LaughterIsOrange

It's easier to scold someone else's lack of self-care than it is to work on your own.

When Viktor neglects his sleep, Jayce knows exactly what to say every time. "You can't keep overworking your body like this. Sooner or later, you're going to shut down."

But when Jayce neglects his sleep, he finds new ways to rationalize his decision thanks to his sleep-deprived daze. He pretends like he can't see Viktor staring ironically at him from down the table.

Okay, so maybe he was being a bit of a hypocrite. But these were special circumstances! They were expected to present a new Hextech device to the council in a few days, and they were running behind schedule. Jayce had tried to speed things along by putting in a few more hours at his station, but what was supposed to be "a few hours" turned into the entire night.

Viktor, as Jayce expected, was none too pleased. He insisted that they had already done more than was even necessary, and that any more modifications could have been dealt with in the morning. He even had the nerve to parrot Jayce's own lecture back to him.

"If you keep this up, sooner or later your body will shut down."

"Why does that sound so familiar?" Jayce groaned sarcastically. Regardless of his ill-advised choices, this machine still needed finishing, and that was what he was going to do.

He couldn't quite remember getting up out of his chair and making his way over to the toolbox, as the world seemed to blur around him, but a curmudgeonly voice brought him back to the present.

"Jayce, please, what you've done is good enough. Go home and get some sleep."

"Viktor, I'm fine, I'm really fine. I can still work."

"What is it you're reaching for right now?"

Jayce blinked down at where his hand was grabbing... thin air. Dazed, he spun around until he found the tool box on complete opposite end of the table.

Viktor gestured emphatically at the box. "You see? You're not thinking clearly," His voice changed suddenly into a compassionate, almost pleading tone. "You've gone too long without sleep. I'll handle the preparations today, you can go home."

"Vik, I can't just drop this now okay? I'm so close now. I mean think about it, what's more important right now: the amount of sleep I get, or proving our value to the council?"

"I cannot believe you're asking me this" said Viktor, sounding more exhausted than his partner in that moment.

Ignoring him, Jayce staggered to where the toolbox actually was, and grabbed a wrench.

Unfortunately for him, Viktor was not willing to let this go. He gripped Jayce by the arm clutching the wrench.

"Jayce, put it down. I don't want to need to use force." Although it was certainly a threat, they both knew implicitly that Viktor wasn't very cross with Jayce at all. But dammit, he would go to bed.

Jayce chuckled. "Not happening, Vik."

"Ehhhh fine. If that's the way it has to be" Viktor said, with something akin to a smirk in his voice. A smirk that usually meant trouble for Jayce.

A hand suddenly began squeezing up Jayce's side, making the scientist bark in a choke of laughter. It wasn't often that Viktor opted to play dirty like this; only when the situation desperately called for it. He was nothing if not a determined man.

Laughing freely, Jayce remained where he stood. At a new ninety-degree angle, sure, but still standing. If Viktor wanted to take this up a notch, then so would he. He'll laugh until his sides split open, but he is not losing this fight.

"Viktor, whahat the hehehelll!" He giggled.

"I have asked you several times to take a break, but if you want to go about this like a child, then I will treat you like one" Viktor teased.

Jayce could hear the smugness in his voice.

"I'm noHOt givihing IN!"

"How unfortunate for you."

The hand at Jayce's side was now climbing it's way up to his arm. Jayce twisted around every which way he could to try and stall its arrival, but to little success. He would rather die than admit it, but he truly couldn't help giggling even if it wasn't involuntary. The sensation, sparkling its way through his nerves like lightning through tree branches, was just so funny. It was pleasant, in the most unbearable way. He couldn't fully wrap his head around it, and he didn't have time to, because Viktor was still clawing into his armpit.

Jayce wasn't going to take this lying down. He started to pull away from his partner, hoping that Viktor wouldn't persist that much. Maybe moving away would be all it took for this tickly spell to be broken.

But to no such luck. Viktor could see his plan to move before he enacted it. Quick as a flash, he gripped Jayce's arm with his free hand, now effectively pinning him to his side.

"And where do you think you're going?" Viktor asked.

"Lehet mehehe gohoho!"

"You know what it is I want Jayce. I'll keep tickling until you go to bed."

"You cahan't brihihibe me into being healthyhyhyhy!"

