also if you want to share can we hear about what's in your wips? no pressure or anything though! just curious and looking forward to reading more of your writing :)
Ofc ofc you all are always welcome to ask!!
These are listed in no particular order, but some of what I've been chipping away at includes...
lee!Kon and lee!Tim with ler!Dick // Dick is laid-up with an injured foot and has 2 very willing, very punch-drunk and silly babysitters. If only they'd just tire out and go to bed so he could get some sleep – oh wait, he can make that happen.
lee!Dick, lee!Jason, lee!Tim, lee!Damian // vignettes of a prank that gets handed down
lee!Jason with ler!Dick and ler!Bruce // inspired by an ask that mobile won't let me link smh. Jason gets cornered by his dad and his older brother, who are very mushy about the whole thing. Helmet or not, he's putting the red in Red Hood because he doesn't know what to with all those compliments.
lee!Jason and lee!Tim with ler!Dick and enabler!Roy lmao // at a Christmas party Roy asks a mildly tipsy and thus a very cheery + goofy Dick what he thinks the cutest thing about his little brothers is. Yes Roy is being a chaos goblin on purpose. Dick slings an arm around Tim and Jason each and goes "weeeeelll they both have really ticklish tummies!" Which ofc has Jason and Tim writhing away and complaining bc dude come on, really?? Meanwhile Roy just says "oh really? Jason? Hmmm not sure I believe you :/" and, well. The rest is history.
There are more I can yap about but these are the first that came to mind!
I wanted to properly thank you for the fic and I figured finishing the doodle would work so I hope you like it :))
I think this counts as fanart of a fanfic of a fanart wow
Also I hope it’s ok I sent this through ask box,, DM felt scarier for some reason lmaooo
ALEXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I'M LOVE THIS SO MUCH LOOK AT THEMMMM!!!!!!!!!THE FATHER-SON EVER!!!!! bro i am so honored you took the art and colored it in so gorgeously because of my fic 😭i was(/AM) so into this mer art (and all your mer art i LOVE a mer AU lol)
AHHHHHHHH djkfhdjhf i've been hoarding this in my ask for over a week and i still dont even know what to say to this it's so gorgeous dkjfhjfh
Need to toss some of my Steph HCs out into the world because she's my shayla 🥺🥺
Steph has the kind of laugh that lights up the room, she's so loud and bubbly, the kind who laughs from her stomach. When she and Tim were together, he was infatuated with making her smile/laugh
This of course resulted in a LOT of playfighting during downtime in patrol. Robin and Spoiler playing rooftop tag that ends in loud tickle fights that alerts all the building residents of the vigilantes on their roof? Yeah. At first Batman pried them apart but after the third time he gave up and just let them play until they were tired out enough to send them back to the cave early (he totally doesn't have the cowl footage saved and rewatches it when he's moody... noooo who told you that...)
SO weak to tummy tickles! she will argue with you that she's "not that bad" in comparison to Jay and Tim but slow circles getting closer to her belly button makes her giggle just as bad
OBNOXIOUS LEE STEPH... She can AND WILL sit in your lap to distract you until you pay attention to her!!! She mainly did this to Tim or Cass, once she hung out more with Babs, Jay, and Duke she did this with them too. Her favorite thing is exaggeratingly stretching her arms over her head and - oops, did she smack your face? Soooo sorryyyyy, maybe you should *wink* do something about that?
She's more careful to sit on Dick, mainly because the others will playfully argue with her and give her a fighting chance to escape. Dick will LOCK HER DOWN and give no mercy. He likes tazing Steph on the sides so she jumps and squeals, but as soon as she's scrambling out of his seat he grabs her by the wrists and hauls her back in until she's screaming with laughter
She does NAWT do this with Bruce. She watched Tim do it one time and decided she was never going to be foolish enough to do the same (that is a lie, she will eventually succumb to her curiosity...)
She loves bullying Damian. That's her lil guy? Her special lil man?? She's not afraid to just grab him during cooldown and target his knees until he's wheezing with giggles because "that's what big sisters do!" "I was told that's what big brothers do." "I'm an honorary bro, bro."
Steph is the batkid who gets away with the most in terms of teasing others, except Dick who she discounts bc he's 1) the universal big brother 2) evil 🙂↕️🙂↕️. She's usually clever enough to entice someone (cough Tim cough) into ganging up on people with her, and then helping get revenge on her helper. This works great until she gets Cass to help her, who immediately grabs her upon retreat and they gang up on Steph instead. She totally didn't want this to happen when she asked Cass for help noooo what are you talking about haha are you crazy
Kanene's notes: WHO IS EXCITED FOR THE FINAL CHAPTER? :DDD Guys I am just so happy because I finally - finally - was able to solve a daunting chore that was stressing me out for weeks!!! I just had to post this chapter as a celebration. Hope y'all like it!!!
Warnings: There's some light angst here and there, but nothing strong. Platonic A/B/O AU. Ticklish Jason Todd and Ler Dick Grayson. Around 4.000 words.
[~*~]
“hrghj?”
“Yeah, yeah, dickface, go back to sleep.”
Dick’s eyes were clouded, blinking slowly as he stared at his face, possibly result of a mix of exhaustion and the heavier anesthetics Alfred had to use this time. Thankfully his scent recognition was not impaired, otherwise he would not be taking so calmly to being woken up out of nowhere and no amount of Jason’s calm pheromones would save him from getting punched in the face with their training.
The older’s scent held the sick misery of wet chalk, but even so Dick gave Jason a weak purr as his eyes began to close and his body went lax as he let himself fall into a slumber once again, satisfied that no danger was near.
Jason tsked as his older brother instinctively turned his head to seek the comfort of his scent and he quickly – but careful of his bruises – brushed softly his wrist across Dick’s cheeks and head, receiving another short, happy purr for it.
He bit back the pleased rumble that wanted to answer him and instead focused on separating the necessary materials from the emergency nest pile locked in one of their cabinets. Today’s patrol was chaotic enough that he was sure no more bats would be coming down to the medbay for the rest of the night, except for Alfred, who Jason would take over either the Replacement, the Demon Brat or – God forbid – the Big Bat at any given day.
(Alfred probably already knew he was there and would help keep the others away, even.)
Separating the best feeling blankets and the structurally sound pillows was both incredibly anxiety inducing and natural. Jason ignored how thrilled he used to be about building nests before, he pushed away all the bitter memories of the days he spent reading books about it in the library, chest full of hope and wonder at finally being able to try out every technique the books talked about. The days he had spent spreading mock nests all across the manor like second nature.
