Let me self-indulge dammit

~~~

Simon could hear Rocky coming a mile away. The loud thunking wasn't exactly stealthy.

"Simon!" he exclaimed, announcing his presence. Said man looked over, arching a brow quizzically.

"Rocky..." he answered, unsure what the alien wanted. They rarely interacted one on one, mostly due to Simon's own hesitance.

"Rocky need favor, statement," he said, cutting to the chase. Simon tried not to appear as tense as he felt.

"... Well, that depends. What's the favor?"

Rocky rolled his ball further into the room, moving closer to Simon, but still keeping a small distance between them.

"Need new words," Rocky admitted, carapace lowered in something akin to disappointment or frustration.

Simon snorted. "Do I look like a fuckin' dictionary? Go ask Grace," he dismissed, but Rocky wasn't having it.

"No!" he stomped to assert his point. "Grace not share human bad words! Those are words Rocky need!"

Simon was hiding a smile behind his hand, holding back amused laughter. "Is that so?"

Rocky went still, his voice monotonous. "Simon laugh at Rocky."

Great, now he felt bad.

"No I'm not!" Simon denied, but Rocky continued to stare. "I was… laughing at Grace," he insisted. Rocky took a few steps closer.

"Why, question?"

"Because he's a such a nerdy goody two shoes," he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "I mean, who gatekeeps curse words from an alien?"

"Hm. Don't understand," Rocky said, hoping for clarification.

"What, gatekeep? It's slang for withholding information," he explained.

Rocky hopped up and down, stomping his feet with excitement. "Yes! Grace gatekeep!"

"Well that's just not fair," Simon agreed, allowing his infectious energy to rub off on him. He walked over to grab the nearby laptop and translator, placing it in his lap as he sat back down. "So, how 'bout we start with the worst ones and work our way down from there."

~~~

"With insults, they're more or less interchangeable, but it depends on the situation."

"Hm. Need example."

Simon shifted, leaning his left side against Rocky's ball for support. "Okay... so say we're both walking down the street and I bump into you without saying excuse me. I'm being an asshole. But if I see you walking and go out of my way to run into you, then I'm being a dick."

"Dick worse than asshole, question?"

The phrasing was so unexpected, Simon couldn't help but burst into laughter, nodding, "Yeah, you got it bud! But really, it's a matter of what feels right in the moment."

"Rocky need more examples." He didn't really, but this was the most he'd heard the new human speak, and as it turns out, he was rather funny.

"Ohokay, okay, here's one. So if you tell me to do something and I refuse for a stupid reason, I'm being a whiny little bitch. Got that?"

"Whiny little bitch," Rocky repeated, beaming with pride at his expanded vocabulary.

"You think you got it, or you want me to keep going?"

"Rocky understands now."

"Glad I could help," Simon said, patting the glass of his ball as Rocky rolled by.

Before he left, Rocky paused in the doorway. "Simon, question?"

"Yeah?" he cocked his head, glancing over at him.

"Why Simon not leave room, question?"

Simon sighed. He figured it wouldn't be long until one of them asked that question. He rarely left the onboard greenhouse ever since he'd first laid eyes on it.

"I just really like this room," he shrugged.

"Bullshit, statement."

Simon's lips quirked into a tight smile. "Already putting those words to good use I see," he said, hoping to deflect. When Rocky didn't respond, he continued, "Where I came from, we only had one tree left. And when it finally died, that was it. So seeing so many plants- alive and in space, thriving... I don't know. It just feels comforting, I guess."

Rocky thought for a moment before speaking. "Is same reason Simon leak when see stars, question?"

Simon's breath hitched in his throat. He wasn't expecting the conversation to take such a turn after their crash course in Swearing 101. He nodded, voice barely above a whisper, "Yeah..."

He flinched when he felt something touch his leg, looking up to see Rocky reaching through the mesh panel to rest a comforting claw on his knee.

"Grace, Rocky save stars! Save plants!" he explained.

"Yeah, you did..." Simon trailed off, a sad smile on his face as he fought back tears.

He stood abruptly, startling Rocky as he stretched and groaned loudly. "Now if you don't mind, I think I'm gonna go look at those stars," he said, walking off towards one of the large windows.

"Okay. Rocky go share new words with Grace!"

"Go easy on him, tiger," Simon teased from over his shoulder, unsure if Rocky even knew what a tiger was.

Rocky gave a small nod and went in the opposite direction, shouting down the hall as he went, "What the fuck Grace doing, question?"

