We get silly here

The weekends were your saving grace though, gifting you time away from scientific research and allowing you to catch up on lost sleep and prepare for the extensive work week all over again.

Your lab partner, however, has proven time and time again that she utilizes the weekends for even more labor, enduring on zero hours of sleep and several cups of black coffee.

It was early Monday morning when you traipsed into the Oasis University laboratory, rubbing your eyes and raising your eyebrows at seeing your work partner hovering over a whiteboard. You usually got to the lab before her, so seeing her working so early made you confused. Given the three mugs sitting empty on her work station, you inferred she had been at the lab practically all night. She hadn't heard you come in and her back was towards you, so you decided to speak up. "Moira?"

No answer. You walked in further and rounded her work table, papers and blueprints scattered across the entire desk. You noticed she was deeply concentrated on the board, writing equations and mumbling to herself. From what you could tell, dark circles laid underneath her eyes, and she looked pale, paler than normal. Her orange hair was unkempt, her uniform disorderly with her blue tie halfway undone, all making you question just how long it's been since she last slept.

"Have you been here all night, Doctor?"

Moira seemed to snap out of her thoughts as she glanced up at you momentarily before turning her head towards her writing again, letting out a short huff of annoyance at your interruption. "All weekend, actually. These equations aren't going to solve themselves."

There was a pause before Moira fell back into her quiet muttering at a volume so low you couldn't pick up what she was saying. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Thursday."

You sighed and shook your head, giving her a disapproving look. This was fairly common among the doctor: she'd go one or two days without rest before ultimately deciding she'd be better at her research with a few hours of sleep. But this, this was four days of restlessness and there's no way it wasn't detrimental to her physical and mental health. She knew about the drastic effects of sleep deprivation, yet here she was.

"Doctor," you started, hesitating for a moment, "might I suggest taking a break?

She scoffed at your proposal, sharing a distasteful look your way before picking up a pen and writing numbers in a journal. Her lack of sleep was also making her much more irritable, you noticed. The two of you had been lab partners for a little over two years now, so you knew how she conducted herself around others. While she certainly isn't cheery, she isn't usually this insolent towards you. You weren't about to let this ill manner continue.

"Our research schedule is shown to be on track," you started, "all genetic prototypes are stable, so what could possibly be keeping you up for four days?"

Moira sat her pen down with a sigh, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "Our prototypes are barely stable. We need to get these leveled by next week or all of our progress will be in vain." Her voice was calm, but teetered on the edge of bitterness. "Is that what you want, Doctor? To be unsuccessful? To fail?"

Her last words came out more vicious than expected, throwing you off guard and making you take a wary step back. She noticed this, immediately clearing her throat and adjusting her tie, giving you an apologetic half smile. "My apologies. I suppose my insomnolence is diminishing my behavior."

You gave her a sympathetic smile. "It's alright, but I really think you need to get some sleep. Your deprivation could also effect your performance and our research."

Moira sighed and shook her head, staring down at her equations. "If I could just figure this out-."

"No, O'Deorain," you began, a strictness laced in your words, "you are going to stop overworking yourself and go home to sleep." You crept up behind Moira as you spoke, footsteps light and unbeknownst to her.

"But-"

"Absolutely no excuses, Doctor." You appended your last word with a quick pinch to her sides. Moira gasped, arms swiftly descending to her waist as she spun around to face you, eyes wide in bewilderment.

"What the hell was that?!"

You smirked, reaching out for her sides again. She quickly blocked your hands, holding hers out defensively in front of you. Her eyes stared into yours and her lips were slightly parted in confusion. If you hadn't known her on a more personal level, you would've assumed this would be your end. But, you continued to move around her guarding hands, shaking your head with a small tut. "You need to sleep, Moira. If I have to take last-ditch efforts, I will."

Moira scoffed. "I will not fall victim to something as childish as tickling."

You didn't respond, only pushing past her hands to land your fingers on her sides again, giving another squeeze. Another gasp and something that sounded so short of a giggle, Moira's hands wrapped around your wrists, trying desperately to pull them away. You knew she was weak though, the tiredness washing away any remaining strength she had. "G-Get..." she sucked in a breath, "...off!"

"Sorry, Doctor, but this is for your own good."

With that, you wasted no time in getting to work. Your fingers continuously pinched at her sides, working their way up and down her waist. Moira let out a half-grunt, half-titter before shaking her head, hands more tightly secured around your wrists. Backing up against the waist-high desk, she planted a foot on the ground to steady herself. "Th-This is highly un-unprofessional!" Her voice was shaky, clearly trying to hold back laughter.