Jason growled, forcefully focusing on the task at hand before the memories swallowed him whole.
(If anyone saw him kneading the blankets like a scaredy puppy he would start shooting.)
He began spreading the flat pillows that would be the base of the healing nest around Dick, carefully exuding more calm-sleepy-safe scent as he snuck a couple of them under his brother, chittering in exasperated admonishment as Dick kept trying to pull him into his usual octopus hug, even asleep.
“This would be so much better if I could use it blackmail you latter,” he pushed (not as hard as he could, honestly) his arm out of another grab made in his direction, quickly scenting Dick on his head again with safe-here-sleep when the other whined despondently at him. “But of course, you have no sense of shame.”
Sacrificing one of the scented plushies he brought (no he would not say from who they are and no he will not confess owning them, shut up) to his old nestmate, Jason turned to the other side of the bed and arranged the short walls and crevices with enough space to hold two large bodies (for when the Replacement or the Demon Brat came down hidden in the middle of the night and for that only, of course, of course), mindful of Dick’s injuries as he lifted his limbs to coax a couple of the thinnest pillows and airier blankets under him.
Jason doesn’t know how much time passed until it all was finally done.
Nest building was both the easiest and most tax consuming thing his body could ask of him. It took a conscious effort to make his mind focus on the task, to pry the tight hold he kept on his instincts, even if only to let them feel where each and every clothe and fabric must go to feel “right” as the same time he had to keep pushing off the intrinsically terror of being slipping and losing himself once more to them.
Besides, making a Healing Nest took an extra amount of concentration that usually are only dedicated to the built of a Pack or Private Nest, except those usually were a constant work of adaptation that went beyond a single day or night, following the individual across the years, being adapted, built and rebuilt, never left unchanged.
A Healing Nest needed to be perfectly balanced, with the pack’s strongest scents closer to the walls to placate the instincts that screamed a need of protection for their fallen packmate and the younger (usually their littermates) scents snuggled the closest to the hurt individual, all while the scents had to be strong enough to camouflage the hurt smell slipping in the patient’s scent.
It was a necessary balance that had to soothe the person and every underline pheromone had to emanate some kind of tranquil, safe feeling to prevent throwing the person even further into a spiral of stress, which in theory is easy but much harder to balance outside the paper.
Maybe it was because he was so much lost in those thoughts as he kept his breathing exercises and adjustments of an annoying pillow that Jason didn’t realize the pair of very attentive, watching eyes clued on him. Maybe it was because he honestly forgot to keep attentive when Dick let him work peacefully after Jason dodged a third lunge. Maybe some unconscious part of him remembered about all those years ago.
Nevertheless, in one second Jason was preoccupied in giving the healing nest its final touches and the other he was being pounced and dragged into it before he could scramble away.
“Fucking hell, Dick.” His voice was tight, his heart beating erratically and the only reason he didn’t counterattack the sudden movement was because he had just taken a bath and was wearing his civilian clothes. All his hidden knives were placed on a special compartment on his boots, far enough that his hindbrain registered the comforting, needy scent of Dick (family-pack-care-love-nestmate) before his hand could press in the hidden slot and take the weapon out.
His only answer was a satisfied, loud motor-engine purr as Dick buried his nose on his hair and inhaled his scent. His arms locked around him, which kept him on the here and now with a side effect of not let him get away, literally.
“Urg,” Jason wiggled minutely, confirming that, yep, he was not getting out of this hug. Dick chirped contently, not unlike a small, happy puppy which – as the 79kg grown ass basically burying him under his weight and all the comforters he pulled from the pile to hide them - he was definitely not. “Piss off, fatass, you’re gonna crush me.”
His older brother continued to groom him unrepentantly, the only interruptions of his stupid smug purring was a quiet growl each time he found some stubborn knot or when he decided Jason was not yet completely doused in his protective scent and decided to rub his chin on his head and coat him even more in his scent, which renewed his growling because the nuzzling undid his careful work of detangling his hair.
Instincts were just the stupidest thing, sometimes.
The odds that he was fully conscious and simply elated to ignore Jason or that he was genuinely still completely lost to it due the pain meds were pretty equal. Jason huffed.
Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from melting, bit by bit, each time Dick’s fingers travelled from the top of his head, careful with his locks, and continued to his nape, giving it heavenly scratches before he rubbed his way back up his head and repeated the cycle, softly playing with his hair, then carefully guiding comforting shivers from his nape to the rest of his back.
A small part of his soul, that same one that clung to the memory of those rainy evenings when they used to snuggle in the Manor’s pack nest and roughhoused in the animated ways pups did, wanted to whine.
It yearned, soft and vulnerable, metaphorically wishing to just roll over and show Dick all the raw bruises he still concealed under their blocked bond, so his nestmate could take care of them as well.
(Childishly, youngly. Jason missed his pack so damn much sometimes.)
Jason was quick to swallow that urge and lock it up far away before his hindbrain could get any ideas. He chittered warningly when Dick’s hand got too close to his scarred neck and the older alpha relaxed his hug with a submissive whine.
“Shut up.” Jason tsked, adjusting himself so he was the one embracing Dick, who purred contently and went completely lax, happy that the other was not trying to go away anymore. Discreetly, Jason also nosed his hair, scenting him with calm-heal-protected. “You’re the one who needs to heal, stupid.”
Lost to the world, Dick’s loud purrs lost some of their strength (going from motor-loud to just loud) as he turned his head to snuggle further under Jason’s chin, finally placated and still, his tired body charging the sudden bout of energy as it pulled him under a heavy sleep. For once, his pheromones calmed down and let the mix of his pack’s scents take over the nest and the room, hiding him in his vulnerability.
Jason took his place for the vigil and sighed, feeling something loosening in his chest at the familiar awareness of watching the room as his nestmate slept fell over him.
In little ways, some things didn’t really change, huh?
(…)
Dick yawed, drowsily as he pulled himself from his slumber. He felt strangely well-rested. It’s been… forever, since he woke up from such a heavy sleep. Still blinking his eyes open, trying to get them accustomed with the room, his senses acknowledged the safe smell of his entire pack and for a confusing second Dick wondered if Bruce’s overprotectiveness really went against Alfred’s orders and the omega sneaked on the medbay in the middle of the night to move him to the Den.
