#lee!sam

Dean rubbed his eyes with a sigh as his little brother pleaded and whined like a baby. “No. You’re 13, dude. No way in hell are you going on a hunt.”

“Why not? You started way before 13!” Sam protested.

“Yeah, but that’s different. I’m the oldest, I can do more younger,” Dean countered, knowing his argument was BS as he sat down on one of the motel beds and loaded his gun.

“Please! I’ve been reading up on lore and practicing shooting, I’m really good!” Sam pleaded.

Dean groaned internally and placed his gun on the nightstand before an idea popped into his head, one that made a smirk appear on his face. “...You know what? Fine. I’ll convince Dad to let you come.”

Sam’s face lit up. “Yes!!”

“But,” Dean started, “you have to pass a test.” Dean almost snorted when Sam straightened up, trying to appear ready for anything. “At ease, soldier.”

“What’s the test?”

Dean grinned. “It’s a test of endurance. You up for it?” 

Sam nodded vigorously. It was cute, how excited the kid was. Little did he know what was coming for him.

“Good. Here’s the test: Don’t laugh.” With that, Dean grabbed his little brother and started vibrating his fingers into his stomach. Sam gasped and grabbed Dean’s wrist, trying to push him away. But Dean was much stronger than him, and didn’t budge. Sam’s smile was toothy and silly, but not a single laugh had escaped his lips. Admittedly, Dean was impressed. He’d expected the tween to burst into laughter right away, but he’d lasted… 20 seconds so far.

“Remember, Sammy, don’t laugh,” Dean teased, just to be a dick. Sam was silently shaking his head and squirming, and it was just too cute to watch. His face was growing red with how hard he was trying not to laugh, and he was using one hand to try and fend Dean off, and the other to pound at Dean’s wrist.

“Ow!’ Dean laughed, as it didn’t hurt at all. “Don’t hit me, bitch!” He was sure that Sam would call him a jerk if he wasn’t focused so hard on not laughing. Dean decided to end the kid’s suffering, spidering his fingers under Sam’s shirt and scratching his fingers mercilessly at the soft skin of his armpits. 

Sam let out a ridiculous squeal before bursting into loud laughter. Just like that, he’d lost. But in truth, Dean never had any intentions of actually letting him win.

“Oh, well, looks like you lost,” Dean said with a grin, though his fingers never stopped their ticklish torment.

“THAHAHAHAHAT’S NAHAHAHAHAHAT FAHAHAHAHAIR!”

“It’s completely fair. I told you not to laugh, you laughed, you lost.” Dean chuckled, and he only stopped once Sam’s knees buckled. Usually, he would’ve taken this opportunity to wreck him, but he knew his dad would be here soon for the hunt Sam had so desperately wanted to go on. 

“Jeheheheherk…” Sam said, residual giggles still flowing.

Dean heard a honking noise outside and looked out the window to see that the familiar Impala had pulled up outside. Time to go.

“We’ll see if you can pass the test next time. Until then, nah, you’re staying here,” Dean said as he pulled on a jacket and grabbed his gun. He saw something from his peripherals, and he ducked just as a pillow flew past his head. He pointed a finger at Sam, who still wore a grin. “You’ll pay for that later.”

From the passenger seat, Dean doesn't even look up from the weapon cleaning cloth he's been idling with, but his voice is laced with dry, older brother judgment. "That's three, Sammy."

"I'm fine," Sam croaks, his voice thick with sleep. He clears his throat, hopping his bottom up in the seat, straightening his back. "Just a pothole."

"A pothole that stretched for twenty feet and rattled the hell out of my ass? Yeah, right. Pull over."

"Dean, seriously, I'm alright. We're only an hour out from the motel." Sam grips the wheel tighter, staring fiercely at the rain-slicked asphalt, trying to force his brain into alertness.

"Yeah, and an hour is plenty of time for you to put my car into a ditch. Pull over, Sam."

