#tt24

So... the Light Sides were weird.

Virgil knew that way before he’d started hanging around their little group. From movie nights to sing-alongs to family dinners, they were overall obnoxiously chummy and irritatingly comfortable with each other.

Case in point: when Virgil finally managed to roll out of bed at about two in the afternoon, there was a strange sound in the air. Not Princey’s singing, or Logic’s lecturing, or even Morality’s incessantly cheerful... whatever he does. 

After reapplying his smeared eye shadow, he meandered out of his room and headed to the common area. As he got closer, it sounded like... laughter?

He huffed a sigh as he swung himself down the stairs.

“Can you all please keep it down--”

Virgil froze, one hand on the railing as he took in the scene before him.

There were the three Light Sides, but he’d never seen them like this. Princey-- ugh, fine, Roman-- was lying on the floor, but what caught Virgil’s eye was the state of disarray he seemed to be in. Next to him was Patton, sitting cross legged and looking similarly rumpled, and next to Patton was Logan, who was normal except for the blush riding high on his cheeks.

That wasn’t the weirdest part, though. The weirdest part was the way Logan was pinching at Roman’s knees and thighs with a careful accuracy, or the way Roman was reaching to vibrate his fingers all over Patton’s stomach, or the Patton had a hand on both Logan’s and Roman’s sides and was squeezing away with reckless abandon. Or the way all three were laughing together in delight at the tickle fight Virgil had somehow managed to walk in on.

Speaking of Virgil: when he processed the scene happening before him, he couldn’t help but let out a surprised little gasp. That noise, quiet as it was in the chaotic room, still managed to stop the other three in their tracks, and they all turned to look at him.

Patton, of course, was the first to speak. “Well, hey, Anxiety!”

“Um--” was all Virgil managed to say. His face turned hot, and he prayed that it wasn’t as bright red as it felt. He gripped the railing under his hand and avoided eye contact. “I--”

Roman scoffed, hurriedly sitting up and pulling away from Logan’s tickly hands.

“Is there something we can help you with, villain?” he asked brusquely, but Virgil got the feeling that he was more embarrassed that Virgil saw him getting tickled than annoyed that the anxious side was there. Still, his words were enough to snap Virgil out of his spell, and he managed to roll his eyes.

“I said,” he repeated, hoping his voice wouldn’t fail him, “would you please keep it down? You’re gonna wake the whole Mind Palace with your... game.”

There was the crack in his voice; Virgil knew it was going to come, and he felt himself grow even warmer. Thankfully, no one commented on it.

“Apologies, Anxiety,” Logan said, straightening his glasses. “We didn’t intend to be so loud. We got... carried away.”

Patton giggled, his hands creeping back to Logan and Roman’s sides. “’Carried away’ sure is one way to put it, guys--”

The other two swatted his hands away, but Virgil caught the flustered grins that adorned both of their faces. Their eyes darted back to Virgil, and he swallowed, suddenly feeling very out of place.

“Uh, okay, fine. Whatever. I’m going back to bed.”

He turned on his heel and marched up the stairs, ignoring Logan’s calls about maintaining a proper sleep schedule, as he tried to stop thinking about what he’d just witnessed.

It wasn’t working. All he could think about now was tickling. How often did the Light Sides tickle each other? Was it often? Who was the most ticklish, and who was the best tickler? Was it always the three of them altogether?

Would they let him join, if he asked?

Virgil’s eyes widened at the thought that just ran through his head. No. Absolutely not, no way, don’t pass go and don’t collect $200.

Like, fine, maybe there was a small part of him that was maybe, just a little, interested in the concept of tickling. And... maybe there was an even smaller part of him that found the idea of being tickled by the Light Sides-- any of them-- somewhat intriguing.

But, fuck. He was Anxiety, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t like stuff like that. If he asked to be a part of their stupid little game, they’d never let him live it down.

... But. Maybe if he didn’t ask?

He slowly stopped walking as he thought it over in his head. It wasn’t an awful idea. The Light Sides were weird enough that maybe, if he played his cards right, he might be able to lure them into tickling him without him asking.

Honestly, if the idea had come to him on another day, he probably would’ve shoved it way back to the back of his mind and pretended it had no appeal to him. But he could practically still hear the Light Sides’ laughter ringing in his ears, and as much as he was loathe to admit it, he kinda wanted to be a part of their game. So his plan was made.

~

His first target was Patton, which made sense for a lot of reasons. Patton seemed to tolerate him more than the other Light Sides-- more than tolerate, to be honest; it was as if he actually kinda liked him. Another good thing about Patton was his attitude: while Virgil normally found that much cheer to be a little nauseating, he couldn’t deny that if anyone was going to start an impromptu tickle fight, it would be Patton.

“Thanks for helping me with these cookies, Anxiety!” Patton said, bringing Virgil out of his thoughts and back to the present situation. He leaned against the counter, trying his hardest to appear open and approachable.

“Whatever,” he replied. “I don’t really have anything better to do, so. Uh. Yeah.”

Fuck, why was he always so awkward?

Whatever-- at least Patton didn’t seem to notice or care; instead, he was focused on pulling out all of the supplies and ingredients and laying them on the counter.

“Okay, first up is the dry ingredients!” he instructed. “Kiddo, you wanna hand me the flour?”

Virgil nodded, pushing himself off of the counter. “Where is it?”

“It’s, uh...”

Patton paused, looking around he kitchen, and Virgil smirked a little as he was reminded that the paternal figure wasn’t nearly as good at cooking as he implied.

“Oh! It’s right up there!” he finally chirped, pointing past Virgil to one of the cabinets. Virgil followed his finger to the very top shelf of the cabinet.

His eyes widened. Finally, an opportunity.

As casually as possible, he moved to the cabinet and braced on hand on the counter. The other hand, he raised high in the air, stretching out his entire body and putting himself in a very vulnerable position. He even stood on his tiptoes as he stretched, hoping Patton would take the hint and deliver what Virgil wanted.

He reached for the flour for as long as he reasonably could, but after about ten seconds, he had no choice but to grab it and pull it down. He turned around, only to find Patton carefully measuring out baking soda, not even paying attention to Virgil’s attempts at vulnerability.

Virgil kicked himself internally, and after a moment he moved forward and dropped the flour onto the counter.

“Here,” he said shortly. Patton turned, giving him a wide smile.

“Thanks, bud!” he said earnestly, opening the bag and grabbing his measuring cup. “Wanna do this one for me while I get started on the eggs?”

Virgil blinked. He’d kinda forgotten that his whole excuse for hanging out with Patton was baking cookies. “Um, sure.”

Patton gave him yet another sunny smile, and Virgil felt compelled to give him a small one in return as he accepted the measuring cup from him.

The two worked together, measuring and mixing ingredients as Patton chattered away. It was-- kinda nice, to be real? Like, maybe Virgil should offer to do this more often, and if he weren’t in one of the most massive lee moods he’d ever been in in his life, he’d probably be able to appreciate it more.

“Alright, time to get these babies on a cookie sheet!” Patton announced, handing a big spoon for Virgil to use. “And afterwards, don’t tell Logan, but we’re totally gonna lick the bowl.”

Virgil nodded, but he didn’t wanna give up on his mission just yet. “Um... can I, uh, get anything else for you?”

Patton turned and looked at him, blinking in surprise before his smile brightened.

“Well, sure, kiddo!” he replied. “There are some chocolate chips on the top shelf, do we wanna add some of those?”

He pointed to the cabinet that was right above them, and Virgil’s heart beat faster. This was it.

“Sure,” he replied as casually as possible. “I’ll get them.”

He placed a hand on the counter to brace himself, and raised the arm closest to Patton as high as he could reach, pretending to scrabble around for the bag of chocolate chips for a few seconds longer than necessary. He even angled his body as subtly as he could, so that his midriff was practically in Patton’s face as he left himself totally exposed.

But nothing happened.

Virgil frowned, but after a few seconds grabbed the bag from the cabinet anyway, lowering himself back to the floor as he broke the seal on the baggie.

“Here,” he muttered, passing it to Patton without making eye contact. There was the slightest pause, but then the bag was lifted from his hand with no more than a cheery, “Thanks!”

Virgil felt himself suppress a sigh as he helped Patton mix in the chocolate chips. Well. On one hand, he got to spend some time with Patton (and even got cookies out of the deal). On the other hand, his genius plot to get tickled had failed with his first target. It was time for target number two.

~

The sound of operatic singing through the halls of the Mind Palace lead Virgil directly to his next target.

He sighed as he nibbled on one of the chocolate chip cookies he and Patton had made, trying to dispel some of his nervous energy before he reached the living room. It wasn’t even just nerves about his current... desires (although there were plenty of those inside of him right now) but-- fuck, he didn’t do this, he didn’t hang around in the common areas like the rest of them, and if it would be totally weird for him to even try, and they were gonna get angry at him, and it would make getting to know them even more difficult in the future-- 

“Oh, Anxiety.” 

A voice full of suspicion snapped him back to reality. He blinked and realized that he’d made it to the living room, where Roman was standing with some sheet music in hand, rehearsing for some musical, based on how loudly he’d been singing moments before.

“To what do I owe the displeasure?” he continued, eyes narrowed sharply. Virgil mentally shook himself and put on his trademark ‘evil’ smirk.

“Hey there, Princey,” he drawled, holding out the Tupperware container in his hand. “Wanna cookie?”

Roman peered down at the peace offering like it was a bomb. “From you? What, are they poisoned?”

