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Christa gasps when Ymir suddenly embraces her from behind. “Ymir stop, what if Captain Levi sees us?”
Ymir snorts and rests her chin on Christa’s shoulder. “I’m sure Captain Tiny won’t have any complaints since I finished dusting the walls to his highness’s standards.” Before Christa can stop her, Ymir snatches the broom from her hand. “I’ll finish sweeping for you, go and rest.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Christa replies, frowning. She tries to grab her broom back, but Ymir lifts it high above her head, out of Christa’s reach. “Ymir!”
“Sorry, I’ve made up mind,” Ymir smirks, using her free hand to tap Christa lightly on the forehead. “You’ll never be able to reach unless you magically grow an inch within the next minute, so you may as well go and take a nice, long break.”
Christa thinks. “I’ll tickle you.”
“Go for it.”
Ymir finds it cute, how Christa’s fingers run along her sides as she attempts to tickle her. A few minutes later Christa’s face scrunches up in frustration when Ymir neither squirms nor laughs. “Why aren’t you ticklish?”
“I don’t know,” Ymir shrugs. “I’m more interested to see if you are, though.”
Neither of them know when or how they end up on the floor, with Ymir straddling Christa, her fingers flying everywhere from Christa’s sides to underneath her armpits, mercilessly tickling her and enjoying the sounds of laughter that follow, while the broom lays forgotten on the side.