When I Tried To Do Animation, But Got Tired While Drawing Hands... Maybe Someday I'll Finish It, But

when the doctor used the tardis like a skateboard and pushed with his lil foot reblog if u agree

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THE VERY END OF CRIMINAL MINDS SEASON 9 EPISODE 18 THAT IS ALL

Me: I wanna make more tumblr friends. *Someone messages me* Also me: I have literally no energy to respond.  I am a corpse.

Limitless Bond (Good Omens)

(Switch!Crowley/Switch!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale and Crowley have a tickle fight during their cute little movie night.

a/n : i’ve been aziracrow pilled there’s a worm in my brain screaming abt them at all times edit: reading this back i’ve realized i’ve never seen a single james bond film so take it with a grain of salt lmao

Word Count : 2892

hope u enjoy :D

. . .

Let’s do some math for a second.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth together for 6000 years. They’ve been in each other's lives as hundreds, thousands of human generations around them lived and died. And yet, only in the 4 years after the apocalypse did they dare truly bask in one another’s touch. In 0.00066667% of the time they’ve known each other, Aziraphale and Crowley taught themselves to be truly comfortable in one another’s presence, learning about each other in ways they never thought possible.

Try not to think too hard on the numbers. It’s quite difficult sometimes for humans to grasp an occult being’s concept of time. Time for angels and demons is so wildly different from anything a human could ever experience, and that is exactly what makes Aziraphale and Crowley’s love for each other so special and unique. Their time is limitless, so their love is limitless.

What a human can comprehend, however, is how infuriatingly frustrating their relationship must be considering the fact they refuse to actually talk about it. Non-humans are funny like that.

Why put it into words when they both know it’s there? Intrinsically, they feel it, they know it without a shadow of a doubt, and yet somehow they are both still too scared to talk. If they do, it’ll make it real. Their love could literally break down celestial systems incomprehensible to the human mind. Or it could just result in some nasty paperwork. Either way, both sound horrific, and are things the angel and demon are silently working together to avoid.

Whether they ever choose to talk about it or not, those 4 years were magic on Earth.

During that time, Crowley learned that Aziraphale’s hair might even be softer than his wings. Aziraphale learned scratching Crowley’s back when he’s sleepy makes the demon smile without knowing he’s moving a muscle. A demon taught an angel to love roughhousing, and an angel taught a demon the joys of a good cuddle.

But possibly their new favorite physical affection to take advantage of was one they learned together on a casual, cozy movie night.

Aziraphale grinned as Crowley strolled into the bedroom, “I’ve never seen that shirt before.”

Crowley pulled the shirt down to show it off, giving a little wiggle.“What, you don’t like Bond?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Aziraphale, “But I’ve never actually watched the titular James Bond films, so I can’t really say anything,” he said with a teasing tilt in his voice. He knew he’d get a reaction out of such a ghastly confession.

Crowley gaped, stuttering over incomplete words in shock, “Wha—you, you never—I mean—angel, that’s gotta be illegal. Seriously, if I phoned the FEDs right now they’d probably swarm in here guns-a blazing for your crimes,” Crowley shook his head, throwing himself onto the bed next to Aziraphale. “We’re watching it now, I don’t care. You’re lucky I got you this TV set up last month.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly, but didn’t argue. “You can’t be mad at me if it’s not my cup of tea. You know the kind of films I prefer, and I don’t think these fit the list.”

“No no you’ll love it. Got all that romantic filler your heavenly heart desires,” Crowley said, the TV turning on with a flick of his wrist as he settled comfortably against his angel.

They watched together in an easy silence, Aziraphale trying to really gather everything he could from a movie he knows Crowley loves so dearly. He’s not even sure which Bond movie they’re watching at the moment, but he assumes it’s Crowley’s favorite.

But during an intense shootout scene, Aziraphale does get a little bored. He’s always preferred scenes of great dialogue, heartfelt moments passing between characters. Right now he’s just seeing mediocre special effects and lots of screaming. He gets the appeal, sort of, but it’s just not his thing.

Crowley on the other hand was as tuned in as ever. Aziraphale smiled as he watched his friend’s intense expression, seeing Crowley suppress his excitement over a movie he knows he’s had to have seen dozens of times now.

His gaze wanders back down to Crowley’s torso, “Where did you get that shirt? Really, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it.”

Crowley blinked like snapping out of a trance, trying to look nonchalant as insecurity trickled over him. “Oh, this thing? M’not sure I recall,” he snuggled deeper into Aziraphale’s chest, “It’s my night shirt. Don’t wear it often.”

Aziraphale squinted. “You’re ‘not sure you recall’?”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, yellow eyes bearing into blue, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Aziraphale looked puzzled, shaking Crowley’s shoulder playfully and smiling at the hiss it produced, “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, stop pestering me,” Crowley growled, but it was entirely unconvincing with that playful grin on his face. He faced the TV again as if his mind wasn’t completely on the angel holding him tight.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Aziraphale giggled, “It can’t be that bad, darling, it’s just a t-shirt.”

Crowley groaned, hiding his face in Aziraphale’s chest, “Nooooo nonononono, I’m not talking,” he said, words muffled in Aziraphale’s silk pajamas.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows playfully, rubbing up and down Crowley’s back through the shirt in question. “You know, humans have this fun little game they play to make someone reveal funny secrets. I only wonder if it will actually work on a demon.”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale with a suspicious glare, “The hell are you talking about?”

Aziraphale said nothing, giving a nonchalant hum. Instead, he moved his hand down Crowley’s back towards his ribs, giving it a quick pinch.

Crowley squawked, arching away but getting caught in Aziraphale’s hold. He snapped a look Aziraphale’s way, “Do not.”

Aziraphale giggled in glee, wanting to clap his hands together but needing to hold Crowley close. “I wasn’t sure it would work!”

“Angel-“ Crowley growled.

“A ticklish demon. How silly~” Aziraphale sang, tickling into Crowley’s ribs without wasting any more time.

Crowley bit off a yelp, twisting in Aziraphale’s grip as if he was trying to get away (he wasn’t, but he’s allowed to play along). But Aziraphale kept pinching and prodding and finally Crowley just couldn’t hold back anymore, letting out a peal of giggles and laughs that had Aziraphale cooing.

“Nonononohohoho!” Crowley shook his head into Aziraphale’s chest, hiding his smile. His arm was a little stuck under Aziraphale’s back, so there wasn’t much else he could do.

“Saying no is what started this, dear,” Aziraphale smiled, bringing his other hand around to tickle into Crowley’s neck, relishing in how high-pitched those giggles became. “Goodness, how ticklish are you?”

“I don’t knohohow! Not tryna fihihind out-!” Crowley squeaked out the last word, finding out his ears are especially sensitive to perfectly manicured fingernails.

Crowley squirmed like a worm on a hook, pushing against Aziraphale without even meaning to, his head shaking back and forth like a protest to his giggles.

Aziraphale gasped, “Is this your first time being tickled, Crowley?”

“Stohohop!” Crowley guffawed, hardly taking in the angel’s words.

