âIâm booooredâ Dick announces way too loud for Jason and Tims liking. They were lounging in the living room on a Sunday afternoon. âDude, inside voiceâ Tim says from the bean bag chair heâs occupying without looking up from his laptop, always working. âWhat he saidâ Jason mutters from behind a book thatâs covering his face. âCome on guys canât we do something?â. Dick moves from his side of the couch over to Jasonâs side and knocks the book out of his hands. âLay off Dickfaceâ Jason kicks at him but Dick lays himself on top of his little brother and goes limp. âGah get offâ Jason tries to get off the couch but Dick is heavier than he looks. âI will get off if you promise to stop being boringâ. Dick says with a smug face. Tim huffs a little.
âIâm onto you next Timmersâ
âHa, in your dreams Dick, Jason will have murdered you before you have the chanceâ.
Jason was tired, a quiet afternoon with his books was all he needed after a long stressful week as red hood. But he should have known better than to have stayed the weekend at the manor. When has this place ever been quiet?
âOkay fine weâll do something just get off meâ Dick hurried to get off of him. âGreat!! Tim put the laptop awayâ. Tim was about to argue but Jason sent him a look that Tim couldnât quite place but it was intimidating enough to make him obey. âOkay fine, what are we doing then?â. Jason sits himself up. âWe could play switch?â Dick shakes his head. âNah, I promised Damian that we wouldnât play without himâ. Tim huffs. âWhy? Heâs not gonna be back until Tuesday!â. âI know but I promised so let it go, other ideas?â. Jason rests his head on the armrest of the couch. âYouâre the one that wanted to do something, so you figure it outâ. They were all quiet for a minute while Dick was thinking.
âIâve got it, where is Bruce?â
âBruce? Heâs working in the cave, made it very clear that he did not want to be disturbedâ Tim says.
âOh come on, he skipped movie night last night to work, itâs time for a break, come onâ. Dick gets off the couch and starts walking towards the stairs. âDick heâs not gonna play with youâ. Dick stops and turns around. âNo youâre right, heâs going to play with US, now come onâ. Tim and Jason shares a look but follows their brother down the stairs.
Once they reach the bottom they stop to peak around the corner. âHeâs by the computerâ Dick whispers. âDuhâ Jason answers. âWhat are we doing exactly?â Tim whispers nervously. âWe could scare him?â Dick suggests, Jason rolls his eyes. âWe have never been able to sneak up on him, not once, he probably already knows weâre hereâ
âHeâs good, but heâs not that good, but fine scaring him wonât work, but we need to get him out of the cave, he looks terribleâ Dick states.
âWe could take the keys to the Batmobile? He told me yesterday that he was going down to the harbor to check something outâ
âDamn replacement, not badâ. Dick turns to Tim. âCheck out what?â
âOf course you werenâtâ Jason mutters which earns him a shove from Tim that has him tripping over. Bruce turns around in his chair facing Jason whoâs sprawled out on the floor. âHehe hiâ Jason says while getting up. Dick and Tim walks into view as well. âI was wondering how long you were gonna stand there and whisper, what are you boys up to?â Bruce asks sounding tired but amused. âEh nothing, we were just wondering what you were doingâ. Bruce stands up to stretch his back. âJust finishing up last nights report, Iâm gonna go out for a bit, Iâll be back around dinnerâ. Jason walks up to the computer.
âAbout dinner, what are we gonna eat since Alfred isnât here?â
âI guess we have to order inâ Bruce smiles. âSounds good, but what is so important that you have to go out now? Itâs not even dark and you look terribleâ
âThanks Dick, there is a shipment coming in tonight at the harbor and I want to do some surveillance.â Tim then speaks up. âSounds unnecessary, you should get some restâ
âThatâs rich coming from youâ Jason laughs.
âI wonât be long, figure out what you want for dinner, Iâll call when Iâm on my way backâ Bruce says before walking off to change into the bat suit.
âWell that didnât workâ Jason states. âI say we order pizzaâ
âJason dinner is not where our focus should be right now, Tim where are the keys?â. Tim looks unsure. âIt might not be a good idea, heâll get mad and then the rest of the night will be ruinedâ. Jason nods. âAgreedâ.
âGuys come on, he needs to rest, Iâll take the blame, where are they?â Dick says with his big brother voice. Tim grumbles but walks over to the safe where Bruce keeps the keys. âTheyâre in hereâ. Jason follows him. âWhatâs the code?â Tim tells them not to look. âCome on, just open it, we wonât remember it anywayâ. Tim gives him a look. âSure you wonâtâ but puts the code in and opens the safe. Jason hurries and grabs the keys. âHow come you know the code to the safe and we donât?â
âMaybe because Iâve never stolen the Batmobile?â Dick and Jason shares a look. âYeah that makes senseâ
âOkay letâs go back upstairsâ Tim says and starts walking towards the stairs. Bruce chooses that moment to walk back into the room in full Batman gear. The boys stops by the bottom of the stairs to see their fatherâs reaction to the keys being gone. âAlright, Iâll see you boys soon, be goodâ. Bruce puts the code in the safe.
âYup, bye dadâ Jason says cheekily. They turn to leave.
âBOYSâ
Bruceâs voice booms through the cave. They turn their heads. âWhere are my keys?â. Dick gives him his most innocent smile. âNo idea, see you dadâ and runs up the stairs leaving Jason and Tim. âSeriously?â Bruce puts his hands on his hips. âYeah it seems so, good luck finding the keysâ Jason shouts as he makes his way up the stairs with Tim hot on his heels. Bruce sighs before following his sons.
Bruce enters the living room and takes his cowl off leaving it on the tv table. âAre you guys seriously hiding from me right now?â Bruce yells. And yes they were in fact hiding. Jason was standing behind the curtains, which he now regrets because no one but a five year old would think thatâs a good hiding place.
Dick and Tim were both crouched behind the two armchairs, another bad hiding spot but there was no time to find a better one.
âBoys I really need to leave, so please come out and give me the keysâ.
Silence.
âAlright thenâ Bruce turns to leave when he hears the tiniest sound coming from behind the armchairs. He quickly makes his way over and manages to grab onto Tim while dick managed to escape. âWoahâ Tim gets dragged into the middle of the room.
âTim, youâre the most sensible child that I have, please give me back my keysâ
âEheh I donât have themâ
Bruce looks unamused. âTimâ. Tim starts squirming in his grasp. âI swear I donât have themâ Tim laughs nervously. Bruce turns Tim around still holding him in a secure grip. âAlright boys, funs over, give me the keys or elseâ.
Jason ducks out from behind the curtain with a smug smile on his face. âOr what old man? Gonna ground us?â. âWhich one of you has the keys?â. During his escape Dick managed to grab the cowl off the table and is now standing safely behind the couch wearing it. âDonât know Bats, guess you have to find outâ.
Bruce starts searching Timâs pockets ignoring the boys protests. He shoves his hand inside the front pocket on the boys hoodie, he finds no keys but he strikes gold. Tim buckles and lets a small giggle slip at the contact which of course doesnât go unnoticed by the bat. âLast chance Tim, who has the keys?â. Jason and Dick both shake their heads at their younger brother and before Tim has the chance to answer Bruce digs his fingers into the boys stomach. âBruhuhuce nohohohoâ Tim laughs as ticklish shocks make their way through his body.
âBruce yes, I wonât stop before you tell me where the keys areâ
âThatâs cheatingâ Jason shouts over Timâs laughter.
âOh is it now? What do you say Tim, feel like talking yet?â Tim is hunched forward. âI dohohohnt knohohohow BRUCEâ Tim all but screams when Bruceâs hands travels up to his ribs.
âBe strong Timmy, weâve trained for this!â. âHEHEHEHEHELP MEEHEHEHEHEHEHEâ.
âJason do somethingâ. Jason gives Dick a betrayed look. âWhat am I supposed to do?!!â
âTell me and this will be overâ Bruce says teasingly. He moves his hands back down to Timâs stomach not wanting to push the kid too far.
âOkahahahay stohohohop jahahahson has the kehehehehysâ Tim blurts out and Bruce lets him go immediately. Tim falls to the floor still giggling and trying to catch his breath.
