A/N: Credits goes back to Fluffymary (Their art is amazing!!). I actually wrote this almost three years ago believe it or not. I had made a re-write before but wanted to add a bit more since it felt rather abrupt and short. So, with that said, enjoy 💚✨
Concept(s): Art-Based Fic, Remus being a prankster, Remus is a little shit, Remus is ticklish, The other Sides get their revenge on Remus, They are a FamILY
Pairing(s): (Platonic) DRLAMP
Prompt(s): "Remus being put in tickle jail" ~ Fluffymary
Synopsis: Remus is put in tickle jail after pranking the others for a few weeks straight.
Trigger(s): Vague mentions of a smut, Food, Innuendoes, Light Bondage (Let me know if there is anything else I missed)
Word Count: 540 words
~~~
The MindScape nuisance was on a pranking spree as usual. Every now and then, one of the others would be caught in a trap that would put them in awkward positions that left a certain area of theirs vulnerable to sensitive attacks and some that would involve moving a couple of items every few seconds to see if the person would notice. The pranks were mostly harmless for Remus pranking standards but they were still getting slowly out of hand and since repression wasn't an option, they had to confront him sooner or later. Two weeks of this ordeal and the others were finally sick of it.
Maybe it was molasses and feathers that made Janus banshee scream, or putting the sleeves of Logan’s books on his own self-binded smut stories. Or... maybe... the time he put some of Patton's collectible Squishmellows in a small guillotine. Or dyed all of Virgil's clothes red and Princey's clothes black. Or replacing Roman's Disney collection with CDs of the original Grimm's version of the fairytales.
The Sides set up a different kind of trap for the intrusive figment. They got Janus to summon Remus, who was immediately ecstatic at the idea of having more fun. But what Remus didn't realize was that it was a trap for himself. Soon Remus’ ankles were locked into stocks, wrists bonded to the floor of the living room. He stammered, asking what this was all about.
"Oh, Remus~ You know all too well why this is happening~"
"No, I don’t, Janny! Was it the last prank?! In all fairness, I think Roman is just a poor sport. I could have actually dyed your hair white."
"That baby powder made my foundation cakey."
"Consider it an improvement, bro."
The others gathered around the stocks, with one of them snapping off Remus’ boots. Remus chuckled nervously as Roman wrote the punishment on the board that read:
Tickle Jail!
Name: Remus
Crime: He’s a little shit. Show no mercy 💚
Said aspect held back the toes on Remus’ right foot, allowing the Janus to skitter under them. Remus immediately began cackling, his body shaking and thrashing. With all of them putting their own personal spin on the torment, Remus was barely able to make a comeback or rebuttal to any of this.
Between Patton’s soft teases of "You’re in for oodles of fun, little Octo!" and "Aww~ You’re snorting! Can you count how many times you’ve done it?", up to Logan “counting” his toes, code for counting then writing it down only to then not “properly” write whatever number due to Remus’ thrashing and having to clean it to write it again, all the way down to Roman singing Nursery Rhymes.
"Guhuhuhuhuys! Wait! Sorehehehehery!"
"You have been up to your pranks for weeks now. No apologies here."
If Remus were to be honest with himself, it was too much and yet it was so much fun. He had been wanting this for weeks, for someone to give him some undivided attention. Maybe not in this particular way but it worked. He had, in fact, been a little shit and was getting punished for it. And Remus knew that the others would not stop any time soon. Which was fine by him.
"I just want to help you relax!! You've been working so hard putting together a schedule for Thomas and enforcing it and it's been working you to the bone!"
Logan sighed for what felt like - and most definitely was - the fifth time in this interaction. "You've stated that, Patton, I just don't see how this is supposed to help me."
Despite his protests again the logic of Patton's plan, he made no move to fight the other as the moral side slid onto his waist. He was laying on his stomach on the couch, head in his arms, shirt discarded begrudgingly on the floor with Patton now straddling his waist above him.
"When Roman feels really stressed, I sometimes give him back massages. It helps work out some of his tension, and it also just feels really nice and relaxing." Patton explained.
Logan hummed. "I can see how he'd find the activity relaxing, however, I'm not Roman."
"I know that, Lo, I just want to help you out, and maybe it'll have the same affect for you." The unsure tone Patton's voice had taken on the longer they discussed this had Logan softening. He sighed for the sixth time.
"Alright, Patton. I'll entertain your idea."
The moral side lit up. "Awesome! Now just lay back and relax."
Logan obliged, flinching when Patton's cool hands met his shoulders. He wasn't used to much physical contact, especially of this nature, so it did feel a bit odd. But... he had to admit, as Patton began massaging into his shoulders and he realized just how tense his muscles were, it did feel nice.
"Mmph," Logan groaned when Patton hit a particularly painful knot. "I admit this is... Rather nice, but not exactly relaxing."
"Sorry, I'm trying to be gentle," Patron apologized. His touch lightened, moving down to work gently at the muscles in Logan's back. It was nice, and definitely reaching more into the 'relaxing' category until Patton's fingers grazed a little too far outwards. Logan's breath hitched, stiffening.
"Logan?" Patton called, sounding worried. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry, I thought I was being more gentle, let me-"
"It's quite alright Patton," Logan said, forcing himself to relax. "You didn't hurt me."
"Then why..?" Patton started, then seemed to abandon his question with what felt like a shake of the head. Despite Logan's words, his touch lightened even more, and Logan held his breath when swipes of tingles zipped up his spine. His leg twitched in response.
He tried to hold still, he really did, but it felt like his body was being hijacked by something. Not something, the thing, and if Patton didn't stop-
"P-Patton-" Logan tried, blinking at the unnaturally high pitch of his voice. "I think I'm relaxed enough, you can stohop now-" the giggle slipped out against his will, and he froze. Patton's hand froze as well, stilling against his back.
Neither of them spoke, and silence spread between them for what felt like a full minute, but then suddenly there was a hand scribbling into his lower back.
The dam broke free, unable to hold back his titterations. His hand jerked back to scramble for Patton's hand as surprised laughter broke free from the logical side. "Pahahatton!"
Patton giggled right back. "Aww, Logan, I didn't know you were ticklish!"
"Cohohome on, this is-! Nohoho!" Patton scribbled his fingers up higher, hitting the spot right between his shoulderblades, and Logan's giggling pitched, shoulders shaking. His feet kicked out behind him, doing nothing but provide a relief from the attack on his nervous system.
"Aww, such a pretty laugh you have!" Patton cooed. "I didn't know backs could be this ticklish. You should've told me about this sooner!"
"I dihihidn't-! I didn't-! I dihihihidn't knohohow!" Logan said between his pitched giggling fit, giving up on trying to reach behind himself for Patton's hand. He slung his arm over the top of his head, giggling heartily into the other.
He squeaked when Patton's second hand joined the fun and both scribbled lightly and purposefully over Logan's shoulder blades, feet kicking into the couch.
"A tickle-tickle-tickle!" Patton teased, igniting a blush on Logan's face. "Hm, I wonder..."
