ദ്ദി/ᐠ - ⩊ -マ.ᐟ

I head canon Grace being ticklish at least to some extent pretty much everywhere and Rocky loves to find all the little weird spots to drive him up a wall palm/arm tickling needs some more love imo

"Boy am I glad the show's over," the TV host sighed, walking into his office. The digital darkner sitting in the seat across from Tenna's office throne perked up from his work.

"I thought you loved your job. You're always bragging about it," he commented, catching a glance at Tenna's downward tilted screen. It was black, his mouth the only thing visible. A frown.

"Usually... But some nights don't go so well. It's a long story... And even I don't have most of the details." Tenna plopped in his chair. "I can't do my job when they mute me," his voice was a touch bitter.

"Ihihi know a thing or two about that. Sucks..." Spamton chuckled, understanding the feeling all too well himself.

"Yeah. Sucks. I even had to do a musical number the second they hit that dumb button to 'talk'. I was dancing and everything! What a waste..." he flopped his arms down dramatically, sinking in his seat. "Uuuuuuhg my dogs are barking for NUTHIN."

Spamton was trying his hardest not to laugh at his business partner's whining, trying to focus on putting his data sheets and project folder in his briefcase. Tenna toed off his shoes under the desk, not thinking twice before lifting his legs, dropping his feet on the thick slab of mahogany in front if him, black dress socks sliding across it. Spamton had just moved his briefcase to the floor, and just in time too. Tenna's long legs stretched across three quarters of the desk. Spamton had to make an effort to see the TV past his unapologetic puppies.

"Charming..." the salesman deadpanned.

"It's my office. I can do what I want."

"I suppose I can't fault a man for ruling his domain as he sees fit... But the view is a bit uh... Ya know... Doesn't promote a productive work environment," Spamton commented.

"That's easy. Don't work. Take a load off. It's 9pm!" Tenna responded.

"I didn't get where I am now by wasting good hours-"

"-No more work tonight while you're in my kingdom, that's an order."

"You're not my king-"

"My kingdom, my rules. Queen's law isn't mine and mine isn't hers. Now sit your butt in that chair and relax," Tenna glared at him with authority, the view rather silly framed by Tenna's feet.

"Yeeeees, your majesty," Spamton rolled his eyes. Tenna sighed deeply, his chair creeking as he leaned it back a bit, his antenna drooping as he tried to go limp. Spamton was already getting antsy as his workaholic tendancies started to protest. "So I had this idea-"

"Nope. Don't even start."

"..."

"..."

"...hypothetically speaking, if we changed the jingle of that-"

"Spamton."

"Alright alright, geewiz. I'll just... Ask you tomorrow I guess," Spamton surrendered fully.

"I'll gladly hear it tomorrow," Tenna crossed his arms.

Spamton sat there, bored out of his mind and sitting in the large shadow of a pair of feet that were definitely depreciating the value of the property he was perched on. As he sat there, debating if he could run fast enough to get back on Queen's territory before Tenna caught him and forced him back into this deafeningly silent chamber to "relax", Spamton glanced back up at the subpar view, and a nagging little idea started to grow. 'He's tired, grumpy, in a very authoritative mood. I'm gonna go stir crazy from all this quiet... But... Maybe I could butter him up a bit... Get him to relax the rules enough to get back to work.' He eyed those feet with a plan. 'Leverage'.

Spamton stood up in his chair, climbing onto the desk.

"Wha-hey, I said to-"

"Relax, Tens. Don't get your panties in a twist, I'm not working," Spamton reassured, little hands gently gripping the sides of Tenna's left foot.

"EEK! Wha-what are you doing!?" Tenna was gripping the arms of his chair, antenna shooting up in surprise, his toes curling.

"You said your feet hurt. Well you're in luck, twinkle toes~" he winked. "Spammy's on the case!"

"That nickname better not stick or so help mEeEeE! Careful!" Tenna cringed as tiny thumbs rubbed circles against the black fabric of is sock, focusing gentle pressure into his arch. Spamton grinned his winning smile, definitely not trying to butter up his bossy business partner or anything.