“I asked you a question,” he said simply, pinching at Crowley’s belly and watching Crowley’s feet kick the sheets.

“Fuhuhucker!” was all Crowley could get out.

“Oh alright,” Aziraphale reluctantly halted his attack, carding fingers through Crowley’s hair. “I said, was that your first time being tickled?”

Crowley huffed, pouting against Aziraphale’s chest and keeping his gaze on the TV. “You’re not even watching the movie.”

The angel chuckled lightly, giving Crowley’s head a tender kiss. “It’s a lovely movie, darling, but it’s hardly as interesting as this little discovery.”

Crowley grumbled, mumbling a response into the silk pajamas.

“What was that dear?”

Crowley lifted his head with a devious look on his face, “I said you’re a prick,” Crowley dug into Aziraphale’s sides, grinning wickedly at how wide his angel’s eyes became.

“AH! Cr-Crohohowley!” Aziraphale fell gracefully into his giggle fit, expelling his excess energy by gripping onto Crowley’s wrists.

“So I take it you’ve never been tickled either?” said Crowley as he wiggled into the angel’s ribs, biting his own cheek when Aziraphale threw his head back in laughter.

“Yehehes! I mean-! Nohoho, I-! Crohohowley plehehease!” Aziraphale never realized how difficult speaking could be when getting tickled. He truly learned something new every day with his dear demon. His mind was mush and all he could think about was how dreadfully ticklish he apparently was.

“Oh poor angel, thought he could get away with teasing a demon,” Crowley teased, poking sporadically across Aziraphale’s tummy and making the angel’s laughter grow. “Naaaah, now that I know your weakness I’m never lettin’ you live it down.”

Crowley crawled on top of Aziraphale, shoving his thumbs into his underarms. “NO! Nohoho Crohohowley! Bad snahahake!” Aziraphale teased even through his laughter, unabashedly having a great time.

“You having fun down there or somethin’?” Crowley chuckled.

“Yehehes!” Aziraphale squeaked, face turning pink from mirth.

Crowley shook his head fondly, not surprised in the slightest. But he could tell Aziraphale would probably appreciate some air soon, whether he actually needed it or not, and eased up. Not before giving his belly once last poke, of course, just to hear him yip.

Aziraphale giggled through his breath, hands resting on Crowley’s thighs. The demon couldn’t help blushing, but didn’t move.

“I never realized it felt like that,” Aziraphale said, a smile etched between his rosy cheeks. “I knew tickling was used as torture way back when, but my goodness.”

“Human vessels are a funny thing,” Crowley said, unsure of where to put his hands now that they weren’t being used as weapons. As if Aziraphale could tell, the angel gently took them in his own, laying their hands down on Crowley’s thighs.

They sat staring into each other's eyes for a while. It was such a comforting silence, one Crowley felt warm in. Why did Aziraphale always have to open his damn mouth-

“You’re quite ticklish on those ribs of yours,” Aziraphale shot a cheeky grin, eyebrows up like he’s being clever. Crowley groaned, looking up to the ceiling.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You never did tell me where you got that shirt from…?” Aziraphale said, slowly loosening his grip on Crowley’s hands before the demon squeezed back-

“I’ll end you.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m serious, angel. Death, discorporation, sooo much paperwork-“

“Was the shirt a former lover’s? Are you embarrassed, Crowley?” Aziraphale teased as he starting fighting Crowley’s grip, their hands now playing for dominance.

Crowley grunted, not shocked that Aziraphale was winning their little fight, “Grk, no! It’s…just…a secRET-!” He was cut off by a squeak as one perfectly manicured hand tore from his grasp and gripped onto his ribs, squeezing and pinching and tickling. Crowley collapsed forward in his squirmy laughter, hand still holding tight to one of Aziraphale’s.

“Oooh a secret, you say? Do tell me more,” Aziraphale finally fought his other hand free, now tickling up and down Crowley’s torso as the demon wiggled and laughed freely on top of him. His head was pressed firmly to Aziraphale’s chest, and my that just wouldn’t do anymore, now would it?

“You keep hiding your smile from me! It’s rather unfair, my face was on full display when you tickled me,” Aziraphale said before pushing Crowley to the other side of the mattress, tickling him the whole way down. He hovered over Crowley with a big grin.

“Ahahangel! This is stupihihid!” Crowley cackled, head turning this way and that like trying to hide his face in the sheets surrounding him.

“Was it stupid when you tickled me?” Aziraphale accused, pinching Crowley’s hips and smiling when he bucked and kicked.

“GAHAHAhaha-!” Crowley guffawed, finding words very hard at the moment. “Nohoho-! Was— fuhuhunny!”

“Oh Lord, now you’re just asking for it,” Aziraphale shot his hands up into Crowley’s armpits. It tickled like hell (Heaven? no, definitely hell) on himself, so maybe it’ll be the same for Crowley.

Crowley. Screamed.

Maybe scream is the wrong word. The sound that left Crowley was like a screech, a hurtle of pure loud noise that fell into cackles, squeals, and Aziraphale’s favorite, the snort. Oh what a sound it was. The angel would never forget it (and unfortunately, neither would the demon).

“Oh wow…” Aziraphale giggled at Crowley’s expense.

“Ahahangel-! I—shihihit-! I’ll tahahalk!” Crowley managed to get the words out through his laughter, a feat he wished he could be proud of. Aziraphale conceded even though he honestly really didn’t want to. Crowley looked so cute when he laughed, it was hard to quit.

Aziraphale drew his hands away, and Crowley took a moment to catch his breath. When the moment faded, he threw a pillow over his face and screamed into it quite dramatically. Aziraphale pulled it off and held it gently in his lap.

“You were telling me about the shirt?” Aziraphale said, scribbling a finger onto Crowley’s clothed tummy. Crowley batted it away with a hiss.

“Do you even actually care about the shirt or did you just want an excuse to torture me?” Crowley tried yanking the pillow back but found it held in an iron grip. He settled for crossing his arms instead.

Aziraphale took his hand. “If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I just thought a game would be fun,” Aziraphale handed him the pillow.

Crowley took it, raising an eyebrow, “So you were bored of the movie?”

Aziraphale winced. “…Meh?”

Crowley’s face pinched in frustration, “But it’s James ffffucking Bond! No one in the history of EVER has been bored by a James Bond movie, angel, you are literally setting records here!”

“I just prefer the softer films! You know, your…Pride And Prejudice types.”

“That’s one of your favorite books, that hardly counts.”

“It’s still a good film!”

“Okay okay, point stands though, that you only did all that to get out of watching my movie. You don’t actually care about the origins of my shirt at all, do you?” Even though his arms were already crossed, he made a little harumph motion with them, hand still holding Aziraphale’s gently. He turned his head away from Aziraphale, feigning anger. Crowley did love a petty argument every now and then.

“Oh come ooooonn,” Aziraphale shook Crowley by the shoulder with his free hand. Crowley said nothing. “Don’t be like this, you know how much I hate the silent treatment.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a pointed look that said ‘duh, why else do you think i’m pulling the silent treatment?’ before turning back around.

