They were sprawled out on the floor of Sal’s room, half-finished homework pushed aside in favor of a worn-out game controller and a bag of chips that had seen better days. The TV flickered, casting soft light across the room while Larry leaned over, trying (and failing) to grab the controller back.
“Dude, you’re cheating,” Larry protested, reaching across Sal’s side.
“I’m not—” Sal started, twisting slightly to dodge him.
Larry’s fingers landed—completely by accident—right against Sal’s ribs.
And Sal jerked.
Not just a flinch. Not just surprise.
A full-body, immediate recoil, followed by a sharp, stifled sound that definitely wasn’t part of the game.
Larry froze.
“…yo.”
Sal straightened quickly, adjusting his posture like nothing happened. “What?”
Larry slowly turned his head, eyes narrowing with a grin already forming. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Nah, nah,” Larry sat up, now fully invested. “That was not nothing. You just—” he gestured vaguely, “—glitched.”
“I didn’t glitch.”
“You did. I touched your side and you practically teleported.”
Sal crossed his arms, trying to look as unimpressed as possible. “You’re imagining things.”
Larry stared at him for a long second.
Then, without warning, he lunged again—quick, precise—fingers digging lightly into the same spot.
Sal broke.
A startled laugh slipped out before he could stop it, his shoulders hunching as he twisted away. “D—don’t—!”
Larry immediately pulled back, eyes wide for half a second… before his grin came back twice as strong.
“No way,” he said, almost reverently. “No way.”
Sal clamped his mouth shut, glaring now, but there was a faint redness creeping up his neck. “Larry.”
“You’re ticklish.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” Larry pointed at him like he’d just solved a lifelong mystery. “Dude. You so are.”
Sal shook his head, trying to recover whatever dignity he had left. “Drop it.”
“Oh, I am absolutely not dropping it.”
Before Sal could react, Larry went in again—this time with full intent.
It was immediate chaos.
Sal twisted, trying to shove him away, but the moment Larry’s fingers found his sides again, any attempt at composure completely fell apart. Laughter broke through—real, unfiltered, impossible to hide—as he curled in on himself.
“L—Larry—cut it out—!”
“There it is!” Larry laughed, dodging Sal’s attempts to grab his wrists. “I knew it! You’re, like, ridiculously ticklish!”
“Shut up—!” Sal managed between breaths, trying to push him back. It didn’t help that laughing made him weaker, which only made Larry more relentless.
“Man, you’ve been hiding this the whole time?” Larry teased, giving one last quick scribble at his side before finally pulling back.
Sal immediately scooted away, breathing a little heavier than he’d like, arms still half-wrapped around himself like he didn’t trust Larry not to go in again.
“That was uncalled for,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to it.
Larry just leaned back on his hands, completely satisfied. “Oh, this is the best thing I’ve learned all week.”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“I’m absolutely making it a thing.”
Sal shot him a look. “Larry.”
Larry raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t abuse my power.”
Sal narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to abuse it.”
“Maybe a little.”
A pause.
“…only when you deserve it.”
Sal exhaled, shaking his head, but there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “I’m sure you’ll find plenty of reasons.”
Sal and Larry are cuddling in bed when Larry makes a discovery.
*Decided to make my own because ticklish Sal Fisher is a must.*
Also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81520071
The apartment was unusually quiet.
No crashing music from Larry’s room, no distant hum of the TV, no neighbors arguing through thin walls. Just the soft buzz of a flickering lamp and the occasional rattle of wind against the window. It made everything feel smaller—closer somehow.
Sal lay on his side, staring at the wall, mask still on out of habit. He could hear Larry behind him, shifting around, trying (and failing) to get comfortable.
“You move any more,” Sal mumbled, voice muffled through the mask, “and you’re gonna fall off the bed.”
Larry huffed. “This bed is like… half a bed. I swear it shrinks every time I come over.”
“It’s called being tall.”
“It’s called you having a terrible bed.”
Sal let out a quiet laugh, shoulders shaking just slightly. After a second, he felt the mattress dip as Larry finally settled behind him.
“Hey,” Larry said, softer now. “Scoot back a little.”
Sal hesitated. “…Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It’s a great reason.”
Sal rolled his eye, but he shifted anyway, inching backward until his shoulder bumped lightly into Larry’s chest.
“See?” Larry murmured. “Way better.”
There was a pause.
Then, carefully—almost like he was expecting Sal to protest—Larry draped an arm over him.
Sal stiffened for half a second.
Then he relaxed.
“…You’re warm,” Larry said.
“Yeah, that’s how bodies work.”
“I’m just saying. It’s nice.”
Sal didn’t respond, but he didn’t move away either.