From further down the hall, another, more confused voice, "What?"

~~~

It hadn't even been an hour before Rocky came back, barreling towards Simon with Grace not far behind.

"Bad, bad bad. Rocky piss off Grace," he said, rolling around Simon to hide behind him.

"Well that was fast," Simon mused, almost impressed. He quickly schooled his features when he noticed Grace standing before him, hands on his hips. His jaw was clenched, foot tapping in annoyance as he awaited an explanation.

"Oh, hey Grace. Sooo... to what do I owe the pleas-"

"You taught him how to swear?" It sounded less like a question, and more of an accusation. Simon didn't see any reason in denying it.

"He asked," he said with a shrug, turning to look out the window to hide his growing smirk.

"Of course he did! But that doesn't mean you give him a whole arsenal!"

"He asked nicely?" Simon tried again, turning back around only to be met with an icy glare. Simon stared down at their companion, brows furrowed, "Jesus, what all did you say?"

Grace didn't give Rocky a chance to answer, "Oh he said plenty."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" he asked, biting back a chuckle.

"Like, "what the fuck are you doing Grace!" "No dumbass!" "Stop being such a whiny little bitch!" "Why Grace so fucking stupid!"" he listed them off one by one, growing more exasperated as both of their amusement became apparent. Simon's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, having to lean against the wall for support as Rocky let out a few giggly trills.

"Oh, I suppose you two think this is funny," he said, cocking his hip as he shifted his weight.

"Yes!" Rocky cheared before Simon shushed him, reigning in his own reactions. He cleared his throat, donning a serious expression.

"No, you're right. It's not funny," he admitted, waiting until Grace's tense posture slackened from the apology. "It's fuckin' hilarious."

He didn't bother holding back anymore, bursting into loud hysterics.

It was the first time he'd heard Simon really laugh, and it was an infectious, carefree sound. He just didn't like the fact that he was the butt of the joke.

Having no other options to turn to in order to make them shut up, Grace resorted to what he knew best.

"Okay, I'm gonna need you to catch a bubble," he said in his stern "teacher voice."

"What?" Simon wheezed, looking between Grace and Rocky, doubling over. "What does that even mean?"

Grace could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as they continued to mock him, but despite his growing embarrassment, he found it increasingly difficult not to smile.

"Means Simon shut the fuck up, statement," Rocky explained.

"Well that's not very nice," Simon mused, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

"That's why I said catch a freaking bubble!" He had to take a deep breath to calm himself back down. He loved Rocky, and Simon was really growing on him, but gosh darn it did they get on his nerves sometimes.

"Careful there, you almost said a bad word," Simon snickered, fist bumping Rocky through the mesh material of his ball.

"Alright, that's it!" Grace clapped loudly to grab their attention. "Apologize. Both of you," he demanded, pointing sternly at the perpetrators.

"Wha- me?" Simon sputtered, caught off guard by the unexpected request.

"Yes you!" Grace insisted, not backing down from his stance. Simon looked him up and down, relaxing with a smirk.

"Why? What're you gonna do about it?" he taunted, relishing in the way his mouth hung open in shock. "Probably nothing."

"Oh I'm gonna do... something," he threatened weakly.

"Yeah, I'm really shaking in my boots," he drawled, sitting back down on the windowsill.

Grace huffed indignantly. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"So I've been told."

Grace rubbed his face from under his glasses, knocking them askew. He hated that Simon was right; he probably would do nothing. It's not like there was much he could do in way of punishment- wait.

A sly smile graced his features, standing up straighter with newfound confidence.

Rocky noticed the shift in demeanor, knowing it could only spell trouble.

"Y'know what? Fine, whatever. Water under the bridge," Grace said, slowly walking closer to his target. Simon only gave a noncommittal hum in response. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before sitting a bit too close to Simon.

"Simon should run now, statement," Rocky tried to warn, only to be brushed off.

"Nah, don't listen to him. We're good!" As if to prove his point, Grace slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Simon arched a brow quizzically, leaning back to study the other man's face. Grace caught his eye, flashing an innocent smile.

"Run! Simon! Simon, run!" Rocky tapped against his ball, and maybe he should actually listen to him.

"Uh, yeah, I'm just gonna-" Simon made to stand, only for Grace to pull him back down.

"Hey, where're you goin'? Just relaaaax," he reassured, giving his shoulders a friendly shake.

"Um, okay..." Simon trailed off, trying to scoot away to put some distance between them, but Grace's grip was surprisingly strong. "Are you sure you're not still mad? 'Cause-"

"What? Nooo, no no. If I was mad, would I do this?" he asked, squeezing up and down his side.

Simon flinched beneath the touch, barking out a surprised laugh before slapping his hand over his mouth.

"Why so shy all of a sudden? I thought you wanted to laugh! Or did you only want to do it at my expense?" he teased.