"Bribe?"

Oh, fuck.

"Is this a bribe then?" came the voice above him. His voice was like a warm spotlight, exposing him with the softest touch. It was the same tone he got when something truly fascinated him; when his object of study surprised him and heightened his sense of curiosity even more.

Jayce's eyes had shut tight as soon as he realized what he had said, too mortified to dare a look. The tickling had stopped. Of course it did. Why would Viktor keep going after hearing him say something that stupid? He didn't even think it, it just slipped out! But he couldn't say that he was mistaken. Because he was having fun. Goofing off, having Viktor be close to him, playing with him-

Viktor had been quiet for a total of three whole seconds, but to Jayce, it may as well have been twenty. Then came Viktor's voice.

"Well, in that case-" he said, a little too giddy for Jayce's liking.

"Wait, Viktor, I didn't mean it like-"

A hand latched onto his other side, simultaneously pulling him in like an awkward side-hug. The other hand had surrendered the grip on his arm in favor of scratching at his belly. The frantic giggles that left his mouth were not helping to ease the embarrassment of the situation.

"How about this for a deal?" Viktor smiled, a gentle and adoring look in his eyes that Jayce could not appreciate, as his eyes were still clamped shut. "We go home, get relaxed, and I tickle you senseless until you're worn out. Sound fair?"

What didn't sound fair was how flirty he sounded. Jayce's face burned red, and he knew he couldn't hide it. He buried his face into Viktor's chest.

"I'll take that as a yes."

And with that, the tickling stopped. Only for this moment. Viktor's hands now cradled his husband's face, pulling it out from his chest and against his forehead.

"You make me so stupidly weak" he said, pressing a kiss to his nose.

"Which one of us has been laughing themselves stupid for the past five minutes?"

That got a giggle out of Viktor. With a final poke in the side, he grabbed his cane and turned toward the door, with Jayce grabbing their coats behind them.

"You don't think anyone heard us, do you?" Jayce asked nervously.

"Don't worry, Sky's not here today."

From behind the closed door, Sky took that as a sign to leave quickly, and she did so without a sound.

---

Sydney sighs heavily as she enters the kitchen. Today has been a frustrating one.

The dish she's been working on for hours keeps coming out a different variation of wrong every time she remakes it. Too salty one time, too acidic the next. Every issue she resolved seemed to be replaced by two more. She's been at it in the kitchen for six hours straight, writing and re-writing, firing and re-firing.

The other staff members enter intermittently, allowing Sydney to get occasional feedback. Carmy and Marcus have both come through offering to contribute, but Sydney brushes them away stubbornly, determined to execute this on her own to prove to herself that she could.

As Sydney re-enters the kitchen after a walk to blow off steam, she's startled to see Carmy, standing in front of her most recent failed attempt. He's facing away from her and clearly fiddling with it.

"Uhhh...yo. No. No," Sydney says, coming up behind him and grabbing for the spoon in his hand. He pulls it away before she can.

"Relax, I think I know where you're going wrong now," he says, not looking up from the dish.

"I didn't ask," Sydney gripes. She stands shoulder-to-shoulder next to him at the counter, trying to nudge him aside. Carmy holds his ground, scoffing at her.

"What exactly are you trying to prove here? Just let me-"

"Let go! I can do it!"

"If you'll just-"

"Move your ass before I do it for you."

Carmy snorts, unfazed. "You really need to address this complex you have against receiving help."

Sydney gapes at him. "I don't have a fucking complex."

"Whatever you say."

"Carmy, just move!" Sydney puts her hands on his waist from behind to drag him to the side. When she does this, he jolts, and his hands shoot to grab hers so fast that he drops the spoon. Sydney's eyebrows shoot up, and her scowl melts into a grin.

"No fucking way," she says, and reaches out to grab his side again. He's prepared this time, and slaps her hands away, trying to look pissed.

"Stop!"

"Leave my dish alone," Sydney retorts, lunging again. Her hands find his sides, just above the tie of his apron, and start squeezing relentlessly. Carmy is backed up against the counter, with nowhere to go but the floor, so that's what he does.

"Syd, stop, stohop! Fuhuckin'- stahahaha-!" Carmy wrestles with her arms, but is far from coordinated at the moment, and she worms her hands through his defenses easily. He melts all the way to the grimy kitchen floor, switching between fighting Sydney and wrapping his arms around himself to block her. Neither is working.

