i think that it’s really really really really cute and endearing that humans inherently love making each other laugh. have you ever heard anyone say “I hate laughter and making people laugh”? NO! BECAUSE WE ALL LOVE IT AND FEEL FULFILLED BY IT! And i’m very normal about this. I’m very normal about the fact that humans are biologically inclined to silliness, as you can tell. I’m normal. I’m normal
Hazbin Hotel | Murdermedia [Human!Alastor x Human!Vincent]
SEQUEL TO THIS FIC HERE
Summary: Vincent gets Alastor injured and takes him to his house to heal up. While treating him he's reacquainted with the fact that he's not the only ticklish one in this partnership. [THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]
warning for alcohol, a scene where a nameless character gets fucking murdered, blood, mild injury, a gun, mentions of racism
heeeeeres fic two in this murdermedia series. still got more planned.
REMINDER THAT THIS BLOG WILL BE DELETED (eventually) AND ALL MY FICS WILL BE ON AO3 FOREVER.
>>>BOOKMARK MY AO3 HERE<<<
---
Alastor had woken up at his usual time. His body clock was consistent and precise like that. Though, for a moment, he was terrified, not recognizing the location he woke up in. A bed much too large with shiny silk sheets colored a deep navy blue.
Then it all rushed back to him.
All of it.
His face immediately flooded with heat recalling his embarrassing actions. Tickling Vincent unprompted like that? Had he no tact?
Then, slipping up and accidentally letting Vincent tickle him, outing his sensitives just like that?
Alastor had been determined to keep the secret to his grave, that being that he was horribly ticklish. His maman used to play with him all the time, using that little weakness of his to make him laugh.
He adored it as a child, but refused to be seen as weak and childish as an adult.
But that was now out the window with his business partner having seen, and worse, heard him like that.
Even as a kid he had that little quirk with his laugh when being tickled. As soon as his mind seemed to register a ticklish sensation making him laugh... he would snort. A lot. His maman would tease him, occasionally calling him 'piglet'. He hadn't minded it then, but it was greatly embarrassing now.
After their little tussle and Vincent falling asleep, Alastor needed somewhere for himself to rest. Knowing Vincent was originally going to be in his bed and Alastor on the couch, he just acted like they had switched and spent the night in his bed, not exactly wanting to share the small couch space with the large snoring man.
Once he was awake and had shaken off that clingy feeling of embarrassment, he changed into his provided day clothes and went to Vincent's kitchen to whip up some breakfast. Thankfully, the man had some eggs he could use. With the kitchen not containing much else, simple scrambled eggs with salt and pepper would have to do. Nowhere near his usual culinary standards, but it got the job done.
Honestly, if Alastor was ever going to stay over here again the man needed actual ingredients.
Since Alastor was nothing if not generous, he made enough food for Vincent when he woke up as well. He allocated more eggs for his business partner since he was not only larger in stature but had an appetite to match.
Vincent was very diligent with the building of his muscle mass. He went to the gym multiple times a week and had a work out regiment at home. He had explained that it was important to him for multiple reasons, both being capable as a killer but also having a more attractive figure for television.
Alastor could most definitely appreciate its usefulness in the field. It was one of the reasons he had first agreed to teaming up with him. Alastor was skillful, quick, and accurate, but that alone could not carry two dead bodies at once across the bayou.
Don't get him wrong, Alastor was not weak in the slightest. He'd done just fine downing men twice his size before Vincent entered his life.
But why would a shepherd deny his pack mule?
Memories of the previous night danced through his head. Echoes of the Vincent's laughter rung in his head.
He smile quirked upwards just a tick.
Vincent's laugh being tickled was genuinely like nothing else he'd heard before. Infectious was truly the best way to describe it. It was so silly and hilarious to listen to. It was bright and jovial. Hearing it made something fluttery and warm rise in his belly, spreading to his chest and lungs and making him laugh right along.
The feeling of laughter... Alastor hadn't embraced it in a long time.
He did laugh, of course, at times. But it was always measured and filtered so as not to make a scene or to seem undignified.
Last night he truly let himself go, most of that could be attributed to the alcohol, but it was so deeply fulfilling.
'You're never fully dressed without a smile!' he'd say. It was a sentiment he held close and lived up to at every moment.
'Laughter is the best medicine' others would say. Two sides of the same coin in a way, declaring that joy and displaying it was an important part of life.
If laughter truly was medicine then it undoubtedly healed something in him last night. The rush from it almost matched the colossal amount of booze in his system.
He wasn't certain if Vincent's contagious laugh would get him back to that state sober, though.
You know what would?
Alastor blinked at the heat in his cheeks and shook his head.
Absolutely not. He would never allow anyone, especially Vincent, to see him like that again.
No. He wouldn't.
However, tickling Vincent again was undeniably appealing. And he had framed it as a deal for his sadistic tendencies.
It wasn't play. It wasn't childish!
It was torment. Alastor could do torment...
His brain couldn't help but remind him of what others would say if they were to know. Two men making an agreement... for tickling? For Alastor to tickle Vincent to tears and most likely laugh and giggle right along with him?
That didn't seem the preferred activity of a terrifying killer.
It seemed like the past time of an ridiculous child.
Alastor growled and put more effort into breaking apart the chunks of scrambled eggs in the pan.
Enough. He was over thinking things. Vincent had agreed. This was purely torment for his own selfish desires. He was still Alastor. He was still feared.
For a moment he focused his thoughts on the sizzling of the pan. The flickering of the flames beneath it.
Then his ear twitched, picking up the sounds of shifting fabric from the living room.
Vincent was awake.
The larger man sheepishly shuffled into the kitchen, still wearing his pajamas with a rather drowsy look in his eyes. He adjusted his askew glasses as he met Alastor's gaze.
If Alastor were a sentimental man, he might've called Vincent's groggy and bashful appearance... cute.
But he wasn't. So he didn't.
"Hangover's not as bad as I was expecting." Vincent said he headed further into the kitchen, halting just about a foot away from Alastor as he peered into the pan.
