Summary: Intergalactic whiskey will never taste like Earth whiskey. Jim knows that, and Bones certainly knows that.
A/N: to the anon that requested Star Trek or Top Gun <3
“Jim, it would be illogical to allow Doctor McCoy to chase us for any longer,” Spock says, hand in Jim’s as he lags ever so slightly behind him. “I do believe that Doctor McCoy will reach us eventually.”
“You don’t understand, Spock,” Jim says, panting as he continues to run, Bones hot on their trail, “I finished his Earth whiskey, his whiskey from Earth.”
“Captain, whiskey can be ordered or acquired from any of the neighbouring planets,” Spock says, slowing down. Of course Jim slows to accompany him, of course he does.
“You don’t get it, Spock. That stuff is aged on Earth with Earth wood. Bones hates the taste of whiskey aged with the artificial stuff,” Jim explains, noticing Bones to be getting closer and closer as they run through the hallways of The Enterprise, “we won’t be back on Earth for another year, Spock.”
“I believe that humans would say you are ‘screwed,’ Captain,” Spock comes to a complete stop, and of course, Jim stops too. He’d say it’s to protect Spock from Bones’ wrath, but of course, it’s not that simple.
There’s only a mere five seconds between them stopping and Jim being potato-sacked over Bones’ shoulder, unsure if his punishment will happen in his quarters or Bones’, but then again, they’re kind of the same at this point in their friendship.
As he’s carried away, batting at Bones’ back for hopes of mercy, he sees the cute, lopsided smile on Spock’s face, looks into his knowing eyes. “Spock, you traitor!”
Jim spends the entire two minute journey trying to make Bones as uncomfortable as possible, squirming, pleading, and throwing his fists against his best friend’s back. Nearly the moment the door to Bones’ quarters opens, he’s being thrown onto the couch, landing with a punched-out ‘oof’.
“Bohones nohoho, c’mon!” Jim pleads, putting his hands up in between the two of them as Bones straddles his hips.
“I’m not even touchin’ ya, kid,” Bones says fondly, reaching a hand up to ruffle Jim’s hair.
“Stop! Juhust let me go! Ihihi’m sorry!” Jim reasons, shaking his head to dismount Bones’ hand.
“No way, kid,” Bones feigns a frown, “that Earth whiskey ain’t goin’ to make up for itself, I’ll have to drink that intergalactic slime shit for the next year because of you.”
“Ihihi’m sorry! I’ll request we go back to Earth early!”
“I’d never let you jeopardise a mission, Jim, especially the first five-year expedition in Fleet history,” Bones sighs, “but I would let you suffer for it.”
“Bohones NOHOHOHO!” Bones’ hands finally go to work, latching onto Jim’s hips, going in for the kill as soon as he starts.
“No- I- Ple-“ Jim tries to get something, anything out, but he’s overtaken by his own hearty laughter, his entire body shaking as he starts to burn pink to his ears.
Bones can’t help but laugh along, shaking his head at Jim’s adorable reactions, “you did something pretty bad, kid. I ought to just stay here the entire time.”
Jim’s eyes shoot open, shaking his head urgently, “IHIHIHI’D DIHIHIE!”
“Well, then tell me where to go, Jim.” Bones smirks as Jim goes impossibly more red, a sheepish expression on his face.
“AHAHAHANAYWHERE EHEHEHELSE!”
“Not an answer,” Bones says, drilling in.
Jim shrieks, arching his back but only making the tickling worse as a result. “AHAHA- I- TUHUHUMMY!”
“Better,“ Bones chuckles, hands going up to Jim’s tummy. His tickling becomes incredibly soft, spidering over Jim’s stomach in the way he usually likes when he’s trying to sleep. Now, however, the soft tickling is a thousand times more flustering than it is peaceful. He giggles like a child, his head back and his nose scrunched.
“Nohoho!” He hiccups, trying to bat away Bones’ hands.
“Ready for another spot, kid?” Bones asks, pushing Jim’s hand away.
“Plehehease stohohop!” Jim cries.
“Alright, neck it is then.”
Jim positively screams when Bones scratches at his collarbones, trying to put his head down but only succeeding in trapping Bones’ fingers. He hiccups, snorts, and begs, but none of it is enough to stop Bones.
“I CAHAHAN’T I CAHAHAHAN’T!” Jim screams, kicking out and hands going everywhere.
“Alright, alright, kid. You’re too damn cute and too damn ticklish for your own good.” Bones’ hands slow down, going back up to Jim’s hair to scratch his head, dismounting Jim to put his head in Bones’ lap.
“Ihihi-“ Jim starts, opening his eyes, “I ahaham sorry, Bohohones, reheheally. I thohohought it was the stuhuhuff from the last planet, I shohohould’ve read the label.”
“No worries, Jim. It’s just liquor,” Bone says, his hand wandering slightly and nicking Jim’s ear, causing an adorable snort from the blonde, “I’ll drink the gross stuff with you, but you’re buying me a bottle when we get back next year.”
“Would that make me an enabler?” Jim says, stray giggles still flowing as his eyes slowly shut.
“Oh hush, go to sleep, you damn infant.”
Jim giggles, and within minutes he’s asleep in his best friend’s lap, head pushing closer to Bones’ hand on his head even in his slumber.
Kirk's got a super ticklish belly and the entire ship knows it at this point. He can expect at least three subtle pokes in passing every day.
You‘re an angel in disguise. 🥺 Thank you so much for this! 💗 This is so cute! Now just imagine him flinching and giggling, giving everyone a really „fed up“ look but excuse you Jim your smile is giving you away
Not a Word of This to Anyone! (Or: A Ticklish Spa Day)
Part 2: Full Body Massage
A Star Trek Tickle Fic
Fandom: Star Trek TOS / AOS
Characters: Leonard Bones McCoy, James T. Kirk (McKirk at a stretch), Nyota Uhura, Christine Chapel
Warnings: Tickling (turning into a non-con situation)
Word Count: 5,423
Summary:
Kirk and McCoy get roped into joining Chapel and Uhura on a spa day, which turns out to be a rather ticklish experience. They seriously regret their decision as they helplessly suffer through a pedicure and a full body massage.
Read Part 1: Pedicure here
Inspired by this gif:
(although I can actually picture AOS Kirk and McCoy even better in this one)
“We’re not due for our facials for another hour,” Uhura grinned. “Maybe we’d better stay close, right here outside their treatment room, and have some more of this delicious herbal tea? Just in case the rest of their bodies is as ticklish as their feet, and they need us to rescue them?”
Giving her friend an appraising look, Chapel asked, “Why do I get the impression that you’re secretly hoping for the massage to turn out as ticklish as the pedicure, and just want to be here to listen to their helpless laughter?”
Uhura looked away and blushed, then mumbled, “It was quite hot to watch, though, wasn’t it? Them being so incredibly ticklish, and those girls shamelessly taking advantage of it, I mean.”
“It certainly was,” Chapel grinned, hardly believing that Uhura obviously had a thing for tickling, too. “And going by the naughty wink Leonard’s pedicurist gave us, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear some serious laughter again any minute now.”
“Mhm, my thoughts exactly,” Uhura agreed, “let’s get some tea and make ourselves comfortable out here in the sun. This resort is so beautiful! But let’s hurry, I wouldn’t want to miss anything. Jim’s laughter is just too cute! I wish I could tickle him myself.”
‘And you haven’t even heard him in full hysterics yet,’ Chapel thought, grinning to herself as she remembered all the times she’d witnessed the captain roaring with uncontrollable laughter in sickbay, even though McCoy had clearly tried his hardest not to tickle him during his abdominal examinations.
“Actually, I found Leonard’s reactions even more delightful,” the nurse countered. “He was so adorably embarrassed about being ticklish, yet completely helpless to stop himself from thrashing around and laughing his head off.”
oOoOoOoOoOo
Kirk and McCoy stripped down to their briefs as requested, and climbed onto the two massage tables that were standing side by side in the centre of the room.
“Face down please, gentlemen!” McCoy’s pedicurist, who had introduced herself as Pixie, instructed. “Apart from the big hole for your face, you’ll find that you can thread your hands comfortably through the little gaps between the two parts of the armrests.”
The two men obliged, shifting around until they felt comfortable, and then tried to relax for the upcoming massage.
After a few moments, McCoy felt two warm, oily hands starting to gently stroke his neck and back, from his spine to his shoulders. And although it was a very light touch, certainly bordering on ticklish on the doctor’s sensitive skin, it actually felt very nice and surprisingly relaxing. Closing his eyes contentedly, as Pixie lightly raked her fingers in slow waves over his back, he found himself practically purring with pleasure, and heard similar sounds coming from Jim on the table next to him.
But as Pixie’s hands gradually travelled further down his back, he began to wish she’d apply a little more pressure, biting his lip as he was reminded just how ticklish the small of his back was. With every feathering stroke across his lumbar area, his body tensed up a little more, and he found it harder and harder to keep his breathing even, desperately willing her to move upwards again, and hoping he’d be able to stand the irritating touches until she did.
Naturally, she lingered on his lower back for an excruciating eternity, and, clamping his mouth shut, McCoy couldn't help flinching a little every time the devious fingers returned to the spots that really bothered him, seriously making him want to arch his back and twist out of reach. By the time the ticklish touches were finally inching up his harried back again, the doctor was ready to crawl out of his skin, taking shallow breaths and hardly able to hold back the giggles any longer.
“Don’t tell me even your back is ticklish!” Pixie chuckled, but thankfully kept moving her hands towards safer areas when McCoy chose to ignore her, the feathering fingers slowly wandering back up to his neck and shoulders, where he could actually enjoy their touches.
As McCoy gradually relaxed again, Kirk started to giggle next to him.
“A little more firmly, please,” the captain all but squeaked, and the doctor could hear him squirming around on his table. “You’re tickling me!”
“Relax, Captain,” Rosie, Kirk’s pedicurist-turned-massage therapist drawled. “It’s supposed to be soft and gentle. This technique has proven far more effective than the high-pressure muscle kneading you’re probably used to.”