"Oh this is too good. Pick yourself up, chef! Have some professionalism!" Sydney scolds teasingly. She curls her fingers into claws and shakes them into Carmy's ribs as he snorts and falls into squeaky laughter.

"SYD-!"

"Do Richie and Nat know about this? Because if they don't, they're gonna."

"Fuhuhuhuck yohohou!"

Syd runs her fingers over his stomach one more time before letting up, leaning back on her knees and smirking smugly. Carmy's head slumps back against the counter as he sucks in a much-needed breath.

"Do you think the staff would still be intimidated if they knew you were ticklish like a little girl?"

"Fuck off."

"I would be really nice to me if I were you."

"Don't you fucking tell them."

Sydney giggles at the sight of her hot-headed partner pink in the face and breathless on the floor. She stands up and offers him a hand, which he eyes warily before accepting.

"You're the worst," Carmy pants.

"I know," Sydney smiles and turns to face her unfinished dish. Carmy walks to her side.

"You really don't want help?"

Sydney sighs. "I wanted you to know I could do it. But I can't, I guess, so... yeah."

Carmy furrows his brow. "You don't have to prove yourself to me, Syd. That's not what this is about."

Sydney shrugs, her gaze drifting to the floor. "I know, it's just... I've fucked up, like, a lot, and publicly. I should be able to prove I deserve this role."

"You do." Carmy says firmly, bright blue eyes locking with hers, making sure she internalizes his words.

Sydney softens, shrugging sheepishly. "Thanks. That means a lot."

Carmy returns her small smile. "Now, are we going to be a team or are you really kicking me out?"

Sydney giggles. "No, you're right, you're right. We're a team."

They work at the dish together for the next hour. Sydney feels relieved to have someone to bounce ideas off of, feeling the pressure she has put on herself melting away as they close in on perfection. On the final taste, when they know they've nailed it, they write the recipe in multiple places so they don't end up losing it. Sydney wishes Carmy a good night and heads out to catch her train, feeling accomplished. Working alongside Carmy always reminded her how well they aligned in the kitchen, and how efficient they were together. Despite his chronic stubbornness, she's grateful for him.

Carmy unlocks the door to his apartment. The smell of cigarette smoke and the cheap air freshener he used to try and mask it greets Sydney as she follows him inside. It's oddly endearing to her that he at least attempted to make it smell nice before she came over.

Carmy starts unloading the various ingredients they bought to put together some new dishes for The Bear's menu. Sydney goes to preheat the oven before stopping herself and opening it to reveal his collection of denim tucked inside.

"Sorry," he says, swooping in to move them. Sydney just snorts.

"Do you really not have, like, a dresser or something? Because one day we're gonna end up baking some jeans."

"Using it for other stuff. Could you hand me that skillet?"

Sydney passes it to him and starts prepping vegetables. She feels comfortable working in the small space with him like this. They've found a rhythm with each other, naturally falling in line with the way the other navigates the kitchen. They brainstorm ideas and themes for the new menu, experimenting different combinations of ingredients in hopes to discover something unique to blow their customers' minds.

However, they've been at this for two hours now, and have had little success in making something edible. Sydney is fixated on perfecting a pasta sauce and she has ten bowls of failed attempts lined up on the counter beside her. Carmy sets his knife down and leans back against the counter.

"Syd, maybe we should take a break. Our palates are definitely fucked and you've been staring at that for too long."

"No, I swear, I'm so close," Sydney says, letting a pinch of salt fall from her fingers. "It's, like, almost there."

"I believe you, but it'll be easier to figure it out if we step away for a second. Let's go grab some real food and come back to it."

Sydney doesn't look up from her work. "I can't stop yet! It really is so close, I can literally taste it."

Carmy sighs at her stubbornness. He ignores how much it reminds him of himself.

"Okay, it's an order now, from your boss. Stop working," he says.

"I'm off the clock, you can't tell me what to do."

Aggravated, Carmy comes up behind her and tases her side with two fingers. "Take a break."

To his surprise and amusement, Sydney yelps and nearly drops all the way to the floor. She rights herself and whips around to face him, scowling. He laughs and puts his hands up defensively.

"I was just trying to get your attention!"

