Reader and Writer of Fluffy Tickle Fics • Multi-Fandom • Grad School Attendee • • est. 2000 • She/They • Happily Married to the Sweetest and Most Terrifying Tickle Monster Ever • Gemini • 🏳️🌈🏳️⚧️ LGBTQ • PFP *NOT* MINE
Dick laughed at the attempt, though, and just kept spidering his fingers up and down Jason’s sides. “Nice try, Little Wing. Do you yield, or….?”
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“B!” Jason shrieked into the gross, sweaty wrestling mat below him. He tried to jab his elbow back to knock Dick off of him, but his stupid fucking older brother wasn’t budging.
Ugh. After being knocked off his feet by Dick twice before, Jason had been determined to figure out how to escape this pin. He just hadn’t counted on Dick flipping him facedown and tickling the everloving shit out of him.
“Fuck you!” Jason hissed, but he couldn’t help the cackles that forced their way into his voice. He shrugged his shoulders, attempted to twist or rock or something, but no matter what, Dick’s larger mass rendered him damn near immovable.
Dick laughed again, but this time it was a low chuckle that set the hairs on the back of Jason’s neck crawling. “Adorable. Still gonna regret that, though.”
Before Jason could suck down enough air to reply, Dick slid his fingers under Jason’s t-shirt and started scribbling at the bare skin around his hips. Fuck him for knowing exactly where Jason’s worst ticklish spot was.
Jason screamed out a wordless laugh and convulsed, shoving both his hands back like he even had a prayer of grabbing Dick’s wrists. It was like his body forgot how to move the instant someone tickled him, but especially there.
“Someone’s ticklish, hm?” Dick teased.
“BRUCE!” Jason shrieked again. “He–hehehelp!” His forehead pressed against the mat below him.
Dick switched from scribbles to pinching and poking at his hip bones. At that point, the teeny tiny corner of Jason’s brain that still held Thoughts resigned itself to laughing until he couldn’t breathe and was forced to tap out. The snorts and hiccups that each poke drew out of him really broke up his normal shrieking laugher, which just made Jason’s face heat up more. He probably sounded so incredibly stupid.
Then, suddenly, Dick made a startled squawking sound and his weight abruptly vanished. As weird as that was, Jason was too busy curling into a tight ball to giggle off the leftover ticklish feelings that buzzed around his hips and sides to really pay attention.
A large, warm hand settled on top of his head. “Still with us, Jaylad?”
“Y-yeah,” he managed, craning his neck back to look up at Bruce. The fond amusement on his dad’s face made him want to squirm and curl back up. “He’s bullying me, B.”
“I am not!” Dick’s voice rang out from somewhere behind Bruce. “He wouldn’t yield!”
“It’s not fair,” Jason insisted even as he felt the wide grin tugging his mouth upwards. “I don’t even know how to - how to get ‘im back!”
Bruce hummed, a low rumble. His fingers gently carded through Jason’s curls, tugging at some of the snarls there, until he rose back to his feet. “I suppose that’s a fair point, son.”
Noticeably, Dick was silent.
As Bruce stepped back, Jason pushed himself up to a sitting position just in time to watch him tackle Dick to the same mat as Dick started screeching and cursing. Some of Jason’s newly-acquired younger brother instincts perked up at seeing the tables turned on his older brother.
“Jaylad,” Bruce called, grunting as he wrestled Dick’s arms over his head. “Care to learn?”
“Obviously,” Jasion said. He got to his feet and hurried over, grinning down at Dick’s piss-poor attempt to glare at him. “Hi, Dickhead.”
“Jason,” Dick began. “If you help him, you won’t be able to breathe when I’m done with you.” But even as he spoke, he was entirely relaxed. No twitching or testing Bruce’s grip, or trying to swing his legs up to kick their Dad in the head – and Jason knew that Dick was still flexible enough to pull that off, even though he was eighteen and ancient. Strands of hair from his new floppy haircut fell into his eyes, but he didn’t seem distressed.
These observations got filed away into his memory for future consideration as Jason turned to Bruce. “How can I help?”
Bruce’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at Jason. “Here, do you think you can pin his hands down?”
“Absolutely.” To keep Dick from pulling some crazy acrobat move and getting his wrists free, Jason shoved Dick’s hands under his knees while also pressing on his forearms. This way, he could anchor his slippery older brother in two places, instead of one.
Meanwhile, Bruce shifted around to sit on Dick’s hips, effectively pinning his lower body to the ground.
Dick huffed in annoyance that Jason was 80 percent sure he was faking. “You’re getting fat.”
Bruce retaliated by pinching right under his lower ribs on both sides, which instantly made Dick screech and throw his head back.
“So, Jason,” Bruce said, looking up to meet Jason’s eyes. “I’m sure you’ve observed that Dickie here is wildly ticklish around his ribs and legs.” This was true, based on Jason’s limited observations of the times Bruce had tickled Dick.
Jason nodded.
“Today, I’d like to show you a different way of tickling him that will hopefully even out your capability to retaliate when you eventually beat him in a spar.” Bruce’s mouth quirked up in a quick grin when Dick gasped and started tugging on his arms.
“B,” Dick said, wriggling around as much as he could. “Not – not that–”
“Are you yielding?” Jason asked with as much obnoxiousness as he had in him.
Dick rolled his eyes. “Nothing to yield to, dumbass.”
“Well,” said Bruce, evidently taking that as a cue. “Let me give you something.”
When Bruce leaned over him, Dick had to bite his lip to hide the smile that was already trying to break out. It wasn’t his fault, he always felt a hundred times more ticklish whenever B loomed like that, and B knew.
“Wait,” he said. Somehow he already had to try not to giggle, too. “B–”
“I thought the waiting makes it worse, chum,” B replied. He was smiling in that squishy way that somehow always made Dick feel shy, as if he didn’t have bigger impending problems to worry about.
Just as he was going to say something else, Bruce tapped the inside of his right elbow and dragged a single finger down the inside of Dick’s arm.
The feeling instantly made Dick want to crawl out of his skin. Panicky giggles exploded out of his lungs before he really had the chance to fight them, and he tried to pull that arm down from Jason’s grip. “B–Bruhuhuce!”
“Whoa,” Jason breathed. “No way.”
Dick’s face blazed with heat as he tugged on his arm again, while Bruce just reversed his path, this time making a zig zag line. “It’s not–”
“Oh,” Bruce cut him off with another one of those smiles. “It is.”
Dick blinked as Bruce brought his other hand up and immediately started scribbling on Dick’s other arm, right above the hollow of his armpit. More fingers joined the hand that had already been tracing up and down Dick’s right tricep.
Dick screeched. He shook his head even though that was undoubtedly making a mess of his hair and laughed, hysterical bouts of giggles interspersed with the occasional squeal that made him certain he was blushing all the way down his neck. “NOHO–B, nahat thehehehre!”
“Yes there,” Jason muttered above him. “I don’t believe it.”
He tried to yank his arms down, to do anything to make the insanely electric tickles stop, but his little brother had managed to hold him still. Between Jason’s shock at hearing Dick giggle and the affection radiating from their dad, Dick couldn’t stop the giant grin bunching up his face as he jolted from side to side. Bruce switched up what side got what method, scribbling near Dick’s right armpit while tracing featherlight lines on Dick’s left arm, and Dick snorted as more of those ridiculous giggles bubbled out of him.
“He has tickle spots,” Bruce said. He was probably speaking for Jason’s benefit. “But this is his giggle spot.”
Dick blinked hard as tears of laughter blurred in his eyes, but he could still see Jason’s serious nod like this was some kind of school lesson. Okay, that was adorable. Almost worth getting pinned down and reduced to a heap of giggles and titters.
For a momentary reprieve, Bruce stilled his hands. “You can try different methods, too. Up here,” he quickly scrabbled his fingers near one of Dick’s elbows. Dick jerked, startled, but giggled. “Gets the sweet giggles. He’s had those since he was little–”
“Dad,” Dick protested as another wave of heat rose to his face.
“But down here,” Bruce ignored him, the bastard, and traced light circles with the same hand in that infernal spot right above Dick’s armpit. This time, Dick tried to hold in his laughter, but one amused smirk from Bruce sent him into a fit of screechy giggles. “He’s going to get a little more screechy. Still giggles, though. And this spot on both arms–” He added his other hand again, tracing matching light circles on the identical place on Dick’s other arm.
It was maddening. Dick’s head lolled to the side as he gave up on struggling or going anywhere and just laughed, fits and sputters of snickering giggles that sounded like they belonged to a much younger child. Usually Bruce didn’t get him this bad when he went for Dick’s inner arms. Usually Bruce didn’t get him this bad, period, not when they’d been fighting lately.
But here, laughing his head off as his Dad tickled the sanity out of him, things almost felt all the way normal. Something warm and fuzzy curled around the ticklish butterflies in Dick’s stomach, and he knew he wasn’t just smiling from the tickles. Even if it meant getting obliterated in front of his younger brother, it was good to know that Bruce still wanted to mess around like this, that Bruce was still going to be his dad and tickle him into a puddle.
“Wow, Dickie, you’re gonna giggle yourself to death,” Jason teased. It shouldn’t have been so effective.
Dick groaned – or, tried to – only to immediately yelp when Bruce switched it up again, this time swirling looping patterns up and down both his arms. “B! Ple–plehease, it’s so – it’s soho bahaha–had!” Some part of his brain just shut off like there wasn’t time anymore, only tickles that felt like they’d never stop. He squeezed his eyes shut but immediately opened them again when Bruce – when Bruce blew a fucking rasperry on his inner elbow and Dick’s laughter pitched up into rapidfire, shrieky giggles.
“Hey,” Jason said. “If you can get your arms free, you can make him stop.”
Dick tugged on his arms again, but he really was stuck fast. He tried to scowl up at Jason’s angelic, beaming smile, and probably failed miserably. “Jackass!”
Jason smirked at him. “You could give him some incentive, B.”
Incentive –?
But one of Bruce’s hands disappeared and an instant later, was pinching and poking at that infernal soft spot right under Dick’s lowest ribs. Dick shouted, cackling, and spasmed, arching his back like he could somehow get away from Bruce’s fingers. “B! Fu–huhuck you!”
Bruce responded to that by using his other hand to torment the matching tickle spot on Dick’s other side.
“HEY!” Dick screeched. He cackled, full-on belly laughter, and tried to twist. Oh god it tickled it tickled it tickled, he was going to die–
And then Jason’s smaller, colder fingers were tickling lightly on his inner arms, right above his armpits, and Dick cracked.
His laughter went silent, coming out in wheezy gasps as he tossed his head back, barely able to catch his breath. He couldn’t – he couldn’t think, it was too much, he felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin onto the ceiling and finally, he cried, “Okay! I – I yiehehHEELD or wha–whahate-eve-evehehr!”
All the sets of evil, tickling fingers disappeared, and Jason shuffled sideways to free his wrists. Dick immediately pulled his arms down and hugged himself, rubbing his arms to try and banish the leftover prickles. He barely registered it when Bruce got off him, but was definitely aware of his dad’s strong arms scooping him up like he was a little kid again and settling Dick against his chest.
“That was incredible,” Jason was saying. “Thanks for showing me, B.”
Dick didn’t even have the energy to flip him off.
“Who’s adorable now, huh, Dickwing?” his little brother continued, and Dick just huffed out a tired laugh.
“He is, isn’t he?” Bruce murmured. The words rumbled through his chest and buzzed pleasantly against Dick’s ears. Dick felt a gentle kiss pressed to his hair. “Underneath all that screeching.”
Oh, he was so going to get Jason for this.
Dick wasn’t sure if he was blushing again or if he’d just never stopped. Either way, he turned to press his face into Bruce’s chest. “Dad.”
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“I could get out of this easy,” Dick said.
And, yeah, Jason knew damn well that Dick could get away if he really wanted to. He pushed Dick’s hands back behind his head and held them there so Dick was stuck like that facedown on the couch.
“Yeah, but you won’t.”
Dick gave a put-upon sigh. “I have to indulge my adorable baby brothers every now and then, otherwise they take my big brother card.”
Jason snorted, but he was internally relishing in Dick’s desire to allow them to mess with him like this. Apparently there were some parts of being a little brother that you just didn’t grow out of.
He looked up at Tim, who was awaiting instructions while he perched on Dick’s calves, where’d he’d been sitting while they watched old Buffy reruns.
“Alright, Timbit, listen up.”
Tim nodded, tilting his head in earnest curiosity. “Listening.”
Excellent. He’d be a quick study. Jason winked at him and poked the index finger of his free hand against one of Dick’s elbows. “So, the other day, I told you that this sends Dickiebird damn near into outer space, yeah?”
“Do not,” Dick growled, even though he couldn’t lean his head up to glare at either of them. “Timmy, don’t listen to him.”
Tim’s eyebrows quirked up, but he grinned. “Why not?”
“Because if you do, I’m going to throw you onto the carpet and give that ticklish tummy of yours raspberries until you pass out, you little terror.” Despite his grumbling, Dick’s words lacked the heat of real irritation.
The threat still rattled Tim enough for him to protectively wrap his arms around his middle, flustered.
“Ah, don’t let him scare you,” Jason said. He poked Dick’s elbow again, then started tracing swirling lines from his inner elbow to his armpit. “He won’t seem all that intimidating in a couple minutes.”
A half-strangled sound burst out of Dick before he shoved his face deeper into the couch to muffle any further laughter. Well, that just wasn’t fair.
Jason briefly dug his fingers into Dick’s underarm so that Dick’s shout of laughter would break down into giggles as soon as Jason went back to his upper arm.
“Ja–hay!” Dick’s voice cracked as he protested. “Do–do not–”
But Jason did. And oh, did he ever. He pulled out all the stops from another lifetime’s memories of Dick giggling and shrieking beneath Bruce, and replicated most of their father’s techniques now. Scribbling near his elbow still sent Dick into fits of giggles, while digging in right above his armpit had him screeching into the upholstery.
“He has a giggle spot,” Tim said. He grinned at Jason like this was the best thing he’d ever learned. “I just thought he was screechy everywhere."
Jason smiled back at him. “It literally sends him into orbit. The outerest of spaces.”
The look that appeared on his baby brother’s face meant imminent mischief, so Jason wasn’t too surprised when Tim reached out to skitter his fingers across the back of one of Dick’s knees. It was a brilliant move.
Dick almost choked on the panicked snickers that burst out of his lungs. “Tim–Tihihimmy! No!”
“Good work, Timbo,” Jason said. “Keep it up.”
As Dick went plummeting into peal after peal of high-pitched, desperate giggles, Jason leaned down far enough to speak directly into his ear. “Who’s adorable now, huh, Dickhead?”
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It is very important to me that you guys know that Dick absolutely does follow through on his threat and DESTROYS Tim later. Jason thinks he got away unscathed but is very quickly proven Wrong. Dick has to reestablish the hierarchy skghskfg
hello um you could probably already glean from that “um” that this is grey anon hi that’s me.
I offer you a request/prompt in these trying times. :’) your inbox might already be inundated we the people are ravenous for your writing.
but um yeah here is my humble request/prompt. ^^;
nobody has heard from jason for the past like twelve hours. they aren’t expecting to find him in his bedroom at the manor because that would be too easy but that’s where he is. he’s conked out, been pushing way too hard himself recently, and they cannot get him to wake up for anything HBSB
so um yeah shenanigans ensue they decide to be annoying and see who can get away with it for the longest or pull the biggest stunt before he wakes up and starts throwing hands. and by Annoy I mean uhhhhhh
words haha
lers of your choice :’)
grey!!! thank you so much! I had fun with this one hbhskdh I hope you like it! jason absolutely passing the hell out because he's subconsciously feeling safe enough to do so...safe from physical danger, at least. not necessarily safe from his brothers' mischief.
@grey-anon
Wakey, Wakey
summary: Jason's zonked out of his gourd. Dick convinces Tim to help wake him up...sort of.
lee!Jason // ler!Dick, ler!Tim
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It was a soporific autumn morning, all fog and drizzle and overcast, and Tim wasn’t at all surprised to find Jason facedown on his bed. He hadn’t seen his older brother actually leave the Manor after yesterday’s brunch.
A closer look revealed that Jason hadn’t bothered to change all the way out of his street clothes – he was sprawled out in a flannel pajama shirt and cargo pants, with one giant steel-toed boot still on. The other boot was laying sideways near the door.
So, naturally, Tim took a picture to send to Dick, and captioned it, lolol he’s a disaster.
What? It was true.
Tim’s fingers drummed against his thighs without his conscious direction as he leaned against Jason’s doorframe to wait for Dick’s inevitable appearance. Unsurprisingly, Jason hadn’t stirred. He’d fallen asleep with his face buried in a pillow, so all Tim could see of his head was a bunch of unruly dark curls that stuck up in all kinds of directions.
“Wow,” came Dick’s voice from over his shoulder. “He’s really zonked, huh?”
Tim absolutely wasn’t startled at all, he just glared at Dick for no reason, but any not-startle melted when Dick ruffled his hair. “I think he’s been up most of this week.”
“He’s pushing himself way too hard.”
“But if he doesn’t wake up soon he’s gonna be up all night,” Tim said, concern edging into his words. “Then he’ll just start the cycle all over again, staying up all night and all day, then patrolling tomorrow night anyways.”
Dick padded around to the head of the bed and knelt down on the floor next to Jason’s head and shoulders. After a moment of hard staring, probably to make sure that Jason wasn’t just pretending to be asleep, he nodded and glanced over at Tim.
Dick hummed his agreement, then flashed him a conspiratorial grin. “Well, there is one thing that might get him to wake up.”
“What is it?”
Dick nudged him towards Jason’s bed. “Go sit.”
Using all his years of training and practice, Tim tiptoed across the carpet and eased himself onto the bottom corner of Jason’s mattress. He couldn’t help the surface dipping when he settled down, but Jason must have been truly exhausted because he didn’t stir.
“Okay, Baby Bird,” he whispered. “Here’s the deal. You ‘n’ me are gonna take turns trying to tickle him, but whoever wakes him up loses.”
“Except it’s not a tower of blocks falling,” Tim whispered, widening his eyes for effect. “It’s Jason getting pissed off.”
What? That sounded like a recipe for getting punched directly in the face, and Tim enjoyed having all his teeth, thank you very much. Plus, he was still recovering from the last time he’d provoked Jason into a full-blown tactical tickle attack – he couldn’t even think about it without wanting to burrow under a pile of blankets to hide how flustered it made him. So, he gave Dick a skeptical look.
Dick held up his hands. “Hey, me and Roy did it all the time. It’s fun! Like Jenga, sort of.”
“Ohh,” Dick said, a knowing smile breaking out over his face. “Are you afraid of him calling you a – what was it? A squishy and blushy little giggle brat who’s just begging for tickles?”
Tim’s face blazed with heat as soon as Dick said that accursed sentence, and he tried to glare at his oldest brother. “No.” Yes.
“Then play! C’mon, you can go first.”
Tim briefly considered sticking his tongue out and escaping back out into the hallway, but he wasn’t a coward. “Fine.”
After a few more seconds’ thought, he leaned forward and scribbled his fingers over the back of Jason’s nearest knee.
Jason didn’t even twitch. Okay, maybe this would be easier than Tim had feared.
“Attaboy, Timmy,” Dick said. He grinned and ran his index finger up and down Jason’s exposed side, pausing to scratch over his ribs.
Dick froze.
Still nothing.
His next turn, Tim squeezed the back of Jason’s thigh. That got him a twitch, but it was more of a reflex than anything else.
Dick, living dangerously as always, started tracing his fingers up and down Jason’s spine in slow, wide sweeps. After a couple seconds, Jason’s shoulders twitched like he was trying to shrug off the sensation.
Tim just stared, he could practically hear his own heartbeat pounding in his chest. Oh, this was such a bad idea –
But Jason settled back down, his shoulders falling, and let out a heavy sigh.
And Tim couldn’t let Dick outdo him, so he stretched as far as he could to tickle over the small of Jason’s back, skittering into the hollow at the base of his spine. Before he could retract his hand, Dick joined in, prodding up and down one of Jason’s sides.
A sleepy, confused-sounding giggle slipped out of Jason as he stiffened, turning his head in Dick’s direction. Tim had been trying to work on his younger sibling survival instincts, so when Jason’s head started moving he instantly snatched his hand back and sat frozen in place. Maybe if he was still enough, Jason wouldn’t notice…?
“Wakey wakey, Jaybird,” Dick cooed, truly impressive amounts of affection dripping from the words. “Hey, bud, you’ve been asleep for at least fourteen hours.”
Jason groaned and pressed his head back into his pillow. “Lemme sleep, ya idiot. ‘M’ tired.”
Dick just pinched his side again. “No can do, or you’re gonna be all cranky and grumpy.”
With a startled noise, Jason clamped his arm down to his side. “Fuck off, Dickwing.”
“C’mon, Little Wing,” Dick said in a sing-song voice. “Timmy and I can help tickle you awake, if you need some help.” He winked at Tim.
Upon seeing his sleepy brother grouch and grumble, Tim was starting to feel less afraid of immediate retaliation. Plus, he, like, never got the drop on Jason like this. So, he fluttered his fingers over the back of Jason’s knee again. “Yeah, Jay, happy to help ya.”
While he kept that up, Dick switched to tickling up and down Jason’s spine again, randomly darting his fingers to the backs of Jason’s ribs, or to the edge of his armpit.
Jason absolutely dissolved into sleepy, helpless giggles, all hiccupy and high-pitched. He tried to shift around or reach his hands back to stop them. Having just woken up from the depths of slumber had taken a toll on his coordination, though, and he finally gave up when Dick leaned down to raspberry at the back of his neck. Jason shrieked at that, but it was still a relatively quiet protest, and he finally rolled onto his side and pulled his legs up.
“Gu-guhihihuys, sto-stahap!” he snickered, burying his face in his knees.
Tim obediently made no more attempts to tickle him, but Dick kept at it. He crowded Jason in and scribbled all over Jason’s calves and sides, sometimes even darting his fingers in to tickle at Jason’s stomach. The most diabolical part was the teasing, which even Tim could hear.
“See, I think our pillbug might enjoy being tickled awake,” Dick murmured. “You’re so loopy and giggly today.”
Jason’s giggles instantly got more shrieky and he tried to wrap his arms around his head as some kind of shield. That unfortunately just opened up his ribs and hips to Dick’s nefarious tickling.
“I think he doesn’t mind,” Tim said. “He’s a – a squishy and blushy little giggle pillbug.” There, take that, Jason.
Dick beamed at him. “He is, isn’t he?”
“I’m –” Jason tried, but had to stop to titter when Dick squeezed his side. “Shut uhuhup!”
“Aw, he isn’t even denying it.”
The tips of Jason’s ears were bright red. With another, strangled laugh, he reached out and smacked Dick on the shoulder twice.
If only Tim had his camera with him – Jason almost never tapped out. He just settled for grinning as Dick obeyed the rules of surrender and backed off, giving Jason space to catch his breath and calm down.
After a few moments, Jason pushed himself up and glared at both of them. He was still blushing, though, so that negatively modified his intimidation check. Tim grinned hesitantly and lifted his hand in a small wave.
“Hi.”
Jason stared at him for a second that felt eternal, then snorted. “Hey, Timbit. You’re off the hook, kid, I know Dickface pulled you in.”
Tim wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t. He schooled his expression as best he could.
But Jason must’ve noticed whatever his face had managed to do before, because he got a glint in his eye that usually meant Tim was about to be squeaking and giggling like a madman.
“Or,” Jason mused. “Maybe we can have a talk later.”
The butterflies in Tim’s stomach all took flight at once, and he couldn’t help but throw Dick under the bus with him. “It was all Dick’s idea!”
Jason let out a battlecry and threw all of his weight against Dick, who went tumbling over and took Jason down to the floor with him. As they wrestled, laughing and hurling insults at each other, Tim slipped off the bed and out into the hallway. His older brothers would be busy for a while; there was plenty of time to find a good hiding spot to weather Jason’s coming revenge.
It was only when his cheeks twinged that he realized he was still grinning.
Forgive me for the typos y’all this was written over weeks and every-time I sit down to reread I get interrupted 😅
Jason is my absolute favorite Bat (but I love them all so much) and I just really love soft, grumpy Jason being tickled to death by anyone in his proximity! So I offer you Lee!Jason, brief Lee!Tim cameo, and Lers! Dick, Roy, Tim (briefly) and Bruce!
You can post this however is easiest! It did let me post the whole thing in here… so I’m hoping it all sends and I haven’t hit the word limit!
- Moody
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Notes from August:
Warnings: cigarette smoking, chain smoking
As usual, my gushing thoughts will be at the bottom of the fic!
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The Wayne brood have tried to get Jason to stop smoking at least 1000 times between Alfred’s constant lectures, Bruce’s bribes, and his brother’s various complaints.
Dick’s latest tactic had been to dump a glass of water on ‘the cigarette,’ ei Jason, to quote, ‘put out the fire hazard.’
He had managed to do this only twice. The first time Jason was so shocked he actually laughed, and the second time he tried to light his brother on fire, scarily close success on Jason’s part. Needless to say, Dick had not tried again.
Tim had given it a rest after too many power points had gone wasted, and Damian resorted mostly to loud judgmental quips which was his normal gig anyways so it didn’t really have the pang of guilt the brat thought it did.
So. Jason wasn’t shy about his habit. Up to almost a pack a day, more if he was particularly stressed. He made no means to hide or downplay the habit in front of anyone, save for, Alfred of course.
He took in Tim and Dick’s disgusted looks as he light up a third cigarette since they’d sat down.
It’s not like they were inside, or trapped somewhere without fresh air. They were all scattered around a picnic table outside of a sandwich shop, no other tables currently occupied.
His foot bounced, and he inhaled every toke like it was the last. He knew the detectives around him saw a giant red flag that read ‘ANXIOUS’ but he was determined to ignore whatever it was he was stressed about right now.
“Jesus, Little Wing.” Dick finally raised an eyebrow. “Long week?
Jason clenched his jaw, exhaling smoke through his nose.
“You can’t even stop to take a bite,” Tim had a judgmental tone Jason narrowed his eyes at.
“I’m not hungry.” He didn’t look down at the untouched food on the table and took another drag.
“I call his stuff when he croaks this time,” Tim shrugged casually, Dick cringed.
Jason put the cigarette out, Tim looked up like he’d won but quickly realized Jason was just freeing up his hands.
“Nonono,” he couldn’t get away fast enough before Jason’s heavy arm landed across his chest and he suddenly was stuck in a headlock. Jason had scooted down the bench to box Tim in between him and the building the picnic table sat against. “Shit,” Tim groaned pulling on his brother’s arm and finding his grip unyielding.