Logan wasn't left to wonder for long at what that meant before he felt lips between his shoulder blades and a raspberry was blown. He shrieked, throwing his head back and bonking Patton's head in the process. He seemed unharmed as he sat up and went rigth back to scribbling. Thankfully, Patton was merciful enough to only do that trick once, but Logan felt overwhelmed by the tingling lighting up his back.
"PahahaHAHAtton plehehehease!!" Logan gasped out, shaking his head and flexing his hand in his hair.
Patton giggled, giving one last good tickle before stopping. Logan caught his breath, turning his head to the side to breathe fresh air and ignoring the mess he'd made of his hair. "Sorry Lo, that was just too adorable to pass up." Patton said with a smile. "You okay?"
"Quite alright," Logan replied after a moment, trying to wipe the smile off his face as he readjusted his messed up glasses. "No thanks to you."
Patton laughed. "Oh please, you never told me to stop."
A blush bloomed on Logan's face as he quickly cleared his throat. "A miscalculation!"
"Whatever you say Logan," Patton said fondly. "Now, do you still want that massage? No tickles this time, I promise." A pause. "On purpose, anyways."
Logan considered. A beat passed, two, before he buried his face into his arms. "...Yes, please."
Patton walked into the room to see all five of the other sides. Perfect!
“I’ve been in a ler mood allllll day,” Patton announced. “I’m gonna go get some tools, and when I return there’d better be a little lee waiting as a sacrifice or else I’ll be coming after each one of you~”
Patton happily walked away, a spring in his step. He trusted them to do the right thing.
He happily picked out an assortment of feathers, brushes, and other fluffy things. This was a day to tickle gently until the lee melted into an adorable little puddle, exhausted and giggly.
Patton returned to the living room to see a very pink and shy-faced Roman. He was laying on the ground, already a bit squirmy. His own sash and Remus’s were tying his hands to the legs of an armchair, holding his arms up above his head. Logan’s tie held his ankles together, and there was a black belt connecting his ankles to the leg of the coffee table. Roman’s shirt had been removed, and Virgil’s hoodie was draped over him to keep him warm until Patton got back.
Patton’s eyes sparkled. How wonderful~ And they all participated, betraying poor Roman. An excellent excuse to wreck each and every one of them.
He sat on Roman’s hips, delighting in the teeny squirms underneath him.
Virgil didn’t know why but he was in a very touchy feely mood today, and it unsettled him. He’s not the touchy feely type. So why he was in the mood to be in the sweet and warm embrace of a loved one, and never let go until the day he died was beyond him.
But nonetheless he still felt these feelings, and it seemed as though they weren’t going anywhere. So, he said ‘ah, f** it.’ And acted on the feelings. Which is why he was now standing in front of Pattons door.
He hesitated at first, but then, he begrudgingly knocked on the door awaiting the sweet welcoming words of his favorite friendly father figure figment. Just then, he heard a ‘Come in!’ And opened the door.
There on the bed laid a happy and content Patton on his stomach, coloring in a ‘Winnie The Pooh’ coloring book. “Hey kiddo!” He looked up to see his dark strange son looking at him, with a small loving smile. “What can I do ya’ for?” He asked, in his signature dad voice.
“Oh nothing.” He replied. “I just kinda wanted to… uh- well, I just thought you would wanna maybe… er- do you think we could, maybe, possibly…. Cuddle…??” It took him painfully long to blurt it out, but, when he finally did Patton looked at him with an excited ear to ear smile.
“Well, of course kiddo!! I’d love to!” He exclaimed. He shifted so he was now laying on his back, with his head against a propped up pillow. He then patted a spot next to him, for Virgil to lay. Virgil slowly walked over, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He gave a half smile at Patton, and then plopped himself down next to him, immediately cuddling up to the cardigan wearer.
“You wanna be little spoon?” Patton asked in a loving voice. Virgil nodded, shoving his head deeper into Patton’s chest to hide the growing blush. “Aww, you’re too cute to handle sometimes Virge…” he said stroking Virgil’s hair to soothe him, and relax him. His breathing leveling out as he quickly muttered out “nno’ cute…” he said in a sleepy tone, before inevitably falling asleep.
After about half an hour of relaxing scalp scritches and head rubs from Patton, Virgil then started shifting slightly as Patton switched from head scratches to shoulder scratches. “You alright there Virge?” As Patton asked that he then proceeded to take his scratching fingers downwards to Virgil’s lower back.
That’s when he started squirming back and forth. “Ohh, I get it.” Patton just then had the realization of what was happening. “Are my back scratches tickly tickling you?~” he asked in a borderline baby voice. That’s when Virgil started quietly whining, the little back tickles were bad enough but Virgil couldn’t handle the teasing too!
Yes, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Oh but he’s still asleep’ and to that I say he is slightly asleep. The more and more Patton keeps up the tickling -albeit very slight and gentle and light tickling yes, but it still tickles- the more and more awake and coherent he becomes. “Hey Virgie~” he called out. “I think someone’s about to get tickled in their favorite spot~” he said before fluttering and lightly scratching behind Virgil’s ear and in the crook of his neck.
If he wasn’t awake before, he was now. That had woken him up enough that he was now a puddle of light squeaky giggles. “Your gunna kill me with cuteness!! Stop bein’ so darn adorable!~” he said in a teasing tone. “EHEHEHheheh!! PAHHAhahaehehe!” He was a squirming scrunched up pile of laughter. “Aww, is this your melt spot?” Patton asked as he fluttered at a spot where Virgil’s jawline met his neck. When he did that Virgil just laid there with his neck half scrunched up and just melted into the touch.
“Oh… my g- Are You Purring!?” Patton started hearing low vibrations in Virgil’s giggles that almost sounded like purrs. “Nohohaha, Ihhhehehmhm nohahat!” He protested. “Mhmyyeheh voice ihisss juhusst sscrahachhyyehe!” He managed through the remaining giggles. I say ‘remaining’ because Patton was so thrown off by the sound that he unknowingly stopped tickling Virgil.
“Well either way, it’s adorable!” He said, with a genuine smile on his face. With that, he started the tickling and fluttering back up again. After a while Patton got bored, so he decided to pull Virgil up into his lap so he could explore other possible tickle spots. “Hmm…” he gave Virgil’s right lower ribs an experimental poke. Which resulted in Virgil clamping his arms to his sides and letting out a slight giggle.
Patton, liking the result he got, continued with the same motion on every other rib, and he got the same reaction every time. By the time he was satisfied, Virgil was a giggling panting mess. He loved every second of it. Patton then gave other experimental pokes all over Virgil’s tummy, and he was a giggly, squeaky, wiggly mess.
“Do you wike having youw tummy tickwed?~” Patton asked in a baby voice, that made Virgil audibly whine and cover his rising blush, as Patton kept poking around his stomach. That is, until he found a spot that made Virgil squeal and hide his face more. “What was that Virgie-Wirgie?” He poked it again and got the same squeal, but this time it earned him a few leg kicks and an ‘Ack!’. -which he was very proud of-
“Is this little button right here whats making you all squirmy?~” if Virgil could protest his teases right now he would, but he couldn’t. He was too busy being flustered by them to fight them, right now. Virgil was pulled from his train of thought though, as he felt a poke delivered to his navel. He gasped and laughed briefly.