“How can I relax when you keep tickling me?” the captain spluttered, his giggles turning into guffaws.
McCoy didn’t catch the last of Kirk’s words, as he got distracted by Pixie’s fingers now grazing his sides every time she fanned them from his spine outwards and back, running her hands in ever wider strokes up and down his back. Just barely, and probably not even deliberately, but his sides were so horribly ticklish, there was no way he could enjoy the massage anymore.
Too embarrassed to admit how much it tickled and ask her to stop the harrowing touches, the doctor gritted his teeth and frantically tried to suppress the involuntary jerks of his body every time Pixie’s fingers brushed his sides. God, he hated being tickled. And he hated being so helplessly, excruciatingly ticklish.
Desperately holding back the laughter, the doctor got more and more restless as Pixie continued to lightly trail her fingernails a little further around his sensitive sides with every stroke, her touch getting more unbearable the closer it came to his belly. Finally, he just couldn't handle it anymore and let out a gasp and a snort, before dissolving into bright, helpless laughter, his body spasming under the devilish touches, and ticklish tears spilling from his eyes.
Next to him, Kirk wasn’t faring any better. The captain was shaking with helpless mirth, as Rosie’s fingers inflicted serious tickle torture on his body.
“Don’t!” the captain cried out between bouts of laughter. “It tickles too mu-hu-hu-huch!”
“But you asked for more pressure,” Rosie smiled innocently, continuing her torturous ministrations. “You said my touch was too light and therefore ticklish. Make up your mind, Captain! You just asked me to knead, and not feather, remember?”
“But not my ri-hi-hi-hibs!” Kirk was cackling away in earnest now, as Rosie gleefully clawed and prodded up and down his sensitive sides and ribs, while Pixie, at the other table, elicited peals of impotent laughter from a frenzied McCoy, fiendishly scribbling her fingers all over the doctor’s sides and every inch of his belly she could access underneath him, dropping every pretence of not doing it on purpose.
Relenting a little when the captain started to cough, Rosie and Pixie let the men catch their breath, rubbing their backs with proper massage strokes and waiting for them to calm down again.
“You’re really quite the ticklish pair, aren’t you?” Pixie giggled, and Rosie wickedly added, “I wonder, where else they might be ticklish!”
And before McCoy had the chance to pull himself back together enough to even think about getting up and escaping his unbearable predicament, Pixie leaned down, lightly ran a devious finger around his waist, from his belly to the small of his back and on to the other side of his belly, and murmured in his ear, “Now tell me, Dr. McCoy, where are you and your captain most ticklish?”
The doctor tensed up, shivering under the harrowing touch, but determined not to break again and give this sadistic woman the satisfaction of showing how torturous a single fingernail tracing his waistline was for him. He couldn't quite stop his muscles from twitching at the ticklish sensations, though.
Anyway, McCoy was spared from having to come up with a clever retort, when Rosie happened upon Kirk’s absolutely worst spot, and the captain erupted into hysterical laughter, frantically, and almost unintelligibly, begging for mercy in between howls of ticklish agony.
“Not there! AAAAHAHAHAHA! Anywhere but there! AAAHAHAHA! Please STOHOHOHOHP! God, NOHOHOHOHO! I really can’t AAAAHAHAHAH stand this! AAAHAHAHAH! I’m dying! AAAHAHAHAH! Too ticklish! AAAAHAHAHAH! Mercy! AAAAHAHAHAH! Please! AAAAHAHAHAH! Bones! AAAAHAHAHAH!"
“Gosh, I think I struck gold there,” Rosie exclaimed happily as Pixie watched in awe. “What a ticklish, ticklish belly the captain has! And there I thought his feet were bad.”
Forgetting his own ticklish predicament for a moment, McCoy grew seriously angry now and demanded of the women to stop their vicious assault. This wasn’t funny anymore. Despite him lying on his stomach, Rosie had found out how unbearably ticklish Jim was on his belly. But not just that, by the sound of him, she had also discovered his absolute death spots. The ones that Leonard had to avoid at all costs during physical exams, knowing only too well, as Kirk’s doctor and friend, how he couldn't stand to be touched there at all.
Watching his friend bucking and thrashing violently, while desperately begging for mercy through his howls of tortured laughter as Rosie fiendishly reached underneath Jim’s belly from both sides and evilly exploited the newly found weak spots, McCoy made to get off his table in order to hurry over to help Jim and put an end to this madness. Only to discover that he couldn't, because his arms were stuck in the armrests.
That was when fury gave way to panic, as the doctor realised in horror, that his own death spots were now completely exposed and vulnerable, too. This whole scenario was his very worst nightmare come true.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Outside the treatment room, Uhura and Chapel were practically glued to the door, enraptured by the development inside. Quite obviously, Kirk and McCoy had a lot of tickle spots, which the girls seemed to be discovering one after the other. And even worse ones than their feet, it appeared, judging from how the giggles and mild laughter from the first few minutes of the “massage” had grown into full-blown hysterics.
Especially Kirk’s, who was currently beside himself with ticklish hilarity, actually begging for mercy, and making the women wonder what exactly had elicited this kind of crazed laughter from the captain.
“Leave his belly alone!” they heard McCoy roar, sounding truly pissed off. “Can’t you see he’s had enough? That he really can’t stand it there? You’re killing him!”
“So, Jim’s belly, eh?” Uhura turned to Chapel, raising an amused eyebrow, her eyes sparkling with glee over this new piece of information.
“Deathly,” Christine confirmed, trying to picture Kirk being purposely tickled on his belly, when even just McCoy’s careful and considerate touches had been enough to tickle him out of his mind and render him completely helpless. “You have no idea!”
“You knew?” Uhura gaped at her friend.
“I am the head nurse,” Chapel smiled by way of explanation.
“Oh. My. God. He sounds hysterical. Is his belly really that bad?” Uhura was still trying to get her head around the captain being so insanely ticklish.
“Off the charts,” Christine nodded.
“Good, they stopped,” Uhura was actually relieved. “For a moment there, they almost had me worried about Jim. McCoy sounded genuinely concerned. Certainly angry enough to bite their heads off. Or maybe he was just on edge, because there are still some similarly torturous tickle spots waiting to be discovered on his own body?”
The mischievous gleam was back in Uhura’s eyes.
“Well, the good doctor certainly knows how acutely ticklish the captain’s belly is,” Chapel chuckled. “He had to perform a number of abdomen checks over the years.”
Uhura smirked, trying to picture super-ticklish Kirk and McCoy in sickbay, the latter attempting to perform an actual physical on a frantically cackling and squirming captain.
“At least he got those “tickle-therapists” to stand down,” she smiled. “Made them realise that it was really too much for poor Jim to take.”
“Or the captain might have fallen into silent laughter,” Chapel smirked mischievously. “He sometimes does, when his belly gets tickled too long.”
Uhura frowned. “You think he’s all right?”
“Sure. Leonard is very protective of Jim. He’d never let them seriously torture him. Besides, their time is nearly up, anyway.”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth, than McCoy suddenly started to laugh hysterically, too.
“Is that the doctor squealing like a little girl?” Uhura asked taken aback. Although it was unmistakably Leonard’s voice, she’d never heard him like that. “Sounds like they hit quite a death spot there!”
Mesmerised, the two friends leaned in closer, straining to hear everything that was going on behind that door.
Shrieking, cackling, more cackling.
Shrieking, cackling, more cackling.
McCoy was unquestionably in ticklish agony.
Then one of the therapists’ voices, softly counting.
“Three…”
Shrieking, cackling, more cackling.
“Four…”
“Maybe she’s counting his toes?” Uhura took a guess. “Remember how badly he was suffering during the pedicure? His feet are awfully ticklish, they’re surely hard to beat.”
Shrieking, cackling, more cackling.
Shrieking, cackling, more cackling.
Shrieking, cackling, more cackling.
“Seven…”
“Ok, not the toes then,” Uhura giggled, eager to know where the doctor could be more ticklish than on his feet.
“I think she’s counting his ribs,” Chapel suggested, then shuddered. “My dad used to do that to me.”
“Yeah, you might be right,” Uhura agreed, fascinated by McCoy’s audibly unendurable ordeal. “Oh my God, someone has seriously ticklish ribs.”
oOoOoOoOoOo
McCoy was in tickle hell. He’d totally forgotten how insanely ticklish he really was. And with Jim helpless with ticklish laughter beside him, too, he was suddenly afraid they might actually die in this very room today. All the dangers and diseases space held, that he’d always been afraid of, and now he was getting himself tickled to death on shore leave.
He’d scared Rosie into giving Kirk a break from the nightmare of having his hyper-sensitive and helplessly exposed belly mercilessly tickled while not being able to do a damn thing to protect it. But once the captain had recovered, she’d started tickling him with renewed vigour. Exploring Jim’s body for further tickle spots, she kept coming back to his ridiculously ticklish belly. It was just too good a spot, and she clearly enjoyed inflicting such unbearably ticklish agony on the poor man.
But now that Pixie was devilishly scouring every inch of McCoy’s own body for more tickle spots, the doctor couldn't even help himself anymore, let alone his suffering friend. After the young woman had discovered the ticklish distress she could cause the doctor with the lightest touches on his sides, she was just finding out how much worse his ribs were, and what incredible fun it was for her to “count” them.
Starting from the bottom, she fiendishly took her time to poke and scratch every single rib, and then lingered even longer on the especially harrowing spots in between, drilling a diabolical finger between each pair of ribs on either side, making the doctor howl and roar and buck and thrash and generally die laughing while longing to jump out of his skin.
“What’s wrong with you?” McCoy barked, when he was finally able to form words again, before being consumed by uncontrollable laughter once more.
“Oh don’t be so dramatic, Doctor,” Pixie rolled her eyes, but relented a little anyway, just lightly tapping her fingers on the pair of ribs she’d just counted, which still tickled terribly enough. “We’re just having a little fun.
“Well it’s no fun for us,” Kirk wheezed, finding his voice again as Rosie eased up on his belly. “Let us go!”