The quiet settled back in, heavier this time—but not uncomfortable. Just… full.
Larry shifted again, adjusting his arm where it rested across Sal’s side. His fingers brushed lightly against Sal’s ribs.
Sal jolted.
Not dramatically—but enough.
Larry blinked. “…Dude?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
“I just—moved.”
“You flinched.”
“I did not flinch.”
Larry’s hand hovered, suspicious now. Slowly, he poked Sal’s side again.
Sal sucked in a breath and curled slightly inward.
Larry went still.
Then, very slowly, a grin spread across his face.
“…No way.”
Sal froze. “Don’t.”
“Dude.”
“Larry.”
“You’re ticklish.”
“I’m not ticklish.”
“You are ticklish.”
“I’m literally not.”
Larry poked him again—same spot.
Sal immediately squirmed, a muffled laugh slipping out before he could stop it.
Larry gasped like he’d just uncovered the greatest secret of all time. “Oh my god.”
“Larry, don’t you dare—”
But it was already too late.
Larry’s fingers dug in lightly at Sal’s sides, not rough—just enough.
Sal burst into laughter, twisting away. “LARRY—!”
“There it is!” Larry laughed, tightening his arm just enough to keep Sal from escaping. “Dude, how did I not know this?!”
“Because—because you’re the worst—” Sal wheezed, trying to pry Larry’s hands away.
Larry doubled down, now fully committed. “This is amazing.”
“It’s evil!”
“It’s hilarious!”
Sal kicked his legs uselessly, laughter spilling out uncontrollably as Larry tickled up his sides and back down again.
“Okay—okay—stop—!” Sal managed between laughs.
“Say it.”
“No!”
“Say it and I’ll stop.”
“I hate you!”
“Wrong answer.”
“LARRY—!”
Larry finally eased up, laughing breathlessly as Sal collapsed forward, trying to catch his breath.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Larry leaned in a little closer again, resting his chin lightly near Sal’s shoulder.
“…You’re still smiling,” he pointed out.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Sal huffed, but didn’t argue.
After a second, Larry’s hand returned—not to tickle this time. Just resting gently against Sal’s side.
Sal tensed automatically.
“…Relax,” Larry said quietly. “I’m done. Promise.”
Sal hesitated… then slowly relaxed again.
“…You’re a jerk,” he muttered.
“Yeah, but I’m your jerk.”
Sal went very still at that.
Larry didn’t seem to notice what he’d said—at least, not right away. He just adjusted slightly, pulling Sal a little closer without thinking.
The silence came back again—but different this time.
Warmer.
Sal stared at the wall for a long moment, then quietly said, “…You’re not allowed to tell anyone.”
Larry smirked against his shoulder. “Oh, I’m absolutely telling—”
Sal elbowed him.
“—ow, okay, okay! I won’t,” Larry laughed. “Your secret’s safe.”
“…Good.”
Another pause.
Then, softer than before—
“…Hey, Larry?”
“Yeah?”
Sal hesitated, then leaned back just a little more into him.
“…Don’t stop.”
Larry smiled, tightening his arm just slightly—not teasing this time, just holding him there.
I just desperately need someone to write a new tickle fic for sally face. Preferably one where Larry just absolutely wrecks the shit outta Sal. MY NEED IS NOT BEING MET IN THIS DYING FANDOM!!
Summary: Eddie threatens to tickle him Once and Steve can't stop thinking about it.
A/N: This fic has been holding me hostage for TOO LONG, so I'm throwing out into the world.
Words: 6k
[Read it on AO3]
Eddie wasn’t dancing, exactly, but he was moving his body to the beat as he was talking. It shouldn’t be surprising to Steve to see him embody music this way - he was in a band, after all - but he found much of what made Eddie up surprised him. Inviting him to this party, for instance. Steve didn’t know what he was doing there. He knew no one other than the Corroded Coffin members, all of which, sans Eddie, he’d only met like twice. They probably didn’t know why he’d agreed to come either, but they weren’t mean about it. Mostly they just pretended he wasn’t there, which, yeah, that was fair.
It had been a long time since Steve had been to a party though, let alone drunk at one. Conformity aside, he genuinely had no business going to high school parties once he’d graduated, so he hadn’t necessarily felt as if he’d been missing out. But he had been missing them, he realized now, even though this was not his usual crowd. Even though this wasn’t strictly a high school party and he had come there without his usual security net.
Eddie was there, though. And that was a new one, too. Eddie at parties. Eddie wanting him there.
He took another swig of his beer. He’d asked Robin to come - Eddie had said he could bring her - but she was spending New Year’s Eve away. A family thing, she’d said, just like he was sure Nancy and Jonathan were also spending the last evening of the year. Family things, possibly together. Not for him.