"That is surprising considering you're the one who threw in the towel with our little bet. I'll keep the five dollars safe and sound."
Vincent snickered. "Yeah, yeah, you earned it." Vincent stretched his tense back, leaning backwards with a groan.
His shirt rode up, exposing a bit of his bare belly.
Alastor's eyes locked onto it.
When Vincent sighed and returned to his usual posture, he instantly noticed Alastor's focus. He gave a lopsided smile and spoke hesitantly.
"You thinking about last night?"
Alastor cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the pan. He busied himself with sprinkling salt and pepper on the cooked chunks of egg. "Hard not to."
"I, uh... I'm still okay with, y-you know... the deal we made."
Alastor blinked and looked at Vincent again. He was flushed and fighting a smile unsuccessfully.
Vincent must truly love it if he was bringing it up sober just to assure he was intending on following through.
"Hm. With how you brought it up it almost sounds like you're asking me to tickle you." Alastor grinned with mocking eyes. "Is that what you're wanting?"
"What?!" Vincent sputtered, his shoulders up to his ears which were quickly turning red. "No! I-I just mean, like, I'm... following through. It's for your sake, of course. I don't back out of our deals and you seemed like you really enjoyed it."
Alastor pulled out two plates and started scraping the eggs onto them.
"I have an added stipulation to our deal I hope would be common sense." Alastor said as he carried the plates to the kitchen table. Vincent grabbed some silverware and followed him, putting the forks down while listening intently.
Once they were sat with their plates in front of them, Alastor continued. "This exchange of ours should be private, obviously. Not a single soul outside this room should know our little activities."
Vincent snorted. "Of course, Al. Are you kidding? I can't even imagine what my coworkers would think. Probably that I'm some sexually deviant queer or something."
"I'm glad we're on the same page." Alastor took a bite of his eggs. Not great, but he did the best with what he had. Vincent was seriously lacking anything with flavor in his kitchen.
"So... are we going to transport the bodies once we're done eating?"
Alastor was thankful the conversation moved on naturally towards something easier to talk about... like homicide.
They took longer than necessary to finish breakfast, their banter familiar and entertaining, before making their way to the yard and preparing to move the bodies into Vincent's car for an easy transport across town.
The pair lived in separate houses about a 20 minute drive from the other, though if one were to cut through the bayou on foot, walking would only be a 15 minute journey. That was only true though if one was familiar with the bayou enough to navigate it quickly. Alastor was a natural while Vincent was still learning. Driving in a car was easier, and also more subtle during the daylight. However, Vincent was not a stranger to lugging multiple bodies through the bayou in the dark with nothing but a flashlight and muscle memory.
Once the corpses were safely at Alastor's home, the two separated for the time being. They had a kill scheduled for the coming Friday, just a week after the last one. They were timing them relatively close, meaning they'd need to lay low longer afterwards. The target was an amateur thrill seeker who'd been slinking into the bayou each night, getting a little too close for either of their likings. He also was a waiter at a whites only restaurant who went out his way to harass those of color, even those just walking by outside. Young, unimportant, reckless, and stupid. Easy kill.
Too easy.
...
Vincent was a decisive man. When he wanted, he took. When was caught off guard, he regained his footing and struck with precision.
But tonight, he froze.
The man was armed. He shouldn't have been. It didn't make sense. But he was.
Vincent stared down the barrel as ice cold fear doused him from head to toe, freezing him in place. He had never hesitated like this before, but he was so surprised it was as if his base instincts took over.
Alastor snarled his name and then he felt an impact to his left.
Alastor tackled him just as the man pulled the trigger. The bullet flew into the tree trunk behind him.
Alastor' momentum sent Vincent to the ground, but he kept going, sliding into a nearby ditch.
The impact, and the knowledge of Alastor now most likely hurt, finally kicked his brain back into gear. He grabbed a nearby branch and charged forward, keeping low, before swinging it into the man's outstretched arm, bending it backwards and launching the gun from his hand. In a motion more typical from him, smooth and lightning-quick, he snatched the gun from the ground, aimed, and shot. Point blank between the eyes.
The man went limp on the ground.
Vincent took a breath. A deep one. As adrenaline pounded through his veins.
Alastor.
Vincent turned towards the ditch and slid down on his heels.
Alastor was on his hands and knees looking a mix between furious and relieved. His shirt was torn and slightly bloody and his leg looked banged up but other than that he seemed fine.
Partially choked up and breathing heavily, he spoke."Thank God you're-"
"Is he dead?" Alastor cut him off with such stern decisiveness Vincent clamped his mouth shut immediately.
He swallowed. "Yes."
"Good..." Alastor sighed a deep breath before shooting an absolutely murderous look.
Vincent held his arms up, gun still in hand. "I know! I know! I froze! I'm sorry."
"You're lucky you redeemed yourself otherwise I'd shoot you myself for being dead weight." Alastor looked back at his leg and wiggled his foot a bit before wincing. "Thanks to your idiocy, I've injured my calf. I can't walk through the bayou."
"Is that your only injury?"
Alastor nodded, still looking at the damage. "Besides some scrapes on my torso, yes."
"Good." He handed the gun for Alastor to hold who took it confusedly.
"What are you-" Alastor was cut off when Vincent hooked his arms beneath his back and knees and easily scooped him up.
"I'll come back for the body later. I'll get you to my place. I have first aid supplies there. You can rest on my couch for however long it takes you to heal."
Vincent turned and started running without another word.
Alastor blinked in surprise. Sure he'd seen him transport bodies before, but feeling how truly effortless it was for Vincent to carry him was honestly rather impressive, though Alastor was quite light for a man.
He made it through the wilderness in record time, making it through the backdoor of his house and placing Alastor gently on the couch.
"Lemme get some stuff real quick." He rushed to his bedroom almost immediately.
Alastor tested his calf again, flexing his ankle. From his best guess, it seemed he tore the muscle. Not the end of the world but those took quite a bit to heal and it was going to inhibit his walking during that time.
