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rosileeduckie · 5 months

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Mean, but Sweet

After all this, I don't know, the naughty list doesn't seem so bad...

Patton can be very mean, if it makes someone else happy 😈💙

Potential warnings: none. Sanders Sides, Janus/Patton tickle fic.

A Squealing Santa Christmas gift for @trashyswitch! Hoping it's worth the wait, and wishing you the happiest new year! 😊😘 Thanks so so so much @squealing-santa Hypah our hero for hosting this year!! Lots of love for everyone who participated; congrats everybody!! ❤❄

Word count: 6,406

~*~

There’s something very attractive about winter. The season is uniquely deep and dark, and Janus can’t help but thrive when there are shadows aplenty, easy to hide in and hide things in. A societal expectation to make nice with everyone also leads to the hilarious sight of people performing their “best life” routine by lying through smiling teeth and juggling a million more responsibilities that, no, they definitely don’t need help with. What could he say, it all made Janus feel very at ease, in the presence of deceit wrapped in pretty paper.

But, then, he wasn’t so cynical this year. He blamed his cohorts for melting his too-small heart over the course of the year to the point where he could now appreciate the whimsy that twinkling fairy lights give to a chilly winter evening. Still dark, but warm, too.

Metaphorically and literally warm–it was not quite a winter wonderland outside the house. Still, the lower temperature and earlier sunset and merry decorations and seasonal flavors in Janus’ mug and the obnoxiously patterned and colored sweater on his body really did make it feel like Christmas. Certainly, the Mind Palace could have been nestled in a snow globe setting if the Sides so desired, but they were partial to their host’s house in Florida. It wasn’t a white Christmas, but it was cozy and homey and–Janus could begrudgingly admit–nice.

Janus was skillfully juggling two mugs as he walked into the living room. In one hand, he carried a peppermint mocha in a plain red vessel, simple and hot. In the other hand, he held a mug covered with scenes of snowmen decorating a pine tree with little birds. The contents of that mug were just as extravagant and sweet: gingerbread spiced hot cocoa completely obscured beneath a layer of marshmallows, whipped cream, and sprinkles.

When Janus set the dessert in a cup on the coffee table, Patton looked up and smiled, his eyes really sparkling under the lights of the room’s opulent tree beside which he sat. The mug was just the newest addition to Patton’s station at the coffee table. Before him were a few sheets of notebook paper, a quill and ink, and a desk lamp and extension cord, which Janus stepped carefully over to sit on the couch just behind Patton.

“Aw, Janus!” Patton beamed, setting down his quill to reach for the mug. “Thank you!”

Even if the gap was seeming to narrow these days, Janus couldn’t help but marvel at how different he and Patton were sometimes. What an easy but incredible show of trust; any of the other Sides would have asked Janus what he wanted in return for such a thoughtful and good deed. (He would have answered “nothing,” but whether or not that was true, who could say?) “Not a problem,” Janus replied, taking a sip of his own drink. “How’s the naughty list looking this year?”

Patton giggled. He had a mustache of sweet fluff on his lip as he set down his mug and drew his quill. “Oh, I can’t say about that. But I do know Santa will have lots of ideas as to what to get you kids if you DO stay on the nice list.” He dipped the quill tip in his inkwell, humming with an audible grin. “Of course, I can’t imagine why you WOULDN’T be on the nice list…”

Janus crossed one leg over his knee and tapped his foot in a subtle but delighted rhythm. “Patton, lying at this time of year?” he tutted. “That nice list is slippery, you know. And lying around me, no less.” Janus leaned forward enough that the hissing chuckle that spread his lips into a smile could tickle Patton’s ear. “Is that my Christmas present?”

Ducking out of reach with a snort, Patton replied, “It’s not lying if I believe you all deserve the best gifts.” He turned to give Janus a boop on the nose with the fluffy end of his quill. “And it’s NOT the gift I have written down, I’ll have you know.”

For a moment, Janus’ eyes caught on the feather–a beautiful thing of blue and iridescent greens and purples that felt as soft as it looked–but curiosity shook him free, and he looked past the writing tool, blurring the beautiful colors as he focused his gaze on the page of just-dry ink. “It’s not?”

“Hey now!” Patton threw out his arm and leaned to one side so as to block Janus’ view. “No peeking!”

Undeterred, Janus didn’t fall back, just snickered and looked at Patton levelly. “What? I hardly need to know what you think I need for gifts.” He rested his chin in his hand, batting his eyelashes and tapping his cheek with his index finger. “But, say, what if I need ideas for our gift swap with the others? You know how hard Logan is to buy for.” (Untrue; Logan wasn’t hard to buy for, just irritatingly specific, which took out all the fun of surprising someone with their gift. Janus did love a good surprise.)

Eyes narrowed, Patton considered this before shaking his head and turning back to his makeshift desk. “No peeking,” he reiterated firmly. “Sensitive information here, for no one’s eyes but Mr Claus himself.” He paused, musing, then smiled. “Or his secretary. He is a busy guy.”

Janus nodded with a humoring hum. He sipped his coffee, nonchalantly scooting on the couch to be closer to Patton. If the scribe noted the movement, he didn’t mind, even leaning back against Janus’ calf and continuing to write. Janus waited a moment, then another, letting Patton’s guard slowly fall. The snake was hardly invested in letters to Santa Claus, but he did enjoy teasing and getting a rise out of Patton. And, who knows, maybe Janus would end up with someone with a scant wish-list and need a gift idea or two to fall back on. When the air felt calm enough to chance it, Janus leaned forward to peek over Patton’s shoulder.

Quick as a cobra, Patton had whirled around, brandishing his feather quill at Janus. “AH!” he admonished, tipping his head to one side and flashing a warning smile. “You better watch out.”

“You better not cry,” Janus replied with a smirk, leaning back a bit with his hands and mug raised placatingly. “Or what, Patton dear?”

Patton’s lower lip puffed out thoughtfully, and he hummed, clicking his tongue a few times. Janus waited, eyebrows raised and lips crookedly elevated. Then, Patton’s scrunched up thinking face relaxed before brightening into a big smile. He didn’t answer Janus’ question, just turned back to his list. Moreover, he didn’t move away but stayed close enough to be leaned up against Janus’ leg and, potentially, surely, observed by Janus’ looming eyes. The risk was worth the reward, and it would have been punishment to both of them to move apart. (It was nature for a Side, however deeply buried; even the prickliest of them liked company and a cuddle. And pushing their luck.)

Janus took a long sip from his drink and sighed, opening his mouth exaggeratedly wide both because it felt nice and because it tended to freak out any Sides who saw. He leaned forward, reaching purposely past Patton to set down his mug on the far side of the coffee table, securing for himself the perfect view of Patton’s cursive scrawl as well as the ideal perch to view it from, his chin resting upon the soft sweater fabric of Patton’s shoulder. Actually, it was cozy enough there, warm and soothing to the tune of Patton’s breathing and humming, and hard enough to read Patton’s handwriting from that distance, that Janus was content to close his eyes and not even try to peek. So he jumped a little, blinking in confusion, when Patton spoke again, but not quite to his current companion.

