Oct 7, 2025
Who ya gonna call?
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Who ya gonna call?
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Your last post made me think that the killers now have to avoid being stunned, otherwise the survivors will always take advantage of them and team up to tickle them the rest of the round LOL
I wonder how the specter feels about them tickling each other instead of killing
he ABSOLUTELY hates it >:)
EUGH, I FANILLY DONE MANY REQUESTS, OH MY GOD I'M HUNRGY ASF HELP ME
EAT, MY CHILDREN!!!! ALSO THANKS FOR 50 FOLLOWERS BTW!!!! ^_^
Please, give me Lee!Jason🙏🏻🙏🏻
oooorder up
PS HIHIHI I LOVE UR ART SM TYSM FOR ASKING HEHEBFBR
History Repeats Itself
Alfred is a good grandparent and takes care of Jason when he's injured, both internally and externally
Word Count: 5,726
Warnings: No Warnings
This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)
“I've had worse on the streets, old man. I'm fine.”
“This isn't up for debate, Jason. That was a nasty hit, and I worry-”
“Look, just cause I’m living in a cushy manor now doesn't mean I’ve gone soft-”
“Ahem.”
Jason and Bruce’s mouths snap closed at the British Cough™ that sounds through the Batcave. Their eyes swivel to Alfred, looking down his nose at the pair of them, polished shoes glinting in the eerie light from the computer dominating the far wall. He studies them intently, in the way only wizened gentlemen dealing with rambunctious children could.
The pair of vigilantes had only just pulled up in the Batmobile, and judging by the tension pulling on their mouths, they’d been having this argument the entire ride home. Bruce seemed fine, just a few bruises here and there, typical after a night of fighting Gotham’s dark underbelly. Though his weight was distributed slightly to the left, barely noticeable, and obviously trying to keep it quiet in favour of whatever Jason had been through that night.
Jason’s whole form was tense, agitation tugging at his shoulders to make them curl inward. Though from years of experience, Alfred could also see it for what it really was: a defensive hunch to protect a vulnerability. Goodness knows, Dick did the same thing when he was trying to prove himself and didn’t want either of the older men to see an injury he’d gained accidentally. You had to learn the tells to call young heroes out on their bullshit.
Boys will be boys, testing Alfred’s patience.
“Masters,” Alfred says, both as a greeting and a reprimand. “If you are quite finished butting heads, I believe there is ice upstairs for your leg, Master Bruce.”
He didn’t even acknowledge the man’s surprise - a minor twitch of his shoulders, so overdramatic - before he was turning to their resident Robin, who looked far too smug at his guardian being chastised. “If you don’t mind, Master Jason, I would like to check over any possible scrapes you received tonight. It would be quite unfortunate to have to miss school due to injury.”
Jason blinks up at him, lips parted. Then he grumbles and slinks forward like a pissed-off cat, heading for one of the cots Bruce had set up in the corner of the Batcave. Bruce follows, tugging the cowl off.
“It was an ambush from Penguin, Jason got outnumbered and sustained a few-”
Jason rounds on him with a growl. “As if you were doing any better, I handled them.”
“After I got you an opening with a Batarang. Jason, if I hadn’t-”
“That is quite enough!”
It was remarkable, really, how his voice was enough to shut both of them up in a split second. Alfred took the cowl from Bruce’s hands with a decisive tug and leveled him with a flat look. “Upstairs, Master Bruce. You are tired and likely high-strung from the testing events of tonight. Let me look at the boy before you lecture him.”
Bruce opened his mouth, then promptly closed it when Alfred didn’t waver. He sighs, deep and heavy. A glance at his sidekick makes something tug his mouth down further. Before Jason can say anything to add fuel to the fire, he turns on his heel and stalks out of the cave with a whirl of his black cape, disappearing into the elevator shaft.
Alfred sighs, depositing the cowl and approaching Jason, who’s glaring after his adoptive father. “It was a few lucky punches. I had it under control.” He grouched.
“I have no doubt you would’ve,” Alfred appeases him, tugging the tray of medical supplies closer, and pats the bed. “Up on the cot, if you please.”
Jason moodily hikes himself onto the mattress, his boots dangling far from the floor in all his 4’6 glory. The stark reminder of just how small the boy was had Alfred mentally add more to Jason’s future diet. His growth had been stunted horribly from his time on the streets, and Alfred was doing everything in his power to encourage the boy’s body to continue growing.
“He should trust me.”
The sulky words pull Alfred from his thoughts. “He does, Young Master. Possibly more than you think.”
A scoff. “Then why does he act like I’m just a kid? I can handle myself.”
Alfred caught the slight note of insecurity that hid in the corners of the bitter words, tucked close to the edges like it could blend in and be written off as annoyance. Like it wasn’t a desperation that ate away at Jason’s confidence like rot, making his rough edges sharper, and his drive for improvement to turn to tunnel vision. It was an unfortunate family trait that ran through each of his family members, regardless of blood relation.
“Well, you are in fact still young, Master Jason,” Alfred says gently. “Much younger than I, but I could not hope to achieve what you do out there. There is something to be said about youth and capability, but your skills are not within that realm of questioning.”
Jason stays quiet at that, fiddling with his gloves to avoid looking at the butler. That was alright, Alfred knew the boy struggled to answer with genuine approval or recognition for his skills. Another thing his boys shared in common.
While he stews, Alfred leans over to tend to the mask on Jason’s face. The adhesive comes away with a few dabs of a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol. Jason screws up his nose at the smell; he always did during post-patrol check-ups. Though, whether that was due to the reminders of Crime Alley or Willis was unclear. Regardless, Alfred made sure to be quick.
With careful hands, he pulls the mask away from the boy’s face, a small smile lifting his lips at the sight of the familiar blue eyes. “There you are,” he says, the cadence of his voice gentle and warm.
Jason rolls his eyes, but the small smile on his face undermines whatever aloof persona he was attempting to put up. “Never left, Alfie,” he mutters.
