#ss2k22

Zagreus turned his head, looking from Thanatos’ weapon to his own. A couple of feet away. His gaze lifted slowly upward. The grey and currently half-rocky skin had blended quite well into the environment like a natural stalagmite, and it wasn’t until he was actually looking for it that Zagreus could see that Thanatos was there, and likely not going anywhere any time soon. 

The prince rose, grabbed and sheathed his sword as he rounded the Thanatos-shaped pillar until he faced the front. Zagreus had been grinning already upon realizing what he’d stumbled upon, but that grin grew all the bigger and brighter when he saw the normally brooding Thanatos looking flustered and positively grumpy.

“Don’t—” Thanatos said, sighing in defeat when Zagreus snorted and burst into bright laughter that he tried and failed to hide behind his hand. “Don’t laugh.”

"I'm sorry, but can you blame me?" Zagreus said, nearly falling into another fit of giggling when he rapped a knuckle lightly against Thanatos' chest and the action produced a satisfying thunk. "What happened?" He asked, but it was fairly obvious: petrification. Gorgons were aplenty in Asphodel, and none of them so friendly as Dusa. Most of Thanatos' body was still affected by the curse, frozen in place and turned a stony stormy grey. By the looks of it and the fact that he could talk, the petrification was naturally draining from Thanatos' form from the top first, leaving the rest of him to wait out the "thawing" process in the stiff and stiffness-inducing position of both arms partially raised as those blocking with his scythe, and both feet floating their usual few inches from the ground.

"I was waiting for your slow ass," Thanatos grumbled, drawing the prince to close his cursory examination with a snort. "Expected for us to have one of our contests, but a gorgon caught me from behind. You'd be standing in her remains, if I hadn't vaporized her."

"Remind me to stay off your bad side." 

"“Stay off.”"

“Shut up.” Zagreus walked a slow circle around Thanatos. He cast his gaze outward, studying the chamber without the blinders of adrenaline and stress that tended to make things look fuzzy. He knew Thanatos was powerful, but—blood and darkness—he’d probably obliterated every shade within the next three chambers, let alone their current one. It was just a guess, but, with how thoroughly every trap had been tripped and every structural fault had been compromised simultaneously, as though from a massive blast, Zagreus was fairly certain that A. he and Thanatos were better than safe from shades for the time being, and B. even caught off guard, Thanatos did nothing at half-intensity. Drama queen. “So how long have you been like this?”

Thanatos grunted, straining to look over his shoulder at Zagreus when the prince moved fully behind him. “I don’t know. I didn’t count, as I was counting on you to be quick. Thanks for picking this one time to be the one where you drag your feet.”

Zagreus didn’t respond to the jab with more than a thoughtful hum. He was too busy watching the petrification dissipate, the cold stone color receding like a lava wave at low tide at a slavug’s pace. Ugh. 

“I don’t know how long I’ve been like this, and I have no idea how long I’ll be like this, since I usually have you to cover me.”

“It’s pretty quick, from the hits I’ve taken.” Of course, Zagreus realized upon thinking it over, he was often petrified while surrounded by enemies, and the threat of being sent back down the Styx made him struggle against the enchantment with all his might. Maybe it was supposed to last a long time; he’d just be thin on patience and break himself out. “Helps if you wiggle.”

Thanatos scoffed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “You are an amazing help.”

“Well, what do you suggest I—?”

“Just—” Thanatos huffed, neck and shoulders visibly straining where he tried to move them, move anything, “just keep watch to make sure nothing respawns. I didn’t even want you seeing me like this, let alone your father’s subjects.”

“Any shade would think they’ve gone mad with the heat before they accepted seeing you like this as real. Or they’d be laughed out of the House for such a ridiculous and unbelievable tale, you know that. But fine,” Zagreus replied with a yawn and set himself on a little guarding route around Thanatos, keeping an eye trained outward for ominous growling, keeping an ear pointed toward Thanatos to listen to his comical grunts and breathy swears of efforts, and letting his mind drift elsewhere.

When Zagreus found himself petrified on his escape attempts, a quick shake and healthy dose of stubbornness was all it took for him to bash his way to freedom and back to slashing shades to dust. There had been one time, though, when he’d found himself without monsters to slay beside the shade who’d landed a hit and then lazily floated away and straight into a fountain of lava. (Zagreus could understand enjoying a hot bath, but yikes…) With no adversaries, Zagreus had lacked his usual incentive to escape as quickly as possible. It was odd, to stop moving so thoroughly, without being able to so much as jiggle his leg or tap his fingers or click his tongue. His companion on-call at that time had been Dusa, and he couldn't think of anyone better to offer advice as to getting un-petrified than her. Luckily, the little gifted doll he kept like a keychain on his weapon didn't need to be physically or verbally invoked—that would make summoning under the onslaught of a dozen rakers or one very maltempered ROUS even more difficult—so he pictured the soft snakey toy, reached out with his mind, and called for his companion. In a flash, Dusa appeared, all smiles and polite shyness and readiness to stone and slaughter any foe that challenged the prince. Of course, there were none, but Zagreus' head had gotten enough feeling back to explain the situation to Dusa. Her advice was the same Zagreus had given to Thanatos in the present: wiggle around a bit. And she had, so helpfully, provided a new incentive via her trusty feather duster.

Recalling the event made Zagreus—well, first he flushed to the roots of his charcoal hair, and he was glad he'd come to stand behind Thanatos at that moment, and then—grin, delighted and devilish. "Actually…"

"What?" Thanatos tried to look over his shoulder at Zagreus once more, and found only the slightest more yield in his stone-struck muscles. He could almost touch his chin to his shoulder. 

Zagreus side-stepped accommodatingly to face his captive companion. "Funny thing is, Than, you're not rock. You can feel just fine." He gave another demonstrative flick to Thanatos' shoulder. "It's a bitch when you're being bombarded with enemy attacks. But it might help you break free. If I just—"

It had been a tactical move for Zagreus to move around to Thanatos’ front. For one, it allowed him easy access to scribble his fingers under death incarnate’s arms unimpeded. For another, it meant he got to see Thanatos’ face morph from dismay to betrayal to amusement (however helped along and hysteric).

“Zagreus!” cried Thanatos, the sound colored with a splash of helpless laughter. Truly, it was funny how his technically perfect defensive position, when without his intimidating weapon, left him totally vulnerable to a little tickling. (Well. A lot of tickling. Zagreus was usually on the other end of these fights, and he had already decided he was not letting such a golden fleece of opportunity go by.)

"Yes, Than dear?" Zagreus teased, smile growing wide enough as his victim's when he saw the way Thanatos' cheeks began to burn violet. It took the strength of Sisyphus, but Zagreus looked away from Thanatos’ face, looking instead at his chest and trailing the progress of the curse. Still slow, but with a bit more stuttering speed. The stony color had dissipated all the way down to about his collarbone, leaving the topmost part of his collar golden and shining once more. “No need to thank me. I can already see the curse is lifting faster. You keep wriggling, I’ll keep helping, and you’ll be out in no time!”

A whine that slipped seamlessly into a squeal punctuated Thanatos’ chortling. “But—!”

The dual-eyed demigod slowed his attack, keeping his fingers and just a featherlight flutter in Thanatos’ armpits. It was far from rare for the pair to engage in all-out tickle wars that could border on brutal, but this may have been a bit much. Zagreus didn’t want to overwhelm Thanatos. He waited for even the slightest inkling of dissent.

Thanatos ducked his head, panting and giggling and bumping his forehead gently against Zagreus’. “If someone sees…” It was a thin excuse, between euphoric lips and yellow eyes burning with excitement, and Thanatos knew it. 

Zagreus definitely knew it, holding Thanatos’ jaw in his hands to pull him in for a kiss that ended when the prince chuckled, low and wicked and delighted. “Darling, with how you smote those shades, we won’t be interrupted for awhile, I’m sure.” Thanatos’ eyes scrunched shut, and he bit his lip valiantly against a renewed fit of giggling when Zagreus’ hands migrated gently down his neck and back to his underarms. “No one but me to relish your screams.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Thanatos teased, teeth gritted in a grin.

