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But the novel she’d picked up was taking a distant second place to lounging in the armchair of the cabin they’d found themselves in and watching the others… play.

She wasn’t paying attention to who started it, but now Siffrin had leapt onto Isabeau’s back and was mercilessly tickling his sides, sending him into loud laughter and pleas for mercy as he twisted and squirmed and did his best to avoid jostling their little rogue despite it all.

That alone was cute enough, but now Bonnie was trying to climb aboard Isabeau as well to join in on the torment, and he was doing his best to escape the preteen, still giggling and laughing like crazy, his hands grabbing uselessly at Siffrin’s.

Cute.

Then Isabeau turned such that his back was to Mirabelle, and with a big smile, she dug her fingers into Siffrin’s sides, making them yelp, squeak, and fall right off Isabeau’s back.

Odile swallowed a chuckle as Siffrin tried and failed to extricate himself from Mirabelle’s hold, giggling giddily all while she slowly backed them into a corner.

Then Boniface charged at Isabeau with a battle cry, who turned to run to escape and Odile…

Was supposed to be reading, but she stuck out her foot. And Isabeau tripped, hopping for a moment trying to regain his balance, before promptly losing it when Boniface tackled him to the floor, cackling maniacally. She grinned into her novel, her smile widening when Isabeau began pleading for mercy from a decidedly merciless Boniface.

Past Isabeau’s giggles and cackles, she could also hear Siffrin’s flustered laughter. Heh. He really was very cute. Barely even fighting back as Mirabelle cooed, scratching up their ribs to under their arms, making them shiver with laughter. Their face was dark and their smile was bright.

She continued to pretend to read, smiling faintly at their antics. Despite the volume, it was nice.

“I’LL SAVE YOU, FRIN!!!”

Bonnie came charging from behind her armchair towards the other pair, leaping onto Mirabelle’s back. Odile chuckled, watching Vaugarde’s saviour be reduced to squeaky giggles by a preteen. All of them, so crabbing cute.

She didn’t notice the large arms reaching around her chair until fingers dug into her sides, making her yelp in surprise and almost jolt completely out of the seat. “WHA- Isabeau!” Oh dear. And here she’d thought being old gave her a free pass from their shenanigans.

He chuckled. “What, you thought you could get away with that? I’m all about justice, m’dame.”

His fingers wiggled and she jolted again, legs kicking out and her smile growing wide and wobbly. Gah. It had been a long time since anyone had tickled her. She was remembering the feeling now. “I- heh- I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm, suuure.” One finger traced up and down her side, but even that was enough to have her cheeks starting to ache from smiling and laughter bubbling up in her stomach. “Well, if you figure it out, you let me know.”

Snickers were starting to break through despite her best efforts. One hand latched onto Isabeau’s wrist, trying to push that persistent tickly hand away to no avail. Odile was many things, but ‘stronger than Isabeau’ was not one of them.

Then his other hand joined in, scratching and wiggling against her side, and she yelped, flopping back into the armchair and pulling her book over her face to hide her now irrepressible giggles. She tried to suck in her stomach and twist to escape his grip, but it wasn’t like there was anywhere to go.

“Hehe, awww.” Isabeau chuckled. “And I figured you weren’t ticklish.”

Odile spluttered a curse at him, squirming from side to side on instinct and trying to keep her giggles under control, but it was no use. Isabeau was good at this, his touch light and playful in a way that she could barely find the fortitude to want to resist, and… it had been a long time since she’d been this close with someone. She remembered how much she had hated being tickled when she was younger, hated feeling mocked and belittled. She knew without looking that Isabeau had stars in his eyes.

… maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Then she yelped out a highly embarrassing sound and kicked her legs out when one of those hands moved to trace scratchy circles on her stomach through her nightshirt. She tried to bite back the louder laughter, but found it impossible. Dimly, around the fizzy, playful atmosphere, she remembered that being a particularly bad spot. Her book slipped and fell to the floor, and Odile immediately replaced it with one hand squashed over her face, setting her glasses askew and not quite hiding her silly smile. Her face felt very warm.

Isabeau laughed. She squinted one eye open and saw him leaning around the chair, taking in her laughing, flustered form. “Cuuute!” He sang, making her face feel warmer still. “Hehe, you have such a great smile, M’dame.”

Odile batted weakly at his hands with her free arm, her legs curling up in a vain attempt to block him. Isabeau playfully tweaked her kneecap, earning a snort, flail, and another swear, this time in Ka Buan.