"You're annoying. Go work on your own shit." Sydney turns around again to get back to stirring the sauce. Carmy considers his options for a few seconds, before jabbing her waist again, this time on either side. She shrieks and her knees buckle again, causing another dip that almost sends her to the floor.

"Stop!"

"I'm not doing anything."

"Do you wanna die? Like for real?"

Carmy is chuckling mischievously, holding his hands up again to convince her of his innocence. "You're not listening to me!"

Sydney can't help the playful smile that plays across her lips back at him. "Fuck. Off."

In retaliation, Carmy reaches out again, alternating hands poking into her sides and ribs. She starts to giggle immediately, using one hand to wrap around herself and they other to try and smack Carmy.

"Fuck ohohohoff! Carmy!"

He keeps poking, his index fingers wriggling into her sides as she flails to escape him. The two have become especially close friends over the past few months, and Sydney is silently appreciative of the fact that she's unlocked a playful side of him. However, she is still going to murder him in cold blood if he keeps this up.

"This is just unprofessional, chef," Carmy teases. A snort slips out between Sydney's giggles and he can't help from laughing right along with her.

"Fuhuhuck yohou! St-AHA-p!" Sydney blindly feels around behind her on the counter until she grabs the wooden spoon she was using. She flicks it at Carmy, sending droplets of sauce over his face. The largest splash of it lands in his hair.

Carmy lifts a hand to feel his hair and gapes at her as she smiles smugly back at him. He quickly shoots a hand to the sauce bowl and dips his fingers in it, flicking the sauce right back at Sydney.

"HEY! Oh, really? Really? You wanna do this?" Sydney retaliates by smearing the spoon over his forehead.

The battle was on, then. They abandon the food entirely, and when a truce was reached, the entire kitchen was a Pollock painting of orange splatter.

"I'm not helping you clean this," Sydney says, but she's already wiping down the wall.

Carmy huffs a laugh. "What do you say we eat first, damage control later?"

    The air in the ambulance was so fraught with tension it made TK want to squirm. He was glad he was driving so that he had something to do with his hands. Nancy sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, glaring out the front windshield like it had personally wronged her. TK couldn’t see Cap from where she sat at the back of the ambulance, but he’d bet his next paycheck that her lips were pressed into a thin, angry line.

    And it wasn’t like TK didn’t know why. What he had pulled was, objectively, one of his stupider stunts. He could admit that. But when his patient had hysterically pulled off her oxygen mask to tell him that her six month old was still inside the burning house, strapped in his carseat in the kitchen, TK didn’t hesitate. 

    He knew he was a paramedic now, and not a firefighter. But there are some instincts that never change, even if your career path does.

    TK took one look at the house and knew that he had seconds before it would flash over. He sprinted toward the open door, ignoring Nancy’s calls and Cap’s orders. Pulling his shirt up over his mouth and nose, thick black smoke stinging his eyes, TK found the carseat, grabbed it and flew back out the door.

    He had taken six steps from the house before he felt the heat at his back intensify as the house flashed, and he knew he had come uncomfortably close to a one-way ride to the morgue. But at the mother’s hysterical gratitude as he placed her son safely back in her arms? TK knew he would do it all over again if he had to.

    Unfortunately for TK, it did not seem that the rest of the firehouse shared that sentiment. He pulled the ambulance back into the station as the rest of the team hopped down from the truck. Marjan’s face was set into a glare, his Dad looked like he had just run an ultramarathon, Mateo looked like he was close to tears, and Judd… TK didn’t know if he had ever seen Judd quite this angry.

    Swallowing back the fear that he was about to get scolded, TK swung down from the driver’s seat and started toward the stairs, eager to shower off the soot that now coated his body.

    “Not a chance,” Marjan said, stepping in front of him, grabbing his shoulders, and spinning him back around, where Judd was waiting.

“Guys, come on, at least let me shower before you yell at me,” TK tried for humor. The twitch in Judd’s left eye told him exactly how well that landed.

    “Give me your radio,” was what Judd said. 

TK’s brow furrowed, confused, but he slowly lifted his radio off his duty belt and handed it to Judd.

    Judd clicked the ‘on’ button, and the radio squawked to life in his hands. “Testing, testing,” he said. Everyone else’s radios echoed with Judd’s voice.

