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The first thing Dean notices when he jolts awake is that he can’t move his wrists more than an inch. “What the- Sam? What the hell are you doing?” Dean’s voice is demanding and dripping with annoyance.
His little brother stands at the foot of the bed smirking. A smirk that sends shivers down Dean’s spine.
Oh, Dean notices, his feet are bound too. Great.
“Morning Dean.” Sam grins, showing his teeth with a hint of malice, a devious glint in his eye that would make Dean much less uneasy were he not tied down to a bed.
“What- what the hell is going on here? Let me go!” Dean tests the ropes tied around his wrists and ankles, they don’t budge. Sam always was the better knot-tier.
“Ah ah ah, I don’t think so Dean,” Sam flashes his teeth again, “See I’ve been getting pretty sick of all your pranks lately. Screwing with my laptop, that the last straw; now I’m gonna show you that it’s not so fun being on the other end of a prank. Give you a little taste of your own medicine. And I know how much you love laughing, you know, since all you do is laugh at me whenever you pull that crap…” Sam trails off teasingly, watching as Dean tenses up, finally getting a feeling of what Sam might be planning to do. He doesn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Sam..” Dean growls warningly, “Get these ropes off of me. Let me up. Now.”
Sam lets out a short chuckle, “You’re not calling the shots here Dean… And I’m not letting you go until you apologize and promise not to pull anymore pranks.”
Dean scoffs at his brother, “Yeah, that’ll happen.”
“We’ll see Dean.” Sam moves toward the corner of the bed where Dean’s left foot is bound. He still always sleeps in his shoes, but they were easy enough to maneuver the ropes around, and now Sam was slowly unlacing the boot covering Dean’s foot.
Dean tenses up and starts wiggling his foot, trying to dislodge Sam’s fingers from the shoe and keep it from coming off, “What are you- stop that! Leave my damn boots alone! What are you gonna do?” Dean is nervous now; a horrible thought of what Sam might have in store for him creeps into his mind. But Sam, Sam wouldn’t. Sam wouldn’t do that to him. He knows how much Dean hates that. He wouldn’t..
Sam glances up and locks his eyes on Dean’s, a malicious look in his eye; Sam slowly pulls the shoe off of Dean’s foot. Dean’s eyes go wide and he begins struggling anew, “F-fuck no Sam! You are not doing this! Untie me! Now!”
“What’s wrong Dean? A little ticklish?”
Dean is certain that Lucifer is in his brother again. The look Sam’s wearing could only be worn by Satan himself. But then, Lucifer was trapped in his cage, and only Sam himself would know how god forsaken ticklish his older brother was. Dean still isn’t convinced that this wasn’t some sort of evil trickery and Satan had once again been released, or maybe this is some horrible night terror, or maybe Dean is back in hell. But he isn’t. This is much worse. This is happening. This is real.
Sam slowly drags a finger down Dean’s socked foot, from the top of the ball to the base of his heel. Dean freezes up and in a last attempt to convince Sam to stop practically shouts out, “Don’t you dare Sammy- Don’t test me! Let me go, now!”
“I don’t think you’re getting it Dean… Until I decide you’ve had enough and you apologize, you aren’t going anywhere.” Sam scribbles all ten fingers against Dean’s foot at the end of his words, laughing to himself as Dean balls his hands into fists and clenches his jaw.
Sam slowly drags the thin black sock off of Dean’s foot, scratching the skin of his now bared sole lightly. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and curls his toes, desperately fighting the urge to laugh that’s building within him.
Maybe if he can hold it in Sam will get bored and stop. Maybe he can convince Sam he isn’t even ticklish anym- shit did he just let out a short laugh?
“Aw you’re gonna crack already? Poor little Dean, sooo darn ticklish.” Sam teases in his taunting, sing-songy voice, and he uses one hand to pull back Dean’s toes and the other to spider over Dean’s sole and scratch the ball of his foot and other little spots that noticeably drove him crazy, finally pausing at the base of his toes and wiggling them evilly between them.