He sighed and sank his head onto the arm of the couch. Great.
He didn't like to depend on others but Vincent owed him. A lot. This wasn't so much 'depending' as it was cashing in on a life debt.
Vincent returned shortly dressed in clean clothes, arms full of items.
He sat down a bottle of whiskey, a very familiar bottle. "For the pain and just to take the edge off. Here's a clean change of clothes, as well. I've also got a first aid kit, some pillows, and a blanket."
As he listed the items he set them down in the surrounding area.
Vincent suddenly flushed and coughed into his hand. "Do you, uh, need help changing?"
"I'll manage." Alastor said sternly. Vincent inhaled sharply and turned around. From this angle Alastor could see his ears turning red again.
It took longer than it usually would as he had to carefully avoid flexing his calf muscle, but he managed to sort himself out in time. With his top off he was able to seem some shallow wounds on his torso, mostly a few lightly bleeding scratches on his side. Nothing much to worry over. Unbothered, he slid the pajama top on. Again, the clothes were a bit big for him, but he wasn't picky.
Once he signaled he was done Vincent quickly poured him a drink and handed it to him. Surprisingly, he also poured himself some. A rather large one. Vincent wasn't typically a whiskey fan but perhaps he just needed something to clam his anxiety.
After his drink he busied himself with the first aid kit. Alastor quickly downed his glass, more to curb his annoyance than his pain level.
"Do you know what all your injuries are?" Vincent asked, still looking through the kit.
"Torn calf muscle and some lacerations on my side. All manageable."
"Alright well I can't do much about the tear but we can at least disinfect the cuts." Vincent pulled out some hydrogen peroxide and cotton pads. "You're, uh... gonna have to lift up your shirt."
There was that flush again. Honestly, Vincent could sometimes be more prudish than Alastor...
Alastor set his drink on the coffee table and did so, lifting the thin pajama shirt and revealing his torso from his ribs downwards.
"..."
"Well?" Alastor asked impatiently after Vincent had been staring for an intensely long time doing nothing. He startled suddenly, his ears red once again.
Alastor's smile quirked up. He found his ears flushing to be unreasonably cute.
Cute? He meant intriguing. Intriguing was the correct word.
One time he looked so flustered he seemed ready to explode. His ears were red as cherries along with the rest of his face. The hue complimented his mismatched eyes quite well. Green, blue, and red.
"Might sting a bit." Vincent warned. Alastor rolled his eyes. He should know by now that Alastor had world-class pain tolerance.
Vincent lightly placed his free hand on Alastor's stomach while the one with the pad closed in.
Alastor flinched quite noticeably. His stomach tensed and he bit his cheek.
"Al? You alright?" Vincent was confused. Alastor was usually supernaturally resistant to any kind of pain and he flinched just with the pad coming close.
"I'm fine." Came a strained response.
"Uh... okay. Just tell me if you need me to stop." Vincent touched the pad down to the scratches. It stung, of course, but that was entirely more manageable from what actually had him flinching.
Alastor allowed himself to relax a bit, slowly unclenching his stomach and breathing evenly.
"Lemme get this blood real quick."
Ah. The dried blood spread across his torso. Vincent gently pressed the soft fuzzy cotton pad to his stomach and began wiping.
Alastor's eyes shot open. His entire torso tensed. He slammed a hand over his rapidly widening grin.
His stomach started jerking. He squeezed his eyes shut and his shoulders shook.
Vincent was absolutely dumbfounded.
For about 3 seconds.
"Ohhhh." Vincent snickered and smiled amusedly, stilling the cotton pad. "I forgot you're ticklish here."
Alastor's eyes narrowed and he growled.
Vincent chuckled and held his hands up. "Relax, Al, jeez! You already know I'm ticklish. No shame."
Alastor seemed to get less pissed at that. Vincent wore a lopsided grin.
"Is this your worst spot?"
"Why on Earth would I volunteer that information?" Alastor lifted his hand from his mouth to speak in a rather annoyed tone.
"I mean. It seems pretty bad. And if it's not, that just means you have an even worse spot somewhere else I'll find eventually."
Alastor huffed with what could only be described as a pout. "Yes. It is." He cocked an eyebrow. "What about you? Are your ribs your worst spot?"
He seemed to choke on his spit again and clear his throat, his smile shifting to something more bashful. "I, uh- well... no, it isn't."
Alastor's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?"
Vincent chuckled. "Yeah. I've always been too ticklish for my own good."
"So where is your worst spot?"
With a playful grin Vincent effortlessly fired back. "Why on Earth would I volunteer that information?"
Alastor hummed and tilted his head with a teasing smile. "Guess I'll just have to find it for myself, then."
Vincent's reactive giggle was embarrassingly goofy sounding, reflecting the rush of giddy shyness it caused.
He held the cotton pad back to Alastor's midriff, causing it to tense. Vincent successfully held back a giggle at that. It felt good not to be the only ticklish one on the team.
Once he continued gently wiping off the blood Alastor slammed both hands over his mouth as he tried desperately to suppress his laughter. His eyes were screwed shut as his shoulders and stomach shook with each silenced guffaw.
Vincent meanwhile looked at him as if he were the embodiment of beauty itself. He'd never seen Alastor like this before. It made his heart soar.
As the cotton pad danced over his torso, Vincent couldn't help but admire his belly. The skin was soft and smooth and bounced with every giggle. It was kind of squishy too. Not because of fat, but due to lack of muscle. Just a bunch of delicate organs and a layer of highly ticklish skin to protect them. He watched it quiver with each snicker and titter wearing a happy lovesick smile.
He just wished Al would stop suppressing the laughs and just let them out. He was DYING to hear them.
His wiping of the blood got less precise as he started wandering his brushing to map out all of Alastor's most sensitive spots.
And... There! Alastor's entire body jolted violently when he hit that little spot right there. Just below his bellybutton.
He removed the pad and immediately brought all 5 fingers to lightly dance over the area, eyes locked onto Al's face to soak up his reaction.
