#tk fic

Riddle let out a loud, long-suffering sigh that Floyd had become intimately acquainted with over the course of their relationship. Surreptitiously, Floyd picked up a decorative quill, though there was no need for sneakiness — Riddle barely looked up.

“Working,” came his curt answer, eyes glued to his workbook as he ticked off row after row. He was like a machine, ugh. Floyd bent to fit his face in the crook of Riddle’s neck, pressing his chin in with a little more pressure than was likely to be comfortable for his boyfriend, and he felt Riddle give a started jolt. With great pleasure, Floyd noticed that Riddle’s grip on his pen had tightened.

“Floyd—s-stop it,” he gritted out. “I have to work.”

The stammer did not go unnoticed. “Why?” Floyd asked softly, digging his chin into the tender spot between Riddle’s neck and shoulder. “’M I distracting ya, Goldfishie?”

Riddle yelped at the new sensation, his shoulders rising as he hunched over. “Floyd, sto-stohohop! I’m wohohorking!”

“Yes,” Floyd said. “I know. Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Riddle whined, cheeks blooming red as roses as he tried to push Floyd away. “I cahahan’t cohohoncentrate!”

“Oh?” Floyd feigned mock confusion, grinning as he heard Riddle squeak. “Is it distracting when I do this?” He began to twirl the feather around the other side of Riddle’s neck, his poor boyfriend giving a full-body shiver.

“Floyd, nohoho!” He protested, attempting to draw his shoulders up to his ears, paper all but forgotten. His hands fluttered helplessly at his sides, torn between trying to return to his work and batting Floyd away. Unfortunately for him, the distraction meant that he didn’t notice Floyd’s other hand sneaking around his side until it had lifted Riddle’s shirt and was pressing cold fingers to his bare ribs. With a violent flinch and a shocked giggle, Riddle finally broke, leaping out of his chair to get away. Floyd followed with a predatory grin.

“Wait—wahahait, please—“ He was already giggling.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to take a break for two hours,” he said dramatically, backing Riddle up. Riddle gasped when he hit the wall, and he prepared to turn and find another escape. But Floyd was faster, and with a quick leap, he had Riddle trapped between his arms, hands already rucking up his shirt to prod at his sides.

Within an instant, Riddle was a writhing, giggling mess. He twisted from side to side trying to escape Floyd’s fingers still gently scratching at his bottom ribs. For all of one second, he attempted to drop to the floor and crawl away, but Floyd’s hands catching him under the arms had him jumping back up.

“What’s wrong?” Floyd cooed, still scritch-scratching away. “Don’t tell me this tickles? It’s only two fingers, just one on each side. You’re not thaaat sensitive, right Goldfishie?”

“Sh-shuhuhut uhuhuhup!” Riddle squealed, arms pressed firmly against his sides, hands flapping helplessly. With great effort, he peeled himself off of the wall and out of Floyd’s grasp, bolting for the Heartslabyul common room.

Floyd chased after him, vaulting over the couch to land next to Riddle, who was already scrambling away, still giggling. Throwing himself forward, Floyd caught him around the waist and dug in with his fingertips. Riddle’s face was bright red as he thrashed and kicked on the couch, shrieking when Floyd leaned down to blow a raspberry on his stomach. One of Riddle’s kicks landed squarely in the middle of Floyd’s chest, knocking him off of him. Riddle forced himself up onto his wobbly legs, still panting, while Floyd’s eyes lit up — this was what he’d been waiting for! The cure for his boredom!

Terrified, Riddle stood and assessed his options. For a brief moment, he considered escaping into the rose maze before Floyd jumped up, effectively blocking that exit. With nowhere else to go, Riddle bolted back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. However, before he could even turn to fumble with the lock, Floyd had thrown open the door, silhouetted ominously against the hallway light.

Riddle backed up, hands raised in nervous surrender as Floyd stalked closer. The backs of his knees hit the bed and he collapsed, frantic as Floyd leaned down, an arm on either side of him to trap him.

As a last-ditch effort, Riddle surged up and mashed his lips against Floyd’s ungracefully, thrumming with adrenaline. Floyd let out a startled noise, but melted into the embrace. When Riddle pulled away, trying to wriggle out from under him, Floyd followed him down, kissing him into the bed.

After a few moments — too soon, Floyd’s brain whined — they finally parted. Riddle blinked, and smiled up at him. He loved that smile.

“…Does this mean we’re done?” Riddle asked cautiously.

Floyd’s grin turned wicked. “No,” he said casually, sitting back on his heels.

“No?” Riddle demanded, but he didn’t get much further before Floyd began tapping his fingers along his belly, making him twitch and bite his lip, stubbornly holding in his giggles. “Floyd, this is childish—“

“Is it?” He asked, eyes narrowing. “I think if I were really childish, I would do this.”

Without warning, he changed from playful scratches to drilling his fingers into Riddle’s hips, squeezing rapidly up and down, and Riddle screeched, bursting into laughter and tugging frantically at his wrists.

“AHAHAHAHAHA—FLOHOHOYD, PLEHEHEHEASE—“

“Please what? Tickle you?” Floyd tittered, squeezing the tops of Riddle’s thighs and enjoying how his laughter went silent. “If you insist.”

Floyd slipped his hands under Riddle’s shirt and began to walk his fingers up from his bottom ribs. At each rib, he paused, tracing them from the middle to his sides with his fingernails.

“Ack — Flohohoyd, stohohop—“ Riddle paused, realizing where his boyfriend’s dexterous hands were headed, then began shoving at him with renewed energy.

“Nah,” Floyd said, the words coming out muffled as Riddle planted a hand against his face. “Now, where were we?” He planted his fingers on his lowest ribs again, starting from scratch. “Perhaps here?” He tickled Riddle lazily as the smaller boy struggled beneath him, pretty giggles spilling from his lips.

“Nohoho,” Riddle protested. “You were higher uHUHUP?!” He squealed as the fingers suddenly dug in.

“Hm, I don’t think so,” Floyd lied cheerily. “Gotta recount to be sure.”

“Gohoho awahahahay!”

Floyd paused, and Riddle flopped back onto his bed, sides beginning to ache from laughing.

“You know…I’m a bit hungry,” Floyd mused, his eyes crinkling.

“G-great,” Riddle panted, pressing the backs of his hands against his flushed cheeks. “How about we stop and have tea?”

“I dunno,” Floyd snickered, and Riddle suppressed a shudder. “I think I want some ribs.”

“FLOYD, GET OFF—“ Riddle shrieked, but it was too late. Moments later, he felt Floyd’s teeth nipping lightly at his ribs, unbearably ticklish — practically torture, really. “FLOHOHOYD! NOHOHOT FAHAHAHAIR!”

“Nom nom,” Floyd said, and Riddle felt the drag of his pointy teeth as he smiled.

He kicked and laughed hysterically to no avail. He tried to curl up, bucking his hips so hard Floyd lost his balance and face planted into his shoulder.

“Oww,” Floyd whined, biting Riddle’s neck before straightening up. “That wasn’t nice of ya, Goldfishie.”

“Good. I hope it hurt,” Riddle huffed.

“Now, where were we?”

“Already??” Riddle protested, but it was no use. Floyd’s large hands clamped his elbows at his sides as he went right back to nibbling at his ribs while Riddle failed to be able to thrash. Now he was adding his hands into the mix, wriggling his fingers over the top ribs, near his back.

