#kitkatwrites

///

This was ridiculous.

You huffed in frustration, digging harder inside your pack, trying to go by feel alone. Were there really no more shirts in your supplies? How did they even decide to ration outfits for this mission, surely they'd give you more than the six or so shirts you've already gone through. Did they just not think of body odour in space?

You yanked your hand out and settled for a different aproach. Grabbing the underside of your pack, you lifted it up-side-down as high above your head as your arms could reach, and shook.

Various pieces of clothing tumbled out onto the floor.

Tossing the pack to the side unceremoniously, you dug your hands through socks, underwear, shorts, until your eyes spotted a rectangular piece of white fabric.

"Aha!" You said triumphantly and snatched the shirt up. You fumbled with it for a moment before turning it right side up, noticing the print on the front.

Your blood ran cold.

Both you and Ryland had been given tshirts with funny images, puns, and quirky designs. While his usually stuck to the theme of science puns, yours tended to be a little more on-the-nose-milennial with things like 'don't talk to me before I've had my coffee' printed on them. This one had bright pink text right in the middle, in large print that was impossible to miss. Just three simple words.

'TICKLE ME PINK'

You slammed your hands down, concealing the front of the shirt, and shot a panicked behind you to the latch leading to the lab. It was open, as you'd left it, but Ryland was nowhere to be seen. Turning back around, you lifted the shirt up just a little bit, as if to confirm the print was still there.

It was.

You buried your face in the fabric and leaned forward over your criss-crossed legs, groaning desperately.

Incoming rattling alerted you enough to straighten out your back.

"Human okay question?" Came Rocky's voice as he paused next to you.

"I'm fine, Rocky." You said with a slight sigh.

"Human make distressed noise. Why question?"

"I just realised I have one clean shirt left, is all." You deflected.

Rocky raised himself up a little. "Grace say he clean shirts. Ask Grace to teach how clean shirts!"

"Yeah, okay." You said, dread rising in your chest. "I will."

Making sure the front of the shirt is firmly hidden in your lap, you began gathering the rest of your clothing from the floor and shoving it back into your pack. You didn't have to hide the shirt with just Rocky here, it's not like he'd see what's on it. Or be able to read it. Would he? Suddenly you weren't so sure. He might ask to explain what the text says, knowing his curious nature. Yeah, better safe than sorry.

Ryland's voice carried through the Hail Mary, calling for Rocky, who quickly scampered to find him.

God. Ryland.

What the hell were you going to do about Ryland?

You knew for a fact that he would make a big deal out of it. He'd already been known to attack you, claiming it helped him destress, and he wasn't shy about how much he liked tickling. Not like you were. He'd never let you live it down. But what other choice did you have? Your other shirts were too dirty, and you didn't want to go around stinking up the place. For your own sake and Ryland's.

So how were you going to solve this?

You cast one more nervous look to the hatch behind you, then turned back around and peeled your dirty shirt off. Then, slowly, you pulled the clean one on, trying to ignore the heat rising up your neck. Clearing your throat nervously, you grabbed the sleeves of your jumpsuit that you had tied around your waist and tugged them tighter.

Wait.

The jumpsuit!

You just had to put the whole suit on, and the shirt would be concealed.

You untied the sleeves, and slipped your arms in, buttoning the front until the text was out of sight. Then buttoned extra two. Just to be safe.

You smoothed your palms over the front of your jumpsuit, taking a steadying breath, just as Ryland called your name across the ship.

"Coming!" You called back, kicking your pack into a corner to deal with later.

Things will be just fine, you reassured yourself.

@

Your plan worked perfectly. Ryland made no comment on your attire, and the two of you quickly settled into your familiar work routine.

Except it was hot on the Hail Mary, and your layers and long sleeves were not helping.

Ryland had dragged his stool next to you to look at the screen you had been working on. His leg pressed against yours, and his arm stretched in front of you to scroll through your notes and charts. This was normal. You've both abandoned any awkwardness around physical touch long ago. Being stuck in space on a one way mission will do that to you. Boundaries shift and warp when both people need comfort in sight of terror.

You tugged at the collar of your jumpsuit, then dug your fingers underneath that to reach the tshirt. You willed air to flow through your clothes but, of course, there was no breeze on a space ship. Ryland shot you a quick look.

"You okay?" He asked, eyes settling back on the screen in front of him.

"Peachy." You keep your eyes steady on the screen. Ryland lowered his hand and leaned it on the counter, but didn't move his arm away from you. He gave you a once-over.

"You're not too hot in that?" He didn't look suspicious. Just curious. Maybe a little worried. You shrugged noncomitally.

"Hey, does this look weird to you?" You asked, pointing to a particular number. Ryland's eyes snapped back to the screen, and he frowned.

"Could have sworn that was…" He muttered to himself, and clicked through the screen to bring up a spreadsheet. His attention successfully diverted, you let yourself exhale quietly in relief. You stayed sitting for a long few minutes, watching carefully as Ryland clicked through notes and spreadsheets, trying to figure out his train of thought. When he shifted away from you to grab a spare piece of paper and pen, you took it as an opening to escape for a few moments. It was better to leave Ryland to do his equations in peace. Let him come to you when he figured everything out.

You climbed back through the hatch leading from the lab to the sleeping quarters, and immediately unbuttoned your jumpsuit. You peeled the long sleeves off your body and waved your arms back and forth to cool off. You could have sworn it didn't used to be this hot on the ship. Maybe you were just freaking yourself out, and it was making you overheat.

Yeah, that sounded about right.