âReally Tim?â Jason shouts. âScared Jaylad?â Bruce asks as he makes his way towards the boy. âOf you? Neverâ. Jason prepares himself to fight, heâs not going down like the replacement. Bruce tries grabbing him but Jason dodges him. This continues for a while, both men trying to bring the other to the ground. Jason finally gets a good swing at Bruce sending the man backwards making Jason let down his guard for a second. Huge mistake. Bruce charges at him and before Jason knows it he is stuck in a headlock. âKeys pleaseâ Bruce says smugly. âIn your dreams old manâ. Jason used all his strength to get out of the grip and suddenly Bruce just let go making Jason fall to the ground. A second later his father was on top of him searching the many pockets of his cargo pants. Jason slapped at his hands but Bruce was persistent.
âAre you gonna give me the keys?â Bruce asked looking Jason in the eyes. âEh no?â. âThatâs what I thoughtâ. Bruce latches onto Jasonâs hips and it all goes downhill from there. âNOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAHAHAHITâ.
âBruce thatâs not fair, you canât go straight for his worst spot!â Dick whines from the sidelines. âSays who? I am running lateâ. Jason is in ticklish hell with no strength left to fight back. âOKAAHAHHAAY THEHEHEHYRE IHIHIHN THHEHEHE POCKET OHOHOHN THEHEHE RIHIHIHIGHTâ.
Bruce letâs go of the boys hips to retrieve the keys. There are two pockets though, one on his thigh and one above the knee. Bruce could tell which one the keys were in but he wasnât going to get any more work done today at this point so he played along. âWhich pocket? This one?â Bruce starts squeezing his thigh.
âNohohoho thehehe other onehehehe dahahhad pleaseâ. Bruce chuckles and reaches into the pocket grabbing the keys. He ruffles Jasonâs hair before standing up, offering Jason a hand but the boy needs a minute to catch his breath. Dick flops down on the couch.
âGod jay you lasted for like 15 secondsâ
âIhihit felt lihihike hoursâ the boy on the floor responds, still giggling.
âArenât you gonna leave?â Dick asks looking down.
âNah, itâs too late now anyway (it wasnât really) so I guess Iâll just go back down and change. Did you boys ever decide on dinner?â With big smiles on their faces they answer in unison âPizzaâ. âPizza it is, Iâll be right back upâ. âOkay hold on, this isnât fairâ Bruce turns to Tim confused. âYou tortured me and Jason while dick just stood there, you didnât even try to helpâ Tim stared staggers at dick. âWhat was I supposed to do?â. âYou know what Tim is right, that wasnât fair, all kids in this house should be treated equallyâ Bruce says before jumping on Dick on the couch earning smiles and cheers from his younger sons. âOkay this is not necessary I dohohohohnt DAHAHAHAHD NOHOHOT THEREREREâ.
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12. âSo, whatâs this I hear about you being deathly ticklish?â
Tim was hunched over the Batcomputer, more than 12 hours into an investigation into a new crime syndicate stretching itself between Gotham and Star City. His blue light glasses were abandoned somewhere in the pile of files on the desk, and his eyes were red and wide, pupils dilated. He had let time slip away, he hadn't even realized he'd been there longer than four hours, let alone twelve.
Jason had been trying to pull the replacement away from the screen for more than an hour. Every snarky comment and ordered command fell on deaf ears. It was like Tim couldn't even hear him.
Jason hated to admit defeat, but he did have to shoot Dick a text somewhere after the thirty minute mark for some sort of advice that could give him reprieve.
Advice is one word for what he got.
"So," Jason spoke aloud again, suspecting Tim wasn't really listening, "whatâs this I hear about you being deathly ticklish?â
Tim gave... no reaction. He continued to worry over the papers in front of him in silence.
Jason sighed, long and deep, the type of sigh only harnessed by someone truly, deeply worried by the behaviour of one Tim Drake.
"You've forced my hand, Timmers." Jason positioned himself behind the creaky office chair, hands positioned above Tim's sides. "Any last words?"
Tim jumped in his seat, the sudden proximity of Jason's voice finally snapping him out of whatever trance he had fallen into. "Jason, wha-"
Jason's fingers dug right in, scratching and prodding Tim's tummy and sides, Tim's head went back, trying to get a better view of his attacker while laughter was forced out of him.
"Jason! Nohoho!"
"Sorry, Replacement. You got yourself into this." Jason teased, fingers mischievously scratching lightly over Tim's ribs before jolting back down to his tummy. The kid's laughter was surprised and frantic, picking up pitch every time Jason's fingers darted over to his ribs.
"I didn't evehehen do anythihihing!" Tim screeched, hands forgetting he even could protect himself.
"Sometimes," Jason said with a grin, "that is exactly your problem."
AN: it shouldnât really come as any surprise that Iâm a Tim Stoker stan & that man needs to get knocked down a few pegs. The role reversal prompt was perfect for them, cause sometimes the tickle monster just needs a taste of his own medicine! Without further ado, hereâs day 22âs fic!
Martin was on his way back down to the archives, a fresh cup of tea in hand. He was halfway back from the break room when a loud shriek echoed down the stone halls followed by shrill, frantic giggles. He smiled to himself, rolling his eyes fondly. It seems Sasha fell prey to Tim's antics once more.
Oh well, better her than him.
He walked down the rest of the stairs and around the corner, her laughter growing louder the closer he got closer. Sure enough, Tim had cornered her between the wall and a filing cabinet, giggling herself silly. She looked adorable like this, Martin had to admit, but he sympathized with her plight. He wasn't sure which of them he attacked more frequently...
A rare smirk settled on his face. Perhaps a bit of revenge was in order.
He crept up behind Tim as quietly as he could, but he was too preoccupied with the task at hand to notice anyway. He slowly raised his arms, a predator about to strike.
"Just one more piece! Come on, don't be stingYYYY! Hehehey whahat the hehehell?" His sly bargaining was interrupted by a shocked squeal that quickly gave way to confused laughter.
"What's the matter Tim? I thought you just loved tickling, seeing as you do it to us so much," Martin pointed out, surprisingly bold and teasing with his words, but a rare bout of mischief had taken root, and he was determined to put their resident trouble maker in his place. Sasha barked out a laugh at his words as she recovered, enjoying her front row seat to the show.
"Thahat's not- nohoho don't!" he pivoted mid sentence when Martin's hands scribbled down to his hips.
"I mean, it's only fair to return the favor, don't you think Sasha?" he asked innocently, continuing to hold Tim on his tickly hug. She made a miraculously quick recovery upon hearing those words, already wiggling her fingers at her previous tormentor.
"Oh I couldn't agree more! He's been extra annoying lately, maybe he was just waiting, begging for one of us to just snap," she finally struck, diving right for his belly. He immediately doubled over, bursting out into bright, bubbly giggles.
"I wahahas nohohot!" he denied, twisting in Martin's hold and trying to hold Sasha's hands away. A few quick pinches up his ribs reminded Tim that he was still very much a problem. He arched away with a shriek when he found a spot between his sixth and seventh rib that seemed worse than the rest.
âNoho, please! Nohohot thehehere!â his pleading went ignored as they continued to seek out the best spots.
âAlright then, how about here instead?â Martin asked as he plunged his hands beneath his arms to scribble at the center of his hollows.
âAhahabsolutely nohohot!â he cried out through his laughter. He snorted and shook his head back and forth when Sasha reached up to flutter her nails along his neck, scribbling at the spot just behind his ears.
âNOHOHO! Ihihi hahate you bohohoth!â he whined through growing hysterics. But it was all for show. Being trapped in a tickle sandwich between your best friends wasnât ideal, but it heâd choose that over filing any day.
âAwww, we love you too!â she cooed in a false honey sweet tone.
âN-nohot whahahat I said!â he choked out, trying to hide the blush quickly spreading across his cheeks.
âI know, but you forget I happen to be fluent in Tim Stoker sass,â she teased, scratching underneath his chin just to make him squeal.
âOhoho fuck you!â he hissed through clenched teeth before another snort ripped free from his chest. He gave up on the useless endeavor of fighting back, instead focusing all his efforts on hiding his face.
âAw, why are you hiding? Thereâs no need to be so embarrassed Tim!â Martin teased fondly, but he really meant what he said.
âExactly! So stop hiding, and let me see that handsome smile,â Sasha taunted as she gently pulled his arms away from his face. His blush darkened and he immediately ducked his head to look away.
âNohoho!â
âNo? Well thatâs a bit rude, innit?â she asked with a laugh of her own. She went back to poking around his tummy, drawing out jumpy, nervous giggles.
âThis ihihis rude!â he argued, and they both gasped.
âWhat? Weâre just sharing the love!â Sasha justified.
âAnd Iâm simply returning the favor!â Martin added. An amused chuckle from behind made them all stop in their tracks as they turned to see Jon browsing a nearby cluttered desk.
