Soap approached him with no hesitation, no smile on her face: "We need to talk."

Cheesy and the Cherries both (all three?) looked up from their snickering shenanigans. Cheesy raised an eyebrow, while the Cherries looked guilty.

She wondered if they had something to do with the huge mess in the library earlier...

One of the guilty Cherries said, "All of us, or...?"

"Just Cheesy," Soap answered.

Even if they did, it didn't matter in that moment. Soap was a woman on a mission, and anyone could tell. Soap was a woman with a plan to reach that destination, staring at them stern determination.

Desternimation?

The Cherries tried not to look too relieved as Cheesy cleared his throat. "Sure, sure. D'ya mean here, or...?"

"In private."

Cheesy hopped off the chair with a sigh. "...Figured. I'll see you later."

Wordlessly, Cheesy followed Soap. It wasn't until they were a little ways away from the "Comedy Corner" of the room that Cheesy said, "So, neat-freak, am I in trouble or something?"

Ordinarily, Soap would have at least rolled her eyes at the nickname... but in all honesty, nothing could interrupt her Purpose, with a capital P. That was because this Purpose was a very important purpose. In fact, no, it wasn't an important purpose, it was an Important Purpose.

It was just that dang important.

"'Cause I assure you, I have a clean conscience!"

Not even an awful pun could distract Soap. She'd prepared for it.

"This is extremely important, Cheesy," Soap said. "Can you take something seriously for once?"

"Hey, if it's that important, I'm all ears." As they stepped into the carpeted elevator, he added, "I wouldn't sweep something this important under the carpet."

The kneeslap was quite loud in the closed-in walls of the elevator. Soap groaned as she pushed the top button.

"So, uhh, Soap. Where are we going? Why me and not someone else?"

It was a fair enough question.They weren't exactly strangers, but they weren't exactly friends, either. Soap carefully considered how to continue; what words she picked were crucially important to whether her Purpose was fulfilled.

'Just that dang important.'

The best words were the safest words: "You see... it's about Mic."

"...Mic, huh?"

Soap sighed. "Now, before I say this... You probably know what I'm about to say."

As a trio, Cheesy, Soap, and Microphone made their way to the buffet-table, Cheesy laughing at a joke and his companions groaning but inwardly glad he was having such a good time. There was a lively group at the table: Paintbrush trying to keep Lightbulb from eating the table cloth, Test Tube lecturing Bomb about proper nutrition, Balloon stuffing some croissants into a wide-open Suitcase, Pepper and the Cherries chatting, even Yin-Yang debating aloud whether to get a salad or some escargot.

The second they came close enough to the table, though, they quieted. Mic's awkward post-groan smile dropped off her face as Paintbrush gave her a testy look, and everyone inched away. Mic sighed and looked down.

She didn't talk much that meal.

"I think that's a fair assumption. It must be extra bad if her best friend is coming to Mr. Second Best about it."

"We each play a different role; neither of us is second-best," Soap pointed out. "Things have been so rough that she needs both of her friends. And we need to work together to put an end to it. I had a plan that could end Mic's suffering once and for all... and I'll need your help to execute it."

"Let's kill it." A resounding knee-slap. "Geddit? Because execute can mean kill, which can also mean to do it so perfectly that there are no loose ends?"

Soap sighed. 'So much for taking things seriously.'

It was only about a minute later when they stepped onto the roof of Hotel OJ. "Here's the plan. Neither of us is popular enough to get anyone to forgive her on our own. So what we need to do is get a fan-favorite to endorse Mic."

"Someone else to advocate for her?"

"Yep. If it was someone who had pull with both the fans and the other contestants, then it'd be best."

"Sounds sound to me. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Thinking realistically, I narrowed down the list to OJ, Paintbrush, Lightbulb, and Knife. Paintbrush hates Mic, so that's out of question. OJ has a level head on his shoulders, and he definitely has pull... but neither of us knows him. Plus he still probably has a grudge against Taco. That leaves Lightbulb and Knife. Considering neither of us even knows Lightbulb..."