You sat heavily on one of the beds, resting your elbows on your knees and placing your head in your hands. You just had to make it till dinner. When you're both out of work mode, and eating, guards down, you can ask Ryland to show you how he cleaned his clothes. And then you will clean your shirts and hide this one somewhere no one will ever find it. Or better yet, throw it out the airlock. You drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, controlled. This was a good plan. You could avoid embarrassment.

"So, you were right, those numbers are weird, so I ran through some equations and it looks like there's some kind of an anomaly within the Petrova Line-" Your head snapped up at Ryland's voice entering the sleeping quarters and - to your unfortunate luck - he looked up from his sheet of paper at the exact same time.

There was a beat.

Then your brain caught up to you and you crossed your arms over your torso in a frail attempt to conceal the writing from Ryland.

His eyes flickered to your arms, then snapped back to your face, but he remained where he was in the doorway. Your heartbeat thudded in your ears.

"Whatcha got there?" Ryland asked lightly. You didn't trust his tone.

"Hm? No, nothing- " you cleared your throat nervously, trying to play it cool "- what about the Petrova Line?"

"Yeah," Ryland said after a moment. "There's been a sudden change in how the astrophage is behaving- what's up with your shirt?"

"My shirt?" Heat crawled up your neck. "Nothing's wrong with my shirt - why would anything be wrong with my shirt?" Yeah, real cool and suave. You winced internally.

"…uh-huh." Ryland watched you for a moment longer. He lowered his hand, papers rustling loudly against his thigh. "And you're hiding, why?"

"I'm not hiding! This is just…comfortable." You trailed off lamely.

"Yeah, and you're not a bad liar, either." Ryland was grinning now, which made you even more nervous. He stepped fully into the room and up to the bed you were sitting on. He placed his papers on the mattress next to you, then turned his full attention on you.

That was not a good thing.

"Come on, out with it." He placed his hands on his hips.

"The shirt is…" You trailed your eyes off to the side, looking directly through the diamond shape that Ryland's arm made as it rested on his hip. You could just barely see a sock spilling from your pack where you had disgarded it earlier. "…stupid."

"That clears it up." Ryland said, not unkindly. You huffed and closed your eyes.

"It's embarrassing."

"You know I won't judge you." Ryland's voice softened.

"No, you won't." You said. "That's not what I'm worried about."

"What are you worried about?"

You kept your eyes closed. Not looking at him made it easier to speak. "Don't make me say it."

"Okay, now I'm actually worried." Ryland's hands came to rest on your shoulders, solid, warm, and steady. You let your head drop back.

"This is so duuumb." You groaned pathetically.

"I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

You opened your eyes. Ryland looked worried. That made you feel worse.

"Fine." You said. "But you're not allowed to laugh." Ryland nodded easily, still watching you carefully. Ignoring the heat in your face and your racing heart, you dropped your arms from the front of the shirt. Ryland looked down and his expression immediately changed. You only caught a glimpse of it before you turned your head away.

"Oh, I see." He was choking back laughter.

"You're not supposed to laugh." You complained.

"Sorry, sorry." He rubbed your shoulders comfortingly. "Your ears are really red, by the way."

"Rylaaaaand." You groaned, folding in on yourself. The top of your head pressed against Ryland's stomach where he stood in front of you. His hands shifted easily to accommodate your movements, one moving to the back of your head. He sounded entirely too happy, still attempting to hold in his laughter.

"Are you going to come out from there?" He asked once he composed himself.

"Depends." You muttered into your lap. "Are you done making fun of me?"

"Hey." Ryland gave a few pats on your head, signalling you to sit up. You did so, begrudgingly. "I'd never make fun of you." You nodded, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

"I'm surprised you didn't just take one of Ilyukhina's shirts." Ryland added, grinning impishly.

"Oh my god." You rubbed at your eyebrow, mortified. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."

"Better for me that you didn't." He said, scribbling his fingers on the back of your neck. You scrunched your shoulders up instinctively, hand shooting out to grasp his wrist.

"Hey, wait!" You pulled his hand away. He let you, watching you with exaggerated patience. "We have an anomaly in the Petrova Line, we don't have time for-Hey!"

Ryland's hands found purchase on your upper ribs, fingers wriggling in between the spaces of your bones.

"Oh yeah," He said as you started giggling. "This is a good spot, I think I'll hang out here for a while."

You tried to pry his hands off, and when that didn't work, you moved to pushing at his shoulders.

"Tell me something," Ryland continued, unphased by your shoving. "Did you ask for this shirt to be put on the Hail Mary?"

"What- no!" You choked out.

"It's just interesting, don't you think? That you'd get a shirt with tickling on it, I mean - given that you love this. Interesting coincidence."

"Grace, please."

"Oh, it's 'Grace' now, is it?"

"Stop - talking -" You forced yourself to say, attempting to twist away from his offending hands. Ryland was on you in a flash, pushing your body until your side was pressed into the mattress. He braced a leg on the bed, crowding you in.

"Shit shit shit!" You hissed when his hand started squeezing along your side.

"Language!" Ryland scolded, his voice taking on that specific Teacher Tone he undoubtedly used on rowdy teenagers. His other hand came up to the side of your neck and ear, scribling lightly. Your laughter kicked up a notch.

"I-" You struggled to speak. "I bet that-"

"What is it?" You could hear the grin in Ryland's voice, but he didn't slow his hands. You curled in on yourself and turned towards the mattress in an attempt to protect your stomach, and wrapped your arms around your middle.

"I can't hear what you're saying if you're trying to crawl inside the mattress." Ryland chuckled somewhere above you. He slowed his hands to gentle tracing, and you took in a gulp of air. You moved your head to rest your cheek against the mattress, trying to catch your breath.

"I bet that Rocky swears all the time." You shot Ryland a look. "We just can't tell because it's all in Eridian."