“FLOHOHOHOYD—“

“Aww, you’re so cute,” Floyd cooed, rubbing his cheek against Riddle’s stomach. “Are ya ticklish? Ticklish little Goldfishie~”

“OFF WIHIHITH — EEK!”

Floyd scratched gently just beneath Riddle’s armpit while Riddle shrieked. Finally, finally, he stopped. Riddle suspected that his respite would be short-lived, however, as Floyd’s hands never left his body. Riddle stilled, trying to catch his breath. Just the feeling of his boyfriend’s unmoving fingers was enough to make him breathless and giddy, the anticipation almost sending him back into a fit without Floyd doing anything.

“Ya know…if ya really want, we can stop now.”

Stop? They could stop? Riddle wanted to say yes, but instead he just blushed, turning his head to hide his face.

“No?” Floyd’s grin returned in full force, along with manic eyes — that did not bode well for Riddle. “Aw, you like it.”

Riddle just huffed, shaking his head. Floyd tittered, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Alright, alright.”

Without warning, he drilled his thumbs into Riddle’s armpits, and Riddle wailed.

Floyd grinned as Riddle squealed, trying to twist away but finding it impossible. Floyd switched his strategies, skittering his fingertips, then suddenly scratching all around. He placed his two index fingers on the outermost part of his armpit, drawing a slow spiral inwards while Riddle bucked and cackled.

“AHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHO—“

Floyd smirked as his fingers reached the hollows of his underarms, lightly scritch-scratching away.

“Tickle tickle, Goldfishie,” he teased while Riddle screeched. He began skittering his fingers up and down Riddle’s side, drilling his fingers into his waist while the other hand remained stubbornly under his arm.

Almost on accident, he pressed his elbow into Riddle’s thigh, and Riddle jolted so hard that Floyd fell backwards.

“Huh,” Floyd said. He dug his elbow into Riddle’s thigh again, and was rewarded with Riddle’s laughter taking on the quality of a rubber duck. “That’s new.”

Without missing a beat, he set about squeezing and prodding Riddle’s thighs, squeezing just above his kneecaps while Riddle thrashed like a fish out of water.

Just when Riddle’s laughter was beginning to go silent, his blush climbing all the way up to his hairline, Floyd stopped and climbed off of him.

“All done!” He beamed while Riddle melted, boneless, into the bed. Floyd clambered up next to him, grabbing him like a teddy bear and hugging him to his chest. “I don’t want you do do homework anymore. I wanna squeeze you.”

“I…suppose…I can take…a break…” Riddle panted, eyes already closing as phantom tickles finally began to subside from his body. “But never — never — do that again.”

“Why?” Floyd whined, propping his chin up on the top of Riddle’s hair. “That was fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yeah! D’ya want me to show ya again?”

"Baizhu, are you sure this'll work?" Chengsheng asks, seeming a bit confused looking down at the props Baizhu created. Baizhu looks down at each prop, each of them being crafted by his own two hands, and he was proud of each little one, "Now now, Chengsheng, you know exactly what these props are for." He brings his left, gloved hand up and uses his index finger to scratch under her scaley jaw, making her let out a relaxed sigh.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

After setting his final props, he turns to see Qiqi, this time, she looked a bit upset. As Baizhu walks over to her, he plops Chengsheng onto a preheated blanket for her, letting his reptile pal relax into the warmth and let out a content sigh, before going over and questioning Qiqi.

"Qiqi, dear, why do you look so blue?" The greenette asks, reaching out and picking her up, as she looked up, seeming confused. "Qiqi's.. blue?" She looks at her tiny, cold hands, trying to see if she really was blue. At this sight, Baizhu had to bring his free hand up to cover up his incoming laughter, before speaking once again, "No, Qiqi, it's just a figure of speech." He says, his heart squeezing in awe as she realized, her hands tugging gently at his shirt.

"Now Qiqi, why are you so sad?" He asks, genuinely concerned, and Qiqi noticed his tone. Baizhu's eye's softened in pity as he heard her word's.

"Did Qiqi scare away the customer's again?" She asks, despite her face being bland, he coukd tell she was genuinely worried she might've caused this. Baizhu sighs, planting a loving kiss to her forehead, as she melts into his touch and nuzzles against his chest to take in the warm embrace. "Qiqi.. no, here."

Baizhu puts her on his shoulder's and walks towards the door, looking out the tiny windows. It was a storm, not a gentle pitter here and there, but raging thunder and whirring winds that could almost lift the tree's off their roots. He proceeds to point up at the sky, Qiqi following his motion with her own hand, "Qiqi, when it's not sunny, it's cloudy, and when it's not cloudy, it's?" He leaves room for her to fill up the gap, hoping somewhere in her forgetful mind, she could atleast attempt to fill in the blank space.

"It's.. rainy?" She questions, a small smile tugging at her face for a moment as Baizhu claps, praising the young zombie. "Very good, Qiqi!" He pulls her off his shoulder's and into his arm's, still finger's now wiggling against her petite sides and tummy, and despite her not smiling or laughing, the blush on her cheeks proved otherwise. Qiqi was ticklish, but she couldn't react like a normal person would, so her way of expressing it was only by a tiny blush, yet it still amused Baizhu.

After the heartwarming event, Baizhu remembers his props and puts Qiqi down, leaning down to her height. "Qiqi, dear, I have a little game we can play." He says, his smile tugging even wider as her eye's light up with curiosity. "Qiqi wants to play with Dr. Baizhu." She said, taking his hand as he reaches it out for her. He proceeds too lead her to the area and sits down, seating her on a stool, as she looks at each prop with a curious glint in her eye.

"Now, Qiqi, this game is called, eh.. 'Doctor'! This is not only a game, but also educational for future purposes." He says wiggling her nose in his thumb and index finger, making her quickly cover it up, the blush crawling on her cheeks showing she was having fun. He laughs sweetly at her reaction and pets her head gently. "How Qiqi play?" She asks, making him wake up from his inner thoughts, as he smiles affectionately towards her.

"Well, as the doctor, it's your job to try and figure out what's wrong with your patient." He says, before holding up a few props. He shows her the first one, being shaped like a medicine bottle, "This first one is the treatment, it'll be there for simple treatments, like tummy bugs, common colds, and etc." He says, putting it down beside her. He shows her each prop and tells her and shows their label's, and once she understands, the game begins.

Baizhu decided to make it a bit easy at first, as he holds his left wrists, pretending he was in pain, little did he know that Qiqi would feel so worried for him despite not being in any physical pain. "Is Dr. Baizhu okay? Qiqi doesn't want Dr. Baizhu to be hurt." Despite her voice being blunt, the look in her eye's hint worry, and he can't help but feel a little guilty.

"No, Qiqi, here - give it a squeeze, I assure you I'm in no physical pain." He gently places his wrist in her tiny, almost doll like hands. He feels after she makes sure his okay, she'll calm down, like his done countless of times in the past, but when her small hands gave his wrists a gentle yet firm squeeze, a shriek erupted from him.