“Yep, I poisoned the cookies,” Virgil deadpanned. “That’s why I’m eating one right in front of you, genius.”

He counted the look of embarrassed realization on Roman’s face as a small victory. 

“Well-- well, you might’ve poisoned all but one of them, just to throw me off!” Roman added haughtily. “So, ha!” 

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “Ha.” He looked at Roman for a moment more before taking another bite. “Well, you were rude to me, so now you get no cookies.”

“What-- hey!” Roman replied indignantly. He moved to Virgil, but the dark side easily held the box out of reach. “Anxiety! That’s not fair!”

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder than that to get these cookies,” Virgil said smugly. He was all to aware of how exposed he was making himself-- it would take so little effort for Roman to grab his side, or scribble at his armpit, or...

But, as expected, nothing came of it, and instead Roman moved away with a derisive sniff.

“Whatever,” he said, turning away. “Even if they’re not poisoned, you probably added salt instead of sugar and cumin instead of cinnamon--”

Virgil narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Hey, Patton and I made them together, and they’re actually good, so--"

Suddenly Roman's arm shot out, taking advantage of Virgil's distraction to swipe a cookie from the box. “Ha! Got one, thank you!”

Virgil blinked. “You--"

He cut himself off at the genuinely triumphant grin on Roman's face, and it took more willpower than he would've admitted to keep from smiling along.

"Yes, yes, you’re very smart," he said, flopping on the couch and rolling his eyes. "Shut up.”

As he reclined against the sofa, he let his eyes drift shut (insomnia's a bitch, even for a man on a mission to get wrecked), but very quickly it became clear that the other side was going to make a fuckin' production out of eating this cookie.

“Mmm... Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm!" Roman pondered with his mouth full. He waved his arms emphatically as he continued, "This is just the most scrumptious, the most divine, the most splendiferous cookie I’ve ever--”

Virgil's eyes snapped open. “Are you always this dramatic and loud? I’m trying to relax.”

That caught the creative side's attention. Roman turned to look at Virgil with his regular suspicion back in his eyes.

“Relax? Here?”

His tone made Virgil tense up behind his cocky facade. “What about it?”

A few second went by as Roman looked at him skeptically. “Nothing, it’s just... You’re always in your room, hiding away like a hermit in a cave.”

“Hiding?" Virgil repeated, eyes narrowed. "What, from you? Not likely.”

Roman moved closer, suddenly leaning over Virgil's laid out form and coming just inches away from his face.

“Aw, don't tell me that I scare you, little Anxiety?”

With that one sentence, Virgil mood came back even stronger than before. There was something in Roman’s voice-- either his teasing tone or his babyish words-- that made Virgil’s stomach do a completely rude and uncalled-for flip, but he merely rolled his eyes.

“The only thing scary about you is your ego,” he retorted. He scanned Roman up and down before closing his eyes again. “Otherwise, you’re just soft.”

Roman scoffed, turning to leave. “Shut up.”

“Make me, loser.”

He watched Roman’s back as he froze in place, and slowly the creative side turned back around.

“You wanna say that again?”

Virgil felt his breath catch, but he forced himself to stay calm. Now was his chance.

He opened his eyes, shooting Roman the cockiest smile he could muster.

“What, make me?”

The prince was glowering at him, his arms folded across his chest. When he spoke, it was in a deep, smooth voice that sent a shiver down Virgil’s spine.

“You don’t want me to make you.”

Virgil smirked, folding his arms behind his head and gazing up at Roman with a smug look on his face.

“I’d like to see you try, Princey.”

That was it. Roman’s eyes narrowed, dark and competitive, and Virgil had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing preemptively.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he muttered lowly, stalking over to Virgil and-- holy shit, he actually straddled Virgil’s waist and placed his hands on either side of his torso, and this was happening, this was happening, this was--

“Oh my goodness gracious, there it is!”

Roman voice derailed Virgil’s train of thought, and he blinked in confusion at the creative side, who wasn’t even looking at him anymore.

“What--?”

Roman laughed lightly, reaching over Virgil’s head and pulling something out from between the couch cushions.

“My sketchbook!” he said triumphantly, shifting off of Virgil and flipping through the pages. “Finally, I’ve been looking for it forever. I had this great idea where I can use a mix of paint and glitter glue to--”

Virgil’s head spun with the shift in the conversation as Roman rambled about his newest project. The anticipatory tension in his stomach started to lessen, leaving him feeling dazed and confused.

“Um, you-- so-- you--”

Roman wasn’t even listening to him; he easily stood up from the couch-- and Virgil definitely did not try to lean into his touch as he moved away, shut up-- and moved toward the door.

“I must get started right away! My paintbrushes aren’t going to wait any longer!”

He hurried out of the room, leaving Virgil alone on the couch, face flushed and mind full of visions of how exactly he wanted Roman to use those paintbrushes.

He dropped his face into his hands. Why was this so hard?

~

The rest of the afternoon passed without another little event like that-- Virgil had been so flustered, he’d had to go back to his room for several hours, alternating between screaming into a pillow at his own awkwardness, and daring to reminisce about the feeling of Roman's weight pinning him down.

This was such a bad idea. Not only were there a million ways it could go wrong (he could make a fool of himself, he could genuinely cross someone's boundaries on accident, his plan could be found out and his desires could be rejected-- the list goes on) but now he also had to deal with coming so tantalizing close to what he wants more than anything, only to have it slip just out of his reach.

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night, flopping back on his bed--

pressed against the couch cushions, Roman easily holding you down with one hand as the other searches all over for the exact spot to make you beg for mercy, which you know he won't give you, he wants to make you scream--

Immediately he shot up again, face flushed. God, he was jumpy tonight, and that was saying something. He stood up, stepping cautiously around the piles of clothes on the floor to work some of his jitters out. He tried to recall some of the simple exercises Logan had shown him once to help relax him before bed: rolling his neck and shoulders, twisting back and forth to crack his back, raising his arms and stretching them high to the sky--

Patton right behind you, grabbing your hands and holding them nice and tight as he laughs and whispers in your ear, taking full advantage of your riding-up shirt to spider all over that one tickle spot just above your belly button--

His arms snapped down with a choked-off gasp.

Okay. Being in his room was fucking with him. That was definitely why he was feeling jittery and twitchy and sensitive to his own shirt rubbing against his skin. No other reason.

... He had to get out of there.

Grabbing his phone and flipping up his hood, Virgil slid back out into the hallway. It was later in the evening, past dinner time (well, past the time the Light Sides had dinner-- his dinner would involve cold leftovers eaten in front of the fridge at 2 AM) and the Mind Palace was quiet.

Well... mostly quiet.

Virgil crept down the hall to the top of the stairs. From the top, he could make out some sound coming from the living room-- no laughter this time, thankfully, but some quiet droning noises coming from the TV. Probably Patton or Roman-- Logan didn't watch much TV.

Virgil stood with one hand clasped to the stair railing like a life line. He gnawed on his lip, a fluttery, delicate feeling lighting up his chest.

He wanted to try this. There were very few things Virgil ever, ever wanted to try... but he wanted to try this. It was clearly something that was normal among the Light Sides, and-- and despite what he'd previously thought, they don't actually... seem to despise his company. This was-- this was something he could ask for, even just to ask, and even he could admit that the idea of one of them saying yes wasn't impossible.

All at once he lunged down the stairs, feet thumping loudly as he got closer to the living room. He would do it-- he'd go right over to the couch and shove his feet onto someone's lap and surely then, surely then, someone would take pity on him and just freaking tickle him already!

Virgil rounded the corner into the living room, and before he could question himself he hopped over the arm of the couch and threw himself down on the cushions, shoving his feet directly onto the lap of the side sitting at the other end of the couch.

Immediately, he felt two inquisitive eyes boring into him in bewilderment.

"... Anxiety?" Logan asked. "Are you alright?"

Aaaaaaand there went all of Virgil's confidence. He hadn't planned for Logan to be there, not now, not when his mood was at an all time high and he was face to face with the person least likely to do anything about it.

Virgil ignored the tense, mortified feeling in his stomach. “Yup.” A beat, and then he pulled out his phone, as if he hadn't just jumped over the couch just to put his feet in Logan's lap--

“Can I... do something for you?” Logan continued.

Yes, you can pull my socks off and hold my ankles down and--

“Nope.”

Silence fell once again. Virgil was all too aware of his body, too tense to move a muscle or disrupt Logan any further.

“Is this comfortable for you? To have your feet on my lap?”

But... he'd come this far, he'd already pushed past the walls he'd built between himself and the other sides. If nothing else, if this plan failed and he never got what he wanted, at least he could say that he tried.

He shrugged. “Yeah."

He felt Logan's eyes on him a moment longer.

“Very well, then.”

Logan turned back to the TV, and Virgil felt himself wavering already. This was maybe his most ill-conceived idea yet-- they weren't even doing anything together, not really, and try as he might he couldn't think of any way to engage Logan in conversation about anything, let alone anything related to tickling--

“Hey, gang!”

Virgil froze, his stomach plummeting. He shot a desperate glance at Logan, but the logical side paid him no mind as Patton and Roman entered the room, carrying snacks and blankets.

“Ah,” Logan said, turning to the two of them without another glance in Virgil’s direction. “I had forgotten that was tonight.”

Virgil couldn’t help letting out a sigh of frustration, making Roman raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, and I suppose you’re just too cool to deign to join our movie night, huh, Doom and Gloom?”

“Now, Roman, don’t be mean,” Patton gently chastised, placing the snacks on the table and beaming down at Virgil. “We’re happy to have you with us, Anxiety! It’s about time you start joining our group activities.”