Aziraphale sighed playfully, “Whatever am I going to do without you to talk to…” He couldn’t hold back a cheeky grin as he pinched Crowley’s side, the demon flinching but still saying nothing. “Who will I complain to when my favorite books get turned into terrible films?”A few pokes to the belly, and Crowley’s knees shot up. “Who will teach me about the different plant life in London?” Three pinches to the ribs and he heard a stifled giggle as Crowley’s back arched away from his fingers.

Aziraphale let the moment hang in the air. He wanted Crowley to feel anticipation crawling up his spine. Aziraphale saw him squirm slightly into the sheets.

He quickly pinched up and down Crowley’s side, from his hip to his rib, the demon flinching hard with a keening giggle. He rolled over quickly, ticklish laughter spilling from him as he slapped at Aziraphale’s hands, feet digging into the mattress. “Okay okahahay! I gihive, you dihihick!”

Aziraphale pulled away for the final time, meaning it this time (well maybe, who knows with how playful they’ve both felt this evening). He laid on his back next to a sprawled out Crowley, putting his hand in his…friend’s.

They basked in each other’s presence for a little while, rubbing their thumbs over the skin of their hands, playing with each other’s fingers, once Crowley dared to tickle Aziraphale’s palm. But then the credits started to roll on the film and Crowley felt the need to confess.

“It was a convention.”

“Hm?”

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder,“It was a, er…ngk,” he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, letting go of weird insecurities. “…a James Bond convention. They held one in London when those newer films came out. I’m a pretty big fan, you know that, so I popped by, made myself…known.” His confession was awkward but very real, and Aziraphale could tell that even as silly as it was, it did take something for Crowley to admit that. “Got a t-shirt while I was there, thought hell, why not, I’m here, the shirts here, probably made to be. So yeah. My new nightshirt.”

Aziraphale smiled so wholeheartedly at Crowley the demon was half-worried he’d pop something. “That’s so sweet, Crowley. I always knew you loved James Bond, but worthy enough to have the Anthony J. Crowley show up to his convention-?”

“Ohhhh bite me a new one, angel,” Crowley shook their intertwined fingers, getting even comfier against him. Aziraphale did the same, leaning into Crowley and wrapping an arm around his waist.

They didn’t talk about this when they woke from their nap. They didn’t need to. At least, they thought they didn’t need to. Their time has always been limitless. They thought their love always would be too.

. . .

a/n : ok im going to sleep goobyeee

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STOP THE FUCKING PRESS, WE HAVE TICKLISH SEBASTIAN STAN

ANABELLE WENT IN DEFINITELY TO TICKLE HIM, AND HIS REACTION IS A MIXTURE OF ANTICIPATORY TICKLES AND FEELING TICKLISH AT THE SAME TIME. which leads me to believe he is super ticklish, as anabelle didn’t fully launch an attack but he still grabbed her arm and flinched away.

GUYS IDK WHAT TO DO HELP I NEED MORE, WE GOT IT @barnesrogers-blog

TLC

fandom: the falcon and the winter soldier

w/c: 1149

summary: How Sam convinced Bucky to sleep on the couch AKA Bucky is introduced to ASMR.