Able to bear stillness not a second longer, Zagreus set his fingers dancing once again, spidering viciously beneath Thanatos’ arms. Poor death threw his head back as the villainous onslaught sent laughter bursting from his lungs to echo through the lava chamber. His shoulder muscles strained against stone, but, try as he might, he couldn’t lower his arms at all. Not the tiniest inch, not the slightest bit of reprieve. Zagreus grinned. It was spectacular. 

In self-preservation, Zagreus had tipped his head back from his and Than’s intimate moment seconds before going back to full tickle monster mode, which had been smart with how determined Thanatos was to thrash even with just his head. A minute or two of torture later, Zagreus saw another inevitable point of danger. The curse was ebbing; soon Thanatos was free to his shoulders, and that gave him only the ability to laugh enough for them to shake. As soon as his pectorals were free, Thanatos was going to have means, however clumsy, to fight back. With a sigh lamenting the end of a helpless Thanatos, Zagreus took one last adoring gaze at that tickled-mad, wide-grinning, ecstasy-dizzy face, and he ducked.

A deadweight hand swung over his head, and Zagreus sent one of few thanks to his father for increased difficulty in his pact of punishment. It might have been small, but his instincts were good enough now to avoid what would have been an impressive black eye. Blacker eye. Still, stone-from-the-chest-down was not the way Zagreus preferred his partners, so he couldn’t rest yet. Thanatos was flailing his arms with all his might, but he still couldn’t bend over, so Zagreus was relatively safe lounging against Thanatos’ knee. Reaching as high as he dared, Zagreus gave a few quick and indiscriminate tickles—resulting in beautiful answering shrieks—and latched onto Thanatos’ hips. Instead of pinching, Zagreus held on for dear life and dug into the fabric beneath Thanatos’ belt, burrowing into and scratching the soft sensitive spots that had the potential to make Thanatos purr but were currently making him wail like the damned. 

The longer Thanatos suffered under Zagreus’ malicious mischief, the quicker the curse faded. Zagreus’ wiggling fingers seemed to be fleeing from it as they squeezed down Thanatos’ thighs, skittered behind his knees, and eventually dashed to his soles. Thanatos was fully able to buck now, body all but back to his control. Had Zagreus not laid down on the rocky ground, he likely would have been throttled. As it was, he was still out of reach, grinning up at Thanatos and receiving an exhausted but elated smile in return. There was even almost a flash of fear in death’s eyes when Thanatos realized what Zagreus had planned for the finale of their first—and hopefully not last—curse-breaking session. 

“Don’t worry, Than. This spot ALWAYS makes you dance. If it doesn’t free you, nothing will.” Zagreus was positively beaming up at Thanatos, facing no defense in the form of scrunching toes or kicking feet his usually did even threatening to tickle this spot, and certainly not deterred by the pitiful attempt at a glare the smiley and slumped over Thanatos shot at him. 

Any shade that had even thought about reforming within a mile of them had probably changed their mind and stayed dead a few more minutes upon hearing the howl death let out when two fingers were traced delicately under his toes. Never mind the subsequent guffawing screams he uttered when Zagreus raked five fingers back and forth beneath them while his other hand devastated Thanatos’ soles with some evil scribbling that he could only imagine tickled like hell. Those sounds, even if it did make Zagreus wince and almost want to cover his ears, and the blazing, amazing, unabashed smile that accompanied it was better than any boon the gods could give him. Maybe it was a little devil in him talking, but it was simply divine to see his lover so undone and hysterical, so free even when immobilized, so happy and for only Zagreus to see. He wouldn’t mind staying there, basking in Thanatos’ warm and hysterical glow, for a few dozen winters.

His wish was not granted. He barely got a dozen seconds before Thanatos finally shook free from the petrification, yanking his feet away from Zagreus’ hands and subsequently upending himself, laughter having sapped his strength to the point where he couldn’t even float, collapsing on top of Zagreus’ chest and leaving them both wheezing. 

Once he’d gotten back the wind that had been knocked out of him, Zagreus chuckled, wrapping his arms around Thanatos and holding him close, rubbing smooth and soothing circles into the soft warm skin of his shoulder. So gentle and loving was the attention and little kisses he showered Thanatos with that his next words were a jarring dissonance.

“You know, it usually only takes me a few seconds to break free from a gorgon hit when I really want to,” said Zagreus, and he hummed smugly when he felt Thanatos’ face grow warm where it was suddenly buried in the prince’s neck. “Can’t help but wonder if, maybe, you just didn’t want to escape that badly.” He pressed a grinning kiss to Thanatos’ burning forehead. “Eh, Thana-toes?”

Just as suddenly as he’d been pinned to the floor under Thanatos, Zagreus found himself pinned to the floor, arms raised and locked in the grip of a vengeful death, whose amber eyes were absolutely alight with promise and payback, and smoldering more softly with fondness that could not be more obvious when he rolled them. “I will give you three conditions to escape a slow and very merciless end, after which I will personally drag you back down the Styx and deliver just as merciless a wake-up call.”

Zagreus gulped, his grin growing wobbly and his stomach already tickled by a swarm of prickling nerves and butterflies. “And those would be?”

“One,” said Thanatos, summoning a ghostly indigo shackle to bind Zagreus’ left wrist. “Please don’t tell anyone about this that I work with. I’d like to keep some professional dignity. Two.” Another shackled encircled Zagreus’ right wrist. “Don’t you dare call me that ever again.” 

Zagreus couldn’t help but smile proudly at the purple flush that touched Thanatos’ cheeks at that, albeit his smile swiftly turned giggly and giddy as those two shackles pulled his arms taut. 

“Three.” Thanatos leaned in just to nuzzle Zagreus’ ear and scoff lowly when he tried to scrunch up his shoulders. The wickedly sharp tips of Thanatos’ iron gauntlets grazed gently along Zagreus’ highest ribs, making him jolt and bite down on a yelp, grin already hopelessly wide and nerves tingling in anticipation. Zagreus was sure he lost what color he had, most of it roaring to flush and flicker in his hair and ears, and surer that he’d be cursing Thanatos next time, when the latter bowed close to whisper the final condition.

“I said that I was ‘sore’, Yuji.  It’s a common occurrence when your teacher is a… well… a Gojo,” Megumi said with a little shake of his head, instantly regretting the movement as he tensed and let out a little growl of pain.

Itadori was instantly by his side, completely disregarding the cushion barrier Megumi had erected after the ramen incident.

“Fushiguro?!  Are you okay?!  Do you need water?  A doctor?  Should I call an ambulan-mmpfth!”

The cushion of his fallen wall helped Megumi to quell Itadori’s spiral into madness as he quickly pressed it to his boyfriend's face.

“Yuji… I’m going to remove this pillow and when I do, I want you to be calm, cool and collected for me, okay?  I’m fine.  It’s a muscle that’s just being difficult.  A hot shower, a little rest and I’ll be good as new.  Okay… the pillows dropping in 3…2…1…..” 

Slowly, Megumi lowered the pillow and instantly regretted it as he was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen.

“No.  No, Yuji, not the look.  You know that’s unfair,” Megumi tried to dissuade as he watched the intensity of the stare grow.

“I just want to make sure you’re really alright, Fushiguro.  Please?  Is there anything I can do?  I don’t like knowing you’re in pain and that there’s something I could be doing but you’re not letting me.”

Megumi could already feel the flush starting to climb up his neck and reach his ears as he listened to the absolutely sincere concern in his boyfriend’s voice.

What was worse is that he knew that Itadori was well aware that he was on the precipice of cracking.

“Come on, Fushiguro… let me help you?”

Damn Itadori and his sweetness!  For a man literally turned into a vessel for pure evil, how was Itadori just so… good?