"Feels good, right?"

"It feels like you-don't-know-what-you're-doing!" Tenna squirmed upwards in his chair.

"Probably because I don't, haha! Hold up. Let me look up a tutorial, " Spamton said, closing his eyes. Tenna sighed with relief as the touch disappeared momentarily, slumping in his chair.

"'Look up a tutorial'?" the TV finally registered.

"Yeah... Wow it's loading slow... The hourglass won't stop turning... NO CONNECTION!? Oh... Yeah... I'm away from the Queen's RAM..." Spamton opened his eyes with an awkward chuckle. "Well, we're just gonna wing it. I just won't dig too hard," he shrugged before massaging his palm into Tenna's left arch. Tenna yelped, tensing up again before relaxing a little.

"Oo... Actually that's kinda nice... Aaahhhh... " Tenna laid his head back a bit. Spamton smirked. It was working!... Maybe.

"Hahaha, if I do a good job, I should charge ya," Spamton grinned.

"No chance-" he breathed out.

"What!? A businessman doesn't do-", Spamton paused as Tenna squeaked, trying to raise his coat collar to shield his face as he silently tittered to himself. Spamton raised a confused brow before glancing down at his hand, palm against the ball of Tenna's foot, fingertips digging gently under the toes from his distracted verbal clapback. A grinch like grin stretched across his cheeks.

"Why are you st-stopping? Just keep doing that thing you were doing earlier-" Tenna waved, freezing at the sight of Spamton's expression.

"Yes sir," he relaxed his smile, massaging his palm into Tenna's sole like before. Tenna relaxed again. He must have just been paranoid.... Right? Spamton let go for a moment, crawling on the desk to shift his position, sitting on Tenna's ankles.

"Wait, wait why are you moving???" Tenna asked nervously, not a fan of being unable to see his feet past Spamton.

"Relax. I can work with my fingers more from this side."

"B-but I liked the palms."

"No way, that's not good enough. Gonna make sure every ache and pain gets a detailed work over," Spamton responded, gripping Tenna's left foot again. Tenna squeaked.

"Noho wait I really don't need you to-Pfffhfhfhfht- SPAM!" Tenna gripped the arms of his chair, pounding a fist on one as Spamton gently dug his fingers into the arch and outer side of Tenna's sole. He started to wriggle those little fingers in a bit.

"Ohoho SHOOT! Spahahamton! *snrk* USE YOUR PALMS!"

"Why would I do that? It sounds like the massage is helping with your mood too~" Spamton teased, fingers gently tickling, still moving in a way that could be considered massaging if you squinted.

"Pfhfhfh Nohoho! It's... Khkhkhk it's not.... IT'S NOT THE SAME!" He shook his head, hands looking for anything to grip or hold or swat or do ANYTHING to distract himself from the tingly feeling between the ticklish jolts. His toes curled and splayed, foot rocking side to side a bit as he tried to endure this. It honestly did feel good, even the tickle felt nice, but that didn't make it any more bearable. He was fighting to keep from laughing. This was ridiculous. "Come oooohohon just do it right alreadeeheeheehy, " he whined.

"Oh....Ooooooooh." Spamton smirked back at him. "Tennaaaaa~," Spamton sang, looking over his shoulder, deciding to play his card.

"Whaaaaat?" he half growled.

"Don't tell me... Does the big bad boss have ticklish tootsies?~"

"SPAMTON YOU LITTLE WEASLE DONT SAY IT LIKE THAT! TAKE IT BACK!"

"Don't worry. I'll be nice. I pride myself on impeccable customer service!" Spamton smiled. He spidered his fingers gently down to the heel, massaging his fingertips into the soft spot.

Tenna squealed as the fingers decended, covering his mouth with a clenched fist as the massage went back to a more relaxing sensation. Spamton leaned forward a bit, planting a palm on each heel, fingers curving around the bottom the rounded shape before digging his palms in circular motions. Tenna relaxed again. What a roller coaster.

