Uhhhh...

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After Odysseus got home from Ithaca, Telemachus noticed 3 things his father loved. Telling bad jokes, telling stories of his friends and their adventures, and physical touch. It took some getting used to– having a man who loves Penelope and him, instead of just loving the former for her position in power –but hey, he wasn’t gonna complain. 

He’s lucky Athena helped him stop flinching whenever someone lifted their hand to him (even when she would hug him he would jerk so hard he almost fell on multiple occasions) because Odysseus of Ithaca was touch starved, and loved to hug. 

It was around 6 months after the king returned. Telemachus was in his room after deciding to work on his weaving skills like his mom wanted him to. He was really just killing time, as he knew Athena and Odysseus wanted to spend some quality time to “catch up after 10 years”. He figured they were probably sparing, which was fine with Telemachus. Besides, they promised to train with him before supper. 

The prince grew impatient after around 30 ish minutes of weaving, and decided he would wait until he was done threading 10 more strings. Then he would check up on them to see if they were done. He got through around 7 before he heard a knock on his door. 

He turned around on his stool to face the door, “come in!” His happiness rose when his father opened the door and walked in, his mentor following behind. “Athena! Father! I was just gonna check on you guys!”

“Check on us?” Athena chuckled, “we know how to handle ourselves, young wolf.”

“Yeah, I know, but I just wanted to see if you guys were done,” as Telemachus explained, he got up and grabbed his sandals. He then sat on the edge of his bed to put them on.

“How patient you are,” Odysseus sassed, chuckling as he shook his head.

After putting on his sandals, the prince was about to stand up, but Athena and Odysseus ended up joining him on the bed, both of them sitting down on either side of him. “Oh! Hey guys, are we not going?” He questioned, now leaning back on his hands.

“Not yet,” Odysseus started, sharing a look with Athena that Telemachus unfortunately didn’t pick up on, “we’ve just been training for so long, plus I’m getting old, I need rests every once in a while.” to prove his point further, the king stretched his arms, earning a satisfying pop from his shoulder. 

“I understand father,” Telemachus said sincerely, turning to look at the goddess beside him, “but Athena, can’t you take me? Father can join us when he’s all rested.”

“You don’t wanna wait for your father?” Athena said, trying her best to suppress her smirk.

“Uh, ouch!” Odysseus joked, poking his son in the ribs. He couldn’t hide his smile when said boy yelped and flinched, “what was that? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

“N-no! Father, I’m fine!” Telemachus stammered out. He then noticed his father’s stupid smile. “Y-you know what you did!”

With one final look at Athena, Odysseus thought it was time to put their plan into action. He brought both of his hands to the prince’s stomach, wiggling his fingers against the clothed area lightly, “you caught me!”

Telemachus screeched when the contact happened, his elbows quickly giving out, causing him to lie down flat on his back. “FAHahahather!” He giggled, slapping lightly at the hands tickling him, “whahahat ahahahare yohohou dohohohoing?!”

“He’s tickling you! Wasn’t that obvious?” Athena teased, joining in on the fun by scribbling her nails all around Telemachus’ neck. “Now I am too, if you didn’t know that either.”

“Hehehehey!” The chosen spot caused the younger’s laughter to turn squeaky, breathy giggles flowing out of his mouth as he shook his head from side to side.

“Hello!” Athena teasingly greeted with a smirk, Odysseus barking out a laugh of his own, “should we reveal our plan yet, Ody?”

After thinking for a second, and frantic ‘yes’s coming from the prince, Odysseus shrugged, “I don’t see why we shouldn’t.” They both stopped tickling for a moment to let Telemachus breathe. It was short-lived, however, when he felt Athena yank his arms above his head, feeling her knees pinning his arms down to the mattress. Then he started giggling again.

“Oh my gods, you’re just a little giggle monster, aren’t you?” Odysseus chuckled in amusement, noticing his son’s rosy cheeks, “we’re just gonna explain ourselves, then we’re gonna tickle you. Okay? You can breathe for a second.”

“Ohohokay,” Telemachus giggled, taking a few deep breaths to try and keep his laughter at bay.

“Wanna do the honours?” Odysseus asked his friend, motioning for her to speak.

“I would love to!” Athena answered, “while your father and I were training, I misplaced my hand and accidentally tickled him a little.”

“Okay you could have left that part out.” Odysseus complained, though the small smile on his face showed just how upset he was.

“No, it’s crucial to the story! Anyways, on our way here, I might have let it slip that you were a little ticklish.”

“Wha- Athena!” Now it was Telemachus’ turn to protest, the pink on his cheeks deepening.

“What? It’s practically common knowledge, I thought he would’ve known already,” Athena defended, continuing her story, “after the topic got brought up, we made a little… bet.”

Now Telemachus wore a nervous smile on his face. Now he just had to ask, “w-what was the bet..?” 

“We wanted to see who was the better tickler, me or Athena,” Odysseus finished for the goddess, his loving smile growing wider as he saw his son’s eyes widen. 

“Seriously?! Why am I your test subject?!” Telemachus frantically asked, his voice growing in volume and pitch as he felt himself getting flustered. He began to half-heartedly pull at his hands and started to squirm a little. 

“Who else were we supposed to use? Penelope?” Odysseus asked, “I’d rather keep that between me and her.”

“Ew- dad, grohoss,” Telemachus made a face of disgust, to top it off he even made a fake puking sound. 

“Are you really one to be giving him attitude? We have you pinned here with the intention of tickling you, and you know this,” Athena pointed out, laughing when Telemachus started to giggle again, “maybe you take after your father, digging your own grave so you’ll get tickled more.” The goddess laughed harder when both men protested.

“Athena! Shut up!”

“I think you're forgetting who our target is here, Athena.” Odysseus switched the focus back to his son. He got himself sat on his son’s knees— to make sure he was properly pinned —before wiggling his fingers in the air above Telemachus’ stomach once again, “are you ready~?”

The prince yelped as soon as he saw his father’s hands, quickly shutting his eyes as more helpless giggles escaped him, “nohohoho! Nohohoho I’m nohohohot!”

“Oh I forgot to tell you,” Athena spoke up, now matching Ody’s actions except now above Telemachus’ armpits, “this kills him. He can’t take anticipation at all.”

“Ahathehehenahaaaa!” Telemachus whined, “dohon’t tehehell him thahahat!” 

“Oh! That’s a point for me!” Athena cheered.

Odysseus’ mouth fell open, “what?! Says who? I didn’t know we were starting yet!”

“Says me, and says your son. I get a fluster point.” 

“A fluster point?! What the hell is that?”

This was really not how the young prince saw this day going. Even if he did see it coming, it was so unfair! He didn’t stand a chance against a war veteran and a literal goddess of battle strategy.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t… hate the type of affection he was getting. He liked the attention from his father and mentor, okay? Sue him! But that’s it, and nothing more! Right..?

“Fine, fine, we can start again at zero-zero. But the competition starts now,” Telemachus didn’t have that much time to really think about it before he heard Athena’s voice above him, “Three…”

“NO! Ahathehena! Dohohon’t cohohount!” Telemachus tried to hide his flushed face in his elbows, wishing his bed would just swallow him whole.

“Okay then, I will!” Odysseus chuckled, moving his wiggling fingers to his son’s sides, “two…” he shared a laugh with Athena when Telemachus let out a string of giggly “nonono”s.