“N-no nohaha-ahAHAHA-Sammy stop! D-Don’t!” Dean bites his lip, still trying, and miserably failing, to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside of him. “SaaAAAM! Ohmygod haha- you-y-you cahahahan’t! You can’t do thihihihis!”
“But I am doing this Dean. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Sam attacks his brother’s foot with an unbearable pressure, sliding fingers down his sole and scratching under his toes and wiggling against the skin between them.
Just when Dean thinks he’s about to lose it, Sam stops. Dean lets out a breath of relief, but is thrown into a panic again as he notices Sam grinning and moving toward his other foot.
“Oh we aren’t done here Dean. Not even close.” Sam laughs darkly as he pulls off Dean’s other shoe, giving this foot a similar treatment and causing Dean to giggle and cackle and laugh like crazy, depending on where his fingers attacked.
“Sahahahahahammy! Sam no plehehehehease! Noooo! AhahahaHAHAHACUT IT OUT AHAHA!” Dean cackles helplessly, tugging at his bonds and trying to wiggle his foot away.
Sam finally pulls his hand away, much to Dean’s relief, and he smiles up at his older brother, a devious glint still shining in his eye. Dean tenses up again as Sam crawls up on to the bed wearing a smirk and slowly spidering his fingers over Dean’s knee.
Dean shifts his legs as much as he can trying to get away, but Sam has him bound tight. “D-Don’t do this- C’mon Sammy just let me g-hahahahHAHANO hehehe don’t! Ahahaha!” He breaks out into laughing when Sam scratches lightly under his knee with one hand and squeezing the top of his thigh just above his knee with the other.
Dean yells out his brother’s name warningly before falling helplessly into laughter again, kicking and giggling as Sam’s hands tickle along his sensitive legs. Dean loathes being tickled, and unfortunately Sam knows this all too well, and has no problem taking advantage of that.
Sam’s hands work their way up to Dean’s hips, pinching and scribbling across the skin where his hip bones jut out slightly, just above his pant-line. The black t-shirt Dean went to bed in is still on him, just riding up a bit from all the squirming, but Sam had carefully removed the older Winchester’s jacket, leaving him now in just the cotton tee from the waist up.
Dean bucks and arches his back when Sam digs in to his hips, screaming out curses between laughs and trying to figure out some way out of this. Sam further constricts Dean’s movements and struggling by inching his way up to sit across the tops of Dean’s thighs, straddling him and decreasing his mobility.
“N-NO ahahahahaHAHAHA! N-not thehehere stop! HahahahahaSAM!”
“Ah ah ah Dean, you know I’m not giving you any mercy until you do what I told you.” Sam smirks.
He lets his fingers linger on Dean’s hips just a bit longer before moving them up to squeeze his sides, quickly and a bit more roughly to contradict the formerly lighter pressure on his hips. Dean’s body jolts at the change and his laughter turns louder and deeper, more of those bigger full-belly laughs.
Sam curiously slips a hand under Dean’s dark shirt and skitters them over the soft skin of his stomach. Dean’s eyes go wide, and he instantly lets out practically hysterical little giggles intermingled with gasps and short yelps.
Sam grins and moves his other hand to join in on Dean’s stomach, “ooh does someone have a ticklish little tummy?” Sam coos teasingly, wiggling a finger in Dean’s bellybutton and spidering over the skin with the others.
“DahahahaHAHAHON’T- Don’t pahahahahahatronize mehehehe! You bitch I’ll kihihihihill you for thisahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHANONONO! No stahahahahop don’t!” Dean practically screams, drumming his legs against the bed uselessly as Sam works over his brother’s poor stomach.
“Aww, you should really smile more Dean, your laugh is adorable. You sound like a girl!” Sam snickers, scribbling his fingers over Dean’s stomach and then moving them up to his lower ribs, wiggling little circles with his fingers between them, “Tickle tickle tickle Dean.” Sam continues in a light, child-like tone.
Dean turns even redder with embarrassment at Sam’s taunting. That’s yet another thing he can’t stand, having someone tease him with it, with how fucking ticklish he already is. He doesn’t exactly need it pointed out.