With a deep sigh, Megumi knew that he had no choice but to accept some help.  Maybe this could actually be beneficial?

“Okay.  But!” he said quickly as he saw the bright grin instantly return to Itadori’s face and watched his boyfriend's energy level spike up to 100.  “No more feeding me, no babying me and please, no more treating me like you’re about to light some incense for me.  Got it?”

Itadori quickly nodded at all the conditions and stood up, offering his hand to his boyfriend.

Quirking an eyebrow, the dark haired sorcerer carefully took the offered help as he stood from the couch  “I can see the wheels turning, Itadori.  What are you planning?” he asked carefully, earning himself a chuckle in return.

“I was thinking about it and I know what I could do to help you.  It would allow me to stay close and look after you without coddling you,” he said as he began to lead them toward Fushiguro’s bedroom.  “I think a nice massage would be just the ticket for getting your muscles to start to relax.  Many athletes find that it's nice to get one after a heavy workout.”

“Or if your Sensei has handed your ass to you over… and over… and over again,” Megumi mumbled, though a small smile was already lifting up the corners of his lips as he followed Itadori.

This might not be so bad.

—------------

Oh god… it was so bad.

Megumi could feel his sanity slowly slipping away as he lay there on his bed, his arms cradled under a pillow so he could rest his head comfortably while Itadori sat carefully on his thighs..

Now all of those were well and good and to be perfectly honest, the massage had started out amazing!

Itadori had made sure that Megumi was comfortably settled on his stomach, that he had all the pillows he needed, that he didn’t feel too much pressure as Itadori settled on him.

Then the massage itself started and oh…  

Itadori’s hands were careful and precise.  Soothing along the planes of his shoulder blades, finding knots and working them out.  Letting his fingers massage along his spine  and down to his lower back where he hadn’t realized he’d also been feeling some soreness.

All in all, the first ten minutes had been so utterly pleasant that Megumi wondered why he hadn’t asked Yuji to do this sooner.

But then, Itadori’s fingers had strayed a little too close to his sides, right where his lower ribs were, and Megumi had flinched.

And sweet Itadori.  He thought it was an area that needed extra attention.

“Oh!  Fushiguro!  This must be when Gojo Sensei sent you into the bushes!  Here… take a few deep breaths and I’ll get those aches worked out!”

Now here Megumi lay, trying with all of his will power not to make a sound or a movement that would let Itadori on to a very well kept secret.

Megumi Fushigoru was ticklish.

Every pass of Itadori’s fingers along his lower ribs only made Megumi tense more, his face buried into his pillow as he fought the far too embarrassing sounds attempting to escape him.

“Megumi, you are really tense here!  This isn’t even as bad as your shoulder was!” Itadori said lightly, as he let his thumbs begin to rub what he thought were soothing circles into the backs of Megumi’s ribs.

What Itadori was really doing was creating a new level of torture unknown by mankind until this point in history!

“You’ve also gone really quiet, Megumi,” Itadori asked, an extra little squeeze to his sides making the sorcerer flinch again as a slightly high pitched whine escaped him.  “Was that a good squeak or a bad squeak?”

Megumi shook his head, knowing that if he answered there would be no back tracking and saving himself.

“Well,” Itadori mused, sounding slightly confused as he let his fingers settle somewhere near Megumi’s hips for the moment.  “I’m gonna assume that things are still okay since you haven’t bucked me off yet.  But I think you’re really starting to loosen up now!  You don’t feel so tense!  And I think I know why.”

Megumi had taken the small reprieve to try and rebuild his iron will like he had tried to build his cushion pillow wall earlier.  “W-Why do you think that is, Yuji?” he asked, his voice still slightly unsteady to his own ears, but hopefully it was something Yuji wouldn’t pick up on.

“Because I think I’ve found the spot that holds all your tension and once we work it out you’ll feel good as new!” Yuji said, sounding proud and excited all at once.  “It’s right here!”

Without any warning, Yuji’s hands moved up and gave a few quick squeezes against Megumi’s lower ribs.

Three things happened in an instant.

First… Megumi’s poor body, completely unprepared for the sensation, instantly flailed as a wild cackle escaped him.  His iron will completely collapsing, much like his pillow wall had.

Second… Itadori’s hands ceased their movement and quickly moved from where they had momentarily been resting against the warm skin of his boyfriend's sides.

And third… the room fell into an almost deafening silence as both parties attempted to process what had just happened.

“..... OH!” Itadori’s shout of recognition startled poor Megumi as he already began attempting to shimmy his way out from under the man, trying to dislodge his arms from under the pillow.

“No!  Itadori!  Don’t you da-AHARE!” Megumi instantly collapsed back onto the bed as he felt ten evil fingers scribbling up his sides and over his ribs, drawing out ridiculous giggles that he had been fighting for far too long.

“So this is why you’ve been so tense and quiet throughout the whole massage!” Yuji laughed, gently testing out different spots now that he had connected all the dots.

“St-Stahahahap!  I cahan’t hehelp that I-I’m tihihi….. tihihic…. AH!  S-Sensitihihihihiive there!” Fushiguro squeaked out, his cheeks already blushing as he attempted and failed to say that terrible word.

Facing curses was a piece of cake.

Saying the word ‘tickle’?  Now that was a true challenge.

Sadly for Megumi, this seemed to be a little extra fuel to add to the fire that had taken hold of his mischievous boyfriend.

“Oh? You’re ticklish here? You mean right here?” Yuji cooed, his fingers now vibrating against Megumi’s upper ribs where they had slowly been migrating to.  He’d managed to slither his way down from sitting on Fushiguro’s legs to easily laying on him, allowing him to keep his boyfriend in place as he continued to explore his vulnerable sides.

The ticklish touch made Megumi snort loudly as ridiculous laughter instantly escaped him, his arms trying to come down where they were currently trapped under his pillow no thanks to Yuji’s past kindness of wanting to make him comfortable and his new evilness at trapping him between the bed and his body.

“Yehehehehes! I’m tihih…. tiihihicklish there y-you bahahahastard!” Megumi cried out through his laughter, the quick vibrations against his upper ribs sending electric ticklish jolts racing through his body.

Yuji chuckled at the sweet noise, basking in the sounds of his boyfriend laughing so freely and openly in a way he never thought he’d get to see.  “Awww, no need for such words, Fushiguro!  Look at how happy this is making you!  And look at that blush!” Yuji cooed against Megumi’s quickly reddening ears, making the poor man shiver and try to bat the other man’s face away. Unfortunately this was only a reminder of his poor arms being pinned out in front of him under his own pillow and his terrible boyfriend.

It was also a reminder to Itadori that he was going to be able to tease his sweet boyfriend for just a little bit longer without fear of being batted away.

“Ah, your arms got stuck? Let me help you then, Megumi,” Yuji said softly, letting his fingers lightly scribble upwards till they were just nestled under Megumi’s armpits. 

Megumi instantly jolted at the soft touch to what he knew was his worst spot, his head shaking back and forth as frantic giggles bubbled up out of his chest and his legs kicked out frantically behind him.

“D-Don’t you dahahahare, Itadori!  I swehehehar you’ll regrehehehet this!” he warned, though he knew that his threats were falling on deaf ears as he heard the man hum above him.  Then he felt an exploratory little flutter of Yuji’s fingertips against his death spot and he snorted as he tried and failed to bring his arms down once more.

“Hmm… I think this might be where you’re stuck?  Let me see if I can’t untangle you,” Itadori teased before instantly beginning to spider all over the completely vulnerable area, only just staying in place as Megumi squirmed wildly before falling into the most hysterical laughter yet.

“OH GAHAHAHAD!  NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!” Megumi cried out, his poor armpits absolutely defenseless against the ridiculous tickling of his boyfriend.  He tried to rock side to side to dislodge his menace, but Itadori stayed put, applying more pressure in the center of his armpits or right under the hollows near his upper ribs, always keeping the other sorcerer guessing and driving Megumi crazy with laughter. “What?  What was that, Megumi?” Itadori giggled, a bright smile on his face as he began to massage deep circles into the middle of Fushiguro’s armpits, making the man buck and snort like some sort of rodeo animal underneath him.