Like tickle fights? Virgil thought but didn't say. His ever-growing lee mood was making him feel all fuzzy, and all he could think about as he looked between the three other sides was Patton’s hands, Logan’s fingers, and Roman’s voice, all teasing and tormenting him in unison.

“Whatever,” he finally said, forcing himself to shrug blithely. “I don’t really care--”

He cut himself off with a choked gasp as Roman leaned down and abruptly picked up Virgil into a bridal carry. They stayed still as Patton sat down next to Logan, rearranging the blankets and chattering innocently about what movie to watch, but all Virgil could focus on was the feeling of Roman’s hands on his body and the teasy, squirmy feeling building up in his chest and stomach.

“Are you staying with us or not?” Roman asked lowly, and Virgil had to fight the urge to squeak as his warm breath hit his ear. 

“Uh-- sure.”

Roman hummed, and then he was leaning forward, dropping Virgil into Patton’s lap with his feet resting on Logan’s thighs.

“Woah!” Patton chuckled, looking at Virgil with amusement. “Comfy, kiddo?”

Virgil face flushed red. “I-- I didn’t--”

“He’s gonna stay anyway, and we all know he likes to sit in weird places, so,” Roman explained, flopping down on the couch next to Patton and throwing an arm over the back of the couch. He pulled a pillow into his lap and gently pushed Virgil back by his shoulder, until the Dark Side somehow found himself stretched between all three of them on the couch.

“Anxiety, is this acceptable for you?” Logan asked distantly, and Virgil peeked up to find him observing him closely. Virgil froze in his gaze for what felt like far too long, but eventually managed a short nod.

Patton clapped. “Awesome! Now we all get to hang out together. It’ll be so fun!”

He leaned forward to grab the remote, and Virgil swore he could feel his hands as they ghosted over his stomach. He squirmed minutely, both hoping that no one would call him out on how flustered he was, and praying that they would.

This was way more than he was expecting.

"Ah," Logan said as the movie began playing. "I do love this opening number."

He moved like he was folding his hands in his lap, but really, he placed his hands directly onto the tops of Virgil's ankles. The music started, and Logan-- Logan tapped out a rhythm against Virgil's skin, matching the tempo of the music on the TV.

Virgil clenched his jaw so quickly he wondered if they could hear it. It... didn't tickle, not really. The touch was too light, too quick, too inconsequential to really light his nerves in any way. But the anticipation was there, bubbling inside him, and he found himself shifting his legs restlessly at the touch.

"Is something wrong, Anxiety?" Logan asked, and Virgil paused. It-- it must've been his imagination, that spark in Logan's eye that matched the spark in Virgil's stomach. "No," he said, just slightly breathless. Logan hummed and returned his eyes to the screen.

Then his hands moved: one hand tapping more firmly against his ankle, and the other running its nails along the top of Virgil's foot.

Virgil tensed every muscle in his legs; it was so much worse this time-- not only did being stretched out make Virgil feel so much more vulnerable, but now there were two other people he had to hide his reactions from. Roman was right there, for God's sake, his face mere inches above Virgil's-- Virgil had to turn his head completely toward the TV just to hide the small smile that was already on his face.

He stayed in that position as the movie played, but he couldn't tell you anything that was happening on the screen. All he could focus on was Logan's fingers as they slowly migrated from trailing the top of his foot, to tapping directly over his socked toes, to drawing delicate circles along the ball of his foot. His other hand stayed on Virgil's ankle-- like a restraint.

Virgil felt flushed, and prayed that the dark lighting of the room would cover it. Distantly he heard Patton laughing, and he could feel Roman's chest rumble where it was pressed against his shoulder.

And then he felt Logan take all five fingers right to the center of Virgil's sole and tickle.

"Nah-hahaha!" Virgil screamed, yanking his leg back and just barely missing Patton's face with his knee. He felt both Patton and Roman jump underneath him.

"Anxiety, are you okay?" Patton asked in a panicked voice. He didn't even seem bothered that Virgil had almost thrown his knee into his nose.

Roman looked down at Virgil with bewilderment. "Jiminy Crickets, is the movie that funny to you?"

“Ah,” Logan said. “My hypothesis was correct.”

Virgil froze.

Patton quirked his head. “You have a hypothesis?”

Roman eyed down at Virgil suspiciously for just a moment more before gesturing to Logan. “Please, Teach, explain."

Alarm bells went off in Virgil's head. He was suddenly desperate to leave the entire situation before it was too late, but Logan's hand resting on his ankle felt like a vice he couldn't escape.

“Well," Logan began in his lecture voice, "for the past few hours, Anxiety has been expressing an interest in becoming closer with the three of us through quality time, amicable banter, and excessive physical contact. The physical contact is really what gave it away, but it all comes down to the fact that this change in behavior occurred immediately after Anxiety walked in on our... roughhousing this morning.”

Virgil was distracted by the way Logan tried to avoid saying the word tickle (and man, Virgil thought, it’d be so much fun to see him forced to say it, oh my god shut up brain) but Patton’s gasp of understanding brought him back to his present situation. He looked away from the moral side, but to his distress he found himself face to face with Roman, who was looking at him with a growing interest.

“Wait a minute,” he said slowly. Virgil squirmed.

“Shut up.”

“Are you telling me--”

“Princey, I swear to God, if you don’t stop talking right now--”

Suddenly Patton’s hand was on his leg, his fingers pressing in just above his knee, and Virgil’s words turned into a choked gasp.

Patton quirked his head. “Are you ticklish, kiddo?”

Virgil’s mouth opened and shut. “I-- I--”

And of course, Logan chose that moment to drag his nails all the way down Virgil’s foot, the hand resting on Virgil's ankle suddenly tightening to keep him from jerking away as his fingers wiggled right against Virgil's tickle spots.

Virgil couldn’t help it: he squealed, loudly, and immediately buried his face in his hands.

“That seems to be the answer to that question,” Logan said, sounding far too pleased with himself for Virgil’s taste. “The more important question, however, is whether or not Anxiety wants to be tickled. Although I believe we know that answer to that question, as well.”

Even with his face behind his hands, Virgil felt all three pairs of eyes on him.

"I--" he squeaked, then coughed, blatantly stalling for time as his mind spun in circles. "I-- um-- you don't-- I guess--"

"Kiddo, is that really what you've been trying to do all day long?" Patton asked gently. Virgil made one short, choked sound, and nodded rapidly.

"... So when I told you to be quiet earlier," Roman said slowly, "and you said 'make me'... that was you trying to get tickled?"

A beat, and then Virgil nodded again. He quickly debated the merits of allowing himself to be swallowed by the floor.

"Well..."

Logan's voice was laced with something that Virgil was wholly unprepared for.

"It would be a shame," he continued nonchalantly, "if Anxiety came so far out of his figurative shell only to not receive any recognition or praise for how difficult that must have been. Perhaps some positive reinforcement will help encourage him to continue this behavior in the future."

Logan didn't even have to finish his sentence before Roman dove for Virgil's wrists. Virgil yanked as hard as he could, but Roman was in a better position and easily managed to pull his arms above his head. Immediately Virgil's fight or flight instincts kicked in, and he was about to start literally kicking (even though his brain was screaming at his body to shut up stop it play dead holy shit they're giving you what you want) before Patton leaned as far over his torso as he could manage, keeping his middle pinned in place.

"Anxiety..." he cooed, actually cooed, and yup Virgil was totally gonna die. "Wanna look at me, sweetheart?"

It took Virgil a second to realize that his eyes were screwed shut in anticipation. He peeked out only to find Patton looking at him with the most soft, loving, mughy-gushy expression Virgil had ever seen, especially directed towards him. It made him feel like he was melting.

"When we play our tickle games," he continued, "we always say 'red' when we need a break. Is that okay for you, too?"

Virgil couldn't even speak, so he gave a jerky nod.

"For safety, we should proceed slowly," Logan said, "in order not to overwhelm him." The way Logan was talking to the others like Virgil wasn't there sent a small thrill down his spine.

"I disagree," Roman replied. "I think our poor, sweet Anxiety has waited much too long already." His upside-down grin made Virgil want to spit curses up at him, except he was pretty sure the only thing that would come out if he opened his mouth were pathetic squeals.

"Where should we begin?" the creative side continued, tracing his thumbs around the soft skin of Virgil's wrist. "His... bright red ears? Or his wiggly hips? Or his bouncy little tummy?"

"Fuck off," Virgil gasped.

Roman clicked his tongue. "Temper! Patton doesn't like swearing!"

"Oh, let him fuss," Patton replied. "This is all very overwhelming for him, it's okay! If I had known you liked tickling too, Anxiety, I would've gladly done it for you a long time ago!"

"I don't--"

Then Virgil gasped, and fell into helpless frantic giggles. In unison Roman and Patton swiveled their heads to look at Logan.

"There's no use in lying now, Anxiety," he said calmly, his fingers flicking and fluttering all over Virgil's soles. "We all know that if you didn't like tickling, you wouldn't let us do this at all. Ergo you must enjoy tickling, more specifically being tickled, otherwise you wouldn't have put yourself in this position in the first place. Does that make sense?"

Virgil couldn't answer, because he was in heaven. Or maybe hell. Logan's fingers were deft and torturous, flitting back and forth faster than Virgil could process. Belatedly he wiggled his feet, trying to hide one behind the other and continuously failing. And damn Logan for real for being so observant, because when he noticed the spot on Virgil's arches that made him kick the hardest, he focused all of his attention there, switching between his feet as fast as he could.