“And thank goodness for that, you’d take all of Bruce’s talkativeness with you.”
Jason snorts hard enough to rock himself, only to wince and press a hand to his lower ribs. Alfred zeroes in on it like a hawk with prey. “That would be the ‘lucky punch’, then?” He asks, clear of any emotion to avoid raising the boy’s hackles.
“...Yeah,” Jason concedes hesitantly. “Don’t feel any breaks though.”
“Well, small mercies, indeed.” Alfred carefully unclasps the cloak and lets it pool around Jason, allowing him to check his torso unhindered for any bumps or bruises. “Does anywhere else feel tender?”
“No. Just my ribs.”
“Hm. I might do a full check of them then, if you do not mind.”
“...Okay.”
A smile lifts the butler’s lips, and he sits on the edge of the cot. “Thank you. Could you please turn to me a bit?”
Jason complies, lifting one leg to cross in front of him while the other dangles off the edge. Alfred immediately recognizes the defensive position - one leg ready to kick and the other poised to run, should it call for it. His heart squeezes, but he refuses to show it on his face.
Bruce and Alfred learned to be careful when touching Jason early on. The boy had far too many unpleasant experiences from his time on the streets, and reintegrating him back into a world where touch doesn't have to hurt was still an ongoing mission. Bruce had made some progress with hair ruffles and shoulder pats, just testing the waters and taking it slow. Alfred’s time baking with the boy and being the designated Manor Medic had also helped bring down Jason’s self-instilled survival walls. Allowing a full check of a vulnerable area was most definitely solid proof of their combined efforts, but he was still understandably wary.
Just to ease him into it, Alfred carefully probes around Jason’s collarbone and shoulders, listening for any hisses of air that might escape the boy. Thankfully, Jason seems alright, nothing strained or bruised.
“That’s… not my ribs, Alfie.”
“Oh my, you’re right.” Alfred responds with a feigned air of surprise, “Apologies, my boy.” He moves his hands down Jason’s arms, pressing gentle thumbs into his inner elbows.
Jason raises a brow. “Alfred.”
“Yes?”
“I do want to get outta my costume sometime tonight.”
“I am being thorough.”
Jason huffs, his amusement breaking through. “Right. You sure you don’t need to take an anatomy lesson?”
Alfred hums, pleased to hear the boy sounding genuinely at ease. Not a trace of apprehension within his voice. Trusting. It reassured Alfred to raise his fingers to carefully press into the boy’s lowest ribs, feeling for anything that could allude to something worse than bruises. Immediately, Jason tenses under his fingers, like Alfred worried he would, a small hiss escaping.
“No cracks that I can feel, seems to just be some minor bruising as you said.” He speaks gently, hoping that voicing his actions would help keep the boy’s anxieties at bay. His fingers come away from the bones and settle on his own lap, giving the kid plenty of space. “I would like to check your back ones as well, if that is alright?”
Jason hesitates, biting his lip, then hesitantly nods. His hands curl into his discarded cape, with enough distance between his arms and torso to allow Alfred access. It made the man’s heart warm to see the trust Jason put in him. Such a far cry from the bristling kid who kept his back to the wall and refused to let anyone close.
“Thank you, Jason,” Alfred says warmly. He makes sure to keep his movements slow, reaching around the sides of the boy’s ribs to press gently at the ones in his back.
Jason’s leg twitches, his eyes firmly on the cape coiled up in his hands. For a bizarre moment, Alfred thinks he sees his lips tick up.
“You’re alright there too,” Alfred encourages. “To save us both time, I think it’s best if I simply do both sides at once. Do you think that would be okay, Master Jason?”
Jason swallows. “Y-Yeah.”
The slightly strained stammer gives Alfred pause, worry prickling through him. Jason hadn’t moved, though, still sitting in front of the butler. If he really was uncomfortable, he’d leave. Or bite. Whatever came first. Alfred takes his permission and carefully shifts his hands, his thumbs on the front bones and fingers on the backs. He gently rubs into them, feeling out for anything of concern. He reports their fit condition, then moves on to the next. And the next. And the next. Each admission remains the same.
He’s halfway up the ribcage and is just pressing in when Jason flinches hard. A small noise gets past his tightly sealed lips, and his shoulders start shaking.
“Jason?” Alfred freezes. Jason’s hands have come up to clamp onto the man’s wrists, not shoving him away, just keeping them in place. It didn’t feel like a breakage or fracture on either side, but with how badly the boy winced-
“S-Sohohorry-”
Alfred stares, appalled.
Jason peeks up from under his hair, the curls having fallen into his eyes from his hunched position. The butler is surprised to see an embarrassed grin on the boy’s face, and indeed, small snickers are tumbling free despite the teeth hanging on to his bottom lip to keep them in.
Ah. Well, that is a new development, indeed.
Alfred finds his own smile pulling at his mouth. “Master Jason, I cannot complete this injury check if you are hanging onto me.”
Jason nods, fingers flexing on Alfred’s wrists - yet every time he starts to let go, a new surge of snickers takes over his diaphragm and his grip tightens once more. His panicked fight or flight response was way too keyed up to let this ‘threat’ go unattended. Jason knew it wasn’t a threat, though; it was just Alfred. Apparently, his nervous system didn’t get the memo.
Alfred huffs, a fond laugh somehow making it through his attempt at remaining neutral as not to scare the boy off. “Master Jason.”
“I'm tryihihing-” Now that he had begun laughing, it seemed the valve had been turned all the way, and now he couldn't seem to stop.
It must've tickled from the very first set of bones, Alfred thought, rather amused. He’s been trying to hold it together this whole time.
Somehow, Jason manages to shakily remove his hands from Alfred’s, dropping them to ball into his cape once more. He watches the man's fingers with a giddy trepidation, beginning to curl in on himself despite those fingers not moving an inch.
“Do you think you can hold still for another minute or two?” Alfred asks, not condescending at all; he was genuinely curious.
“Yehes.”
