"Finally, home..." Agoti let an exasperated sigh as he flopped on to his bed, coming home after what was going to be a relaxing walk turned into a hectic rap battle with that annoying blue-haired brat! It had been the third time this week, and it was really starting to wear him down for the worse. His body ached - for how much energy he put into that one single battle; he was upset that he didn't win.

That he couldn't win.

That was the main problem - he was never able to figure out how to beat him. Everything that brat did was able to one-up his moves immediately and have the entire crowd cheering for him. He would be lying if he said it didn't hurt a little. Scratch that, a lot. He wanted to feel good and confident about his rapping skills. If he never won any matches, how could he be considered good? His mind swirled with random thoughts of self-doubt as he gripped the side of his pillow.

Then he heard a knock at his door.

Agoti tilted his head back toward the door, noticing the taller frame standing outside of it. He grumbled; he wasn't in the mood to deal with his bullshit right now. As much as he loves the family bonding, it was just not the right time for it. Not while he had so much on his mind. "What do you want?" He barked out, resting his head against his pillow once more.

Aldryx raised an eyebrow as he stepped inside the younger one's room, letting out a huff in response. "What, that the best insult you got? What happened to the 'hey, older brother!' Where'd that go, huh?" It was clear that he was just teasing him and didn't care what he said, but the loud groan he got in response made him quite concerned.

He sat down on the other side of the bed, looking at him with a stern expression. "You alright?"

Agoti huffed, burying his face deeper into the pillow. His expression was a mix of anger and sadness, one that hadn't been seen in such a long time. "No, does it look like I'm alright? It's the third time this week that idiot has beaten me in a rap battle!" Aldryx only tilted his head. He didn't understand how that could affect him so much - it was only a friendly battle, after all.

"Is it that big of a deal?" The taller one absentmindedly blurted out, narrowing his eyes a bit. Agoti's cheeks flushed a bright red out of irritation. How could he say that sort of thing? It didn't make sense! "Of course it does! He's always winning!" He moves his body up to look at him with a sort of... disgusted look as if he couldn't believe that he even said that. "I never win against him! And if I never win..." Agoti trailed off, turning over on his back. "...I'm no good."

Those words shook Aldryx. His whole body froze with the sudden realization that he was struggling with self-confidence. The red digidevil frowned a bit. "Listen," he spoke softly, a hand resting on his side, "just because someone beats you doesn't mean that you're not good. It just means that you've finally found a challenge. I'm sorry if I made it seem like that it wasn't important and I..."

Aldryx stopped suddenly. His younger brother's movements made his eyebrow raise, and he swore he could've heard muffled giggles out of him. "Dude, was my speech really that corny?" He asked quietly, giggling himself. The younger one shook his head, his arms going to grab the older one's wrist. Only then did he realize the issue, so to speak.

His hand had been tapping against his side oblivious to the reactions that he was causing him. It took a moment before the puzzle started to click in his mind; for the gears to start turning. "Ah.." he chuckled, still tapping against his side. "You know, Agoti," he started, moving in closer to the one laying down, "I don't like seeing you put yourself down. You should lighten up a bit. And I'm gonna show you how!"

Without a warning, Aldryx's long claws started scratching through the fabric of Agoti's hoodie, teasing and testing all the spots on his stomach and sides. The poor boy didn't even have a chance to react to his brother's torturous methods before he was a hysterical mess, squirming and kicking on his bed as he tried hard to get away from him through his bright and almost child-like laughter.

"Ah, ah..!" Aldryx giggled, holding him close in a tight bear-hug, making sure he couldn't get away from him. "No, you don't!" His fingers continued to mercilessly scratch at the boy's sensitive stomach and sides all the while he was kicking and trying to push him off with the amount of strength he had.

"AaaAAAHAHA- A-ALDRYX..! YohohohHOHOU BAHAHASTARD, QUHUHUIT IT!" Agoti cursed out, letting out loud squeals and squeaks. His nerves felt like they were on fire every time he touched him, causing him to jerk away with every single touch. Curse his brother's strength to keep him locked in here!