"I said I've got i—"

"Sam. Pull. O–ver." Dean's voice shifted from casual teasing to that low and unyielding command that leaves no room for argument.

With a frustrated sigh, Sam gives in. He blinks through the rain, guiding the Impala onto the gravel shoulder. The tires crunch loudly before coming to a stop. Before Sam can even shift into park, Dean is already unbuckling, throwing his door open into the cold, rainy night and jogging around the hood. Sam groans, unpinning his long legs from the pedals, and slides across the bench seat into the passenger side.

Dean slips into the cabin, slamming the door shut behind himself. He shook his head like a dog to scatter the raindrops from his short hair, and grips the steering wheel with an obnoxious, theatrical sigh of relief. He shifts the car back into drive, pulling them smoothly onto the empty highway.

"Unbelievable," Dean scoffs, immediately settling into a smug rhythm. He taps his fingers against the leather wheel, glancing over at Sam with a grin. "Ninth grade, all over again. Can't even keep your eyes open for a three-hour stretch. You're a weakling, Sammy. A giant, delicate snowflake."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam mumbles. He reaches down, yanking the lever to lower his seat back, reclining it until he's basically lying down. He rolls onto his side, facing away from Dean and closing his eyes to block out the road light. "Just let me sleep."

"Oh no, you don't get to sleep through your shame," Dean chirps, entirely unbothered by Sam's dismissive attitude. He leaned back, with one elbow resting casually on the window frame. The very picture of his effortless mastery. "I mean, look at this. Rain pouring down, visibility next to nothing, road greasy as hell. Am I complaining? No. Cause a real driver can handle any circumstance."

Sam lets out a soft, mocking huff into his jacket collar, keeping his eyes shut. "Right. You're a hero, Dean. Put it on a resume."

"I'm serious! Remember that hunt in Missouri? When that crazy ass black pickup truck was tryna ram me off the ridge? I was driving through a mountain pass, in a blizzard, and I still didn’t lose traction."

Sam rolls his eyes, finally opening them just a crack. He turns his head back toward the driver's seat, a sleepy, skeptical smirk playing on his lips as he shook his head.

"Or what about the time in Pontiac? We had three cruiser tails, roadblocks on the interstate, and I navigated us through an alleyway that was literally three inches wider than this car. Did I sweat? No. Did I scratch the chrome? Not a scratch. I can drive under any condition, Sam. I could- I could drive with my eyes closed. I could drive while being strangled from behind by a demon and still parallel park perfectly. It's a gift."

Sam lets out a low chuckle, shifting his weight. He's starting to wake up now, purely fueled by the sheer absurdity of Dean's unraveling ego. "Oh, really? Any circumstance? What about that time the car got infested with cursed cicadas, hm?" He cocked his head to the side expectantly.

That does it. The last comment broke the last thread of Sam’s patience.

Dean’s posture stiffened. His face reddening slightly. "That was different! Those things were crawling inside my shirt! Besides, I kept the car upright. You, on the other hand, get a little sleepy because it's past your bedtime."

"Alright, that's it," Sam mutters. With a sudden, explosive burst of energy that completely belies his earlier exhaustion, Sam straightens up in his seat. Before Dean can even register the movement, Sam lunges across the center console. His long arms shoot out, his massive hand landed squarely on Dean's flanks as his long fingers instantly dug furiously into the soft flesh right above Dean's hips.

"Kh- gh-h-hEY!!" Dean jolted violently. His shoulders snapping up to his ears as a sharp, high pitched gasp ripping from his throat.

"Any circumstance, huh?" Sam teased, a wicked, wide grin splitting his face. He didn't let up, his second hand joined the first. Fingers kneading relentlessly into Dean's ribs and sides, finding the exact spots through his layers of flannel and leather.

"D-dahamn it, SaHAM—!" Dean squeaks, his composure completely shattering into an absolute mess of breathless laughter. His knees knocked together frantically under the steering wheel, and his foot twitched on the gas pedal, causing the impala to roar and lurch forward.