“… two and a half…” Odysseus and Athena were now laughing as hard as the boy beneath them as they said the phrase at the same time, they had to stop their actions just to make sure they didn’t fall over from how hard they were giggling.

“Quhihit lahaughing!” Telemachus groaned and threw his head back. Gods, couldn't they just start already?!

“Ohohokay, paharty pooper,” It was like they read his mind or something, because that’s exactly when both of them decided to strike. 

Odysseus scribbled over his stomach, digging in with more pressure on various points at random to try and get a bigger reaction out of his son. He pinched his lower stomach, drawing out another screech from Telemachus. When he noticed it, he really focused on that spot.

Athena was a lot gentler, but definitely not any better. She used her nails to graze over his exposed pits. She made sure to focus closer to his ribs, it made him wanna make the most embarrassing little squeaks and squeals. 

“YOhohohou mihihissed ohohone! YohHOHOMISSEDONE- yohohou mihihihissed ohohohone!” Telemachus panicked, shaking his head as he shrieked and frantically tugged at his arms. They barely started, and he was flopping around like a fish out of water.

Oh, and don’t get him started on their teasing. Why did they have to be so damn good at teasing?!

“Aww, Athena! Did you hear that shriek?! That was definitely because of me!”

“I wouldn’t get so arrogant, friend, when I trace his arms like this he gets really giggly, watch!” The goddess replied. She did exactly what she described, lightly dragging her nails from Telemachus’ wrists to his upper rib. When she reached her destination, she just repeated the action. God, it was torture, and Telemachus sure showed it. His giggling picked up in speed and pitch as the goddess continued her featherlight touches. He couldn’t help but throw his head back and helplessly pull at his trapped arms. Athena let out a snort at the reaction, “See? What did I tell you.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! His armpits are probably a better spot than his stomach!”

“Actually, you’re really close to a huge tickle spot of his.” 

“Really? Where is it?” Odysseus asked, moving his hands to Telemachus’ sides, thinking that was where the goddess was talking about. He was happy when the spot caused more frantic giggles out of the younger, squeaky hiccups peppering his growing laughter.

“Dohohon’t tehehehell hihihim!” Telemachus screeched out.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t. I intend on winning this competition,” Athena reassured, “how about this. You tell me who’s winning so far, and then depending on your answer, I’ll go easier on you.”

“You can’t bribe him!” Odysseus protested, stopping for a moment to let his son breathe, Athena following his lead, “that’s not what we agreed on. Telemachus, when you say who wins, then we’ll move to a different spot. Does that make more sense?”

This was so embarrassing. Telemachus couldn’t believe his father and mentor could come up with such a silly competition. Now that he thought about it, maybe this whole thing was just an excuse to tickle him, and that would be even more humiliating. However, it was with the two people he trusted the most, and they were in private. So he couldn’t complain too much. Maybe that why he decided to comply with this, “Ohohokahay, fihihine!”

Athena smiled “so who won this round?”

Now Telemachus grew more flustered and panicky, nervous that his answer may offend the other, or worse, make things worse for him. “I-I dohohon’t knhohow!” He began to giggle quicker, a clear indicator that he was bluffing. He cursed himself for being a nervous laugher.

“Oh come on, Telemachus, there has to be a winner,” Odysseus egged him on, bringing his hand back down to his son’s stomach to just rest it there. Threatening to start scribbling all over again.

“I dohohohohon’t wahahahanna sahahay!”

“Oh so there is a winner?” Athena teased, lightly tapping her nails on said prince’s exposed underarms. Oh gods, that was so bad-

“ATHENA! Ahahahathehehnaha wihihins! Fohohohor thehehe lohove of gohohods Stahahap thehehehe tahahaping!” 

Athena cheered in success punching her fists in the air in her victory cry. Odysseus’ mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe it! “No way! Telemachus, what was it about Athena’s tickling made her win? Are you more ticklish on your armpits? Is that it?”

“Noho,” Telemachus answered before he really thought about his father’s question. He quickly shut his mouth before his lips could betray him yet again.

“I think it’s because of my tactic. I had a feeling I was gonna win this round,” Athena gloated as she chose her next spot: Telemachus’ ribs. She rested her hands on the bones, causing Telemachus to squeal and try to shove his bright pink face into his arms.

“Wait, what tactic? What were you doing?” Odysseus asked, settling on his son’s hips. Oh no, Telemachus was so royally fucked.

“SHIT- nohoho! Guhuhuys- swihihihitch spohohohots! Gohoho sohohomewhere ehehehehelse!” The prince’s giggles picked up in pace. Why did they have to choose THOSE spots? Seriously, what were the odds of that happening?

“Oh this is about to be good,” Athena chuckled as she got to work, not wanting to wait any longer. She began to gently squeeze up and down Telemachus’ rib cage. Making sure to scratch the bones on the way back down to do it all over again. The action caused another undignified shriek to rip out of the prince, frantic cackling coming out right after.

Although the goddess had a head start, Odysseus was quick to follow. He started drilling his thumb into his son’s hips, the rest of his fingers curling into the spot where the bone met his back. He was kinda disappointed that all he got was a buck, but no other reactions. Athena got a full-blown squeal! What was he doing wrong?

“Oh my goodness! I forgot how ticklish you were,” Athena mused as she began to lightly glide her nails over his bottom rib, “are all your ribs this ticklish? Let’s check! Here’s one~, two~, three~”

“OHOHOHO GOHOHODS AHAhahathehenahaha! Nahahat THAHAHAT! AHAhahaha! Gehe- Gehehehehehet ohohohoff!” Telemachus could barely get his words out because of how flustered he was. His mind was quickly turning to mush the more that his mentor counted, slowly reaching back up to his underarms. She stopped just under to rake her nails back up and down his ribs, now a little rougher. 

Odysseus noticed how when she got more… agressive, Telemachus turned from hysterical laughter back down to panicked giggling. An imaginary lightbulb turned on in his head. That’s what he had to do!

Athena was way in the lead so far, and she knew it. She was admittedly getting a little cocky. “What’s wrong, Odysseus? Scared that you’re gonna lose?” She threw a teasing jab at her friend, now viciously vibrating her hand into the crevices of Telemachus’ ribs, causing the boy to downright cackle and throw his head back.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of yourself if I were you.” Odysseus replied with a smirk. He then lightened his pressure, giving an experimental light squeeze to Telemachus’ hip. His smirk grew as his son gave a high pitch squeak before quickly shutting his mouth. Everyone stopped for a moment, before Odysseus looked up at Athena to say, “see? I know how to tickle my son, Athena.” (Despite him not tickling before this moment). He then chose to gently scribble his blunt nails over his son’s hip. 

And that is how Telemachus of Ithaca died. 

Okay, maybe he didn’t die. But he was sure as hell close. A little known fact about the prince is how ridiculously ticklish he is, as you probably gathered from the previous. However, if there’s any spot on this young warrior that is 10x worse when using the right method, it’s his hips. 

He screamed before throwing his head back and shaking it in silent laughter. When he caught his breath, it came with a mixture of hiccup and a snort. He then dissolved into frantic laughter, along with a lot of squirming.

“Woah! I wasn’t expecting that reaction!” Odysseus gave a surprised chuckle, now lightly pinching his son’s hips. He alternated sides, so Telemachus was stuck with always trying to guess which side he would pinch next.