âNo need to stop on my account, I just needed to grab a few things,â he explained, eyes scanning the surface until he apparently found what he needed.
âPlease, carry on. And donât forget to go for his knees,â he advised with a teasing smirk, going as far as to wink at the crew. He was about to leave, when Martinâs voice called out and gave him pause.
âOr you could do it yourself.â And wasnât that an enticing thought.
âIâm afraid Iâm swamped,â he excused himself with a little shrug.
âSounds like you could use a break then. And we have the perfect stress ball for you to try out,â Sasha insisted.
He stared at the three of them, all with varying degrees of a smile on their face. And they looked so hopeful, even Tim, that he just couldnât refuse.
He sighed, setting down the file before cracking his knuckles, flashing a rare, mischievous smile.
A/N: I wrote a similar story years ago, but I seriously canât find it ANYWHERE. This is my attempt at not exactly rewriting it but doing something equally as fun. So, enjoy sleep-deprived Timmy Drake-Wayne.Â
Listen, Tim is well aware that he is not exactly the most forthcoming when it comes to information about his general well-being. He knows that he's technically lying. However, everyone lies, right? Like, Dick lies about having free time so he can help whoever needs it when his shoulders can't possibly hold any more weight. Jason lies about hating everyone when he loves the hardest. Damian lies about never caring about feelings when he feels the most. Duke lies about not feeling like an outsider even though everyone knows he still hasn't accepted his position in the family. Cass lies about⊠okay, well, Cass doesn't lie. But Bruce! Bruce lies about freaking everything. SoâŠTim lying about sicknesses, injuries, and sleep isn't likeâŠout of the ordinary in Tim's family. So he doesn't really feel bad about lying to Alfred about getting a full night's sleep the previous night.Â
Well, he doesn't feel too bad.Â
Tim had, at one point in his life, gotten a full night's sleep. It just wasn't last night. Or the night before thatâŠand so on and so forth. Now that Tim was thinking about it, he'd been up for a full three days. Not his longest record, but the longest in at least six months. Tim is currently working on three cases for Batman Inc., multiple marketing packages for Wayne Enterprises, and two school reports. The cases are what's taking most of his time.Â
The first case has to do with Scarecrow. Tim believes Crane is working with a new supplier, someone outside of Gotham. He hasn't been able to find out who it is, but he's at least narrowed it down to either Star City or Metropolis. The second case concerns Ivy, which really sucks because she's been relatively quiet ever since she and Harley got together. Honestly, Tim isn't really sure it is Ivy, but it's got to do with these weird plants popping up around the city that shoot some kind of ichor at anyone who gets near. It wouldn't be that big of a deal if it weren't for the fact that the ichor causes blindness for up to two weeks. Tim's been working on a cure, but so far, he hasn't had much luck. Hence, he really needs to talk to Ivy. The third case deals with Victor ZsaszâŠor, at least, Tim thinks it does. There's been a string of near murders of sex workers in Crime Alley. Jason has been working on it for two weeks, but he's never caught anyone in the action. Jason came to Tim four nights ago to ask for help, which is very usual for Jason. Usually, he sends files and assumes Tim will help. Jason's case is Tim's number one priority. Zsasz is toying with people at the moment. It's only a matter of time before it turns into actual murder.Â
So, that is why he's currently working on his third night of no sleep. The importance of these cases, Jason's in particular, is also why Tim just lied (again) to Alfred and Bruce about his overall well-being. Again, Tim's not stupid. He knows Alfred and Bruce can see the bags under his eyes, the slump in his shoulders, and the copious amounts of empty energy drink cans and coffee mugs that littered his room. They didn't call him out on it, so they must believe it's not as bad as it really is. Alfred and Bruce leave the Cave, and Tim continues his work on the Batcomputer.Â
"Hey, any news on my case?"Â
Tim looks up and sees Jason sauntering in, his hood under his arm.Â
"Not much. I have some hunches," says Tim. "But nothing concrete yet."Â
Jason sighs.Â
"I'm trying, Jay." Tim mutters, feeling guilty. Â
Jason rolls his eyes. "I'm not mad at you, Timberly. The sigh is in general of the fucking suckiness of the situation, not directed at you."Â
"StillâŠI can't seem to crack this the way I want."Â
"Welcome to my world. Why do you think I asked for your help? You look like shit by the way."Â
Tim flips him off and then yawns, large and long.Â
"The fuck was that?" Jason asks.Â
Tim rolls his eyes. "A yawn, Jason. Surely you've experienced one."Â
Jason walks to Tim and smacks the back of his head. "Ass."Â Â
"You're the assâŠass." Tim replies.Â
"Now I know you're outta sorts. That was the lamest comeback." Jason says. "When's the last time you slept?"Â
"Yesterday." Tim lies.Â
Jason squints at him. "YeahâŠand Alfred is the Queen of England."Â
"I'm fine."Â
Jason snorts and places his hand on Tim's forehead.Â
"I don't have a fever, Jason." says Tim, swatting at Jason's hands. Jason reaches down and tweaks Tim's left side. Tim immediately folds inward with a laugh.Â
"Too easy." Jason smirks as he continues scribbling his fingers along Tim's ribs and sides. Â
"Screw youhu!" Tim laughs, trying to catch Jason's hands as he squirms in the seat.Â
"I dunno, this seems like a good way to tire you out."Â
"Plehehease!" Tim is defenseless when it comes to tickling. It's like his brain decides to stop working, and all he can do is curl up and beg for mercy.
Jason spends a few more seconds poking and prodding along Tim's ribcage before he finally ceases his attack.Â
"I swear, you're the most ticklish person on the fuckin' planet." Jason is grinning smugly.Â
Tim knows he's got a goofy grin on his face, but he musters up a scowl regardless. "And I swear you're the biggest prick on the planet."Â
"Go to sleep, Tim. I know you're on at least day two of no sleep."Â
"As soon as I get some solid info on your case and finish my crap from WE, I will."Â
Jason squints at him. Tim thinks for a moment that his older brother is going to argue with him more. However, Jason shrugs his shoulders, waves a dismissive hand toward Tim, and then walks out of the Cave. Tim sighs in relief and turns back to the computer. He knows he's close to proving it's Zsasz behind the attacks. He'll definitely sleep once he proves it.
^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^
Tim proves it's Zsasz, but he does not sleep. There's no time. Bruce will be the one to help Jason with the takedown of Zsasz because he's a Tier-One Villain, and Batman isn't going to allow Red Hood to do it on his own nor allow Red Robin to be Hood's only backup. Tim put up a fight, arguing that he could at least help, especially considering it was Tim that figured it all out. Heâs overruled by a simple âHnâ from Bruce and a smirk from Jason. Tim spends the next day tracking down Ivy. Turns out, she was working the case as well. Tim corners her at a greenhouse in downtown Gotham.Â
"Of course, you're the one working this." Pamela says without taking her eyes off the plant, she's currently cultivating.Â
"Should I be offended by that statement?" Tim asks. Tim thinks that, although he's had a direct hand in a few of her arrests, they've at least worked together a few times in the past year to develop a good rapport.Â
Pam turns to look at him and rolls her eyes. "No. I was just hoping that perhaps the Bat would be here instead."Â
"He's finishing up with that Zsasz situation." Tim tells her. "So, you're stuck with me."Â
"Any leads?" She asks.Â
That's confirmation for Tim that Ivy isn't behind the plants.Â
"None." Tim replies.Â
Ivy hums in response.Â
"It's not any plant I've seen. I don't think it's even from Earth."Â
"Fan-freaking-tasticâŠ" Tim sighs. This is just what he needs, a freaking alien plant. "Should probably get the Justice League on this if you think it's extraterrestrial."Â
Ivy doesn't look convinced. "Must we?"Â
"I think it's best, Dr. Isley. They're better equipped to find its origin and an antidote. I've been trying to make one myself, but it hasn't been as effective as I want."Â
Ivy sighs. "Fine. Can I ask you to keep me posted on how this shakes up? I've had a few too many dirty looks in my direction."Â
Tim nods. "Of course."
"Thanks, Little Bird."Â
Tom rolls his eyes. "I'm 17 now, you know."