“Oh~ Is this a good spot??~” Patton asked, delivering another poke and a quick flutter to his bellybutton. Patton was a little taken aback at how eager Virgil was to respond, and not only respond but give a nod. After about another 20 something minutes of this, Virgil was getting a bit restless. So, when Patton finally delivered a good 2 and a half minutes of armpit tickles Virgil signaled that he was done.
“You tired kiddo?” Patton asked, before Virgil even nodded Patton was already laying them back down on the bed, to have a nice nap together. With that, Virgil could confidently say today was a good day.
And, he wouldn’t be opposed to spending any other days just the same…
Had to hit you guys with some Sanders sides so take some Patton and Virgil! Virgil needs to give us more smiles anyways so Patton, NOM IS NECK RN/silly
Virgil had been fidgeting all day, and Patton is worried about him. When he asks Virgil what's bothering him, he's left completely shocked by the answer, but still eager to help.
A day late...Could be worse. I hope you enjoy! And Sanders Sides is back for Tickletober!!!
Patton had been aware of Virgil’s quirks for a while now. He knew that any sort of loving action would make Virgil embarrassed and surprised. He knew Virgil didn’t really like hugs, unless it was a special occasion. And Patton especially knew that Virgil fidgets when he’s really anxious or nervous.
And Virgil had been fidgeting a lot lately…
One day, Patton decided to sit down beside Virgil while he was playing a video game.
“Hey kiddo.” Patton greeted.
“Hey.” Virgil muttered, flicked his wii remote to the right, watching the screen as the dog ran down the field.
“Playing frisbee?” Patton asked.
“Yup.” Virgil muttered, grunting as the frisbee hit the ground before the dog could catch it. “I keep messing up.”
Patton looked towards Virgil with slight worry. “Would it be easier if you stood up and played?”
Virgil sighed and threw the frisbee again. “Nope. I don’t want to.” Virgil replied, watching the dog run for the frisbee. “Come on, come on, come on-” Virgil let out a breath. “Oh thank god…She got it.” Virgil mumbled.
Patton smiled and clapped his hands. “Yay!” He cheered.
Virgil smiled slightly and picked up the frisbee before throwing it. “Go on.” Virgil told him.
Patton looked at Virgil. “Huh?”
Virgil looked to Patton. “I assume you wanted to talk about something?” Virgil asked him.
Patton was a little thrown off guard. Maybe his intentions were more obvious than he thought. “Y-Yeah…I did.” He replied.
“Okay. Then shoot.” Virgil told him.
Patton sighed and looked down at his own lap. “What’s been bothering you lately?” Patton asked.
Virgil took the frisbee and threw it again. “Nothing’s been bothering me.” Virgil told him. “Why?” He asked, looking over at Patton while the frisbee soared in the air.
“Well…you’ve been very fidgety lately.” Patton admitted. “I thought you might’ve been anxious about something.” He explained further.
Virgil looked at the high score. “When was I fidgeting?” Virgil asked, clicking the home button to go to the home menu.
Patton bit his lip. “Earlier today, when we were lying on the couch.” Patton told him.
Virgil froze for a moment, staring in front. He slowly put down his wii remote and looked at Patton. “Uhhh…” Virgil bit his lip and lowered his head slightly. “Well…”
“Why were you anxious?” Patton asked.
Virgil let out a shaky breath as he recalled what was going on in that moment. His head had been all over the place during that hour. He could remember the exact words that were filling his mind while he laid with Patton on the floor of his room. 3 simple little words wouldn’t stop repeating themselves…
“Virgil?” He heard beside him. “You’re doing it again…” Patton told him.
Virgil looked down at his own hands, and noticed he was fidgeting with his fingers again. He supposed just the thought of those 3 words were enough to make him act like this. Dammit…why do his hands always reveal his inner anxiety? Sensing no other option, Virgil finally spoke up. “It’s…not what you think it is…” Virgil tried to explain.
Patton tilted his head. “Oh?”
Virgil let out a breath. “It’s not…It’s not anxiety…It’s a nervous tick.” Virgil admitted.
Patton softened his expression a little bit. “A nervous tick?”
Virgil nodded his head. “I was nervous because…I wanted to ask you for a favor.” He slowly explained. He huddled his hands closer to his chest as he finally sputtered out the words. “P-Pleasetickleme…”
Patton widened his eyes. “What? Can you repeat that?” He asked. Patton thought he had caught the words, but he really needed to triple check.
Virgil whined. “Can-Can you please tickle me?” Virgil asked, looking at Patton with a look of desperation and fear in his eyes. His fidgeting had intensified from this question alone. He looked like he was going to explode if he didn’t fidget.
Patton raised his eyebrows and slowly smiled. “Really?” Patton tilted his head slightly with a look of curiosity. “You want me to tickle you?” He asked.
Virgil whimpered and hid his face with his fidgeting fingers. “Mm…Mhm…” He mumbled.
Patton’s smile grew teeth as his whole face brightened. He walked up to Virgil and very gently grabbed his outer elbows. “Virgil…”
Virgil tensed up slightly, fearing the worst. He knew Patton wouldn’t ridicule him…but he knew very well that Patton could tease him…Or worse, Patton may reassure him with a saddened tone of voice. Though he knew Patton meant well, the saddened tone would tell Virgil that Patton felt betrayed. Patton likely thought Virgil already trusted him…and if that were the case, then why didn’t Virgil ask him earlier? All of these were thoughts that went through Virgil’s head.
Patton let out a slow breath. “Do you trust me?” Patton asked him calmly.
Virgil opened his eyes with slight surprise. “Y-Yes…I do.” he replied.
“Okay.” Patton almost whispered. Patton very gently moved Virgil’s hands down, and placed both his hands onto his shoulders. “Where would you like me to tickle you?” Patton asked him with a gentle smile. Everything about Patton’s attitude was non-threatening…more non-threatening than usual. It was…a little odd, but not unwelcome.
Virgil looked at Patton as he lowered his hands with a small blush. “Uhhh…” He giggled a little bit. “My…My neck…” He admitted.
Patton smiled brightly. “Feather? Or fingers?” He asked next, summoning a feather in his left hand while wiggling his right fingers.
Virgil smiled a little bit more as his blush deepened. “Hehehe…Hehehe…F-Feheather please…” He muttered awkwardly.
Patton moved the feather to his right hand. “Now:” Patton pointed the end of the feather at his face. “I’m only gonna tickle you, if you let me. Meaning you’re not allowed to hide your entire neck.” He warned. “You can hide one side of the neck, but not your whole neck. Okay?” Patton explained.
Virgil nodded his head. No hiding his whole neck. That’s doable. “Okay.” he replied.
Patton started right away. He started off fluttering the feather right under his chin. “Tickle tickle tickle~” Patton teased.
Virgil squeaked and hid the front of his neck. “eEEK! Nohoho!” He giggled.