“‘And what do I ask of you dear Janus? Well, Santa, that’s quite simple. For my dear Janus, I want him to get the biggest and best–’” Patton paused, striking through the last word of his dictation with a flourish. “‘–the WORSE lee mood for Christmas.’”

Patton glanced sideways at him and smiled when Janus snickered. His head bobbed a bit atop the pleased wiggle that shook Patton’s shoulders. It wasn’t exactly a difficult thing to ask for for Christmas. The Sides, different as they could be, could all find fun in being tickled or making someone else laugh, so moods longing for one or the other were not uncommon. Sure, Virgil was more likely to be yearning for an onslaught of gentle belly tickles, whereas Remus would be more often found with fingers twitching in hopes of digging up screams from between someone’s ribs, and Logan could slide back and forth along that scale in a second. But still, it was a safe bet that someone in the Mind Palace was hoping to be or happy to be tickled. Because even if, somehow, no one was actively in a lee mood, one could pretty easily be teased out. Janus fell in the middle of the chaos, fluid like Logan in the part he was ready to play–tickle monster or squealing victim–and not one to be easily teased into a mood–not to be knocked over with a feather, so to say. Sure, seeing Patton twirl his feather quill thoughtfully and being actively threatened with a lee mood–not even being tickled, just infected with the desire to be–may have flustered Janus well enough, but he was cozy enough where he sat to weather the attack. So he only smiled, smug, closing his eyes and staying cuddled up, however awkwardly leaning, up against Patton’s shoulder.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so trusting.

“‘The kind of lee mood that makes you feel so warm and giddy and fuzzy,’” Patton went on, and Janus could hear the big smile around his words, “‘like just thinking about being tickled makes you feel tinsel between your toes and snowflake soft feathers on your belly. I want him to be so happy and flustered that he can only giggle and hiss and do that cute thing where he shakes his legs and taps his feet.’”

They didn’t live in a place with snowy winters, but Janus felt a phrase often used in that region come to mind: deceptively sunny. It was the scenario when one looked out the window to marvel at a beautiful winter landscape, blanketed in crystalline snow and brilliant beneath a crisp blue sky and bright sun, only to step outside and take in a breath that felt like a crackling snap in the lungs. Sunny, but cold. That was Patton. Warm, friendly, happy, but, just beneath, positively wicked. Freezing cold and sharp under a pretty sun, a hot spiced drink under sweet white fluff. Janus felt his stomach turn, swoop like at the drop in a roller-coaster, and burst with a blizzard of butterflies. He couldn’t look away from Patton’s quill as it bobbed, scrawling teases into paper that Janus was suddenly jealous of. Okay, maybe he was easier to tease a mood from than he cared to admit.

And perhaps Patton could read his mind, because he conveniently exclaimed, “‘Oh, and teases! Yes! He needs to get all the teases that make his cheeks go red and his scales change color!’”

Janus’ scales were certainly not doing anything of the sort when Patton paused in writing. He pursed his lips, smiled, and jumped back into his letter.

“‘And, you know, I think this mood’s gotta last until Christmas day, so maybe you can send him some tickly dreams in the meantime, too! Maybe twelve days of them would be fitting?’” Patton’s tongue poked between his top and bottom teeth as he giggled. He cleared his throat, donning a more serious face for continuing his letter to Santa. “‘If that’s too much, don’t worry about it; I’d be happy to take some of the work off your hands. I’m actually writing this letter to you with a beautiful feather quill I got for my birthday–Roman said he just knew I’d get a kick out of being fancy while writing letters. But it’s a beautiful plume, my favorite kind of teal blue and so soft to the touch.’”

‘Writing’ was a stretch; Patton wasn’t even touching the pen to the paper anymore, just twirling the pretty thing between his fingers. It was as long as a hand, with the non-writing end fanning out into a subtle fluffy curl. Its fibers seemed to float lazily as Patton waved the quill around, and Janus imagined they were so delicate as to not even be felt–until they found a place so sensitive on the body that they wouldn’t be ignored. Janus’ usually dark eyes and slitted pupils were bright and dilated, focused so on the gossamer feather that he took little note of Patton looking sideways at him, watching his reactions, with a grin.

Patton sighed dreamily. “‘I bet it would feel so nice tracing down Janus’ neck or around his belly or along his hips. Or circling every scale he has.’” When he smirked at Janus, he would have seen the scales on his face flushed a dark brown-gold. “‘Maybe what I should actually ask you to bring is a good tickle session for Janus on Christmas, and I can do the teasing the twelve days before. Whatever you decide, please know that I am a very good judge of character, and I know that Janus has been SO good this year–’”

Janus’ stomach did another giddy loop-de-loop when Patton chuckled and adjusted his glasses.

“I suppose you’re right, Jan; I should be honest, shouldn’t I?” Patton winked, and Janus’ face may have been warm enough to toast marshmallows on. “‘I know that Janus has been VERY naughty this year, and, so, deserves only the sweetest, meanest, most thorough lee mood, teasing, and wrecking that he’s had all year. And, if your present to me is that I get to deliver this for Janus, I certainly wouldn’t complain. Sincerely yours, Patton.’”

Patton’s smile didn’t falter when Janus stood abruptly from his seat, but his eyebrows did rise expectantly. “I’ve finished my coffee,” Janus answered before Patton could ask. “If you’ll excuse me.” Clutching his half-full mug tightly in his hand, Janus skirted widely around the coffee table and death sentence of a Christmas list. He stopped short at the bottom of the stairs, turning to give Patton a forcibly cool nod. “Thank you for your company.”

After a few startled blinks, Patton snorted and held a hand to his rosy freckled cheek. “Signed, sealed, delivered,” he said to Janus with a grin and a shake of his head. “It’s a little too late to try and get on the nice list now~”

Janus fled calmly up the stairs, ears flushed at the last sight of Patton waving the feather quill to him in farewell.

~*~

The teal fluffy feather was all Janus could see, later–minutes? hours? days? he really couldn’t say–when he lay buried beneath his duvet, trying to pat the heat and smile from his cheeks. The trick really was not to think about it, all the lovely teases Patton had wished for him, but how could he do that when that damn feather was running rampant in his brain, dusting all his thoughts to make them tickly. He had just finished his coffee, too, so he couldn’t even hope to drift off for a cozy little nap. It’d be just his luck though; he’d probably get a dream that would fluster him awake or the second he awoke.

With a huff of a sigh, Janus threw off the covers. If the call was coming from inside the house, there was no point in hiding; if his mind was the monster, a blanket wasn’t going to save him. Besides that, the heat of his sweater and flushing cheeks was beginning to make the bubble of space between his blanket and his bed feel like an oven. He sat up enough to free himself from his sweater and dropped it off the side of the bed and onto the discarded blankets before falling onto his back. If his mind was going to torture him, at least, his body could be comfortable.