"Are you going to stop badmouthing yourself?" Aldryx asked, raising an eyebrow as he gave him a bit of a break, not wanting to ruin him too much. Agoti let out heavy breaths, just laying in the other's grip. He wasn't badmouthing himself - to him, he was just saying it like he was. "Well, am I ever ... gonna win a match?" There was a moment of silence between them. And for a minute, Agoti thought that he was done.

But from the finger that clawed at the skin underneath his hoodie, he knew this was far from over. "Nohoh, Aldryx, w-wait, I'm sorry, please d-dohohon- oHohOHO GOHOHD NOHO!" Agoti let out a loud shriek and peels of laughter as he felt his brother's claws dig into that ticklish flesh. No matter what he did to twist out of his grip, the digidevil had him right where he wanted him. In his... tickly grasp.

Agoti's face was a bright red mess, and his stomach quivered with laughter underneath his claws as he dragged them up and down. His loud laughter turned to whines as the other started shaking his head, his legs kicking so hard that he was afraid that one of his shoes might fly off.

"I said, are you going to stop badmouthing yourself?" He repeated the question again. Agoti was already so exhausted from the battle that even this small amount of tickling was enough to wear him out. He lowered his head in defeat, nodding.

"F-Fihihine..I'll s-stohohop! I gihihive..! J-Just.. p-plehehease, nohoho mohohore." As soon as the older one heard that, he gave him one last pinch to his side before smiling from ear to ear, listening to the small squeak that left his mouth. Aldryx sat up on the other's bed, patting his arm softly.

"Listen, I know I just... tickled you to death, but I want you to believe me when I say you can talk to me about this sort of thing, right? I'm here for you. I will listen to whatever you want to say, even if it's about Boyfriend and his dumb antics. And hey," Aldryx looked him dead in his blank, white eyes, a reassuring smile on his face. "You're always gonna be the best in my books."

Aldryx then got up, stretching as he walked over to the doorframe. "Oh, one more thing," he turned around. "Dad said he's making something spicy, so swing on by downstairs if you're not too tired~" Agoti groaned as he threw a pillow at his older brother, watching him dodge out of the way and head down the stairs. Even though he appeared to be upset, he wasn't actually. There was even a small smile on his face as he stared up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes.

"Hank," 2BDamned let out an exasperated sigh as they softly opened the mercenary's bedroom door, looking at the adorable sight in front of them. The blankets were kicked off the bed, and the pillows were messy and all over the place... and right in the middle of it all laid the culprit responsible for it all, Hank J Wimbleton, who was still sleeping soundly with soft snores coming from him. His body relaxed against the mattress, with his left arm and leg dangling off the bed.

It took everything in their power not to start laughing at the sight, deeming it hilarious due to the fact that they had never seen him so vulnerable and exposed like that. They knew how much the mission took out of him but dreaded this moment with all of their heart. Hank never slept much, considering the bad insomnia that he fought daily, but when he managed to fall asleep... it was quite literally hell to wake him up. The whole base figured this out the first time it happened, and now the three share a custom of playing rock, paper, scissors to decide who gets to be the unlucky soul to wake them up.

And unfortunately, it was Doc.

"I'm comin' in, Hank," Doc whispered, mainly to themself, as they entered the other's bedroom, noticing how messy they kept their room. They were stepping over empty beer bottles and random clothes as they made their way to his bed. Hank didn't even move a muscle, he just continued to lay there peacefully as if nothing was happening. Doc inhaled sharply. This was the moment they were waiting for. They let out the single breath they were holding as they put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him with a bit of force.

"Hank? Hank, it's time to get up." Doc muttered, squinting their eyes at the sleeping figure. Hank only grumbled and turned onto his stomach as if that would protect him from getting woken up. Their fingers grasped the sleeping figure, shaking them a bit harder. There was still nothing happening. Hank was still sleeping, and Doc was growing increasingly frustrated at the fact that they were such a heavy sleeper. Their other hand reached toward the bridge of their nose, clutching it slightly. They knew they'd have to wake him up - but how?

