hey y'all

Caine has always been ticklish but because of his flighty/detached personality no one's ever found out.

now that he's on "their level" so to speak, and hanging out with them on a more personal level, some touches have happened and well, they found out.

specifically, during a ttrpg, gangle playfully pushed him during a monster encounter, her delicate ribbons grazing his sides.

caine does NOT understand what it is.

"WOW-wee! thats a new one! a twisting tingle of your tenacious touch made me titter! why is this... is this what tickling is??"

pomni: you... dont know what tickling is?

caine: oh i know what it is! along with a lot of weird things you humans experience. ive just never experienced it for myself!

zooble: uh. why, exactly, is an ai programmed to be ticklish?

caine, snickering: oh, thatd be me.

ragatha: you programmed caine to be ticklish?

Kinger: ehhh, more or less. coding can get monotonous, so programmers sometimes switch between different batches of code to work on at any moment. some of us on the team had mini-projects just for fun. I was trying to make Caine creative and whimsical, so I had a little fun of my own! Sometimes if I got bored I worked on the 'tickle patch' I called it. Ultimately functionless, but me and some of the team got a good kick out of it!

Caine: Well I'll have to thank you then Kinger! Anything to make me more relatable to the humaHAHAHANS

They all look over to see Gangle tickling his sides. She's smiling mischievously and giggling as she playfully torments Caine.

Caine laughs and giggles loudly. When tickled its nothing like his usual maniac laugh, its so genuine and human, natural and organic. He curls up into a floating ball and kicks his feet without fighting back.

Ragatha: huh, that's... oddly cute?

Kinger, looking absolutely happy and at ease: I suppose our monster fight is going on hold for a tickle fight?

Caine: Tickle fight????

Pomni: Oh dont give him any ideas....

he did. caine got ideas. a whole ass tickle fight broke out.

they discovered Kinger overdid it on the code. He might've overprogrammed it. Caine is not only extremely ticklish, but extremely passionate and skilled at tickle fights.

Caine is now the number one instigator of tickle fights

he's also learning about ~boundaries~ and how to tell when is NOT a good time for a tickle fight and who really enjoys them or not.

Pomni is okay with it sometimes, usually only when its a relaxed group thing, and she doesnt really like being harshly tickled

Kinger loves it. He's such a dad.

Zooble grew to be okay with it over time, mostly likes it with Gangle

Ragatha loves it. Friendly and cutesy and fun and low stakes.

Gangle loves it. Cute and fun and friendly and a fun bonding thing and she likes to play the evil tickle monster, especially against Caine.

Dick gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. “And did you tell anyone?” 

“...well, you clearly already know?” 

“Timothy.” 

Onscreen, Bart waggled his eyebrows. “Ooooh, Rob’s in trouble.” 

“Shut up,” Kon replied. “Hey – Nightwing, I promise we had no idea that he was–that he hadn’t said anything, we were supposed to be going over inventory but Cassie had something come up, so–” 

In an act of mercy, Dick raised his palm to cut Kon off. “I know, Kon, don’t worry.”  

“It’s cuddle pollen,” Tim offered, like that would help his case. “And I really, barely got hit. It’s not – it’s not bad, I’m just wondering if weighted blankets heated exactly to human skin temperature would work the same as actual contact. Y’know, so if there’s an emergency – or someone’s cut off, or something.”  

Instead of responding right away, Dick gave himself a couple seconds to digest those words so he wouldn’t say something like for someone so smart, Tim, you’re really dumb sometimes. That wouldn’t help. 

Tim seemed alright, overall. He wasn’t shaking, he clearly had his mental functions about him – well, as much as any almost-sixteen-year-old could, anyways. Knowing Tim, talking through why this wasn’t a good decision for himself or for anyone else on patrol with him wouldn’t be productive right now. That would be a conversation for later, after the effects of the pollen had worn off. As much as he wanted to haul Tim down to the medbay himself for an hours-long lecture on why not to do this, that’s what Bruce would do, and Dick wasn’t sure he was ready for this level of ‘shit I’m becoming my dad.’

“Alright,” Dick said at last. “I’m going to come check on you in an hour. If you need anything at all before that, you will come find me. Immediately.” 

Tim’s eyebrows flicked up, probably in shock that Dick was letting him continue with his experiment, but he nodded quickly and straightened up in his chair. “Yeah, I will.”

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

“Okay.” Dick closed the space between them and ruffled Tim’s hair, grinning when Tim shoved his head into the touch like a cat. 

Bart and Kon had been doing excellent glitched frozen screen impressions, but Dick winked at them. Since he was already there, might as well embarrass his baby brother a little. It was the least he could do, really, in return for the successive heart attacks he’d had upon realizing that Tim was 1.) potentially compromised and 2.) nowhere to be found.