“TIHIHIHIHICKLES!” Megumi cackled, tears of mirth in his eyes as more laughter exploded out of him and leaving him unable to make a sentence any more succinct than that.  “YAHAHOU MAHAHAHAONSTER!”

"Huh?  What did you say?  Tickle monster? What nonsense are you talking about?" Itadori teased, unable to help using that word again and blowing a light raspberry against the side of Megumi’s neck, drawing out what could only be described as the world's most adorable squeal.

And with that noise now permanently etched in Itadori’s heart and memory he fell into his own heavy laughter, his fingers stopping their relentless attack as he rolled off his boyfriend to lay beside him.

As soon as he felt the weight of his boyfriend off of him and those evil, evil hands away from his worst spot, Megumi quickly pulled his arms down, curling in on himself as residual giggles continued to escape him and his tears of laughter still clung to his eyelashes.

The worst part of it all was that even though this had been a completely and utterly uncalled for attack… Megumi could honestly say he felt looser and more relaxed than he had in a long time.

Glancing over at his boyfriend, he could see that Itadori was still caught up in his own laughter at having gotten Megumi to make such a ridiculous noise thanks to something as simple as a raspberry.

Shaking his head as he continued to catch his breath, Megumi reached over and nudged the other man's shoulder, trying not to laugh along with Yuji’s infectious giggling.

“Oi!  It wasn’t that funny you monster!” he tried to chide, but that only seemed to urge on Itadori’s laughing fit.

“Ohoho my gahahad, Megumihihi!” Itadori cackled, covering his mouth as he laughed at the memory of that sweet sound still replaying in his head.  “Thahahat…. wahahas so c-cute!”

Megumi was now blushing for a whole other reason and rolled his eyes fondly.  “Well I hope you enjoyed yourself because that is the last time you are ever giving me a massage or catching me off guard like that again,” he warned playfully, watching as Yuji slowly began to calm down.

“Awww!  Don’t be like that, Megumi-kun!  You have the most wonderful laugh and it would be a shame never to hear it again!” Itadori cooed, making Megumi blush at his words though the smile still remained on his lips.

“I swear, you are without a doubt an absolute menace and I hope you know that I will be getting my revenge, Itadori,” Megumi warned, a playfully evil smile slowly emerging as he watched Yuji shift a little nervously.

“B-But… but I was just helping!  Besides… I’m… I’m not ticklish.”

“Oh?”

“Really!  It wouldn’t be worth trying!  Besides… what about your arm?  Aren’t you still sore?”

As they spoke, Megumi had already started to shift closer as Itadori tried to carefully inch his way back and off the bed.

But never let it be said that Megumi isn’t a man who plays fair.

“You. Ten seconds to run. Now.”

Itadori was off the mattress in a flash, the sound of his footsteps already sounding like a distant echo as Megumi sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

The smile that still remained on Megumi’s face was all the proof he needed that Itadori’s actions had honestly been as beneficial to him as he had thought, though he hadn’t quite anticipated how he would achieve it.

Standing up, he rolled his neck, feeling the stiffness all but gone from his muscles.

And now that he felt so invigorated, it was definitely time to give Itadori a taste of his own medicine.

Then again, they weren’t all bubbly and loud. Eddie’s laughter could be soft and sweet too, harboring an almost shy cadence when the time called for it and…

It’s at this exact moment, with utensils ever so neatly tucked into napkins and plates set along the grand mahogany dining room table, that Steve realizes he’s been thinking about Eddie Munson way too much. All it took was one crappy little chuckle, one silly reaction to a half assed joke, for his thoughts to wander. Anything the other said during his trance was a mystery, though as that playful voice came back into frame, Steve figured the context clues were probably easy enough to figure out.

“-not a fighter, clearly. Maybe a Paladin or a bard. One thing is for sure, you’d definitely play an elf or a half elf. A prince maybe. Estranged?” Eddie’s rambles are definitely pointed towards him, although it’s clearly more of a conversation with himself than anything else.

Calf crossed over thigh, he sits on the kitchen counter. Pale hands hold a green piping bag steady over a tray of freshly cooked sugar cookies, adding some ghoulish finishing touches. “Just say the word, Big Boy, and I’ll create the most perfect, personalized Steve Harrington campaign of the year.”

“You mean the only Steve Harrington campaign of the year?” Steve retorts.

Just like always, sarcasm drips from his lips like honey. Even after volunteering his house, time and energy to Eddie and his Hellfire Goblins, the self proclaimed babysitter still can’t seem to fight his natural born grumpiness.

That persona was like a security blanket or a teddy bear; Steve’s always relied on it to make the world less scary or more accurately, to make himself less vulnerable. The Harrington Boy, The King, The Babysitter, every new iteration had improvements, but they also had one thing in common: A security mechanism, an off switch of sorts. Something that Eddie Munson clearly lacked.

“Only cause you’re a buzzkill.” Eddie insists, licking a bit of green from his fingertips.

The cookies are far from perfect but they’ll undoubtedly impress the kids. Dark eyes examine each one with a precision he definitely didn’t supply when creating them, though eventually he deems them good enough with a dimpled grin and a cheeky thumbs up.

With two hours left on the clock, Eddie finds himself at a loss. All the fun tasks for the campaign tonight have been finished. Food and snacks were the first on the list to be crossed off with pizza scheduled for later and fresh baked cookies set to the side. Decorations were next. Everything from miniature figurines to home made maps to origami dragons and mini potion bottles for the kids filled with juice.

The idea to spike the potion bottles had been vetoed with a very amusing yet indignant huff. Despite Eddie's insistence that he was a 'born rebel' at fifteen, Steve refuses to give them a lick of alcohol before they hit senior year.

Aside from that, all that was left was mundane tasks like vacuuming or cleaning up the newly created mess in the kitchen. Most people would have cheered, thankful to finish their list of chores before the fun could begin. Though most people didn’t have as much energy as Eddie Munson.

“Well this is it, Stevie.” Eddie pipes up a few moments later, watching the other brunette readjust the table settings for a bunch of soon to be sophomores who definitely wouldn’t notice if the fork was on the left side or the right. “Two hours left and you’re too busy turning my campaign into a murder mystery dinner to pay attention to me so clearly? I’m dying. I can’t believe I’m gonna die of boredom in the Harrington Household… So big. So cold. So… white and mundane for someone as vibrant as myself.”

Eddie’s melodramatic performance is enough to peak Steve’s interest, but not his amusement.

“Finish Vacuuming the living room or stop complaining” Steve answers flatly. Over time, he’s learned that playing into the antics only magnifies them. Ninety nine percent of the time, just disregarding Eddie’s insane childish tendencies made them go away. “Besides, you can’t die from boredom.”

Ninety nine percent of the time, that would have worked.

Unfortunately, there was still that worrisome one percent to worry about.

“Well you might.”

“I might what—” Oblivious as ever, Steve finally ditches the table settings. Turning on his heel, the brunette’s lips are already parted, ready to question what the hell that response implies when he catches sight of the other’s stance.

Kitchen counter long since abandoned, the feisty dungeon master is taking stake across the room. Socked feet slide across dark polished wood, eerily unsettling in the quiet pace they set. Pale hands are held up, turned into claws with wiggling fingers that make Steve’s stomach flip as uncertainty settles in.