“How come you’re not gonna be with your uncle?” Steve didn’t ask him, though he’d wondered. Eddie was leaning closer to Gareth now, both of them laughing at something Steve wasn’t able to hear from where he was standing.
The house wasn’t spilling over with bodies like the parties he used to attend when he was younger, though people were rowdy enough. Laughter was filling each space of the house, and some people were dancing much more than Eddie’s rendition of it. Wildly. Drunkely. The music was loud, but it varied in genre, and Steve could see how this was a place for the outcasts more than it was a space for him. He wasn’t King Steve anymore, but he wasn’t this, either. In between them all and belonging to no one. God, he needed a cigarette. And to get fucking laid. He drank the last of his beer and discarded the can on the kitchen island, took one more look at Eddie, who was listening intently to whatever Gareth was saying now, and left the room.
He moved through the crowd slowly, aiming for the backyard, where deck chairs were once lined neatly alongside the house, but had been spaced out throughout the garden as the night progressed. There, he could probably find one that was free, far enough that he could take a moment to breathe, but not far enough that he would look like a loner. He hated that he still cared about what people would think. Hated that it mattered so much to him.
It was closing in on midnight. He had one single cigarette on him, because he’d technically quit years ago, but had always kept that emergency one on in his jacket. Robin would disown him if she knew, but Robin wasn’t there. And besides, he could smoke it now to end this strange, strange year, and then start fresh in the new one. He could be poetic about it, if he’d been in the mindspace, which he kind of wasn’t.
He pulled it out of his pocket and promptly realized he didn’t carry a lighter. And that might’ve been his last fucking straw.
“Here.”
Eddie came out of nowhere, tossing a lighter his way. It hit Steve in the chest and fell onto his lap, and he picked it up without asking why Eddie had followed him out, or for how long he’d been watching him sit and stare into the night before he’d decided to smoke. “Thanks.”
“It comes with one condition, though,” he said, sitting down beside him.
He lit the cigarette. “Which is?”
Eddie broke into a grin. “We share that.”
Steve huffed out a laugh and handed it over. “Do the honors, then.”
Eddie took a drag, agonizingly slowly, but there was something beautiful about the way he took pleasure in the entire act. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
“I don’t.” Steve took it back, was much more in a rush. “Well, not anymore. Don’t you dare tell Robin about this.”
“My lips are sealed.”
He took it back when Steve was done, and they sat like that for a while, passing the cigarette between them, the music getting louder each time someone opened the door. Steve kind of wished he’d grabbed his coat on the way out. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and let Eddie smoke up the rest.
“So.” Eddie threw the butt onto the ground, crushed it with his shoe. “You having fun?”
“Oh, the time of my life.”
Eddie huffed. “Fuckin’ liar.”
Steve let out a laugh. “Sorry. I’m in a weird mood.”
“Isn’t that the usual end of year tradition.”
“I guess.”
“I’m glad you came, though.” Eddie was looking at the ground, still crushing the cigarette butt. “Even if you’ve forgotten how to socialize.”
“Oh, shut up.” Steve shoved his shoulder and Eddie smiled, and neither of them mentioned the first part of what he said.
“You got any resolutions?”
Steve hummed. “Not really?”
“You’re not a resolutions guy, then?”
“I haven’t really thought about it.”
“I am.”
“Oh? Do share.”
Eddie shook his head. “Nuh uh. Not happening.”
“Oh, come on. You’re the one who brought it up.” Steve leaned closer and poked his chest. “Now I’m curious.”
Eddie pushed his hand away. “Stay curious, Ponyboy.”
Steve poked him again. He wasn’t sure when they became playful with each other, but it came easily to him now, a couple of beers in. He aimed his poke lower this time, hitting Eddie in the upper ribs, and he twisted away with something so similar to a laugh that Steve did it again.
He grabbed his wrist. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Harrington,” he said, voice low.
Steve raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“You don’t know this yet.” He leaned closer, as if confiding him in a secret. “But I’m a really fucking good tickler.”
It was like his life shifted. It was funny, how something like that could happen in a stranger’s backyard, from just a few simple words coming from a guy he barely knew a year ago. Steve sat there, still slightly too cold, and felt his soul do somersaults. And Eddie, who probably had no idea that what he’d said would soon define everything, smirked.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You really that ticklish?”
Steve had never felt so shy so suddenly. “No.”
“No?”
“I mean-”
“Oh my god, you’re so flustered.” Eddie’s smile softened, though it was still absolutely merciless. “It doesn’t really help your case, if I’m being honest. But I might be nice. I might wait until we’re alone.”
Steve could tell that he was blushing, and he didn’t know what to do with that. “I- oh.”
