#madcom tickling

"Deimos―" Hank inhaled sharply, spinning on their heels to face the other man behind him who had been aimlessly wandering around the base behind him, seemingly bored out of his mind. While they never minded the members checking up and wanting to converse with him, they did mind when they did it constantly. It felt like he was breathing down his neck. He needed to say something. "Go see Sanford."

Deimos only shook his head in response. "Can't. Sanford is out on business, 'member?" Hank faintly remembered the other man yelling out in the building that he had work to attend to. It's precisely when all of this mess started happening as well. If only they had been put together on the mission, they thought. "I'm bored outta my fuckin' mind, Hank!"

"Not my problem," was Hank's reply. The masked man sat down on a chair, pulling a small radio into his lap. It had been one of the agent's radios, one that they snatched off from their dead body. He wanted to see if they could use it for their own personal gain, getting information by pretending to be an agent, but before he could even think to do that, he felt two fingers jab into his sides. His normally dull eyes widened at the shocking feeling as he almost jumped ten feet into the air.

The noise that escaped his mouth was one he had probably never heard from himself, and that alone was enough to send the stoic member into a complete breakdown. His whole face, from what Deimos could see, was completely red as he tried to process what just happened. "No way, dude, you're ticklish?" He tried to stop himself from laughing but what else are you supposed to do when you find out the world's most wanted mercenary is weak to a few tickles?!

"Deimos, don't―" Hank tried to sound threatening, but it came out in a pathetic whine. They set the radio back down, as to not break it as they tried to bolt across the room. It didn't end very well as Hank's boot had gotten caught on one of the chair legs he was sitting on. Deimos stared on in absolute amusement. "Jeez, Hank. You're makin' this kinda easy on me, huh?"

Hank grunted slightly as he felt the other man's weight on top of him. He was definitely screwed now, at the hands of someone who had no intention of letting his ticklishness pass by. "Get off, asshole," Hank muttered as he struggled underneath him, their arms desperately attempting to push him off. The other gasped in mock offense. "Hank, you're so mean! How dare you! I think you need to learn some manners." Deimos gently slid his hands up the mercenary's shirt, his hands resting on their newly discovered sensitive flesh. Hank's body tensed, and his eyes widened behind his red goggles.

"Deimos, I swear to goHOHOohd!' His fingers had only gently dug into his bare flesh, and the most surprising noise fell out of Hank's mouth. Deimos stared at him, his mouth gaping open before hysterical laughter fell out of him. It took a moment for the younger man to recover, his breathy chuckles still lingering in the air. "Hank, did you just squeal?" The other turned away, frowning underneath the cloth on his face.

"S-Shut up, and get off!" Hank stuttered, their legs kicking weakly behind them. With a playful tint in his eyes, Deimos' fingers scribbled away at the man's torso, getting every inch of flesh he could possibly find. He was doing absolutely everything he could to send the poor person into hysterics - and judging from the loud laughter now peeling from the mercenary's lips, it seemed like it was working. Hank's laugh definitely contrasted with his stoic/edgy personality, being loud and almost a little high-pitched. "D-DehehehIHIHIHMOS! FUHUHUCK! NOT THEHERE!" Deimos had found a particularly sensitive spot right down by his hips, his sadistic grin only growing wider.

"Not where? Not here?" Deimos dug his fingers into his hips again, watching the man underneath him jerk upwards, his hands desperately trying to grab at his attacker's wrists. "Man, you're just so ticklish. I wonder how you've survived like this. You know how screwed you'd be if the AAHW found out about this? Oh, but it's okay - I'm wonderful at keeping secrets. World's best." Hank's face flushed ten times more at the teasing, shaking their head desperately as they continued to laugh.

"YOHOHOHOU'RE SUCH AN AHAHAHASS!" Hank cursed out, his laughter raising an octave as Deimos continued mercilessly attacking that one spot, vibrating his fingers right into their bone. "Oh, I'm an ass, huh? Is that what I am?" He repeated that question again, his hands moving back upward towards the taller man's ribs. His hands turned into a claw shape, and when he descended on their ribs, the reaction he got was unlike any other.

Hank shrieked. And not some slight, girly shriek. It was LOUD. Enough to burst eardrums probably, but Deimos had already been through this sort of thing with Sanford (who was ... maybe equally as ticklish as Hank was) and it only slightly made him cringe. If Deimos' smirk could get wider, it probably would. "Oh? What have I found here? Is this your worst spot? Here? Or right here?" Hank was sure to kill this man unless he ended up dying of laughter. His hands traveled up and down his ribcage, attaching himself to his writhing body. No matter which way they turned, his hands continued to follow them. How was he so good at this?!

"D-DEIHIHIMOS―" Hank was almost at their limit, tears pricking at the corner of their eyes. Their laughter had turned sort of wheezy, and their fighting had ultimately stopped. He seemed to have no more energy, considering he was just lying there taking it by now. Deimos cocked an eyebrow, his nimble fingers grazing lazily over his stomach. "Are you going to apologize?" He asked in a low voice. Hank's head shot upward. "Whahaht...? Why ahaham I apohohohlogizing?!"