“Not yet, we can’t,” Rosie laughed, taking her fingers off his belly and attacking his armpits and the back of his thighs instead, setting the captain off cackling again. “We still have 15 minutes left.”
“You’re just so much fun to tickle,” Pixie eagerly added. “I knew right at the pedicure how much fun a massage would be. It’s not often that we get such good-looking and deliciously, torturously ticklish men out here.” Poking McCoy’s ribs with every word for emphasis, she nearly made him fall off the table.
Then Pixie let her fingers glide back down to molest the doctor’s sides and lower back with feathering touches again, which was awful, but at least away from his ribs and just about bearable, while Rosie took to alternating between Kirk’s belly and armpits, which were horrendously ticklish as well, but anywhere was better than his belly. And while the captain was hardly able to stand the tickling in his underarms, nor on his thighs or feet, which she was including now, too, he always dreaded the moment she’d go back to his belly. Which she unfailingly did once every minute or so.
As soon as Pixie noticed that her “patient” had recovered and was merely giggling anymore, she went straight back to McCoy’s ribs, a wicked grin on her face.
“Let’s start counting from the bottom again,” she announced cheerfully, “because it’s just so much fun!”
McCoy groaned, although it came out rather as a shriek, when the devilish fingers started drilling into the space between his bottom ribs once more. After less than five seconds, the doctor was screaming laughter again, unable to deal with the diabolical tickling. And he actually started to hyperventilate as the tormenting fingers made their ticklish way upwards, their destination clearly being the spot the doctor feared more than anything else, knowing he simply couldn’t survive being tickled there like this.
“No, please, not there,” he begged between long bouts of uncontrollable laughter, then stupidly cried, “It tickles, it tickles!” much to Pixie’s amusement, who chuckled, “It does, doesn’t it?” as she continued to “count”.
When she was halfway up McCoy’s sides, she asked in a curious tone, “Is it just me? Or are you really getting even more ticklish the higher I go?”
McCoy was helpless with laughter now and couldn't get a word out if he wanted to.
“Well, if you’re not telling me, I guess I’ll just have to find out myself,” Pixie concluded and happily continued on her way up the doctor’s ticklish ribs.
The tickle torture became unbearable, and McCoy was losing all coherent thought, getting more hysterical the closer the wicked hands came to his pits and blabbering incoherent pleas for mercy whenever he could find enough breath.
“Don’t go any higher, please! *wheeze* You don’t understand! GAH-HAHA! I’ll die! BAWAHAHAH! Not funny! *wheeze* Please don’t! HUH-HUH-HUH! Can’t stand it there! AAAAHAHAHAH! Insanely ticklish there! *wheeze* Really, please! *wheeze* This is torture! GAH-HAHA-HAH! No, no, no, you don’t understand! HAHAHA! Not just a little ticklish there! BAWAHAH! More of a *wheeze* pathological *wheeze’ condition! OHOH-HOHOHOH! Hypersensitivity! HUH-HUH-HUH! I’ll go insane, if you *wheeze* tickle me there! EEEEH! Stop! No higher! AAAAAHAHAHAH!"
McCoy went ballistic when Pixie finally reached his underarms, exploding into bellowing laughter and thinking he’d die, as she scribbled and poked around his helpless armpits. And just as he thought it couldn’t get any worse, she stumbled upon his number one death spot and he lost it completely.
Nothing worse than that spot in his underarms, right above his top ribs. No matter how violently he thrashed around, nearly breaking the armrests in the process, he just couldn't pull his arms against his sides to protect himself. He was trapped in the worst possible and most vulnerable position he could imagine. And soon too weak from laughing to do anything about it anyway.
Even being as ticklish as he was and having suffered many a tickle attack from family and friends when he was younger, McCoy had never been subjected to such cruel and relentless tickle torture. Those girls had gone off the rails, they were in a veritable tickle frenzy, and unless someone came and stopped them, he and Jim were certainly done for.
Through his own heinous torture, the doctor could hear Jim suffer just as much beside him, as Rosie was focused on tormenting the captain’s belly again, killing him with the lightest wriggling of her fingers, her nails deviously fluttering up and down his sides and as far as they could go underneath his belly as he frantically rocked from side to side.
Thankfully, when she realised that he had actual difficulties breathing, Pixie eased up on McCoy’s underarms and trailed her fingers lightly down his body and legs until she reached his heels, which she knew to be beyond ticklish, too. Kirk, however, was still dying from unbearable belly tickling on the next table.
Knowing they were completely at the mercy of these two tickle fiends, annoyingly helpless and defenceless against their atrocious tickle attacks, McCoy was aware that their only chance was to be calm and diplomatic, and try to reason with the girls. Not an easy feat while being viciously tickled beyond your limits.
“You’ve had your fun,” the doctor panted, clenching his fists and scrunching up his face in an attempt to talk through the harrowing tickles on his soles. “Now just let us go, and …”
He broke off, when the scribbling fingers on his heels sped up, the unbearably ticklish sensation momentarily taking his breath away.
“At least get away from Jim’s belly” he pleaded, snorting and giggling like a maniac, as the hyper-ticklish backs of his knees were suddenly attacked. “Can’t you see that it’s killing him? You’re AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH! NOOOOHOHOHO! PLEASE STOOOHOHOHOP!”
Pixie’s hands had returned to the doctor’s ribs, her fingers going straight up to his worst spots, and instantly rendering him completely powerless again, helpless to do anything but surrender to the hellish torture and fight for breath through his bellowing laughter.
“Leave his underarms alone!” he suddenly heard Kirk bark with real anger, as the captain somehow managed to overcome his own anguish in order to help his friend. “Why are you doing this? AHAHAH-notmythighsplease-AHAHAH! He told you he can’t stand it there! AHAHAH-pleasepleasenotmyfeet-AHAHAH! Can’t you see that this is actual torture for him? AHAHAH-nottheregodimtooticklishthere-AHAHAH!”
It clearly took Kirk a lot of effort to get the words out, as his sensitive thighs, feet, and armpits were randomly attacked, but when Rosie’s devious fingers crept underneath his belly again, aiming right at his worst spots and viciously scrabbling and spidering there, he was thrown right back into tickle hell, way beyond the power of speech or even coherent thought, trapped in torturous silent laughter once again.
For a couple of minutes, the captain and his CMO were suffering in silence side by side, their bodies jerking and shaking with hysterical laughter, but no sound coming out of their wide-open mouths, as the sadistic “therapists” tickled the hell out of their very worst spots and subjected them to the most unbearable as well as humiliating torture of their lives.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Outside, Uhura and Chapel were starting to wonder if the guys actually needed to be rescued. Amused by how unspeakably ticklish Jim and Leonard obviously were, they still thought that their almost incessant laughter had started to sound really desperate and hysterical.
“Those girls sure know how to tickle a man out of his mind,” Chapel said. “To think that two grown, strong, well-trained Starfleet officers can be reduced to helpless laughter like this just by tickling.”
“And I never even knew!” Uhura laughed. “It’ll be really hard to keep myself from “accidentally” brushing against Jim’s belly or Leonard’s ribs in the future. My fingers will constantly be itching to tickle those two dorks.”
“Believe me,” Christine chuckled, “knowing all about people’s tickle spots and not being allowed to take advantage of that knowledge is the worst part of working in sickbay.”
“But do you think they’re all right in there?” Uhura asked, feeling a little bad about drawing so much joy from their friends’ clearly harrowing weakness. “They sounded pretty frantic right now. Maybe they’re even more ticklish than we think? And the girls were already pretty merciless at the pedicure. Maybe they really can’t stand it any longer?”
“What, just because they were laughing their heads off and actually begging for mercy?” Chapel joked, but then sobered. After all, she knew that having his belly tickled was definitely no fun but pure torture for Kirk. And if McCoy’s ribs were really worse than his feet, then being tickled there might indeed be extremely harrowing for him. “Tell you what, Ny. It’s pretty quiet again now, so, who knows? Maybe the guys are finally getting their well-deserved relaxing massage after all, in these final five minutes. But if they start tickling them again in earnest, we’ll go in, all right?”
Uhura nodded, and the two women went back to eavesdropping, both hoping and not hoping to hear some more hysterics. Of course, they didn’t want their friends to suffer, but Jim and Leonard being so insanely ticklish and therefore somehow so vulnerable was just too hot. And their adorable laughter was music to the women’s ears.
It was really quiet inside now. The only thing Uhura and Chapel could hear were the men’s low voices as they seemed to softly discuss their ticklish experience with each other.
“Bones … pfpfpf … so bad … pfpfpf … belly … nails right on spots … pfpfpf … can’t … pfpfpf … way too ticklish … pfpfpf … not there … please … pfpfpf … so ticklish … please … I’m so ticklish … pfpfpf”
“I know Jim … chrchrchr … your belly … bad … chrchrchr … but my … spots … chrchrchr … deadly … torture … chrchrchr … can’t take … chrchrchr … tickles so bad … chrchrchr … killing me … chrchrchr”
What Uhura and Chapel didn’t see, were the ticklish tears running down the men’s faces as they wheezed and thrashed around, still caught in silent laughter and trying to beg for mercy whenever they could draw enough breath.
oOoOoOoOoOo
“Let’s give them a break, Rosie,” Pixie nodded at her friend. “Wouldn’t want them to pass out or anything. How can anyone even be this ticklish?”
“No idea,” Rosie replied, dragging her fingers off the captain’s belly with one final, diabolical wiggle in just the right spot. “I’ve certainly never seen anything like it. I mean, we’re only tickling them, right? And they’re strong and important men. Starfleet officers, no less!”
Kirk and McCoy were just lying there limply, enduring the humiliating teasing, panting and squirming, and desperately hoping that the torturous tickling had come to an end, and that their evil ticklers would finally release them from the massage tables they’d so sneakily been trapped on. But Rosie and Pixie had other ideas.
“Ok, last five minutes,” Rosie announced, just as the men had calmed down a little. “Let’s try something special for the Grand Finale!”
