ABRAÇOS GRÁTIS

He bit back the pleased rumble that wanted to answer him and instead focused on separating the necessary materials from the emergency nest pile locked in one of their cabinets. Today’s patrol was chaotic enough that he was sure no more bats would be coming down to the medbay for the rest of the night, except for Alfred, who Jason would take over either the Replacement, the Demon Brat or – God forbid – the Big Bat at any given day.

(Alfred probably already knew he was there and would help keep the others away, even.)

Separating the best feeling blankets and the structurally sound pillows was both incredibly anxiety inducing and natural. Jason ignored how thrilled he used to be about building nests before, he pushed away all the bitter memories of the days he spent reading books about it in the library, chest full of hope and wonder at finally being able to try out every technique the books talked about. The days he had spent spreading mock nests all across the manor like second nature.

Jason growled, forcefully focusing on the task at hand before the memories swallowed him whole.

(If anyone saw him kneading the blankets like a scaredy puppy he would start shooting.)

He began spreading the flat pillows that would be the base of the healing nest around Dick, carefully exuding more calm-sleepy-safe scent as he snuck a couple of them under his brother, chittering in exasperated admonishment as Dick kept trying to pull him into his usual octopus hug, even asleep.

“This would be so much better if I could use it blackmail you latter,” he pushed (not as hard as he could, honestly) his arm out of another grab made in his direction, quickly scenting Dick on his head again with safe-here-sleep when the other whined despondently at him. “But of course, you have no sense of shame.”

Sacrificing one of the scented plushies he brought (no he would not say from who they are and no he will not confess owning them, shut up) to his old nestmate, Jason turned to the other side of the bed and arranged the short walls and crevices with enough space to hold two large bodies (for when the Replacement or the Demon Brat came down hidden in the middle of the night and for that only, of course, of course), mindful of Dick’s injuries as he lifted his limbs to coax a couple of the thinnest pillows and airier blankets under him.

Jason doesn’t know how much time passed until it all was finally done.

Nest building was both the easiest and most tax consuming thing his body could ask of him. It took a conscious effort to make his mind focus on the task, to pry the tight hold he kept on his instincts, even if only to let them feel where each and every clothe and fabric must go to feel “right” as the same time he had to keep pushing off the intrinsically terror of being slipping and losing himself once more to them.

Besides, making a Healing Nest took an extra amount of concentration that usually are only dedicated to the built of a Pack or Private Nest, except those usually were a constant work of adaptation that went beyond a single day or night, following the individual across the years, being adapted, built and rebuilt, never left unchanged.

A Healing Nest needed to be perfectly balanced, with the pack’s strongest scents closer to the walls to placate the instincts that screamed a need of protection for their fallen packmate and the younger (usually their littermates) scents snuggled the closest to the hurt individual, all while the scents had to be strong enough to camouflage the hurt smell slipping in the patient’s scent.

It was a necessary balance that had to soothe the person and every underline pheromone had to emanate some kind of tranquil, safe feeling to prevent throwing the person even further into a spiral of stress, which in theory is easy but much harder to balance outside the paper.

Maybe it was because he was so much lost in those thoughts as he kept his breathing exercises and adjustments of an annoying pillow that Jason didn’t realize the pair of very attentive, watching eyes clued on him. Maybe it was because he honestly forgot to keep attentive when Dick let him work peacefully after Jason dodged a third lunge. Maybe some unconscious part of him remembered about all those years ago.

Nevertheless, in one second Jason was preoccupied in giving the healing nest its final touches and the other he was being pounced and dragged into it before he could scramble away.

“Fucking hell, Dick.” His voice was tight, his heart beating erratically and the only reason he didn’t counterattack the sudden movement was because he had just taken a bath and was wearing his civilian clothes. All his hidden knives were placed on a special compartment on his boots, far enough that his hindbrain registered the comforting, needy scent of Dick (family-pack-care-love-nestmate) before his hand could press in the hidden slot and take the weapon out.

His only answer was a satisfied, loud motor-engine purr as Dick buried his nose on his hair and inhaled his scent. His arms locked around him, which kept him on the here and now with a side effect of not let him get away, literally.

“Urg,” Jason wiggled minutely, confirming that, yep, he was not getting out of this hug. Dick chirped contently, not unlike a small, happy puppy which – as the 79kg grown ass basically burying him under his weight and all the comforters he pulled from the pile to hide them - he was definitely not. “Piss off, fatass, you’re gonna crush me.”

His older brother continued to groom him unrepentantly, the only interruptions of his stupid smug purring was a quiet growl each time he found some stubborn knot or when he decided Jason was not yet completely doused in his protective scent and decided to rub his chin on his head and coat him even more in his scent, which renewed his growling because the nuzzling undid his careful work of detangling his hair.

Instincts were just the stupidest thing, sometimes.

The odds that he was fully conscious and simply elated to ignore Jason or that he was genuinely still completely lost to it due the pain meds were pretty equal. Jason huffed.

Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from melting, bit by bit, each time Dick’s fingers travelled from the top of his head, careful with his locks, and continued to his nape, giving it heavenly scratches before he rubbed his way back up his head and repeated the cycle, softly playing with his hair, then carefully guiding comforting shivers from his nape to the rest of his back.

A small part of his soul, that same one that clung to the memory of those rainy evenings when they used to snuggle in the Manor’s pack nest and roughhoused in the animated ways pups did, wanted to whine.

It yearned, soft and vulnerable, metaphorically wishing to just roll over and show Dick all the raw bruises he still concealed under their blocked bond, so his nestmate could take care of them as well.

(Childishly, youngly. Jason missed his pack so damn much sometimes.)