a/n: I love TFATWS and I want to write for them more but I cannot for the life of me think of good scenarios. Inspired by my own love hate relationship with asmr.

~~~~~~~~~

“Paid good money for that sofa you're disrespecting.”

Bucky sat up from his position on the floor. Sam's silhouette stood with crossed arms in the doorway, outlined only by the kitchen light behind him. He looked ridiculous. Bucky stretched to reach the lamp switch.

“I’m kind of an active sleeper. Figured I’d do less damage starting on the floor.” Bucky rubbed at his neck.

“Mm-hm.” Sam walked over to the couch and sat, meaning he didn't intend to let Bucky sleep just yet. “Sarah’s concerned.”

Embarrassed, Bucky dropped his hand slowly. From the moment he stepped inside the Wilson family home, he wondered if he was completely overstaying his welcome. He wouldn't have blamed them for feeling uncomfortable housing an ex-assassin. There were children in this house.

“She sent me in here to convince you to get off the damn floor. ‘C’mon Sam! Give the hobo your bed if it's better on his old joints than the couch.’ Hmph.”

Bucky smiled. “That’s kind of her.”

Sam glared at him. “Keep dreaming. You're funny if you think you're sleeping on my bed.”

Bucky shook his head with a frown. “No, the couch is comfortable. Very comfortable. Feels like I’m gonna sink right through it.”

Sam’s glaring expression changed to something more real. Was that a rude thing to say?

“Look, I get it. But you're making me look like a bad host. Sarah won't even let the cat sleep down there.” Sam said softly. “You’re just not used to feeling comfortable yet. All it takes is some TLC.”

“TLC?”

“Tender love and-”

“I know what TLC means.” Bucky said, more guarded than his therapist would have approved of. Sam was brave for this, Bucky thought. By now they had gotten comfortable, perhaps even extended their boundary past ‘a couple of guys with a mutual friend.’ They were friends, yet even so Bucky didn’t know what to do with clear affection. Sam knew this. It was brave in the same way as sticking a hand out to a dog known to bite.

Bucky sighed and looked up at Sam. “Are you offering?” he asked, genuinely.

“Just get your ass up here.” Sam said.

--

He pulled out his phone and a pair of earbuds as Bucky sat next to him.

“We can start with this.” Sam said, holding out his tools as he explained. “Have you heard of ASMR? Stands for auto sensory… something or other. People listen to it to go to sleep, sorta like whale sounds or white noise. You know how certain sounds make you go all relaxed and tingly?”

Bucky frowned, not liking how that sounded. But Sam continued with an eyeroll.

“Well, that's the gimmick. It's pretty awesome and knocks me out like a baby. Gotta be careful not to find the freaky ones, though. There are a lot of weirdos out there..” Bucky’s frown deepened skeptically.

“Man, nevermind. Just, here-”

Bucky violently ducked his head away from Sam’s hand, instantly snatching the earbud Sam started to shove into his ear. Sam chuckled, to which he scowled at.

“I don’t know about this, Sam. I'm not a big fan of…” He squinted at the title of one of the videos on Sam’s phone. “Brain tickling? That doesn’t sound relaxing at all.”

Sam reached over to tap the video immediately as Bucky made a noise of disapproval. He stood and patted Bucky’s shoulder.

“Alright, now lay back and close your eyes. Ugh.” Sam reached forward, smoothing out the dubious eyebrows on Bucky’s forehead. “Relax your damn face. Trust me, man! This stuff is powerful.”

Bucky was entirely unsure about this, as nothing about what Sam had been trying to sell sounded appealing. But because Sam was good at this sorta thing, he obliged. He laid back and shifted to get comfortable, snatching up the blanket that was on the floor with a metal hand.

He looked up at Sam, who was staring the whole time he adjusted himself.

“Are you gonna watch me sleep?”

Sam scoffed. “Sounds exhilarating. Sleep tight, Buck.” He switched off the lamp for Bucky, and left him alone with the ASMR.

As the video played, Bucky was caught off guard by the quality of the sounds.

There was a sweet spot in Bucky’s lower back he hadn't known about. And for reasons unbeknownst to him, the amplified scratching sounds coming from the video ignited the nerves in the same spot. Over and over again. He felt ridiculous for flinching, but he could hardly control it.

skrich skrich skrichskrichskrich.

It sounded like it was right behind him. His eyebrows pinched together in discomfort. He surprised himself by not throwing the earbuds across the room.

As weird as it was, it was also kind of nice. A tingle would start at the base of his skull, before shooting down that dip in his back. Relaxing chills overtook Bucky’s body after each ticklish pulse that sparked his spine. He found himself embracing the sounds and their unbearable, incredible effect. It reminded him of nails on his back, a sensation he had trouble remembering with how long it had been since he received such tender treatment. But he knew it was enjoyable. Even when the nails strayed to spots that were too sensitive to stay still for.

Bucky couldn't stop the smile that followed after the next jolt, so powerful it made his leg jump. Like when you pet a dog just right. He wondered if this ASMR garnered the same reactions from Sam. If that was why he liked it so much.

A laugh startled Bucky to open his eyes. He thought it might have come from himself until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His face flushed as he tore the earbuds out of his ear.

“How long were you standing there, you creep?” Bucky asked, worried about how much Sam might have seen - and clocked.

“Just came out for a bit to see if it already put you to sleep. Looks like you were loving it.” Sam said, grinning. There was no judgement in his tone, only teasing. Bucky can handle teasing.

“It's nice. It’s freaky, but it's nice. I was almost asleep till you came back out.” Bucky said accusingly. Sam started to say something back, an apology about interrupting his tickle-time, but Bucky wisely put the earbuds back in and flipped over on the couch to ignore him completely.

“Alright alright. Get your beauty sleep, White Wolf.” Before finally leaving him alone for the night, Sam fluttered his nails up and down Bucky’s exposed back and neck. He shrugged him off with a giggle-laced fuck off.

“Goodnight Sam,” he called out before he shut his bedroom door. “Thanks.”

Your back beneath the sun, wishin' I could write my name on it

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Reid/Morgan

Summary: Spencer spends some time in the sun which reveals that he has freckles on his back. Derek becomes a little infatuated with them.

Words: 1.5k

It was July, a sleepiness stretching over the town along with the heat and dust which Spencer would choke on as walked out onto the melting streets. He’d never been a fan of July. Not a fan of summers in general. He couldn’t stand the heat, he couldn’t stand the thought of being forced to go home to an empty apartment, or to visit his mother who seemed to be worse after each visit, for weeks on end. Although he did admit he enjoyed the extra time he could dedicate to his own research, not that his job ever really stopped him from doing it anyway.

This July was different. This July contained Derek, clad in cotton shirts and bathing shorts and ridiculous hats and t-shirts with the words “I love Vegas” printed on them. “You have to stop buying those,” Spencer told him, rolling his eyes and hiding his smile as Derek straightened proudly after each purchase. “They’re just stealing your money.”

“I don’t care. I look good in them.”

Spencer had to admit there weren’t many things that Derek looked bad in anyway.

Another reason Spencer didn’t like summer was the frequent sunburns he suffered despite mostly hiding in the shade. There was always one careless weekend which left him pink and peeling. He’d gotten better at avoiding them as he got older. Sunscreen and hats and non-white shirts for protection, even while hunched over a book in the shade, although it got harder to stay out of the water with Derek Morgan there, who kept picking him up and running into the somehow still too cold waves as Spencer threatened his life. He was always laughing toward the end of it, after he’d come out spluttering and pointing and frowning in a way he knew wouldn’t last. Because of the trips to the lake and pool Spencer was exposed to the sun in short batches, leaving him with a quite nice tan for the first time in many years.

Derek was obsessed with it. “You have freckles.”

“I do?”

“On your back. Here.” He poked a spot just below Spencer’s shoulder blade. “Here.” Again on his spine. “Here.” 

The poke landed too close to his lower back this time and Spencer found himself jerking away. “H-hey! Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” He could hear Derek’s smirk without even seeing him. “Did it tickle?”

“Shut up.”

“Awe, come on. You’ve not shown this at all when I’ve applied sunscreen to your back. Have you been holding back on me?” He poked him again and Spencer couldn’t help the giggle that escaped this time. “Oh my god, you’re so cute. How is a grown man cute.”

Spencer twisted around and held up his hands. “Mercy.”

“Hmm, what’s in it for me?”

It would be so easy to say something along the lines of “a kiss” or anything like it, but this was all new, mostly unexplored, and Spencer wasn’t sure if that was too forward even though they’d kissed plenty of times by then. Maybe it was because they were both shirtless, Derek glistening with oil and water drops, tilting his head in a way at him that made Spencer blush.

He looked away, suddenly fascinated by the water. “You’ll never catch me,” was all he said and he was off, Derek laughing as he chased him into the waves and the freckles were forgotten for the time being.

*

“Are you asleep?”

It wasn’t late. 4:37 in the afternoon. The room was stuffy despite the rickety fan on the desk, the curtains were drawn in the hopes of cooling the room down, and Spencer lay there feeling Derek’s fingertips on his skin for ten more seconds before he answered. “No.”

Derek hummed, scraping his nails lightly over Spencer’s arm, up and down until he shivered. “I’m bored, but I’m too tired to do anything.” A poke to his shoulder. “You should entertain me, since I’m your guest.”

Spencer let out a laugh. “Is that how it works?”

“Yup.”

“We could plan where to go for dinner?” Spencer had to admit it was fun showing him around his home town, going to places he wouldn’t really go to himself as an old local.

Derek sighed. “Boring.”

Spencer turned to look at him. “Aren’t you picky.”

Derek suddenly grinned. “I know what we can do.”

Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. “What-”

