#mess writes

When the six boys stumbled upon that old cabin, they didn’t expect it to change much. Ray learned that on the third night, when the walls creaked and the woods pressed in close, safety changed a hell of a lot. Dry socks, a roof, a fire… better than being on the road. That was the last thing they wanted to look at.

And Stebbins… Stebbins was still Stebbins. Tall, looming, shoulders always squared like he was bracing for impact. He stayed to the edges of the room, back to the wall, blue eyes sharp and unreadable. The brief crack they’d seen on the road, the moment where he’d faltered—he’d sealed that back up tight the second they crossed the threshold.

It irritated Ray. Stebbins was back to being a pessimist douche, acting all high and mighty with that know-it-all attitude. God, it was irritating… it brought Ray back to the starting line when he first realized how much Stebbins bothered him. When he wandered into the cozy living area and found the lanky blonde sat by the window like he was in an old Victorian portrait, he could practically feel his eyes tugging back into his skull.

Ray stepped closer, raising a brow at the distant look in those icy blue eyes. He directed his attention to the window, covered in droplets of rain which continued to fall. Stebbins had said he always liked the rain… but damn, he didn’t have to look so pretentious about it.

“Having fun?” He asked, tone flat and sarcastic. Stebbins barely lifted a brow.

Ray frowned in irritation. Was this douchebag seriously ignoring him?

“Hello? Earth to Stebbins? Christ’s sake, drop the stoic act, already.” He huffed in annoyance, jabbing Stebbins in the side to try and get at least a shred of his attention. And boy, did he get it. The taller boy jolted in his seat, a sharp gasp leaving his lips. Both boys froze, silence hanging in the air. Stebbins promptly fixed Ray with a glare, but there was an unmistakable pink color dusting his cheeks.

“Don’t do that.” He said firmly, but his tone was far too defensive.

But Ray’s attention was peaked. He raised an eyebrow, processing the abnormal reaction from Stebbins. Ignoring Stebbins’ protest, Ray reached out again, this time lightly grazing the boy’s side, simply testing a theory. Stebbins’ hands shot down to bat at the offending hand, an odd sound slipping from his lips… oh… oh. OH.

Ray’s lips curved into a slight smirk. This was too good to be true. “Ohh, now this is interesting. Realll fuckin’ interesting.” He raised one hand, fingers twitching.

Stebbins’ brow twitched and he stared the redhead down like it would somehow keep him at bay. His cheeks were now very obviously rosy, despite his best efforts to maintain a stoic expression.

“Garraty, I swear t’fuckin’ God, if you touch me…”

But Ray was not letting this opportunity pass by. His hands moved swiftly, fingers latching onto the pair of ribs in front of him, digging in mercilessly. The response was a bark of laughter… actual laughter. Ray’s smile widened, fingers digging in a bit deeper.

“No fucking way. I don’t believe what I’m seeing.” His tone was all too smug, and his grin was even smugger. He couldn’t contain the pure satisfaction at seeing that brick wall break down in mirth. Meanwhile, Stebbins was besides himself, body jolting immediately as Ray’s fingers latched on. And God help him, he was smiling.

“SHIT-! K-Knock it the fuck ohohoff!!!” He swore, but the effect was diminished significantly. Even worse, a snort slipped when Ray’s thumbs rubbed against that sensitive top rib, just under his armpit. His arms quickly shot down, stuck between fighting and defending.

Ray was absolutely delighted. The blonde’s laugh was surprisingly pleasant… dare he say, kind of cute. He couldn’t help but chuckle himself, fingers sneaking up higher, trying to break through those arms.

“Ohoho, I don’t think so. I can’t believe what I’m seeing…” He smirked. “I better make sure I’m right. Now move your damn arms.” He huffed playfully, switching to poking at those strong arms, trying to get them to budge. Stebbins’ bit his cheek, but any form of resolve lasted about two seconds before genuine giggles toppled from his lips.

“Oh, fuck off, Garraty!! Y-You son of a-” the insult was interrupted by even more noise. His arms still wouldn’t move, and that was that. Ray was strong, but Stebbins was definitely stronger… but Ray had determination.

“C’monnn, Stebbins…” persistent fingers continued to poke and prod, changing tactics to spider up those broad shoulders, sweeping over the boy’s neck. The response was a very boyish squeak and shoulders scrunching up. Stebbins’ cheeks immediately flushed red, knowing that Ray definitely heard that stupid sound.

“Damn, you weren’t kidding… you really are a rabbit.” He snorted in amusement, continuing the fluttery ambush, hoping to get similar noises.