"Noho, that's not- shihihit don't do thahahat!" Simon snorted as he pinched down his side, squeezing his hip.

"Do what?" Grace asked innocently, continuing to knead around his hip. "Oh, this? Or do you mean this?" As he spoke, his hand jumped up to scratch in his armpit, careful not to get too close to the remaining stump. It had fully healed over months ago, but Grace still wanted to be careful.

"GAHAHAH!" Simon let out a giggly scream, jerking away from the touch and further into Grace's embrace. "You bahahastard!"

"Well now, that's uncalled for," Grace said, tweaking his ribs in retaliation. Simon sputtered through his laughter, trying to twist and reach with his right hand to fight him off.

"Ihihit's justified!" he argued, legs kicking and scrambling against the floor for leverage. Grace adjusted his grip, trapping him in a hug from behind and pulling him into his lap.

"Agree to disagree," he said, raking over his ribs with clawed hands. Simon snorted again, louder this time, and immediately tugged his shirt up to hide his growing blush.

Unfortunately, this made his shirt hike up to expose his lower stomach. Well, unfortunate for Simon. For Grace, it was just the opportunity he was looking for.

"AUGH! MOHOHOTHERFUHUHUCKER!" he cackled as a hand slipped beneath his shirt, kneading and scratching at bare skin.

"I wouldn't dream of touching your mother like that!" Grace gasped, giggling at his own joke as Simon growled through his laughter. His face turned a shade darker, but Grace couldn't tell if it was out of embarrassment, or frustration.

"Wihihill you just shut uhuhup?"

Or both.

"No, I don't think I will," he taunted, a smile evident in his tone.

"Nohohow I know why you're a teacher," he began, and Grace paused his movements to let him catch his breath and speak, curious where he was going.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, because you're a smart AHAHAHASS!" His words were cut off by deep, frantic laughter as Grace dug into both pits.

Simon leaned on him for support, conflicted between pressing his arm down, and reaching around to protect his left side. Grace smirked, vibrating a clawed hand into his stomach while the other played his ribs like a piano. Specifically, the left side of his ribs.

Simon threw his head back, mouth open wide as the sound of his mirth echoed throughout the small ship. He twisted back and forth in Grace's arms, unable to dislodge the probing hands as they wandered his torso.

"Grace only tickling Simon's left side," Rocky noted, startling them both at the reminder of his presence.

"Yeah, and?" Grace prompted, continuing to knead and pinch around his ribs.

"Simon only have one arm! Cannot properly defend himself, statement."

How was it that the living rock was the only one looking out for him?

"Yeah, and?" Grace repeated, smug sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Is mean!" Rocky exclaimed, stomping his foot for emphasis.

Grace barked out a laugh of his own, glasses falling askew as he cocked his head towards him.

"Nah, I'm being super nice, right Si?" he asked, rubbing his knuckles up and down his ribcage to prompt an answer. His fingers brushed against the edge of his gills, and Simon snorted loudly, desperately trying to shove him away.

"NOHOHO! Thihis ihihis cruel ahand unusual punishmehehent!" he cried out defiantly.

"I think I prefer the term funishment!" Grace quipped, tracing along the gill slits ever so gently.

"Ohoho brohohother," he groaned, trying his best to sound annoyed, despite the fact that this was the most he's laughed in years, maybe ever. Deep chuckles gave way to pitchy giggles and breathless snorts as Grace continued tracing his gills. Simon abandoned the idea of fighting him off and chose instead to bury his face in his hand, too embarrassed for Grace or Rocky to look at him directly.

C'mohohon, nohohot there!" he all but begged.

"Okay, then where?" Grace asked smugly, catching a glimpse of the blush rapidly spreading across Simon's face from behind his hand.

"Nohohowhere!"

"Sorry, but that answer's invalid."

"YOU'RE invahahalid!" he argued.

Grace can't help but chuckle, rolling his eyes as Rocky chirped in amusement. "Real mature, guys." Still, he supposed that justice had been served by now, finally deciding to grant him mercy...

Right after this.

"So, how do you feel about raspberries?" he asked casually, slowing his hands to a stop, but still trapping him in a hug.

"What, like the fruit?" Simon asked, confused and panting for breath. "Dunno, never had them. Why?"

"Then I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you've never had this kind either." He didn't give him a chance to ask any follow up questions, burying his face in the crook of Simon's neck, blowing a raspberry over the set of gills there.

The scream Simon let out was loud enough it made Rocky jump, backing away a few steps.

"Simon very loud, statement."

Maybe he was delusional from all the tickling, but Simon swore the bastard was teasing him. 

"GRACE, WHAHAT THEHEHE FUCK?"

"Language!" Grace gasped, feigning shock. He pulled Simon's hair off to the side, allowing easy access to the other side of his neck. "Just for that..." he trailed off, letting the audibly large breath he took speak for itself.

"No wait- dohohon't!" anticapatory giggles fall past his lips as he tries one last time to make a break for it.

If Grace didn't know any better, he'd say he wasn't trying very hard to escape. Interesting.