The two of them, well, Baizhu, looked at eachother in pure shock. Qiqi shot her head up and looked him right in the eye's, as she seemed more worried then reassured. He quickly looked at her, cheeks flushed a gentle red hue as his frantic to find a response. "Qiqi, dear, it doesn't hu-AH!" A loud giggle erupts from his throat as she squeezes again, her eye's lighting up now.

"Dr. Baizhu is ticklish? Interesting.." She mumbles, and Baizhu swears his face never got so red before. Being teased - by a zombie child no less! How embarrassing... He continues to giggle as Qiqi repeatedly squeezes there, now with a newer purpose - to tickle him of all things!

"Ah- Q-Qiqihihehehe! Wahait- WahaIT- PLEASE!" He throws his head back and his body goes limp, she grew bored of his wrist and used her tiny, cold hands to poke at his exposed stomach! She sat on his hip's, rendering him immobile, as he endures her playful pokes. "Boop, boop, boop.." She mumbles as she pokes her digits against his exposed torso, her right hand squeezing at his side, making him giggle out hysterically.

"Wait, Qiqi! Ehehek-! No! Thahaha- ihit-"

"It tickles? Qiqi knows, Dr. Baizhu tickles Qiqi all the time." She monotonously croons, he swore she smiles as he let out a flustered whine, hands going to cover his increasingly red face. "D-Dohon't sahay thahat!" He whimpers, his legs curling inwards a bit out of defense, and Qiqi took this opportunity to scribble her blunt nails over his inner thigh, making him kick his legs out with newfound laughter.

"Why? Isn't Qiqi correct?" She asks, after losing his thighs, going back to booping his tummy.

"Noho-"

"Qiqi isn't? Very well, Qiqi will just.. Show rather than tell."

And as Baizhu was already wrapping up a funeral in his jumping around mind, he physically blue screened as Qiqi's curious digit prods at his center - just pressing down onto his navel.

"QIQIHIHI!" He chortles out like a dying song bird, trying his darndest to keep still for the young reanimated girl. "Behehe careFUHUHUL!"

"Does this tickles?" She smiles - gosh, he'll be stuck here for a while. The way she made the softest of giggles made his heart swoon like a gently rustled wind chime, yet he couldn't praise the youngling due to his own current misfortune.

"Yes- Yehehes it dohoes tickle! It tickles- tickles alohohoooot!" He whines out again, the back of his forearm covering his face. (and thanks to Changsheng's quick actions, his glasses were saved)

Qiqi beams a bit in her own way, eyes widening a bit and lips quivering in an attempt to stay upwards, only to rest again. It was honestly sweet, but telling her that may just spell his grave. Again. "Qiqi is doing well?" She asks, prodding and poking at his navel again, causing the elder to cackle and arch the slightest bit.

"Yehehehes- YEHES! Yohohou're better! Thihihis isn't very educahahational now, though, ihihisn't ihit- AIE!?" The guffaw that leaves his mouth causes everyone to pause in place. Baizhu's hands are covering his mouth, Changsheng, once exasperated looked with slight interest, and Qiqi? She looked compmetely stunned.

"Qiqi hurt Baizhu?" She asks, sounding a little sad in the mix, which hurts Baizhu both physically and mentally. "No, dear, it was only a reaction of shock, you found a particularly sensitive area on me. Good job." He praised, sitting up to pat her shoulder, watching as she settles in slightly.

As they sit in comfortable silence, Changsheng coughs to gain attention, "Ahem hem! All eyesss on me?" She says, making Baizhu hum a laugh and Qiqi look up at the serpent. It seems during this fun lesson, the rain had stopped! How convenient.

"Thank you, Changsheng." Baizhu says, in the mix retrieving his glasses from the serpent, before looking back down at Qiqi. "What did we learn today, Qiqi?"

"That.."

"Hm?"

"That..."

"Yes?"

"..Qiqi forgot."

Your fingers twitch. You wonder if he’d let you do that too.

You shake off the thought just in time for Isa to give a laughter-laced battle cry and shoot his hands under Mira’s arms.

She shrieks, collapsing backwards and kicking her feet. “No, wait, Isabeau!”

He laughs victoriously. “Well, I see that housemaidens are definitely ticklish, huh?”

You bite back a snicker.

Mira flails, her hands latching onto Isa’s wrists as he pokes under her arms and at her ribs. She’s doing an admirable job of not laughing, until one of his hands moves to spider fingers over her stomach, and then- “SNRK- nohohoho- eek! Isabeau!”

Oh stars.

Isa seems to share your enchantment. “Oh my change. Mira, that is the cutest little snort I’ve ever heard.”

She tries and fails to bite back another, flailing and laughing under his assault. “Noooooo!”

“Oh yeah. I’m so sorry but for the sake of my heart, I’m gonna need you to do it again.”

You chuckle, the sound masked by Mira’s laughter and protests. “Nooo! You- you cahahan’t make me!”

Oh, that’s bait if you ever heard it.

Isa seems to agree. “Oh, do you think?” He teases, and then to your surprise, he retracts his hands, grinning widely at her. “I’ll have you know I’ve been perfecting my tickle craft!” he wiggles his fingers in the air, and, to your surprise, Mira bats at his hands, laughing still.

“Noooo!” She cries giddily.

“Oh yeah, lots of research, I’m a specialist at tickling all the cute noises out of helpless housemaidens.” His hands don’t stop wiggling at her, and despite the fact that he’s not touching her, Mira can’t seem to stop laughing.

“Isabeau!”

You’re grinning like a fool. You can’t help it. You love them.

Mira’s arms stutter in front of her, clearly wanting to launch a counterattack against Isa, but far too giddy to leave herself open like that. He fakes a grab at her side and she jolts, letting out another adorable snort. “Isabeau!”

He laughs. “Whaaaat? I’m not even touching you!” His hands float over her face, neck, stomach, sides, sending her curling up into a ball, trying to muffle her laughter and snorts into one hand.

Oh stars, oh stars, she’s just so crabbing cute! You giggle and shift forwards ever so slightly, just so you can see better.

Isa looks up, his expression morphing from mischief to surprise to joy. “Oh, Sif!” He slows his hands, but worms one into Mirabelle’s protective ball to scratch at her stomach and keep her laughing. “Hey!”

You’ve been spotted. There’s no point in staying in the doorway now. “Hey Isa.” You grin at Mira’s squirming, snorting form. “Heyyy Mira. What’s up?”

“S-Siffrin!” She manages to hiccup. “He- snrk- Help mehehe!”

Isa gasps in mock offense, his other hand fluttering against her neck now and making her squeal. “Mirabelle! Surely you know that Sif is always on my side! Through thick and thin!”

You gnaw on your lip around a wide smile. Oh, this choice is hard. And also not hard at all. Mira’s eyes meet yours and you shoot her a wink, and then dig your fingers into Isa’s sides.

He squeaks loudly and flinches, though not as dramatically as you’d expected. Perhaps your betrayal wasn’t as dramatic as you’d thought. Ah well. Given that Isa is hugging himself tightly, blushing dark and giggling heavily, you can’t be too disappointed.

You chuckle. “Hey, Isa, if you get your old defender job back will you stop being so ticklish?”

He doubles over, squeaking and giggling and making all sorts of bitten off noises. “Ohmychange, Sif, Sihihif! Wait! Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait!”