Patton smirked. “How about…” Patton fluttered the feather on the right side of his neck. “A flutter-flutter-flutter here?” Patton teased.
Virgil giggled and curled to the right. “Hehehe! Hehehehe-!”
“Awww, such a cute little giggle!” Patton teased. “Maybe a little flutter here?” Patton moved the feather to the left side.
“Hehehe- hahahaha!” Virgil’s giggles grew into laughter as the feather fluttered against his lower neck, and up towards the jawline. “Pahahahat- Hahahaha! Hehehehee!” Virgil looked away from Patton, too embarrassed to even look at Patton at this moment.
But Patton didn’t really need to look very hard. He knew Virgil was embarrassed about this whole thing…And despite all his reassurance, Patton knew he’d never believe him. But the fact that Virgil wasn’t covering up his entire face with his hands, told him everything. Virgil didn’t feel a need to completely cover his face because…there was a little bit of trust there. Virgil trusted him enough to off-handedly show Patton his flustered face.
Patton’s feather fluttered down the jawline, back towards the chin.
“Hehehehe! Pahahahat-!” Virgil laughed.
“Yeeeeesss?” Patton responded.
“Ihihihit ticklehesss!” Virgil told him.
“Really?!” Patton gasped. “You mean to tell me…” Patton fluttered the feather against his lower neck. “THIS tickles you?!” Patton reacted.
Virgil covered his mouth and squealed. “Pahahahat!” He shook his head. “Nohohoho teheheheasihihihing!” Virgil reacted.
Patton giggled. “No teasing? But that’s not fair!” Patton gently placed his fingers under Virgil’s chin to keep it up, before fluttering his feather under the chin.
Virgil bursted out giggling and laughing right away. “Pahahahat! *snort* Cohohome ohohohohon!” Virgil giggled.
“You poor, unfortunately ticklish soul!” Patton teased, somewhat referencing Ursula from The Little Mermaid. “♫So shy, so thrilled~!♫” Patton sang in the same melody as the song. “♫This one wanted to be tickled-♫” Patton pointed to Virgil. “♫-This one chose to trust his dad-♫” Patton pointed to himself. “♫And do I help him?♫” Patton fluttered the feather in Virgil’s face. “♫Yes indeed~♫” Patton declared as he tickled the front of his neck.
Virgil snorted again and squeezed his eyes shut. “Mehehehehean.” Virgil mumbled.
Patton tilted his head while raising an eyebrow. “Mean, huh?” Patton asked.
“Yehehehes!” Virgil replied.
“That isn’t mean.” Patton got rid of the feather and tickled both sides of his neck with his fingers. “Now THIS is mean.” Patton declared.
Virgil squealed and cackled, trying to stop his fingers with his hands. “HAHAHAhahaha! Hahahaha- Nahahaha!” Virgil snorted and gave up his defenses to cover his mouth instead. His stupid snort was making itself known, and he didn’t really like it.
Patton stuck out his lower lip. “Aww…I like your snort.” Patton admitted.
Virgil opened his eyes and took one glance at his Padre’s sad face…and sure enough, that was all that was needed to drop his defenses. Virgil slowly removed his hands from his face, showing Patton the visibly red face in its entirety.
“There it is!” Patton tickled under his chin a little, before booping his nose.
Virgil giggled a bit at the chin tickles, before going cross-eyed with surprise at the nose boop. “Huh?” Virgil looked back towards Patton. “O-Oh…Heheh…”
Patton placed his hands onto his cheeks. “Do you want me to stop?” Patton asked him.
Virgil bit his lip and looked away slightly. “Uhh…N…No…” He mumbled.
And that was all that was required to continue the neck tickles.
A Squealing Santa Christmas gift for @trashyswitch! Hoping it's worth the wait, and wishing you the happiest new year! 😊😘 Thanks so so so much @squealing-santa Hypah our hero for hosting this year!! Lots of love for everyone who participated; congrats everybody!! ❤❄
Word count: 6,406
~*~
There’s something very attractive about winter. The season is uniquely deep and dark, and Janus can’t help but thrive when there are shadows aplenty, easy to hide in and hide things in. A societal expectation to make nice with everyone also leads to the hilarious sight of people performing their “best life” routine by lying through smiling teeth and juggling a million more responsibilities that, no, they definitely don’t need help with. What could he say, it all made Janus feel very at ease, in the presence of deceit wrapped in pretty paper.
But, then, he wasn’t so cynical this year. He blamed his cohorts for melting his too-small heart over the course of the year to the point where he could now appreciate the whimsy that twinkling fairy lights give to a chilly winter evening. Still dark, but warm, too.
Metaphorically and literally warm–it was not quite a winter wonderland outside the house. Still, the lower temperature and earlier sunset and merry decorations and seasonal flavors in Janus’ mug and the obnoxiously patterned and colored sweater on his body really did make it feel like Christmas. Certainly, the Mind Palace could have been nestled in a snow globe setting if the Sides so desired, but they were partial to their host’s house in Florida. It wasn’t a white Christmas, but it was cozy and homey and–Janus could begrudgingly admit–nice.
Janus was skillfully juggling two mugs as he walked into the living room. In one hand, he carried a peppermint mocha in a plain red vessel, simple and hot. In the other hand, he held a mug covered with scenes of snowmen decorating a pine tree with little birds. The contents of that mug were just as extravagant and sweet: gingerbread spiced hot cocoa completely obscured beneath a layer of marshmallows, whipped cream, and sprinkles.
When Janus set the dessert in a cup on the coffee table, Patton looked up and smiled, his eyes really sparkling under the lights of the room’s opulent tree beside which he sat. The mug was just the newest addition to Patton’s station at the coffee table. Before him were a few sheets of notebook paper, a quill and ink, and a desk lamp and extension cord, which Janus stepped carefully over to sit on the couch just behind Patton.
“Aw, Janus!” Patton beamed, setting down his quill to reach for the mug. “Thank you!”
Even if the gap was seeming to narrow these days, Janus couldn’t help but marvel at how different he and Patton were sometimes. What an easy but incredible show of trust; any of the other Sides would have asked Janus what he wanted in return for such a thoughtful and good deed. (He would have answered “nothing,” but whether or not that was true, who could say?) “Not a problem,” Janus replied, taking a sip of his own drink. “How’s the naughty list looking this year?”
Patton giggled. He had a mustache of sweet fluff on his lip as he set down his mug and drew his quill. “Oh, I can’t say about that. But I do know Santa will have lots of ideas as to what to get you kids if you DO stay on the nice list.” He dipped the quill tip in his inkwell, humming with an audible grin. “Of course, I can’t imagine why you WOULDN’T be on the nice list…”
Janus crossed one leg over his knee and tapped his foot in a subtle but delighted rhythm. “Patton, lying at this time of year?” he tutted. “That nice list is slippery, you know. And lying around me, no less.” Janus leaned forward enough that the hissing chuckle that spread his lips into a smile could tickle Patton’s ear. “Is that my Christmas present?”