And, OH, he couldn't have asked for anything better!
Alastor's eyes shot open in alarm, his grin grew massive, and he exploded into a hysterical laughing fit.
A laughing fit absolutely FILLED with delightful little snorts.
His hands tried to cover it up but it was all for naught. Vincent heard every little squeak, squeal, cackle, and most importantly, snort.
He stared at him with eyes wide as saucers before breaking out a blindly bright smile.
Oh this was the cutest thing he’d ever seen hands down. Screw puppies or kittens or newborn babies. Alastor blushing, hiding part of his face, absolutely snorting up a storm in a helpless fit of laughter cause his tummy was just too ticklish?
Vincent was sure his heart was going to explode. It was the most adorable damn sound he’d ever heard. And Alastor, the cocky deadly Alastor, was SHY about it?
Vincent took a moment to thank whatever higher power blessed him with this tonight. If he developed amnesia tomorrow he hoped this would be the last memory to go.
Alastor finally tore his hands away from covering his face to grab Vincent's tickling hand and shove it away. He quickly panted to recover his breath and Vincent just sat back and enjoyed the uninterrupted view of his face. His complexion generally made it harder to tell if he was flushed or not but when he was really flustered there was no hiding it. His whole face was a deep crimson and his smile was still wobbly and genuine.
"Your laugh..." Vincent chuckled to himself. Before he could continue, Alastor looked defensive.
"I'm well aware of how undignified it is Vincent. You're the one who decided to forcefully draw it out of me."
"Undigni-? Alastor that was cutest damned laugh I've ever heard."
They both blinked at each other.
Fuck, maybe he shouldn't have used the word 'cute'.
Alastor shifted his jaw and picked up his whiskey glass, empty, but it seemed he just needed something to do and look at.
"'humiliating' is a better word for it, I fear." Alastor's tone was flippant, but seemed to be disguising some insecurity.
Vincent softened his expression before reaching for the whiskey bottle and pouring Al another drink.
"I always thought my uncontrolled laugh to be ugly and annoying." He said as he poured. Al's eyes met his. "You called it infectious."
Alastor's smile met his eyes. "You called mine cute."
Vincent chuckled and placed the bottle back on the table. "What a pair we are. Serial killers. Entertainers. Horribly ticklish with unique laughs."
Alastor chuckled as he sipped his drink.
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Both enjoy being tickled."
Alastor nearly spat his drink onto the couch. He grunted and forcefully swallowed his mouthful. "Excuse me?"
Vincent's grin was massive. "You liked it. You know I like it. And I could tell you did. Covering your face instead of fighting back at all? Only removing my hand when you were embarrassed about your little snorts..."
Oh, Alastor's face was BURNING.
"Come on, you can admit it. I just did."
Alastor tightened his gaze and slammed down his whiskey glass. "I will admit no such thing."
Vincent looked delighted to hear that.
"Oh no, seems I didn't get all the blood!" He spoke in an overexaggerated fake tone before lightly dancing all ten fingers over his belly, carefully avoiding his scratches.
Alastor burst into hysterics, snorting repeatedly as he lost it.
"Admit iiiiiit~ You like being tiiiiickled~" Vincent sang teasingly. Oh, he was loving how ticklish his tummy was. His touch was so light but Alastor was losing his mind. Plus, he could feel the quaking of his belly with every booming laugh and adorable snort.
Then, slightly tipsy and impulsive, he pulled a move he never would have before tonight.
He leaned down, pressed his lips to Alastor's belly, and blew a raspberry over his navel.
And Alastor. Shrieked.
"PFFTAHA- SNRK! AHAHAHA! VIHIHAHAHA! SNRK!"
Vincent felt his head be harshly shoved away which he allowed.
Alastor panted, his expression slightly pained. Vincent's amusement turned to worry.
"Calf muscle is still torn. That was... intense. I couldn't help but thrash."
Ah. He kicked his legs and upset his torn muscle.
"Just... not now. We have to allow the muscle to heal."
Oh... Ohohoho... Vincent was not letting that slip up go.
"Not now?" He asked with a shit-eating grin.
Alastor blinked confusedly then his calming red flush renewed as bright as ever.
"I- I didn't-"
"You said 'not now'. Meaning you're okay with it happening again." Vincent lightly danced five fingers up and down his belly, gentler and slower so as not to cause any more uncontrolled thrashing. "You like being tickled~"
Alastor broke into laughter again, still littered with snorts but not as intense as before. His hands latched onto Vincent's wrist but barely made any effort to push him away.
"Come on, Al. Just admit it! There's no shame! It's just us two and you already know I like it. If you admit it, I promise I'll go pickup breakfast from the cafe you like tomorrow." Yeah he had to resort to bargaining but come on. He HAD to hear him admit it!
After about twenty more adorable seconds of snorts and cackling, he finally gave in.
Vincent giggled to himself, so utterly adoring and enamored. He let his index finger remain to just lightly trace shapes all over his belly, which Vincent was quickly learning he never wanted to take his hands off of.
It kept Al in a state of light high-pitched tittering with just an occasional snort or two.
Vincent rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. Quiche, croissants, the whole shebang." Then his smile turned an equal mix of fond and teasing. His tickling finger relented as he moved his hand to brush some hair that had fallen in Alastor's face. "And I'll be here to tickle you as much as you want until you get better. And beyond then."
If Vincent didn't know any better, he would've pinned Alastor's returned smile as... bashful. But as quick as he registered it, it was gone, replaced with the more typical mischievous one.
"When I'm better you can expect comeuppance for this little attack here." Alastor reached forward slightly to tweak Vincent's rib, making him squeak at a hilariously high pitch. Alastor chuckled amusedly. "I still have to find your worst spot."
Vincent giggled happily, face lightly pink. "I'll be expecting nothing less."