"Wait wait wait, waitwaitwhaihaihaiait!" Virgil couldn't believe the noises that were coming out of his mouth right now. He had never laughed like this around the light sides-- had barely ever laughed at all-- and now they were getting to hear him like this, his giggles embarrassing and dorky and loud--

So loud, in fact, that he barely even heard Logan say, "Patton, would you like a turn?" before ten fingers dove in to vibrate all over his vulnerable, ticklish stomach.

"Nah-ahahahaha!" The shriek that left his lips shocked everyone in the room, and Virgil used the confusion to yank his arms out of Roman's grasp, sitting up and trying to launch off the couch in the same motion. He would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for Patton's meddling arms around his waist.

"Woah!" Patton laughed out. "Easy now, kiddo! Don't wanna waist this chance to get tickled!" On cue he tazed his fingers where they laid in the divots of Virgil's sides, causing the anxious side to jerk and flop like a worm on a string. His hands grappled desperately for Patton's, but he made no progress getting them off before Roman's hand entered his vision.

"Come back here, Gay-Lee Shrilliams!" Roman sang. Blindly, he grappled for Virgil's wrists, grabbing one and yanking him back towards Roman's end of the couch. Virgil was disoriented, and took the time to inhale greedy breaths before he was suddenly flipped around again. Now Logan was sat straddled over his shins, Patton kneeling on the floor beside him, and Roman's chest was pressed against his back with his wrists in each hand.

For a moment there was silence.

"Well," Logan said curtly. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

And immediately his hands were clamped above Virgil's knees, and they were off to the races.

"Ahahahahahahaha!"

"There we are," Logan said, a hint of smugness in his voice as he prodded up and down Virgil's thighs. "We'll have to avoid any further interruptions if we're going to find all of your ticklish spots, Anxiety. Please behave yourself."

"I'm-- you-- nahahaha!" Virgil squealed; Patton had placed his hands on either side of his ribs, and was now squeezing them as if Virgil were a particularly squeaky bagpipe.

"Hold him down!" he called affectionately. "He's a squirmer!"

Virgil gasped through his laughter as the other two followed Patton's instruction; he could feel them rearranging their positions on his arms and legs in order to keep him even more stuck than he already was. Blearily, he turned onto his side as much as possible, facing the back of the couch and weakly attempting to hide his stomach from his ticklers.

"Uh oh, where are you going?" Roman asked, all sugar sweetness. "Is someone trying to hide away? Hm? Big bad Anxiety trying to run away from the tickles?"

Without warning he released one of Virgil's hands, and took it upon himself to use his free hand to investigate all over Virgil's exposed armpit. Virgil spasmed and shrieked. His free hand might as well have not been there at all, considering how absolutely useless it was at protecting his armpit, or his ribs, or--

"Uh oh," Patton cooed, voice sickeningly sweet, and Virgil could only look on in giddy terror as he wiggled his fingers in the air. "Don't think I just forgot about that tummy, Anxiety!"

Just like before, Patton pressed all ten fingers into Virgil's stomach fat, wiggling mercilessly; unlike before, Virgil couldn't shoot himself off the couch with Patton himself kneeling in the way. Logan and Roman had stopped their tickles, but only so they could restrain him even further to avoid another escape attempt.

"Nihihihiehehehehehe!" Virgil didn't even know what he was begging for anymore. For less tickles, or more?

"A ticky-ticky-ticky-ticky-ticky!" Patton sang. "Who's a ticklish goober? Is it Anxiety? I think it is!" He giggled as he easily avoided Virgil's free hand, darting back and forth as it fruitlessly tried to cover his stomach from Patton's wiggling fingers.

Through his teary eyes, Virgil accidentally made eye contact with Roman. He immediately regretted it: both because he saw something akin to actual affection in Princey's eyes (which, gross) but more because he watched that affection slip away to smug mischief.

"Hey, don't be greedy, Padre!" Roman announced. "I want a turn!"

And with that he let go of Virgil's other hand, but the anxious side had no time to do anything about that before he, too, was digging his fingers into Virgil's stomach. Virgil squealed again, arching hid back and curling in on himself over and over in an endless loop. While Patton had no trouble attending to Virgil's tummy pudge, Roman's hands were positioned at the top of his stomach just below his ribs, and he had no issues at all jumping up to pinch and massage along the sensitive bones every few seconds.

"Fascinating," Logan said, and oh god, why did his voice make Virgil feel even more trapped than he already was? "Patton, scoot down a bit. I'd like to try something."

Virgil felt Patton slide his hands slightly up Virgil's torso, still plucking away at his oversensitive nerves like guitar strings.

"Slow down for a moment," Logan instructed, and the others listened, thank God. Virgil took the opportunity to breathe, his eyes screw tightly shut. He couldn't handle seeing Roman's smirk, or Patton's giddiness, or Logan's studying stare.

"I've noticed something in his reactions," the logical side continued. "And I have another hypothesis."

Virgil should've opened his eyes.

If he had, he might've been prepared for when Logan's fingers descended all around his bellybutton and squeezed.

Virgil shrieked. He screamed. He yelled and hollered and wailed and every other synonym he could think of, except he couldn't think at all because Logan was flexing his fingers over and over and over again with terrible, ruthless accuracy. Virgil used all his strength to try to curl up, but with Logan on his hips, Roman behind his back, and Patton in the middle, there was absolutely nothing he could do to protect his tummy from ticklish agony.

"I think we found his favorite spot!" Patton cooed.

Yeah, no fucking shit, Virgil thought wildly. He could barely breathe, his face hurt from smiling, his head was melty with joy, and his innards felt as if he had swallowed a dozen butterflies that continued to dance around inside of him. He felt trapped, and teased, and embarrassed, and desperate, and he--

And he loved it. Oh my God, he loved it. Had he been missing out on this all along?

It took a long, long time before Virgil realized that Logan had stopped. His hands, warm and heavy, laid flat on his stomach, and his palms rubbed firmly against his skin. He blinked his eyes opened-- when had he closed them?-- and realized he was practically lying down again, having slid so much he'd ended up resting his head against Roman's thigh. It took another minute for him to realize that his hand felt strange; looking over, he flushed anew when he saw Patton's large hand wrapped around his own, fingers intertwined. Did Virgil do that?

Reality jolted back into him, and like a bear trap he sprang up and closed in on himself, shrinking away from any touch.

"Um-- I'm done-- red," he stuttered. God, why was he a loser? They had already stopped tickling him, he didn't need to say the safeword-- but his skin still felt alight with nerves, and despite how the whole experience had made him feel, he really didn't think he could handle anymore tonight.

Virgil didn't know why it surprised him that all three of moved back, Logan and Roman scooting to either end of the couch and Patton leaning back on his haunches. It surprised him, but it shouldn't. Because they're them. The light sides, the "others" as he'd always thought of them-- they were nice. Fun. And they cared.

"So..."

And of course, there was Princey to ruin it. Virgil dared to shoot his eyes over and was met with the smuggest goddamn look he's ever seen on Roman's consistently smug face.

"Was it everything you hoped for, sweet Anxiety?" he crowed. Immediately Virgil dropped his face into his hands and groaned.

"Aw, there he goes! Too much sweet talking for such a sourpuss like you?"

Virgil hissed at him, only to hear twin snorts from the other two Sides. He looked up, betrayed.

"Apologies, Anxiety," Logan said, biting his bottom lip as he smiled. Patton was covering his own mouth with both hands. "I can assure you we hold no judgement or mockery for you. It's just that this entire display was... objectively adorable."

"Noooooo..." Virgil whined. He slid down in his seat and covered his face again. His cheeks burned against his palms.

It was only a few seconds before he felt a tap on his knee, and after a moment he lowered his hands enough to peek out beyond his fingers. Patton was there, ducking his head a bit to catch Virgil's eye.

"Was that fun?" he asked gently. A beat. Virgil nodded. "Would you like to do it again?"

Virgil snapped his arms down to his sides and slammed back against his seat. Patton raised his hands placatingly.

"In the future!" he said. "I just mean..."

He looked at the other two Sides before confirming, "Well, I think we all had fun. And we can work out what exactly you're comfortable with later, but... I hope you'd like to do that again sometime."

"Please--" Virgil blurted. "I mean. Yes. I want to. Again."

"Good," Logan said. "Now lay back down."

He looked over, inquisitive, only to flush again as Logan leaned back and patted his lap.

"You can't seriously think I'm gonna fall for that."

"We are not going to tickle you again unless you explicitly ask for it," Logan said (and wow, now Virgil was gonna have to store that away in his anxiety-fantasies, not getting tickled anymore unless he uses his words). "You've just been exerted very quickly in a very short amount of time, you've been anxious and twitchy all day prior to this evening, and even now you're struggling to remain upright."

Virgil blinked; it was true. His head was lolled back against the cushion. His body was tired, it's true, but his mind felt somewhat hazy, somewhat calm. He blinked slowly.

"... Are you gonna put the movie back on?"

Roman scoffed. "Of course we are. We know you need background noise, Sleeping Beauty."

Right. Of course they knew that. Because they knew him, now.

Virgil fidgeted, then nodded. "I'd... I'd like that."

Roman rose up without any warning. "I'm in trouble!"

The other sides all looked at him. He seemed deceptively happy about what he just said.

Logan, after a beat, slowly closed his book. "Alright. Let's hear it."

"Are you okay, kiddo?" Patton asked, moving towards him.