But, Janus’ mind sang unhelpfully, now he bore even less protection if some lovely monster slithered down the chimney to leave tickly stardust in his socks and pin him to his bed and–

The pillow previously behind Janus’ head was wailed frustratedly into before it, too, was thrown off the bed. Janus forced himself to take a long, slow breath, burying his fingers in the fabric of his sheets. Okay. Clearly, the lee mood was too grand already to try and wall completely off. Trying to ignore it (and ultimately failing to do so) was just making him irritated. But then, he was too worked up and embarrassed to act on his wants, to ask for it. The very thought was mortifying. Maybe there was a safe middle ground. Maybe he could let the dam leak a little, let the thoughts trickle in. He could handle that, he wouldn’t drown. (He would be dramatic, but he wouldn’t drown.) Surely, he could let himself think about it, a little. Patton had already infected him with the feather fever, after all. Janus figured he might as well try to enjoy it.

Breathing came slower and easier when Janus brought himself to that compromise. He could close his eyes, rein in his agitated leg twitching, wade gently into the pool of his mind.

The image of the quill came back to his mind, and he welcomed it, accompanied it with soft touch from his own hand. As the cerulean feather twirled about, dancing amid the sugarplum visions it had made of his thoughts, Janus traced his fingertips over his belly. With his eyes shut, he could almost pretend the feather to be the perpetrator of the feeling, the gentle swishing back and forth along the border between skin and scales. It was a lovely feeling that made his stomach--just beneath the light show of beautiful sensation--ache with longing.

What else could he imagine? Patton had given him a few cheesy seasonal teasing suggestions, which was kind since Janus wasn't the most creative of the Sides--not the least, but not the most. Janus pictured tinsel, silver and shimmery and soft, threaded between his toes and sawed delicately. His breath caught for a moment, and his toes scrunched against the imaginary sensation. How tauntingly on the edge of feeling.

What else could he imagine? Through his closed eyes, he could see the feather swirling gentle but relentless loops around his belly and scales. He could see the tinsel under his toes. He could see Patton’s smile, his fingers curling and uncurling above Janus’ quivering abdomen. Just a little closer…

Janus sat up, burying his flushed face in his hands. Twelve days of anticipation like this would be its own torture.

A knock to the rhythm of ‘Jingle Bells’ sounded from his door. Janus gave his red cheeks one last chastising pat, floundered for a moment on where to lay his limbs to act natural, and settled on resting his hands on his knees. “Come in.”

When the door opened, the first thing to enter was the bright red and white of a Santa hat, followed by Patton’s merry smile. “Hey, kiddo! You busy?”

“Depends,” said Janus with a hollow scoff. “Did you need more help planning holiday torment, or did you want to bake cookies or something?”

Patton snorted, wiggling his shoulders proudly as he fully entered the room and shut the door. He clasped his hands behind his back, swaying his hips forward and back. “Mm, a bit in between,” Patton decided. “Mean, but still sweet.”

Janus swallowed, trying very hard to bar the dam of his thoughts to keep his hopes from running away from him. “Oh?”

“Well, Santa got back to me,” said Patton, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms with a big sigh. “I know, no time wasted; he is a professional, after all.” He shook his head and smiled sadly, but his eyes were sparkling. “But he said that even he couldn’t make a lee mood and wrecking as wonderful as I asked for in such a short turnaround. So!” Patton adjusted his hat and stood tall, beaming. “He said I should most certainly fill in!”

For someone whose thoughts had just been flooded with elated relief, Janus’ mouth was quite dry. He wouldn’t have to wither away the winter waiting. Patton’s hands and feathers and tinsel and smile were near and real. Janus felt a funny mix of gratefulness and annoyance, seeing as how Patton had been the one to drop him into such a state in the first place. But then, he was too excited already to be annoyed. “Oh,” he said again.

“If you’re not busy.” Patton took a step further into the room.

“Well–” Janus started to say.

“You don’t look busy,” said Patton. Two more steps took him to the edge of Janus’ bed, where he stood, head cocked and smile crooked. “You look like you were expecting me.”

Such rare smugness from Patton was enough to snap Janus from flustered to–well, he was certainly still flustered, but also–indignant. His mouth hung open, and, when no words miraculously filled the empty space, Janus stuck out his forked tongue.

“Don’t be naughty,” Patton chastised with a giggle. “I wrote you a song. May I sit with you and sing it for you?”

Janus nodded, pushing himself up with his hands so as to scoot back and make room for Patton on the bed, but Patton stopped with a gentle hand on his knee.

“Lie back and get comfy,” Patton instructed with a grin. “It’s not a short song.”

His sweater and blankets had already been tossed to the floor; Janus had neither protection nor a saving excuse when the heat in his face spread to his ears and down his neck. He lay back, resting his hands on either side of his head, and, mercifully, Patton commented on neither Janus’ flush nor his eagerness. Instead, Patton whistled a little yuletide carol, climbing onto the bed and kneeling over Janus’ legs. He didn’t settle yet, but turned his torso toward the foot of the bed and tugged off his Santa hat, holding it behind his back and out of Janus’ sight. But Janus could still hear as the hat was held open and its previously unseen contents came tumbling out, rattling like cartoon pots and pans fell onto the sheets. Janus had a guess as to what the hidden pile may have included, but he couldn’t fathom how Patton had managed to hide such a trove so impossibly under his hat. Said hat was placed on Janus’ head as soon as Patton had turned to face forward again, the puff of it being booped on Janus’ nose. Janus' face scrunched up in feigned distaste and fruitless effort to keep from smiling anticipatorily.

Patton adjusted himself to kneel fully and comfortably on Janus’ legs, reaching behind him for a moment to neaten up the mystery gifts from Santa’s hat, then faced Janus once more with a smile. “Alright.” Leaning forward a bit to hunch his shoulders and flex his fingers, Patton began to softly sing. “On the first day of Christmas, I count on my merry lee~”

Janus let out a groaning chuckle. Of course, Patton would come up with the silliest teasing twist on a seasonal song. A song which–Janus realized, derision turning to giddy panic–often had twelve verses that only got longer. He yelped, startled from his thoughts by a sudden whispering soft sensation swirling over his lower belly, and came face to face with the evil feather that had started the whole ordeal. Patton circled the teal feather around Janus’ navel, grinning at the smile straining to be free from Janus’ bitten lower lip.

“A giggle button on his belly~” Patton set the feather by his knee and reached behind him with both hands. “On the second day of Christmas, I count on my darling lee…” And, instead of grabbing a new tool, Patton scribbled his fingers up and down Janus’ soles, prompting a squeal and buck from the man. “Two wiggling feet,” Patton sang, before swinging his hands back in front of himself to dance upon Janus’ stomach once more, “and a giggle button on his belly~”

Second verse cleared, ten more to go. It was too late for Janus to curb his smile–the thing had taken off and spread its wingspan across his cheeks–but he could keep from laughing, he could. He had to. Because, of course, it wasn’t just ten more verses in single phrases; it was ten verses consecutive to all the verses that came before. Janus’ mind was too scrambled to do the math on how many teases in total he was about to endure–he was excited to endure.

“On the third day of Christmas, I count on my dashing lee…” Patton fell forward, hovering above Janus nose-to-nose and grinning. The heels of his hands came to rest on Janus’, his fingers sliding up Janus’ palms until their digits were parallel and easily intertwinable. Janus didn’t know whether this move was a moment of mercy early on or of false security, and he tried to hold Patton’s hands and take as deep of breaths as his cantering heart would allow. Patton squeezed his hands once before curling his own fingers inward. Janus’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion before shooting up in realization, just in time for Patton’s nails to scratch delicately along the palms of Janus’ hands. “Three pairs of twitchy palms~”

Janus snorted, and he would have blamed the tickling, if anyone had asked. No way, no way, was Patton going to get him to unfurl his other two sets of arms into a visible and tangible state. Even if doing so would gain Janus four more terribly ticklish spots to be doted upon… No. He would not so willfully participate in his own demise.