Pam smiles at him with a bit of fondness in her eyes and walks away. "Yes, but you'll always be a Little Bird to me."Â
"Dr. Isley!" Tim calls. Pam halts and turns to look at him. "Don't let anyone look down on you, okay? Gothamites don't have the moral high ground most of the time."Â
Ivy simply smiles softly at him and leaves.Â
"Time to get a sample to JL." Tim mutters to himself as he harvests a few of the plants.Â
^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^
It's day six of less than four hours of sleep total, and it's actually starting to bother Tim. He's still so busy, though. The Justice League is taking care of the plant situation, Zsasz is in Arkham (with Jason nursing three broken ribs and a sprained wrist), and two of the three WE marketing packages are complete. However, not a single one of Tim's assignments is done, and Tim has two more cases to add to his workload. He's slumping over the desk in Bruce's office. He was kicked out of the Cave about an hour ago by Bruce, who apparently needed to have a meeting with Superman and Flash. Tim hopes it's about the plants, but he's unable to spy as he really needs to finish his schoolwork so he can start writing the reports from his previous cases. He's still trying to find the supplier for Cane, too. Heâs minutes away from a full-blown migraine and typing mindlessly on the computer when he hears a knock on the door.Â
"Tim? You in there?" Dick's voice comes from the other side of the door.Â
Tim grunts in response.Â
Dick opens the door. "What're you doing in Bruce's office?"Â
"M'workin'." Tim winces at how slurred his speech is.Â
"On what?" Dick asks; he's behind Tim now, leaning over him and staring at the computer Tim's working on.
"School crap, some WE stuff, and a case or two."
"Howâs it going?"
Tim shrugs.Â
"So, Iâve heard from a few birds youâre not sleeping much."Â
Tim lets his head fall to the desk as he groans. "Tell Jason to mind his own business."Â
Tim can hear the soft smile on Dickâs face. "It wasnât just Jason."Â
Tim looks up at his older brother. "Mâfine. Iâve gotten a few hours here and there."Â
Dick smiles that sad smile of his, which makes Tim feel like absolute shit.Â
"Iâm fine Dick; I promise."Â
"I wish I could believe you," says Dick. "But youâve got the worst truth-telling record in this family."Â
"What?! No way! Bruce holds that title, câmon!" Tim practically shouts.Â
Dick seems to consider what Tim says. "Okay, second worst."Â
Tim scowls at him.Â
"Grayson, I--oh." Damian is suddenly in the room, scowling at Tim immediately. "Drake, you look terrible."Â
"No one asked for your opinion, Demon Brat." Tim responds, barely stopping himself from sticking his tongue out.Â
"Tt. Drake, this isnât an insult. I do truly mean that you look terrible. When was the last time you slept? Also, are you ill?"
"Youâre sick?" Dickâs voice is even more full of concern now.Â
"Iâm not sick! Iâm just a little tired." Tim sighs, rubbing his temples. The headache heâs been trying to stave off the last three days is significantly closer than just a few minutes ago.Â
"Headache, too?" Dick asks kindly.Â
"Yes, because you and the Baby Assassin are bothering me." Tim mumbles. Thereâs no real heat behind it.
"I loathe that name." Damian says.Â
Dick ruffles his hair, garnering a squawk from Damian. "Itâs a term of endearment Dee. It means Timmy loves you."Â
Both Tim and Damian snort at the same time.Â
"Can I please finish my work?" Tim asks tiredly. He can feel a full-blown migraine coming on, and he thinks that he may be overdoing it somewhat.Â
"UhâŠTim? Youâre not exactly making sense with yourâŠwork." Dick winces as he shows Tim the computer screen.
"Oh."
On the screen are just a bunch of letters and numbers all over the place.Â
OkayâŠmaybe he really has pushed it too far.Â
"Will you please go to sleep?" Dick asks. He bends down in front of Tim, making himself eye level. Dick places a hand on Timâs forehead, checking for a fever.Â
"I will as soon as I finish my school assignments." Tim semi-promises. Sleep doesnât come as easy to Tim as it does to most people, especially once heâs this far gone.Â
Dick sighs, but stands and motions for Damian to follow him out.Â
"DrakeâŠhonestly." Damian sighs as he takes a look at Tim.Â
"Damian, Iâm okay."Â
"Tt."
The door closes and Tim grabs another energy drink from the minifridge and downs it. With a shake of his aching head, Tim focuses on the work in front of him.Â
Three hours later, Timâs completely engrossed on the last page of his paper for his English class when Bruce comes in. He looks surprised to see Tim.Â
"Oh, hey Tim. I didnât know you were in here." Bruce says.Â
"You kicked me outta the Cave," Tim replies. "And I wanted to use your two monitors. I can leave if you need me to." Tim is rising as he says this, he stumbles a bit and Bruce is by his side with Timâs elbow in his hand.Â
"Easy there, kiddo." Bruce soothes, helping Tim to sit back down. "I donât mind you using my office. Itâs free for you to use when you want. However, I do mind you almost falling for simply standing up. Are you injured?"Â
"NoâŠI-Iâm fine. Just been up a little longer than I shouldâve, probably."Â
"Heâs been up for six days." A, quite frankly, livid, voice says from the doorway. Timâs head whips up and he sees Damian standing there, hands clenched into tight fists, and one of the angriest expressions Tim has ever seen gracing his face. Dick is behind him, and so is Jason, both looking angry and sad and exasperated all at the same time. Bruce looks shocked, which is saying something. He turns to look down at Tim.Â
"Is this true?"
Tim gulps, but isnât able to say anything because Damian cuts across him. "Do not even attempt to lie. I looked at the security footage. You havenât spent more than two hours at a time in any one room in this house, excluding the Cave. However, you havenât slept there either because the Cave security footage hasnât shown you sleeping at any point!"Â
"DamianâŠI-"
Damian raises a hand to stop Tim. "I donât want to hear it. You may have no forethought to your health and wellbeing, but others do. And if you are going to insist on attempting to take yourself away from us earlier than what is the normal lifespan of an adult male in America, then youâre going to do so fighting me. And with the current state youâre in, itâd be an even more pathetic fight than when youâre in full form."Â
Jason places a hand on Damianâs shoulder, which Tim expects him to throw off. However, Damian doesnât. In fact, it looks like it anchors their youngest sibling.Â
"Honestly Tim, six days? Even for you thatâs excessive." Jason says.Â
"Bed." Bruce demands. Itâs not his Batman voice. Itâs not even his angry voice. Itâs the voice he uses when he wonât budge. Itâs the voice he uses when heâs in meetings and flexing his full CEO authority. Itâs the voice he learned from Alfred. Itâs the voice he uses when thereâs no room for argument.Â
Tim tries anyway, though, because he has no sense of self-preservation. "Bruce IÂ need to finish my homework, I--"
"You have a death wish, Timmy." Dick sighs.Â
"You can go to sleep on your own, or I can administer something to help. That is the only choice youâre going to receive for the next several days." Bruce states. Now he sounds (and looks) angry. Tim knows heâs pushing itâŠhas pushed it. He does. He justâŠthereâs so much he needs to do. And Bruce canât seriously be trying to ground him.Â
"You canât ground me, Bruce, Iâm 17-"
"You can go to sleep on your own or I can administer something to help." Bruce says it quietly, but Tim hears and sees the fury simmering there.Â
Tim swallows again; he looks to his two older siblings and knows there will be no help. Jason looks exasperated beyond all reason. Dick looks like Tim just kicked his dog and then set his house on fire. He doesnât have to look at Damian to know he looks exactly like Bruce.Â
Heâs lost. He knows heâs lost.Â
"IâŠI may need some help." Tim admits quietly, feeling his face heat up extensively.Â
Bruceâs fury melts a bit at that. "Iâll have Alfred make the tea."Â
"Heâs got a headache, too. Add some acetaminophen. Weâll get him to bed, Bruce." Dick says. He reaches for Tim and helps steer him out of the room and to the stairs. Jason and Damian follow.Â
"You donât have to follow me; Iâm seriously going to go to my room." Tim tells them.Â
"Tt. Your word on this matter means very little."Â
"Sorry, Baby Bird. I agree with Baby Bat." Jason tells Tim. "Youâve seriously crossed the line this time."Â
Tim hangs his head in shame.