Ducking out of reach with a snort, Patton replied, “It’s not lying if I believe you all deserve the best gifts.” He turned to give Janus a boop on the nose with the fluffy end of his quill. “And it’s NOT the gift I have written down, I’ll have you know.”
For a moment, Janus’ eyes caught on the feather–a beautiful thing of blue and iridescent greens and purples that felt as soft as it looked–but curiosity shook him free, and he looked past the writing tool, blurring the beautiful colors as he focused his gaze on the page of just-dry ink. “It’s not?”
“Hey now!” Patton threw out his arm and leaned to one side so as to block Janus’ view. “No peeking!”
Undeterred, Janus didn’t fall back, just snickered and looked at Patton levelly. “What? I hardly need to know what you think I need for gifts.” He rested his chin in his hand, batting his eyelashes and tapping his cheek with his index finger. “But, say, what if I need ideas for our gift swap with the others? You know how hard Logan is to buy for.” (Untrue; Logan wasn’t hard to buy for, just irritatingly specific, which took out all the fun of surprising someone with their gift. Janus did love a good surprise.)
Eyes narrowed, Patton considered this before shaking his head and turning back to his makeshift desk. “No peeking,” he reiterated firmly. “Sensitive information here, for no one’s eyes but Mr Claus himself.” He paused, musing, then smiled. “Or his secretary. He is a busy guy.”
Janus nodded with a humoring hum. He sipped his coffee, nonchalantly scooting on the couch to be closer to Patton. If the scribe noted the movement, he didn’t mind, even leaning back against Janus’ calf and continuing to write. Janus waited a moment, then another, letting Patton’s guard slowly fall. The snake was hardly invested in letters to Santa Claus, but he did enjoy teasing and getting a rise out of Patton. And, who knows, maybe Janus would end up with someone with a scant wish-list and need a gift idea or two to fall back on. When the air felt calm enough to chance it, Janus leaned forward to peek over Patton’s shoulder.
Quick as a cobra, Patton had whirled around, brandishing his feather quill at Janus. “AH!” he admonished, tipping his head to one side and flashing a warning smile. “You better watch out.”
“You better not cry,” Janus replied with a smirk, leaning back a bit with his hands and mug raised placatingly. “Or what, Patton dear?”
Patton’s lower lip puffed out thoughtfully, and he hummed, clicking his tongue a few times. Janus waited, eyebrows raised and lips crookedly elevated. Then, Patton’s scrunched up thinking face relaxed before brightening into a big smile. He didn’t answer Janus’ question, just turned back to his list. Moreover, he didn’t move away but stayed close enough to be leaned up against Janus’ leg and, potentially, surely, observed by Janus’ looming eyes. The risk was worth the reward, and it would have been punishment to both of them to move apart. (It was nature for a Side, however deeply buried; even the prickliest of them liked company and a cuddle. And pushing their luck.)
Janus took a long sip from his drink and sighed, opening his mouth exaggeratedly wide both because it felt nice and because it tended to freak out any Sides who saw. He leaned forward, reaching purposely past Patton to set down his mug on the far side of the coffee table, securing for himself the perfect view of Patton’s cursive scrawl as well as the ideal perch to view it from, his chin resting upon the soft sweater fabric of Patton’s shoulder. Actually, it was cozy enough there, warm and soothing to the tune of Patton’s breathing and humming, and hard enough to read Patton’s handwriting from that distance, that Janus was content to close his eyes and not even try to peek. So he jumped a little, blinking in confusion, when Patton spoke again, but not quite to his current companion.
“‘And what do I ask of you dear Janus? Well, Santa, that’s quite simple. For my dear Janus, I want him to get the biggest and best–’” Patton paused, striking through the last word of his dictation with a flourish. “‘–the WORSE lee mood for Christmas.’”
Patton glanced sideways at him and smiled when Janus snickered. His head bobbed a bit atop the pleased wiggle that shook Patton’s shoulders. It wasn’t exactly a difficult thing to ask for for Christmas. The Sides, different as they could be, could all find fun in being tickled or making someone else laugh, so moods longing for one or the other were not uncommon. Sure, Virgil was more likely to be yearning for an onslaught of gentle belly tickles, whereas Remus would be more often found with fingers twitching in hopes of digging up screams from between someone’s ribs, and Logan could slide back and forth along that scale in a second. But still, it was a safe bet that someone in the Mind Palace was hoping to be or happy to be tickled. Because even if, somehow, no one was actively in a lee mood, one could pretty easily be teased out. Janus fell in the middle of the chaos, fluid like Logan in the part he was ready to play–tickle monster or squealing victim–and not one to be easily teased into a mood–not to be knocked over with a feather, so to say. Sure, seeing Patton twirl his feather quill thoughtfully and being actively threatened with a lee mood–not even being tickled, just infected with the desire to be–may have flustered Janus well enough, but he was cozy enough where he sat to weather the attack. So he only smiled, smug, closing his eyes and staying cuddled up, however awkwardly leaning, up against Patton’s shoulder.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so trusting.
“‘The kind of lee mood that makes you feel so warm and giddy and fuzzy,’” Patton went on, and Janus could hear the big smile around his words, “‘like just thinking about being tickled makes you feel tinsel between your toes and snowflake soft feathers on your belly. I want him to be so happy and flustered that he can only giggle and hiss and do that cute thing where he shakes his legs and taps his feet.’”
They didn’t live in a place with snowy winters, but Janus felt a phrase often used in that region come to mind: deceptively sunny. It was the scenario when one looked out the window to marvel at a beautiful winter landscape, blanketed in crystalline snow and brilliant beneath a crisp blue sky and bright sun, only to step outside and take in a breath that felt like a crackling snap in the lungs. Sunny, but cold. That was Patton. Warm, friendly, happy, but, just beneath, positively wicked. Freezing cold and sharp under a pretty sun, a hot spiced drink under sweet white fluff. Janus felt his stomach turn, swoop like at the drop in a roller-coaster, and burst with a blizzard of butterflies. He couldn’t look away from Patton’s quill as it bobbed, scrawling teases into paper that Janus was suddenly jealous of. Okay, maybe he was easier to tease a mood from than he cared to admit.
And perhaps Patton could read his mind, because he conveniently exclaimed, “‘Oh, and teases! Yes! He needs to get all the teases that make his cheeks go red and his scales change color!’”
Janus’ scales were certainly not doing anything of the sort when Patton paused in writing. He pursed his lips, smiled, and jumped back into his letter.
“‘And, you know, I think this mood’s gotta last until Christmas day, so maybe you can send him some tickly dreams in the meantime, too! Maybe twelve days of them would be fitting?’” Patton’s tongue poked between his top and bottom teeth as he giggled. He cleared his throat, donning a more serious face for continuing his letter to Santa. “‘If that’s too much, don’t worry about it; I’d be happy to take some of the work off your hands. I’m actually writing this letter to you with a beautiful feather quill I got for my birthday–Roman said he just knew I’d get a kick out of being fancy while writing letters. But it’s a beautiful plume, my favorite kind of teal blue and so soft to the touch.’”