Deimos frowned, digging his fingers into Hank's side again, causing him to jerk forward and let out a loud squeal. "You know, for calling me an asshole! TWICE!" If only Deimos could've seen the face they shot at him, letting out a soft sigh as they rolled their eyes. "F-Fine, I'm s-sorry... just no more tickling, alright?!"

Deimos seemed content with this answer. He quickly stepped off the mercenary, grinning at all the 'damage' he had caused. Hank took off his goggles, wiping his eyes softly. "You better not tell anyone," Hank grumbled, letting out a huff as he rubbed his sides to get rid of the phantom sensation that was still there. "Fine, fine." He got back in return, his hand waving in dismissal.

"I'm back!" Sanford yelled at the front of the base, his loud gruff voice echoing through the halls.

"Ooh, San, you'll NEVER guess what I learned!"

So much for being the world's best secret keeper, huh?

[Fin.]

“Another one, Doc,” Deimos whined, lowering his head onto the wood of the bar they had in their lounge. Today was April Fools - and of course, as the biggest jokester in the group, Deimos just had to do something to each of the organization's members. They were mainly harmless pranks that he’d pull every year that managed to surprise them every year. Some of them included replacing the salt in the sugar container (he had gotten 2BDamned with that earlier, and boy was it priceless), putting paper signs on the backs of his friends, and even going as far as the change the shower head and add washable hair dye into it. Harmless little things like that really spiced up the holiday, but there was one person that he wasn’t able to prank. 

Sanford. 

No matter what he had done, nothing seemed to work on him. All of the food pranks he had lined up got overlooked easily, and he seemed totally on guard the entire day. Hell, even Hank wasn’t this bad! He actually fell for the hair dye prank earlier, and let’s just say he wasn’t the happiest camper in the building after that. It wasn’t like he could stay mad at Deimos for long though, it was his day to shine, and he’d let him have that. The jumpscare pranks didn’t catch him off-guard, and if he even suspected that it was part of Deimos’ prank, he’d refuse it. 

2BDamned slid another drink over to the saddened technician, huffing slightly as they wiped down behind the bar. “Are you seriously sulking over not being able to prank Ford?” They asked, leaning their body over the edge. Deimos frowned, nodding against the wood as he slowly sipped from the glass he was given. As much as they wanted the hook-wielder to be prank-free today, it just didn’t seem fair that they all got pranked except for him. Doc let out a sigh, putting away his drinks as he patted Deimos on the head softly. 

“Listen, kid,” they started, watching the other’s head lift up slowly. “What if I told you that there was a way to prank him? Well, maybe not prank him, but I can tell you one of his weaknesses.” The way his eyes lit up was a sight to behold, and he grinned, his sharp teeth poking out. “Really?” he asked, tilting his head. He almost looked like a curious dog to them. It was almost endearing, to be honest, and even they couldn’t help but smirk underneath their mask. They dropped the cloth they were using to clean the tabletop, slowly making their way over to where he was sitting. 

“Yeah. Want me to show you how you’re going to get him?” 

The other nodded frantically. Without a warning, the Doc’s fingers grasped at the technician’s sides, squeezing with enough intensity to make the other squeal, his legs kicking upwards and almost hitting the underside of the table. A few seconds later, his mouth flew open and his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Doc’s hands, watching their fingers wiggle in place. “Wahait, you’re tellin’ me…” 

“... that Sanford is ticklish? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.” They finished his sentence, shrugging like it was everyday information they knew. Well, in all fairness, they were their primary doctor and nothing got past them. Especially how ticklish they knew all three of them were, that was for damn sure. Deimos’ mouth was still open, the cogs in his brain turning as he processed this information. Sanford? Ticklish? 

He hadn’t even considered the possibility of it. Sanford was just the person to not be fazed by anything, being one of the ‘toughest motherfuckers around’, as the technician had said once. Suddenly, the door burst open to the base, and no one else but the man himself walked through, carrying around a heavy bag full of weapons. “I’m back from the mission,” Sanford yelled out, groaning as he carried the bag to the side of the couch. The timing was absolutely impeccable, and the tech stared up at the doctor. Doc tilted their head forward as if telling Deimos “now’s your chance” without actually speaking to him. 

Deimos hesitated for a moment, clearly still thinking about it. He shook his head. What was he doing?! This was his chance to finally get Sanford, and he was not letting this pass by! He lifted himself off the bar stool, tiptoeing over to the couch where the hook-wielder had sat down, staring down at the bag of weapons he had to sort out later. A few more steps and he’d be close enough to grab him… just a little closer. … one more step.

Now!

Without warning, Deimos tackled the other to the couch, essentially pinning him down underneath him. “What are you-! Agh-.” He groaned as he felt the weight of the technician on his waist. Normally, Sanford would be able to turn the tables easily in rough-housing sessions like this, but since he had just gotten back from a mission that required him to be a bit more active than usual, all of that energy had completely drained from him. 