People were suddenly rushing outside, giddy and laughing, and soon they were all counting down from ten, and Steve realized the clock was striking twelve, and it took everything in him to pull his attention away from Eddie and stand up, join in, looking at Eddie as everyone screamed out for the new year. He was looking back. He was smiling, but there was something reserved about it.
“Happy new year,” he said and leaned in, pausing only to allow Steve to protest, before pressing their lips together, briefly, hidden in the shadows as the sky lit up with fireworks, and if Steve thought his life was about to change earlier, it was nothing compared to this.
*
He woke up hungover in a bed he didn’t recognize at first. First thought: he was dying of thirst.
“Hnngg.” He tried to sit up, but the room was bright enough - what the hell - that he rolled back over to press his face into the pillow, which was kind of weirdly hairy.
“You could say that again.”
He opened his eyes fully. “Eddie.”
“Stevie.” Eddie was clearly feeling as groggy as he was. “Stop fussing, it’s too early.”
“Thirsty.”
“Oh my god.” He waved his hand around. “There’s a glass by your side of the bed, I’m pretty sure. And aspirin, if you need it.”
“So considerate.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Not my doing. Wayne’s.”
“Your uncle?”
“He picked us up, remember?”
Steve positively did not remember. “How much did I drink last night?”
“Not too much.” Eddie let out an amused sound. “Though you downed about five shots in way too little time.”
“Oh my god, Eddie, why did you let me do that?” he groaned and rolled over onto his back. “I’m too old for shit like that.”
“You’re barely 20, dude, relax.”
Steve tried to sit up again, head spinning, when the wave of nausea hit and he found himself fumbling out of the bed, knocking the glass over in the process and just barely getting to the bathroom in time once he managed to find it to puke his guts up. Eddie must’ve not had as much to drink as him - had probably skipped the five shots - because by the time he returned to the bedroom he was wiping the water off of the floor with what looked like a t-shirt. “I think I’m gonna die. This is it for me.”
He crawled back into the bed and closed his eyes, willing death, or at the very least sleep, to seize him.
A hand in his hair. “I’ll get you some more water, okay?”
Steve remained where he was, willing himself not to think too much. Thinking never did him very good, he’d come to realize. Eddie returned quickly, quietly, this time tapping him on the arm to get his attention. “Drink.”
He sat up again. Drank. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Eddie settled beside him again, so very close. Did they really sleep this close? He was still wearing his shirt from last night, but his jeans had been exchanged for a pair of slightly too big shorts, similar to the ones Eddie was wearing. He tried not to imagine what that had been like, taking his pants off while he was blackout drunk.
“You okay? Need to throw up again?”
“Huh? Oh, no, no, I’m good. I think it helped. Throwing up, that is.”
“It usually does.”
Steve leaned back again, hesitating for a moment before raising his arms above his head. It was comfortable, but he would be a liar to say he only did it for comfort. He kept his gaze on the wall as he said, “Tell me what I did last night.”
Eddie snorted. “What didn’t you do?”
“Oh my god, Eddie, don’t say that.”
“Danced on the table with Gareth, for one.”
“What the fuck.”
“My thoughts exactly! I bet he feels worse than you today, if it brings you any comfort.”
“It really doesn’t.”
Eddie’s smile softened. “Despite how you might feel today, I think maybe you really needed to just let loose. Don’t be embarrassed. It was better than you brooding in the corner.”
“I wasn’t brooding.”
“You totally were.”
“No, really, I-” He lowered one arm. Needed the movement for emphasis. “I just felt out of place, all right? I know what people think of me and I know what I was like back in school, but I’m different now and I guess I still haven’t really found my place and I was standing there and just didn’t know how to act.”
“You were insecure.” Eddie said it as if he just realized it.
Steve shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And shy.”
“Hey now.”
“It was really unfairly cute actually.”
“I- what?”
Eddie just grinned, as if he hadn’t unraveled Steve at least three times in the span of 12 hours. Speaking of.
He raised his arm again, almost as if to test him. If Eddie had caught on, or even remembered, he didn’t let it show. “So I reckon you didn’t down five shots in one hour then.”
“I took two. Figured someone had to take care of you.”
“Who took care of Gareth?”
“Oh, Gareth was entirely sober. I think he likes you.”
“Only took me making a fool out of myself.”
“Letting loose,” Eddie corrected him.
“Letting loose. Whatever.”
“Did you have fun, at least?”
“Hmm. I don’t remember most of the night, but I’m sure I did.”
Eddie was quiet for a moment, before asking, “How much do you remember?”
Ah. Okay. He was allowing Steve the freedom of making a choice. All right then.
“I remember you dancing.”