Hazbin Hotel | Murdermedia [Human!Alastor x Human!Vincent]
Summary: Serial killer duo Vincent and Alastor crash at Vincent's house after a kill where they get very very drunk and Al discovers how stupidly ticklish his business partner is. [THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]
warning for alcohol, pinning, mentions of murder and blood and corpses, all canon typical stuff.
this is planned to be the first in a long ass series but we'll see if i actually follow through.
REMINDER THAT THIS BLOG WILL BE DELETED (eventually) AND ALL MY FICS WILL BE ON AO3 FOREVER.
>>>BOOKMARK MY AO3 HERE<<<
---
Alastor was in his house.
Alastor. Was in. His house!
Vincent shouldn't be freaking out. For a number of reasons.
The first reason was that something much more important and risky had happened. That being the duo had just committed a double homicide.
To any normal person, one homicide would be enough for at least some hyperventilation.
Vincent was far from a normal person. He was an experienced serial killer. Though two at once was a new for him.
The second reason he shouldn't be alarmed was because Alastor and Vincent had known each other for over a year now, and killing together almost as long. The man simply existing in his house shouldn't be that significant in Vincent's mind.
Oh, but it was. Because Alastor was so much more than his killing partner, or 'business partner' as they'd labelled it.
Alastor was a wonder of a man. An absolute charmer, swift with a blade as he was with words. He could down two men with knives then out-dance three with a voice that was like the finest honey, oozing into Vincent's soul every time he opened his mouth.
And now the man with danger radiating from every inch of him was in his house, covered in blood with a small unamused smile.
"There's no saving these clothes. We're burning them. Get changed and put everything currently on your person into a trash bag. I'll take care of them tomorrow."
It had been somewhat of a bloodbath tonight, Vincent thought as he looked down at his clothes. Thankfully since this was planned and carried out downtown, he'd forgone wearing any of his nicer outfits. Now he only had to say goodbye to a simple button-up and an old pair of slacks.
The shoes he was a tad put-out by.
While the murder itself was planned, both of them fleeing to Vincent's house was not. But unfortunately some other crime nearby was carried out less discreetly than theirs leading to the police sirens blaring not but a block away.
It was a bit of a scramble but they managed to get themselves to safety plus both bodies to Vincent's backyard.
"Do you have any change of clothes on you?"
"And where, pray tell, would I be hiding those?"
Fair enough. Stupid question. Alastor didn't have any sort of bag with him.
Vincent's heart fluttered the slightest bit in his chest as an idea came to mind.
"You could... borrow some of mine?"
Alastor in Vincent's clothes... There was a unique closeness something like that signified.
Plus, Vincent was a good bit taller than Alastor. Not drastically, but about 3-4 inches. He also had a broader build which his clothes were custom tailored too.
Seeing a man like Alastor in clothes too big, draping down a bit too long and hugging him a bit too loosely...
Please say yes please say yes please say yes...
"That should work for now given our unplanned detour."
Vincent's slack expression shifted to a smile just this side of casual. He was just glad he managed not to throw his fists in the air and cheer.
"There's cops still around. I should probably stay here tonight and leave in the morning."
Tonight just got even better.
"Yeah! Sure! No-no problem at all!" Vincent cleared his throat to rid himself of his light stammer.
Alastor waking up in the morning wearing Vincent's too big clothes...
"I-I'll go fetch us some clothes. And, uh, feel free to help yourself to a drink." Vincent waved him towards his alcohol cabinet.
"How generous. Did you buy that brand of whiskey I recommended?"
"'Course I did. Top shelf."
Truth was, Vincent didn't like whiskey very much. But he was quite interested in having anything Alastor wanted fully in stock.
"Smart boy." He said in a borderline purr.
Vincent shivered and basically ran to his bedroom to pull out only the best clothes he had.
After practically emptying his wardrobe he found some black silk pajamas he hadn't worn in ages as well as a combination of black slacks and a crimson dress shirt.
He carried the clothes out to the living room where Alastor was sipping his drink with an expectant eyebrow.
"I, uh-, I got you clothes I think you'd like. Real silk! And I got you something red for tomorrow. I know how much you... like red." Wow he sounded stupid. Vincent set the folded clothes down on the coffee table and went to pour himself a drink, a spiced gin, just to give his mouth something else to do other than embarrass him.
It was strange. Alastor wasn't much a fan of sweets in the culinary sense but tended to gravitate towards slightly sweeter alcoholic drinks whereas Vincent was very much the opposite.
"Thank you, Vincent." Alastor finished his whiskey then held up his index finger and twirled it around.
Vincent furrowed his eyebrows, analyzing the gesture as he took a sip.
Then his eyebrows shot up.
"Oh!" He quickly, a bit too quickly, spun around to give Alastor some privacy to change.
His heart started beating quicker in his chest, hearing Alastor unzip his pants, and then drop them to the floor.
Keep it together. He's just changing clothes. It's not like he's some broad stripping for a show. This is a man. There's nothing... exciting about it.
His ears still perked up hearing the shuffling of fabric behind him. Despite his best efforts, his mind supplied him with its best guess for what Alastor looked like at that moment. Bare chest. Slender frame. Those long legs.
He swallowed hard.
"Alright. I'm decent." Alastor said as he shoved his soiled clothes in the garbage bag.
Vincent turned around, trying very hard not to look too eager.
And oh, it was exactly what he was hoping for. The shirt hanging just over his waist and showing part of his collar bone. The pants ankles dragging down to his heels and sitting loosely on his hips....
He looked so small in Vincent's clothes. Don't get it wrong, Vincent was in no way fooled. That man could still have his head on a pike in five seconds flat.
That didn't change the fact that he looked borderline adorable.
Nope. Scratch the borderline. It was taking all his effort not to reach out and squeeze the man in his arms.
His head would tuck so nicely under his chin-
"Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to shed those bloody rags of yours?"
Vincent quickly cleared his throat and pretended he wasn't ogling him.
"Oh yeah! Yeah. Right." He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and began to peel it off. He was disappointed but unsurprised that Alastor turned around to avoid watching.