“Positive?”
“Alfred.”
It wasn't quite whiny, but goodness, it came close, and that was the best thing Alfred had heard in some time. Whiny meant Jason was being childish. Whiny meant he felt safe enough to do so.
“I'll try to be quick,” Alfred promises, then massages his thumbs in again.
Now that the apparent ‘secret’ was out, Jason couldn't help himself. His foot dangling off the side of the bed swung back to hit the frame, a squeaky noise pushed out of his throat that was quickly followed by giggles. Giggles.
“Alf- Alfihihie!” Jason squirms in place, fingers curled tight within the cape to stop himself from latching on again. He didn’t want to stop the man from doing his task, but god, he hadn’t been tickled in so long that his body wasn’t sure what to do. And Alfred hadn’t even been trying to tickle him. Oh god, was this how all rib check-ups were going to be now? No one put that in the vigilante pamphlet when Jason signed up. Dick could’ve put it in the Robin pamphlet. What the fuck, Dick? Are you a team player or not?
“Is this why you insist on taking care of rib injuries yourself?” Alfred says to himself in amusement, unsure if Jason was paying attention to him with all that giggling. His fingers shift up a set of bones and gently push into Jason’s back, checking just under his shoulderblades.
“ALFREHED!” Jason’s legs jolt with the instinctive need to curl into a ball, only held back from following through with the twinge in his lower ribs. “N-Nohohot thEHEere!”
A gentle tut. “Careful, Jason, you do not wish to aggravate your injury with all that squirming.”
Jason lets out a groan that blends with his giggling. It was Alfred’s fault that he was squirming to begin with! He couldn’t properly roll away as Alfred’s fingers were planted firmly around his ribs. Leaning back would push into them, and it was the same story leaning forward.
Jason Todd, survivor of Crime Alley and Batman’s sidekick; defeated by a medical checkup and stupidly ticklish ribs.
The papers would go mad. Reddit would be worse.
Alfred hums in thought, interrupting Jason’s mental eulogy for his pride. “If it helps at all, Master Jason, Master Dick was twice as bad when it came to rib check-ups. The boy could barely sit still, and if memory serves, he could laugh at frequencies that only the bats could hear.”
Alfred’s fingers rubbed into Jason’s shoulder blades properly, and it was over. Jason couldn’t help the cascades of tumbling laughter that fell from his lips, the buzzing over those bones making his brain fuzzy and incoherent. “AHAHALF!” His voice cracked embarrassingly in the center, but he was too busy laughing to care.
Jason wasn’t sure if he could carry on with the injury check for much longer. If he has a cracked upper rib, so be it; he didn’t think he could handle it being checked. Besides, it's not like he wouldn’t feel it twinging with how much he’s laughing-
…Wait.
The realisation makes Jason tip back on the bed, hands jumping from his cape to close around the wrists by his ribcage. “Alfrehehed! I’m gohohood! Nohohothing huhuhurts!”
Alfred pulls his fingers away, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I did wonder how long it would take for you to realise. I was quite content to keep going up.” One of his fingers reaches over to poke at Jason’s shoulder blade, and the boy yips. “Though I’m not sure the bats would have appreciated the noise.”
Jason grumbles under his breath, but his face is flushed too pink, and his smile is too genuine to take seriously. Alfred plucks a small bottle from his tray of supplies and hands it to the boy.
“Arnica,” he says as an explanation. “Take two tablets: it should help speed up the healing for those bruises.”
Jason took the medicine without complaint or suspicion, and if that didn’t just warm Alfred’s heart further. “Take two more tomorrow at breakfast. For now, I’d say a shower and some hot chocolate are also fine remedies for your escapades this evening.”
To his surprise, Jason didn’t immediately spring up to follow through with the gentle instructions. Instead, the boy’s gaze had swivelled to the elevator, something lurking behind his eyes. There was something still eating away at the boy, despite the moment of levity and the butler’s words of encouragement earlier. Alfred takes a gamble.
“You are still upset with Master Bruce?”
“I’m not upset.” There’s a frustrated sigh, boots lifting off the bed to swing idly in thought. “I just wish he’d stop acting like I’m helpless out in the field,” Jason admits.
Alfred smiles at the absurdity of that statement. “When you first met, you stole his tires and struck him with a tire iron.”
Jason’s lips twitch even as a sheepish look washes over his face.
“You are the furthest thing from helpless, Jason. Even before Bruce started training you, you were a wildfire. I’m surprised you weren’t running Crime Alley with your tenacity.”
Jason grins up at him, though it flickers out as he speaks. “...So, why does he keep acting like I’m incapable?”
Alfred heaves a tired sigh, silently regretting not getting a handle on Bruce’s emotional constipation before it could take root. It was leaving him with far too many miscommunications to clean up. “Master Bruce is not treating you as though you are incapable, Jason. He is treating you like his son.”
He says it gently, yet Jason still flinches like it had been shouted. “He worries for your safety, and that one day he may not be fast enough to reach you should you be in imminent danger. It may feel stifling at times, or perhaps discourteous to jump into fights you can handle, but he is simply trying to protect you. Just because you have survived worse in the past does not mean you have to endure anything that plagues you now. Master Bruce struggles to put it into words, but he really does care for you, my dear boy.”
Alfred’s little speech left Jason looking firmly at the floor, his shoulders once more raised to his ears. His face has taken on a darker shade of pink, mouth screwed up in an attempt at a scowl when really, his eyes were alight with something that made Alfred’s heart seize painfully. This poor boy. Did he really not see how endeared this family was to him?
After a few moments, Jason hesitantly lifts his head. “...I should probably go apologize for snapping then, huh?”
“I do not think you should apologize for stating your displeasure with his habit of running into your battles, but yes, the snapping was rather ungentlemanly."
Jason snorts, this time only with a minimal wince from his ribs. “Ungentlemanly’,” he repeats with a small snicker as he slips off the cot. “I’m from Crime Alley, Alfie. Not exactly ‘Silver Spoon’ material.”