But no, he was still on the Cave. So how…
A faint rumble registered under him and Dick couldn’t help but take a deep inhale of the overly familiar scent of books, a smell that was both frigid cold and blazingly warm, like sitting in front of a fireplace with a book as an unforgiving snowstorm raged outside, a green acid bubbling in the underlayer of it.
It made his throat dry and his eyes mist.
Jason.
The purr that exploded from his chest was almost all consuming. It was needy and happy and full of longing all at the same.
That was his first nestmate, his grief, his lateness, his absence, his littermate from another parent, his most grave mistake, his pup, his little brother.
Jason curled more around him, clearly asleep. The knowledge that if he woke up, he would most certainly get away and escape to his safehouse singlehanded made Dick hold back the calling yips that kept trying to greet his little brother and hear his answering calls.
But maybe some part of him still did it without his permission, because Jason, even asleep, gave a faint chirp and nuzzled once his throat, curled even further on his space, bulk and muscles hiding him from outside in a way that made his inner alpha preen.
Such a good nestmate, very good pup, keeping his pack safe.
He decided to enjoy the silence, nesting closer to his little brother and letting the quietness soothe any bruises that still lingered in their bonds and their souls.
(…)
Dick, with a herculean effort, endured exactly half an hour before the sheer amount of tediousness left him jittery. Gone was the first wave of softness that held his mind when he woke up for the third time and Jason still gave no signals to stirring up from his own sleep. Something more… agitated (playful) sung, bubbling from the corner of his smile to the restlessness of his fingertips as memories appeared on his mind.
Weeeell.
It wasn’t like Jason didn’t know the rules.
If you went to your big brother’s nest and was unfairly adorable, it was only fair you paid your Lil Bro Tax.
(Besides, soon enough Alfred would be coming down to check on him and bringing down breakfast, which would officially open the doors to the other members of the manor to come down as well and as much as Dick would love to extend such rare cuddle time further, he knew Jason would not appreciate having such a moment displayed to the rest of the family yet.)
(Really, his little brothers were so lucky to have such a good, charitable, attentive old brother like him.)
Softly, Dick ran the tip of his fingers across Jason’s back, barely touching as he calmly let his short nails slowly rank up and down, observant of any batted breath or twitch from the other, curious to assess just how ticklish Jason still was.
The middle of his back, closest of his hands at first, didn’t give him much answer, however, just as he decided to tap lightly on the back of his ribs a huff greeted him. Quickly, Dick jumped away from the spot and waited with closed eyes and carefully controlled his breathing, attentive to any further movement from Jason, tampering down the joyful bout of excitement that kept trying to sneak from him through their bond.
When nothing else happened, Dick risked opening his eyes again, smiling happily at the soundly asleep brother that clutched him close. In a blink, he passed his wrist carefully on his hair, scenting him with little brother-safe-happy-thanks.
But his research was not yet complete and Bruce taught them well to always be diligent, ruthless and final when searching for the answer of a mystery.
Once again he rested his hand on the middle of Jason’s back, taking advantage of the neutral point to plan his next target thoughtfully. With small “steps”, Dick sluggish spidered his way to Jason’s lower back. His touch was light, only two fingers poking the line of his spine until he arrived to his destiny and could freely move his hands back and forth the spot, calmly dragging just his fingertips from one side to another, drawing senseless shapes and lazy zig zags on the ticklish skin.
His hunt proved itself successful when another huff escaped the other, Jason’s arms clutching him closer as he tried to curl himself but was stopped by Dick, who was still plastered under his chin, a gruffy grumble leaving him when Dick stopped his ministrations until he relaxed once again.
Which was perfect. Because it meant that not only Jason was still his dearest, wiggliest, cutest lil tickly-ticklish puppy but also that he hadn’t grown out of impersonating a pillbug each time he was tickled which was just most adorable thing ever and as his very good, very charitable old brother, Dick just had to take advantage of it.
Oof, the weight of his duty.
As the saying goes, with great powers came great responsabilitickles or something like that.
Lastly – but not less important - Dick skittered his fingers gently right under one of his shoulder blades, remembering just much of a bad spot this used to be for tasering and such, which never failed to make Jason screech the loudest of the snorts before falling in breathless crackles every single time.
A quiet noise that sounded suspiciously like a muffled giggle greeted him and Dick was very careful to not let the shit-eating grin he felt forming show in his face.
His hand hovered just above the spot.
Dick waited with a baited breath.
One second.
Two seconds
Three…
A small, almost imperceptive twitch away from his hands.
There.
That's when Dick descended. With only two fingers, he pressed on the tickle spot and vibrated like the entire destiny of humankind depended on creating the loudest shriek in the entire universe.
Jason spasmed, instinctively trying to shot up away from the tickles but being prevented by the blankets and very clingy older brother clued on him. A cutting, high pitched squeal just a few notches below breaking the sound barrier left his mouth as he sputtered confusedly, suddenly wide awake.
Soon realization downed on him. Wheezy, booming laughter cut the space, his arms coming to clutch at Dick’s shoulders as the older kept drilling on the tickle spot restlessly. “DIHIHIHIHICK!!”
“Time for my little brother tax!” Dick sing-songed in answer, laughing together with his nestmate before he changed his technique to pepper a thousand of nimble, soft and lightning-fast pinches in between Jason’s shoulder blades, as if it was his life time mission to get the most flustered, yipping snickers from him. Each sound so squeaky that it left Jason’s head reeling in dizzy, flustered confusion. It’s been years since he laughed freely like that.
Especially as Dick decided to be teasy little shit as well.
“Awww, is someone still sensitive? Is that iiiit? Is my little bwother a twickle-twickle-twickle-twicklish puppy. Huh, huh, huh, is heeee?”
The screech pried from Jason’s lips was loud.
“SHUHUHUHDAPP!” Now the blush travelled from the bridge across his nose to the tip of his ears, voice jumping from high squeals to growly giggles that were the most endearing thing ever. “IHIHIHI’M GONNA FUCKING DEHEHESTROY YOU AHAHAFTER THIS!”
Dick whistled low, unable to stop his sworn duty as an older brother to poke the bear and gloat a little in smugness. “Better to make sure you’re all tickled out then, right?”
True to his words, Dick stopped his nibbling pinches and plastered his hands in form of claws on the back of Jason’s ribs, barely giving him the time to realize what was going to happen and curse loudly before he began digging. Thumbs drilled and buzzed on his highest ribs while the other fingers crawled to the front to tease the border of his armpits, which made Jason let go of his shoulders and clamp his arms to the side in a poor attempt to fend off those wiggling hands.