Once the dirtied clothes were in the bag, Vincent realized he hadn't brought out a change for himself. He abruptly excused himself back to his room and found his navy silk pajama set. Once changed, he quickly returned to the living room to see Alastor pouring himself another glass of whiskey.
"I'll bring the bodies back to my house tomorrow. I don't suppose you'd like to assist me with that?" Alastor shot him that smug smirk. He knew Vincent would say yes had he asked him to lift a car. And Vincent was plenty happy to be of use no matter what Alastor requested of him.
"Of course! Besides, tomorrow's Saturday. I don't have any plans or anything."
"I would hope not. Making plans for the day after a kill this risky would be foolish."
"I suppose that's why you're drinking a tad more than usual."
"Why ever not? A successful outing, a free day tomorrow, and a nice bottle of whiskey so generously provided by my business partner. It'd be a shame not to indulge given the circumstances." He downed the rest of his glass and poured another.
"Don't go too fast. Don't want you getting sick on me."
"Vincent, do you honestly take me for a lightweight? I'm more than capable of holding my liquor. You on the other hand..." Alastor's smile was large and mocking as he sipped on his glass.
Vincent snorted. "Oh, please. Do you realize how often you're expected to drink at studio events and still be ready to present at a moment's notice? I could down a gallon of vodka and still deliver the news without a hair out of place."
Alastor's grin was downright devilish. "Then how about you put your money where your mouth is? Drink for drink. First one to fold gives the other five dollars."
Vincent blinked in surprise. Five dollars was almost a day's wages for him.
But he was nothing if not bold.
He poured himself another spiced gin and downed it.
"I accept."
...
Vincent was already regretting everything. He was hunched over the coffee table, one arm resting on the arm of the couch while his free hand swirled a finger around the rim of his latest drink, stalling for time as he was hesitant to consume anymore.
"Whatsa' matter? Givin' up s'soon?" Alastor slurred as he waved around his empty glass.
Vincent didn't know how many it had been. Too much, his mind supplied.
He had quickly found that yes, he did have high alcohol tolerance. But so did Alastor. Which left them drinking more than any two people realistically should.
He was sure that if he kept going one of them would end up in the hospital.
He grumbled something incoherent and reached for his wallet across the coffee table.
"Haha! That's what I thought! Hic!"
Alastor cheered and nearly dropped his glass, readjusting his grip at the last moment before setting it down.
"No one's given me a run for my money in a long time. You're fun to have around." Alastor's words were heavily slurred and remarkably jovial. Vincent had seen him tipsy before, where he was a bit looser and easier to make laugh, but this was a new level.
Who knew the most dangerous man in New Orleans would be a happy drunk?
Vincent barely managed to count out the right amount of money and slide it over to Alastor who didn't even seem to notice. The other man had his head propped up in his hand, elbow resting on the arm of his side of the couch, as he stared at Vincent with a smile much dopier and giddier than usual.
Vincent's face was already flushed from the alcohol, but that didn't stop the heat from spreading under the attention.
"Your ears are red." Alastor commented with a light giggle.
Vincent cringed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh- that only happens when I drink a lot."
Not true. Vincent was an easy blusher, especially around Alastor. With his pale complexion, it shone like a beacon of pink and red every time, often spreading to his ears when he was particularly flustered.
Normally he was an extremely skilled liar, crafting intricate yet perfect stories and alibis on the fly as if second nature.
But with a cloudy boozed-up mind, his words were practically screaming 'liar liar pants on fire'.
"Liar." Alastor reached out and poked Vincent's bottom rib to get his attention.
"AH! Ehehe- hey!" Vincent squeaked and giggled immediately before swatting at the offending hand. He felt dread wash over him as he saw the knowing twinkle in Alastor's eye.
"Oh?"
"Al..."
Alastor leaned towards him with a grin. "Tell me, Vincent. You wouldn't happen to be... ticklish, would you?"
"W-what? No, I, uh- I was, um, startled." The more Vincent stammered and stuttered the more he pulled his arms to his sides to try and protect himself. He wouldn't fool anyone like this and he knew it.
Truth was, Vincent had been dreadfully ticklish all his life. He never seemed to grow out of it like a lot of other men.
When he was a kid his mom tickled him often and he remembered loving it. He had memories, embarrassing in hindsight, of him running to his mom wanting to play 'tickle monster' and making sure to get caught on purpose.
He hadn't been tickled properly as an adult but wasn't exactly opposed to the idea.
What he WAS opposed to was Alastor finding out just how massive and debilitating this little weakness of his could be.
And worst, hearing his laugh when being tickled.
Vincent's every day laugh was what you'd expect from a business man and a performer. Deep, controlled, casual.
When being tickled, though...
Alastor raised his hand with wiggling fingers and anxiety shot up Vincent's spine.
The paler man started scrambling backwards on the couch, back pressing up against the arm as Alastor slinked towards him. Just the sight of those wiggling fingers, knowing they'd be on him in mere moments, made mirth bubble in his belly that was almost impossible to ignore. His smile grew massive and wobbly and nervous giggles bounced around in his chest looking for an escape. Thanks to his inebriated state, they quickly found one, flooding the air in all their giddy, goofy glory.
Alastor smile was blindingly bright, eyes dancing in excitement and amusement.
"I'm not even touching you yet."
"Y-you're gohohonna!" Vincent's speech was just barely comprehensible. Words were difficult to force out past the giggle fit. He could already feel his worst spots tingling in anticipation.
"Hm. Correct."
As soon as those ten fingers descended on his ribs, Vincent let out the most mortifyingly high-pitched squeal he was pretty sure he'd ever made post-puberty, before positively exploding in laughter.
Oh, he could hear it. The way his laugh quickly cycled between high-pitched and squeaky, and low and goofy, with hiccups, wheezes, and squeals mixed in for flavor.
He was so embarrassed. He had never wanted Alastor to hear this side of him.
He looked up at his tormentor though his hysteria, expecting disdain or condescension.
Instead, Alastor looked mesmerized.
Then, shockingly, something happend to him. His smile twitched. He huffed a few times. He bit his lip as his eyes crinkled...