“Never too late to pick up some manners, Master Jason. And besides…” He gently scuttles two fingers along Jason’s shoulder blades and smiles at the squeak that gets out. The boy clamps a hand over the area and glares up at him, his face even pinker. “I now have some motivation for you to remember them.”
________________
“Master Jason.”
The horrified tone makes Jason whip around, halted in his trek through the Batcave. Alfred stands near the base of the stairs, a stack of towels in his arms for the training area, staring at the boy in blatant shock.
“Oh, hey, Alf.”
Alfred places the towels down on a nearby table, eyes never leaving him. “What in God’s name did you do to yourself?”
Jason glances down at his clothes. “Ah. ...If it makes you feel better, most of this blood isn’t mine.’’
Alfred purses his lips, then lets out a steadying breath. “It may surprise you, Master Jason, but I am not comforted by such a claim.”
Funny, Bruce usually was.
Jason shrugs. “No one died, and some scum won’t be causing harm for quite a while. Job well done.”
He continues with his mission of getting to the manor kitchens. Alfred always had the best quality flour, and Jason was in a baking mood. No one else was in the house, so it was a safe bet to use the space now. As he walks, however, his gait is interrupted by the slightest limp. Barely perceptible, but to Alfred, it’s all too obvious.
“Are you injured?”
Jason reaches the stairs. “Not anything worth worrying about.”
“I worry, Jason.”
That takes the wind out of Jason’s aloofness. He goes quiet, looking at the butler who hasn’t broken his gaze away. Jason heaves a breath, cursing himself for being able to be brash with everyone except this old man. Too many golden memories linked to him or something mushy like that.
“It’s just a scratch,” he says.
“Master Tim once described a lethal stab wound in such a way. I will feel better looking at it myself.”
“Alfred-”
“Master Jason. Cot. Now, please.”
Jason winces, his thirteen-year-old self immediately crumbling and tugging on his legs to get moving. “Fine, if it makes you feel better,” he grumbles, acting like he isn’t hightailing it to the bed in the corner.
Alfred is all business. Immediately, he strides to the cupboards tucked into the dark encolves of the Batcave, and pulls out the medical equipment available. Jason shucks off his blood-stained jacket preemptively, knowing damn well the butler would insist on having a ‘proper look’. He tried not to feel too exposed with his protective layering gone.
“You’ll do me the favour of telling me what hurts, won’t you?” Alfred asks dryly, popping his supplies on the trolley by the bedside. “Or will I need to play a most testing game of “Find The Wound?”
Jason, despite his begrudging attitude, lets out an amused huff at that. He concedes, “Right calf got nicked by some lunatic with a metal bat, so that’s smarting a bit.”
“Oh, just a metal bat? Nothing to fret about then.” Despite his dismissive words, Alfred is quick to crouch by Jason and roll up the pant leg, observing the skin that’s already starting to bruise around the swelling. “Nicked?”
Jason makes a so-so gesture and avoids eye contact. ”More like a lucky swing. It’s not too bad.”
“...Good Lord.” Alfred heaves a long-suffering sigh and plucks some ointment from his collection.
Jason winces when fingers touch on the injury, but Alfred is careful. He always has been. He’s quiet as the older man gently applies the salve to his calf, trying not to acknowledge the warm swell of appreciation he has. Even the coolness of the cream is helping the flares of pain that’ve been pulsing through his leg for the last hour. He’d been planning on dealing with it eventually, but after the whole fiasco with those goons, he really just wanted to unwind with a bit of stress baking and sleep for fifteen hours afterwards.
Being taken care of… it wasn’t exactly something Jason had allowed himself the luxury of since he got back. He’d forgotten it was something he could rely on now. Not that it crosses his mind much, he’s still not exactly in a good place with all of the family. A certain bat is at the top of the list of his reasons.
“You are lucky it didn’t break the bone,” Alfred murmurs, twisting the ointment cap back on and wiping his fingers off on a cloth. He then turns a scrutinising look at Jason, who definitely does not hunch in on himself. “Anywhere else?”
Jason hesitates.
Ah, what the hell. In for a penny, and all that jazz. It’s not like there was anyone home to see him be vulnerable for five minutes.
“...I think my back was nicked too.”
“Nicked as in ‘mildly agitated’, or as in ‘lucky swing, and am currently dying’?”
Jason snorts at the dry humor and surprises himself with the genuine grin he sends Alfred. “Mildly agitated,” he says as the butler walks around the cot to stand behind him. He pulls off his shirt so the man can get a look.
Alfred notes the slight red abrasions on the young man’s spine and lower back, a frown pulling his mouth down. “Do you know what you were struck by?” He asks.
“Didn’t get a good enough look, electricity-based weapon, I think.” Jason thumbs at his shirt in his fingers to distract himself from Alfred’s disapproving eyes raking over his scarred skin. He isn’t exactly self-conscious, but he isn’t loving his tapestry of past fights being stared at like he’s a museum piece. The sooner Alfred deals with it, the quicker he can escape into the kitchen as he planned. He hears a cap being unscrewed, and a minty aroma penetrates the air.
“This might be a bit cold, Master Jason. I do apologize in advance.”
Jason lurches forward before he even properly registers the sensation ghosting over his spine, an aborted sound squeezing his diaphragm. He’s fast to snap his head over his shoulder, eyes wide and body hunched protectively on itself as the tingles dissipate from his skin.
Alfred looks just as surprised as Jason, though his moustache wiggles the barest margin as he tries to tamp down a smile. Eventually, after a few beats, he says, “Ah. I had forgotten about that.”
Heat crawls up Jason’s neck, and he grits his teeth against the groan that threatens to come out. Whether from annoyance or embarrassment is anyone's guess. “Not a word,” he grouches, forcing his gaze back to his shirt despite his fight or flight response yelling at him to keep facing this threat.
Alfred hums, amusement far too evident for Jason’s liking. “I will be quick.”
