Title: What is Ticklish?
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Jack
Summary: Ticklish!Sam, Ticklish!Jack; Jack is a curious little bean and Sam needs to learn how to say no. For @sunflower-cryptid
Original Prompt: Are you still accepting prompts? If so, I have an idea for a fic. Jack sees a tickling scene on TV and asks Sam what’s going on. Sam explains what tickling is, and Jack asks if Sam is ticklish. Of course, Sam can’t lie to the little cinnamon roll and admits that he is. I think you can figure out what Jack does next, hehe.
Things with Jack in the bunker haven't been too horrible. The kid is very curious and Sam loves feeding that curiosity with knowledge. Dean is a bit more apprehensive of the kid, even if he did sorta accepted the Nephilim.
Currently, Jack was obsessed with the t.v. and Sam was happy to relax a little bit, explaining the cartoons to the younger man. Jack looked just like Cas when finding out what the pictures on the screen were, so much that it made Sam’s chest ache a bit.
“Sam, what is it that they are doing?” Jack’s voice brought Sam out of his depressing thoughts.
They were watching old reruns of Mickey Mouse. On the screen was Donald tied up in a bunch of ropes. Pete had plucked a feather from Donald and was wiggling it across the ducks webbed feet and tickling the poor animated creature to tears.
“Uh, what’s what?”
“That the cat is doing to the duck.”
“Oh um, Pete is tickling Donald,” Sam explained, his cheeks heating up at the dreaded ‘T’ word. Jack looked confused, tilting his head slightly.
“Tickling? What is tickling?”
“It’s uh...well...its when someone touches a certain part of your body that is sensitive and your nerves send impulses that make you laugh,” Sam tried explaining. “Here, lemme just―”
Sam reached over and lightly scratched over Jack’s ribs and belly. The poor kid broke into giggles immediately, not attempting to move because of how confused he was.
“Thihis is tihihickling?”
“Yeah,” Sam snorted, stopping. “You are ticklish, wow, did not expect that.”
“What is ticklish?”
“Your ribs and stomach are ticklish or sensitive to those certain touches.”
“Oh,” Jack nodded in understanding. “That...was fun.”
Sam smiled lightly, “I’m glad you liked it and didn't smite me.”
“Are you ticklish, Sam?”
Sam froze, cheeks turning a blushy pink and opened his mouth to deny everything but looked at Jack and snapped his mouth shut. The kid was looking at Sam so earnestly, honest curiosity in his eyes.
“I...I mean...well...yes.”
“Where?” Jack scooted closer, eyes gleaming in joy.
Sam flushed darker and coughed, “Well....”
“You are hesitating,” Jack observed. “Do you not like tickling?”
“It’s not that...”
“So you like being....tickled?”
“Well, its not that either,” Sam was so embarrassed, hiding his face in his hands.
“Do you not trust me to do the tickling right?”
“My stomach is a bad spot,” Sam finally said, not looking at Jack. “Uh, so are my thighs and knees...my ribs....pretty much anywhere is a bad spot.”
Sam didn't look to see Jack’s adorably wide eyes, looking over the older man who was slowly becoming someone important to him. Or see Jack’s sneaky hand slither onto his belly, cautiously digging into the muscle.
Sam jumped, bursting into surprised laughter, squirming away.
“You are ticklish on your belly,” Jack said brightly, continuing to tickle the older man. Sam was just surprised he caught on so fast. “I am matching the pressure you used on me,” Jack explained, moving to Sam’s bottom ribs.
“Nohoho wahaHAHAIT!”
Jack stopped immediately, eyes worried.
“Did I hurt you?”
“N-Noho,” Sam shook his head. “You’re fine, Jack. I was just surprised.”
“I like your laugh.”
Sam snorted fondly and smiled at the Nephilim.
“I like yours too, I guess.”
“You seem happier when...tickled.”
“I don't mind it,” Sam admitted, still feeling embarrassed but somehow better about saying it. “And I don't feel so nervous about doing it to you,” He squeezed Jack’s sides, smile growing at the kids loud squeals.
“S-SAHAHAM!”
“What?”
“THAHAHAT FEHEHEELS WEHEHEIRD!”
“It’s supposed to kiddo,” Sam chuckled, testing Jack’s hips. The kid shrieked and squirmed away, careful not to accidentally hurt the younger Winchester brother. Sam let him go, dimples beaming at the panting kid. “Wow, your hips are almost as bad as Dean’s.”
“Dean is ticklish?” Jack’s eyes were wide with excitement with what he could bond with the older Winchester with.
Sam winced but smiled, knowing Dean would kick his ass later.