Jason was quick to swallow that urge and lock it up far away before his hindbrain could get any ideas. He chittered warningly when Dick’s hand got too close to his scarred neck and the older alpha relaxed his hug with a submissive whine.

“Shut up.” Jason tsked, adjusting himself so he was the one embracing Dick, who purred contently and went completely lax, happy that the other was not trying to go away anymore. Discreetly, Jason also nosed his hair, scenting him with calm-heal-protected. “You’re the one who needs to heal, stupid.”

Lost to the world, Dick’s loud purrs lost some of their strength (going from motor-loud to just loud) as he turned his head to snuggle further under Jason’s chin, finally placated and still, his tired body charging the sudden bout of energy as it pulled him under a heavy sleep. For once, his pheromones calmed down and let the mix of his pack’s scents take over the nest and the room, hiding him in his vulnerability.

Jason took his place for the vigil and sighed, feeling something loosening in his chest at the familiar awareness of watching the room as his nestmate slept fell over him.

In little ways, some things didn’t really change, huh?

(…)

Dick yawed, drowsily as he pulled himself from his slumber. He felt strangely well-rested. It’s been… forever, since he woke up from such a heavy sleep. Still blinking his eyes open, trying to get them accustomed with the room, his senses acknowledged the safe smell of his entire pack and for a confusing second Dick wondered if Bruce’s overprotectiveness really went against Alfred’s orders and the omega sneaked on the medbay in the middle of the night to move him to the Den.

But no, he was still on the Cave. So how…

A faint rumble registered under him and Dick couldn’t help but take a deep inhale of the overly familiar scent of books, a smell that was both frigid cold and blazingly warm, like sitting in front of a fireplace with a book as an unforgiving snowstorm raged outside, a green acid bubbling in the underlayer of it.

It made his throat dry and his eyes mist.

Jason.

The purr that exploded from his chest was almost all consuming. It was needy and happy and full of longing all at the same.

That was his first nestmate, his grief, his lateness, his absence, his littermate from another parent, his most grave mistake, his pup, his little brother.

Jason curled more around him, clearly asleep. The knowledge that if he woke up, he would most certainly get away and escape to his safehouse singlehanded made Dick hold back the calling yips that kept trying to greet his little brother and hear his answering calls.

But maybe some part of him still did it without his permission, because Jason, even asleep, gave a faint chirp and nuzzled once his throat, curled even further on his space, bulk and muscles hiding him from outside in a way that made his inner alpha preen.

Such a good nestmate, very good pup, keeping his pack safe.

He decided to enjoy the silence, nesting closer to his little brother and letting the quietness soothe any bruises that still lingered in their bonds and their souls.

(…)

Dick, with a herculean effort, endured exactly half an hour before the sheer amount of tediousness left him jittery. Gone was the first wave of softness that held his mind when he woke up for the third time and Jason still gave no signals to stirring up from his own sleep. Something more… agitated (playful) sung, bubbling from the corner of his smile to the restlessness of his fingertips as memories appeared on his mind.

Weeeell.

It wasn’t like Jason didn’t know the rules.

If you went to your big brother’s nest and was unfairly adorable, it was only fair you paid your Lil Bro Tax.

(Besides, soon enough Alfred would be coming down to check on him and bringing down breakfast, which would officially open the doors to the other members of the manor to come down as well and as much as Dick would love to extend such rare cuddle time further, he knew Jason would not appreciate having such a moment displayed to the rest of the family yet.)

(Really, his little brothers were so lucky to have such a good, charitable, attentive old brother like him.)

Softly, Dick ran the tip of his fingers across Jason’s back, barely touching as he calmly let his short nails slowly rank up and down, observant of any batted breath or twitch from the other, curious to assess just how ticklish Jason still was.

The middle of his back, closest of his hands at first, didn’t give him much answer, however, just as he decided to tap lightly on the back of his ribs a huff greeted him. Quickly, Dick jumped away from the spot and waited with closed eyes and carefully controlled his breathing, attentive to any further movement from Jason, tampering down the joyful bout of excitement that kept trying to sneak from him through their bond.

When nothing else happened, Dick risked opening his eyes again, smiling happily at the soundly asleep brother that clutched him close. In a blink, he passed his wrist carefully on his hair, scenting him with little brother-safe-happy-thanks.

But his research was not yet complete and Bruce taught them well to always be diligent, ruthless and final when searching for the answer of a mystery.  

Once again he rested his hand on the middle of Jason’s back, taking advantage of the neutral point to plan his next target thoughtfully. With small “steps”, Dick sluggish spidered his way to Jason’s lower back. His touch was light, only two fingers poking the line of his spine until he arrived to his destiny and could freely move his hands back and forth the spot, calmly dragging just his fingertips from one side to another, drawing senseless shapes and lazy zig zags on the ticklish skin.  

His hunt proved itself successful when another huff escaped the other, Jason’s arms clutching him closer as he tried to curl himself but was stopped by Dick, who was still plastered under his chin, a gruffy grumble leaving him when Dick stopped his ministrations until he relaxed once again.

Which was perfect. Because it meant that not only Jason was still his dearest, wiggliest, cutest lil tickly-ticklish puppy but also that he hadn’t grown out of impersonating a pillbug each time he was tickled which was just most adorable thing ever and as his very good, very charitable old brother, Dick just had to take advantage of it.

Oof, the weight of his duty.

As the saying goes, with great powers came great responsabilitickles or something like that.

Lastly – but not less important - Dick skittered his fingers gently right under one of his shoulder blades, remembering just much of a bad spot this used to be for tasering and such, which never failed to make Jason screech the loudest of the snorts before falling in breathless crackles every single time.

