"Sometimes I wish I was taller," Billy said as he glanced up from his current drawing.
Stu let out a scoff, "Because you're short?"
Billy shook his head. "No. So I could do this-" he reached across the table to where Stu was punching paper.
Billy was fully on the table, his knees midway between him and the other man, at the point when he ruffled Stu's hair.
Stu blushed, his eyes widening. He let out a small "oh", or maybe it was a gasp; Billy wasn't too sure.
Billy backed away, knees still on the table. "You always do it to me," he shrugged, "sometimes I wanna do it back."
Stu nodded like an eager kid who just got a piece of candy. "No yeah, you can do that whenever you like. Ask me to bend down and I will, just please do that again."
Billy did it again, but he also held onto the back of Stu's neck with his other hand as he ruffled his friend's hair.
The hand that was once in his hair now caressed his face, touching his lips and nose, painting a blush on his cheeks, and defining the bone of his jaw.
"Can I kiss you?" Billy asked, moving his hand back into Stu's hair.
Stu nodded, almost impatient as he waited for Billy to dip his head down and kiss him. When Billy did do that, he backed away and off the table almost as if it never happened.
He sat back in his seat and picked up one of his not-too dull pencils. "That's why I want to be taller."
Summary: Before enacting their plans, Billy and Stu need to be sure they’re physically fit enough to pull it all off, leading to ridiuclousness. (Based on this anonymous prompt, thank you so much for sending it in!! Warnings because there is mentions of canon-typical violence. Hope y’all enjoy the fic!! xo)
“If we’re really going to do this, we should start training,” Billy says idly, like they’re discussing running a marathon rather than a murderous plot.
Stu laughs at first, before realizing that Billy is serious. “Train? Like, go hunting?”
“No, dipshit,” he replies, but there’s a lack of venom in his voice. “Have you ever seen a movie where the victim just lays back and lets the killer stab ‘em? People are gonna fight back, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”
It’s a good point, Stu concedes, and thus begins their ridiculous regime of what he likes to call “Killer Camp”, and even though Billy rolls his eyes at the title, Stu knows he finds it funny as well.
True to its name, Woodsboro has many spots that are thick with trees and shielded by the dark of nighttime, giving them an ideal place to practice. With nothing but two flashlights and two knives, the boys set off into the forest at least once a week. It sort of feels like playing a combination of hide-and-seek and tag, except when you get caught, the other person pushes you to the ground and presses a semi-dull blade to the side of your neck.
Stu has the advantage of being taller, his long legs carrying him through the dirt at a naturally quicker pace, but Billy still manages to catch up to him with cunning, sneaking around the trees and jumping out when Stu thinks he’s clear to slow down for a breather.
And every time, Billy grins down at him, presses the cool metal against his pulse point, and says, “Gotcha” in a tone that makes Stu feel terrified and excited all at once. There’s a strange mix of boyish glee and creepy intrigue that shows in those brown eyes, and it should scare the shit out of him, but Stu trusts him entirely, sometimes against his best judgment.
They aren’t officially keeping score, but Stu has the numbers in his head, and he’s sure that Billy does too. He's behind by just one point, and he intends to even the score tonight.
See, Stu’s not the brains of their operation, but he isn’t stupid. He’s been studying the way Billy behaves on these nights, the pattern he inevitably falls into despite trying to keep Stu on his toes. Because while Billy is pretty smart, most of the victims in horror films aren’t, and it's hard not to fall into that mentality when you’re getting chased through the woods.
Billy always runs to the left rather than straight ahead, and he always finds a place to hide so he can try and strike back when Stu gets close. This time, Stu isn’t going to let him turn the tables.
It’s only been a few moments since Billy darted off into the trees, and Stu doesn’t bother running, just idly creeps through the fallen leaves, peeking behind every trunk.
“Billy,” he sing-songs, unable to keep from grinning.
Billy is always quiet when he’s in this mindset, a stealthy predator. But Stu likes to play with his food, so to speak. The anticipation, the taunting…That’s the part of their plan he really likes.
Just ahead, he sees a sliver of light from behind a tree, like a flashlight half-covered by foliage. He smirks, making his way towards it, but at the last second, he pivots on his heel and finds Billy standing there, eyes going wide when he realizes his trick hasn’t worked.
Stu easily grapples him down to the floor, now that he’s caught off guard.
“Fuck you, dude,” Billy pants. “How’d you know?”
“You’re not dumb enough to accidentally leave the light on,” Stu replies. “It was obviously a trap.”
Although he’s clearly disappointed that his plan failed, Billy grins. There’s a leaf stuck in his hair, and he’s smiling, and Stu wonders how a boy could be so pretty while lying in the dirt like this.
“You gonna let me up now, smart guy?” Billy asks.
Stu hums, like he’s considering it. “Make me,” he says.