Doc then grabbed the light covers, pulling them off. It didn't do considering his outfit very much was more than enough to warm him during the night. Doc sighed, frustrated.

"Hank, I'm... erm, damn it," Doc growled as they shook their head. They were a doctor! Well, not a legitimate one, but close enough. There had to be something they could do to get the other out of bed. Doc's gaze narrowed down the length of his body, listening to the other continue to snore without a care in the world. They were silent for a few moments before a sinister idea crept into their mind. A grin formed across their face - they had the best idea.

"Hank, I'm going to count to three," Doc announced loudly, moving lower on the bed. They climbed onto the soft mattress, sitting right next to the other man's legs. This was going to be good - something that Hank couldn't ignore or shrug off. Well, if it even worked on him. Doc's hand moved closer and closer to his ankle, a smirk underneath their mask.

"One," Doc muttered, hand wrapping around his ankle with a bit of force. They paused for a second, looking at the still-sleeping figure with a raised eyebrow. "Two," they continued, pursing their lips as his fingertips twitched with anticipation. Their hand hovered over his socked foot, keeping quiet for any signs of life. Doc chuckled softly, a playful and teasing sound coming out of their mouth.

"....Three." Doc's fingers skittered all over Hank's socked foot, in which Doc finally got a rise out of him - one that they had desperately wanted. Hank sputtered out something unintelligible as his body began to fight back against the ticklish sensations, trying to pull his ankle away from the other's nimble fingers. That only encouraged Doc to keep their grip tighter as their fingertips danced all over his soles. Hank burst out into hysterical laughter, shutting their eyes as they buried their head into their soft pillow.

"Ah, so you're awake now," Doc purred, their eyes narrowing in a teasing way that the other unfortunately couldn't see. A giant smirk was plastered all over their face - they found the situation more amusing than ever, knowing that Hank fuckin' Wimbleton, out of everyone they knew, was ticklish. And extremely, by the simple looks of it. Doc's fingers continued to scribble all over his socked foot, Hank's hand hitting the side of the bed.

"Doho- fUHUHCK! DOhohoHOHOC!" Hank squeaked out through his many frantic peels of laughter, his entire body squirming against them. Oh, this was just too good now. "Yes, Hank~? What do you need?" they asked, turning their head back as they continued to mercilessly torture their friend. Their fingers traveled up and down almost agonizingly, making Hank let out a squeal before dissolving into more laughter, his pitch rising with every torturous touch. "YOHOHOU- AHAH-" Hank was cut off multiple times by his own laughter and squeals, as he planted his face back into his pillow.

"Aw, Hank, you know I can't understand you like that..~" Doc teased, letting a small huff of amusement escape their lips. Unfortunately, they had completely forgotten how strong Hank actually was... so the minute the top of his foot met their jaw, it made them jerk back. Of course, Hank didn't mean to - they'd never intentionally hurt the other, but it's... just what happened. "Ahaha, s-shit, Doc, you alright?" Hank asked, feeling their grip on his ankle loosen.

Hank immediately shot up, their hand cupping the side of Doc's face with a concerned look. "Did I hurt you too bad? I didn't ... mean to, it was..." Doc only chuckled in response, giving him a soft look as they shook their head.

"Don't worry about it. I expected to see some resistance. It caught me off-guard a bit," they explained with a bit of a laugh. "But nothin' I can't handle. Hey, you're fully awake now." Hank pouted a bit, still upset that he accidentally kicked the other. His hand continued to cup the side of their face. "Oh, on another note..." they spoke softly, setting aside their mask to show their scarred face. Their lips pursed for a moment before continuing. "I think that might be my favorite way to wake you up now. Well, minus the kicking. I might have to do it again...~"

"...ugh," Hank grumbled, rolling his eyes as he stretched upward. "That was unnecessary."

"For you, maybe," Doc responded with a slight teasing glint in their eye. "But to me, I think it was quite cute. And fun. I'm have to lighten you up a bit sometimes." They joked. "Besides, you wouldn't get up for anything else. I even shook you a bunch of times."

Hank only gave them a side-eye, pouting a bit as their cheeks turned a soft pink color. "...shut up."