A quiet noise that sounded suspiciously like a muffled giggle greeted him and Dick was very careful to not let the shit-eating grin he felt forming show in his face.

His hand hovered just above the spot.

Dick waited with a baited breath.

One second.

Two seconds

Three…

A small, almost imperceptive twitch away from his hands.

There.

That's when Dick descended. With only two fingers, he pressed on the tickle spot and vibrated like the entire destiny of humankind depended on creating the loudest shriek in the entire universe.

Jason spasmed, instinctively trying to shot up away from the tickles but being prevented by the blankets and very clingy older brother clued on him. A cutting, high pitched squeal just a few notches below breaking the sound barrier left his mouth as he sputtered confusedly, suddenly wide awake.

Soon realization downed on him. Wheezy, booming laughter cut the space, his arms coming to clutch at Dick’s shoulders as the older kept drilling on the tickle spot restlessly. “DIHIHIHIHICK!!”

“Time for my little brother tax!” Dick sing-songed in answer, laughing together with his nestmate before he changed his technique to pepper a thousand of nimble, soft and lightning-fast pinches in between Jason’s shoulder blades, as if it was his life time mission to get the most flustered, yipping snickers from him. Each sound so squeaky that it left Jason’s head reeling in dizzy, flustered confusion. It’s been years since he laughed freely like that.

Especially as Dick decided to be teasy little shit as well.

“Awww, is someone still sensitive? Is that iiiit? Is my little bwother a twickle-twickle-twickle-twicklish puppy. Huh, huh, huh, is heeee?”

The screech pried from Jason’s lips was loud.

“SHUHUHUHDAPP!” Now the blush travelled from the bridge across his nose to the tip of his ears, voice jumping from high squeals to growly giggles that were the most endearing thing ever. “IHIHIHI’M GONNA FUCKING DEHEHESTROY YOU AHAHAFTER THIS!”

Dick whistled low, unable to stop his sworn duty as an older brother to poke the bear and gloat a little in smugness. “Better to make sure you’re all tickled out then, right?”  

True to his words, Dick stopped his nibbling pinches and plastered his hands in form of claws on the back of Jason’s ribs, barely giving him the time to realize what was going to happen and curse loudly before he began digging. Thumbs drilled and buzzed on his highest ribs while the other fingers crawled to the front to tease the border of his armpits, which made Jason let go of his shoulders and clamp his arms to the side in a poor attempt to fend off those wiggling hands.

Of course, since his target was being so fiercely protective and Dick – contrary of what the unfair rumors spread by ticklish little birds said - was a merciful, good older brother, he had no other option but to change his course and tickle that absurdly weak spot Jason had between his armpits and back, scratching and scribbling across it over and over again until his nestmate was a wheezing mess.

Stumbling, laughing words spilled incoherently from Jason’s lips. The unexpected change of attack made Jason snort, air stilling for a second in surprise before raucous crackles, wheezy squeals gleefully mixed with his laughter in a manner that only made his blush worse each time it happened.

Something that was not helped by the oozing fondness dancing in Dick’s scent, bright as day no matter how much Jason curled or squirmed away from it, each time he buried himself further on his brother only serving to make his tickles more energetic and the fond coos resonating on their dulled bond louder, while pushing himself back on the tickles only served to make his back more vulnerable to the tickly ministrations and worsen his fate.

Each wiggle presented the perfect opportunity for Dick to spare a couple of fingers to tase the border of his armpits and then follow by kneading and clawing skillfully across every single weak spot on the back of his ribcage, going up and down in a way that made Jason’s laughter change from uncontrollable wheezing to gruffy chortles.

Just as his nestmate was beginning to grow used to the sensation, Dick jumped to his spine, hands spidering across its length, giving each single one of his vertebras a good prodding before jumping to another.

Loud laughter gave space to squeaky huffs and puffs that made his shoulders tremble as Dick’s fingers playfully climbed to the top of his back, tippity-tapping teasingly on the back of his neck before they washed down back to the base of his spine.

After some failed attempts – because Dick decided to live up to his name and kept fucking tasering under his shoulder blades and prying another screeching shriek each time Jason opened his mouth to say anything, dialing back to his normal tickle attack only when he was sure his little brother was completely lost in booming laughter once more – Jason was finally able to wheeze out a “STOHOHOHOPPIT!”

“Hmmm,” Dick pretended to think about it. “I don’t know, Little Wing. Something tells me you will just get your revenge when I stop, which means I’m gonna lose all those cute lil bro giggles AND get tickled to the very death… Not much advantage from my viewpoint, is there?”

Challenge glinted in those bright, teary eyes, the only warning Dick got as a gigantic smile in Jason’s expression took over a sharper edge “FUHUHUNNY OF YOHOHOU TO THINK I WHAHAHAS ASKING!”

In a blink Jason’s hands clasped on Dick’s arms he pushed, which automatically activated Dick’s octopus mode and resulted in him clinging for dear life onto his brother, coiling his limbs around him with a pitiful nooo-apology-stay-playful! whine that was mirrored across their bond. With another forceful push it soon became a mischievous and equally challenging growl as both rolled around in the small nest, jabbing elbows and hands scrambling for purchase of any tickle spot available.

The following game of roughhousing had the unfortunate consequence of riding up Jason’s shirt, a priceless opportunity presented in a silver plate Dick, who didn’t even hesitate for a second before he quickly dove his hands under it. Soon, there was scratching and skittering tickles gracing directly every centimeter of Jason’s lower back.

