Ticklish.
Title: Ticklish
Rating: PG:13?
Starring: York/Wash
Summary: Wash. Less manly than previously anticipated.
Warnings: Unbeta'd. First entry. General figuring stuff out along the way.
‘Hey.’ York jabbed at the side of a half asleep Wash. ‘Hey, wake up.’ Wash started away violently.
‘Cut it out,’ he mumbled into the pillow.
‘Cut what out?’ York asked. ‘This?’ He jabbed again, and this time Wash recoiled so far he nearly fell off the bed.
‘Yes, that. Go away.’
York gave him a critical stare. ‘You’re ticklish, aren’t you?’ Bleary eyes appeared over the top of the worn Army-issue blanket and glared at York.
‘No. I am not ticklish. Just very, very tired.’ Wash ducked back under the covers. ‘And if you poke me again, I will break your fucking fingers.’ York grinned down at the curled up figure beneath him.
‘You know, Wash,’ he drawled lazily, ‘I think you’re lying. I think you just might be extremely ticklish.’
‘I’m not,’ Wash protested, scrunching even further under the blankets. ‘So think about the safety of your fingers, and fuck off.’ York tried to stifle his sniggering, as long fingers danced over Wash’s prostrate form.
‘Why would you lie to me about this sort of thing, Wash? Your boyfriend. Your one true love. The light of your life. Your paramour, without whom-’
‘I’m not married.’ Wash interrupted. York frowned.
‘What?’
‘You have to be married to have a paramour. The word means ‘a married person’s illegitimate lover.’’ he grumbled, shifting beneath the blankets. ‘Now go away.’
The older Freelancer looked condescendingly down at him. ‘I remain unconvinced and undistractable, Washington.’
‘Undistractable is not a word. Take your terrible grasp of the English language away now, for the love of God.’
York gave the shape under the covers a predatory stare, and experimentally tugged the edge of a blanket. ‘Waaaaaash.’ He tugged a bit harder. ‘Waaaaashy. Come on, Wash, don’t you want to play?’
‘No, I-ah!’ Wash gave a decidedly panicked yelp, as York seized the bedspread and whisked it away, before diving on Wash, and tickling mercilessly. ‘York! York! Stop it!’ Freelancer Agent Washington shrieked , before dissolving into giggles. York’s fingers danced up and down his sides, as Wash writhed on the bed, trying to escape the relentless tickling. All pretence of seriousness was gone, every trace of the self-assured, grim, here-to-kick-your-ass Washington dissolved, to be replaced by a laughing, squirming, and utterly helpless Wash.
After what seemed like an eternity, York finally heeded Wash’s gasps, and stopped, pinning Wash’s arms to his chest with one hand. Wash stared up at him. ‘I fucking hate you,’ he said, although there was a spark of laughter still in his eyes. ‘You almost made me wet the bed.’ York laughed, and rested his forehead on Wash’s.
‘Well, I love you,’ he grinned, and kissed the other lightly on the nose. ‘And you need to lighten up more often. You should try getting some sleep or something.’ With that, he leapt off Wash’s bed and ran out of the door before anything heavy could be thrown at him.
In the room next door, Tex grinned into the dark. Oh, she was going to get Agent Washington tomorrow.
Rating: PG:13?
Starring: York/Wash
Summary: Wash. Less manly than previously anticipated.
Warnings: Unbeta'd. First entry. General figuring stuff out along the way.
‘Hey.’ York jabbed at the side of a half asleep Wash. ‘Hey, wake up.’ Wash started away violently.
‘Cut it out,’ he mumbled into the pillow.
‘Cut what out?’ York asked. ‘This?’ He jabbed again, and this time Wash recoiled so far he nearly fell off the bed.
‘Yes, that. Go away.’
York gave him a critical stare. ‘You’re ticklish, aren’t you?’ Bleary eyes appeared over the top of the worn Army-issue blanket and glared at York.
‘No. I am not ticklish. Just very, very tired.’ Wash ducked back under the covers. ‘And if you poke me again, I will break your fucking fingers.’ York grinned down at the curled up figure beneath him.
‘You know, Wash,’ he drawled lazily, ‘I think you’re lying. I think you just might be extremely ticklish.’
‘I’m not,’ Wash protested, scrunching even further under the blankets. ‘So think about the safety of your fingers, and fuck off.’ York tried to stifle his sniggering, as long fingers danced over Wash’s prostrate form.
‘Why would you lie to me about this sort of thing, Wash? Your boyfriend. Your one true love. The light of your life. Your paramour, without whom-’
‘I’m not married.’ Wash interrupted. York frowned.
‘What?’
‘You have to be married to have a paramour. The word means ‘a married person’s illegitimate lover.’’ he grumbled, shifting beneath the blankets. ‘Now go away.’
The older Freelancer looked condescendingly down at him. ‘I remain unconvinced and undistractable, Washington.’
‘Undistractable is not a word. Take your terrible grasp of the English language away now, for the love of God.’
York gave the shape under the covers a predatory stare, and experimentally tugged the edge of a blanket. ‘Waaaaaash.’ He tugged a bit harder. ‘Waaaaashy. Come on, Wash, don’t you want to play?’
‘No, I-ah!’ Wash gave a decidedly panicked yelp, as York seized the bedspread and whisked it away, before diving on Wash, and tickling mercilessly. ‘York! York! Stop it!’ Freelancer Agent Washington shrieked , before dissolving into giggles. York’s fingers danced up and down his sides, as Wash writhed on the bed, trying to escape the relentless tickling. All pretence of seriousness was gone, every trace of the self-assured, grim, here-to-kick-your-ass Washington dissolved, to be replaced by a laughing, squirming, and utterly helpless Wash.
After what seemed like an eternity, York finally heeded Wash’s gasps, and stopped, pinning Wash’s arms to his chest with one hand. Wash stared up at him. ‘I fucking hate you,’ he said, although there was a spark of laughter still in his eyes. ‘You almost made me wet the bed.’ York laughed, and rested his forehead on Wash’s.
‘Well, I love you,’ he grinned, and kissed the other lightly on the nose. ‘And you need to lighten up more often. You should try getting some sleep or something.’ With that, he leapt off Wash’s bed and ran out of the door before anything heavy could be thrown at him.
In the room next door, Tex grinned into the dark. Oh, she was going to get Agent Washington tomorrow.