Your (hopefully) local feather prince here! ^^

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“You kidnapped Stark’s weird little red friend?”

Steve let out a sigh as he secured the last of their hostage’s restraints. The kid could hold a multi-ton jet bridge over his head and still carry a conversation; he was obviously incredibly strong, and none of them knew what exactly he was capable of, what other powers he might have up his sleeve. They couldn’t risk him breaking free and wreaking havoc on their ship.

“Tony’s people captured Sam, Wanda, and Clint. We need some leverage if we’re going to get them back. Plus, the kid might know where they were taken.”

Antman grimaced, glancing between Captain America and their unconscious captive. “Okay. I get that. I really do. But...I don’t know, man. Tony Stark’s already so pissed off at all of us. I just feel like this is going to make everything a hundred times worse.”

“He takes my people, I’m taking one of his,” Steve said coldly. “Simple as that. It’s not like we’re going to hurt the kid. We just need him to tell us where Stark stashed our teammates.”

“And if he refuses?” Bucky prodded. He stood in the gap between the cockpit and the cabin, arms crossed, face stony. “Then what do we do?”

Before Cap could answer, a low moan rose from their prisoner. All eyes snapped toward the kid as his head rolled to the side, then slowly lifted upright. The eye lenses on his mask racked into focus as he gradually came to.

“Mmm...ugh…” he murmured, blinking. “Ow...w-what the…?” He tried to lift his arms, but his bonds stopped him from doing so. The kid looked down groggily to find his hands and feet shackled to the chair he was propped up in. He also had a belt holding his chest to the backrest, metal bands restraining his biceps, and a chain around the tops of his legs. He squirmed and shifted, realizing he was trapped, his movements and breathing growing more and more frantic.

“The hell?” he slurred.

“Well that didn’t take long.”

The boy’s eyes shot up and met three other pairs staring back. Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and some other guy he recognized as the gigantic man from the airport. The trio stood before him, still bruised and bloody from their recent fight. Huge dude (now regular sized) was nibbling on an orange slice while the Winter Soldier tugged at some webbing still caught in his hair. Peter sucked in a gasp.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, huffing out an incredulous laugh. “It’s—it’s you guys. Again. Holy shit.” He shifted some more, gaze returning to his fettered limbs, voice shrill and disoriented. “Wait...what’s going on? Why am I restrained?”

“Calm down, kid,” Cap said. He extended his hand, expression steely. “Just take a breath.”

Their captive blinked. It was almost freaky how well the lenses on his mask imitated real eye movements. He observed the room they were in: the cabin of a stolen ship, empty except for him and three of the Avengers he’d just battled against. A pile of weapons stacked in the corner, including his web-shooters and the tranquilizer gun Cap had tagged him with. A window to his right displayed the endless sea of blue they were flying over. A metallic taste coated Peter’s tongue.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Did you guys…kidnap me? Captain America kidnapped me?” The idea was as ludicrous as it was terrifying.

“Your pal Stark captured three of our friends,” the Winter Soldier explained with a shrug, “so, in retaliation, we captured you. Nothing personal, kid—just business.”

“Oh my god,” the boy repeated, this time with actual fear in his voice. “You—oh my god.” He struggled against his bonds, grunting with effort, but the metal clasps wouldn’t budge. “W-where are you taking me? What are you going to do to me? Is this because I stole your shield? Or ‘cuz I kicked you in the face, like, super hard? Or ‘cuz I webbed up metal-armed man and that flying guy? Or—”

“Like I said,” Bucky interrupted him curtly. “Not. Personal.”

The metal chair he was in was bolted to the floor, and every part of him was strapped down like he was some kind of psycho asylum patient. As scary as all this was, it was also super inconvenient. Peter dropped his head against the backrest with a groan. “Shit. Mr. Stark is gonna kill me. Unless May gets to me first. Or you guys, I guess. Or my chemistry teacher. I—oh god, I have a test tomorrow! Son of a…”

Cap and Barnes exchanged a look full of question marks. Lang quirked an eyebrow.

“Where’d Stark find this kid? Chuck E. Cheese?”

The boy tilted his chin toward the ceiling. “Um, no. It was in a McDonald’s PlayPlace, actually. Show some respect.”

Scott tried and failed to stifle a snort. A beat passed before Steve scoffed.

“Are you making jokes right now?”

The kid blinked as if he was only now processing the words that had just left his mouth. Then he hunched his shoulders skittishly. “Sorry. I talk a lot when I’m nervous. And crack inappropriately timed jokes. Like, even more so than I normally do. Which is already a lot. Phew. I’m, like, really stressed right now. Can you tell?”

Cap took a step toward their hostage and knelt down to his eye level. “Relax, Queens. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

“As long as you answer our questions,” Bucky added.

Steve glared at him over his shoulder. “Buck.”

“What? I’m just being honest.”

Cap huffed irritably. Peter swallowed, staring between the three men.

“I’m sorry, is this…? An interrogation?”

Barnes and Rogers shared a glance. Antman sucked on his orange slice anxiously.

“Oh,” the kid replied, puffing out his cheeks. “Uh…shit, heh. I mean, I figured this would happen eventually. You know, after I took on the superheroing gig, started making some enemies. But I always thought it’d be some Russian crime boss or samurai clan leader interrogating me. Not, you know, the Avenger I dressed up as for Halloween six years ago.”

“Wow,” Antman chuckled. “You really weren’t kidding about the over-talking thing, huh?”

Peter licked his lips and forced a shy laugh. “Y-yeah. Sorry, this—this is just not at all how today was supposed to go.”

Cap nudged the boy’s knee with his fist. “What’s your name, kid?”

He lifted his gaze to the legendary super soldier, trying his best not to ogle. Even if they were on opposite sides for the time being (not to mention his plan to drill him for intel), it wasn’t like Peter had just stopped being a fan. He’d had Captain America bed sheets from the third through the sixth grade. His favorite water bottle was plastered with Cap stickers, and his closet was packed with the Avenger’s old comic books. Despite their current state of diametric opposition, it was hard not to act giddy in the presence of one his biggest idols. Peter scratched at the armrests his wrists were shackled to.

“Spider-Man?” he said, except it sounded more like a question than an answer. “I’m a newer hero. Not, like, new new. But, you know. New-ish.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth tweaked into a tentative smile. “Nice to officially meet you, Spider-Man. I’m Steve.”