Stebbins squeaked again, much to his embarrassment, laughter far too childlike to be coming out of that body. “G-Go fuck yourself!!”

“Nah… I don’t think I will.” When Stebbins’ hands reached up to bat at the spiders on his neck, Ray made his move, hands quickly sneaking under the poor guy’s arms, fingers drilling into the sensitive hollows.

The reaction was instantaneous. Stebbins howled, head tossing back as the laughter burst deep from his chest, long legs kicking uselessly at the floor. His arm glued to his sides again, but Ray had already breached his defenses.

“GODDAMMIT-! FUCK YOU, GARRATY!!” He cried through guffaws, cheeks flushed entirely.

Ray found himself laughing with the taller boy, finding amusement in the undoubtably cute reactions. It was refreshing, seeing someone so cold and stoic melt into such childlike energy. It made his heart ache in a way.

“Fuck, man, you’re more ticklish than Olson...” He said with a snort, not relenting in the slightest. He knew he’d have to let up soon, based off the mirthful tears on those rosy cheeks, but Stebbins was tough… he could hold out a bit longer. “Y’know, you should laugh more. You’re way less irritating like this.”

“FUCK OHOHOFF!!” Stebbins never looked so happy. Sure, the laughter was involuntary, but there was still a certain brightness to him. For once, his face wasn’t twisted in a scowl.

Of course, Stebbins wasn’t invincible, and Ray soon had to let up, snickering. “Alright, alright, Jesus Christ…” He tugged his hands out from under Stebbins’ arms, stepping back to give Stebbins some space. The boy was breathless, chest heaving as he tried to recompose himself. He fixed the smile right away, shooting a well-deserved glare in Ray’s direction.

“You’re fucking dead…”

Ray didn’t doubt that for a second. But seeing the stoic prick laugh himself stupid like a little kid was beyond worth it. He couldn’t help the way his chest softened.

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.

The Winchester boys were growing up, but some things never really changed… except for Dean’s facial hair.

Dean, now eighteen, had made the impulsive decision to grow out his stubble. He pitched the idea to Sam randomly one day at a diner, insisting he needed a new look. Sam however was quite positive that it had little to do with self expression, and more to do with impressing girls…

A few weeks later, Sam hadn’t really paid much attention to any new features since he didn’t think Dean would actually go through with it. He thought his brother would grow it, hate it, and shave it all off without ever acknowledging it.

The younger had been in his own world, his nose predictably buried in a thick book as he lounged on the worn-out couch in the motel room.

The older Winchester was standing on the other side of the room, looking in a mirror and inspecting the new facial hair. It wasn’t as thick as their father’s by any means, but it was fairly scruffy. He had never really tried to grow a beard before… it definitely different from the light stubble he was used to, but he figured the ladies were into the rugged look nowadays.

He let his gaze wander from his face, seeing Sam in the mirror. He could see that his little brother was deep into whatever he was reading, but that never stopped him from bugging the kid before.

He turned around and sauntered over, perching himself on the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Sammy. How do you like the new addition?”

Sam looked a bit irritated about his reading time being disturbed. He didn’t really care about whatever Dean was blabbering about… he just wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet for once. Nevertheless, he sighed, looking up to acknowledge the elder.

What he wasn’t expecting was for his brother to look like a damn wolverine.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as they landed on the new beard, and he had to do a double take.

When the hell did that happen?

“Uh… Dean?”

Dean smirked, stroking his facial hair. “Yeah? Lay it on me, little brother.”

Oh, Sam would lay it on him alright.

The shorter boy set the book in his lap and covered his mouth with his hand.

“You look like a werewolf.” He said with a snicker that was bordering on full laughter as he saw the offended expression on his brother’s face.

The older Winchester’s expression faltered but he quickly gave a smirk, trying to recover from the blow to his ego.

“A werewolf, or a handsome lumberjack?”

That was all it took for Sam to fall over on his side, clutching his stomach as he burst into loud, mocking laughter.

“A-A handsome lumberjack?! You’re such a dork!!” Barked the younger, unable to control his amused reactions.

Dean grimaced and crossed his arms. “Quit laughing, Sammy! You’re just jealous that I can grow a beard and you can’t.”

That only drew more laughter from the boy, tears starting to prick at his eyes.

“Oh, please… I’d rather be able to enjoy a full moon!”

Dean’s eye twitched as his little brother continued to cackle, a hint of annoyance growing within him. Y’know what? If the kid wanted to be a sassy little shit, so be it.

“Fine! You wanna see a werewolf?! I’ll show you a werewolf!”