    Judd, if possible, glowered even harder. “Well, would you look at that? Your radio isn’t broken. Clear as a bell, in fact.”

    TK swallowed, shifting from foot to foot.

    Judd continued, “Well, then, I would love to hear what circumstances prevented you from using your perfectly functioning radio at that house. Which is what you should have done, instead of charging in there like some kind of LUNATIC.” Judd shoved TK’s radio back into his chest.

    TK stumbled back a step, before raising his chin defiantly. “Judd, listen, I-”

    “You know, I don’t actually care to hear your excuses.” Judd poked a finger into TK’s chest, his Southern drawl becoming even more pronounced in his anger. “Because that stunt you pulled? Quite possibly the most reckless-” poke, “stupid-” poke, “feather-brained-” poke, “idiotic- are you laughing right now?”

    TK’s eyes widened. He quickly schooled his features at the realization that Judd thought he was laughing at him. Frantically, he tried to think of an excuse. “No! God, no, Judd, I wouldn’t - I mean - it’s just -”

    “It’s just that TK is probably the most ticklish person you will ever meet,” Captain Strand’s voice echoed from where he stood halfway up the stairs.

    TK’s mouth dropped open in shock and betrayal. “Dad!”

    “Sorry, TK,” Owen said in a tone that conveyed he was anything but, “I have to go and get started on the paperwork from the last call, which has doubled thanks to your actions, son. Good luck.” He turned to continue up the stairs, calling back over his shoulder, “Judd, don’t kill him.”

    Horrified, TK turned back to Judd, whose expression might as well have spelled ‘danger’ in bright neon lights. Judd cracked his knuckles, mock saluting his retreating Captain. “Yes, sir.”

    That snapped TK out of his frozen state. With a noise that could be described as a yelp, TK turned and ran, narrowly avoiding Marjan’s grasp. He dashed behind the ambulance, daring to look back behind him before suddenly crashing to the floor.

    Blinking in shock, TK turned to see Nancy, her left boot stuck out to trip him. “Nance - what did I ever do to you?” he asked incredulously.

    “You gave me a heart attack,” Nancy snapped, snatching his wrists and pulling them above his head. “Maybe this will remind you to use your brain once in a while.”

    Judd and Marjan sauntered over to where Nancy had TK pinned. I should really ask her about her workout regiment, Tk thought to himself, tugging at his arms uselessly.

    “Guys - wait - you really don’t have to -” TK babbled, grin already tugging at his lips.

    “Oh, apparently we do,” Marjan said, eyes glittering in the light. “I personally think this is the perfect thing to knock some goddamn sense into you,” she said, kneeling at his left side. Judd took his place on his right, the both of them throwing their legs over his own so he couldn’t curl up.

    “Oh god - Paul, Paul! You’re reasonable, make them stohoohop,” TK begged as Marjan started doing the finger wiggle thing, right above his ribs. “I’m fine! Not a scratch, Cap checked me out! So - so all’s well that ends well, right? Paul? Mateo? Somebody?”

    “Yeah, that was the dumbest thing I’ve seen you do in a while, TK, which is saying something,” Paul called from where he was casually leaning against the truck. “Plus, I kind of want to see where this goes.” 

    “Nowhere! This goes nohohowhere, please, Judd, wait, Marjan you can’t-”

    “That’s where you’re wrong, Strand,” Judd grinned. “We absolutely can.”

    “No, no, nononohohohohoho,” TK giggled as Judd started squeezing his side and Marjan spidered her nails up and down his ribs. 

    “Good Lord, man, I’m barely even touching you,” Judd teased.

    “Shut uhuhuhuhuuhup,” TK snickered, trying in vain to twist away from the overwhelming sensations.

    “Awful brave talk from someone in your position,” Marjan said. She crawled her fingers into TK’s armpit, and he jerked, tumbling into loud belly laughter.

    “PLEASE! It’s sohohohoho bahahahad,” he cackled.

    Judd moved his hand down to squeeze at his hips, “D’aw, really? Good. It's about to get worse.”

    “OhohohoOHOHOHO MY GAHAHAHAD,” TK shrieked, too preoccupied to be embarrassed at the way his protests echoed off the station walls.

    “Aw, he’s blushing,” Marjan teased, quickly sneaking her nails underneath TK’s now-untucked shirt. “Poor thing! Can’t take it?”