Spider-Man released a slow, shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Hi. I know I said it before, but—I really am a big fan of yours. I’m sorry for kicking you in the face. Your face was actually my phone’s lock screen for a good chunk of 2014.” He lowered his gaze and wilted a little. “I wish this wasn’t how our first real introduction had to go.”

“Me too,” Cap agreed solemnly. He rose to his feet, suddenly making Peter feel very small. “Our quarrel isn’t with you, Spider-Man. You’ll be free to go once you answer our questions. Okay?”

The kid shifted in his seat, his shackled feet dangling just about the floor. His eyes kept drifting back to Bucky, who was leering at him like he could read his thoughts if he focused hard enough. Cap crossed his arms against his chest.

“Where did Tony take our teammates?”

Silence. Steve waited, praying for the kid to speak up. Spider-Man’s fingers curled around the ends of the armrests.

“I…um…I can’t tell you that.”

More silence. Cap felt his heart begin to sink. The Winter Soldier stepped towards Spider-Man.

“So then you know where they are?”

The kid stared up at him, then shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

Bucky closed the gap between them and clamped his hands on top of Peter’s, glaring straight into their captive’s wide eye lenses. “Tell us where Stark took them. Now.”

Mr. Stark had warned him about the chilling deadliness of the infamous Winter Soldier. A man who had forgotten more ways to kill than most could ever learn in one lifetime. Before the fight, Peter had been ordered to avoid direct confrontation with the murderous super-soldier at all costs.

Had he listened? Not exactly. Still, he’d managed to make it out in one piece.

Now, spotting the stray strands of webbing still clinging to the man’s eyebrows, he really wished he’d followed Stark’s advice.

But he was going to make it up to him. Because Spider-Man wasn’t backing down.

“First of all, breath mints. Please, for everyone’s sake, invest in a tin. Or twelve.” Peter leaned toward the Winter Soldier as far as his restraints would allow, their noses inches apart. “Second of all, no.”

Spider-Man waited, stunned by his own audacity, his blood practically buzzing in his veins. The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched.

“Do you know how many people I’ve tortured, Spider-Man? How many times I’ve wrung classified intelligence from the throats of hardened soldiers? How many wills I’ve broken? The resolves I’ve cracked?” With every word spoken, the Winter Soldier’s grip on his wrists tightened, digging deeper and deeper into his flesh. “Not to mention, the number of bones.”

Sweat was gathering behind Peter’s knees. He tried to keep his breathing even, but the pain in his hands was reaching a startling intensity. Before he could stop himself, he winced back and shut his eyes, cursing the small whimper that escaped his throat.

“Stop it, Buck,” Steve snapped, yanking his friend away from the kid. Once his iron grip was broken, Peter unclenched his fingers from the armrests and heaved a shivery breath. Bucky shrugged Cap’s hand off his shoulder sourly.

“Relax. I wasn’t actually going to hurt him. I just wanted to see if I could scare a quick answer out of him.” He flashed a grin in Peter’s direction. “You’ve got balls, kid. On a scale of one to ten, how terrified were you just now?”

Spider-Man flexed his hands and exhaled forcefully. “Probably around eight thousand.”

Despite how pressing their current situation was, Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. He placed a hand on his hip and tilted his head to the side. “Are you really going to make us force you to answer our questions, kid? ‘Cuz I don’t think any of us want to go through with that. If you tell me where my friends are right now, I’ll have you boarded on the escape cruiser headed back to New York in the next five minutes. I promise.”

Peter sucked his lips to his teeth. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. He liked Cap, and of course he wanted to reunite him with his superhero friends, even if they were currently considered war criminals. But Mr. Stark had insisted they were a threat that needed to be contained. Not permanently—just until he could come to an agreement with some big wigs in the UN that didn’t involve kill squads gunning down Cap’s crew on sight. By not telling them where the rest of their team was, not only was he keeping his word to Mr. Stark. Spider-Man may have actually been saving all of their lives.

This whole situation would be a lot less complicated if he didn’t know where Wanda, Clint, and Sam had been taken. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

“But where will they go after we’ve captured them?” his past self had inquired. “They’re not—I mean, we’re not sending them to prison, are we?”

“The Raft isn’t prison,” Stark had assured him. “Just a holding facility that can keep people with powers contained. Once we’re able to hash all this out, they’ll be released. I promise.”

Hearing that then had made him breathe a sigh of relief. Remembering it now made his stomach queasy.

Why did he always have to ask so many goddamn questions?

Peter sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor, then slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Cap. I wish I could—honestly. But I can’t.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated. “What can I offer you to get you to talk? What do you want? To go home? To be back with Stark? What?”

The kid brightened. “Ooh! Could I get a picture with all of you doing superhero poses? One group photo, then with each of you individually?”

Cap snorted in spite of his efforts not to. Bucky and Lang followed suit. “Would you seriously tell us where our friends are in exchange for that?”

“No. But it would make my inner child scream with joy for all eternity. So. There’s that.”

Scott laughed into his hand while the Winter Soldier groaned. “Can we go back to my method now? Snapping his fingers off ‘til he starts giving us some answers?”

Steve stepped in front of Spider-Man with his hands curled into fists. “I know you like cracking jokes, kid. But this situation is no laughing matter. Our friends could be in danger. We have to protect them. And to do that, we need to know where they are.”

Sobering up, Peter shook his head. “They’re not in danger. I can tell you that much.”

A hand was suddenly pressed against his hairline and grabbing hold of his mask. “Tell me where Stark’s taken them, or the mask comes off.”

Steve felt the young hero stiffen. Keeping his identity a secret was clearly very important to him. Surely the threat of exposing the truth would be enough to make him speak. When the kid didn’t answer right away, he began lifting the mask upwards, peeling it away bit by bit. Spider-Man's breath quickened, but he didn’t protest.

“Last chance,” he warned him. The boy’s mouth, now visible, clamped shut adamantly. Hissing through his teeth, Steve yanked the mask fully off his head.

“Wait—” Peter croaked, but it was too late. Spider-Man was gone, replaced instead by two brown eyes, a mop of curly hair, and an alarmingly young face. Cap’s brows shot up upon meeting the kid’s startled gaze. The mask slipped from his fingers onto the floor.

“Good god,” Bucky exclaimed, grimacing. “You really are just a kid.”