Of course, since his target was being so fiercely protective and Dick – contrary of what the unfair rumors spread by ticklish little birds said - was a merciful, good older brother, he had no other option but to change his course and tickle that absurdly weak spot Jason had between his armpits and back, scratching and scribbling across it over and over again until his nestmate was a wheezing mess.
Stumbling, laughing words spilled incoherently from Jason’s lips. The unexpected change of attack made Jason snort, air stilling for a second in surprise before raucous crackles, wheezy squeals gleefully mixed with his laughter in a manner that only made his blush worse each time it happened.
Something that was not helped by the oozing fondness dancing in Dick’s scent, bright as day no matter how much Jason curled or squirmed away from it, each time he buried himself further on his brother only serving to make his tickles more energetic and the fond coos resonating on their dulled bond louder, while pushing himself back on the tickles only served to make his back more vulnerable to the tickly ministrations and worsen his fate.
Each wiggle presented the perfect opportunity for Dick to spare a couple of fingers to tase the border of his armpits and then follow by kneading and clawing skillfully across every single weak spot on the back of his ribcage, going up and down in a way that made Jason’s laughter change from uncontrollable wheezing to gruffy chortles.
Just as his nestmate was beginning to grow used to the sensation, Dick jumped to his spine, hands spidering across its length, giving each single one of his vertebras a good prodding before jumping to another.
Loud laughter gave space to squeaky huffs and puffs that made his shoulders tremble as Dick’s fingers playfully climbed to the top of his back, tippity-tapping teasingly on the back of his neck before they washed down back to the base of his spine.
After some failed attempts – because Dick decided to live up to his name and kept fucking tasering under his shoulder blades and prying another screeching shriek each time Jason opened his mouth to say anything, dialing back to his normal tickle attack only when he was sure his little brother was completely lost in booming laughter once more – Jason was finally able to wheeze out a “STOHOHOHOPPIT!”
“Hmmm,” Dick pretended to think about it. “I don’t know, Little Wing. Something tells me you will just get your revenge when I stop, which means I’m gonna lose all those cute lil bro giggles AND get tickled to the very death… Not much advantage from my viewpoint, is there?”
Challenge glinted in those bright, teary eyes, the only warning Dick got as a gigantic smile in Jason’s expression took over a sharper edge “FUHUHUNNY OF YOHOHOU TO THINK I WHAHAHAS ASKING!”
In a blink Jason’s hands clasped on Dick’s arms he pushed, which automatically activated Dick’s octopus mode and resulted in him clinging for dear life onto his brother, coiling his limbs around him with a pitiful nooo-apology-stay-playful! whine that was mirrored across their bond. With another forceful push it soon became a mischievous and equally challenging growl as both rolled around in the small nest, jabbing elbows and hands scrambling for purchase of any tickle spot available.
The following game of roughhousing had the unfortunate consequence of riding up Jason’s shirt, a priceless opportunity presented in a silver plate Dick, who didn’t even hesitate for a second before he quickly dove his hands under it. Soon, there was scratching and skittering tickles gracing directly every centimeter of Jason’s lower back.
It was the worst kind of attack. Just a flock of light, soft tickles that seemed to tease directly each one of his nerves and bring out the giddiest kind of titters that seemed as if they left buzzing, tingling little shocks wherever they went and never failed to turn him into a tittering, embarrassed mess.
Under the new wave of tickles, Jason sputtered half protests and muffled swears before his poorly contained low chuckles grew to a flustered flurry of fast-paced giggles that made him try to curl himself in a ball. With Dick still under his chin, he was only successful in burying his face on his hair, entire body shaking with his snickers.
It was a valiant and senseless – but still adorable and heartwarming all the same - attempt to muffle the uncontrollable giggling that only grew more and more pronounced and airy as Dick continued to draw senseless shapes in the back of his sides and sneaked a couple of gentle pinches on his hips just to catch a few surprised yelps before letting him fall back to the giggly titters. Not a single inch of his lower back was left before gaining its deserved round of scribbling, spidering and wiggling fingers.
Carefully, Dick tapped on their shared bond, going almost boneless with relaxation when all he got was happy-flustered-joy-annoyed-safe feelings reflected from Jason’s side, which sounded much less muted that they used too ever since Jason got back. His own scent sparkling with happy fireworks and shared train-diving moments.
It was only due that dazed contentment that Dick didn’t react when a hesitant kneading started on the back of his shirt. With a batted breath, he forced himself to not react and pull attention to Jason’s seemingly instinct show of comfort and attention, the younger stopping briefly for a second, as if only realizing now what he was doing.
Dick let his hands continue his soft and light tickling in an attempt to distract the other from any hesitation that was filling his mind in this moment.
Hope and excitement began to blossom in his chest as – after some seconds with nothing more – his nestmate gave him a minute nuzzle followed by more rhythmic, light kneading continued on his back. The moment felt as precious as the first time – years ago, when their brotherhood was still tentative and on their first steps – that Jason gave him his first “happy biscuits” ever, finally happy and relaxed on the Den’s nest after a movie night and a successful patrol.
The rumbles that exploded out from Dick’s chest were booming and unashamed, more than happy to project his joy as rambunctiously as possible so Jason didn’t feel embarrassed as he answered back with a couple of his own faint purrs.
Unfortunately, it didn’t take long before he hears the telltale of purposely loud and slow footsteps descending to the cave. Tampering down a protesting, possessive growl from his inner alpha, Dick starts to squeeze Jason’s side in short, impossible to ignore tickly bursts until he was jumping out of the nest with an annoyed (almost pouty) snarl, quickly adjusting his hair and clothes just as Alfred appeared on the medbay, a breakfast tray on his hand, perfectly arranged with enough food for two.
“Good morning, Master Jason, Master Dick.” He didn’t seem surprised at Jason’s decision to stay, but there was a fondness in the crinkle of the corner of his eyes when he assessed the healing nest around Dick and gave Jason a short, approving nod. “Let’s take a look at those healing bruises now, shall we?”
[~*~]
Fun Facts and Extras!