"It's a prank," Virgil chimed in. He hadn't moved from his position on the stairs, eyeing Roman with a distinct suspicion. "It's April Fools' day, remember?"

"Correct on both accounts, my fine fearful friend!" Roman said. "It is April Fools' Day, and I am in the middle of a prank-- but not on anyone in this room!"

The other sides looked at each other before Patton asked a wary, "Who... is the prank for, Roman?"

The prince opened his mouth, but no words came out as another side appeared in the room.

"Ah," Roman said instead, eyes sparkling, "good morrow, Janus! To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Janus, for all intents and purposes, seemed almost surprised to see the other sides as they were to see him. His eyes flicked around the room somewhat frantically.

"Oh, goody," he hissed, "more people. Exactly what I wanted, Roman, thank you."

"Janus?" Patton asked. "What's up, kiddo?"

Clearing his throat, Janus tried to straighten up, but there was something off about the way he was holding his hands clutched against his chest. He breathed deeply, then winced, like even that was too much movement.

"Our... lovely Roman," he gritted out, "decided it would be oh so funny to... alter... my gloves, for this ridiculous 'holiday'."

"You don't like April Fool's Day, Janus?" Logan asked.

"Not when the joke's on him," Virgil replied. His lips were beginning to quirk up. "I don't know what Princey did, but if you hate it, I love it."

Patton made a wounded noise. "Wh- no, guys! If Janus doesn't like being pranked, he shouldn't have to be!"

"Kinda think you don't really understand pranks, Pat," Virgil said. "You're not meant to ask for permission before you do it."

Janus shot him an icy look. "Well in that case, I'm sure you won't mind it the next time Roman decide to enchant your clothes to--"

He froze, the human side of his face going darker.

"Roman." Logan said. "Do I even need to ask if that's true, or should we just skip to you telling us what you did to Janus' gloves."

"Nothing permanent, nothing scarring, and nothing you wouldn't approve of, Teach." Roman smirked at Janus, who looked like he was trying to murder Roman with his eyes. "Why don't you tell them, Janus?"

"You--"

And then Roman snapped, and Janus screamed.

"No!" He gasped, clawing at his gloves. "Enough! E-nough-- nahahahahaha!"

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Ah. I see. I do approve."

"Fuck off," Janus spat, but the impact was greatly lessened by the desperate giggles falling from his mouth. He moved like he couldn't control his body, his torso desperately wiggling back and forth and his knees buckling. Through peals of laughter he tugged desperately at the edges, but whatever magic Roman had done clearly meant those gloves would only come off when he was ready.

"Oh, my gosh," Patton whispered, enraptured. "You gave him tickle gloves!"

"Lined with a thousand invisible feathers, all programmed to move according to body heat and hand movement," Roman said proudly. He shot Janus a sidelong look, grin widening. "Or when I tell them to, of course."

"A breheheheak!" Janus squealed, stamping his feet on the ground. "Plehehehease!"

"No, hang on, Roman, I don't think I get it," Virgil said gleefully. "Why don't you explain it to me again? Much slower this time, please."

"Why certainly, Virgil! You see--"

Janus kicked Roman in the shin.

"Fuck!"

"A break you bitch!" he shrieked.

"Come on, Ro, let him breathe," Patton said, although he was clearly enjoying the show as much as any of them. Roman hemmed and hawed, but acquiesced, snapping his fingers again.

Immediately Janus clutched his hands to his chest again. "You bitch."

"You said that already." Roman clearly wasn't offended, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Now, they've heard my side, Janus-- how do you feel about the gift I got for you?"

Indignation flicked across Janus' face. "Oh, yes, what a marvelous gift, transforming one of my favorite accessories into a-- a death trap."

"Inaccurate," Logan supplied helpfully. "We can't die."

"Y--" Janus sighed. "Thank you, Logan."

"You know, I'm a little bit surprised," Patton said. "I never really thought about hands being very ticklish before."

"Oh, Patton, you've been missing out," Virgil said. "Janus' hands are super ticklish. Especially the backs, it makes him fucking nuts."

Roman nodded. "I believe he once described the sensation to me as 'electric tingles from his nails to his elbows'. It sounded absolutely delightful, frankly, so I thought I'd give him a little gift!"

Janus clicked his tongue but made no further comment; he couldn't-- even when he kept as still as possible, the gloves still radiated a buzzy ticklish energy that ran across the thin skin of his hands and set his nerves alight. It took all of his energy to not laugh again, settling for taking shaky breaths and shifting back and forth on his feet.

"You've made your point," he hissed to Roman. "Change them back now, please."

He didn't have to argue anymore: Roman snapped again, but as Janus flinched again in anticipation of the oncoming tickles, he was instead faced with the tingles ceasing entirely. He blinked, and Roman shrugged.

"You said please," he said pleasantly.

"... I said please earlier," Janus grumbled, face flushed. Belatedly he yanked off his gloves, shaking out his hands and rubbing them together to dispel the leftover tickles.

"Oh, here, let me--" Patton reached out a hand, but Janus shrank away, hissing furiously.

"Woah!" He put his hands up placatingly. "I was just gonna hold your gloves for you, kiddo. I didn't mean to scare you!"

"No, you--" Janus started, then stopped. He looked around the group. "Why is everyone looking at me?"

"Oh, shit, you're jumpy," Virgil laughed. "We're not gonna do it again, dude. You can chill."

"Indeed," Logan said. "The prank was amusing, but you wanted it to stop, so it did."

Janus felt wrong footed. "Of course. I knew that. Obviously."

"Wow, that was really clever, Roman," Patton said. "Oh! Can you do a prank on me next? But don't tell me what it is! Just tell me when it's about to happen and what I should do to make it work."

"You got it, Padre." Roman winked, and one by one all the Sides sank down until it was just him and Janus. The latter was staring at the wall, pretending he couldn't feel Roman's pointed stare.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Roman smirked. Wordlessly he held out his hand, and after a few long beats, Janus shot a hand out and place it in his palm.

"That's what I thought," Roman replied smugly. God, he was a bastard. Janus should tell him that. Except it was kind of hard to talk now that Roman's fingers were scratching gently along the back of his hand, what with the giggles freely falling from his lips again.

Janus sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in as many minutes. He’d been a having a moral conundrum, and he’d only recently figured out how to go about solving it. Or, well, hopefully solving it. Maybe the solution he’d come up with would make everything worse instead. That’s always a possibility.

As if he could read Janus’ mind, Janus’ phone buzzed with another text from Patton. He stole a quick glance at the kitchen doorway before tapping the screen.

Patton: Have U told him yet???

Janus: u know he doesn’t wake up before noon

Patton: LOL!

Patton: Well, Jan The Man, whatever happens, I got UR back!

Patton: high_five.gif

Patton: fist_bump.gif

Patton: puppy_saying_yeah.gif

Janus: ,,,,, thank u patton

Janus sighed yet again-- but this time his sigh was followed by a matching yawn from behind him.

He slammed his phone down on the table and whirled around. “Good morning!” Fuck, he was never that positive. He had to dial it back. “You look like shit.” Well. That’s one way of doing it.

Luckily, Virgil either didn’t notice or didn’t care to comment on Janus’ jumpy behavior-- he yawned again and made a beeline for the coffee pot, where Janus had graciously prepared another pot just in time for Virgil’s late rise.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he muttered as he poured his coffee. “Talk or shut your brain up.”

Janus snorted. Well, if Virgil didn’t care about being indelicate, then Janus sure wouldn’t.

“I found your blog.”

Virgil sighed, not looking up as his scooped a copious amount of sugar into the mug. “Yes, I remember, I got drunk enough to show my 2013 era Tumblr to Roman, and he got drunk enough to send it to the group chat. Cool reminder.”

“Not that one-- although your Superwholock fic was surprisingly well written,” Janus said. “I found... another blog. Of yours.”

“My anime blog?” Virgil asked. “Don’t you already follow that one?”

“Another blog,” Janus hissed. “A blog you haven’t told us about.”

With his mug only an inch away from his mouth, Virgil froze.

It was enough to tell Janus everything he needed to know.

“I don’t have any other blogs,” Virgil said, quickly bringing the mug up to his face and taking a sip.

“Virgil. Please don’t insult me by lying so boldly in my face.”

“Who’s lying?” he replied. “Not me. I’m standing up, not lying... down, that is-- oh, dad joke, ha! Speaking of which I think I’m supposed to be meeting Patton for, uh, brunch, right now--”

He darted out of the room, nearly sloshing his coffee in his haste. Janus heard his bedroom door slam shut, and he sighed.

Well, he wasn’t going to sit around and let Virgil stew in his own nerves. He got up from the table and moved to the hallway, coming to a stop right in front of Virgil’s bedroom door. He heard no movement coming from inside, so he figured Virgil was probably frozen in panic as he thought about what Janus had said.

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” Janus said bluntly through the door. “Or tell anyone. Patton knows I had something important to tell you, but I made absolutely no references to having found a secret of yours at all. It’s just me.”

He knew that still probably wasn’t overly comforting-- Janus was, admittedly, crafty and manipulative, and he often used information as leverage to get what he wanted. But given how genuinely upset Virgil seemed to be at the mere idea that his secret blog had been found out, Janus wanted to prove that he really wasn’t going to tell anyone. And unfortunately, he knew exactly what he had to do to prove it.

“A secret for a secret, an eye for an eye,” he continued, steeling his nerves. “Because, honestly, you... aren’t the only person in this household with... that specific kind of... interest.”