It was the worst kind of attack. Just a flock of light, soft tickles that seemed to tease directly each one of his nerves and bring out the giddiest kind of titters that seemed as if they left buzzing, tingling little shocks wherever they went and never failed to turn him into a tittering, embarrassed mess.

Under the new wave of tickles, Jason sputtered half protests and muffled swears before his poorly contained low chuckles grew to a flustered flurry of fast-paced giggles that made him try to curl himself in a ball. With Dick still under his chin, he was only successful in burying his face on his hair, entire body shaking with his snickers.

It was a valiant and senseless – but still adorable and heartwarming all the same - attempt to muffle the uncontrollable giggling that only grew more and more pronounced and airy as Dick continued to draw senseless shapes in the back of his sides and sneaked a couple of gentle pinches on his hips just to catch a few surprised yelps before letting him fall back to the giggly titters. Not a single inch of his lower back was left before gaining its deserved round of scribbling, spidering and wiggling fingers.

Carefully, Dick tapped on their shared bond, going almost boneless with relaxation when all he got was happy-flustered-joy-annoyed-safe feelings reflected from Jason’s side, which sounded much less muted that they used too ever since Jason got back. His own scent sparkling with happy fireworks and shared train-diving moments.

It was only due that dazed contentment that Dick didn’t react when a hesitant kneading started on the back of his shirt. With a batted breath, he forced himself to not react and pull attention to Jason’s seemingly instinct show of comfort and attention, the younger stopping briefly for a second, as if only realizing now what he was doing.

Dick let his hands continue his soft and light tickling in an attempt to distract the other from any hesitation that was filling his mind in this moment.

Hope and excitement began to blossom in his chest as – after some seconds with nothing more – his nestmate gave him a minute nuzzle followed by more rhythmic, light kneading continued on his back. The moment felt as precious as the first time – years ago, when their brotherhood was still tentative and on their first steps – that Jason gave him his first “happy biscuits” ever, finally happy and relaxed on the Den’s nest after a movie night and a successful patrol. 

The rumbles that exploded out from Dick’s chest were booming and unashamed, more than happy to project his joy as rambunctiously as possible so Jason didn’t feel embarrassed as he answered back with a couple of his own faint purrs.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long before he hears the telltale of purposely loud and slow footsteps descending to the cave. Tampering down a protesting, possessive growl from his inner alpha, Dick starts to squeeze Jason’s side in short, impossible to ignore tickly bursts until he was jumping out of the nest with an annoyed (almost pouty) snarl, quickly adjusting his hair and clothes just as Alfred appeared on the medbay, a breakfast tray on his hand, perfectly arranged with enough food for two.

“Good morning, Master Jason, Master Dick.” He didn’t seem surprised at Jason’s decision to stay, but there was a fondness in the crinkle of the corner of his eyes when he assessed the healing nest around Dick and gave Jason a short, approving nod. “Let’s take a look at those healing bruises now, shall we?”

[~*~]

Fun Facts and Extras!

Jason is actually a true and 100% SOFTIE! His purrs are raspy and rumbly but when he very very veeery relaxed they can gwo loud like an engine (which makes him want to hide them at first)

He has some aggressive nuzzling when he is feeling affectionate, younger than Dick when he was adopted, still hadn’t grown out of making “biscuits” when he is feeling safe and when being tickled too <3

Btw I am here leaving it to your imagination just whether Jason was awake when Dick began to tickle him and just pretended to be asleep the whole time or if he was truly sleeping during the lighter tickles

I like to imagine Jason having those more breathless-like kind of laughter that are momentarily broken by a couple of squeaky giggling, ya know? Can’t explain it very well but it fits him very nicely in my mind

Jason, in the beginning of the fic: Dick is hurt I GUESS I have to be gentle with him. Just this once

Dick: a

Jason: So you’ve chosen violence

Img of the day:

“It's time to get up, Bruce, the kids need waking for school,” Clark murmured against his partner’s shoulder, following the words up with a kiss. Bruce barely mumbled against his pillow in response, making Clark sigh. In truth, there was still at least an hour until they had to get up, but Clark knew how long it took to get Bruce up in the morning.

It hadn't even been a particularly long night for the man, but he always tried to stay in the comfort of his bed longer during winter. This was particularly true with Clark in the bed, Bruce himself had admitted, since Clark’s internal body temperature was higher than a human’s– Bruce’s boys liked to call him a portable heater.

Of course Clark could always move, but he was only human (kind of) and curled around a sleepy Bruce Wayne, spooning him close in a state between wakefulness and sleep was just too enjoyable. So, Clark didn't move, hoping to spend the next hour cuddled with a half-asleep Bruce, as opposed to a fully asleep one.

“B,” Clark hummed, smoothing a hand down Bruce’s front. His muscles stayed soft under Clark’s touch, not so much as twitching, so Clark decided to change tactics from soft rubs to light traces with his finger tips. And bingo! A wobbly little exhalation could be heard each time Clark’s fingers fluttered just right over Bruce’s lower stomach, earning Clark the twitches he was looking for.

“Good morning, handsome,” Clark smiled. He pressed a quick peck to the nape of Bruce’s neck, the sleepy man rolling his head back in response. Clark hummed in acknowledgement. Though the reflex was objectively quick, it was relatively slow for Bruce, who seemed mostly unbothered by Clark’s ministrations so far.

Fine, time to be a little meaner.

Clark shuffled forward to press up as close to Bruce’s back as possible, before tracing the soft skin around Bruce’s navel, while his other hand skimmed up to his ribs. He used the finger of that hand to run feather-light strokes against Bruce’s lowest ribs, relishing in the way Bruce’s shoulders began to shake a bit in response.