Jason is actually a true and 100% SOFTIE! His purrs are raspy and rumbly but when he very very veeery relaxed they can gwo loud like an engine (which makes him want to hide them at first)
He has some aggressive nuzzling when he is feeling affectionate, younger than Dick when he was adopted, still hadn’t grown out of making “biscuits” when he is feeling safe and when being tickled too <3
Btw I am here leaving it to your imagination just whether Jason was awake when Dick began to tickle him and just pretended to be asleep the whole time or if he was truly sleeping during the lighter tickles
I like to imagine Jason having those more breathless-like kind of laughter that are momentarily broken by a couple of squeaky giggling, ya know? Can’t explain it very well but it fits him very nicely in my mind
Jason, in the beginning of the fic: Dick is hurt I GUESS I have to be gentle with him. Just this once
Nests, Pack And Others Things That Can Not Be Separated
Hello! This is a little series I am writing with the idea of Batfam + platonic a/b/o tickles. I hope you all enjoy!
This all passes on the same universe, but each fic can be read separatedly and in no specific order. The general theme I choose to follow with them is Nests and their various kinds <3
Word Count: Around 13.200.
Finished: Yes.
[~*~]
Forever Stuck - Ticklish Dick & Ler Bruce Wayne (Mock Nests)
Napping Spots and Soft Nests - Ticklish Tim Drake & Ler Jason Todd (Pack Nests)
The Little Brother Tax - Ticklish Jason Todd & Ler Dick Grayson (Healing Nests)
a/n: no one help Dick ok he's having a blast. Originally this was going to show Jason and Tim plotting their conspiracy, but it got away from me and turned into wholesome ler!Bruce lee!Dick times.
summary: It's been a while since Dick got tickles and snuggles, but surely he's too old to want that, right? He's twenty now, and he has two younger brothers. Plus, Bruce is busy. Right? Right.
Wrong.
lee!Dick Grayson // ler!Bruce Wayne
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Dick had been minding his own damn business running comparative analyses of the latest biocontaminent that they'd found in an abandoned warehouse. Sure, he'd only half-changed out of his suit, but a tanktop and shorts were perfectly fine attire for the cave...as long as he kept his suit on for the boots. Okay, maybe he looked a little ridiculous, but the point was that it worked, and he'd been perfectly fine until someone had to come along and ruin it all with 'it's too late, chum, you should really be asleep' and 'I will revoke your access if you don't log off'.
“I said I’m wrapping up!” Dick shouted, all his words running together as he tried to writhe away from the hands tickling away at his sides. He reached for the mouse to at least put his program to sleep, but Bruce took the opportunity to start pinching his way farther up Dick’s sides.
“Of course,” Bruce rumbled. “Let me help you along.”
Dick nearly choked on a panicked screech when Bruce suddenly tasered into those horribly ticklish spots right under his ribs. He threw his head back, fruitlessly kicking at the floor for any kind of traction to push himself backwards or upwards or away, but his suit tangled around his ankles and kept him stuck. Oh, so he’d gone ahead and trapped himself this time. Great. Well done, Nightwing.
“You stahay up so muhuhuch later!” he protested.
“And I’m trying to save you from picking up the same habits.” Bruce switched from vibrating taser pokes to using his thumbs to rub little circles right under Dick’s ribs while the rest of his fingers scrabbled over his stomach and sides.
Dick tried to fold himself in half, to no avail, and he flailed out to grab Bruce’s wrists but he couldn’t make his hands obey his brain. Too many ticklish signals, they just got in the way. “B, no!”
“Besides,” Bruce continued, as if Dick wasn’t two more seconds away from melting into a heap of blue and black kevlar on the floor, “Your brothers wanted to know if you were still ticklish.”
Of course the gremlins were plotting against him.
“They’re not even here!” Dick wheezed. Okay, not his best repartee, but he was a little distracted at the moment.
“Right.” Suddenly Bruce’s fingers were sliding up under Dick’s tanktop, his blunt nails scrabbling lines and swirls beneath Dick’s lowest ribs. “They also want to know how to get you all…I think Tim said blushy and squirmy. Naturally, this kind of research question calls for hands-on experimentation.”
By now, Dick had fully succumbed to the high-pitched, screechy giggles that lighter tickles – or at least, lighter tickles from Bruce – always drew out of him. He slumped against the computer chair, reflexively hugging his arms to his chest, giggling like a much younger version of himself. It was embarrassing as hell. He was a grown adult, he shouldn’t just – just fold like this, but…
But it was fun.
Boy, did thinking about that make Dick want to scrunch his shoulders up to his ears and take up a new life as a box turtle.
And anyways, it’s not like he could really go anywhere at the moment, stuck between the chair, Bruce, and the edge of the computer desk.
“It’s good to hear you laugh,” Bruce said, his voice rumbling against Dick’s ear. Dick cringed helplessly away from the ticklish vibrations of his dad’s voice and tried not to hide at the sheer fondness there.
“If I–” Dick gasped in a breath “If I break the computer it’s your fault!” He dissolved back into hiccuping laughter when Bruce responded by squeezing at one of Dick’s knees with firm, sporadic pulses, all the while keeping his other hand wheedling those featherlight patterns on one side of Dick’s ribs. The contrasting methods of attack sent Dick lurching forwards again, silently gasping out breathless laughter.
Bruce grunted, thoughtful. The tickling paused for a couple seconds and Dick was too busy trying to catch his breath to pay attention to what Bruce did until he found himself scooped up, cradled like a little kid again.
He yelped. “Hey!”
“You made a good point,” Bruce said in reply. “Putting a knee through the monitor would be unideal, don’t you think?”
Dick wriggled around for a second, testing Bruce’s hold on him. With enough effort, he could probably break free, but it was late, and he was pretty tired after patrol, and…and look, getting snatched up and tickled silly wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. And anyways, he hadn’t gotten that much facetime with Bruce lately.
But he was still Nightwing, and no self-respecting vigilante went down without a fight, no matter how performative.
“Or you could just not,” he grouched, pulling his knees up like he was going to backflip out of Bruce’s arms. Before he even tucked his chin, Bruce was already heaving him up over his shoulder and starting towards the elevator with an amused huff.
“Come on!” Dick shouted. He hid his burgeoning grin against his dad’s back.
Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach as Bruce stayed silent for the entire elevator ride up, silent during the walk through his study, silent until he entered his own bedroom and tossed Dick down across the mattress. The quiet made the anticipation worse, coiling up next to the butterflies and sending preemptive shivers through Dick’s limbs as he tried to squirm out of reach.