McCoy’s heart sank. He didn’t even want to know what she had in mind. Hard to imagine as it was, but those girls could doubtlessly come up with something even more ticklish than what he and Jim had just been through.
“Let’s give your belly the best tickling yet, Captain, to keep you laughing for a minute while I help out my friend here,” Rosie told a flustered Jim, teasingly fluttering her fingers from his sides to his belly, making him guffaw and buck violently despite stopping short of his death spots.
Then she went to a shelf on the wall and retrieved two large, soft body brushes from a basket, which she fiendishly placed underneath Kirk’s belly right at his sweet spots on either side, so that when he started to wiggle and rock from side to side, they would tickle him exactly where he could least stand it.
And rock from side to side he did, screaming laughter at the first contact of the atrocious brushes against his cursed belly, uselessly trying to escape the devilish bristles that tickled worse than fingers or, in fact, anything the captain had ever felt. It was pure, unadulterated torture.
Leaving the captain to deal with this new, unendurable level of belly tickling, Rosie stepped over to McCoy’s table, and, locking eyes with Pixie behind the unsuspecting ticklish doctor’s back, viciously set to work on his sensitive soles at the same time as Pixie dug into his death spots, right between his armpits and ribs, once again.
It was unbearable. With his two most ticklish spots being so cruelly exploited at once, McCoy went ballistic and actually started to scream for help. Scared – and tickled – to death, he didn’t care anymore who saw him like this or found out about his excruciating ticklishness. And knowing that Jim, still rolling with helpless laughter, was unable to join in his shouts for help, the doctor grew really desperate.
But just as he thought he couldn’t take another second of this vicious torment, the door burst open and Nyota and Christine came barging in, pulling the girls and their diabolical fingers off him and ending his excruciating tickle torture. Poor Jim had to endure a few more seconds of this harrowing ordeal, until Uhura finally discovered what had him in such ticklish hysterics, and pulled the deadly brushes out from under the captain’s abused belly.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Beyond embarrassed, but nevertheless immensely grateful to their friends for having saved them, Kirk and McCoy were frantically trying to free their arms, anxious to avoid finding themselves helplessly exposed and vulnerable to another tickle attack.
“OK guys, massage is over, let’s get out of here!” Chapel exclaimed cheerfully, unable to resist poking the doctor’s ribs and delighting in how that brief touch made him jump.
When he wiggled around on the table, but still didn’t get up, she poked him again, to the same reaction plus an irritated growl, and asked, “What’s taking so long? Come on already!”
“I can’t,” he mumbled, visibly annoyed with his predicament, “You’ll have to help me free my arms.”
Chapel took a closer look, only now realising that McCoy’s hands were stuck in the armrests.
“This?” she chuckled incredulously. “Really? Getting a little tangled up in those flimsy armrests was all it took to render you completely helpless and vulnerable? How ticklish are you?”
“Yeah, yeah, rub it in, Christine,” the doctor grumbled. “Now just give me a hand here, will you?”
“Let’s just hope the Klingons and Romulans don’t get wind of this,” Uhura laughed, and Kirk let out a frustrated groan, he and McCoy turning pale at the very idea, the fear of being captured and tickle-tortured for real, for information, probably forever planted in their minds now.
“So, you really couldn't stop me from doing this to you?” Chapel asked, wickedly poking and clawing at McCoy’s ribs a few more times and eliciting frantic guffaws and some violent thrashing from the doctor.
“Sorry, Leonard, but I had to see it myself to believe it.”
“So, those brushes were really killing you, weren’t they?” Uhura grinned mischievously at Kirk, placing her hands on his sides, seizing her chance while he was still immobilised. “About here? On your belly?” She couldn't help it, she needed to coax that adorable laugh out of him once more. And seeing him practically hit the ceiling and fall into helpless, frenzied laughter from just barely wiggling her fingers against the sides of his belly, was simply the cutest thing ever.
“AAAHAHAHAH! Don’t be mean, Ny! GOD! STOHOHOHOP PLEASE! I can’t! AAAAHAHAHAH! Stop tickling me! AAAAAHAHAHAH!” Kirk spluttered, frantically squirming until she reluctantly stopped her assault.
Pixie and Rosie had long fled from the room, and Chapel and Uhura had stopped their teasing and were helping their friends off the tables and out of their ticklish predicament now. But not without indulging in some more “collateral” tickles, careful to make them look accidental, which wasn’t difficult in the highly sensitised state the men were in, and enjoying every single “accident”.
Once freed, the men quickly threw on their clothes and hurried out the door into the sunshine. They couldn’t get out fast enough, still panting heavily, sweat glistening on their foreheads and running down their necks, repeatedly smoothing down their shirts and trying to brush off the lingering ghost tickles.
“Do you want to press charges?” Uhura asked. “That was pretty unprofessional behaviour.”
“God, no!” the men glanced at each other, horrified, and Kirk gave Uhura and Chapel a stern look. “Not a word of this to anyone!”
“All right,” the women laughed. “We’re not telling a soul. But no more massages for you two! You’re way too ticklish, and we might not always be there to rescue you!”
“No more massages!” Kirk and McCoy promised from the bottom of their hearts. They were certainly never going to set another foot in a spa.
Prompt #11& 18 for Tickletober, requested (forcibly requested?) by @anasticklefics
It’s my personal headcannon that Jim really isn’t ticklish, which frustrates Bones to no end. That is, until you find that ooooooooooone spot, and then all hell breaks loose. I’ve either written a fic like this before, or I’ve read one like this?? But with different characters. I honestly can’t remember, so if I’m stealing anyone’s idea please tell me!
Also, this was not meant to be this long....oops...?
~~~
“I am----going to---kill you---one day!” Bones somehow manages to huff this out, between bouts of strangled laughter as Jim finally finally starts to let up, and slow his dancing fingers down. McCoy is red faced and laughing quietly as Jim finally leaves his ribs alone, in favor of laying on his stomach, chin propped up on a closed fist, as McCoy curls away from him on his small dorm bed.
How they managed to have these epic, and epically one-sided, tickle wars on these tiny beds without falling off and breaking several bones is a mystery, but it is almost a daily occurrence. Ever since Jim found out that his room mate, best friend, and all around grumpy asshole, was incredibly, adorably, ridiculously ticklish, Jim hadn’t left him alone. It’s been almost two weeks of nonstop pokes to McCoy’s ribs while he’s reading, or squeezing his sides while he’s reaching for the box of bran flakes on top of the fridge, or fingers wiggled inside of his ear (which doesn’t tickle, damn it Jim! It just...feels...weird!). Leonard doesn’t remember the last time he laughed this much (of course he doesn’t, he’s never laughed this much. He hasn’t had an hour of peace since Jim’s little discovery.)
It’s not as tragic as it sounds. For all that McCoy grumps and growls and yells out death threats, he’s never once asked Jim to stop; a fact that Jim has picked up on and has been waiting for the perfect opportunity to taunt him with. Jim’s pretty sure if he plays his cards right he can get his friend to blush, something he would not have thought possible two weeks ago. Judging by how alarmingly fast Bones’s face turns red when Jim is going to town on his ribs, he’s pretty sure the man has a blush hidden in there somewhere.
Naturally, Leonard’s tried to get Jim back. Several times. It’s never ended well for him.
~~
“You are fucking dead!” Jim probably would have taken Bones more seriously if he had bothered to catch his breath before threatening his life. As it were, Bones’s voice with still huffy with the remnants of his laughter, hair tousled and sticking up in the back, dimples so deep they could probably hold a pencil.
“Oh, I’m so scared, Doctor Dimples.” Jim mocked, cocky smile in place as Bones dove for his sides. The good doctor squeezed up and down, wiggling his thumbs into the front of Jim’s stomach much like Jim had done to him moments ago. Jim just reclined back into the couch cushions, hands folded behind his head, as he whistled a song he heard in a holovid the other day.
“You almost done? I have class in fifteen.”
Bones growled in response, fingers moving faster even as they got no reaction from his infuriating best friend.
He missed the way Jim’s entire body tensed up when Bones’s long index fingers wiggled into the backs of his ribs. Thankfully, Bones gave up after another minute, but not before swearing his vengeance
~~
Tuesday was the first day in a very long week that Jim hadn’t pounced on Bones, or surprised him while he was doing homework, ambushed him when he came out of the shower. Naturally, Leonard saw it as an opportunity to get some well-deserved revenge. Maybe, he figured, if he could sneak up on Jim first before Jim got it into his head to tickle him, he’d have the element of surprise on his side and he’d finally get a reaction out of his friend.
Bones was pretending to read a book at the small table in their small kitchen area, conveniently only a few feet from Jim’s bed. His patience paid off when Jim finally got up to use the bathroom, and once the door closed Bones casually readjusted his chair so it was angled facing Jim’s bed, without the table being directly in front of him. A minute later, Bones heard the sink running and then Jim emerged. Bones held his breath, stared at his book, counted to four, and then pounced, tackling Jim into his bed.
Leonard wasted no time, burying his wiggling fingers into Jim’s armpits, searching for a reaction. He heard a snort of laughter and his heart soared, before realizing Jim was laughing at him and not at the tickling sensation.
“Really Bones?” Jim asked, face squished into his mattress. “Ambushing a guy that just left the bathroom? Have you no shame?”
“You did that to me two days ago.” Bones pointed out, pressing into Jim’s back with his hands as he settled his weight onto the backs of Jim’s thighs. He didn’t notice Jim tensing under his fingers, nor did he catch the quiet huff of relief when Bones started lightly scratching up and down Jim’s ribs.
“Just so you know,” Jim started, craning his neck so he could at least see Bones out of the corner of his eye. “Whatever you do to me right now, I’m going to do to you in about, ohhhhh, two minutes.” He smirked as the smile dropped off Bones’s face, cataloguing every renewed attempt Bones made to get him to crack. The poor guy really brought that one on himself.
~~
“Give me your feet.” Bones demanded, earning a curiously raised eyebrow from Jim.
“Uhm, why?” Jim asked, even as he shifted sideways on their couch and swung his legs up, feet landing softly in Bones’s lap.