Spider-Man’s jaw hung open slightly, his cheeks dusting a soft pink color. His emotions were a lot more tangible sans his disguise. He had the face of a boy who was supposed to be trading Pokémon cards with his friends after school or studying for a Spanish quiz, not fighting international wars against the world’s most powerful superheroes or being interrogated in a hijacked plane. A knot formed in Steve’s gut.

“Yeah, well, you’re just an extremely intimidating super soldier from the 1940s with a metal arm and very dreamy eyes, so…get bent,” Spider-Man grumbled, trying and failing to conceal his discomfort. Being unmasked obviously bothered him.

“Enough of this, son,” placing a hand on his shoulder. “Everything that’s happening is so much bigger than you think, and it’s appalling to me that Tony would knowingly drag a child into it. Tell us where our friends are so we can get you home, out of this mess, back to your family and your life.”

The boy’s face knit into a scowl, although it was more cute than it was threatening. “No,” he said. “I won’t. I’m not betraying Mr. Stark like that. And I’m not just some dumb kid in over his head like you think.” He stared forward with his back straight and his head held high, a daring glint in his eye. “I’m not talking.”

“You’ve been talking this entire time,” Bucky scoffed. “You've just been saying everything except what we’ve asked of you.”

The boy averted his gaze and set his jaw. He looked resolved to stay silent. Cap doubted there was any way he could convince him otherwise. He huffed indignantly and turned to face the others, corralling them out of the cabin and into the cockpit.

“This is a waste of time,” he said, voice hushed. “Let’s just ditch the kid and figure out another way to locate the others.”

“He obviously knows where they are,” Bucky retorted. “Our best chance of locating them without alerting Stark is getting him to fess up.” He pounded his metal hand into the palm of his flesh one. “Give me five minutes with him. I’ll get him talking in no time.”

“We are not hurting him,” Steve growled.

“I won’t! Jesus, Steve. I’ll just make him think I am. The kid’s already scared shitless of me. Might as well use that to our advantage.”

Cap tugged restlessly at his leather gloves, looking to Scott with a haphazard shrug. “Lang? Any bright ideas? You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time.”

Antman crossed his arms and chuckled lightly. Steve narrowed his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Scott insisted, still snickering. “It’s just really obvious that you two have no experience interacting with children.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a glance, looking offended. “Sure I do,” Cap insisted. “I’ve been around lots of kids. During my tour around the country, I did shows for them. Kissed tons of babies. Posed for hundreds of pictures.”

“Okay, fine,” Lang conceded. “Kids from this century.”

Cap shifted his weight between his feet. He had him there.

“I have a daughter. I know how kid’s think. You’re treating him like some burly, grown-ass double agent when you should be treating him how I treat Cassie when she’s being a stubborn little brat.” He shrugged. “But, you know, in this case, with a bit less lenience. The stakes being slightly higher than Cassie hiding Daddy’s favorite slippers.”

Bucky snorted. “What are you suggesting? Bending him over your knee? Taking away his juice box?”

Antman gaped at him in horror. “I would never spank a kid. Don’t you know how detrimental hitting can be to a child’s social-emotional development, self-regulation, and cognitive development?”

The Winter Soldier rolled his eyes. “It was a joke. What’s your plan, then? He may be young, but he’s not a toddler. It’s gonna take more than a few empty threats to make him crack.”

Scott scratched his chin. “I have one idea,” he said. “It’s kinda silly, not exactly fool-proof. But if it works, we might be able to get him to talk without having to hurt him.”

“At this point, I’m open to anything,” Steve admitted.

Antman sighed, then shrugged. “All right. I’ll give it a try.” He stepped between the two super soldiers and approached the kid, whose face bore a defiant frown. Scott knelt down in front of him and offered a friendly smile.

“Hey there, kiddo. How ya holding up?”

Spider-Man wrinkled his brow but didn’t respond. Scott was well acquainted with that rebellious glare. He patted his arm.

“Sorry you’re having to go through all this. I imagine you gotta be feeling a lot of not-so-great emotions right now. Being kidnapped by people you once looked up to, chained to a chair, asked a bunch of questions you don’t want to answer. That’s a lot to deal with.”

After a moment, the kid’s scowl unfurled a little. He looked the man up and down, adjusting his position in his chair.

“You’re that giant guy who backhanded me out of the sky,” he ventured hesitantly.

“Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Hope I didn’t hurt you too bad.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, more out of curiosity than distrust. “How’d you do that? One minute you were regular sized, the next minute you were gone, and then suddenly you were huge. It was insane.”

Lang held up his arm and pointed at his wrist. “I have serums in my suit that let me grow and shrink at will. But shrinking is a lot easier than growing; being that big seriously takes it out of me.”

A cloud of fear washed across the kid’s face. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “Are you gonna shrink really small and c-crawl into my ear and hijack my brain and force me to tell the truth?”

Antman chuckled. “No, kid. No brain hijacking happens on my watch.” His smile shifted to an expression that was less warm and more apologetic. “I am, unfortunately, still gonna have to make you tell us where our friends have been taken. It’s really important that we locate them, and if you don’t tell us willingly, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

Spider-Man’s heartbeat crawled into his throat. He tried to keep his face blank, despite the fear pounding its way through his chest. He forced a smug chuckle, but it came out more like a cough.

“And what does that entail? You already took off my mask. You have nothing left to threaten me with. What’re you gonna do? Take other parts of my costume off? Like some kind of pervy superhero strip poker thing? I think I’d have to report you to someone for that. I can already see the headline now—Captain America: From War Criminal to Registered Sex Offender.”

Bucky barked out a laugh, and Steve punched him in the shoulder. Scott snorted amusedly.

“You like making others laugh when you’re afraid. It’s a clever little trick; it disarms your enemies while distracting you from your fear. And you’re really good at it, too.”

Antman stood, grabbing a chair from the corner of the room, then stepped behind the kid so he could no longer see him. Spider-Man craned his neck in both directions to try to see where he was, but the belt around his chest significantly limited his range of motion. Scott placed the chair behind him and sat down in it so he was facing the kid’s back, outside of his field of vision. Dread prickled across Peter’s skin.

“I, on the other hand, prefer making people laugh when they’re the ones who are afraid. It’s a really good way to settle a scared person’s nerves while exercising control over a delicate situation.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Spider-Man snapped, a new wave of restlessness reigniting in his bones. He felt twitchy and trapped and was really starting to hate how little he could move, and the fact he couldn’t see his interrogator. He struggled against his restraints even though it was pointless. “Whatever game you’re playing isn’t going to work! I’m not telling you anything!”