“Well, I may or may not have heard someone say a little something about how I can ‘prank’ you this April Fools, so, of course, I’m going to take the chance I’ve got! Let's see," Deimos muttered, grinning basically from ear to ear as he picked out a spot to attack first. Eventually, his hands landed by his sides, just as Doc had done to him, and he squeezed.

The shriek that rang through the building did not disappoint.

Sanford threw his head back against the couch's armrest, suddenly unable to fight back at all against the ticklish sensations running up his sides. "aAHAHhhAHAHhAH- D-dEIHIMOS!" His voice cracked slightly as the other grabbed his wrists weakly, but that only really edged the other on, his little grin suddenly turning to a playfully sinister smirk. His fingers dug deeper into his flesh, and suddenly, he wished he hadn't worn so little on the daily. Sanford's back arched into his fingers (un)fortunately, and Deimos being the little shit he was with this information, vibrated his fingertips against the now visible bone of his lower ribs.

"What's wrong, Ford? Do you just happen to be a bit ticklish~? Just a wittle~?"

Deimos could even hear 2BDamned snort in the back, clearly amused with the reactions they were getting from the poor, tortured man. Sanford's bubbly laughter continued to pour out almost endlessly, his legs kicking out and digging into the cushions of the couch. As if he wasn't ticklish enough, he just had to start teasing him! It completely caught him off-guard and the whole room could see his face turn into a dark shade of red.

"nAHAAHAHA- StAhAHAHAHAHP yOHOHOU DUHUHUMBAHAHASS!" Deimos almost seemed offended. Almost. Considering he couldn't wipe the stupid grin off his face, it was quite awkward to try and act like that was something that truly hurt his feelings. He adored the reactions he was getting from the one squirming underneath him, watching him try to control himself despite his nerves telling him the opposite. "Oh, so you wanna throw insults, huh? Let's not forget who's in what position, now, yeah?" The other leaned forward, whispering into the other's ear softly which only sent him into more hysterics, scrunching his neck up to protect himself. He ultimately failed. "2B! Know any good tactics?"

"Fruit," was all they responded, trying to keep their own reactions at bay. Fruit? What the hell was that supposed to mean? As his fingers continued to roam all over the larger man's torso, the lightbulb finally went off. Ohhhh. Fruit.

Raspberries.

His fingers suddenly stopped, and Sanford was given a moment to breathe. "Do you like fruit, Sanford?" The question sounded so innocent, but the grin that followed it was so sinister that it sent shivers down his spine. He looked back and forth nervously, his lips twitching upwards in an awkward smile. "I-I guess? Buhuhut that has nothing to do with-" his eyes widened in realization as he finally figured out what that meant. "No- no. No. Deimos. DEIMOS. Don't you dare." Sanford quite literally let out the most pitiful whine he had ever heard, but the technician continued testing his limits, pursing his lips as he slowly lowered his head down to his tummy.

"DON'T."

Deimos looked upwards, a raised eyebrow visible underneath his visor. "Don't 'what', Sanford?" Please fall for it, please fall for it, please fall for it. It was the only thing that he was begging for, and surprisingly, in a nervous mess between knowing that he was about to be tickled to tears and the teasing that Deimos hadn't stopped, he actually responded in a way that favored the technician.

"TICKLE ME-" Sanford's nose scrunched up as he realized his mistake. "WAIT, I DIDN'T MEAN IT- DEIMOS!"

"Well, if you want it so badly, who am I to judge?" Deimos, with the most shit-eating grin, lowered his head once more, his lips coming in contact with the other's toned stomach.

"Has anyone seen the weapons that Sanford picked up-" Hank, who had finally joined the party like everyone else, had gotten cut off by the sudden loud scream of Sanford. Their eyes darted toward the sight of the noise, staring at the other two messing around on the couch while the bartender laughed into their hand, clearly enjoying this a little too much. "What did you do?" He asked, his dark eyes shining through his red goggles. They calmed down long enough to respond.

"Deimos wanted to prank Sanford," Doc explained, their gruff, breathy laughter still ringing quietly in the area, "so I told Deimos that he was ticklish."

"YOHOHOHOU'RE SOHOHOHO DEHEHEAD, DOHOHOC!" Sanford yelled out between shrieks and squeals, pushing on Deimos' shoulders lightly to try and get him off. If there was one thing that the group could compliment him on, it was that he was damn persistent. Of course, in this situation, it didn't seem like a good thing. Especially for Sanford.

Deimos leaned back up, his own face slightly pink. "Has someone had enough tickles for today~? Or does wittle Sanford want some more~?" He stuck out his lower lip, pretending like he was pouting. The other only continued to lay there, resting his arm over his face as he regained his composure. Sanford took his circular sunglasses off, wiping the tears that had formed in the corner of his eyes.

Deimos hadn't even realized it but he was staring. Hard. How could one person even be this cute? How could it be possible? Sanford let out a shaky breath, stray giggles flowing through the room. "Whahat are you starin' at, shithead?" Sanford asked jokingly, shaking his head. Deimos jumped slightly, his face turning red. "Uh, nothing. Happy April Fools?" Deimos said nervously, removing himself from the larger one's waist.