Then he started laughing.
Vincent could barely hear the sound over his own cacophony, but the sight alone was something he wished he could savor forever.
"Y-Yohohohour laahahahaugh..."
Vincent inwardly winced. Yeah. He was aware of how bad it was.
"Ihihihit's sohoho... i-ihihinfectious! Ahahaha!" Alastor lifted his hands to clutch his middle, letting Vincent catch his breath and try to listen.
Infectious? Alastor was laughing because his laugh was contagious? He liked it?
Vincent stared through tired eyes with a stupid dopey smile.
Alastor's laugh was the same as always, if a little slurred and loud compared to sober Al.
Vincent's partner rarely laughed genuinely. He could tell when it was rehearsed, made to mock, polite, or real. When he did let himself laugh, he usually cut it off or kept it quieter than it clearly wanted to be.
Thank God for alcohol because it let Vincent hear the whole thing, uninterrupted and uncontrolled. He took time to memorize the way his smile was massive and imperfect as opposed to forced one plastered on most of the time. The way his eyes were near closed as mirth overtook him. The way he gripped his torso as if it would help him overcome his laughing fit.
Then, an idea brewed in Vincent's head. A dangerous one. One he would quickly shut down if he had a modicum of logical thinking.
He reached his hands out, fingers resting against Alastor's belly and sides, and began rapidly wiggling his fingers.
The reaction he got was worth any consequences.
Alastor... controlled, refined, perfect Alastor, snorted and jerked backwards, landing on his butt on the other side of the couch with a loud burst of high-pitched laughter.
Vincent was over the fucking moon.
"HA! Looks like I'm not the only one who's ticklish!"
His rush of pride and satisfaction was extinguished in an instant seeing the terrifying determination flickering in Alastor's eyes.
Vincent tucked his head down and pushed himself up against the arm of the couch.
"Uh, I was just messin' around, Al. You know that..."
Alastor didn't even verbally responded. He just pounced, taking the wind out of Vincent's lungs as Alastor landed so he was straddling his stomach.
Vincent didn't have time to think about the suggestiveness of the position before he was absolutely howling in laughter.
Those ten wiggling fingers were back with a vengeance, much faster and much more determined, poking, prodding, and wiggling up against every nerve of his ribs.
"IEEEE- A-AHAHAL! AHA! NOHOHO! ACK! IHIHI'M- HIC- IHIHIHI'M SOHOHOHORRY! EEK- PFFTAHAHAHA!" He glued his arms to his sides but nothing deterred the devastating attack. He threw his head against the arm of couch as massive waves of unrelenting mirth poured from his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut, his grin was face-splitting and aching, his core was spasming from his uncontrollable laughter.
But good God, it felt magnificent.
Sure, his mind was sending signals of panic and escape, causing him to thrash and wiggle like a fish out of water, but those feelings were easily overshadowed.
He hadn't laughed so hard in years. It was incredible. He could feel the endorphins flooding his body and mind as his heart fluttered from the attention and silliness of the situation. Alastor's touch was warm and comforting even if it sent alarm bells in his brain screaming at him about how badly it tickled.
He craved touch. Always had. And now he had Alastor's full attention with his hands all over him, smiling down at him, fighting back a laughing fit of his own.
"I hope this will teach you not to start fights you cannot win." Alastor managed to speak clearly but the wobble in his voice and grin made it obvious he was fighting tooth and nail not to crack up again.
One of Alastor's prodding fingers found a terribly sensitive spot along his floating rib, forcing out two impossibly high-pitched squeaks.
Apparently that was the last straw needed for Alastor to break into laughter right alongside him again.
"Y-Yohohohou're lihihike ahaha humahahan sq-squeheheaky tohohoy!" He laughed brightly before focusing his attack on his two bottom ribs, thoroughly massaging the bones.
Yet another shriek sounding like a chipmunk on helium, making Alastor laugh harder as Vincent absolutely lost it.
"AIIIIIIEEE! FUHUCK- AHAHACK! HIC! IHIHIH- EEHEHE- IHIHI CAHAHAN'T! NOHOHOHAHAHA!" Vincent let out a long wheeze as his body curled up as much as it could before he exploded back into hysterics, kicking his feet and jerking side to side beneath Alastor's weight.
Above him, Alastor's expression turned curious... like he was analyzing something... dissecting a problem.
Then the tickles stopped. His hands stilled, just resting on his ribs.
Vincent's tittering did not stop as quick. In fact, it took about a solid minute of panting and squeaking to get himself back under control.
Embarrassed and dazed, he looked up at Al shyly.
"Most people would have fought back by now. Insulted, even threatened the person to cease their attack. Or even just yelled the word 'stop'." Alastor cocked his head to the side with an intrigued grin. "You've done none of that."
Vincent swallowed and dread pooled in his belly.
It was bad enough Alastor now knew how pathetically ticklish he was and heard his ridiculous laugh. He could not let him know he enjoyed, or God forbid, craved this kind of play. He was an up and coming entertainer, practically the face of an entire channel, a savvy businessman, a goddamn serial killer!
How humiliating it'd be to be caught like this. Being tickled to hysterics and loving every second.
Vincent tried to wipe the goofy grin off his face but the consistent presence of Alastor's fingers on his ribs made that impossible. His gaze wandered to the side, trying to avoid eye contact as if it would protect his reputation.
"I... Um, well... I'm drunk. I just, uh... didn't think about it."
He knew that lie wouldn't fool even a child but at this point he was just avoiding admitting it.
A squeeze at his bottom ribs made him squeal and bark out a quick stream of laughs.
"You cannot fool me Vincent. Admit it." Alastor leaned down so they were nearly nose to nose before purring in a low voice. "You love it when I tickle you."
It felt like Vincent's heart leapt into the sky before shooting back into his chest and bouncing around in there, pitter-pattering in a way that left him tingling all over.
Vincent's gaze shot to the ceiling and he bit his cheek to keep from giggling nervously.