“Okay, okay. You might not die from my boredom.” Eddie hums lowly, lips curling into a grin that can only be described as downright mischievous. Each word is drawn out slower than the last, anticipation building between the two. “But you might not survive the cure. Let's see. I already tried knock knock jokes, barely effective. Funny movies, ehh somewhat works— Unless they’re too weird. Then you just sit all grumpy and confused— Anyway, not the point! Dear Steven, my point is…”

Similar to those puzzles Nancy used to force on him while babysitting Mike, he should’ve figured it out sooner, but he’s definitely seeing the picture a bit more clearly with time. They’re approximately halfway through Eddie’s villainous monologue when it clicks. Every example revolves around making him laugh which is an incredibly flustering thought all on its own. Out of all the ways to cure his boredom, Eddie wanted to do so while making Steve smile. Most people focused on his hair, his ass, his better known assets.

Eddie Munson was the first person to ever fixate on something so mundane.

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t have a second to worry about the heat crawling up the back of his neck, or the slowly developing crush that he’s most certainly going to ignore.

“… that I never asked if you were ticklish. Always felt like a cheap shot, you know? Low hanging fruit, but in the name of science, we do have to test every—” And that’s all it takes. The second the word ticklish leaves Eddie’s lips, the former jock is sprinting across the length of the dining room table and out of the room.

Heart hammering in his chest, the beat is so loud Steve can practically hear it ringing in his ears. White converse round a corner, running into the living room while quick footsteps sound close behind.

“Oh come on, Pretty Boy.” Eddie snorts through a laugh of his own. “Don’t run away from me!”

If he just looked back, he would have seen the way Eddie smiled at him from ear to ear, excitement and giddiness bursting from his pores. He would have seen the way the other nearly slipped in his socks, clearly lacking any grip as they ran around like little boys again. He would have seen the way those dark eyes lingered, how they drank him in, admiring his toned legs from years of athletics.

If he just looked back, maybe he would have registered how close he was to his demise. Then again, if he looked back, then Eddie might have seen how flustering that pet name was, or worse: He could have seen the smile tugging at his lips.

One foot rounds the corner of the couch but never gets the opportunity to touch down. Instead, fingers curl around the back of his sweater, swiftly pulling Steve until he’s falling. His back hits the sofa cushions with a soft grunt, brown locks splayed across the decorative pillow.

Everything flips in an instant. Eddie’s upper hand turns to shit the second he jumps onto the couch. Leaving more than enough room in between them, Steve takes the opportunity to act. Lightning quick reflexes give him just enough time to weave underneath the metalhead’s arm, flipping their positions until Eddie’s the one with his back against the couch and wide eyes looking up.

Though rather than looking scared he looks… exhilarated.

Any anxiety written across Steve’s face a minute ago is missing from Eddie’s now. As the general surprise wears off, he goes from wide eyed to giggly, immediately throwing his hands up in a mercy pose he knows won’t work. Wild curls fall in every direction, the occasional soft breathy laugh stumbling from his lips as he tries to worm out from underneath Steve’s pin.

“Stevie, C’mon. I was just trying to have a little bit of fun- Wait wait- Steve Hey-” In the long debated question of Dungeon Master Vs. Varsity Athlete, they finally know who comes out on top. Eddie’s rambled mixture of explanations, apologies and pleas fall on deaf ears the second nimble fingers touch down on his sides.

One of the most accessible vantage points, it proves rather successful when one squeeze elicits a sharp huff, all the air in his lungs leaving at once. Eddie’s body instinctively tries to pull away again, hands attempting to intercept Steve’s insistent poking and prodding of the soft flesh.

The silence lasts all of seven seconds. Any attempt to threaten Steve dies on his lips, choked out to make room for all the laughter taking control. Immediately thrashing around to the best of his ability, it’s clear that Eddie’s not going down peacefully.

“A little bit of fun doing what, Eds?” Steve questions. “Annoying me? Chasing me around my own house? I mean, shit, Munson. How the hell do you even have all of this energy? Honestly. I did you a favor flipping the tables, you clearly needed to tire yourself out.”

Each new guess and tease is accentuated with another poke at his vulnerable sides. One to the left right below his ribs, one to the right closer to his back, two on either side near his tummy, and one aimed in that squishy spot directly above his pantline— One that has his giggles interlaced with squeaks and squeals, struggling to handle any sort of stimulation that close to his hips.

“Nohohoho not thehehere!” Eddie whines half heartedly, though Steve can’t help but notice how little he fights back, hardly using any strength whatsoever in his attempts to grab onto those tortuous digits.

Thankfully for the thrashing Dungeon Master, Steve doesn’t get the chance to drill his thumbs into the divots of his hips for very long. An incredible stop on his grand tour of Eddie Munson’s giggle buttons, the destination proves to be too much. One sharp dig earns a yell so piercing the neighbor’s dog begins to bark, rough hands diving forward to grab onto anything for some sort of stability.

What Eddie’s trained fingers find instead is that squeezing Steve Harrington’s thighs renders the guy practically useless. A loud shriek splatters around the room, high pitched almost desperate giggles flying from his mouth. Any ounce of strength was sapped, curling up against Eddie’s chest in a way he’d swear was romantic in any other circumstance.

Umber eyes meet hazel, gazes locked with recognition on both sides before the tables are flipped yet again. Eddie hooks a leg underneath Steve’s knee, an arm worming out from below to wrap around his waist.

Before the Family Video employee can so much as suck in a breath from his fit of giggles, they’re back in the original position with a self proclaimed babysitter pretending not to enjoy himself on bottom and a metalhead who couldn’t hide it if he tried on top.

It turns out that Steve Harrington fucking shape shifts when you tickle him. The former jock’s confident sarcastic persona changes to something else entirely. If Eddie’s attempts to get away were half assed then Steve’s attempts don’t exist. Every new spot or tactic is brought with a new form of laughter, but they all have the same thing in common:

Steve’s leaning into it.

There’s no denying it. When teasing nails drag up his side, he turns into the affection rather than away from it. When his lower stomach is kneaded like a fresh pile of dough, he leans forward instead of pushing back. And when thumbs drill into his armpits, the brunette actually attempts to keep his arms up or at least not locked at his sides god forbid their fun ends too soon after being blocked.

Of course, Steve doesn’t notice this. Nor does he realize that Eddie was noticing this, but one of them has to be the observant one and it’s not the mess of giggles currently turning rosier with every passing second.

It’s almost as if their enjoyment is the key. Once that last bit of hesitance drains out, calloused fingers waste no time. Eddie changes spots again, this time clawing at his ribs with a smile that reeks of both vengeance and affection, a combo punch that would have made Steve breathless if he wasn’t already dissolving under deep belly laughter.

There’s way less talking now too. While Eddie’s an incredibly wiggly and talkative victim, babbling and thrashing through his hysterics, Steve seems to struggle getting anything out other than his laughter, only managing the occasional babble or squeal induced ‘Eds!’.

Finally those skilled guitarist fingers choose to take pity on him, allowing Steve to actually get a word in.

“Nohot… fair.” He breathes out through residual giggles. It doesn’t matter that the tickling has since ceased. Ghost sensations still tease and taunt across his sensitive skin, mentally swearing that he could still feel those fingertips dancing across his torso.

Eddie’s endearment drips like honey, dark eyes warming at the sight of his friend still struggling to get his act together. “No? I think that was totally fair. Plus, I slaved over those cookies, Stevie Boy. Heart and soul. Body and mind. Don’t I deserve a little prize?” His lips curl into a wicked grin, knowing damn well that his next words would fluster more than soothe. “Perhaps shaped in the form of those cute ass giggles of yours?”

Just as expected, heat begins to crawl up the back of Steve’s neck at the sentiment, though the rosy hue on his face from earlier makes it easy to mask the blush currently spreading. As if proving Eddie’s point further, playful pokes return to Steve’s torso, randomly nudging little spots until he’s back to bubbly uncontrollable giggles.

Using the last bit of strength, he reaches out to give Eddie’s side a squeeze, earning matching breathy laughter in return.

The fight grows less clear after that. Stray pokes and occasional squeezes keep both boys giddy, lost in their own little bubble.

