knife was the type of person that definitely didn't like worrying others, especially the people he held close to him. No matter what, Pickle would worry either way. It was obviously a punch in the gut when Knife was brought into the hotel by Lightbulb, someone Knife wouldn't consider to be close in the first place. He remembered the sound of the hotel door busting open, with Lightbulb practically dragging the guy in as he tried to convince her that he was, in fact, perfectly healthy. If his face wasn't absolutely flushed, no one would've really thought otherwise. That is, until Knife threw up on the floor.
To no one's surprise, it drove Soap absolutely insane when this happened. She nearly fainted on the floor as Pickle went to guide him to a restroom as fast as he could go. It hurt him to see Knife in this sort of state as the scent of sickness graced the hotel lobby's main restroom. As he rubbed his back, he noticed that Knife's body temperature felt insanely high. Touching his forehead with his hand bore the same result. As much as he tried not to worry about it, it came across to himself and the residents of Hotel OJ that his anxiety was through the roof.

Even now, his heart still stirred with worry whenever he checked up on Knife. His fever seemed to have gone down a bit, but that doesn't mean he wasn't immediately better. Talking to Knife earlier, he knew he couldn't understand a single word he was saying. The dude looked way too out of it for him to be listening. He could see the sweat on his mantle, the heat radiating off of his blade--the discomfort Knife was definitely feeling made Pickle grimace in worry.

"Knife...you doing okay?" He asked, knowing there was a positive chance he wouldn't get an answer back.

He put a hand on Knife's forehead, to which his boyfriend groaned a bit. "You're still burning up."

The alarm in Pickle's brain was about to go haywire until he realized that Knife was leaning into his touch, a sigh signalling that his body was starting to relax. The medicine Soap provided seemed to be working it's magic.

Pickle couldn't help but smile, just a little. "You probably don't know what I'm saying. You're so stubborn, you know that?"

He could see Knife's eyes beginning to succumb to fatigue, and cupping his cheek ever so slightly, he kissed his boyfriend on his forehead. It was soft enough to not burn his mouth to ash, tender and light. After all, his boyfriend was a metal object, and when they get hot, they get HOT.

But he wouldn't have it any other way. After all, Knife was his, and his alone. It wasn't often that he'd be taking care of Knife. Usually it was the reverse, but whenever these kinda of moments happened, in a way, Pickle cherished them. It was just like he said—Knife was very, very stubborn. Knife has gotten better at expressing how he feels, especially after they started dating when the second season concluded, but even so, old habits die hard. Learning to express how you feel isn't something that happens overnight, especially when it comes to someone like Knife, who's been doing it for pretty much all of his life.

He would definitely talk to Knife about this when his condition had improved, but for now, he let Knife simmer in Pickle's favorite blanket as he slightly tucked him in more, replenishing the spare humidifier Tissues had in the storage closet.
And he sat, a light snore ringing throughout the room as Pickle sat in the spare sofa next to Knife's bed, his boyfriend succumbing to the world of dreams.