“You’re not getting shit from me kid, not unless it’s a hard lesson,” he started squeezing at Tim’s knee with his free hand.
“H-hehehey!” He yelped, trying to use both his hands to remove Jason’s one, but the laughter pouring out of him was depleting any strength he had. “J-Jay! Cut it out!” Tim pleaded.
“You started it,” Jason moved his attack to Tim’s ribs now and Tim lost all sense of being in public, a scream left his mouth and he was shoving hard into Jason’s side to gain a little space.
“Alright, alright, leave the child alone,” Dick was already around the table and pulling Jason back sensing he had no problem letting 911 be called on them. “Jay you sound like you’re 5 years old,” Dick smirked pulling his attention away from Tim.
It worked, Jason relented and released Tim from the hold, who shot backwards and out of range. Dick now sat where Jason previously occupied.
He had a big grin, “we’ll switch. You’re safe over there, Timmy.” He nodded his head to his previous spot, across from his current position.
Jason had the distinct feeling he was not safe over here. “You try anything any I’ll light you on fire again.” He narrowed his eyes at his Dick, who was currently switching all of their drinks and food around to reflect the seat swap.
Tim’s “again?” went unanswered by the older boys.
“Speaking of you quitting,” the perfect segue, Dick raised an eyebrow and Jason groaned, already sorry for his comment. “I think I have an idea to help you quit!” His grin had too many teeth. Jason wanted to fix that.
“That’d be great, if I wanted to quit.” He said instead of throwing a punch.
“What’s the idea?” Tim asked.
“I think I’ll wait until he lights up again. Why ruin the surprise?” He managed to sound so sweet while purposefully driving Jason absolutely insane.
“Fuck you,” Jason rolled his eyes. But he didn’t pull out his pack.
“Or you could tell us, your brothers, what’s stressing you out? Instead of chain smoking through lunch? And live to build the suspense another day.” Older brothers were so god damn infuriating, putting the choice in Jason’s hands, of course it was a challenge.
“Just haven’t slept much lately.” He offered, when they both met him with deep understanding in their eyes, he continued. “I’m a little jittery is all. I- I’m not avoiding sleep, but it’s not my friend right now.” Was Jason’s way of sharing that he was having nightmares. “I-I’m fine.” He looked up at caught a glimpse of Tim’s face, reading enough pity to make Jason clambered up again.
“Jay,” Dick frowned, putting a hand on Jason’s back. “You know it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have… complicated lives.” Dick winced at the understatement.
“To say the least.” Tim said it for him.
“But if you think you’re alone you’re an idiot.” Dick toughened up his voice a little, because he knew which brother he was trying to rally. “We all have sleepless nights, weeks. But you have to let us know what’s going on so we can help out. Tim and I could take your patrol, no problem.” Dick shrugged.
“That’s not-“
“So you can relax. Workout. Read. Bake. Whatever. You don’t have to sleep but you need rest. You’re practically jumping out of your skin.” He gestured to Jay’s leg jostling the entire table.
It stopped, Jay let out an irritated huff.
There was a pause.
“You’re annoying.” Jay pulled out his pack of cigarettes.
“Jay!” Dick snatched the pack from his hands, quickly stretching out of his brothers reach.
“Not cool,” Jason growled about to shed blood.
“Just say you heard me and you can have them back,” Dick urged for a compromise. “Tell me you’ll let Tim and I take a few shifts off your hands this week.” He made his demands specific.
Jason’s eyes went from Dick, to Tim, to his cigarettes, back to Dick.
“Fine, now hand ‘em over,” he shoved Dick’s shoulder.
As promised, they landed in his palm.
Tim scoffed. “Some tactic.” He rolled his eyes. “He’ll be ready for a patch any day now.”
Jason had a smug look as he placed the stick between his lips.
“That was not the tactic, smart-ass.” Dick winked. “This is,” he pulled the same move Jason had a few minutes ago, using all his weight and the element of surprise to shove Jason down the bench and box him between the wall and himself.
“Fuck,” Jason let out a grunt, cig dropping to the table for Tim to reach over and snatch. He promptly dumped it in the ashtray. “Get the fuck off me,” Jason immediately started fighting for Dick’s hands, having a feeling he knew what his next move entailed.
Unfortunately, he was right. Dick’s hands were everywhere at once, pinching and prodding all over his abdomen in hasty movements. “You just said you’re jittery, let’s get your energy out, Little wing!” Dick’s enthusiasm was not matched.
Jason let out a grunt, trying to seal any laughter inside and keep a scowl planted across his face, it was not working if Tim’s smug grin told him anything. He clenched his jaw and tried to sound as terrifying as he could muster. “Don’t,” his eyes narrowed. “Not unless you’re prepared to wear your lunch,” his eyes darted to the table and Dick’s followed.
Jason made a lunge and Dick quickly changed course to shove his hands under Jason’s arms making him pull them back to his sides. Tim quietly slid all food out of Jay’s reach.
“Dihihick!” The eldest honestly couldn’t tell if he was being insulted or just named at the moment. Either way a huge grin spread across his face as Jason’s dam broke. A heavy flow of laughter carrying down the block. “Mother-mother fucker! Cut it out!” Jason’s shoulders shook, squished between his brother and the building, he had no room to move.
“This is how it’s gonna work, Jaybird,” Dick started pinching at Jason’s hip and Jason wanted to melt at the noise forced out of his throat. He was going to absolutely kill his brother. “Anytime I see you with a cigarette in your mouth, I’m gonna tickle you senseless! So really, it’s your choice,” Dick grinned slowing his attack so his brother could hear his teasing better. “If you wanna get tickled, just keep smoking away like the chimney you are!” A final squeeze of his hipbone got Dick’s point across. “Simple!”
Dick wasn’t sure if Jason was aware to how committed he was to this particular method, but he would certainly find out soon.
—
“I’m not here to socialize.” Red Hood grunted, taking his helmet off leaving him in the red domino.
“Aww, you’re gonna hurt my feelings, Hood.” Nightwing leaned against the short wall of the roof they were currently vacating. “This your way of saying you won’t be stopping by for movie night?”
Hood rolled his eyes and instinctively reached for his jacket inner pocket and pulled out his cigarettes.
Dick made no moves to stop him, no warnings at all.
He waited until Jason put the filter between his lips.
Then he pounced, he flicked the cigarette and when Jason spun to rip him a new one he tackled him backwards.
“I did tell you I was sticking with this,” Nightwing dug his hand in Hood’s armpit.
“I-I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Jason swung the arm that wasn’t pinned down up and tried to knock Dick right in the side of the head.
Luckily for Dick, he saw it coming and planted his hands before quite literally cartwheeling away and off of the roof.
Jason didn’t see him the rest of the night, coincidence or not that he never pulled out another cigarette.
—
And on it went. Whether he was standing on his own balcony, sitting at his favorite coffee shop, or patrolling crime alley, Dick seemed to make himself available almost every time Jason pulled out a cigarette.
It was ruining the few he had managed to finish. He looked over his shoulder and tensed up the entire time, it wasn’t exactly relaxing.
He also didn’t seem to give a single shit what Jason was doing, or who he was around, which meant several people were now in on Dick’s ridiculous little game.
—
Roy and Jason were stationed at one of Jason’s safe houses. The closest one to a factory they had been staking out. Nothing more was going on tonight, they’d just collected all the information they could for a particular shipment and decided it was time to call it a night and pick up takeout.
Roy hadn’t complained when Jason dragged him to a Thai place not far from the safe house. They stood outside while they waited for the food since the place was crowded, Jason leaned against the wall of the building and Roy could see him eyeing every corner of the street. Every angle, every shadow.
“What?” Roy furrowed his brow, not sensing any danger himself.
Jason just flicked his eyes to him in silent question. “You’re tense… like really tense? What are you looking for?” Roy pressed.
Jason tried to fight the heat rising to his cheeks, and when he felt it rush up anyways he ducked his head, fumbling with his jacket pocket.
“Nothing.” He pouted. Roy watched him curiously as he pulled his cigarettes from his jacket pocket and removed one, as well as a red (duh) lighter.
Jason looked up and down the street once more, searching the rooftops, before finally placing the cigarette between his lips and cupping his hands to light it.
He heard the creak of a fire escape above him and his every muscle twitched.
Roy had zero chance to react before Nightwing swung down from the ladder above them, doing a back flip in the air and landing on his feet.
Roy couldn’t place the grin below his domino mask, but something about it read as predatory, he was glad the gaze was fixated on Jason and not him.
“Fuck!” Jason gave no explanation before tossing the cigarette directly at his brother’s face and taking off down the alley they were in.
He made it a handful of steps before Dick was shoving him roughly into the bricks, back first.
Roy felt a bit like he was having a fever dream.
No words had really been exchanged, other than Jason’s cursing, the pair just stood there for a moment. It seemed like each was daring the other to make a move. Jason in his Civvies. Nightwing in full gear, it didn’t exactly seem like a fair fight. Then again… it didn’t really seem like a fight?
“Uhhh, Nightwing?” Roy found himself asking.
“Yeah?” Dick looked over expectantly, not glancing back to capture Jay’s right hand when he went to throw a sucker punch at him.
“What the hell is happening?” Roy raised both eyebrows.
Jason clearly wanted Dick to let go of his hand, he aimed a second punch with his free one, and Dick responded by once again shoving him into the bricks, and baring his forearm across Jason’s chest.
“Just a little brother bonding!” He smiled before using his free hand to pinch at Jason’s ribs.
“Y-you’re such an asshole,” Jason grunted trying to keep his laughter at bay. “Get the fuck offa’ me,” he shoved roughly.
“Is this… is this because of the cigarette?” Roy put two and two together.
“Shut up.” And “yes!” Were both handed back to him.
“Ooooh! I get it.” Roy grinned, he trailed closer, Jason eyeing his every step. “Want a little help?”
“No, Roy! I- no!” Jason spat. “Don’t you dare,” he clenched his jaw.
“That would be great!” Dick continued like Jason wasn’t there. “Can you grab his- yeah! Perfect.” Roy held Jason’s right arm against the wall and Dick kept a grip on the left.
“I swear to god, Roy!” Jason yanked on his arms and found them firmly in place.
Maybe Roy noticed that Jason could have pulled a little harder.
Maybe Dick knew that Jason would never have let him throw him into the brick wall if he actually wanted to get a way.
Maybe neither of them said anything anyways.
“Tough talk, Jaybird. Especially when I know all I have to do is poke riiiiight here,” Dick pressed his index finger into Jason’s third or fourth rib down, and he sucked in a deep breath. Lips quivering at the reaction he was holding back.
“Oh I wanna try!” Roy mimicked his motion on the opposite side and Jason jerked away from the touch, letting out a strangled laugh.
“Jay’s been up to a pack a day lately, so I’m just trying to help him relieve a little stress!” Dick was talking to Roy like Jay wasn’t wheezing and gasping for air between them as Dick thrummed all his fingers against Jason’s ribs.
“All your stress relief is gonna give me a fucking ulcer,” Jay snapped.
“You’re lucky I have a busy night, but it seems like Roy will be my eyes for me! I’ll catch you guys later!” He suddenly lifted his hands, pulled out his grappling hook and disappeared.
“Not a fucking word.” Jason grumbled shoving Roy off of him, holding his rib cage where the phantom tickles still resided.
Roy just grinned, happy to help Jason kick the nasty habit.
—
Jason stood outside the patio doors at the manor. He’d been home for 5 hours and 13 minutes. He was dying for a cigarette.
Dick had been eyeing him since he came through the door, waiting for Jason to reach for his pocket.
But Dickhead had headed to the shower a mere two minutes ago, and Jason was on borrowed time. He checked over both shoulders and looked up and down before taking the pack from his jacket pocket.
Nothing.
He looked around again, taking in his surroundings once more before pulling a cigarette and his lighter from the pack.
He tentatively put it to his lips and closed his hand around it to block the wind.
He took in a deep exhale and sighed, tension melting from his body.
Then he felt it, the shift in the air, the eyes on his back, he started to spin around at the same time a small mass thrust into his abdomen, taking the wind out of him and sending him to the ground with the mass landing on top of him.
“DICK! HE’S SMOKING AGAIN!” He recognizes Tim’s voice even if he can barely see the kid in the dark. Jason’s cigarette once again lost in the shuffle. One of the only lights he can faintly see around them cames from the burning tip, sitting in the concrete feet from them now.
Accessing, he’s laid flat on the pad, Tim clinging to him with a grip that says he’s not going anywhere, and incoming Dick Grayson. Not good. Very bad.
“Get the fuck off me, little tattle tale brat,” He shoving and pushing at Tim’s arm’s and he eventually find the kid’s wrists and manages to break his grip pretty easily.
“DIIIICK!” Tim shouts again at the first sign of danger. Jason has rage and irritation in his eyes, after all.
“What’s the matter little birdie, come in without backup?” Jason grins flipping over with a single hefty shove and squishing Tim beneath him.
Tim didn’t respond, just grunts and shoves exchanged between them for a few moments. Jason’s weight is enough to keep Tim pinned, he lets him keep his hands for now, shoving uselessly at Jason’s thighs like he might actually be able to gain any traction.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Tim sounds scandalized as he tries his best to get his eyes to adjust to the dark. He could swear-
“Jason!” Tim growls when Jason’s face is suddenly a light above him, looming like a horror poster. He’s got another cigarette between his lips, and he’s using one hand to light it, the other planted in the middle of Tim’s chest to keep him from swatting it out of his mouth.
“Listen twerp,” He mumbles around the foreign object. “I’ve sat through dinner, a board game, and a fucking movie,” he narrows his eyes. “I’ve earned this, so I’m gonna smoke the whole fucking thing while you sit quietly. Or else.” Jason exhaled and Tim could feel his whole body relax. It unfortunately made him feel even heavier too.
“Jay, I can barely breathe,” Tim groaned. “You’re too heavy.”
“What the hell did I just say?” Jason sighed, eyes squeezing shut in frustration. “If you can talk, you can breathe. So shut up.” He took another drag.
“Ugh, god I’m gonna smell like smoke now asshole! Bruce is gonna kill you,” Tim complained, clearly not taking Jason’s warning to heart.
“You know, if I wasn’t worried about attracting attention, you’d be in tears by now.” Jason set his jaw.
“Sure I would,” Tim rolled his eyes. “You know you’re not as scary as you think you are, you’re ju-”
They both froze when the hallway light flipped on in the house behind them.
They both glanced from the door, to each other before Tim opened his mouth wide. “HE-mffffmmm!” Jason’s hand immediately clamped down over Tim’s mouth.
Jason couldn’t even risk shushing the kid, just praying the light behind them would flip back off.
No such luck.
“Jason Peter Todd.” Jason wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or on guard hearing Bruce’s disappointed voice rather than Dick’s.
“Yeah?” He asked casually, glancing up at Bruce who had also flicked the light to the patio on. Illuminating the scene in front of him. “It’s not what it looks like?” Jason offered with a shrug, his voice somewhat muffled based on trying to keep the cigarette intact. His hand was still snug in place over Tim’s mouth.
“It looks like you’re sitting on your little brother and covering him in cigarette smoke.” Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Jason shrugged again. Bruce moved forward to grab him. “Maybe it is what it looks like,” Bruce’s arms were under his own and he was hoisting him up like a toddler on the run and not a 240 lbs (former) crime lord. “It’s not like I was blowing it on him.” He rolled his eyes.
“What on earth possessed you to do that?” Bruce was a little stumped on this one.
Once Tim was on his feet, Jason was giving him a hard glare; clearly Tim was to keep his mouth shut about Dick’s antics.
Tim’s grin grew Cheshire, Jason tensed.
“Dick has a new method to get Jason to stop smoking,” Jason side stepped Bruce to grab his little brother. “Hey!” Tim ran around Bruce, trying to keep him between the two of them.
Bruce was very much unclear what he’d walked into… a fight? Sparring? Teasing? But he was pretty sure he should be keeping Jason from getting his hands on Tim at the moment, so he let Tim pass him again, and then stepped into Jason path with arms quickly catching his wrists. He first plucked the lit cigarette from his son’s mouth and squashed it beneath his slippered feet.
Jason let out an audible whine.
“Jay.” He scolded. He nodded his head to Tim. “New method?” His eyebrow quirked.
“Every time he catches Jason smoking he tickles the crap out of him.” Tim could barely contain his laughter at Jason’s head to toe blush. “He’s like, building a Pavlovian response.”
He could not look at Bruce. The older man had a grip on him that he very much wanted to shake loose right now, but it seems Bruce had other plans.
His eyebrows shot up, and a rare smile graced his features. “You know,” his grip tightened, Jason’s eyes finally snapped to his dad, glare heavy and murderous. “That seems like fairly sound logic to me?” Jason was immediately fighting for his hands back, pulling with most of his considerable strength.
Bruce was stronger. “Nonononono!” And then Jason was flat on his back. “Ugh,” all the air pushed out of him as Bruce sat down on his midsection, just like Jason had done to Tim. “Okay, Old man, you’ve made your point. Now get the fuck off me,” Jason growled, planting his hands into the concrete and trying to throw Bruce off.
He did not budge.
Bruce didn’t even wiggle. “My point is far from made, Jaylad.”
Jason balked a bit, he was used to fighting with his brothers, or anyone smaller than him. Bruce still had a good 20-30 pounds on Jason, and he would never let him forget it. “God, what the hell have you been eating?” He shifted as much as he could, he found himself firmly stuck.
“Now Jason,” Bruce tutted. “Are you sure you want to be inquiring about my weight while you’re in a position of disadvantage?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Tim,” he looked to his younger son, “did you hear him call me fat? Because I’m not sure how else I could interpret such a comment?” Bruce looked to Tim expectantly.
“B,” Jason groaned trying to interrupt whatever little game the Old Man was starting.
“I heard it too, Bruce! He definitely was calling you fat.” Tim nodded solemnly like he was hurt for Bruce.
“So, not only were you out here smoking, on top of your little brother,” he made sure to add. “But you’re insulting me as well? I simply can’t stand for it Jay.” Finally a smile took over Bruce’s face, and Jason started kicking his legs trying to reach anything, or dislodge himself somehow.
“Come on, B! Get the hell off of me,” he grunted trying to yank his hands free. “It’s not funny!” He cringed as the words thoughtlessly tumbled from his lips.
Bruce planted Jason’s hands firmly on the ground before pressing his knees over them to keep them in place. “Don’t worry, it will be in a second.” Bruce winked.
Jason threw his head back and groaned, both at what was about to happen and the small knot he’d probably just given himself.
“I’m gonna kill, Dick,” Jason mumbled out. “Stupid fucker,” he muttered to himself as Bruce raked his eyes over him, trying to decide how best to take his son apart.
“Where does Dick usually start?” Bruce asked Tim.
Jason was not amused. “B!”
“I’m just trying to be thorough, I’m not sure if Dick’s method contains specific requirements?” He sounded incredibly serious.
“Hmmm, no usually Dick goes for wherever he can reach honestly.” Tim thought it through before he gave his answer.
“Alright, dealers choice then.” Bruce smiled down at his son.
“You’re sick. There’s something wrong with you.” Jason glared up at him. “You take pleasure in torturing your kiDS!” He yelped when Bruce seemed to have grown tired of his complaining, and tasered into his side at the bottom of his rib cage.
Jason immediately tried to clamp his mouth shut, holding a bark of laughter at bay, he was clenching his teeth as hard as he could.
Bruce wouldn’t have it. It wasn’t the first time he’d deigned to tickle Jason since he’d reintegrated. But those had been little pokes and subtle jabs in their more light hearted moments. And each time Jason had turned a shade of red Bruce hadn’t seen in years.
He never pushed further than that, not sure if Jason would be comfortable or not. But he’d seen Dick tickle him to pieces enough times lately that he knew Jason didn’t mind it as much as he pretended to.
Plus he really did hate Jason’s smoking habit.
That being said, he was about to show Jason who taught Dick to be so ruthless.
Jason could read the calculating looks, he knew he was being systematically logged. Bruce was categorizing every ticklish spot he knew of and making a plan to hit them all. This would be the death of him. And Jason would make sure Tim quickly followed suit.
“B-BRUCE NO!” Jason heard himself yelling before it really registered, Bruce had picked a spot and he was sticking with it, Jason squirmed and thrashed whenever he could as Bruce’s fingers worked in sync on either side and methodically pinched every inch of his lower ribs, not quite his hips yet.
He held firm for approximately 9 seconds before he burst like a dam, giggles and shrieks leaking from him like air in a balloon. He was clearly trying to pull an insult together but either couldn’t form the thought, or the words. Which one, Bruce wasn’t sure, but it definitely made the older man grin.
Tim managed to shove his hoodie under Jason’s head right before he smacks it into the concrete, uh uh. Injury will not stop him from this punishment, Tim will make sure of it.
Bruce winks at Tim, he’s sure Jason hasn’t even registered the peice of fabric in this state.
“Now where do you keep your pack, Jaylad?” Bruce asked slowing his fingers, but not stopping.
Jason’s eyes shot open in an incredulous glare. “Not. Telling.” He huffs out, unable to say anything else for fear the giggles will start spilling out again.
And there it was, Jason had spat in the face of the ‘out’ Bruce had just offered him. Hand over the pack and this will be over quickly… but Jason held firm. Bruce felt his heart warm a whole degree.
“Hn.” Bruce raises an eyebrow before lifting his hands and sorting through Jason’s jeans’ pockets and coming up empty.
“They’re on the inside of his jacket.” Tim handed to Bruce.
“I’m gonna shoot you so full of fucking holes you’re gonna look like swiss damn cheese, Replacement!”
“Is that before or after I die of second hand smoke inhalation.” Tim sneered from safety behind Bruce.
“Don’t threaten to shoot your brother.” Bruce let his hands fall on Jason’s jacket. Just the outside of it. “I wonder which pocket?” Bruce pretended like he was patting Jason’s side for the box, but already knew it was in the top left.
He didn’t miss the way Jason sucked in a breath like it would keep Bruce’s hands from reaching him. “You’re not- you can’t just-“ Jason wasn’t even sure what point he was trying to make, all he could focus on was Bruce’s stupid hands, his fingers twitching every few seconds making Jason think he was starting.
Bruce finally smiled, actually smiled down at his broodiest kid. “I am.” He corrected. “And I can.” And his god damn hands were moving, squeezing, tasing, into Jason’s sides and stomach, all over the place and Jason turned to putty.
He stopped thrashing, only trying to curl in on himself now. No more giggles, just loud, booming laughter flew from his mouth. “B!” He managed in between, “B!” Another scream. “I-I can’t breathe!”
“If you can talk, you can breathe.” Tim stuck his tongue out at him, not that Jason could see it. Tim was pretty sure his tone got the point across.
“Fuck you!” Tim could barely make it out through the tears streaming down Jason’s face.
“Ah ha,” Bruce pulled his attention back. Jason’s eyes snapped to Bruce, like if he looked hard enough he might be able to see what the old man had planned. “Found them.” Bruce poked into Jason’s chest only to be met by crinkling cardboard.
“Th-those are mine! I’m a grown adult! I paid for them!” Jason seethed, panting as Bruce pulled them from his pocket and slid them into his own waistband. “Give them back!”
Tim wished he had his phone so badly at this moment, “You know you sound like Damian right now, right? Pouting like a little kid.”
Jason’s heavy glare landed on his little brother once again, teeth bared. “You know I’m gonna hold you down and- NOHOHOHO!” Jason’s threat was cut off when Bruce decided his break had been long enough.
Bruce was just being mean now, squeezing and digging his thumb into Jason’s hipbone.
Tim had never seen him laugh so hard, tears of mirth building in his waterline and spilling over his cheeks, face scrunched up so hard he was barely recognizable. Tim was starting to thank the universe that Dick was the most frequent tickle monster in his life, and Bruce only dabbled lately. After all, who stood a chance against Batman?
“Tim, would you come over here?” Bruce snapped him right out of his thought process, he once again slowed down his movements, letting Jason take in large gasping breathes while still lightly prodding his hip.
Tim looked visibly nervous, eyes going from Bruce, to Jason who was furiously shaking his head back and forth, although he’d given up on trying to look menacing. He could feel the grin that had taken over his face by force, after all. The multiple threats Jason had yelled at Tim flashed through his head.
“You’re sure he’s secure?” Tim asked.
“I’m sure.” Bruce nodded. “Plus he’s weakened from all the laughing.” He mused.
“Am not,” Jason glared at Bruce and yanked on his arms trying in vain to free them from under Bruce’s bulk.
Bruce just raised an eyebrow at his tugging, as if to say ‘oh really?’ Jason just flushed even darker and looked away.
“Sit right here, Tim.” Bruce patted the ground next to Jason’s waist and Bruce’s thigh.
“B!” Jason whined and threw his head back into Tim’s sweatshirt again.
Bruce ignored him as Tim crouched down where he was told.
“I’m gonna hold Jason’s arms, and you’re going to focus here,” he pinched the hip closest to Tim, Jason let out a yelp. “And here.” He leaned forward and dug his finger between Jason’s arm and chest earning another choked noise.
“You-You’re seriously twisted,” Jason complained as Bruce started lifting his knees and one by one capturing Jason’s wrists. “Sick in the head.” He continued. “People think you’re a good dude, taking in strays and donating a couple bucks, I know the real you. Pure fucking evil. And spreading it to said strays.” His glare turned to Tim. “Timberlina! There’s still time for you, you don’t have to listen to-“ Tim cut him off by using both hands to squeeze the hip he was closest to.
Jason went near silent again, a few choked shrieks leaving his throat but silent laughter was taking over his face.
Tim felt like he had more power than God in this moment. Jason, immobilized below him. Unable to fight back and already cackling, this was like the best Christmas and Birthday present rolled into one.
He quickly remembered the other spot Bruce mentioned to him.
His father watched with a grin, holding Jason’s wrist steadfast to the ground on either side of his son’s head. It made his arms bend so that Tim had unlimited access. Bruce watched as Tim systematically poked every part of Jason’s under arm and watched for his reactions.
“Oh my god, you’ve already infected him with it!” Jason sputtered out. “Little evil genius!” He cursed throwing his head back once again, he made Bruce work to keep his arm in place with how hard he was trying to clamp it back down.
“Now Jason?” Bruce spoke while Tim continued, moving his fingers down Jason’s side. Grinning at all his brother’s different noises and faces. “Do you have a craving? A an itch to buy another pack?” Bruce asked.
Jason was red in the face, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, and yet he looked lighter than he had in a long time. “No!” He blurted out when he had the breath. “No! Never again!” He was promising before his brain was registering anything beyond ‘he’ll stop if I say no.’