‘Writing’ was a stretch; Patton wasn’t even touching the pen to the paper anymore, just twirling the pretty thing between his fingers. It was as long as a hand, with the non-writing end fanning out into a subtle fluffy curl. Its fibers seemed to float lazily as Patton waved the quill around, and Janus imagined they were so delicate as to not even be felt–until they found a place so sensitive on the body that they wouldn’t be ignored. Janus’ usually dark eyes and slitted pupils were bright and dilated, focused so on the gossamer feather that he took little note of Patton looking sideways at him, watching his reactions, with a grin.
Patton sighed dreamily. “‘I bet it would feel so nice tracing down Janus’ neck or around his belly or along his hips. Or circling every scale he has.’” When he smirked at Janus, he would have seen the scales on his face flushed a dark brown-gold. “‘Maybe what I should actually ask you to bring is a good tickle session for Janus on Christmas, and I can do the teasing the twelve days before. Whatever you decide, please know that I am a very good judge of character, and I know that Janus has been SO good this year–’”
Janus’ stomach did another giddy loop-de-loop when Patton chuckled and adjusted his glasses.
“I suppose you’re right, Jan; I should be honest, shouldn’t I?” Patton winked, and Janus’ face may have been warm enough to toast marshmallows on. “‘I know that Janus has been VERY naughty this year, and, so, deserves only the sweetest, meanest, most thorough lee mood, teasing, and wrecking that he’s had all year. And, if your present to me is that I get to deliver this for Janus, I certainly wouldn’t complain. Sincerely yours, Patton.’”
Patton’s smile didn’t falter when Janus stood abruptly from his seat, but his eyebrows did rise expectantly. “I’ve finished my coffee,” Janus answered before Patton could ask. “If you’ll excuse me.” Clutching his half-full mug tightly in his hand, Janus skirted widely around the coffee table and death sentence of a Christmas list. He stopped short at the bottom of the stairs, turning to give Patton a forcibly cool nod. “Thank you for your company.”
After a few startled blinks, Patton snorted and held a hand to his rosy freckled cheek. “Signed, sealed, delivered,” he said to Janus with a grin and a shake of his head. “It’s a little too late to try and get on the nice list now~”
Janus fled calmly up the stairs, ears flushed at the last sight of Patton waving the feather quill to him in farewell.
~*~
The teal fluffy feather was all Janus could see, later–minutes? hours? days? he really couldn’t say–when he lay buried beneath his duvet, trying to pat the heat and smile from his cheeks. The trick really was not to think about it, all the lovely teases Patton had wished for him, but how could he do that when that damn feather was running rampant in his brain, dusting all his thoughts to make them tickly. He had just finished his coffee, too, so he couldn’t even hope to drift off for a cozy little nap. It’d be just his luck though; he’d probably get a dream that would fluster him awake or the second he awoke.
With a huff of a sigh, Janus threw off the covers. If the call was coming from inside the house, there was no point in hiding; if his mind was the monster, a blanket wasn’t going to save him. Besides that, the heat of his sweater and flushing cheeks was beginning to make the bubble of space between his blanket and his bed feel like an oven. He sat up enough to free himself from his sweater and dropped it off the side of the bed and onto the discarded blankets before falling onto his back. If his mind was going to torture him, at least, his body could be comfortable.
But, Janus’ mind sang unhelpfully, now he bore even less protection if some lovely monster slithered down the chimney to leave tickly stardust in his socks and pin him to his bed and–
The pillow previously behind Janus’ head was wailed frustratedly into before it, too, was thrown off the bed. Janus forced himself to take a long, slow breath, burying his fingers in the fabric of his sheets. Okay. Clearly, the lee mood was too grand already to try and wall completely off. Trying to ignore it (and ultimately failing to do so) was just making him irritated. But then, he was too worked up and embarrassed to act on his wants, to ask for it. The very thought was mortifying. Maybe there was a safe middle ground. Maybe he could let the dam leak a little, let the thoughts trickle in. He could handle that, he wouldn’t drown. (He would be dramatic, but he wouldn’t drown.) Surely, he could let himself think about it, a little. Patton had already infected him with the feather fever, after all. Janus figured he might as well try to enjoy it.
Breathing came slower and easier when Janus brought himself to that compromise. He could close his eyes, rein in his agitated leg twitching, wade gently into the pool of his mind.
The image of the quill came back to his mind, and he welcomed it, accompanied it with soft touch from his own hand. As the cerulean feather twirled about, dancing amid the sugarplum visions it had made of his thoughts, Janus traced his fingertips over his belly. With his eyes shut, he could almost pretend the feather to be the perpetrator of the feeling, the gentle swishing back and forth along the border between skin and scales. It was a lovely feeling that made his stomach--just beneath the light show of beautiful sensation--ache with longing.
What else could he imagine? Patton had given him a few cheesy seasonal teasing suggestions, which was kind since Janus wasn't the most creative of the Sides--not the least, but not the most. Janus pictured tinsel, silver and shimmery and soft, threaded between his toes and sawed delicately. His breath caught for a moment, and his toes scrunched against the imaginary sensation. How tauntingly on the edge of feeling.
What else could he imagine? Through his closed eyes, he could see the feather swirling gentle but relentless loops around his belly and scales. He could see the tinsel under his toes. He could see Patton’s smile, his fingers curling and uncurling above Janus’ quivering abdomen. Just a little closer…
Janus sat up, burying his flushed face in his hands. Twelve days of anticipation like this would be its own torture.
A knock to the rhythm of ‘Jingle Bells’ sounded from his door. Janus gave his red cheeks one last chastising pat, floundered for a moment on where to lay his limbs to act natural, and settled on resting his hands on his knees. “Come in.”
When the door opened, the first thing to enter was the bright red and white of a Santa hat, followed by Patton’s merry smile. “Hey, kiddo! You busy?”
“Depends,” said Janus with a hollow scoff. “Did you need more help planning holiday torment, or did you want to bake cookies or something?”
Patton snorted, wiggling his shoulders proudly as he fully entered the room and shut the door. He clasped his hands behind his back, swaying his hips forward and back. “Mm, a bit in between,” Patton decided. “Mean, but still sweet.”
Janus swallowed, trying very hard to bar the dam of his thoughts to keep his hopes from running away from him. “Oh?”
“Well, Santa got back to me,” said Patton, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms with a big sigh. “I know, no time wasted; he is a professional, after all.” He shook his head and smiled sadly, but his eyes were sparkling. “But he said that even he couldn’t make a lee mood and wrecking as wonderful as I asked for in such a short turnaround. So!” Patton adjusted his hat and stood tall, beaming. “He said I should most certainly fill in!”
For someone whose thoughts had just been flooded with elated relief, Janus’ mouth was quite dry. He wouldn’t have to wither away the winter waiting. Patton’s hands and feathers and tinsel and smile were near and real. Janus felt a funny mix of gratefulness and annoyance, seeing as how Patton had been the one to drop him into such a state in the first place. But then, he was too excited already to be annoyed. “Oh,” he said again.
“If you’re not busy.” Patton took a step further into the room.
“Well–” Janus started to say.