"Huh." Ryland paused. Clearly the thought hadn't occured to him before. You watched him for a moment longer, calculating the precise moment his brain kicked into theory high gear. When you spotted it, you launched yourself off the bed.

"Hey!"

You didn't wait to see if Ryland followed you. If you ran fast enough you could make it to the comms and lock the door behind you. Hopefully. You'd need to override Ryland's access first. But you were better at the controls than him.

Rocky startled away from his work as you stumbled into the lab.

"What wrong, question?" He asked, tone rising in alarm.

"Can't talk, gotta run!" You called to him, barrelling through the lab to the next hatch. You were almost there, you just had to make it up the deck.

A pair of arms caught you just as your hands brushed against the doorway. Ryland hauled you back, one arm over the front of your shoulders, the other wrapping around your middle and immediately back to squeezing at your side.

"Where are you off in a rush to?" Ryland asked. Instinctively, you tried to bend foward to protect yourself, but his arm held you up against his chest.

"Nohowhere!" You clutched at his forearm.

"Nowhere? You sure you weren't going to lock me out of the comms?" He asked.

Damn it.

"How did you knohow?" You tried kicking your leg to get out of his grip. You were unsuccessful.

"Human having fun time, question?" Rocky's voice interrupted whatever Ryland was going to say next. For better or worse, Rocky was used to the two of you behaving like this. Ryland had made sure to be very thorough in explaining tickling to Rocky, the first time the Eridian had witnessed this scenario.

"Oh yeah, you bet they are." Ryland answered for you. You tried another kick. Ryland adjusted his hold on you and lowered his hand to squeeze your hip. You yelped, and felt Ryland laugh against your back.

"Why human run if this is fun time, question?" Right, yeah, Rocky didn't understand everything.

"It's part of the fun." Ryland was speaking, ignoring your protests. "It raises excitement and anticipation, and that in turn makes the person more sensitive."

Okay. You couldn't listen to this.

"Truce, truce, truce!" You gasped out, smacking Ryland in the forearm repeatedly. He stopped, loosening his arms just enough to make sure you had your footing. You lowered yourself to the ground, bracing your palms against the floor.

"You okay?" Ryland asked from above. You shot him a look, making him chuckle. "Yeah, you're fine." He reached down to ruffle your hair lightly, and wandered off to the lab table.

Rocky rolled over to you.

"Can breathe okay, question?"

"Yeah," You were still a little breathless. "I can breathe, don't worry."

"Had fun, question?"

You hesitated, then nodded your head. Rocky gave a thumbs up at your affirmative. You did a thumbs up back.

When you looked over at Ryland sitting at the lab table, he seemed to be smiling a little too widely. You ignored the flip in your stomach.

"Are you finally going to tell me about that anomaly?" You asked, trying to play it cool, as you got to your feet. Ryland waved you over, and tilted the screen towards you when you got to the lab table. You leaned forward a little, focused on absorbing as much of the information as possible. Your maths was solid, but not as quick as Ryland's. The web had just begun to untangle in your brain when Ryland spoke up.

"You should wear that tshirt more often."

Your brain stuttered to a stop, head snapping to the side. He was looking at you over his glasses from his perch on the stool. A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Uh." You cleared your throat. Looked back at the screen. "I'll think about it."

///

The first time the thought crossed your head, you were trying to catch your breath, flopped uselessly on Matt's bed. He pulled you in to him, arm wrapping securely around your waist, and you wrapped yours around him in return.

Things usually ended up this way - a playful remark, a sharp tease, a scuffle, you under Matt as he tickled you until you were pink. Maybe not a daily occurence, but often enough that you both knew the dance. Each time was as fun as the last.

As your palm rested against Matt's ribs, feeling each breath, you thought, what if I turned the tables on him?

Matt reached up the length of your arm and pulled your hand away from his ribs. Fingers lacing your palms together, he tucked your joined hands to his chest.

"You should sleep." He murmured against your cheek. "It's late."

You were asleep before you could think further on your idea.

@

The second time the thought crossed your mind was on an early morning in the middle of the week. A few days had passed since it had first occured to you, but now you were fixated. It was all you could think about.

You leaned against the cupboard, nursing your coffee, and watched Matt.

His back was turned to you, busy with arranging his breakfast. He had already dressed for the day, minus the tie, and his sleeves were rolled up instead of buttoned at the wrists.

You watched the expanse of his back as he shifted. Would a massage tickle him?

Your eyes flickered to the right. Everyone has sensitive ribs, surely that would get him giggling?

You tapped your finger against the rim of your mug.

Maybe the back of his neck was ticklish?

Matt placed the knife down and wiped his hands on a dishtowel, back still to you.

You set your mug down and approached.

Before your hand could even make contact with his shirt, Matt whirled on you, hands grabbing at your ribs. You doubled over immediately.

"I didn't even do anythihing!" You complained through laughter.

"You intended and planned to. Us lawyers call that 'criminal conspiracy'." Matt said, fingers wiggling between your ribs. You twisted away, and Matt let you slip out of his arms easily. You walked backwards until your back hit the cupboard you leaned against earlier.

Matt was grinning.

"How did you even know what I was going to do?" You asked, slightly breathless from the shock, bracing your hand on the edge of the sink next to you.

"I could hear you thinking."

You scoffed. "You can't possibly hear when people are thinking."

Matt gave a light shrug. "I can."

He grabbed his plate and made his way around the kitchen island.

You narrowed your eyes at his retreating figure. What was innocent curiosity at first, now turned into a need to prove him wrong. You were going to get Matt laughing under your fingers.

"You won't win this fight." Matt said matter-of-factly, settling on the armchair. He tilted his head slightly towards you. "You may as well stop now."

You picked up your mug and took a sip.

Game, start.