Another squeeze at his ribs broke that immediately, sending him into a seemingly never-ending fit of high-pitched giggles both from nerves and from tickles. His eyes met Alastor's to see that the other's grin took on that genuine wobbly quality again. He clearly did regard Vincent's laugh as highly contagious.
Alastor sat back and cleared his throat, hands removed leaving Vincent to breathe evenly for even a brief moment.
"That's too bad. Because I had a proposition for you." His eyebrow was raised with a knowing smirk. It was obvious bait but Vincent's impulsive curiosity didn't care.
"W-What kind?"
"Tickling you to hysterics is satisfying some of my sadistic urges. There are times we're between kills or need to lie low for a while. You," Alastor poked a finger to the tip of Vincent's flushed nose. "can help me out during those times."
Vincent blinked. He was proposing... Vincent offer himself up to be tickled out of his mind when Alastor had pent-up aggression between kills?
An excited thrill zipped up his spinal cord and flooded his body.
Alastor, antsy and frustrated, with his hands all over Vincent on a regular basis, making him laugh, giving him his full attention...
Fuck. Yes.
...But he couldn't just say that!
Vincent cleared his throat and looked to the side. "W-What do I get out of it?"
5 fingers drummed a quick 2-second rhythm across his ribs, making him squeak like a mouse and burst into a small giggle fit. Alastor's eyes softened the slightest bit.
"You get the honor, the privilege, of being tickled by me."
Fuck he was so screwed.
Vincent took a breath. "I guess... if it helps you keep your aggression under wraps when we don't have a target... I can help you out."
Clearly not the exact answer Alastor was looking for, his eyes were narrowed. "How selfless of you. You must be so generous... offering yourself up to be tickled, especially given how horribly sensitive you are."
Two pokes to his ribs. A squeal and a hiccup in return.
"Especially this little spot right here." He rubbed little circles in his bottom ribs and Vincent descended back into helpless peals of laughter. He twisted and turned and drummed his feet on the couch as that one little tickle spot was abused to Hell and back.
Alastor abruptly laid himself atop of Vincent, his head buried in his shoulder as his fingers resumed their earlier torture up and down his ribcage.
Vincent was once again lost to hysterics, and now unable to wiggle around with the weight of his business partner on top of him.
He assumed that was the point of this odd, but incredibly satisfying position, until he felt it. Alastor was laughing into his shoulder. He did this to mask his reactions to Vincent's contagious laughter.
They must've looked so ridiculous. Vincent on his back on the couch, Alastor laid on top of him, face buried in his shoulder as his hands busied themselves tickling the living daylights out of the man beneath him, both cackling like madmen.
After a long period of comfortable shared mirth, Alastor's hands began both squeezing and scribbling at his floating ribs.
"EEEHE- NOHO- AHA- AHAL NOHOT THAHAT! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE! EEK!"
His abdominal muscles were spasming painfully and his lungs wheezed and ached after just a short moment of the treatment.
To his surprise, the hands immediately stopped. Vincent filled his lungs with air as quickly as possible and went boneless on the couch, head flopped back against the arm.
His smile was still steady, especially feeling Alastor still tittering into his shoulder.
They stayed there for a while, long after Alastor's mirth finally went silent and Vincent's breathing evened out. Two dazed, giddy, very very drunk men on the couch together.
Vincent wanted to savor it even longer but, damn. A crap ton of alcohol mixed with laughing yourself until your stomach ached...? He was wiped.
His eyes blinked. Slower and slower. He mumbled something even he couldn't decipher, then sleep overtook him in an instant.
...
When he woke in the morning he was on the couch with a blanket over him, Alastor already in the kitchen cooking breakfast.
And to his delight, the alcohol didn't inhibit his recollection, he remembered every second.
ur basically forcegiggling people when you tell funny jokes, dont you know how problematic that is? ur rlly ok with noncon chuckling??? wow ok, freak. no wonder u listen to smileslut all the time...
I genuinely think mad scientist characters are the most lee-coded you can possibly get. Like they’re always doing something absolutely buckwild, sometimes to themselves, so there’s no way they haven’t been broken at least once. Maybe a machine they’re building goes haywire on them, or a specimen they’re studying gets a little too friendly. If they’re more of an alchemist, maybe a potion they’re making has some unexpected (or Very expected) side effects. Not to mention they’re the perfect mixture of professional, intelligent, and the weirdest person you’ve ever met in your life. Plus, the “crazy mad scientist laugh” trope is already a thing, and so what if they’re doing their evil laugh once their plan is working, and then it quickly dissolves into panicked yelps and giggles when they realize oh fuck it’s not.
Having to clean the shower is so fucking annoying. It’s clean in there. That’s where I go to get clean. It’s clean dude trust me. Stop fucking growing bacteria and stuff man this is the clean locale. You’re embarrassing me in front of the sink
like i quite literally have never been more passionate about anything than i am about the human race’s invariable desire to tell stories and the fact that we always find a way to do it, through spoken language and written language and body language and visual art and theater and poetry and oral tradition and a million other things. there are so many things we take for granted about the human experience that we never stop to think about but i really want you to take a step back and consider how fucking amazing it is that our need to tell stories transcends all boundaries of time and geography and borders and language. it is one of very few things that is legitimately intrinsic to human nature and i will never stop being completely in awe of humanity for that.
on Planet Where Everyone Can Teleport the first person on the moon went there by accident and promptly died. The next dozen or so people also went by accident, and also died. Number 14 figured out that people who go to the moon die and very cleverly brought a sword and six weeks of travel rations. This did not help.
No one on Planet Where Everyone Can Teleport ever figured out why people die in space because they don’t need airplanes and never found it particularly interesting to climb tall mountains. Astronomers use telescopes to take pictures of the ever-growing pile of corpses on the moon.
#this feels like a fable that would have some kind of moral but I’m not quite sure what#something about like hard work/effort/the need to be curious idk
the moral of the story is that a breathable atmosphere is important to one’s general well-being
How do you make a squid laugh?
With ten-tickles! @thelavendersquid - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