“So sensitive,” Clark teased, pressing another quick kiss to the back of Bruce’s neck just to make the man’s shoulders shoot up protectively. His hands continued to tease at his partner’s skin, their touch too light to fully wake the man, while being too present for Bruce to completely ignore and sleep through.

“Is it worse in the morning, love? You're just way too sleepy to fight me off, hmm?” Clark whispered it against the side of Bruce’s neck, Clark’s head preventing him from protecting the vulnerable patch of nerves there.

“Kahal,” Bruce huffed out, voice croaky and dry from sleep. Clark fell in love with the man all over again, just as he did most mornings (especially those spent reducing his big, scary bat to a harmless puddle of giggles with his hands).

Clark swapped the hand at Bruce’s ribs to skitter across Bruce’s stomach, drawing the movements out to feel the man’s muscles contract against him. His other hand scritched at Bruce’s chin, making him push his head down reflexively. The movement displayed the back of his neck beautifully for Clark, practically begging for him to kiss it again. So he did.

Clark continued lavishing Bruce’s neck with pecks as his hands kept up the light touches, prompting Bruce to loll his head forward and back, attempting to defend against the ticklish feelings at both his chin and nape.

Eventually he woke enough to get some control of his limbs back, which Clark discovered when two hands grabbed at his wrists, holding on and lightly squeezing them.

Clark relaxed his touches, rubbing against one of Bruce’s pecks and his stomach. He nuzzled into Bruce’s nape just to keep the man on his toes (and to hear his surprised little titters).

“There you are.” Clark’s voice was practically dripping with sentimentality, but where Bruce may have scoffed and pulled away years earlier, the man simply huffed, relaxing further into Clark’s loving hold.

After a moment, Bruce cleared his throat, asking, “w’s that really nec’ssary?” Clark pinched at his stomach in warning, melting at Bruce’s startled answering snicker.

“You weren't waking up,” Clark said, letting the pout make its way into his tone since he knew how it exasperated Bruce. “And you're so grouchy in the morning.”

“‘M not grouchy,” Bruce complained. He turned in Clark’s hold to face him, snuggling back into the pillows with a content sigh. “Not every’ne’s as awake at th’s time as you.” His eyes were drooping, sleep threatening to claim him once again. Not on Clark’s watch.

“It's a weekday,” Clark said. He pecked all over Bruce’s face–the smooth spot where his brows usually furrowed, his cheeks just below the bags staining the skin under his eyes–in an attempt to rouse Bruce more. This attempt backfired, though, Bruce reflexively leaning into Clark’s touch as he began to drift off again. As much as that subconscious action warmed Clark to his core, they really would need to get up eventually, and Clark wanted to laze around in bed with his awake partner for a while first.

“Bruuuce,” Clark sing-songed into the man’s ear, smiling at how he hiked his shoulders up to escape the low word. “The boys have school.”

Bruce groaned, turning his head to burrow it into his pillow like a particularly annoyed cat. He was so cute in the morning. “Then I have work,” Clark continued, rubbing over Bruce’s uncovered shoulder. He then walked two fingers down from that joint to his elbow, chuckling at the goosebumps he left in his wake. “And I want to spend the morning with you first.”

Bruce groaned again but uncovered his face, looking at Clark with glazed-over eyes and a slight smile to his mouth. Clark couldn't help but kiss him, properly this time, utterly smitten with the man. The light flush on his cheeks made him look delightfully alive. “How long until we need to get up?”

Clark looked to the alarm clock, noting that five minutes had already passed just trying to keep Bruce from falling back asleep. “About an hour, just under,” Clark answered. He skritched lightly at Bruce's elbow just to see him blush a little more, still now embarrassed by how sensitive his arms were. Clark then brought his hand to Bruce’s forehead, combing his fringe away from his eyes.

“So we don't need to get up yet,” Bruce surmised, an eyebrow raising at Clark. Clark shrugged, letting his free hand tap against the left of Bruce’s chest in time with his heart. “I'm going back to sleep.”

“You're not,” Clark warned, glaring at him.

“You can't stop me from falling asleep, Clark,” Bruce rolled his eyes. He seemed to realise his mistake the moment the words left his mouth, if the way his eyes gained clarity was any indication. Clark just grinned. That sounded like a challenge.

As Bruce braced himself, Clark simply sighed dramatically, resting his weight against Bruce and rolling them so that Bruce was pinned under Clark, lying on his back.

“I suppose you're right,” Clark hummed, sitting up in Bruce's lap. He pushed down on Bruce’s chest to keep the man from sitting up, though he seemed content enough just to lay back and watch Clark’s antics. Clark knew he was an enabler, really, it was just buried under about five layers of brooding.

“Why don't I help you get back to sleep instead?” Clark smiled at the way Bruce’s face scrunched up slightly in confusion and patted his cheek condescendingly. “What's that song the kids like me to sing to them when they can't sleep? The one they tease you about?”

The shade of red that instantaneously stained Bruce’s face and ears, running down his neck, in response was too good not to laugh at. Clark couldn't help it, he always felt somewhat delirious when Bruce allowed his antics.

“Would it help you get to sleep, too, sunshine?” Clark teased. He felt like a predator toying with his prey, hovering over Bruce’s unmoving form as he was.

“This is ridiculous,” Bruce huffed. It was funny, really, how Clark ‘threatening’ to help him sleep was what woke him up in the end.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine~” Clark loomed over Bruce while singing, a blinding smile firmly in place. Bruce tensed.

“Clark-”

“You make me happy when skies are grey,” He wiggled his fingers, slowly moving them down towards Bruce, drawing this out. He didn't get to be silly with his partner enough, in his humble opinion.