“I told you, your tactic was the issue. His stomach is actually quite ticklish too.” Athena commented, noticing how hard the prince was laughing and wanting to give him a break. She moved her own hands to her mentee’s neck, giggling when he would try to block the sensations by tilting his head from side to side.

Odysseus knew he was going to win this round, so he was satisfied going back to the prince’s sides. He still used gentler motions, but it was a much less sensitive spot. 

Telemachus genuinely couldn't be more grateful. If as said before, he didn’t mind the action, but if his father tickled him for too long, he might have passed out (oh he is so dramatic). “Dahahahad! Thahahahat wahahahas sohohoho bahahahahad! Dohohohohon’t dohohhoho thahahat!”

Odysseus smiled at the less formal name. “What, do you want me to lose?” He was met with another snort and more squirming as Telemachus wiggled from side to side and arched his back on occasion, “you’re such a little squirmer aren’t you? Huh? Is it ticklish, Telemachus? Does it really tickle tickle tickle?” 

Telemachus threw his head back as his shoulders shrugged to try and block Athena’s consistent scratching, “whahahahat dohoho yohohohohou thihihink?! Ahahahaha!”

“I wouldn’t be so sassy, Telemachus.” Athena reminded, scratching gently behind the warrior’s ears. He let out another snort before trying to shake her hands off.

“So who won, Telemachus?” The king asked, way too cocky for his own good.

“Yohohou! Yohohou wohohon! Nohohow quihihit ihihihihit!” Telemachus giggled. The pair decided to give the boy another break. 

“Well now we have a tie,” Athena mentions, “There needs to be a tiebreaker. Right, Telemachus?” The boy was too tired and giggle drunk to stop himself from nodding. Okay, maybe he was having more fun than he was letting on.

“Then we’ll have a tiebreaker,” Athena says, “I wasn’t expecting you to be such a good tickler, Odysseus. I can imagine it’s been quite a while.”

“Well, when you had a friend like Polites growing up, and a grandfather like Hermes looking on you— especially for the last 10 years —, and not to mention you as a mentor,” he chuckles, “I’m just saying you pick up on some things after a while, and they stick for life.”

“That is true, you would have multiple tickle fights with your friend. And Hermes would tell me all about his visits.”

“Okay, okay! That’s enough.” Odysseus protests as he felt his face heating up. 

“Wahahait, yohou had tickle fights?! I neheheed to hear those stohories.” Telemachus perks up, despite still giggling slightly.

“That’s really not necessary-”

“I’ll tell you later, young wolf.” She then leaned down to whisper in the prince’s ear, “I’ll even show you during training today” earning a giggle from Telemachus.

“What are you two whispering about?” Odysseus didn’t like their matching mischievous smiles, “don’t forget that you also have some… sensitivities, Athena.”

Telemachus laughed a little harder when Athena’s eyes widened. Unfortunately, his giggling caught the attention of the pair above him. “I wouldn’t be laughing too much if I were you. We still have one more round to do.” Suddenly Telemachus stopped laughing to try and hide himself again, but it was too late.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be as bad as before. We’ll go easy on you.” Odysseus reassured, ruining his thumb comfortingly along Telemachus’ sides. Even that action caused the 20-year-old to start giggling again, him trying to shrink himself, or perhaps melt into the bed, “although that may be hard, considering how ticklish you seem to be. Seriously, have you been able to stop giggling for like 5 seconds?”

“Fahather! Shuhuhut up!” Telemachus whined. He smiled as that seemed to provoke them, that being his way to tell him he’s ready for the last round.

“Oh really? Shut up? Okay, I’ll shut up. Athena?” Odysseus called, motioning her to stand up and go towards his son’s lower body. 

Now being able to move his arms, Telemachus held his elbows. He would have curled into a ball, but he felt hands grab his legs. Those hands somehow managed to flip him onto his stomach. Telemachus let out a ‘woah’ in surprise before he realized where they were going.

“HangonhahangonhangOHON- wait guhuys, nohohot there plehehehease!” Telemachus rambled, his words blending together because of how fast he was speaking.

“You’ve said “not there” to every spot, son. Where do you want us to go then?” Odysseus chuckled at his son’s sensitivity. He really wasn’t expecting this much from the young Prince. Even he wasn’t this ticklish! He probably got it from his mother, Odysseus decided, remembering how adorably ticklish his wife is. 

“Ugh, nohohowhehehere!” Telemachus whined at his father, “b-buhuhut just get it ohover with.”

“I don’t know… are you really one to bossing us around?” Athena teased as she dragged a finger from the back of Telemachus’ thigh all the way down to his ankle, smirking at Odysseus when Telemachus twitched, especially when she got to the back of his knee. 

“Guhuuuuuys, plehehease! Yohohou’re kihihilling meeee!” 

Odysseus gave a long, exaggerated sigh, “fine, we need you alive for training today.”

At those words, he and Athena got to work.

Now their methods were similar, after Odysseus learned about how ticklish he is to lighter touches. The king focused on lightly squeezing the back of his son’s legs. When Telemachus kicked his leg, he switched positions to put his ankle in a headlock, now focusing on squeezing his calves.

Athena kept up her scratching game, gently scribbling her fingers in the backs of the prince’s thighs. When Telemachus would kick, she just caught his foot with ease, holding it in a bent position as she continued the movements on the back of his thighs.

Telemachus screamed (for the 100th time that day) into the mattress before luckily finding a pillow for him to slam heated his face into. “AH- gUHUHUYS! Nahahahahohoho! Cohohohome ohohoHOHON!” He giggled, bordering on laughter.

The adorable sound spiked when both parties targeted the big spot at the same time: the backs of his knees. They both used their nails to scratch and scribble at the sensitive skin. And they both would occasionally run up to the backs of his thighs to really get him jumping. 

And oh Gods the teasing came back.

“Aww! He’s so ticklish! It’s so cute!”

“I know, Athena! I seriously never thought someone was this sensitive. Even Polites wasn’t this bad!”

“Oh Gods, now that’s saying something. That kid was insane.”

“Shh, he can probably hear you. The bastard’s always lurking somewhere. I’d much rather talk about my son and his amazing laughter.”

“Oh trust me, so do I. It’s very squeaky. It wasn’t like this when we first started.”

“That’s probably the poor kid’s worn out. He’s going through quite the ab workout.” 

“That he is. It’s still absolutely adorable!”

“It certainly is. In fact, I would dare say it’s my favourite sound in the world.” 

“Listen to how happy he is!”

“He does sound happy! Does he like this, do you think?”

“Oh he definitely does. He didn’t at first, but now he’s always provoking me to tickle him.”

“Ah, the Athena effect. It sure is powerful,” Odysseus joked, looking up at his son to make sure he was genuinely having fun. He gave a sincere smile at the sight before him.

Telemachus’ hair was messy from all of the squirming. His hands were hugged around himself, and his face was shoved into a pillow, however you can still see his pink ears. You could also see the corner of his smile, that’s how wide it was. 

Ody elbowed the Goddess to look at his son, causing her to let out an ‘aww’ out of pure adoration. That teasing coo was the final straw for the prince. “OHOHOHOKAHAY! *snort* I- AHAHAHA! I- I GIHIHIVE! U-UHUHUNCLE, UNCLEHEHE!” He screamed into the pillow, taking one hand away from his midsection to rapidly tap on the bed. 