"Not now guys." Dick retorts rather sharply. Tim doesnât deserve Dickâs kindness.Â
"Mâsorry." Tim tells them as they reach his room. "I didnât mean for it to go on this long. Honestly."Â
Dick shushes him as he looks for some pajamas.Â
"No. Seriously. I didnâtâŠI donât mean toâŠ" Tim can feel the tears welling in his eyes. Itâs frustrating beyond reason.Â
"Get dressed, and get in bed, Timmers." Dick presses a kiss to the top of his head as he and the others walk out.Â
Tim does as heâs told. The tears spill onto his cheeks. He knows heâs truly screwed everything up. Everyone is furious with him. He can only imagine the lecture heâs going to get from Alfred. Heâs not just going to be grounded; heâs going to be benched permanently. If he canât be trusted to sleep like a normal human being, he definitely canât be trusted out in the field. His head starts pounding even harder, and he stumbles into his bed with his knees curled into his stomach.Â
"Tim?" Bruce is walking in, but Tim is trying really hard to get air into his lungs. He feels Bruce grab his shoulders and set him into a sitting position. One of Bruceâs hands grabs his and places it on the older manâs chest, right over his heart. The other hand grabs the back of Timâs neck, resting there lightly.Â
"Breathe with me, kiddo."Â
Tim tries his hardest to focus on the beating of Bruceâs heart, of the movement of his chest rising and falling. Bruce squeezes his hand very exhale, trying to anchor him, Tim assumes. It takes some time, but eventually Timâs breathing slows and returns to normal. It has been almost a year since Tim last had a panic attack. He forgot how much they suck.Â
"Whatever youâre thinking," says Bruce. "I promise isnât true. No one is going to kick you out, no one is going to fire you, and no one hates you or is mad at you."Â
"Damian is both of those last things. And youâre all mad. I get it." Tim replies.Â
Bruce hands him the steaming mug of drugged tea. If Tim knows Alfred as well as he thinks he does, thereâs definitely a high dose of sleeping aid in the tea. Tim sips it at first, but downs it quickly, feeling it burn his throat.Â
"Slow down there, Tim." Bruce chastises. "You donât need to punish yourself."Â
"I just wanna go to bed." Tim tells his adopted father. Bruce looks at him with those sad eyes of his, making Tim feel a million times worse, which is really saying something because he feels like dog shit.Â
"Sweetheart, câmere." Bruce climbs into the bed and lifts up his arm, offering Tim to snuggle in, which the boy does. "Weâre mad, yes. Weâre mad that you seem to be unable to take care of yourself properly. Weâre mad that you always push yourself too far. Weâre mad that we donât catch it quick enough to help. But weâre not mad at you in the sense that is going through your head. We all love you."
Tim wants to believe it.Â
"Not even Damian doesnât hate you."Â
Tim snorts.Â
"He doesnât." Bruce insists, digging his fingers into Timâs ribs. Tim gasps and laughs as Bruce doesnât let up.Â
"Stahap!" Tim begs. Tim is seriously ticklish on his ribs; itâs one of his worst spots, and Bruce knows it.Â
Bruce chuckles fondly as he brings both hands to Timâs ribcage. Tim is letting out some serious giggles now. Heâs trying to fight against Bruce, but the tea is setting in, and Timâs not the most coordinated person when tickled.Â
"Promise to sleep and not stay up for six days straight ever again?" Bruce asks, not ceasing his tickle attack. He digs his fingers in between the bones of Timâs ribs.Â
"Yehehes! I-I prohohomise!" Tim gets out, squirming madly. It tickles so damn much!
Bruce finally stops tickling. Tim sags into Bruceâs side while he rubs his ribs to get rid of the residual tickly feelings.Â
"Youâre too good at that." Tim tells him.Â
Bruce kisses the top of his head. "Youâre too easy. I think you may be more ticklish than Damian."Â
Now that was interesting information.Â
"Damian is ticklish?!"Â
Bruce winces. "I donât think I was supposed to mention that."Â
"Oh th-thaaaat--" Tim cuts himself off with a loud yawn.Â
"Bed." Bruce says, pressing another kiss against the top of Timâs head. "No worrying either, we can talk tomorrow about better ways to keep yourself healthy."Â
"Gânight, dad." Tim whispers, already falling asleep.Â
"Good night, son."Â
^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^
When Tim wakes up, heâs dazed and confused. The sun is gone and his clock tells him itâs nine at night.Â
"Itâs been 18 hours, Drake."
Tim whips his head and sees Damian sketching in the armchair next to his bed.Â
"What?"Â
"You slept for 18 hours," Damian repeats, sounding thoroughly annoyed. "Pennyworth has a plate of dinner waiting for you when you are ready to eat."Â
Tim scrubs a hand down his face. "Eighteen hours, huh?"Â
"With the amount of stress you put on your body, I am shocked you didnât sleep longer."Â
"YeahâŠwasnât my best plan I guess."
"Tt. Consider it your worst. That is saying something, too, as you usually have terrible plans." Thereâs no real heat behind Damianâs words. The two of them have grown a lot since Damian first came. They respect one another now. They work pretty well together, too. Their form of communication may look especially harsh to an outsider, but to them, itâs brotherly banter.Â
Tim rolls his eyes. "Pretty sure I was the one who took down Zsasz earlier this week."
Damian looks at him. "Father and Todd took him down."
"Physically, maybe. But it was me who found out everything. So, if you think about it, it was all of my plans that took him down."Â
"Tt. In your dreams, Drake."
Tim moves to sit on the side of his bed. "Hey."Â
Damian looks at him once more. "What?"
"Iâm sorry for scaring you," Tim apologizes. "I didnât mean to."Â
Damian replies stiffly, "I was not scared. I was mad at your stupidity."
"Iâm sorry for making you mad, then."Â
Damian scowls deeply at him. "Do you realize the stress you put on others when you pull these types of stunts? We have enough stress without others adding to it with idiotic decisions. You need to better care for yourself. You arenât a machine, Drake, and youâre not alone. There are others in this family that couldâve taken a case or two. Furthermore, you hate school, so I do not understand your need to finish assignments you donât care about."Â
Tim feels really bad.Â
"I didnât do it on purpose, if that helps." Tim tells his little brother. "I getâŠfocused, I guess. I know you guys can help me, I justâŠI dunno. I feel like I can do it better, I suppose. Thatâs really narcissistic of me, I know."Â
Damian only scowls further. "You arenât a narcissist; youâre an idiot. Thereâs a difference."
"How many more times are you going to call me an idiot?" Tim asks, a wry smile on his face.Â
"As many times as it takes." Damian smirks.
Tim rolls his eyes this time. He stands and squats in front of the chair so heâs eye level with Damian. "I wonât do it again."
"Tt."Â
Tim places a hand on Damianâs shoulder. "I promise, Damian."Â
Damian looks at Tim now. "YouâŠyou are important to this family."
"Does that include you?" Tim teases.Â
Damian shoves Timâs hand off his shoulders. "Ugh. Iâm finished with this sappy moment. Iâm leaving."
Domain tries to stand to leave, but Tim is feeling much better after his sleep, and heâs in a mischievous mood, so he grabs Damian around the waist and pulls him into a hug.Â
"Drake! Unhand me!"
"We have to hug, Demon," says Tim. "Dickie will be upset if we donât."Â
Damian is squirming furiously as he attempts to free himself from Timâs grip. "Grayson isnât even here!"Â
"He could walk in any minute, though. I wanna make sure we do him proud!" Tim squeezes tighter, causing Damian to yelp. It reminds Tim of what Bruce told him before he fell asleep.Â
Tim smiles deviously. "I heard some interesting information about you from Bruce." Tim places his hands on Damianâs sides with his fingers curled in, an evil grin growing as he feels Damian instantly still.Â
"DrakeâŠ" Itâs a warning, but Tim isnât concerned.Â
"Damian."Â
"Whatever Father told you, h-he was clearly lying!" Damian still doesnât move, and Tim knows itâs because every movement would tickle with the way Timâs hands are positioned.Â
"Bruce lies at times," Tim concedes. "But I donât think he was lying about this. Tell me, Dee, are you ticklish?"
Damianâs eyes go wide. "N-No! Of c-course not!"
"Bruce said you were."Â
"He lied!"
Tim shrugs his shoulders, pretending to give up. However, the moment Damian relaxes, Tim tosses the smaller boy on the bed and pounces, immediately tickling Damianâs stomach.Â
"DRAKE!" Damian absolutely screeches. Tim knows heâs going to die after this, but heâs okay with it. Damian succumbs to laughter rather quickly. He has such a cute laugh, sounding and looking like the 12-year-old he is.Â
"Bruce was right!" Tim crows. He scrabbles all 10 of his fingers all around Damianâs belly. The closer he gets to Damianâs sides and ribs, the louder his laughter gets, and the more he squirms. Damian seems to be like Tim, though, and super uncoordinated when tickled because Tim is still alive and breathing. Damian is swearing like a sailor at him, but thatâs about it.Â
"What the fuck is going on in--ohâŠnow this is good."Â
Tim looks at the doorway, not pausing his tickly assault on Damianâs torso, and sees Jason with the biggest grin on his face that Timâs ever seen.Â
"T-Tohohodd! I r-require assISTANCE!" Damian squeals out the last part of the word as Tim shoots his arms to Damianâs underarms.Â
"I think Timmy requires my assistance," Jasonâs grin turns more shark-like. "How did I not know you were ticklish, Baby Bat?"