Again, he heard no noise, but Janus could picture the way Virgil’s face probably shifted from blind panic to slight confusion. Janus sighed.

“How do you think I found your tickle blog in the first place?” he asked drily.

Janus ignored the urge to cringe as he said the word aloud-- this conversation was not about his embarrassing secret interests, thank you, it was about Virgil’s. He didn’t have the chance to ponder on that further, because suddenly the door clicked open in front of him, as if Virgil had opened it and hurried away.

He stepped in, and there was Virgil on his bed, lying on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow.

“You can block me if you want,” Janus said, moving to perch on the edge of the mattress. “Just let me type in my URL so you don’t see it.”

“How much did you see?” Virgil asked instead, voice muffled and defeated.

“About ten posts,” Janus said. “And no, you didn’t accidentally doxx yourself in any way. I’m just extremely clever.”

Virgil didn’t respond. At least he didn’t seem to be actively panicking, just humiliated. Janus himself was starting to feel a bit warm; he’d seen some... rather interesting posts before he’d realized whose blog he was looking at. Apparently he and Virgil had more in common than he’d realized.

“Virgil, I’m not going to bullshit you,” he said quickly, before his nerve was lost. “This sucks, and if it’d happened to me I’d break your computer in half, so I can imagine how you are feeling right now. But the fact of the matter is that we are both switches and we are home alone, and if you consent I would very much like to tickle you right now.”

Finally Virgil whipped around, eyes catching Janus’ with a wild look.

“What?” he squawked, voice cracking.

“Or you tickle me,” Janus said. “I’m really not picky.”

“This-- this is-- Janus.”

“Virgil,” Janus said firmly. “Take your pick, lee or ler?”

“I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack,” Virgil hissed. Janus could practically feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.

“I’m trying to avoid an outcome like that,” Janus said through gritted teeth. “By being disgustingly open about what I want, in the hopes that we can bypass the anxiety and awkwardness and humiiation by treating this all as if it’s perfectly normal.”

Silence hung over the room for a moment as Virgil took in the words. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with the blanket.

“I don’t know...”

Janus leaned in to catch Virgil’s mumble. Okay, that’s not a complete no. He could work with that.

“What don’t you know?” he asked with as much patience as he could muster.

Virgil continued to fiddle for a few seconds before he spoke. “Like, right now...?”

“No time like the present,” Janus replied. “Of course, we can wait if you’re not comfortable right now. Then again, I wonder how it would feel to wait in this room knowing that I’m right across the hall, ready to tickle you.”

He smirked when Virgil’s eyes snapped up towards him, a blazing blush crowning his face. “Janus!”

“What? You know I’m right. I could leave this room right now, but all your little fantasies in your head about what I could do to you would feel so delightfully real-- it’d be like I was still here.”

Nothing came out of Virgil’s mouth but a strain of choked noises. Belatedly, he covered his face with his hands. “Come on--”

“I mean, I really didn’t look very far through your blog before. I still have so many questions about this little sensitivity of yours.”

Now Virgil shoved his face back into his pillow, probably with the goal of hiding the soft whines that were now coming out of his mouth. It didn’t work.

“But, of course,” Janus continued, “I can’t touch you until you agree. You won’t get one little tickle from me until I hear you say so out loud.”

Virgil went silent for so long Janus considered checking that he hadn’t suffocated, but finally a muffled mutter came from his pillow that sounded suspiciously like the word please.

“Hm?” Janus said, because despite everything he wasn’t going to be too nice to Virgil. “I couldn’t quite catch that. You’ll have to speak up.”

More muttering, this time sounding closer to cursing, came from the pillow. Janus enjoyed drawing things out as much as the next ler, but he was getting pretty antsy. How to draw Virgil out?

Suddenly his mind flashed with a post he’d remembered seeing; a post that had also been reblogged by Virgil, with a few choice tags that made him think this could be a good idea.

“Virgil,” he asked softly. “How about you show me where you want to be tickled?”

And there it was; there was Virgil’s desperate squealing whine, his back arching just slightly, legs suddenly fidgeting behind him, and the tips of his ears burning red through his dark hair. Janus hit the nail on the head.

It only took a few more seconds for Virgil to roll over; his hands twitched, and he refused to look Janus in the face, but finally he managed to pull his t-shirt up over his stomach before shoving his face into his hands again.

Janus smirked. “I thought so.” He let one hand, gentle and wiggly, hover right above Virgil’s tummy. “When you want me to switch, I’ll just need you to pick another lovely little spot for me to tickle instead. One that’s just as ticklish, just so I know I’m getting a fair deal. You can do that, right?”

Virgil’s whine only last half a second this time, before it was replaced with a startled burst of frantic giggles as Janus began scratching all ten fingers around his sensitive tummy and sides. He curled up, and wiggled back and forth, and kicked his legs like there was no tomorrow, but his hands stayed over his eyes, his shirt stayed halfway up his torso, and he stayed right on the mattress under Janus’ lovely fingers.

Logan couldn’t tell you how this had happened. One moment, he and the others had been having a nice picnic in the Imagination. The next moment, he and Remus were diving through the leaves of the thick jungle Remus had created for the afternoon, adrenaline pounding through their veins as they desperately tried to escape.

“This way, smexy!” Remus hissed, yanking Logan none too lightly by the wrist as they bobbed and weaved through the trees.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Logan asked, speeding up so he and Remus were running side by side.

Out of his peripheral, Logan saw Remus grin wildly. “Anywhere but there! Just keep running, nerdy Wolverine!”

“Fine,” Logan replied, pulling ahead to run in front of Remus. “But you know we can’t run forever. I still think we should double back and head for the exit, before it’s too late.”

Logan waited for Remus to respond, but there was nothing. He slowed his run until he was standing still, listening for Remus’ footsteps behind him. Nothing.

“Remus?”

No response.

Against Logan’s better judgement, he turned around, cautiously treading back the way he’d come. Part of him wanted to keep running, but a greater part of him wanted to make sure Remus was alright.

(Plus, although he’d never admit it, there was an infinitesimal part of him that was petrified by the idea of being found alone, in unfamiliar territory, by the monster they’d been running from.)

The tall trees cast threatening shadows across the entire jungle floor, making it impossible to tread quietly: every time Logan stepped on a branch and heard it crack under his feet, he was certain that the noise would attract the monster they’d been running from. But despite how loud he was being, nothing came to help or hinder him.

It wasn’t until he reached the edge of a small clearing before he realized: something else was making much more noise already.

“You stupid, pointless– who would even put a rock right there?”

Remus’ voice cut through the ambient noise of the Imagination. Creeping forward in the shadows, Logan came across the creative side sprawled on the ground after apparently tripping over a rock. Remus was scowling darkly and muttering to himself, but there was an air of electric excitement around him that even Logan could pick up on.

Hurriedly, the dark side rose up and turned in a circle, looking around the edge of the clearing until his eyes locked with Logan’s.

Remus sighed in relief, a small smile on his face as he stepped forward.

“Took you long enough, Smartwatch, I thought I’d have to leave you behind–”

Something shot out from the treetops above Remus and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, yanking him up into the air and out of Logan’s sight.

Logan froze, his heart rate drastically increasing at the sudden terror. He heard rustling in the trees, and through the bushes, and all around him, and he spun in a circle in a frantic attempt to find where it was coming from.

A scream from behind him made him jump around again, peering into the clearing with wide eyes. There was a rustling, a crackling, and suddenly Remus dropped into the clearing– but he didn’t hit the ground.

From his half hidden position, Logan could only see Remus’ feet, kicking wildly in midair. He dared to step a little closer so he could make out Remus’ current position, but a dark laugh made him freeze in place.

“Thank you for dropping in, Remus. I was beginning to worry I had just missed you.”

Janus stepped forward from the other side of the clearing, smirking upwards. Logan craned his neck, and finally he could see Remus: the creative side was suspended in midair, held aloft by one of Janus’ arms. The arm was coming from the treetop above them, and apparently had stretched long enough so that it could securely wrap once around Remus’ waist, before stretching back upwards to grab the tree branch and leaving Remus dangling in the air by his waist.

“Oh, lurking in the shadows again, you wannabe Bond villain?” Remus hissed, struggling fiercely in Janus’ hold. “I’ll bite the shit out of your arm if you don’t let me go!”

“Is that so?” Janus asked. “Well, let’s give your mouth something better to do, then, shall we?”

Remus barely had time to gasp the word “kinky!” before he was screeching with laughter. Logan’s heart beat wildly in his ears. He tried to peer closer to see what was happening, but all he could make out was a flurry of yellow-gloved hands scrambling all over Remus’ torso.

Janus laughed along with him, moving closer and gently lowering Remus in his restraints until the creative side were merely a dozen feet above the ground.

“You know, you should really watch where you’re running, Remus. Anything could be lurking in this jungle of yours. Aren’t you so glad it’s just little old me who caught you first?”

Remus shrieked, wiggling fiercely. Logan could see a hand squeezing his hips, and his chest trembled in giddy solidarity. He couldn’t imagine being in Remus’ position.

“Now, where can I find my next victim?”

Logan’s heart dropped to his stomach. Please, Remus, he thought desperately, stay quiet for once–

“There!” Remus shrieked, kicking one leg straight forward directly to where Logan was crouching among the bushes. “Fuck him up– ahahahahaha!”

Remus’ laughter overtook his words again, but it was too late. Logan understood for the first time what “fight or flight” truly meant; his brain and his body couldn’t agree on what to do against the threat right in front of him. His eyes drifted around the clearing, slowly, trying to look for any escape routes–

Only to lock eyes with Janus’ piercing golden stare.

