A Cure for Butterflies || The Owl House Tickle Fic ||
A/N: i got distracted from my other WIP because i caught a sudden case of the I-Love-Dadrius. they are so close to my heart and i just HAD to write them something. they need more t-fics just sayin. enjoy, my lovelies!
Summary: Tonight was the last Flyer Derby match of the season, and Hunter is feeling some pre-game jitters. Luckily, he has Darius to provide him with a helpful remedy.
Word count: 2,141
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Being the Emperor's right hand man and faithful soldier meant you had to acquire certain mental blockades in order to do what must be done. Life will throw imminent death and devastation your way, and you must be ready with a steady hand and a clear mind. Those who do not keep their cool under pressure end up getting crushed beneath it. This fortitude not only kept you alive in the Emperor's Coven, but preserved your sanity, your state of mind. It's a skill that is reinforced with years of practice and discipline.
A skill that was doing Hunter zero favors right now.
Tonight was the last game of the Flyer Derby season, and the Emerald Entrails were determined to go out on a win. They had hit a rough patch earlier in the season, but they were nothing if not scrappy. They were the best team this side of the Isles, so there wasn't much need for worry. But that fact didn't do anything to ease Hunter's anxiety.
It was embarrassing, really. Two years ago, he was a cold-blooded soldier with a ferocious appetite for danger. Now, he was frantically bouncing his leg up and down, stewing over what could go wrong at tonight's game. Where was all that bravado when he needed it? Why was it so much easier to be brave when he had nothing to lose?
He supposes he's answered his own question.
He was feared and respected, yes, but he was not happy. He didn't even know what happy looked like. He thought he did, but he had no idea. It was an entirely new color, invisible to his naĂŻve eyes. But once he could see its hues, they sprouted from every acre of red grass on the Isles, lit up the blood orange sky, dusted his cheeks rose-red. He hadn't realized how fast or far he had been running from fear all his life until his new friends had given him permission to stop. He was safe now. No longer under the control of Belos, no longer honor-bound by his sworn Coven. He was just Hunter. Just the spirited child that he should have been all along.
The downside of this being that his mental defenses were not what they used to be. Now that his brain knew that it was safe to fall apart, he found it difficult to pull himself back together again.
Hunter sat hunched over on the green sofa in Darius's living room (or his living room, he guessed). He had been living with the former Coven Head for a year now. They had moved past the initial stage of awkwardness that came with sharing a space together and were now perfectly comfortable in each other's presence. When Darius had brought the adoption papers to Hunter, he was strangely terrified that his fatherly affections were unwanted. Titan, how wrong he was. Hunter had nearly broken poor Darius's back with the tackling force of his hug. Ever since, the two had only grown closer, trust and safety blooming between them every day.
"Are you just going to sit there watching the floor until the game? Shall I make some tea for the long wait?" Darius asked with his usual smirk, filled with haughty sarcasm.
Hunter startled, as he had not heard Darius enter the room. He was surprised to find him looking at him incredulously. A beat passed, and Hunter attempted a fake laugh at the joke. It was more pathetic than he intended.
Darius knew the boy well enough to know when something was bothering him. Even a blind witch could see Hunter's inner turmoil from a mile away. He made his way to the boy's side and sat, eyes never leaving his
"Talk to me" he said, gentler than before.
Hunter took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, and turned to Darius.
"I don't know why I'm so nervous," he growled. "This game is no different than the others, so why does it feel so scary? I can't seem to tell my body to relax."
Hunter sighed, shoulders slumping. "I'm just being dumb, I'll be fine tonight. Don't worry."
Like Darius could help it. Like he could turn it off like a switch and continue on unburdened by his son's distress. He recognized Hunter's deflective behaviors, as they were also present in himself. He knew better than to simply leave Hunter to stew; he'd only get further trapped in his own head. Darius would not describe himself as being especially warm, but in that moment, all he wanted to do was wipe away any and all unpleasant feelings from the boy's mind.
He couldn't do that, of course. Not without a degree in Healing magic and fairy tears. Fortunately, he had a back-up plan.
Darius patted Hunter's knee, albeit a little stiffly (he still struggled sometimes dealing with other people). "How about we do some calming rituals to ease your nerves? You still have plenty of time until the game, so you can just relax and focus on releasing the tension in your body."
That seemed to give Hunter hope. He at least stopped leg-bouncing. "How?"
"I've got just the trick," Darius suddenly turned Hunter to face him on the couch. "Close your eyes."
And so he did.
"I want you to imagine your stress as butterflies in a box. The more trapped they are, the more they will flutter inside your head. Picture what the box looks like: its color, its size, its shape. Turn it over in your mind's eye, look at it, hold it, feel its weight."
Hunter's face pinched ever so slightly, concentrating very hard.
Darius continued. "Now, place the box on the ground. Imagine it resting in front of you at your feet. I want you to picture yourself opening that box, releasing all of the butterflies into the sky. Feel every one of those stressful butterflies leaving you, as your mind becomes quiet.
"Now, open your eyes."
The light in the room stung for a moment, and everything had a slight green tint. He blinked, dazed, as he realized Darius was looking at him now.
"How do you feel now?"
How did he feel? The exercise had certainly slowed his breathing, and relaxed his shoulders. He wondered where Darius had thought of that, and why butterflies? Butterflies...