For as long as he could remember, Steve Harrington had been a fixer. Even when the most misguided, he tried to right his own wrongs as well as everyone else’s around him. What began in early childhood as a terribly sad attempt of bringing his parents together had warped into a personality trait, a role he constantly forced himself to play out of fear of feeling useless.

But now the pressure of planning a perfect event for the kids is long forgotten and somehow he knows it’ll all work out. Because Eddie’s laughter is interlaced with his, their cheeks rosy and breath staggered. Suddenly, that familiar ache in his chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy as before and Steve realizes while doing absolutely nothing important at all, that he doesn't feel useless. He realizes that maybe…

“Hoholy Shit, Harrington. Forget weed. I think those damn giggles of yours got me high.”

Maybe this feeling between them was something else entirely.

Nishinoya, Tanaka and Hinata didn't stop until Kageyama was in hysterics as they destroyed the setter's hips, (Yamaguchi shuddering and squirming adorably), Daichi-san had to stop them with his own hands to let the poor kid breathe.

Laughing to themselves, they all sat against the wall together with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi; Yamaguchi jumped a little when Nishinoya leaned too close to him, a playful smile on his lips.

"You should join us next time, Yamaguchi!"

"E-Eh?! Ack!" He yelped when Nishinoya hit his back rather hard.

"Right, Ryuu?"

Tanaka laughed, scooting closer to Yamaguchi and also hitting him on the back with a bit too much force, making him cry in pain as Tsukishima frowned, fighting the urge to hit Tanaka in the head.

"Damn right! Tickling Kageyama is so much fun," he said and Kageyama, sitting beside Tsukishima with his face still red, huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. "I think he's the most ticklish person I know!"

"Wrong!" Nishinoya pipped in, slapping his own knee. "He is the most ticklish person ever!"

Not only Kageyama was embarrassed to the core in that moment, Tsukishima noticed, with much amusement that Yamaguchi, perhaps hearing that word jumping from side to side, was blushing to the tips of his ears, squirming slightly as he tried to keep a straight face.

Adorable.

"You both are wrong," Tsukishima suddenly said, making Noya, Tanaka and even Yamaguchi look up at him curiously. Tsukishima smirked, "I do know someone who's way more ticklish than the King himself."

"Oi!"

"What?!" Noya laughed. "First of all, do you know more people besides us?!"

Tanaka also laughed, squeezing Tsukishima's shoulder. "Noya is right! Who could you possibly know that-

It suddenly hit every person that was listening to their conversation, (that honestly could be the whole gym for how loud Tanaka and Nishinoya talked), and everyone turned their heads towards Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi jumped, his face turning as red as a tomato as he looked between Tanaka and Nishinoya and then to Tsukishima, who was smirking and shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, I wonder who could it be..."

"Yamaguchi," Nishinoya said and Yamaguchi squeaked, looking at him. "Are you, perhaps, ticklish?"

Yamaguchi shook his head, "N-No! T-Tsukki is not talking about m-me!"

Honestly, if Tanaka and Nishinoya couldn't see how excited Yamaguchi looked right now, they were really so stupid.

"Haaa?!" Tanaka said, leaving Tsukishima shoulders to now grab Yamaguchi's. "There's no way Tsukishima knows anyone besides you!"

"Oi..."

"Were you hiding this from us, Yamaguchi?"

Yamaguchi shook his head rapidly, "No! I- I wasn't! I j-just- ah! W-Wait, I really am n-not, kuh- ahahahaha! Wahahahait!"

It was his laughter's turn to bounce against the gym's walls. Echoing into Tsukishima's ears over and over as Nishinoya and Tanaka finally tickled him.

"Damn, Tsukishima was not joking!" Tanaka said as he wiggled his fingers against Yamaguchi's sides.

"How could you hide this from us so well Yamaguchi?!" Nishinoya said as he clawed at Yamaguchi's lower sides.

Their touches weren't as hard as when they tickled Kageyama, but Yamaguchi was nearly cackling, his giggles turning into loud laughs as he squirmed on the floor.

Tanaka and Nishinoya laughed along with him, poking here and squeezing there to find Yamaguchi's weakest spots.

Tsukishima was trying hard to hide his smile as he looked at Tadashi laughing like that. Fuck, people really couldn't notice the extreme happiness on his face? He suddenly thought that, perhaps, he didn't want anyone to notice.

"N-Nohohoya-sahahahan!" Yamaguchi laughed, throwing his head back as Noya's fingers latched to his upper ribs.

"Agh! Ryuu! Yamaguchi keeps trying to stop me!" Tsukishima curled an eyebrow, Yamaguchi really wasn't trying to. "Could you do something?"

Tanaka smirked and Tsukishima understood. In a blink of an eye, Yamaguchi had his arms pinned above his head, making him shriek and arch his back as Nishinoya's fingers vibrated at his exposed ribs.

"N-NOHOHO! N-Nohohoyahaha-sahahan! Plehehease, I- gahahahaha!" Yamaguchi's laughter increased a bit more when Nishinoya moved to squeeze his hips.

"Shouyou!" Nishinoya suddenly yelled and in a second, that orange ball of energy was right by his side, smiling widely. "Help me out? Ryuu is a little busy at the moment."

Tanaka smirked, holding down Yamaguchi's arms, though, Tsukishima could clearly see that Yamaguchi wasn't putting up much of a fight.

Hinata beamed and, even before Tsukishima noticed it, his hands were already attached to Yamaguchi's stomach, clawing at it mercilessly. Yamaguchi's laughter went a little higher, more squeaky as his cheeks turned pink.

"Woah, Yamaguchi really is ticklish!" Hinata said wiggling his fingers all over his new victim's tummy.

"Hey, get his armpits!"

"NOHOHOHO!"

Nishinoya and Hinata quickly looked at each other with wide eyes, smirks pulling at their lips. They both left the spots they were tickling and quickly moved to Yamaguchi's underarms.

"AHAHAHA! N-Nohoho! Plehehease, not thehehere!" Yamaguchi threw his head back with wild laughter.

They each took one poor armpit, so they had two hands to go crazy with: on one side, scratching, on the other, digging and then pinching; and then at the other, clawing and poking. Rubbing, digging, wiggling- just every technique their little brains could think of to drive Yamaguchi up the wall.

And they were achieving it. Yamaguchi was losing his mind, laughing in hysterics as Nishinoya and Hinata tickled his worst spot. Tsukishima almost felt bad... if Yamaguchi didn't look like he was having the time of his life, that was.

"Tickle, tickle, Yamaguchi~," they teased and both Tsukishima and Kageyama cringed as Yamaguchi blushed to his ears.

"It tihihickles so bahahad, plehehease!"

Tanaka, "Yamaguchi is so ticklish, be can't even talk!"

Hinata, "Yamaguchi is so ticklish, I think he'll explode!"

Nishinoya, "Yamaguchi is so ticklish, he'll-

"Oi, you three!" two shrieks could be heard and they didn't come from Yamaguchi. They belonged to Nishinoya and Hinata as Daichi-san had grabbed them by their shirt collars and yanked them away from Yamaguchi. "You're being too much, that's torture!"

Was it really torture if the one being tortured is having fun? Tsukishima wondered.

"Tanaka, let go of your kohai!" Tanaka whined but he did what he was told and freed Yamaguchi's arms, the poor boy quickly pulled them down as he let out residual giggles.

"I am going to ban this stupid game from this gym! You're a menace! What would you have done if Yamaguchi passed out, huh? You three really should learn...-"

Yamaguchi, shaking slightly, quickly crawled back beside Tsukishima, sitting down with a long, satisfied sigh.

Tsukishima looked at him and he smirked, "was that fun?"

Yamaguchi flushed, sending a shy glance to Tsukishima, "you're the worst, Tsukki."

Tsukishima chuckled, "Well, I just said you were the most ticklish person ever, I didn't tell them to check it out, did I?"

Yamaguchi huffed, but a shy smile pulled at the corners of his lips, making something in Tsukishima's chest flutter warmly and he couldn't help but discreetly reach out to link his pinky with Yamaguchi's.