Most all his resistance dissipated into delighted terror when Patton drew back, aiming his wiggling fingers behind him until they touched down to rake Janus’ heels. “Two wiggling feet~”

Janus held his breath and clenched his jaw. He’d already let a little laughter sound loose; even if it was a relief to do so, it was too early in the marathon to let himself go. Wasn’t it?

“And a giggle button on his belly~”

Poor Janus arched his back and threw his head into the mattress as Patton’s fingers danced around his stomach, trailing long slow paths from the bottom of his ribcage to the top of his hips and back up again. On the second trip, Patton changed techniques, using one hand for featherlight skating down Janus’ sensitive skin and using the other for just a bit rougher scratching down his scales. At last, the giggly dam crumbled, and, albeit through his grinning teeth and scrunched nose, Janus began to laugh, a hissing breathy happy sound.

Patton hummed, pleased, and sung on. “On the fourth day of Christmas, I count on my cutie lee…” From where his hands splayed on Janus’ waist, it was easy as fruit cake for Patton to slide them around until he was holding Janus in a hug, warm but made menacing by his nails sudden scurrying into Janus’ lower back. “Four spine-y squeezes~”

Grabbing at his hat to hold himself still, Janus cackled, shoving his back down into the mattress in attempt to make the spot inaccessible for Patton, but to no avail. Still, he didn’t even have time to get used to the sensation before the song went marching on. Patton gently pried Janus’ hands free to scribble into his palms, fell back onto his legs to skitter down his soles, and bowed forward to dig into the soft flesh of his stomach.

“On the fifth day of Christmas, I count on my love-a-lee…” The flurry of movement from the last verse had paused, and Patton lay, for a moment, his cheek still on Janus’ panting midsection. Janus kept his guard up, though. Haggard as he was, he felt vindicated when he saw the mischievous twinkle in Patton’s eyes immediately before he took a big breath and blew a vibrating raspberry in Janus’ belly. The hilarious and heinous weapon was matched in volume by Janus’ wail of laughter. “Five raspberries!” Patton lifted his head, beaming. Janus shook his head, too breathless to form words and soon swept up once more in a tidal wave of howling humor as Patton planted one, two, three, four more raspberries on Janus’ tummy. It certainly didn’t help that all the Sides had slight stubble growing recently; the scratch of Patton’s peach fuzz, especially on Janus’ scales, made for the most awful raspberries he’d probably ever felt.

No rest for the wicked; Patton’s song carried on. Janus, through quite brutal a memorization process, was starting to get used to the pattern mentally, but not physically. The jumping from spot to spot was too sudden and speedy for him to get used to anything, so all he could do was brace for what he knew was coming next. Four scribbles down his spine (and shoulders, which Patton did not need to be so mean as to target), three pairs of palms subject to little but effective scratches, two feet menaced this time by that damn blue feather, and one belly button turning pink from aching laughter and attention.

“On the sixth day of Christmas, I count on my dearie lee… six ticklish armpits~”

Another pause, during which Janus gulped giggly breaths before cracking an eye open. Like spiders cut loose from their webs, Patton’s hands descended, diving into Janus’ uppermost armpits with clawing fingers.

It was good that Janus had already let his laughter loose, because, when the newest bout of cachinnation rocked his frame, he needed all his resolve to hold his arms still. His grasp was white-knuckle tight on his arms and hair, and his laughing grin was wide enough to make his cheeks burn from the ache of exertion as well as the heat of elation. And then Patton took the elevator down to the next floor of terribly ticklish underarms. Janus’ elbows strained to flap, and his head whipped back and forth, shoving one chortling cheek and then the other into the bedspread. How long could this verse possibly be?

Another brutal raspberry to his belly amidst the armpit assault prompted a shriek from Janus. He couldn’t verbalize how unfair it was to double up on spots, and Patton’s explanation was hardly sympathetic. “Five!” Patton crowed, burying his face in Janus’ stomach to deliver vibrating lips and nuzzling stubble with each syllable. “Rasp! Ber! Ries!” For as much effort as Janus was using to keep still (aside from his thrashing laughing head and heaving stomach), he was startled at how easy a time Patton had muscling him halfway onto his side. That was definitely why he squealed, and not because Patton had finally moved down to scribbling into his lowest armpits with one jumping hand and feathering his lower back with the other.

“Four spiney squeezes~”

It was small but a mercy still that Patton didn’t make Janus release his ironclad grip on his own arms for the next stanza, settling instead on brushing that evil plume along his forearms and into the crooks of his elbows. (The song’s alignment to Patton’s actions had been askew from the start anyway, but Janus was having too much fun to nitpick.)

“Three pairs of twitchy palms~”

Perhaps unintentional, but there was another brief respite for Janus in the few seconds between Patton pulling back from his upper body to reach back for his feet. Very brief, maybe long enough for one guffaw to have a longer inhale than the rest before tumbling once more into wailing laughter as Patton’s fingers scribbled into his arches.

“Two wiggling feet~”

Patton pounced forward and giggled when Janus snorted amid his laughter, only to place a teasing kiss on his stomach.

“And a giggle button on his belly~”

If Janus wasn’t half-past loopy already, he would have marveled at Patton’s masterminding. This session was pure psychological evil. Janus was all heightened nerves and anticipation; after the reveal of what spot would start the new verse, he technically knew what was coming next, but he was still awash in thrill and terror, like he was experiencing each spot anew.

He also would have applauded six ticklish hands for Patton’s composition skills. Once they’d gotten to the tenth verse, it was a very smooth and terrible line up from Janus’ toes to his knees to his thighs to his hips. The next, eleven, was not so limited in its geography but its choreography, but Patton performed it wickedly. That beautiful quill was the star of it, and Patton made use of his ‘eleven feather swishes’ to waltz up Janus’ tummy, across his chest, dipping into his armpits, to his neck and ears–eleven was so many swishes. If he’d had the wherewithal and malice for it, Janus would have thrown Patton six calling birds for his villainy.

The echoes of the last verse and laughter lingering in the corners of the room, Janus lay, limp and gulping air through lingering giggles, eyes shut and an utterly relaxed smile upon his lips. Patton lay as well, still and content, his cheek resting on Janus’ stomach and his index fingers tracing the scales on his sides.

“How ya doin’, kiddo?” Patton asked with a sigh, chuckling when he received only a happy hissing exhale in reply. “I’m glad.” He sat up, tapping a little tune on Janus’ tummy and biting his lip. “You think you got it in you for one more verse?”

Janus’ eyes scrunched further shut, and he giggled at the mere thought of Patton’s proposal. He peeked through one eye and nodded.

“Okay.” Patton’s soft, fond smile sharpened into something sinister. “But, you know, darn it, I think I’ve forgotten the words. Do you remember them? Think you can sing it for me?”