The car veered sharply to the left, crossing the yellow lines. Dean tried to grasp the wheel steady with his left hand, but Sam takes notice and immediately shifts his right hand, driving his fingers directly under Dean's armpit.

"Whoa! Look at that focus, Dean! You're drifting!" Sam laughed, his voice full of mischievous delight as he ruthlessly tickled his brother's sides.

"Sahammy! No, seriously! AhaHAh— grr..sstop it! I'm driv—aghh! I'm driving, Sam!" Dean exclaimed harshly, trying to shrink away from the onslaught. His back desperately arching off the seat as he squirmed against the leather. He uses his right elbow to desperately try and shield his ribs, but Sam's reach was too long. Dean's face was bright shade of red by now. His teeth bared in a wild, helpless grin as he gasped for air. The Impala swerves back to the right, the tires clipping the wet gravel of the shoulder with a loud crunching sound.

"Get oho— Get off me!!" Dean manages to bellow, bringing his forearm down hard, finally slamming his elbow into Sam's chest and shoving him forcefully back across the console into the passenger seat.

Sam fell back against his door, breathless from laughing. His chest heaving as he watched Dean panickly steer the car back into the center of the lane.

Dean panted heavily, his heart hammered against his ribs. He glares at the road, his knuckles absolutely white as he stabilizes the car. "Are you insane!?" Dean barked, though his voice still had a breathless and shaky tremor to it. "That wasn't funny at all, Sam!"

Sam just leans his head back against the headrest, letting out a loud, blooming laugh. "Oh, yeah? What happened to 'any circumstance'? I thought you could handle a demon strangling you from behind?"

"That is totally different and you know it!" Dean snapped, adjusting his grip on the wheel, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror.

Suddenly, Sam's laughter cut off. His amused grin vanished from his face as he felt the heavy sensation of the brakes being applied hard. The Impala's nose dipped and the car skidded slightly on the slick asphalt before Dean ruthlessly guided it onto a wide area nestled deep within the black silhouette of the forest. The tires kick up a spray of mud as the car comes to a sudden, violent stop.

The engine idles with a low, menacing rumble. The rain drummed furiously on the roof. Meanwhile Sam shifted uncomfortably against his seat at the abrupt stop. "Dean? Why'd you stop?"

Dean didn't answer immediately. Instead, he slowly turned his head to face Sam with a dark, terrifyingly joyful smirk plastered across his face. "You think you're pretty clever, don't you?"

"Dean, look, we're-...on a dark highway and we need to get to the motel—" Sam blabbered, his voice dropping an octave as he instinctively tries to unbuckle his seatbelt in case he'll need to run away from his brother, right into the heavy downpour. His back pressed flat against the passenger door, realizing too late that he had nowhere to run.

"Nah, the motel can wait," Dean says, unbuckling his seatbelt with a sharp click. "You wanna test the theory? Let's test the theory." With a feral grin, Dean threw himself across the console. Because of Sam's reclined seat, he is completely trappe. His long legs tangled up under the dashboard. Dean landed heavily on top of him, pinning Sam's thighs with his knees, and immediately diving his hands straight into his stomach.

"AhAH! DEAN!—" Sam shrieked as a deep, bubbly laughter suddenly exploded from his chest. He instantly curled inward like a folding chair. His hands shooting down to grab his brother's hands to protect his midsection, but, oh, Dean was relentless.

"Oh, what's the matter, Sammy?" Dean taunted at him. His fingers flying in a blur as he targeted the sensitive skin right along Sam's stomach and hips. "Can't handle a little distraction?"

"StahaHAahap it! Hahah—Dean, plehease!" Sam gasped as his body thrashed wildly against the car cabin, occasionally kicking and hitting the walls and windows yet to no avail. His huge and tall frame shaking the entire Impala, making it creak rhythmically. His hand darted forward, subconsciously launching to hit Dean purely out of reflex, but Dean slyly dodged his attack and shifted his ministrations way lower. His fingers dug into Sam's thighs, squeezing the muscles as he nearly got kicked by it.