Out of nowhere, something blunt tasered his side, making the kid jolt in surprise and release an involuntary squeak. He looked down and spotted Scott’s index finger an inch away from his midriff, hovering just below his ribcage.

“No games,” Lang assured him. “Just a little test of endurance.” He poked him again, this time on the other side, then began alternating back and forth, making Peter cringe. “You’re not ticklish, are you, Spider-Man?”

Captain America watched the kid’s face flush fire engine red. He thrashed, then gasped, then pursed his lips until they turned white, biting back a smile like his life depended on it. Scott moved his fingers lower, teasing Spider-Man’s tummy, and a started yelp sprung from his throat.

“Is that a yes? It’s a little hard to tell since I can’t see your face.”

What the hell?! he thought bewilderedly. Tickling me! Like a six-year-old! The unexpected tactic had caught him severely off guard. He had anticipated enduring some form of torture, steeling himself acordingly, maybe something psychological or mind-numbing or involving crazy hallucinogenic S.H.I.E.L.D. drugs.

But this?

The worst part was that he was ticklish. Like, a lot. He had been for as long as he could remember, and gaining powers, evidently, had not changed that. He could get away easier with his enhanced agility and strength, but that didn’t help him now. He was bound to a chair with no hope of escaping. He couldn’t guard himself or twist away or move more than a few inches in any direction. His entire torso was exposed, free for his interrogator’s fingers to explore. And, with how leisurely his hands were tickling him, taking time to traipse across all twenty-four of his ribs and test the sensitivity of each new spot he moved to, Scott was very much aware of this.

It already sucked being the youngest superhero among the Avengers. By default, everyone looked down on him, expecting him to be callow and weak. This was just salt in the wound—torturing him for information using one of the most childish and laughable techniques out there. And it was working.

For Mr. Stark’s sake, and for the sake of his dignity, he couldn’t let them win.

“Huh. I think he might be,” Bucky observed as he watched the boy flounder, a sly grin coiling across his lips. “You’re looking a little red in the face there, bud. Anything you’d like to say? Some intel you wanna get off your chest?”

The kid spluttered, shaking his head, his face muscles betraying him and lifting into a smile. The blush in his cheeks was bleeding down his neck, creeping towards his hairline, seeping through the tips of his ears. Scott’s hands continued prodding delicately at his midsection, adding more and more fingers and steadily increasing the pressure behind his touch. It was so maddeningly gentle and featherlike, Peter thought he might implode—either from how terribly it tickled, or how dreadful the anticipation was of the far intenser tickling to come.

“I know you want to laugh. It’s all right, kiddo. There’s no need to hold it in. I promise you’ll feel better once you do.” Lang spidered all ten fingers along the kid’s narrow torso, using his fingertips rather than his nails, and Spider-Man squealed. “All those anxieties you’re still holding on to will dissolve right away.”

What Peter actually wanted to do was die. He couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall against the back of the chair, muscles clenched, shoulders bouncing as much as his restraints allowed, despair washing over him as giggles began to slip through his defenses.

“Mmmm! You—meheh—sh-shihit!” He dug his fingers into the armrests, smiling from ear to ear, burning from head to toe, bubbling with shrill, adorable laughter that instantly melted every heart in the room. Scott didn’t let up, though; in fact, he started tickling him harder, eager to hear more of the kid’s endearing giggles.

“There ya go! See? I knew your little tough guy act wouldn’t last.”

“Ch-cheeheaters!” Spider-Man choked out, squirming helplessly in his seat. Captain America chuckled.

“There’s no cheating in an interrogation, kid. Either you tell us where our friends are and we set you free, or Antman doesn’t let up. Plain and simple.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “And by the looks of it, you’re not gonna last very long.”

“Might as well save yourself the trouble and give up now,” Scott suggested. His devious fingers began pinching and tweaking Peter’s sensitive skin, starting from his hips and inching toward his underarms. “I’d hate to stop right away, though—your laugh is too cute!”

Squeaky hiccups began punctuating Spider-Man’s giggle-fits. Cap and Bucky could hardly believe it: Lang’s ridiculous plan might actually work. And hey, if that meant listening to the kid’s sunny laughter and basking in his radiant smile a little while longer, they weren’t complaining. It was easy to forget what a pain in the ass Spider-Man was while watching him cackle like a baby hyena.

“Eeheat shit and dihihie!” Peter spat. Antman figured if he still had enough energy to insult them, let alone form full sentences, it was time to step things up a notch. He took his hands off Spider-Man’s belly, cracked his knuckles, then latched on to his ribcage, drilling all ten fingers deep into the bone.

Spider-Man threw back his head and howled.

“Uh-oh,” Lang said, grinning maliciously. “I think I found the little spider’s tickle spot.”

For a few seconds, the kid laughed soundlessly, wrenching against his bonds and smiling the biggest smile in the world. Violent hiccups punched out of his throat and tears sparkled in his eyes. Nothing had ever tickled him as torturously as the hands on his ribs were now. Cap wondered if Stark had realized his new recruit had gone missing by now. He wondered what he’d think of what they were putting the poor kid through.

“STAHAP!” Spider-Man shrieked. The three Avengers laughed at him, making the kid wish he had the power to spontaneously combust. This was beyond humiliating. Meanwhile, Scott’s fingers crept higher, crawling towards his underarms like two menacing tarantulas.

“It must really suck, not being able to lower your arms,” Antman thought out loud. “You can’t guard yourself at all. Especially these vulnerable little pits of yours.” He fluttered his fingertips against the hollows, sending goosebumps shooting up Peter’s spine. “I mean, I can do this to you all day long, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me! Besides telling us where our friends are, anyway. That’s gotta be driving you crazy.”

Not only was his tickling him to tears; Antman was teasing him about it! Mercilessly! Peter’s entire body fizzled with embarrassment. The words to set him free dangled on the tip of his tongue. The Raft! They’ve been transported to the Raft!

But no, he couldn’t. Couldn’t give up. Not now. Not yet.

“Ahasshole!” he cried, twisting and turning in attempt to get away. “Goho j-jump in a lahayHAY—EEHEEHEEK!”