Oh. You stop immediately, pulling back. Right, you didn’t actually check if it was okay. Stupid. Disgusti-

Isa’s giddy chuckle interrupts your spiral. “Hehey, why’d you stop?”

Huh? You squint at him. Is this some kind of test? “You, um, you told me to?”

“Ohhh.” Isa says, looking somewhat embarrassed as Mira pushes herself up, finally catching her breath. “Okay, um, you uh- don’t have to stop, I mean…”

Mira giggles. She looks… happy. “It’s fun! Tickle fights, I mean. Look, Isabeau’s strong enough to push me off him if he wanted to, right?”

You nod slowly. Isa blushes and whines. “Miraaa.”

She squeezes your hand. Oh! It’s nice. Having your feelings buddy here. “And I’m fast enough to get away from him if I want to. And…” She purses her lips, blushing. “Neither of us actually said to stop, right?”

Well, not when it was the two of them, no. They were shouting and laughing but… obviously having fun. It wasn’t until you joined in that Isa said… wait. Wait. He’d said wait, he didn’t tell you to stop. Maybe because… he was having fun?

You glance at him. His cheeks are still dark, his smile firmly in place. Huh. Huh. “So… it’s okay? If I um- join in?”

Mira giggles delightedly. “I’d love that!!” She musses your hair playfully.

Isa flushes darker still, cringing back and grinning shyly. “Yeah.” He mumbles. “Yeahthatsoundsfun.”

Oh. You… don’t know what to say.

Thankfully, it seems like Mira does. She aims a poke at you, which you dodge, and laughs. “I guess we’ll have to find your tickle spots, Siffrin!”

Isa brightens and you startle to your feet, already grinning. “You’ll have to catch me first!” You chirp, taking off with a laugh.

You hear them laughing as they trail after you. It’s nice. You feel so warm.

You… don’t tell them that you can’t even remember if you’re ticklish.

--

It is so much fun playing with Mira and Isa. They’re both so crabbing cute, and you love running around, chasing them and being chased, leaping onto Isa’s back to vibrate your fingers into his stomach and make him shriek. Seeing him all breathless and giggling is so much different to his usual loud, boisterous laughter, you can’t get enough of it.

And Mira! She’s so embarrassed by her laugh and you can’t understand it! It’s adorable. Heh, you remember her outrage when you called her ‘adora-belle’, and she couldn’t keep from laughing because you were floating your fingers over her neck and ears. Whatever Isa’s so-called ‘tickle craft’ is, it sure works! Works on him, too, you’ve found.

It’s… not that you don’t want them to tickle you back. You don’t think about it too hard. You’re so much faster than them, now, it’s hard not to outpace them, and so easy to duck behind a shelf to launch a sneaky counterattack, or on one memorable occasion, vault up into the rafters.

Part of you is worried that… it might not work on you.

Not everyone’s ticklish, you know that, and you can’t for the life of you remember if you are. It’d be… disappointing if you weren’t. Would you still be allowed to play like this with them? It’d hardly be fair.

You know you can’t draw it out forever, you know that, but… you could get lost in their laughter and touch.

Once, when you had some time to yourself, you tried to test it. Closing your eye had to help, but… nothing. You tried to summon that giddy feeling that seemed to take over Isa and Mira, but it just felt like your hand against your side. Even trying Isa’s dreaded tickle craft gleaned nothing but a strong feeling of foolishness.

It’s dumb. You feel dumb. They’d call you dumb, if you told them.

You should tell them.

Well. After this. Because you and Isa had caught Mira saying something slightly mean about herself, which meant that you got to tag tickle team until you felt she was sufficiently sorry.

Isa tuts. “Really Mira, speaking bad about Vaugarde’s saviour! Such poor form.”

She’s wriggling like a fish on land on the living room rug, laughing and snorting like crazy. “Hic- Ihihisabeau- nono- Siffrin!!”

You beam. You love her. “Sorry, I can’t let anyone be mean to Mira; she’s one of my favourite people, so…”

Isa chuckles. “Awww.”

Mira squeals, kicking at you playfully. “Snrk- Siffrin!! You- yohou can’t say that right now! EEEK- s’not fair! Ohchangeohchange that tickles!!”

You and Isa laugh too. “Aw, which bit?” Isa teases. “This?” She shrieks. “Or this?” Another snort. “Or is it the dreaded tickle craft?”

Mira shoves him hard enough that he falls back for a moment. “No! Nahat the tickle craft!”

Heh. You’re getting better at catching their obvious bait. “Come on, it can’t tickle that much.” You draw your hands back and she sucks in air between giggling.

“Ehehehehhe- yes it does!”

You chuckle and wriggle your fingers in front of her face, getting a giggly shriek. “I’m not even touching you!”

Isa laughs and claps you on the shoulder. “It’s magic, Sif, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Hmm. You float your hand over to Mira’s ear. Even though her eyes are closed, her giggles increase as you wiggle your fingers in the air there. “You’re faking; there’s no way this actually tickles.”

Mira hiccups, losing her breath. “It does toohoo! Y- snrk- yohou know it does!!!”

Huh. A very confidently incorrect statement. Whatever. A quick glance at Isa confirms that yeah, she’s had enough. You smile and withdraw your hands, letting Mirabelle catch her breath, and flop onto the rug beside her.

She gives you a smile that’s equal parts grateful and playfully mad. You grin right back. You love her.

Isa flops down behind the both of you and heaves a happy sigh. You lay in silence for a little while, just breathing and existing together. It’s nice. Really nice.

Isa is the one to break the silence, in the end. “Hey, uh, Sif? Can I ask you something?”

Huh? “Uh- sure, Isa.”

He gives a flustered little groan. “Um, okay, do you uh- not? Want us? To tickle you?”

Oh. Oh no.

He keeps going. “It’s totally fine if you don’t!! Just, uh, I wanted to check! Cos I mean you’re really fast, and you always get away from us and I- dunno whether that’s on purpose, or…”

Oh stars. Why did this have to happen to you. This is the worst day of your life.

Mira smiles gently and takes your hand. “Calm down.” She commands, and you take a deep breath. “Isabeau’s right, you do always get away from us. And… after how wrong we were about your feelings on touch, it’d be nice to know.” She pokes your cheek with her other hand. “Even if it’s a liiiittle embarrassing.”

You bat her away with your free hand, but the touch helped. You’re smiling. You feel… safe. “I-I don’t know.”

… Hey, useless words are better than no words!!

Isa tilts his head to look at you upside down. “You don’t know? If you’re okay with it?”

Well, yes, but not really what you meant. You squeeze your eye shut, your shoulders pulling up around your neck. “I um- don’t know if I’m… you know.”

Mira giggles and squeezes your hand. “Ticklish?” She supplies.

Stars. You nod. “I- there’s a lot I don’t remember, so… I don’t know.”

They both make quiet noises of realisation. “Oh crab, that makes so much sense!”

Okay. Out with it, Stardust. “A-and I’m… worried.” You can’t look at either of them. “I love playing like this, getting to run around and make you guys laugh… it’s fun.” Your lips twitch upwards.

“Hehe, yeah.”

“It really is.”

You cringe. “Part of me is scared that if I’m not ticklish then… you guys won’t want me to join in anymore.”

You feel dumb even saying it. Their answering silence only has you feeling more dumb.