Derek shoved him back to his side. “Stay still.”

“Derek.”

“I wanna connect your freckles. Find constellations.”

“Do you even know any constellations?”

“Sure. Orion’s Belt. Look, there it is.” He poked Spencer’s skin three times before lightly tracing his finger over the same spots again, making Spencer jump. “I said be still.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. I believe in you.”

Spencer rolled over to his stomach and buried his face in the pillow, giggling into it as Derek kept drawing random patterns over his skin, from his shoulder to the curve of his lower back. Not all of it tickled, but it tickled enough that it left him a bit of a mess, unsure of when he would go for a sensitive spot. Giddy and jumpy. He could tell Derek was enjoying himself, although he kept up the pretense of connecting freckles and making constellations throughout the whole thing, laughing between his words.

“Please, it’s hot,” Spencer finally said when Derek remained at his lower back for a little too long, curling his fingers over both sides and leaving Spencer with little space to get away. He’d started sweating, which probably worked against him and made it tickle even worse.

Derek made a big show out of stopping. “Fine,” he said with a sigh, throwing himself down onto the bed again. “Back to being bored then.”

Spencer huffed and rolled over so that he was lying on his back, realizing he was exposing all of his other spots and feeling too tired to care. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Am not.”

“First you call me boring, then you torture me.”

“Mm, you loved it. I didn’t get elbowed a single time.” He scooted closer and pressed his lips to Spencer’s temple, despite his sweat. Spencer didn’t stop him, although he felt self conscious about it.

They remained silent for a moment, finding relief as the fan panned over them over and over. Spencer nearly fell asleep had his stomach not made the loudest sound known to humanity which had Derek cracking up.

“You hungry, huh?” he said, poking at it and making Spencer whine as he jerked away. “Let’s get ready for dinner then. Or do you need a snack first?”

“Will it be an actual snack or will you just offer yourself again?”

“You’re no fun, Spence.”

*

Derek applied sunscreen onto Spencer’s back with care the next morning, palms kneading into his shoulders and shoulder blades, fingertips pressing into his sides, none of it ticklish and yet Spencer felt on edge. He knew Derek was probably doing it on purpose, and he was expecting the eventual tickle that came as he finished, quick flutters over his lower back and the back of his ribs, making him let out a laugh which was too loud, too panicked, yet short-lived.

Derek was grinning when Spencer turned to glare at him, something about them not being alone at the tip of his tongue, but Derek swallowed it with his lips, fingers spidering up Spencer’s sides before settling at his neck, holding his jaw gently as he kissed him again.

It was already too hot that morning, and so Spencer would blame the heat for the way his face flushed when they parted. “Do you ever get freckles on your front?” Derek asked before he could say anything, and while Spencer didn’t reply they both knew the answer was probably yes. “Speaking of that,” he added nonchalantly. “Do you need help applying sunscreen to your belly? I feel like you’re not doing a good enough job.”

“I frankly feel offended even though I know you’re kidding.

“Who’s kidding?”

Spencer huffed and threw Derek’s stupid Las Vegas cap at him as Derek laughed. “You’re so annoying. I’m leaving you in Virginia next time.”

“Lies. You’ll miss me too much. Who will put sunscreen on you if I’m not here?”

“You do realize I wouldn’t be spending nearly as much time in the sun if you weren’t here, right?”

“And that explains why you didn’t know you had freckles.” Derek poked his side. “Can’t wait until I get to connect them on your front. I’m gonna force you to sunbathe today.”

Spencer shoved him away. “I’m protesting.”

“Oh, you have no choice, pretty boy.”

“Stop acting as if you wouldn’t tickle me without the freckles anyway.”

“But this makes it much more fun, doesn’t it?” Derek grinned and Spencer blushed and they were soon in the water again before Spencer could even protest it.

Maybe Derek Morgan was making him like julys, after all.

Aziraphale's Literary Discovery

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @practickles!!! I am your squealing santa this year :)) I hope this is everything you hoped for and more!! (and now i can follow you without being worried that i'll blow my cover lol)

@squealing-santa

screw canon(/j), they are happy together and have tickles.

switch!aziraphale, switch!crowley.

cw: light mentions of alcohol/sobering up magically, cursing (because it's Crowley), using a miracle to pin someone that could be read as invisible bondage.

Aziraphale turned a page in his book, but wasn't really reading anymore. This had been happening more and more often: he would stop reading just to think about the demon who was currently asleep on his couch.

Aziraphale and Crowley had finished off some good wine last night, and instead of sobering up, Crowley had decided to sleep it off on the bookshop's couch. The angel had sobered up, reading all through the night with the occasional glance to the demon's sleeping form.

Honestly, Aziraphale prefers Crowley awake. He loves the demon's antics and being able to spend time together (although the serenity and calmness radiating off the demon's lanky form was delightful). He didn't technically need to breathe, but he did -- soft deep breaths that were almost soft snores.

Aziraphale quickly snapped himself out of the trance he had been in, staring at his friend(?), and glancing back at the book. It was a sweet romcom, one that left Aziraphale feeling giddy and with butterflies in his stomach. The couple in his book were playful, and in the current scene, were poking each other and giggling. This was a fascinating idea that humans called "tickling", which led to supposedly uncontrollable laughter and seemed like a sweet bonding exercise.

Something clicked in his mind and he looked back at Crowley asleep on the couch, limbs splayed out haphazardly. His tight-fitting shirt had risen a little, leaving a sliver of the pale skin of his lower stomach on display. Aziraphale gasped excitedly, looking back at his book where the tickle fight was happening. Supposedly, even small touches could lead to ticklish sensations!

He stood up, beginning to creep over to the sleeping figure, before realizing that Crowley could sleep through almost anything and walking over normally. The angel stared at him with wide eyes, glancing back and forth between his calm face and the sliver of exposed stomach. He tentatively reached out a finger, poking Crowley's abdomen.

There was a faint reaction, a small breath hitching in between small snores and Crowley squirmed a bit. Was Crowley ticklish?! How silly! How human! What a delightful discovery! He giddily clapped, then began tracing the sliver of exposed skin. Crowley huffed, squirmed, and scrunched up his nose a bit, before rolling over and crossing his arms over his stomach.

Aziraphale was ecstatic at his findings, and couldn't wait to enact something rather devious (by his standards)!

|

|

A few days later, he woke a grumpy Crowley up from his nap (and if Crowley became less grumpy when he noticed that he was covered in a cozy blanket, the angel didn't need to know). Aziraphale had a mission: go on a date -- a Friend Date (he told himself, at least) -- and bring up tickling to him! The angel had an innate need to tickle Crowley now, see his presumably adorable reactions, and have the physical contact that the angel began to crave.

"Come on, Crowley!" Aziraphale grinned, pulling the demon into a seated position by his hand.

Crowley grumbled, "For what?"

Crowley seemed entirely uninterested, but in truth, he loved spending time with Aziraphale and would do anything if Aziraphale truly wanted to spend time with him.

"A picnic!" Aziraphale gestured to a wicker basket stocked full of goodies.

Crowley rolled his eyes (but was truly content with this plan), put his shoes on, and drove them to a gorgeous woodsy park. When they had found their own spot, Aziraphale spread out a blanket on the grass, sat down, and began unpacking some small sandwiches and poured them both a glass of wine.

"Not so much now, my dear boy," He handed Crowley the wine, "I'd like you awake for a little while. It's dreadfully boring being all alone and reading by myself!"

He got nothing but a grunt in return, but everything was perfect, so Aziraphale continued on with his ramblings.

In between bites of his sandwiches, he told Crowley all about the books he had been reading, but especially about the lovely rom-com he had just read.

"They had such a lovely relationship! Human love just excites me so much! They do so many sweet things together, not unlike us!"

"Ngk-" Crowley choked slightly on his wine and turned a bit pink, but Aziraphale didn't seem to notice.

"They certainly touched a lot more than we do, though, Crowley!" The angel pouted.

Crowley shrugged, "We're not having sex."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's mouth gaped as he gasped, smacking the demon softly on his leg, "Don't say that! They touched plenty without sexual implications!"

Crowley sipped his wine, not needing to respond.

"They cuddled, and kissed, and even- well," Aziraphale cut himself off, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

This now intrigued Crowley, who sat up a bit, and looked at Aziraphale, scooting closer so they were side by side.

He teased Aziraphale, "Oh? Was it sexual then? You realized I was right and you were wrong?"

Aziraphale huffed indignantly, "No! I'm just not sure if you even know what it is!"

Oh, Crowley was so up for a challenge. "I'm sure I would! I know much more about humans than you do."

Aziraphale leaned closer, grinning and placing a hand on the blanket behind Crowley, so they were almost touching. "Oh really?"

Crowley smirked and nodded, taking his sunglasses off and stowing them safely in the picnic basket, so he could look at Aziraphale in the eyes to show him how serious he was.

"Yes, they were tickling each other!" Aziraphale grinned, hoping that Crowley wouldn't know about tickling, so he could teach him.

"Oh, that? How would I not know about that?" Crowley didn't let anything slip, so Aziraphale thought it might be possible that he just didn't know.

"Yes, I think that's quite intimate," Aziraphale reached out and placed a hand on Crowley's knee, "it seems sweet to me!"

Crowley grumbled, avoiding eye contact awkwardly. "What, is this your way of asking me to tickle you?"