"Oh, the day is still long, Deimos," Sanford replied.

"I still have a couple of pranks to pull myself."

It was quick to the rest of the group that the whole day was going to be filled with laughter. And honestly, that was alright.

"S-So, Sanford and I were on a mission, right?" Deimos announced, looking at the three that were gathered around the lounge eating dinner after a long day of back-to-back missions. Sanford groaned loudly as he turned his head in shame, immediately recognizing the story that his boyfriend was telling. "You ass, you don't need to tell this story," he remarked, pursing his lips as he took a sip of his soda. The storyteller only chuckled at that, giving him a wink before continuing.

"Anyways, we were on a mission. It happened a few days ago, yeah? Sanford got himself into a bit of trouble with the automatic door... a-and..." Deimos couldn't help but burst into giggles, closing his eyes as he hid his face in his hands. The other two, Doc and Hank, only stared on in amusement as they both listened to the story. The technician quickly gained his composure back as he continued telling the story.

"Sanford's pant leg got caught in the automatic door. So, I pick him up under the arms and pull him..." Deimos shot a snarky grin toward the one in question. "And he lets out the most high-pitched squeak known to man. It shocked me for a minute, but that shit was so funny," Deimos cackled, leaning backward into the couch he was sitting on.

"Shut up! Everyone's ticklish, dumbass," Sanford responded, with a light pout and a scarlet face, clearly embarrassed by the whole situation.

"...uhhh, what the hell are you two talking about?" Hank piped up, their eyes flicking between the two. The couple turned to face him, raising both of their eyebrows. "What do you mean? Do you mean what mission we were on? Well, it was the-"

Deimos was cut off by them shaking their head.

"No, I mean, what the hell is 'tickling?'"

The whole room went silent, and all eyes were suddenly on Hank. They were all giving him a look of confusion like he'd just shot every single one of them with no remorse. They couldn't help but wonder if they had said something wrong. He looked over to 2BDamned, who was also giving him the same look. Hank tilted his head. "What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

Deimos was the first to speak. "W-Wait, so you're tellin' me," he paused for a moment, eyeing both his boyfriend and the doctor, "that you've never been tickled before?"

"No, I have not. What is it?" All of their expressions changed from confusion to smugness, smirks decorating each of their faces. It seemed like they were planning something but how was he supposed to know what they were going to do? Were they going to tickle him? ...whatever that meant, they thought. Hank was suddenly cut out of his thoughts as Doc locked his arms underneath Hank's own, essentially immobilizing him.

"H-Hey, what are you d-doing?!" Hank suddenly grew confused. Were they about to hurt him? Why else would they need to restrain them?! He struggled in the other's grasp, kicking his legs out as if that would do him any good. They forgot how strong Doc exactly was, considering that they never really went out to fight that often. Sanford and Deimos were slowly creeping over to him, a slightly evil grin on both of their faces.

"Oh, Hank~," Deimos spoke softly, his sharp teeth visible with that childish grin on his face. "You have no idea the situation you've put yourself in, huh?" There was a moment of silence between the four of them, with Deimos and Sanford exchanging glances every few seconds. The mercenary could feel anxiety bubbling in his chest yet kept that cool exterior on. It would soon be broken the minute they laid their fingers on his exposed torso, however, watching as Hank's eyes widened.

He honestly didn't know how to react. Whatever they were doing to him was definitely working, as he felt the electric-like sensations shoot through all of his nerves. Hank struggled to keep it together, only barely keeping a straight face as they writhed in Doc's grasp. "W-What.. t-thehehe hell?" Hank choked out, accidentally letting out a soft giggle.

The other two only grinned wider, applying more pressure to the spots they were focusing on. Deimos was applying pressure to the mercenary's ribs, focusing on drilling his slim fingers into the sensitive bone. Sanford had dropped a little lower, focusing on the other's legs, squeezing his kneecaps with just enough force. All the while they did this, they were talking back and forth, teasing the poor man out of his mind.

"Y'know, for Nevada's Most Wanted, I didn't think you'd be this ticklish. It feels kind of... hm, out of character?" Deimos muttered, his nails scraping against the cloth. Hank let out an honest-to-God squeal, throwing their head back as loud, gruff cackles rang out into the area. "W-WhahahaHAHA-! S-StohohoHOHOP! D-Dohohoc, lehehEHEheT MEHEHE GOHOHO!" Hank tried to struggle out of his grip, but with the sensations and Doc's brute strength, they were too weak to do anything.

"It does feel out of character, Deimos. To be so unbearably ticklish like this. Hey, they might be worse than you," Sanford chuckled, nudging the other in the side. Deimos only grumbled as he huffed, continuing to dig deep into the other's ribs, slowly lowering down to his toned belly. Hank couldn't even think straight - the only thing on his mind was getting away from these tickly sensations, the feeling driving him absolutely mad. "AHAhahahAA- sTOHOHOHOP! I c-cAHAHAN'T!" Hank cackled out, shaking their head as the cloth around his mouth started to fall down.

