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Jon was… rarely playful. Oh, he had a devious streak which had gotten him into trouble from time to time, but it was buried deep these days. He was the head archivist after all, and had to maintain a certain decorum.
Never mind that said decorum was completely futile with his assistants, all of whom were now fully aware of how debilitatingly ticklish he was. Tim and Sasha had known for some time, and it only took Martin walking in at the wrong time for him to find out too.
Not that Jon minded their frequent attacks, per se. He’d rather die than admit it, but he enjoyed it. He liked the closeness, the laughing, the fun of it all. It was so rare in his life.
Thankfully, Tim and Sasha’s deviousness was such that he never needed to go to much effort to provoke them, if at all. They weren’t so cruel as to make him admit that he liked it, even though Jon was certain they must know. They let him get away with pretending not to want or enjoy it, for which Jon was immeasurably grateful.
He was also grateful for their frequent sneak attacks. It made it very easy to know when one of them was coming up behind him.
Tim was there. No doubt about it. He moved slightly more heavily than Sasha, and more deliberately than Martin. Jon reached for the tape recorder to at least put on a show of not knowing Tim was right there, ready to pounce.
Hmm…
Actually, why pretend when he could have a little fun himself? When he could win, if only for a moment?
Jon cleared his throat and clicked on the tape recorder. “Statement of Jonathan Sims.” He started, hearing Tim’s footsteps stop in what he assumed was confusion. “Regarding an amorous encounter with Tim’s mother the previous night. Statement given fifteenth of March, twenty-seventeen. Statement begins.”
The statement did not, in fact, begin. The only thing to follow Jon’s introduction was deafening silence, every second of which made him want to laugh. He turned his head to look behind him and had to bite down very hard on a smile. Tim was standing there, a few steps away, staring at him with wide, shocked eyes that seemed to have no thought behind them at all. As if Jon’s little prank had short-circuited his brain.
That thought got a little chuckle out of Jon, which in turn seemed to knock Tim out of his stupor. “Oh, you little shit.” He growled.
Jon rocketed out of his seat, already smiling nervously, knowing what was going to happen. “Tim, Tim- wait, TIM!” He darted out the door to the main archive with Tim hot on his heels, giggles bubbling up in his stomach.
Sasha looked up when she saw their chase across the archives. “That time of day again, huh?” She joked.
Tim all but growled. “Call an ambulance Sash, someone’s gonna need to resuscitate this smartass.”
If Jon didn’t know Tim as well as he did, he’d have missed the smile he was hiding behind that exaggerated scowl. “Tim, please, wait- it’s not what you think!” Oh damn. He’d been backed into a corner.
Tim shot forwards, seizing one of Jon’s wrists and making him break into nervous giggles. “Oh yeah?” He smirked. “Please, elaborate.”
Jon swallowed back his laughter, seeing Sasha’s fond sigh from behind Tim’s back. “Well, I’m asexual, you see, so we didn’t do any of that. I just took your mother out for a candlelit dinner and we kissed under the moonlight.”
Tim glared. Sasha howled with laughter, gripping the arms of her office chair to keep from sliding out of it. “Well now you’re in for it.” He said. “Statement of Tim Stoker, regarding the murder of Jonathan Sims.”
It didn’t take much effort for Tim to catch Jon’s other wrist in his hand, pulling both arms up over his head. Then, without preamble, his free hand latched onto Jon’s upper ribcage, fingers poking and wiggling and making Jon shriek.
He barely managed to stay standing for five seconds, his legs buckling under him, unable to keep him upright. To Jon’s surprise, Tim didn’t pin him to the ground. No, he pulled him closer, keeping his arms up above his head and his body pressed close to Tim’s in what could almost be a hug.
A hug, but for the arm wrapped around Jon’s torso, digging fingers into his ribs.
Jon cackled like mad, tugging weakly at his wrists and twisting this way and that in Tim’s grip, unable to do anything else. It was useless, he knew that and he’d dug his grave anyway. Tim’s fingers were long and clever, and he’d long known the spots that made Jon go crazy. “Nononono, ple- Tim please!”
“Got your manners back I see.” Tim teased, scratching mercilessly under his arm now and bringing tears of laughter to Jon’s eyes. “I hope you showed mum some of that.”