“Because you’ve got to be ticklish somewhere, damn it.” The way Bones said it almost sounded like he was pleading with some unknown presence, and wow he really was getting desperate to get Jim back. (He still, however, hadn’t asked Jim to stop.)
Jim watched as Bones began scratching at the arch of his foot, wrinkling his nose at the feeling. It didn’t tickle so much as it itched. After a few seconds of that Bones grunted before dancing his fingers up to Jim’s toes, making sure to wiggle into the spaces just beneath them. He glanced up at Jim and scowled at the blonde’s smirk, renewing his efforts as he tickled around his ankle.
“So,” Bones could almost hear the shit-eating grin in Jim’s voice, and his head whipped up at the inflection. “Are these all spots that you’re ticklish?” Jim asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.
Before Bones could answer, Jim had yanked his feet back and the two began an epic wrestling match that ended on the floor of their small dorm, Leonard on his stomach, Jim on the back of his thighs and facing his feet. Jim held Bones’s right foot in a headlock with his left arm as he tickled his sole viciously with his right hand. Bones was begging him to stop after literally five seconds. Jim was quick to coo that that’s the first time Bones has ever asked him to stop.
Jim was right. Bones could blush.
~~~
“Oh, good. Are you going to give me more ideas?” Jim asked, grin wide as Bones finally caught his breath enough to muster up a real glare.
“There’s no way I’m more ticklish than an actual infant.” Bones growled before uncurling from his ball and pouncing.
“What’s with the theatrics?” Jim asked with a laugh, not doing anything to defend himself as Bones settled onto his back. “I am happy to let you explore, Bones. It’s very telling. You always go after what happens to be a great spot on you.”
Bones huffed and rolled his eyes, even though Jim couldn’t see it from his current facedown position. Bones thought about going for Jim’s neck, figuring there was no harm in that spot since Jim already knew about it. As expected, Jim just closed his eyes and relaxed onto the bed with a smile as Bones tried to take him apart, one wiggle at a time.
He thought about trying the backs of Jim’s knees, but he wasn’t sure he could take Jim getting revenge there just now. He was too exhausted.
Where else? Where else?
Bones idly tapped his fingers on Jim’s back as he weighed the pros and cons of tickling the backs of Jim’s thighs, which contained a multitude of very sensitive nerve endings. It took him a minute to realize Jim had gone stiff under him, and when Bones looked down he realized Jim not had his eyes squeezed tight, and was biting his lip. Bones stilled his fingers and was going to ask what was wrong when Jim let out a sigh of relief and went limp.
And then, it clicked.
“How are you not ticklish?!” Bones growled out, louder than he intended, but he was excited damn it. It was hard to contain himself. He waited until Jim smirked and craned his neck to look back at him before he went to town.
“I guess I ju--nahahaaha-Bo-hohohoh-bones! NO!” Jim cackled, burying his head into the mattress as Bones wiggled his fingers up and down the backs of Jim’s ribs. Jim tried to reach back and knock Bones’s hands away, but he wasn’t in a great position to do so and he merely left an opening for Bones to walk his fingers up into Jim’s armpits.
“Oh Ho! What’s this!?” Bones asked, gleefully digging into the sensitive hollows of Jim’s underarms. Jim snapped his arms down reflexively, bright bubbly laughter flowing from his mouth as Bones finally finally got his revenge.
“Bo-hohohohoho-ones!” Jim giggled, trying to squirm his way out from under Bones.
“Yeah Jimmy?” Bones asked, grinning wide as he eased up enough that Jim loosened his death grip and let him pull his hands out from under his arms. He wasted no time in reaching behind himself and digging his fingers into the tender flesh at the back of Jim’s thighs. Jim nearly bucked him off he jumped so hard, before dissolving into deep belly laughter.
“I ca-hahahahahaha-can’t!” Jim wheezed, eyes crinkling at the corners as he cackled.
“Sure ya can.” It was Bones’s turn to smirk and he walked his fingers down to the backs of Jim’s knees and lightly scratched at the thin skin there. “I just needed to find that one spot, and now the floodgates are opened.” When he said “one spot” Bones quickly went back to tickling the backs of Jim’s ribs, causing the younger man to shriek before breaking out into high pitched, slightly panicked laughter.
“Now let’s see,” Bones pretended to think as he danced his fingers lightly over the sides of Jim’s neck and ears. Jim scrunched his shoulder up, high pitched giggles falling from his mouth as Bone’s managed to tickle down onto his collarbone. “Where else have you tickled me in the past two weeks?” He asked, hands quickly darting behind himself to tickle at the backs of Jim’s thighs again and making him jump. He took the opportunity to raise up onto his knees and let Jim scramble onto his back. Bones came down hard on Jim’s thighs before he could get very far.
“Truce!” Jim shouted, smile stretched across his face as he pushed at Bones’s chest. Bones wasted no time in slipping his hands under Jim’s shirt and lightly scratching at every inch of skin he could reach. Jim once more dissolved into laughter, trying to squirm away and push at Bones’s chest. Neither was very effective, but Bones did enjoy alternating between tickling under Jim’s arms to get him to clamp them down, and then reaching back to squeeze the tops of his knees to get him to try to push Bones away again. It was a vicious circle, and Bones only let up when Jim’s face started turning pink.
“Now, what was that about more ideas?” Bones asked, grinning triumphantly as Jim collapsed onto the mattress, a tired smile on his face even as his hands hovered protectively in front of himself.
“I-” Jim huffed, gasping in more air. “-Am going-” He cracked his eyes open to watch Bones smile drop from his face at this next part. “-To wreck you.”
A/N: I’ve never written Star Trek before or really watched it and I think I saw like one movie?? But I love reading nhasablog and other’s fics about them so here I am.
...
Jim awoke to the gentle touch of something brushing over his stomach. He parted his lips and eyelids groggily. “What’re you doing?”
“Jim. And, ..ok.” Jim acknowledged, feeling his question still went unanswered.
“From what I’ve seen, it’s customary to give someone what they want on Christmas morning.” Spock continued, noting Kirk’s confusion.
Jim followed the pull of Spock’s hand on his chest and leaned back onto the bed, resting face up on the pillow.
Spock moved slowly over him, his hand tracing over Jim’s skin. Jim hummed contently.
“And I do believe I know something that you want.” Spock almost smiled. “Something you always want.”
Kirk’s eyes slowly blinked open. “What?”
Spock did smile then, just a quick turn of his lips as he caught Jim’s eye. His hands suddenly tickled deliberately against Jim’s rib cage. Jim began squirming underneath him, his body reacting to the touch with jumps and shivers but too tired still to properly put up a fight to get away. “Hahahahaha-nahaha-“ Jim’s face grew pink.
“I know you love this, so it’s my first gift to you today.” Spock teased in a stoic voice, wiggling his fingers softly but with purpose across Jim’s stomach.
“Ahahahaha shuhuhut up-“ Jim whined.
“Merry Christmas, Jim.” Spock leaned down to press a kiss to his temple, adoring the red blush adorning Jim’s cheeks as he was called out for just how much he was enjoying this.
Summary: Bones decides to get Jim a very embarrassing personalized gift- a shirt that says “I love being ticklish”
Words: 3,666
I.
March 22 is a date that Jim has never really looked forward to. More often than not, he’s even dreaded it. Having his birthday on the same day his dad died, an event he’s reminded of every year because the every planet in the Federation finds it necessary to broadcast the fact that Hey! It’s the day of the Kelvin Incident! That’s right everyone! The day George Kirk was captain for 12 minutes and saved 800 lives and totally fucking died in the process (and oh yeah he saved his son too he was born during this, but that’s not important). For that very reason, Jim tends to ignore the day in its entirety rather than celebrate one aspect and mourn the other.
Oddly enough, the thing that changed Jim’s perspective was joining the very organization that—to this day—refuses to shut up about the Kelvin Incident. Of course, that’s not actually because of Starfleet Academy, the classes, and it sure as hell wasn’t thanks to the majority of the Starfleet Brass. Nope. His mind changed because of a grumpy drunken cadet seated next to him on the shuttle he boarded. That first birthday at the Academy changed Jim’s typical routine of getting himself black out drunk and beat up in some hole-in-the-wall bar. In fact, Jim didn’t even realize the date that first year. He’d been too busy with his studies and hanging out with McCoy that when the date actually came around, Bones set down three glasses before filling them with brandy. At Jim’s confused expression, Bones just gave him a small smile, a quiet happy birthday, and tapped his glass against the one between them. And so a tradition was born.
Having that tradition didn’t stop Bones from adding to it and getting Jim presents. Though, as to not make the day any more emotional than it already was, the gifts were generally gag gifts; just something to make Jim happy. Of course sometimes Bones likes to make Jim happy by giving him embarrassing gag gifts (such as moments after the tradition was born when Bones gave Jim the biggest dildo he could possibly find and had him open it while they were with Pike). Their second year is no different, except that at this point Bones has far more ammo to actually embarrass one James T Kirk, which of course leads to the beginning of the end.
Upon opening the small bag which Bones had placed in front of him, Jim raises an eyebrow as he asks, “A shirt? Considering last year you got me a dildo, I’m a little disappointed. It’s like you aren’t even trying to top that.”
Bones’ only response is to nod at Jim to continue. Rolling his eyes, Jim pulls the shirt from the bag and unfolds it. After fumbling with it for a moment, Jim flips it to the front so he can read it. It’s only facing him for a moment before Jim is slamming it into his lap, words covered. The laughter erupting from Bones certainly can’t be helped. Jim on the other hand is uncharacteristically silent due to embarrassment. Bones knew Jim could blush a pretty pink, but the vibrant red covering his friend’s face is a hilarious surprise. As Jim bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to not smile/scream/curse and whatever else he’s certainly tempted to do, Bones concludes, “I definitely topped last year.”
Jim gives a jerky nod in agreement. With a smirk, Bones asks, “So you gonna read what the lovely shirt says?”
“I’m sorry, what? No.”