Scott dug into his underarms mid-sentence, scribbling his nails against his pits. Spider-Man screeched and laughed, doubling over as much as he could (which basically meant just dropping his chin to his chest) and squeezing the armrests so tight he left dents in the metal.

“Ooh, looks like we’ve got another one,” Scott said amusedly, watching the kid writhe and cackle beneath his touch. “Tickle spot numero dos.” He wormed his fingers deep into his sensitive skin, chuckling at Spider-Man's frenzied reactions. “You really should’ve thought about padding this suit more, buddy. It doesn’t protect you at all! Not from punches, lasers—and certainly not from tickles.” He switched to pinching and squeezing Spider-Man’s defenseless pits, jumping down every now and then to attack his ribs some more just to keep the poor kid guessing. “Might want to rethink that for future costume designs, huh?”

Dammit, Mr. Stark! If he did wind up throwing in the towel and spilling the beans, Tony had to shoulder at least part of the blame for making his suit so thin. Granted, his homemade suit was probably just as thin, if not thinner, but still. The fabric of his costume was doing absolutely nothing to dampen the unbearable tickling sensations. In fact, it may have been making them worse.

“Ihi’m—AHAHA! You—gaHA—f-fuhuhAck!” Peter’s speaking abilities were deteriorating along with his willpower. Antman was tickling his entire torso now, tweaking his sides and kneading his belly and clawing his armpits and needling his ribs. As his hysterical laughter dissolved back to twitchy silence and turbulent hiccuping, Scott sensed the kid was nearing his breaking point. He shared a look with Cap and Bucky, then slowed his attack, resting his fingers against Spider-Man’s sides but no longer moving them. The relief was so magical and unexpected, Peter thought he might melt.

“Gah—heh—oho—my god,” he wheezed. He sagged in his chair, panting harshly, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. “You…eheh…soho mean…”

The weary hero looked so precious and flustered and pathetic, it made all three of them want to barf. Bucky got in his face, smirking with delight.

“Ready to talk now, kid?”

Cap appeared at Bucky’s side, boasting a smile of his own. “It’s time to give up, Spider-Man. Whether you tell us now or tell us later, we’re going to break you eventually.”

Peter moaned weakly, airy giggles still fluttering in his belly. “Juhust let…c-catch breath,” he implored. He was cute enough that Scott almost considered letting him get away with it. But he knew the ploy Spider-Man was trying to pull, and they needed the info he had ASAP. He stood with the others and ruffled the kid’s messy hair.

“If you can say words, you can tell us where the others are.” He gave his head a playful shove, leaning over the chair he was trapped in. “Come on, Spidey—out with it already.”

Peter filled his lungs with a few more ragged gulps of air. Then, slowly, determinedly, he shook his head.

Captain America scoffed, shocked as he was impressed. “Seriously, kid? You’re really not backing down?”

“Bad idea, buddy,” Scott warned him. “Think for a sec. We were being nice these past few minutes. We all could’ve been going after you, but it was just me. And you were still losing your shit.” He nodded towards Steve and Bucky. “Are you sure you want to face the wrath of myself and these guys? I shudder to think how unbearable it’d feel to be tickle tortured by a pair of super soldiers. Especially for someone as ticklish as you.”

Peter wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor and drop into the ocean. Drowning beneath the waves sounded far less daunting than facing the harrowing decision laid before him. His eyes dashed between the two men, who grinned back at him smugly as they waited for his answer. He swallowed thickly.

“I—u-um—”

“If you don’t tell us now, we’re going to tickle you non-stop for the next ten minutes,” Bucky stated simply, “even if you fess up sooner than that.”

Spider-Man understood now why Mr. Barnes was so successful in his craft. The mere thought of that metal having free reign on his tummy was enough to make him lightheaded. And for ten minutes? He would simply perish.

“That, uh, d-doesn’t really seem like—”

“And when you do eventually crack, we’ll be sure to tell every other superhero we know who told us where our friends were taken and how we got him to talk,” Steve added. “That is, unless you speak up. Right. Now.”

The boy exhaled hollowly. His gaze wandered to the window while his fingers drummed against the armrests. He puffed out his cheeks, then let his head drop back. A small chuckle bubbled from his chest.

“You know what’s actually really great about this? I am never going to lose another game of Two Truths and a Lie in my life.”

The three adult superheroes shared a puzzled glance. Spider-Man continued.

“Like, who’s going to hear me say ‘I was tranqued and kidnapped by Captain America who then tied me to a chair in a hijacked plane and had his teammates torture me for information by tickling me out of my mind’ and be like ‘Oh yeah, that’s definitely true’?” Nobody, that’s who. Then I’ll get to be all ‘Sike, bitch! I one hundred percent was!’ And maybe that’ll make all of this worth it.”

Lang snorted as he returned to his seat behind Spider-Man, giving the kid’s side a few cautionary pokes. “I’m warning you, kid. Tell us where they are, or you’re seriously going to regret it.”

Nervous giggles started sneaking into his speech, peppered in between every other word, but Peter didn’t stop talking, He couldn’t seem to make himself stop.

“Oh! Lehet’s not forget Never Have I Ever! It wohorks for that, too! Unless there’s sohome other hapless soul out there youhou’ve s-subjected to this treatment? Though the lihikelihood of us ever meeting and just rahandomly deciding to play Never Hahave I Ever is probably pretty slim, right?”

The Winter Soldier chuckled at Spider-Man’s frenetic rambling. As much as he enjoyed tormenting the brat and hearing him laugh, he was only going through with this because the kid wasn’t giving them any other option. In the short time they’d spent together, Spider-Man had proved himself clever, loyal, and stubborn to a fault—characteristics that defined great heroes. Not to mention, obnoxiously cute. And even if he had sided with Stark in the battle in Germany, he was clearly a good kid who’d just been swept into a crazy situation. For the sake of his lungs and general sanity, Barnes could only hope Scott had worn him down enough that he would break quickly.

Bucky knelt by Spider-Man’s side, wiggling his fingers at thim threateningly, setting off Peter’s spidey sense and inflicting him with phantom sensations. “Better get the spit ready, ‘cuz this little spider-piggy’s about to start squealing.”

Cap sat on the floor in front of the kid and patted his leg. “Last chance, Spider-Man. One word from you, and all this stops.”