    “FUHUHUHUCK YOU MARJ!” TK yelled, twisting in vain to get away from those nails.

    “Now, remind me what your job is TK?” Judd asked casually, as if he wasn’t currently sending TK into the absolute hysteria.

    “What?” TK yelped.

    “What. Is. Your. Job?” Judd asked again, punctuating each word with another devastating squeeze to his hips.

    “PahahaharaMEDIC,” TK called out, gasping as Nancy started fluttering her fingers over his neck. He tossed his head from side to side, but each time she avoided him and continued her torment uninterrupted.

    “Really? Paramedic? Not firefighter?” Judd asked.

    “NohohohoOHOHOHO, JUDD,” TK laughed as he drummed his feet on the floor. Judd was merciless, pinching up to his belly and spidering his blunt nails over the skin.

    “So you are not responsible for getting victims out of burning buildings?” Marjan asked, vibrating her fingers between each of his ribs.

    “NOHOHOHO,” TK screamed, tears squeezing out from behind his scrunched up eyelids.

    “Or running into situations with none of the proper protective gear?”

    “Or flying solo? Ignoring your team, your captain?”

    “NOHOHOHOHOHOHO,” TK wailed.

    “Or -”

    “Jesus, what did he do to deserve this?” A new voice called out from the entrance to the firehouse.

    Judd and Marjan let up, but Nancy continued to spider her fingers around his neck, keeping TK giggling. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who it was.

    “Carlos! Carlos they’re kihihihiling mehehe,” TK whined through his giggles, shooting a desperate look at his boyfriend who sauntered in with a lunch bag in his hand. “You’re a cohohop, arrest them.”

    Carlos grinned. “Arrest them? For what?”

    “Assahahahault and battery,” TK managed.

    “I don’t think that would hold up in court, baby,” Carlos said. Then he turned to Paul. “No, seriously, what did he do?”

    “Ran into a burning house with no backup and no gear to get a baby,” Paul said nonchalantly. “Hence this ‘reminder’ about his job description.”

    “Is that so?” Carlos said, his voice dangerously calm. He turned toward TK and cocked his head to the side. “In that case, have you guys tried behind his knees?”

    TK’s mouth dropped open again, before his eyes narrowed. “Oh, Carlos, you can go straight to heHEHEHEHEHEHEHELL.” 

TK promptly lost his mind as Judd and Marjan began targeting his worst spot ruthlessly. Judd dug his fingers in behind his knees while Marjan fluttered hers, the conflicting sensations overloading TK’s nervous system.

“IHIHIHIH’M SOHOHOHOHOHRRY,” TK managed, before the tickles scrambled his brain so much that forming words became too difficult. His laugh went silent after a few moments, and Judd, Marjan, and Nancy took that as their cue to back off.

Nancy released his wrists and TK hugged his arms protectively around his ribs, still shaking with laughter.

“I think we broke him,” Nancy said, smiling.

“Good. Maybe he’ll actually think twice next time,” Judd said, accepting Carlos’ offered hand and heaving himself off the floor.

“Oho *hic* my gohohohohohod,” TK hiccupped, mustering the strength to lift one arm up and wipe away the tears on his face. “Thahat was soho *hic* mean.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Marjan teased.

“You took it like a champ, man,” Paul called over before heading up the stairs.

Judd fixed him with a stare. “The next time you end up in the hospital for something stupid, what I will do to you will make this look like a walk in the park.”

TK whined and hugged himself tighter, and Carlos laughed. He stuck his hand down to TK, who jumped at the sudden movement, blushing when he realized Carlos just meant to help him up. Carlos snorted.

“C’mon baby, let’s get you some water for those hiccups,” Carlos said, pulling TK up. TK staggered into Carlos, his legs retaining the structural integrity of a bowl of Jell-O.

“Water *hic* then a nap,” TK said, leaning more than half his weight on Carlos. 

“Ok baby,” Carlos said. “Here - let me just -” and he swung TK up into his arms, bridal style. TK sighed gratefully, closing his eyes and pressing his head into Carlos’ neck as they made their way up the stairs.

“This is *hic* going to be how I *hic* actually die,” TK mumbled. “Still can’t believe *hic* you told them about my *hic* fucking knees.”