"Hypocrisy is unprofessional," you deadpanned, "going four days without rest is destructive to our research. Is that what you want, Doctor? To be unprofessional?"

Moira growled as you used her earlier words against her, narrowing her eyes towards you and shooting daggers into your soul. You knew she wasn't actually capable of doing any harm in her state, so you smiled and walked your fingers up her slim torso, placing squeezes to her upper ribs. She jerked forward and brought a hand up to her mouth, silencing any sounds that wanted to emit.

You took the opportunity to dig your free hand into the backs of her lower ribs. Moira stared down at the floor, stray hairs falling over her face. She refused to give in to laughter, even though it was plain to see she was having a hard time controlling it. "C'mon, Moira," you started, wiggling your fingers into the divots of her ribs, "just take a break and this won't be necessary."

"It's a-already-ha! unneccesary!"

You sighed disapprovingly. Her stubbornness got the best of her sometimes. Moira tried to squirm out of your grasp, but you pivoted your feet to block any forms of exit, encasing her between you and her desk. "You can laugh, you know. It might even be good for you!"

"D-Damn you!"

"Ah," you tittered, "that's no way to speak to your beloved lab partner."

You tweaked at a particularly sensitive spot on her lower ribs, earning you a breathy yelp and a small laugh. You grinned as a tiny, wobbly smile crafted its way onto her face. Finally about to get her to crack, you continued your prodding on that spot. "All you have to do is agree to go home, and this will be over."

"You ahare so immaTURE! W-we need to get work dohone!"

"No," you retorted, "I need to get work done, and you," another prod, "need to sleep."

The walls all came crashing down with your extra quick pinch, as Moira let out a bark of laughter and succumbed to tiny snickers. It was somewhat odd to hear her laugh, as the occasion rarely happened. But it was also endearing: the stoic scientist actually could giggle and let loose, even if it was at her expense.

"Thihihis is absuhurd!"

You giggled, bringing your hands back down to her sides and scribbling against her black button-up shirt. She slipped into quiet giggles, torso flinching under your light touch. Her hands found their way to your wrists again, feebly trying at pushing them away, but she was rather unsuccessful in her attempt. "I could go on all day, Moira. You know what to do," you smirked.

"Juhust let mehe finish this-"

You made a buzzer noise and shook your head, digging your fingertips harder into her waist. "Your work will still be here tomorrow when you come back. There's no need to rush." Moira yelped and jerked to the side, surrendering to incessant laughter. You carried on with dancing your fingers into her sides, mixing in random pokes and pinches to keep her on edge.

After a few minutes, you stopped your fingers and rested your idle hands on her sides, ready to strike again at any given moment. Moira heaved, chest rising and falling with every breath of air she eagerly took in. You smiled innocently at her, yet expectantly, nodding for her to speak. She glared at you with slitted eyes, biting the inside of her cheek before grimacing. "I demand you release me at once and let me finalize this equation."

You sighed dramatically, looking down at the floor before back up at her, sympathetically. "Honestly, O'Deorain, you never learn." Moira raised an eyebrow before abruptly gasping as you swiftly shoved your hands into her underarms, digging your fingers in with vigor. At the sudden touch, she slammed her arms down to her sides and threw her head back, a stream of loud laughter flowing from her lips. You smirked and pressed on, your fingers leaving no spot untouched. "I think maybe you should demand for me to let you go, no? Since you refuse to go yourself."

"I wihill NOT resort to behehegging!"

"Suit yourself, then."

You persisted with your tickling fingers, leaving the scientist in near cackles as she shifted from left to right, using her elbows as support on the desk to keep herself balanced. The walls of the laboratory echoed with her laughter, and you giggled at her high sensitivity. Her arms pressed against your hands further and you shifted from deep prodding to digging your thumbs into the hollows of her underarms, rendering her helpless.

For being ninety-six hours and counting without sleep, she sure had a lot of endurance. Her ability to withstand this for so long was honestly surprising; surely no amount of caffeine could keep her exhaustion levels down. She proved to be resilient though, as not even your wiggling fingers deterred her. You assumed it was her ridiculously high amount of pride that kept her in this position, but it was something you oddly admired about her.