He was giggling more than talking now, but still carrying on. “Youhou know w-whahat else I just rehealized? I can say whahatever I want to you guys rihight now, and it dohoesn’t matter! ‘Cuz either wahay, the cohonsequences will be just as bad. Soho, uh, h-here it goes.” He took a breath, then leveled his gaze on the Winter Soldier. “Youhou, scary guy. Cuhut your gohodamn hair. I’m on enough suhuperhero ihinternet forums to know what the peeheople want. You look like Edna Mode frohom the Incredibles crossed with a pedophile.”

Bucky’s jaw hung in response, which granted Peter a twinge of satisfaction despite his situation. Next, he looked back at Antman, who he still couldn’t see.

“Ahand you, Tiny-Shrinky-Growy Dude. Youhou’re just—mean, okay? I don’t like you. So. Thehere. I hope whehen I knocked you down durhuring our fight, ihit gave you a giant bruise ahand a kihiller headache.” He stuck out his tongue and blew a big fat raspberry in his direction just for good measure. Lastly, he turned on Cap.

“And youhou, Steve, are officially off my suhuperhero idols list. Ihi’m peeling all your stihickers off my water bottle, dohonating your ahaction figures to Goodwill, and duhumping all your comic books in the trahash then dousing them in gasoline and sehetting the whole th-thihing ohon fihiheeheeAHhaha!”

Cap started squeezing his legs just above his knees, sending shocks through his limbs with nowhere to go. “All right, that’s enough,” Rogers chuckled. “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

Bright, maniacal laughter spilled from the kid’s lips. Steve smiled, wholly endeared. He was starting out gentle, testing the waters of Spider-Man’s undeniable sensitivity, and already the boy looked ready to blow. He inched his hands higher up his legs, kneading into the muscle, and he swore he saw the kid turn a shade redder; he didn't think that was possible.

“EEHEEhaha!” Peter giggled shrilly. Little spasms surged through his legs every time Cap’s deadly fingers tweaked them. This bizarre misadventure was actually teaching him lots of new things about himself—like the fact that his legs were insanely ticklish. No one had ever really tickled him there before, so it was certainly news to him.

Another fun discovery: if tickled long enough, his voice jumped to glass-shattering octaves against his will, pitching higher and louder than he thought possible. This experience was anything if not humbling.

In case that wasn’t torturous enough, Antman began scuttling his fingers against his neck, making the tiny hairs on his arms stand on end. “You’re one helluva glutton for punishment, kiddo. How much more do you think you can take?”

None, none, no more, Peter’s brain wailed. The teasing was just as cruel as the feathery touches tickling him silly.

Then the Winter Soldier’s metal hand found his tummy, and Spider-Man inhaled so sharply he wound up snorting, sparking laughter from his three tormentors.

“Spider-piggy indeed,” Bucky said, his ice-cold fingers scurrying across his belly. The kid angled his body as far from the super soldier as he could manage, but the metal hand stayed glued to stomach, kneading and wiggling meticulously.

“EEHEEVIL!” Peter hiccuped. It was too much, too much. Every muscle inside him was tensed and aching. His abs were on fire from laughing so hard. There were too many hands tickling too many places on his poor little spider-body.

He had to say it.

He couldn’t.

He had to say it.

He couldn’t.

The Raft! his mind screamed over and over again. Just say it! The Raft, The Raft, The Raft!

Out of everything, the hands on his thighs were by far the worst, pushing him to the brink of insanity. Cap was squeezing mercilessly now, drilling his thumbs into his legs with cruel fervor, making Peter thrash and scream-laugh. Fortunately, right as he was about to lose it, the hands suddenly lifted off him, and Spider-Man gasped with relief. The neck and tummy tickles were still maddening, but not to such an unhinged degree.

Then a fingertip brushed the bottom of his foot, and Peter choked.

“NOhoho!” he cried before he could stop himself. He kicked his legs with all his might, but his feet were trapped in place. Cap cracked a smile.

“No?” he repeated innocently. He scribbled his fingers against the center of his sole, drawing a squeal from the young hero. “Why ‘no’? Does this bother you or something?”

The fabric on his feet felt extra thin—great for wall-crawling, less great when being tickled to death. When Spider-Man tried defending himself by flexing his foot and scrunching up his toes, Steve seized his foot with one hand, holding it still, and tickled it with the other. Peter yelped and laughed, spitting curses as Cap dragged his nails up and down the length of his arch.

“IhI’ll—STIHICK!” he threatened him.

“You’ll stick?” Steve said, frowning. Then, for an instant, his fingertips froze against the kid’s foot. When he tried to pull away, they wouldn’t move, as if Spider-Man’s sole had adhered to his skin. Thankfully, with a slightly stronger tug, his fingers broke loose. Cap gazed at his hand in disgust. “Holy—yuck! Your feet can stick to things? What kind of creepy power is that?”

Spider-Man tried to answer, but Bucky started digging his thumbs into his hips. He immediately erupted into uncontrollable laughter, arching his spine and throwing his head back.

“You’re so scrawny,” the Winter Soldier observed, grinning as his technique transformed the kid’s giggles from bubbly to panicked. As mean as it felt—driving the kid to giggly hysterics—it sure was fun. “You look like Steve before he got the serum. Your little hip bones poke out so much! Does that somehow make them more ticklish? Sure seems like it.”

At the same time, Scott went back to tickling his underarms, scuttling his fingers all over his pits. They weren’t holding anything back now. No more Mr. Nice Avengers. They were determined to get an answer out of him. And Peter was fresh out of willpower.

“I assume you have to be focused to make yourself sticky, so I’m going to take my chances,” Steve said. His fingertips reunited with Spider-Man’s soles, one hand per foot this time, and began tickling both heels, arches, and sets of toes simultaneously. To Peter’s dismay, Cap’s hypothesis proved correct; there was no way in hell he could concentrate enough to stick to him—not while four other hands absolutely wrecked his upper body. And now with foot tickles added to the roster, he was utterly, entirely screwed.

“D-DYHYHING!” he managed to rasp, only to descend right back into silent, hiccup-filled cackling. His brain felt like it was short circuiting; it couldn’t hope to process the overload of tickly stimuli assaulting his body from every angle.

“Tell us where our friends are, and we’ll stop,” Scott replied, redirecting his attack to the kid’s rib cage. Being as ticklish of a spot as it was, Lang figured it deserved some more unforgiving, undivided attention.