“I’m – I’m twenty!” Dick tried. His fingers drummed against the quilt on Bruce’s bed, seeking out seams to trace without looking. He wasn’t used to being on this side of the equation these days, and for some reason that made him almost giddy in the same way that games of hide-and-seek or tag did when he was younger. Oh, actually, that made sense, because those were playing, and this was –
Oh god, this was also playing. Bruce was winding him up on purpose, he knew full well that he was making Dick all squirmy and restless and – and Dick really didn’t know how to handle that right now, but he had a sudden rush of empathy for Tim’s ever-present response of burrowing into the nearest surface available.
Meanwhile, Bruce methodically toed off his shoes one at a time, then unbuttoned his cuffs to slowly roll up his sleeves. As he finished, he glanced up at Dick and flashed him a smile – a real smile, with enough affection to soften the lines of his face.
Dick felt his entire face heat up as he tried to scowl. “Are you gonna let me get back to my work, or…?”
Bruce laughed, then, and came over to sit next to him. He swept his gaze over Dick’s form, bedraggled outfit and all, then tsked once. “No suits upstairs.”
“You hauled me –” Dick protested, then shut up real quick when Bruce reached over to tug the rest of the Nightwing suit off from where it had pooled around Dick’s ankles.
“I did. But clearly, if you’re itching to get back downstairs, that wasn’t enough of a deterrent.”
Dick recognized that tone and fought the instinctive urge to wrap his arms around himself again. “Bruce.”
“Dickie.”
They stared at each other, neither breaking eye contact for several long seconds.
Bruce broke the tension first and lunged. Dick shouted in startled delight, already laughing as his dad pinned him to the bed and squeezed at his knees.
That – that shouldn’t tickle as much as it did, it was unfair, but Dick pounded his fists into the quilt as he laughed, cackles that even he thought sounded more happy than panicked. There wasn’t much time to dwell on that, though, because Bruce abruptly switched up tactics. Instead of squeezing, he sent one hand down to scrabble behind Dick’s right knee, and used his other hand to latch on to the muscles right above the kneecap on the same side, vibrating his thumb and index finger into the wildly ticklish points there. All that evil tickle monster energy concentrated on one side, on one of his legs, made Dick screech like he was being murdered. He wasn’t even sure if he was laughing anymore, but he flailed out with his three free limbs.
“B!” he cried. “It’s too–it’s too bahahad!”
“Hmm,” Bruce rumbled. “Would switching help?”
“No!”
The instant Dick felt his right knee being free, he flipped onto his stomach and tried to army-crawl further up the bed, only for an iron hand to grab him by the calf and drag him backwards. Oh no. Oh, no, no, no! Rolling over was a tactical error.
“Thanks for the suggestion,” Bruce said, and Dick could just hear the smirk in his voice. He shifted, sitting so he was pinning Dick down by his ankles, which gave him two hands to squeeze, scrabble, and pinch at Dick’s calves. “You did always have the best laughter, honey.”
Dick rocked back and forth but he was stuck, it was hard enough to move his arms without having much leverage, let alone get his legs free. Between being stuck and Bruce’s genuine, horrifying teasing, Dick wanted to melt into the blankets forever and ever.
“I do nahahat!” he shouted through the embarrassingly high-pitched laughter that was bubbling up from his lungs. “Behehe, plehehase! Not that not thahat!”
“Not what, chum?” Bruce asked, his voice a low murmur. He scribbled across Dick’s calves, then drummed his fingers against the delicate area behind Dick’s knees. “Is here better?”
Dick screeched, and it was his last coherent action as Bruce started scribbling his nails right there in slow, swirling patterns. All the zings of ticklish energy had nowhere to go because he was stuck, immobile from the waist down. He punched at the mattress, wound his hands into the blankets, but that was it. His eyes stung from the force of his laughter.
“Dad,” he wheezed. “Dad, it’s–” Another rush of laughter drowned out any other words he could’ve said.
“It’s what?” Bruce asked, amused. “It’s ticklish?”
“Y-y-yeah!”
“Are you sure?”
“I ahahaham!”
“And you’re sure you’ve always been this ticklish?”
“It’s–” Dick let out a screechy cackle when Bruce darted his hands up a couple inches to squeeze at the backs of his thighs. “It’s wohohorse when ‘s’you!”
“Hnh.”
The dreadful tickles stopped and Dick sucked in a breath, barely aware of feeling Bruce get up and release his legs. After a couple breaths, Dick tried to pull his thoughts back together. He shoved down the faint disappointment that tried to sneak in. There was work to be done, and surely Bruce only had so much time to waste.
A large, warm hand rested between his shoulders.
“Breathe, Dickie,” said Bruce with unmistakable fondness.
“You’re – you’re evil,” Dick muttered, but he leaned into the touch. Might as well appreciate it while he could. Plus, his crashing dopamine and endorphin high was quickly turning into sleepiness.
“Yes,” Bruce agreed. The mattress dipped as he sat down closer to the piles of pillows at the headboard, and suddenly two hands hooked under Dick’s arms and hauled him upwards. He let out a small, startled sound, and immediately felt his face redden. His dad’s arms tightened around him in the kind of hug that always felt like being wrapped up in Batman's cape during a cold winter night.
Screw it. The last couple weeks were full of demoralizing case setbacks and long hours, and perhaps Bruce was – was right (ew), and Dick was a little run down. Maybe. All in all, he could indulge his more clingy instincts for a few minutes.
He shifted around, not to break Bruce’s hold, but because doing so meant that the counter pressure from his own limbs maximized the feeling of held, safe, love.
“Hm…” Bruce said at last. “I think you’ve still got the squirmy part down, but I’m not sure about the blushy.”
Well, now Dick was wide awake again and that definitely wasn’t hope sparking in his chest. “What the hell are you on about?”
“Tim’s request.”
As if that explained anything.
Wait.
Dick’s mind raced furiously back through the last thirty or so minutes, and fuck. “Hey, you don’t have to – you accomplished your goal, I’m not working, I’ll go to bed–”
“And it’s good to make sure you’re tired enough to really get some rest,” said Bruce, like the absolute bastard that he was. “Plus, I’m still collecting data for your brother.”
“Nohoho,” Dick whined, a few giggles invading the word as Bruce slid his hands up to Dick’s ribs. “B!”
“C’mon, Dickie,” Bruce murmured, and all the laughing earlier must’ve given Dick a headrush or something because it sounded like his dad was cooing, which couldn't be….Bruce wouldn’t. Not with Dick. Not with his oldest kid who'd long since grown out of being cute or sweet or anything like that.
Apparently, though, Bruce would. “Tickle tickle tickle.”