Isa speaks first. “Okay, so, a couple of things.” He starts, sounding like he’s trying very hard not to be amused. “First off, we love you very much, and basically always wanna spend time with you, especially if it’s fun friend times.”

Right. Yeah. You knew that, but hearing him say it does help.

“Second, I don’t think I’m exaggerating to say that everyone’s at least a little ticklish. Heheh, if you’re not as bad as us then that just makes it more of a fun challenge to find your tickle spots!”

… why do you want to curl up into a tiny ball. Your face must give something away, because Mira giggles at you.

Isa chuckles too. “And call it a hunch, but I don’t think there’s any way you’re not ticklish.” He sits up enough to boop you on the nose. You jump and grin shyly at him. “There’s no way the universe gave you a smile that cute and didn’t also make you ticklish.”

Um??? Your face feels very warm.

Mira’s thumb rubs circles on your hand. “Hehe, I mean there’s one way to find out, right?”

Meep. You suddenly have the urge to run. You feel… giddy. Part of you knew that they’d be this understanding and kind, but the reassurance is nice. And now… well. “Um…”

“If you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Of course!” Mira echoes.

They’re waiting for you to answer, but you don’t know, you don’t know, that was the whole point! “But I-I don’t…”

Isa huffs a laugh. “Heh, right, hard to know if you’re okay with it when you can’t remember ever being tickled.” He shoots you a soft, upside down smile. “We could, uh, describe it for you? Or take it slow?”

Oh. You feel very warm. “U-uh…” Stars, how do you do this. “Um- s-slow could be… okay. If you’re okay with that.”

They both smile at you, as bright and shining as the sun. Mira giggles. “I am more than okay with that.” She says warmly, a spark of mischief in her eye. “Oh, can I try first?”

Isa hums. “Mmm, smart, both at once is probably too much. I guess I’m okay with that.”

You cringe, and nod. It’s fine. You don’t know where this giddiness has come from, the urge to scamper away from them both, the nervous smile that won’t seem to leave your face. You tried this already, and it didn’t work, so it’s obviously not going to work now. It’s not gonnAAAH!

A light, fluttery feeling over your neck has you flinching and squashing your head down to protect the spot. You don’t quite make a sound, but your breath catches, and you… your smile has gotten bigger, twitchier. What. What.

You risk cracking your eye open to peek at them and immediately regret it. Isa and Mira are both looking at you, utterly enchanted. Oh stars, oh stars, your stomach is suddenly full of butterflies.

Mira giggles. “Hehe, okay Siffrin?”

You feel your face flush. You can’t look at her, so you look down, and nod.

“Can I keep going?”

Oh crab. You nod again.

“Yay!” She cheers. You squeeze your eye shut, still grinning. Isa chuckles softly.

You’re expecting it this time, so it won’t be as bad. You’re just thinking that it was probably a fluke when Mira’s fingers flutter around your ear and you give a full body jolt, arms clinging tight to your torso and your legs briefly kicking out.

And she doesn’t stop. You fight desperately to keep still, not squash your head down even though it- it-

Her touch is so soft. It’s nothing really, barely there, but you can’t stand it. And… you really don’t want her to stop. You make a little grumbly noise from behind grinning lips, fighting the urge to shake your head to throw her off as she giggles quietly and squiggles her fingers around your ears, neck, even under your chin.

Isa laughs softly somewhere above you. “Mmm, yeah, I get the feeling you might be a little ticklish, buddy.”

Mira laughs too, and you make an argumentative noise, your nose scrunching up to make room for your smile. You don’t know what kind of noises you’d make if you opened your mouth right now, but you know they’d be really embarrassing.

“No? You don’t think so?”

Mira’s other hand comes into play, both now scratching gently just under your ears and earning a strangled squeal. Just for the sake of it, you shake your head.

“Oh!” She lets out a surprised peep, her hands drawing away. Ah, right, she probably thought you were telling her to stop. Hmm. You nibble on the inside of your lip, then open your eye and look at them both.

“Time travellers aren’t ticklish.”

Their faces light up so brightly that you wish you could take a picture. Then their smiles turn evil and you can’t get your wobbly legs under you fast enough to run.

Isa seizes your ankle when you try, making you flop facedown on the ground, and the next thing you know those big soft hands are pinching at your sides and ohcrabthattickles.

“NYAHA!” Someone makes an embarrassing sound.

It’s you.

You clap your hands over your mouth to muffle any further ones, but Isa’s pinchy hands are really tickly, and he’s doing a great job at honing on weak spots you didn’t know you had, so it’s only a few seconds before you’re laughing with abandon, your legs kicking just to vent some of the energy.

He chuckles, releasing your leg to scratch horribly at your back. “Okay Sif?”

Your stomach is full of butterflies and your bones feel all fizzy and you can’t stop laughing and yes, yes, yes, you’re completely and totally fine right now. “Pffahaa- Isahaha! Isa!”

He doesn’t stop. Thank crab. “Yeah, buddy?”

Your arms flail happily and a snort escapes your control. “EEE- snrk- nahahaha!” You don’t know what to say. Anything not to stop him.

Isa gasps. “Oh no. Don’t make me pick who has the cutest lil tickle snort. You two are gonna break my heart.”

You shake your head, trying to roll over if only to do something. It’s getting harder to breathe pressed into the rug. “It’s Mihihira! She- AAA- Shehehe does!”

“Hmmm, I don’t know about that, Siffrin.” She grins, leaning over to grin at you. “You should see yourself right now. So. Cute.”

“Nooo!” You shove a hand in her face, your feet scrabbling against the floor. So maybe you’re leaving yourself open a little bit on purpose. Maybe there is a loud voice in your brain begging them to take advantage of it, to find every weak spot you have until you’re nothing but a puddle of giggles on the living room floor. Maybe- “EEEEE! MIRA!”

Maybe your armpits are a really bad spot oh STARS! You burst out cackling, arms snapping down too late to stop her wiggling, scratchy fingers. They’re both laughing along with you now. “Yes, Siffrin?” She asks politely, as if she isn’t driving out completely crazy.

You shriek. “MAHAHA- Mira it- pfahaha- it tickles!”

“Oh, it does?” She isn’t stopping! “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“Yeah Sif, how were we supposed to know that this-” Isa scratches gently at your stomach, drawing out another snort, “tickles?”

You flap your hands. Your stomach aches. You don’t know if you’ve ever laughed this much. You feel lightheaded. “Miraha, nails, NAILS!!”

She pauses for a second to process your words. Then she makes it worse, deliberately scratching her nails in your armpits. “Hmm? What do you mean?”

You hiccup. “Tihickles, tickles, it tickles!!!”

“Mhm, yeah, thanks, we established that.” Isa chuckles. “Hey, Sif, if you get back into time travel, will you stop being so ticklish?”

“Noooooo!”

Isa eases off, chuckling at you, and before you can say anything Mira’s right in front of your face, smiling innocently. “Hehehe, so you said there’s no way the dreaded tickle craft is real, didn’t you Siffrin?”

Oh no. “Nahaha- hic- Mira!”

“Whaaat?” She sings, wriggling her fingers in front of your face, and dtrfygtuyhiuj! How? Does it feel like that?! Neither of them are even touching you!

