A Lesson Learned- Tickle Fic
@softer-sunny @nyforceuser @secretly-tword-obsessed I loved the star wars content y'all do, and thought you might enjoy! (Sorry if this tag bothers you, I can totally remove it if youd like)
"I regret introducing you guys.”
“It's not my fault you were such an embarrassing cadet. Like that time during a training sim where you-”
“Bly. Do you ever shut up?”
“Hey, have some respect. That's your ori’vod you're speaking to.”
“Fuck you, Boil.”
The man snickers.
He's lucky Cody doesn't have his blaster on him right now.
He doesn't think he could resist the urge to shoot his brother, if only to stop him from spilling any more humiliating secrets.
It was a collaborative mission, and the good commander found himself occupying the same ship as a couple batchmates. Wolffe’s pack and Bly’s battalion were set to join them for several rotations, and they decided to take advantage of their free time before it all inevitably goes to hell. Unfortunately for Cody, his batchmate's version of “hanging out” is telling his troopers about their shared childhood…and all the dumb things their marshal commander did as a tubie. Wolffe just sits back, occasionally adding on a detail or two, each somehow more embarrassing than the last. Waxer and Boil are listening intently; he thinks he even saw one of them taking notes at some point. Bly was giving an animated recollection of the time after training where a very concussed Cody called Alpha-17 “dad.” As if he could ever forget. Cody can feel his patience running thin.
“-and then he goes ‘stop worryin’ about me, dad,’ and immediately passes out. Funniest thing I've ever seen-”
“Don't forget how he drooled on Alpha’s shoulder while being carried to the medbay.”
“Oh, yeah. How could I leave that out?”
Cody frowns, giving the most deadpan expression he can manage.
"Stop scowling at me, man.” Waxer groans. “Your face is gonna get stuck that way. Or maybe it already has, maybe that's why you never look happy.”
“Believe it or not, the sourpuss can smile.”
“Cody? Smiling? Are we talking about the same vod?”
Said man rolls his eyes.
“It seems impossible, I know, but he is capable of it- laughing too.” Bly says.
“Blasphemy. Lies. I’ll believe it when I see it.” Waxer’s face is set in faux seriousness.
“It can be kinda difficult, but there are a couple things that get him to crack.” His face lights up. Cody doesn't like that look. “Oh my god, Wolffe. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
The commander eyes him up and down and smirks. His blood runs cold. They wouldn't possibly- no. They wouldn't.
“I think so. Cody, c’mere.”
Fuck. They would.
“I don't think I want to.”
“Come on, what’re you so afraid of?”
There's a moment where no one dares make a move. Then Cody bolts in the opposite direction like his life’s on the line. He’s immediately tackled by Wolffe, already used to his brother being a flight risk. They wrestle to the ground, all kicks and sharp elbows. Bly makes himself known, quickly slotting his arms under Cody's own, helping his brother pin him down. He pulls Cody taut so that he's near flat on his back. He almost catches an elbow to the chin, but the payoff will soon be worth it.
“You should know by now that there's no escaping us.”
“A tragedy. I pray everyday for some peace and quiet.”
“Uh, guys? What’s going on?” Boil asks, clearly missing something. Wolffe chuckles. The dangerous glint in his eyes would've killed a lesser man.
“You want proof this stick in the mud can smile, huh? Well, here's your proof, soldier.”
He digs his fingers into his brother’s ribs, and Cody slams his mouth shut, choking on the protest he had ready. His body twists and turns, trying to escape the electric sparks that dance up his torso. Dammit. He can already feel the corners of his lips twitching upwards.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Waxer mumbles.
“Holy kriff, the commander’s ticklish?!” Boil looks absolutely delighted. “Oh, this is incredible.”
“Ngh! D-dead to me. All of you,” Cody grits out, a grin finally breaking out on his face.
“Heyyy, there's those pearly whites! Ain't he adorable, vode?” Bly coos, smirking at how his face reddens. His eyes gesture at Wolffe, who instantly understands. “I think I'd like to hear some laughter, though. Take it away, Wolffe.”
The clone suddenly darts his hands behind him, pinching at the commander's knees. Cody lets out a yelp unfit for a war-hardened soldier, huffing quiet giggles that quickly rises in pitch and volume.
“Ah! Shihit! Wolffe! Wolffehe, stohop!”
“You were right. This is adorable.”
“What can I say, I’m a man of my word.”
“Stop acting lihike I’m not hehehere!”
“Did you guys just hear something?”