As soon as they heard the second call for mercy, Odysseus and Athena both stopped, letting go of Telemachus to fully allow him to curl into a ball. 

“I’ll be honest with you, you lasted a lot longer than I thought,” Athena teased and complemented at the same time, “see, our stamina exercises have been working, and they come in handy in situations.”

“Oh you still do those? No wonder he can last so long!” Ody laughed as he patted on Telemachus’ back, “now I hate to ask you so soon, Telemachus. But who won?”

Telemachus’ breath hitched slightly. Oh fuck. He didn’t know.

They were both absolutely ruthless. Both of their teasing, as if they were having totally normal conversations while tickling the ever loving shit out of him, was unbearable. Once his father figured out his weakness, it was game over. However, Athena knew about it and used it against him from the beginning.

“I… I don’t know.. Genuinely…” Telemachus admitted, still a little breathless from the previous attack, “I-I’m sorry, this was all a waste of time.”

Athena and Odysseus shared a fond smile while looking at the boy. “Telemachus, it wasn’t a waste of time, and you have nothing to be sorry for,” Athena reassured him, carding her hand through his hair to calm him down a little, “this wasn’t a serious competition. To be honest, we just really wanted a reason to tickle you.”

Telemachus groaned. He knew it!

“Oh don’t give us that, we know you enjoyed yourself,” Odysseus teased, giving a quick scribble up his back before his son flinched out of his hands.

“Now, if you’re still up for training-”

“YES!” Telemachus cut his mentor off by suddenly sitting up, springing to his feet as he grabbed his spear.

Athena and Odysseus laughed. Somehow this kid still had energy in him, even after getting the life tickled out of him. “In that case, I think your father is long overdue for some “training”, don’t you think?” She winked at Telemachus who giggled at the thought of his father going through what he had to deal with quite often (basically weekly at this point).

Odysseus’ mouth fell open. He rolled his eyes when Athena promptly brought her hand out to close it, causing her and his son to giggle as they started to exit the bedroom, “hey, Telemachus, don’t you wanna learn how to tickle a goddess?”

“Watch yourself.” Athena shot her friend a glare, though it lost all its bite at her slight blush on her cheeks.

“I could say the same thing to you,” Ody shot one back.

Person A: And I'll make you laugh. Liiiikke.. this.

Person B: Nah- haaHAH!!

Person A: oohohohoo... you ticklish?

Person B: ahaha- whahahat kind of- questi-eeEEEK!!

Person A: Just teasing! I can do more if you want... liiiike..... eeegitchie gitchiecoo<3

“Give me 20 minutes; I'm not done.” He said that over an hour ago. Shifting closer, I rest my chin on his shoulder from behind while wrapping my arm across his middle, looking down at the laptop and papers strewn about in front of him. He's gotten more anxious lately. More than usual.

Sure, the food situation isn't the best, but he's gotten obsessed with checking every little fucking thing on the ship. Is the ship staging on course? Is the water reclaimer working? Are the oxygen levels okay? Are the Taumoeba breeding tanks leaking? etc. Any and every possible bad scenario seems to be running through his head all the time.

I huff, peering over at his face. It's been over 24 hours at this point, according to Rocky, and he looks terrible. His skin has lost its slight pink hue, looking pale as his hands shake before he starts typing again. I can't stop the grimace that crosses my face as I try to hold him tighter.

He shrugs me off as I see him flip through multiple tabs of the Hail Mary's vitals and equipment maintenance information while running a hand through his hair. Taking a step back, I look at how thin he's gotten recently. Although I wouldn't say it's too bad yet, the Taumoba slurry is eating away at his muscle and some of his fat. The sweater I'd stolen three nights ago used to fit him so snugly, but tonight, it looks like it belongs to someone else.

“Ryland, everything is fine. There would be alarms and shit going off if something was wrong.” I try to say it in a reassuring tone, leaning my chest against his back, kissing the messy cowlick at the back of his head. It refuses to stay down no matter how many times he tries to smooth it flat.

“The point is to catch anything before it goes wrong and triggers the alarms.” He picks up some papers, skimming over the data. His voice has lost the sweetness it's usually swirled in. It sounds cold and slightly annoyed at my pestering.

I stayed up waiting for him. Again. Every night this week I promised myself I wouldn't, and every night I break that promise. I know I didn’t have to, but for the sake of Rocky, it’s significantly easier to watch us both at the same time. Having your humans wake around the same time is also less time-consuming than if they staggered, keeping him stuck watching longer.

And I want to fall asleep next to Ryland.

I know why he worries. I worry. I worried like him when I first arrived, and he was the one to tell me everything was all right, but it slowly started eating away at him now, in a way that is, in turn, worrying me again. Full circle.

I sigh into his hair and reach my arm back around, placing it over his tummy, rubbing my thumb back and forth across the front of his stomach.

“Simon…” he says in a warning tone as his body tenses up against mine.

“What? I’m just hugging you.” Murmur with a small smirk, moving my face to the nape of his neck and planting a small kiss. I open my mouth slightly and nip at the sensitive skin, earning me a squeak.

“Sihimon. Stohop. I’m busy.” Trying to steel himself, he scoots forward, only to jump back as I softly prod at his middle. I lean against him firmly with most of my body weight, pinning him to the table as he wiggles.

I worm my hand under his shirt and lightly scratch at his stomach. Ryland's hands suddenly drop the papers and shoot down to latch onto mine, batting at my fingers.

“You should be busy sleeping.” I talk into his skin, rubbing my beard against his sensitive flesh. He awkwardly arches up while trying to curl in on himself as I blindly feel around for his belly button.

“NAHohoho! I-I hahahave toho—AH!!” I finally find the little divot and dig in, swirling my finger around. He squeals, his knees shooting up and hitting the underside of the table with a bang.

I move my head, kissing softly up the right side of his neck and behind his ear, faintly smelling coffee. He attempts to bring his shoulders up to defend, squashing my face slightly against his as I kiss along his stubble.

“STOHOhop!! Sihimon gehet out of thehHEHRE—IHIHEHAHAH!” He shrieks as I dig into his belly button harder, his hands scrambling to pry my finger away. The shirt getting in his way, he flings the hem up, giving himself an opening to grab at my hands. I push closer into him and glance down at his tummy, but my hand freezes for half a second. His ribs stand out more than they used to. I fucking hate this Taumoeba diet.

I pull my head away slightly with a frown, glancing over at the reddening tips of his ears. Stilling my hand, I rub gentle circles into the little pudge he has left, hoping to soothe his nerves, though it just pulls more giggles and frantic hiccups from him.

“You gonna go to bed?” I mumble up against his ear, making sure to blow puffs of air inside. Ryland shivers, and I notice goosebumps run up his arms at the feeling. He shakes his head against mine, light chuckles spilling from his lips. 

“I-I’m nohohot a chihild!” he argues. 

“Maybe stop acting like one,” I whisper into the shell of his ear. He shakes his head against me more, his glasses sliding down his nose from the friction as little ‘no’s’ and pleas come from him.

And he says I’m the stubborn one.

“Oh, okay.” Rolling my eyes, I shoot my hand to his right underarm, a shriek ripping from his throat. “I guess you need a little more convincing.” 

He twists in my hold, elbows shooting down to his sides in a desperate attempt at defense. I move my fingers up and down, from his topmost rib to the sensitive skin of his armpit. He leans back on me, his head thrown back with laughter against my shoulder. 