Damian doesnât answer. Heâs too busy holding his middle as best he can, laughter pouring out of his mouth. His heels are drumming against the bed, and Tim is grinning widely himself. Heâs never heard Damian laugh like this before.Â
"Are you guys killing Damian?" Dick enters the room next. "OhâŠyouâre just tickling him. Try his neck next, Timmy. Thatâs his death spot."Â
"GRAYHAYSON!" Damian shrieks as Tim lightly pinches at the back of Damianâs neck. Damianâs laughter goes high pitched. "T-TIM, pleheHEASE!"Â
It went on for two more minutes before Dick rescues Damian by telling Tim to stop. Tim moves off Damian and grins down at the panting boy. "You called me by my name."Â
Damian pants for another few seconds, a silly grin on his face. It doesnât last long, though, because he soon scowls fiercer than Timâs ever seen and then jumps at Tim. Dick catches him around the middle and holds Damian away from Tim.
"Let me go, Grayson! I will have my revenge!"Â
"Sorry Dames, but Tim needs to eat. He needs to sleep after that, again--donât look at me like that, Tim--and you need to get ready for patrol."Â
Damian flips Tim off but stops struggling against Dickâs hold. Dick sets him down and grins. "Everyoneâs ticklish, Damian. If you can imagine it, Timâs probably more ticklish than you."Â
"Dick!" Tim throws his oldest brother a betrayed look.Â
"Oh definitely. The kidâs ribs are like a 10 on the Richter scale," Jason adds. "One poke to his ribs has him swearing his first born to you. Heâs deathly ticklish on his ribs."Â
"Jason!" Tim throws the same betrayed look to his immediate older brother.
"Sorry, little brother. Itâs true." Dick laughs.Â
Tim looks at Damian and gulps. Damian looks smug. No, he looks worse than smug. He looks like heâs plotting.Â
"DamianâŠI-Iâm so sorry. It wonât happen again!" Tim has his hands up.Â
"Oh, I know it wonât. Iâll ensure the lesson you learn will keep you from making that mistake ever again."Â
"Oh! Are we going to tickle Tim next?" Dick asks. "Itâs been a while!"Â
"You asshats are gonna leave me alone!" Tim warns. "Remember, I have lots of pictures that I can release on the internet at a momentâs notice."Â
"Heâs bluffing." Jason snorts. "He wonât post them on the internet, Bruce would kill him."Â
Damianâs smirk grows.Â
"Iâm totally in on this plan, though," Jason continues. "Tickling Tim till he forgets his own damn name sounds like fun."Â
Tim feels his stomach flip flop with excitement and trepidation. Heâs never been teamed up against like that and has no clue what itâll feel like, but he has a feeling heâs about to find out.Â
"What about you, Grayon? Will you join in my revenge?" Damian asks.Â
Tim sends a pleading look to Dick.Â
"WellâŠhe really needs to eat." Dick says. Tim sighs in relief. "But I suppose he can wait another half hour or so."
"Half hour?! The fu-NO! Nohoho!"Â
Tim doesnât do much more than laugh for quite some time.
C:Â Chase | What are their chances in a chase, both as a lee and ler?
LOL, his chances are wildly different depending on whether he's a lee or a ler. As ler he is relentless, he will not stop, he will hide around every corner and wait for his lee to hesitantly peek around and just be like 'Oh,đhey!' and laugh as they scramble in the opposite direction.
As a lee he just can't stop laughing because it's silly and vulnerable and he loves the play so much. He's so gangly, and if he's lee in a tickle chase he has a hard time not falling over his own limbs.
E:Â Expression | How do they express their wish to tickle/be tickled?
By being really really really annoying. I sort of imagine him as a puppy trying to get a belly rub, tugging and yapping at someone and the second they stop whatever they're doing and look at him just
K: Killer Move | As a ler, do they have special skills to use against their lees and drive them crazy with?
I get the feeling he'd like to pick up his lee if he can (which he def can do with Jon) and the added helplessness/safety of being held while being tickled to death is utterly killer. He also has a very evil chuckle, which he will do directly into your ear and you will melt
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Could you write a drabble of Connor Kent finding out that Tim Drake is ticklish and making him rate his ticklish spots while Connor tickles his armpits, ribs, sides, and feet?
AN: Anon??? This is such a cute prompt?????? Thank you????
"Kon, no. This is silly," Tim says, a giggle already on his lips. He runs across the room, putting himself in a position so the couch would be between himself and Kon. His hands are up in front of him, both of them knowing full well that Kon is not above jumping over the couch.
"A couch? Tim, are you for real?" Kon laughs, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head, "it's almost like you're just begging me to use my TTK."
Tim's eyes widen, a blush growing on his cheeks, "you wouldn't."
Kon sends a wink his way, putting the sunglasses down on the coffee table and whipping his jacket off onto the couch, "oh, I so would."
"So, would you prefer that I tickle you with my hands," Kon says, wiggling his fingers in the air, "or with my powers?"
Tim feels the ghosting of a finger poking his side, and he flinches almost unnoticeable. "Yohou know what?" Tim says, pretending to be interested in the options, "I think neither would be fantastic."
"Robin, sometimes you just make this too easy."
Tim suddenly feels the sensation of fingers running up his sides, digging into each rib once they reach them. Tim squeals, batting away hands that aren't there, giggles peppered with snorts.
"Kohohohon nohoho!" Tim shrieks, turning in circles as if it would help rid him of the sensation.
"Does it tickle, Tim? How bad, hmm?" Kon teases, smirking as Tim writhes where he stands, giggling hysterically.
"Bahahad! Stahahap! Plehehease!" Tim squeals, Kon's fingers rising higher and higher.
"How about," Kon grins, "we do a scale from 1-10? 10 being 'I'm dying', you know, because you inherited dramatics from Dick, and 0 being 'meh, I could handle it'. Sounds good?"
"Nohohoho! Plehease nohoho!"
"Alright, a 'yes' it is." Kon laughs to himself, he focuses his powers at Tim's sides again, cooing when Tim lets out a tiny hiccup. "Give me a number, Timmy."
"Ahahaha, nohoho!"
"If you don't then I just won't stop," Kon teases before managing to make a sensation similar to a raspberry on Tim's side.
"Cahahan't! Ihihihi cahahan't! I-" Tim snorts, throwing himself onto the couch, "ahaha fohohour!"
"A four? I think we could do better, don't you, Timmers?"
Tim feels the sensation move up to his ribs, and his laughter is once again characterised by non-stop, high-pitched snorts. "S- SEHEHEVEN!"
Kon grins, "getting warmer... How about here?"
Tim squeals, falling to the ground when he feels the sensations move to under his arms. He throws his head back slamming his fists on the ground as he tries desperately to rid himself of the sensations. "KOHOHON PLEHEHEASE!"
"A number, my dear, Tim, a number."
"TEHEHEN! TEHEHEN! I- NO- PLE- KOHOHOHON!"
"Okay, okay," Kon laughs, "no need to get your panties in a twist, just one more spot."
When Tim feels the sensations move to his feet, still in his shoes and socks but somehow feeling like skin-on-skin, he loses it. He screams before dissolving into frantic, silent laughter, going limp where he had curled up on the floor.
"Last one, Tim." Kon reassures, walking over to Tim and running his fingers through the black hair while his powers do their work. "Gotta give me a number, bud."
"TEHEHEN! TEHEHEN!"
"But the last one was a ten," Kon giggles.
"THEHEN- AHAHAHA- TEHEHEN AND A HAHAHAHALF!"
"Alright, alright," Kon says, using the TTK to get Tim on his lap, still running his hand through the wavy black hair.
"Yohoho- yohohu're evil," Tim giggles into Kon's stomach, fists balling up into Kon's shirt.
"Well, I am half Lex Luthor, gotta use the evil for good."
"Ohoho my gohohod," Tim giggles, "rehehemind me tohoho never get ihihinto it wihihit Lehehex."
C:Â Chase | What are their chances in a chase, both as a lee and ler?
Oooh, I like to think she's got v good chances either way. Give her a sec to gather her thoughts as the chasee and next thing you know she's pulled an uno reverse card and the chaser is running for their lives.