“Language!” Isabeau chided, grinning widely. “There are young, impressionable ears here!”

She shoved a flat palm in his face, turning onto her side to do so. “Y-hehe-you can shove yo-your lahahanguage up your- snrk- Isabeau!” Fingers scratching over her belly button was enough for her to thoroughly lose her train of thought in favour of laughing with abandon and trying to protect that particular weak spot from her family member’s playful prodding.

“Hmmm, what was that?” He hummed, chuckling at how ruffled she was. Laughing, flushed, hair all dishevelled, glasses foggy and askew. Adorable. He got the feeling that the list of people Odile would let see her like this was rather short. Come to think of it, the list may be limited to those currently in the room.

Odile tried to curl up into a ball to block his hands, but it was no good. Nor was she strong enough to push him away, but she had to do something. Isabeau’s gentle wiggly fingers tickled like absolute crab, and she could hardly catch her breath from laughing so much. She chose not to think about how uncommonly nice it felt.

Instead, she focused her energy on squirming around until she was face-down in the armchair, arms wrapped protectively around her abdomen, breathing heavily in between giggles as Isabeau playfully tried to wriggle his fingers past her defences. Thankfully, he seemed unable to.

Unfortunately, he then took the opportunity to start poking at her back, which almost had her jumping over the back of the chair and seriously?! Her back? That was just unfair.

Isabeau laughed, surprised and delighted. “Oh no, ticklish here too?” He didn’t need an answer, her muffled cackling and twisting was enough. “Tough break Odile.”

She let out a shriek when he started scratching up her spine, arching her back and climbing up the chair to flail at him, flushed and laughing and far too giddy for her liking.

Isabeau laughed and took his cue to stop. “Okay, okay, I’m done.” He said, pulling away.

Odile collapsed back into the armchair, trying to catch her breath, completely unable to purge the wide smile from her face. Dimly, she noted that Siffrin had turned on Bonnie, one hand playfully tickling their stomach, ducking their kicks and punches as they squealed. Heh. Cute.

She jumped when she noted movement to her right, but it was just Isabeau sitting on the floor, resting his head against the arm of the chair. She glared at him half-heartedly.

“Hehe, sorry.” He chuckled. “Hope I didn’t overdo it.”

The flustered grin grew, and she glanced away, adjusting her glasses. “It’s… fine. Can’t interfere without expecting to be dragged in.”

Isabeau grinned, his eyes warmer than the fireplace. “I figured. It’s good to see you laugh.” And when she cleared her throat, he laughed. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed!”

He levelled another poke at her belly which was swiftly deflected. Odile narrowed her eyes. “Watch your back.”

Isabeau laughed again. “Nooo, you can’t revenge my revenge! That’s not fair!”

Heh. “I think you’ll find that I can do whatever I want.”

“Nooooooooo…” Isabeau wailed quietly, sinking dramatically to the floor. “My hubris!”

Odile chuckled and nudged him gently with her foot. Bonnie had moved to curl up in Mirabelle’s lap, already half asleep as she played with their hair in front of the fireplace. Isabeau was still playing dead next to her, and Siffrin-

He was grinning at her.

She huffed and narrowed her eyes at them. They just kept grinning back, warm and more than a little smug.

She crossed her arms. “What.”

And they snickered. “Cute.”

…

Isabeau had a point. Sometimes, revenge was the only recourse one had. She’d barely so much as moved to push herself out of the chair before Siffrin was giggling and ducking behind the large sofa to evade her.

Heh. Siffrin might be faster than her, but…

Slow IV.

Stratt frowned. "Are you injured?"

Grace wrapped his arms more tightly around himself. "Nope. All good." His voice was higher than usual.

She raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip of the coffee she had just reached across her colleague to grab. 

The conference room was suddenly too quiet. Dr. Lokken made meaningful eye contact with Dr. Lamai. Dubois and Yao exchanged a bewildered glance. Shapiro mouthed across the table at Ilyukhina—Should we be concerned? 

Ilyukhina unsubtly passed her a Post-It note back: Maybe she's been kicking her lap dog.

Shapiro hid her laugh in a cough. 

Grace cleared his throat. "Uh, so, what was I saying?"

"The spin drives?" Shapiro offered, feeling guilty for laughing. 

"Right, thank you…"

***

Stratt found Grace in the staff kitchen later. He was staring blankly as his stale coffee spun around and around in the microwave. He startled as she sidled in next to him. 

