#ler!simon

Simon observed all of this with a blank expression, his eyebrows slightly raised. 

“You okay?” Simon asked gruffly. 

“Never been better,” Grace responded cheerfully. 

This happened often. Simon had never met a person more uncoordinated. It was strange, because when Grace was doing science in the lab he was as graceful as could be, completely in his element. At all other times, he was clumsy as a puppy. 

Now, Grace was leaned over in an awkward position, fixing something under a panel in the wall. Simon watched him unbalance himself and fall flat on his face. 

“Ow,” Grace groaned. 

Simon didn’t bother to ask if he was okay—that man seemed to bounce back like rubber. Instead, he used his good hand to scoop under Grace’s arm and pull him back up. 

Unexpectedly, Grace let out an unmanly squeak and jerked away, scrambling to turn himself upright. 

Simon raised his good hand, stumbling back a few steps to give him space. “What the fuck was that,” Simon said flatly. 

“No, nothing, sorry, you just surprised me,” Grace stammered. 

Simon squinted at him. “You’re lying to me,” he determined. 

“What? No I’m not,” Grace protested. “C’mon, do you think I can lie to people?”

Simon stepped forward again, backing Grace against the wall. “No, I think you can’t lie, and that’s why you’re being so obvious right now.”

Grace’s mouth fell open, pupils dilating slightly as Simon held him captive against the wall. 

“What? Are you fucking scared of me? Is that it?” Simon asked, his voice angry on the outside but soft and insecure underneath. 

“N-no, I’m not,” Grace stammered. “But, you’re, uh, not helping your case on the fear factor r-right now.”

Simon’s expression softened. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t mean to be scary. Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong though?”

Grace blushed redder. “Fine,” he whined. “Fine. It tickled a bit. When you picked me up like that.”

“It- what? You’re ticklish too?”

“Most people are,” Grace replied. “Approximately 77 to 80 percent—“

Grace cut off with a squeal as Simon grabbed him around the waist and dragged him to the floor. 

“And you didn’t bother telling me this when you told me what tickling is?” Simon all but growled. 

Grace was already laughing nervously. “I- I’m sohohorry! I didn’t think it was relevant—“

Simon settled Grace in his lap. “Of course it’s relevant.” 

Simon’s voice was right in Grace’s ear, making him squirm even more. “Ha-how are you able to move me around like this? You have one arm!”

“You’re light. Stop squirming,” Simon replied calmly. 

Grace did his best to quiet his frantic limbs. “Sihihi, let me go…” he whined. 

“No,” Simon said, hovering his good hand above Grace’s torso. He clumsily prodded Grace a few times, earning a few quiet giggles but not much else. 

“Why aren’t you laughing?” Simon muttered, frustrated. 

“You’re not- you’ve never done this before,” Grace said. 

“It can’t be that difficult,” Simon grumbled, squeezing too roughly along Grace’s side and only managing to earn a mild “ow.”

Grace started to crawl away, but Simon tightened his one-armed grip and pulled Grace back easily. “I’m not letting you go until you explain how to do it,” Simon said. 

Grace made a flustered noise and tried to make a break for it again. Simon easily flipped Grace onto his back, straddling his hips. Grace was free to squirm around, but he couldn’t go anywhere because Simon was too heavy. 

Simon planted a hand on Grace’s stomach and squeezed. That got a broken squeal out of his victim. Simon tried a few different pressures and found the best squeezing technique. He squeezed at Grace’s tummy a few times with moderate success. 

“I’m gonna keep doing this until you explain how to tickle you,” Simon said with the methodical patience of someone who had survived a literal death submarine. 

Grace squirmed around, laughing helplessly. He couldn’t find the strength to dislodge Simon’s hand. “Okahahay stop and I’ll tell you!”

Simon stopped. Grace took a minute to catch his breath. 

Grace started to explain sheepishly, showing Simon each spot and moving Simon’s hand to explain the techniques that work best. 

“I cahahan’t—ah!—believe I’m telling you thihihis…” Grace complained in the middle of his explanation.

“Keep talking, giggles,” Simon ordered. His face was serious but there was something playful about it.

“Giggles?!” Grace protested. 

“Yeah,” Simon said, proving his point by scribbling his fingers into Grace’s left ribcage. “Giggles.” 

A real smile spread across Simon’s face at the giddy squeal and laughter that followed.

“Okahahay, fine- squeezing and pinching works pretty well everywhere, but some spots are better for gentle touches, like my feet, under my arms, my neck, my stomach…”

Simon sat back on his heels, satisfied. Grace’s chest heaved as he caught his breath. 

“Are you done tormenting me?” Grace asked when he could breathe normally again.

“Tch, so dramatic,” Simon scoffed. “You didn’t say stop.”

Grace pouted. 

“Are you fucking pouting?” Simon huffed, a chuckle breaking through his words. “No no, that’s no good.”

“W-wait—“ 

Simon leaned forward, bracing his body on Grace’s hips, and pushed up the older man’s shirt to try the light touches Grace had described on his belly. The scientist immediately burst into squeaky giggles.

“This isn’t fahahair, you said you’d lehehet me gohoho!” Grace squealed.

“Yeah, but you can’t pout like that and expect me not to tickle you,” Simon justified.

Grace covered his red face and groaned in giggly embarrassment.

“Using your hands to cover your face is not a very good way to get me to stop,” Simon commented, smirking at the sight. 

“Shuhuhut uhup,” Grace whined. 

“Did you say shut up?” Simon exclaimed in fake shock. “Oh, I don’t know how I’m gonna recover.”

“You’re sohoho annoyihihing,” Grace whined.

Simon got tired of not seeing Grace’s red face and pulled his arm down. 

Grace appreciated the small break, seeing as Simon only had one arm. He took slow, controlled breaths. 

“Let’s play a game,” Simon announced. He moved Grace’s hands beside his head. “Keep your hands up.”

“What?” Grace stammered, the blush returning. 

Simon didn’t reply, instead testing all his new knowledge. He went for Grace’s underarms first, scritching softly. 

“Tktktktk,” Simon said. The inflection wasn’t quite right—too flat, unsure of himself—but it did the trick. Grace sputtered and went redder, laughing harder as his head fell back. “Oh, did that do something for you? Cute.”

Simon watched the defined muscles in Grace’s arms strain against nothing as he fought to keep his arms up. Simon alternated between Grace’s right and left underarm, making the man squirm adorably from side to side. 

“Does it tickle on this side? Hm? What about this side?” Simon teased. His technique was light and playful—the touch was somehow both rough and precise at the same time. Grace could practically hear the smirk in Simon’s voice.

“Please- plehehease Si I cahahan’t…”

Simon stopped. “Why not?”

“It tihickles too much,” Grace whined. 

“That’s the point, genius,” Simon replied. 

Grace made a series of incoherent babbles as Simon started poking down his ribs, his arms finally shooting down. Simon laughed at him a little. 

“Okay, fine, I’ll stop,” Simon relented. 

Grace panted for air. “That was sohoho mean…” 

Simon shrugged. “Tough,” he scoffed. “I’m gonna do that every day.” 

“Whyyy…” Grace complained.

“When you’re being a little shit, when you’re overthinking, when you’re refusing to go to bed, when you tickle me first or try to start shit, when you—“