Jason gets flashbacks to that exact phrase being used during post-patrol check-ups and braces himself instinctively. Regardless, tensing doesn’t matter. The moment Alfred’s fingers touch down on his spine, he flinches and grips his shirt tight in an effort to stay put on the cot. The ointment is cold, but that isn’t the problem. Despite the years passing, his back continues to be his Achilles heel.
Soft, ghosting tingles crawl across his skin, light enough to raise goosebumps, kickstarting his need to laugh almost instantaneously. It’s mortifying. His face feels like it's on fire. He breathes slowly through his nose, mouth clamped shut to prevent anything else from slipping out. If he can get through this without laughing, he might just be able to get out of this without losing all of his street cred.
“Whatever you were hit with, the abrasion has stretched itself out, Master Jason,” Alfred says, his tone neutral despite the warmth blooming in his chest from seeing the boy’s ears slowly going pink. “I’m afraid I’ll need to apply some ointment to your ribs as well.”
Fuck.
“Cool.” Jason grits out.
Fucking fuck.
Alfred’s fingers return to his back, increasing pressure to hopefully avoid Jason’s nerves freaking out. It doesn’t help. Jason’s heel slams into the cot just as his shoulders jump to his ears. An embarrassingly high-pitched grunt squeezes out of his tightly pressed lips, which barely contain the snickers building behind them. The jerky movement is so painfully familiar to his youthful days. Kicking or slapping at surfaces was both a way to cope with the ticklish sensations and also because he had no idea how to fend them off.
Fingers rub into the grooves between his ribs, and Jason can’t stop the snort that manages to weasel out, a hand shoving over his mouth as if that could cover the sound. He prays Alfred will move on, but those fingers just kept massaging into the bones, and Jason was only a man; he couldn’t hold out forever. It was when Alfred’s fingers moved upwards into the next set of bones with that methodical massage that he cracked.
“Fuhuhucking- shihihit!” Jason gasps, his boot kicking the base of the cot once more as his laughter finally spills out, breathy and whole. It’s the best thing Alfred’s heard all day.
“Swear jar, Master Jason,” Alfred answers primly, his fingers reaching out just enough to scrape along the sides of Jason’s torso as he draws his hands away.
Jason jerks like he’s been electrocuted and bunches his shoulders tighter around his ears. “I’m ihihin my twehehenties!” He tries to growl, but it gets tangled up in a series of snorts when those fingers return to his back with a fresh dosage of ointment.
“So is Master Dick, and yet he pays the same toll.” Alfred returns to Jason’s ribs, following the curling trail of inflamed skin that trails across his back. “Master Bruce is nearing forty, and he, too, follows this rule.”
Jason stopped listening once Dick was brought up. Too distracted by the ticklish sensations climbing all over his ribs in an endless pattern that keeps him giggling. He didn’t think he’d laughed this much since he came back.
Alfred’s fingers curl close to his armpit, and Jason can’t stop the giggly whine that slips out, barely resisting driving an elbow into his side to block the area. “A-Alfrehehed, c’mohohon!” He hates how whingey he sounds, but damnit, he was out of practice with this, and Alfred felt safe enough to actually let his younger instincts take the wheel on this one.
“I am almost finished,” Alfred reassures gently, fondness intertwining with his voice despite his efforts to remain indifferent to save Jason further embarrassment. His fingers move up to rub the ointment into Jason’s shoulderblades.
“GoHOHODAhamnit!” Jason’s voice pitches up in a squeak, his body instinctively tightening itself into a ball, and only exposing his back fully to Alfred with the stretch. He shoves his face into his knees, able to feel the heat radiating from his skin even through his pants. He tries not to think of how visible his blush probably is. “Alfihihie!”
It takes all of Alfred’s resolve not to melt on the spot, because that wasn’t Red Hood talking, that was thirteen-year-old Robin in all his glory. Jason’s breathy cackles light up the space of the cave, a sound dearly missed when he departed from their family too soon. As loath as Alfred was to relinquish the sound, Jason never could handle his back being tickled for an extended period of time - unless it was the softer kind, of course. Though that was probably still a few months out from being acted upon, Jason had only trusted Bruce with that privilege afterall.
“There we are, all done.”
Alfred removes his hand and has to stop himself from laughing when Jason yanks on his shirt in a split second, turning on the cot to keep his back from the butler’s reach. His face is flushed a healthy pink that threw Alfred back to when the boy was still new to the manor. Easy to aggravate, and even easier to fluster with sincerity. Adorable, if Alfred did say so himself.
“I will not need to apply this again unless it becomes worse, Master Jason.” Alfred wipes his hands off once more, allowing the boy to recollect himself after being inadvertently tickled to bits. “So make sure to rest it, yes?”
Jason nods, his lips still caught in a smile despite the glare he was attempting to project. Some things really did never change. Alfred packs up the last of the equipment and is about to offer to accompany Jason upstairs when the young crime lord grumbles.
“I thought I grew out of this.” Jason’s face is still pink as he growls out the words. It’s about as intimidating as a kitten spitting defensively.
Alfred wisely keeps his amused chuckle quiet, seeing past Jason’s prickliness to what it really was: the kid was flustered. “I wouldn’t have expected you to grow out of it. Master Bruce certainly hasn’t.”
The silence was deafening.
“What?”
The awed, and more importantly, menacing grin on Jason’s face gave the old man pause. Bollocks. Bruce was not going to be happy about that Freudian slip. “...Ah,” Alfred presses his eyes shut for a moment before fixing Jason with a slightly sheepish smile. “Let’s keep that between us, shall we?”
Jason’s grin was twice the size, a gleeful laugh leaving him in a bark. “Not even on your ancestors' crumpets, Alfie. That is too damn good to pass up-”
“Need I remind you that Master Bruce is all too aware of your own sensitivities, and if the bear is poked, it will attack?” Alfred interrupts, but he can practically see the gears turning in Jason’s head. There was no stopping this now.