Even as her voice bounced off the walls with mirthful laughter, she refused to give in to something so foolish. You pressed on with your tickling, bringing one hand back to her ribs to pinch at the bones, the other hand still in her underarm and digging in with exertion. An uncanny smile was wide on her face, deep laughter on the edge of silent, with her body shaking and twitching at each prod.

"Do you agree to take the rest of the day off?

"I CAHAN'T!"

You groaned at that. "You're a workaholic, Moira. You can't do this to yourself." She fell back into her loud cackling, unable to produce any words in her laughter-ridden state. This continued on for a few minutes before you lowered both your hands to her hips in a desperate attempt to make her comply. It seemed to miraculously work, from the moment you squeezed her hips, she doubled over with a wheeze before descending into silent laughter. You smirked triumphantly and continued with your well-placed squeezes. After just a few scarce moments, Moira tapped weakly at your arms, signaling she was giving in.

"OKAHAY! Ohokay ehehenough!"

You removed your hands from her waist and crossed your arms, your stance authoritative with your legs still enclosing her in front of you. Moira turned and slumped over the desk, hastily sucking in deep breaths of air and running a hand through her hair. A tiny yawn escaped her lips as she rubbed her eyes tiredly. You stood there patiently, waiting until she looked up at you to give her a look of expectancy. "I believe you have somewhere to be now."

The doctor sighed, bringing her eyes down to view the clusters of paper before raising them back at you, eyes glossed over with pure exhaustion. There was a pause before she stood back up and silently nodded. You gently smiled and backed away, allowing her to move freely. A small hue of pink dusted across her cheeks as she embarrassedly glanced between you and the floor. She cleared her throat and fixed her tie before gathering her lab coat and some paperwork, neatly placing them into a folder.

"I'll be taking my leave now," there was a pause, "and...thank you, for the imposition."

You grinned, letting out a tiny giggle with a nod of your head. You watched as Moira gathered the rest of her belongings before making her way towards the laboratory entrance.

"Doctor O'Deorain."

Moira turned back to you, raising an eyebrow at the lack of cheeriness in your words. "Hmm?"

"Leave the papers here."

The scientist glanced at the folder in her hand before sighing defeatedly and placing it on an open table next to her. She narrowed her eyes at you, a hint of playfulness in them that only you could catch. "Nothing gets past you, I presume."

You chuckled and nodded your head, putting on your white coat in preparation of running some diagnostics.

The bony hand clicked into place at the wrist as Victor took Emily in his hands.

"I like your enthusiasm."

It was true. He did. Even amidst the hellish world that he found himself in, surrounded by the dead and the rotting and the decayed, he found himself quite fond of Emily. She had a bubbly demeanor that was unparalleled to anything he had seen in the world above. Her passion and excitement made her feel more alive than any breathing person he had known before.

The irony was not lost on him, but he was beginning to wonder if it truly was irony at all. The living were weighed down with the parts they each had to play, their choreography in this meticulous dance they called life decided for them at their birth. You had expectations. Responsibilities. The very same responsibilities that landed Victor in this awkward situation in the first place. What became of those responsibilities after they died? What societal obligation was left to fulfill when keeping food on the table was no longer a priority? The souls here were free of any kind of rules previously imposed on them. They danced when they felt like it, they sung when they felt like it, they were free to be whoever they wanted. It was enviable, honestly.

He envied Emily's freedom.

And what had he done to this bright light of a human being? Broken her heart and lied to her.

She thankfully had the grace to accept his apology. But it still didn't sit right with him.

"I really am sorry" Victor said. "I never meant to hurt you the way I did. I was desperate, and scared, but none of those things are your fault. For whatever it's worth... I think you are a remarkable woman."

It was quiet for a moment, and Victor panicked for a brief moment wondering if he had soured the amicable moment they had just had.

"Why were you in the forest that night?" Emily spoke, barely above a whisper. Her tone was deadly serious and slightly sorrowed, but not angry. It was humble and honest; no pretenses whatsoever. All she wanted from him was to know why she had to hurt like this. If Victor were in her position, he would expect the same.

"I... I ran away. I had made a complete fool of myself in front of my bride and her family during our rehearsal. I thought perhaps some practice reciting my lines would do some good. Some good it did, huh?"

He chuckled, but fell silent as he noticed Emily's stoicism.

Emily turned to look at him. Her eyes were glassy with tears, and Victor felt a pit open itself in his stomach. "It really was an accident. Wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I truly wish I could take it all back. Maybe if I hadn't proposed to you, someone else might have come along and treated you with the love you deserve. With that being said, I do not regret knowing you, Emily. Not in the slightest."