Aziraphale stammered, protesting quickly, "Why would I want that?!"

Now it was Crowley's turn to look offended, "There's nothing wrong with wanting that!"

Aziraphale was now slightly grumpy; this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

Crowley had that devilish (albeit attractive) grin across his face, placing a hand on Aziraphale's side.

"This wasn't how this was supposed to goHO-" Aziraphale smacked a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Crowley, that evil, evil demon, had squeezed Aziraphale's side! What a terrible thing for his corperal form to feel! Aziraphale, in all his planning, could not have anticipated this!

A small smirk crept across Crowley's face as he put the other hand on Aziraphale's clothed side and squeezed a few times in a row.

Aziraphale's hands flew down from his mouth to his sides, weakly pushing at Crowley's hands as he laughed heartily. His smile was beautiful. It was, well, angelic.

Crowley was right. Aziraphale thought this was quite nice. He hadn't laughed this hard in a while, and seeing Crowley's enjoyment of his reactions was amazing!

Crowley smiled widely, skittering his nimble fingers along Aziraphale's gorgeous plush stomach, before refocusing his attention on Aziraphale's thighs. Aziraphale's magnificently scrumptious thighs, currently busy with Aziraphale's frantically kicking feet. Crowley stopped, giving Aziraphale a small break, before placing his hands on those delightful thighs.

Aziraphale was not worried in the slightest; he had never heard of someone's thighs being ticklish, just the usual suspects like the upper body, feet, neck, and hips. But thighs? That seemed silly... until Crowley started squeezing them.

Aziraphale barked out a laugh, falling gently on his back as he was unable to hold himself sitting up. He made noises that were so embarrassing: he even squealed! Crowley was unwavering in his ticklish squeezing, grinning broadly. Aziraphale was laughing harder than he ever had, his head shaking back and forth as he laughed frantically, beginning to push at Crowley's hands again. This was Crowley's cue to slow down, and he moved his hands back up to the angel's stomach to gently trace shapes as Aziraphale recovered.

"Y- you're evil!" Aziraphale gasped, still giggling.

"I'm a demon, that's kind of the whole point," Crowley deadpanned, although unable to wipe the smile off his face.

Aziraphale caught his breath, then grabbed Crowley's hands. Crowley's eyes widened slightly, but he tried to play it off, scoffing.

Aziraphale sat up quickly, pushing Crowley onto his back and pinning him there with shocking strength. Crowley looked at him confused and began squirming awkwardly. Aziraphale had fully sat on his hips, pinning his arms above his head as he leaned over the demon, their faces quite close together.

"What? How did you-" Crowley stammered, baffled by Aziraphale's strength, "What are you doing?"

Aziraphale grinned, excited to give Crowley all the exposition of his plan. "When I was reading that book, I tried tickling you, when you were asleep. I poked you, and you reacted! I have to try it again!"

Crowley blushed a bit, before retorting, "Angel, anyone would react to being poked. I'm not ticklish, I'm a demon. Being ticklish is all- cute and innocent. I'm neither of those things."

"I beg to differ," Aziraphale grinned, slipping his warm hand under Crowley's tight shirt, beginning to trace circles on Crowley's stomach.

Crowley's brain short circuted. Not only was the angel on top of him, but he was touching Crowley more intimately than they'd ever touched. And Crowley did feel something -- was that being ticklish?

Crowley squirmed, averting his eyes from Aziraphale's as he clamped his mouth shut.

Aziraphale, ever so oblivious, was slightly upset that it didn't really effect Crowley like it did when he was asleep. Maybe he was controlling his reactions? Maybe he truly was right and wasn't ticklish!

Aziraphale huffed, "You really reacted the other day, I promise!"

Crowley was trying his best to not react, his serpentine eyes flicking towards Aziraphale's well-manicured hand, still tracing under his shirt.

"Ngk- just give it a rest, angel!" Crowley sputtered, feeling giggles (Yes, giggles! Demons aren't supposed to giggle!) bubbling up in his chest.

Aziraphale was starting to feel a bit hopeless; he thought it would have been incredibly endearing if Crowley was ticklish. The demon barely smiled (not counting his mischievous smirks), and Aziraphale would love to hear him laugh, truly laugh, for the first time in years. Aziraphale pouted and decided to give it one last go.

He poked Crowley in the side.

Crowley gasped, jumped, and made awkward eye contact with the angel on top of him.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was ecstatic! A giddy smile broke across his face.

"No, angel, no. I was just startled-" Crowley said quickly, squirming.

"Oh my dear Crowley, my dear silly demon..." Aziraphale grinned.

"No angel I-" Crowley couldn't focus on being called Aziraphale's, due to the imminent danger of him being tickled.

Much to his dismay, Aziraphale began ruthlessly skittering his fingers over Crowley's stomach and sides. Damn his fashionable outfits! The shirt he was wearing was incredibly thin and did nothing to protect him from the angel's attack.

Crowley tried to keep his mouth shut and hide his reactions, but his attempts were futile. He burst out into loud laughter and squirmed as much as he could (which wasn't much). It made sense why tickling was used as a torture method in the past; he would have given up any secret that Aziraphale could ask for in this moment! Although, there was something nice about it: the intimacy, the giddy feeling, and Aziraphale's touch gave him a rush of happiness.

"Why are you laughing, my dear boy? Thought of something devious? Scheming?" Aziraphale laughed along with Crowley -- for such a supposedly evil being, he sure had a contagious laugh -- and scribbled his fingers even faster. "Or are you just... ticklish?"

And if Crowley's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink, he hoped Aziraphale didn't notice.

"You're- teasing- me!" He sputtered indignantly, through bright, happy laughter.

Aziraphale paused, pretending to look offended, "No I'm not! I'm simply asking questions to figure out why you're laughing so much!"

In the midst of talking, he wasn't paying attention to what his hands were doing. His hands moved down to the hem of Crowley's shirt, causing the demon to jump, eyes wide.

Aziraphale's eyebrow raised quickly, "Oh?"

Crowley shook his head, stammering "No," and tugging on his hands.

As both of them knew, although the angel's corporeal form was strong, Crowley could easily have gotten his arms free by non-human means. Maybe he just didn't want to.

The most devilish grin to ever cross an angels face suddenly appeared on Aziraphale's. He let go of Crowley's arms, but not before preforming a miracle that kept his arms trapped in place, taut above his head.

Crowley's snake-like eyes grew wider as he tugged frantically on his arms, beginning to giggle nervously. His whole 'bad boy' persona was completely gone now, and he was quite enjoying this (though he'd never admit such a silly thing).

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale teased, wiggling his fingers at the squirming demon, "are you prepared for your demise?"

That shut Crowley up.

Until Aziraphale did something truly evil. Something so evil that even the higher-ups in Hell couldn't dream of. He repeatedly squeezed Crowley's hips.

Crowley made the most embarrassing noise possible -- he squealed.

"AAAAZiraphale!!!" He laughed, wiggling as much as possible, "YOU BASSSSTARD!!"

Curse that stupid hissing. Usually he was able to disguise it, whenever Aziraphale caught him off guard with accidental(?) flirting or made a silly joke that a big bad demon like himself shouldn't laugh at. Speaking of laughing, Crowley was laughing more than he ever had in his life.

And it felt amazing. Having his angel so close to him in such an intimate way, literally on top of him. He was able to let his guard down.

The angel gasped, "What did you just call me, my dear boy?!"

Aziraphale skittered his fingers around Crowley's stomach and sides, relishing in the rare and genuine laughter.

Luckily, although neither of them could be sure if it was intentional or not, Aziraphale's miracle that pinned Crowley's hand was slowly faltering. Crowley didn't realize (he was laughing too hard to think about much) until his arms subconsciously snapped down to grab at Aziraphale's hands.

Aziraphale paused his attack, concerned about his friend(?). Crowley looked at him, as his leftover giggles became slightly more devious.

Crowley latched his clawed hands onto Aziraphale's clothed sides and rapidly squeezed, disrupting the power that Aziraphale had held over him, and toppling them both over onto their sides, facing each other.

Aziraphale tickled Crowley back, angelic giggles pouring out of his mouth.

"You- you're such a demon!" He exclaimed through loud laughter.

Crowley nodded, squirming closer to Aziraphale as they tickled each other.

They were practically cuddling as their fingers slowed to tracing each other's abdomens, softly giggling.

Aziraphale stared into Crowley's gorgeous auburn eyes and was struck with a sense of overwhelming love.

Crowley's smile was wider than it should have been from leftover giggles as he watched the angel and his smile and gorgeous face. As if God Herself had heard his thoughts, sunlight struck the angel's face in a certain way where he looked like he was glowing (although he may have been radiating an otherworldly glow from overwhelming happiness).

They stayed there for a while, in each others arms, staring lovingly into each other's eyes.

If you made it this far, thank you. Reblogs help writers and artists on tumblr a lot, so consider reblogging if you enjoyed <3. If you'd like, send me an ask if you want to talk about anything (related or unrelated to this fic), as it motivates me to write more.

Doctor Who in 100 years:

Welcome to Doctor Who! We call this "New Who' since it was made after what we call 'Classic Who' but this is the fifteenth time the season count has restarted so it should technically be called "New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New Who.

know when to walk away. know when to run.

fandom: criminal minds

w/c: 1943

content: fluff very cartoony goofy fluff

summary: morgan bets reid he can't go a day without rambling. reid takes him up on it.

a/n: i got a little carried away with everything that wasn't the main course but i promise it is there towards the end. open to criticism ☝️, i am still new at this and looking to improve.

p.s the penelope rant was all me i am penelope.