You splutter with giggles, batting playfully at Mira’s hands as she floats them over your face, neck, ears, sides, stomach, it doesn’t matter, it all tickles like crazy, even when you squeeze your eye closed trying to block her out!

You’re short of breath and very floaty in the head when she stops, squealing when she ruffles your hair. “Hehe, I think we should stop, don’t you?”

You’re not thinking straight, which is the only reason you let you whiny little, “Noooooo…” escape.

Isa and Mira laugh. You curl up in a flustered little ball. Your smile feels permanent, now.

You twitch when Isa claps you gently on the shoulder. “Well, I think we confirmed that Sif’s ticklish.”

Mira laughs. “Just a tiny bit.” She pokes your cheek. “And they learned to fear the fabled tickle craft!!”

Fear… isn’t exactly the word you’d use, but you’re too giggly and embarrassed to say so. You’re too giggly and embarrassed to say anything. You’re… a little mad at yourself for evading their attacks so often.

Oh.

Oh stars, they can do this anytime now! That thought has your giggles starting all over again. You… breathe. In… out. In… out.

Good. You’re starting to calm down. You’re certain that you’d fall over if you tried to stand, so you don’t, but you do crawl closer to Mira and Isa, and after an appropriately pleading look, rest your head in Isa’s lap. It’s nice. Even moreso when Mira shifts over beside him. You can crawl even further into snuggle time, and she starts softly playing with your hair.

You let out a long sigh. “I live here now.” You pat Isa’s knee. “Sorry.”

He snorts. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Mira snickers, scratching her nails against your scalp and making you shiver. Feels nice. “That’s okay with me, for now.” She says. “But we’ll have to get up to eat eventually.”

Curses! The one flaw in your flawless plan!! “Noooooooooo…” You flip onto your back and give them both your poutiest pout. “But whyyy?”

A playful poke to your stomach has you twitching. “Cos you’ve gotta put food in this tummy, sorry.”

“Boo.”

The cabin door opens, and you all look up as Odile returns, grocery bags in hand. She raises an eyebrow when she sees the three of you sprawled out on the floor, her eyes lingering on you a moment longer. “Oh gems. What did you two do to Siffrin?”

Huh? Oh, right. You probably look like a total mess. Mira and Isa laugh, and you feel yourself flush. “Tickle fight.” Isa supplies. “Very one-sided.”

“Heh, I see. And I thought the only child in the group was out with their sister.” She puts the bags down in the kitchen.

Mira tuts. “Madame! Siffrin didn’t even know they were ticklish! It was all in the pursuit of knowledge!”

Odile snickers. She’s trying to look unimpressed, but it’s impossible for her to hide her fondness. “Right, of course. Scientific inquiry.”

Hmm…

“Exactly!” Isa says brightly. “Besides, laughing’s good for the soul!!”

You hold your breath.

“I suppose you have a point.”

Mira nods wisely. “We put a lot of thought and research into our decision, don’t you worry.”

Odile sighs. “Yes, yes, you’re all very GHK-” Your fingers dig into her sides from behind, and she jumps, startling forwards with an adorable strangled squeak.

Everyone freezes for a long moment. Oh crab, oh crab, you didn’t think it’d actually work. Amazing. Outstanding. This is the best day of your life.

Then Odile turns around and you realise you’re in a lot of trouble. Isa and Mira are doing a great job of hiding their snickers, but she’s not looking at them. And you have no chance of getting rid of your smile now, not when she’s standing there, face dark, looking like a startled cat.

You do not giggle at the comparison. Not out loud, at least.

Odile’s eyes narrow, her glasses flash, and after a moment of feeling like an insect pinned to a board, she… smirks at you. And raises her eyebrows in a way that seems to say, ‘Oh, really?’

Before you can say anything, she grins at you and turns to leave, only hesitating in the doorway. “Isabeau, Mirabelle?”

“Hm?”

“Um, yes?”

And she gives you all a dangerous smile. “Try his knees.”

Wait. What?!

You gape. “D-did- did you use Examine on me?!” But she’s already gone.

And you can already hear Isa and Mira getting to their feet. Oh. Oh no. You turn, hands held out placatingly. “Um- can’t we talk about this?”

They’re grinning at you. Your fate is sealed.

You run out the front door, already laughing.

They give chase.

A/N: my first fic!! a little nervous about posting this and i definitely gave myself butterflies more than once while writing! but! lee!bakugo! we all cheer! i was gonna wait until tickletober to post anything but i was too lee!katsuki piled so i wrote this all up in 3 hours instead of sleeping

Now, Kaminari was no genius. Far from it, in most peoples opinion. However, that doesn't mean that he can't see the shift in the meanest guy he knows suddenly thinking about his words, and being (what some would describe as) kind in some occasions.

Kaminari was surprisingly able to find a common denominator in all these situations, and it was Kirishima.

Every time Bakugo had hesitated, or been nice, or kept his mouth shut when he would've made a snarky comment, Kirishima was leaning over him. It's.. interesting. Kaminari has a couple questions. (He actually has a lot of questions—but, a few verrrrry important ones—ones that Bakugo would probably kill him if he asked.)

Speaking of this new.. situation, Kaminari is called back to the conversation. By the look on Bakugo’s face, he probably just said something directed towards him, and before he can question what it was, Kirishima pipes in.

“Kaminari, would you say that was.. mean?”

Bakugo’s spine straightens—if only for a second—and his face changes into something Kaminari would dare describe as.. fear? It's a subtle change, but Kaminari has learned that subtle changes reveal who Bakugo really is.

Kaminari scoffs, “When is he not being mean?”

“Fuck you.”

“See! He's only nice to you, Kirishima!”

“That's not true, dimwit! Maybe if you paid attention for more than a fucking secon—”

“Bakugo.”

He shuts up.

Oh my god, Kirishima’s got him trained like a dog. What's the secret? Treats in his pocket? No.. Bakugo isn't a fan of sweets. Head pats? Adorable image but unlikely. Well.. why was he scared earlier? It's not like Kirishima is gonna beat him up.. so what is it.

“Kirishima, what the fuck have you done to Bakugo!?”

Kirishima shrugs, but Bakugo shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and sinks further into the sofa. “He's trying to be nicer.”

“Yeah, but, whyyyy? Did you poison him or something!? I’ve always wondered what would happen if you ingested Mina’s acid..”

“This isn't from her acid, you—” He cuts himself off, wide eyed, and glances to Kirishima. He takes a breath, and looks back to Kaminari, “you wouldn't be able to digest the acid, just throw it right back up.”

Kaminari stares. He stares at Bakugo, then Kirishima, then Bakugo. He eyes them carefully. Kaminari can actually be perceptive in the unlikeliest of moments, such as this one. “So what's his punishment?”

“What!?” Bakugo’s shoulders raise and a soft laugh escapes Kirishima. Bakugo angrily looks at him, but relents to sulking in his hoodie even more. If anything it seems like he's trying to hide his face..

“If you're mean, what's your punishment? Unless—this is like some— I don't fucking know— private thing—” He mumbles the last words but they both react in shock, immediately shaking their heads.

“Kaminari!” Kirishima is turning the same colour as his hair—and if Kaminari squints, Bakugo already is.

“I’m just saying! This is been happening for a while and we've all noticed and I’m curious!”