“Found you.”

Logan ran. His shoes slammed against the forest ground, hyper aware of the rocks and tree roots that lined the path, desperate to avoid meeting the same fate as Remus. Blood rushed in his ears. His lungs burned. And despite it all there was a wide, feral smile on his face. He was going to be caught. He was going to be found, he was going to be tickled, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He whipped around the trees, barely aware of where he was going, making sure to leap across yet another tree root in his way–

Only for the root to shoot up and catch his ankle in midair.

Logan shouted, more in shock than anything else, but before he could fall face first into the ground there was something grabbing him by the back of his shirt collar, and finally around one outstretched arm. His heart hammered, adrenaline still running through his veins, as the hands– because that what they were, of course, more yellow-gloved hands– gently maneuvered him to stand on his feet again, but facing the way he’d come from. The hands on his ankle and collar released, but one stayed wrapped around his arm.

Logan stared at it. Giggles were building up in his chest already. “Please, no–”

The hand pulled. Logan hesitated, pulling back, but the hand pulled harder, and harder, until he was forced to stumble along with it as it dragged him none too gently back down the path.

Back to the clearing where Janus had trapped Remus.

“Nnnnnnno, no no no, wait wait wait–” Logan pleaded through his growing smile. Could Janus hear him? He stumbled through the dirt, stomach swooping as he saw the light of the clearing come closer and closer. Remus’ laughter still rang out amongst the trees.

“Welcome back, Logan! Thank you so much for joining us,” Janus said grandly as he pulled Logan back into the circle. The hand returned back underneath Janus’ cape, shortening until Logan was standing only a few feet away from his hunter. “You are late, of course, which is incredibly rude, but I think we can figure out a way for you to make up for your tardiness?”

“Please!” Logan burst out. He stamped his feet, yanking against the grip on his wrist again. “J-Janus, please, this game is ridiculous, we don’t need to go any further, please, wait–!”

He yanked again, and Janus immediately let his wrist go. Logan, stunned, fell backwards onto the ground.

Just in time for two hands to shoot out and grab his ankles.

“Wait!” he shrieked, but it was mere moments before he was hoisted by both ankles and lofted upside down, lower than Remus but still several feet above the ground. His head spun as he reoriented himself, and it took him a few seconds to find Janus’ upside-down smirk in the chaos.

“Oh, why wait, Logan?” Janus said innocently. “I’m not one to play with my food.”

Logan could barely process that statement before he felt his shoes being removed from above him.

“Nahahahaha!” he burst out, already squealing and kicking his legs helplessly against the restraints. Janus stepped closer, his face mere inches from Logan’s, and laughed lowly.

Virgil was dying, and Patton was killing him.

Not because he was doing anything wrong-- Patton would never do something to hurt Virgil, and even if he did he would always apologize and try to fix things in the future. He made mistakes sometimes, but Virgil wasn't perfect. All he cared about was that his friend was trying.

So no, Patton wasn't trying to kill Virgil. But he was.

They were all downstairs, everyone having a good evening together. Logan and Roman were in the kitchen, meal planning for the week; Remus and Virgil were sitting on the floor playing a new horror game that'd come out recently; and Patton and Janus sat on the couch watching Tiktoks on Janus' phone. He was very picky about his Tiktok taste, hence why he insisted they use his phone, but Patton didn't mind-- he found most things funny anyway.

And therein lied the problem: Patton's laugh.

There were levels to Patton's laughter. He'd start with giggles, his shoulders scrunching up as his smile widened on his face. They'd get louder if he found something particularly funny: strong belly laughs as he pointed to the screen and repeated every punchline out loud (to Janus' chagrin). And when he saw something really funny, something that delighted him with how surprising it was... there was no word for it other than cackling. Shouts of laughter that burst out of his mouth, head falling on Janus' shoulder as he wheezed words out between desperate belly laughter.

It was driving Virgil crazy. Because it was adorable.

He couldn't focus on the game. All of his thoughts were stuck on Patton behind him on the couch, listening to him laugh and getting increasingly distracted. Were his cheeks getting pink? Was his nose scrunching up? When he let out another peal of laughter, did Janus feel as tempted as Virgil did to give him something else to laugh about?

And his laugh!

Virgil was doomed.

"Come on, Virgin, get on with it!" Remus' voice snapped, bringing Virgil back to reality. He narrowed his eyes and moved his character forward.

"I'm coming, chill out."

"Oh, I'm chilled, baby! You're the one who's too chicken-shit to go through the maze."

Virgil narrowed his eyes. "Bite me, I'm not scared." His character entered a doorway and the screen went black, loading the next room. In the TV's dark reflection he could see Patton sitting behind him, grin wide enough to split his face as he giggled at whatever video they were watching. Virgil couldn't help it; he leaned forward, trying to subtly watch his friend laugh without turning around.

So of course that was the perfect time for a jumpscare.

Virgil shrieked, throwing his controller to the ground and covering his face with his hands. He heard his character die on screen, he heard Remus and Janus mocking him for losing, he even heard Roman and Logan stick their heads out of the kitchen to see what on Earth all the noise was about. But of course, for Virgil, all of that faded into the background: the only thing he could focus on was Patton's screaming, squealing, adorable cackles.

"Virgihihihil! I'm so sorry-- I'm sohohorry-- are you okahahay?" he asked, desperate laughter falling out in between trying to check up on Virgil. "I'm sorry kiddo, I'm sohorry but-- that was so funny!" His giggles and guffaws made Virgil feel flustered, embarrassed by his outburst, but also ignited the competitive spirit in him.

He whipped around. "I'll show you some thing funny!"

And with that, Virgil dove in fingers first, latching onto Patton's stomach and squeezing before the other Side could blink. He heard Patton take one big gasp before his laughter exploded tenfold.

"Wahahahahait! Ahahahahaha!" He squealed, throwing his head back. Janus leaned to the side, clearly amused at Virgil's retaliation, and Remus laughed and pointed at Patton's demise. But neither of them mattered to Virgil. All he wanted was to hear Patton laugh.

"What's wrong, Pat? What's so funny now?" he taunted, moving his hands rapidly between tazing his tummy and his sides, crawling down to squeeze at his hips and thighs, or fluttering so quickly agsint his neck and chin the other Side couldn't even block him. Patton screamed again, wiggling wildly and flapping his hands around in a desperate attempt to block Virgil's access to his tickle spots, but he made no real motions to stop him.

"You-- you're-- Virgil!" he squealed. "Whyhyhyhy--!"

Virgil slowed his hands just enough to let Patton breathe. "'Cause you laughed at me!"

Patton panted. His face was now a bright pink, and his eyes sparkled with mischievous delight. "No, not you, I was-- laughing at a video!"

"Oh, really?" Janus interjected. "What was the punchline then, Patton?"

Patton could only giggle in response. He wormed his way back against the couch cushions, but Virgil kneeling on the floor in front of him easily kept him boxed in. "Um-- um-- it was--"

Remus made a loud buzzer noise. "Too slow, Patty-cakes! Janny, wanna be player 2? I think Tickle me Emo's gotta take care of a dirty liar."

"Noooooo," Patton whined. He grabbed Janus' wrist. "Janus, save mehehe!"

Janus looked down on his, face unamused but eyes clearly playful. "No, I think Virgil's correct. He'll need a lot more laughter out of you before he's done, isn't that right?"

Virgil smirked up at Patton. "That's exactly right, Jay." He drummed his fingers against Patton's tummy, making him giggle nervously. "And I've been waiting to do this all day."

Patton's eyebrows raised. "Wait, you have? What-- ahahahahaha!"

Roman snapped up with a yelp. Something... just touched him.

He turned, but Logan wasn’t looking at him, his eyes focused on whatever he was working on at his own desk. Even in the gigantic library that existed within the Imagination, the two sides chose to work near each other, not close enough to get in each other’s way but still able to ask for suggestions or brainstorm sessions every now and then. Right now they were sitting at two large desks with their backs to each other. Logan’s pen was scratching away on his paper just like it had been this entire time, and aside from that brief movement of his hands, it didn’t look like he’d moved even once since he sat down.

Yet Roman knew, he knew, that he’d felt someone small jab into his back. Roman watched for a few seconds longer, before slowly turning back to his desk.

A long silence stretched, long enough that Roman wondered if nothing else was going to happen, long enough that he had nearly managed to immerse himself in his writing again.

Then--

“Ah!”

He whipped around yet again. He knew he’d felt something touch him-- it’d dug into the back of his ribs for less than a second before disappearing again. It didn’t hurt, it was too minor a touch to hurt him, which meant that ‘whatever’ was doing it wasn’t trying to hurt him. Nor did the person responsible seem to be trying to get his attention, given that Logan was still steadfastly ignoring any of Roman’s reactions.

Roman blinked, narrowing his eyes. Now Logan’s pen wasn’t even moving.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” he informed the other side’s back.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Logan replied, eyes down and voice flat.

The tick of the analog clock on the wall behind them seemed much louder as Roman turned around again, his hands back on his keyboard as he typed nonsense into the document.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick--

Roman was spinning around in his rolly chair the instant he felt his back being poked again. He forced himself to not flinch away from the sensation, instead darting forward to catch Logan by the wrist.

The logical side froze, arm outstretched with his criminal pen dangling from his fingers, inches away from Roman’s chest. He met Roman’s gaze, unflinching.

“Apologize.”

“No.”