~~~~~~~~

Derek was starting to feel guilty. To an outside observer, nothing seemed unusual. Reid was sitting across from him on the jet, reading some book in Russian. At least he thought it was Russian. When he asked Reid if it was, he made a face which indicated it was not actually Russian. Any other day he would've corrected Derek on the fact it was Ukrainian (which Derek had to find out after looking the book up on his phone - tedious.) Any other day Reid would passionately explain away a passage in the book that particularly interested him. But today he was completely silent.

It was really starting to get to Derek. And he could tell the kid knew he was getting to him. Spencer would check his watch every so often, glimpse at him with a smug ass look on his face, then go back to his book. It was infuriating.

-----

The unsub they had been dealing with was a bride-killer. He targeted women during their bachelorette parties days before the women were set to be married. The only reason for him to pick such high-profile, high-risk women is if it were a compulsion.

“Maybe he’d gotten cheated on during his own bride’s bachelorette party,” Rossi said.

“Wouldn't he have to stalk these women for weeks to know they were getting married?” JJ questioned.

“Not necessarily,” said Morgan. “Wearing a bride-to-be sash like the victims were would be like waving a red cape at a bull.”

“It’s a common misconception but actually, bulls are colorblind. So it doesn't really matter what color the matador waves - it’s the cape’s movement that elicits an aggressive charge response in the bull.”

“...”

Everyone stared at Reid in a silence that stretched for seemingly forever. He shrunk under their intense gaze.

“Um, Morgan’s metaphor still applies here, though.”

Derek laughed the way he always did right before he teased Reid.

“I bet he can’t go a day without saying some completely unrelated fun fact during the investigation. He just can’t help himself.”

“It wasn’t completely unrelated..” Reid mumbled shyly, before speaking to be heard. “I can. But where's the fun in that?”

“You wanna put money on that?”

"Ooh, careful Morgan. Gambling with a Vegas boy is bound to go wrong." Rossi joked.

“The stakes are too unclear. And there would be too many technicalities. We'd argue over what constitutes as irrelevant to the investigation, what counts as a fun fact..” he trailed off as he realized the stares and silence were back.

“Okay, pretty boy. New stakes. I bet you can’t go without talking for… at least twelve hours. About anything.”

“Can I make any noise?”

“Hmm. Nah.”

“How much money?”

“Reid, Morgan, focus up.” Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose indignantly. “We need Reid to talk until the investigation is over. Then you can wager on your own time.” Hotch brought everyone’s attention back to catching the killer. From over his copy of the case file, Reid mouthed to Morgan. You’re on.

-----

It started right after the unsub was processed. Immediately after. As in, while Morgan was putting the suspect in cuffs, he had turned to Reid and said, “50 bucks?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Starting when?” The local PD came to take the unsub away.

“Now?”

Reid smiled confidently in response.

“Great work, everybody.” Hotch walked up to the team huddled inside the killer’s home. “Let’s get out of here. I’m buying coffee. What does everyone want?”

Reid opened his mouth to say something before pursing his lips. This would be harder than he thought.

-----

On the jet ride home, Derek had been trying to goad Reid into saying something. He facetimed Penelope.

“Hey mama, I got a question for you. Here, let me put you on speaker.”

“Oh! I love questions. You know I know everything. What’s up?”