@

You waited.

You weren't stupid. You knew that if you tried again too soon, you'd have no chance of success. You had to wait until Matt lowered his defenses. And his defenses were definitely up, with the way he listened to your movements more closely, or how he maneuvered your arms so they were away from his sides and ribs at all times. He was acting like a man with something to hide.

A week and a half had passed before you decided it was safe to try again.

"I come bearing gifts!" You announced to the room, pushing the door to Nelson & Murdock open with your shoulder.

Foggy was on his feet and in front of you within a nanosecond.

"What did you get?" He asked, peeking into the brown paper bag in your hand. "Ooh, donuts - you're a lifesaver!"

You let him snatch the bag from you. "Also coffee."

You followed Foggy to his desk.

"Oh, just-" he said around a mouthful of donut. "Shuffle some pages around, it's all a mess anyway."

You did as he said, pushing aside some printouts and pens, making space on the desk to set down the cupholder and coffees.

"Rough case?" You asked.

"Eh." Foggy made a vague gesture with his hand. You glanced to the closed door to Matt's office.

"Did he even leave the room today?"

Foggy followed your gaze. "He's been on calls all day."

You nodded, humming low in your throat. Foggy narrowed his eyes at you.

"What are you planning?" He asked.

"Hm? What do you mean?" You feigned innocence.

"You and Matt have the same look, you know." Foggy said. "When you're scheming."

You smiled sweetly.

"Okay, well, whatever it is -" Foggy pointed a sugar-coated finger at you, "-leave me out of it."

The door to Matt's office clicked open, so you didn't answer. Instead, you sent Foggy a quick salute, and turned to Matt.

"Hey," he said softly, sliding an arm around your shoulders, "what are you doing here?"

"Cabin fever." You said. "Couldn't stand being inside for a moment longer."

"So you came to sit inside the office?" Matt chuckled lightly.

"Better company." You put on your best enticing voice, tilting your head up to his.

"Okay, guys?" Foggy piped up from his seat. "I'm gonna need you to take this elsewhere if you're gonna act all mushy."

"Alright, let's not kill Foggy today. I need him on this case." Matt laughed, steering you to his office.

"Don't eat all the donuts!" You called to Foggy over your shoulder. He waved a dismissive hand, already back to scanning through files. You snickered under your breath, and the door to Matt's office clicked shut.

You walked idly towards Matt's desk, turned your back to it, and perched lightly on it's edge. Matt remained standing near the door, hands on his hips.

"Foggy said you had a lot of calls today." You said, because you could see Matt's defenses rising up again. You needed him to not think if you wanted this to work.

"Uh, yeah." He said, as if snapping our of a trance. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Lots of witnesses but no one willing to give a statement."

You frowned. "That's suspicious."

"Yeah, exactly." Matt agreed with an amused sort of huff. He made his way to your perch.

"Are you going to Daredevil them into talking?" You asked, reaching out your hands to rest on his biceps when he was close enough. His hands came to hold your elbows gently.

"At this rate, I might have to." He sighed heavily. You hummed sympathetically, sliding your hands up to his shoulders.

"What's a little light blackmailing for the greater good?" You joked, smoothing over Matt's collar. He chuckled.

"You make me sound like a criminal." His fingers squeezed at your elbows lightly.

"Me?" You gasped dramatically. You slid your hands down his chest. "I would never."

You fought to keep cool and collected. You were almost at your target - Matt's ribs. If you could just slide your hands out a little bit, underneath his arms, you could strike.

Matt's hands left your elbows and latched onto your sides.

"What the-" You cut yourself off, trying to hold your laughter in.

"Nice try." Matt said around a smug smile, squeezing at your waist.

"How did you know?" You demanded, twitching from the tingling in your sides.

"You're not as sneaky as you think." Matt said easily. He tugged the hem of your tshirt up so he could slip his hands under the fabric.

"Don't-" You jumped at the feeling of his nails scribbling over your skin. "- Matt, come on. Foggy's gonna hear-"

"But you wanted him to hear me?" Matt interrupted. "Should have thought through your plan more carefully."

Damn him, he was right.

Helpless giggling broke through your defenses. In an attempt to muffle the sound, you pressed your face into Matt's shoulder. You could feel him shaking a little from his own laughter.

"Will you keep your hands to yourself?" He asked, scratching at your lower back.

"Yes, yes!" You nodded against his shirt.

Matt gave one last squeeze to your sides that made you jolt. "Good."

You emerged from your hiding place, heaving a breath. Matt was smiling down at you, and reached a hand up to brush stray strands of hair away from your forehead.

A smirk stretched its way across your face.

Matt, sensing the shift in your mood, paused his movements. "What?"

Silently, you raised your hand in front of you. Matt frowned, then took your raised hand in his, feeling what you were trying to show him.

"Are you serious right now?" He asked in disbelief.

"Mwa-ha-ha!" You exaggerated an evil laugh, waving your crossed middle and forefinger in front of Matt's face.

Matt tilted his head back with a heavy sigh. "You're impossible."

"You'd get bored if I wasn't." You said, guiding his head back toward you with gentle hands. You leaned up a fraction, and Matt followed, meeting your lips in a sweet kiss.

You weaved your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. His hands rested on the outside of your thighs. You trailed your free hand to the side of his neck.

"Don't even think about it." Matt murmured against your lips just as you were about to curl your fingers behind his ear.

"Booo." You said, leaning back. "You're no fun."

Matt smirked and placed a quick kiss on the side of your nose. "I think Foggy's getting suspicious."

"Of what?" You frowned.

"Of what exactly we're getting up to in here. He's been working up the courage to knock on the door for the past two minutes."

You snorted. "We should put him out of his misery then."