Cheesy snapped his fingers. "Knife won last season, and everybody likes him. And he already knows how much crap Mic went through. Plus we know him! So he's basically perfect! Good thinkin', Soap!"

Soap crossed her arms, and played with words for a second before continuing, "Actually, Knife kind of hates me, so I was thinking you could talk to him."

"...Really?" Cheesy frowned.

Soap's tone became a bit pleading. "I know it's a lot to ask, considering you aren't on the best terms with him either, but please, for Mic's sake-"

"Whoa there, Soap. You know what they say about assumptions. Knife and I get on just fine. I can totally talk to him for ya."

"Are you serious?!"

"Mhm!"

'Whoa. This is easier than I thought.' "That's great. I was actually thinking of making you two some cake to eat while you chat. Food can make people more agreeable, y-"

"Are you serious?! That sounds amazing. Could you make it a big ol' chocolate one? Hang on, make it a chocolate cheesecake. That's my favorite."

'...Cheesecake...?' "Well, um... sure. Hopefully Knife'll like it too. Anyway... it's almost three o'clock, so maybe you could ask him to three-o'clock tea! Tea and cake."

"Sounds super sissy, but I guaranTEA he'll come if there's cake to be had, heh heh!" Soap stared at him with disgust. He slapped his knee, crossing his arms and looking smug.

Soap rolled her eyes. "Yeah, let's just move on. So... Basically, just come up to my room at three o'clock."

He recoiled. "Ugh, your room? Are you sure? It sounds weird. You're not gonna, like, be there or anything, are you?"

"Only to make sure you don't make a mess of everything!"

"...There's a table right up here, you know." Cheesy pointed to a spot a little ways across the roof; there was a stone table built onto it.

"If you want diseased ants to crawl on your food, that can be-"

"Yeah, yeah, let's do that," he interrupted with a wink. "So, let's do it. Three o'clock on the roof. I'll bring Mic's situation up. Anything else?"

Soap beamed. "I'm so glad you and I think alike. I can't think of anything else. I better go get the cake."

"'Kay, guess I'll ask him. See ya later, Soap."

Once Cheesy disappeared back into the hatch that led back into the hotel, Soap did a triumphant little dance.

Why wouldn't she?

The Important Purpose would find fulfillment after all!

'Yes! He's going along with it! Operation Get-Mic-Her-Forgiveness is now underway!'

XXX

"Hm, not a bad set-up, Cheesy. I'm surprised at you."

Knife looked at the preset table with visible surprise, and honestly, Cheesy was surprised too. There was a checkered purple-and-white tablecloth spread across the table from before, with some glass cake plates on it, as well as an immaculately clean tea set. In the center of the table sat a luscious-looking chocolate cheesecake that made his mouth water. Some chocolate crumbs were scattered across the top, perhaps from oreo cookies, and over even those were chocolate chips. How amazing...

"...Cheesy?"

He snapped out of his trance. "Oh! Uh, yeah. A bit of a cliche, but y'know. Cliches are cliches for a reason. Shall we sit?"

Sit they did. Cheesy was impressed (and just a bit irked) that Soap had the presence of mind to even include a few dictionaries on the bench so Cheesy and Knife could sit at near-eye-level.

Knife chuckled. "I wonder what's on the menu," he said, while staring at the cake in the middle of the table. "I don't suppose you made this."

"Soap did."

"She didn't happen to include any, er, disinfectants this time, did she?"

"Oh God, you don't know half how good she is. As soon as she got here after bein' eliminated, she studied from a cookbook. I think she had the spice girls show her some stuff too? Salt and Pepper? But anyway, now she's the best chef in the entire hotel. But you were off winning the game show, so of course you wouldn't know that."

"I guess I'll take your word for it," Knife said, and got himself a slice of the cake. "Enough about her, though. It's... been awhile since we've talked. Not that we've talked that much to begin with. Why'd you share this setup with me, anyway? Even you have other friends."

A chuckle. "Remember between challenges? Once you stopped insulting my jokes, we got on like buddies. And I, uh, figured you might want a break from being the reality show winner Knife to be the tolerates-my-bad-jokes Knife."