He looked at Reid smugly as he talked, even though the kid was fixated on his book. “Why exactly does ‘Doctor Who’ spend so much time in places that look exactly like Earth when he's got a whole universe to explore? There ain’t no way Earth is more interesting than the entire universe.”

Oh my. The look on Reid’s face was devastating. The only time Morgan would ever willingly discuss Doctor Who, he couldn’t join the conversation. Derek’s heart would’ve broken if he hadn’t found it hilarious.

“...okay. Sweetheart, first of all, he is not called ‘Doctor Who.’ He’s called ‘The Doctor.’ Okay?” Penelope sighed, agitated. Some relief washed over Reid’s face as if that was what he wanted to say.

“Doctor Who is the name of the show. His identity is a mystery and he just goes by The Doctor. So people and alienfolk all go ‘Huh? What do you mean? Doctor Who?’ and that’s why the show is called that. You wouldn't call Captain Kirk 'Star Trek: The Original Series.'" Reid was positively pouting.

"Second of all, I heard about the little challenge you placed unto our baby genius and I will have no part in his torture. Tata.” Penelope hung up the phone.

Derek frowned and put the phone in his pocket. “Damn… I really was curious. Do you mind answering my question?” he taunted Reid with a toothy grin. Reid scowled and returned to his book. A true miracle he had so much self control over his hand gestures.

-----

Two hours had passed slowly and silently. It wasn’t fun anymore. Morgan had seen Reid perk up at least three times to infodump about the books he’s read during the flight, before he caught himself. Each time he was stupidly dejected afterward. Morgan didn’t love it. He hated it. The kid had been shut up his entire life by his peers and bullies. And now by his friends. His heart was actually starting to ache seeing his friend’s gaze become more and more distant.

“Hey, kid. Let’s just call it off.”

Spencer met his eyes and raised a brow.

“I wanna hear about the story. Genuinely.”

Spencer looked down at his watch, then crossed his arms. Morgan scoffed.

“Seriously, you want the 50 dollars that bad? There’s still an hour left before we land.” He didn't want to see Reid be depressed for the entire remainder of the flight. And the longer it went, it seemed less likely he'd be up for talking even after the time limit. Morgan couldn't handle that.

“C’mon man, it’s unhealthy for a brain to store so much information without an outlet. You’ll explode.”

Spencer smiled and huffed out of his nose. His eyes went wide. He awkwardly looked over to the side at nothing.

“..Was that a noise?” Spencer frowned and shook his head. A figmental lightbulb went off over Derek’s head.

He walked over to sit side-by-side with Spencer, who eyed him cautiously. He sighed. Maybe it was inappropriate to play dirty, but Spencer wasn't exactly giving him an option.

“Listen, we can do this the easy way. Where you open your mouth right now and call me an asshole for ever suggesting this stupid bet in the first place. Or we can do this, uh…” he grinned impishly, wiggling the fingers of one of his hands. “..the hard way.”

Spencer’s jaw clenched at the implication. He braved a face of nonchalance and for a moment, Derek thought maybe he wasn’t even ticklish. Or maybe he didn’t think Derek would actually do it. They were in front of their boss after all, their unit chief of the Federal Bureau of Investigation Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not in grade school.

But then Derek saw the red of his ears slowly make its way down to his cheeks and decided he couldn’t help himself. Plus, the kid wasn’t talking.

"Okay, have it your way."

It was childish, Derek would be the first to admit it. But he’d kill two birds with one stone. End the bet, and get Reid to smile a bit.

He wiggled an index finger lightly at the side of Spencer’s neck, which immediately got trapped. Spencer reached up to pull the hand out, before his wrist was snatched and Derek clawed at his ribs.

To Derek’s surprise, Spencer stayed quiet. His physical reaction, however, made up for it. He jerked and contorted so hard his back ended up on the seat of his chair. One leg curled up to protect the attacked side, while the other sprawled over Derek.

He kept his lips and eyes shut so tight they quivered.

“You’re kidding.” Derek was indignant. This was the most stubborn he’d ever seen him. “You can’t keep this up for an hour.”

After spending some time there, he moved up into his underarm. Spencer broke out into an open mouth grin and another spasm. But still no noise.

Derek let go of his wrist - bicep burning from Spencer's struggle against him - to use both his hands to tickle. Something happened that completely bewildered him.

Spencer was laughing. He was trembling, his stomach was tense, and his throat bobbed as it always did when he laughed. But it was silent. How the hell was he doing that? Why was he just taking it? Is he really going to endure this torture for the rest of the flight?

If he could, oh man. There was no way in hell Derek would stop. This was a much better sight than the sad quiet Spencer from earlier. He just wished he could hear it.

Derek was broken out of his thoughts when he saw tears fall from Spencer’s eyes, which suddenly looked much more desperate. He was turning a concerning shade of red. The drawback of silent laughter finally registered in Derek’s brain.

“Woah Jesus, kid! Breathe!” Derek immediately stilled his hands, reaching instead to grab hold of Reid’s face. It was hot to the touch. He quickly wiped away Reid's tears, which felt a bit intimate, but he didn't want the team to see he had accidentally tickled their greatest asset into crying. He figured Reid wouldn't want them to see either.

Derek helped him sit upright. Spencer breathed hard, a smile gracing his face as he peacefully closed his eyes in relief and weariness. His lips shaped in a circle to steady his breathing.

Absolutely infuriating. He would have passed out before he lost. It was a battle of wills, and even when Derek held all the cards, he folded first.

He wondered why Spencer was going so far for something so dumb. If he was trying to prove something to himself, to his team, to all the bullies who shut him up, Morgan would never live down the guilt. He hoped it was as simple as Reid just being a competitive little shit.

He groaned. “Okay, fine! You win, Spencer. You proved your point. You know how to stay quiet. Hell, not even I could…" he cleared his throat. "..uh, the point is, you won. You can have the 50 bucks. Please just talk to me.”

Spencer was still panting, the smile on his face seemed permanent. “You're.. an asshole,” he breathed. “And a cheater.”

“Yeah, I know.” Derek laughed.

“I still won, though. Whew."

“Yeah, yeah..” Relief. He was a competitive little shit.

"Can't believe you couldn't take just three hours of me not talking! You must really love learning."

He scoffed. "Whatever." Alright. The kid was starting to get cocky.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you cheaters never prosper?"

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” He pinched at his side and Spencer laughed. Audibly, this time. Garcia would call it a swoon-worthy sound. Maybe those were his words.

He pulled out his government issued wallet before his hand was stopped. “Oh. I don’t actually want your money.”

“A bet’s a bet, Reid. You earned it fair and square.”

“You wouldn’t take it if you had won.” Spencer smiled. “Just buy me a coffee when we land. I didn’t get any earlier.”

Derek shrugged. If he took any lesson away from this, it was that the doctor was stubborn. “Alright, fine by me.”

“And listen when I say the whole point of the Doctor’s archetype is to love Earth - specifically humanity - and for logistical reasons it’s just more convenient for the setting to be on Earth or on a planet that resembles Cardiff, Wales..” Here we go. Spencer rambled on, speaking quickly and more with his hands than anything. Derek rolled his eyes, but he sat back and listened.