“Oh come on, kid. I got this just for you—my best friend. Just read what it says. For me.”
It takes a number of tries. Before those attempts are even made, Jim goes through a multitude of emotions, all pictured very nicely in his little face journey from embarrassed indignation to resigned acceptance. Clicking his tongue, Jim lifts the shirt and opens his mouth to read exactly what it says before promptly slamming his mouth shut once more. Jim does this at least three times before Bones is trying to move his friend along once more. So with a deep breath, Jim blurts, “Ilovebeingticklish.”
“Yeah you do.”
In order to save Jim from his own embarrassed thoughts (because that is of course Bones’ only motive), he quickly begins a very one sided tickle fight. Already majorly useless in his embarrassment, Jim had all of zero chance of fighting off his determined friend even before those skilled doctor’s hands started counting his ribs. Bones mock lectures, “Now Jim, I can’t have you letting your brain mess you up too bad. A little embarrassment is good but if I let you overthink anything and jump to stupid conclusions, we’ve got a problem. But you can’t overthink if you can’t think at all so let’s get to work then, shall we? Doctor’s orders.”
Pushing at McCoy’s hands, shirt forgotten, Jim pleads, “Bohohones, come ohon! Stahap! I’m fihihine!”
Ignoring Jim’s words, Bones shifts his hands to squeeze at his hips, causing him to shriek and buck. “Kid if you can still talk then no, this isn’t fine. The only words I wanna hear from you are an honest thank you. Because you might hate to admit it, but you do like it. The shirt I mean. I’ve heard you admit to liking being ticklish before. I can only expect that admission to come forward if I’ve got you drunk enough, or stupidly tired. I’ll take what I can get. So since you’re still talking, what do you say?”
“Fuhuck yohou!”
Bones narrows his eyes, taking to intently scratching under Jim’s bottom rib. He threatens, “You know I could say you’ve gotta admit you like this instead of just a simple thank you.”
The date is then marked as the fastest Jim has ever expressed gratitude.
II.
The sudden sound of something (or someone) falling and feet pounding against the ground is not the first thing Leonard wants to hear as he’s unlocking his apartment door after a long shift at Starfleet Medical. He’s rather tempted to just turn around and maybe crash at Christine’s place. But that requires getting there and whatever Jim is doing right now cannot be bad enough to warrant the extra effort. With that in mind, McCoy braces himself and pushes open the door.
Jim sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, surrounded by an apartment unchanged from when he left is not at all what Bones was expecting. He raises an eyebrow, becoming increasingly suspicious of his roommate. “Jim… what’s going on?”
Jim looks away from whatever asinine holovid he’s watching over to Bones with a smile on his face. Shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth from the container in his blanket-covered lap, Jim pays no mind to his frankly disgusting behavior as he speaks with his mouth still full. “Nuffin. Me time wif a movie.”
Running a hand down his face, Bones can’t believe how much of a child Jim is and just how much the trouble maker reminds him of his little girl. The comparative of course has him going into parent mode. Exasperated, he chides, “Okay, first: don’t talk with your mouth full Jim, it’s gross. Second: you’re hiding something. You flipped shit when I put my key in the door.”
If this kid wants to be a captain, he’s really gotta work on his poker face because wow he can’t lie worth shit. Jim is way too quick in his rambling response, “What? I’m not hiding anything. I’m being totally normal. Sooo normal. Why would you think anything different?”
Bones scowls at Jim before making to yank the blanket off Jim, who quickly latches on in order to keep it on his torso. “No! Don’t take that!”
Point made, Bones lets go and watches as Jim rearranges the blanket so that he’s holding it tightly around himself, ice cream now forgotten on the table. “…so. You want to tell me what you’re hiding now?”
Unable to actively lie to Bones, Jim looks down and away. Bones warns, “If you don’t tell me I’ll just have to make you.”
Still refusing to fess up to Bones, Jim also refuses to look at him. Taking that as answer enough, McCoy begins his extraction methods. Jim being adamant in keeping the blanket wrapped around him rather than perhaps defending himself certainly makes things easier. Unimpeded, Bones’ fingers expertly begin digging into Jim’s sides through the blanket, which does not offer nearly the kind of protection Jim thought it might.
Bones happily continues tickling Jim into compliance without resistance. It doesn’t take long before squirming around in hysterics is enough of a defense for Jim’s body and his hands are finally making their appearance to attempt grabbing at Bones’ hands. It’s at this point that Bones pushes the blanket off of Jim completely as it’s no longer being held in Jim’s death grip.
Bones freezes above Jim.
Jim catches his hands with a squeak.
The two stare at each other, neither moving nor saying anything.
The shocked expression on Bones’ face merges into an amused smirk whereas Jim’s surprise shifts to a bashful smile. Smugness creeping into his voice, Bones states, “You’re wearing the I Love Being Ticklish shirt I got you. See? You do like it.”
Rather than forming an intelligent response to Bones’ comment—which might not have even been possible for Jim at that moment—he just turns his head into the couch cushions beneath him with an embarrassed whine spilling from the smile still plastered on his face. Bones laughs, “Oh come on, kid. We both know it. You’ve said it before. Admit it.”
Jim lets go on Bones’ wrists in favor of covering his face and attempting curl in on himself. Determined, Bones lightly tickles behind Jim’s ears, along his exposed neck, and under his chin. The gentle touch is enough to have Jim giggling once more.
“Admit it.” A whine. “Come on.” A few giggles. “You like being tickled and wearing that shirt. Just say it.” An attempted slap. “I know why you’re not saying it. It’s just so I keep tickling you. Right? You aren’t talking because you don’t want me to stop. And it’s because you really really like being—”
Bones lets a rare wide smile spread across his face as his fingers continue their movements even as he stops with the teasing. Though he takes a moment to point out, “You did only ask me to shut up, not to stop tickling you.”
“I hahate you.”
III.
Aboard the Enterprise, the shirt doesn’t make any appearances considering Jim is always wearing his Command Gold shirt and is rather aware of his position as captain. It likely wouldn’t sit too well if any of the crew caught their superior officer wearing something as unprofessional and embarrassing as that. However, there are some nights when the Captain’s Quarters seem entirely too large and empty, especially after a long day. On those nights, he needs a bit of familiarity and nostalgia for comfort.
It’s another night after a long alpha shift with far too much paper work and even more pointless transmissions from upset admirals. Jim swears that if he has to hear Komack belittle him over an official comm link once more any time soon he may just lose his cool and say exactly what he thinks instead of standing by and parroting a “yes sir.” Pike would understand. Maybe. Hopefully. Okay, Jim definitely has to make sure he doesn’t mouth off to Komack. But fuck Komack.
Jim undresses and tosses his uniform off to the side of his room before flopping face first onto his bed. He lays there miserable for a few moments before pushing himself out of bed. Shuffling over to his closet, Jim decides it’s definitely a night he wants some extra comfort. He throws on the shirt Bones got him years back (only because it’s extremely soft, no other reason) before crawling beneath the covers on his bed, curling up against the pillow. For the sake of settling down before trying to sleep, Jim aimlessly scrolls through academic journals on his PADD. Exhaustion taking its hold, Jim falls asleep halfway through a technical journal on transwarp beaming with zero thoughts towards the boorish admiral.
Startled awake by the blaring klaxon and rattle of the ship, Jim frantically grabs for his comm. Once it’s in hand, he’s rushing out of his quarters up to the bridge with his comm link open asking for an update. The response is brief: Klingons. As captain, Jim needs to be on the bridge now because his silver lady is under attack.
Racing onto the bridge as soon as the turbolift doors open, Kirk calls out, “Status report!”
Lieutenant Kevin Riley is the one to give him the run down as other members of the senior crew begin filtering in. A Klingon vessel has fired on the Enterprise and is ignoring all hailing attempts thus far; their intentions are unknown. However after the first weapons use, the Klingons have yet to fire again. At the end of the quick brief, each member of the senior bridge crew has arrived to man their posts and relieve the junior officers. Kirk orders, “Uhura, open a channel.”
“This is Captain James T Kirk of the USS Enterprise. You’ve ignored all hailing attempts and then—”
“Captain, we’re being hailed.”
Shocked at the sudden change of course the Klingon ship has taken, Kirk looks to Spock, who seems just as perplexed. Looking back to Uhura, Kirk says, “Put it on the view screen, Lieutenant.”
Just a moment later, the view screen is filled by a Klingon looking rather happy with his smarmy smile. The Klingon captain rather warmly greats, “Ah, my dear Captain Kirk! Just the man I was hoping to see.”
Jim nearly laughs at his terrible luck. Of all the people to see, it has to be this guy. Turning to Uhura, he kindly asks her to cancel red alert. As annoyed as Jim is at the situation, he can’t help but be slightly amused. With a smile, Jim addresses, “My dear Captain Koloth. To what do I owe the displeasure of having you fire on my ship? Which I assume was simply to get me on the bridge for a chat instead of having to speak to the perfectly competent officer with the conn.”
Dismissively Koloth assures, “Oh your garbage ship is fine, Kirk. I assure you that my intentions are peaceful. It was, as you said, just to get you. We have history, you and I. Do pardon the wakeup call; I forget that you soft humans need so much disuse of your bodies in order to function. I also see you Earthers continue with—how shall I say it? Nonessentials. You even have such soft attire for sleeping with cute sayings.”
With an eyebrow raised in confusion, Jim looks down at just what he’s wearing. Now he remembers: he went to bed in his boxers and what has been dubbed the t-word shirt. And with the red alert, he didn’t really have a chance to change. Well fuck.
Attempting to ever so casually cross his arms over the writing on his shirt, Jim asks, “How about we leave my pajamas out of this and get to the matter at hand, shall we? What is it you want and how quickly can I get you to leave?”
Mock offended, the Klingon Captain holds a hand against his chest as he admonishes, “Why, Captain Kirk! There are no current hostilities between us or our people, not yet at least. Maybe I just wanted to talk.”
“Lieutenant Uhura. Would you please end communications?”
“Hold on now! Fine. Always spoiling the fun, Kirk. But, I’ll get to business.”