Spider-Man whipped his head from side to side and gasped for air. He was fighting for his life just to sputter out one word. “C-CAHAN’T!”

“Sure you can,” Bucky said. He shimmied his hands along the kid’s torso, squeezing and tweaking his sensitive sides, eliciting a string of shrill hiccups from his gaunt frame. “‘Cuz until you do, we’re not stopping. Make your choice, kid: cough up the location, or be tickled to death.”

He barely had the strength to twitch anymore. His face ached from smiling so long. Six merciless hands against one ticklish spider was so completely unfair, and more than enough to torture him out of his mind. He only had one option left to exhaust before giving in: beg.

“P-PLEEHEEHEASE!” he grated out. “CAHan’t—AHAK—L-LUHUNgs—GAHhaHAGH!”

The three heroes ignored his pleas, continuing their tickle-filled interrogation without easing up. It was no use. He couldn’t bear another second. He had to make this stop.

Before he could summon enough oxygen to punch out the words, a woman’s voice met his ear—scratchy and warbled, like she was speaking through a walkie-talkie. The others must’ve heard it too, because their wiggling fingers suddenly stalled to a halt. Peter slumped in his seat and filled his starving lungs with air, inhaling and exhaling in greedy gulps. Cap hopped to his feet and jogged into the cockpit.

“Steve….chh—ome in. There?” the mystery voice called. Dazed, Peter lifted his head and spotted a holographic face floating above the control panel. The image was poor, but he recognized the speaker: Natasha Romanoff, aka Black Widow.

“Nat, is that you?” Cap said, stunned. “How did you tap our ship? Where are you?”

“N-N-No time,” the holograph stuttered, glitching sporadically. “Listen…know where—others. Didn’t hear fr-fr-from me.” Her whole face fizzled out for a moment, then reformed a few seconds later. “—Raft! Can—hear me? Your friends have been taken to the Raft!”

Slowly, grievously, Peter’s heart dropped like an anchor. Antman and the Winter Soldier stood and followed Steve into the other room.

“Underwater facility. Location changes w-w-weekly. Send—current coordinates now.”

Cap huffed out a laugh—one part shock, another part relief. “Thank you, Nat. I don’t know if you can hear me, but—thank you. We owe you one.”

Natasha gave a shrewd smile, then disappeared. A line of longitudes and latitudes appeared on the screen, as well as a map with a recommended course charted for their destination.

“Holy shit,” Bucky scoffed. “She really pulled through.”

“Nice!” Scott cheered. “So, what now? Should we just whip the plane around, go straight there, bust ‘em out? What’s the plan?”

“Are you—f-freaking—kidding me?”

The three men turned back to their captive. The kid was still struggling to catch his breath—face flushed, eyes wet with tears—and despite the dizzy smile clinging to his features, he looked absolutely devastated.

“You’re telling me…I w-went through all of that…for nothing?” He closed his eyes and let his head drop back, panting heavily and moaning in defeat. “I…h-hahate…my life. Uhugh…”

Scott hunched his shoulders with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, bud. I’ll give credit where it’s due, though: you held out a lot longer than I expected.”

Spider-Man whimpered miserably in response. Bucky returned to his side and gave his hair an affectionate tousle.

“Aw, cheer up, kid. Look on the bright side: now, when you play that game you mentioned, you get to say that you were captured by Captain America, tied to a chair, tortured for information by the Winter Soldier—but you didn’t break. Now that’s a badass anecdote.”

Reluctantly, the kid raised his gaze to meet his. It was nauseating how cute he looked—all rosy cheeks and big brown doe eyes. Stark had no right recruiting such an adorable face to fight his battles for him. He understood now why the boy was so keen on wearing a mask.

“Nothing about any of this h-has made me feel badass…” he murmured. He gestured behind him with a nod of his head. “Feel free to open up the back and chuck me off the plane at your earliest convenience. I don’t think my ego w-will…ever recover from this.”

Captain America approached him and patted his shoulder. “It’s all right, Queens. You stayed strong in the face of adversity—that’s what we’ll remember from this. You’re obviously a very dependable person.” He gave his arm a small squeeze. “Tony is lucky to have you on his team.”

Immediately, the kid’s face blanched. “Oh my god. Are you still going to tell him and everyone else you know about this?”

Steve smiled and shook his head. “No. I think you’ve suffered more than enough already.”

Spider-Man breathed a sigh of relief, his head drooping forward. A few moments later, he squirmed sluggishly against his restraints. “Could, um…could I maybe get out of this chair now, please?”

“That depends. Are you going to try to escape once you’re free?”

Peter shook his head. “No. I’d just like to lay on the floor and bemoan my existence for a bit.”

Cap couldn’t imagine the kid had the energy to try pulling anything funny after what they’d just put him through. And if he did, the three of them could handle it. Once he got the green light from Antman and Bucky, he got to work undoing all of Spider-Man’s bonds until he was finally free. The kid stayed true to his word; the moment he was unshackled, he melted out of his chair and onto the floor, sprawling flat with a long, weary groan.

His three captors chuckled. “Yeah, you take a minute,” Bucky said, reaching down and pinching his side. Spider-Man shrunk into a ball with a squeal, folding his knees to his chest and hugging himself around the middle.

“Do nohot,” he giggled feebly. He rolled on to his back with his arms around his tummy. “Pleehease. I am…soho tired…”

“Come on, guys,” Steve rebuked them. “Leave the poor kid be.”

Antman followed Captain America to the cockpit, shooting a glance over his shoulder. “So, uh, what now, Cap? What do we do with the kid?”

Steve loaded another round into the tranquilizer gun, which he had retrieved while Spider-Man was busy wallowing on the floor. “We’ll bring him with us to the Raft, knock him out while we snag our friends, then find a safe place to drop him from there. We can’t have him telling Tony our plan before we get the chance to rescue them.”

Scott exhaled slowly, then scratched his neck. “Right. Okay. Tranquing children. Sounds ethical enough.” He turned back to smile at the prostrate superhero. “He’s a fun little guy. Hopefully Stark doesn’t try to blast us all to smithereens once he realizes we kidnapped him.”

Cap nodded. “No kidding,” he agreed, then frowned. “Hope he can’t track us down before we’re able to drop him off, either.”

“Yeah,” Lang said with a shudder.

Steve stared at Spider-Man over Antman’s shoulder, narrowing his eyes. “That suit of his…” he began. “You think the kid made it himself?”