The familiar cadence sent Dick’s skin crawling with anticipation and he buried his face in Bruce’s chest to hide his giddy smile. He snorted out a startled laugh when Bruce started clawing at the soft spot just under his lowest ribs with soft scritching motions.
“Hey,” Dick protested. He tried to twist his hips to the side but Bruce just dug in a little harder, and the ensuing jolt made Dick’s limbs feel like jelly.
“Careful,” Bruce chided. “You wouldn’t want to get away.”
Those stupid, wheedling fingers kept Dick in fits of wheezing laughter, even as he shook his head and snuggled closer because he couldn’t let his dad see how much he was blushing, that would just get him more teasing.
Bruce walked the fingers of his left hand around towards Dick’s stomach, and Dick flinched. That wasn’t one of his worse spots, but somehow Bruce made everything tickle more by sheer force of existing. “I think you’ve been overdue for some tickles for a while.”
…And by saying things like that, which had Dick groaning and dragging his hands up to clamp over his ears.
Bruce’s whole chest rumbled as he chuckled. “Whoa there, Robin, don’t disappear on me.”
Something warm and sparkly exploded near Dick’s heart that was similar to how he felt when Tim or Jason did something particularly cute, or sweet, or thoughtful. That was an old line from back when Dick was much, much smaller, and had a much more marked tendency to excitedly skitter on ahead of Batman during patrol. There were a few times Bruce had joked about getting one of those backpack leashes for under Robin’s cape. Thankfully, though, he’d usually just yanked Dick back by the scruff of his uniform. Sometimes, if it was a slow night, Dick would run ahead on purpose, chasing the favorable odds of being swept up into Batman’s cape for tickles.
Dick shook his head and tried to clamp his arms down to his sides when Bruce started poking and squeezing his ribs. By now his laughter was starting to sound hiccupy, and he fruitlessly shoved at Bruce’s shoulder.
“What’s that?” Bruce murmured. “Are you back? Are you looking for more tickles?”
“Bruce!” Dick wheezed. God, his dad’s teasing was the worst.
Another rumbling hum, this time with an unmistakable tinge of amusement. “I’m going to assume that’s a ‘yes’.”
Then, before Dick had the chance to try and pull some thoughts together, Bruce nuzzled into the crook of his neck and shoulder to start a barrage of raspberries and nibbles. The stubble on his face scraped along every single ticklish inch of skin there.
Dick lost it. He squeaked, sounding more like Tim than himself, and tumbled into uncontrollable snickers and cackles. He crumpled forward, hunching his shoulders up to no avail as shivers raced down his spine. Each ticklish nudge from Bruce’s scruff scattered any coherent thoughts far and wide.
What made it worse was that the whole time, Bruce hadn’t stopped tickling at Dick’s ribs and sides. He paired nibbling little pinches with flurries of raspberries, coordinating his attack to keep Dick in fits of giggly screeches even though he’d given up on trying to escape. All Dick could do was accept his fate and let himself slump further into the half-hug, half-trap, as Bruce tickled him silly.
Just when Dick had started to get used to his current state of laughing and wriggling and not going anywhere, Bruce’s hands shot up under his arms. Even if Dick had wanted to jolt upwards and lurch away, his arms and legs had the structural integrity of overcooked linguine. He was soundly trapped and – and fuck, shit, Bruce hadn’t let up on the raspberries either and Dick’s stomach muscles twisted from how hard he laughed.
“Be–BeeheeEEHK, it - it - ‘s th’worst!” he finally stuttered out. Talking was hard, what with the gales of screechy snickers that kept bubbling up out of his lungs. Getting that much out felt like a victory.
“Yes?” Bruce said, muffled, then he returned to making those stupid om-nom-nom noises like he was having a damn snack or something. It shouldn’t have sent Dick up the wall, but at this point he was already so wound up that doing anything other than laughing helplessly was basically impossible.
“Dad!” Dick yelped. He slammed his forehead against Bruce’s shoulder. He knew he sounded ridiculous from all the giggles and snorts and snickers that he couldn’t hold back but he couldn't help it. “Da-Dahahad! Plehease, Dadda!”
He blushed down to his neck when Bruce made a noise that was all fondness and love and pulled back. The sudden rush of cold air against his neck made Dick shudder and instinctively lean after him, but then he felt Bruce drop a kiss on top of his hair, and the restless urge settled.
“Dadda?” Bruce murmured. “I haven't heard that in….what, twelve years?”
Talking around the residual laughter seemed like too much effort, so instead Dick twisted to hide his flaming face against Bruce’s arm. He just knew Bruce had that melty look on his face that always made Dick feel shy no matter how old he got.
“Don’t tease me about it,” he mumbled.
In response, Bruce squeezed him in another warm, tight hug. “I would never, Dickie.”
Dick hummed, too tired for words.
“Rest all you want, honey,” Bruce said, rubbing one of his warm hands up and down Dick’s arm. “You’ve been working too hard, lately.”
Dick knew that Bruce wasn’t even trying, but he was so over-sensitized to any possible tickles that he shuddered through a quiet laugh. “You–you’re still tihihickling me!”
At Bruce’s questioning grunt, Dick finally dragged his face upwards to squint at him. The sheer sappy affection in his dad’s smile made him regret that decision almost immediately, but he powered through long enough to see the hint of a smirk playing around Bruce’s mouth.
“Am I?” Bruce asked. He lightly pinched Dick’s bicep, which was cheating because it’s not like Dick asked to be giggle-ticklish there, but now he was giggling again and trying to worm back into his hiding spot.
“Yehehes!”
“I’ll be sure to inform your brothers of this,” Bruce said. “They’ll be delighted to know that their older brother is still very, very ticklish. And squirmy. And blushy.” Bruce pressed another kiss to his hair. "And despite all that, you're still my baby."
this is not any of the projects i'm supposed to be working on lol, but the second that @lockedopus posted these mer art pieces my brain immediately locked on to the Bruce & Dick one and i couldn't stop or help myself lol
mind you, this is unedited and was written on my phone over the course of multiple days but almost always when I was about to fall asleep or just waking up, so dont judge it too harshly sdjfkhsdf
but, enjoy!!!!
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Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity)
Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here
Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Dick & Ler!Bruce
Word Count: 1300 words
Summary: Dick doesn't care what Bruce says, he was absolutely cheating at stealth training.