Doc raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you sound like you want more with an attitude like that."

And just like that, Doc immediately pounced on Hank, for what wouldn't be the last 'attack' of the day. Deimos and Sanford were long forgotten, thanks to Hank's attitude. It wasn't like either of them minded, though.

Something was off. 

Sanford only recognized something was wrong when he realized the room was insanely quiet. The only noises that came through the lounge were the soft hums of Hank as they sharpened their knives beside him, and the various scribbling noises of 2BDamned’s pencil on work papers. The only person missing from the group was the childish technician, or more bluntly put, the hook-wielder’s boyfriend. That realization alone concerned him a little. Usually, he was always around - being annoying to Hank, chatting up Doc, or just roaming the area with a cigarette in his mouth. 

…why was he not here? 

Sanford took a few minutes to think about it a little more, but the more he thought about the fact that he wasn’t around, the more nervous it made him. Hank seemed to notice this from the corner of their eye, their gaze turning slightly toward the left. “What are you worried about?” He asked, setting down his knife and turning his attention to the dark-skinned man beside him. “I don’t know,” he exhaled sharply. “Have you seen Deimos around? Is he out? I just… think it’s kind of weird he’s not … doing his usual, y’know, bullshit.” 

Hank chuckled softly at that comment, narrowing his eyes toward the hallway that led to his room. “I went to check on him earlier. He told me he’d be out in a few minutes, but… now that I think about it, it’s been a little bit since he told me that. You want to go check on him?” They tilted their head, looking back at the worried expression on the hook-wielder’s face. Sanford nodded, lifting himself off the couch. He headed straight toward the technician’s room, and when he got there, he was concerned with the silence. 

“Deimos?” he knocked softly at the door, hoping that he didn’t scare the other. For a minute, there was no reply; maybe he fell back asleep. He didn’t really want to barge into the other’s room uninvited - especially if he was doing something personal. But just as he started to back away from the door, he heard the rough voice of the other ever so quietly. “What is it?” Deimos responded back.

"I'm coming in, alright?" Sanford opened the door slowly but what he saw in front of him shocked him even more.

Deimos was curled up on his bed, completely covered by the giant blanket he had. The only things that Sanford could see were his head and his hands which were grasping the pillow he had tightly. The pillowcase was completely soaked with tears, and they still continued to flow as he looked up at the hook-wielder's troubled face. "What do you want?" Deimos asked, his voice cracking a little as he hiccupped softly, his body trembling from how much he had been crying.

Sanford's eyes widened. "Hey, hey," his voice grew softer as he sat on the edge of the bed, "what's the matter? What happened?" It took a minute for the other to even get a full sentence out without stuttering.

"I just... I d-don't know," he started. The act of opening up just made him want to cry harder, but he resisted the urge to. He refused eye contact with his boyfriend, the obvious frown on his face only growing bigger. "I-I'm just so overwhelmed with everything, and sometimes, my thoughts like to run free and think of all sorts of things that would probably never happen in a million years... and I keep thinking, 'what if they do happen?' What then?"

Sanford gently placed a hand on his cheek, stroking his face softly. "Listen, whatever you're thinking of, forget about it. The reality of the situation is that we're both alive and well. That's all that really matters, isn't it?" He wiped away his tears, giving him a soft smile in return. It was only a shame that he couldn't return it.

"It's not that simple, y'know," Deimos whispered. "I can't just stop thinking about it."

Deimos was right about that, he thought bitterly. There had to be some way to distract him from the sadness he was going through.

And then the idea hit him like a train.

"What if there was a way you could just 'stop thinking about it', huh?" Sanford shot back, suddenly gaining a teasy tone in his voice. The technician shook his head, rubbing his eyes. There were no more tears left for him to give, so he just sat there with a frown instead. "I appreciate the offer, but nothing is really going to stop me from thinking about this," he muttered, looking down at his bedsheets.

"That's what you think," Sanford replied, his eyes glistening with 'evil' intent. "But I know a surefire way to get you out of this mood!" Deimos just turned his head to the side, the frown growing in size as the two's eyes interlocked. That frown quickly changed to something different. An anxious smile, perhaps?