"Aww, look at him," Doc muttered, their eyes lowering down to the other's cute noises and reactions. "I'm sure he just loves what you're doing to him~." Their teasing only made it tickle more, for whatever reason. Deimos and Sanford only continued on their torturous touches, making them jerk and squirm around in the other's arm. It wasn't long before the cloth on Hank's face fell down to his neck, and the cutest sight was seen before them.

Both Sanford and Deimos stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening and their faces turning a bright red as they saw Hank's face. Although he was missing the bottom part of his jaw, and it was replaced with metal casing, the smile that he had was ... a little pure for someone like him. They panted, trying to regain their breath as they felt the phantom sensations crawl up their nerves.

"W-What... ihihis it?" Hank let out another soft giggle, looking up with tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. Everyone avoided eye contact, their whole faces bright red. It wasn't until Doc pointed the obvious out. "Your...uh, mask, Hank," they spoke softly as they stared at his beautiful, scarred face. His eyes widened as he pulled it back up, being released from the other's grasp.

"...if it makes you feel any better, you're really cute!" Deimos teased, as he watched the mercenary stand up suddenly. Sanford laughed a bit at that comment but didn't notice the sneaky look in Hank's eyes.

"Oh, you want to laugh, huh?" Hank muttered toward Sanford, rubbing at his sides softly. "I'll give you a good laugh."

Needless to say, Deimos and Sanford definitely got what they deserved. Doc could easily tell that Hank didn't mind the affection, considering none of them were legitimately killed yet, and the fact that he could've easily struggled out of that if he wanted. ... it wasn't like they were holding him that hard, anyways.

Doc knew how hard it was for Hank to fall asleep. Being constantly on the run and overall tense, fighting until he's bruised and broken, lingering on until the very end. Surely the poor mercenary would be exhausted, no?

Well, that was just the answer. No.

Although Hank could be exhausted beyond belief, as far as he'd ever known, there was no way for him to fall asleep. Well, that's what it felt like anyway. It got to a point where the bags underneath their eyes could be seen through the red tint of their goggles. It got to the point where even Deimos and Sanford were starting to complain, wondering about solutions to their problem. Eventually, they dragged 2BDamned into the equation.

They had the most medical knowledge here, and if that counted for anything, surely, they must've had some idea how to get Hank to fall asleep. "Doc," the mercenary muttered, letting out a soft yawn underneath the cloth that stuck to his face, "you called?"

They smiled underneath their own mask, nodding. "Yeah. The others are concerned about the lack of sleep you're gettin'. And by the looks of it, I feel like you should be concerned too." Hank shuffled by the doorway; their arms crossed over their chest.

"I'm fine, Doc," muttered Hank, whose body started to feel heavy. The doctor pursed their lips, suddenly standing up to go meet the other by the door. "You do not look fine. Go sit down on the table, alright?" 2BDamned pointed over toward the table they had just cleaned, turning swiftly on their heels.

"But, 2B, I can't—" Hank protested but was quickly silenced by the emotion in their eyes.

"Do not argue with me on this Wimbleton," they narrowed their eyes. "You look terrible, and everyone can see it. If there is a way to get you to sleep, I will find it." Hank pouted slightly, shaking their head as they reluctantly did what the doctor told them to.

Before long, 2BDamned turned back with a bunch of things cradled in their arms. Medicine to help with sleep, sweet auras to try and relax him (like that would ever work, he was constantly tense), and even some tea that they hoped would help him.

"This is stupid, 2B." The other person didn't reply, and Hank even went silent for a little while.

They began trying everything they could. At first, he took the medicine. It seemed that after thirty minutes of waiting and lying down on the table, it didn't work after all. Quite disappointing but there were other things that could work. The second thing they tried was to light a couple of candles, and other sweet-smelling things, but it seemed after the first second of smelling it, Hank wasn't too fond of this idea.

"Too overwhelming," as they had said to the doc, who had promptly put them out. It was fine. Maybe this last thing could work? They stirred some honey in the freshly made tea (of course, Doc had made it exactly the way Hank liked it) and handed the cup to him.

After a few minutes, the question stirred once more. "Do you feel tired yet?"

The same answer was given.

No.

2BDamned sighed, putting a palm to their forehead. There had to be something that could work. Anything! Hank was getting restless, they could tell, and after a few seconds of thinking, the mercenary hopped off the table, barely able to keep himself up. "Listen, thanks for tryin' Doc, but it just isn't gonna—"

"I GOT IT!" 2BDamned suddenly yelled out. Hank cringed backward a little, freaked out by the sudden loudness of his friend.

"Lay back down, but this time, on your stomach," Doc instructed, their mind racing with thoughts of whether this 'technique' of theirs had often times worked on them when they were younger. "I also need you to take your jacket off. Your shirt, too, if you're comfortable with it."

Hank hesitated slightly, before succumbing to their orders, taking off the top layers of his clothes and laying down with their head resting on their arms. "Like this?" they questioned softly, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

2BDamned could see all the scars that Hank had gotten over the years, the ones that were healed, the ones that were... getting there, and the ones that downright just looked awful. "Mhmm, that's perfect. I'm going to start now, okay?"