God, why was Tim so tall? He couldn’t even lean up to gain a little give and lower his arms, not even by an inch. And that hand kept scratching away at his armpit, laying waste to Jon’s nervous system. “Sorry!” He squeaked. “Sorry, I’m soRRY!”
Tim’s hand moved back to Jon’s ribs, one finger wiggling up and down like a worm and making him snort and flush. “Oh no, don’t be sorry for giving an older woman a lovely night. Where’d you go? Italian place? Spanish?”
Jon shook his head, unable to get a word out between snorting laughter.
“Hmm, let me check.” Fingers spidered and poked across Jon’s stomach through his shirt, dissolving him into giggles. He tried to double over, almost pulling his own feet off the ground to no avail. He was thoroughly stuck, and secretly very happy about it.
Tim grinned, not ceasing the playful torment of his friend. He loved playing like this, getting Jon to relax and let loose once in a while. “Not much here.” He chuckled, squeezing at Jon’s sparse tummy and earning a series of squeaks for his trouble. “Sushi?”
Jon’s glasses were lopsided, though at this point he was surprised that hadn’t fallen right off his face. Electricity was pulsing up his spine, lighting up his face in laughter, and it was so much, “Tickles!” He squealed, unable to think about anything else.
“Don’t think I’ve heard of that place.” Sasha mused from her desk, smiling widely.
“No, I think it’s out past Brixton, right?” Tim said, not letting up. “Caribbean restaurant?”
Jon wheezed in air. “Y-yehes, anything!” He hiccupped, not sure what they were really talking about at this point but knowing he couldn’t stand much more.
“Uh oh, we’re losing him.” Tim teased affectionately. “Got that ambulance Sash?”
She pushed herself to her feet. “Defibrillator’s right here.” She grinned, rubbing her hands together.
Jon kicked his feet weakly against the floor, knowing where they were going with this. “Ha- Sasha no, Sasha plehease, I can’t, I cahahan’t!”
Sasha paused just long enough to catch his eye, then cheerfully shouted, “Clear!” and tazed her fingers into the bottom of Jon’s ribcage.
Jon screamed, bucking violently in reaction to that awful vibrating tickle, cackling helplessly. He would almost believe he’d been shocked with a real defibrillator with how much energy it filled him with.
Then it stopped abruptly, leaving Jon to heave in breaths deeply and try to recover some of his faculties.
“Clear!”
Jon shrieked again, his legs collapsing completely and leaving his feet hanging off the floor, his arms still in Tim’s grip as he squirmed and laughed. He managed only a few seconds before hiccupping out, “Naha- stop! Stopstopstopstopstop ehehehe-”
Sasha pulled her hands away before he’d finished pleading, ruffling his hair affectionately. “He lives!” She joked. “Good to have you back with us.”
Jon continued to giggle, sinking against Tim to remain upright when his arms were freed. “Fired, both of you.”
They both laughed. “Oh sure,” Tim joked, keeping one arm wrapped around Jon in a hug. “Fire me, I’ll just go to HR and tell them what you said about my mother.”
Sasha snorted into her hand. “That was really funny.”
Tim gasped. “You wanna be next?” He threatened, then immediately backed away when Sasha took a step towards him in response. “Fair point.”
Jon smiled into Tim’s shoulder. He felt… fuzzy. Fuzzy and happy and… loved.
Sasha retreated back to her desk, still grinning at him. Jon was dimly aware that he probably looked a mess, glasses barely on his face, red cheeks, mussed hair. He could live with that, for now.
Tim chuckled and half carried him back to his office. It was almost unfair how cute Jon looked sometimes. “Sit down before you fall.” He teased warmly.
Jon huffed a laugh as Tim let him down into his seat. “Thank you.”
“Sure.” Tim grinned. He hesitated at the doorway. “One of these days, you’ll figure out that you can just ask, instead of trying to provoke us all the time.”
Jon felt his cheeks heat up and crossed his arms around his waist. He bit his lip and looked down at his desk. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Get back to work, boss.”
Taking the tape recorder, Jon chuckled and clicked it on. “We met at a lovely tapas bar by the Thames…”
Tim barked a laugh. “You son of a bitch.” He muttered, closing the door behind him.
Jon turned off the tape recorder and grinned to himself.
He really liked this feeling.