Unfortunately, luck was really not on Jason side tonight.
“Awww!” Dick’s whine cut through the air. “No fair, you guys are tickling Jay without me?” There was a distinct pout to his brother’s voice that made Jason wanna roll his eyes no matter how hard he was laughing.
“He was smoking!” Tim’s grin was ridiculous as he shrugged to Dick and Damian while he scratched around Jason’s belly button.
“Tt,” Damian shook his head. “Of course he was.”
Dick’s face light up, “you enlisted Bruce to the cause? Nice job, Timmy,” Dick was ecstatic to not only have another person added to his dedicated cause, but to have facilitated such an adorable moment as well.
“Alright,” Bruce kept his grip tight around Jason arms but stopped pinning them to the ground, letting him pull them down to his sides and his forearms crossing over his stomach to cover as much as he could. “I think that’s enough,” his concession didn’t seem to ring in Tim’s ears, he was focused on driving his little nimble fingers under Jay’s sides, skittering over the backs of his ribs. Jason tried to roll over and crush his fingers but the little Red Robin was fast and knew to anticipate it.
“I didn’t even get a turn yet!” Dick stood indignantly by Jason’s side.
“Tim,” Bruce channeled something slightly deeper and his son retracted his hands, looking at him expectantly. “I’m gonna let him go now.” He gave the warning that it was and Tim nodded before getting to his feet and standing behind Dick.
“You know I abhor your smoking, Lad,” Bruce said softly before patting Jason’s chest. “I’m happy to help you kick the nasty habit, any time.” He finally let go of Jason’s wrists and started to get up. He offered Jason a hand.
Jason didn’t even bother to smack it away, he just curled in on himself, rolling onto his side. “I hate you so much.” He squeezed his eyes shut trying to shake the feeling running across his skin, and hide the panting he was still doing. Breathing in sweet, sweet air.
“Come on,” Dick sounded a lot closer than he was a second again. “It was my idea,” Jason’s eyes shot open. “I deserve a turn,” Dick’s hands were grabbing for him and he was about to reach out and… and maybe break his brother’s hand with how overly sensitized he already felt.
Bruce of course sensed this, “I can assure you, we did a thorough job on your behalf.” He had Dick loosely by the collar and pulled him away from Jason to let him continue to reform thought and reality.
Bruce handed Dick the cigarette pack, possibly definitely as proof to keep his eldest’s bloodthirsty at bay.
Dick seemed to register just how disheveled and pink his little brother was, the grin returned to his cheeks where to belonged. “Alright, I trust you, B. You are the original Tickle Monster, after all.”
Jason finally found the gumption and strength to get to his feet. “I can’t feel my face,” he grumbled. “You two better count your fucking days,” he glared at Tim, and Dick.
“You know he has another pack upstairs?” Damian raised an eyebrow, almost sounding uninterested.
Jason’s eyes went wide, and he quickly glanced to Bruce to gage his reaction.
The Old Man was already reaching for him. He managed to dodge the first swipe, but in doing so ran right into Dick. “Wait! I- I forgot! I swear!” But Dick was already grinning and his hands were wrapping around the back of Jason’s ribs.
“My tuuurn!” Dick sang. “Finally!”
He hadn’t even properly caught his breath from the first attack, needless to say he folded like a house of cards.
“Fuck off!” He was howling with laughter, he folded at the waist, barely able to hold himself up. “Y-you can have them!” He shoved weekly at his brother.
“Aww,” Dick cooed. “You guys really broke him, he’s not even putting up a fight.” He squeezed into Jay’s hipbone just to hear the squeaky yelp it earned him, before removing his hands. He turned to his youngest brothers, “first one to bring me Jay’s pack gets to drive the BatMobile with-“ Tim and Damian were through the patio doors before Dick could finish sweetening the pot.
Bruce grunted in, maybe disapproval, Dick didn’t seem to care. “You know Damian is liable to take a limb for the chance to drive.” He offered instead.
“Yeah but Tim’s faster. It’s anyone’s game,” Dick grinned.
“How many packs do you have in your apartment?” Bruce’s question made Jason’s blood turn icy. He grinned at the pale face he’d earned and shook his head. “There will be no more tickling tonight,” Bruce raised his right hand. “I swear.” He assured him. Jason felt his muscles jellify beneath him. “I’m just curious if Dick’s little experiment works when we aren’t around?”
Dick looked just as curious and Jason found himself blushing yet again. He could lie, of course.
Except he was a terrible liar, especially after being tickled brainless for the last 20 minutes.
“I-“ he stopped himself and rephrased. “I’ve been buying as I go.” Instead of by the carton like he’d been doing.
“YES!” Dick actually started jumping for joy, clapping his hands like he’d just won the lottery. “I knew it would work!”
Jason rolled his eyes, turning his best to fight the smile that seems to keep making its way across his cheeks. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well I had a hunch.”
“Whatever.” He huffed. “You and the Replacement better watch your backs. I’m gonna make you cry.” Jason glared.
“Might come across a bit more threatening if you didn’t just have tears rolling down your cheeks, Little Wing.” Dick barely avoided the punch to his shoulder.
“What if I started picking apart your habits? Huh? What then, Dickface?” Jason asked following Bruce inside. They could hear the beginning’s of an argument starting upstairs.
“Good luck.” Dick shrugged. “I’m perfect. But maybe I could mention this to Alfie and we could take care of your potty mouth next.” Dick stuck out his tongue like the mature adult he was.
Jason opened his mouth, then promptly closed it realizing that a particular curse word was on his lips. He settled for reaching out and punching Dick hard in the shoulder, landing solidly this time.
“Alright, let’s go see which one of the brats found my hiding spot.” Jason jogged ahead of Dick before he could retaliate.
Dick hissed at the contact but watching Jason skip ahead of him, he was practically floating. Light and airy, just like his little brother should be.
Dick was more than happy Jason’s cigarette habit was slowly but surely being wiped away, but he was definitely going to have to pick another habit to break, it was just too perfect of an excuse to tickle is much too serious little brother.
____________________________________
August's Thoughts:
sjdfhjsdfh Moody omgggggg im JKSDFHJSDHFJKSDFHJSDH this is so good oh my god thank you for sharing
Dick just practically stalking Jason to see when he's smoking and stop him is so funny sdjkfhdsf and the fact that he got so many people in on it lol, like Roy and Tim and Bruce
Tim is SUCH a tattle-tail, and rightfully so sdkjfhsf if this wouldve worked on my older brother (august lore drop, i have an older brother. but you can probably tell that anyways because i exude middle child energy by the gallon dskjfhsf) i wouldve done it YEARS ago lol. As it is I totally tattle on mine when i catch him vaping (because at least he finally switched to that instead) inside when he visits home, I'm right there with you Timbo lol
but yes i absolutely love the end where Tim gets Bruce involved and Bruce goes full-blown tickle monster lol. Give him an excuse to treat Jason like his son again!!! He's too awkward to do it by himself!!!! And him getting Tim to have a go is adorable lol
This was so cute, Moody!! Thank you so much for sharing it with us!!!
Jason, Tim, and Damian test Dick's patience. When the oldest sibling finally cracks, he hunts them down one by one to enact revenge for their troubles
Word Count: 5, 716
Warnings: No Warnings
This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)
Voices bounce around the cave, volleying left and right like some kind of aggressive tennis match.
Dick can’t even hear his fingers on the keys of the Bat Computer with how loud his brothers are being, jabs and barbs over something entirely pointless being thrown across the expanse of the room. Why on earth they were down here instead of upstairs was lost on the oldest sibling. He had been attempting to finish a report of a mission from the night prior, when his brothers appeared from nowhere and started debating. The argument didn’t need Dick’s input, nor did they ask for it. It was like they wandered into the cave just to grate on his last nerve.
A few times, he called over his shoulder for his brothers to pipe down, belatedly realizing he sounded a bit too much like Bruce. Of all the times the man had to be away on a WE trip, it had to be when the trio of vigilanties were butting heads. Typical. Only once was Dick’s request for quiet actually acknowledged: his other attempts had been drowned out by their heated discussion.
“Look, we apologized for going into your territory, Jason. The point is that Riddler’s escape was tied to a larger crime, and taking him down was a higher priority-”
“Apology accepted, whatever, but I called dibs for a beat down on that guy last month. The Baby Assassin does not get to overrule that claim cause he got there first!”
“Imbellic and irrelevant, Todd, I handled it much more effectively than you could’ve hoped to.”
“Have both of you forgotten that I invoked ‘Call Dibs’ three months ago on Mr. Freeze, and you two teamed up to take him down before I could, just to spite me?”
A loud scoff. “I hardly needed Todd’s assistance in a matter so trivial, Drake. He was lucky I didn’t impale him as well just for getting in my way.”
“Oh, bite me, Demon Brat-”
The sudden flurry of rolling wheels scrapes against the floor as Dick stands. He shouts quite abruptly, “One!”
Jason and Tim freeze immediately. Damian’s mouth has parted, a retort loaded in the barrel and waiting to be fired, but the sudden bellow and locked-up state of his brothers give him pause. He turns to where the twin pairs of wide eyes have locked onto the Bat Computer. Dick’s form is silhouetted in blue light. He’s hauntingly still. The sudden lack of voices echoing through the cave makes for a horror-esque scene, serendaded by the muffled squeaking of bats from deeper into the enclaves of the rocky space.
“Dick, we’re sorry.” Tim quickly starts bargaining. Goosebumps prickle along his skin as a nervous flutter starts up in his gut, the feeling tugging his lips up into a weak grin. “We’ll pipe down, it was a dumb argument anyway. S-So, just go back to your work, yeah? There's no need for this-”
The fool.
Instinctual fight or flight having Jason and Tim’s feet backing up, arms beginning to raise to their sides defensively. As if that would save them from the monster they've created. Damian stares, completely baffled, as the two boys edge towards the elevator while Tim rambles endlessly like an auctioneer on crack cocaine. In hindsight, he should’ve immediately followed their lead with the slow retreat.
“Two.” Dick turns off the computer, still facing away from his brothers but holding an unfathomable amount of power.
Jason is cussing under his breath now. His stomach is in knots with little jolts of nerves heightening his anticipation for what's to come. He hates how easily this game can make him go from a fully grown adult to thirteen again in seconds. He growls for Dick to “Cut it with the freaky shit”, but the wobbly smile trying to take over his face is winning this battle.
Hearing Jason sound so highly strung finally makes Damian take a few wary steps back from the computer. Grayson had never laid a hand on him with the intention to hurt, even when sparring, he heavily pulled his punches. This menacing aura protruding from his still form raises the hairs on the back of Damian’s neck, a small thrill zinging through his stomach. Was this to be similar to Grandfather’s tests? A training exercise? Or was it more akin to a punishment? Drake and Todd seemed jumpy, but not fearful, instead giddy for some bizarre reason. What on earth-?
Finally, Dick turns, an evil grin on his face. “Three.”
“SACRIFICE THE CHILD!” Tim shrieks, abandoning the elevator in a mad dash and instead flies up the stairwell. Without question, Jason grabs Damian and throws him at Dick, scrambling after his younger brother a half step later.
Damian barely gets out an undignified yell before arms are encircling him like an octopus, and he’s staring up at the predatory gleam of Dick Grayson’s eyes. “The first victim,” he hums, something menacing in his voice that Damian can’t place. The pounding of footsteps fades up the stairs. No help is coming.
“What the hell is happening?” He demands, gripping onto the arm that’s swept him against Grayson’s chest and mentally running through all the ways he can break the limb should he have to.
Grayson chuckles, and Damian can feel it with how closely pressed he is to his brother. He looms over the boy as he says, “Karma”, with a toothy smile.
Fingers delve into the exposed flank not tucked against Grayson’s torso, wriggling around the skin with careful precision. Despite his arm being looped under Damian’s legs to keep him close, his hand doesn't falter in its path to tickle him to bits. Damian gasps sharply, a leg kicking out on reflex as he scrunches further into Grayson’s arms, trying to curl into himself as his nervous system goes haywire.
“GRAHahahaysohohon!” He’s giggling. Giggling. Like some helpless child, as the older boy scopes out his torso for places to tickle with an inane accuracy. Grayson has tickled him before - one does not gain Dick Grayson as an older sibling and expect to evade his playful mannerisms - but this time, it feels more intentional than just messing around. Grayson’s nails are scuttling over his neck with a speed that has the boy squeaking with laughter, trained hands reduced to smacking at the spidering digits. His method is usually to just jump his hands around, lean into the silliness of this bonding activity, but this is precise. Honing in on the spots that send Damian up the wall.
Grayson proves Damian’s hunch when he starts speaking, something resigned yet amused about his tone. “Five times I asked you guys to pipe down, or move to a different area of the house, or godforbid stop arguing entirely, but did you listen? No, of course not. So now I have to leave my very important work to teach you all a lesson.”
Damian tries to argue his case. “Thehey wehehere beheing peheverse!”
Grayson apparently took that as a challenge.
Fingers slip from his neck to under his shirt suddenly, spidering around Damian’s bellybutton and causing the kid to toss his head back with the force of his cackles. He tries to remove the offending digits from his sensitive skin, but Grayson is annoyingly good at this and uses a dirty tactic of blowing in Damian’s ears to make him scrunch away with a giggly whine - a hand pawing at his ears to ward off the feeling.
“Stohohopihihit!”
Grayson flashes his canines in a grin, though thankfully, he relents the attack on Damian’s ears. He settles for tracing patterns across Damian’s abdomen, letting the kid calm down from the sensations buzzing through his nervous system.
“This is a generational game, Dami,” Grayson says conversationally, like there isn’t a snickering child being held prisoner in his unrelenting arms. “Jason and Tim have both been subjected to it through Bruce and me over the years. You push enough buttons, and you’ll earn yourself a Countdown, and if you’re caught, you’re tickled. Those traitors had the right instinct in bolting, but assuming I’ll be slowed down or swayed off by giving me the youngest first? Poor judgment on their part. Their punishment is gonna be twice as bad for that little act of cowardice.”
Despite giggling his head off, Damian felt a wave of satisfaction knowing Grayson also saw the injustice of throwing him to the lions. Those two royally screwed themselves over with that play.
Grayson hums, contemplative. “Seeing as it’s your first time with this game, it’s probably fair to keep your sentence short and hunt down the other two. But first…”
The hold around Damian’s thighs tighten, keeping his legs pinned as Grayson removes his arm from the boy’s back. Damian yelps, swinging from being upright to being a victim of gravity, dangling from an unfairly strong grip. He doesn't even get a chance to growl a half-hearted threat before his knees are being scratched and spidered over by light fingernails, completely free to torment him now that they aren’t holding precious cargo.
“RIHIHICHARD! NOHOHOHO!” Damian’s shriek echoes through the cavern, youthful laughter flowing freely from his lungs in unstoppable waves. He twists around from his upside-down position as he cackles, wrapping his arms around his stomach when a few fingers slink down to skitter over his stretched torso. It wasn’t long before he was snorting.
“There we go,” Dick chuckles, “was wondering when my favourite sound was gonna make an appearance tonight. Thank you for joining us, Piglet.”
Damian didn’t have the brain capacity, nor the air to protest the nickname; his voice had disappeared within his tumbling cackles. He’s stuck in a loop of tensing and untensing his knees in quick succession as Dick’s fingers scribble behind them. Occasionally, they’ll skitter to the boy’s calves before swiping back to their original target, a pattern Dick kept up until Damian’s cheeks were flushed pink. He wasn’t sure he could plead with his brother, the air in his lungs too busy keeping his laughter running a mile a minute.
Thankfully, Dick has other victims to claim this night.
Damian feels his centre of gravity shift again, swinging him upright and tucked into a pair of strong arms once more. He tenses instinctively, hands covering his stomach and knees as he whines out, “Rihihihichard.”
“I’m not tickling anymore, Dames,” Dick chuckles warmly, watching Damian giggle himself silly. He firmly rubs at the boy’s arm, patting his knee and suppressing an amused snort when the boy squeaks in giddy panic.
Cute, he thinks, shifting Damian to one arm so he could rub the boy’s back unimpeded. The kid really needed to eat more; he was way too easy to just pick up and hold. That, or Dick and the rest of his family were vigilantes with Herculean strength, that was also an option.
“Learned your lesson, then?” Dick raises a brow, shifting to tame the wild bird's nest that’s become of Damian’s hair throughout the ordeal.
“Yehes… I apologize for disruhuhupting you, Rihihichard." Damian hates that giggles still demand to intertwine with his voice, but the endeared look sent his way makes up for the embarrassment a bit.
“It’s alright, I kind of needed the break anyway.” As he speaks, Dick walks through the cave and enters the elevator.
Hitting some buttons and ascending to the manor, his mind begins mapping out the possible hiding places or routes his brothers may have taken in hopes of evading their retribution. Those muppets. Did they forget who they’d been messing with? The elevator dings suddenly, and Dick steps out into the warmer air with Damian still in his arms. Alfred wanders around the corner with a glass, a placid yet amused quirk to his lips.
“Is there a reason, Master Dick, that your two brothers almost shattered four antiques while rampaging the halls like a pair of hooligans?” He asks, handing the cup of water in his hands to Damian, who takes it with a surprised, yet grateful smile.
Dick snickers, setting the boy down and gently ruffling his hair. “They invoked the Countdown.”
Alfred’s eyebrows raise as his smile widens. “Ah, I see.” He tilts his head slightly behind him. “The drawing rooms might require your attention then, Master Dick.”
Damian watches Dick’s grin expose more teeth and tries to ignore the giddy, nervous swoop his stomach gives, despite it not being directed towards him.
“Thanks, Alfie. If you hear screaming, everything’s probably fine.” He’s off like a rocket in half a second, footsteps practically silent despite the flat-out sprint he’s broken into.
Damian feels absolutely no remorse for what is barreling his brothers’ way. He sips his water. “How did you know what the Countdown was, Pennyworth?” He asks curiously, looking to the butler who’s straighening a rug that was scuffed up - Drake’s clumsiness probably. That boy could never keep his feet when he was panicking.
“Who do you think invented it?” Alfred’s eyes twinkle with a conspiratorial gleam, taking pride in the floored look Damian sends him. He chuckles. “It may have been passed down the generations, but it had to start somewhere, Master Damian. Afterall, I needed to keep young Master Bruce in line somehow.”
Jason’s feet pound against the carpet of the manor, wheezing for breath. Look, he’s fit, but he’s also psyched out of his mind right now, and not being able to catch his breath seems fair considering the position he’s in. Tim isn’t doing much better, but he’s got a case of the giggles hindering his air capacity, sending glances over his shoulder, and almost slamming into walls because of it. They’ve been running the halls of the manor like some kind of horror house maze, hoping to either escape Dick entirely or confuse the man so much he spends the rest of his days trailing the halls looking for his brothers like some kind of ghost story. That works out in their favour in the end.
Suddenly, an unmistakable, gleeful cackle echoes through the halls of the manor.
It’s almost comedic how Jason and Tim stop dead in their tracks, twisting their heads left and right down the halls in thinly veiled panic. They’d been moving nonstop for ages. How the hell did their oldest brother catch up so fast?!
“This way,” Jason yanks Tim’s arm away from the drawing rooms as they’d planned, and instead speed through an adjacent door that leads to Bruce’s study. They only make it down two more corridors before that same eerie cackle rings out, somehow sounding closer.
“Oh god, he’s hunting us. He’s actually hunting us,” Tim hisses somewhat hysterically, turning in place to locate the sound.
“Shut up, Timmers,” Jason growls, though he’d be lying if he says that sound isn’t making him nervous. He suddenly feels bad for the criminals Dick pursued as a kid. It was everywhere, completely surrounding them. He backs up a few steps, then motions hurriedly down the hall. “We should be able to make it to the bedrooms; there are locks on those doors.”
Jason shoots down the hall again with a sputtering Tim right behind him. Fucking Giggles Mcgee back there, unable to control the nervous titters spilling out. It made Jason’s lips subconsciously twitch into a grin of his own. They’re so close, just a few more halls, a flight of stairs, and they’re home free-
Dick suddenly skids around the end of the hall with a loud, victorious crow.
Tim yelps, backpedaling on his heels straight into Jason. He darts to the side, aiming to use his brother as a human shield, when an arm suddenly slings around his middle.
“Sorry Timbit, it’s every man for himself.” Jason hoists him up, and the teenager immediately knows how Damian felt hurtling towards certain doom.
“JASON!” Tim shrieks, intercepted by Dick’s arms in a reliable catch, but he feels anything but safe right now. He twists to face his traitorous brother, a hand outstretched like some melodramatic horror movie.
The man is already sprinting down the halls, not looking back once. The bastard.
Tim doesn't even get the chance to use his silver tongue before Dick’s fingers are skittering and spidering inside that unprotected hollow, making the boy slam his arm down, but it’s too late.
“Dihihihick! Ohohoho gohohod- plehehease! Nohohot thehehere!” Tim squirms, and though it's a valiant effort, this isn’t Dick’s first rodeo in dealing with wriggly brothers.
“No, no, I think I will actually,” Dick tuts, his arms like iron bands around his little brother, who’s a mess of shrieks and snorts.
“Ihihi sahahaid sohohorry!”
“Yes, but you also said ‘sacrifice the child.’” Dick echoes the earlier statement, removing his hand from the sensitive hollow. “‘Sacrifice the child’, Tim? Really? That was uncalled for; it’s Damian’s first Countdown. The little guy had no idea what he was in for.”
Dick drops the boy’s legs and leaves him dangling from one arm that’s tightly wrapped around his ribs, his toes just barely brushing the floor. He felt like some overgrown, misbehaving cat from this undignified position. The free hand takes advantage of the stretched out torso and crawls across Tim’s ribs, relishing in the wild squeal that’s let out.
“NOHOHOT THAHAT!”
“‘Not there’, ‘not that’, if you didn’t want to be tickled, you shouldn’t have annoyed me and gotten caught.” Dick hikes Tim up further to properly stretch out his ribcage and scribbles into the sensitive grooves, amused when Tim’s legs fling around, but he couldn’t seem to coordinate them in an effective way to escape.
Tim’s hands hung on to the one encircling his chest, gripping the limb as a lifeline while he lost himself to unbridled hysterics. It was no secret his ribcage was ticklish - Bruce even messed around sometimes during injury checks just to see if Tim still squeaks, spoiler, he does - but having his upperbody stretched like this made the tickling so much worse. He felt every wiggle, scratch, and jab Dick mercilessly piled onto his nervous system, sending his stomach swooping with giddiness and laughter pouring free.
“DIHIHICK IHIHIM SOHOHORRY!”
“Heard your apology the first time, bud, you know the rules though. You pushed my buttons, so I’m pushing yours.” As he spoke, he prodded up and down Tim’s ribs, drilling into the bottom set and earning himself a high-pitched yelp. “It’s only fair afterall.”
“NOHOHO IHIHIT IHIHISN’T!”
Dick chuckles. “Argue with the guy who made this up, I’m just following the set regulations, Timmy. If the rules get updated, please let me know.”
Those devilish fingers have finally abandoned his lower ribs, only to begin crawling upwards agonizingly slow. Tim giggles and stammers out half-baked protests as his nerves tingle at the intentionally leisurely movement, only making his brain even more keyed up. The octaves of his voice mirror the climbing digits, as it only becomes higher the closer they get to that accursed spot on his upper ribs. He’s stumbling over his words so much that it doesn't even sound like English anymore. When those fingers are a single set of bones away, they pause, tapping idly on them. Tim holds his breath, chest stuttering with flustered, anticipatory giggles.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Timmy,” Dick purrs gleefully, sending the boy cringing away as his breath curls at his ear, a stray snicker leaking through. “But did you just say, ‘don’t cut that shit out?’”
Tim scrabbles at the arm clinging tight to him. He’s giggling like mad, and Dick hasn’t even begun. “Nohohoho! No- Ihihihi dihihidn’t!”
“I think you did~” Dick singsongs gleefully, “And who am I to refuse my baby brother?”
He wraps both arms around Tim and hoists him up higher, his forearms now coiled around the boy’s stomach. Ducking around the arm that’s flailing in a panic, Dick plants his lips on the side of his ribs and blows the biggest raspberry he could into that damning spot.
You’d think the boy was being murdered. The scream Tim let out was shrill and panicked, laughter chasing the sound in endless waves. He goes slack in Dick’s grip, gasping and wheezing while his eyes squint with the size of his exhilarated grin. Dick has the good grace to let Tim gain his breath back before plunging his head in once more and blowing another raspberry.
Tim’s stuck there, shrieking, cackling, and hiccuping with laughter. The fight is gone from his body, snatched away by the relentless ticklish buzzing flying through his nervous system. His stomach feels filled with that fizzy energy, expecting another wave of merciless tickling on his upper ribs. That expectancy keeps his giggles constant despite Dick giving him a break.
The older boy chuckles, squeezing Tim in more of a hug than a restrictive hold. “You still with me, Baby Bird?” He asks.
“Mehehean,” Tim presses out, completely spent as he becomes dead weight in the embrace. “Thahat was a mehean tactic.”
“I know, I’m gonna do the same to Jason.”
Tim snorts. “Good. Bastard gave me up.”
“That he did.” Dick gently lowers Tim’s feet down to the ground, though his hands stay on the boy’s shoulders when he sways. “Tired?”
“What do you think?” Tim snarks, only to immediately cringe and giggle helplessly, bracing into a feeble defense.
The Pavlovian response causes a bark of laughter to leave Dick. “I’m done,” he promises, gently mussing up Tim’s hair. “Any idea where your brother was heading?”
“Aiming for the bedrooms, but he might try and play it smarter after abandoning me,” Tim answers immediately, feeling no guilt. “Go get his ass.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
He gives an exaggerated salute, Tim blinks, and suddenly Dick is gone. A gust of wind teases at Tim’s bangs, and he scoffs a laugh. Definitely Batman’s kid, he’s mastered that disappearing trick perfectly.
Jason knows he’s fucked.
He sacrificed both brothers to this tyrannical nightmare, and he knows it doesn't matter where he hides, or runs, or prays to. He’s fucked, with a capital F.
Hearing Tim’s faint screams minutes ago only doubled the butterflies in his stomach, doubtless Dick would find a way to do the same to him. There wasn’t a way out of this that didn’t leave him gasping with laughter and entirely at his older brother’s mercy. Unless…
Jason pauses his jog towards his bedroom. The bedroom. That’s what Dick would expect, the same tactic Jason used when he was thirteen and didn’t think things through. Hiding under the covers and muffling his giggles, only for Dick to pounce on him and tickle him to tears.
Jason spins on his heel and hauls ass towards the library. He never hid here when he was a kid - the quiet in the library was to never be forsaken, he’d been icily resolute on that when he was a kid - so Dick would never look here, cause Jason would never break his own rules. Perfect.