His lips connected with the other side of his neck, blowing against his gills. Another shrill screech fills the air, dissolving into frantic, bubbly giggles as he tries to scrunch his neck.

"Thihihis ihihisn't FAHAHAIR!" Simon whines, finally managing to shove his face away and knocking his glasses off in the process.

Rocky scrambles to catch them, holding them out for Grace to take as his own amused chuckles die off.

"Thanks bud," he reaches for them, only for Rocky to yank them back at the last second. Grace rolls his eyes and tries again, only to fall for the same trick.

"Serves you right," Simon mutters as he catches his breath, a bright smile still lingering.

Grace still had a proud smirk plastered across his face, shrugging sheepishly. "You okay? I didn't go overboard, did I?" he asked, wanting to make sure he didn't push him too far. Simon huffed out a laugh, waving him off.

"Nah, I've dealt with worse. But you are horrible."

Grace snorted out a laugh, "Oh yeah?"

"Yes! I mean, you attacked a poor, defenseless amputee for no reason!" he said, sarcastic amusement evident in his voice. 

"Well if you ask me, the amputee had it coming," he taunted. "Besides, you're hardly what I'd call defenseless." 

"Whatever. That shit was excessive and you know it."

"You could've asked me to stop at any time," he noted smugly.

"I did!" Simon argued. Didn't he? Surely.

"Mmm, Simon say many things. Did not say stop," Rocky spoke up, earning a playful glare.

"Oh yeah? What do you know."

"Rocky know Simon very ticklish!" He was definitely teasing him now.

Simon let out an embarrassed groan, hiding behind his hand. "I'm never gonna live this down."

Rocky reached through the mesh on his ball to pat his leg comfortingly. "Is okay. Grace still most ticklish human."

"Okay, that's it!" Grace growled playfully. Rocky let out a string of giddy, nervous chirps before rolling down the hall.

Grace jumped up to give chase, but paused in the doorway, looking back at Simon. "So uh, we cool?"

He shook his head fondly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, we're cool."

Grace smiled in relief, turning to chase after Rocky, but Simon's voice calling out stopped him in his tracks. "But that doesn't mean you're off the hook."

Tav grunted in frustration as they tried to wriggle free from the narrow space between the crates. Their movements only caused them to get more wedged in the spot. They were reaching forward, straining to reach Lae’zel’s outstretched hand, only to just be out of her reach. 

“K’chaki. I told you to go around.” Lae’zel grumbled in exasperation. She withdrew her hand. “We waste precious time while you struggle. At any moment, we could become ghaik.” 

“I know that,” Tav groaned and tried to launch themselves forward. They barely moved an inch, and now their waist was fully stuck between the crates. “It’s almost like you’ve been saying the same thing since we crashed! If you’d shut up and give me your hand, I’d be out of here already.”

“You cannot reach my hand,” Lae’zel pointed out as if it was as obvious as day. “And I have no time to wait and make up for your shortcomings. Had I known you would slow me down, I would have left you to your fate on the nautolid.” 

“And you would have no astral prism. You’d turn into a mindflayer before me,” Tav grunted and decided to change tactics, twisting their hips to try and dislodge themselves. It didn’t work. Lae’zel checked her pack, believing she’d been the one carrying it, only for Tav to give a mocking sneer. “Honestly, it’d be an improvement. You wouldn’t be talking so much if you had a mouth full of tentacles.”

Lae’zel scowled. She took a step forward, hand on the hilt of her sword. “You think it’s wise to provoke me in your position?”

Before you could challenge her, Astarion’s silky voice sounded from somewhere behind you. “Now now, darlings. Let’s not turn our blades on each other. We’ve so many enemies we could stab instead..”

Tav heard the sound of his shoes crunching over gravel as he approached them. The sound stopped when he froze, taking in the scene of the trapped leader in front of him. “Oh. Oh dear. Someone’s gotten themselves in a spot of trouble, hm?”

Tav didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking. They bristled, and they would’ve turned to leer at them if they hadn’t been pinned at the waist. “Hilarious, Astarion. Truly. How about doing something useful and helping me?”

The vampire clicked his tongue. “My, so touchy. I’m almost tempted to leave you there. Who knows what a less friendly adventurer would do if they found you?”

“You wouldn’t,” Tav retorted. “You’d miss me too much. Who else would wake up day after day to tell you how handsome you are?” 

“Cheeky,” Astarion smirked. “Still, I’m not convinced to help you. If only there was a word you could say that would make me reconsider. Something like, oh, I don’t know…please?”

“To hells with that,” Tav palmed the sides of the crates and pushed at them. Besides the occasional, minuscule move, they remained right where they were. Their face contorted with exertion, and they heard Astarion snickering behind them. 

“That’s four words, and I'm not looking for any of them.” Astarion stepped closer and leaned against the crates. “But by all means, keep squirming. You look good helpless…”

The heat rose to their cheeks, or maybe that was from all of their struggling? Tav wasn’t sure. They gave up on pushing the crates and twisting their body to and fro. Then, exhaling through their nose, they grumbled, “Fine. Please help me, Astarion. There, happy?”