"That's oddly considerate of you - thanks." Knife smiled.

"No problem. Like I said, we got on like a hot knife cuts butter - or pretty much anything, if those videos are any indication. It'd be a waste if we never talked."

"Hey Knife, guess next challenge is a cooking challenge. The two of us ought to be handy, eh?"

Knife looked at him quizzically.

"It's not like it's appropriate to cut the cheese in the kitchen, but nothing's cheddar to sprinkle on a pizza than some cheese. And you've seen the videos of the hot knife cutting stuff, right?"

Cheesy had half-expected Knife to roll his eyes and walk away at his comment.

"Maybe you should cut it out, before I'm no longer Mr. Knife Guy with you."

Cheesy had stood there, jaw agape for a moment as he processed just what the "jerk contestant" said. Despite his words, Knife was grinning, apparently amused.

Cheesy laughed and said, "Way to cut me off. You're a gourmet at cooking up puns, though. We should trade recipes sometime..."

It'd led to an unusual, off-camera sort of friendship, amazing puns and failed sarcasm from Knife its like and blood.

"Winning a million dollars is so exciting until you realize that at least a fifty grand of it goes to taxes, and at least that many reporters will jump down your throat whenever you leave the hotel," he said dryly.

A sympathizing sigh. "Sounds like you can't cash a break."

Knife laughed. "Knife one."

Cheesy laughed. "Wow. A knife one indeed. You cut me off guard there."

"Now that one is worthy of a kneeslap."

Cheesy dramatically slapped his knee. "So necessary," Knife quipped. "In any case... well, what've you been up to since the show ended?"

"Funny you should ask," Cheesy said, "because I'm getting my comedy off the ground!" He slapped his knee. "Geddit? It's funny because it's comedy, and you asked me what I've been up to: getting stuff off the ground!" He made a grand gesture with his hands. "A double pun!"

Knife chuckled again, then grinned fondly. Cheesy wasn't sure he appreciated the joke in full, but still went on, "Anyway, I'll have my own TV show called That's Cheesy. I'll commentate on topical subjects with puns and slapstick!"

"You know, that's pretty cool," Knife remarked. "I'm sure you'll be a big hit."

'Nobody thinks it'll succeed. In fact, a lot think I'll be the worst act ever.'

Cheesy grinned ruefully. "Maybe ironically."

"Why wouldn't you be a success? I think your jokes are funny. They're just of a class that only some would get."

'I'm not a popular contestant, and chances are I'll never be, though,' Cheesy considered saying, but didn't want to have a pity party. Instead, he said, "Comedy is subjective."

Then he hastened changed the subject.

XXX

The conversation continued for a quarter of an hour, then a half, then a full hour.

One would expect lulls, but for the camera-shy camaraderie, there were none. Where there would have been lulls, puns were traded.

It wasn't until two hours had passed, and orange light from the sunset glanced off of Knife's blade, that Cheesy realized that however nice the conversation was, he was a man on a mission.

That, and Soap was gonna kill him if they ate her food and didn't even touch on Mic.

"So, Knife... Can I talk to you about something a bit serious?"

Knife regarded him with dull surprise. "Sure."

Cheesy tapped his fingers together, trying to hold his nerves at bay. He finally said, "Well, it's about Mic - that is, Microphone."

"Microphone." Knife's tone was dry.

"Yeah... See, she's really fallen on rough times lately. Hardly anybody talks to her, except to be mean about what happened last season. The others are making her feel even worse, and all I want to do is bury the hatchet - or, I guess, the knife."

The joke, if it could even be called that, was automatic. It made Cheesy feel almost guilty to say it.

"I... I was kinda thinking, maybe you could help?"

Knife raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you're a fan favorite, and all the contestants like you. I'm sure that if you, I dunno, put in a good word for her, then they'd relent a little. Cut back a little on their meanness" He drummed his fingers along the surface of the table.

"Assuming I'm even in a position to help anyone, who says I will?"

Cheesy's voice raised with his shock: "What're you talkin' about?!"