He pokes his head through a crack in the door, but the room is silent. No sign of his brothers anywhere, older or otherwise. He approaches the closest couch facing from the door and slumps down the back of it, taking in deep heaves of air to recover from the laps he’s been doing around the manor. Having to double back and take the long way to the bedrooms after Dick intercepted him and Tim had wasted time and energy. For now, though, he was safe, if only to think of a better strategy and recover the oxygen lost on this wild goose chase.
“This is a good hiding spot, he’ll never find us in here.”
Jason freezes. Oh, no. Please, no.
Dick’s wide grin pops up from the couch Jason’s hiding behind, something chaotic and menacing. “Scream and run.” He assumes, tilting his head.
Jason bolts with a yelled curse, but Dick’s been an older brother for years and practically predicted that move. He tackles Jason to the floor, rolling across the plush rugs and pinning him face down to the carpet.
“Now, Jason. Jason, Jason, Jason,” Dick leers, tutting like a disappointed mother. His fingers tap idly on the man’s wrists, sending jolts through his nerves and having him fight not to curl in on himself. “Sacrificing, what was it, both of your brothers today? Not even fifteen minutes apart, either. That is low, Little Wing.”
“It was Tim’s idea!” Jason argues, trying to ignore the wobbly grin spreading over his face as he pushes his feet into the rug to get some leverage. No such luck.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve made sure he’s learned not to suggest that again. But you… You actually threw them, so I think I’ve got to make this lesson stick. Don’t you think?”
“I’ll- I’ll kihill you.”
“Say that without laughing, and maybe I’ll believe you.”
Jason opens his mouth, and Dick’s fingers drop his wrists to claw at his hips, sending the boy into fits of loud laughter and wildly scrabbling for purchase on the library floor. It was very reminiscent of Jason’s reaction as a kid. All the years passed, changes came and went, and yet some things stayed the same. It pulled a smile from Dick despite the ‘menacing, evil older brother’ shtick he was trying to create. He probably looked like a Wish version of a villainous fiend.
The problem was, he loved his brothers too much to really act minacious, even when they were being annoying. “Having fun?” He asks Jason, just to be annoying right back.
“Gehehehet fUHUhuhucked!”
“Kori handles that, don’t you worry.”
Before Jason can roll his eyes or fake-gag at the joke, Dick is jabbing and prodding along the back of his ribcage, putting his attention towards not hitting the ceiling with how hard he jolts. “GOHOHohod, Dihihick!”
“Still ticklish on your back then?” Dick hums merrily, knowing all too well the extent of his little brother’s sensitivities. Seeing Bruce do back scratches on Jason when he was a kid was absolutely golden. Arguments or not at the time, they could both agree it was cute as hell.
Jason tries to swing an arm backwards to hit Dick, but the guy simply weaves around it and jams his fingers into the newly exposed area, delighting in the garbled shriek Jason gives and crumpling of his body as he gives in to the sensations. All tumbling giggles and wheezes galore.
“Right, so I want a couple of apologies from you, Mister,” Dick says conversationally, using the hand not crushed in an armpit to spider delicately along Jason’s shoulder blades. He has to stifle his own giggle as Jason whines through his laughter, shifting around to dislodge the pesky little digits with no success. “One for throwing Damian. One for throwing Tim. One for disrupting me when I asked you to be quiet. And one for flipping me the bird when I asked you guys to be quiet- don’t think I didn’t see that, Little Wing. You’re not slick.”
“Thohought yohou’d appreheheciate a bihird, Nihihightwing,” Jason snarks through his titters. Well, his mouth always did work faster than his brain.
Dick doesn't even give him a response, simply slips his hand free from the hollow and scribbles down Jason’s back in its entirety. His nails skip and jump across bones and delve into the gaps between ribs, skittering down to the next target with a keen eye for Jason’s reactions. And boy, did he react.
Jason’s fist slams against the carpet as he buries his face into the crook of his free arm, red face warm against his skin and muffling the boisterous cackles he was sure could be heard throughout the whole manor. Lazarus pit or not, it seems his body reacted the exact same to tickling as when he was a boy, sapping his strength and making him useless. He isn’t sure how long he lies there, testing the range of his voice box under Dick’s fingers which wouldn’t give his damn back a break, but when they did eventually lift from his skin, his nerves were shot to hell. The giggling stuck around despite nothing touching him, fizzing and sparking throughout his body from his clothes shifting around was enough to keep him in a delirious state of mirth.
Dick’s hands return to his back, but instead of scribbling, they press firmly and rub down his spine. “Easy there, Snickerdoodle,” he says gently, but no less playful. “I forget how ticklish your back is.” The guy probably deserved a break from the tickling. Dick wanted his apologies, but he wasn’t a monster.
Jason does take a minute to calm down, and then turns his head to look up at his big brother, flushed cheeks and hair mussed. “Get bent,” he wheezes out, his grin voluntary and goading.
Dick’s hands pause in their soothing ministrations, and his eye twitches.
Ah. Damn. Jason may have made a miscalculation on that onE- OH JESUS CHRIST STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP-
Jason’s screams of laughter may have included his mental chant, but he has no idea, too caught up in his shrieking as Dick presses a raspberry into his shoulder blades. And he didn’t stop at one. Or two. Three. Four. Five. Jason was going to leave a dent in the floor if this kept up, coping with the incessant buzzing in his skin by slamming his fist down.
“Four apologies, Little Wing.” God, you could hear the smirk in that smug bastard’s voice. “Better hop to before I start again.”
Part of Jason wanted to keep being defiant, but the other, younger, wiser part of himself was strangling that thought and shouting to just give up. “Alrihihihihihight,” Jason conceded, wiping a stray tear from his eye as he sat up on his forearms. “I’m sor-EHEHEHEHE! DIHIHIHICK!” He body slams into the carpet once more and kicks out.
“Hm?” Dick pops his head back up from where he’d been buzzing another raspberry into Jason’s shoulder blades, “Were you saying something, Little Wing?”
“YOU FUCKWIT!” Jason roars through his lingering cackles, desperately trying to turn over to block that horribly ticklish spot. Dick has him firmly pinned with his thighs, and his strength is just gone; there’s nowhere to hide.
“Not hearing my apologies, Jason,” Dick smirks, poking incessantly at his spine with merry little taps, causing the boy to flinch and groan his annoyance through his giggling.
“Ihihi trihihihied!”
“Try harder.”
God, Jason was going to kill this man.
He does attempt though, yet every time he gets out one syllable, Dick’s either blowing another raspberry or raking his fingers across those hypersensitive shoulder bones. Jason is lost in laughter, cheeks flushed brightly, and a smile starting to ache on his face. He didn’t think he’d laughed like this since… well, since before everything went to shit.
It felt weirdly nice, though a little overwhelming.
It was when Dick blew three mini rasberries across his ribcage that he finally worked up the air capacity to shriek. “I’M SOHOHOHORRY! DIHIHICK PLEHEHEASE!” He slaps the carpet twice, a little desperate as he crumbles into a ball of laughter. He wasn’t sure if he preferred dying to this or a crowbar; at least the latter wasn’t embarrassing.
A firm pressure immediately rubs down his back, hard enough to avoid tickling and getting rid of those ghastly aftershocks. Jason slumps to the floor, muffling his titters into the carpet and trying to remember what it’s like to breathe properly. The second Dick’s weight leaves his hips, he’s rolling into a ball. A hand touches his head, and he can’t stop the preemptive jolt and small hiccup of laughter.
There’s a soft laugh above him. “No more, Little Wing. You’ve had enough.” A hand deftly shifts through his messy hair, correcting the little floof of white back into a dignified state. Jason allows it. Not cause he can’t move or he enjoys the feeling, but as a way for Dick to make up for the torture he put him through. He lets his eyes slip closed, going boneless into the floor.
“Did you break him?”
Glee is evident in Tim’s voice, footsteps shuffling over to where Jason is doing his best impression of a blob fish. Jason rolls his eyes at Dick’s prideful chuckle.
“F’ck off, Timbit,” Jason grumbles, shoving his face into his arms and willing away the pink he knew was still staining his cheeks.
“Tt, you deserved that, Todd. After giving up not only myself, but Drake as well?” Damian’s playfully haughty remark made the vigilante look up with a glare. The kid looked far too smug. Dick mustn’t have gone very hard on him. That would need to change in the future.
Alfred walks over with three water bottles in hand, passing one to Tim, to Dick, and setting the third by Jason’s side. “Are you alright, Master Jason?” He asks, and the look he’s giving the boys is nothing short of amused.
Jason can’t help the fond twitch of his lips despite his embarrassment, giving a small nod to the butler. “I’m good.” He fumbles with the chilled water and drags himself up to uncap it. “Bruce raised a monster.”
Dick, who’s chugging his water after having to hunt down three brothers, grins around the neck of the bottle. “I learned from the best,” he claims after swallowing. “It’s a generational game.”
“It’s generational trauma,” Jason mutters.
Dick raises one hand and wiggles his fingers, utterly delighted and wheezing with laughter when all three brothers leap away from him with wide eyes.
“I believe you are quite right, Master Jason,” Alfred hums, though the small chuckle he lets out escapes none of them. “Master Bruce will be delighted that something of his family was passed down.”
“Happy to carry on the tradition,” Dick grins, taking another victorious swig of his water. His brothers shoot him identical glares, but Dick notes that each of them is still flushed with smiles on their faces. The boys all looked content, tired of course, but happy.
Dick grins back unapologetically as he swallows. Maybe he needs to invoke Countdown more often if this was the result: a house filled with laughter and only the occasional death threat. A good day for the manor, all in all.
a/n: wow being off work is great for my productivity i've *checks notes* written 7k on the external piece but more importantly. 2 fics.
summary: Dick might be a full entire grownup, but he still needs time from his Dad outside of vigilante work. the 1st of 3 installments with Bruce and each of the boys. Damian will appear eventually, he's just not here yet :)
notes: brief, one-line mention of a case that is very vaguely implied to involve SA, but could also be basically any kind of violent crime. Not an important plot point, no explicit details given. // also, some very light angst - Bruce tells Dick he's proud of him and Dick, overwhelmed and tired, gets a little teary. not related to cheer-up tickles.
lee!Dick // ler!Bruce // brief lee!Tim and ler!Dick
Bruce knew as well as any parent that hearing his name shouted at volume loud by one of his kids would never not send a spike of panic through his chest. It didn’t matter that this particular evening found him seated in one of the armchairs across from his desk, or that he knew, absolutely knew, that his sons were all safe at home in the Manor. Hearing his oldest son screech out “DAD!” had Bruce bolting out of his chair and down the hall before the wave of icy panic fully sunk into the pit of his stomach.
He needn’t have bothered. It wasn’t a crisis, because of course it wasn’t, but those parental instincts would never die.
“Hiya, B!” Dick chirped, looking up at Bruce.
Bruce just stared at him for a moment. “...how?”
Dick was hanging upside down from the second-floor railing, his legs wound through two of the posts to anchor him as he dangled over the hallway below. Knees…surely weren’t supposed to bend like that. He’d been inverted long enough that his cheeks had a mild tinge of red from the bloodflow to his head.
This certainly wasn’t the first time Bruce had stumbled across Dick in a position that shouldn’t have been feasible for any human being, and he was well aware that it wouldn’t be the last time, either. At least it wasn’t the chandelier this time – but those might not even hold Dick’s weight, now.
Dick curled upwards to grab the posts with his hands and gave Bruce a sunny smile. “I’m stuck.”
Bruce huffed out a light puff of laughter through his nose. He’d been through this one before, many times. “You’re not stuck, chum, you’re bored.” He reached out anyways, leaning down over the railing so Dick could grab his forearm and pull himself up high enough that he had the leverage to slide his legs free.
“Maybe I was,” Dick said as he pushed himself up and flipped over to the carpet of the upstairs hallway. As usual, his landing was silent. “Tim and Jason are researching some case, Alfred’s busy, and you’re working. What else am I supposed to do?” There was a slight note of disapproval in his tone, even though he was still smiling.
Ah, right. Bruce squeezed his shoulder, feeling Dick lean slightly into his grip. “I wasn’t working. The whole week off, right?”
“Oh.” Dick’s grin turned a little sheepish. “Sorry. You were in your study, I just assumed.”
“It’s a fair enough deduction.” Still gripping his eldest’s shoulder, Bruce jostled him as they walked towards the stairs. “Just reading, this time.”
“Anything important?”
“Just fiction.” Bruce hesitated for a moment, then added, “Never more important than you.” He knew he’d made the right call when Dick ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. As Dick had gotten older – and, perhaps, as he’d seen more and hurt more – he’d grown ever-so-slightly quieter, less open than before. It was a small change; frankly, Bruce was probably the only one who’d noticed, because Dick never let that bleed into his relationships with his brothers. But the movement he’d just made had always been his tell, at least in his interactions with Bruce.
“But,” Bruce began, trying to inject some levity into his words. “It would be unforgivable to let my son languish in his boredom, so…is there anything you would like to do?”
“Uh.” Dick chewed on his lower lip for a second, a habit he’d seemed to have picked up from Tim. “Maybe you could spot me on the rings?”
As if he’d ever needed a spotter. Bruce did recognize, though, that what Dick was really asking for was time. “Of course, chum. Just let me go change.”
***
Part of Bruce had often wondered if Dick had some yet-undiscovered Meta DNA that allowed him to move with such grace and power whenever he was in the air. The other part of Bruce was busy bursting with pride at the skill, work, and dedication that Dick always displayed whenever he was unleashed on unsuspecting gym equipment.
Back when Dick was younger, Bruce had decided to outfit the main floor’s exercise room with gymnastics and acrobatic equipment so his kid would have a familiar outlet for the energy that sang through his cells like a live current. He’d kept up with it through the years, occasionally changing out the fixtures as Dick grew, to be sure that everything was still sized appropriately to hold Dick’s weight as he’d started filling out.
The rings had been one of Dick’s favorites. He could often be found there in the evenings attempting to wring out enough energy to settle down in bed, and still used them whenever he was at the manor. Bruce watched him now from outside the “possibly-getting-kicked-in-the-face” radius, close enough to intervene should Dick require assistance, but far enough that he could see the full range of motion and flexibility that his oldest was capable of executing.
And it was staggering.
Dick moved like it was as easy as breathing, each swing and lift flowing into the next, caught up in an elaborate dance with gravity as he worked through a series of conditioning exercises. Once he was warmed up, he switched to combinations of flips and drops that became increasingly complicated, requiring more and more rotations until Bruce couldn’t count them anymore.
He allowed himself to lose track of time. It was easy to get caught up in memories of a younger Dick doing similar things, often staying up there until Bruce climbed up on a footstool to pull him down – or, sometimes, to tickle him until he let go and fell into Bruce’s grasp.
“Hey, B, catch!” Dick yelled.
Startled out of his reminiscing, Bruce instinctively stepped forwards to widen his stance as Dick pulled himself up from an iron cross and somersaulted forwards. The weight of his now-grown son punched the air out of Bruce’s lungs for a second, but he still caught him – because, really, what was the point of being able to bench six hundred if he couldn’t also lift his children?
“Oh my God,” Dick was laughing, head flung backwards. “Sorry, I thought you’d dodge.”
“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Bruce replied, a little breathless. “Of course I’d catch you.” Cradling his twenty-five-year-old as if he were a much younger child, Bruce hitched him up into a more secure hold.
“And here I was, hoping for a crash landing.”
Bruce rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to smile. “Brat.” There was no heat in his voice, and he adjusted the arm under Dick’s knees so he could reach around and squeeze at his leg.
The startled yipping noise that Dick made ensured that Bruce kept smiling to himself, turning his gaze to his eldest’s face. It was always good to reaffirm that, no matter how old Dick got, there were some things he wouldn’t be outgrowing anytime soon.
Dick was staring back at him with a grin that Bruce would call delighted, something like anticipation glittering in his eyes. The sight sent a rush of affection churning through his chest. Dick, unlike his younger brothers, found it easier to accept positive attention and was much more open about seeking it. Maybe this entire detour to the gym was Dick asking, in his more direct if still a tad roundabout way, for some one-on-one time with his dad.
After all, it wasn’t like Dick hadn’t inserted himself into Tim and Jason’s casework before. He was intentionally leaving them be.
“Really?” Bruce asked as if he didn’t know full well what the answer would be. Doing that always seemed to aggravate his children into flustered sputters of laughter. “Still?”
“Maybe,” Dick hedged, a faint blush rising to the high points of his cheekbones.
“Well,” When Bruce let Dick down, he noted the flash of disappointment in his son’s eyes. “What is it you say to your brothers? Ah, yes, you’ll always be my baby.”
That made Dick flush even darker and looked away. “B.”
Chuckling quietly, Bruce ruffled his hair until Dick groaned and shoved his hand away. “Sorry, chum, am I embarrassing you?”
Dick rolled his eyes but didn’t seem too upset as he knocked his shoulder into Bruce’s. “Horribly.”
Bruce pulled him into a sideways hug, then kissed the top of his head. “Cocoa?”
“Only if you make it.”
***
“So, what did you get the boys for Christmas?” Dick asked. He’d been content to follow Bruce from the kitchen to his bedroom, and was now sprawled across the bed, head hanging off of one side.
Bruce set his mug aside and replaced it with one of the books he’d been working through. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Hey,” Dick craned his head upwards. “I’m not asking about me. Oh, hey, is that Pădurea Spânzuraților?”
“It is. You’d mentioned reading it a couple months ago, so I thought I’d pick it up.”
The smile that broke out over Dick’s face was nearly blinding. “Let me know when you finish, I’d love to talk about it with you.”
“I look forward to it,” Bruce said, absently squeezing Dick’s kneecap in what he’d intended to be a comforting gesture. Dick’s leg kicked out under his grip and his eldest squawked.
Oh, right. Bruce carefully set the book aside then got to his knees, noting that Dick was already scrambling to pull himself all the way off the bed to escape to the floor. That problem was easily solved by pinning Dick down by his ankles. “Going somewhere, Dick?”
“Trying to,” Dick called back, the words taught with suppressed laughter. He’d almost made it off the mattress, head and shoulders touching the carpet. Bruce couldn’t see his face, but it was easy enough to imagine his flustered grin and scrunched-up cheeks.
Bruce hummed as he settled both hands just above Dick’s knees. “And why would you do that?”
“Oh, you kno-OHOW!” Dick broke off into a screech when Bruce squeezed, alternating hands until Dick’s laughs turned into loud cackles. Then, keeping one hand on Dick’s kneecap and vibrating his fingers into the sides, he used the other to make light scritches on the underside of his other knee. The contrasting sensations made Dick wheeze and snort as he tried to sit up, his legs twitching like they were trying to detach themselves from the rest of him.
“Bruhuhuce!” Dick cried through wild laughter. “Not that not that!” The blankets wrinkled as he gripped onto them with white-knuckled fists.
“Not what?” Bruce paused his squeezing hand and let his fingers skitter around to the back of that knee, too. “This?” The backs of Dick’s knees were a time-honored tickle spot that was usually enough to send Dick into helpless peals of laughter.
Dick managed to curl himself upwards enough for Bruce to see him nodding furiously, red-faced and grinning. “It’s–it’s too–”
“Oh. Does it tickle?”
“Dad!”
“Dick!” Bruce copied his son’s tone, which earned him a giggly groan. After a few more seconds he backed off the knees and switched to sporadic, nibbling pinches on Dick’s lower thighs. Dick snorted and spasmed again, flopping back down to dangle onto the floor.
“You’re – you’re sohoho meheheehEAN!” he sputtered as Bruce squeezed at his hips – not nearly as bad for Dick as they were for Jason, but ticklish enough to make him snort.
“I’m mean?” Bruce asked, grinning even though Dick couldn’t see him. “I think you’re just ticklish, chum.”
“Nohoho!”
Bruce had to laugh along with him. “Are you trying to tell me you aren’t?” Leaning forward, he slid his hands up to wiggle into Dick’s sides, grinning when his eldest shrieked and convulsed. “Because, and I do hate to break it to you, it seems like you are.” Now that he was able to see Dick’s face again, he noticed the relaxed quality of Dick’s smile and laughter even though his eyes were getting slightly watery.
Hm. It would seem that Dick had needed some dad time, as they used to call it, for a while. Being an adult didn’t mean that he didn’t need – or didn’t want – his father. Bruce, of all people, knew that deeply. Maybe he could set aside a block of time on his weekly calendar for Dick, they could get lunch, or coffee or...or even talk on the phone, just something that wasn't related to their night jobs. Something to think about later.
Meanwhile, Dick had apparently given up on protesting and was making rather weak attempts at removing Bruce’s hands from his sides before they could go any higher. His dark hair scrubbed the carpet, probably turning into a mess of knots. Taking momentary pity, Bruce sat back and tugged Dick upright, pulling him back against his chest. It was easy to manhandle his laughter-weakened child; all of Dick’s finely-honed coordination went sailing out the window whenever he was tickled. No one who saw him flailing around would ever think he was an acrobat – or, for that matter, a highly-trained vigilante.
Bruce started walking his fingers up Dick’s sides, getting a quieter round of hiccupy-sounding giggles for his troubles, and paused just beneath the soft spot underneath his ribs. Immediately, Dick started squirming around like when he was a little kid.
“B–”
“You know,” Bruce said, cutting him off. “I think the very first time I did this, Alfred almost came running with his shotgun.” And he squeezed Dick’s lower ribs, turning his hands upside down so he could vibrate his thumb right beneath them.
Dick screeched like a banshee on the Irish moors and flung his head back against Bruce’s shoulder, twitching and jerking as he laughed in scream-like cackles. It was a bit of a cheap shot, but Bruce couldn’t bring himself to regret it when his eldest abruptly relaxed against him in wheezy, almost-silent laughter.
Bruce tilted his head down to speak directly into Dick’s ear, knowing that the days-old stubble on his face would drive Dick crazy when it touched the crook of his neck. “You are, without a doubt–” Sure enough, Dick squeaked – squeaked – then succumbed to a new wave of giggly snorts. “One of the loudest, squirmiest, most ticklish people in the world.” He emphasized each word with alternating pokes to each of Dick’s twin tickle spots.
“Such a sap,” Dick gasped out, jerking with each poke. “Softie.”
To retaliate, Bruce shoved his hands up under Dick’s arms, earning a surprised screech that dissolved into breathless giggles. “And that’s your giggle spot. Tell me, Dickie, are your brothers aware of how ticklish you are?”
Shaking his head, Dick tried to pin his arms down to his sides, but only succeeded in trapping Bruce’s fingers. “Not – not all of it!”
“Ah. Well,” Bruce extricated his hands to wrap his arms around Dick, holding him tight so his breathing could come down into normal range. Dick let his head thunk back again, eyes closed. “I’m sure they’ll find out soon.”
“Is that a threat?” Dick asked, cracking one eye open to look at him.
Bruce rested his chin on his head, which made Dick relax against him even more. “Not necessarily. Tim’s been observant, lately.”
“Yeah, he and Jason are up to something.”
“Your reign of terror might be coming to an end.” Bruce patted his knee and Dick flinched in anticipation of tickles that didn’t come. “Good luck.” This time he did squeeze, getting Dick to squeak.
“Hehey!”
“Hey, I’m desensitizing you.” Bruce poked and squeezed his knees and thighs as Dick lay there in a heap of yelps and giggles. “Fatherly duties.”
For several moments, Dick was content to lean against him and laugh, snorting occasionally like when Bruce reached down to squeeze sporadically at his calves, until he finally flailed out and smacked the bedding twice.
Bruce immediately released him but Dick just flipped onto one side to get into a more comfortable position, bringing one of his knees up to his chin while his other leg sprawled across Bruce’s, leaning his full weight against Bruce.
One of Bruce’s arms reached up automatically to hold him steady even though the odds of Dick rolling off were slim. His children had been unusually tactile lately – well, maybe not unusually, but certainly more frequently. It wasn’t anything he’d complain about.
“You’re a very good brother, you know,” he murmured, kissing Dick’s hair. “I’m very proud of you.”
That, more so than any tickling, made Dick’s blush crawl down his neck. It occurred to Bruce that he should probably say that more often.
“Thanks, B.”
“And you’re the kind of son every father should want,” Bruce continued. He'd been on a roll with the emotions, lately, and figured that he might as well capitalize on the momentum. The winter holidays had always left Dick a little raw, too, and Bruce had the instinctive feeling that it was important to say these things to him. “You’re kind, brilliant, brave–”
“Bruce,” Dick whined, pressing his face into Bruce’s sweater. His blush now covered his face and neck, and was spreading rapidly to his ears.
“–no, listen, sweetheart. You’ve become an incredible young man, better than I ever was. I never stopped being so unbelievably proud of you, even when we fought. I still am. And I love you.”
Dick…sniffled.
Bruce sat up a little to wrap his oldest child in a tight hug. “Oh, Dickie. ”
“Thanks,” Dick whispered and for a moment he sounded much younger. Then he cleared his throat and slowly dragged the heel of his hand across his eyes. “Work’s been really busy lately. I think I’ve been a little overwhelmed.”
Pressing another kiss to the top of his hair, Bruce settled back against his headboard, still keeping his arms in a tight circle around Dick. “I know how that goes. If you want to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen.”
“Maybe later,” Dick said wetly. “It’s – It’s a hard case, right now. All hands on deck. Serial…well, you know.”
Bruce’s heart ached for him. “I’m sorry, honey.”
After several moments of silence, some of the tension that had seeped back into Dick’s posture eased as his shoulders slumped forwards. He shifted around until Bruce saw his bright, reddened eyes blinking up at him.
“I love you too, Dad.”
A warm wave of tender affection rolled through Bruce’s thoughts as he squeezed his oldest son a little harder. He didn’t think Dick would fall asleep here, but he needed the quiet and the physical contact to process through his tangled feelings.
At some point, scuffles and whispers from the hall drew his attention to the doorway, where Tim and Jason were trying to slink back out of sight.
“You can come in, boys,” he called, a note of dry amusement creeping into his voice.
Dick pushed himself up on one arm and squinted blearily at them. “Hey, guys.”
“Are you okay?” Tim asked, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. Behind him, Jason placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, which sent a twinge of pride through Bruce.
“Oh, yeah,” Dick said. He yawned wide enough to make his jaw pop. “Just having dad time.” As soon as the words left his mouth the blush returned, like he hadn't intended on referring to it as that.
“He means getting tickled within an inch of his life,” Bruce clarified, winking at his younger sons. A spark of mischief danced in Jason’s eyes even as he kept a neutral expression. Tim looked intrigued but stayed quiet.