The pair go into silence. Kirishima looks at Bakugo. Bakugo looks at Kirishima. Kirishima shrugs, “Well, he's not gonna tell.”

“Is he not?”

“There's definitely a way to make him not.”

Bakugo shifts. He cracks his knuckles and shrugs his shoulders.

“Besides..” Kirishima starts, quieter, “You were definitely mean to Midoriya earlier.. and if you still wanna get to sleep by 8..”

“Fine— Fine, God, whatever! If he tells anyone—”

“I think he’ll put together what’ll happen.”

Kaminari silently watches them both, patiently waiting. Is he being threatened right now? What's either of them talking about?

“I was just curious.. you don't, like, have to tell me— or threaten me— what the hell are you two talking about!?”

“How about we show you?”

Is he about to be asked to be a third in something..? Is he gonna learn something about Bakugo he probably doesn't want to? Why is this so cryptic. Bakugo seems against the idea, “What!? I thought you were just gonna tell him!?”

“Don't gotta raise your voice..”

“I don't want this idiot knowing much less witnessing!?”

“Would you say that's a mean thing to say, Kaminari?”

“He called me an idiot!”

“Yeah.. 1 minute.”

Bakugo almost jumps out his seat, “You can't be serious!? Don't you da—”

“2 minutes?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“3 minutes.”

“I—..” He grumbles under his breath and Kirishima seems satisfied.

“Minutes of.. what?” Kaminari pipes up, clueless.

“Right!” Kirishima claps his hands together, and slowly sliiiiides over until Bakugo is basically on top of him, and he slides a hand around Bakugo—who is completely hiding his face in his hoodie. Knees curled to his chest and head down.

And his other hand slowly takes place on his other side. There seems to be a silent ‘3.. 2.. 1..’ before Kirishima digs in, squeezing and wiggling into both sides.

There’s immediate barking laughter from Bakugo, who thrashes—but only further into Kirishima’s chest—and Kaminari can only watched, stunned.

This is a weird fucking dream.

“You can— Laugh!?”

Kirishima speaks for him, “Sorry, he's far too embarrassed to speak, but, yeah, and like, a lot too, and loud.” Bakugo gives a light push to Kirishima. “Sorry—but you are loud. Here, watch,” Kirishima takes a hand and squeezes Bakugo’s knee, it reflexively kicks out and his laughter becomes more boyish, and (as Kirishima said,) loud.

“I guess I should explain what's happening..” He chuckles, seeing Kaminari’s perplexed expression. “As everyone thinks, Bakugo should be nicer, I told him anytime I see him being mean to someone, I get to tickle him for 5 minutes! 3 for Midoriya because it's kinda second nature to him. Comments are a full 5 minutes, insults are 1. And yes, he did agree to this.”

The idea this was something genuinely agreed upon is.. beyond Kaminari. He might fry his brain just thinking of it. “So, what, he likes it or something?”

“Sh— hu— huh— t up!” Bakugo manages to get out before Kirishima wiggles his fingers up to his ribs and Bakugo starts cackling, he throws his head down on Kirishima’s lap, giving him access to continue kneading his side, and now, his back.

“I guess it's supposed to be a punishment, but it's more like, knowing that it's happening later that throws him off, so, I mean, yeah, he likes it. Look at him!” And Kaminari does—he isn't sure his eyes have left Bakugo once since he started laughing. This feels like an elaborate hoax, but he's not sure why Bakugo would agree to that.

“Oh, for the record, if you tell anyone it's gonna be 10x worse for you, Bakugo is vicious.”

Kaminari swallows hard. Bakugo was literally laughing out of his mind right now, and Kaminari still knows he's probably way more ticklish. “Lips are sealed, haha.. not a word.”

“Not even to Mina.”

“Aye, aye!”

Kirishima mindless opens his phone, as if the meanest boy in all of UA isn't curled up on his lap grasping at his arm and cackling. At some point, likely the exact amount of minutes mark—however long that is, Kaminari can't keep track of how long he's bared witness to.. this—and Bakugo buries his head in Kirishima's legs as he steadies his breathing.

“All good?”

“Fine..” He huffs after a couple of breaths.

Kirishima pulls his hood down to card through his hair. “Guess if you know this we might as well tell you we're dating.”

That surprises Kaminari far more than it should, “You—!? Since when!? You didn't tell us!?”

Bakugo hums, barely lifting his face to look at Kaminari, “Like 2 months. Of course we didn't tell any of you, the entirety of UA would know by the end of the day. I will fry your brain if you tell anyone.” He lazily raises a hand to teasingly wiggle his fingers at Kaminari, who has to look away before he starts giggling, but fails anyway. “Jeez, I don't even need to touch you to make you laugh, I almost can't wait to have an excuse to tickle the shit out of you.”

Kirishima retorts with a small, “You giggle at teasing too.” Bakugo attempts to hit him, but Kirishima hardens the area before he strikes.

Kaminari pauses.. slowly, he turns to Kirishima, “Does this mean I can help you!?”

Bakugo shoots up from his seat—“No!”—but he's eased back down by Kirishima’s comforting hand.

Kaminari quickly clarifies, “Not, like, all that! Unless..— Kidding! Like, if you're not around and he's been a total jerk I get to tell you?”

“Still no! You're gonna lie, Sparky!”

“Are you calling me a liar? And Sparky!? That's an insult!”

“It’s a nickname!”

“Kiri!”

“Eijirou.”

Kaminari doesn't fail to pick up on Bakugo switching his name. Kirishima grins, he pretends to ponder on it for a second before saying, “I dunno, Kats, what if he isn't lying? How do I know you're just gonna stop being mean when I’m around? But.. if he is lying, you can get him back—” Bakugo stares at Kaminari.. a shiver runs down his spine. This is the guy Kirishima just called ‘Kats’—the cutest nickname Kaminari has ever heard—“Fair?”

“Fine.”

“Yup!”

“Alright.” He leans down to press a kiss on Bakugo’s cheek. They are like.. sickeningly adorable he would almost coo if he wasn't aware this was Bakugo. “It's getting pretty late, we should go.”

“Thankfully.” Bakugo rolls off Kirishima and stands up.

“Hey..” Kirishima warns, and Kaminari can't help but giggle at the way his shoulders jerk upwards.

After they leave, Kaminari’s hand itch for his phone, but the idea of what just happened to Bakugo happening to him, but not out of love like it was with Bakugo and Kirishima, but anger from Bakugo makes him think twice.

.. He’ll wait until tomorrow before spilling the events to Mina.