Sam's eyes went wide, and a loud, breathless cry escaped him. He threw his head back against the headrest, his back arching off the ground, completely defenseless as his arms lose all the strength. "OH MY— NOHOT THEhere! D-DeHEan, please!—"

"Oh, so the thighs are the secret weapon tonight, huh?" Dean laughed, completely victorious. His own residual adrenaline turning into pure, vengeful glee. He kept the merciless rhythm up, teasing and digging into Sam's softest spots until the giant younger brother is reduced into a gasping, squirming mess.

"ALRIGHT!! DEHEean, alright! I give, I give!" Sam gasped out as his tears from laughter welled in the corners of his eyes. He desperately tried to curl away from Dean's crawling fingers. Realizing he's completely overpowered and needs to deploy his ultimate defense mechanism. "You're— ghah.. you're the best driver in the world, Dean! Seriously!" He suddenly wheezed out.

Dean paused. His fingers hovered just millimeters above Sam's twitching knees. A triumphant, wicked grin broke across his face as he squinted down at his brother insistently. "And?"

Sam swallowed hard, his chest heaving as he took in a desperate gulp, keeping his eyes glued to Dean's hovering hands. "And... and nobody else could've kept the impala on the road just now. Your reflexes are insane."

Dean's ego thoroughly inflated, but he didn't pull back just yet. He wiggles his fingers teasingly, making Sam tense in anticipation. "And?..."

"And you have absolute flawless focus under any circumstance!" Sam practically yells, throwing his hands up in total surrender. "Satisfied, jerk!?"

Dean chuckles, thoroughly pleased with himself. He gave Sam's ribs one final, playful poke just to make him squeak, then delivered two condescending pats to Sam's flushed cheek. "That's what I thought, bitch." Dean muttered, sliding back over the console into the driver's seat. He shifted the car back into drive, and flipped the headlights back on, cutting through the heavy rain. "Now go to sleep, snowflake. Big brother's got the wheel."

Sam let out a long, shuddering sigh and slumped heavily back into the leather seat, completely spent from Dean's ruthless onslaught. His muscles went totally slack, and he didn't even bother to fix his crumpled jacket or adjust his awkward, reclined posture. Lulled by the steady rhythm of the wipers and the engine's low hum, he closed his eyes and drowned in a deep, sweet slumber, dead to the world before Dean could even shift back into drive.

–––

(BONUS)

The steady drum of rain from the night before had finally trickled out. Only leaving behind a crisp, heavy mist that hung low over a desolate gas station parking lot. It was ridiculously early. The kind of dawn where the sky is just a bleak and washed out grey and the sun hasn't even bothered to show up yet.

Inside the cramped station shop, the fluorescent lights buzzed with an annoying, high pitched hum that made Dean's head throb. He tossed a couple of bills onto the counter, scooping up two plastic bags that clinked with cold beer cans and smelled heavily of cellophane wrapped breakfast burgers and stale coffee.

"Have a nice day," the pimply kid behind the register mumbled, not even looking up from his phone.

"Yeah, spectacular," Dean muttered under his breath, turning on his heel. He pushed the glass door open with his shoulder, a little bell chiming above him. He stepped out into the damp morning air, muttering to himself. "Has this kid never seen a gym or a shower in his life?..." Dean grumbled, rolling his shoulders under his leather jacket to shake off the stiffness of a six hour drive.

He walked out onto the cracked asphalt, his boots crunching on the wet gravel, but stopped short when his eyes locked on the car.

Sam was already out of the impala. He was perched casually against the hood of the car. His unnaturally long legs crossed at the ankles and his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He was staring blankly into the tree line. His broad shoulders hunched slightly against the morning chill. As Dean approached, Sam turned his head, his eyes instantly narrowing to tiny slits against the sudden, pale brightness of the overcast sky.

"Look who’s alive," Dean called out, a smirk instantly finding its way onto his face. "Morning, sunshine."