With a growl, Dean lunged at his younger brother, pinning him down with little effort. Sam gasped, eyes widening as he processed the threat.

“W-Wait, no, don’t! I-I didn’t- EEK!”

The kid fell into fresh laughter when his older brother dove down and began nuzzling at his tummy with his scruffy face, the scratchy whiskers rubbing against his soft skin, which immediately quivered on contact.

“Dehehehean, nooo! I-I’m sorry! Hahaha!”

A wicked grin spread across Dean’s face as a low chuckle rumbled deep from his chest.

“It’s a little late for that, kid. You hurt this werewolf’s feelings and now you have to pay!” He gave a playful growl, shaking his head back and forth, making sure the boy felt every bristle on his face.

Of course he wasn’t ACTUALLY hurt. He was just being a goof for the sake of it. Besides… he hadn’t seen Sam laugh that hard in what felt like forever. That uncontrollable belly laughter was the type of sound that he usually had to tickle out of him, but he didn’t have to this time.

It was just a bonus.

The nuzzles continued with full force, drawing squeal after squeal from the poor boy. He shoved at his brother’s head to no avail, kicking his legs and twisting his sides. But no matter which way Sam wriggled, Dean followed, making sure the soft belly got an appropriate amount of torment.

“No escaping, kiddo! You poked the beast, now you face the consequences!”

“Noooo! I’m sorry! P-Please stohohohop!”

Sam’s pleas were becoming more desperate and Dean could tell he was legitimately running out of breath, so he decided to give him a small break, pulling away and giving a cheeky grin.

His heart melted when he saw his brother’s cute, smiling face.

“Aww, is little Sammy too ticklish? Should’ve thought about that before provoking the werewolf, kid!”

Sam’s cheeks were bright red and only seemed to darken at the teasing. He panted for air, trying to glare at his big brother, though it was quite difficult to look angry when there was a goofy smile stuck on his face.

“Y-You’re a jerk… I hope you- AHH!”

The threat was cut short as Sam squealed once more and let out a shrieky guffaw, tossing his head back and writhing with renewed vigor. Dean had swiftly bent down again, but this time, he blew a big raspberry on his brother’s belly.

After each raspberry, he went straight back for another. It wasn’t long before Sam was gasping again, cherry red and struggling to breathe. When the laughter went silent, Dean decided to stop for good, ruffling his brother’s hair and helping him sit up.

Sam clutched his stomach, panting and giggling with tear stained cheeks.

“T-That was mehehean…” he mumbled, slumping into the couch.

Dean just snorted at that and lightly shoved his brother, giving a sly smirk.

“You loved it. But you might’ve been right… maybe I should leave the bearded look to dad.”

Sam nodded. “Definitely… the werewolf look doesn’t suit you, jerk.”

The elder scoffed and jabbed the kid in the shoulder “Bitch.”

The familiar banter made Sam smile, but he quickly regained a snarky tone.

“Now, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“For the love of all that is holy, go shave that thing off… unless you want dad to mistake you for a werewolf.”

Dean rolled his eyes, hopping off the couch and starting for the bathroom.

As the older Winchester stood up to head to the bathroom, Sam’s giggles finally started to die down, but he was still watching his brother with that impish grin.

Dean paused in front of the bathroom door, turning back with a raised brow.

“You got somethin’ to say, nerd?”

Sam bit his lip, trying to suppress the teasing comment forming on his tongue, but couldn’t resist. “You sure you’re not gonna howl at the moon before you shave that thing off?”

Dean gave an exaggerated eye roll, but his lips twitched into a smirk.

“You’re just begging for a round two.” He glared playfully as a warning, causing the younger to widen his eyes and raise his hands in surrender.

“N-No! I’m good!” Sam’s laughter bubbled up again, the thought alone making him nervous. “I don’t think I could survive another werewolf attack…”

Dean snorted, but his expression softened a bit.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. I’ll let you off the hook this time… But, next time you make fun of me, you’re screwed. I may not be a werewolf, but I am part tickle monster. Consider yourself warned.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed a bit, but he was still smiling widely. He huffed and leaned on the armrest of the couch, giggling at the silly threat.

“Duly noted, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

And with that, Dean disappeared into the bathroom. And when he re-emerged, he was no longer a scruffy werewolf… just regular old Dean Winchester.

“There… ya happy now?” Asked the older brother, stroking his face which was back to its regular stubbled state.

Sam grinned at the sight. “Very. You look like a regular old dork again.”

Hearing yet another sassy insult, Dean huffed with exasperation.

“You’re never gonna quit sassing me, are you?”