Dick squawked indignantly. “Bruce!”
“It’s not like we couldn’t hear, Dickwing,” Jason said. “You’re loud.”
As Dick made a rude gesture at him in answer, Tim ventured closer to the bed, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. His eyes flicked to Bruce uncertainly, then back to Dick.
“You can come up.” Bruce gestured to the expansive king-sized mattress, hoping to put his more skittish child at ease. Well, not skittish, exactly. More like...hesitant. “Plenty of room.”
Dick nodded his agreement, which instantly convinced Tim to scramble up and fling himself over Dick’s legs, making his older brother groan in half-hearted complaint.
Bruce heard Tim mumble, “It’s late, we were looking for you.”
Dick’s eyebrows flicked up and he grinned. “Ah. Jaybird, too?”
“Fuck no,” Jason hissed. He’d wandered closer but now backpeddled to the door. “I’m goin’ to bed, ‘night B!”
“Goodnight,” Bruce replied, sending him another wink. Jason’s mouth curled up in a brief smirk before he disappeared down the hall to safety.
“I just wanted to see if you’d gone out or something,” Tim said quickly. He rolled over to look up at Dick, the added pressure on Bruce’s own legs, seeing as he was at the bottom of the pile, making them tingle with pins and needles. “That’s all.”
But Dick was already grinning at him in a way that would drive the Cheshire cat into fits of envy. “Whatever you say, Timmy.”
For a few seconds, neither of them moved, suspended in playful tension. Bruce settled back against his headboard again, more than happy to take the observer role for whatever was about to occur (and he was pretty sure he knew ). Then, suddenly, Dick lunged, trying to knock Tim off and pin him down at the same time. He kneed Bruce in the stomach as he did – “Sorry, B!” – and Tim shrieked in surprise and laughter as he went sprawling across the foot of the bed.
“Hey! You – Dick!”
Dick just laughed as he straddled Tim’s thighs, shoving his knees forward to pin his hands down. “Your reflexes need some work, Baby Bird.”
Tim gave him the disgruntled scowl that Bruce had always found adorable, though he’d never admit it out loud because Tim would probably never recover.
“Don’t give me that look,” Dick said. "What's goin' on? Not tired? Extra energy?" He struck without buildup or warning, digging his fingers into Tim’s lower stomach before he could answer. Tim shouted, tossing his head back against the bedding, then almost immediately melted into a puddle of squeaky giggles.
“Dihihick!”
“You’re literally the cutest, babiest brother ever,” Dick replied. “Except for Jason, I think you guys are tied. The Timmy Tummy Tickles might give you an edge, though…maybe I’ll run an experiment one of these days. B, you can help.”
Tim’s mortified shriek made Bruce laugh despite his commitment to being an observer, not a participant. He shouldn’t have felt surprised when Dick flashed him a wild grin; being around his brothers always brought out this side of him, no matter what else was going on. His undying love for his siblings never failed to make Bruce's eyes sting if he thought about it too long.
“Jay!” Tim yelled. He’d squeezed his eyes shut. “Help mehehee!”
Jason’s answer echoed from down the hall. “Sorry, giggle brat, you’re on your own!”
Bruce also shouldn’t have been surprised when Tim turned his head to give him a desperate, pleading look that was weakened by the bubbly giggles pouring out of him. “B? D-dahad?”
“Hmm.” Bruce pondered potential courses of action for a couple seconds because, on the one hand, watching his children get along and goof off was always delightful and reassuring. On the other hand, to Bruce’s immeasurable delight, Tim had recently started using Dad with him – it had only taken the better part of a decade, but … well, late was better than never – and Bruce selfishly wanted to encourage it.
He decided to compromise. Instead of knocking Dick off of Tim, he tweaked one of those spots under Dick’s ribs, making his eldest fold sideways with a startled screech.
Tim’s eyes lit up.
Bruce kept making quick, nibbling pinches into both spots, alternating how many and which side at random, until Dick gave up and flopped to the side, slapping the tickling hands away.
“Ooh, It’s a Christmas miracle,” Tim cheered, still coming off his own giggles.
Dick playfully glared at him. “Oh, I’ll show you a Christmas miracle.” But instead of going after Tim again, he turned to Bruce and threw himself forward, hands outstretched.
“Nice try, chum,” Bruce grunted with the effort it took to stop Dick in place by putting his palms on his shoulders.
Though he struggled for a moment, Dick eventually gave up and slumped back down. “Okay, okay, fine.”
Tim dragged himself up onto his hands and knees and stumbled a few paces forwards before collapsing back down, his face pressed into Bruce’s knee. He grumbled something that sounded like, “So mean to me.”
Dick heard and laughed quietly as he met Bruce’s gaze, and his smile softened into something almost shy. “Hey, I learned from the best.”
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thank you for reading!! my adhd meds made me lock in on this like a heat-seeking guided missile y'all
extra notes: Pădurea Spânzuraților is a Romanian novel from 1922 that may or may not be part of some of the other writing I'm doing. I'm imagining Dick reading and having so many thoughts on multiple levels - as tied to his heritage, as tied to his personal feelings about that, as tied to his experience of violence and warlike conditions as a vigilante and a hero, as tied to his own moral and ethical feelings about life. So Bruce is reading it going "ah I see why this is important to my son and I want to be able to understand if he ever wants to or feels comfortable talking about this with me"
lee!tim, ler!dick. 3k words give or take of silly banter, 2% hurt (hurt that really doesn’t even take itself very seriously) 98% comfort, and fluff.
so um yeah about what you’ve learned to expect from me . I hope you like it :’) I’m happy I was able to put something out while still in the throes of my writing difficulties lately, and I’m even happier I was able to still have fun doing it. :’)
“So what’s new with you, Haley?”
The puppy snorted.
“Sounds rough. I’m waiting for my brother because he said he’d hangout with me if I puppysat for him, but now he’s bailing out because ‘his flight got delayed.’”
“Such a liar.”
“Right, Haley?”
She stared cluelessly at Tim, tongue hanging lose from her muzzle. Not a single thought behind those pretty blue eyes. Dick really did have the cutest dog ever.
“You’re his best friend, aren’t you? He hangs out with you all the time.” Haley seemed to at least pick up on the fact that Tim was cooing at her, getting all excited, whimpering, crawling all over him. Puppy things.
“Such a good friend, such a good girl. Yes you are!”
Tim lurched with a shout when the door swung open.
He was really only so startled because he’d been talking at Dick’s dog like an idiot, and it was anyone’s guess how long his brother had just been lurking outside the door, trying not to laugh at him.
“Hey, hate to intrude in my own place, sorry. Hope you don’t mind.” Tim caught Dick’s small travel bag as it was playfully launched at him.
“How in the world did you survive off of this?” He was eyeing the bag suspiciously.
“Laundromat.”
Tim conceded with a conclusive, “Oh.” That made sense, and he probably always smelled bad on missions. It’s not like there was a dry cleaner for your Robin costume.
He focused his attention back on Haley, who was just about having heart failure upon Dick’s arrival. It was hard to imagine ever getting that excited over anything, but Tim watched as Dick fully reciprocated her affection without a second thought.
“Was she good?” He was holding the wiggly puppy.
Tim shrugged, averting his gaze. “She’s always good.”
“Well… still, thanks for watching her. I know it was sort of short notice, but she’s still so little, so I didn’t just wanna leave ‘er—“
“You’d better be thankful. How dare you impose upon me the horrible burden of watching your cute puppy for five days.”
“Oh, you poor baby.” Dick vaulted over the back of the sofa and crash landed, Haley still cradled firmly in his arms. Tim had opted to sit on the floor below. Dick Grayson wasn’t real, he was pretty sure. Because how did anyone still have this much energy while jet lagged?
“There’s no pouting allowed in my apartment, and you’re on thin ice—“
“Please, tell me about all of your thrilling escapades in Markovia. I want all the details.” Tim dryly deflected, flopping his head back against the cushions. Dick was upside down.
“Well…” With Tim staring up at him like that, Dick couldn’t not tap him on the nose. He didn’t look when he knew Tim was giving him a look. Must’ve been the wind.
“Long story short, we hopped on the plane, I said ‘Titans, go!’, we brought the bad guys to justice, and then we took the plane home.”
“You must be very jet lagged. You’re usually a way better storyteller.” Tim sniffed and rubbed away a lingering itch on his nose.
“It’s pretty late, I guess.” He went to stand, but hesitated when he saw Dick’s brow furrow.
“What?”
“You really did think I was gonna bail out on you.” Dick jabbed a finger into Tim’s chest accusingly. He didn’t want to trip any emotional constipation alarms, so he kept his tone light. But the thought did make him a little sad.
“So you were eavesdropping on me and Haley.”
“You say that like it was an actual conversation. She was just licking the toothpaste stain on your pant leg the whole time.” Dick pointed. Haley, incriminated for her taste for fluoride, slunk off into another room.
Tim glanced down. Lo and behold, “Well, I’m sorry if my toothpaste stain offends you.” He scoffed under his breath.
“Mm?”
“What?” Poker face engaged.
“I thought I heard you say something.”
“No, uh, I didn’t… I didn’t say anything.”
Tim knew he’d failed spectacularly when Dick was struggling not to laugh at him.
“Okay, sure.” He took pity on Tim. “Seriously though, you don’t have to rush out the door. I said we’d hangout. That’s the reason that you took up such a treacherous job as puppysitting. You just couldn’t bear to wait any longer to see me—“
“See you never.” Tim went to take a step.
“Tiiimmm!” Dick was clinging onto his arm, face first in the sofa. His straightened himself out and his tone shifted to a more serious one.
“Do you want to go home, or do you think that I want you to go home? Because I’m telling you right now that I don’t, I was looking forward to seeing you too.”
Tim shuffled his feet. He was still having sort of a hard time getting over the whole hero worship thing with Dick and Bruce. Maybe give it another year or two, he’ll have to get over it eventually. Regardless, Dick still often felt like someone just out of reach. It was sort of cliche, but he could spend time with anyone he wanted. He was Nightwing. Why would he ever look forward to seeing Tim.
So came a sympathetic chuckle, “I have a feeling you may be overthinking this.”
“I mean…” Am I really, though?
Dick stared knowingly. “I don’t know what I’ve gotta say to you to make you understand.”
“But I’ll keep you here all night if I have to.” He tugged Tim back down by the arm, letting his own loosely settle around his brother’s shoulders as he landed.
Well, now Tim had to be annoying about this, insecurities be damned. His silent treatment didn’t seem to be bothering Dick in the slightest, so he took a risk and began to slowly shimmy towards the edge of the couch.
To which Dick proceeded to sprawl his entire body weight across Tim with a cartoonish yawn and stretch. They’d played this game before, several times. Even if Tim did manage to squirm away, he always came out of it winded.
Tim’s protests were ignored, Dick not moving a muscle and pretending to snore. So it was a, “I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you’re there to be annoying,” type of day. When his continued physical struggle and complaining went absolutely nowhere, he switched gears.
“‘I’m gonna keep you here all night,’ he says. ‘I like hanging out with you,’ he says. Oh, honestly. Unbelievable.” Tim wasn’t above emotional manipulation.
“Alright? Talk to me, then, baby bird. What’s new in Timmy World?” Dick didn’t move. Tim flailed his limbs and stumbled over a groan that came out more like a whine.
“Get ohohoff already!” Tim didn’t know why, but Dick finally relented.
“You’re so dumb…” He pulled his feet up to rest on the sofa with him, knees a few inches out from his chest. A result of his posture right now that Batman would very much not approve of.
“It got you laughing, though.”
Tim knew he was unreasonably red from that very casual and minute remark. People say things like that all the time. He’d never been able to handle people complimenting or really even pointing out his smile or laugh at all. It was almost always playful and friendly, something people did because they care and want to see you smile. They like the way it looks on your face.
That stirred up something in Tim he was never able to place. It was likely just more care and attention to detail, his details, than he was capable of processing.
He attempted to conceal his bashfulnesss behind a tired, sidelong glance. He collapsed onto his side, pressing a pillow over his head. He still heard Dick laughing good naturedly at him.
“Don’t you hide from me.” He chided. He briefly tugged at the pillow, falling back into his chosen seat from before when Tim wouldn’t budge.
“Tim…”
“Timmy.”
“Timothy.”
“Tiiimmm~”
Tim thought that maybe he’d won when he felt the sofa shift, Dick having finally settled back into his seat. He got maybe four minutes of peace before he felt a finger briefly scratch at the bottom of his foot; the most readily available thing for Dick to annoy with Tim facing away.
His reaction was instantaneous, Tim violently kicking at Dick’s hand, his socks generating static against the cushions below.
“Go awahay…” Hs mumbled.
This process repeated about three times. If Tim stayed there, he’d probably go insane just waiting for the next scare to happen. He could feel Dick’s grin upon him, he didn’t need to see it, so he started kicking preemptively.
Tim sprung up, mercilessly throttling his brother with the pillow he’d taken. A common household blunt weapon, not quite as fun as chasing Dick around with his bo-staff. But it’ll do in a pinch. Dick fell back with a remorseless cackle and held his arms out to protect himself.
“aHAHACK! No headshots, you bully!”
Tim aimed for the head. He slowly tapered off as Dick stopped putting up as much of a fight.
“You’re funny sometimes.”
Tim hoped that whatever he just felt wasn’t his blood pressure spiking. The cynic in him couldn’t help making itself heard; Well, that’s already worrying. We’re off to a great start.
“I don’t know if you think you’re above it all or if you’re just shy or what, but whenever someone starts tickling, you run off.”
“But-but, anytime I actually tickle you, you’re like,” Dick cleared his throat.
“Oh nooo… anything but that.” His tone was flat.
“Aaaahhh, the agony, how could you do this to me?” Dick continued, now slowly shimmying closer, mocking Tim’s terrible performance of peril that he always put on during these situations. Dick fell backwards and continued his dramatics, now draped over his lap.
“You can’t! You shant!”
Tim would be lying if he said he didn’t want to die right here, right now. Just a little bit. Actually, a fairly sizable portion of him probably already did. It wasn’t nearly enough.
“Okay, that last part is definitely hyperbole.” He eventually managed to grumble, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“So the rest isn’t?”
“Well… no. It obviously is.”
“If you say so.”
“But what if I just— it’ll only take a second.” Tim squealed and collapsed into himself before Dick could even touch him. Pocketing that information for later, Dick decided to not bully Tim any longer and just do it already.
“You’re squishing me!” Dick teased, still sprawled across Tim’s lap. It gave him unfairly good access to the other's torso. Considering that he was able to dexterously prod around Tim’s upper ribs—strategizing, waiting for the moment Tim squirmed a little too close to the sun and lifted his arms—he wasn’t that squished. But it made Tim giggle that little bit louder when he said it.
“You know what the best spots on you are?” Dick asked it like a rhetorical question.
“uhEHEHE—“ Tim really did just sit there like a deer in the headlights. His body didn’t seem to know where it was supposed to squirm at all, actually. He ended up settling on dispelling all that giddy excess through flutter kicks and head shakes, shoving himself as far down into the couch as he could when Dick reached for him with more intention.
“No? You don’t? Really? It’s your nervous system!” He didn’t follow through, though. Dick’s grin softened as Tim continued to short circuit. He plucked Tim up from under his arms.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop running my mouth.” Dick apologized for his slander in the form of a little pat-pat to Tim’s head.
“But I’ve still gotta show you.”
Situating Tim laying in his lap instead now, Dick hovered a hand over each side, not able to stop himself from laughing when Tim shriveled up with a whine. He started by just poking. Tim would giggle and jerk to the other side, right into Dick’s other hand.
“You do half the work for me, but that’s not the best part.” Pokes became pinches, then flutters and scribbles. Every time without fail, Tim had the same knee jerk reaction that perpetuated the cycle. Side to side.
“The best part is that it makes you dance.”
“Ihihihit’s not dancing!”
“Isn’t it?” Dick feigned innocence, tilting his head, picking up the pace and spontaneity of the practiced touches.
“Such style, such grace!”
Tim buried his face in his hands, now hiccuping through what was normally his relatively uninterrupted, fast paced and goofy sounding laughter.
“Ah, shoot. Where’d he go?” Dick said in a bemused tone, pulling back to let Boy Blunder down there catch his breath a bit. He made a cartoonish level of effort in pretending to search for Tim.
“Oh my gohohod… you’re so stupid.” Tim let his hands fall to either side of his head. Dick jolted like he’d emerged from thin air. Tim’s face screwed into a restrained, downturned smile for a moment before he dissolved into laughter again.
“Okay, that was actually sort of good.”
“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night.” Dick kept up his bravado, but knew there was a fondness creeping into his gaze. Tim was just so darn cute sometimes. Little brother syndrome or something, don’t ask the oldest child, he wouldn’t know.
He’d already carved out his place in Dick’s heart that first day at the circus, even if the older couldn’t say he’d known it yet. Tim made it more than clear approximately five years later when he popped up again out of nowhere knowing every single little detail of Dick’s life.
That part was… questionable at best, but he supposed he’d rather be picked apart like that by a kid who meant well than a criminal who meant creepy. Ultimately, a quarter of the reason that Tim got away with it in the first place was because of just how quickly he’d unwittingly endeared himself to Dick.
“So… what have we learned?” Dick rotated his hand around, waiting for Tim to pick up the slack. His brow and nose wrinkled.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Gotta do everything myself around here.” Dick mused before diving his hands back down. He set them on either side of Tim’s face, higher up than you’d normally hold with a gesture like this because of a certain story he’d heard from Babs.
Tim apparently was having a hard time for a while figuring out how to properly put on his earpiece. Robin’s domino wasn’t as spacious as Batman’s cowl, you couldn’t hide an entire comm in there. She had to help him put it on for a little bit, and said it probably would have been easier if he just did it himself in the mirror, because he got so squeamish and giggly.
But he kept coming back to ask for her help anyway. Sounds about right.
“I told you I’d keep you over tonight for as long as it took for you to stop doubting yourself. So, I ask you again, what have we learned?”
“I don’t know??”
Dick threw his head back and groaned, shaking Tim’s face around a bit. “Well, for one, you’re the smartest person I know— a prodigal detective and fighter from the day I met you.”
Tim looked one compliment away from rolling his eyes.
“Tim, I’m serious. What you do as Robin doesn’t even get into the half of it. Maybe you don’t want me to go into detail because you think you’re too cool for this, and fine, I won’t. But Bruce, Alfred all of us, we should feel lucky that you came into our lives, not the other way around. And we do.”
“Every time we see that widdle face—“ Tim’s snapped to bite at Dick’s hand on one side. He pulled back with a startled laugh.
“Okay, okay, I got it. No funny business.”
“I know Bruce is awful at expressing himself. Like, when I say I know, I know. But you should have seen him the other day when your bus came late, and you got to the manor an hour later than normal.”
Dick pulled out his phone. Aligning with the date that Tim’s bus was late, he had six missed calls from Bruce. “I guess he thought you were with me. By the time I got back to him, you were safe and sound. But do you know how often Bruce calls me?”
“Never. The answer is literally never.”
Tim appeared sheepish.
“Case in point, we think you’re pretty cool. And I’m gonna keep bugging you until you believe me.”
“Okay, yeah, but, like…”
Tragically, this meant that Dick would have to put to use his last resort. He hadn’t really known that ears could be ticklish, at least not in the same sense as some other places. But when he experimentally skittered his fingers around, Tim lost it, tossing his head from side to side, gasping with frantic laughter. Babs was right, this spot made him all squeamish.
“Look at you, dancing again!” Dick had about a million other comments on speed dial that he knew would literally keep Tim up at night, but that wasn’t the point right now.
“You gotta say you’re co—“
Tim spluttered out the words, over and over again, a mile a minute, before Dick could even finish. Well, that was a little too easy. His ears, of all things. Who knew?
“That’s right, baby bird, the coolest.”
“Why there?” Tim was rubbing at his ears.
Dick laughed, “I don’t know, you tell me.”
Tim made a point to huff and puff for a little bit, but actions spoke louder than words. His posture had opened up, he had more to say, and as things got quieter, he slid comfortably into place against Dick’s side. He really wasn’t all that difficult to please if you knew your way around his backwards tendencies.
And as embarrassing as it felt in the moment, Tim knew this would probably become one of those things that made the people in a quiet room look at him and ask, “What is it?” as he fought a smile.
Summary: Jason’s maybe slightly, a tiny bit anxious and a whole lot overthinking brothers weekend. Bruce gives him a trick to hide up his sleeve. Around 4.3k
Notes: surprise Ler is in the tags below if you would rather know before reading! I edited this really fast because I’m anxious to share so I hope I didn’t miss anything major lol. Enjoy!
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“Bruuuce,” an irritated whine left his youngest’s throat. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m twelve— thirteen in like a month! And I used to take care of myself allllll the time,” Jason pointed out, trying to will the old man to look up from his computer.
“We’ve talked about this, Jaylad,” he sighed, closing the laptop. “You shouldn’t have to look after yourself. I know you’re capable, but the manor is quite the estate and you’re used to Alfred helping you out when I’m not around. Don’t think of your brother as a babysitter; he’s just coming to hangout for the weekend.” Bruce took in Jason’s nervous posture and pursed lips. He stood up from the desk and came around to kneel in front of a very fidgety Jason.
“What’s wrong, Jason? You don’t want to stay with Dick? I could arrange—“
“No! No,” Jason sighed, “it’s okay. Dickface isn’t that bad.” He admitted begrudgingly. “It’s just—“
“What?” Bruce urged when he saw hesitation, maybe embarrassment, in Jason’s face.
He groaned, looking anywhere but his guardian. “It’s stupid. You’re gonna- it’s stupid,” he repeated.
“I know you believe that I won’t laugh at you. Whatever it is. It’s not stupid.” He put a hand on Jason’s shoulder.
Biting his lip, and digging a spot into the plush carpet with his sock, he finally softly spoke, “he’s great. He’s a good big brother. The best,” he urged, and Bruce nodded, he often found when he got Jason to finally speak, it was like opening a flood gate. “But sometimes he’s too much. He’s so cheery and touchy and cuddly and— and I just can’t take it sometimes. And then if you say no he pouts and I hate when he does that. And you’re always here to-” where Jason’s words failed him, Bruce’s mind immediately supplied the thought, because I always interfere before Jason has to tell Dick he’s truly at his limit and needs some space. Instead Jason spits out, “well not—he’s just—it’s not like he does it on purpose.” He stammers.
“I understand.” Bruce drops the hand from Jason’s shoulder and instead squeezes his hand. “Dick is an extremely tactile person, when he first came into my life it was baffling to me, I had never in my life held hands with someone- well not since- since before I can barely remember.” Bruce admitted. “It took me a little bit to get used to. It’s not silly to need space sometimes.” He made sure Jason was looking at him. “Do you understand?”
Jason nodded.
“Dick will understand,” Bruce stated and Jason’s eyes went wide. “I’ll speak with him-“
“NO!” Jason paled. “No! You— you can’t say anything to him! He—well I don’t—I know it’s just him.” He finally landed on. “If you say something—“
If you say something he might stop altogether and I don’t want that. Is what Bruce know’s Jason is thinking, but can’t spit out.
“I understand.” Bruce repeats. “Though I am positive Dick wouldn’t take offense. One time the titans taped him to a chair so they could have a few hours of peace.” He winked at Jason.
“Really?!” Wide eyes met his. Bruce nodded.
“Really. And I think I have an idea. I won’t say anything to Dick, and I’ll be too far to play peacemaker,” he admitted. “But how would you like to have a secret weapon?” Jason was practically vibrating with excitement.
Bruce was gone for 65 hours before the secret weapon was deployed.
“Come onnnnn,” Dick whined from where he stood behind the couch. “Don’t you want to do something fun? Like have a pillow fight, or put a whoopie cushion in Bruce’s office? Doesn’t that sound entertaining, Little wing?” Dick poked his shoulder.
“Maybe for a 6 year old.” Jason didn’t look up from his novel. It had a fabric book cover to conceal whatever the little bookworm had chosen. Bruce had purchased a pack of them after he noticed Jason hiding his current read whenever anyone was around, like he expected a criticism.
Of course he’d never gotten one, not from Bruce, Alfred, or Dick, but that didn’t stop the insecurity. Jason had acted like it was no big deal when he’d handed over the assorted colors, but had immediately pulled one over his worn cover of Pride and Prejudice, and another over whichever book he seemed to switch out every few days.
Dick threw his head back against the couch cushions and sighed. “Well I’m bored. We’re supposed to be wreaking havoc, breaking things.” He let his intrusive thoughts take over and did the dangerous thing, poked Jason’s cheek. “Sneaking out,” he kept listing when Jason didn’t bite his finger off, just turn his head and leaned away from Dick. He was clearly trying to ignore him.
When he couldn’t reach his face, Dick jumped over the couch and planted himself firmly on Jason’s middle, ignoring the oof his little brother struggled to breath out.
“Get the hell off me,” Jason was squirming and trying to roll off the couch almost immediately. “Fatass,” he groaned.
Dick didn’t seem to mind, just further settled, making himself both comfortable, and immovable. “I’m b o r e d,” Dick droned on, not even batting an eye as tiny fists collided with his legs and knees. “Entertain me, Jay,” he urged, poking the kids cheek again, this time Jay did try to bite him, but Dick knew it was coming and pulled away in time.
“I’m not a wind up toy, asshole,” Jason gave up fighting, realizing Dick’s weight was going to keep him firmly in place. “Go play-“
“It’s no fun without a second player,” Dick whined and turned down the suggestion before he could even finish.
“Then go work out, or call Kori, or something, just leave me out of it.” Jason glared up at the pout planted on Dick’s face.
“But Jay,” Dick poked his stomach this time and Jason did everything he could not to react. “That’s the whole point! Brother’s weekend!” Another poke and Jason’s fully aware that his mouth twitched, he just hoped Dick hadn’t noticed.
He had.
“Finally! A smile— I haven’t seen one of those since before Alfred left for vacation,” Dick continued poking all around Jason’s stomach, quick and light, the perfect combination to set Jason’s senses on edge.
“Nothing to smile about,” Jason narrowed his eyes and tried to force a frown and grunt to cover any giggles that may try to escape.
Dick raised an eyebrow. “No? Well let me help you out, Little wing,” he winked before latching his hands onto either side of Jason’s ribcage.
“Nohoho!” Jason laughed trying to shove Dick’s hands away. “Please!” Jason tried the polite route. “I ju- just want to read, Dickface!” Well, maybe Jason’s brand of polite, anyway.
“You can read later,” there was still a distinct pout to Dick’s voice, but it seemed to fade with each squeal he earned from the prickly preteen. To emphasize that Jason wouldn’t be going back to his preferred task, Dick picked up the book where it had fallen to Jason’s chest, now halfway between him and the couch cushions, and tossed it gently onto the furthest chair.