[ao3 link]
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Dick rocketed through the reef, buffeting the coral with currents from his tail. He’d always been strong, he needed the speed and control when he performed with his parents, but that wouldn’t be enough to save him from his pursuer. He was at a size disadvantage here, and even his speed couldn’t match the power and stamina behind a predator of that size. Stealth had never been Dick’s strong suit, especially with the bright, eye-catching colors of his juvenile scales, but that’s where the reef came in.
The turns were tight, the pathways cramped, but that’s where Dick’s small size did provide an advantage. Get the eyes off him, then find a proper place to hide. Just like he’d been taught. After winding through several nooks and crevices, Dick finally slowed to a stop in a little alcove bracketed by corals of vibrant reds and oranges. The red and yellow of his tail would blend nicely, here — the green, not so much. He’d just have to hope it looked like algae at a distance, a simple part of the ecosystem from any hunters swimming above. His gills fluttered down the column of his neck, but he forced his breathing steady. Moments later, a black blur shot past his hiding place. Dick resisted the urge to flinch away or duck down; the movement would only catch a hunter’s eye and give him away.
Heart pounding, Dick counted the seconds. Every little movement set him on edge, from the idle sway of nearby seaweed to fish darting past. Eventually, his coiled muscles started to relax. Was he successful? Did he evade his pursuer? The black scales would’ve starkly stood out in such a colorful reef, and he hadn’t felt the subtle currents of something large moving through the water in several minutes. Slowly, Dick started creeping out of his hiding spot, making sure to check above him. The coast was clear, but only for now. All he had to do was get back to the pod’s cavern and—
Large hands snapped around Dick’s waist, digging in before he could even react. A shriek tore from his throat, making room for his heart to settle there instead. He thrashed his tail, wrenched at the arms of his captor, but to no avail. Even as the fingers kept probing, the hands reeled him back against a broad chest. Startled speechless with no chance to brace himself, Dick was helpless to succumb to his laughter. His captor’s chest rumbled with its own fond chuckle.
“Caught you, little fishie,” Bruce hummed.
Dick chittered in protest, but before he could remind Bruce that he was not a guppy, thank you very much, Bruce’s fingers launched upward and buried themselves in his armpits. Dick’s laughter jumped again, interspersed with screechy yelps. His gills flapped against his neck as they tried to keep up.
“Now, where did you go wrong, chum?”
Dick shook his head, turning to look at Bruce over his shoulder. “I didn’t! You’re just a cheat!”
“Oh? And how would I do that? I can’t sniff you out Dickie, I’m not a shark.”
“I dunno! You just— did!”
Bruce hummed, pausing his attack. Dick sagged in his arms, twitching as the idle currents of the water jostled him against Bruce’s still fingers. He couldn’t help the nervous chitters that escaped him, nor the flush that crawled up his face as Bruce’s mouth ticked up into a smirk from the sound.
“You know what? You may be right.”
Dick twisted around even more, narrowing his eyes up at Bruce. He knew Bruce had to have cheated! He’d been hidden so well. There was no way—
“Let’s see.” Bruce hauled Dick up even closer, tucking his nose close to Dick’s neck. He took a long sniff.
Oh. Oh, no.
“You’re onto something there, chum. Looks like I can sniff things out like a shark — but you know what I smell instead of blood?”
Dick bit his lip, squirming in Bruce’s arms. “What?”
Bruce inched his face closer and murmured, “Ticklish little fish.” He gave a menacing growl, fully burying his face in the crook of Dick’s neck. “And I’m hungry.”
Dick squealed as Bruce nuzzled in. Bruce’s growling vibrated into the sensitive skin of Dick’s neck, even as his stubble caught on the seams of his now-sealed gills with every movement. When he brought his sharp teeth into the mix, nipping at the skin as if he were eating Dick and making ridiculous “om-nom-nom” noises, Dick was lost. His giggles were frantic and squeaky and panicked, and he was dizzy with how giddy and bubbly he felt. While his neck wasn’t one of his worst spots, Bruce’s proximity and teasing never failed to make him feel like he was buzzing out of his own skin. It was like it made everything nelse feel more ticklish.
Which was a problem when Bruce brought his hands back into the mix, skittering and squeezing up and down Dick’s sides. He rocketed into belly laughter, tugging at Bruce’s wrists and trying to force Bruce out of his neck with his head and shoulder. When none of that worked, he resorted to beating his tail backwards against Bruce’s own.
“Oh, really? You sure you wanna do that?”
Dick threw his tail back particularly hard, just to be a menace.
Bruce hummed into his neck, drawing out one last squeal, before Dick was suddenly released and the world went spinning. He yelped, trying to get his bearings. Before he could, he felt Bruce’s hands lock on to the base of his tail, just above his fins.
Dick sucked in a giddy breath. “Bruce, wait!”
Bruce did not wait. He squeezed up and down the muscles beneath Dick’s scales with one hand, using the other to keep his grip. Dick burst into cackles, twisting up his tail to try and dislodge Bruce or pull his hands away or something. In response, Bruce started swimming backwards. Not quickly, but enough that the drag of water pulled Dick taut and kept him stuck there, since all his laughter and squirming had left him feeling like his muscles were made of jellyfish.
He snorted when Bruce squeezed at the lower half of his tail, snickering and wiggling as much as he could. The upper half of his tail, though? Dick thought he might lose his mind. His scales provided no protection, the ticklish sparks digging so deep that it felt as though his entire nervous system was lighting up with them. He couldn’t speak or bargain or free himself, all Dick could do was laugh himself silly while Bruce the Tickle-Shark tickled all the giggles out of him.
He’d never say it to Bruce’s face, but this was his favorite part of training.
Eventually, Dick’s laughter went silent, and Bruce had mercy. He stopped swimming and hauled Dick up into his arms, chuckling as Dick hiccuped out residual giggles and giddy chitters. After a few minutes, Dick heaved a sigh and snuggled deeper into Bruce’s hold, clicking at him with contentment. Bruce clicked back.
“Back with me, chum?”
“Mhm.” Dick nodded, stretching out his tail and back as best he could without shifting out of Bruce’s arms.
“Alright. Same rules as before: stealth, speed, and agility to get back to the cave, don’t let me catch you. This time, don’t only look up before trying to sneak away. You have a five second headstart.”
Dick gaped up at Bruce. He raised an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth twitching like he was hiding a smile. “Five, four—“
Dick shot out of Bruce’s arms and back into the coral reef, his giggles back with a vengeance. With the giddy swoop to his stomach and the silly grin he couldn’t fight down, Dick figured he wouldn’t win this time either.