You pushed yourself off the desk, Matt stepping to the side to let you through. When you opened the door to Matt's office, Foggy was indeed hovering nearby with a sheaf of documents.

"He's all yours, Foggy." You announced. Foggy regarded you with sharp eyes.

"I take it whatever you planned didn't work." He surmised, accurately.

"I have no idea what you're referring to." You lied.

@

When the badger glimmered away into another garden

you stood, half-lit with whiskey,

You looked up from your book.

Matt sat on the opposite end of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. He was trailing his fingers over a case document in braille.

It was late. The living room window was cracked open behind you, letting in cool night air and sounds of never sleeping city life. You sat with your back resting against the armrest of the couch, feet tucked close to you on top of the cushions. Matt had tried persuading you to get to sleep, saying he has to catch up on some reading, but you insisted on keeping him company. At least for a little while.

You turned back to the poem in front of you.

sensing you had disturbed

some soft returning.

The murdered dead, you thought.

But it could not have been

You looked up again.

Matt had a soft, worn tshirt on, in a dark grey colour. You could see a small hole at the seam on his shoulder. With how he was positioned, you couldn't help but notice he left his waist and ribs exposed. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to formulate a plan, and went back to reading.

some violent shattered boy

nosing out what got misla-

You zeroed in on Matt's torso again.

"Don't even try." Matt said evenly, not pausing his reading. You flopped your book against your thighs.

"I didn't even move." You said.

Matt tilted his head towards you with an expression that said 'we're really going to do this?'

"I just don't get why you won't let me tickle you." You huffed.

"I don't get why you're so set on tickling me." Matt replied.

"I want to hear you laugh."

"You hear me laugh all the time."

"Aha!" You pointed a triumphant finger at him. "You know that's not the same, you told me so yourself!"

Matt smiled and turned back to his braille. "You're not tickling me."

You shot a childish grimace in his direction and picked up your book.

nosing out what got mislaid

between the cradle and the explosion,

Slowly, casually, you stretched your legs out across the length of the couch.

evenings when windows stood open

Gently, your feet made contact with Matt's body. One foot rested near his hip, the other slightly higher against his waist.

You stopped moving, eyes on the page in front of you. Matt flipped a page in his documents.

and the compost smoked down the backs?

You wiggled your toes against his side with exactly two movements, before your foot got snatched by the ankle and pulled into Matt's lap. He scribbled his hand over the bottom of your foot.

You didn't have a chance at composure. Loud laughter escaped your lungs and you twisted, hard, your book falling to the floor.

"What did I tell you?" Matt asked over your laughter.

You were too busy laughing to respond. You yanked your leg but Matt calmly brought it back to him, continuing his attack.

"You know," he continued. "I'm starting to think this whole thing is an elaborate plot to get me to tickle you more."

"It's nohot!" You exclaimed.

"I bet you weren't even reading." Matt said.

"I wahas!"

"Yeah? What was your poem about?"

"Bahadgers!"

"Badgers? And what were the badgers doing?" Matt wrapped his arm more securely around your calf.

"I don't knohow!" You cried. "Explohoding?"

"Exploding badgers." Matt snickered.

"Matt, plehease!"

Matt lowered your leg so it rested against his thigh. Warm hand laid on your ankle, and he used his free arm to lean closer to you over the couch cushions.

"You know what they call it when someone keeps doing the same thing over and over and expects different results?" He asked.

"Don't quote Einstein at me right now." You huffed, flopping your head back against the armrest. You closed your eyes and willed your heart to slow down.

"How much longer are you going to keep doing this?" Matt's voice brought you back from your meditation.

You raised your head up a fraction. "Until it works."

Matt chuckled airily, shaking his head in disbelief. He straightened back, leaning over to the coffee table to pick up his documents again. You flexed your foot against his thigh.

"You could just let me." You informed him, watching him expectantly.

Matt paused his shuffling. His mind was hard at work, you could tell.

"We'll see." He said finally.

A wide grin stretched over your face.

@

There was a shuffling sound, followed by a light thud and click as something latched into place.

Eyes still closed, you felt for your phone under the pillow. The bright light made your eyes water when you looked at the screen.

4:33am

Daredevil was home, then.

You listened carefully for any familiar sounds of distress; groaning, stumbling, the first aid cupboard rattling open. None came. Matt's footsteps were steady, heading directly to the bathroom.

The shower turned on.

Releasing a breath, you slipped your phone back under your pillow and stretched out onto your back.

You must have drifted back to sleep, because the next thing that registered in your mind was Matt climbing onto the mattress. Instead of going to his side of the bed, he climbed directly onto you.

You groaned slightly when he let his whole weight rest on top of you, but your arms came round to hold him closer. Matt buried his face in the crook of your shoulder with a long exhale. You weaved your fingers through his wet hair, the smell of shampoo drifting towards you. Your other hand rested between his shoulder blades.

"How did it go?" You whispered, unwilling to break the silence fully.

Matt groaned quietly. "The usual." He matched his volume to yours.

"Any injuries?" You rubbed your hand down the length of his back gently.

"Just a few punches. Barely felt it."

The conversation drifted off into comfortable silence. Matt adjusted his position on top of you slightly, melting further into you. You slipped your hand under his tshirt and continued your gentle massage.

Matt's breathing deepened, and you thought he had fallen asleep. You trailed your hand down to his side, intending to rest your elbow against the mattress but continue embracing him.

His head twitched against your shoulder. Imperceptible, if he weren't pressed against you.

Putting on a sleepy sigh to hide your heart skipping in excitement, you turned your head to rest your chin against Matt's hair. He sniffed lightly, settling again.

You watched the ceiling through the darkness, and waited a beat. Then another. And another.