“Excuse me?” Eddie laughed, so loudly and suddenly that Steve had to grin. “I never danced!”
“Not, like, properly. But I remember you swaying to the beat.”
“That’s hardly dancing.”
“It was cute either way.”
Eddie huffed. “All right, what else?”
“Us smoking.”
“And not to tell Robin. Or Wayne, for that matter.”
“And-”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
“Ah. Well then.” Eddie suddenly reached for him and Steve pulled his arms down quickly without really thinking. “Relax, I’m just grabbing the aspirins.”
“Right.”
He reached over him for the bottle which he’d placed on the nightstand. “I do remember that.”
“What?”
He opened the bottle. “You panicking when I threatened to tickle you. I have a feeling you remember it as well, but I digress.”
“I wasn’t panicking.”
“You so were. Here. Take one.”
“I- thanks. I was not.”
“Mmm, don’t believe you. I think you, Steve Harrington, are really ticklish.” Eddie’s grin was lethal. “And would you look at that. We’re alone.”
“Eddie-”
“Except for my uncle, of course.” Eddie cocked his head. “So not fully alone after all.”
Steve exhaled. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” In ways Eddie probably didn’t realize.
He laughed. “I’ll make you breakfast. How does some real greasy bacon sound?”
*
Steve couldn’t let it go. Steve has a mission. Maybe a resolution, even, which had settled in his bones as the sky had exploded with fireworks. Just once, though preferably more. He was greedy, he knew. He couldn’t let it fucking go.
They hung out more now. It was their thing. Smoking on Eddie’s porch and watching movies late into the night and going for drives when the town felt a little too stifling for them both. And they did most of it alone, too, but Eddie was either leaving him hanging on purpose or was just oblivious to it. Steve couldn’t decide which one was more believable.
They also hung out with Eddie’s other friends. Gareth had settled on liking Steve one day and being indifferent to him the next, which kept him on his toes more than he would like to admit. Eddie told him not to mind him. That he was used to Eddie bringing people into their group whenever he scoped out newcomings who needed it, but that Steve wasn’t his usual kind. Steve had lowered his gaze when he’d said it, but Eddie had reached for his chin and dropped his hand with a laugh when he’d flinched away.
They spent time with Robin, and obviously Dustin, who seemed to be in a limbo of being jealous of their new friendship and over the moon about it. Sometimes they even hung out with Nancy and Jonathan. Sometimes all of them together in strange combinations, though that was rare. Mostly Steve couldn’t let go of the fact that it made much more sense for Eddie to hang out with Jonathan and Nancy and Dustin and Robin than it did for him to hang out with him.
And yet.
They still hadn’t talked about the kiss. And they never did kiss again. Steve wasn’t sure why he’d expected it. It would be infinitely easier to get Eddie to tickle him than to kiss him again, and that was really fucking hard, as it turned out.
“You okay?”
She had been doing that recently. Watching him and his erratic behavior. He would have found it sweet had he not been a nervous wreck as it was without onlookers. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”
Robin raised an eyebrow. “Will I have to force it out of you?”
Steve looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. He wasn’t picky. If Eddie wasn’t going to tickle him, Robin for sure was. She’d never done it before, but it wouldn’t be abnormal behavior. It wouldn’t be unusual for her to lunge at him and figure out a thing or two and then keep going.
“Mind your business, okay?” he snapped, and maybe she would’ve done something had Eddie not showed up just then, carrying a plastic bag filled with beers into Steve’s living room. When Steve looked back at her, she was already busy with something else.
How ironic for him to interrupt something Steve only did because he wouldn’t. He didn’t feel brave enough to do it when he was around, but he realized he became bolder when he wasn’t there. Provoking them all. Sometimes he even started tickling them himself, which he never had before and which for some reason never resulted in revenge. He also became cuddlier, longing for scratches along his back to become gentler, to make him squirm. If any of them, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan, found that he was acting strange, they didn’t bring it up.
He remained untickled. And so he was back to the source.
Not every moment he spent alone with Eddie was laced with this longing. Sometimes he really did just exist, leaning against the armrest of the couch as they were watching a movie or pouring Wayne a cup of coffee before he left for work in the evenings. He didn’t know when he became so comfortable there, but Eddie had told him many a times that both him and Wayne found it weird whenever he’d not been around for more than a couple of days.
The late March sun was blinding him, but he was too lazy to get up and close the blinds. “Eddie,” he called out weakly. “Help.”
“What is it?”
“Sun.”
Eddie stuck his head into the room. “What?”
“Sun.”
“Okay? I- oh my god, you did not just call me in here to close the fucking blinds.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t sound very sorry.” He moved closer slowly, and Steve felt a sudden wave of anticipation hit him. Maybe. Maybe. But Eddie only walked over to the window to do what he was asked. “Better?”