G: Gentle | How do they react to gentle tickles?
Idk why but I feel like gentle tickles are way worse for her, yet another reason the others don't think she's very ticklish, but light tickles get her shrieking and swearing like crazy. V hard to keep her still enough to manage super light tickles but she just dies on the spot.
H: Habits | As a lee/ler or both, do they have specific habits when it comes to tickling?
I think as a ler her habits are mostly faking ignorance to what she's doing to get her lee to say the word. Though she's also very good at getting a specific 'I'm gonna tickle you' look in her eyes that has the others all running for the hills
V: Victim | As a ler, who is their favorite lee and what makes this person their ultimate victim?
Oh Tim for sure. He's usually so confident and teasy so he tends to ler a lot, and it's so satisfying to knock him down a peg, plus he's very affectionate in general and especially with Sasha so they both have a lot of fun. He has a really loud, wacky laugh that almost sounds put on, and Sasha mocks the hell out of it.
Much as Tim was loath to admit it, he may have been taking this a little far. Just a tad. Sure, heâd known Jon was ticklish since they were in research together, but heâd never made a habit of taking advantage of that.
Until he had.
And well, that had kind of changed things. Seeing how Jonâs tetchy exterior melted away in seconds to reveal an adorable smile that flushed his face red and made him curl up like a shy armadillo was just too much to resist. Tim wasnât made of stone, if anything it was Jonâs fault!
No, no. Even in this joking, playful context, Tim wasnât much one for victim blaming. Even when anyone with eyes could tell that Jon didnât have any real problems with his now frequent attacks. Sure, he complained enough, shoved at Tim knowing how much stronger Tim was and that it wouldnât do any good, but he could never scrub his smile away entirely once Tim let him go. Usually, it hung around for the rest of the day, in fact.
And it wasnât like Tim was completely oblivious, he knew that Jon was determined to be ready for this job, determined to be taken seriously, and he knew that having his subordinate grab him and tickle him until he couldnât breathe wasnât exactly boss behaviour, so he was careful. He never did anything if someone else was around, or within earshot, even if Jon was being a bit of a smart-ass and probably deserved it. He didnât even tell Sasha, who he was pretty sure didnât know about Jonâs little weakness.
It was just fun. Like a cheat code to get Jon to relax, because it was kind of hard to be uptight while giggling uncontrollably.
It really did figure that Tim didnât realise he was in trouble until it was far too late.
Heâd been walking past the break room just after lunch to see Jon standing by the counter, struggling fruitlessly to reach the replacement box of tea on the top shelf. After taking a moment to remember that Sasha and Martin were well out of range â in a meeting and out on research respectively, he snuck up behind Jon and dug his fingers into his ribs.
Maybe it was the repeat attacks that kept Jon from screeching in surprise, but nothing could stop him from folding in half like a cheap lawn chair and bursting into breathless laughter.
Tim let up after a moment, grinning smugly. âAfternoon, boss.â He said casually, as if Jon wasnât all but lying in a heap on the floor.
Jon straightened and glared, his arms tight around his sides. âYou think youâre funny.â
Tim snagged the box of tea, putting it beside the kettle with a wink. âEveryone thinks Iâm funny.â
âItâs lucky for you I havenât tried to defend myself.â
Tim laughed, both at the admission that for some mysterious reason Jon had never bothered to try to stop him, as well as the statement itself. âDefend yourself?â He teased. âWith those little twigs you call arms?â
The confidence to Jonâs expression should have tipped Tim off, but he was having too much fun teasing him to pay attention. âThere are more effective weapons than muscles, Tim.â
âNerd.â
Jon crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing and a small, smug grin on his face. âYouâve been attacking me quite a lot lately.â He noted. âI wonder, where are you most ticklish?â
âAs if Iâd tell you that.â Is what Tim tried to say. Instead, however, he felt his lips form the words. âMy knees.â His eyes widened in shock. âWait! You- holy crap.â He gaped as he realised what Jon had just done. âYou- did you seriously just use your spooky eye powers for this?!â He wasnât sure if he was delighted or horrified.
Jonâs face was all innocence but for the devilish grin. âI donât know what youâre talking about Tim.â
âUh huh, of course you donât- hey, hey, you stay away from me.â Tim backed away with a laugh as Jon stalked closer to him.
His eyes were wide. âI just want to use the microwave, Tim.â
He knew that tactic. For starters, Jonâs usual method of engagement with Timâs âshenanigansâ was to pretend he wasnât engaging at all for as long as possible. Hence him âactuallyâ moving towards the microwave behind him. Secondly, the microwave was behind him, and Tim knew that the impulse was to look at it when Jon pointed it out, leaving himself defenceless for a moment. âIâm not falling for that.â He said, side-stepping so that the microwave was now to his left. Sure, he could probably just grab Jon and turn the tables immediately, but the point of this had never been to just win. âYou donât even have anything to microwave!â
âOh right, of course.â Jon snapped his fingers as if he had just remembered. âI left my lunch in the fridge.â
Tim took a step back and immediately bumped into something. Something cool and large, that rattled at the contact. Fuck. He couldnât help the nervous, twitchy smile spreading across his face, but he could almost bottle the laughter. âDonât you dare!â He warned, voice shaking with giggles, doing absolutely nothing to escape.
Jon was clearly trying not to smile. âIâm not doing anything, Tim.â
He cringed. âYouâre a baSTARD- NO!â Tim squealed when Jon made a fake lunge for his knees, only to bury his hands under his arms instead. He immediately burst out laughing, making no attempt to contain it, and slid down the fridge to the ground, wrapping his arms around his stomach in a meagre defence.
Jon smirked. It was nice to get revenge, for once. Nice to mess around with Tim a bit as well. Theyâd had a much more tactile relationship back in research, before all of this. Tim used to ruffle his hair, nudge his shoulder when walking past, elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. No one touched Jon much anymore, and he did his best to convince himself he was okay with that.
This was fun though. Tim was cackling under his wiggling fingers, making no effort whatsoever to actually escape, and it was the most fun Jon had had since⊠well, since the last time Tim had grabbed him and done the same, but he was hardly going to admit that. âReady to apologise?â
Tim laughed louder at the question. As if heâd ever be sorry for this. âN-never!â He gasped out between laughing fits, squeezing his eyes shut when Jonâs eyes narrowed and his smirk grew even more devious.
Jon moved his hands down to sporadically squeeze Timâs sides, chuckling at his squeaks. âOh, Iâm sure I can convince you.â
One of these days, Tim decided, he would have to talk to Jon about being so unfairly seductive. He was pretty sure it wasnât on purpose, which made it so much worse. Jonâs fingers were long and thin and each one felt like an electric shock with every squeeze to his sides and poke to his stomach.
It was actually kind of worse that Jon wasnât great at this, Tim reflected. It still tickled like hell, he was still flustered beyond belief, squirming and giggling and squeaking, but it wasnât so bad that he had trouble breathing. Was that worse? Or better?
Either way, it meant that Jon wasnât likely to actually stop until Tim gave up, and he refused, even as he felt his eyes welling up with tears of laughter. If Jon was going to make this into a battle of wills, then heâd better be prepared for a fight.
Timâs hands shot out faster than Jon could track, latching onto his ribs and vibrating in a way that made him shriek and jerk, ceasing his own attack. âGood lord Jon, do keep it down.â He teased, panting slightly. âThis is an academic institution, after all.â
Jon squirmed helplessly, unable to fall backwards away because of Timâs ticklish assault, his own arms torn between trying to push him away, trying to escape, and trying to cover his face to muffle his own embarrassingly high-pitched giggles. He hated that he didnât really want to do any of that. Mostly he wanted to collapse to the ground completely and laugh until he felt light-headed.
âWhatâs the matter, boss?â Tim teased with a wide grin. âIs something funny? What are you laughing about?â
Oh god, Jonâs face abruptly felt as though it had been set on fire. He squirmed back as far as he could, refusing to open his eyes and look at Tim. He could deal with endless tickle attacks, but teasing? That was something else entirely.
His blush intensified when one of Timâs hands came up to tease his neck and ears, drawing out a number of sounds that Jon didnât know he was capable of producing. âI- T-Tim- naha- please!â
âOoh, âpleaseâ, finally learned some manners.â Tim chuckled, not letting up. It was just too cute to watch him laugh like this.
The next moment Jonâs hand had latched onto his knee and Tim couldnât think of anything at all other than shrieking laughter and trying to shake him off.