Janus snorted at that. Yes, an excellent idea, let the snake whose brain had been reduced to happy goopy goofy mush come up with the words to the teasing song that had been his detriment. Don’t let him sink fully into elated sleepiness, make him force himself to stay awake enough to bear a bit more, draw out the session a little longer to make it truly the best Christmas gift… Upon deliberation, Janus could see the appeal. Mean but sweet, indeed. Janus pulled himself up, physically and mentally, assuming the familiar position of bracing his own arms and coaxing his mind from the edge of sleep. He’d certainly heard the verses enough times to know the words. He cleared his throat, voice hoarse and happy from laughing so long. “On the twelfth day of Christmas, the tickle monster gave to me: twelve heaving ribs– PATTON!”

The newest rendition of the song had been softer, wavering a bit, compared to Patton’s more confident and lilting tone. Well. It had been quieter, until Patton had unleashed hell upon Janus’ ribs. Vibrating, scratching fingers followed the furrows of the bones, left to right, and then raked down them like a washboard. Rinse, repeat.

Oh, Patton had been going easy on him all this time. That whole marathon thing had just been a prelude to the real event: the sprint.

“Yes, Janus dear?” Patton grinned. “Go on, just waiting for you to sing the next bit and tell me where to tickle!”

OH, not even a sprint–a sprint implied pushing it to the limit for a short time. This pseudo-sprint’s pace was to be determined by the man whose legs had been jelly for the past ten minutes. So it could have been a short time, if Janus let his shrieking, snorting laughter overtake him, or it could take as long as it took him to think coherently while being tickle tortured. A very, very long time. He really must have been on the naughty list.

Like with the previous, Janus had barely crowed out the next verse before Patton had that damn feather darting everywhere it could reach, his neck and ears and stomach mostly, until it could fly back to saw between his toes for the tenth day of Christmas. The feather flipped to scribble the quill end under Janus’ toes as Patton’s other hand squeezed up until it reached his knee. Nine. Both hands dove in to spider and scratch his thighs. Eight. Then to massage their thumbs into his hips bones. Seven.

Janus was a gay mess of exhausted but elated guffawing and kicking feet and flapping elbows. He could barely get out the words to direct Patton where to tickle next. If he’d been asked to lead a verse earlier in the session, he might have mucked up the order a bit on purpose to make it easier on himself. That option was out the window now, as he could hardly keep up with calling out spots as Patton was actively tickling them. He was swept up in the speed and brutality of the menacing of different spots, all scribbling nails and stubbly kisses. Patton was laughing with him, cheeks red from the upped pace of the activity and smile wide and beaming from getting to make Janus feel so happy and safe. He was jumping and falling between spots on the final countdown, half leading and half following Janus’ howling hymnal. With one final raspberry to Janus’ navel, the both of them collapsed in a cuddly heap, Patton rolling off Janus' body to hug him properly.

Eyes heavy and chest heaving as he took slow, deep, relaxing breaths, Janus gave Patton a boop on the nose with the Santa hat that sat crooked on his head. “Merry Christmas, meanie.”

“And a sweet New Year,” Patton giggled, reaching over the side of the bed to grab the duvet and wrap them both up in it for a well-earned snuggle.

#tickling #squealing santa 2k23 #squealing santa #mine #ro writes #ticklish!janus #lee!janus #ler!patton

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redlettermediathings · 3 months

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just-your-average-author · 3 months

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A Sleeping Dragon

“This movie is completely unrealistic!” spoke out Logan, completely and utterly exasperated during Wreck it Ralph. Family movie nights never went according to plan. “There is no possible way video game characters could interact in that way and frankly, the way the inner workings of electrical units are portrayed is ridiculous.”

Roman sighed. He looked down at Virgil who was laying into him fast asleep. “Logan, it’s just a movie. It's a silly movie. It isn’t meant to be realistic.”

Patton giggled. “Yeah, Lo! It’s just a movie.”

Logan huffed. “I don’t see how someone could enjoy a film when it is so blatantly ridiculous.” Roman rolled his eyes, while Patton just giggled again. “It should have at least some aspect of a realistic component to it.”

”Just watch the movie, Specs,” huffed Roman in annoyance.

Virgil, who was curled up napping in between Roman and Patton with his head in Roman’s lap, stirred. He grunted, very annoyed. “Who woke me up?”

All three sides froze. You did not want to be the person who woke Virgil up. He didn’t sleep much, so when he did, he expected to not be disturbed.

“Well? I’m waiting,” demanded Virgil, now sitting up straight. He looked around in question, arms crossed.

Roman blurted out, pointing an accusatory finger toward the logical trait in the recliner. “Logan was complaining about the movie!”

Logan glared at Roman in indignation. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to speak during the whole movie?” he inquired angrily. He turned to Virgil. “Besides, I would have dropped it if Roman would have just nodded and agreed with me. But no, he had to argue,” he added scowling.

Virgil hid his smirk and instead raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?” In reality, he never actually got mad when he was woken up. He just liked messing with the others (especially Roman) however he could. Virgil figured he could have some fun with this.

”O-oh, well-” stuttered Roman.

“I thought I heard something other than Logan’s voice! I heard someone else who was frankly quite louder than Logan!” interjected Virgil looking up at Roman. Roman paled.

“Ah well, I was just defending the movie that’s all,” he replied, trying to hide his fear and failing miserably. “Simply making conversation.”

Virgil smothered a grin. He loved making Roman nervous. “Well, Roman, we all know you’re a lot louder than Logan; it was probably you who woke me up.”

“Now that’s not always-“

Roman was cut off by his yelp, feeling a poke at his ribs. “No interrupting!” scolded Virgil, this time forgetting to mask the grin and the obvious enjoyment he was getting out of this.

Roman blanched as Virgil’s intentions were made clear. “Virge, I’m sorry! Honest! You can go back to sleep, and we’ll all be quiet okay?” He glanced around to see if any of the other Sides would lend a hand. Logan was pretending to be fascinated by the movie suddenly and Patton was also suddenly too ‘preoccupied‘ to notice. He began to grow very nervous as Virgil crept up closer to him.

“Well, I’m already awake now thanks to you-“ he poked Roman’s side again who squeaked at the touch. Virgil‘s evil smile took up his whole face. “I’m very upset, Roman. My sleep was disturbed.” Roman began whining and backed into the arm of the sofa as Virgil continued to get closer. Patton and Logan finally turned their attention to the two traits in the middle of a standoff.

“Don’t hurt him, Virgil!” pleaded Patton.

“I appreciate your concern, but don’t worry Pat. I won’t hurt him. Physically anyway. His pride might be a little bruised.” Virgil smirked again. Roman continued to plead with the darker side despite knowing full well that nothing would stop what was about to happen.

“Come on, Virgil, please! I promise it won’t happen again! I- EEP!“ A pinch to his side.

“Too late, Princey. In all your years of being a prince, has no one told you the most important rule?“

Virgil paused as if trying to build up even more anticipation. He leaned in so close, that Roman could feel the anxious Side’s breath against his neck.

“Don’t wake a sleeping dragon.”