“I doubt it. It seems pretty high-tech. Did you see the inside of his mask? It’s inlaid with tons of advanced circuits. That thing must cost a fortune.”

A beat passed before the two men turned to each other rigidly. The realization seized both of them at the same time.

“If that suit is Stark tech…” Scott said ominously.

“You don’t think that…”

A crackling boom suddenly swept across the ship, making the aircraft dip and wobble. Rogers steadied himself with a hand against the wall. A boom like that could only be one thing: an object nearby flying so fast, it had broken the sound barrier.

“Whoa,” Spider-Man exclaimed, lifting his head from the floor. “What the hell was that?”

“Steve?” Bucky called. He was staring past him with wide eyes. Cap followed his gaze to the windshield behind them, which overlooked a cloudless blue sky. The view was clear except for one red and gold dot in the distance, barreling towards them with a trail of smoke in its wake, glinting in the sunshine. Steve’s heart leapt in his chest.

“Where’s Toshinori-Sensei?” Izuku asked, standing up from the couch.

“Downstairs socializing,” Bakugou groaned. “Geez. Old people, am I right?”

Izuku gasped. “Kacchan! He’s not old!”

“Really?”

“Okay maybe he is but I don’t like to think about it!”

“Oh whatever you stupid nerd!”

Mirio stood. “Whoa, whoa! Calm down you two,” he said. “Give the man time to talk. Besides, I’m sure it’s refreshing to hang out with adults after babysitting you two all day,” he teased.

Izuku blushed and pouted. “He doesn’t babysit me…” he grumbled quietly.

“BABYSIT? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

“Oh dear, looks like we’ve got a couple grumpy grumps,” Mirio teased. “Nejire, don’t you think they could use some cheering up?”

She giggled. “Absolutely!” she said, then grabbed two small remotes and pushed a button on each of them. And just like that, the machines came to life. Though they were machines, they looked like animals. One that looked like a fuzzy octopus rolled over to Izuku and began climbing his leg. Another, which looked like a six armed monkey, ran towards Bakugou and jumped on his back.

Izuku squirmed and began to giggle as he felt the tickly tentacles attack him through his shirt. “Ehehehehehehe! Hehehehey! What is this thing?” he asked, not bothering to pry it off.

Bakugou however, was much less entertained. The monkey tickled his neck, his armpits, and his sides all at the same time. “GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WHAHAHAHAT THE HEHEHEHELL! GET THIS THIHIHIHIHING OFFA MEHEHEHEHE!” he cackled, hunching over, then tried to smash the monkey against the wall, only for it to attack his worst spot with vigor. “AHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NOT THEHEHEHERE! I’M SOHOHOHOHORRY!”

“Ehehehehehe!” Izuku continued to squirm and giggle happily as the octopus crawled all over him. But he panicked when he felt it sneak under his shirt. “Nononono! Don’t do thahahahahat! It’ll ehehehehe! Tihihihickle too much! Ahahahahahaha!”

And it did, the combination of the fluff from the octopus brushing against his skin, paired with the tickly suction cups that felt like tickly kisses, and the slightly pointed but blunt ends of the tentacles tickling him? It tickled like nothing he’d ever felt before. Though he wasn’t exactly complaining.

Mirio leaned back against the couch, an amused smirk on his face. “These are some new tickle machines Sir had designed but never built. His notes said he needed something more portable, less intense, and less intimidating. Especially for minor infractions.”

Nejire giggled. “Yeah! And they’re really cute, huh?” she asked.

The boys were too caught up in their laughter to respond.

Tamaki was squirming in his seat, his face pink, and a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Ooh, what’s this?” Nejire asked. “Does our little butterfly wanna join in on the fun?”

“N-No I don’t!” Tamaki protested, then shrieked when Mirio swiped a single finger up his back. “Eeek!”

“You want the tickle bunny or the ear tickler?” she asked, holding out the options in front. The bunny was self-explanatory, and the ear tickler was a device that hooked around your ears and had at least half a dozen spinning brushes to tickle the lee’s ear with maximum efficiency.

“The...the...t-tickle bunny…” Tamaki mumbled, blushing a dark red. “I c-can’t handle the ear t-tickler for v-very long…”

Much to Bakugou’s relief, the monkey had let up on his death spot when tears had started coming to his eyes. Now it gently kneaded his sides and tickled his tummy, crawling around to face him directly and make silly faces at him. Weak from the tickling and all too silly to put up a fight, Bakugou sank to his knees, holding his tummy as he giggled, his face pink and his expression bright and happy, dazed with giddiness.

“Ehehehehehe!” he giggled.

Meanwhile, Izuku was facing the worst of it as the octopus discovered his hips and belly button. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHO!”

Thankfully, the octopus slowed down and didn’t torture him for long, crawling out of his shirt to settle on his shoulder and tickle his neck and ears happily.

“Ehehehehehe!” Izuku’s smile was absolute adorable as he scrunched his shoulders in reaction to the tickling.

Tamaki was in a similar predicament, holding his tummy as the bunny nuzzled and sniffed his ear, occasionally licking his cheek and giving him a little bunny kiss. Mirio chuckled at the trio’s adorable state, enjoying their laughter and giggles and big smiles for one more moment before he told Nejire to stop. And just as the robots crawled off their victims, went back to the table and turned off, Toshinori knocked and opened the door.

He took one look at everyone’s expressions, then at the robots on the table, then chuckled. He helped Bakugou to his feet, only to have him moodily hide his face in his shoulder, and Izuku to do the same, hugging him from the side.

Toshinori grinned. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

Mirio smiled and gave him a thumbs up and a wink, Nejire giggled and gave a short wave, and Tamaki, who was still giggling a bit and recovering, gave a weak thumbs up amidst his giggles.

“Come you two giggle bugs,” he said, giving them a squeeze. “Let’s get you home.”

“M’not a giggle bug…” Bakugou grumbled, keeping his head low as they walked out. He was still blushing a bit and the tiniest hint of a smile was on his face.

Izuku just giggled happily. “I am!” he said proudly, humming happily when Toshinori ruffled his hair.

“You may not be a giggle bug,” Toshinori said. “But you sure look like you had fun,” he said, poking Bakugou’s side a few times.

“Pffft!” Bakugou barely stifled a giggle. “Maybe a little…” he mumbled.

----------------------

Credit to @gigglymonster for the prompt!