“Your groveling skills need work,” he snorted. “But it would be cruel for me to expect a grand performance in your state. So of course, my dear, I’ll help you.” Astarion moved behind them, hands outstretching to rest on their sides. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and he rotated them to determine the best angle to pull them from. The light touches sent shivers up their spine, though he didn’t seem to notice. If anything, Tav would’ve chalked it up to the cold. Astarion moved his hands higher, now resting just below their rib cage. His fingers slid along their skin, looking for gods know what, and they jolted.

“What are you doing?” Tav cried incredulously. Lucky for them, he couldn’t see the grin tugging at the corner of their lips.  Lae’zel had already stormed off, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Helping you. Obviously.” Astarion rolled his eyes and readjusted his hold, returning to their sides. This time, he was squeezing them in an attempt to get a better grip. “And I’d have an easier time if you would hold still.” 

Tav choked on a giggle. They did the opposite of what he said and fidgeted some more. Suddenly, the impossible feat of getting themselves out on their own didn’t sound all that impossible. “Forget it, Astarion. I’ll d-do it myself..”

“Nonsense. Stop squirming, and I’ll pull you out.” 

“No, but-” 

Astarion’s fingers ghosted over their stomach, and they squeaked. He froze, and Tav felt their heart do somersaults in their chest. 

“What is the matter with you?” Astarion took his hands away from their belly, fingers resting just above their hips. The confusion was as clear as day in his voice. “You’re acting as if I’m hurting you.”

Tav remained quiet. They feared that they’d end up giggling if they spoke. 

“Tav? Am I hurting you?”

“...No.” Tav hesitated, shaking their head. They wracked their mind for a plausible explanation. “It’s just, uh, your hands. They’re cold.”

“Cold enough to feel through your clothing?” Astarion raised a brow, tone flat. “Odd. You haven’t told me that before..”

Tav didn’t even believe the tale they’d spun. “W-Well, they’re just that c—ah!” Tav squealed when he lightly pinched their hip. “Don’t do that!”

They went to smack at his hand, but hit one of the crates instead. Although they couldn’t see it, Astarion’s eyes brightened with mischief. 

“Oh, now I understand…” Astarion grinned a predatory grin, rolling his knuckles against their hip. Tav squirmed, biting down on their lip to trap the impending giggles. “You’re ticklish, aren’t you?”

“Noho!” The word alone sent butterflies in their stomach. They brought one of their hands up to their mouth, their other hand uselessly hitting the top of the crates. “Damn it Astarion, just pull me ouhuhut!”

“I’m trying, Tav, but you’re not making this easy for me.” Astarion shuffled closer to them, now using his thumbs to deliberately knead into their hips. Tav gasped and giggled into their hand, feet stomping into the dirt. “It’s impossible to get a good grip with you kicking around like this..”

“You’re nohoht trying!” Tav argued, bucking their hips as Astarion kept kneading into them. The ticklish sensations surged through them like electric shocks, and it was harder to suppress their frantic giggling. “Gah! S-Shihihit! When I get out of hehehehre, you’re dehehehad!”

“I’m already dead,” Astarion snorted. “But do tell me, what is so funny? Surely I am not tickling you?”

Tav growled in between their giggles. They giggled harder when he changed tactics and squeezed their hips again, again, and again. Both hands flew to their mouth to muffle their squeals. 

“Darling,” Astarion purred, “I need an answer.” 

“Gohoho to hehehell!” The dam broke, and Tav giggled freely. They twisted and bucked as much as their trapped position allowed, clawing at the crates. “Stohohohp it!”

“Stop what?” Astarion feigned confusion, nails skittering along their waistline. “I’m only trying to help, just as you asked! You’re stuck in here good, I’m afraid.”

“Nohoho! I’ll f-freehehee myself!” Tav sputtered as he dragged his nails up their belly. They shouted and shook their head back and forth, laughing loudly. “Let gOHOHOhahaha!”

“I can’t do that, dear. That would make me a terrible friend,” Astarion tutted. He stopped scritching at their belly, teasing their sides with featherlight strokes. “And, while I’m on the topic, do you know what else sours a friendship?”

Tav’s laughter died down to short, breathless giggles. Their cheeks were well beyond flushed, and they fidgeted in anticipation. “I—hah—don’t know... what?”

“Lying,” Astarion grinned and gently pinched just beneath their rib cage. Tav squealed and bucked. “For instance, pretending not to be delightfully ticklish when you very clearly are.”

Tav’s eyes widened, panic flashing across their face. “I’m—I'm nohot—”

“Ah-ah, there it is again.” Astarion double downed on his efforts, kneading one of his thumbs into the side of their belly. Tav shrieked and kicked their legs uselessly, falling back into another laughing fit. “You are an insolent little pup, aren’t you? Lying is one thing, but lying to a friend? Lying to me?” 

As if they weren’t already stuck enough, Astarion wrapped his free arm around their waist, making it much harder to squirm or kick. He continued tickling their stomach, alternating between gently scratching along their skin with his nails and kneading with his thumb. He moved at a leisurely pace, as if he had all the time in the world. And, truth be told, he did. Tav’s laughter took on a more desperate note, and they threw their head back. 