Jon grinned, panting a little and trying to catch his breath. âYouâre hardly one to lecture me about manners.â
Among his wild kicking, Jon managed to zero in on his other knee, making Tim jolt as if heâd been given an electric shock. âFUCK- NOHO!â
Jon sighed, completely ignoring Timâs frantic laughter and broken off pleading. âSee, this is exactly what Iâm talking about, Tim. Cursing in the workplace is highly unprofessional.â
Unexpectedly, an amused voice sounded from the doorway. âTrying a new form of employee discipline, I see.â
Jon froze and Tim gasped for air, still giggling even though Jon had stopped squeezing his knees. âOh- Sasha, um. Hello.â
Sasha grinned. âHi.â This was too cute. As boisterous and charismatic as he was, she would never get enough of Timâs laugh. Sheâd missed Jon, too. Missed how heâd used to be their friend and not just their boss. âWhatâd he do this time?â
Jon swallowed, his face flushing. He suddenly felt foolish. âWell-â
âIâll show you!â
âWha- no, TIM!â Too late Jon tried to twist away from the hands that had come up behind him, fingers wiggling against his stomach, thumbs gripping his sides to keep him from escaping.
All of Jonâs energy immediately went to slamming both hands over his face in a useless attempt to hide his reactions. He was far too worked up not to immediately burst into those embarrassing giggles, and he flopped sideways onto the floor, trying to curl up into a ball and hide.
Tim chuckled down at the shy, giggly armadillo that was his friend. âThanks for the save, Sash.â
Sasha grinned wider and approached. âNever knew Jon was ticklish.â She said, crouching beside them and somehow marrying academic curiosity with unbearable mischief. Between the hands hiding it, she could see Jonâs face was flushed red.
âOh, heâs not.â Tim teased, not digging in so hard that Jon wouldnât be able to catch his breath. âTrust me, Iâve asked and he always says no, so heâs definitely not even a little bit ticklish.â
The statement was, of course, undermined by Jonâs squirming and his frantic giggles as Timâs fingers once again found the spaces between his ribs, earning a strange squeaking snort.
âHmm.â Sasha pretended to think, as if Jon wasnât slowly losing his mind on the break room floor, half wishing the ground would open up and swallow him and half wishing that this would never end. She fluttered her fingers around Jonâs neck, laughing at the squeak and twitch that were elicited. âAs a researcher, Iâd say Iâm getting some contradictory information here.â
Tim chuckled evilly. âWell, you know our boss, he likes us to be thorough.â
Jon whined, still refusing to move his hands away from his face. âNoho!â
Sasha hesitated. She couldnât tell much from Jonâs tone, whether he was bothered by this or not. Usually, it wasnât hard to tell if he was actually annoyed or upset based on his expression; he got very exaggerated when he was fake mad, but now his face was hidden behind his hands, and she wasnât sure.
She glanced to Tim, hoping for him to at least wait a moment to give Jon the chance to escape if that was what he wanted, but he grinned at her and winked, not ceasing at the poking assault that kept Jon in that giggly ball on the ground between them. âHey, Jon?â He called, as if he was instigating normal conversation. âYou good there?â
âNohohoho- lemmego!â He giggled. His glasses were so skewed that Sasha was concerned theyâd bend in half, pressed behind his fingers and all.
Tim smiled easily, still not stopping. âOkay boss, sure thing, Iâll let you go.â He leaned closer to growl menacingly. âYouâve just gotta tell me to stop.â
The demand was in such stark contrast to Timâs threatening tone that Sasha almost laughed. Almost. She managed to keep it to a smile, at least until Timâs hand managed to squeeze through Jonâs defences and dig into his stomach. âAH- Dohohonât!â He yelped, finally laughing out loud.
The three of them laughed together for a moment. âSo close!â Tim said, not letting up. âThe magic word is actually âstopâ!â
Sasha snickered. He wasnât bothered then, just putting up a front. Very Jon. âHe seems to be having trouble with that.â She noted. âMaybe a little more motivation?â
Jonâs eyes snapped open wide behind his hands, and he shook his head repeatedly, feet scrabbling against the ground as if to escape and yet miraculously not moving him an inch. âNonononono, Sashaha no!â
She grinned at his protests. Knowing now that Jon didnât hate this, she had her own goal in mind.
She wanted to see the smile Jon was putting so much effort into hiding. âNot sorry Jon, youâve been way too grumpy lately.â
Jon squeaked like a mouse when her long nails targeted his neck and ears, feeling his face grow even hotter with how they were looking at him. They were smiling in a way that felt unbelievably affectionate, and Jon felt so known that he thought he might melt.
If the tears pricking at his eyes were any indication, he may have already started to.
He twisted his head this way and that in a vain attempt to avoid Sashaâs questing nails, but he failed to get any respite. His laughter had begun to turn breathless when Sashaâs fingers found the spot directly behind one ear, eliciting a garbled scream, and Jonâs hands shot out to push her away.
Sasha beamed. âThere he is.â She cooed, drinking in that oh so rare smile. She could see the moment that Jon realised, but there wasnât much he could do about it now. Tim was poking at his stomach, Sasha was lightly scratching around his ears, and he was completely giddy with laughter, unable to even hide his face anymore, unable to hide exactly how much he was loving this.
They knew already though, didnât they? Jon had the chance to lie when Tim had offered him a way to make them stop, and he hadnât taken it. They knew, and while the very thought made Jon want to bury himself into the ground, Tim and Sasha didnât stop. In fact, they were laughing along with him, seemed to be having as much fun as he was. So maybe theyâd never let him live it down, and maybe now theyâd both be exploiting his childish weakness at any opportunity, but maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
Maybe Jon needed this in a way he couldnât hope to explain.
When his laughter had turned to hiccups, Sasha and Tim ceased their playful assault. All three sat on the break room floor laughing quietly. Jon wished that he could stop smiling, but he was sure that wasnât going to happen for a while now.
Tim ruffled his hair mischievously, beaming when Jon didnât pull away or protest. The poor guy was still curled up in a ball, face as red as his complexion would allow, heaving in deep breaths between gentle giggles. Heâd never seen Jon so undone. He hoped heâd see it again, if only for that smile. âYou okay there?â
Jon tried to glare, but he couldnât purge his smile.
His head turned at the sound of a picture being taken. Sasha had her phone in her hand and a wide grin on her face. âWhat?â She asked when he narrowed his eyes at her. âHow else am I gonna see that smile?â
Timâs grin froze, his eyes shining up with a strange light, and Jon turned, sitting up. He looked far more evil than someone with that adorable giggle had any right to. Before she could even suspect what they might be up to, Jon spoke. âWhat about you, Sasha?â He asked, âAre you ticklish?â
Sasha answered automatically, âYes, but only under my arms.â
She yelped with surprise when she realised what sheâd said, clapping both hands over her mouth. Jon snickered and Tim pointed an outraged finger at her. âYou lied to me!â
Sasha shot out of the breakroom in an instant, Tim hot on her heels. âGet back here, James!â
Jon pulled himself to his feet, grinning at the sounds of their chase. He grabbed the kettle, filling it with tap water and clicking it on. He needed some kind of hydration after that.
The voices carried.
âHey, Iâm back! Oh, hi Sasha, what are you-â
âSave me, Martin!â
âNo human shields, you coward!â
âUmâŠâ
âNo, donât you- TIM!â
The squeaky laughter made Jon chuckle, and he followed out to the main office. None of them were looking his way, Sasha wrapped up in Timâs arms, laughing and squirming, Martin looking on in bemusement.
âTim.â Jon said, trying to sound stern.
Tim didnât stop, but he did turn so both he and Sasha were facing him. âYeah boss?â He asked, dodging Sashaâs attempts to kick him in the shins.
Her eyes fixed on Jon, a half-hearted plea for help. He smirked. âCareful of the stacks.â
Sasha swore at them both, and Tim laughed. âTen-four!â
Martinâs bewildered gaze fell on Jon, who still hadnât stopped smiling. âDid I miss much?â
Jon chuckled. âI just put on the kettle?â
âOoh, Iâd love a cuppa.â
âHELP!â
âEarl grey or English breakfast?â Jon asked casually, ignoring Sashaâs plight but for his evil grin.
Martin laughed. âActually, I have a new loose-leaf blend I ordered from Germany that Iâve been meaning to try.â
âOh, that sounds lovely, would you mind sharing?â
âNot at all!â
âPlehehease- Tim!â
âMake sure she can breathe, Tim!â Jon called, heading back to the breakroom. He noted with amusement and fondness that Sasha hadnât yet told Tim to stop either.