Jason watched it fly away with his ever fleeting hope.
With any distractions now gone, Dick focused on going for a full blown tickle attack. “Where to begin,” he readjusted and caught one of Jason’s wrists. “You’ve been slacking in your training, that was waaay too easy.” Dick teased, missing when he tried to grab the other one.
“Have not!” Jason sneered, barring his teeth. “I’m warning you not to! I have a secret weapon!” He wasn’t planning to tell Dick, just to use said weapon if he really had to. But it was day 3 and Jason had endured countless head ruffles, several hugs, and enough tickle attacks to last him a year. Well… maybe not, but his patience was razor thin.
Dick narrowed his eyes for a moment before shrugging, “you’ve got a secret weapon, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. Jason nodded furiously. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you too busy to use it,” he grinned catching Jason’s other wrist and quickly sliding his hands under his knees. Jason was already fighting laughter before, so as soon as Dick’s clawed hand started vibrating into his stomach he was in tatters.
“Stahahap! I- I’m not k-kidding!” Jason threw his head back and forth while Dick wiggled his fingers into his armpit.
“Oh, I believe you, this is an interrogation- tell me what the secret weapon is?!” Dick demanded with a forced sternness.
Jason opened his mouth, to insult his brother, but instead let out a shriek when Dick reached down and dug his thumb into the front of Jason’s hip at the perfect time.
That was the moment he chose to use the secret weapon. Dick was just playing dirty now.
The sensation made Jason jackknife, sitting up as much ad he could and letting out shrill cackles right in Dick’s face.
Any insults or threats died on his lips as Dick dug into his worst spot with expert precision.
“Come on, Jay,” Dick teased. “Tell me what it is?” He moved away from Jason’s hips and started scratching his belly, right below his belly button.
“Y-you’re about to fihihihind out!” He managed to laugh out.
Jason just needed a little bit of air, just for a second, but currently that seemed like an impossible task.
Unless he played dirty too. He did take a nasty hit on patrol four days ago, but his armor had absorbed most of it, and the bruise was almost gone by now.
But Dick was still mostly avoiding the area, so when he brushed up against it the next time Jason sucked in just a little breath and winced away from the touch ever so slightly. He didn’t stop laughing, didn’t complain, that would raise red flags.
Dick immediately stopped his hands, instead placing his palms flat giants Jason sides, as if to appear stern. “Do your ribs hurt? I told you yesterday-“
Jason cut off Dick’s nagging with a nearly glass breaking scream, “CLAAARK! UNCLE CLARK!” Jason screamed at the top of his lungs.
Dick furrowed his brow, confusion washing over him first, then quickly turning into realization. “What? You’re bluffing…” he trailed off and looked around, suddenly on high alert.
“CLA—“ Dick clamped a hand over his mouth with wide eyes.
Dick’s nervous look made it all worth it. Jason wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to do it when it came down to it. He didn’t know Clark as well as Dick did, and he still got a little nervous around him. It was hard not to, he’s Superman, for christ sake! Jason wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or flattered even if Bruce had assured him Clark wouldn’t mind at all. He just hoped that was true.
He tried to drink in the color draining from his brother’s face, and the nervous flutter of his chest, but Dick seemed like he wanted to make the most of his last few moments.
“Little traitor!” He shouted before grabbing both of Jason’s hips and squeezing.
Jason barely had a chance to react before the sensation was gone. He opened his eyes to see Clark grinning, holding Dick by the collar, his tippy toes struggled to find contact with the rug.
“Good to see you boys,” Clark winked at Jason.
“You’re an even bigger traitor!” Dick accused. “You were my Uncle Clark first!” There was that whiney tone again that set Jason’s teeth somewhat on edge.
“And I taught you better than to pick on your little brother!” Clark raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” Jason added snootily, very much feeling the power he now held.
“Are you joking!? You used to sit on me and-“ Dick stopped mid sentence, lips clamping shut like he could take back the words.
And then a chuckle, “no, Dickie, go ahead! What was it I used to do?” Clark let Dick’s feet hit the ground, false hope— as he tackled him backwards to the floor, Dick didn’t even have time to counter. “I used to sit on you and tickle you silly to tire you out, just so your dad could have a break and get some work done.”
Clark got comfortable over Dick’s middle, ignoring his fighting hands.
“Jay, would you like a break?”
“Very much so,” he nodded furiously.
“This is a bunch of BS! I’m telling Bruce, you guys can’t team up against me,” Dick whined as Jason picked up his book.
Giving Dick a smug look on his way out, he simply shrugged. “Who do you think came up with the idea?” He tipped his book from his forehead towards Dick as a wave goodbye.
Dick’s face read total betrayal and Clark felt a little bad when Dick started pulling harder to get free.
But not that bad.
“Lucky for Jason, I remember all your spots.” Clark grinned down at him. “I’ll give him plenty of time to catch up on reading.”
“Clark,” Dick whined. “Don’t you think this is a little ridiculous? I mean I’m 18 years o-ohohold!” He started giggling when Clark’s hand found his lowest ribs.
“And yet, you still giggle like you did at 9,” Clark coo’ed.
“Doesn’t Superman have better things to do tonight?” Dick grunted trying to shimmy out from under him, Clark just rolled his eyes and started moving his hands upwards.
“You’d be surprised, what with the 50 odd vigilantes or so in Gotham alone.” He shrugged. “Besides, we haven’t caught up in forever, Dick. Don’t you want to spend some quality time with your Uncle Clark?” The bright, innocent grin spread across the Man of Steel’s cheeks, widening somehow further as he let his fingers start wiggling into Dick’s stomach.
Dick never bothered to try holding his laughter in, unless his little brothers were trying to turn the tables on him, and just like Clark remembered, soft giggles turned to desperate shrieks pretty quickly.
“C-clahahark!” Dick whined, letting him keep his hands was a double edged sword. Sure, he could pull and push and shove at Clark’s all he wanted, Clark’s strength was not to be matched, or even approached.
“Yes?” He asked suddenly diverting just one hand to Dick’s higher ribs, wrapping his fingers around the backs and squeezing between each rib with precision, all while his thumb dug into the front side.
Dick screamed, actually screamed, through his cackles, he scrunched his body to the right, trying to get those fingers to loosen their grip.
Then Clark retreated and went right back to the middle of his tummy. “Ihih-ihiht’s not faAHAHAIR!” He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped Clark’s wrist like he’d stop him from moving the hand again.
“Not fair? Not fair like sitting on a 80 pound kid and taking his book from him?” Clark raised an eyebrow, letting his fingers slow down enough that Dick knew he expected a response.
Taking a few deep breathes, he still stuttered out, “but he- I just-“
“Let me guess?” Clark grinned. “You,” he dragged his words out, his hands inching back towards Dick’s ribs. “Were bored?” Dick didn’t even register movement before he felt Clark’s other hand was digging into the other side of his ribs in the same spot. Arching his back to try to squirm away did nothing other than make Clark laugh.
Moving his hands back to Dick’s stomach had him catching his breath, huffing out little laughs here and there.
“You don’t think- h-hey!” He smacked Clark’s hand when it ventured a little to close to his ticklish belly button. Normally Clark would have rewarded that with fingers tasering into the spot, but he relented, back to the middle and let Dick continue. “You don’t think he’s actually mad, do you?” A flash of guilt was clear even through the grin.
Clark smiled. “He’s not mad. I think he’s probably just still a little new to having a big brother. And you bring a lot of energy,” Dick rolled his eyes. “I’m just here to help expel some of that energy.” His words seemed to help, but Dick still glanced towards the door. “If he were really mad, he probably would have actually stormed off and read his book.” Clark said quietly, and shot Dick a wink. “He’s been sitting outside listening to you earn your payback.” He grinned, poking a little harder now that his point was made. “Jason adores you, Dick.”
That brought another blush to his cheeks, a more shy, delicate pink that Clark could tell meant he felt the same way about the preteen.
“M-mahahaybe! But he’s ahaha- he’s a little grump!” Dick grinned, all of the worry he held washed away with Clark’s assuring words.
It wasn’t lost on either of them that Clark was repeating history in more ways than one. Whenever Clark was deployed when Dick was little, he’d keep his fingers constantly moving around Dick’s stomach when he wasn’t tickling somewhere else.
The mission was truly to tire out an unruly little acrobat, and Clark had no qualms about keeping his nerves and brain in constant red alert for maximum effect.
It was no different now. Dick might actually, somehow, have more energy than 9 year old him possessed, and Clark was just as determined.
Dick’s eyes were open now, Clark let him take in a few giggly breathes as he moved back to Dick’s stomach.
“A grump, huh?” Clark raised an eyebrow. “And you wouldn’t know anything about that?”
“What!? I wasn’t a grump!” He could quite muster up a pout with the constantly tickling fingers.
“No?” Clark mused. “I seem to remember a little grumpy acrobat running around this place, not too long ago.” Clark’s tone was always lighter, musher, than Bruce’s was, and it always made Dick a giddy mess.
Clark shifted himself to pinch Dick’s knee, his hand large enough that he could squeeze into Dick’s thigh as well.
“NOHOHOHO!” Clark felt him grabbing at his tshirt, pulling at fistfuls of fabric. “I w-was not!” He shoved even while holding onto Clark.
Clark scoffed as Dick tried to knee him in the back. “You absolutely were!” He grabbed Dick’s leg though, right above his knee and rapidly pinched away. “You used to hiss! And not just at me!”
Dick’s laughter grew frantic and shaky, both at Clark’s still pinching fingers, and the memory of himself, much younger, about Jason’s size, hissing at Clark and Hal Jordan from under Batman’s cape.
He had Hal convinced he was part cat for several years.
Bruce did nothing to dispel the rumor, just let Dick continue hissing away.
“Did not!” Dick said anyways. But his resolve (if you could call it that by this point) was breaking down by the second.
Clark stopped, turning back to face forward and level Dick with a look. “You know I have a near-perfect memory, brat.”
“Key word,” Dick panted, “‘near’.”
Clark realized he’d stopped tickling altogether, even on Dick’s stomach. Perhaps that’s how he built up The Audacity.
Clark narrowed his eyes and Dick seemed to realize his mistake.
“Wait- Clark hold on,” he sputtered out, removing his hands from the shirt to push them against the rug, trying to pry himself free.
Clark had to admire the effort, especially since they both knew he wouldn’t be moving until Clark allowed him to.
“Are you calling me a liar, Dickie?” Clark was deliberately talking with his hands to keep Dick completely on edge, his eyes darting wherever they gestured.
“No! No I would never!” He shook his head violently, pleading eyes looking up at Clark.
“You just did! I think that makes YOU a liar!” He grabbed at Dick’s hips, squeezing like he had his ribcage.
“NA-“ Dick’s laughter quickly went silent, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, panicked giddy breathes the only sound coming from him as he pushed against Clark’s knees.
“Are you gonna take it back?”
“YE-“ As he started to answer Clark started squeezing again, effectively choking off his answer. A desperate, “cLARk!” Instead.
“I need an answer, kiddo? That didn’t sound like an answer to me?”
“YES!” He spat out. “YES!” Again. “I take it back!”
Satisfied, moving his hands back to Dick’s stomach.
“One more answer from you?” Clark mused.
Dick gave a half nod, barely able to comprehend that it was a question directed at him.
“Who’s more ticklish? You or Jason?” Clark grinned at Dick’s immediate groan. “And remember, I know if you’re lyyying!” He sang, fingers dancing away on Dick’s tummy all the while.
Of course, Dick giggled out, “Jaybird! For sure!”
“Hmm,” Clark mused. “Jason, what do you think of that?” At his words, Dick lifted his head up off the ground and saw his little brother peeking around the doorframe.
He looked surprised to be pointed out, even though he had to know you can’t sneak up on Clark Kent. Dick Grayson’s laughter filling his ears or not.
“Big. Fat. Liar.” He crossed his arms, but kept his distance.
“I think you’re right,” Clark’s hands were back squeezing his hips.
Jason ventured closer as Dick’s laugh grew viciously higher in pitch and density, until he was peering over Clark’s shoulder at Dick’s face, screwed up into a twisted grin, his eyes forced shut so hard Jason could see crow’s feet digging lines almost to Dick’s hairline.
If Dick could have, he would have seen a slightly smug, ridiculously bright and toothy grin staring back at him.
“Think he’s had enough?” Clark glanced over his shoulder at Jason, he let all the pressure of his hands go but kept them in place as Dick deflated below him.
“Hmmm,” he put a finger and thumb to his chin to sell his pondering. “Yeah, I guess Goldie looks pretty worn out.” A nonchalant shrug.
“Alright.” He gave one last squeeze to each of Dick’s hips, one right after the other, before getting himself to his feet and ruffling Jason’s hair. “Mission complete, Robin.” Clark understood Dick’s urge to poke at his little brother, Clark found himself unclenching his jaw in what could only be described as cuteness aggression when Jason started shyly batting his hands away.
Meanwhile Dick rolled over on his stomach, his instinct to protect the now overly sensitized spot taking over all other thoughts. His breathing slowly started to even out before curling up like a shrimp on his side and glaring up at them.
“I stand by what I said. So not fair.” He groaned.
“Is too!” Jason immediately frowned, the cheeky grin he was giving Clark giving way on sibling instinct.
“Nu uh.”
“Yeah huh.”
“Nu uh.”
Clark saw this debate lasting entirely too long, so he scooped Jason up below the knees, making him fold over his shoulder.
“Hey!”
And then he reached down to grab Dick by an ankle.
“Woah!” The acrobat was just getting used to having oxygen to his brain, now Clark cut off the blood flow as well.
“Come on. Uncle Clark is visiting!” He cheered. “No fighting!” They both realized he was walking, heading somewhere further into the Manor.
Dick sucked in an irritate breath. “But you just-“
“Quiet, you.” Joking of course, Clark jostled him a bit for maximum effect, which earned a laugh from Jason. “Alright, I know where Penny One keeps the theater snacks, but I have no idea how to work your Dad’s fancy tv. So if we’re gonna have a movie night-“
“You’re staying?” Jason’s giddy voice was a happy interruption.
“Of course I’m staying?” He feigned shock. “How could I come all this way to see my favorite Robins’ and turn right back around?” He dumped Jason on the couch with a little ‘oof,’ and then lowered Dick until he was sprawled out over the ottoman.
“B comes back tomorrow, maybe we could all get breakfast?” Dick shrugged happy to lay where he landed. Clark started digging snacks out of the cabinet in the movie room and threw the remote to Jason, who gave a quick glance to Dick like he might tackle him for it, before excitedly clicking through titles.
Clark took slight offense to that, he took his mission seriously. There would be no energy for roughhousing tonight. Not when Dick felt like his legs were spaghetti noodles plastered to the soft material below him.
“Well we definitely can’t let him cook for us,” Clark agreed, tossing snacks over his head now.
Dick snorted in agreement, but a thought came to him. “Actually Jay’s a pretty good little chef,” Dick tipped his chin up and his forehead down to glance at Jason.
Jason who was once again looking incredibly shy for a usually brash kid, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks.
“Oh yeah?” Clark smiled warmly, crossing the living room. “Well I’m not so bad myself. I could be your sous chef?” He plopped down next to the kid, bouncing him hard enough that he fell right into Clark’s side. He dropped his arm before Jason had anytime to over think it. Jason relaxed into the cushions and soft, now wrinkled fabric of Clark’s tshirt.
Clark glanced over to Dick who was gazing up at the theater screen, “you coming up?” He raised his unoccupied arm when Dick sleepily turned to face him.
He sighed before scooted dramatically from the footrest to the couch and dropping his head in Clark’s lap.
“Just like old times.” The older man’s hand landed in tangled curls and began to methodically work them out.
As he sat there watching a shitty horror movie he was sure Jason probably wasn’t supposed to watch, no matter how many times the boys assured him it was okay, two realizations hit him.
Summary: set a little while after Tim joins Bruce. Dick’s usual antics lead to a notable discovery for all three of them. around 1.9k
Notes: This is the first in a series of fics I’ve been working on where Bruce or the family find out each kid is ticklish! Next up will be Jaybin
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Tim was where he usually was at 2 in the morning if he wasn’t out patrolling… sitting in front of the bat computer staring at the screen and clicking through files he wasn’t even assigned to.
Bruce was also not patrolling, due to a nasty hit he’d taken for Duke. He was 80% healed and 100% ready to go back out in his own mind. Alfred disagreed.
So inside he sat.
Dick was also benched, but his lockup was due to illness, not injury. Two weeks ago, Damian had come home with the flu and promptly passed it off to Steph and Dick. Steph had made a miraculous recovery after a day or two, sighting ‘girls rule and boys drool’ as her official reasoning to Dick when he was still coughing and hacking while her throat cleared up and fever fell away.
He was probably 85% back to normal and had similar feelings to Bruce about staying inside. Alfred disagreed.
So inside he… bounced around.
“Chum,” Bruce sounded exasperated. “Why don’t you go help Alfred-“
“He already kicked me out. Said to come see what you were doing.” Dick poked Bruce in the thigh with his toe again.
“Well I’m working.” Tim was barely listening, if not actively trying to tune them out. He was focused, and he didn’t want Dick coming over and bothering him next.
It wasn’t that Tim didn’t like his pseudo brother. In fact he loved when Dick was around, but he wasn’t exactly used to being a sibling. Or any family dynamics for that matter, so when Dick started ruffling his hair and pulling him into a side hug whenever Tim was in range, it took some getting used to.
A yelp followed by some shuffling pulled Tim from his thoughts. He glanced over to see both men now on their feet, Dick had his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture, but Tim could see the mischievous grin planted across his face.
“You play with fire,” Bruce was wearing a smile of his own, “you get brunt,” he lunged forward and quickly got past Dick’s defenses, which Tim noted were admonish-ably weak.
“B!” A giddy shriek left Dick’s mouth as Bruce shuffled around. Tim couldn’t see exactly what was happening, since there were tables, cabinets and feet and feet of distance between him and them.
A shriek of laughter ripped from Dick’s throat. He could tell Dick wasn’t actually scared or hurt, but he had no clue what Bruce was doing to make Dick laugh quite so hard.
“You ahah-asshole!” And suddenly Dick was free, twisting just the right way to slide out of Bruce’s already lax grip. He chose to sprint directly to Tim, and promptly hide behind him and the bat-computer chair.
He gripped the back of it above Tim’s shoulders, angling it so Tim was facing Bruce instead. Bruce who was very slowing making his was over to them.
“Don’t let him attack me Tim! He’s cruel- he’s evil! He’s Batman for Christ’s sake, it’s not fair!” Dick whined.
“How’s he attacking you?” Tim furrowed an eyebrow. “What’s not fair?” Some kind of training he hadn’t had to do yet?
Bruce finally stood in front of Tim, a soft edge to his usual intimidating gaze. “It seems Dick is still scared of the tickle monster.” Softness turned to snark very quickly.
“The tick- you’re still ticklish?” Tim tilted his head against the back of the chair and glanced up at Dick inquisitively.
Dick, who sputtered at the question. “Of course I’m still- do you think-“ his sudden silence had Tim looking at Bruce instead. It was clear they were having a conversation with their eyes, and Tim hated when they did that cause he always felt incredibly left out, and a bit like he was a failure for not being able to read all 87 of Batman’s eye twitches and lip quirks yet. Soon.
“Tim,” Bruce spoke this time. “You grew out of being ticklish?” He asked, and Tim felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He wasn’t even sure why, but a little pool of energy built in his stomach as he felt his cheeks go red.
“I mean, doesn’t everyone? I thought it was just a little kid thing.” He looked back up at Dick, he wasn’t expecting Dick to be staring down at him with a look he couldn’t quite place. “No offense.” But Tim definitely felt like he was in the hot seat all the sudden, he quickly tucked his head back down and found a lovely spot on the floor to stare at.
“None taken Timmy,” Dick grinned. “But do you mind if I test your theory? See if I really am just a big kid?”
“I don’t know,” he nervously glanced at the computer. “Maybe now’s not the best time-“
“It’s important we know things like this, Tim. It could make a difference in the field.” Bruce added.
“What difference?” Tim scrunched up his face. “It’s not like-“
“Oh come on, Bruce just let me do it already?” Dick whined, Bruce gave him a wink and Tim started convulsing.
He was being electrocuted, he was sure of it. An unspeakable number of voltage was going through his sides, his ribs, he let out a strangled yelp and then immediately started cackling like a maniac, scrambling to push back in his seat, like that would do anything.
“You might be a bit more sensitive than you realize, lad.” Bruce openly grinned at him.
Dick let go of Tim’s sides and rested them on his shoulders, giving Tim some reprieve.
Tim who was red from head to toe, and frazzled as all hell.
“But I don’t- I thought- there’s no way!” He huffed, feeling ridiculously embarrassed and out of the loop.
“I think I just proved there is,” Dick grinned, this time when his hand pinched Tim’s neck, he actually had the instinct to jump out of his seat.
Straight into Bruce’s arms. Bruce managed to catch Tim as he slammed into him, shoulders scrunched up to his ears. He remained pressed into Bruce’s abdomen, not moving.
“Tim?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to come out?” He patted his back.
They received a muffled “no.”
“Then I’m coming in,” Dick’s grin was evident even if Tim couldn’t see his face.
“No!” Tim tried to press further into Bruce’s sweatshirt. He felt fingers poking gently into his sides again and his knees immediately turned to jelly. He didn’t understand- his parents had told him ages ago that it was childish and silly to giggle and play like this. Why would Batman and Nightwing be acting so childish?
“Woah!” Dick’s hands went down with Tim, scooping him up under the armpits and lifting him to chest height like a kitten dangling from his hands. He realized he was allowing himself to enjoy the contact, the playfulness, the fun of it all. Even if it meant he had zero control for a few minutes, maybe that’s what his brain was craving.
His body was not on that train of thought yet. “Put me down! Dick- nohoho,” Tim squeaked out, unable to stop himself from squirming, but Dick wiggling his fingers where they held Tim certainly sent him back into giggles. His legs twitched uselessly below him, unable to gain the strength to pull them up or kick. “B- Bruce, you gotta-ah! ohmygodmakehimstop!” His voice was embarrassingly high pitched in his own ears, somehow worsening his crimson blush.
Above him Bruce and Dick were having one of those silent conversation Tim hated so much, but Tim was far too occupied to ever know he missed out on this one.
Dick was looking at Bruce with a pout, a pout that said, ‘I’m not letting this go, and neither should you.’ He let Tim’s feet hit the ground and support some of his own weight, moving one of his hands to clawing his fingers all around his little brother’s stomach. Tim’s laughter turning hiccupy and breathless. His hands uselessly grabbed onto Dick’s wrists, simply along for the ride.
As tempted as he was to join in, Bruce could tell Tim was starting to become overwhelmed, after all; he was new to this. So he responded with an eye brow to of course convey, ‘that’s enough. For now.’
“You know Tim, I really think we should put this down in your new training regimen. Seems it could be a serious weakness?” At Bruce’s words Dick stopped his hands again.
Tim’s head was underwater, or at least it felt that way, so it took him a moment to shake back to reality. The gravity of Bruce’s words hitting him. Dick still held him in place. “Wait- what? Training? But- but Dick is ticklish? Shouldn’t he be training too then?” His eyes widened at the thought of having to go through this mortifying ordeal multiple times a week.
At Tim’s words, suddenly Bruce remembered what started this whole ordeal; Dick was bored. And Bruce never left a job unfinished.
“You’re right,” He agreed. Dick scoffed at him, but his hold on Tim was slowly loosening. “In fact, why don’t I show you what your training might look like,” Tim went wide eyed further but when he looked up, Bruce wasn’t reaching for him. Instead his hands closed around Dick’s quickly retreating wrist.
“Nohoho! B- wait! Timmy is right here, practically begging-“
“Hey!” Tim huffed sticking his leg out to trip Dick’s backwards retreat.
Bruce descended, making sure his eldest didn’t smack his head against the concrete floors as they landed.
He managed to glowered at Tim for a moment before his grin cracked through, “Y-you’re sohoho gonna get it for that!” Dick laughed fighting off Bruce’s hands.
Hands that were moving lightning fast all around his torso, tazering into a different spot each time. “Bruhuce!” Dick squirmed, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Don’t think I forgot who started this,” Bruce winked.
Bruce’s training seemed ridiculously thorough, but Tim could practically see Dick’s giddy energy leaking out of him as he giggled and laughed at Bruce’s dramatics.
Until a particular poke to Dick’s knees sent him into a cackling fit, which turned into him hacking up a lung. Bruce immediately was off of him and patting him on the back. Clearly feeling a little guilty.
“Deep breathes, chum.” Bruce urged.
Tim went in search of a water bottle on the other side of the room. He could hear Dick’s mix of coughing and residual laughter the whole time, finally coming to an end as Tim hands over the bottle.
“Thanks, Timmy.” Dick takes a few deep breathes, he’s red in the face and his hairs a mess but he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I guess Alf really does know best, huh?” He sighed before taking a few swigs.
“He’d have both our heads for roughhousing while sick and injured.” Bruce agreed.
“It’s just been soooo boring,” already back to whining.
Bruce couldn’t argue, “so you’ve said,” he chuckled. He did have a thought however, “alright, let’s go put on a movie. A temporary cure for tonight’s boredom. You can resume badgering Alfred about bed rest in the morning.” He got to his feet and offered a hand to his eldest. “I think it’s, Tim’s turn to pick?” It wasn’t, but no one questioned him anyways.
Tim found himself curled up under a blanket between Bruce and Dick, watching Blade Runner for the 7th time, the 1st time surrounded by his family.
WHY AT THE LAST EPISODE DURING THE VOICEMAIL TO HER MOM DOES CHARLIE MENTION THAT ALASTOR IS BACK AND HAS FOUND SOMETHING ELSE TO KEEP HIM ENTERTAINED AT THE HOTEL AND ALASTORS EVIL GRINNING SHADOW LOOMS OVER LUCIFER BEFORE LUCIFER DISAPPEARS IN FLAMES WITH A NERVOUS GRIN AFTER BEING TICKLED FROM VOX'S WEAPON WHEN THE WEAPON USED HIS ANGELIC POWER TO ATTACK HEAVEN?
I am getting the vibe Alastor knows Lucifer's secret from being held captive by Vox at the same time of Lucifer's capture and that is the form of Alastor's entertainment he is seeking. After all Lucifer mentions he is ticklish and that it's a "bad tickle" implying there to be a "good tickle." So this could be a way for Lucifer and Alastor to bond or gives Alastor leverage in his rivalry against Lucifer to exploit his ticklishness since in a way, it also generates power.