"You fail to mention that Microphone did a legitimately bad thing," Knife pointed out. "She broke the rules of the game to ally with someone she knew was morally depraved. That warrants backlash."

"Wha- You fail to mention that Mic is super sorry for what she did. That means people should give her a chance."

"'Sorry' doesn't fix the scars that she caused," Knife replied sagely. "So many people got caught up in Taco's web. Only Mic got caught up enough to weave a web of her own."

"She did that because she was insecure," Cheesy retorted, slamming a fist on the table. He always did have a hair-trigger temper, and a distant voice in his head told him to calm down, but he was in disbelief.

Knife was supposed to be cool!

"Nobody else was?" His tone was testy. "By episode eleven, half the contestants were basket cases, but nobody else made a strategy of it."

"If she had a friend, she wouldn't have done it." A skeptical shrug. "You don't know what it's like to feel like you don't have value. You don't know what it's like to be left alone."

"And that's where you're wrong."

'Huh?'

Cheesy's temper faded with his surprise. He sat back down on his pile of dictionaries and looked at Knife wide-eyed. Knife looked dimly surprised by his own words.

'Did he just admit he's lonely?'

Knife changed directions: "I stopped caring what others thought of me a long time ago. I don't owe anyone anything. That's why I'm a loner, and it sets me apart from insecure people. Insecure people just need their support.

"Let me put it this way. Microphone has you and Soap, her own support system. If she stopped caring about the others, she'd see that she didn't need anyone else. The less she draws attention to herself, the sooner the others will forgive her."

"That... that makes me angry. The others should still forgive her. But, at the same time, it really makes sense. Weird." Cheesy glanced at the empty cake plate, with just crumbs scattered across it. Then he said, "So you seriously think this'll fade on its own?"

"I guarantee it. That, or it'll no longer apply. But her happiness in the moment is contingent upon how her friends conduct themselves."

"...Huh. When you put it that way, it's-"

"Almost like it's in you guys' control, eh?"

Cheesy blinked. "True that... I guess I'll try that out."

"Sure you are. Sometimes all it takes is a friend who'll stick with you to make things that much easier. Don't let her worry about the others. It'll be a lot better, trust me."

"Okay, okay. Now I have a question." Knife looked at him expectantly.

"...What about you, Knife?"

Knife rolled his eyes. "Don't make this weird."

"You helped me out with Mic's support system... isn't it fair for me to help you out with yours, too? ...Knife, sounds to me like you're really on the chopping block." Knife's eyes rolled again. "Pun intended, but seriously. You need someone to talk to when those reporters are coming after you too, right?"

"I'm a loner by nature," Knife replied coolly. "I don't need a support system or anything."

"...But you want one."

"Who says that?"

Cheesy scratched his head. "You did. Okay, you didn't say it outright, but it was implied."

Knife growled. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

Something about the way he said it amused Cheesy. He chuckled softly and rested his face on his cheek and said, "Man, Knife, you can just cut to the chase, y'know. I could take a stab at being part of your support system. It's okay."

"I said no!"

"Maybe it's not a choice, have you thought about that?"

"...Are you serious?"

"Knife, I'm never serious. I'm a comedian," he deadpanned. He paused, letting the brilliant joke sink in. "But... I would, and I mean that. Then you'll have at least one friend to talk to about this stuff."

There was silence as Knife seemed to consider it. Cheesy alternated between staring at the crumb-covered cheesecake plate and at Knife's blade. It was interesting how the orange light of the sunset caught off of it and shone like the star Knife was.

Finally, he sighed.

"I've never been much to confide in people. I've been part of many support systems, in a way: an intermittent helper. ...But I guess now is as fine a time as any to start. If nothing else, it's an excuse to have more of these little dates."

Knife's face remained impassive, but Cheesy was positive he heard a smile in those words.

"Well blade, man. How could anyone say no to more chats like this?" He winked. "Then so be it. I'll be yours to talk to."

"Let's shake on it." Knife reached his hand across the table. Cheesy took it and squeezed his fingers as they shared a firm handshake.