Sam simply smiled cheekily, giving a quick, “Nope.”

Sam’s eyes were already threatening to close as they tried to stay focused on the words.

It had only been a few hours into their research session and the younger Winchester already felt like beating himself over the head just to get a few seconds of rest. If they could just figure out WHAT they were hunting, they could track it down, kill it, and be on their merry way. He just had to stay awake…

Despite his weariness, the youngest Winchester forced himself to stay conscious, flipping page after page like he had no other choice. Then, he saw it. Or rather he read it…

His eyes lit up with relief. He slammed his hands on the table and propped himself up, all sleepiness leaving his body as the words sunk in. He was eager to tell his older brother, who had been researching in an armchair on the other side of the room.

“Hey, get this! So, the campers heard their friends call-” He paused when he heard a snore on the other side of the room.

“Dean?” He called, but he didn’t receive an answer.

His gaze wandered from the table to the small living area. Sure enough, Dean was comfortably reclined, his head tipped back against the chair as he snored.

The younger Winchester’s expression instantly morphed into a scowl.

Typical… of course Dean was sleeping instead of ACTUALLY helping for once.

“Dean.” Sam grumbled, only to receive no response.

Dean was out cold, his jaw slack and mouth wide open. The sight boiled Sam’s blood a bit. His brother was over there napping while he broke his back searching for answers to their mystery.

His eye twitched and he tried again. “Dean!”

But Dean just continued to snore, unbothered by his brother’s calls.

That was the final straw.

Sam got out of his chair, the legs screeching against the wooden floors, though that didn’t seem to disturb Dean’s rest either.

If his brother wanted to be a lazy pain, then Sam would just have to teach him a lesson. He casually pattered over, not bothering to tiptoe since the hunter didn’t seem to be waking any time soon.

When he reached the elder’s destination, he took one last look at the sleepy expression before making his move…

“WAKE UP!!” He shouted as he dug his fingers into the older man’s ribcage, wiggling between the bones and showing no mercy.

If nothing else woke him, the tickling sure did. The shorter hunter shot up and flailed like a fish out of water, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as his sleep was rudely interrupted.

“SAMMY?! W-WHAT THE HEHEHELL?!”

Dean barked, arching his back and shoving at his brother’s hands. The reaction was more than satisfying to Sam.

“Seriously? Thought you could just sleep through the research and leave it all to me?” Sam huffed.

The tickling was relentless and sudden, giving the older Winchester no time to adjust to the sensations. He was barely awake and he was already screeching like a banshee… Sam could’ve at least had the decency to start with a less ticklish spot. His little brother could be such an ass… unlike him, who napped and let the younger do all the boring work.

“DAMMIT, SAMMY! STOHOHOP!!”

The younger brother let out a snort, enjoying having the upper hand. He should sneak attack his brother more often…

scribbling up to Dean’s armpits and scratching at the hollows. The change in spots tore a frantic shriek from the older man’s throat.

“Are you kidding?! I have so much revenge I need to catch up on!” Sam grinned, scribbling up to Dean’s armpits and drilling his thumbs into the sensitive hollows. The change in spots tore a frantic shriek from the older man’s throat.

It took almost as much effort to look annoyed as it did to stay awake.

How was he supposed to stay irritated when his big brother’s wailing laughter was echoing off the walls like that?

“You deserve every second of this, jerk!” He exclaimed, no longer able to keep the grin off his face. Sure, he was still pretty ticked, but he definitely felt some relief flowing through him as his fingers scurried up and down Dean’s sides, over his stomach, and up to his armpits again.

But then Sam decided he wanted to hear his brother REALLY scream… he deserved it after all.

The elder could feel the taller’s nimble fingers scampering down his flanks and hovering threateningly in one spot… just above his hips.

Dean’s eyes widened and his flushed cheeks went pale.

“S-Sammy, you wouldn’t…” He muttered, a shiver shooting down his spine as his eyes latched onto his hips as if watching them would keep them safe.

There was almost a pleading look in his gaze…

Sam gave a cheeky grin. He would almost look sweet and innocent if he weren’t threatening Dean’s most ticklish spot.

“Oh…” He smirked, raising his hands and raising them so they floated right above the bones.

“I would.”

With that, he latched onto his brother’s hips, drilling into the divots and shooting electric sparks through his body. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t flinch at the frantic yell, followed by loud, boisterous cackles.

“SAMMY, YOU SONOVA BIHIHITCH!!!” Dean bucked his hips and kicked his legs, shoving at his brother’s hands and doing whatever he could to save his horribly ticklish hips from the torment.