“Mm, yeah.”
“You absolute princess.”
Steve laughed. “Sorry.”
Eddie loomed over him on the bed, and Steve did his best to lay entirely still. Wayne was at work. They were alone and Steve had inconvenienced him. Surely that would be enough. He grinned up at him, all but batting his eyelashes, and Eddie rolled his eyes. “Scoot over.”
“There’s plenty of room on the other side of the bed.”
“I said-” A finger in his face. So close. So close. “Scoot over.”
Steve jutted his chin out. “Make me.”
“Oho. You’re forgetting, Steve.” Eddie’s smirk was lethal. “I know a thing or two about how to knock you down a peg. I mean, I might not have seen you get wrecked-” He leaned closer. “But I’ve seen how you’ve reacted when I threaten to do it. And I’ve seen the way you flinch if I get too close. So I would be careful if I were you. You’ve really been asking for it recently, being so bratty and all but teasing me with your spots.” He paused, something flickering across his face.
Oh no.
“Wait.”
Oh no.
“Have you-” For the first time since Steve got to know him, Eddie looked uncertain. “You- you’ve not been doing it on purpose, have you?”
Steve didn’t reply.
“Steve.”
“Hm, what? Doing what?”
“You know.” Amusement in the corner of his lips. God, Steve didn’t know what to do with that.
He looked away. “Ah. That.”
Eddie rounded the bed and sat down beside him on his other side, making the mattress dip ever so slightly so that Steve felt himself lean toward him. “Hey. We can totally drop it if you don’t wanna talk about it, but I would like to understand.”
“What, my weird desire to get tickled by you?”
“It’s not weird, I don’t think, but-” He shrugged. “Yeah, that.” A smile. “I’m especially interested in the ‘by me’ part.”
Steve bumped their shoulders together. “Don’t get a big head about it. It’s your fault for threatening me on New Year’s Eve.”
“Is that why you became all flustered?”
“Oh my god, I think this conversation will be the death of me, but- yeah. Whatever.” He picked at a loose thread on Eddie’s comforter. “I’ve always- liked it. In some way. At first I thought I liked the roughhousing I used to do with friends when I was younger. But when I started getting into relationships. I mean, obviously I would do it to them. Just to tease, you know. Flirt. And sometimes they would do it back, which, oh my god, I didn’t realize it was the actual tickling I liked, but.” He trailed off, embarrassed. “Anyway. I always found no one ever did it for long enough or often enough to satisfy me, but I kinda had bigger problems, so I haven’t thought about it for a long time.”
“Until our talk during New Year’s.”
“Exactly. Just the way you made it sound as if you wouldn’t make it last for only thirty seconds. Oh, god.” Steve slid down the bed and hid his face under the covers. “This is humiliating.”
A hand on top of his head. “Why? Have I shown any judgment?”
“Well, no.”
“Have I made it sound as if I don’t find this incredibly sweet and hot?”
“I mean, no, but you’ve also not said that.”
“That’s fair.” His hand traced the side of Steve’s face, until he gently gripped his chin. “Come out, please. I want to say it to your face.”
Steve let himself get pulled back into the light, and Eddie let his hand linger on his face, all the things they’d left unsaid filling the room. That was the crux of it. That Steve’s desire came with so much more than just the tickling. That he wanted Eddie to do it to him. That he wanted Eddie and no one else to pin him and unravel him and laugh into his neck and kiss him when Steve couldn’t take it anymore. That was why it never worked, provoking anyone else. It was as if they could all tell that that wasn’t theirs to do. How could he make all of this known, when he couldn’t even acknowledge that he remembered their kiss, how gentle Eddie had been, how they’d dragged it out for longer than was needed. How Steve stupidly hadn’t known how to interpret it and had run away, and how Eddie had never held that against him even though he kept coming around, desperate for something without feeling brave enough to ask for it.
If Eddie saw any of that on his face, he didn’t say anything. Only dropped his hand, much to Steve’s chagrin, and smiled. That beautiful fucking smile.
“I think it’s really sweet,” he said, leaning back a bit as if to see him better. “and really hot, that you want to be tickled by me. That you want to be tickled in general, but especially by me.”
Steve nodded. “All right. Okay. Cool.”
He laughed. “And I think it’s really endearing how shy you are about it, but I’ll digress.” He exhaled. “Right. My turn, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“To confess.” He scratched the back of his neck, the very image of bashfulness which would have made Steve gone feral had he not been in the trenches of his own embarrassment. “You see, me threatening to tickle you was a bit calculated. I mean.” He let out a laugh. “You made it so easy for me, it was amazing. It made me wonder if you’d somehow figured it out, even though it made no sense because I’d made a very conscious decision not to pursue you until I knew if I stood a chance.”