"Okay okay... Phew..... Just do that... That's nihice."

"You'll owe me one of these in the future," Spamton muttered under his breath.

"I heard thahat."

"Heard what? I didn't say anything. Must be a stray signal."

"Yohohou can't gaslight me."

"Gaslight? I don't know what you're talking about," he smirked, digging in a bit more.

"Ooooooo... Phew... Remind me to.... Show you that one later... Classic."

"Is that an order?"

"Absolutely... You'll be cultured... Slowly but surely-Ooooo right there right there that's nice," Tenna sunk into his chair as Spamton rubbed his thumbs against his inner heels.

"Right here?" Spamton asked, wiggling his thumbs.

"AAAH! HAHA-NO-I MEAN-YES!" he slapped the desk loudly.

"No AND yes? Mixed signals," he smirked. He shifted his technique, rolling his knuckles up Tenna's soles. That was certainly a mix of signals. Tenna gasped, clamping him mouth shut as he gripped the edge of his desk, trying to focus on breathing through his nose. His tension released again when the little hands planted their palms on the pads of his feet below his toes, massaging gently. That felt pretty nice... But those little fingers rested against his upper soles, shifting with every press. The ghostly touch made Tenna squirm on instinct.

"I'm doin' great, right?" Spamton smiled brightly, looking back at Tenna and batting his eyelashes.

"YEAH... Right.... Khkhk it's... GREAT!" he struggled out.

"Gooooooooood," he grinned. He played nice, massaging for another thirty seconds before drifting his hands upwards. As his fingertips traced up against Tenna's toes, the TV seized up, screeching.

"EEEEEEK! WAIT WAHAHAHAIT WAAAAHAHAHAHAIT!" his hands started clawing in the top on the desk. "THOSE ARE OFF LIMITS!"

"What!? Are you insane? There's no way I could possibly give you the gracious service of a massage after a whole, unappreciated dance number without making sure every inch of your poor 'barking doggies' get the attention they need and deserve, twinkle toes~"

"SPAMTON I TOLD YOU NOT TO AHAHAHAHAHAAAA!" Tenna arched in his chair, fist slamming on the desk while his other hand grabbed his chair, looking for any relief as Spamton massaged his toes. Spamton wasn't even tickling on purpose and Tenna was in stitches. "NOHO-NONONO NOT THE TOHOHOES! SOMEWHERE EHEHELSE- ANYWHERE ELSE!" he begged, gripping the sides of his head. Spamton ignored him, worming his little fingers under the clenching digits.

"Relaaaaaax, Tenna. It's a massaaaaaaage~"

"I CAN'T I CAHAHAN'T OHOHOOHOO NONO I CAHAHAN'T IT TICKLES! AHAHA! OHOHO ANGEL- IT TIHIHICKLES SO BAD!" Tenna was tossing his head, antenna bouncing as he cackled. His feet wiggled and swayed, toes attempting to block the unstoppable force that was Spamton's fingers.

"Oh don't be so dramatic. It can't be that bad~" Spamton said, tracing the pads of Tenna's toes with his blunt nails. Tenna released a sharp yelp of surprise, jerking back so hard his chair tilted enough to make him panic, arms flailing until the chair landed again. His legs lifted with the motion, bumping Spamton upwards with them. "Whoa, there! Easy!" he laughed, talking like a cowboy to a bucking bronco. He quickly resumed 'massaging' Tenna's toes.

"NYAHAO! YOU'RE DOHOHOHOING THIHIHIS ON PURPOHOHOHSE!" Tenna tried to growl out, legs jumping and squirming on reflex. Spamton was laughing now, struggling to stay sitting up, which only made him grip between Tenna's toes for stability. That only made it worse.

"So loud, Hahaha! You're supposed to be relaxing, Tens!" he called back.

"IHIHI CAHAHAN'T, SPAMTOHOHON! I'M DYHYHYHYING!"

"Leave it you you to-OOP!" he caught himself as Tenna's legs bucked again. "-be dramatic!" he chuckled.