“I know you’re capable,” he said, squeezing Tim’s shoulders over the blankets and jostling him. “But I worry, y’know? You’re my squishy –” Leaning down, he kissed Tim on the forehead. “Sweet, teeny little baby brother–”

Tim unsuccessfully attempted to duck away from more incoming forehead kisses, sputtering and trying to wheel himself backwards as his teammates’ cackles ran through the speakers. It was easy enough to just grab the back of his chair, keeping him still so that Dick could lean down and plant a loud kiss directly on top of his head. 

“Dick–” Tim whined, going scarlet as he slid down to try and preserve some of his dignity in front of his friends. 

“And I wuv, wuv, wuv you so much, Squeakers.” Dick ruffled his hair one more time before backing out of reach, waving at Kon and Bart as he went to pull the door shut on his way out. 

“Squeakers?” Bart’s voice echoed behind him. So did Tim’s long-suffering groan. Dick allowed himself a satisfied smile as he tugged Tim’s door all the way closed. Served him right. The kid needed some embarrassment every now and then if he was going to pull ridiculous stunts like this.  

As he headed towards his own room, he set a timer on his watch for exactly one hour. It was the only way to offset the temptation to camp out on the carpet outside Tim’s room in case anything happened.

Since it was already disgustingly late, Dick didn’t bother going back to the Cave to change, he just peeled off the Nightwing suit and kicked it vaguely towards his door. A few routine nighttime tasks later, he flicked on a low light and climbed into bed. He was going to be awake for at least another forty-five minutes, might as well catch up on some of that reading he’d been meaning to do. 

About fifteen minutes later, a quiet knock thumped against his bedroom door. Dick set aside his book and scooched up to a better sitting position. “Come in!” 

He was mentally bracing himself for a distressed, over-pollened and under-cuddled little brother to appear, weighing the merits of different courses of action against each other as the door swung open. 

But when Tim nudged the door open and shuffled through, he just stood there on Dick’s carpet, shirtless, in a pair of fleecy pajama pants that had little cartoon skateboards on them. No socks, so he probably wasn’t cold. He’d crossed his arms tightly over his chest, and was chewing furiously on his lower lip. 

After a couple seconds of silence, Dick cleared his throat. “You good, bud?”

That seemed to jolt Tim’s train of thought back into action. He gave Dick a sheepish, hesitant smile. “Yeah. Sorry. Does, uh. Does your offer from earlier still stand?” 

As if there was ever a scenario where Dick would tell him no. “To help you? Of course.” The bedding rustled as Dick swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, readying himself to stand up. “Let’s go check your vitals.” 

Tim swallowed. Maybe he was blushing, or maybe it was just the flush from his elevated temperature, which was a normal side effect of pollen. “They’re fine, I just…” 

Ah. Dick would’ve figured it out earlier if he hadn’t still been a little scrambled from the evening’s adrenal highs and lows. He shifted himself back to lean against the headboard and patted the spot next to him on the bed. 

“C’mere, you can tell me about whatever you’re watching with Steph.”

Some of the tension drained out of Tim’s posture as he quickly padded over and, instead of climbing up like a normal person, flopped backwards across Dick’s legs. His skin was definitely warm to the touch.

“Oof. Hey there, Baby Bird.”

Tim wriggled around so he was leaning against Dick’s chest, then looked up at him with a half-awake, sleepy smile. “Hi.” 

Whatever part of Dick’s constitution was made of older brother mushiness started to melt inside his chest. It was possible that Tim could be using the pollen as a reason to come seek out older brother time, which he’d probably been short on for the last several weeks. 

“You can just tell me if you want cuddles,” Dick gently ribbed him, brushing his knuckles over Tim’s forehead, then combing through his hair. “You used to come find me every evening.” 

“When you lived here,” Tim muttered. He was smiling, though, a little embarrassed like he always got whenever Dick teased him. “And I was smaller.” 

“So? You’re still my brother, dummy. Just knock. Or wake me up. You know I love spending time with you.”

The darkening of Tim’s cheeks was definitely a blush, not just pollen-induced flushing. He tried to roll over but Dick pressed down on his shoulder, stilling him. 

“Nuh huh, don’t hide from me, Timmy.” 

“Fine,” Tim said, pressing his palms against the sides of his face. “I’ll come find you.” 

Satisfied, Dick smiled and flicked him once on the nose. “Good.” 

The flick made Tim snicker even as he playfully snapped his teeth at Dick’s finger. 

Dick had to chuckle. He ruffled Tim’s hair then, smoothing it back into place, asked, “What symptoms are you still feeling?” 