But those thoughts are quickly pushed away in favor of an overwhelming sensation that is now shooting into his brain from under his arms.
“SaaaaAAAHAHAHAHAHAM SAM NO NO STOP! Hahahha-haha-nononoplease! HahahaHAHAHAPLEASE PLEASE HAHA” Dean pulls at the ropes holding his wrists until they leave red marks on his skin, trying with every ounce of energy he has left to pull down his arms and cover his armpits, but he knows it’s useless. Sam has him good and he isn’t stopping until he gets what he wants from Dean.
Dean’s about losing his mind; Sam’s wiggling, stroking, sliding, tickling fingers are scratching away at his sanity and he belts laughter at least an octave higher than normal. He doesn’t want to give up just because of a little damn tickling, but god he can’t stand it.
Sam lightly skitters his fingers over Dean’s left underarm, running his hands from the base of his tricep to Dean’s higher ribs. His other hand draws agonizingly slow circles all over the hollow of Dean’s other armpit.
If Dean weren’t tied down, he would have probably hit the ceiling from jumping and laughing; his back arches off the bed as much as he can with Sam and the ropes holding him down. Dean shakes his head back and forth helplessly and kicks as much as he can. Normally Sam wouldn’t even have a chance to get his hands under Dean’s arms to tickle him, and even if he somehow managed to, Dean would put a stop to it immediately and pull his arms down defensively. But now? Now Dean is stuck with his arms tied over his head and Sam’s fingers tickling all over his underarms.
“OHMYGOD-ahahahahaHAHAHAH! HahaHAHA-HAHASTOP STOP I’M SORRYHEHEHEHE I’M SOHOHOHORRY OH GOD STOP HAHAHAHAHAhahahaha pleHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Dean throws his head back in exasperation and pleads with Sam through his laughter, his hands clenching and unclenching as fists.
“What was that Dean? I can’t really hear you through all that laughing, you gotta speak more clearly.”
“Plehehehehehease SammyheeheeHEHEHEHE LET ME GO I’M SORRY- hahahahahahaHAHAHAHA- n-no morehehe! Nahahahahahot theheheEHEHERE C’MON! Hahahaha stop STOP!” Dean would never beg like this under any other circumstances, and it frightened him a bit to realize just how easy it was for Sam to break him like this.
“Ok you’re sorry, but what about after this hm? You gonna pull any more of that crap in the future?” Sam inquires, digging one set of fingers into the soft skin under Dean’s arm over and over.
“AHAHAHAHANO MORE PRANKS AHAHAhahaahhaaAHAHAPLEASEEEE! I won’t ahahaHAHAHA! Sonovabitch just stahahaHAHAHAHOP!” Dean finds it harder and harder to get words in between laughs, to even breathe properly. By now there are a few tear streaks on the sides of Dean’s bright red face.
Sam feels a pang of guilt in seeing dean begging and crying from laughing so hard. He knows how much his brother hates this, knows how crazy it drives him. The younger Winchester covers it with a smile and pulls his hands back, “See? Now was that so hard?” Sam sneaks a last poke to Dean’s side before letting him lay back and catch his breath, which he desperately needs.
Dean sucks in air as quickly as he can, sinking into the bed with exhaustion. He feels Sam untying one leg, then the other, and he moves up toward the top of the bed to undo Dean’s wrists, pausing for a moment to tickle his older brother’s armpit for a few seconds before releasing the now sore hand, which comes crashing down to Dean’s side protectively. Sam does the same on the other side.
Dean lays panting on the bed, curling himself into his own limbs as he catches his breath. Sam sits down beside him and ruffles a hand in his short hair. Dean only glares back at him.
“Don’t you ever. Ever. Do that again.” Dean growls.
“I don’t know Dean…it was pretty fun.” Sam laughs lightly, “I can’t make any promises.”
Dean fixes his brother with his best death-glare for the time being and then finally just sighs and continues trying to rub and push away any residual tickles from Sam. Pranking his little brother was fun, but now Sam had a twistedly perfect way to get back at him.