A beat, and then Roman was yanking Logan out of his chair and pulling him towards him, but Logan was faster. He lunged forward and shot the fingers of his free hand underneath Roman’s arm, wiggling haphazardly. Roman snorted, loudly, and tried to curl his arm in without letting Logan go, but the logical side easily slipped his wrist out of Roman’s grip.

Without a moment’s hesitation Logan turned on his heel, darting around his desk and diving amongst the tall shelves. By the time Roman stood up, he had disappeared from sight.

Roman allowed himself one incredulous, delighted laugh. So that’s what Logan wanted?

Well. Two can play at that game.

~

The dull carpet muffled Logan’s steps as he traveled down another row of shelves. For a moment he’d considered taking off his shoes to step totally silently, but the thought quickly vanished into a flustered daze when he realized how much more vulnerable that would make him when-- if Roman caught him.

He had no doubt that Roman was after him-- aside from the fact that Roman hadn’t safe-worded, the creative side was absurdly competitive, and very vengeful. Logan’s little escape tactic was more than enough reason for Roman to get revenge.

Logan paused at the end of one row, ears straining for noise. The library was impressively large, but not limitless, and he and Roman were sure to find each other any moment now.

... Well. Roman would find him. That was his role, in this little game Logan had devised. Roman was the hunter. Logan was the prey.

A rush of air escaped Logan’s mouth, just this side of a whimper, and he slammed his hand over his mouth. No. He was not going to give himself up so easily.

But now that he’d started, it was so much harder to stop. Everywhere he turned, he was reminded of all the little fantasies he’d had about this library: Roman tazing his sides as he reached for a book on the highest shelf, Roman forcing him to read aloud as he tickled all over the soles of his feet, Roman pinning him against the wall and murmuring about how this is a library, Teach, so you better keep quiet no matter what--

No! Focus!

Logan dragged his hands down his face as if to wipe away the stray giggles bubbling in his chest. He would not lose. He’d started this tickle fight, and he was determined to finish it.

~

Roman prided himself of being fairly light of foot, but it was hard to avoid making noise in the dead silent library. His ears kept tricking him into thinking he was hearing footsteps, but it just as easily could’ve been the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

He loved this. Logan was so rarely in a mood to play. No wonder he’d asked Roman to join him in the library today. How long had he been planning this?

Another sound came from behind him, and Roman whipped around before standing stock-still.

“Logan...”

He took a moment to pat himself on the back for the acoustics in the room; his voice seemed to echo and carry, the deep timbre reverberating as his taunting tone rose and fell.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are...”

He began walking again, slowly. Picked up a book and flipped through it casually before putting it back on the shelf. Humming lowly and letting out little vocal stims, singing sweetly through the aisles. Oh, he wasn’t worried about finding Logan quickly. In fact, he hoped he took his time. He was quite enjoying the hunt.

~

Damn Roman, for real. Damn him for being so nonchalant about the game they were playing, strolling through the aisles with barely a look cast to either side of him. Damn his for going no further than singing sweet teases that echoed around the whole room, leaving Logan to feel phantom tingles against his ears each time. Damn him for not even hurrying to find Logan, as if he were waiting for the logical side to, what, tire himself out?

Or turn myself in, Logan’s brain supplied unhelpfully. No! He wouldn’t think like that.

Logan straightened himself up. He started this game, yes, but he wasn’t going to make it easy. He was just as competitive as Roman, and Logan wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

And without another thought, Logan grabbed a book from a nearby shelf and launched it in the air, listening with satisfaction as it slammed down halfway across the library.

~

Immediately Roman was running towards the sound. His mind was spinning, and his eyes darted around for even a glimpse of a black polo shirt or the glint of Logan’s glasses lens.

He entered an area with lots of sofas and armchairs, but no Logan. Nothing was out of place, except--

His vision narrowed on a book on the floor. Logan would never let something stay out of place, which means he must’ve done it on purpose. He bent over, picked it up, and burst out laughing.

“‘Catch Me If You Can’, huh?” he muttered to himself. Logan’s subconscious clearly couldn’t hide itself from picking up just the right book for how he felt right now. What’s more, he knew this book, knew it was semi-autobiographical. He spun on his heel and hurried away, heading straight towards the nonfiction section.

~

Logan moved into the next aisle. Idly, he looked to the side-- at the exact moment Roman’s face appeared in a gap through the shelf.

They both froze.

Until Logan sprinted back the way he’d come in his own aisle, and Roman turned heel and followed along.

“Logan!” Roman sang as they darted through the stacks. “I think I found you, my little bib-lee-ophile! Don’t you want to come out and play?”

Logan didn’t answer; Roman thought he could hear stray giggles escaping in between his breaths. He ducked around the end of the next aisle and found himself and Logan face to face, with only a large round table in between them.

Roman went left. So did Logan. Roman went right, and Logan followed. They bobbed back and forth, staying on opposite sides of the table the whole time.

“Ha!” Roman said. “What’s wrong, Teach? Didn’t think about finding an escape route? You must really want me to catch you, huh?”

Logan clamped his lips shut and tried to put on a brave face. “I think you shouldn’t be so cocky, Roman. I know things you don’t about this library.”

“Oh, yeah?” Roman asked. He continued circling, smiling as he saw how Logan was now blocked in next to another bookshelf. “And what might that be?”

But he got no response. Instead, Logan whipped around, yanked a book out of its place on the shelf, and-- disappeared?

Roman froze. “What?”

He moved closer, just in time to see a panel on the back of the bookshelf slide back into place. His jaw dropped.

“Oh, you sneaky little scholar,” he muttered. “Why didn’t I think of secret doors?!”

So Logan wanted to play dirty, huh? Well, two could play at that game. He rubbed his hands together, conjuring some sparkles as he did just for panache. He clapped once, loud, and everything went dark.

~

Logan had only just climbed out of the trap door when the room went dark with a loud clunk. He froze, off balance and disorientated. Roman had shut off the lights? How would that help anything?

He strained his eyes, trying to make out any shapes in the dark. Luckily, the library had a fail safe for this kind of thing-- it was a clever little system that Logan had created to limit the amount of energy being used, by utilizing motion sensor lights that only illuminated whatever aisle the person is standing in--

It clicked. Logan’s eyes widened, but before he could do anything his vision was flooded by a sterile white light. He shielded his eyes and looked up; above him one row of lights were on, while the rest of the library was dark.

... The rest of the library except for a row near the nonfiction sectioned, where Logan had just come from. Where Roman still was.

He couldn’t look away from that distant light until it abruptly shut off-- and then another light turned on, one row closer.

Then another. And another.

Logan’s stomach dipped with panicked delight. He turned, ran, but with every new aisle he ran down, the light overhead turned on, creating a perfect map of his location throughout the entire library. His ears were filled with the clunk, clunk, clunk of the lights, creating a staccato rhythm that joined the rapid beating of his heart.

He looked over his shoulder. The lights turning off and on in the distance were getting closer. He could feel the giggles rising in his chest.

Clunk, clunk. Clunk, clunk. Clunk--

Logan barely looked up in time to realize he’d reached the end of the aisle. As in, the only thing in front of him was a wall. He skidded to a stop, bracing his hands on the wall to catch him. He looked around, scanning the ceiling, but couldn’t find any other lights. Only the aisle he stood in was illuminated.

It clicked, and his stomach dropped. As if the world were in slow motion, Logan turned and lowered his gaze to the end of the aisle.

“Found you,” Roman said sweetly. He took a step closer.

“Wait.” Logan backed against the wall.

“Hm?” Roman continued, unfettered. “Wait for what?”

Logan couldn’t think; his brain was already fuzzy. “Wait!”

“You said that already, Teach,” Roman replied. Slowly, like he had all the time in the world, he moved closer and closer. “No more trap doors, huh? I’m surprised you let yourself get stuck like this. Unless you wanna trying scaling the bookshelf.”

Logan’s eyes darted between the two tall shelves on either side of the aisle, and Roman laughed.

“No, I don’t think you’re gonna do that.” Finally he stepped close enough to pin his hands on the wall, boxing Logan in. The logical side bit his lip; Roman’s breath on his neck sent heat rushing to his face.

“You’re very silly, you know that?” Roman said. He leaned closer, letting his mouth graze delicately over Logan’s throat and collarbone. “Starting a game just so you can lose it. Knowing I was always going to catch you.”

His lips trailed up to Logan’s ear, startling a high pitched whine out of him. Roman laughed, stepping even closer to press his chest against Logan’s.

“Any last words?”

Logan opened his mouth at the exact moment Roman latched his hands onto his sides and squeezed.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Roman said cheerfully after Logan stopped screaming. “Say it again?” He poked rapidly up and down Logan’s sides, migrating over to his ribs and down his tummy. “Jeez, Teach, what happened to all those big words? Do we need to grab you a dictionary?”

“Roman-- Romahan-- Roman!” Every poke and squeeze sent Logan into further giggles; he could do nothing but say Roman’s name. Finally his knees gave out, and he slid down helplessly to the floor, Roman guiding him and tickling him the whole way.

“Is this what you wanted?” Roman asked. He was so smug Logan could’ve hit him, if his hands were able to do anything other than weakly grab at Roman’s wrists. “I mean, if you want to play again later, we can, but I think I deserve a prize for winning, don’t I?”

He paused, leaning closer with a devilish grin. “Logan?”

His hands stilled, just resting on Logan’s belly, but giggles still fell freely from his lips. He cracked open an eye, already teary from the giddy tickles.

Roman’s grin softened just slightly. “You are an excellent prize.”