Smirking, Jim goads, “Klingons? Fun? Never thought I’d see the day. But please, attempt to explain yourselves. It’d better be good, Koloth. You fired on my silver lady. I can assure you Engineer Scott won’t be happy. I do hope you remember the Sherman’s Planet incident that occurred when you invoked the ire of my Chief Engineer.”
A flash of fear crosses over the face covering the view screen. Why the Klingons fear creatures as fluffy and adorable as Tribbles, Jim may never understand. He’ll also never be unamused by it. Glaring at Kirk for daring to bring up that incident, Koloth threatens, “Mention that again, Kirk and I’ll come for those pajamas of yours. I might not know why, but I saw your silly embarrassment, Captain.”
Jim does his best not to flinch at the sneered threat; he mostly succeeds—externally at least. Acting unfazed, Jim smoothly quips, “Well then Klingon eyesight must be rather poor because you seem to be seeing things.”
“On the contrary, Captain,” Spock interjects from his station, “Klingons have eyesight comparable to that of Vulcans in its acuteness. In addition, they can differentiate between a far greater range of color frequencies.”
Kirk turns to face Spock and just throws his hands out in a bit of a what-the-fuck-man gesture. He’s about to voice his thoughts on the timing when Koloth thinks allowed, “Perhaps while I wait for your response I’ll go find out precisely what that shirt you’re wearing means. The only word I need is that last one there. Ticklish? What odd Earther thing is that?”
Whipping around to face the view screen far faster than can be brushed off as casual, Jim quickly clears his throat. “So… truce then? I won’t mention the Tribble Incident.”
Koloth smiles widely. It may be a truce and level playing field but it sure feels like a loss to Kirk. “We’re in agreement then. You don’t mention that and I won’t mention this ‘ticklish’.”
“SO! Captain Koloth. What’s your business with the Enterprise? You’ve been dancing around the topic.”
“Ah yes. Wonderful deflection. You see it’s rather simple,” Koloth jeers. “I noticed your ship nearby and felt I definitely owed you another meeting. I believe I’ve won this bout. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Taking a long breath in through his nose, Kirk keeps his professional expression firmly in place. He calmly states, “My dear Captain Koloth. About this business of yours… you have five minutes to turn your ship around and get it out of Federation space.”
Not letting his mood dampen, Koloth gives a small respectful yet simultaneously mocking bow before ending the transmission. Once the screen goes blank, Jim falls back into his chair with a loud groan. At the same time, the bridge crew begins laughing. Even Spock has that stupid amused eyebrow raise going on. Jim whines, “I got out of bed for that, dammit! Fuck, I hate Koloth.”
“We all did, Captain,” Sulu points out, gesturing to his striped pajama pants and lack of a shirt. “And we all look so very professional.”
After all that time on the bridge, Jim realizes he hasn’t actually processed what everyone came onto the bridge wearing—minus himself because it was pointed out to him and he really could’ve done without that. He takes the moment to scan the room. Chekov is pretty average with sweatpants and an undershirt. Uhura is wearing shorts and a tank top, similar to what she was putting on when Jim was hiding under Gaila’s bed. Spock has on some fancy Vulcan “robe” (but it’s definitely a nightgown). A bit surprised, Jim asks, “Am I the only one who doesn’t wear pants to bed? Seriously no one else sleeps in their underwear?”
Uhura smirks and teases, “You’re also the only one who sleeps in ‘I love being ticklish’ shirts.”
Again, Jim crosses his arms over the words on his shirt. This time, he doesn’t have captain mode on and is unable to stop the blush from rising to his cheeks. He’s quick to defend, “It was a gag gift from Bones. It’s soft. That’s it.”
“But Keptin, zen why are you so embarrassed? Zere must be a reason. Perhaps because you like ze shirt. Because shirt is true?”
Did Chekov just tease him? That was definitely a teasing tone. Jim’s almost too amazed at this revelation to get more flustered. But only almost. Trying to be commanding, Jim tells him, “Now is not the time for you to remind us you’re our Russian wiz kid.”
“So that means Pavel is right,” Sulu points out.
Jim remains silent, trying to keep a hold on his unraveling composure. Obviously, in the midst of the captain’s attempts at calming down and forgetting the entire encounter is the perfect time for Spock to give his own input, observing, “The ensign is in fact correct. Though I am not entirely certain of when he acquired the gift from Doctor McCoy, it was prior to his final year at Starfleet Academy, as I was witness to the Captain, then a cadet, crossing the academy grounds while wearing the article in question. As we can all plainly see, he is still in possession of the shirt and continues to wear it; it can thus be assumed our Captain indeed has an attachment to the shirt. Proceeding to Mr. Chekov’s second point regarding the accuracy of the shirt’s statement. Whenever being tickled, typically by Doctor McCoy, Jim neither protests nor makes any attempt to get away. Instead he simply laughs and genuinely appears to be enjoying himself, which McCoy often finds necessary to point out. After such instances, he is happier than before the act and overall has a more relaxed and carefree mood. Taking these into account, we can conclude that the captain does in fact enjoy being tickled.”
Staring at his first officer, mouth agape, Jim can’t figure out just how to respond. Instead, he settles for pouting in his chair while failing to ignore the good-natured jeering and prods from the makeshift family that is his senior bridge crew.
A/N - It’s 6 am and I just wrote over 3000 words in less than two hours. I can’t feel my hands any more and I have class in a few hours. This is a Star Trek fic and I have been really excited to write it for a while now. I hope you all like it and I really hope you send me any comments, critiques, questions, what have you, to me. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone and I hope you guys had a fantastic day!
Word Count: 3,015
“So, whatcha get me?” Jim Kirk coughed as he sat up on the biobed. He had been stuck in the med bay for the past week, thanks to a poor encounter with a few natives. An IV was embedded into his arm, clear liquid entering is bloodstream and his heart monitor staggered, though maintained rather constant as of the last few days. It had been off and on for a while, Jim fading in and out after surgery for a day, but has since recovered. All that was left, was for his broken right arm to heal and for his dehydration to finally go away.
“What do you mean?” Bones looked up from his scientific journal, a recently published volume covering the inequalities of healthcare on certain planets, like Earth.
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Jim took a swig from his glass of water. “I’m sure you got me something. You had to of, or I would have to return your gift.”
“You’ve been stuck in here for the past week and stuck on a random planet for the entire week before that. How the hell did you get me anything without me knowing it?”
“Cause I’m the best!” Jim winked, putting down the glass with a wink. Jim and Bones celebrated Valentine’s Day every year since their Academy years. It started off small, a little card and a piece of candy taped to it, then escalated. Last year, they each got each other a bottle of bourbon and Jim was able to get a box of candy specially made from a store nearby his home in Georgia. Bones had made sure they had Jim’s favorite meal that night: steak, baked potato, sautéed mushrooms, corn on the cob. Valentine’s Day was just a thing they did, neither of them ever having anything else planned on the day anyway. Since Jim never wanted to commit to a girl and Bones loathed the day after breaking it off with his ex-wife, neither had any investments into the holiday until they started their gift giving tradition.
“I wouldn’t call you the best,” Bones watched Jim’s eyes transition from bright and full of life, to a full-on glare. “Though, you are pretty damn close, kid.”
“Well, you’re gonna think I’m the best when you see my gift!” Jim exclaimed as he outstretched his hands over his head, falling back onto the bed.
“Doubt it,” Bones rolled his eyes, glancing back at the journal in front of him. He was halfway through it, having read others like it while watching over Jim over the past week, making sure he wouldn’t go under again. “Mine is definitely better.”
“You did get me something!” Jim laughed, crossing his arms, happy with himself. “I was right!”
“Of course, I got something, you bastard,” Bones couldn’t help but smile, thinking of his gift for Jim. He had very little time getting everything done in order to complete the gift, with Jim nearly dying on him again. Bones even went through a day where he just stared at the gift, not thinking Jim was going to ever live to see it even if it got completed. “We always get each other something. Besides, I had to get you something. I need a way to one up you, don’t I?”
“Aw, you need to one up me,” Jim cooed, blue eyes glittering as he stared at the doctor from his bed. “So, you have finally realized I’m better than you.”
“Not at all,” Bones rolled his eyes once again, overly amused by Jim’s antics. For the past few days, Bones was afraid he would never get to bicker with Jim ever again. “I am clearly the superior person.”
“Clearly,” Jim let out a snort, sitting up again, his legs dangling from the bed. Bones turned fully around in his chair as Jim stood, one hand firmly on the IV stand.
“Jesus, Jim, sit back down,” Bones said, getting out of his seat in an instant. Jim huffed, favoring his left leg as he stood. Bones quickly went over to Jim, trying to get him to get back in bed. “You’ll hurt yourself again.”
“Bones,” Jim grabbed Bones’ wrists, holding them tightly in his hands. “Please. It’s Valentine’s Day. Let’s pretend everything is okay, just for a little while.”
“I,” Bones’ voice lingered, his eyes dropping off to the side, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. What if you fall or you have a reaction to air or something?”
“Damn, Bones,” Jim laughed, punching the older man in the arm. “Who do you think I am? Some klutz or crazy sick person?”
“Yes,” Bones replied with absolutely no hesitation.
“You’re going to have to take that back, you know?” Jim tightened his grip on Bones’ wrists, Bones feeling all of Jim’s muscles tense, knowing something was about to happen.
“What’s a half dead klutz gonna do to me?” Bones bit his lip, anticipating Jim’s response. He knew he pushed Jim past his little breaking point, and now, he was going to suffer the consequences.
Bones was thrown to the bed, Jim surprisingly strong despite his healing arm and having recently gone through surgery. Jim pounced, straddling the doctor’s hips as he smiled down at his prey. Jim’s arm was crossed uncomfortably, his IV straining.
“I think we should remove this for the time being,” Jim sneered, gesturing to his arm. “Don’t want it to get in the way as I absolutely destroy you.”