Does anyone else think we will be blessed with more ticklish!Lucifer in season three? 😭😭😭 (God I hope so).
The last two episodes gave me so many emotions and some interesting informations that I couldn't do anything about it, right?! 😏
Fanart based on a fan fic I've read recently - The Rivalry Continues - by @thematchmaker22
I thought these guys needed some fluff and comfort after Vox's events and since no one is checking on them, then they will eventually checking on eachother! 📻🍎
Summary: Vox needs a power source for his weapon against Heaven. Luckily for him, the king of Hell is as gullible as he is powerful, and a little bird told him exactly how he can extract said power.
Warnings: Adult language, mentions of violence, brief innuendos, dubcon, and spoilers for Hazbin Hotel season 2 episodes 5 and 6.
Word Count: 2,922 words.
Lucifer couldn't believe he had walked right into their trap.
He was known for his impulsiveness, his tendency to act before thinking things through, but this situation was different. The number that appeared on his phone WAS Charlie's, and the voice had certainly sounded like her.
How was he supposed to know it was all a ruse?
Still, it didn't make things any less embarrassing. No matter how convincing the trap had been, he had still fallen for it, drawn in like a fly to honey, and he was paying for his foolishness now.
Lucifer squirmed against the restrains, a snarl tearing from his throat. He could feel his power bubbling beneath his skin, on the verge of eruption, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing would happen. It had been ages since he'd felt like this, cut off from his magic, helpless. The last time had been far more pleasant; a fun little tryst with Lilith and some blessed rope, meant to spice up things in the bedroom.
Here, though? The rope practically burned his skin, holding back his thrashing magic like an overfilled damn readying to burst.
'As if I didn't have enough reasons to smite this fucker already.' Lucifer thought, eyes narrowing as the TV demon gloated and drank with his companions on the opposite side of the room. The words he would have for them, if the bastards hadn't gagged him as soon as he'd been incapacitated.
Vox's eyes met his, his smirk growing into a devilish grin. Slowly, the overlord strode over to his captive, humming a merry little tune. "I must say, your highness, I'm rather disappointed in you. I mean, I knew you were pathetic, but to be so naive? So gullible?" He crooned. "It was almost too easy to get you here."
Lucifer spat muffled curses, lurching forwards as much as the restraints allowed. This fucker was dead; the first chance he got, Lucifer would see him torn to pieces, his screen smashed in, his soul thrown into the deepest recesses of Envy's ocean. Sure, he couldn't do it himself, but he was sure he could find someone more than willing who COULD.
"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Vox mocked, cackling with amusement at the fury in the fallen seraphim's eyes. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot." He reached forward, tugging down the gag. "There we go."
Lucifer's eyes blazed red. "You cocky little mortal! I will destroy you!" He growled, struggles beginning anew.
"Mmm, I don't think so. See, even if I didn't have you tied up with a nice little bow, you wouldn't be able to do shit. Your wings have been clipped, your highness, need I remind you?"
He didn't care what celestial restrictions Heaven had placed on him, he would find a way to make this fucker shut his mouth if it was the last thing he did (and, going by his current position, it very well could be).
Vox eyed the trapped angel, like a cat would a mouse. "You should be grateful I'm giving you this opportunity. You're going to be part of something big, something REAL. A movement that will bring Heaven to its knees and put me at the very top. What a privilege..."
Lucifer barked out a laugh. "As if I'd help you with anything, dipshit! I'd rather die!" He jeered.
"See, here's the thing; you don't really have a choice in the matter." Vox replied, slowly circling his captive. "We need a bit of that angelic magic of yours, and we have the means to pull it from you, should you refuse to cooperate. This can be as quick or as agonizing as you'd like."
The blonde's brows furrowed as he let out a bemused snort. "As if a sinner could have such a power..."
Vox stopped behind Lucifer, just out of sight, clawed hands resting on the king's shoulders. "Oh, but I do! See, I'll let you in on a little secret. For the past several months, I've had a little spy inside your daughter's precious hotel."
Lucifer's frown deepened. A traitor?
Was it that stupid little radio host he was constantly butting heads with? Lucifer hadn't seen the him since he'd finally quit (good riddance). Had he immediately scurried off back to his master, leaking secrets as he tended his wounded pride?
Oh, when Lucifer got his hands on him, he-
Vox laughed, the sound low and menacing. "At a loss for words? It was so easy to stay ten steps ahead of your stupid little brat; she's so trusting, never suspected a thing. It seems you didn't, either."
An angered snarl erupted from Lucifer, his demonic form writhing beneath his skin in fury, begging to be freed. "Don't you fucking talk about her like that!"
"Oho, seems I hit a nerve! We'll be hitting a lot of those by the time we're done here." Claws began to drum across Lucifer's shoulders, slow and almost playful. "See, you may not want to give up your power willingly, but I happen to know another way to milk it out of you."
"What, you going to jack me off or something?" Lucifer sassed. ""Cause that's what it sounds like, and I hate to break it to you, but it doesn't work like-"
Vox scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You wish, you perverted little prick." The words came out as a borderline growl; he'd managed to get under the overlord's skin.
Good.
Slowly, the claws began to walk their way downwards, crawling across Lucifer's shoulders to rest just above his armpits. "Tell me, do you remember a certain incident from a couple weeks back? You and Alastor had gotten into another little spat, if I recall, and the princess was none too pleased."
Yes, that rang a bell, but how was this relevant? All she'd done was ask him to be kinder to the bellhop, and when he'd deflected (because there was no way in HELL he was telling that man "sorry"), she had...
Lucifer froze, eyes widening in recognition as everything clicked into place. Immediately, a bright golden blush spread across his cheeks, his struggles increasing tenfold. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this wasn't good! "Don't you dare!"
The overlord chuckled. "Seems you do remember." Slowly, those clawed fingers came to life, beginning to spider down into the exposed hollows. "See, I'll get what I want, one way or another. Why not just give in now, save yourself the humiliation?"
The seraphim gritted his teeth, head pressed back against the chair as he stifled soft snickers. "F-Fuhuck you!" He hissed.
"You know, I was hoping you would say that."
Vox's pressure and speed increased, fingers curling as they practically vibrated into the sensitive flesh. He had experience with this, at least that's what Lucifer assumed. He was far too precise, too effective, to be a novice. The blonde shuttered to think who else had found themselves at the overlord's mercy.
"My associates and I have built a little device; perhaps you've noticed it?"
He HAD been aware of an odd pressure at the back of his neck, accompanied by a small pinch like that of a needle, but it had been the least of his concerns.
"Well, it has a very interesting little function. See, your magic can't manifest thanks to the blessed ropes, so instead it's building within you, waiting to erupt as soon as you're freed. The more distress your body is in, the more magic it'll produce in its desperate attempt to protect you. This little thing, here?" A claw moved to tap at the small, metallic device clasped at the nape of his neck. "It's going to siphon it; pull it directly from your blood while you laugh yourself silly."
"W-Why not just hurt me, then? Why thihis?"
Vox grinned wolfishly. "Hurting you would be a quicker way to induce distress, but this is far more humiliating for you, and entertaining for me."
"Shihihit!" Lucifer huffed before his mouth snapped shut once more. He could already feel titters bubbling in his chest, threatening to spill out. He couldn't break, not so soon! He was the KING of HELL, for Father's sake! He had to be better than that! Still, he felt his arms straining against the restraints, trying desperately to come down.
"Such a sensitive little thing! If I hadn't seen it for myself, I never would have guessed you would be THIS WEAK!" Vox taunted, tracing little circles and triangles into the ticklish hollows. "It's almost too good to be true!"
"D-Do you ehehever stop tahahalking?" Lucifer groaned, cursing as a wave of giggles finally spilled out of him.
"You know, I really don't think you're in any position to be fucking sassing me right now." Vox's claws suddenly dug into Lucifer's armpits, vibrating and clawing ruthlessly at the sensitive nerves. That was all it took for the floodgates to open, bright, boyish laughter pouring from the king's lips. "There we go, much better."
Lucifer shook his head, trying to block out the teasing. He'd always been ticklish, even before Eden. His siblings used to love ganging up on him and tickling him to tears, but it was all in good fun, and he looked back on the memories with a sad fondness now.
After his fall, it was a while before he'd felt the sensation again, but eventually Lilith discovered her husband's sensitivity and made a regular habit of exploiting it (not that he minded, of course). He'd come to look forward to her little moods, and it had added another layer of misery to his existence when she disappeared, taking those playful, electrifying touches with her.
Only recently had he been exposed to tickling again, dragged into one of his daughter's little "bonding exercises" once afternoon and discovering, to his dismay, that seven years of touch-starvation had done nothing to lessen his ticklishness.
No, it seemed to have gotten worse.
"Poor little angel, too ticklish for his own good!" Vox crooned, resting a head on his shoulder as he raked his claws downwards, slowly dragging over each rib. "It's almost cute."
Lucifer's back arched, a shrill squeak tearing out of him before a fresh wave of giggles tumbled out. "Fuhuhuck yohohohohou! Lehehehehet me gohoho!" He tried to sound threatening, he really tried, but the wide grin and high-pitched snickers ruined the desired effect.
"Pssh, fuck no! Even if we didn't need your power, this opportunity would be too good to pass up!" Vox crowed, beginning to scratch between each rib, two at a time, listening to the rapid changes in volume and pitch in Lucifer's laughter depending on which set was being targeted. "Interesting...it seems some ribs are worse than others, wouldn't you say?"
The fallen seraphim shook his head harder, blonde hair a tussled mess, cheeks a deep shade of gold. "Nohohohohohohohoho!"
"Funny, I don't believe you."
A startled scream erupted from Lucifer as small, ticklish shocks suddenly raced through his nervous system, seemingly coming straight from the overlord's fingertips. "Fuhuhuhuhuhuhuck, wahahahahait wait wait!" He babbled, shrill giggles erupting his frantic plea.
"Oh yeah, the shocks always work wonders. You should have seen Alastor when I brought them out for him; he was practically beside himself, begging and bleating like a pathetic little fawn."
So the bellhop had been subjected to this, too? That gave Lucifer a little bit of solace, at least.
Vox dug into the lowermost ribs, just above the stomach, sending a fresh round of ticklish electricity and listening as his captive squealed with laughter. "I don't know what's more satisfying; seeing him beg or getting to watch YOU do the same thing. The King of Hell, brought low by a sinner, giggling like a baby."
A low growl interlaced Lucifer's snickers. "Fuhuhuhuck you! I don't beheheheheg" He retorted.
"You will, give it time."
Lucifer's eyes shot wide open as Vox's hands moved down, curling into the soft plane of his stomach and vibrating. He screech tore from his throat, immediately followed by a loud burst of cackling. Fuck, it was bad! It was so, so bad! "WAHAHAIT, NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!" The king wheezed, hips squirming from side to side in a futile attempt to evade the attack.
"Oh yeah, the tummy was a weak spot, wasn't it?" Vox crooned. "If I recall correctly, you just about burst when Angel Dust got you here." Fuck, he really MUST have seen everything! When Lucifer found out who the rat was, he was going to have them flayed, he swore!
To Lucifer's dismay, he could feel his magic thrashing within him, trying desperately to erupt and protect its host from the perceived threat. His horns lay just beneath the surface of his skin, his wings slamming against their invisible constraints in an effort to manifest. He heard a small clicking sound, just behind his ear, and he knew Vox's little device must be doing its job.
"There we go." Vox sang, clearly delighted. "Soon, we'll have enough magic to power our weapon and STILL have some leftover to experiment with. And you know what the best part is?" He leaned forward to purr into the seraphim's ear. "As long as I have you prisoner, we can repeat this process as many times as I like. Every day, I can come in and tickle you to tears, pull some of that precious angelic grace from your veins, and it never has to end. You're effectively immortal; this can go on forever."
That sent Lucifer's head spinning, a frantic squeal splitting the air as one of Lucifer's claws found his belly button. "NOHOHOHOHOHOOOO!" His legs kicked out, pedaling in the air in a futile attempt to escape.
"Yes..." Vox kept one hand at Lucifer's stomach, moving the other around to slip between the gap between Lucifer's back and the chair. His fingers found the angel's lower back, curling slightly before sending small, ticklish shocks directly up his captive's spine.
A loud ringing filled Vox's ears, followed by a seemingly incomprehensible string of syllables. Vox frowned, wincing as he turned down the sensitivity of his hearing. Lucifer had his head tossed back, screams of laughter echoing out as more of the garbled sounds tumbled from his lips.
After a moment, it registered the angel was speaking a language of some sort, but it wasn't anything Vox recognized. Lazily, he pulled up his language databases, combing through thousands of possibilities in seconds as he quickly weeded through most modern languages.
When he finally found a hit, bark of laughter erupted from the overlord. "Hoholy shit, you're speaking Enochian right now? It tickle that bad, your highness?" He crowed.
Another pulse of ticklish electricity shot up Lucifer's spine as Vox clawed at the seraphim's lower belly, just above the v-line. Now that he had the proper translator pulled up, Vox could clearly make out a string of curses between fits of hysterics.
This was so much worse than anything Lucifer had delt with before. Worse than being ganged up on by Charlie and her friends, worse than being subject Lilith's occasional foray into ticklish sadism (he supposed that made him a masochist, because he'd loved every second of it), worse than being surrounded by wiggling fingers and soft feathers as his siblings made him beg the Speaker to save him.
And the overlord was threatening to do this AGAIN? INDEFINATELY? He wasn't sure he would survive!
"It's a shame we can't get to those pretty wings of yours at the moment; I seem to recall those making you break a few lightbulbs when that little housekeeper got ahold of them. Imagine the power I could harvest with that little spot, hm?"
Lucifer found himself silently thanking Father for the blessed rope keeping them tucked away.
Vox ceased his attack, pulling back to allow his captive a moment to breath. Immediately, Lucifer slumped back against the chair, shaking with residual giggles. He swore, he could still feel the little jolts of electricity firing off in his nervous system...
Vox moved over to a small table, positioned just within Lucifer's peripheral vision. The fallen angel watched him closely, cautiously, a sense of dread pooling in his stomach.
The TV demon picked up something, though Lucifer couldn't quite make out what it was, humming a little tune as if he hadn't a care in the world. "You know what else my little spy brought me?"
He turned, and Lucifer felt his heart leap into his throat as a nervous grin immediately spread across his face. A large, white feather, the tip tinged with red. The seraphim recognized it well; it was one of his, after all.
He also knew just how fucking badly angelic feathers tickled.
"Ohohoho, Father preserve me..."
Vox smirked. "Nah, I don't think He's coming to help you anytime soon, so better start praying to your NEW god instead."
If he wasn't so nervous, Lucifer would have laughed. The sinner's ego was nearly as big as his own, and under other circumstances, he would have almost respected it. Now, though? Lucifer felt a chin go up his spine.
The sinner slowly stalked forward, twirling the feather as if to taunt him. "You know, Al's hooves are feather ticklish. Makes me wonder how YOURS would fair."
Yeah, Lucifer was royally screwed. As he felt another surge of magic flare up at the threat, he attempted to steel his features. He wouldn't give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing him crumble.
Adam gets his everloving shit wrecked from some of the Hotel Staff in order to convince him sinners really can be redeemed. Charlie also recruits Lucifer to give them a hand, in more ways than one.
Warnings for foul language, some violence, suggestive humor (nothing extreme, just some totally in chatacter comments), my shitty grammar/punctuation, and lots of fluff/tickles. I hope you enjoy!! :3
It was no secret that Adam was heaven (and hell's) resident douchebag. He was stuck up, conceited, and completely self-centered. He had no real intentions of giving Hazbin Hotel a shot. He hadn't even shown up in person to the meeting in which was arranged originally between himself and Lucifer. And after Lucifer's daughter had stood in Lucifer's place at that meeting, well, Adam just couldn't take anything the princess of hell had to say seriously.
Charlie Morningstar was less than pleased to discover that the angels were going to be on a new six month extermination schedule. How was that even fair? It was so frustrating that Adam had flat out refused to listen to reason or even take Charlie's pitch of redemption even halfway seriously. He spent most of their allotted meeting time making sexist comments, talking about himself, interrupting anything Charlie had to say, and eating his pile of ribs in the most obnoxious and rude way possible.
Charlie had to think of a way to truly convince the head angel to call off the extermination and redeem those who were taking their path to redemption through the hotel seriously. But no song, no dramatic speech, no amount of begging or pleading could convince the dickhead that her Hotel would ever actually work.
"How could we actually convince heavens top angel to take our Hotel seriously?" Charlie had asked the staff and two meager residents in a meeting that was originally to be comprised of forgiveness role-playing and trust exercises. The change of routine was much welcomed by all, though they'd never explicitly tell Charlie that.
"We could just kill him?" Alastor suggested, his grin broadening and eyes darkening at the thought.
"That wouldn't be a good way to exemplify our goals or show redemption," Charlie paused. "We just need to figure out a weakness, you know, find something that we could use against him! Does anyone have any... less violent ideas?" She shoots Alastor a sympathetic smile.
"Vicious blackmail?" Angel suggests casually. He has the day off, and while he'd rather be scoring drugs or drinking at the bar with Husk's sole company, this discussion is far better than trust exercises.
"That's a less violent alternative," Charlie comments, "But still shady..."
"Listen toots, we aren't gonna convince Adam or anyone else to take us seriously if we don't play at least a little bit dirty," Angel tucks his upper set of arms behind his neck in a bored gesture.
"Angel has a point, Charlie. They wouldn't listen to reason, and the angels are notorious for not playing fair. I know you're trying to find a way that isn't violent or unconventional, but we might not have much of a choice. Especially if we want to defend our people," Vaggie steps closer to Charlie to embrace her briefly.
"Blackmail... nonviolent... unconventional... playing dirty..." Charlie thinks briefly about the options that fall under all these categories, and suddenly her face breaks out into a wide and evil grin. "I know exactly what we have to do! And I know just the person to call to ensure this plan will work. But I'm 99.9% positive, and it'll be foolproof!"
••••
"You want to what?" Lucifer's voice raises an octave. Unsure of what exactly this favor was his nearly estranged daughter had asked of him, he couldn't tell her no. But he hadn't known this was the specific favor in question until he arrived to the hotel. And Charlie had intentionally left out a few key details.
Had Lucifer known his precious daughter and hotel patronage had planned to exploit his ticklishness, he would've very well declined and spent the afternoon with his vast collection of rubber ducks.
"But that's only part of the favor. We also need you to arrange a meeting with Adam face to face. But first we need to know if this plan will work," Charlie's voice at the end was near pleading. Lucifer almost felt sorry for her, but what did this have to do with tickling him?
"I can arrange him to meet you all in person," Lucifer spoke slowly' "but what the hell does this have to do with tickling me?" His voice rose to a strangled octave, indicating that he was indeed ticklish.
"Mr. Morningstar, erm, your majesty, Charlie pointed out that you and Adam have similar angelic traits... so we figured that if you were... also inflicted the same weakness... We might actually have a shot at bringing that Adam prick down a few pegs," Vaggie nervously stepped forward to shake her girlfriends father's hand.
"I'd like to peg him," Angel murmered, earning a few looks of utter horror he quickly added "Adam, I meant Adam! Besides haven't you heard of hate fucking?" Angel grumbled defensively.
Lucifer turned back to Charlie.
"So you're asking me... if you can find various sensitive spots on my body... to use on Adam... in hopes of getting him to call of the next extermination?"
Charlie nodded enthusiastically and damnnit, Lucifer just couldn't say no to her.
"Okay, okay, okay... But a few things first... I'm only letting you do this as part of that favor. If anyone here ever tries to tickle me outside this one stand alone instance, consider yourselves to be absolutely wrecked. As ticklish as I am, I will ensure to pay you back in kind tenfold if any of you pull a stunt like this outside this small window of time. I'm only doing this because it would be nice to knock that dickhead down a few pegs."
His threat clung to the air a few moments. The king of hell was known to be ruthless, and he was a force to be reckoned with.
"Thanks dad!" Charlie reached over to hug him. Something the two hadn't done in such a long time but their embrace felt familiar. Normal even.
"A couple of other points..." Lucifer told the group, "an angels wings are the most sensitive, pretty much everywhere. Between the feathers, shoulder blades, wing pits, I mean, it's lethal... Lilith used to..."
Lucifer couldn't help but turn a blushy pink color at the mention of his former wife. He hadn't been properly tickled since... well, it had been quite some time. Lilith wasn't a stranger to tickling Lucifer to tears, but she was the only one to ever indulge in his weakness. He was never tickled by anyone other than Lilith. And cetainly not by this many people. Charlie had grown up with witnessing Lillith tickle him to pieces. Faint memories of her father squealing, shrieking, and downright begging Lilith not to tickle him while laughing helplessly. But Lilith had always been able to easily overpower her much smaller husband. But Charlie also knew how Lucifer could hold his own. She knew what a fierce tickle monster he could be in her own experiences and knew by watching her parents in her much younger days that Lucifer almost always sought revenge.
Lucifer kept reminding himself that this was necessary. He knew this was to help his people of hell, his daughter even, but being demon royalty and exposing his most innate physical weakness and allowing others to take advantage of it was downright terrifying. It had been bad then, but now? Lucifer let out an involuntary shudder.
"For Adam, specifically, I'm led to believe that he would have another weak point aside from his wings. But if his wings are anything like mine, then you shouldn't have much trouble!"
Lucifer tried his hardest to ignore the shit eating grins forming on the faces of both Angel Dust and Alastor. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But he remembered his favor to Charlie, and all the memories of his past tickling experiences and thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
"Please, do tell us of any other weak spots you think the angel will have, your royal higness!" Alastor chimes in, eager to have something to use against both Adam and Lucifer.
"God removed one of Adam's ribs to create his new wife. And being touched by that amount of power would absolutely cause that spot to be more sensitive... It's basically a given."
"So torture the guys wings and ribs, got it," Angel smirked.
"Torture Adam's wings and ribs," Lucifer clarified "you motherfuckers better go easy with me." Lucifer couldn't help but back away nervously from the group. Unfortunately for him, there was only so far he could back up before his back collided with the wall of the Hotel lobby adjacent to where Husk was sleeping at the bar. At least Nifffty and Husk weren't involved in this scheme.
"Anything else we need to know before we tickle you to death?" Charlie asked almost sympathetically as Vaggie, Angel, and Alastor closed in on the king of hell.
"Sixty seconds. Do NOT exceed sixty seconds." Four against one was definitely not a fair match.
Lucifer wasn't given time to think while the group circled around him. Shit. Fuck. Shit.
"Sixty seconds," Charlie clarified, "starting in 3..."
Why the fuck did he agree to this again?
"2..."
This really had better work on Adam. Otherwise Lucifer knew he'd be totally fucked around Alastor, Angel and Vaggie, who all seemed to take pure delight in discovering the king of hell was ridiculously ticklish. Why did Charlie have to tell them?
"1..."
Shit. And he was lost in helpless, screech filled laughter. Lucifer had curled into a ball as ten arms and countless tickling fingers dug into almost all his ticklish spots.
"WHAHAHAHAHHAHT THE FUHUHUHCK AHHAH STAHAP!" Lucifer pleaded, knowing it hadn't even been 10 seconds yet.
Alastor had taken the liberty in casting a temporary paralysis spell on Lucifer so he couldn't even protect his worst spots. He had taken this opportunity to also tickle the smaller demon's shoulder blades which shook helplessly as his six magnificent wings unfurled.
Angel and Vaggie started to explore his wings and Lucifer had severely underestimated just how much it would tickle.
"OohoHAHAhaA, IHIHIHT tiHIHihihCkles HAhahHa soHo mUhUHUHUCH AHAhaHa!" Lucifer squealed as Angel and Vaggie had tickled the soft skin beneath his feathers, Angel's extra set of hands had made quick work of his wing pits which caused his laughter to shoot up an octave.
"That's kind of the point, short king," Alastor teased as he had switched to taser his sides while Charlie had been scribbling at his ribs, grinning madly as her plan had seemed now that it could be executed without fail.
Lucifer was in absolute tickle hell. Literally. The sensation of Vaggie and Angel mercilessly tickling his wings, scritching the skin beneath his feathers, digging into the sensitive wing pits and occasionally poking and scratching at his shoulder blades combined with Alastor squeezing his sides and Charlie torturing his ribs had nearly caused Lucifer to break. He couldn't move to protect his tickle spots. And all he could do was laugh and shriek and hope the ticklish assault would end whenever the alloted minute was up.
"I didn't think you'd still be this ticklish!" Charlie cooed.
"OkAYHAHAHhahAH! SEhehee? IHAH- I TOHOAHAHHOLD YOUHOO AHAHhahah it WOHOULD WORK!" Lucifer cackled.
He never had four people tickle him at once before. It was the most ticklish he'd ever felt in his entire life. It wasn't fair to have all his tickle spots exploited at once!
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of cackling, the minute had passed and as promised, Charlie called off the experimental tickle attack. Alastor reversed the spell and Lucifer had crumpled to a giggling panting mess on the floor, overstimulated from all the tickles and trying to rub away the residual ghost tickles.
"So was that 60 seconds of getting your everloving shit rocked, short king?" Angel grins down at Lucifer.
"Seriously, fuck you guys," Lucifer giggles.
"Think this will actually work on Adam?" Vaggie turns to Charlie beaming as she helps her one day father-in-law off the floor.
"It has to!" Charlie says with pure confidence.
"Thanks, dad, for helping us prove our theory to be true. Adam won't stand a chance against us." Charlie hugs the still giggling Lucifer around the middle.
"I don't mind seeing that loser taken down, I'm... glad I could help, but seriously, that was awful," Lucifer says, hugging Charlie back.
"I'll arrange for Adam to arrive here tomorrow and then you can convince him to listen."
●●●●
Adam was irritated. Sure, the king of hell was able to order him to meet in person to discuss business matters, but that didn't mean he wanted to. If it were up to him, he would meet through holographic magic, but Lucifer had strictly forbidden it for this meeting only.
So here he was, at the hotel's doorstep, expecting to meet with Lucifer and returning to report back to heaven as soon as this mandated meeting was concluded.
What Adam wasn't expecting, however, was to be met with Alastor, opening the door positively beaming at him.
"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. Why, you must be Adam, we've all been dying to meet you! Well, if it weren't for the fact that we are already dead!" Alastor chuckles at his own joke. "Do come in!"
"Who in the fuck are you?" Adam glares at Alastor, wary of the taller demon.
"Why, I'm Alastor, the infamous radio demon of hell and manager of this fine establishment! Allow me to show you around hell's only rehabilitation center for lost souls!" Alastor grabs Adam's wrist and drags him through the hotel lobby toward the bar.