With that, he pounced on Roman and scribbled all over his torso immediately causing the Prince to break into frantic cackles. He mercilessly tickled all over and despite Roman’s defenses, Virgil was just too fast. Every place he tried to guard, the anxious side would just tickle somewhere else. Roman was hysterically laughing and resorted to calling for help from the others.

“HEEHEHEHELLLPPP!!” He cried through his desperate laughter.

“You shouldn’t require our assistance. You should be able to fight him off yourself. If I’m not mistaken, you supposedly have beaten this so-called ‘Dragon Witch’ which, judging by the name, would seem much more dangerous than the tickle monster,” replied Logan, a teasing smile encompassing his features.

”Oh I’m not sure about that Logan,” joked Virgil. “The tickle monster is pretty vicious.”

Poor Roman turned a bright red. “Stahahahahahahap teheheheasheheing!!”

“Aww Lo, look he’s blushing really hard,” Patton gushed.

Roman just blushed harder at that, the teasing was killing him. He was laughing himself hoarse while Virgil just snickered with no signs of stopping anytime soon. After what seemed like hours, Virgil noticed Roman’s laugh becoming more breathy.

“Well, Princey,” Virgil began. Roman was beside himself laughing, as Virgil’s hands were shoved in his armpits “I think you might have learned your lesson.” Roman nodded frantically. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop on one condition. You say, ‘Virgil, you are the best side in the entire world and I would be nothing without you, and I promise to never disrupt your sleep ever again.’ Can you say that?” Roman squeaked as a response. Virgil chuckled knowing Roman couldn’t possibly; he was laughing way too hard.

“VIRHIHIGLLE YOHOHOHO ARHAHAA AHHHHH!”

“Yes? I am what?”

“BEHEHEHEEHEST SIHIHIHIHDE- OHOHOHO MYHHYHY GOHOHOSH!”

Virgil laughed. “And?”

“IHIHIHI CAHAHAHANT REMEHEHEMBER!!” Roman cried in desperation. Virgil started to feel a little bad.

“Alright close enough.” He finally stopped and poor Princey fell limp, giggling and wheezing for air. Virgil smiled down at him. “Sorry dude. May have gone slightly overboard,” he apologized.

“Hahaha, my stohohomahahach, ohoho mahan.”

Virgil helped him sit up and got him settled. Roman was exhausted, so Virgil let him lay in his lap. “There you go, Sir Sing-a-lot,” Roman mumbled a thank you. The roles were reversed as Roman laid napping on Virgil and the rest of the bunch were threatened to stay quiet by Virgil, lest they get the same treatment Roman did. They all watched the movie in silence.

#my writing #fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts sides #fluff #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #lee!roman #ler!virgil #sfw tickling #tfic #fic #my fic #my fanfic

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trashyswitch · 3 months

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The Search For The Missing Laugh

A special person by the alias ‘Anne Onymous’ has sent me this fanfic to be submitted! And I think today is a better time than any. This is Anne’s fanfic, and I hope you all enjoy. :D

A special person by the alias ‘Anne Onymous’ has sent me this fanfic to be submitted! And I think today is a better time than any. This is Anne’s fanfic, and I hope you all enjoy. :D Give this person some love!!

Patton had been telling dad joke after dad joke since breakfast. While Roman and even Virgil gladly laughed at his witty wordplay, Logan hadn’t even cracked a smile. Still, that didn’t stop Patton from telling all the jokes he had left in him after Roman and Virgil went to help Thomas with something. “Why were the elephants late for their vacation?” Patton asked. Logan merely sighed in response. “Because they forgot to pack their trunks!” Patton exclaimed before laughing at his own joke. Logan groaned, wishing Patton would just stop. “Aw, come on, Logan. That was funny!” Patton chirped. “Perhaps to you, but not me.” Logan said. “Probably because you have no sense of humour.” Patton grumbled, crossing his arms. “I’ll have you know that I do have a sense of humour, I just don’t find your jokes funny.” Logan informed. Patton pouted. Logan never laughs at his jokes. He never laughs, period. He just wanted to make his friend laugh, but how? Then it struck him. There’s one thing that makes Thomas and the others laugh. It was risky, it may not even work, but it would be worth it if he could pull it off. “Oh dear. I think I see what the problem is.” Patton said. “You need to get better at comedy?” Logan suggested sarcastically. “No. You lost your laugh.” Patton said.

Logan did a double take to ensure he heard Patton right. “Lost…my…laugh.” Logan echoed. “Yes. But don’t worry, Logan. I consider myself a Hufflepuff and Hufflepuffs are good finders. Not to brag, but I have quite the skill of finding laughs and getting them out in the open, so I’ll help you find it.” Patton rambled, pulling Logan into a cuddle and grabbing his wrists to raise them above his head. “Patton, what are you…?” Logan protested but was silenced when Patton gave him a look that filled him with…excitement? Unease? He wasn’t sure, but he stayed quiet and kept his arms up. “Now, the trick is to look for hiding spots on your body. You see, sometimes instead of coming out of our mouths, laughs like to hide in other body parts or just get stuck there. Like the armpits for example, they fit pretty snug in there.” Patton said, poking and prodding the mentioned spot. Logan’s mouth curled into a grin as he tried his best not to laugh. “Excuse me, Logan’s armpits. Have you seen Logan’s laugh today?” Patton asked, as if this was a normal situation. Logan almost snickered at Patton’s silly behaviour. Him talking to his body parts as if they could talk back was so ridiculous, it was almost worse than the tickling.

“Hmm, guess they don’t know. Maybe your ribs know. The ribs are a really good spot since there’s so many rib bones to fit between.” Patton narrated, spidering his fingers up and down the logical Side’s ribcage. Logan was now biting down on his lips in hopes that if he doesn’t laugh then Patton will give up and leave, but the fact he was practically narrating everything and doing something as silly as trying to have a conversation with his body parts wasn’t helping. Not to mention he’s never been tickled before, so he wasn’t used to it and had more difficulty fighting it off. “Hi there, Logan’s ribs. Logan lost his laugh, do you know where it’s hiding?” Patton inquired, gently scratching between each rib. He was disappointed by the silence, certain that Logan would’ve cracked by now. But he wasn’t giving up. “Guess my guessing skills are a little off today. Better keep trying. You know, the toes are a pretty good hiding spot too. Laughs can hide under or between them.” Patton said as he released Logan from their cuddle and moved down to his feet. Patton wasn’t sure if Logan was taking a break and getting his strength back, or forgot he could simply leave because he didn’t protest or make a run for it as he put his ankles in a headlock and removed his socks.

“Pardon me, Logan’s toes. Are you hiding Logan’s laugh by any chance?” Patton asked, wiggling his fingers under the sensitive digits. Finally, the dam burst and Logan broke into a fit of surprised laughter. “HAHAHAhahaha! Nohohoho! Pahahattohohon! Hahahahahahaha!” Logan squealed, wiggling and fruitlessly attempting to pull his feet back. “Yay! You got your laugh back! But it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from your toes, it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere else. Oh well, guess we gotta keep looking!” Patton exclaimed. Logan was so embarrassed. After seeing him in this state, Patton will never take him seriously again. Oh well, that’s a future problem. For now, he hasn’t laughed like this in a long time, might as well try to enjoy it. “Another great place for a laugh to hide in is in the bellybutton.” Patton said as he moved his tickly hands up the back of Logan’s knees then across his thighs and over his hips until he reached his belly, enjoying every snicker and giggle that came out of Logan along the way. “How do you do, Logan’s bellybutton? Were you the one hiding his laugh the whole time?” Patton asked as he straddled Logan’s thighs, moved his shirt up and began circling his finger around the mentioned spot. Logan couldn’t help but let a few nervous giggles slip out as he squirmed in anticipation, never feeling so flustered in his life. Boy, was that statement about to be made wrong.

“Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…” Patton sang, holding back snickers of his own when Logan covered his mouth to muffle his embarrassed squeal. “One step…two step…” Patton continued, walking his fingers closer to the naval before noticing Logan’s hands shot under his glasses to cover his eyes. Using his free hand, Patton gently removed Logan’s glasses and placed them on the coffee table. He didn’t want them to get broken during their fun. “There. Now, where was I? Oh yeah. A tickly under there!” Patton exclaimed, wiggling the digit in the bellybutton. “GAHAHAHAHAHA! PAHAHATTOHOHON, WHYHYHYHY?! HAHAHAHAHA!” Logan bellowed, thrashing around and pounding his fists on the couch. “Yup, this is definitely where all your laughs were hiding. Better make sure we get them all out so this doesn’t happen again. Good thing that song usually lures them out.” Patton commented, not that Logan could hear him over his own loud boisterous laughter. He couldn’t focus on anything other than the unbearably ticklish sensations in his navel, astounded that something as simple as a wiggling finger there could make him laugh this much. It was…exhilarating. And exhausting. Thankfully, Patton finally stopped. But he wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot.

“I think we’re making some real good progress. Your laughs are coming out just fine, but there’s still a few stubborn ones still stuck. Good news is, sometimes they come out of hiding for a good joke. Knock knock!” Patton said. After catching his breath, Logan decided to indulge Patton against his better judgement. “Who’s there?” Logan asked. “Me, the dad joke king, here to tickle his way into your heart! Tickle tickle tickle! Cootchie cootchie coo!” Patton replied, tickling nearly every and any tickle spot on Logan his hands could reach. His ribs, his armpits, his tummy, even around his neck and ears. “Thahahahat’s nohohohot evehehehen a johohohoke! Hahahahaha!” Logan protested through his non-stop laughter. “Then why are you laughing so much?” Patton teased, watching Logan squirm side to side. As he observed the unusual wiggling closely, it appeared like Logan was trying to untuck the rest of his shirt, rendering his sides vulnerable. “Awww, does little Logi want his Sanders Sides tickled? All you had to do was ask me nicely!” Patton teased, lifting his shirt all the way up to his ribs and squeezing his sides. Jackpot. Logan practically melted at the touch. He occasionally squirmed, but he stopped trying to wiggle away and his laughter was bubbly and happy.

“Hahahahaha! Ihihit tihihickles! Hahahahaha!” Logan giggled. “Aww, does it tickle? Does it feel tickly and make you giggly? Is Logan a ticklish little cutie?” Patton teased, kneading and spidering over Logan’s sides with a few squeezes and pokes mixed in. Logan couldn’t help but squeak and squeal at the changing tactics, Patton seemed to completely randomise the order so he couldn’t predict what was next, each new surprise method seeming to tickle more than the last. “Boy, all this laughter-looking has made me hungry. You know what I’m in the mood for?” Patton asked. Logan shook his head, no idea what was coming. “Some raspberries!” Patton exclaimed before blowing into Logan’s belly, making the logical Side burst into belly laughter. This was somehow more ticklish than the bellybutton tickles yet not as unbearable, and definitely more fun. However, it was just as hard on his lungs. “AHAHAHAHAHA!!! PAHAHAHAHATTON, PLEHEHEASE STOHOHOHOP!!!” Logan cackled. “Aww, just one more?” Patton fake-whined. He was just joking, but Logan seemed to actually be considering his rhetorical request much to his amusement. “Fine, just get it over-WIHIHIHIHITH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Logan shrieked, surprised by the unannounced raspberry on his tummy. “Ok, I’m full now.” Patton said when he finished, getting off Logan.

Logan curled into himself, letting the remainder of his giggles out as he caught his breath. Even though Patton had stopped, it was like he could still feel the phantom vibrations and tickles on his body. He’d never admit it out loud, but that was amazing. Once his breathing steadied and he could think clearly again, he remembered his glasses on the coffee table and put them back on, surprised to see Patton holding out a glass of water. “Oh. Thank you.” Logan said, taking the glass and sipping carefully as Patton sat next to him and rubbed his back. “You good?” Patton asked. “Yes Patton, I’m perfectly adequate.” Logan replied, putting the glass down. Patton pulled him into a hug which Logan cautiously reciprocated. “Don’t worry, Tickle Time’s over, only Cuddle Time now. But it’s good to know that now I have a way to make you laugh.” Patton remarked. “Well, there goes my dignity.” Logan sighed. “Huh? What do you mean?” Patton asked, letting go and facing Logan. “Patton, don’t patronise me. I know that after what just happened, it’s highly unlikely you’re ever going to take me seriously again.” Logan huffed. After that harsh confession, Patton’s expression went from confused to concerned very quickly.

“Why would I do that? Just because you’re ticklish, doesn’t mean you’re any less smart than you were before. It doesn’t change anything. Besides, I’m ticklish, Roman’s ticklish, heck, even Virgil is ticklish, but that’s just because we’re a part of Thomas and he’s ticklish. It’s just natural, it’s no big deal. You’re still the smartest person I know and I’m always gonna listen to you.” Patton assured. Logan was quiet as he took a minute to process what Patton said. “I know you don’t consider yourself a feelings-y kind of Side, so if it makes you feel better, I promise not to tell the others about any of this.” Patton added. “Thank you, Patton.” Logan said. Patton pulled Logan into another cuddle and laid down. Logan returned the embrace and rested his head under Patton’s chin. “Now that the moment of concern has passed, do you suppose you could perhaps once again stimulate my sides with gargalesis?” Logan asked shyly. “Is that fancy-talk for “please tickle me”?“ Patton teased. Logan blushed and nodded. Patton smiled and wiggled his fingers into Logan’s sides, making the logical Side giggle and snuggle into him more. Little did they know that Virgil and Roman were back and watching them from the top of the stairs. Roman initially took his phone out to get some blackmail material but Virgil snatched it, making Roman pout. The two watched on quietly as their resident glasses geeks had their moment.

The End.

#submission #fluff #not mine #laughter #ler!patton #lee!logan #logicality #tickle fanfiction

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fluffomatic · 1 year

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Patton is a ding dang tickle monster!! And of course he adore tickling his dark strange son. There's this video on YouTube, Virgil is nervous about an interview Thomas has and Patton tickles him to cheer him up. I have watched this dang video so many times. It's the reason I wanted to draw this so bad! Giggly, squeaky Virgil is my favorite thing and it is absolutely Pattons favorite thing too~

(My art don't repost but please reblog)

#my art #my artwork #tickling #tickle art #tickle #tickles #my art stuff #lee!virgil #ticklish!virgil #ler!patton #platonic tickles #sfw tickles

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oliviaischillin1204 · 5 months

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lots to learn

Pairings: Romantic Anamoceit

Word Count: 1,323 words

this is a direct sequel to this minific from a few years ago, they don't have to be read together but u might as well lol

"... I guess I've got a lot to learn."