Sam completely skipped the greeting, his voice still rough and gravelly from sleep. "Did we pass the motel?"

"Duh," Dean said easily, popping the trunk of the Impala and tossing one of the bags inside before walking over to the passenger side. "You were sleeping like a giant, drooling baby, Sammy. Didn't have the heart to wake you up just to drag your oversized body into another crappy bed."

Sam just shook his head, a faint, exhausted sigh escaping him. He didn't bother arguing. Instead, he leaned forward, ignoring Dean's explanation entirely as his eyes locked onto the plastic bag still in Dean's hand. "What’d you get?"

Dean didn't answer. Instead, his smirk widened into a full blown, wicked grin. "You know," Dean chuckled. "Maybe I should start tickling you before bed more often? Cause, you've slept like a rock. No tossing, no turning, no nightmares. It's actually pretty convenient."

Sam’s eyes snapped from the bag straight to Dean’s face, his expression deadpan and completely unamused. "Go to hell, Dean." Sam muttered. His voice pure of long suffering resignation of a younger brother who knew he was never, ever going to live last night down. He snatched the breakfast bag out of Dean's hand and rounded the front of the Impala. They opened their doors in sync, before climbing inside the cabin.

Sam settled into the driver’s seat, instantly adjusting the rearview mirror to fit his height, while Dean buried himself into the passenger side with a blissful sigh. The key turned in the ignition, and the car answered with its familiar, deep engine growl, immediately pumping welcoming heat into the car.

Dean eagerly unwrapped a cellophane covered burger, but as he shifted around on the leather seat, a smug grin crawled right back onto his face. He glanced over at his brother, who was already shifting the car into drive.

"Ooh," Dean purred around a mouthful of breakfast, shifting his weight. "Nice and warm over here. You must've just crawled out of bed, Sammy. Which is great, cause I think I've earned a little shut-eye after my legendary, rock-solid driving through that treacherous night, don't ya think? Care to give your big brother a little ride?"

Sam just rolled his eyes, gripped the steering wheel firmly with both hands, and smoothly pressed down on the gas, pulling them back out onto the empty highway. This time, he was going to make damn sure he didn't give Dean any excuses to test his focus.

The bunker was quiet as there wasn’t much to do. There were no apocalypses, no universes shattering, no Lucifer… just a normal day.

And there, sitting on the couch, was the former angel of the Lord, Castiel, hands clasped in his lap as he stared at the wall with his usual pensive expression. His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of boots pounding against the floors, as well as familiar voices shouting through the halls.

“Get back here, Sammy! You know what’s coming!” Dean yelled, his voice carrying a mixture of playfulness and warning.

Sam darted around a sharp corner, his longer legs giving him a slight advantage over his older brother. The angel could overhear the back and forth and the rapid footsteps, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what was going on.

“Come on, man! I didn’t finish it on purpose! If you wanted it so bad, you should’ve put your name on it!” cried the younger Winchester, his laughter echoing through the labyrinthine halls.

The noise was quite distracting. Castiel considered moving thinking spots before the brothers came bounding into the living area, giving the angel a start.

Sam ran in first, darting behind the couch before Dean followed, taking a wide stance on the opposite side, his hands raised and his fingers formed like claws. Throughout this, neither of them even acknowledged their angelic friend, who could only hope to figure out what on earth was unfolding in front of him.

“Excuses, excuses!” Dean growled, a playful grin on his face as he circled the couch, attempting to subtly close the distance between him and his brother. “You know what happens when you mess with my pie!”

Just as Dean was about to lunge, Castiel’s gravelly voice caught their attention.

“Has Dean been possessed? Why do you appear to be so… urgent?”

The brothers stopped in their tracks, sharing a baffled look before turning back to Castiel.

“Cas, Dean isn’t possessed…” Sam explained, a small, amused smile on his lips. Meanwhile, that cheeky expression found its way back to the older Winchester’s face as he eyed the youngest in the room.