With barely-there pressure, you curled your fingers against the soft skin on Matt's waist.

This time, the muscles under your hand twitched.

You bit at the corner of your mouth to hold back from grinning.

As casually as possible, you trailed your fingers up across Matt's lower back, then down again to his waist.

"I know what you're doing." Matt mumbled sleepily into your skin.

"Oh yeah?" You challenged, curling your fingers again, a little quicker. This twitch was slightly more controlled, but still noticeable. "You're not doing anything to stop me."

Matt made a vague sound from the back of his throat, but stayed still, arms curling up under the pillow you rested on. You took this as a sign to continue.

You increased your pace slightly, swirling looping patterns over the expanse of his skin. His shoulder flexed whenever you reached up to his bottom rib.

But you needed more.

Time to switch tactics. Zeroed in on that lowest rib, you scribbled your fingers even faster. You continued in this way until you felt Matt's lips twitch into a smile against your neck. He made a small huffing sound, like he was trying not to laugh.

You moved your other hand from his hair, and copied your movements on his other side. A full chuckle left Matt, making you grin triumphantly.

You pinched at his sides.

"Alright, alrihight!" Matt laughed brightly, reaching behind him to pull your hands away. He raised his head a little, nose brushing against your jaw. "Are you satisfied now?"

You hummed skeptically.

Matt rolled his eyes, but settled back into your shoulder. "You're unbelievable."

"And you let me tickle you." You teased.

"Don't get used to it."

You settled back into the pillow, smiling widely.

///

Your hand slipped, tip of the key scraping against the door noisily.

"God damnit - piece of -" you hissed under your breath, trying to aim for the lock again. You hand swayed, aiming too high, then too far to the left, then too low. Huffing, you shook your arm out, hoping to reset it somehow. You aimed at the lock again.

"Come on, come on, come o-" you whispered.

The door opened.

You blinked. Looked up.

"Hey!" You called, grin splitting on your face.

"Hey." Bucky echoed, already stepping aside and ushering you in.

"I coulnd't get the-" you said, stumbling in over the doormat, bumping into the doorframe, and reaching out to push the door shut.

"The key, yeah." Bucky finished your sentence for you, hand coming up to steady you by your upper arm. "I heard you cursing it out."

"We need a bigger lock." You said, bending down to force your shoes off.

"Yeah?" Bucky asked with a light chuckle, already crouching in front of you to help with your shoes.

You looked down at him, immediately distracted. His hair was inky in the low light that barely filtered in from the kitchen. It looked really soft.

You weaved your fingers into his hair, brushing it back off his forehead in repetitive motions. It was even softer than it looked.

Bucky eased both of your shoes off, placing them neatly by the door like you always did. You kept your hands in his hair.

"Did you have fun?" He looked up at you, hands cupping the back of your calves.

"Bucky, it was so fun!" You exclaimed, lolling your head back dramatically. "I had so much to drink."

"I can tell." He teased, getting to his feet. His arm, warm and solid, wrapped around your shoulders and steered you towards the kitchen. "Let's get you some water."

"We danced, too." You told him, wobbling over to lean against the dining table. "The music wasn't that good but then Lady Gaga came on so we had no choice."

"Gotta dance to Gaga." Bucky agreed, handing you a glass of water.

"Gotta dance to Gaga." You nodded, the movement making your head swim. You grimaced, shutting one eye.

"You okay?" Bucky's hands rubbed your arms gently. You waved off his worry, taking a drink from your glass. "You didn't walk home, did you?"

You shook your head, swallowing. "Alex was the debi- devis- devig-"

"Designated driver." Bucky supplied.

"That." You snapped your fingers and pointed at him. "She drove us all back. Waited till I was inside the building."

"Good." His eyes were soft when you looked up at him.

"She's a gentleman." You said gravely.

The smile that spread on his face was blinding. "That she is."

You set the glass next to you on the table and leaned your weight onto Bucky. His arms wrapped around you protectively.

"You should come next time." You said, cheek squished into his collarbone.

"I thought the rule was no boyfriends allowed." Bucky sounded amused.

"Rule-schmule." You grumbled, making his shoulders shake with quiet laughter. "Would've been better with you there."

"Aw," his hands started trailing delicate lines over your back. "You flatter me."

You let out a small huff through your nose, relaxing against him, enjoying the tingling sensation from his fingers. Your eyes slipped shut. Bucky's shirt smelled faintly of cologne, familiar and comforting. Your focus divided between his hands and how his chest rose and fell slowly with each breath he took. You were warm, and comfortable, and you never wanted to move.

Bucky's hands caught on the back of your ribs, making you squirm.

"That tickles." You mumbled sleepily.

"Sorry." Bucky's voice was hushed, and his hands stilled, resting gently against your shoulder blades.

"It's okay, it's nice." You said, pressing your face further against his shoulder like a cat. "I like it."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. I like it when you tickle me." You continued, getting dizzy again as your brain turned more and more asleep. "You should do it more often."

"I see." You heard him say through the fog of sleep. He gathered you up in his arms, ignoring your groans of protest. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

@

You woke with a start, choking on half a snore.

You coughed half-heartedly, cleared your throat, and breathed deeply. Eyes still closed, you mentally assessed your situation.

Headache, yes, but no nausea. That was a good sign. It meant that while, yes you did get completely drunk last night, you had not gone over your limit.

You stretched your body carefully. Your legs and feet ached, and you vaugely remembered attempting a death drop to Lady Gaga. You groaned, turning onto your stomach. Your phone buzzed, so you forced your eyes open.

Your friend group chat had thirty-six messages. Twenty of those were pitcutes from last night.

You decided to deal with that later.

You turned in bed until you started tipping off the edge of the mattress, bracing your legs against the cold floor. Then, with great effort, you pushed yourself up by your palms. You paused, reassesing.