As they were laughing, Spamton curling his fingers between Tenna's toes and Tenna booming with high pitched laughter, there was an unheard knock and the door opened slightly.

"Boss, are you alri-" Ramb froze at the ridiculous sight. The salesman on the desk straddling Tenna's ankles and digging his fingers into the TV's toes, Tenna shoeless, laughing and banging his fist on the arm of his chair. Then they both froze. Well, this was awkward. All three were wide eyed in a standoff of who would dare to speak up first.

"Uh.... Hi.... Ramb," Spamton chanced to greet, waving "Just uh... Doing.... Business? "

The living power bar eyed them both, ".... Right-o... "

"Ramb! Uh.... I'm fine, I don't need anything I... Uh... I'll give you fifty points to pretend you didn't see anything." Tenna said between pants. Ramb's expression shifted to a mix of sly understanding

"See what exactly? There's nothing in here. In fact, I must be hearing things. I'll just go back to my station," he said with a smile, slowly shutting the door.

"PHEW... that was close..." Tenna slumped in his chair for the billionth time that night.

"You better pay him," Spamton said, not wanting Ramb to have an excuse to talk about what he 'didn't see'.

"I will," he assured too quickly, not wanting to chance a blackmail situation. As if Ramb even cared that much.

"... Where were we? Oh yeah!" Spamton didn't waste time and immediately started 'massaging' again, Tenna bursting with wild giggles and cackles and squeals.

"NAHAHAHAHOOOOHOHO! NAHAHAHOHOHOT AGAIN!"

"Well I'm not done yet! I'm not leaving you wanting. I'd never do that," he teased, not even pretending to massage anymore. His fingers were scritching under Tenna's toes, making the TV host thrash in his chair, holding his head as he flipped out, legs bouncing, feet waving in every direction they could.

"IHIHIHI'M GONNA EXPLOHOHOHODE! UNCLE! UHUHUHUNCLE!"

"Uncle? Pffft. That's a word for tapping out. You can't tap out of a massage! Buuuut I could end it early if you give me $20~"

"NOHOHOHO! NO DEEHEEHEEHEAL!"

"$10?"

"NOHOHO MONEY YOU AHAHAHAHA- STAHAHAHAP!"

"Okay okay, $5"

"NOHOHOHO! "

"FINE! The magic words are 'Spamton is the grooviest guy in TV World' ."

"NOHOHO WAIT NOHO THAT'S ME! IHIHIM NOT GONNA- OHOHOHO SHOOT!" Tenna was scrambling, past his limit the second Spamton scribbled his blunt nails up and down both soles. "YOHOHOU'RE THE GROOVIEST! HAHAHAHA IN TEEHEEHEEHEE-VEEHEEHEEHEE WOHOHOHOHORLD!"

"Awwww, Tenna, you're just saying that, " he teased, stopping and turning around. He crawled to Tenna's side on the desk, sitting on the edge properly.

"I... Hah... Ha.... Ha... Could have... Ha... Ha... Died!... Hah... Ha... " Tenna panted, curling his legs up to his chest protectively for a moment before planting his soles on the floor, rubbing them against the carpet to shoo the phantom tickles away.

"You'll live," Spamton waved him off.

"You... Are public enemy... Number one... For a WEEK... You behave... Ah.. Ha... Or I won't hesitate... Ha... Hah... " Tenna warned.

"Oh, come on, Tens. You came in here all bummed out, and now you're all smiles. You should thank me."

Tenna was about to bite back, but he let the words sink in. Spamton wasn't wrong. He felt like crap walking in his office. Now he felt... Happy? If not a little annoyed at Spamton's cocky attitude.

"Alright... Fine... Thanks... I guess," he turned his head. "... Thanks... " that one was more sincere.

"No problem, twinkle toes, " Spamton smirked, giving him a wink and finger guns. Tenna immediately sat up.

"You- I'LL SHOW YOU 'TWINKLE TOES'!" Tenna yelled our like a battle cry, snatching the little salesman off the desk. Spamton shrieked as he was caught up in the TV's fury.