Peppering more kisses along his neck, I move his shirt aside with my chin to gain access to his shoulder as well. I gently nibble and pull lightly at the flesh, making sure not to poke or break skin with my other, sharper teeth. 

“I-I’m nohoHOT EHEHEVEN AH-TIEHEhered!!” he lies through his cackles, twisting in my hold.

“Sure you're not.” I move my hand down slightly, tasering into his ribs, then moving back up to his underarm.

I lean into the warmth that is Ryland Grace. Human and alive. Here with me and making me all the more sleepy myself. I wanna sleep. I will get him to come to bed.

“NAHOhoho! WaitWAIT—WAHAHAIT—OHOHO GOHOHOSH!!” Hard laughter comes from him, his glasses falling off onto the table with the abandoned work, kissing along the back of his hairline.

I make my way back to his nape and take in a large, dramatic breath, one I'm sure he would hear. He squeals before I even get a chance to do anything, suddenly fighting harder than before, his legs kicking under the table. Pursing my lips, I press it to his skin and hold still for a moment. His breath hitches as he freezes, anticipation building. And blow.

He screeches, arching forward, his head flying back as if about to crash into mine, but it is only lightly placed on top of mine. How thoughtful.

I press raspberry after raspberry, paying special attention to his beauty marks, using them almost as a guide for where I should place the next one. I follow the little trail of freckles across the side of his neck. One. Then another. Almost like tiny constellations. I decided every one of them deserves a raspberry of their own.

My hand pinches its way down his side, digging into the bones of his ribs, feeling the space between them. His opposite hand comes up and grabs at my own, pinning it to his torso as he shoots his head back up, shaking it from side to side.

“STOHohop! Nohoho mohore!” He pleads, now desperately pushing against the table with his free hand. I slow my touches to lightly tracing up and down his side, making him curl over on himself, but is blocked by the table.

“You know how to make this stop.” I smile while placing another raspberry under his ear.

He stays silent, preferring to laugh himself silly rather than to just come to bed with me. I hum at his determination to stay up and to fight me as I try and take care of him. His laughter has become light and lazy, his head rolling back onto mine again. Then it stops, well sorta. 

He's clamped his mouth closed, giggles shaking his shoulders as he holds them in his chest. His chin touches down to his chest, fighting my touches.

“...fine.” Ripping my hand from his hold, I latch onto his hip firmly, squeezing the bone rapidly. I can feel how his feet push against the floor, pushing him against me as a squeal rips out between us.

“Pfft—nohoHOHO!! SHIHIMON—HIHEHAHAHA—!!! OKAY-OKAHAHAY!!” He relents.

"Okay, what?” I tease, rubbing the bone in circles with my thumb. He jumps to the left, on the verge of falling off his chair.

“FUHUDGE!! I-I’LL SL—ACKAHAHAhaha!!” He sputters over his words.

“Hmm? I didn't quite catch that, Ry. What did you say?” I add another raspberry to his neck, and he quirks it to the side. “You'll…what?”

“I-I’LL SLEEP—I’LL SLEHEHEEP!!” He all but screams out, pushing hard back against me. I let my hand still but hold him upright as he slouches back. He huffs as his arms go slack against his sides.

“Good.”

I pull away and rotate him to face me, and shit, he looks like he could conk out right here and now. His face is flushed bright red with half-lidded eyes full of tears. He lazily looks to me, a goofy smile still plastered on his face.

Reaching over, I grab his glasses. I place them on top of his nose as giggles still pour out of him, pushing them up and using my thumb to wipe away the few tears that escaped. Reaching up, I push his hair out of his face, then trail my hand down past his temple to under his chin, with a fond smile. 

“Ready?” I ask, scratching lightly at his jaw.

“Yehehes.” He shakes my fingers away with a halfhearted attempt to shrug up his shoulders.

My hand takes his, and I pull him to his feet, his legs and knees wobbling. He attempts a step, and I hook my arm under and around him as he staggers. Ryland shoots upwards with a squeak and stumbles away, more tired laughter coming from him.

“I'm done, Ryland. I'm not gonna tickle you.” I chuckle, following after him.

“I-I knohohow. I cahan’t help it.” Instead, I place my hand along his lower back, rubbing softly, leading him towards the dormitory where Rocky is waiting.

By the time we reach the room, his head has found the top of my own, leaning against me. 

The younger boy shook the thoughts away, ‘watching’ the movie silently. He tried to ignore the tingling feeling in his skin, along with the almost-painful butterflies in his stomach. If there was one thing Lance hated, it was getting these moods.

Keith glanced to the side, huffing at the brunette’s demeanor. “Why are you pouting?”

“M’not.”

“Lance—“

“I’m not pouting! You wanted me to be quiet and leave you alone, so I am.”

Keith paused for a moment, then sighed, looking back at the tv. He found himself unable to focus, so he turned back to Lance. “Tell me what’s bothering you. You wanted my attention, and now you have it.”

“Nothing. You were right; I just wanted to annoy you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not a liar!”

‘Tell the truth, Cub… Red worries…’

“I don’t believe you.” Keith scooted closer, closing in on Lance.

The butterflies in the blue paladin’s stomach increased, as did the tingling in his skin. He felt a warmth enveloping him as well—Blue’s bond.

‘Tell the truth… Will make you…’

He shook his head in refusal. What was that supposed to mean?

Lance felt a lump in his throat, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. The lump traveled up… and up… and up… until—

“I don’t believe you. Why were you being such a brat?”

“I wanted you to tickle me.”

Both boys froze at the younger’s honesty. Lance’s eyes widened, and he waved his hands frantically. He wanted to squeak out an excuse, but he found another lump sneaking up and out of his mouth.

“Sometimes I get this feeling in my body, and it means it wants someone to tickle me.” He slapped his hand over his mouth in mortification. Another goddamn lump was coming up. “I was too embarrassed to ask Hunk.”

Lance buried his face into one of the pillows on the couch, turning his back to the red paladin. His ears burned hot, and he shook his head repeatedly.

‘Blue! What the hell?!

‘Told you, Cub… would make you tell truth…’

‘Keith is going to think I’m weird now! He’s going to be disgusted, and he won’t want talk to me anymore!’

‘Cub is wrong… Red’s mood… softer… playful…’

‘You keep getting me into bad situations! Just stop with the advi—‘

“That’s it? That’s all you wanted?” Keith’s voice broke him out of his mental argument with his lion. “Dude, I thought you were trying to piss me off so bad that I would leave.”

Lance buried himself deeper in the pillow, curling in on himself, “Nonononono! I lied! I was just joking, man! Haha! Funny joke! You’re right; I just wanted to bug y-AH! Wahahahahahait!” The younger boy jolted, arms flying to his sides when he felt fingers wiggling against them. “Ihihihihi wahahahahas kihihihiddihihihing! Keheheheheith!”

“Doesn’t seem like you were. Your body just relaxed the second I touched you; I felt it.” Keith’s fingers dug in a little deeper, and Lance squeaked, falling backwards onto his back. He held the pillow over his face, giggling into it.

“Nohohohohoho!”