“Pursue me.”
“In more than one way, but I think you know I like you, Steve, you have to know that.”
Steve’s heart was doing somersaults. “I-”
“No, wait, one confession at a time.” Eddie looked away. “Anyway. I’m not trying to be a creep about it, I promise you, but the thought of tickling you, even for just a moment, still makes me go crazy. And when you reacted like that.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know how to interpret it, so I just haven’t done it. I sometimes felt like all the signs I’m now sure you’ve shown were things I made up in my head.”
Steve groaned. “I thought I would go crazy from how oblivious you seemed.”
Eddie burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, but what would you have done in my shoes?”
“I have literally no idea.” Steve pulled his arms out from under the covers. “So. You like me.” The fear that briefly crossed Eddie’s face made him scramble to say, “I like you too.”
“You do?”
“Obviously, Eddie, oh my god.”
Eddie held out his hands. “Just checking.”
Steve shook his head. “Stupid.”
“Hey, watch your tone now.”
“And what if I don’t?”
Eddie seemed delighted. “Then I have no choice but to withhold tickles.”
“Aw, man, that’s not fair.”
“I need to ask you something,” he suddenly said. “Before I wreck you. Do you really not remember our kiss?”
Steve licked his lips. “Of course I remember. I panicked, I’m sorry.”
Eddie put his knuckles against his cheek. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Really.”
“It was still a stupid thing to lie about. I should’ve just been honest.” Steve leaned into the touch. “Speaking of. I lied about another thing. When you asked if I had any resolutions for the new year. Well, I didn’t then, but I do now.”
“Oh? Do share.”
Steve shook his head with a laugh. “Nuh uh. Not happening.”
Eddie grabbed his jaw. “Well, I better force it out of you then.”
Most fantasies were never as good in real life, but this was something else. From the way Eddie was suddenly straddling his lap, using his body to pin him to the mattress and making Steve’s entire being fill up with butterflies, to the way he was grinning, such playfulness, such unwavering confidence in what he was doing. It would be a lie to say he would be happy with just this, with simply the foreplay of it all. If Eddie would stop now, simply back off and leave Steve entirely untickled, he was pretty certain he would die.
But Eddie didn’t stop. Eddie had barely started, as it turned out.
“Any last words, Harrington?” he asked, looming over him as he pinned his arms to each side of his head.
“Three, actually.” He felt himself flush. “Make it good.”
“Oho, that I will. I can promise you that.”
The seconds before Eddie started felt like an eternity. Partly because he seemed to allow himself a moment to simply watch him, tilting his head with that ghost of a smile on his lips that always made Steve feel things in much more normal circumstances. Steve felt his whole body twitching from the anticipation. He was so exposed, underarms and all. And maybe he would be able to squirm away, struggle with all his might and escape, but something told him Eddie would make sure he didn’t until he really truly wanted out. He could tell that Eddie would know, somehow, when he’d had enough. He felt, he realized with a jolt, entirely safe.
That didn’t mean his body didn’t physically try to escape the very moment Eddie let go of one of his arms and placed his fingertips on his upper ribs. He wasn’t even tickling him, really, and yet Steve felt something seize him, something like panic and anticipation and something he couldn’t fully identify. He didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t know what to do with it at all, so when he finally got what he wanted, what he’d spent the past few months and years and his whole life wanting so desperately, he forgot to enjoy it. All he could do was struggle back, as if it was too much, and maybe it was.
“Hey hey.” Eddie’s hand on his cheek. Eddie wearing a look of concern which made him even prettier, somehow. “You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, really, it’s okay.”
Steve exhaled. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Well, I can’t tell you what you’re feeling, but I can share my theory.”
“Please do.” Steve couldn’t look at him, but Eddie let him turn his head away. Eddie, who was still straddling him but now kept his hands to himself.
“I mean, this is a super vulnerable thing, right? Allowing yourself to be touched like this on already sensitive spots. I know I’ve been teasing you and all, but it really is okay to be nervous about it or to change your mind. This isn’t a very common situation. You freaked out, that’s all.”
Steve pressed his palms against his eyes. “Right.”
“We can stop.” He made a move to get off, Steve could feel it, but he reached out to grab his arm.
“Wait, no.”
Eddie’s smile was soft. “No?”
“I don’t wanna stop.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Just.” Steve waved a hand around, suddenly impatient. “Just do it, okay? Don’t give me time to overthink.”
“If you say so.”
