#bsd tickle

The room was silent, illuminated only by the cool light of the desk lamp. Fyodor sat focused on his notes, his slender fingers moving the pen with the precision of someone writing a confession, or a sentence.

Nikolai, sprawled on the sofa with his legs dangling over the backrest, watched him upside down with a lazy smile. "You know, Dostoevsky, sometimes I wonder if you were born this serious or if you practiced in front of a mirror" He said, playfully twirling one of the ribbons from his coat in the air. "It’s as if every muscle in your face took a vow of eternal solemnity"

Fyodor didn't look up. "Someone in this house needs to maintain their composure" He replied calmly. "And clearly, that won't be you"

"Oh! I can be composed too!" Nikolai retorted, straightening up and theatrically placing a hand over his heart. "Composed of laughter, impulses, and genius, of course. But composed nonetheless!"

Fyodor merely let out a soft, almost imperceptible "hm."

Nikolai tilted his head, an idea taking shape as his smile widened. "You know, I think it would be fun to kill you"

"At it again?" Fyodor finally looked up, arching an eyebrow. "We’ve already established that your definition of 'fun' is, to put it mildly, concerning"

"Oh no, not that way" Nikolai said, slowly approaching with a mysterious air. "I mean, tickle you to death" He stopped in front of the desk, resting his chin in his hands. "I think it would be a lovely way to see that icy expression of yours melt just a little. Just a little!"

Fyodor blinked once, assessing him with that calm, enigmatic gaze. "I suppose that’s just another one of your unlikely metaphors"

"Oh, it’s no metaphor at all, my dear Dostoevsky" His smile widened. "And I can prove it"

Before Fyodor had time to respond, Nikolai had vanished in a flash, reappearing right behind him with his arms outstretched.

"Nikolai, wait—"

But the warning came too late. The clown’s fingers were already lightly touching Fyodor’s sides, eliciting a stifled gasp that the Russian immediately tried to mask.

"Ohhh!" He exclaimed triumphantly. "So the ruthless genius has human reactions! What a delightful discovery!"

"S-Stop it" Fyodor tried to keep his tone steady, but his voice wavered slightly. He moved his hands to push him away, but Nikolai was already moving again, targeting another spot: his ribs.

Fyodor flinched, laughing softly and involuntarily, which only served to make Nikolai even more excited. "A-Ahahaha s-stohohohohop it"

"Aha! So it’s true! The man who defies death is undone by tickling!" Nikolai said, laughing heartily, completely delighted by the scene. "Oh, Fyodor, if I’d known how adorable you look like this, I would have tried it sooner"

"Nikolai...!" Fyodor scolded him through stifled laughter, trying to break free, though a smile stubbornly remained even as he gave him a light shove on the shoulder. "E-Enough"

Nikolai stepped back, raising his hands in surrender, though the mischievous glint in his eyes didn't fade. "Alright, alright. The great Dostoevsky survived." He leaned forward, resting against the table and gazing at the other man with mock tenderness. "But admit it, it was a good experiment, wasn't it?"

Fyodor adjusted his collar, composing himself, though a faint flush betrayed that the blow had landed more effectively than he cared to admit. "Let’s just say you found a vulnerability that doesn't need to be exploited again" He turned his gaze back to his papers, yet the corner of his mouth betrayed a subtle smile.

Nikolai spun around, delighted. "Ah, but that’s exactly where the fun lies, laughter is unpredictable and irresistible!"

Fyodor sighed in exasperation, though his tone held a hint of affection. "One day, Nikolai, your chaos will drive me mad"

"And what a glorious day that will be, my dear fellow!" The jester replied, leaping away with a loud laugh. "After all, it would be an honor to be the first to kill Dostoevsky... with laughter"

Fyodor shook his head, resigning himself to defeat, since he certainly wouldn't win that little skirmish with Nikolai and the room soon fell silent once more. He left the table and calmly settled onto the sofa, wrapping himself in a light blanket as he read a book.

But Nikolai, of course, wouldn't be satisfied so easily. Across the room, he twirled a coin between his fingers, his gaze shifting between absent-minded and calculating.

He hadn't moved past the earlier moment yet. The memory of the ever-composed Fyodor laughing, however discreetly, had become his new obsession. "I need to see that again" He thought, a feline smile spreading across his face.

Fyodor noticed the stare, he didn't need to look up from his book to comment, "You're watching me as if you're planning another one of your experiments, Nikolai"

"Who, me?" The clown replied, placing a hand over his heart. "Never! I was simply admiring your serenity"

Fyodor turned a page, indifferent, or feigning indifference. "Hm. Make it quick"

Nikolai approached slowly, circling the sofa like a beast preparing to pounce, until he sat on the rug near Fyodor’s blanket-covered feet. "You know, I’ve been thinking... Your laughter is such a rare phenomenon, it ought to be documented" He said, resting his chin in his palm and smiling. "And I am a man driven by curiosity"

"And what exactly do you plan to observe this time?" Fyodor asked, without taking his eyes off the book.

"The same field of study, just from a different angle"

Fyodor raised an eyebrow, already suspicious, but, as always, too late. With a swift movement, Nikolai tugged at the edge of the blanket, revealing Fyodor's bare feet, before the other man could react, the clown’s nimble fingers lightly brushed the sole of one foot. Fyodor shuddered visibly, a stifled sound escaping his throat, a mix of surprise and suppressed laughter. "Ahahahahaha... N-Nikolai...!" He tried to protest, but his voice faltered between a gasp and a short laugh. "T-That is completely unnecessary"

"Unnecessary, perhaps. Fun? Absolutely!" Nikolai continued, delighted, watching every tiny reaction. "Amazing, even your feet are disciplined, yet look at how they tremble!"

Fyodor tried to pull his foot back, but Nikolai held it gently, still smiling with that curious glint in his eyes, not one of mockery, but of genuine fascination. "It’s almost poetic. The man who speaks of doomsday and purification, undone by something so simple" He chuckled softly. "If I’d known tickling was all it took, we could have spared ourselves so much drama"

"You are insufferable, Nikolai" Fyodor replied amidst light laughter, trying to maintain his composure, though his expression now held something rare: a genuine lightness.

"I prefer 'unforgettable'" The clown retorted, releasing the foot only when he decided he had studied it enough.

Fyodor adjusted the blanket again, taking a deep breath as he tried to regain both his breath and his dignity, two equally difficult tasks in Nikolai's presence. "Satisfied with your experiment?" He asked, without looking directly at him.

"Absolutely" Nikolai leaned back, still laughing. "I conclude that Fyodor Dostoevsky is, after all, a human being. And that your laughter is my new religion"

Fyodor calmly closed his book, casting a look at him that was a mix of weariness and amusement. "One day, Nikolai, I’m going to pay you back for every one of these discoveries"