“This is ridiculous,” Bruce huffed, but his cheeks were red and he couldn't quite hide the telling uptick of his mouth. His lack of movement gave him away most, though– Clark may be strong, but he'd never truly trap Bruce, so he could escape whenever he wanted. If he wanted, of course.

“You'll never know dear, how much I love you,” Clark leant down, pressing a kiss to Bruce’s forehead, then each cheek.

“Kal,” Bruce whined, though Clark knew not to comment on his tone, lest he try to hide his handsome face again.

“So please don't take my sunshine away~” Right as he finished singing, Clark struck, holding Bruce’s ribs firmly in his hands and rubbing ticklish circles into them with his thumbs. If he held a bit firmer than strictly necessary just to add to the ticklish sensations at Bruce’s back, well, then, that was Clark’s business thankyou very much.

Bruce’s tension left him, head lolling back on his pillow as he collapsed into bright, wheezy laughter.

He had such a sweet laugh, rough and unused as it was, and Clark delighted in drawing it out of him.

“Hmmm,” Clark hummed with faux confusion, while continuing to tickle Bruce. “You seem even more awake now, did my lullaby not work, B?”

“Nahahah,” Bruce laughed, shaking his head desperately. His heart was slightly elevated and his cheeks were a lovely pink, betraying how much he was enjoying the affection.

“You- you ahahahare tihickling!”

“Oh? I hadn't even noticed. My bad,” Clark teased. He dug his hands into Bruce’s underarms, while settling his weight over the man to get close to his face.

“How much does it tickle, hmm? Are you having fun, sweetheart?” Bruce’s response was no more than cackles and Clark grinned, settling his face in the crook of Bruce’s neck to nibble at the spot.

When Bruce’s laughter turned particularly wheezy, Clark switched his technique to running barely-there touches up and down Bruce’s sides, while continuing to nip at the man’s neck. Bruce didn't quite manage to hide a squeak at the differing sensation, before continuing to lay still and laugh. In fairness, there wasn't much else he could do without tapping out, though he hardly ever did. This was in part due to his pride, but mostly because Clark knew when to stop to avoid pushing Bruce too much.

“Such a tickly ticklish thing, hm?” Clark teased against Bruce’s neck.

“Kahahal, n- nahaha!”

“Oh, no?” Clark blew a quick raspberry on Bruce’s neck, surprising him enough to earn another squeal followed by him bucking up. Clark tsked.

“I think-” another raspberry- “that you, Bruce Wayne-” another- “are sooo ticklish, that I'll have to stay with you at all times to keep you safe from anyone who might use this little fact against you." Clark finished up with one last, long raspberry at the other side of Bruce’s neck.

He sat back up after, easing up on Bruce to make sure he got some air, though the man did keep up a steady stream of laughter as Clark continued to trace his sides.

“You're ehevil,” Bruce huffed out after a while, hands clutching the sheets. His eyes shone with unshed tears and his cheeks were red with exertion, but there was a challenge in his eyes and an excitement in his grin.

“Oh I'll show you evil-” just as Clark dug back into Bruce’s ribs to elicit another bright squeal, the door swung open, revealing a half-awake, disgruntled looking Jason. Oops.

Clark jumped off of Bruce like he'd been burned, face quickly heating up. Though what they were doing was perfectly innocent, Clark knew how their position may have looked without context, and he prayed Jason hadn't noticed.

“Were you… oh my God,” the boy muttered the last bit, almost to himself, before running off. He left the door open behind him.

“Well, that's one way to wake him up,” Bruce joked, sitting up and pecking Clark’s cheek. Clark ignored the way his face kept burning and smiled at Bruce, pecking his nose back.

“Just the other two left, now,” Clark agreed. Jason chose that moment to reappear at their now-open door, looking much more alert than he did before. Dick stood to one side of him, his expression almost disbelieving, while Tim stood at Jason’s other side; the kid looked to be barely awake, swaying on the spot.

“Boys,” Bruce greeted, stretching and yawning. Clark reminded himself not to stare right now.

“Were you tickling him?” Jason demanded, completely disregarding Bruce to stare Clark down. Wait, hadn't Clark tickled Bruce in front of them before?

He thought back, trying to remember a single time he had, but ultimately coming up short. Huh.

“Well sure,” Clark smiled. “It's sometimes the only way to get him up in the morning.” Dick snorted at that, while Jason just looked determined, gaze moving to stare Bruce down.

“We’re owed some vengeance!" Jason demanded, inviting himself further into their room with Dick and Tim at his heels. Clark felt more than heard Bruce sigh next to him.

“You're welcome to try, Jaybird. I'd be more than happy to remind you how ticklish your hips are,” Bruce teased, cracking his knuckles. Jason’s face reddened and he snarled at Bruce. Clark thought he may have actually been about to try to take Bruce on alone before Dick cut in.

“Clark can help us,” he assured, looking at Clark with puppy-dog eyes that still managed to tug at his heart strings, no matter how ingenuine he knew them to be. “That is, if he cares about justice. Don't you think we deserve a little payback?”

Both Dick and Jay’s eyes were practically begging him to help, while Tim flopped onto the bed by Bruce’s legs sleepily.

Clark looked to Bruce. He could see the boys’ point, really. They deserved to get their dad back at least once (plus,a more selfish part of Clark could admit that he'd never get enough of Bruce’s laugh). At the same time, though, he wasn't sure if Bruce would actually be okay with that, since the kids might not think to watch Bruce’s microexpressions for any signs of true discomfort. Plus, Clark had already tickled him a fair bit this morning, and it was barely 7:30am.