"What are you planning to do, huh, Ford? Since it's... surefire..." Deimos hesitated slightly when he saw the other towering over him. Sanford wrapped his arms around the technician, listening to the other yelp as he was trapped in a hug. He was caught off guard and a little surprised by the sudden affection, but he had no idea what was about to happen. "F-Ford, what- WAIHIHIT, NOHOHO!" Deimos cackled embarrassingly as the other's large fingers found their way right to his torso, digging into the sensitive flesh he found there.

"I'm gonna tickle the sadness out of you!" Sanford assured him, watching the other flail helplessly in his grasp at the ticklish sensation. Deimos was trying his hardest to get out of the situation he was in, kicking his legs out underneath the blanket he was in which, admittedly, only hurt him more as it got tangled between his legs and between itself. Curse that damn blanket!

"NOHOHO- SAHAHAN! BAHAHAD SAN!" Deimos chided as if he was talking to a dog, throwing his head back on his pillow. Sanford's fingers dug in a little deeper, an amused smirk growing on his face. "Nu-uh," he shook his head, leaning in closer to get a good look at his boyfriend's beautiful smile, "I'm not stopping until the sadness is gone. It's a good thing you're so ticklish, huh?" The other teased softly, giving him a small kiss right on the nose.

Deimos' laugh rose in pitch, making him sound almost like a little girl. The technician pushed at his boyfriend's shoulders, but the other didn't budge a bit. "What do you think you're doing, huh, Deimos? Trying to push me off? Who do you think you are~? You think you can get away from... the tickle monster?!" Sanford chuckled softly hearing the shriek that came out of Deimos' mouth as he lifted up his shirt, leaning down to his sensitive belly. He looked up, letting the realization of the situation sink in.

"SAHAHAHAN-! D-DOHOHOHON'T YOHOHOU DAHAHARE!!" Deimos squealed out. Sanford didn't listen, however, as his lips met the other's sensitive skin. Just that alone was enough to send shivers down the other's spine, his hands pushing against the hook-wielder's shoulders with a bit more intensity. It didn't affect Sanford in the slightest, considering that his boyfriend was already so weak due to the tickling.

"Oh, but," he muttered with a sly grin. "What if I do dare?"

And with that, Sanford blew a raspberry right on his stomach, knowing that the vibrations only made it ten times worse for Deimos. And that it did, considering the reaction he got out of him. The shriek that left his mouth was louder than anything he'd ever heard before and he just knew that the others outside could hear it clearly. His legs kicked weakly against the bedsheets as his squeaky, sort of rough laughter continued to ring out. His face was a bright red and his smile reached from ear to ear - something that was more positive than sight Sanford had seen earlier. He could almost get memorized it.

"SAHAHAHAN-! STAHAHAPH I-IHIHIM DYIHIHING!!" Deimos clenched his fist as he slammed his hands on the other's back, signaling that he was quite close to his limit. Sanford only chuckled as he gave him one last nibble, sending tickly vibrations all throughout his body before he leaned back. Deimos fell against the pillow, panting as he looked up at his boyfriend.

"...so, did that get your mind off stuff?" he asked quietly, his smile growing bigger as he put a hand on the side of his cheek, pushing the technician's messy hair behind his ears. He was sweating and blushing, but at least he didn't look sad anymore. Deimos let out another shaky breath before replying.

"Yeah, ... yeah, it did. T-Thanks." He chuckled as he turned away. Sanford pulled him close into a tight embrace, leaning his head into the crook of his neck. The technician gasped as he let out a softer sigh, leaning against his boyfriend as his hands gently rested on his bare back.

"Listen, if you ever need to talk about stuff, I'm here," Sanford started, his words a bit muffled as his face buried deeper into the other's neck. "I will always be there for you. There's no mistaking that. If it's something you can't talk about, well, I'll be there for that too. I can always bring out the tickle monster again..~." He chuckled, giving him a slight poke to the side.

"Aha-! Y-Yeah, yeah, whatever. C'mere, you big goof."

"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.