Sam snorted, continuing the playful torture. “You shouldn’t really be name-calling in this position…”

“SUCK A- OH MY GOD, STOHOHOP!!!”

As the vengeful attack went on, Sam felt a sense of justice… he also felt far less annoyed.

Eventually, Dean was wheezing and gasping for breath, so Sam decided to have mercy. He pulled his hands away and gave a smug smirk, crossing his arms and sitting on the couch.

“I don’t wanna hear you bitching about my little naptime after that whole debacle…” The elder grumbled, wiping a hand over his face.

The younger hunter simply rolled his eyes and leaned into the couch.

“Whatever… can you just try to help out a little more? It kinda feels like I do all the work sometimes…”

Sam’s admission made Dean feel defensive, but he could tell his brother was serious… was he really that bad? He couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty.

He gave a reassuring smile. “Yeah… sure, Sammy.”

“Wait- really?” Sam asked, shocked. He expected Dean to fight back more…

Dean nodded, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder.

“Yeah… I guess I was being a bit of a jerk. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a little bitch for tickling the crap outta me.” He smirked.

The younger hunter blinked before accepting the situation. His brother was ACTUALLY taking responsibility for once.

“Well, anyway… I found out what we’re up against.” He said with a proud expression, sitting up straighter as he prepared to share his findings.

Dean raised a brow before leaning back, giving Sam the floor. “Alright… shoot away, Sammy.”

With a confident grin, Sam leaned forward…

It was a difficult day for Sam Winchester… everything small felt significantly bigger, and the world seemed to be crushing him and drowning him in stress.

Something about being a hunter, particularly a hunter that’s been to hell and back and seen the world nearly end about a hundred times, is that the future really starts to weigh you down. Anxiety creeps in and every sound, feeling, or occurrence feels like a warning.

It gets absolutely suffocating.

For Sam, it forced him to hide away in his room and burrow under his covers and hope that the world won’t spontaneously combust.

While Sam was doing just that, the archangel, Gabriel, popped up beside his boyfriend, sitting on the edge of the bed. The sudden dip in the mattress caused the hunter to gasp and shoot up from under the covers, his hair tousled and his eyes wide as he prepared to fist fight any threat in the room.

“Woah there, Sammich! Don’t get too excited to see me.” The archangel teased with a grin, his golden wings flapping slightly behind him as he raised his hands in mock defense.

The Winchester breathed a sigh of relief, but his expression quickly turned sour.

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Gabriel.” He grumbled before laying back down, facing away from his boyfriend.

The trickster cocked his head to the side and raised a brow, not expecting the abnormally cold remark. After a surprise visit, Sam usually relaxed and gave a playfully annoyed response… but this was a real annoyed response.

Gabriel could tell something was up.

“Someone’s down in the dumps, eh?” He hummed, moving closer to his lover and brushing a hand through his hair, trying to offer some form of relaxation and support.

Sam felt himself immediately relax under the gentle touches, leaning back against the archangel and closing his eyes. His brows creased, showing how stressed he really was.

He shuttered. “A little bit…”

Gabriel softened. He laid himself down fully, pressing his body against Sam’s and wrapping an arm around him, resting his chin on the taller man’s shoulder.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Almost instinctively, one of his wings protectively draped over Sam like a blanket.

The younger relaxed further and he felt at least some of his anxiety melt away under the warmth.

“I-I don’t know… the world just feels suffocating…”

As Sam started to talk, one of his hands became drawn to the archangel’s wing, his fingers fidgeting with the soft edge of it. Gabriel didn’t expect it, but he didn’t fully mind… it just felt a bit… sensitive.

“It’s like no matter how many times we stop the apocalypse or the end of the world, there’s always more… I-I hate not being able to predict it… disaster is just always looming over me and I can’t-”

Sam’s anxious ramblings were interrupted by a muffled chuckle. What the hell? Was his boyfriend laughing at him?

Sam continued to fidget, his other hand joining in to play with the feathers, his irritation growing as the archangel continued to laugh.

“What the hell, Gabe? How is that funny?!” He growled, his fingers fussing more intensely as he got more anxious.

When they accidentally dug into the base of the wing, it gave a harsh flap and the archangel fell back, nearly tumbling off the side of the mattress as he barked out a laugh.

“I-I’m not laughing at you!!! Quit messing with my wing like it’s some stress toy!”

Sam startled as his boyfriend hastily sat up, clutching his wing and brushing it off. He tilted his head and observed before a look of realization took over his features. A smile tugged at his lips and he stifled a giggle of his own.