Her lip quivered a little. "You really mean that?"

"Of course."

...

"You lied to me. And humiliated me. I'm still angry for that. And even knowing that you ended up here through an honest mistake... I'm not sure that I can forgive you."

He certainly couldn't blame her. "That's fair."

"But I do not regret knowing you either."

That took Victor by surprise. Despite having every reason to loathe him, she found it in her good heart not to. He honestly couldn't say it was uncharacteristic of her. His throat tightened as tears threatened to spill over down his cheeks, but he muscled them back down.

"Thank you."

It fell quiet again, but this time it was gentle and peaceful, a soft stillness that let each other's true feelings breathe openly and honestly without apology.

Although, Victor was grateful when Emily broke the silence once again.

"What happened that was so embarrassing you thought you had to run away?" she asked, with a huff of breath that Victor recognized as a laugh. Oh, how glad he was to hear that sound again from her.

"What didn't I do?" he laughed in kind. "Let's just say the whole affair ended with my mother-in-law's dress being set on fire."

He was delighted to hear a snort from beside him.

"Oh gods! That does sound terrible!" she laughed.

"It was" he blushed. It certainly had not been his finest moment, but considered himself lucky that Victoria still wanted to proceed with the marriage after that. "No doubt my parents were considering disowning me by that point."

Emily smiled at him. "Oh, I'm sure that's not true."

Oh how true it was. His parents were an ever-present reminder of how much of a pathetic failure he was at being a man. What was worse was that they were right.

Victor turned away, the thought of his parents seeing him like this bringing him feelings of shame.

"I meant it when I said you're lucky you never have to meet my mother. She's... never been the most... warm parent. And my father, well... he's not particularly affectionate either."

Out of his line of sight, Emily's smile lowered a little, but straightened itself as she lightened the mood. "I'll bet you were a very nice child."

The focus coming back to him startled him out of his misery. He blushed a little, and hoped that Emily wouldn't notice. He has never been the most comfortable being the center of attention.

I suppose that is being a nice child, he thought.

"Oh, I don't know" He rubbed his hand at the nape of his neck, soothing himself. "I don't suppose a gangly grasshopper makes for a good child." There admittedly wasn't much that he could say about his childhood that inspired fondness or joy. Certainly nothing he could share with Emily without making her pity him, and he didn't want that.

Emily, ever the optimist, doubled down on her point. "I'm serious! I bet you were a sweet little boy running around, playing with your dog, having fun. I certainly can't imagine you getting into any trouble."

That last remark had a playful edge to it, punctuated by a swift poke to Victor's ribs.

He jerked and gave a laugh, purely on accident. He hadn't realized that his reaction was that noticeable until Emily spoke.

"Oh, so you're ticklish" she teased.

If his cheeks were not blooming red before, they surely were now. His face now angled away from hers in an attempt to hide it. Bashful, as he had been told, was not a good color on him.

Victor chuckled nervously. "Is it so obvious?"

"Quite, and I'm glad. I don't think I've ever heard you properly laugh before."

"For both your benefit and mine."

"You are far too hard on yourself. And now I have the means to prove you wrong."

Wait, what did that-

Victor hadn't more than a second to process that statement before he felt a familiar bony hand scratch at his ribcage.

Once again, he was caught off guard, and couldn't keep himself from laughing, much to his dismay. When he was a boy, the grown-ups had said that he giggled like a little girl, which was quite untrue. Meaning that even the girls he grew up with didn't have a giggle as squeaky or as high as his. Victor thought that he would grow out of that little habit as he grew, but alas, he still had a laugh unfit for a man like him.

His posture shriveled immediately as his torso bent forward and his arms folded up like a raptor's.

Emily seemed to delight in his flailing. "Oh, very ticklish, apparently" she crowed. "Where do you get the nerve to put down your laugh like that? I've never heard such a sweet sound."

Now she had to be buttering him up on purpose. She was being polite. There was no way she actually meant that.

Victor muscled through his titters, still wriggling about. "This isn't nece- necessarYYY!" he squealed, as another bony hand plucked sharply at his other set of ribs.

"It is too necessary. I haven't seen you smile this wide in the whole that I have known you."

"Of ten hours!"

"Still!" she insisted.

Her fingers wandered up into the hollows of his underarms, causing him to jump in his seat and clamp his arms down with a yelp. Unfortunately for him, that meant those dastardly fingers were now trapped there.