After a moment of pondering the warning, Jason proves Alfred’s hunch in two seconds with a smirk. “Think Dickie and TimTam will help?”
The butler tries not to look too exhilarated by Jason suggesting something so domestic to do with his adoptive father and brothers. They’d been taking small steps on fixing things, but this would be a leap in the right direction.
Rather than spare the kids from a future retribution they wouldn’t forget, Alfred fans the flames. “I do not doubt it, Master Jason. It will likely take all three of you to take down the Bat. Just know I will not assist any of you when you scream my name for help.”
Jason my love, the best guy. My favorite little dude deserves all the love. All hail Jason. You can’t tell who my favorite character is, obviously.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH MAAAABYEEEEEE!!!! remember our messages? Well…. IM STILL WAITING HEHEHE it’s fine if you can’t!! IM JUST WAITING DEAR!!
SORRY I HAS BUSSY BUT HERE IS
hi! can i request lee!jason and ler!c00lkidd, pr3typriincess and buudude? (or any of the killers as ler)
yippie!! I’m doing it!!
I originally had NO IDEA how I was gonna do this request considering I can’t write for the children that well BUT I have SOMETHING. whether or not it’s good will be up to you cause I cannot tell anymore (´；ω；`)
anyways a bit of it is filler with the kids but oh well,,, I tried to write them as realistic kids (and like, based off me and my siblings) but y’know,,, it’s kinda hard SOB either way
tw: just tickles, thats it. teehee
summary: the coolkidd siblings are bored. extremely so. but when they find a console, they're over the moon with excitement. unfortunately, their game requires four people. jason agrees to be their fourth and absolutely destroys them at the game. bluudud gets frustrated but one move from him completely turns the tide in his favor. jason, however, will learn that there are consequences to losing.
wc: 3.4k (WHY IS IT LONG AAAAAAA)
enjoy the fic!!! (also this is PLATONIC,,, between them. had to say it in case someone thinks the opposite...... major side eye).
Bluudud sighed. Heavily.
His body draped over the rather comfortable couch, hands swaying back and forth. His eyes unfocused as they scanned the room, clearly looking for anything of interest yet nothing came to mind. It had been weeks since the blue killer had been pulled into a single match. He was unsure if it was just his rotten luck, or rather, something else entirely. Maybe something in the game had bugged or maybe it was code that was actively working against him. Either way, him and his two younger siblings had been tragically affected by this.
“Is there ANYTHING we could do for fun around here?” Prettypriincess was the first to speak up, her face planted right into the far cushion of the couch, hoping that it would something to block out the active boredom.
There really wasn’t anything that they could do. They’ve exhausted all the possibilities. Coolkidd’s stupid make-believe games? Tried. Bluudud’s sword fighting with dusty old pool noodles that were left in the cabin by who knows who? Tried. Prettypriincess’s girly tea-parties where she forced them to wear stupid dresses and pretend there was tea inside the obviously empty cups? …unfortunately, not even that could relieve any of them of boredom. “We could watch the faded paint dry some more in the back room,” he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes as the two shared a glare.
“We could have another tea pa-“
“No.” Bluudud and Coolkidd immediately interrupted her sentence at the same time, making Priincess deflate in her seat. She huffed and crossed her arms, her nose scrunching up a bit but she said nothing more. A beat of silence passed as the three kids continued to live this torture, being alone, unsupervised and the worst of all, bored as hell.
“We could try running around and pretending we’re in the game again!” Coolkidd suggested, and if the two were complete idiots, they’d maybe have half a heart to agree with the sentence. But due to the pool noodle fighting, the three were kind of wiped out with physical activity. “Think we’re done with that sort of thing, Cool,” Bluudud responded as he finally looked at the position the other was in. He was sprawled out on the back of the couch, barely hanging on.
“How are you comfortable like that?” he raised an eyebrow. Coolkidd only shrugged. “I don’t know. I just saw you doin’ it and I thought it’d be fun.” Oh how naive the other was. Bluudud gently nudged him in the arm. However, what he didn’t realize is that Coolkidd was centimeters away from falling off the couch entirely. The red kid let out a yelp as he fell down to the floor, landing with a loud ‘thud’.
“Look what you did!” hissed Priincess who immediately stood up to check on the younger one. But much to her and Bluudud’s surprise, he wasn’t hurt in the slightest. Instead, he seemed to be excited.
“Guys! Guys! I found something!”
The three children all gathered around the sofa, leaning over the back of it as Coolkidd held a tiny box in his hands, showing it off as if it were some kind of trophy. And boy, did all three of them stare at it like it was made of gold. It was an old console, probably older than all three of them combined, and scattered around next to it were the connecting wires and even a few scratched game discs that could probably be played if they crossed their fingers really hard.
“Holy moly,” Bluudud breathed out as he suddenly grabbed it, waving and blowing the dust off quickly to get a better look at the model. Video games were HIS passion after all, not that either of the other two would get it. The small box twisted in his grasp as if he were looking for an undisclosed secret; something that he could geek out about. It looked old, but not unusable. And hell, with the amount of games that were scattered around with it… they surely would never get bored. Well, not until they play through all of them. “C’mon, let’s go hook it up to the TV!”
The three children stood up hastily, bolting toward the living room with a newfound energy between them. In her hands, Priincess carried the multi-colored wires, ready to plug them up at any time while the youngest one held the game discs in his hands, clenching as if it was his lifeline. His mind was racing with excitement; it had been so long since he had even SEEN a console like this, much less touched one. It reminded him of old days. “Hold on,” Bluudud grunted as his fingertips gripped the edge of the TV, “I gotta get to the back of it.” He pulled on it until it was visible enough for the wire jacks to be seen, but not enough to completely disconnect it.
“Gimmie,” Bluudud extended his arm backwards. Priincess laid the wires into his hand and before long, the console was up and running. He grabbed the remote, blinking a bit as he turned on the TV. He had half a heart to expect it to break midway considering the condition it was in but the main menu screen of the console lighting up proved him wrong immediately. His tense body relaxed, a goofy smirk plastered on his face.