Hank nodded, closing his eyes to possibly help with what the doc was trying to do. But there was no way in hell they could've prepared for what they were going to do to him. Doc's fingers traced over his back softly, the gloved parts of their hand gliding across his scarred skin.

"Hng—" Hank repressed the urge to make any noise. He was shaking a little and his body seemed to grow tenser. Doc only smirked, finding the other's reactions endearing. The mercenary's fists clenched together as they hid their face in the crook of their arm, small breaths of what seemed to be laughter flowing out of their mouth.

"This used to work on me all the time," Doc explained quietly. "It would calm me right down. I used to have nightmares and had problems getting to sleep too, y'know but when someone would rub their hands on my back, it felt amaz— Hank, are you okay? You're not as calm as I thought you'd be."

The doctor paused their explanation as the man's laughter got a little louder, their fingers now circling a sensitive scar near his hip. Hank nodded. "I-I'm good, Dohohoc," they chuckled out, trying to hold back all reactions. The doctor's eyes widened as they finally figured out what was happening, a smirk growing under their masked face.

"Seems someone's a bit ticklish, huh? Don't worry, I'll keep it soft," Doc whispered, their fingers drawing random shapes on his back as they let out a few chuckles themself. The sensations kept switching back from being soothing to unbearably ticklish. It kept throwing Hank off a little every time they moved their fingers, but he couldn't deny that it did help a little. Well, maybe more than a little.

"D-Dohohon't tehehease me," Hank grumbled through soft giggles. 2BDamned was relishing in the noises they were hearing from the usually stoic mercenary. Their fingers trailed upward to his shoulder blades but suddenly stopped, watching the other flip over, his eyes widened. "N-Not thehehere, p-plehehease," they whined, their shoulders tense. "I c-cahahan't tahahake it."

2BDamned nodded, laughing along with the other. "Fine, fine, I'll stay low, alright?" They watched the taller man flip back over, still dissolving into giggles even though they weren't touching him. It was cute. Too cute, they caught themselves thinking as their hands descended on him again, gently stroking the lower part of his back, right above scars that had healed. "But since you're not tryin' to kill me, I have to assume that you like this."

Hank said nothing as his entire face turned red, the small breathy laughs still escaping from his mouth. The way his fingertips danced wasn't an unwelcome feeling. They weren't a physical person normally, avoiding people's touches like the plague, but there was something about the way Doc was doing it that made him completely melt. Even if he was giggling hysterically during the process of it. "I sahahhah- said, don't tehease me," Hank grumbled, clearing his throat as his words started to slur together. It was clear that it was working.

"I'm not teasing you. I'm stating a clear fact." Doc replied, pressing into the soft flesh of his back with medium intensity, watching the other tense up for a minute before relaxing again. "I'm glad something worked out for you. I know how hard it is for you to sleep normally. Especially considering all these scars. Must've been hard to heal from, huh, Hank?" They asked but was surprised when they got no reply.

"Hank?" The doctor took their hands off of them, leaning over to see a sight that they'd never seen before.

Hank was finally asleep.

2BDamned let out a small huff, removing their mask as a faint outline of a smile traced their features. They picked up the somewhat-light man, carrying him off to his room.

It seemed like they'd have to do this more often.

i'm at the goddamned asylum. and all i can keep thinking about is "what if hank got captured by the doctors and they found out they were ticklish". because okay, think about it. WHY ARE ALL THE PATIENTS LAUGHING LIKE THAT (/nm) oh my god. i just can't play through that without thinking something along those lines. .........

i want an audio of hank laughing. that's it. that's just the entire post. i know there's like, an audio with Sticky (voice of Hank from Antipathy) laughing but if I could get just... like... a single crumb of official VA laughs please. .......

because grunts can be ticklish in the canon game. the fight with church and jorge (i hope i spelled their names right) proved that. i fucking lost my shit at the part but hey, we don't talk about that.

To say that Deimos’ job was “easy” was a mistake a lot of people made when he introduced himself as the technician of the group. He was amazing with technology, coding and hacking into the AAHW with no problem, and fighting wasn’t all that terrible either. The only thing he wasn’t too good at was dealing with his stress in a healthy way. 

“Deimos, c’mon man,” Sanford called out to him as he hopped out of the car, wielding his hook in his right hand. The other put his finger up to signal that he needed a minute, and not even a few seconds later, he heard the click of the man’s thumb lighting yet another cigarette. He put it up to his lips, inhaling it as if he needed it to survive. Sanford only gave a concerned look, frowning. “That is the third one you’ve lit today, Dei. You sure you’re good?” 

Deimos finally hopped out of the car, exhaling a puff of smoke in the opposite direction. “...’m alright.”  He replied in a low tone, different from the usual one he gave. Sanford shook his head - did he honestly think he couldn’t see through that blank facade of his? He decided to hold off on responding about it, however, considering they were right outside of the AAHW with all the stuff they needed to complete their mission. He also had assumed that this would be one of the last ones he smoked. 

Boy was he wrong. 