“Oh, I’m possessed, alright… possessed by the tickle monster!” he growled before jumping toward Sam while the younger was distracted, his fingers latching onto the man’s sides and digging in with vigor.

As Sam yelped and burst into a fit of boisterous laughter, grappling onto the back of the couch to try and keep upright, Castiel cocked his head to the side, looking more confused than before as he watched the scene unfold.

“Tickle monster? I do not recall reading about this in lore books… I suppose the name is self-explanatory… How do you defeat it?”

The laughter only got louder at that question, and Sam shook his head, trying his best to answer their friend’s question while his brother was destroying him with tickles.

“N-No, no, no, it’s not a real—haha—monster! Dean’s just being a goof!”

Odd… so this was a playful thing? Castiel had made a lot of progress over the years, but sometimes he thought he’d just never truly understand humans.

“Ah… so you’re not really in danger?”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to target the younger’s tummy, causing him to shriek and double over in hysterics. “Nope. The only thing Sammy’s in danger of is dying of laughter… Ain’t that right, Sammy?”

“Shut uhuhuhup!” came Sam’s frantic response.

Castiel’s brow creased with puzzlement, his eyes scanning the scene as if that would help him put the pieces together.

“Why were you chasing him then? He seemed quite alarmed.”

“Because it makes it more fun!”

It seemed that every answer only led to more and more questions. Why on earth would being chased be fun? Castiel had been chased before, and he recalled it as a very unpleasant experience.

“Fun? I fail to see how running for your life could be ‘fun,’” he said bluntly, tuning out the sound of Sam’s squeals as the elder’s fingers scribbled all over his belly.

Dean rolled his eyes and decided to show Sam some mercy so that they could help their angel friend out, giving his younger brother a pat on the shoulder and helping him stand. How on earth were they supposed to explain this to an angel? It was clear that Castiel didn’t have even a shred of understanding on this matter, so they were practically starting from nowhere.

“It just kind of is… the thrill of the chase, y’know?” Dean tried his hand at explaining, admittedly doing a horrible job. As the taller man sat up and plopped onto the couch, he decided to take a crack at it.

“It’s just a playful thing, Cas… When you’re not in any danger and you’re just messing around, chases can be pretty fun.” Sam smiled, trying his best to put it in simple terms. He’d also learned that it was better to explain things in a more blunt manner, since the angel could be quite… literal.

Castiel hummed, nodding slightly. “I see… Perhaps I should try to engage more. I often forget to, as Dean once put it, be less angelic.”

Dean gave a snort of laughter, raising his hands to threateningly wiggle his fingers at the angel. “Oh, buddy, you do NOT wanna get roped into this!”

At that, the angel gave a tilt of his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and bewilderment as he processed his friend’s words. “Dean, I do not believe you could take me… I am an angel of the Lord.”

Sam’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two, interested to see where this would go. Should he intervene? Maybe… but how? And frankly, why? This was pretty damn hilarious. And so, he kept his mouth shut, choosing to observe, but not before popping in with a friendly warning.

“Cas, I really wouldn’t challenge him… He’s ruthless,” he said, his voice the kind that speaks from experience. And if anyone could speak from experience on this matter, it was definitely Sam.

But the angel did not heed Sam’s warning. “Perhaps to you, Sam. But a human cannot merely take down an angel of the Lord.”

Dean’s eyes were twinkling with mischief, subtly shuffling closer to his angelic friend, hands raised menacingly. Dean was always up for a challenge. “Don’t tempt me, angel… I’ll make you eat those words.”

Castiel crossed his arms, giving a huff of disbelief. “Words cannot be eaten, Dean,” he stated matter-of-factly. It was at this moment that Sam realized he might have an out for the long, drawn-out tickle attack he would endure had this not become a thing. So, he sat up and casually started to shuffle away.

“Well, you guys have fun… Just try not to kill each other.”

He got all of three steps away before he heard a shrill shriek, and when he turned around, he saw his older brother straddling Castiel’s hips and digging his fingers into the angel’s ribs. While Sam wanted to stick around and watch the endearing scene, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Dean remembered their unfinished business… so he had to skedaddle.

