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“Ugggghhhh.”
Sans sighed, dropping his yellow crayon in favor of green. “What is it, Ink?”
The frustration was so visible in his friend’s voice, Sans could picture Ink limp on the ground without turning around. “I can’t think of anything!”
Sans hummed sympathetically, sticking out his tongue in concentration. “Art block?”
“YES!” Ink cried miserably, dragging his arms over his face. It was better than staring up at the endless abyss of the Doodle Sphere. “Nothing is working. My motivation is gone. I’ll never draw again.”
Sans held in a snort, politely, as he put away his own drawing book. He couldn’t color in the lines if Ink kept distracting him. “That’s not true, you just need inspiration!” He faced around with a confident grin, eye sockets squinting in amusement to see Ink’s new pose.
“From where, Swap? Where am I gonna get inspired again?” Ink dramatically sighed once again, propping his hands above his head as he stared aimlessly up at all the pages and pages upon alternate universes. Obviously, every single one wasn’t here, no matter how endless this abyss may seem. Ink would much rather sort through code, magically, he’d be able to open a portal to that specific universe and timeline with a touch of his own ink.
This wasn’t the first art block, and it certainly won’t be the last. Ink sometimes got gloomy after his fights with Error, a foe that refused to be turned into a friend. Error destroyed what Ink liked to help create, and while his intentions behind protecting the universes of the multiverse were questionable to some, he did intend on stopping any destruction. Whenever Ink gets gloomy, he ironically lacks feelings even with his vials, so it was up to Sans to figure out a way to turn this mood around once again. Dream would make this battle much easier, the guardian of positivity seemed to radiate it at times, but Sans has a little brother who never does any chores. He was more trained for this than he was trained to be a royal guard.
So, with Ink’s half-incoherent grumbling in the background, Sans attempted his first thoughts into thinking a solution.
“Hmmm.” He hummed curiously. “Have you tried…” He never finished his sentence, but Ink went and ran with it regardless and dejectedly waved his hand around before it pitifully flopped back onto the ground.
“I’ve tried everything, believe me.” Ink’s eyelights blinked towards Sans, twisty yet mute to describe his mood. Sans felt a pang of sympathy in his soul once again. “I’ve tried winging it. I’ve tried going through my sketchbook. I’ve tried looking at my works in progress.” Ink huffed a chuckle, vaguely laced with humor. “We know how that goes. Listen, nothing is working, so now I’m playing the waiting game until something jumps at me.”
Ink’s hands balled into fists, he glared stubbornly into space. “I want something exciting and new!” Slowly, his fingers uncurled, somehow sinking into the ground. “But I don’t feel like going to any alternate universes right now.”
Sans couldn’t suppress his next snort. He supposes laziness takes form in all skeletons, and while he’s reluctant to admit it, even himself. “Did you take your vials recently?” He felt the need to double check, eyelights briefly glossing over to Ink’s sash.
Ink shrugged, which earned a pointed eye roll from him, but Sans did see a bit of paint taken away from the yellow and orange vials. Plus, he had seen Ink take a few sips when they arrived at the Doodle Sphere. Thankfully, that wouldn’t be another problem on their plate.
“Then…” Sans suddenly gasped, and Ink half-heartedly tilted his head. “Why don’t we play a game?”
“Play… what exactly?” Ink’s eyelights changed colors, vivid green and blue shapes staring at him with vague interest. Sans had to reel him in while he was still listening.
Sans hummed once more, scooting closer to sit beside his friend. “Well. There are a lot of games out there. We could play Tic Tac Toe, or maybe Tag?” He hopefully perked up.
Only for Ink’s head to fall back down, his jaw pulling into a surprisingly thin line. “Sounds boooooooriiiiiing.” He groaned, his foot catching a stray crayon as he kicked in frustration.
Sans didn’t bother to cover his next few chuckles, only quieting down when Ink sent him a lackluster stare. If only he had a way to make Ink laugh too.
Then, as if it were a miracle, Sans had a magnificent idea. This overjoyed grin bounded onto his face, his eye lights shining with devious intent. He cleared his nonexistent throat. “I know what we could play.”
His words, unlike last time, didn’t catch his friends’ attention. Fortunately, that made it all the easier for Sans to crawl closer, easily draping his body over Ink’s hips to graciously pin him down.
Ink was forced to make eye contact, unable to look at the sky with Sans’s rather devious looking expression blocking his way. “What’re you doing?” Ink squinted, clearly suspicious, but knowing he was in no real danger. Sans merely chuckled, his signature laugh bubbling out of his chest.
“You’ll see Ink, we’ll get that smile right back on your face with a game of…”
Sans lifted his hands up, wiggling his fingers menacingly in the air. “Tickle Monster!”
Ink’s eye sockets widened, his shapes forming into bright exclamation marks. He was aware of what tickling was, he’d learnt it and seen it many times before, yet he couldn’t recall a time where he was ever on the receiving end. He felt familiar with the gesture yet couldn’t remember a time where he tickled someone either. So, the concept was still new, and of course, exciting.
He had no clue what to expect when Sans suddenly dived in for an attack, fingers scribbling almost rhythmically against his ribs.