Eddie’s hands were on him instantly, curling over his sides in such an unbearable way that he started laughing almost immediately. He still struggled back, gripped Eddie’s wrists and dug his heels into the mattress, only this time it looked different. It wasn’t the same desperation to flee, but simply to get a moment of relief. It was fun, he realized, to shove insisting hands away only for them to return. Call him a masochist. He couldn’t help being built this way. He couldn’t believe he’d found someone who fit his puzzle piece so effortlessly, as cheesy as it sounded.
“Oh my god, no- please- Eddie- shit!”
“Having fun?”
“Shut uhuhup!”
“Oohh, feisty, are we. It must tickle like crazy and I’ve only tried one spot.” Eddie laughed along with him. “My, my, how will this go?”
Eddie couldn’t know what spots of his made him react in certain ways, but Steve could tell he was taking it in as he moved over his torso. He was analyzing and learning. Steve realized, in the midst of trying to curl in on himself as Eddie vibrated his fingers over his lower stomach, that he had been right. He was a really good tickler. It wasn’t just about the tickling itself, but he knew just how to keep Steve pinned to the mattress with his thighs, how to tease him just right to make it all the more exhilarating and, had Steve been someone else, frustrating. Not to mention that he knew exactly how to move his hands over his body, as if he’d been doing this for years. But Eddie had found out about him allegedly being ticklish only months ago.
“Who else have you been tickling?” he didn’t ask, though he wondered, something sour and ugly settling over his chest at the thought of it. It lasted only a second, because Eddie had just discovered that one spot on his hip and Steve was now busy howling and bucking for his life.
“Eddie, fuck! Not there, no-” Steve grabbed his wrists, squeezing the bones but he didn’t try to shove him away. He felt he had a level of control like this, which Eddie must’ve realized because he didn’t try to slip free. Instead he let Steve hang on as he switched spots, settling on his lower ribs and sending Steve into a giggle fit. It was nice, not needing to thrash. But it tickled. It tickled so bad he would for sure go crazy with time.
“Imagine how bad this would be if I went under your shirt,” Eddie murmured, circling the same spot over and over. “I’m sure I could make you beg even more, but I’m enjoying your laughter too much to push you that far so early.”
“You’re so fucking- shit!”
“Ah, sweet spot?”
How he’d longed for this. Two decades of trying to figure it out and Eddie unraveled it all within minutes.
He threw his head back as the giggles wracked through his body, and Eddie finally moved on to another, equally ticklish spot, and their dance continued. It was only once he reached his neck that Steve started fighting back in earnest, which seemed to be Eddie’s cue to stop.
“You did so good,” he told him, which, wow, okay, Steve could totally be normal about that. “How was it? How do you feel?”
“I feel- like mush. But like. Static-y at the same time.”
Eddie let out a laugh. “That’s good?”
“Oh, it is. I just-” Steve rubbed at his neck. “I feel tickly.”
“Well, I would sure hope so, considering I just tickled you.”
He breathed out a laugh. “Shut up. I’m not in a position to make sense.”
“Did you enjoy it?” Something crossed his face. Something Steve could now recognize as timidness. “Was it good?”
“So good, Jesus, Eddie, you fucking beautiful genius.”
They laughed together, which wasn’t new, but this felt different now. Everything had been unlocked with each curl of Eddie’s fingers. He leaned down to laugh into Steve’s chest, his hair tickling his face, and Steve wrapped his arms around him because he couldn’t handle not to. He tangled his fingers into his hair and felt Eddie inch his fingers into his underarms. When he clamped his arms down, laughter already pouring out of his throat and spilling out into the bedroom, he caught Eddie raising his head to beam at him.
And then Wayne came home. Because of course he did.
*
Steve spent the night without needing to make up a reason for it. He settled on Eddie’s bed and allowed himself to scoot closer under the covers, and when his mind tried to sabotage him, as it often did, Eddie pressed his lips to his cheek and it was so very easy to turn his head to capture his mouth with his own. He didn’t run away this time, and Eddie wasn’t afraid of touching him now. There was something about laughing into his lips when he felt fingertips spider over his spine, just shy of ticklish, that had Steve addicted.
“Is this okay?” Eddie asked him, running his hand over his side. “Would you prefer not to get tickled right now?”
“No, no, it’s okay.”
“You like it.”
“I do, yeah.”
“Good.” Eddie bumped their foreheads together. “I like it too. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
Steve shivered at the touch, but realized Eddie wasn’t aiming to make him laugh. Just stroking his skin, catching him between relaxed and squirmy. A state he could get used to being in. If he kept this up, Eddie would for sure discover that he adored having his back lightly scratched, and that if you moved over his lower back just right, you could hit that one ticklish spot he couldn’t handle having touched. If he knew Eddie, he knew he’d never forget about that spot. And he knew Eddie pretty damn well at this point.
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