“Oh, don’t think this means you’re off the hook, Sammy! Once I’m finished with this angel, you’re toast!”

And that was Sam’s cue to run… again.

Lee:

This man is a cackler and giggler anytime he is tickled

Growing up with Dean, he’s gotten pretty good at defending himself against being tickled, but as soon as you get one spot he’s done

Will definitely give you puppy dog eyes to convince you not to do it

He’s a fighter, he’ll squirm and try to pry your arms away as he curls in on himself

Thats where his long limbs come in handy for him

Sam’s ribs and armpits would be his most sensitive spots

Ler:

Sam can be pretty ruthless as a Ler when needed

He’s figured out the signs of when you want him to tickle you, like when you provoke him with sass, stubbornness or trying to tickle him first

Type of person to use more rougher tickles like poking and squeezing

He loves making you laugh so he always admires your laughter when he tickles you

Definitely more comfortable being the Ler but still allows you to be the Ler at times

He’s a teaser, saying things like; “You brought this upon yourself.” Or “What was that? I can’t quite hear you past your giggling.”

Dean:

Lee:

He will never admit that he’s ticklish no matter how much you prove it

His laugh can differ, it could be a hearty laugh or a squeaky laugh or if he’s holding back, only a chuckle

Will give you a certain look of warning when you try to tickle him

Like Sam, he’s a fighter and will do everything to get away

Although he secretly likes it but he will never admit that

His most ticklish spots would be his hips and waist

Ler:

Much more likely to be the Ler as he is an older brother after all, meaning he’s a very skilled tickler

Dean has the serious surface when in reality he would be getting butterflies at the sound of your laughter and can’t help but crack a smile

He would definitely tease you if you’re ‘air ticklish’

“I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Oooo what’s this?”

He can work with both soft and rough tickles, depending on the situation

Big fan of soft soothing tickles during cuddling

Castiel:

Lee:

He would be confused at the sensation at first but after a bit he will actually start to enjoy it

His laughs are usually more quiet, like little chuckles or giggles

After the first time you tickled him he would ask you to do it again because he ‘Likes The Human Experience’

Castiel twitches and squirms a little bit but tries to remain as still as he can

His most ticklish spots are his waist and neck

Ler:

Castiel likes tickling just as much as being tickled because he likes to understand human reactions like that

He’ll be soft with the tickles, smiling at you whilst stopping to make sure you’re okay

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“Is it okay with you if I continue?”

Uses tickles as a way to cheer you up if you’re sad or upset

He wouldn’t tease you out of risk of embarrassing you, but also because he doesn’t know how

Crowley:

Lee:

Don’t tickle him…just don’t even try

He wouldn’t actually be ticklish but he would threaten to murder you if you tried

Would give you a death stare

“Do that again and I’ll pluck your eyes out and use them in my cocktail.”

Ler:

I feel like he wouldn’t try to tickle you often, but with the soft spot he has for you he can’t help but find it endearing

Uses it as a form of punishment

“Learn your lesson?”

Only uses rough tickles to make his point

Secretly Crowley can be affectionate with you and may give soft tickles during a cuddle

Gabriel:

Lee:

He’s a playful guy so I feel like he’d enjoy being tickled but wouldn’t admit it

Wheezes or laughs whenever he’s tickled

He’ll threaten to tickle you if you try to tickle him

He would probably provoke you with his smartass comments to tickle him

I feel like he’d probably need to be pinned down, which I think he’d like anyway

Gabriel has very ticklish ribs and knees

Ler:

Gabriel is known for loving jokes and pranks so expect to be tickled a lot

Will use mockery and baby talk to tease you

“Aw what’s this? Is that another spot?”

“Someone’s sensitive.”

He would be a smiling/smirking idiot when he hears your laughter

Likes to use both soft and rough tickles as well as tickle hugs, surprise tickle attacks and wake up tickles