With their shadows stretching down the top of the roof, and the orange light catching off of Knife and making his blade shine brilliant orange, Cheesy couldn't help the thought that it was a very manly scene. Two cool dudes- well, okay, a dork and his cool amigo-dude, joined in friendship and fine dining.

Did it get much better than that?

"As I said, I won't be indebted to you. At all." Their hands were still linked as Knife spoke. "It's not fair if I don't support you if you support me. So, uh, regarding Microphone... I'll put in a good word with the others. Nothing too forceful, but something to start the process, in a way."

Cheesy was surprised. "Gee, Knife, you sure are nice."

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm just repaying the debt before it becomes a thing."

"Sure, Knife. Sure."

Cheesy could scarcely stop smiling for the last parts of their conversation, though.

XXX

'They've been up there for such a long time... I hope he's okay!'

Soap paced around, unable to stop dusting the (absolutely pristine) shelf of the library. It was all that was keeping her from losing it.

'Should I go check? No, that could ruin it!'

"Soap, I'm back."

Her feverish thoughts were brought to a freezing halt at the sound of Cheesy's voice; she whipped around. "What took you so long?! That was two and a half hours!"

He put his hands up placatingly. "Sorry, sorry. We did a lot of talking. About Mic and... other things..."

'That's a weird way to put it,' Soap thought but did not say. "And?"

"He's gonna help us out. He seemed to have a good idea on how to help while being fair to everybody."

"Really?!" Cheesy hummed affirmatively. Soap heaved a great big sigh of relief. "Gee, that's great. It's all thanks to you!"

"Heh, no problem, Soap."

Then she blinked. "How'd you even do it?"

"He's a sharp dude; he could see the need," Cheesy said matter-of-factly.

Soap gave him a brief quizzical look before going back to smiling.

"Knife thought that it was great we were there for Mic," Cheesy went on. "He says the others will come with time, if we keep supporting her as much as we can."

"Huh, not a bad thought..." Soap thought about it for a moment.

Cheesy shrugged. "At any rate, it was a refreshing enough chat. We're gonna keep doing 'em, partly to talk about helping Mic."

"Great. Really, I couldn't have done it without you. Mic has you to thank when things get better."

"Yeah, I'm a bit of a stand-up guy like that, huh?"

Soap smiled. "Anyway, I actually just talked with Microphone. We were planning on going to this thing going on in town, an art show, tomorrow! I'd be remiss if we didn't invite our other best friend."

Cheesy lit up. "Ooh! Sounds fun, but Knife said he was gonna need some support at this interview thing he's doing tomorrow, so I'll have to decline. Maybe next time?"

'That's a bit weird. Cheesy really likes art puns, it's weird that he'd go somewhere he couldn't make them instead.' "Oh... er, yeah." Soap gave a little nod. "Mic and I can go. Next time."

"Grrr-eat. Next time. Anyway, it was nice chattin' with ya, but I've got to go now. Knife invited me to his room to play video games. I'm not usually a Nintendo player, or one at all, but I am always game to try new things."

'...Oh.'

"Anyway, I'll see ya later!" Cheesy walked off, a bit of excited swagger in his step. Soap stood there in surprised disbelief.

'...Okay, didn't Knife punch Cheesy once? ...I know it's not my business, but can someone PLEASE tell me how the heck these two became this close?!'

XXX

This was a request for flippydaarmybear; thanks for requesting! This story has been in the works for a long time. As such, I feel the need to include a few words on this; an author's note, if you will.

Writing this was painful. It took me a lot of time, and a lot of work. When Flippy first requested a story from me, and it was about "Sharp Cheddar", I had no idea how to approach it. At first I approached it as if they were enemies, then as rivals, due to their interaction in A Kick in the Right Direction.

Then I scrapped all of those attempts, for one reason:

Knife is the same guy who said Kniferrific and No more Mr. Knife Guy.

Come on, guys. He and Cheesy would be incredibly corny buddies, not enemies.

I hope you've enjoyed this practice in patience, dynamic-building, and obscenely numerous puns, and that you'll vote, and comment any thoughts on this oneshot, nearly double the length of A Jerk's Policy. Have a great day!