“Oh… ticklish wings, huh?” He snorted, causing a blush to spread on Gabriel’s cheeks.

“Oh, shut up! You’re one to talk about ticklishness!” He pouted playfully, giving Sam’s tummy a poke, which resulted in a squeak and a jolt.

The hunter huffed and shot his boyfriend a glare before becoming slightly mischievous.

“You know, I still feel kind of anxious… I need to keep my hands occupied for a bit.”

He then grabbed the archangels wing to hold it still, using the other to scribble over the soft, feathered surface. Gabriel squawked and fell back, erupting in loud, frantic laughter.

“Sammy, you evil, evil, soul!” He cried, kicking his legs and flapping his free wing while the other twitched helplessly under the gentle assault.

Sam’s fingers were thorough, but careful, not wanting to cause any harm to the golden appendages. He began to notice that as his boyfriend continued to laugh and squirm, the room felt brighter and things suddenly didn’t feel so terrible. He felt the weight lifting from his shoulders and his anxiety melting away.

All this from a little tickling?

Sam began to laugh with the archangel, his eyes crinkling in mirth as his fingers scratched at the most sensitive parts of his lover’s wing. He loved the sound of the archangels laugh… it never failed to rub off on him and draw out a similar sound.

“Sammy, stohohohop! This is torture!” Gabriel whined, his hair mussing up as he whipped his head back and forth. Tears of mirth began to fall and his cheeks were brighter than the Winchester’s expression.

“Why would I stop? This is pretty stress relieving.” Sam teased, but slowed down, not wanting to overstimulate the archangel, knowing that the wings can be quite sensitive. Besides… he felt lighter already.

Gabriel gave Sam a mock glare, seizing the opportunity to push him off and straddle him, his wings flapping playfully.

“You like fidgeting, huh?! Well my wings feel pretty fidgety too!” He growled, smirking at the younger’s wide-eyed expression. Sam looked like a dear in headlights and it was almost impossible for the archangel not to laugh.

“I think you deserve a taste of your own medicine!” With a cheeky grin, Gabriel let the tips of his wings flutter against Sam’s neck, eliciting a burst of embarrassingly squeaky giggles and soft snorts. The gentle flitting of the feathers against his skin was enough to drive him up the wall, but also melt away the rest of his anxiety, leaving none at all.

He felt so happy and… free.

“Hey!! T-That’s cheating!” He protested, shaking his head and using his hands to try and cover his neck, only for the archangel to pin them to the side.

“Oh, I think it’s fair game… you torture my wings, I torture you with my wings.” Gabriel grinned and a squeal rang out as he flicked the tip of his wing against his boyfriend’s ear.

“Oh yeah… totally fair.”

Sam’s laughter echoed through the room, blending with the archangel’s warm chuckles and occasional teasing. For the first time that day, Sam’s chest didn’t feel heavy and his mind wasn’t swimming with dark thoughts.

Gabriel decided to ease up, his fingers brushing gently against Sam’s flushed cheeks as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Feeling a little less suffocated, Samshine?” The older man teased, his golden eyes full of affection.

Sam’s breathing evened out, his giggles fading into contented sighs as he glanced up at his boyfriend, a small, relaxed smile spreading across his lips.

“Yeah…” He whispered, “Thanks, Gabe.”

The archangel grinned, moving to lay beside Sam.

“Anything to get you smiling like that, sugar.”

The rest of their agenda had nothing to do with research or hunting… only cuddles and laughter.

“You didn’t…” The older Winchester sat there in utter disbelief, beer bottle glued (literally) to his hand.

The brothers had been wrapped up in a prank war, going back and forth to see who could out-match the other. Sam, who had fallen victim to the old itching powder prank, decided to clap back by applying superglue a bottle of beer while Dean wasn’t looking. As the two raised their bottles to a solid plan, Dean took a sip, went to put the glass down, only to find that he couldn’t…

“Oh…” Sam smirked, holding up a small tube of superglue. “I did.” Amused by his brother’s dumbfounded expression, he fell into that rare laughter that Dean could only describe as sunshiny and precious, even if it was at his expense.

Dean tried to shake the bottle off of his hand, but it just wouldn’t budge. He eventually gave up with an irritated huff, glaring at Sam. “You’re gonna pay for that, Sammy.”

The taller brother wiped away a fake tear of mirth, crossing his arms and continuing to chuckle. “Oh yeah? With what? Another ridiculous prank?”

The younger’s cocky attitude made Dean’s blood boil a bit… but he knew the kid wouldn’t be laughing for long. Well… he would be, but in a different way.