"Allow Husker to pour you a drink, on the house!" Alastor grins at Adam's sheer befuddlement. He was out of his element here in unfamiliar territory. Husk pours an unmarked liquid into a glass and slides it toward Adam.
"...uh, thanks... but when am I supposed to meet with Lucifer?" Adam looks at the drink as if it were poisonous.
"Don't be a silly! We would never think to poison the one and only angel who had the power to permanently end the exterminations of hell's residents!" Alastor laughs as if he could read Adam's mind.
"And Lucifer will be here soon, but we have other eager candidates to speak with you before hand!" Alastor continues smirking as Adam slowly begins to drink from the glass.
That's when Adam turns and notices Vaggie, Charlie, and Angel behind him, a bit too close for comfort. And suddenly, Adam finds himself unable to move, thanks to Alastor's demonic power and curse of immobility.
"What the actual FUCK, Charlie?" Adam tries to writhe away but is unable to do so.
"Adam, thank you for joining us today! We thought it might take a team approach to convince you that our redemption center deserves a chance to save sinners from extermination," Charlie smiles.
"I already fuckin told you that hell is eternal damnation, I'm not changing my mind and I think that your hotel is a worthless waste of time!" Adam spits angrily.
"Maybe you just need more convincing..." Angel smiles, excited to be able to have one over on this pompous angel prick.
"I said Noho!" Adam let's out a startled Huff as Charlie prods his side near the bottom of his ribs.
"I don't think you're in a position to refuse our quite reasonable requests." Alastor chuckles.
"What are you all playing at?" Adam sneers, albeit nervously.
"Well, we can't harm you, obviously, but we found a rather unconventional method of torture to utilize to convince you to take us seriously," Charlie explains.
Torture? Adam now realized three things.
One: he was outnumbered.
Two: he was completely immobile and couldn't move from whatever power was keeping him trapped.
Three: The poke Charlie had administered to his side had been... well... ticklish... Adam had started to realize that they intended to tickle him. They couldn't. They wouldn't, actually, could they?
"No, no, Charlie. I demand you to release me!"
"Maybe this will help convince you not be such a pompous asshole," Charlie smirked down at Adam evilly.
And suddenly, Adam felt her dig all ten fingers into one of his most ticklish spots, his ribs. And he felt Angel and Alastor tickle into his sensitive shoulder blades, causing his wings to expand.
"Nohohoho, what thehahahhah FUHAHAHAHAHUCK?" Adam squeals.
Vaggie had hopped in to help Charlie tickle his stomach and hips and Adam was in absolute ticklish hell.
"Fuhahahahuck YOHOU GUYS, AHAHAHAHAHA!" Adam can't even squirm away from their torturous fingers. His laughter shoots up an octave as Alastor and Angel tickle into his wings.
No tickle spot was spared on the guy and he couldn't even move or writhe away from the ticklish touches. It wasn't fair!
"Think you'll give the hotel another shot?" Charlie asked, digging sharply into Adam's lower rib cage. Adam's laughter doubled.
"NohohahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Oh shit, Adam! It feels Ike one of your ribs are missing!! Maybe we should count them to see how many are there!" Charlie teases, enjoying how much power they have over Adam.
"FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOHOOFF!" Adam screeches as Charlie proceeds to count and recounts his ribs.
"We've got all day, tough guy!" Angel digs roughly into Adam's wing pits as Alastor digs his claws beneath the feathers to torture the delicate skin beneath. How long had it been? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Adam quickly realizes that he is utterly fucked.
Adam's laughter goes silent. It's not fair to have them all tickle him to pieces. He couldn't even fight back or try to get away. All he could do was lie there and take it. His eyes begin to water as they continue their ticklish onslaught. And Adam just can't handle much more.
"Think we can renegotiate now?" Charlie asks and Adam quickly nods despite his silent hysteria.
"Okay, I think he's had enough," Charlie slows her hands and pulls them away, and the rest of the group follows suit.
Adam lays there panting giggling, still feeling the ticklish assault through his nervous system.
"I hope you won't forget this, as we are easily able to convince you to do exactly as we want," Alastor chuckles darkly, removing the immobility curse.
"Seriously, fuck you guys," Adam flips them off as he uses his magic to dissappear. His tough guy facade had been broken.
Adam would call off the next extermination, out of fear of what would happen to him if he continued to refuse. Now, his greatest enemies knew of his ticklish weakness. He would never be able to live it down. And maybe a part of him didn't want to.
hello guys!! here's a smiling friends fic for any smiling friends fans out there! there's more to come but for now i hope you enjoy :)
Workplace Training
Lee Pim / Ler Charlie
Word Count: 1,149
Charlie gets bored while trying to complete his mandatory workplace training with Pim. One of the questions on the quiz gives Charlie an idea to cure his boredom.
“Oh! I know this one!” Pim Pimling happily exclaimed, clicking something on the work computer. The screen turned green, illuminating his pink face in the dim lighting of the Smiling Friends training room. “Yes! Another one right!”
“God, this is taking forever,” Charlie Dompler, Pim’s coworker and close friend, groaned.
They had been in there for about an hour now. The two were tasked with finishing their annual Smiling Friends Workplace training, which consisted of watching a few videos and taking some quizzes. Charlie forgot how boring training was. There was barely any service in the training room so he couldn’t even play Clash Royale as the videos played. At least he had his good buddy Pim with him for company. “How many freaking questions are left, Pim?”
“Aw chin up, Charlie! We’re almost done! Just seven more questions to go!” Pim replied, making his coworker let out another groan in response.
“Okay, next one! 'What are the four feel-good hormones. Select all that apply,'” Pim, read out, “Hmm… how about dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin?" He clicked around on the computer then fist-pumped when the screen turned green. Yippee! Another one correct!”
The other critter zoned out, thinking about literally anything else other than what they were doing. Charlie was going insane with how boring this was. It was like torture. His mind wandered as he stared at the tan-colored wall. What was he going to have for dinner? Maybe he can get some Salty’s on the way home. Wait, did the one on Meep Boulevard close? Or was it still open? If only there was damn service in this room, then he could look it up. Charlie was drawn out of his thoughts by Pim reading another question out loud.
“Hmm, okay. 'What spot on the body is commonly reported to be the most ticklish?'”
Charlie perked up out of curiosity. “What? Does it actually say that, is that a question?” He leaned towards the screen to see it with his own two eyes and there it was. The answer options were "A. Under the arms, B. On the sides of the torso, C. The soles of the feet, or D. The stomach." Kind of an odd question to include, he thought. Sure, making people smile and laugh were the main point of being a Smiling Friend, but they didn’t use tickling very often on the job.
“Uhh, doesn’t it like depend from person to person?” Charlie thought out loud.
Pim shrugged, “I guess so, but there are usually some tickle spots that everyone has in common, right?”
“Hmm,” Charlie thought. If they got enough questions wrong then they would have to retake the quiz, and he most certainly did NOT want to do that.
"What do you think, Charlie? I'm kind of stumped on this one," Pim turned to him.
“Uh... Wh-What about armpits? I’m pretty bad there myself, honestly,” the yellow critter admitted sheepishly.
“Hm, that’s a good option,” Pim agreed, “I am pretty ticklish there too.” He selected A. as his answer and pushed submit. The screen flashed red, "Incorrect. The correct answer was C. the soles of the feet."
“Aw, darn! Oh well, onto the next one then.” He shook it off and pushed the Next button. Charlie rested his head on his fist and started to zone out again, going back to his boredom. Hopefully Pim hadn't got too many questions wrong, Charlie honestly stopped paying attention. He watched as his carefree coworker clicked away on the computer. An idea slowly came to mind as he eyed him. A fun idea, one that would maybe cure his boredom.
“Pim.”
“Yeah?”
“You uh, you said you were ticklish?” Charlie mused.
Pim looked over to him then back to the computer. “Oh uh. Yeah, I am haha. Quite a bit, actually. Why do you ask?”
“Uh, no particular reason, really.”
Before Pim was able to read out the next question, Charlie had already made his move. To be fair, Pim really should have expected this.
The pink critter squealed and burst into bubbly giggles as he felt yellow fingers suddenly scribble beneath his arms. He let go of the computer mouse as his arms clamped down protectively to his sides. “Chahaharlie!” He yelped his friend’s name in surprise.
“Wow, dude, you weren’t kidding, you really are ticklish here,” Charlie smiled with amusement as his fingers danced up and down his friend’s ribs.
Pim squealed as his body tried to curl up in his seat. “Chahaharlie! Haha! That tihihickles!”
His coworker couldn’t help but chuckle, “well I mean, yeah, Pim. That’s uh, that’s kinda the whole point of tickling someone.” His hands moved to the sides of Pim’s stomach. The pink critter squeaked in response and kicked his small legs as the tickly feeling intensified. Charlie snickered at his reaction. It was honestly kind of adorable seeing Pim like this, he looked so giddy and happy.
Charlie had a smile as big Pim’s as he continued his tickly torment. “Haha, oh my god, dude. You’re like, really ticklish. Like it’s genuinely insane how ticklish you are, Pim. I’m honestly impressed.” He swore Pim’s face turned even more pink at this. Cute.
But as much as it was fun messing with his friend and making him laugh, Charlie decided to let up. He didn’t want to accidentally go too far and overwhelm him. Plus they still had work to do.
Pim had a very small, disappointed frown as Charlie pulled his hands away, a look that the yellow critter noticed and wouldn't forget. Did he actually like this? It did check out, of course someone as positive and affectionate as Pim would like something as cute and innocent like tickling.
Charlie watched as Pim caught his breath. “Sorry, you okay, man? I didn’t go too far, did I?”
Pim waved his hands dismissively, “no, no! Not at all, don’t worry. Sorry, it’s just have been a while since I’ve last been tickled, haha.”
“Maybe we should use it on the job more often, huh? Seems pretty effective,” Charlie playfully elbowed Pim making him giggle and elbow him back. They looked back to the computer screen that they have been neglecting for the past few minutes.
There was a small window on screen, “Session Timed Out. Your progress might not be saved. Please login to continue.”
“Fuck! God damn it!” Charlie loudly complained, “We gotta do all this shit all over again?”
“Aw, it’s okay, Charlie! At least we know all the answers this time, it’ll be easy! Plus, it's just more time to spend with my best friend,” Pim said cheerfully. He hugged Charlie making the taller critter laugh.
“Haha, yeah, plus we’re getting paid for this too,” Charlie added as he returned the hug and patted Pim's back.
“Yeah, that too.”
The two completed their training soon after, this time with both of them smiling.
A/N: Happy Holidays, @fluffy-lee-boa! It has been a hot minute since I've actually watched the show or seen Suicide Squad, but I sure did try my best. Peacemaker is a comfort character of mine, I love him to death, and I just want him to be happy.
Tried my best to take inspiration from your prompt: "Maybe Character A discovering he’s ticklish for the first time and wanting to bond with the Character B so they ask about it."
Thank you @squealing-santa for your organization and hosting another year of this fantastic tradition!
It's been a pleasure being able to provide you with your 2023 Squealing Santa fic!
"Is it bad?"
"No."
"Is it good?"
"If it wasn't bad, wouldn't you then assume it was automatically the opposite?"
"Is it cancer?"
"Adrian, what the fuck."
Christopher Smith pinched his temple between two fingers, letting out a very drawn-out sigh. When he came to his friend about his... well... discovery, let's put it, he had no idea how dense Adrian would be nor how difficult it was for him to actually explain himself.
"Well, you're not giving me the best clues, you know. You can make this clearer and stop beating around the bush if you just admitted you loved me," Adrian said in his oh-so-oblivious yet sincere way, pushing his glasses further up his face. This admission gave Christopher another reason to groan, this time into both hands that now shrouded his face.
"That's-That's not it, Adrian."
"Yeah, okay," Adrian scoffed.
Christopher finally looked up from his dejected position and furrowed his brow. Just come clean. Why was it so hard? He wanted to talk about it in the first place and now that the moment was here, he was too fucking embarrassed.
"Em did something to me that no one's done in a really, really long time and it was... surprising? It just--"
"Who's Em?"
Christopher turned his head to look at Adrian and gave him the benefit of the doubt, knowing the nickname had been pretty new to him and her, "Emilia, sorry."
"Who's Emilia?"
Benefit fucking obliterated.
"E-Emilia. You've worked with her for the past month."
"I have?"
"Harcourt--"
"Oh! Why didn't you just say so! Jesus, dude, here I am thinking Emilia was Eagly's other name or something."
Christopher was just about ready to walk out of his own goddamn trailer.
"So..." Adrian scooted a hair closer to Christopher on his buddy's couch, grinning, "What'd you two get up to?"
"She tickled me."
Adrian was still grinning, still nodding his head, tongue poking out like he was hearing some sick story about his best friend and teammate getting it on together, until, "Huh?"
"I know... I didn't know what was happening at first. And I just-- reacted! Then I shut down, she asked me about it, and pssh, I barely knew what the fuck I was feeling so I booked it out of there."
"Why'd you run away?"
"Because..." Christopher's mouth was fully ready to continue speaking, but his brain stopped him short. Why did he leave the situation so quickly? From what he'd heard about it, tickling wasn't too bad. But every part of his body wanted to flee the scene the moment it happened.
"Did Keith ever tickle you?"
In a rare moment of sincere clarity, Adrian hit the nail on the head with that unidentified trauma.
Of course. When the brothers would sneak around to avoid their father, the two would do anything they could to keep their spirits up. And that definitely included a tickle fight here or there, ones that young Christopher would lose more often than not. And if dad ever found them, he'd hurl the homophobic and incestual slurs. So, yeah, Chris never thought about that in a really, really long time. Until today. Until his fight or flight kicked in because of one stray touch along his ribs.
Christopher ended up nodding slowly after what he was sure was many moments of silence as he was taken back to decades ago. Adrian even let him have these moments, which was another big win for his character.
The realization dawned upon Adrian in a heartbeat later, and he was smiling wide, "You're ticklish?"
Chris felt an unfamiliar flush build in his cheeks and he glanced at his friend, "Yes, but don't get any ideas, Adrian, I swear to god."
"Wouldn't dream of it," not, "I just can't believe the Peacemaker is ticklish! Who would've guessed?" even Adrian let out a small, excited giggle.
"And you aren't? Why's it such a big deal? I bet you like it, too, you sick freak," even though Christopher came to Adrian to confess and get some advice about his predicament, he couldn't avoid hurling insults as his defense mechanism. Can't get too close now, remember.
"Oh, I do," Adrian thumbed his glasses again, nodding and possessing a very matter-of-fact look about him, "It's one of my favorite torture methods."
Chris made a face, knowing in that moment Adrian definitely meant to torture and to be tortured.
"What's there to like?" he asked more genuinely.
"It's so much fun, dude! The tingles, the nerve endings, the effortless laughter," Adrian was smiling just thinking about it, and Christopher was squirming at just the mention.
It was then, in basking in the beautiful memories of being involved in tickling, that Adrian reached out and pinched at Christopher's side without abandon. Chris shot off the couch completely, screaming a, "What the fuck!"
Adrian giggled with pure glee coursing through his body at the discovery his best friend laid out before him, "Stop fighting it!" he bolted off the couch and ran straight at Christopher.
They played a brief game of cat and mouse, Chris hurling every kind of insult at Adrian in his avoidance of the inevitable. The ever-determined Adrian wound up cornering Christopher in his bedroom, avoiding objects that were hurled at his head in the process.
"Go fuck yourself. Fuck you, fuck your mom, fuck your aunt--"
"What's Aunt Kathy got to do with this?"
"Well I know you don't have a sister, otherwise I would've banged her already, dipshit."
Adrian grinned disturbingly at the thought. He wouldn't want any part in that intimate affair, of course, but him being able to say that Peacemaker was his brother-in-law was too tempting to not daydream of.
Christopher was genuinely considering jumping out his window once he ran out of small throwable objects. That split second of decision cost him big, as Adrian roundhouse kicked him directly into his bed.
Knowing he had nowhere else to go, nothing else he could do to prevent this, Christopher threw up his hands, "Wait wait wait wait! Adrian, wait!"
"Yeah, buddy?" Adrian straddled Chris and rested his own hands on his hips just waiting for whatever his idol and friend was going to say to him.
Christopher shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths before continuing his thought, "This is still new for me... I'd appreciate it if you, you know..." he swallowed, "took it easy."
Adrian couldn't believe his ears. Had he already converted Christopher into being okay with tickling? Not fighting back as much as his traumatized brain probably wanted him to? Adrian now felt he had a duty to uphold. To take a step in reversing whatever repressed, fucked up memories and feelings Christopher had towards tickling.
"Of course, dude," Adrian assured. He wiggled his fingers in quick anticipation and softly touched down on Christopher's belly. He could feel his friend tense beneath him and watched Christopher's hands land on his own face to cover up.
"No anti-torture techniques now, Mr. Military Man," Adrian chastised.
Adrian did take notice of Christopher making himself more vulnerable by lifting his hands like he did. And the Vigilante was not one to turn down the opportunity, so he clawed at Peacemaker's ribs, not pressing in too hard at the behest of his friend.
Christopher's arms immediately shot down and squeezed to his sides as laughs huffed their way through. When Adrian vibrated his fingers more quickly, that amped up Christopher's laughter, the much larger man rocking from side to side.
"Awesome," Adrian had a smile a mile wide at this discovery, at seeing his best friend and idol laughing this carefree.
Adrian tested out a few more spots on Chris's upper body, all earning him a variety of laughs. When he'd had his fill of exploiting his friend's weakness, he unhooked his legs from atop Christopher and knelt beside him on the bed. Chris took in deep breaths to recover and was rubbing his hands along the parts of his torso that still felt tingly.
"That was so much fun," Adrian decided to pitch in his two cents, smiling broadly.
Christopher was still processing what just transpired. He did think he should be feeling way more self-conscious after being so vulnerable like that, laid bare with all his emotions and his body. But no, he was actually feeling pretty good. Like the tickling was a stress-reliever. He would never admit any of this, however, of fucking course not.
"Economos is gonna die when he hears about this," Adrian seemed to be still in his own little fantasy world post-tickling, giggling at the idea of their teammates face when he tells him of Peacemaker's weakness.
"Oh, fuck no. You're not selling me out to Economos! I trusted you, man!" Christopher, fully on the rebound, saw the glint in Adrian's eyes behind the kid's glasses and the anticipatory smile on his stupid face, and, well... don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
Adrian was squealing and laughing before Christopher even laid a finger on him. And yeah, it was clear to Christopher just how much Adrian enjoyed being tickled. Which was actually kinda cute.
And as Christopher was getting his footing being the giver of tickles, not the receiver, he was quickly seeing how much more he preferred this side of it. Doing the tickles. Being a younger sibling first, then only child, he was only ever on the receiving end or receiving nothing at all. Adrian must have been used to this kind of treatment being Gut Chase's kid brother, so maybe that's why it grew like it did within him.
Either way, Chris was fine taking pointers from Adrian on how to tickle him more effectively, which was all kids of fucked. And Adrian swore not to tell anyone else on the team about this. While Adrian and secrets was a ticking time bomb, Christopher knew he needed the time to fully anticipate what was to come. Maybe the team knowing wasn't a bad thing. Maybe he avoided the situation with Emilia too quickly. Maybe there was still a chance for him to feel more grounded day by day, surrounding himself with loving people and loving acts. Fuck, he was getting soft... and maybe soft wasn't a bad thing, either.
adrian's worst spots are his neck, ribs, & feet,,, but honest to god he's the type to be ticklish quite literally everywhere. there's like... one spot (his biceps???) that just isn't ticklish at all and it's baffling?? but yeah, truly any other spot can at least get him wigglin
he thinks tickling's like,, so fun. would he admit it while he's getting wrecked?? hell no. but he's definitely mentioned it once or twice after a drink too many. and it shows when he stretches obnoxiously around the team or drapes himself over them yk
he's a SCREAMER. like a few lil pokes to his side, he's screaming for his life and then will deny it even happened in the same breath . like he's so dramatic
chris loves telling everyone he possibly can how ticklish adrian is and watching him go SO RED and get SO defensive
he can't handle being looked at while he's getting wrecked,,, he'll try everything to hide his face. he'll bury it in his hands, his arms, the couch, the ler's chest?? anything. and it flusters him to no end when the ler prevents that from happening. a chin tilt?? pulling his hands away?? it's over . it's just ,, so fucking bad when the rest of the 11th street kids are just,, standing around n watching
his sounds are endlessly entertaining. like he gigglesnorts, he SHRIEKS, he squeaks, he cackles, he's a total potty mouth, he does it all fr . leota loves to count his snorts too
NOTHING gets him quite as wrecked as chris tickling him... chris' size and strength??? chris' teases?? the fact that he literally idolizes peacemaker? it's all just . too much . and chris knows that and takes advantage
sometimes he'll blush so hard that his glasses fog up :')
and he KICKS ,, like so fast. like he can kick fast enough that he could like fly or swim away from the tickles ... never works . again,, SO SO dramatic
his worst spots within his worst spots?? the sides of his neck (especially quick lil pokes there he actually will crumple), the spot where his ribs meet his sides, and the tops (and heels??) of his feet (and he's so fucking flustered about the tops being so ticklish bc "WHO TF IS TICKLISH THERE THAT'S NOT EVEN A REAL SPOT" his words, not mine,, i'm not projecting)
he not only gets tickled stupid, he gets tickled... ticklish? like if he gets wrecked long or hard enough, every hovering finger will have him practically jumping through the ceiling. he gets so jumpy and like hypersensitive and everyone thinks it's hilarious and adorable
i love him i love him i love him pls talk to me about peacemaker <3
I love thissssss! Adrian cannot handle any sort of anticipation. He is such an adorable, squirmy bean and we love it. I love the idea that Chris wrecks him and doesn't keep his weaknesses a secret either! He is precious and we love him!!!
fandom: peacemaker
characters: lee!adrian, lers!chris & leota
summary: the team discovers adrian’s painfully ticklish secret during a late-night safehouse debate, and giggle-ante is born.
word count: 834
the safehouse was too quiet, which almost always meant somebody was about to say something stupid. and tonight, admittedly like most nights, it was adrian. "man, i could totally take batman," he announced over the news, image of the black-masked hero on the tv, leaning forward like he was ready to argue with it.
"oh my god, not this again." leota groaned immediately without even looking up from her laptop.
"no, seriously," adrian insisted towards her, bright eyes wide. "like, in a fight? i’d win. easy." crossing his arms in front of him, he settled back into the couch cushion behind him.
chris smirked, scrolling on his phone. "bro, you squeal when someone breathes on your neck wrong. you're not taking batman."
the room went silent, but not before a shrill "SHH" from adrian.
"…wait." leota blinked, head snapping up. "are you...?"
"i don't — i-i'm not!" adrian shot back, way too fast. his face was already starting to turn red.
practically ignoring his friend, chris finally looked up to grin at adebayo, eyes sparkling with unmistakable mischief. "wanna hear him?"
adrian gulped, cleared his throat, and prayed no one noticed, shifting in his seat, "do it. i don't care." his chin jutted outwards as he squeezed his arms closer to himself.
"asking for it, huh?" eyebrows raised, chris couldn't help but chuckle, "okay." he can't say he didn't warn him. "yeah, this is his worst spot," standing up, the bigger man cracked his knuckles while adebayo watched as if she was about to watch the best show of her life. and before adrian could even argue, he felt chris grab both of his shoulders, big thumbs prodding into both sides of his neck.
adrian's reaction was instant and explosive; a screech so sharp and ridiculous that leota almost dropped her laptop. "oh my god," she gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth before it dissolved into a wheeze. "you're so ticklish! i knew it!"
"NOHOHOT!!" adrian shouted, but his denial was swallowed up by frantic giggles as the rest of chris' fingers scribbled mercilessly into the sensitive muscles along his neck. his whole body folded forward, shoulders scrunching to his ears as he stomped the floor uselessly.
"bro, look at you," chris laughed, holding him steady by one shoulder while his other hands ventured towards the now-exposed backs of his ribs. "you’re like a fish out of water."
“fuhuhuck yohohou, maHAHAN” adrian cackled, already red, glasses fogging up, voice breaking as he thrashed his full body onto the couch to curl up.
harcourt smirked over her beer. "wow. the vigilante taken down by a neck rub," she shrugged, small almost-fond smile, "can't say i didn't see it coming."
"for real. is anyone surprised?" economos' shoulders bounced as he watched the pathetic sight before him.
“it'snotaneckrubdudehe'sfuckingtorturingme!" his laughter became screamy.
leota was wheezing into her sleeve, not taking her damn eyes off of poor ticklish adrian. "this is the best thing i’ve ever seen. i can't — "
"ads, hehelp meEE!!" twisting and reaching towards her, he shrieked, but all she did was reach out and jab him in the side. utter betrayal.
the poke startled a sound between a snort and a hiccup out of him. loud, dorky, impossible to miss, and it was like the fucking room froze.
“oh my god,” leota said, eyes wide as she shared amused glances with chris, economos, and harcourt, before they all burst out laughing. "did you — did you just snort?!"
adrian's whole face went scarlet. "NO I DIHIHIDN'T!!" he screeched at the feeling of chris' hands returning to his neck, another snort slipping out, and then immediately burying his face in his hands. "shuHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!!"
"yeah, let’s hear that again, man.” chris grinned, tugging at adrian's weak wrists until he managed to peel them away from his face.
"NO!" he yelped, face beet red before he cut himself off, mouth pressed shut in a straight line, nose scrunched. he tried his damndest to regain his composure.
but the feeling of leota's fingers climbing down his ribs to that damn spot where his ribs end and sides begin, and chris going to town on his neck? he didn't stand a chance. his head fell back against the couch, attempting to push the attacking hands away, mouth open in nearly silent laughter. he wished it was silent, but instead it was punctuated by giggly hiccups and the occasional snort and fuck, he was dying.
harcourt shook her head, actually laughing now. "he’s a damn giggle machine."
"no," economos said, smug as hell. “he’s… giggle-ante."
the safehouse erupted into laughter once again.
"shhHH," adrian practically melted, glasses slipping down his face, squirming like mad and clearly losing strength, "iHIHIHIHI SWEHEHEAR TO GOHOHOD I FUCKING—"
"can't take batman," chris snorted, "can't even take a tickle fight."
"batman wouldn't — he wouldn't fiHIHIGHT like thiS! THISISCHEATING!!"
"to our newest hero. long live giggle-ante." they all raised their beers.
Brb I'm gonna explode. This is the cutest thing ever! His reactions! Everyone's teasing! Giggle-ante is such a perfect term of endearment for him. (And Batman, if given the knowledge, would definitely defeat this man with tickles).
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