Still no nausea.

Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen.

Bucky stood at the counter, scraping butter onto some toast.

"Morning." He said over his shoulder when he heard you enter.

"Hi." Your voice was croaky. Bucky didn't comment, simply passing you a mug of coffee. "Oh, thank god."

You leaned your hip against the counter, taking a long drink. Bucky, finished with his task, placed the toast on a plate and slid it over to you. You moved the mug to your other hand and snatched a slice of toast, whipping it up to your mouth. Bucky leaned back against the counter not too far from you, holding his own mug.

He was looking at you curiously.

After a moment, you stopped mid-chew. "What?"

He didn't answer, but shook his head lightly to indicate nothing was going on.

"Did I do something last night?" You asked, suddenly nervous. "Oh god, was I a lot to deal with?"

"No, you were fine." Bucky was quick to reassure. He paused for a moment, then added, hiding his curving smile in his mug. "Chatty."

Dread crawled up your spine. You lowered the toast back onto the plate.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing." Too quick.

"Bucky."

"Nothing bad." He amended, smile still in place.

"But something." You insisted. "I embarrassed myself, didn't I?"

"I wouldn't say it's embarrassing." Bucky said. "Cute, though."

"Are you going to tell me what I said, or are you going to stand there all smug?" You demanded, setting your mug down on the counter as well. You tried looking stern, but you were too flustered by how amused Bucky looked. Almost gleeful.

"I don't know," he mused, teasing, "I kind of like you like this."

"I'll freak out if you don't tell me." You threatened, feeling anxiety crawl up your throat.

"You'll freak out if I do."

You covered your eyes with your palm. "So it is bad."

"Hey, come on." The mug clinked against the counter as Bucky set it down. His hands came to your shoulders, squeezing in reassurance. "I promise it's fine. You were fine. You didn't say anything bad, or embarrassing, or weird. I think it might make you feel a little exposed, though."

"Just say it." You lowered your hand and looked at him. That odd half-smile, part satisfaction, part glee, returned to his face.

"Well," he said, slowly dragging his hands down your arms. "It involves a certain activity. And your enjoyment of it."

You frowned at him. "What, did I try to climb you like a tree? Why is this even a conversa-"

"No, no." The smile widened. His hands trailed to your sides. "It's more to do with making you laugh."

You watched him for a moment as your mind, slower because of the hangover induced headache, absorbed his words. When it did, you felt your face heat.

"Oh my god." You whispered in horror, closing your eyes. Bucky drew you in closer.

"You said tickling is nice." He continued, happiness dripping from his voice. "That you like it when I tickle you."

"I'm going to walk off a cliff." You groaned, bringing a hand up to your face.

Bucky dipped his head closer to your ear. "You said I should do it more often."

You froze completely, as if, maybe, if you didn't move - didn't breathe - then this situation would disappear.

"I'm not hearing a 'no'." Bucky said.

You paused in your sprialling for a moment. Considered the circumstances.

Technically, you reasoned with yourself, this was probably the best case scenario for you. The difficult - and embarrassing, regardless of what Bucky thinks - part was done. You didn't have to work through anxiety and self-consciousness and freaking out to get the words out to him. You just said them, no second guessing.

Now you culd just…enjoy the results.

And still freak out a little.

So, instead of pulling back, shutting yourself away, pulling your walls back up, you wrapped your arms around Bucky. Your cheek pressed into his collarbone, in much the same way as the night before.

"It's not a 'no'." You said quietly. "But you're not allowed to be mean about it."

"I'd never be mean." He reassured, hands tentatively starting to move over the fabric of your tshirt. When you didn't pull away, he sped up slightly, just enough to make you shiver and squirm. "You're not really laughing."

"Mm." You hummed, suddenly feeling bolder. "Maybe you're not good at this."

"Oh, okay." Bucky said, instantly scribbling against your ribcage. You burst out laughing immediately at the change. "I see how it is."

"Alright, alrihight!" You pushed at his shoulders. "I'm sohory!"

"Are you?"

"Yehes, I take it back!" You twisted to try and ease away from the feeling. "Please, I have a headache."

"Okay." Bucky obediently stopped his hands. "But only because of the headache."

He let you step away from his embrace, and you leaned over the counter to grab your coffee. Bucky waited until you were taking a sip before speaking.

"We'll continue when you're not hungover."

You choked on the coffee, coughing and spluttering, warm liquid dripping down your chin and the front of your tshirt. Bucky burst into bright, unashamed laughter.

You ignored him, as well as the heat in your cheeks, and meandered around his shaking body to grab a paper towel. Bucky's laugh filtered out to a soft snicker behind you as you dried your face.

"Let me get you some painkillers." He said, mirth still playing around in his voice. His hand trailed lightly over your lower back as he walked past you to the medicine cabinet.

Silently, you raised your eyes to the havens with a plea.

///

"Uh oh." Ryland announced.

You opened your eyes and tilted your head far back against the floor, looking at Ryland upside down.

"You okay down there?" Upside Down Ryland asked, hovering.

You stayed unmoving, sprawled on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Which was covered in a mess of textbooks, notebooks, printouts, pens, and highlighters.

"We're never speaking about physics again." You told him. You closed your eyes and straightened your head. "I've moved on."

"You've moved on?" Ryland chuckled, his voice moving across the room.

"Yes." You nodded resolutely. "I'm above physics now. It can't hurt me."

"Physics doesn't hurt!" Pages shuffled, and you heard Ryland settle on the floor by your legs. Hands grabbed at yours and pulled gently.

"Then why do I have a raging headache right now?" You asked, letting yourself be pulled up to a sitting position.