A few rooms in. Click. In one of the main hallways. Click. Their destination, a room with a large computer that he needed to hack. Click. The way Deimos continued to inhale those cigarettes the entire mission was starting to piss him off. How exactly could one man even go through that many? Especially when it had only been an hour and a half since they set out for this mission. It was like the younger man was becoming addicted. Well, more than he already was. 

“San, ‘m done,” Deimos said through a slight wheeze, having a small coughing fit as he put his stuff away. He lifted all his technology on his back, returning to the taller one’s side. He hadn’t even realized it had been roughly ten minutes with everything that he was thinking. Sanford shook his head, regaining his focus and rushing out of the building back to the car. They were both quiet considering everything that went down, and while they should’ve been celebrating that they got crucial information needed for Hank’s mission, the demolitionist could only think about just how many cigarettes he smoked.

Sanford got into the driver’s seat, noticing Deimos’ focus out the window. He had wondered why he hadn’t lit another cigarette in a couple of minutes only to look down and find the entire pack empty. Wait, empty? Didn’t he just buy those? Those were the only things that Sanford thought, putting the key into the ignition and driving down the road. Something twinged inside of his stomach, and the awful feeling slowly started to creep up on him. It soon turned to annoyance, but it wasn’t out of anger or anything. He wanted to get to the bottom of why he smoked that entire pack in … give or take, two hours. 

The car ride home was quiet. This was an issue they needed to fix, and quickly. 

Deimos quickly hopped out of the car when they got home. Sanford took a minute to collect all his thoughts, grabbing the empty cigarette carton and holding it in his hand. Before he’d even realized it, the shorter one went inside the base. He probably already knew he was in for a mouthful. “Where is Deimos?” Sanford asked, looking around the living room. There was no sign of anyone except for Hank, who was lounging on the couch. “Room,” Hank replied, pointing in the general direction of the member’s rooms. “Thanks.” Sanford nodded, heading straight for the technician’s room, finding him sprawled out on his bed with almost a dazed look on his face. 

“Deimos.” Sanford’s tone was low. Everyone knew what that tone meant. Something was about to go down. “Would you like to explain what this is?” The cigarette carton’s silver wrapping jingled a little inside the box as he shook it. Dei gave an awkward smile, knowing that he was definitely in for it now. “Uhh, no. I would not like to explain what it is. It should seem very obvious, considering you’re holding it. Read it.” It was a wonder how the other man could still be so sassy, especially when he was damaging himself like this. 

“Dei, you smoked all of these in less than two hours!” Sanford cried out, sounding exasperated. The other shrugged, laying back down on his bed with a prolonged sigh. There was a moment of silence between them. He suddenly let out a huff, realizing that the demolitionist wasn’t leaving his room if he just ignored him. “Fine, you win.” Deimos sat up, narrowing his eyes down to the floor. “I smoke when I’m stressed, yeah? Typically, missions aren’t stressful… but this was a big one, y’know? I had to do it perfectly” His gaze softened upon hearing his explanation, sighing. 

“We’re human, Deimos. We all get stressed. You should’ve told me this, man,” he shook his head, throwing the empty carton in the trash can by his door. Deimos only shrugged. “Wouldn’t have changed anything. I’ll still smoke when I’m stressed.” 

“Oh, hell no you won’t.” Sanford raised an eyebrow. Deimos’ face changed quickly to one of confusion. “What, you’re gonna stop me?” Suddenly, the tint in Sanford’s eyes changed. It wasn’t one of anger but instead one of… playfulness? The other launched himself at the one laid out on the bed, wrestling around a bit as he tried to pin Deimos down to his bed. He was still a little dazed so their normal roughhousing - which would’ve taken a lot longer if he had the strength to fight back - didn’t last very long. The end result was Sanford sitting on top of Deimos’ waist, holding both hands above his head. “Yes, you’re indeed right. I’m gonna stop you. You’re not gonna stress smoke on another mission, you hear?” 

“Sanford, it’s not tha- w–wait, what are you dOING?! SANFORD, NO!” Deimos yelled out, writhing underneath him in an attempt to get out of this situation. The most surprising thing is that he wasn’t even doing anything, he just happened to lay his hand right by underneath his arm, knowing that may or may not be one of his most ticklish spots. “What? What am I doing Dei?” Sanford shot back teasingly, watching the poor technician get so anxious. There was already a wide grin on his face, and somehow, he was already giggling up a storm even though he really wasn’t even doing anything. “D-Dohohohn’t, San, p-plehease,” he choked out, squirming underneath him as the demolitionist continued to tease him. 

“What am I doing, Deimos? What’s wrong with my hands being there? Does it hurt? Is that why you’re so fidgety?” Deimos’ grin couldn’t get any wider as he shook his head, knowing how embarrassed he got when it came to this stuff. The red tint splotched all over his face, neck, and ears happened to be solid proof of it. “Nohohoho! Yohohohou ass! Stohohohop teheheasing!” 