“Oh, you’ll see, Sammy. You’ll see…” He had that dangerous glint in his eyes that spelled trouble, and the devilish smirk that crept on his face easily sent a shiver down Sam’s spine. There might actually be cause for concern here…

From there, things continued as normal, at least after Dean painfully ripped the beer out of his hand. They ate their food, discussed the hunt, made jokes, the usual. By the time they packed up and got in the Impala to head off to the motel, Sam had forgotten all about Dean’s little threat.

The two arrived back at their motel room, slamming the door behind them and dropping their stuff. But as Sam tossed his bag onto his bed and made the move to sit down, he was tackled onto the mattress, a slight panic growing in his chest as he felt someone straddle his hips and pin his arms above his head. When he looked up, he saw none other than Dean.

Of course it was Dean…

“What the hell, Dean?!” Sam huffed, tugging at his arms and trying to wriggle out from underneath the elder. The response only caused Dean to smirk.

“What’s the matter, Sammy? Revenge not tasting so sweet?”

“Your ‘revenge’ is sitting on me- EEK!- WAIT!”

Sam’s complaint was interrupted as a tingly sensation shot through his body, the result of Dean’s fingers digging into his sides with expert precision. The younger Winchester broke into barks of laughter, his head falling back against the mattress and his hands, now free, shoving at his brother’s chest.

Dean grinned triumphantly, watching his normally stoic younger brother come undone just from a few wiggling fingers.

“Aww, wait? But I’m just getting started!” He taunted, moving up to target the man’s ribs, which earned a wild buck of the hips. “Did you seriously think I’d let you get away with that little stunt? That glue ripped the skin off my damn hand!”

Sam kicked his long legs and stuck his arms to his sides, trying to block his ribs from his mischievous older brother, but Dean wasn’t deterred. If Sam was blocking the area, he’d swiftly attack elsewhere… then if Sam went to block that area, he’d shoot straight to the original target. This kept Sam on his toes, unable to guess where his brother would go next.

When the shorter hunter started skittering his nails down Sam’s sides, the younger’s eyes widened, instantly aware of where Dean was trying to go.

“N-No, plehehehease…! I’m sorry! Don’t do it!” He pleaded through frantic giggles, looking up at his big brother’s cheeky expression. Dean looked right into those big, hazel eyes, and despite the younger’s protests, he didn’t see any distress or discomfort in them. Instead, he saw anticipation and even a bit of excitement.

It took everything in Dean’s power to keep that ‘evil’ facade up, but even then, his smile was getting fonder by the minute.

“You’re sorry, huh? Well…” He hummed, pausing to tap his chin.

“I don’t believe you.”

With that, he dropped his hands and latched onto his younger brother’s sensitive stomach, sneaking under the fabric of his shirt, which had ridden up from the struggle.

Shrill squeals echoed through the small room as Sam writhed under the persistent tickle attack, flailing his arms and bucking his hips. He arched his back out of instinct, though it only pushed him closer to those evil fingers.

“NAHAHAH!- D-DEAN, I CAN’T!!”

“Oh, you can’t, huh? Kinda like how I couldn’t get that bottle off my hand without ripping my skin off?” Dean teased. He wasn’t really THAT mad about the prank… he just wanted to drag this on for as long as possible.

Sam groaned through his guffaws, shaking his head to try and find an outlet for the sensations.

“OH MY GOD, I GET IT!! I-I’M SORRY! MEHEHERCY!”

By this point, the younger hunter’s cheeks were bright red and stained with tears. His belly was getting sore from all the laughter and even his face was feeling the effects of smiling so hard. Dean absolutely loved it. It was so rare for Sam to laugh himself to this state… and the fact that his brother was enjoying this just as much as he was only made the moment that much sweeter.

Nevertheless, he knew he had to let up soon. So as a final gift, he pressed a big raspberry right into the younger’s naval, eliciting a loud shriek, followed by high pitched, boyish laughter.

After a few more raspberries, Dean pulled away and ruffled Sam’s hair, a cheeky but warm grin on his face.

“Alright, alright… I think you learned your lesson.” He chuckled, sitting beside the younger hunter and watching him catch his breath. Despite the tickling having stopped, Sam was still giggling from the phantom tickles. Still… he couldn’t deny that it felt nice.

“You’re such a jerk…” Sam muttered, a goofy grin still glued to his face.

Dean rolled his eyes, holding up his hand, which had some redness and skin peeling. “You caused me legitimate pain.”

“You put itching powder in my pants!”

…

“Fair enough.”