Aziraphale’s first thought is, no, of course not. His second thought is, but why not? There’s no reason why Crowley wouldn’t be. Aziraphale himself is rather sensitive in that way, so it isn’t like it’s a trait shared only by mortals. As he thinks about it more, Aziraphale finds he really, really wants to know. 

He can’t just ask, of course. The chances of Crowley lying are too high, and then Crowley would catch on to what he was doing and hide away any reactions he may have. Aziraphale has to be subtle about this.

He sits next to Crowley and extends his wing out, curling it around Crowley and pulling him into his side. Crowley pays no mind, leaning against Aziraphale and continuing to read the book he’d been given. Aziraphale hums quietly, then slips his wing under Crowley’s shirt so his feathers dance along bare skin. Very subtle.

Crowley twitches minutely, but otherwise shows no other signs of even feeling it. He says nothing, not even looking up at the angel. Internally, Aziraphale sighs—it’s almost external, too, until he remembers Crowley is there. Of course, this doesn’t mean Crowley isn’t ticklish. It simply means he’s either very good at concealing his reactions, or he’s just not ticklish in that particular spot. Both of which are equally possible.

Aziraphale reconsiders what he’s gotten himself into.

It’s years later when he tries again.

They sit side by side, and Aziraphale had purposefully placed his mug just out of reach. He waits until they’re both settled in, then leans across Crowley, placing his hand on the demon’s knee to steady himself. He gives his knee a small squeeze, bracing himself in case it does get a reaction.

It doesn’t.

Aziraphale readjusts his hand, trying not to seem suspicious, and squeezes again—this time at Crowley’s thigh. Again, nothing.

Aziraphale grabs his cup and sits back. Well.

Throughout their time together those few days, Aziraphale makes several attempts; he finds ways to poke at Crowley’s hips, nudge him in his ribs, prod under his arms, and it all results in failure. If Crowley’s caught on to what he’s doing, he doesn’t mention it, but maybe it would explain the lack of any reaction at all. Or maybe Crowley just isn’t ticklish, which is starting to seem more and more likely. Aziraphale is close to resigning his mission. It seems silly to think about, really. Why would a demon from Hell be something as childish as ticklish?

-

Crowley is ticklish.

Crowley. Is ticklish.

Told you so, says the part of Aziraphale’s brain that started this whole mess in the first place. He ignores it in favour of his newfound discovery.

He wouldn’t have even noticed if not for this whole ordeal. It was only a slight response, but as Aziraphale walked by, his wings brushed Crowley’s ear and then—there was a quiet, sharp intake of breath, and that was all Aziraphale needed.

“Are you alright?” asks Aziraphale, as if he has no clue what he’s just done.

“Of course, angel,” says Crowley, nonchalantly. Not suspecting a single thing.

Crowley’s head is turned, so Aziraphale takes the chance to raise his wing and repeat the action. Crowley, this time, flinches so subtly that it would go unnoticed on any other occasion. 

“Crowley,” begins Aziraphale, “you wouldn’t be ticklish, now, would you?”

Crowley tenses up. “Of course not,” he hums.

Aziraphale steps closer, as Crowley steps back. “So, if I—”

“Fine, angel, you’ve got me—”

“I think I need to test this new information.”

Crowley sighs, but he allows Aziraphale to move even closer to him. “This really won’t be necessa—hahary—c-cohome on nohow—-”

Aziraphale curls a few feathers around Crowley’s ear, and he absolutely relishes in the quiet giggles he receives in return. They’re softer than would be expected from someone like Crowley, but they carry a bit of his rasp, and they aren’t very loud either, but they’re from Crowley, so Aziraphale loves them regardless.

She teased back, of course. She’d shoot back with mentions of Fleur (who had since become his sister-in-law, only adding humor to the situation) or the arachnophobia he still carried.

Although Hermione was normally a no-nonsense type of person, Rob brought out the joking, playful manner within her. She still liked to pretend that she was above it all, but he always got her smiling in the end.

Which was precisely how they’d ended up with Hermione gently pinned to their sofa, giggling like mad. She had shot back to one of Ron’s quips with the memory of Fred and George tickling him to tears on more than one occasion. Her final comment had been something along the lines of: “At least I’m not as ridiculously ticklish as you are.”

Ron’s eyebrows had raised, although his freckled cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink. “Oh, you’re not ticklish? I remember differently…”

“I never said that,” she replied, voice wavering ever-so-slightly at the dangerous glint in his eyes. “I just said I’m not as bad as you.”

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” he said.

She took off down the hallway, but it was impossible to escape his long arms and quick strides. Soon, he grabbed her around the waist and wrestled her to the cushions of their sitting room couch and, well, the rest was history.

Long fingers danced from her hip to her armpit and back down, playing her sensitive spots like a harp, making undignified giggles pour from her lips.

“This is silly!” she managed to cry out between those aforementioned giggles.

Ron gasped in mock offense. “I thought you of all people, my little nerd, would find testing a theory silly. Who are you and what have you done with my wife?” he asked, bending his head to press a quick kiss to her neck. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and his stubble against her skin only made her laugh more, scrunching up her shoulder to protect herself.

But his hold on her was too generous, giving her enough room to gain full use of her hands and strike back, going for his belly, short nails scrabbling over the fabric of his thin t-shirt. His shocked gasp of laughter was music to her ears.

“It would be a faulty test if we didn’t consider the other alternative,” she said, grinning like a cat that had caught the canary.

Ron was still hovering over her, careful to not go crashing down on top of her, though the ticklish sensation was slowly turning his limbs to jelly. One arm kept himself upright by grasping the back of the couch, while the other moved to pinch at the horribly ticklish spot on her inner thigh, drawing a shriek from her.

When Ron had first found out that Hermione was ticklish, he was thrilled. It was the summer before their third year when he’d been pulling a stray leaf out of her hair and brushed against her neck, making her giggle. And while he usually went after Harry more often, Hermione often found herself giggling at his hand quite a bit. She, of course, had known he was ticklish almost from the beginning, not that it was something she would have considered if she hadn’t witnessed it first hand. Tickling was a common event in the Weasley household, whereas Hermione’s parents had stopped tickling her by the time she was ten-years-old.

Their tickle fights hadn’t been extremely common, but a few stuck out: The first time, after the leaf incident, which Hermione had lost without much of a winning chance; the battle over the last of Mrs. Weasley’s oatmeal cookies that had left Ron with a bloody nose when he went for her feet; the first time Hermione ever won, when she discovered how he crumpled when his ribs were tickled.

And, of course, the most recent one, the experiment that they were conducting as a newly-wed couple. No mercy was shown; Hermione went for his ribs while he squeezed at her thighs, and their laughter mixed like elements to a beautiful song until Ron cried out for a truce.

There was a small part of Hermione that didn’t want to settle for a truce, but her throat was growing dry and her belly ached from all the giggling, so she nodded her head vigorously and both of them slowed their tickling hands to a stop.

“I guess we are pretty even when it comes to ticklishness,” Ron said, still slightly breathless.

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head fondly. “I guess so,” she replied. “What an important discovery.”

Ron grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Of course it is! Absolutely vital information.”

“Just some more blackmail that we have on one another,” Hermione added.

“Oh, definitely. My beautiful wife, with her ticklish thighs and big, fat crush on Gilderoy Lock—”

Today was a day like any other, a peaceful, yet beautiful day. Liyue was in the winter season, elegant white snow falling to the ground as a certain archon bard and an adepti were cuddling up with one another, Venti sleepily leaning on Xiao as the Yaksha stared out at the snow falling to the ground.

“Hmm.”

Venti perked up at the noise from Xiao. “Hm? Something wrong?” The bard asked with a yawn, finally somewhat waking up from his slumber.

“Mm-mm.. just watching the snow fall… it isn’t often we get it here in Liyue.” The adepti stated, and admittedly, the snow was pleasant to Xiao! So he surely wasn’t upset over that in the slightest. Nor was the cold too bothersome to him. Venti was quite warm after all.