‘Cub is feeling lighter… Red is playful… enjoying self…’

“Oh man, I can’t believe I didn’t see it. I mean, I know I didn’t grow up with all of the siblings, but I’m pretty perceptive—“ His hands traveled up to Lance’s ribs, eliciting a bark of laughter and a squirm from the younger. “I think anyone could tell you I’m perceptive, but I’m surprised I missed it, Y’know?”

Ugh! Stupid Keith being all casual while totally killing him!

Yeh blue paladin kicked his legs as he tried to trap Keith’s hands against his body. Naturally, it did not stop the tickling; it only made it much worse. Lance squirmed against the couch, body jolting every which way.

“Y’know, you could have just asked me. I wouldn’t have thought you were weird or anything.”

‘Cub worries for nothing… Red is kind… patient… enjoys Cub’s company…’

Lance pulled the pillow impossibly closer to his face, trying to ignore the burning feeling on his skin. His joyful laughter was muffled by the fabric, much to Keith’s annoyance.

“Why are you hiding? I thought you wanted me to do this.”

Lance only whined in response at the question.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup!”

“Shut up? How rude of you Lance. Not very kind of you at all. Maybe I need to get Shiro out here to—“

“Nohohohoho!” The brunette clamped his arms down further, eliciting a smile from Keith.

Sometimes, during these playful moments, Lance forgets that he and his fellow paladins are trained soldiers for a space war. He had forgotten this when Keith freed one of his hands and yanked the pillow off his face. Lance, in turn, smacked his hands over it instead.

“Well, well, well, this won’t do at all…” Keith’s fingers left his body, and Lance took the moment to breathe. “How am I supposed to see your smile if you have your hands over your face?”

“Shove off! You suck, Mullet!”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked for this in the first place!” Keith argued in return. Lance whined, curling in on himself. “Dude. It’s literally nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes the body just craves touch.”

“I knoooooow, but… ugh.”

“Will you take your hands away now?”

“No way. I don’t want you to see my face!”

“Well, looks like I’ll just have to make you.”

“Make me? How are you gonna— ACK! AHAHAHA! KEHEHEHEHEITH NAHAHAHAO!” The blue paladin squirmed when the red’s fingers latched onto his tummy. “NONONONONOHOHOHOHOHO!”

“Ooh! Wow. What a reaction,” Keith cooed, snaking his hands underneath Lance’s thin top. His fingers wriggled against the boy’s bare skin, only causing him to turn on his side and squeal into his hands more. “Come oooon, let me see that smile!”

‘Cub is having fun?… Red is enjoying self…’

Lance’s legs kicked wildly against the sofa. Every attempt his body made to escape was only met with the older’s tickling fingers.

“YOHOHOHOU SUHUHUHUCK!”

“I might,” Keith hummed, “but it’ll make you feel better for sure.”

A familiar voice entered both of their ears. “Hey guys! What’s so funny?” Hunk appeared in the doorway as it opened with a hiss, dressed in his pajamas.

Curiously, he walked to the couch and took in the scene. The movie was long forgotten—the credits were rolling now. Keith looked delighted, looking down at something.

Well, someone.

Hunk’s smile widened when he saw his best friend struggling to keep his ‘cool-guy’ composure. With every pinch to his skin, another yelp and fit of giggles would leave him.

“Oh, we tickling Lance?” He walked around the side of the couch to confirm his suspicions.

Stupid Hunk talking about it like it was the most casual thing in the world! Lance felt Keith’s fingers cease their wiggling, instead patting his bare stomach.

“He ask—“ the older boy paused, not wanting to betray Lance’s trust. “He was being a total brat. I figured Shiro would get mad if I actually hurt him, so I did the next best thing. Now, he’s covering his face, and I can’t figure out what to do to make him stop.”

“Oh, is that it?”

There was a shift in Lance’s position. Hunk, as he always could do, manhandled the blue paladin to turn his body. Now with his back to Keith again, Lance peeked through his fingers in confusion.

“You want him to crack? Observe.”

The younger boy felt a weight on his legs, and before he knew it, he was screaming in laughter again.

“NONONONOHOHOHOHO!! HUHUHUHUNK! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHERE! NAHAHAHAT MY HIHIHIHIPS!” Lance’s body fell backwards against Keith’s, and he was half expecting the other paladin to tickle him too. Instead, he was held gently, an arm around his torso. “NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

“Has he asked you to stop yet?” Hunk inquired casually, tweaking his best friend’s hipbones with his thumbs.

“Mm mnh,” Keith hummed in reply, gently patting Lance’s chest.

“Thought not.”

“STAHAHAP TAHAHALKING ABOHOHOUT MEHEHE LIHIHIKE IHIHI’M NOHOHOT HEHEHERE!”

Hunks fingers traveled upward, thumbs drilling into that squishy spot on his waistline, just above his hips.

“NAHAHAHAHA! HUHUHUHUNK!” Lance shot upward, grabbing at his best friend’s hands.

“Ope! There you go, Keith! You got your wish.”

The blue paladin’s face was overtaken mostly by his ear-to-ear smile. His eyes were open, but they didn’t stay that way for long when Hunk resumed his tickling. Falling backwards against Keith again, Lance barked with joyful laughter.

He was expecting to be able to hide behind his hands, but the older male was quick to pin them to Lance’s torso.

Lance’s loud laughter was not something Keith was expecting to enjoy so much. He felt a warm feeling in his stomach with every squeal and cackle. He wanted to take part in it again… if he could just…

“EEEEYAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHO! KEHEHEHEHEITH!” The blue paladin squirmed against Keith’s body when another hand descended to tickle his ribs.

“Tickle tickle tickle!” Hunk cooed.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

“You just tell us when to stop,” Keith hummed.

‘My paladin, pay close attention to Blue. While he is enjoying himself, he will reach his limit soon.’ Red’s words entered his head, and Keith nodded in return.

Well, might as well go for the kill.

Keith shoved his hands under Lance’s arms, wiggling mercilessly. Immediately, in turn, he was met with a loud squeal of laughter. Lance flopped like a fish against Keith’s body, trying to squirm every which way.

“OKAHAHAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAHAHAY! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE! STAHAHAHAP!”

Hunk’s hands lifted immediately, and Keith brought his arms down to rest on Lance’s torso again.

“Take some breaths, bud,” Hunk instructed, getting back onto his feet.

Panting with a huge smile, the blue paladin fully flopped back against the red. He caught his breath carefully, his eyes shutting subconsciously.

“Well, my work here is done. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” Hunk noted, making his way out of the living room.

Keith looked down at Lance with a soft smile. “Well? Scratched the itch?”

Nodding tiredly, Lance sighed. His eyes reminded shut as he recovered from the attack.

“You can just ask next time, sharpshooter. No need to try to provoke me.” The red paladin’s hand found its way up to Lance’s hair, petting his head gently. “You wanna sleep?”

“Mmngh…. Movie….”

“Movie’s done, idiot. Go to sleep.”

“Mmmmkay.”

Keith couldn’t lie; he quite enjoyed the weight against his torso. Plus, a snoozing Lance was a quiet Lance.

Double victory.

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.

---

Ragatha liked to believe that she had a pretty good poker face.

Sure, maybe one or two times that face would crack, but on the whole, she was pretty good at keeping her emotions close to her chest. Especially if that emotion was hurt.

With so many years under her belt of being her mother's daughter, she was practically a master at it. Not a single tear would slide under her mother's roof, or beratement and venomous words would follow.