Bruce, for his part, just raised an eyebrow at Clark. He seemed almost amused, if his goading smirk was anything to go by. Huh, maybe Clark worried too much. These were Bruce’s kids after all, plus, Clark could watch to make sure they didn't actually take the playfulness too far.

“Well, Kal?” Bruce spoke, carding a hand through Tim’s sleep-ruffled hair. The kid was mostly asleep again. He and Bruce were so alike, sometimes. “Think you can help the boys bring me to justice?”

There were very few people in this world that would describe Superman as evil, and even fewer who would describe Clark that way. In that moment, though, the smile that Clark felt overtake his features couldn’t be described in any other way. Oh, it was on.

“I'll hold his arms. Boys, have fun." Clark noted Dick and Jason’s matching grins, smiling at them for just a moment, before pouncing at Bruce.

Bruce’s smile was dangerous as he went straight for Clark’s ribs, knowing it was his only chance of winning this.

“Juhust accept your fahahate!” Clark laughed as Bruce tased his ribs. He reached out instead of defending himself, grabbing Bruce’s hips. It probably wouldn't have been enough to get Clark the upperhand, had Jason not snuck up to Bruce while he was distracted and squeezed just above the knee closest to him. Bruce went down quick, and Clark rushed to secure his arms.

“I'll get you back, Jaylad,” Bruce warned, but it wasn't fighting back as much as Clark knew he could, it seemed to be more of a show for the kids. He probably figured they'd feel more accomplished that way, and though Clark doubted Dick would fall for it, Jason was grinning victoriously.

“Worth it,” the boy snarked, climbing onto the bed.

Once Clark had wrangled Bruce onto his stomach and sat above his head, legs securing his arms, he looked up to see the boys.

Jason was practically vibrating in his spot next to Bruce’s side, while Dick was perched on the left, a still dozing Tim on his lap.

“Get him warmed up for us, Jay, Timmy needs a little more time to wake up,” Dick encouraged. He was rubbing Tim’s back and stroking through his hair, while nuzzling their cheeks together. Clark’s heart sung at the sight, and looking down revealed a similarly adoring look on Bruce’s face too.

“Okay, B, get ready for payback!” Jason was grinning wildly and he sat up on his knees, hands ready.

“Do your worst,” Bruce teased. He winked up at Clark and Clark knew he'd blushed in response when he got a look at Bruce’s self-satisfied smile. Oh, he was really asking for it.

“Go for his thighs, Jay,” Clark said, watching as Bruce's smirk turned into a glare. Jason gave Clark a mock salute before shuffling further down the bed. Unfortunately for Bruce, his linen pyjama bottoms wouldn't protect him much from his son’s attack, and his shirtlessness definitely didn't help defend him any.

Jason went for that same spot from earlier, this time on both sides. His little hands squeezed just above the backs of Bruce’s knees over and over again and every now and then he looked up at Bruce for a reaction.

Unfortunately, Bruce wasn't going easy on Jason at all, levelling out his breathing and schooling his expressions.

“He's being annoying,” Jason huffed with a pout, still squeezing away. “How'd you make him laugh, Clark?"

Clark smiled at him reassuringly. “Your dad's a pretty tough nut to crack, Jay, I caught him off guard while he was sleeping. He's pretty good at hiding his reactions.” Jason’s frown deepened, so Clark continued. “Except with one spot.”

“Which spot?” Dick asked, still cradling a sleepy Timmy but watching Bruce intently. The man in question stayed quiet, likely knowing what Clark’s next move would be and trying to prepare himself. Luckily for the boys, it would all be for nought when Clark started.

He held his hands up at either side of Bruce’s neck and wiggled his fingers, grinning as Bruce flushed just a bit. While he wasn't squirming, he was very obviously fighting to tamp down on a smile, and he only mostly succeeded.

“Woah! You're not even tickling him yet, is his neck really that bad?” That was Jason again, whose eyes were wide with shock. Clark really did need to start getting Bruce in front of the boys.

“Mhmm. His neck’s super ticklish! All it takes is one little finger-” Clark ran a finger down the side of Bruce’s neck, smiling fondly at the trail of goosebumps it left. Bruce’s shoulder tried to come up to protect the spot, but it was a struggle against how Clark had him pinned, and Clark outmatched even the Bat in raw strength.

“Woah,” a little voice breathed out. It was Tim, Clark realised, staring at his hands at Bruce’s neck with something like wonder. “Can I try?”

“Sure, Timmy, come sit with me,” Clark said, moving over to make room for Tim at Bruce’s head next to him. Bruce grumbled but stayed still, mostly resigned to his fate now. Dick shuffled himself a little closer to his dad too.

Tim copied Clark’s earlier movements exactly, wiggling his finger just inches from Bruce’s neck. It yielded the same result; Bruce trying and failing not to laugh.

“Ready, B? It looks like this is gonna tickle pretty bad,” Tim said, not waiting for an answer before moving. He skittered his fingers lightly over Bruce’s neck.

Though the movements were unrefined from lack of practice–Tim was often the one on the receiving end of this treatment, after all–the reaction was immediate.

Bruce tried again in vain to hike his shoulders up, though the rest of him stayed still. His smile turned to light huffs of laughter and Clark chuckled.

“I can't believe you've been holding out on us, B!” Dick laughed. “You said his thighs are pretty good? Will they work better now Timmy’s got him laughing?”

Clark hummed in affirmation. He reached out to hold one of Bruce’s hands, smiling when Bruce squeezed. It was sweet of him to let the boys have their fun and Clark felt helplessly endeared all over again.