“Ohohoh, eat sHIT-” He's cut off by the hands switching to squeezing his thighs. “Wolffe nohohoHO!”
Each squeeze is accompanied by a swarm of tingles; it's unbearable, but he can't lift his legs with his asshole of a brother sitting on his hips. He settles for scraping his shoes against the floor in desperation. He really wishes standard issue shoes had more traction.
Bly smiles down at his vod’ika, distracted by the rare sound of his laughter. It sounds like home, with its warm timbre and the way his voice gets higher when their fingers graze someplace sensitive. Turns out, he shouldn't have been reminiscing with a highly trained soldier in his arms. Cody finally elbows him in the chin, using the opening to squeeze out from under Wolffe and try to make a run for it. Try being the key word. Bly recovers quick, whirling around and pouncing on the man's back while he's trying to stand. Cody ends up on his stomach this time. He groans.
“Maker, I need new brothers.”
“You don't mean that,” Bly says, rolling up his sleeves. “You love us. Maybe not after this, though. Hey, Waxer, Boil. Do you wanna learn a trick to get commander killjoy to loosen up a little?”
“Hell yes.”
“Boy, do I.”
Now that makes Cody's eyes widen. He can feel the anticipation creeping up on him, making his hairs stand on end.
“Hold on a minute-”
“Sorry, Codes. It's two against one. You’ve been outvoted, vod.” Bly says, solemn.
His soon-to-be victim hides his face in crossed arms. He's so fucked. Like, royally fucked. All he can do is accept his fate.
And then Bly starts pushing his shirt up and his acceptance turns to panic.
“Wait. Waitwaitwait. Bly plea-” His hands press against the tile, trying to push himself up, but to no avail. Instead of begging, the noise that comes out of his mouth is somehow even more embarrassing. A high pitched squeak rings out, pulled from his lips by a finger running up his spine. The room is silent before his brothers burst into laughter. Okay, no. He's hiding his face again.
“Oho my god! How’d you even make that sound?”
“Stop talking,” he grumbles behind his arms.
“That's not even the best part. Watch.”
Nothing could've prepared him for the sensation of ten fingers scribbling across his bare shoulder blades, not even ARC training. It was like a thousand volts shooting up his back. He can't hold in his laughter even if he tries, so Cody shoves his face deeper into his arms, trying to become one with the floor. Meanwhile, the men marvel at the waves of boyish giggles that pour from his lips, a stark contrast from the stoic image he usually upholds.
“Ah-shihihiHIt! Gehet ohohoff!” He whines.
“Oh yeah,” Bly says, not even looking up from where his eyes are trained on Cody's worst spots. “This is a great way to get him to stop being a workaholic. Tires him out, too.”
When he escapes, they are in so much trouble. His giggles become frantic when Bly grinds a knuckle into his back dimples. He wonders if he can get them court martialed for this.
“I once got him to fork over his lunch ration by doing this,” Wolffe comments, kneeling at his side to loom over him, Bly still keeping him pinned.Needless to say, Cody loses his shit when his traitor of a brother places a raspberry on that spot riiiiight below his shoulder blades.
“FUCK! FUHUHUHUCK! STAHAHA!”
He's given up on trying to salvage his dignity. It's been shattered, stomped on, absolutely destroyed by now. His pleas aren't even coherent with how hard he's cackling. One of his hands moves to clutch at his hair, just for something to grab on to.
“I’m not sure if the regulations approve that sort of language, sir.” That's it, Waxer's on fresher duty for the next month.
Thankfully, Wolffe has mercy before he starts wheezing, ruffling his hair. Bly gets up and takes a seat beside him, patting his shoulder. Cody can't be bothered to swat them off.
“So,” Bly starts, “I presume this experience was very informative, boys?”
“Oh, yes. We’ve been taking notes.”
They ignore whatever insult Cody mumbles into his arms, still face down on the floor. Fuck, they were right. He is tired; his bunk sounds real comfortable right about now.
“I do hope you enjoy your rest, Commander.” A distinct coruscanti accent has everyone turning heads.
The high general of the 212th battalion is leaning against the doorframe, a warm smile on his lips. It looks good there, he thinks. Cody's face flushes. The vode chuckle, giving him a knowing look.
“And before you ask, I have been standing here for quite a while, but don't let me ruin your fun,” he turns to exit, but stops before he leaves their sight.
“Oh, and commander?”
Cody responds with a flustered sound.
“You may want to seek out Helix, your face is a tad red.”
God, he's never going to live this down.