“NAHAHA! Alright! Okay! I’m sohohohorry!” Tav shouted and pounded their fist against the damned crates. They doubled over, or at least made an effort to, and squealed with laughter. “I’m sohohohohrry!”

“So you are,” he hummed. “And yet, I’m not fully convinced. You’ve already lied to me once. Who’s to say you aren’t doing it again?” He dropped to his knees, lazily raking his nails down the backs of their thighs. Tav shrieked and kicked around even more. 

“I’m nOHOHOHohohot! I’m not!!” Tav grit their teeth and giggled madly. They tried to lift their legs out of his reach, but he chased after them with minimal effort. “PLehehehehease! I’m nohoht lying!”

Astarion laughed. “You learn fast. It’s still a no, though. I’m just gutted that you would lie to me.” He pretended to sound sad while he spidered his nails along the backs of their knees. Tav howled, curling in on themselves as much as possible. “After all of the time we spent together! After I offered to help you..” 

Tav cackled when one of Astarion’s hands snuck back up to prod at their belly. He swirled his pointer finger in random patterns, scritching just shy of their hip bones, around their navel, and ending at their lowermost ribs. He did the same thing in reverse, eventually settling back on the ground to squeeze and tickle their knees and thighs. His fearless leader was a puddle of squeals and giggles, and that’s one crime he was happy to be guilty of. 

“I CAHAHAHN’T!” Tav went back to pounding their fists against the crates, eyes shining with tears. “Astarion, plehehehehehease!”

After what felt like forever, Astarion stopped tickling them. He gripped their hips and, with one firm pull, dislodged them from their trap. They fell back into him, and he held them up, still by their hips. “There you are, you’re free!” he snickered. “You’re welcome.”

Tav exhaled, shutting their eyes. They were coming down from the ticklish sensations, chest rising and falling from each breath they took. They were still smiling a bit, so what they said next had very little bite. “Bastard.”

The tree spirit found that the land of Valencia was rich with story. Elves, faeries, dragons… were only a sampling of the kinds of mythical folk that resided here. Amidst it all, were kingdoms in turmoil, friendships strained, and countless lives lost to that age old enemy of mortals: greed.  The tree first led Nemo to a dragon lord, a magnificent being who could take many forms at will, both of a mortal and draconian nature. As usual, the spirit found that the dragon lord was not as he seemed. So she waited in the safety of her otherworldly glamor for the lord to reveal the piece of himself that drew the Laughing Tree to this land.  Lord Dimitri was a powerful and steadfast leader of his land who beneath his tough exterior, cared deeply for his subjects… enough that, at times, he could be playful with them.  Nemo giggled the first time she witnessed a scene where the lord had caught one servant in particular, Crow, trying to prank him with magic. The servant cackled uncontrollably as her liege tickled under her arms and again her sides with his claws using the very gentlest touch. Eventually he let her go, holding her carefully as to ensure she didn’t fall and scolding her with a gruff chuckle. The tree spirit sighed contentedly, knowing both found the experience equally mirthful.  Once Dimitri left Crow to her duties, Nemo noticed pixies following after him, but he didn’t seem to mind. They seemed to be jovial in their movement, giving off a bright green glow, similar to some of the lord’s own scales. Feeling mischievous, Nemo glided towards each pixie, touching them with her inspiration.  The pixies then descended upon the dragon lord, buzzing around him in a frenzy. At first he seemed angry as he tried to shoo them away without hurting them. But then Nemo heard him chuckle again and again until he was overcome with full belly laughter. The pixies tickled at his ears, neck, sides and under his arms. They danced around his shoulder blades as well close to his wings. And when one went under his chin, he howled with even more laughter.  Nemo found the scene to be incredibly endearing and a perfect story to bring home to the Laughing Tree. Furthermore, she learned that in the realm of Valencia, even dragons could be ticklish. 

"There is coffee," He tries, nudging Grace's dresser, where the Eridians' best attempt at an espresso is sitting. Perhaps bribery is the way forward. "Go'way." Okay, not bribery, then. "You are being ridiculous, statement." "M'tired." He's losing patience. Sometimes he questions whether Grace lied about the age humans reached maturity; it certainly doesn't seem like Ryland has the faculties of a responsible adult. Perhaps he should stop treating him like one. "Graace," Rocky hops up onto the bed, tugging at the covers. He can locate Ryland through the blankets, and see him clutching at the corners to keep them in place. A silly thing to do, considering Grace knows Rocky is much stronger. "I'm sleeping!" Okay, that's it. Rocky grabs for the blankets. "That is stupid, you are talking to me-" "nooo! I am sleeping! I'm sleeping." Protests aplenty, Grace attempts to snatch the covers closer, and it dissolves into a petty wrestling match. Rocky can't make much sense of anything except Ryland's flailing limbs as he tries to gain some advantage.

Then, an interesting noise breaks through the complaints.