Tim blinked hard and squinted up at him. “Tired, but that’s normal. A little warm. All of my shirts feel wrong, like my skin’s too sensitive. But heart rate and pulse are stable.”

“Okay. That sounds pretty mild. Did the blankets help?” 

“Yeah. ‘M’gonna write a report about it, we should put this stuff in emergency kits just in case–” A giant yawn interrupted Tim halfway through. He reached up, feeling around for something until he grabbed Dick’s arm. Bemused, Dick let Tim tug his arm down around him, clutching on like a koala as he wriggled around to lean back against Dick. He let out a content little sigh when he finally settled that made Dick want to smother him in forehead kisses. Good to know that cuddly little kid was still somewhere in there underneath the layers of teenager and vigilante. 

“I’m glad that stuff helped,” Dick said. Not wanting to give Tim the impression that he condoned unsupervised self-experimentation, he added, “We will be talking about that tomorrow, though.” 

“Mhm. You’re better, though.” 

Dick resolutely ignored the stinging behind his eyes. “Well, I’m glad you found it in yourself to admit that.” 

Tim huffed out a quiet laugh. 

In the comfortable silence that followed, Dick used his free hand to run light circles up and down Tim’s nearest arm in slow, repetitive patterns. Back when Tim was younger, Dick often had to deploy those soft, barely-there touches to lull his overactive little mind to sleep. Hopefully they’d still be soothing. 

This time, though, Tim’s nose wrinkled up like he was trying not to laugh, and he turned his face to hide in Dick’s shirt.  

Dick froze. Ok, that was different, but … it presented some interesting possibilities. “Tim?” 

“It’s the pollen,” Tim whined. The words came out muffled. 

Oh, Dick tried to keep the grin out of his voice, but he couldn’t help himself. “Heightened sensitivity?” 

Tim peered up at him through squinty eyes; when he saw whatever sappy, tease-worthy look Dick was giving him, he slammed his eyes shut. “Maybe.”

Dick clicked his tongue. “Better add that to the symptom list in your report.” He skittered his fingers up one side of Tim’s neck and under his chin. Normally that was one of Tim’s less ticklish spots, but he yelped and turtled his shoulders up to his ears. 

“It’s literally always been the main symptom, you – hehehey!” 

“That must really tickle, you’re getting all scrunchy.” 

Tim tried to grab the scribbling fingers but that meant letting go of Dick’s other arm. Dick promptly walked his index and middle fingers down towards Tim’s stomach, which earned him a river of squeaky giggles. 

“I’m barely touching you,” Dick said, laughing when Tim pulled himself together just enough to stick his tongue out – very mature, very sophisticated – but then tried to return to his hiding place against Dick’s t-shirt.  

When Dick poked at his belly, Tim kicked his legs out with the force of the squeak that tore out of him and promptly tried to wriggle enough that he could flip over. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Dick said, and switched to using his nails for light skitters. He kept his other hand fluttering around Tim’s neck and collarbones just to keep his little brother on his toes. Given by the peals of strangled giggles from Tim, it was working.

Tim flung one of his arms over his eyes. “Dick!” 

“Yeah?” Dick didn’t quite coo, but it was a near thing. “You’ve got the Timmy wiggles again, huh?” He tilted his head down to blow a raspberry against the back of Tim’s neck.

“Ohmygod,” Tim gasped out. “You’re mean, you’re so mean to mehehe!” His voice rose near the end when Dick scribbled over his lower stomach, just above the waistline of his pajama pants. Somehow Tim managed to squeak and snort at the same time.

It was tempting to wrestle Tim flat on his back and give him some solid incentive to never, ever ditch patrol – after getting hit by a contaminant! without saying anything! – ever again. But, one look at the big ol’ goofy grin on Tim’s face and Dick felt the knot of concern that had been sitting behind his chest ever since he’d realized Robin was missing finally unwind. Maybe he’d just tickle as many giggles out of Tim as he could, and call that a lesson. 

He kissed Tim’s hair and brought both of his hands to hover over Tim’s sides. “Mean? Timmy, I’m being so nice to you, c’mon, it’s only tummy tickles! We could spend some time counting your ribs, if you wanted–”

Tim wheezed, his eyes flying wide open. “Nonono, Dee, it’s gonna tickle so bad–” 

Dee. His name for Dick back when he was barely out of toddlerhood. Dick’s chest ached because, god, he loved his little brother. Even when he was being an idiot. 

“Is that a yes to the tummy tickles, then?”

Instead of replying, Tim just smacked both of his hands over his face, but he made an effort to still his squirming. 