It was a handy life skill even after she moved out. Whether it was uncomfortable conversations with her boss, strangers whistling at her in the supermarket, or a friend's callous words, she knew how to keep her cool.

Here in the Circus, it seems as though she needs that skill a lot.

She is reminded of this today, after another adventure. Their mission was to rob a bank and make it out both alive and with their loot. A loot that turned out to be nothing more than various colored blocks. She can still hear the great sigh of disappointment from everyone as they realized their efforts were fruitless. The crew share in their collective misery with moans and groans.

As they cross through the portal back into the Circus, one voice in particular is more cheerful than the rest.

"Wow! What a thrill!" Kinger exclaims. "Caine sure knows how to add a sense of danger to these games."

Ragatha smiles wearily, not sharing in his enthusiasm. "Yeah... he sure does."

"You were amazing out there, you know. Taking out all those security cameras, distracting the guards; you really nailed it today."

"Oh..." Ragatha blushes. "Thank you, Kinger."

"Of course! Especially after you went back to save Pomni from getting caught. I'm really proud of you."

Something inside of her cracks. Like a mirror with a nail driven through it.

Her chest tightens in an unfamiliar way. She doesn't like whatever this feeling is; it scares her. It catches her so off guard that she doesn't think to guard herself. Tears rise to the surface and stop just before the spill.

Before she can try to suck them back down, she sees Kinger's brows raise.

Oh crap.

"Is everything alright, Ragatha?" Kinger asks gently.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm good! Just tired" Ragatha says. It's not completely a lie. She isn't good. But she doesn't know what's wrong with her either. What about Kinger's compliment struck a nerve in her. She gives her best fake yawn. "I should really hit the hay. See you guys in the morning!"

Without another word, she hastes away, leaving Kinger blinking confusedly after her.

---

Ragatha didn't dwell on that moment for long. She really had been tired, and so the minute she rested her head down on her pillow, she was out like a light. The distress of that moment was briefly forgotten.

What is currently on her mind is this godforsaken adventure they're on now.

According to Caine, the "audience" (whatever that means) greatly enjoyed the Mildenhall Manor adventure, and is hungry for some more horror-themed ones.

That's how they ended up here in a haunted hospital looking for a way out.

Great. Just fantastic. No use asking what any of us wanted to do.

While she doesn't have a big problem with scares in general, there's something about hospitals that has always freaked her out. Something about the pale lighting and the diseased patients and the bleak atmosphere has always unsettled her.

And, as she now knows, they're even more disturbing in the dark.

Jax isn't particularly helping the case either. He's getting far too much enjoyment out of scaring the wits out of Pomni.

"God, Jax! Would you cut it out? This isn't funny anymore!" Pomni barks.

"How do you still jump every time? You know I'm gonna scare you and it still works every time!" Jax howls, clutching his belly.

Ragatha is about to chastise Jax for his immaturity when the clatter of a fallen wheelchair makes her jump out of her skin. It's one of the jumpscares Caine put in place for them no doubt.

Her muscles rattle as she tries to settle her nerves.

A hand rests on her shoulder, and she turns to see Kinger's kind eyes gazing down at her. He's more stable now, here in the darkness, and she can see it in his eyes that he is much calmer than normal.

"Don't worry. We're all in this together. Just stay close to me, and everything will be fine."

He pulls her into a side-hug as they continue walking. It's rather awkward for movement, and it causes Ragatha to have to sort-of limp with one half of her pressed against Kinger, but she isn't about to move for anything. She feels safer next to him. He's so steady and grounded, like nothing in this treacherous place can touch him. It's an admirable guise. With his hands pulling her into his robe, she suddenly feels like a little girl again, clutching to a grown-up to protect herself from the monsters.

Despite the terrors around her, Ragatha relaxes, letting her shoulders slump as her heartbeat lowers from thunder to a tremor.

She can't remember the last time she's ever felt this protected. She's not sure if she even felt this way as a child.

Her eyes begin to sting again.

But she isn't about to cry right now. Not if she can help it.

Fortunately, Kinger isn't looking at her. His eyes are trained dead-ahead on the pitch-black hallway in front of them, giving her a moment to blink the wetness away before anyone can see.

---

Why does this keep happening? Why does Kinger's company somehow always end with her being near to tears?

It's not like Kinger makes her sad. In fact, no one in the circus knows how to cheer her up quite like him. He's always there with a silly observation, or a scrambled sentence, or a bright attitude that can turn even the gloomiest of days into something worth smiling about.

So what is it then?

It's times like these when Ragatha misses her therapist.

"Uh, Ragatha?"

She's yanked out of her thoughts by Kinger, who is watching her like he's waiting for a response. He might have been talking to her about something when she zoned out. The pair were sitting inside of Kinger's pillow fort. With his memory now in pristine condition, he was telling her stories about his life before... well, all of this. Nice ones, too. The kind that make it hard to believe that he was now stuck in this hell that was the Circus.

"Uh- sorry. Kind of... spaced out there." She apologizes.

"No worries, happens to me all the time. I was just saying how my mother used to run around like mad during the holidays making sure everything was perfect." Kinger chuckles as he reminisces. "No matter what went wrong, Mom always knew how to fix it. She felt like the whole family depended on her to know what to do. No one was ever allowed to help her because she had to bear it all by herself. I always wished she didn't feel that way, but it meant a lot knowing how much she cared about us being happy.

"She was a lot like you, actually." Kinger looks to her.

That makes Ragatha's heart skip a beat. Kinger thought she reminded him of his mother? What a generous thing to say! She feels her cheeks warm with delight.

"Really?"

"Oh sure! You've both got that good heart that worries about everyone around you, even if it drives you a little crazy." Kinger winks.

"I would have liked to meet her..." Ragatha says.

"What about you? What was your mother like?"

Just the thought of her sours Ragatha's mood. She wasn't exactly the kind of person who would bake apple pies and sing to her children and drive them to soccer practice. How do you even begin to describe a person like her mother?

Best thing she could think to do was finesse the details. "Oh, you know... she's just... one of those moms..."

"She must feel really lucky to have a daughter as kind as you."

Lucky. "Lucky" isn't quite the word Ragatha's mother would use. 'Burdened" is what she'd say.

"Ragatha? What's wrong? Is it something I said?"

She realizes too late that her cheeks are wet with tears. Frantically, she wipes them away.

Kinger is still looking concernedly at her, reaching a hand out. "Ragatha, I didn't mean to-"

"I'm fine! I'm fine, really. I just... gah I'm stupid, I'm gonna go get some air. I'll see you later, Kinger." She hurriedly crawls out of the pillow fort, and closes it behind her. She knows she's just made a mess of things, but there's not much she can do about it now. Kinger saw her cry; there's no way to make this any less awkward.

God, why is she such a baby? What good is having friends like these if she's just going to drive them all away by annoying them all the time? They didn't deserve to have to put up with her. A miserable little nobody.

Her vision blurs as she starts to cry harder, making it more difficult to race back to her room.

---

Maybe it's her mother. Every time she thinks about her mother, she gets verklempt.

But that isn't quite true. When she thought about her in the bar during that lightning round, she hadn't felt like crying. It's just when Kinger is around.

Kinger must remind her of her mother somehow.

But that doesn't sound right either. Kinger is nothing like her mother. He couldn't be any further from her mother. He was nurturing, kind, wise, gentle. He was everything she wished that she had in a parent growing up.