"Oh- Christmas Eve. I should put a bell on you," Grace muttered.

"That would be inappropriate," Stratt replied calmly, stirring a flavorless 5-hour energy shot into her fourth coffee of the day.

They fell silent. Grace was visibly sweating.

"What was that, earlier? In the conference room," Stratt asked quietly. 

"There's no way that's good for you," Grace deflected weakly, pointing at the offending 5-hour energy bottle.

"Answer the question, Dr. Grace."

"It was nothing," Grace flustered. The microwave beeped insistently.

Stratt hummed. Grace looked at anything but her. 

"You know, Dr. Grace, people will think I'm abusing you if you keep flinching like that," she muttered.

"What— no they won't." Grace took his coffee out of the microwave.

"They already think we're fucking, why not that too?" Stratt asked coolly.

Grace spluttered and coughed into his coffee. 

Stratt chuckled softly. "Just tell me."

"Fine. Jeez. I grew up with three brothers, okay? My instincts are- are hardwired for constant threat."

"What kinds of threats?"

"Oh, I don't know. Flying pillows thrown at my head. Getting pantsed. Impromptu wrestling matches…"

"Being tickled?" Stratt offered.

Grace bluescreened. "Wha- um- I- no, just…"

Stratt waited patiently. Grace hated her for it.

"Maybe. Fine. Sure," he finished.

"Good to know," Stratt murmured. 

"Wait—what does that mean? Eva?!"

She was already walking away.

***

Stratt watched Grace through the window of his lab as he lowered himself to the ground, lied down underneath a rack with a large gel documentation machine on top of it, and started tinkering with the bottom of it as if he were fixing a car. 

Stratt frowned. She could've sworn she had told Grace that there were lab technicians at his beck and call to fix anything he needed. 

She entered the lab and approached her scientist. He was listening to music on the lab's speakers and was too focused to hear her walking closer. 

"Na… na na na na na nah… hey Jude…" Grace sung under his breath.

The Beatles, Stratt thought. Fitting.

She crouched next to him, examining his tools and the way he was fixing the machine. It looked like he was replacing a rechargeable battery pack. 

Stratt's gaze slid down Grace's body, examining his poor, albeit open and relaxed, posture and the way his shirt was riding up from the act of raising his arms over his head. 

She cleared her throat. 

Grace nearly jumped a foot in the air, banging his head against the lab equipment. "Fudge- I didn't see you there."

"You're aware that you can call people to come and fix things."

"I know, but, I like doing it myself," Grace mumbled, sliding out from under the machine and curling up into a protective ball. 

"Why are you doing that?" Stratt asked.

"Because the battery died?" Grace answered, a puzzled expression crossing his face. 

"No. Protecting yourself."

"I'm- I'm not protecting myself," Grace stuttered. 

"Relax, then," Stratt said, sitting back on her heels. 

"I am relaxed," Grace said defensively. "I'm the picture of relaxed."

"People who are relaxed don't need to announce it," Stratt said, scooting closer. 

"What- What is this. Why are you—" his voice was awfully high. "Stratt?"

"Yes?" Stratt replied, a small smile starting to crawl across her face. She was now a foot away from him on the floor. She could see how dilated his pupils were.

"I- Eva. Come on."

"What? I'm not doing anything," she chuckled.

"You are though!" Grace protested.

"What am I doing, then? Spell it out for me."

"You're- you're…ugh!"

"What?" Stratt challenged.

"This isn't fair," Grace whined.

"What's not fair? I still don't understand what exactly it is I'm doing that is vexing you so much," Stratt said in one smooth breath.

Grace's mouth was agape and his cheeks were hot. "You're doing the… you're doing the anticipation thing."

"Anticipation of what?" She tilted her head to the side with a bemused smile. 

Grace sputtered and started and stopped and couldn't get a sentence out. "Will you JUST get it over with and tickle me already?!" He finally outbursted.

"Ohhhh," Stratt hummed smugly. "That's what this is about."

"Don't pretend like that wasn't what was happening here!" Grace exclaimed.

She smiled. With teeth. Grace had never seen her do that before—only tight-lipped, hiding-her-amusement smiles. For a second he forgot his predicament because her smile was so rare. He couldn't help but feel pleased that he had coaxed it out of her. 

Until she spoke, that is. "Fine, I'll bite. Your constant flinching intrigues me."