A giggle. "Aha-Rocky no!" Grace grabs at Rocky's hand, where it appears to have jabbed under his arm through all the layers of bedding. Now, there's an idea. Unlike Grace, who has already wasted ten minutes of their day, Rocky does not hesitate. He jabs two arms into the quilt, wriggling where he knows Ryland's sides are. "Get up," He commands. The effect is instant. Grace flails wildly, the same way he did when he first introduced Rocky to the concept of tickling, and Rocky had rightly requested a demonstration. What a fortuitous day that was. Now, he has a way to make his friend smile that could also put a stop to those obstinate moods humans are so prone to. And ever since they reached Erid, his new suit has made it so much easier. "ahaha-nononoNO" It's hard not to laugh along with Ryland when he's like this. Human laughter sounds so silly, so sharp, compared to theirs. And Grace's is so squeaky. He sounds like a juvenile, in an endearing sort of way. Rocky presses on, knowing from experience to squeeze gently at the softness of Ryland's stomach. He's rewarded with the reaction he was expecting - frantic leg kicking and high pitched giggles. "You are definitely awake now. Get up." "Rohocky! You aha- you jerk!" Wow. The audacity. Seeing as he's a jerk, apparently, Rocky adds in a third hand - one for the stomach, and two for the sides. Grace's nervous system clearly doesn't know what to make of this, because all he can yelp is "Please!" before dissolving into...hm, what was that word again? Cackles? There were so many ways to describe the different noises humans made when tickled. And Rocky still remembers how to get each of them out of Ryland. Seeing as Grace was set on being a little ♪♫♬♭, he figures he might as well work his way through the checklist. "You could have drunk your coffee in the time I've been tickling you," He laments, prodding up and down Grace's ribs in a way he knows will draw out snorts. These were an especially funny noise. Then there were the yelps - those did not require much effort. Rocky simply changed spots, skipping a few rib bones to go straight under grace's arms. "Stahohop! Aha, jeez, I cahan't!" ...It was always hard to understand Grace when he laughed like this. A pity, really. "Agree to get up, then." He is not graced with a response, just a stubborn glare. Well, if that was how it was going to be... Time to induce the shrieks. Rocky shifts backwards, making sure Ryland's legs, which have long since kicked off the blanket, are weighed down. He hears Grace's heartbeat quicken. "No, nooo, nonono!" "...Yes." With that, Rocky takes two hands, and scribbles them over the backs of Ryland's knees. These were definitely the funniest noises. "OKOK I'M UHUP! I'M UP I'M UP PLEHEASE- ahahaHA!" Grace swats behind him uselessly, but Rocky has what he wants, now. He eases up, and waits for Ryland to catch his breath.

///

This was becoming a problem.

The first time it happened, you hadn't thought much of it. You were in an abandoned warehouse, well into the night, following a lead that may or may not have led to nowhere. Dean was a step in front of you, hand near his gun but not quite pulling it out yet. Then you had heard a noise from somewhere to your left, and you took a blind step backwards, tripping over a rusted piece of broken pipe.

Dean's reaction was faster than your brain could even process that you were falling. His hand shot out, grabbing a firm hold on your upper arm, pulling you up steadily to your feet.

"You okay?" His voice was hushed in the dark.

He held on until you nodded the affirmative, but even then his hold trailed down to your elbow. His hand gave a comforting squeeze before retreating, fingers trailing after the soft material of your shirt. He pulled out his gun, and you saw the same firm grip he used to hold it steady as he proceeded forward through the room.

Your skin burned where he had touched you.

Since then it was like you were zeroed in on his hands. You noticed everything. How he held a beer bottle, the way he fiddled with the ring on his finger, the outline of your hair tie around his wrist, how he held a gun, or a knife, the assuredness and competence in his movements.

It was becoming a real problem.

~

You stood by the rickety table in the corner of the room, cleaning out your handgun. Most of the work was done, and you paused your ritual to take a sip of your whisky cola. Dean was similarly occupied with his Colt on the opposite side of the room.

You heard him groan loudly as he stretched out his back, and the bed creaked when he got up. You busied yourself with your handgun as his footsteps approached you.

You felt him lean over your shoulder, peering at your movements, body heat seeping into you despite the chill in the old building. Hair fell into your eyes, and you placed the bullet down to brush the strands back.

"Here, let me." Dean's voice was soft. His hands gently brushed your hair from your face, pulling the strands together at the back of your head. Your eyes slipped closed for a second at the affection, as he pulled your hair tie off his wrist and tied your hair in a knot. Forcing your attention back to your hands, you tried to feign focus on slipping bullets back into the round. Dean's hand lay heavily on the back of your neck.

Your fingers slipped and the bullet fell to the table with a clatter.

Dean's hand disappeared from your neck and instead he leaned closer to place both his hands on top of yours. They were hot, burning invisible marks into your skin. He guided your hands, placing each individual bullet into the gun, then snapping the round shut. He tightened his grip on your hand and pulled your arm out, pointing the gun at a painting of a fallow deer that hung on the wall. Then his touch was gone.