"I think we all do!"

Virgil smiled up at him, and really, Patton couldn't help but lean down and press a kiss against his forehead.

"Do we wanna keep going, or are we tired?" he asked lightly. He really hadn't meant to tease, but it was pretty cute how both Virgil and Janus went suddenly shy at the idea of them continuing their little 'lesson'.

"Well, I for one have quite a busy morning at work tomorrow," Janus interjected, pretending he wasn't flushed and avoiding Patton's eyes. "So I'll have to pass on being the... subject, in order to get any actual rest. Unfortunately."

"Oh, sure," Patton replied. "So that means you're definitely not going to get any more tickles tonight, unless you change your mind and ask me or Virge to tickle you! That's what you want, right? No more tickles tonight?"

Janus' fingers clenched where he'd folded his arms protectively over his chest. "...Yes. It's not like I'd ever ask for more, of course."

"Oh, of course not," Patton teased, winking obviously at his husband. He gave Janus about twenty minutes tops before he caved and starting begging, which meant...

Patton smiled down at Virgil, who was still lying on his back in between himself and Janus. He returned Patton's gaze with a shy yet cocky gaze.

"Do you wanna...?" Patton offered. Virgil nodded wordlessly, biting his lip.

"Aw, yeah? You wanna go ahead and lift those arms for me, then?" he continued.

There were a few moments as Virgil took in a slow, shaky breath, before he managed to fold his arms behind his head. Janus shifted, sitting up further, but the slight movement was enough to make Virgil slam his arms back down to his sides with a panicked noise.

Neither Patton or Janus could stop the laughter that burst out of them.

"My goodness, darling, is it really that bad?" Janus teased.

"Oh, come on, Janny, you know how it is!" Patton retorted. "The anticipation makes everything feel so much more sensitive, huh, Virge?"

Virgil didn't respond; he was too busy burying his dark face in his hands as his partners teased him. "Please kill me."

"You wish," Janus replied. "Arms up, buttercup."

"Janus."

"If you have a problem with nicknames I'm afraid you're going to have to speak up soon. Patton can be quite creative."

Patton smirked, his voice a sing-song as he replied, "You would know!"

"Enough," Janus said in a voice that was not quite begging. "Eyes on Virgil, please."

Patton chuckled one more time, but did move on the bed until he was lying comfortably on his side next to Virgil, one hand propping up his head while the other rested innocently next to Virgil's side. Janus did the same; Virgil cut his eyes over to him, and he merely gave him that slow, sharp smile that Virgil loved.

"Should we make it a game?" Patton asked, fingers drumming the mattress and making Virgil tense up.

Janus hummed. "Maybe 'how long can you keep your arms up'? Or 'how long can you hold in your laughter'?"

"I'm not gonna last that long," Virgil blurted. His arms twitched, begging to drop to his sides, but he kept his hands behind his head. "I'm-- I'm really ticklish, and you're making it so horrible, but I do like it, but I feel like I'm gonna explode and you haven't even started yet--"

"Shhhhhhh," Janus whispered. "Breathe, Vergilius." His raised his hand, letting Virgil keep his eyes on his fingers as they curled in the air. "Just trust us. We'll take care of you."

Virgil was so entranced by Janus' fingers that he was completely unprepared for Patton running his nails down his side. Virgil gasped; his arms dropped just as he'd warned them, but Janus was viper-quick and managed to grab one elbow, pinning the arm closest to him back next to Virgil's head.

"Oh, hello," Janus purred, "what's this?" He fluttered his nails on Virgil's other side, the mirror image of where Patton's hand had been, and Virgil couldn't stop the keening squeal that escaped from his throat.

"Aw, is that a good spot?" Patton cooed. He copied Janus' pose by easily pulling Virgil's arm up so he could pin it (either because Patton was clearly stronger than Virgil and was able to pry his arm away from his side, or because Virgil was actually trying very hard to not protect himself from the tickles).

"Must be, if he's fighting us this much," Janus continued.

"Can't-- hehehelp it!" Virgil whined. His laughter was coming out in spurts and bursts, like he was trying to hold it back. This was torture; Patton's rough hands and rounded nails scratching between his ribs and his side was already enough to make him want to lose it, but Janus was much more delicate, which was freaking worse, because that meant he let his well-manicured nails dance ever so gently just above the most sensitive spots along Virgil's waistline, not speeding up and not going any rougher, just enough to make Virgil want to throw his head back and wail.

Of course, he couldn't do that, because he had three sleeping kids in the house and the thought of having to go through their bedtime routines yet again was exhausting. All he could do was lean forward and gasp in a breath as quietly as possible before saying, "Wait wait wait wait--"

His partners stopped immediately.

"I can't-- can't be quiet," he choked out. "The kids-- I don't wanna wake them, I'm sorry--"

"It's alright, sweetie," Patton replied, stroking Virgil's hair. He looked over Virgil's head at Janus, and the two seemed to have a silent conversation for a moment before he continued, "I have a thought."

The next thing Virgil knew, Patton was maneuvering him around, even picking him up for a brief moment and making Virgil yelp with surprise. When he was settled, Virgil found himself sitting on Patton's lap, his legs on either side of Patton's hips and their chests nearly pressed together. Heat rushed back to his face at the proximity.

"How about this?" Patton asked. "You need to laugh, you do it into my shoulder."

Virgil was about to respond when suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Janus leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Would that help you stay a bit quieter, darling?"

Virgil nodded so fast he almost hurt himself. "Yes."

He could feel Janus' grin again the back of his neck. "Good." That's all the warning he had before Janus' nails trailed all the way down his sides, from his armpits to just above his hips.

The noise that came out of him was nearly indecent, but Patton's hand came up and pushed Virgil's head into his shoulder just in time. This was almost worse, for Virgil-- not being able to see anything, so vulnerable and exposed pressed between his partners' chests-- but at least he didn't have to hold in his laughter anymore. He could merely relish in it as Patton's hands wrapped around his back to trace and spider through his sleep shirt all over the sensitive spots on his back, or as Janus' hands snuck around to flutter damningly all over Virgil's stomach.

"It's okay," Patton murmured into Virgil's hair, although the other man could barely hear it over his own muffled laughter. "We've got you. Just laugh it out."

"Besides," Janus continued, curling forward so his breath could once again tickle Virgil's ears, "it's your day off tomorrow. I think this is a perfect chance to explore this wonderful little secret I found, hmm?"

Virgil could blame it on the fact that he couldn't speak at the moment-- not with his mouth, wide open and wailing, pressed into the warmth that was Patton's shoulder-- but if he were honest... he couldn't agree with Janus more.

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #sanders sides tickling #lee!virgil #ler!janus #ler!patton #lots to learn #drafted on november 15 2021 #EDIT: UM I LITERALLY FINISHED THIS LIKE OVER A MONTH AGO AND I FORGOT TO POST IT #SORRYYYYYY #anyways have this while i (once again) try to finish some of my longer wips lmao

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