"Whoaaa..." Coolkidd and Priincess gasped out in wonder. Although the two had never been too big on videogames in their lives, anything was better than dealing with boredom. The two planted themselves on the couch, excitedly kicking out their feet in anticipation. Bluudud quickly plugged in all four controllers, though only three were needed. The last one lay down on the console itself, sitting there prettily.
"Hm. Which game do we wanna play first? There's a racing game- wait, that's single-player," the blue kid grumbled as he swiped through all the games. Most of them were single-player or only had room for one more which made them a bit frustrated. They all wanted to play and they'd be damned if they left someone out. Bluudud's eyes eventually found a multiplayer game; a fighting game, competitive and something he would probably win most of the time. Perfect, he thought with a sly smirk as he inserted the disc.
The screen popped up in flashing colors. It looked old and tattered, and probably had janky mechanics, but damn it if he wouldn't school his younger siblings in this match. The three gripped onto their controllers. "Wait," Priincess started as she squinted at the screen. "This requires four people."
The two boys stared at each other for a split second before throwing their heads back in frustration. Forget being bored, the worst thing was having something so close in their hands and being unable to grasp it. A feeling all three of them knew far too well. "Well, who's gonna be our fourth? There's no one here but us!"
And just as Coolkidd uttered those words, a flash of blue entered from the doorway of the cabin. It seemed that one of the killers had finally gotten finished with their match. Usually John or 1x would be done by now, but the soft exhale of the silent killer Jason echoed from behind them instead. It must've either been an easy match or the other two were struggling... which was rare for them. The kids shared a look; they knew what they needed to do. Jason HAD to be the fourth player in the game. Getting him to agree, however, might be a slight issue.
"Jason!" Priincess and Coolkidd went up to grab at his hands. He said nothing, and while he had no clear facial expressions, the subtle tilt of his head meant he was curious. "Do you think that you could do use a favor?" Priincess tilted her head. Ah, that's what she was doing. The whole 'innocent' act that would always get 1x to play with them or at the very least have her pull out her minions. Her beady eyes seemed to shine a little brighter while staring at his mask. A beat of time passed, silence that would carry through the area, and then he tilted his head again.
"Can you play with us? Pleaseeee...? We need a fourth and there's no one else around..."
. . . they were really gonna need to get used to that silence. Jason hesitated for a second, clearly not sure if he should be the one to entertain the children. He knew that anyone else would be a better fit to do this sort of thing but... looking around at the empty house, it seemed he really didn't have a choice. As cruel of a killer he may be, he had a bit of a soft spot for these children. Only a bit. Another exhale escaped his mouth, visible through the holes in the mask, and he nodded.
And thus began the downfall of the children's gaming careers. The four picked their characters; Coolkidd went with a regular swordsman, Priincess obviously picked a strong ninja lady because "she looked cute" and didn't even bother to look at their moveset, Bluudud picked a gunslinger with a well-balanced kit or so he says, and Jason went with a dark and brooding villain. Seemed fitting for who he was. "Are you guys ready?" Coolkidd grinned, holding his controller tightly.
The three kids smirked as the game started up, and soon they realized that this wasn't going to be a simple game. One round. Priincess got absolutely demolished in four seconds, Coolkidd accidentally jumped of the map and Jason managed to K.O. Bluudud almost as fast as the match started. "Hm," the blue kid muttered. That was not how he was expecting it to go. "Let's run that again."
So they did. Over, and over, and over. One match turned to three. Three turned to nine. And no matter how many times they had attempted to win, Jason somehow always managed to K.O. them at the last second. This was impossible! He had to be cheating. There was no other option. "How are you so good at this, Jason?" Coolkidd asked with a soft pout, the red kid tilting his head toward the silent slasher. He just shrugged, his calloused hands still holding the small controller.
Oh this was sparking Bluudud's competitive nature. But it was true that he couldn't exactly beat him in a legitimate one on one. "I feel like you're cheating somehow," Bluudud grumbled as he poked Jason in the side. Surely he would've focused if he hadn't noticed the giant killer tense up a bit. What was that? He raised an eyebrow as he watched the other's fingers clench the controller tighter. Oh. OH.
"Jason, how about one more round to decide the winner?" Bluudud grinned. The other two groaned. "Haven't you had enough of him kicking our butt for one day?" Priincess replied as she let her controller rest against her poofy dress, instantly picking it back up when she saw the expression the other was making. He knew something. That sly grin with his tongue sticking out like that; oh yeah, he definitely knew something. A trick, a hack, whatever it was, she knew he was gonna use it. Coolkidd was still as oblivious as ever though. "I can try my best again! I'll try not to jump off again..."
Priincess gently ruffled his hair, shaking her head. “Do your best, kid,” she muttered as the four began another match. It went smoothly… well, as smoothly as it could go. The four were beating each other up, and it almost got to the point where Jason had almost K.O’d the kids once again. But before he could finish them off with that final strike, the one kick he so desperately needed, a pair of hands snaked underneath his arms and dug into his armpits, making him jolt and drop the controller completely.
“Ah…” Bluudud chuckled, his clawed fingers wriggling against the soft flesh underneath. Jason’s breath hitched as his body continued to tense, trying not to let a single reaction slip through. Eventually he watched as his own character flew off the screen, being downed by the others but it was honestly the last thing that was on his mind. The strange, tingly feeling of the kids hands underneath his arms sent shivers down his spine, though he couldn’t exactly put a word to how it felt.
Jason’s mute nature was surely backfiring on him, however. He wanted to protest this weird sensation, to push them away but it was slowly gnawing at his defenses. “We won! We won…! What did you… do?” Priincess and Coolkidd eventually looked over to the scene in front of them, watching Bluudud’s smirk grow bigger and more devious with each second that passed. He shifted, trying to get more comfortable as his claws dug deeper against the masked killer’s armpits.