"How much coffee did you have?" Ryland asked.

"None." You said. When he kept looking at you expectantly, you relented with a sigh. "I had two energy drinks."

"Well," his voice took on a distinct 'I-told-you-so' tone. "There's the headache."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." You waved a hand at him. "Physics started it."

"What are you stuck on?"

You heaved a sigh, handing him your flashcards. "These."

Ryland flipped through them. A little too quickly for your confidence.

"Just these six?" He looked up over his glasses at you. "That's not so bad."

He shuffled the cards and held one up towards you.

"The force needed to extend or compress a spring by some distance scales linearly with respect to that distance." He said, as if that cleared anything up.

You buried your face in your hands, letting out a weak noise of distress.

"Hey, hey - no, no, no," Ryland's hands immediately came to yours. "It's okay, take it easy."

"I'm doomed." You announced, letting him pull your hands away from your face.

"You're not doomed." Ryland said firmly. "You just need…motivation."

"Oh yeah, like what?" You deadpanned. You were so over this.

Something sparked in Ryland's eyes.

"Let's try this." He settled a hand on your knee and picked up a flashcard with the other. "What is the formula for Hooke's Law?"

"That's the -" You squinted, trying to focus. "F equals….kx?"

Ryland nodded. "What does that mean?"

"Applied force equals…spring constant…" You trailed off, unsure.

Ryland squeezed at your knee, making you jump and squeak. "Focus."

You started at him, stunned. "What the fu-"

He looked up from the flashcard with a raised eyebrow.

"…fudge?"

His smile was equal parts self-satisfaction and amusement.

"Applied force equals spring constant and…?" He prompted.

"Uh." You faltered. "Acceleration?"

"Nope." He gave a few rapid squeezes to your knee, raising his voice to speak over your laughter. "Want to try that again?"

"I don't knohow!" You exclaimed, trying to pry his fingers away.

"Extension/compression." Ryland said, flipping to the next flashcard. His hand settled on top of your knee, resting. Hesitantly, you released his wrist.

"What is Kepler's First Law of Planetary Motion?"

"The Law of Orbits?" At his nod, you continued. "Planets move around the sun in elliptical orbits."

Ryland started slowly walking his fingers up the length of your thigh. "And?"

"And - uh." You scrambled to remember and stay focused. "Oh! The sun is the focus, not the orbit."

The hand stilled again. You knocked it away.

"Quit it with the hand-walking thing." You snapped.

"Why? Does that make it harder to think?" His grin was lethal.

"Oho no. No way." You pointed at him. "I am not falling for that."

"Not falling for what?" Ryland's voice quietened dangerously.

"No." You braced your hand in front of you, as if to ward him off.

"Not falling for what?" Ryland repeated, leaning into you, hand shooting out to pinch at your side, completely bypassing your outstretched arm.

You tried to scuttle backwards, but the space between the couch and the coffee table was too tight, and Ryland was too quick. You both went down with a thump, your elbow bumping into the edge of the table.

"Come on, use your words." Ryland was speaking to you.

You were too busy fending his hands off to even consider speaking to him. Ryland grabbed your left wrist with his left hand, and pulled your arm across your torso to immobilise you. His right hand landed on your stomach, fingers spidering with maddening precision. A choked sound forced its way up your throat, and you clenched your teeth to keep it in.

"Sounds like you're struggling down there." Ryland observed. "It would be easier if you laugh."

"I don't -" you forced through gritted teeth "-want to."

Ryland grinned widely. "Why not?"

You tried yanking your caught arm. He leaned a little more weight on it in response.

"Because-" you grunted "- you can't - win!"

Ryland laughed at your words. He leaned in a little closer over you.

"Between you and me," he said conspirationally, "I've already won."

"You're such an asshole-NO!" Your insult got cut off as Ryland started kneading up and down your side. You pulled your knee up to try and shield yourself, or push him away maybe, you weren't sure. Ryland pushed it back down with his elbow, continuing his attack.

"You know, you should be nicer to me." He informed you. "Considering the position you're in."

You bit back an insult, laughing loudly. Or maybe your laughter was too strong to fully form an insult. You didn't know. You couldn't focus. Or think.

Ryland seemed to know exactly what was going on in your mind, and decided to torment you some more.

"Applied force equals?" He asked, and then, when you didn't react, "Hey. Are you listening?"

He laughed when you nodded your head desperately. That made it worse.

"Focus." His fingers spidered up to your ribs. "What's the rest of the formula?"

"Spring-" You gasped, twisting against his hand. "Spring constahant -"

"Almost there." Ryland encouraged, though his tone implied otherwise. You groaned in frustration through your laughter, trying to free yourself again. "Oh dear."

"Shuhut up!"

"Finish the formula."

"Arrgh!"

Ryland's laugh was delighted. You hated it.

You closed your eyes tightly and willed your brain to focus. He had told you the formula. It was just moments ago. You could remember it, regardless of his hand feeling every rib like he was committing them to memory.

"Spring constahant times -" You recited, jolting when Ryland, purposely you were sure, moved to rub his thumb into your hip "- extehension/compression!"

"I knew you could do it." Ryland said, pulling his hands back.

You lifted your hand to flip him off, but thought better of it. You flopped your arm out against the floorboard.

"You're sick." You panted. "You're a sick individual."

"You love it."

You opened one eye, glaring half-heartedly. Ryland only grinned, settling back on the floor.

"Now, how many flashcards did you have left?" He asked, reaching for the rectangular pieces of paper.

Your heart stopped.

"Ryland." You implored. "I really don't think this is necessary."

"It helped, didn't it?" He looked at you over his glasses. "I'm just looking out for your education."

"Liar." You said, without much heat, pushing your foot into his side in admonishment.