"Looks good." He said, and retreated.

Exercising a great deal of control, you slowly placed the gun on the table. It was only after you've taken a long swig of your drink that you felt like you could breathe again.

You really needed to get a grip.

~

Dean was tapping on the table.

This wouldn't usually be a problem. You've grown accustomed to the Winchesters' various habits - both the quirky and the annoying. No, you weren't annoyed by it. You were, however, distracted. You peered over the top of the dusty old tome in your hands. Dean's focus was seemingly on the laptop screen in front of him. You trailed your eyes down to his hand.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Thumb, forefinger, middle, ring, pinkie.

Again and again. Same slow rhythm, uninterrupted.

Your mind supplied a possible scenario of what this tapping would feel like against your skin. You huffed at your brain and threw one leg over the other in frustration. Then you flipped a page in the tome. Loudly.

The tapping paused.

"What's up with you?" Dean asked.

"Nothing." You said, adjusting the tome so the bottom of it rested against your leg, and the back leaned on the edge of the table. "This book is stupid."

"Wanna switch?"

You glanced at the laptop warily. "No."

Dean shrugged and went back to scrolling. With a heavy sigh, you returned to the scripts in the tome. Barely a minute passed before you heard it again.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

You would not give in. Teeth clenched, you forced yourself to read through the scripts in front of you. It's been a while since you read any sanskrit, and the distraction was not helping. Before long, your eyes trailed back to Dean's hand, still tapping out that same infuriating rhythm.

"You can just say it, you know." Dean's voice broke you out of your stupor.

"Huh?" You blinked up to see him already looking at you. He leaned in conspirationally, dropping his voice to a teasing whisper.

"I know you like my hands."

Heat rose to your face at an alarming rate. Embarrassment flooded through your chest and you were about to stammer out some kind of weak objection when the truth of his statement hit you.

"What do you mean you 'know'?" You demanded. Dean smiled in satisfaction and shrugged one shoulder.

"You're not exactly subtle." He explained. "It's easy to rile you up."

"You were doing all that on purpose?!" You snapped the tome shut and swung it at him.

Dean burst out laughing, curling his body away from you to shield himself from your attack. You stood from your seat.

"I'm gonna kill you!" You yelled, whacking him in the shoulder. "I'm gonna chop you up into a thousand little pieces and then I'm gonna feed you to the demons!"

"Alright, alright!" Dean was still laughing. He grabbed the book from you and placed it well out of your reach. His hands came up to catch yours, intertwining your fingers together. He looked up at you from his seat, eyes glittering with joy.

"You're cute when you're flustered."

"And you have too much time on your hands."

"Hm." Dean said. He let go of your hands to sneak his around your hips, locking them together at your lower back. "So if I was to ask if you want me to tickle you, you'd say no?"

"That's besides the point."

"No, that's exactly the point." He countered. "Do you like my hands so much because of how I tickle you?"

You flushed harder. "I don't know."

"It's a yes or no question."

"Fine, yes. Whatver. Yes."

A grin stretched on Dean's face. "So you do admit it."

"If I agree, will you let it go?"

"For now." That's the best you were going to get.

You steeled yourself; admissions of feelings never came easy to you. "Yes."

Dean rose from his chair, gently crowding you into the table behind you.

"Wait- now?" You stuttered, bracing your hands against his shoulders but not quite pushing him away. Dean only lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers in the air. You looked away. His shoulders shook as he laughed, and he leaned in to place a quick kiss on your cheek. Then his hands descended.

"Were you always this wriggly?" He asked, digging his fingers in between your ribs. Your legs kicked out instinctively, kicking him in the knee. You let go of one shoulder, deciding instead to bury your laughter in the crook of your elbow.

You felt Dean shift, hands pausing. He leaned in close, and blew light air right on your ear.

"Gah!" You flinched, hard, a strangled sound escaping you without your permission. Dean threw his head back with a cackle. Mortified, you buried your face in your hands. He would never let this go.

"'F yh shng nhghyn mm mrghr yh." You muttered into your hands.

"What's that?" Dean ceased his cackling and ducked down to try and look at you. He pried your hands off your face.

"I said: 'if you say anything I'll murder you'."

"Awh." He cupped your face in his hands. "You know, you're, like, super red right now."

"I'm leaving." You declared, slapping his hands away. Dean let you get away with one last tweak to your side that made you jump. You whirled around and pointed your finger at him when he laughed. "Do not."

You waited until he raised his hands in surrender before turning back around to leave the room.

"Let me know when you want a round two!" His voice rang out after you.

"Never!" You called back.

"Alright, same time tomorrow!"