A quick shout of laughter sounded through the room and Clark realised Dick had started pinching at the backs of Bruce’s knees. His movements were lighter and more precise than Jason’s, quickly jumping up and down Bruce’s legs rather than staying in one spot.

The boys all cheered when Tim found that particularly ticklish spot at the nape of Bruce’s neck and the man finally began to laugh in earnest.

“Bohohoys-” Bruce said, clearly trying to sound scolding but failing spectacularly. He had a lovely smile on his face, especially coupled with the spattering of pink on his cheeks.

“What's wrong, B?” Jason asked, crawling up the bed a bit to sit near Bruce's ribs. “Does it tickle tickle tickle?” he ran clawed hands across Bruce’s back and the man snorted before succumbing to a new stream of loud, wheezy laughter. The boys were laughing too, Clark realised, amused by their dad’s reactions. Clark chuckled, squeezing Bruce’s hand again and receiving another squeeze in response.

“Remember what he said to you the other day, Tim? About keeping you in the manor since you're so ticklish?” Jason was grinning, and Tim only flushed with a light nod, continuing to skitter his fingers over the back of Bruce’s neck. “Maybe we need to do that for B, since he's so ticklish! What if a rogue found out, huh? Gotham would be done for!”

Of course it was unlikely a rogue ever would find out about the specific weakness of Bruce’s, and even if they did they'd have to get past both his physical and mental armour to elicit a response, yet Bruce still laughed a little harder in response.

“Okahahay, okahahay. No mohohore boys!”

“I think we get to decide when you've had enough. You just lay back and laugh, dad,” Dick laughed, drilling his thumbs into the backs of Bruce’s knees while he spoke. The man twitched a little in response, but he kept them stubbornly still aside from that. He was too distracted keeping his legs in check, though, to hold back his heightening laughter.

Bruce snorted, descending into hazy cackles.

“Oh my God!” Jason cheered. “Do it again, Dickie.” Dick obliged and Bruce once again snorted, shoving his head into his covers. The boys laughed, each speeding up their tickling in an attempt to make Bruce snort again.

After they'd clawed the sound out of him one more time (Jason’s hands strayed too close to the man’s ribs, scratching near the delicate bones) Clark squeezed Bruce’s hand again. When he didn't receive an answering squeeze, he knew the man had had enough.

“Okay, boys, let him breathe now," Clark encouraged, pulling Tim into his lap with one hand, while the other continued to hold Bruce’s. Dick immediately moved back, seemingly also having realised that Bruce had reached his limit, but Jason kept going.

“C’mon please Jay. Your dad’s had enough.”

“What? No way! We have so much to get back at him for!” Jason protested. Thankfully Dick pinched the boy’s hip, pulling him into his lap when Jason tried to curl up to protect himself.

“You okay, B?” Tim asked, wringing his hands nervously. Clark rubbed at his shoulder comfortingly, not wanting the boy to worry too much.

“I'm fine, Tim,” Bruce assured after a minute, sitting up with a groan. “If I were you, though, I'd start running, boys.”

Before they could get up, Clark cut in with, “wait, no, go get ready for school please, boys. Bruce, you can get your revenge when they come home again at the end of the day.” Bruce rolled his eyes but didn't argue, nodding at the boys to listen to Clark.

“Shit, yeah, you're gonna make us late!” Jason exclaimed, racing out of the room, presumably to change for school.

“Language,” Dick scolded, following Jason into the corridor. “Take a nap, B, it helps,” he teased on his way out.

“You're okay, right?” Tim asked Bruce, still fiddling with his hands in Clark’s lap. Bruce huffed in amusement, turning to face Tim properly. He ruffled the boy’s hair and Tim leaned into the touch happily.

“I'm fine, Timmy, promise. I was overdue for some revenge from you all, don't you think?” His hand swept down to Tim’s neck, wiggling his fingers a little. Tim squealed and pulled his shoulders up, shifting away from him. Bruce chuckled. “Besides, I'll get you all back after school anyway. Go get dressed, sweetheart.”

Tim nodded, smiling at both Bruce and Clark as he began to shuffle towards the edge of the bed. Clark smiled back, heart warm with affection.

“As for you,” Bruce started, snapping Clark out of his thoughts. “We have some time while the kids get ready. Do your knees still make you snort?” Clark was given no time to process Bruce's words before the man had laid across Clark, squeezing at his knees.

There is this show where characters are being presented and everything.

Enter the Villans! A muscular, tall, blonde guy with a winning smile, waving at everyone energetically and followed by his side kick who is slight shorter, kind of timid, with a few curls escaping their beanie as he drags another guy through this rope (the hero? An unfortunate victim? We will never know).

The guy being dragged is clearly bored out of his mind. He is pale, black hair, cool af eyeshadow and clearly just Do Not Care what is happening at all, looks like he is purposely laying all his weight on the ground so is harder for the other one to pull him.

Anyways! The first villian starts to make their presentation, interacting with the viewers and his sidekick, show their magnificent, foolproof plans to dominate the world and everything. They are kind of goofy to be honest.

Until, from where he is flopped on the floor, the restrained guy, with a hint of mischievousness on his voice, remarks: "Hey, you should totally show them that [insert here the name bc I forgot] Spell of yours."

The taller villain shriek in outrage. "DO NOT MENTION THIS MALFUNCTIONING SPELL!"

It's already too late though. Suddenly feathers are summoned all around the villians and immediately attack them, surrounding each one and focusing on their most ticklish spots, booming laughter and squeaky giggles taking over the air amidst protests while they fall on the ground and squirm, totally unable to shake of the tickly feathers that just keep tickling and tickling them ♡♡♡