Something in Billy’s face darkens at his words, and Stu worries for a moment that he’s actually going to get stabbed. With surprising ease, Billy shifts his weight and sends them tumbling to the side, but the last thing Stu expects is for fingers to jab into his ribs, making him yelp in surprise before starting to giggle.
“What the fuck, man?” he asks, his own hands darting around, trying to catch Billy’s wrists, but his attempts are easily evaded, and those fingers just make their way beneath his arms, making him clamp his arms down with another high-pitched sound.
Billy just smirks at him. “You told me to make you,” he says. “I figured this was a better method than hurting you.”
‘What a gentleman’, Stu’s mind sarcastically supplies, but he can’t spit it out between his laughter. He doesn’t think Billy has tickled him in years, and the fact that he still remembers his weak spots is both inconvenient and oddly touching.
And although he’s technically beaten Billy at their game, the taste of victory is too sweet to fully let go of, especially because he refuses to tap out from tickling of all things.
Despite the urge to keep his arms glued as tightly to his sides as possible, Stu forces himself to fight back, reaching out to squeeze Billy’s hip.
Billy lets out a startled sound, and his hands falter, giving Stu the leverage he needs to wrestle his friend back down, straddling his thighs and tickling up and down his sides, making giggles bubble from his lips in the most adorable way.
“Asshole,” Billy grits out.
“You started this,” Stu reminds him, moving up to dance over his ribs, sending Billy into a new fit of laughter, thrashing wildly in the dirt. Memories of tickle fights back when they were younger have flooded back, and he remembers how this spot always got Billy to give in.
Clearly, not much has changed, because it only takes another moment before Billy is chanting, “Okay, fuck, stop—!” and Stu obeys, giving him a moment to catch his breath before he leans down, their noses just barely touching, and plucks a leaf out of Billy’s brown, wavy hair.
“You suck,” Billy says.
“You love me,” Stu replies.
They’re so close, Stu can feel the heat rise in Billy’s face when he says it, and even in near pitch-darkness, he can see the flicker of emotion in his expression.
Even when it seems like a bad idea, Stu trusts Billy. He’s known him for so long, has felt this way for so long…He closes the gap between them and presses their lips together, and is shocked when the kiss is immediately reciprocated. He was worried that this would end with a knife stuck in his gut, but he’s much happier with this outcome.
When they pull back, Stu can’t help but chuckle softly, and whisper, “Gotcha.”
Billy snorts and shoves him to the side, standing up and brushing dirt off of his jeans. He extends a hand out, and Stu takes it, rising to his feet.
They drive back to Stu’s house, the radio the only sound. He worries that Billy’s gonna pretend this never happened, or worse, be pissed off at him about it. But when they get inside, wash the dirt off of their hands and faces, and change into pajamas (Stu’s shirt is big on Billy, and he looks fucking adorable in it), he’s pleasantly surprised when Billy crawls into bed beside him instead of taking the floor.
“We’re tied now,” he says.
“I know,” Billy replies. “Don’t get cocky; I’ll get you next time.”
Stu snuggles closer, throwing an arm over Billy’s waist, spooning him from behind. Billy sinks into the touch willingly, like he’s wanted it as long as Stu has. “I feel like we should make tickling against the rules,” Stu adds after a pause. “I mean, I can’t imagine anyone doing that while we’re tryin’ to stab them.”
That makes Billy laugh again. “I mean, you never know. We should be prepared for anything.”
“You’d be fucked if someone tried that,” Stu teases, poking his stomach, making him flinch.
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Maybe I should do it more, try and build up your resistance. Remember, we can’t afford any mistakes!”
Billy swats his hand, still giggling. “Goodnight, dumbass.”
“Night, giggles.”
He doesn’t protest the nickname, nor Stu’s suggestion that this will happen again. Stu takes this as a good sign. He falls asleep to the steady rhythm of Billy’s breathing, hoping that this is just the start.
Summary: A bad horror film leaves Stu seeking entertainment in other forms, at the expense of Billy. (Thank you to the person who suggested I use the film Ghoulies as the movie in this fic!! Here is a YouTube link to the tickle scene in this movie, it is...Something for sure!! I haven’t seen the whole movie btw, just that clip as well as reading a few articles about it, so sorry if I’ve gotten any of the lore wrong. Regardless, it has an 8% on Rotten Tomatoes, so...)
As usual, Stu’s parents aren’t home, and he is filling the silence with the sounds of beer cans cracking open, hands rustling in the bowl of popcorn, girlish screams from the television speakers, and Billy’s commentary from the couch beside him.
After making their way through all the classic horror films, the boys have resorted to watching whatever they can find, whether they end up being fantastic deep cuts, or they absolutely suck, but joking about it makes it worth the watch.
Tonight’s movie is proving to be the latter. It’s a film called “Ghoulies” from ‘85, and it’s…Well, it’s keeping them entertained, for sure, but there is nothing disturbing (nor inspiring) about it. The scares are cheap, and the dialogue is atrocious.