However, Venti let out a small laugh. “Yeheah! I forgot that snow isn’t too common here compared to Mondstadt. You like eating the snow a lot too.” He grinned as the fellow anemo user whom he had blessed with the vision nodded his head. “It’s good. That’s all.”

“Well, perhaps you should come to Mondstadt more! Everything is super festive there, along with lots of snow! And I’d be your guide after all.” Venti playfully nudged the stone cold, straight faced Xiao a few times as he grumbled like the big grump he was.

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that!” Venti giggled at the ‘tough guy’ who was refusing to smile. “Come on! Please?” Nothing. “I’ll be nice, I won’t even go into the tavern.” Nothing. “…I’ll get almond tofu?” A slight twitch at his lips, but alas, still nothing.

“Oh that’s it. Just know you asked for it!”

Just like that, Xiao felt a smile tugging at his lips upon feeling wiggling fingers at his sides, trying to squirm away from the tickles causing giggles to flow from his mouth. “Hehey!” He raised his voice, trying to be a little stand-off-like. To Venti, he simply found it to make his giggles louder and much more pleasing!

“Ehe! Hi!” The bard playfully greeted the Yaksha who kept squirming and giggling away. “Stohohop ihihit!” Xiao snickered before finally wiggling out of the archon’s grasp, quickly running to the edge balcony where he usually lurked, taking a leap from it and summoning his polearm, sharply deciding to lunge to the ground and did so with ease.

However this caused a mischievous chuckle from the bard, a grin appearing on his face as he dashed to the balcony, quickly using his wind to get to the ground fast yet break his fall, landing on his feet.

“Oho! C’mere Xiao! You’re being a grump and the tickle monster needs to tickle all the grumpiness out of you!”

Just like that, Venti began to rush towards Xiao, the polearm user’s hair puffing up and standing on its ends as he quickly stumbled to turn around since he was facing the bow user, then began to run away from Venti in a haste. And the chase began!

With the two anemo vision holders dashing through the snow, one of them, being Xiao, picked up some snow before throwing it at Venti who laughed in response. “Aww! Don’t be so mean now!” “Then stop chasing me!” And once again, a snowball was thrown at Venti as they ran.

However, a detail worth noting was the smile spreading across the darker of the two, the one who’s being chased, Xiao… admittedly, whether he liked it or not, he was having… fun! It felt silly and it reminded him of memories. Fond ones. Not that he’d admit he’s having fun, but this was making him much less grumpy and cold due to the playfulness.

But after a moment, due to thinking back on memories, Xiao snapped back to reality as Venti tackled him into the cold white snow, a small huff escaping the vigilant demon hunter. “Caught youuu!” “Don’t!” Xiao quickly spoke, causing the clever lyre player to grin. “Don’t what?”

“T-Tickle me!”

“Oh? Well of course!”

And with the yaksha’s failure to see the trick coming, he burst back into bunches of giggles from scribbling fingers on his ribs, wiggling side to side as the skilled fingers from the lyre player tickled away. “Kitchee Kitchee koo!” “Shuhush!” Xiao immediately became defensive, feeling a little bit of red creep onto his face from the tease.

The tough yet horribly ticklish demon slayer began to squirm around from the ticklish feeling. “Hehehey! Ohohoff! D-Dohohon’t be soho chihildish!” He demanded despite enjoying the silly nature of it, honestly… if this is what if this is like in more casual and enduring settings, he didn’t mind! It made the winter season somehow more joyful for him.

“Don’t be so mean now! That’s it! Now I have to use my secret weapon!” “Whahat secrehet— weAPOHOHON!? HEHEHEY! GEHhehet ohohout Of thEHERE!” Xiao shrieked out with his usual stand-off tone. Or rather ‘attempting’ since his laughter majorly sabotaged it, also attempting to bat and shove the bard’s hands out from underneath his shirt.

“Ehe. Why would I do that?” Venti played all innocent. “BEHEHECAUSE! YOHOUR HAhahaNDS AHAHahare cohold!”

“Oho! And here I thought you were so tough, now you can’t handle the cold. I don’t think that’s it… I think you can’t handle something else…” Venti suddenly stopped the tickly feeling that was causing the demon hunter to squirm and thrash around.

“Wh-Whahat?” Xiao giggled softly, clearly confused by the words coming from Venti, and just equally as confused by the fact he had stopped.

“Don’t be all silly… I think you, Xiao, an adepti, can’t handle how ticklish you are!”

Xiao would be lying if he said he didn’t get flustered and go slightly red.

Xiao also would be lying if he said he didn’t shriek upon feeling those ice cold hands underneath his shirt wiggle onto his stomach.

“So this is super ticklish for you?” Venti, obviously well aware of Xiao’s reaction, decided to play dumb to tease the squealy yaksha. The wind archon’s wiggling fingers traveling up and all around Xiao’s stomach, ‘clawing’ playfully at the sensitive spot as Xiao’s laughter became louder with the more time the skilled bard spent tickling him.

“VEHEHENTI!” Xiao finally called out, a squeal escaping him and causing his laugh to go up a octave.

“Yes, Sir Giggles?”

“I’M SOHOHORRY!”

Now that’s a surprising sight!

“Aww, for being a big grump?”

In any other case, Xiao would’ve glared and gave a snarky comment, but right now wasn’t much like any other case. But Xiao gave a quick nod to reply.

“Ahaww! Well, out of respect for anything left of your dignity, I’ll accept your apology, Grumps and Giggles!” Ah nicknames.

Honestly, Venti wasn’t sure he wanted to stop, Xiao wasn’t a laugher, a smiler, or anything like that! So to hear him laughing so freely and bubbly, a smile covering his face as he twitched around and squealed in ticklish joy was beyond enduring and lighthearted, and as much as he wanted to continue, he figured he’d gotten the grumpy mood out of the picture. Besides, there was still much more time in the day to tickle him… ahem.

But finally, the demon slaying yaksha was released from the tickle attack, a bunch of residue giggles escaping him begrudgingly, but if he was honest… he didn’t mind too much. He much rather think and deal with this and all the tickles and giggling that came with it than sulk.

“You alright?” The bard asked, also replied to by a giggly nod as Xiao slowly stood back to his feet alongside the man from Mondstadt. “Hmm… how about this, let’s go back, and we can make something like hot cocoa!”

“Hot… cocoa?”

The usually very defensive man questioned. “Never had that before?” Another silent reply, this time a shaking head to show he hadn’t. “Well! You’re in for a treat.” Venti claimed, gently scribbling and wiggling his fingers across Xiao’s sides; a burst of giggles escaping before the archon began to pull the polearm user behind him.

Apparently Barbatos decided not even 3 minutes after he had stopped was later in the day. But to him, it was worth it to hear that burst of bubbly and squeaky giggles from Xiao.

“Well come on, Grumps and Giggles!” Venti exclaimed as he allowed the winds to swoop them both up and lift them to the balcony.

Needless to say after they both surrounded themselves with blankets, Venti had made some hot cocoa for the two of them, allowing themselves to be warm and watch the snow fall once more with a lighthearted and joyful feeling that the holidays and winter brought.

“…Venti?” “Hm…?”

“…Thank you.”

A small giggle escaped the bard.

“Mhm… Just know you aren’t safe from the cold hands!”

Within moments, Xiao found himself laughing once more, kicking out with joyful sounds and noises.

“VEHEHE—!” Xiao fumbled out in ticklish glee, Venti with a grin on his face before Xiao’s hands began to gently scribble at a certain bard’s hips, causing a giggle filled with hiccups along with the bard’s hands stopping their ‘attack’ to retract and defend from the ticklish sensation. “WOHOHOAH! wahAHAIT! XIAHAHAO!” The archon squealed before the fellow man slowly flashed a smile, his hands quickly making work of Venti’s hips, causing laughter.