A/N: Well, well, well, would ya look at here. I'm actually publishing another story. It's been what, two, three months since my last one? Weird...
So, this was inspired by a very similar instance involving my dad and I, and partly on this headcanon of the amazing incogneat-oh on tumblr:
One day, shortly after meeting Tim, Dick wondered if he was ticklish. So he gave it a try, and reduced the small, fairly serious vigilante to a shrieking wreck in the middle of the Cave. After that, he scooped Tim off the floor, said, "I'm sorry, I was just testing a hypothesis", and then, beaming, "you're adorable".
Enjoy the fluffy brotherly goodness! :)
(Btw, anyone else having serious trouble getting the Image Manager to work?)
(No, I didn't review my own work. My brother didn't log me out before he reviewed XD)
Breath huffed from Tim's slightly parted lips, almost a sigh as he scratched at the yellow legal pad resting on his lap. Scarecrow had broken out of Arkham. Again. With Bruce occupied on some overseas JL mission, and Dick juggling a rising crime rate in Blüdhaven as well as his usual Gotham patrol route, it fell mostly on Tim's shoulders to keep both Wayne Enterprises and the Arkham bin loonies under control. Which was just about as hard as it sounded.
Well, he should count his blessings: Alfred was in charge of the demon child.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he became aware of another presence in the room. A familiar presence. A currently unwanted presence.
"Hiya, Timmy!" came the jovial voice of a certain Dick Grayson, a slight breeze ruffling Tim's hair as Dick presumably cartwheeled up behind him. A warm puff of breath licked over the back of his neck, the ends of his hair tickling against someone's nose. Tim instinctively tensed at the sudden proximity.
"What'cha doing?"
"Casework," Tim said stiffly, trying not to sigh as he realized that he probably wouldn't be getting much done now. "You?"
"Finished up patrol and decided to check in for a couple minutes before heading back to the 'Haven," Dick announced, weight settling over Tim's shoulders as two large hands came into the smaller boy's vision. The acrobat buried his chin in Tim's mop top, squeezing him lightly in a sort of over-the-shoulder hug. "Wanted to see how everyone was doing without my presence."
Despite his annoyance, Tim's lips quirked in a smile. "Just fine, thank you. Been getting a lot done."
The weight on his shoulders shifted, black bangs and twin blue eyes dropping into sight as Dick bent upside down over Tim's head. "Was that a jab at my enjoyable personality?"
"No, no, of course not," Tim smirked. "I was just saying I've been able to get a lot of stuff done."
Dick's lower lip stuck out in a pout. "That was a jab at me."
Tim shrugged, which was kinda hard to do with two hundred pounds of acrobat resting on his shoulders. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Hmmph," came the grumbled reply.
There was a short silence, during which Tim debated the merits of continuing his work if only to be interrupted by a certain older brother of his within moments of starting again. It wasn't a matter of if he was interrupted. It was a matter of when.
Before Tim could decide, Dick proved Tim's hypothesis as he swung nimbly over the couch with a grace Tim had envied for years, scooting into Tim's personal space before leaning over to casually peer at the laptop screen. "You do realize you haven't moved in like, eight hours, right?"
Tim blinked in surprise. Of all the things he'd expected Dick to say, that hadn't made the list. Well, as if it was even possible to predict what that man was going to say next. Tim obligingly glanced at his watch. "Uh, no. It's only been five hours, Dick."
The older man shrugged, so close his shoulders brushed against Tim's. "Same difference. How can you stand it?"
Tim blinked again, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he finally turned to face the first Robin. "Stand what?"
"Sitting here for eight hours, of course," Dick proclaimed loudly. With a startled gasp, Tim ducked as Dick swung his arms expansively, the toned limbs narrowly missing the top of Tim's head, the air from their passing parting Tim's shaggy hair. "Doing nothing but paperwork. For eight hours."
"Five hours," Tim corrected with a sigh, straightening as the danger passed. "And I'm used to it. Now if you would excuse me, I really have to get these reports done."
Pointedly ignoring the man crouched next to him, he turned back to his laptop screen, pretending to study a couple data charts. In reality, it was awfully hard to focus with Dick so close at his side, warm breath tickling his ear as the brilliant blue eyes remained fixed on Tim's face.
A flicker of movement flashed in the corner of his eye, and suddenly, a foreign, crawling feeling erupted under his arms and along his ribcage.
He gasped in shock. To his horror, a bark of laughter erupted from his lips as his eldest brother leaned over him, agile fingers twisting, wiggling, and pinching their way along Tim's upper body, sending his nerves tingling. He was being...tickled?
"What—What are you doing?" he managed between laughs, writhing under the persistent torture.
"It's called intervention!" Dick cried gleefully. "You've been sitting on your butt too long. You're gonna turn into a couch potato if you keep this up much longer."
"I...was...working!" Tim managed, struggling to pull in enough air. Why was it so hard to breath?
Slightly desperate, he lashed out with his feet, trying to land a good blow to Dick's solar plexus, only for the socked appendage to be snatched midair.
The thin white fabric of his sock was ripped from his toes, and then Tim couldn't hear hardly anything around his own shrieking laughter.
"Dick!" Tim yelled indignantly, tears pooling in his eyes. It, like everything else, came out sounding amused in a way that Tim certainly did not feel at the moment. "Knock...knock it off!"
Why was he laughing? This isn't funny, Dick, stop.
"See?" Dick said, ignoring his pleas, a too bright grin still in place as his fingers continued probing the bottoms of Tim's feet. "Doesn't it feel good to just move after awhile?"
Tim's breaths came in hitched gasps as he struggled to get enough air, muscles clenching and unclenching as Dick ruthlessly aggravated the nerves in his foot arches. "Fine... Stop..." he panted between wheezed giggles.
Finally, finally, the horrible nerve-wracking torture ceased, leaving Tim splayed half on and half off the couch, gasping like a fish out of water.
A far too smiley face popped into his vision blinkered with tears.
"Well," Dick said brightly, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Tim scrambled away from the older man, accidentally tumbling over the side of the couch and landing on the plush carpet with a startled oof!, arms wrapping protectively around his ribcage in the same movement.
"Don't...ever...do that...again," he ground out, still struggling to catch his breath as he strove to fight down the slightly irrational panic pounding through his veins.
"Sorry," Dick chirped.
He didn't sound sorry at all.
"If it makes you feel any better," Dick said, swinging lightly over the arm to plop on the floor next to Tim. "You're adorable when you laugh."
"No, it doesn't," Tim snapped, squirming away from the mass of Grayson practically sitting on his leg. "Now can you just leave me alone?"
A muscular arm snaked around Tim's neck, pulling him against a hard chest. "Not until you admit that that felt good," Dick said firmly.
Tim stared at him.
"Moving!" Dick quickly clarified. "Moving around felt good. Gets the blood flowing, the heart pumping, and—hey!"
The final exclamation was brought forth as Tim's fingers ground into Dick's armpit, causing the older man to loosen his grip. Tim immediately took advantage of the distraction, jerking hard downward with his head and popping it free from the crook of Dick's arm before somersaulting clear. But not before jabbing a few more quick fingers into Dick's ribcage.
Leaving his eldest brother sprawled on the floor, Tim snatched up his laptop and stalked haughtily from the room. A slight smirk erupted on his features as he heard a loud bang, followed by a dramatic "Ow!" as Dick's head slammed into the bottom of the coffee table.
"Karma!" Tim called back over his shoulder.
"Hypocrite!" Dick groaned back.
And all Tim could do was smile.