“You don’t look busy,” said Patton. Two more steps took him to the edge of Janus’ bed, where he stood, head cocked and smile crooked. “You look like you were expecting me.”
Such rare smugness from Patton was enough to snap Janus from flustered to–well, he was certainly still flustered, but also–indignant. His mouth hung open, and, when no words miraculously filled the empty space, Janus stuck out his forked tongue.
“Don’t be naughty,” Patton chastised with a giggle. “I wrote you a song. May I sit with you and sing it for you?”
Janus nodded, pushing himself up with his hands so as to scoot back and make room for Patton on the bed, but Patton stopped with a gentle hand on his knee.
“Lie back and get comfy,” Patton instructed with a grin. “It’s not a short song.”
His sweater and blankets had already been tossed to the floor; Janus had neither protection nor a saving excuse when the heat in his face spread to his ears and down his neck. He lay back, resting his hands on either side of his head, and, mercifully, Patton commented on neither Janus’ flush nor his eagerness. Instead, Patton whistled a little yuletide carol, climbing onto the bed and kneeling over Janus’ legs. He didn’t settle yet, but turned his torso toward the foot of the bed and tugged off his Santa hat, holding it behind his back and out of Janus’ sight. But Janus could still hear as the hat was held open and its previously unseen contents came tumbling out, rattling like cartoon pots and pans fell onto the sheets. Janus had a guess as to what the hidden pile may have included, but he couldn’t fathom how Patton had managed to hide such a trove so impossibly under his hat. Said hat was placed on Janus’ head as soon as Patton had turned to face forward again, the puff of it being booped on Janus’ nose. Janus' face scrunched up in feigned distaste and fruitless effort to keep from smiling anticipatorily.
Patton adjusted himself to kneel fully and comfortably on Janus’ legs, reaching behind him for a moment to neaten up the mystery gifts from Santa’s hat, then faced Janus once more with a smile. “Alright.” Leaning forward a bit to hunch his shoulders and flex his fingers, Patton began to softly sing. “On the first day of Christmas, I count on my merry lee~”
Janus let out a groaning chuckle. Of course, Patton would come up with the silliest teasing twist on a seasonal song. A song which–Janus realized, derision turning to giddy panic–often had twelve verses that only got longer. He yelped, startled from his thoughts by a sudden whispering soft sensation swirling over his lower belly, and came face to face with the evil feather that had started the whole ordeal. Patton circled the teal feather around Janus’ navel, grinning at the smile straining to be free from Janus’ bitten lower lip.
“A giggle button on his belly~” Patton set the feather by his knee and reached behind him with both hands. “On the second day of Christmas, I count on my darling lee…” And, instead of grabbing a new tool, Patton scribbled his fingers up and down Janus’ soles, prompting a squeal and buck from the man. “Two wiggling feet,” Patton sang, before swinging his hands back in front of himself to dance upon Janus’ stomach once more, “and a giggle button on his belly~”
Second verse cleared, ten more to go. It was too late for Janus to curb his smile–the thing had taken off and spread its wingspan across his cheeks–but he could keep from laughing, he could. He had to. Because, of course, it wasn’t just ten more verses in single phrases; it was ten verses consecutive to all the verses that came before. Janus’ mind was too scrambled to do the math on how many teases in total he was about to endure–he was excited to endure.
“On the third day of Christmas, I count on my dashing lee…” Patton fell forward, hovering above Janus nose-to-nose and grinning. The heels of his hands came to rest on Janus’, his fingers sliding up Janus’ palms until their digits were parallel and easily intertwinable. Janus didn’t know whether this move was a moment of mercy early on or of false security, and he tried to hold Patton’s hands and take as deep of breaths as his cantering heart would allow. Patton squeezed his hands once before curling his own fingers inward. Janus’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion before shooting up in realization, just in time for Patton’s nails to scratch delicately along the palms of Janus’ hands. “Three pairs of twitchy palms~”
Janus snorted, and he would have blamed the tickling, if anyone had asked. No way, no way, was Patton going to get him to unfurl his other two sets of arms into a visible and tangible state. Even if doing so would gain Janus four more terribly ticklish spots to be doted upon… No. He would not so willfully participate in his own demise.
Most all his resistance dissipated into delighted terror when Patton drew back, aiming his wiggling fingers behind him until they touched down to rake Janus’ heels. “Two wiggling feet~”
Janus held his breath and clenched his jaw. He’d already let a little laughter sound loose; even if it was a relief to do so, it was too early in the marathon to let himself go. Wasn’t it?
“And a giggle button on his belly~”
Poor Janus arched his back and threw his head into the mattress as Patton’s fingers danced around his stomach, trailing long slow paths from the bottom of his ribcage to the top of his hips and back up again. On the second trip, Patton changed techniques, using one hand for featherlight skating down Janus’ sensitive skin and using the other for just a bit rougher scratching down his scales. At last, the giggly dam crumbled, and, albeit through his grinning teeth and scrunched nose, Janus began to laugh, a hissing breathy happy sound.
Patton hummed, pleased, and sung on. “On the fourth day of Christmas, I count on my cutie lee…” From where his hands splayed on Janus’ waist, it was easy as fruit cake for Patton to slide them around until he was holding Janus in a hug, warm but made menacing by his nails sudden scurrying into Janus’ lower back. “Four spine-y squeezes~”
Grabbing at his hat to hold himself still, Janus cackled, shoving his back down into the mattress in attempt to make the spot inaccessible for Patton, but to no avail. Still, he didn’t even have time to get used to the sensation before the song went marching on. Patton gently pried Janus’ hands free to scribble into his palms, fell back onto his legs to skitter down his soles, and bowed forward to dig into the soft flesh of his stomach.
“On the fifth day of Christmas, I count on my love-a-lee…” The flurry of movement from the last verse had paused, and Patton lay, for a moment, his cheek still on Janus’ panting midsection. Janus kept his guard up, though. Haggard as he was, he felt vindicated when he saw the mischievous twinkle in Patton’s eyes immediately before he took a big breath and blew a vibrating raspberry in Janus’ belly. The hilarious and heinous weapon was matched in volume by Janus’ wail of laughter. “Five raspberries!” Patton lifted his head, beaming. Janus shook his head, too breathless to form words and soon swept up once more in a tidal wave of howling humor as Patton planted one, two, three, four more raspberries on Janus’ tummy. It certainly didn’t help that all the Sides had slight stubble growing recently; the scratch of Patton’s peach fuzz, especially on Janus’ scales, made for the most awful raspberries he’d probably ever felt.
No rest for the wicked; Patton’s song carried on. Janus, through quite brutal a memorization process, was starting to get used to the pattern mentally, but not physically. The jumping from spot to spot was too sudden and speedy for him to get used to anything, so all he could do was brace for what he knew was coming next. Four scribbles down his spine (and shoulders, which Patton did not need to be so mean as to target), three pairs of palms subject to little but effective scratches, two feet menaced this time by that damn blue feather, and one belly button turning pink from aching laughter and attention.