Though the prank war was far from over, Sam had certainly learned to dial it back a bit…

The young girl sat cross-legged on her bed with her arms crossed over her chest, her expression one of pure stubbornness. She quickly shook her head.

“No! I’m keeping it hidden!” Came the bratty response.

The elder let out a sigh and rubbed his temples, clearly not in the mood for his sister’s shenanigans. At the same time though, he could tell that she wasn’t hiding it just for the fun of things. As if she read his mind, Abby spoke.

“I want you to stay here…”

Mike had a strong suspicion that that was the case. His expression softened and he let out another sigh, taking inventory of his options. It’s not like he could send her to her room… she was already there. Besides, that wouldn’t do any good, considering she knew where the vest was and he didn’t.

He suddenly got an idea… a way to get his vest back without making Abby hate him.

He slumped his shoulders and strolled over to the girl’s bed, kneeling in front of it to be at her eye level.

“You’re really not gonna tell me where the vest is, are you?”

As he expected, Abby, with a pout, shook her head vigorously, causing her short, dark hair to whack her in the face. Mike shrugged, getting back on his feet.

“Alright, Abs. I didn’t want it to have to come to this, but you leave me no choice…”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he swooped up his little sister and carefully pinned her to the bed, hovering over her. And then, without hesitation, he dug his fingers into Abby’s sides, causing her to squeal.

“Mike!!” Abby yelled through her giggles, wriggling around under her brother’s evil fingers.

“Where’s the vest, Abby?” Mike asked again. He was gentle, yet firm with his tickling, not wanting to hurt or overwhelm the kid, just wanting to know where his vest was.

“Mike, stohohop! I’m not telling!”

The elder raised an eyebrow, inching up to his sister’s ribcage, knowing it was a particularly sensitive spot. Abby’s response was a shrill burst of laughter and a whole lot of squirming.

“Oh, really? Then I guess I’ll just have to tickle you until you tell me.”

The younger yelped at the feeling of her brother’s nails scratching along her bare tummy, her laughter going up an octave or two.

Mike, despite trying to be serious (as serious as you can be when tickling your younger sibling to pieces,) could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his own lips, endeared by the sound of his little sister’s laughter. Abby didn’t talk very much, and when she did, it was mostly short replies or bratty remarks. Mike couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Abby look so happy.

What was he doing? Oh, right… the vest.

“Abby, I’ve gotta leave in fifteen minutes. Either you tell me where the vest is, or this continues for the next twelve minutes.” Mike threatens, spidering his fingers around the girl’s stomach.

Overwhelmed by the tingly sensations in her stomach and mortified by the thought of this torture continuing for a whole twelve more minutes, the little thief finally caved.

“O-Okahahay! I’ll tell you where the vest is!” Squealed Abby, admitting defeat.

Seeing that the kid had had enough, Mike pulled away, crossing his arms expectantly. “Well?”

The child took a moment to gasp for breath before giggling out, “M-My pillowcase…”

Mike raised an eyebrow and slowly reached towards his sister’s pillowcase, keeping an eye on her in case she was setting him up and trying to make a run for it. When he felt a bunched up piece of fabric at the bottom of the pillowcase, he pulled it out and checked it for any marks or scribbles… not that Abby would do such a thing, but you could never be too cautious.

Once concluding that the vest was in perfect condition, he slipped it on and stood up, ready to head out the door. He then saw his sister’s melancholic expression and he sighed, kneeling down in front of her.

“Hey, I know we don’t really spend much time together anymore, but… I have tomorrow off.” Abby took her eyes off the floor to look at Mike instead.

“Why don’t you and I spend the whole day together? We could watch movies, play games, draw pictures together, even though I’m not an artist like you.” He smiled, tucking a stray hair behind his sister’s ear, getting her to giggle from his compliment.

She pretended to think about it, tapping her chin, which caused Mike to grin and gently shake her by the shoulder.

“Come oooon… say yes!”

The playful insistence made the young girl laugh and she finally gave in, pushing her brother away with faux exasperation.

“Okay, okay, fineeee!” Laughed Abby.

Mike’s grin softened and he stroked the back of his sister’s head. With some peace of mind, he started to head for the door before turning around again to look at the girl.

“Be good for Max, okay?”

“I will… even though I don’t like her very much.” Abby said with a cheeky smile, causing Mike to roll his eyes and stifle a laugh, not wanting her to think it’s funny to insult people, even though it kinda was…

Mike’s shift that night felt a bit easier than usual, the thought of spending time with his little sister getting him through.

He wouldn’t be making any excuses either. No matter what happened, he and Abby would be spending time together. After all… they were the only family they had left.

…