If the three hadn’t been so quiet and awe-struck, they wouldn’t have heard the soft, wheezy laughter escaping from behind the mask. It took everything — and he meant everything — he had in order not to fight back in fear that his brute strength would hurt the kids. At the same time, he might’ve been underestimating them just a little. He knew they were strong based on the matches they played. “It seems that the big bad killer is a bit ticklish,” the blue kid muttered as he moved his hands down, teasingly poking and prodding at his ribs which made him jolt even harder against the couch. “Scratch that, not a bit. Very ticklish. Aren’t you supposed to be some scary killer...?"
Ticklish. That was the word. It gave him some relief that he could still put a word to what he felt, yet he was also conflicted with embarrassment, knowing that a walking brute like him shouldn’t be weak against this sort of thing. It ate at him a little, which was amusing. A killer who doesn’t scared or even flinch when in front of someone begging for their life being weak to something like this? Hah. Laughable. Quite literally. But a killer who was susceptible to being humiliated by a twelve-year-old though? Who knew this is what his day would come to after that wonderful server wipe he did earlier. Every twitch, every prodded fingertip pressed against his rib sent him further over the edge. It had been so long since he’s felt this sort of sensation. How long, he couldn’t tell you. But what he did know is that if it continued, he was going to lose control. It surely couldn’t get worse for him, could it?
And then it did.
“I wanna try! C’mon, let me try!” Coolkidd eagerly joined in, moving in front of the couch where Jason couldn’t move from. The red kid’s hands gently kneaded against his stomach, the pudgy skin in his hands trembling underneath them. Oh no, oh no, he groaned to himself as he buried his body deeper into the corner of the couch, doing his best to block attacks from two different sides. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse…
“I guess I’ll join too~ don’t want to be a loser who sits this one, after all!” Priincess was the last to join, eventually giving in to the smile on her face. She placed herself right against his arm, sitting on the back of the couch. It allowed her to reach the back of his neck where the strap of his mask didn’t protect him very much. Her nimble fingers pinched the skin there, his arms moving up to protect himself.
It seemed no matter what he did, he would be at a loss. The tickling from his neck would make him arch forward, right into the other two, and the opposite would be true for the other two kids in front. There was no escaping this; not until they’ve had their fill. He thought about the situation. Could he have avoided this? Maybe. But honestly, he got a little caught up in beating them in the game… these cheeky little kids.
“Man, if the survivors knew you were this ticklish, they’d have a field day with it!” Bluudud chuckled as he leaned in further, making sure the larger one had no way of escaping. Jason threw his head back against the couch, which caused Priincess to gasp mockingly and wiggle her fingers even harder against his neck. "Hey! No doing that! You're gonna crush my hand!" she growled playfully, making him audibly huff and the tiniest snort escape from his mask. "Awhh... was that a snort? That was oddly adorable!" Coolkidd chimed in as his hands trailed lower, squeezing the top of Jason's knees.
The reaction he got was priceless. Jason moved his hands in front of his body, his knees jerking up and sliding together to stop the sensation. It seemed like they'd hit a weak spot there, and as unfortunate as it was for him, they would abuse the hell out of it otherwise. "Oh, that really tickled, huh?" Jason didn't even know he could be this embarrassed in his life, yet here they were, proving the impossible every day.
More wheezy laughter escaped him, still never becoming too audible as both Bluudud and Coolkidd moved down to squeeze the tops of his knees. Priincess shifted to get more of his torso to keep him cornered in the couch. With the two of them absolutely destroying one of his most ticklish spots, he felt like his options were very limited on what he could do. He tapped the side of the couch, signaling for mercy but the kids were very hellbent on torturing him for winning. It wasn't like he was actually bothered by it though, he knew they were just kids, and he had a soft spot for them, as much of a killer as he was.
"I'm just sayin', we could've finished that a LOT earlier if your stubborn ass didn't stop me from placing traps everywhere!" The husky voice of John Doe rang out from the lobby of the killer cabin, the faint blue hue of color dragging behind him as he entered the living room. Behind him was the infamous 1x1x1x1, who was frowning at his words. Her eyes narrowed down at the shorter one, growling as she put her swords away. "And I'm sayin' that I HAD that. You just HAD to make it easier for me. I wanted a real challenge." A sharp-toothed smile graced her face, the zipper usually enclosing her mouth hanging from the side.
All three of the killers stopped what they were doing, leaving Jason a panting mess on the couch. Despite the torture, it made him clear-headed. It was liberating in a sense, though he couldn't take any more today. He was lucky that the three kids immediately ran up to 1x, holding on to her like she was their lifeline. "Whoa, you good, man?" John spoke up as he noticed the trembling killer sitting down, raising an eyebrow. 1x's eyes went to the masked man, to the kids, and then finally to the system.
"Kids, go outside. I'll pull out my minions to play with." Priincess and Coolkidd cheered; they did always love to play with them considering they did mostly anything they asked, like personal little servants. Bluudud only shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but inside he was also just as giddy as the rest. As they left the cabin, dragging John Doe with them, 1x smirked as she lowered herself on the couch.
"Wow, they got you good, huh?" she muttered, knowing exactly what happened. The white-haired killer chuckled upon seeing his reaction which was a subtle nod, finally getting comfortable enough to think clearly. The ticklish sensation was still there, just not as bad. 1x returned to the title screen and looked at the tracked score in the corner. She turned her head as she noticed the number. "Really? Couldn't have let them win just once?"
Despite no words spoken, she could tell that he perked up. Maybe they were right in order to attack him like that. It was what he deserved for absolutely destroying them like that. "Alright, alright, I'll take them off your hands," she shook her head, putting a hand on his shoulder. He tensed up immediately to which she snickered and let go.
"Rest up. You might get called in."
And with those words, she left the room, going to meet the others outside to cast necromancy once more.
Jason sighed as he leaned against the couch, removing his mask for one moment to wipe at his face. Shaking his head, he made a mental reminder for himself when he played these sorts of games.
Let the kids win.