Skara liked butterflies; she had a bracelet with one on it. She considered it her personal good-luck charm in Flyer Derby. Hunter hoped that she wore it tonight, they were gonna need it. This was their last chance to win.
Oh no.
With a despairing moan, Hunter flopped back into the pillows, pushing one into his face.
Darius sighed. Well, that was a failure. That normally worked for himself.
Whatever. Hunter still needed comforting, that was the main issue here.
"Perhaps we should try something else..." Darius suggested.
Hunter growled again (half of his sentences began and ended with growling). "It's hopeless! I can't stop thinking about tonight! And my gut feels all bleughh."
The older witch chuckled at that descriptor.
If the teen had caught that, he didn't show it. "I feel like all those stress butterflies are whizzing around in my stomach, ready to be thrown up."
So much for being a good parent, Darius frowned internally. He was officially out of ideas. Ah, well. If he couldn't get rid of Hunter's anxiety, he could at least draw his attention away from it. That he could do.
Darius put on a deceptively sympathetic smile. "Yes, I know what you mean. Nervous butterflies are troublesome things aren't they?" He shifted towards Hunter, cracking his knuckles. "Well, if they won't come out on their own, we'll just have to force them out."
The boy slowly removed the pillow over his face, not quite trusting that tone. At the sight of his father's devilish smile and articulated digits, his face began to break out into a nervous grin. Before he could ask what that meant, Darius buried his fingers into Hunter's belly and started wiggling them.
Hunter guffawed loudly, much to his horror. He had such an embarrassing laugh. It was high in all the wrong places and was unbecoming of a young man his age. That was what Belos had told him once. He had hated his laugh ever since. But no matter what he thought of it, he still couldn't control it. He laughed wildly as his hands waved around fruitlessly trying to protect his sensitive torso. His belly was one of his most ticklish spots, and Darius knew it too. That conniving bastard. Little shockwaves were being sent through his frame, driving him crazy, preventing him from thinking. He still couldn't decide if he hated it or loved it.
As Hunter giggled helplessly, Darius couldn't resist teasing him for it.
"This'll surely tickle them out. Look at what it's doing to you!"
Hunter turned to bury his face into the back of the sofa in an attempt to hide his cherry-red face. What he didn't know was that his blush went all the way up to his ears and was still visible when he hid his face. No one had ever pointed it out to him.
Darius thought it was adorable.
He made a thoughtful face. "Hmm. They're still some stragglers. I think we'll have to make it tickle more to really get them all out."
Hunter squealed in delightful terror. "NOHOHO! Nohoho we dohohon't!"
His torturer laughed. "Yes, yes we do," he mocked. Abandoning their place at Hunter's stomach, one hand was now climbing it's way up to the boy's armpit, while the other clasped onto his side.
Hunter cackled and twisted about, nearly falling off the sofa in all the commotion. Thankfully, there was an abomination hand waiting to support him. Curse his absurd ticklishness! He had always seen it as a major flaw, one that would deprive him of all respect from his Coven. His friends didn't seem to think of it that way, and neither did Darius. Back then, he might've been upset at being reduced to laughter like this. But with Darius, his friend, his caregiver, his adopted father- he felt completely safe. Completely and utterly loved. And regardless of whether Darius intended it, it was actually helping him relax.
That didn't mean he was going to lie there and take it.
His hands, once planted close to his trunk to try and defend himself, now swatted weakly at Darius's hands.
The older witch spoke again.
"Don't bother pretending you're not enjoying this," he admonished amusedly. "I've seen that smile of yours."
At those words, Hunter flushed a deeper red and tittered.
"That one, right there," Darius pointed, almost cooing. He knew full well that he was embarrassing Hunter by speaking like this, but he just couldn't help himself.
"YOUHUR'RE TICKLING MEHEHE, YOUHOU JERK!" Hunter cried.
"Only to rid you of your butterflies, of course."
The offending witch was suddenly met with a very aggressive hand gesture.
"Well that's just rude! After everything I've done to help you!" he gasped in faux-offense. "I suppose, then, you don't want me to do this."
The pointer finger of the abomination's hand started to burrow itself into the crook of Hunter's neck.
Said witch snorted so loud, he worried that the neighbors would come knocking asking them to keep it down. He couldn't if his life depended on it. One after the other, snorts leapt from out his nose as he tried crushing the abomination with his shoulder.
Hunter was quickly losing himself in hysteria and called out for mercy.
Darius, of course, granted it instantly. He didn't want to kill the poor child.
As he watched the young witch curled into a ball, his laughter dying down, Darius felt a sappy grin overtake his face. The need to reserve his own dignity did not compare to the immense adoration in his heart. Even if this silly game had afforded Hunter only one moment of respite, that was good enough.
With a shake of his head, he stood and turned to start heading to the kitchen.
"Well, this has been a gas, but I need to start making us something to eat so that you don't faint out on the-" Darius turned back to the child just in time to see him sitting upright, arms and legs coiled and ready to spring.
He felt a twinge of dread.
"Don't even think about it, you little- oof!" His words were cut off by the young witch tackling him to the ground. In an instant, he felt treacherous hands digging into his own ticklish spots.
His body betrayed him as he laughed uproariously. And what was worse, Hunter was laughing at him!
Oh, he was going to have to teach this little witchling when to walk away from a fight. Like any good parent should.
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