"I- why?!"

"It's cute," Stratt mused. "And it implies that you are far too sensitive for your own good."

"Wha- cute- hey…" Grace interrupted himself, warily eyeing Stratt's approaching hands. "Hey, come on, don't."

"Why not?" 

"You seem to have a lot of questions today," Grace grumbled through gritted teeth. His blush had begun to spread down to his neck.

Stratt's hand stopped and hovered at Grace's side. He flinched, his elbow digging in against it, but otherwise remained still. "Jumpy," she chuckled.

"Can you blame me?" Grace squeaked.

"Why aren't you running away?" Stratt mused, wiggling her fingers. Grace's eyes were locked on them and he swatted weakly at her hand.

"I- I don't know!" He flustered. "I'm- I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment if you hadn't noticed!"

"I'm not even touching you."

"Exactly!"

"Okay, I'll move my hand," she smiled. Stratt retracted her hand fully, tucking it into her lap. Grace remained just as tense. "Why aren't you relaxing?"

"I don't know, you've gotten me all…worked up." He gestured wildly at the gap between their bodies.

Stratt started to stand up. "You do realize that could be taken out of context."

"Not what I meant—wait, where are you going?"

"To my meetings, what's wrong?" Stratt raised a sly eyebrow.

"I- I don't…" Grace puttered out with an exasperated sigh. "You know what you're doing."

"Mm, so now you want me to tickle you?"

"That's not what I said!"

"That's what it sounds like to me," Stratt smirked, quickly closing the distance.

Grace scrambled back. "W-wait, wait, hohold on!"

Stratt paused mid-reach.

"I- uh. I didn't mean—"

"Make up your mind, Dr. Grace," Stratt chuckled.

"Fine, just—just do it!"

Stratt slid closer and gently moved Grace's arms out of the way. He shimmied in place, feeling terribly exposed. She resisted laughing at him. 

It took a lot of restraint.

"Hrrrng…why aren't you…stop hovering," Grace whined.

Stratt moved her hands even closer, just above his tummy but not touching. "Is this better?"

Grace clawed at his own collar to keep himself from pushing her away. "NO! It's nohohot…" His speech broke into wheezy giggles.

"I'm not touching you, why are you giggling?" Stratt murmured, wiggling her fingers a little to see if that got a reaction.

It did. "I'm nohot gigglihihing!"

"Don't scientists usually prefer facts and data over denial and single-mindedness?" Stratt mused, poking him lightly. He squealed, overreacting from the anticipation. She laughed this time. She couldn't resist.

"There is NOHO data, as far as I can tell no one is recording THIHIS—" Grace cut off with a shriek as Stratt clawed lightly from the center of his tummy across his sides and up his ribs.

The way Stratt tickled was nothing like Grace had ever experienced. With his brothers, it was always about squeezing as hard as possible and digging cruelly into every spot one could reach. Stratt, on the other hand, played a waiting game. And when she was done waiting, she tapped and poked and squeezed. If Grace had his wits about him, he would have complained about the way her fingers didn't articulate individually, how they stayed together (almost like flexible LEGO figure hands, Grace thought) and covered a larger surface area to tap and squeeze and crawl all over his torso. 

"Have you had enough yet?" Stratt asked calmly as she gently massaged at Grace's hips. He snorted with laughter, clinging helplessly to her shoulders. 

"I- whahahat- what kinda quehehestion is that?!"

"You have an excellent vocabulary, Dr. Grace, I'm sure you can use it." Stratt nudged Grace's chin up from his chest to get at his neck, scratching gently at his jaw. 

Grace went nonverbal, hiding his face against her sweater. He covered his red cheeks. He didn't even care that he was exposing his neck more to Stratt's fingers. 

"Hmm?" Stratt prompted, burrowing into Grace's now-open underarm. 

"FU-HAHAHA- Get outta there!" 

"I will if you answer me."

"YEHES! OKAY? I've had enohough!"

Stratt withdrew her hands. "Good." She stood up. "Drink some water. And try not to flinch in our meetings, it really does concern people."

Grace watched her leave, completely bewildered. He slowly stood up and brushed himself off. He looked like a storm had passed through unexpectedly: his hair and clothes were mussed, his cheeks were bright red, the corners of his eyes were wet from laughing. 

As he walked over to the sink to grab some water, he noticed something in the window. He squinted, and then put his glasses back on. 

Carl waved at him from the security window, an amused smile on his face.