Bones reached to remove the IV from Jim’s arms, his arms pressed down against his ribs as he did so. A few giggles slipped from his lips as he unhooked the IV, anticipating what was coming next. He removed the IV line before he was handed gauze.
“Take it all out,” Jim smiled, handing Bones everything he needed to get the luer and the catheter out of his arm. Bones hesitated, glancing up at the final vital screening that was made before Jim unplugged everything. Aside from the lingering hint of dehydration and wounded arm, Jim was perfectly fine. Glancing back up at Jim, whose eyes silently pleaded for Bones to take it all out, Bones took the gauze from his hands and proceeded to take the rest of the medical equipment from his arm, despite knowing this was sending him closer to his impending doom.
“There we go,” Bones taped the gauze around Jim’s arm, constraining the arm and preventing any more bleeding from the injection point. He set the catheter down on the metallic side table, it lingering in his hand for a long moment, Bones knowing this small device was the only thing that was saving him. The exact second the catheter landed on the side table, Jim struck.
Bones knew he could overpower Jim and could have even before he struck. He could have easily knocked him back right after bandaging him up and made a run for it, but he didn’t. As Jim said, it was Valentine’s Day. Let them have some fun, especially after everything that had happened over the course of the last two weeks.
Jim’s fingers wiggled around in Bones’ under arms, the latter’s head being thrown back into the recently fluffed pillow. Instinctually, Bones started to buck, trying to throw off the younger man without avail. His laughter was loud and contagious, Jim laughing right along with him as he switched to kneading at his hips. Bones let out a snort before slipping into hysteric giggles, a sound Jim absolutely adored.
“You know what you have to do,” Jim teased, enjoying the kick of Bones’ legs every time squeezed a particularly sensitive spot on either side of his hips. Jim smiled as Bones threw his head back and forth, his hair becoming increasingly messy. “If you don’t say it, I guess I’ll have to go for the spot!”
Bones’ hands swatted around, trying to knock away Jim’s devious fingers from his sensitive hips, though his arms stayed planted at his sides, preventing any more assaults to his ribs and under arms. This was the exact response Jim was hoping for. He quickly whipped around, pushing his body up enough so he could turn completely around. Jim was positioned so he was facing Bones’ legs, giving him access to the dreaded spot.
“Any last words, Bones?” Jim cackled as he glanced over his shoulder, smiling at the other man. Bones shook his head furiously, not saying anything as he could just feeling Jim’s hands hovering above his knees.
“Sick klutz,” Bones said firmly between strings of residual giggles, his eyes locked with Jim’s.
“Wrong,” Jim grinned evilly as he turned away, his fingers finally making contact. He squeezed around Bones’ kneecap, feeling the doctor writhe beneath him as his laughter exploded behind Jim’s back. Jim’s fingers went to work, squeezing around the patella, scratching right above the knee, circling all around.
“Jihihim!” Bones squealed, the sheets of the bed clenched tightly in his fists. “Stahahap!”
“Go for the kill?” Jim stilled his fingers for a moment, making damn sure Bones heard him. His fingers slipped off his knees and flipped over, the palms facing the ceiling. “If you insist, Bones.”
“JIHIHIM!” Bones screamed out through his laughter as Jim scribbled along the inside of his knees, by far his worst spot. Jim loved attacking this little spot, it practically paralyzed Bones and caused the greatest sound to come out of him. Bones’ laugh was loud and boisterous, instantly filling whatever room they were in. It spread joy and turned anyone’s day around for the better. Jim also knew that whenever he was able to get this laugh out of Bones, the doctor was wholeheartedly happy, and would remain this way for the rest of the day. It was very rare for Jim to be able to get this laugh out of Bones, but when he did, it was absolute magic.
“You know what to say,” Jim teased, though he knew Bones probably couldn’t hear him or the very least, understand him. Jim knew that the teasing made it worse, which was a trait he shared. Either of the two teasing the other would make whoever was being tickled melt and completely lose their minds.
“I TAHAKE IHIT BAHACK!” Bones finally let out, his laugh growing hoarse the longer this went on. Jim knew he wouldn’t be able to take very much more, so he pulled away. He scooted off Bones, sitting on the bed with his legs dangling above the floor. He smiled down at Bones as the man curled into himself. Jim knew Bones would get revenge near instantaneously, but he didn’t mind. He knew he deserved it and, frankly, Jim adored being tickled, especially by Bones. Jim loved to laugh and Bones could make him laugh better than anyone else in all the universes. Jim also loved the fact that Bones enjoyed tickling him too, that it was a fun form of punishment for either of them, especially at a time like this.
“Have fun?” Jim asked, cheekily. Bones glared at him, trying to regain most of his usual strength. Jim knew he was probably going to die, but he was going to embrace it with open arms, literally. He held his arms up, hands intertwined behind his bed as he fell back onto the mattress, exposing his entire torso.
“Roll over,” Bones breathed, a single finger twirling in a short circle. “I’m going to kill you and I’m not going to start slow.”
Jim giggled in anticipation, his arms falling to his sides as he shifted himself over. The entire front of his body was pressed into the mattress, his head turned to the side. This was a normal position for him, especially when Bones wanted to really get him.
He felt Bones shift on the bed, crawling over Jim. The weight of Bones’ body pressed on Jim’s lower back, Jim knowing it was too late to reconsider everything. Bones’ highly skilled fingers wiggled a few inches above Jim’s shoulder blades, their shadows dancing over the spot in a brief foreshadowing.
“You’re dead, kid,” Bones let out a gruff laugh, quickly wiping away a bead of sweat from his temple.
“Do your worst,” Jim taunted before all ten fingers dug into his scapulae. Jim shrieked and instantly fell into hysterics. His laughter was louder than Bones’, but was slightly higher pitched than his usual voice. Jim’s laughter was like music to all who heard it and was very relaxing to listen to. When Jim laughed, it was as if the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders.
“Damn I missed this,” Bones remarked, his eyes closed as he practically absorbed Jim’s laughter. His finger skittered over one shoulder blade to the next, back and forth like to pacing creatures. “I can’t believe you are this ticklish, Jim. It’s ridiculous.”
“SHUHUT UP!” Jim squealed as a hand quickly squeezed his neck, his second worst spot. Jim’s body swayed side to side, as if Bones was on a boat rocking in the rough waters of the stormy sea, though Bones had grown used to this and was able to hang on. He kept up his tickling for around ten minutes, the usual length he could usually tickle Jim for when he was targeting his worst spots. For the entire ten minutes, Bones teased the younger captain.
“Why are you turning red, Jim? You have a fever or something?”
“These spasms could be caused by a serious medical condition. Ya should probably consult your local doctor…wait, that’s me.”
“Ya almost died on me last week. Ya better not die of laughter now, kid.”
Once approximately ten minutes had past and Jim was covered in sweat and tears of mirth, Bones stopped his punishment and got up from the bed. He hovered above Jim as he recovered, residual laughter pouring out in steady streams.
“You good?” Bones smirked down at Jim, his shadow casting over him. “I’m not really in the mood to perform CPR, ya know?”
“I think I saw my life flash before my eyes,” Jim winked, flailing his arms in dramatic fashion, recoiling at the tinge of pain he felt in his healing arm. He let out a short laugh before glancing around, almost frantic. “What time is it?”
“Eighteen hundred,” Bones glanced over at the clock near the entrance to the room. “Why? You leave the stove on or something?”
“Not quite,” Jim hopped up from the bed, quickly grabbing Bones by the hand and guiding him out of the room. Jim nearly dragged Bones as they made their way to the bridge of the ship. It was empty and dark, sending chills down Bones’ spine.
“What the hell?” Bones uttered as Jim guided him to the center of the room, before he plopped down into his captain’s chair. He quickly typed on the keypad on his armrest, darkening the room even more and bring the screen to life. It flickered briefly before connecting, a bright, young face filling the screen.
“Daddy!” The young girl squealed as her eyes found Bones. Jim jumped from his chair, allowing Bones to take his place. Bones accepted, not looking away from the screen showing his beautiful daughter.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy!” Joanna exclaimed before reaching for something off screen. “Look at what I made you!”
“It’s beautiful!” Bones laughed, seeing the pink heart valentine she clearly made with help. Jim smiled at the screen before slinking away, making his way for the door. “Hey, Jim.”
“Yeah?” Jim turned around, seeing Bones had gotten up from the chair.
“There’s a tablet in your room. Click the first video and thank me later,” Bones pat Jim on the back, tears in his eyes. “And thank you for this. Thank you so much.”
“Any time Bones,” Jim hugged the older man. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Bones replied as Jim made his way to the door. “And Jim. To answer your question from earlier. Yes. I did enjoy it. More than I was expecting, to be honest.”
Jim smiled to himself as he walked out from the bridge, making his way to his room. All the crew members he passed greeted him happily, wanting to stop and check on him, but he kept going, needing to get to his room. He knew he had to make an announcement later, telling everyone he was okay and ready to resume his position, but for now, he had only one thing on his mind.
He walked through the door, room dark and cold. He curled around his bed, reaching for the tablet, a red bow taped to the screen. Tearing that off and tossing it onto the table, Jim took the tablet and fell back onto his bed, cold from the lack of use lately. Jim did as he was instructed, turning on the tablet and pressing the first video which appeared in the upper left hand corner of the tiny screen.
The silence of his room was pierced by the sound of his entire crew greeting him, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Captain!”
Jim felt tears well up in his eyes as the video switched to small interviews of each crew member, each saying how much Jim meant to them and how they needed him. As the video progressed, Jim’s sobs grew louder. The video concluded with Bones.
“You better pull through kid, or I’m gonna kick God’s ass and bring you back myself. Anyway, we need you, Jim. We all need, especially me. I don’t know what I’d do without, honestly. Actually, the first thing I would do is get the fuck off this ship. But seriously, we all love Jim. I hope you know that. Happy Valentine’s Day, Jim and may we celebrate so many more.”
Both Jim and Bones sat in their respected rooms, crying silently to themselves. Both sat in complete darkness, tears slipping down their cheeks as they silently thanked the other, thinking that they had both just received the best gift ever.