Oh.

Well, shit. That would explain it.

She's lying here in her bed in the dark, crying like a child, feeling positively stupid. She had just run out on Kinger as they were talking about their mothers. In her mind, she relives the moment of shame when she realized that she had started weeping in front of him.

Way to go, Ragatha. You've made your closest friend uncomfortable.

She buries her face into pillow when she hears a knock at the door.

"Ragatha?"

That's Kinger's voice.

Of course, it had to be him.

She didn't consider that he would follow her. Surely his memories would have been wiped clean upon entering the light.

His voice comes again. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I just want to talk, see if maybe there's something I can do."

She doesn't exactly want him to see her like this, but he sounds rather sad himself, and she can't send him on his way knowing that he's this worried about her.

Weakly, she calls. "Come in."

Her doorknob clicks, and she looks up to see Kinger's face.

Or rather, half of his face, as the top half is hidden underneath a bucket.

The ridiculous sight makes her laugh, even through her despair. He must have put it on in order to stay oriented in order to go see her.

Once he is within her dimly lit bedroom, he carefully tosses the bucket aside and comes to sit next to her on her bed. Her laughter seems to infect him, as he too chuckles as he lowers himself.

"I wanted to come see if you were okay," he says, eyebrows forming a peak on his forehead as his eyes soften with care.

Of course he did. Why'd he have to be so perfect?

Ragatha sniffles pathetically. "I- I'm fine-"

Kinger jerks his pointer finger toward her face. "Don't say that you're fine," he scolds gently, like a disgruntled kitten, "You're upset about something, and you're allowed to be. You can just be sad. I don't ever want you to feel like you have to hide this from me, okay?

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but I'm always here to listen if you need to."

She wants to say no. She wants to tell him not to worry and that she'll be a-okay tomorrow. She wants him to forget about her and go about with his life and not know how much of a mess she is.

But looking into those deep blue eyes, so full of love and care, like it's the easiest thing in the world, she crumbles.

Her lip starts to quiver as sobs build up in her chest, finally leaping out of her as Kinger pulls her into an embrace. His hands cushion her back and her scalp as she cries into his robe.

Now that the floodgates have opened, there's no sense in trying to hold back now. Everything in her broken heart comes gushing out like a fountain, sobs shaking her frame with the force of them.

A few minutes pass, with not a sound uttered between them except Ragatha's broken whimpers. Even a good cry has it's end, and before Ragatha knows it, her chest slowly stops heaving as her breathing returns to normal.

Kinger hasn't stopped rubbing up and down her back the whole time.

With her sobs dying down, the air is now silent again, and Ragatha feels the need to fill the space.

"I'm sorry about all this. I just-" she hiccups, "I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I guess I'm just... not used to people being so nice to me."

It sounds pathetic as soon as it leaves her mouth.

She tries again. "Oh god, I mean- My... My mother wasn't really the... affectionate type. She never said things to me that made me feel good about myself. So when you say all those sweet things about how you're proud of me-"

"-it reminds you of what you didn't have." Kinger finishes.

She's surprised by how quickly he understood.

"Yeah... But, but, I don't want you to stop or anything! It's just an old wound, just one of those things" Ragatha stuttered.

Kinger squeezed a little tighter. "I get it. That must be a very complicated feeling."

He continues. "But for the record, you of all people deserve to have a parent treat you like you are their whole world. Their reason for existing. You're a treasure, Ragatha, and I'm sorry your mother wasn't brave enough to tell you that."

Ragatha almost thinks she's about to start crying again, but her ducts are just about run dry. Her chest swells, filling her with a level of peace she has not known in a long time.

What can she even say to something like that?

She settles on, "Thank you"

"Always" he replies.

Ragatha laughs to herself. "Man, I feel like a mess."

Kinger hums. "Well, if my memory serves me, there's something that I think can make you smile."

Butterflies start to flutter inside her stomach. A grin starts to stretch over her face, but she bites her lip and forces it into a straight line.

"You see, that's not a smile," he says, a smirk of his own overtaking his face, "but I've got just the cure for that!"

The hand on Ragatha's back adjusts itself to meet her side and starts to wiggle its fingers.

Her smile comes back full force, but she's quick to hide it in Kinger's chest.

While that hand plucks at her side, his other hand flutters at her neck.

"You're not getting me to smile. It's not happening" Ragatha dared.

"Oh, I think I just heard a little giggle!" Kinger teases softly. "That sounds promising. Now, let's see if we can get that smile..."

She feels as the hand at her neck moves down to spider over her belly. Her knees hitch upwards to try and protect her sensitive torso, but of course it's all for naught. Both because his hand is in the way and because she knows in her heart she doesn't want to stop him.

Ragatha can't help but laugh a little louder. Thankfully, most of its volume is muffled within Kinger's furry coat. She can actually feel the sadness wash away and get replaced with warm, silly joy. Is this what having a parent is like for most people? Lucky bastards.

Unbeknownst to her, Kinger is looking down upon her like she's the shiniest gem to ever grace the Earth. He takes a moment to laugh at her. "You know, it might help if your face wasn't buried in my robe."

His tease ignites a fighting spirit inside Ragatha, and against all better judgement, begins to squeeze Kinger's sides.

His body jolts hard as he lets out a startled laugh. "Aha-ehehehe!"

Not a second later, Kinger's hands are on her shoulders pushing her out of his robe and away from his torso.

She giggles now with a sense of light dread as she can now look Kinger in the eye.

He shakes his head amusedly at her. "Oh, you devious little-!"

His hands squeeze up and down both of her sides, all the way up to her underarms and then back down again to her lower belly. They move in opposite directions so that both hands are never in the same place at once. The sensation is downright absurd.

Ragatha cackles. "Oh my gohohod!"

"There's that smile! I knew it was in there somewhere!" Kinger cheers. "Has anyone ever told you you have a beautiful smile?"

"Juhuhuhust you!"

"Well, that's because it's true" He replies matter-of-factly.

Ragatha is beside herself in laughter, having lost all previous inhibitions. It's what she loved about tickling in the first place.

"Gah! Tch- hehehehe! Cut ihihiht- You- pft-hahahaha! Dahad, quihihit it!"

Right on cue, the tickles stop. That isn't what has her scared; she explicitly had told him to stop. Even if she didn't really mean it, it doesn't surprise her that he would stop just to be sure.

No, what scares her is that she just called Kinger "dad". Out loud.

And he had heard her.

She dares a peek up at his face and sees his eyes are glistening.

"What did you call me?" He whispers, voice breaking.

Oh, god. What has she done?

"Did you just call me 'dad'?"

Ragatha tries to think of something to say. Some clever excuse that can make this whole mistake disappear.

She doesn't get the chance, because her face is pulled back into Kinger's robe as he hugs her tight. So tight it almost hurts.

She huffs out a breath. "Uh- Kinger-"

"Oh! Right! Right, sorry." He fumbles, releasing her.

Nothing can erase the complete and total embarrassment she's feeling right now. But nothing can erase the full-bodied joy either. The shining look of complete and utter adoration in Kinger's eyes is too wonderful a sight to ignore. She can't imagine being any more lucky.

Ragatha glances down at her lap.

"I don't suppose we can pretend that didn't happen, huh?" She smiles, not meaning a word of her request.

"Absolutely not" Kinger smiles in kind.

---