Billy comments that the main chick, Donna, is kind of hot. Stu hums in agreement, but his heart isn’t quite in it. When the guy takes her out by the lake, though, their interests are piqued. This should be the part where Donna loses her chance of becoming the final girl, where she loses her virginity to the first schmuck who tries, and both the teens die a terrible death for daring to engage in premarital sex.
But that’s not what happens at all. Sure, it’s PG-13, but they were expecting at least a little action. But no, Donna and Mark stay fully-clothed and…Well, Stu snorts out a laugh as the kid starts tickling her instead of trying to bang her.
“This might be the worst movie that we’ve ever watched,” Billy says. His tone is deadpan, but there’s a smirk tugging on his lips.
“Oh, by far,” Stu agrees. “It’s not scary, and it’s not sexy. You can be missing one, but not both.”
Donna on screen is shrieking, begging Mark to stop tickling her. The scene feels eternally long, and since the screaming is that of laughter rather than fear, it feels much more ear-splitting than usual.
Stu looks over and sees Billy’s face screwed up in annoyance, and that sort of moping will just not do. Sure, the film sucks, but is good company not enough to make the guy happy?
“What a way to seduce a girl, eh?” Stu says, trying to crack some jokes and lighten the mood. “Tatum would nail me in the balls if I tried that.”
Billy just exhales through his nose in amusement, and Stu decides that isn’t enough.
“I mean, dude’s got no game. What did he say to her?”
“In the creepy voice? I dunno, I think he called her a little girl though, which is fucking weird.”
“Gross. She seems to like him, though. Maybe we should be taking notes,” Stu says, placing his beer down on the coffee table. They’re basically ignoring the movie by now, and he’s overcome with the strange desire to touch his best friend in that moment, to make him laugh like the girl in the movie, and that weird-ass scene gave him perfect inspiration on how to do so.
He and Billy have been friends since middle school, and Stu’s seen sides of him that no one else has. He’s pretty sure he’s the only person who has ever seen Billy cry, other than his parents. He’s the only person that knows Billy used to be scared of the dark, or that his mom had to sleep in his bed with him until he was ten because of that fear.
And, of course, he knows about the more fucked up shit that goes on in Billy’s head. He’s seen it first hand.
Stu also knows that Billy is ticklish, something he found out by accident and rarely used to his advantage, because last time he tried, he’d ended up with a pretty gnarly bruise on his jaw. But the risk seems worth it at that moment, so Stu takes his chances.
“Quit looking so miserable. The movie is shit, but I’m not,” Stu teases. Trying to mimic the weird, high-pitched voice the guy in the movie had adopted, he continues. “Cheer up, little boy!”
He reaches out a hand and prods at Billy’s stomach, which makes Billy shove at his hand with a suppressed huff of laughter.
“Fuck off,” he says.
Stu does not fuck off. Instead, he scoots closer on the couch, effectively trapping Billy between the arm of the couch and his body, and continuing to wiggle his long fingers against Billy’s stomach.
The light of the television illuminates Billy’s scrunched up expression, trying to hold back his laugh and seem pissed at Stu’s immaturity, but it only lasts a few moments before the bright, boyish giggles that are so unlike his personality come spilling out.
Stu grins in triumph. Billy’s actually sort of adorable when you get him like this: Guard down, acting his age, letting loose. He squirms like a fish on a hook, and Stu has to dodge his flailing limbs. His hair falls messily into his face, his cheeks look flushed.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you—” he grits out, but it doesn’t sound intimidating at all.
“No you won’t,” Stu replies. “You’d miss me too much.”
Billy lets out a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine, before dissolving into laughter again as Stu’s fingers dance up his sides. It isn’t until his ribs become a target that Billy truly fights back, grabbing at Stu’s wrists and trying to shove his hands away.
Stu takes that as a sign to back off, because although it was a risk he willingly took, leaving this without injury is still the preferable outcome. He watches with a grin as Billy catches his breath, arms wrapped protectively around his middle.
“You’re an asshole,” Billy says.
“I know,” Stu replies.
Their eyes meet for a moment, and Stu feels his face flush for reasons he isn’t quite ready to confront.
By the time they look back up at the screen, Mark and Donna are dead and they’ve completely lost track of the plot. Neither of them are complaining, because it was a fucking dumb plot to begin with. Leaving the crushed cans and empty bowl behind, the two boys climb the stairs and crash into Stu’s bed for the night, a common occurrence that somehow feels different this time, like something between them has shifted, just enough to make Stu’s heart skip a beat when Billy falls asleep with his face pressed into Stu’s shoulder.
Like this, he looks innocent. He looks beautiful.
Stu makes a mental note to research other horror films with tickle scenes in them, just in case he needs an excuse to hear that giggle again. Even if the movies suck, spending time with Billy is worth all the shitty scares in Hollywood.
