Funny Bones
by pumpkinpye

(AN: Yet another tickle fic. Yeah, I have a problem...but it's fun! Poor Sansy :P)

Sans usually makes time to play with you. Sometimes he agrees reluctantly, but most of the time he at least puts in a little bit of effort to participate in your games, even if it is just to watch you. Today, however, he doesn't seem interested. He sits on the couch, turns on the television, and attempts to zone out while you lay on the floor and draw pictures. You try to show him a few but it's obvious he isn't in the mood to humour you. He seems tired.

After a little while you wonder if maybe he needs to get out of the house; going to Grillby's for a snack usually cheers him up. You stand from your drawings and pull on his hand. "C'mon, Sans. Let's go to Grillby's for lunch."

He sighs heavily. "Not today, kid. Sorry. I'm not feeling up to it. There's stuff in the fridge for sandwiches, though. Knock yourself out."

You make yourself a sandwich and eat at the table in silence. Then, once you're done, you return to the livingroom to try again. Sans, however, continues to shoot down your ideas; he seems to want nothing more than to sit on the couch and avoid everything and everyone. You wish he would at least crack a smile. On the verge of giving up you tug on one of the bony legs he has stretched across the couch cushions in one last attempt to get him to stand. He doesn't budge.

But, much to your consternation, after a couple of good tugs, his leg bones detach from his kneecap with an audible pop. You gasp in surprise as you stumble back. Sans almost smiles for a moment at your horrified expression. "S'okay, kid. Nothing to fall apart over. I can reattach it no problem." He reaches out to you for his leg.

You move to return it at first but then you have a mischievous idea. Instead of handing it to him you run across the room, out of reach.

He scowls. "Kid, c'mon. I'm not in the mood. Gimme my leg back."

You shake your head. And then you hold the bony appendage up as if to say come and get it.

Sans sighs. And then, with a negligent motion of his hand, he turns your soul blue and starts to reel you in. You fight the pull of his magic but it's no use; he's really not interested in playing right now. You sigh and go limp, resigned to letting him have his way. As you come level with the couch, however, the pink slipper drops from the foot of the appendage you carry and falls to the floor. Now there is just a bare, bony foot. The sight of it gives you another mischievous idea. You reach out your fingers and slide them across the bottoms of his toes.

Sans gasps and the blue magic around you breaks, dropping you to the floor. You scramble to your feet and run as fast as you can for the kitchen. Sans, however, is quicker; he captures you again with ease.

"C'mon, kid, let's not play this game. Gimme my leg back!"

But now that you know how to break his concentration the game is easy. You scratch your nails lightly over the sole of his foot.

He chokes on a chuckle as his blue magic shatters once more, leaving you free to escape from the room. Once in the kitchen you slide under the table and turn you attention back to the sensitive foot you have at your mercy. He is about to have a bad time.

You scrabble your fingers along every bone, paying special attention to the places where your own feet are ticklish. From the livingroom you hear an alarming thump; a moment later the house is full of a sound you haven't heard in days: Sans laughing. You quickly figure out where he is most susceptible and concentrate your efforts there, delighted to be the cause of such a powerful response. You wonder how long it will be before he manages to find you.

Your question is answered an instant later as he apparates into the room. He is still laughing and looks out of breath, and the fact that he is missing one leg means he has to pull himself toward you along the floor, but he is determined to put an end to your fun. He reaches for you with one bony hand...

But you aren't yet ready to give up your prize. You slide further under the table and begin sticking your fingers in-between his wriggling toes, scratching in a way you hope is extremely bothersome. Inches from you Sans shudders to a halt, his expression crumpling as he rolls onto his side with a laughing groan. "Kid, please," he wheezes plaintively, "stop! Mercy!"

But mercy is off the table for now. You dart past him and stumble upstairs, looking for a place to hide. Papyrus' bedroom door is open a crack; you slip inside and climb into the closet. Then, before Sans can apparate after you you sit down and, putting the leg somewhere where it can't wriggle away, begin using both sets of fingers to torment him.

You hear a thump like something hard hitting the underside of a table. Peals of breathless laughter follow. You hope your efforts to force him off the couch and into a game haven't been completely in vain.

At that moment Papyrus arrives home.

"BROTHER, WHAT'S SO FUNNY? WHY ARE YOU ON THE FLOOR?"

"Kid's...got my foot...tickling... Help!"

"AH. WORRY NOT, BROTHER! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL SAVE YOU FROM THE SMALL HUMAN! WHEREVER THEY ARE..."

It doesn't take long for Papyrus to narrow down the places you could be hiding and soon he is shedding light into your chosen refuge. You smile up at him and, after another moment of torturing the poor foot in your possession, hand it over to the other skeleton. Papyrus takes the stolen appendage and gives you a stern look. "HUMAN, THAT WAS NOT VERY NICE. IT IS NOT POLITE TO TAKE WHAT DOESN'T BELONG TO YOU, LET ALONE TO TORTURE IT WITH TICKLING. YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO APOLOGIZE TO MY BROTHER..."

"It's okay, bro. That's not necessary."

Sans has apparated into the room and is lying on his brother's bed, still recovering his breath. As Papyrus hands him his leg he reattaches it and gets to his feet.

"We were just playing a game and I got myself into a bit of a ticklish situation. Nothing to apologize for. Right, kid?"

You look up at him and return his smile, happy to see that he seems to be in a better mood. You run at him and laugh as he catches you up into a hug.

"Now, how's about we go to Grillby's, huh? I think you deserve it after all the work you put into getting me off the couch."

You nod. As he puts you down, however, you can't help but feel a little guilty for forcing him to chase you around the house. You take his hand and meet his questioning gaze. "I'm sorry," you tell him sincerely.

"S'okay, kid. Like I said, nothing to apologize for. You do realize what this means, though, right?"

You shake your head.

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Next time you're in a funk, I'm gonna have a few rib-ticklers to unleash on you, capiche?"

You smile and say nothing, knowing he'll have to catch you first. He'd just better make sure his own funny bones are out of reach.