—

Time-travelling adventures were a constant, valuable father-son activity for Mr. Peabody & Sherman. After all, it was a one-of-a-kind means for the latter to experience all sorts of different things, from walking among terrible lizards during the dawn of the dinosaurs, to meeting many monumental monarchs across empires that spanned a breadth of land. Just now, the dog and his boy had retreated back inside the WABAC after an infamous escapade during the American Revolution. Futuristic rippling surrounded the exterior of the gigantic apple-like contraption, which Peabody piloted deftly despite his percieved lack of opposible thumbs. "So, Sherman, what'd you learn today?" Mr. Peabody asked, laser-focused on the control panels before him. "Never mess with American tea." Sherman recounted. "Certainly so, Sherman. You know, the revolutionaries believed that there was no taxation without representation. Their actions at the Tea Party, however, showed that they also believed there'd be no taxation without refutation." "I don't get it." Sherman exclaimed, as per the usual response to his father's historical humor. "Hey, can I drive?" As he reached his hands over to tinker at the WABAC's wealth of complex, colorful controls, Mr. Peabody's white paternal paw ushered him away. "When you're older." Being ever the responsible time traveler & parent (despite others' passing judgements of his species), he made sure to prevent putting both his child and the space-time continuum in grave danger. Letting Sherman drive would consequently create a higher chance of both threats occurring. "Well, I'm seven and three-quarters, and I don't need training wheels to ride a bike, Mr. Peabody!" Sherman continued with a smile, attempting to convince his father. He intently pressed on buttons on the control panel, slightly annoying the dog by making it marginally harder for him to maintain control within the continuum. "I'm sure I can try just for a little while! Come on!" Coming from his obedient son, this persistence was unlikely- but from his parenting knowledge, Mr. Peabody was aware that children were curious creatures who were eager to simulate the activities of their fully-fledged caretakers, no matter how dangerous. Despite this, it was his duty to separate him from anything that would do him harm, so it was only natural that this tenacity had to be quelled at all costs. "I'm not sure if that exactly qualifies you to travel through time, my boy. I'm afraid it's only a matter of safety." Peabody took his son's prying hands directly off the panels, attempting to stop his curiosity. Suddenly, a deviously smart idea popped into the boy's mind. The cleverness instilled into him through numerous adventures led to the creation of a plan.

While Peabody attempted to shoo Sherman away from eagerly pawing and swiping at the console to seize control, he had accidentally scrawled at the side of his fluffy midsection, earning an uncharacteristic titter.

Sherman thought it would be foolproof, based on how well similar techniques had worked in the past. It was simple- continue scratching ticklishly at Peabody's belly, in turn distracting his father from his protests against him taking control of the machine. He snuck up behind the dog, one hand wiggling its digits across his fluffy tummy and ruffling his ivory fur, and another seizing control, grasping onto joysticks and jostling the WABAC. As he attempted to drive, he giggled innocently, smiling in a deviously bright-eyed manner.

The movements immediately caused him to seize up. This was horrible. Tummy tickles were the one canine vice he held in common with his domestic dog bretheren. Typically, Sherman's obedience ensured he wouldn't take advantage of this fault. However now, he did so at the worst possible time- when he was driving through the delicate, rippling expanses of time. The machine occasionally shook like a mechanical bull, but thankfully he was able to reign it in.

"PFF- Hehey, hey, hey- Sherman? Sherman, stop it. StOHOhop- This is very dangerous-" If only he could just resist it for a little longer…

…but it may have been too late. As Peabody's internal prediction rolled on, he knew that with the increase in speed of his son's scribbles, his composure would sharply decrease, interrupting his train of thought. Despite this he did what he could, sitting still and staying safely on the temporal course despite the distraction which had befallen him while attempting to stifle his pitchy giggling with a false growl.

Then it came. The cooing. The exaggerated, emotional doting that seemed to flip a switch inside his polymathic mind. Sherman had turned away from the controls to focus fully on his mischief. Peabody wasn't sure this made matters slightly better or slightly worse. Either way, it was still dire.

"Are you gonna let me drive, Mr. Peabody? Ohhh, are you? Are you? Oh, you are!"

The combination of the fast finger movements and that juvenile tone had finally let his first tell loose. His right hind leg began kicking incessantly, causing his focus on resisting the urge to slip away. Titters turned to snickers, eventually escalating into low yet frantic belly-laughter.

"pff- gAHahah-hAHA! You do NOT want to be doing to this, listen! Lihihisten to me!!"

Even if Sherman would heed his warnings, there was no way Peabody was going to be able to explain the obvious grave consequences of this action. Not when all ten of his son's fingers clambered about the middle of his belly. There was hope, though. Maybe he'd find toying with him funner than the risky task of driving the WABAC and give the idea up. Then he'd lecture him about why it was absolutely imperative to not interrupt his driving.

"If you drive- wehehe- HEE-heehee-hehHEHEHEheHE…"

Despite Peabody's usual coherence, the science couldn't find its way out of his mouth, as it was stifled by a stream of low laughter. His tail wagged involuntarily, serving as his second tell as he desperately pawed at the buttons in front of him, relying on hazy muscle-memory to manouver the contraption. Despite a few bumps in the road and momentary loss of control, they were somewhat on track of getting back home. Now, if only there could be some way of getting him to stop…

"So, can I drive now? Please?" Sherman pleaded, looking up at him with that fillial face he couldn't refuse while continuing to scratch at his father's stomach. His subdued yet frantic laughter continued to echo through the machine. He was about to surrender, flopping down on his back to allow Sherman control, but he relented. Even in his delirium, he knew that a little loss of his dignity was the more worthwhile risk to take than anything bad happening to the machine, or worse — space-time, or even worse — his son (even if he was being a precariously precocious little hellion right now).

"Nn-hahaHahah-AHAHAHA! No!!"

Sherman said nothing. Only an impish, buck-tooth smile full of childlike whimsy was given. Oh no. Apparently that refusal was an incongurous invitation to tickle faster, taken with delight. The tickling began to take the form of rapid clawing motions all across his Peabody's torso, which instinctively caused him to pull a lever further backwards, slightly setting back their journey. This was still managable, Peabody thought. They'd come home fine, and there'd be a lecture and he wouldn't serve Baked Alaska for dessert — but his train of thought would eventually be interrupted by imminent doom- Sherman had just uncovered his Achilles' heel, so to speak — the right side of his midsection.

"Oh, is that a good spot?" Sherman asked sincerely- thankfully swapping out the beckoning, teasing tone for his usual naivety.

"NOOHohoHO!!" The answer came immediately as Peabody's grip on the WABAC controlls began to falter. The ship swiveled in all sorts of directions, following the trajectory of his tail and his rapidly moving leg by being sporadic and uncontrollable. "Ihihit's- HHHAHAHAH! I'm grounding you! NnnnhhAHAAHA-hahhahaheheh- You- you little rascal!"

"Looks to me like it is, Mr. Peabody!" Sherman exclaimed, attempting to keep his attack up despite being jostled around. "Woah!" As Sherman's fingers slid up and down the same spot, he felt the urge to let the white flag fly at the tip of his tongue. Why fight it? he thought. This… state … he was in, simply due to a few flicks of fingers across fur, was somehow more unstable than allowing his son to drive. Maybe he'd think of a plan after he stopped, and giving up the reins was the quickest means.

"pant Okay! Okay-hahahuhuhaha! Youcandrive! You cahahan!" he rushed out, fully delirious.

"Really!?" Sherman's eyes shone with vigor, ready to hold onto the many knobs and levers from his seat.

"Nope." As he reached over, Peabody's powder-white paw found an opportunity to rest on his belly, tickling at it while he struggled in his chair. "And this is for that devilish stunt you pulled on me! Come on now, let's go home — and don't try anything funny." Like second nature, his tone returned to fluent diction, yet a teasing inflection was present. "Are you sorry?"

"Ahahaha- hee- Yehehes, Mr. Peabody, I'm sohohory!" Sherman giggled. "Oh, I don't think you're sorry enough..." His father replied teasingly, in the same beckoning high-pitched tone.