“Oh, so you’d rather me just tickle you, huh?” Sanford’s eyes narrowed to his armpit, using a single finger to circle around the sensitive spot. There was an attempt to hold back his own giggles by biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes shutting tightly. The technician’s legs kicked out weakly behind him, hitting the soft mattress. He was truly refusing to give out any sort of reaction. That couldn’t happen - it wouldn’t happen, more like. The poor guy was so ticklish, it was hard to believe that simple taps didn’t tickle him. Sanford was going to get a reaction out of him, whether he wanted it or not. 

“Aww, c’mon, Dei. You know you want to laugh. And I want you to stop smoking. How about I kill two birds with one stone?” Sanford suddenly came dangerously close to the smaller one’s ear, his breath hitting the outer shell. “And you know you like this.” It was the last few words that cracked him. Maybe it was the fact that he was so flustered by the fact that he knew he liked being tickled without ever saying it to anyone (he’d rather curl up in a hole and die) or maybe it was the way his breath was tickling his ear. Maybe it was a combination of both. But the minute Deimos broke, Sanford found himself grinning alongside his childish, rough laughter. 

Sanford noticed the way his cheeks turned a darker red, his own quiet laughter turning louder. His nimble and fast fingers continued scratching at his underarm with only one finger, watching his reactions carefully. The wobbly smile, his beautiful laughter, the way his body was squirming away from his grasp but unable to due to Sanford’s brute strength from holding him down. It was all… endearing to say the least. “Snrk- S-SahahHAHAHn! S-stohohohop! I swHEHEAR! Nonononono!” Deimos snorted, his embarrassment rising by tenfolds. 

“Dei, did you just snort? My god, that was the cutest thing,” Sanford commented, chuckling as he added more fingers to the mix, his entire hand poking and prodding away at the hyperactive nerves. The technician’s body bucked upwards, but not enough to throw the stronger man off of him as his laughter grew louder, the roughness of his voice now turning squeaky. “D-DOHOHOHN’T SAHAHAHY ANYTHING! aHAHAHA- P-PLEHEHEASE S-STOP!” Deimos was trying so hard to keep himself together, but they both knew that he was way too goddamn ticklish for that. “You know the way to get this to stop, Deimos,” he said, leaning down closer once more. “You’re going to promise me - and then go through with the promise - that you will not stress smoke again on a mission. You smoke one or two? Fine. You are not smoking a twelve-pack!” The other suddenly dug into his underarm, his fingers forming a claw shape. 

“NAHAHAH- SAHAHAHANFORD! F-FUHUHUCK, I-IHIHIHTS SO BAD!” Deimos yelled, throwing his head back against his pillow as tears started to form in his eyes from how much he was laughing. It still seemed that the demolitionist wasn’t going to stop until he said he was going to stop stress-smoking. But how could he even do that?! It was part of his routine to smoke when he was stressed, he couldn’t just quit it overnight. But at the same time, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. His nerves felt like they were on fire, and even though he liked it (he would still rather die than admit that), there was always a limit to how much one person could take. “S-SAHAHAHAN! P-PLEHEHEEASE!” 

“Please what? Please tickle you more?” Sanford grinned, leaning down to his sensitive neck as he gently nibbled on the skin there, leaving the poor boy in hysterics. “Man, you sure do like this, huh? Is that why you haven’t been actively fighting back? You like being tickled that much?” 

The teasing was about to be too much, his face was seemingly radiating warmth. 

“SH-SHUHUHUT UHUHUHP!! P-PLEHEHEASE, MEHEHEHERCY!” Sanford took a moment, giving his neck a few more nibbles as he leaned backward, coming within about an inch of his face. “I wanna hear it.” That was the only thing he said as he looked at the poor boy’s face. He almost felt kind of bad, watching him wipe the tears from his eyes. His nose was slightly scrunched up, and soft giggles continued to pour out of his mouth. “I w-wohohon’t smohohoke.. I p-promise.” 

Sanford flashed a smile, patting the other on his head as he let go of his wrists, letting him finally get up. "About time you gave up." The other stretched upward, his back cracking as he got off the bed. Deimos continued to lay there, one hand on his chest as he watched the other man go on with his day like he didn't just tickle him to death! His breath was jagged, but it quickly returned to normal. He spoke up again. "How did you know... I, uh, ... y'know." Deimos' face flushed slightly, looking away from the demolitionist.

Sanford shook his head, chuckling slightly. "You think I don't notice the way you react when you're having tickle fights with Hank? Or even with 2BDamned, for that matter? You're always looking for trouble or for a reason to get someone to tickle you. I assumed that you liked it. B-But don't worry, it's not weird or anything. At least, I don't think so. It's kind of cute."

"Oh." That was the only thing able to come out of his mouth as he stared upwards, the embarrassment of him saying all this stuff out loud finally getting to him. "Aw, c'mon man, you're turning so red. Lighten up a lil'." He pulled the other to the edge of the bed, pulling him off to get him up and ready. "Let's go get somethin' to eat, yeah?"

Deimos flashed his usual grin after a split second of silence, nodding. "My treat, since you tortured me."

"Call it a forceful promise."

It worked, though, as Deimos had to this day never broken that promise.