It tickled incredibly, his mind beginning to lose itself with how fried it was from the tingly zaps.

This was so undignified. But it was hardly Victor's fault. He had been tickled once or twice as a child, but that had been with living, fleshy hands. These, that were torturing him now, were bony and thin, providing firmer and more precise pressure.

Unbothered, Emily simply watched him as she picked him apart. "Would you like me to move my hands now?"

What kind of a question was that?!

"Yes!" he answered.

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't. They seem to be stuck in there." And then she carried on, not an ounce of compassion for his plight whatsoever.

"Well, stop tickling then!" he squealed.

"Not until you lift your arms up" she demanded, the grin in her voice quite noticeable. She was having fun toying with him like this.

"I cahan't!"

"Well then, I suppose we should get comfortable then, shouldn't we? I'm good to stay here all night." And, just to drive that point home, she cooed. "Tickle, tickle, tickle! Tickle, tickle, tickle!"

Victor's face burned with the heat of what could have been a thousand suns, shame lighting up his face like the glow from a fire.

"You're embarrassing me!" he cried out.

Emily clicked her tongue sympathetically. "Well there's no need for that. There's no one to impress here. We're just having fun. At least I am. I like you like this; you look happier, lighter. I'd like to see you laugh more often, its a beautiful thing."

Victor began to wonder (with what little brain power he had left) if Emily really meant the things she was saying. It wasn't like her to speak so earnestly and not believe it.

But who could think a shrill laugh such as his was nice, much less beautiful?

No one in his life had ever spoken to him so kindly about his traits. No one he had known had ever looked upon him in such an uncomposed state and thought it a pretty thing. But then again, he wasn't in the living world, was he? Perhaps that was the problem.

Emily was right. There was no one down here in this parlor for Victor to impress. The rules of etiquette that existed in the world above were no longer relevant here. So what he was he so timid for?

Victor's laughter rang out in the air now with a new fervor, newly unburdened by his self-consciousness.

He supposed this was rather fun, wasn't it?

But still was the issue of releasing those tickly fingers from under his arms.

With as much willpower as he could muster, he snapped his elbows out towards his sides, giving Emily's hands the chance to escape.

True to her word, she moved them.

"Very good" she said, sounding impressed.

Victor's moment of reprieve ended abruptly as her hands now skittered and crawled up and down the rest of his torso, sending him into another fit of bubbly hysteria.

Perhaps he was a tad naïve to think that this little game had been over so simply. Though, if he were honest, he was not disappointed. Not even a little.

"That's better!" Emily chirped. "Now I can tickle you everywhere!"

"No!" Victor whimpered half-heartedly.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Emily mocked. "I need to find out where else you're ticklish. Unless you'd like to give me a hint."

Absolutely not.

"Absolutely not!" he shouted.

Emily merely shrugged. "Have it your way."

A hand lingered over Victor's midriff when it had felt him flinch, and honed in on the spot.

His head thunked pathetically onto the piano keys with a loud twang as he gasped breathlessly.

"Ticklish there?" Emily asked.

Victor could not reply, though his cackles probably served as a sufficient answer.

Emily ventured out towards his sides and kept going down as she reached his hip bones.

A spark shot up Victor's spine, and without warning, his legs kicked out, thrusting himself backwards and sending the both of them tumbling off of the bench.

Emily was laughing with him now, her merriment radiating in the room like a lantern next to him.

The two continued to lie there, still a little in shock, but laughing themselves silly.

As Victor caught his breath, he heard Emily giggle. "Well, that was unexpected."

As unexpected it had been for Emily, it had been even more so for poor Victor. The couple of times he had been tickled had never gone to his hips, and he had no idea they were that sensitive until now.

He couldn't help having a little fun with her. "Serves you right for attacking me like that."

"Oh, like you weren't enjoying yourself."

Victor found himself with nothing to say.

"I see that blush!" Emily crooned. "You know I'm right!" She pushed her pointer finger into his cheek, making him laugh again.

"Alright, alright..." he surrendered, batting the finger away.

He sighed, a warm and fuzzy feeling still filling his chest. It had been years since he had laughed that hard. He had forgotten how much he missed it.

In less than seventy-two hours, the Land of the Dead had already become more welcoming to him than his home had in twenty years.

He hoped that perhaps this could be the beginnings of a wonderful friendship for Emily and him. He had never had a friend before, and he would be honored for her to be that first.

The sudden ringing of a bell signaled a new arrival, and the parlor buzzed to life.

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