A thought occurred to Dick, then, and he smiled into Tim’s hair. “Did you come here looking for tickles? You can still do that too, bud, I’ve been low on baby brother giggles since I moved to Blud. It’s a giggle desert out there.” 

Tim just groaned through his impromptu hand-shield and didn’t say anything, which was an answer in and of itself even if Dick chose not to call him on it. 

He decided to put Tim out of his misery and, without warning, dug his hands into those soft spots on either side of his navel. Tim shrieked, jerking forward like he was trying to fold in half, but Dick just had to vibrate his fingers a little and Tim went reeling back, collapsing against him in a puddle of near-silent giggles.

“Being a big ol’ gangly teenager doesn’t mean you aren’t adorable,” Dick said, grinning at Tim’s dazed, hiccupy giggles. “And it doesn’t mean that I don’t still need my required Timmy tummy tickles, either. I’m sorry I’ve been slacking lately.” 

Tim tried to crane his head up to speak, but whatever he was going to say got lost in the thud of someone whacking their hand against Dick’s door to open it. A very disgruntled-looking Jason stormed in, hair messy and pajamas wrinkled, and – oh, shit. In the chaos of the evening, it had utterly slipped Dick’s mind that Jason was staying at the Manor that weekend – it was something he’d agreed to under the pressure of Alfred’s flat, no-nonsense stare – to rest while he recovered from a particularly nasty bout of the flu. 

“Are you fucking torturing him?” Jason grouched, gesturing towards Tim. “Can you assholes be quiet?” 

“Sorry,” Dick said. He offered Jason a sheepish smile and jerked his head towards Tim. “Someone got cuddle pollened earlier and didn’t tell anyone.”

He could practically hear the grinding gears in his other little brother’s brain as Jason blinked rapidly at Tim, who shrank back into Dick’s arms. 

“He what.” Jason’s voice was entirely flat. 

“And he just disappeared back to his room to experiment on himself,” Dick continued cheerily, despite a glare from Tim. 

Without missing a beat, Jason took two brisk strides forward, fell on one knee, and blew a long raspberry right in the middle of Tim’s tummy. Tim, of course, collapsed into surprised, squeaky giggles and frantically shook his head. 

“Jaha–JASE!” he protested, shrieking as Jason did it again. 

“It was a low dose, though,” Dick said, going for conversational. “So he does have some data to put in his report.”

Jason shifted into a crouch and cocked an eyebrow at Tim, who went scarlet under the scrutiny. “So…okay, lemme get this straight. Timmyboy’s gonna admit. Voluntarily. In a written report for Control Freak Number One Daddybats. That he ran off after getting hit and didn’t check into the medbay? And he’s expecting to not get benched?” 

“Not his best idea,” Dick agreed, but he tightened his arms around Tim when he noticed the goosebumps that had broken out up and down his baby brother’s arms. “But we’ve done worse, so.” 

“‘Spose we have. Hey, you cold, Timbo?” 

“Sort of,” Tim admitted, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. “All my shirts feel wrong, though. Itchy. ‘S the pollen.” 

Dick jerked his head in the vague direction of his door, where a couple sweatshirts hung from hooks on the back. “Hey, Jay. Could you throw my Superman hoodie over here? You usually like that one, yeah, Timmy?” 

“Yeah,” Tim said. His jaw popped as he yawned and settled closer to Dick, maximizing how much of his skin was coming into contact. Definitely still feeling the pollen, then. 

A bright blue hoodie hit Dick in the face. He sputtered, mostly for show, then dropped it onto Tim’s lap. He loosened his arms enough for Tim to be able to sit up and pull the hoodie on. It swallowed him, but he gave Dick a soft, sleepy smile as he snuggled back into his hold. 

Dick was pretty sure he knew the answer already, but he still asked, “Does that one feel okay?” 

“Mhm,” Tim said, blinking heavily. “Thanks, Dee.” 

“You’re welcome, snuggle bird.”

“Well,” Jason said. “If you two are done being annoying as shit, I’m going back to bed.” 

Dick didn’t say anything and just stared at him. Jason met his gaze without blinking, locking them together in a silent battle of wills until Jason finally rolled his eyes. 

“Fine,” he growled. “But you’re not allowed to bitch if you get sick. Now, move your fat ass to the other side.”

With one mostly-asleep, snuggly little brother in his arms and the other pretending to grouch as he reluctantly crawled in next to them, Dick was feeling exceptionally generous, enough that he didn’t reach out and flick Jason’s forehead for all the grumbling. 

Any protests Jason had died when Tim shifted, eyes still closed, and felt around until his fingers closed on Jason’s arm. 

“My arm, now,” Tim mumbled, the words barely intelligible. “Ssssssssh.” 

“He always does this,” Jason mouthed at Dick, but he shut up.