“On the sixth day of Christmas, I count on my dearie lee… six ticklish armpits~”
Another pause, during which Janus gulped giggly breaths before cracking an eye open. Like spiders cut loose from their webs, Patton’s hands descended, diving into Janus’ uppermost armpits with clawing fingers.
It was good that Janus had already let his laughter loose, because, when the newest bout of cachinnation rocked his frame, he needed all his resolve to hold his arms still. His grasp was white-knuckle tight on his arms and hair, and his laughing grin was wide enough to make his cheeks burn from the ache of exertion as well as the heat of elation. And then Patton took the elevator down to the next floor of terribly ticklish underarms. Janus’ elbows strained to flap, and his head whipped back and forth, shoving one chortling cheek and then the other into the bedspread. How long could this verse possibly be?
Another brutal raspberry to his belly amidst the armpit assault prompted a shriek from Janus. He couldn’t verbalize how unfair it was to double up on spots, and Patton’s explanation was hardly sympathetic. “Five!” Patton crowed, burying his face in Janus’ stomach to deliver vibrating lips and nuzzling stubble with each syllable. “Rasp! Ber! Ries!”
For as much effort as Janus was using to keep still (aside from his thrashing laughing head and heaving stomach), he was startled at how easy a time Patton had muscling him halfway onto his side. That was definitely why he squealed, and not because Patton had finally moved down to scribbling into his lowest armpits with one jumping hand and feathering his lower back with the other.
“Four spiney squeezes~”
It was small but a mercy still that Patton didn’t make Janus release his ironclad grip on his own arms for the next stanza, settling instead on brushing that evil plume along his forearms and into the crooks of his elbows. (The song’s alignment to Patton’s actions had been askew from the start anyway, but Janus was having too much fun to nitpick.)
“Three pairs of twitchy palms~”
Perhaps unintentional, but there was another brief respite for Janus in the few seconds between Patton pulling back from his upper body to reach back for his feet. Very brief, maybe long enough for one guffaw to have a longer inhale than the rest before tumbling once more into wailing laughter as Patton’s fingers scribbled into his arches.
“Two wiggling feet~”
Patton pounced forward and giggled when Janus snorted amid his laughter, only to place a teasing kiss on his stomach.
“And a giggle button on his belly~”
If Janus wasn’t half-past loopy already, he would have marveled at Patton’s masterminding. This session was pure psychological evil. Janus was all heightened nerves and anticipation; after the reveal of what spot would start the new verse, he technically knew what was coming next, but he was still awash in thrill and terror, like he was experiencing each spot anew.
He also would have applauded six ticklish hands for Patton’s composition skills. Once they’d gotten to the tenth verse, it was a very smooth and terrible line up from Janus’ toes to his knees to his thighs to his hips. The next, eleven, was not so limited in its geography but its choreography, but Patton performed it wickedly. That beautiful quill was the star of it, and Patton made use of his ‘eleven feather swishes’ to waltz up Janus’ tummy, across his chest, dipping into his armpits, to his neck and ears–eleven was so many swishes. If he’d had the wherewithal and malice for it, Janus would have thrown Patton six calling birds for his villainy.
The echoes of the last verse and laughter lingering in the corners of the room, Janus lay, limp and gulping air through lingering giggles, eyes shut and an utterly relaxed smile upon his lips. Patton lay as well, still and content, his cheek resting on Janus’ stomach and his index fingers tracing the scales on his sides.
“How ya doin’, kiddo?” Patton asked with a sigh, chuckling when he received only a happy hissing exhale in reply. “I’m glad.” He sat up, tapping a little tune on Janus’ tummy and biting his lip. “You think you got it in you for one more verse?”
Janus’ eyes scrunched further shut, and he giggled at the mere thought of Patton’s proposal. He peeked through one eye and nodded.
“Okay.” Patton’s soft, fond smile sharpened into something sinister. “But, you know, darn it, I think I’ve forgotten the words. Do you remember them? Think you can sing it for me?”
Janus snorted at that. Yes, an excellent idea, let the snake whose brain had been reduced to happy goopy goofy mush come up with the words to the teasing song that had been his detriment. Don’t let him sink fully into elated sleepiness, make him force himself to stay awake enough to bear a bit more, draw out the session a little longer to make it truly the best Christmas gift… Upon deliberation, Janus could see the appeal. Mean but sweet, indeed. Janus pulled himself up, physically and mentally, assuming the familiar position of bracing his own arms and coaxing his mind from the edge of sleep. He’d certainly heard the verses enough times to know the words. He cleared his throat, voice hoarse and happy from laughing so long. “On the twelfth day of Christmas, the tickle monster gave to me: twelve heaving ribs– PATTON!”
The newest rendition of the song had been softer, wavering a bit, compared to Patton’s more confident and lilting tone. Well. It had been quieter, until Patton had unleashed hell upon Janus’ ribs. Vibrating, scratching fingers followed the furrows of the bones, left to right, and then raked down them like a washboard. Rinse, repeat.
Oh, Patton had been going easy on him all this time. That whole marathon thing had just been a prelude to the real event: the sprint.
“Yes, Janus dear?” Patton grinned. “Go on, just waiting for you to sing the next bit and tell me where to tickle!”
OH, not even a sprint–a sprint implied pushing it to the limit for a short time. This pseudo-sprint’s pace was to be determined by the man whose legs had been jelly for the past ten minutes. So it could have been a short time, if Janus let his shrieking, snorting laughter overtake him, or it could take as long as it took him to think coherently while being tickle tortured. A very, very long time. He really must have been on the naughty list.
Like with the previous, Janus had barely crowed out the next verse before Patton had that damn feather darting everywhere it could reach, his neck and ears and stomach mostly, until it could fly back to saw between his toes for the tenth day of Christmas. The feather flipped to scribble the quill end under Janus’ toes as Patton’s other hand squeezed up until it reached his knee. Nine. Both hands dove in to spider and scratch his thighs. Eight. Then to massage their thumbs into his hips bones. Seven.
Janus was a gay mess of exhausted but elated guffawing and kicking feet and flapping elbows. He could barely get out the words to direct Patton where to tickle next. If he’d been asked to lead a verse earlier in the session, he might have mucked up the order a bit on purpose to make it easier on himself. That option was out the window now, as he could hardly keep up with calling out spots as Patton was actively tickling them. He was swept up in the speed and brutality of the menacing of different spots, all scribbling nails and stubbly kisses. Patton was laughing with him, cheeks red from the upped pace of the activity and smile wide and beaming from getting to make Janus feel so happy and safe. He was jumping and falling between spots on the final countdown, half leading and half following Janus’ howling hymnal. With one final raspberry to Janus’ navel, the both of them collapsed in a cuddly heap, Patton rolling off Janus' body to hug him properly.
Eyes heavy and chest heaving as he took slow, deep, relaxing breaths, Janus gave Patton a boop on the nose with the Santa hat that sat crooked on his head. “Merry Christmas, meanie.”
“And a sweet New Year,” Patton giggled, reaching over the side of the bed to grab the duvet and wrap them both up in it for a well-earned snuggle.