Ink’s eyes rapidly switched colors and question marks, taking a moment to process the new upcoming sensations. Sans didn’t falter in the slightest, gently digging into the bottom of Ink’s ribcage through his sash.
Slowly, Ink’s mouth showed signs of twitching. The tingling started, and no matter how much he tried to curiously suppress it, it wouldn’t stop. It only seemed to increase when Ink stared at Sans’s hands.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle, Ink!” Sans’s cooed in an uplifting voice, and for some reason, Ink immediately began squirming. He gasped, puffing up his nonexistent lungs with air.
Sans giggled cheerfully, carefully wabbling in a specific rib that made Ink’s whole chest bounce. “You can’t hold it in forever, Ink! The Magnificent Sans- I mean. The Magnificent Tickle Monster is determined to make you laugh! Mwehehehe!!”
Ink swiped his hands up to his face, his knees knocking against Sans’s back. He didn’t dare speak, it felt as if his entire chest captivity was swirling with butterflies. He wondered how long the royal guardsmen would continue, he wasn’t sure how much of this would take to finally open the floodgates.
He didn’t need to wait long, because Sans lightly tutted in disapproval. “Ink! I’m trying to help you, friend! Are you hiding your giggles from me?” His eyelights carefully observed Ink’s outfit, somehow, his grin grew sappier and his face began to gleam with new interest. Ink closed his eyes to avoid it, the expression sent buzzing tingles all over his ribcage.
“That just won’t do! How about…” The pause was killing him. “…Right here?!”
Ink regretted ever closing his eyes. Immediately, wiggling fingers were shoved under his open arms. The floodgates flew wide open.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”
Sans’s sockets filled with stars. “YES!” He cheered to the sound of Ink’s giggles, scribbling with newfound vigor. “I knew this would tickle your funny bone!!”
Ink snorted, wildly kicking his legs, his arms helplessly flailing around his sides to deter Sans’s attack. Even if his memory preserved an inkling (Haha, very funny.) of remembrance towards tickling, it would have never prepared him for this. Every fiber in his bones screamed at him to get away, it felt as if he were under attack, yet his mind knew he was in no danger. But when he tried to relax and calm down, the tingling returned, and he was squirming over and over in this little cycle.
“HOHOHohold ohon!!” Ink hiccupped, shaking his head to gain some control without nonsensically babbling. “Tihime ohohout!!”
Sans cheekily leaned in, watching Ink bashfully giggle into the ground. “But I just got you laughing! Why would I stop now?” He hummed, his cheeky grin never faltering. Sans decided he got bored of this spot, and tried to move down to Ink’s hips, but just before he got there Ink lasered onto his wrists and shakily held them still.
“Plehehehease!! Swahahap!” Ink giggled hysterically, fighting the leftover tingles in his ribcage with trembling breaths. Swap didn’t look the least bit sympathetic anymore, watching Ink twitch around with humorously squinted eye sockets.
Sans tauntingly wiggled his fingers, admiring the way Ink’s eyelights rapidly changed funny swirls. “Please what, Ink? You’re talking to the Tickle Monster!” He gleefully reminded.
Ink prematurely whined. “Stohop sahaying thahat!!”
Sans tilted his head with false innocence. “What?” He pressed onwards, and suddenly, his eyelights changed into stars. “Tickle?”
Ink’s face lit into a wonderful ray of different colors, Sans supposed it was his blush. He couldn’t help but let out a big coo, his voice now pitches higher. “Awww! Ink, even your blush is artistic, you just need a little more cheering up is all!” While his tone was sweet, his grin was still whimsical. “I would love to help you!”
Sans pushed onwards, powering through Ink’s fairly weak restraint, and latched onto his hips. Ink gasped in surprise, staring at Sans as if he were a deer in the headlights. Ink bit his teeth against the bottom of his jaw, flinching from the slightest movement Sans fingers made.
Ink was positive Sans wasn’t moving at all, his own body kept flinching and wiggling, leaving him in an endless string of soft laughter. He didn’t push at Sans’s wrists but tightened his grip. “Ssssehehe… sahah…!!”
Ink’s blush returned tenfold, twisting his head away to avoid whatever cute look Sans suddenly sent him. He couldn’t even get a word out!
“Wowzers, Ink! I had no idea you were so sansitive.”
Ink couldn’t help but snort. “Thahat was terrible.” He huffed amusedly, finding his voice.
Sans, though, gasped in supposed shock. “You take that back!” The hands on Ink’s hips squeezed, and a shriek tore its way out of his mouth.
He had calmed down significantly until the squeezing stop, and Ink dreadfully realized that it wasn’t stopping. “WAHAHWAHAIT!! NOOO!!”
Sans laughed along with him, enamored by Ink’s strong reaction, but he quickly had to focus. Ink had started bucking uncoordinatedly, screaming so loud that Sans couldn’t get his own words out.
“THAHAT’S SOHO BAHAD!! SWAHAP! LEHET’S TAHAHA-!?” Ink cackled helplessly for a moment, overtaken by the sensations, before reeling himself back in. “LEHET’S TAHALK!! LEHET’S TAHALK!! PLEHEASE! MEHERCY!!”
Ink had long since cheered up, Sans figured, so he decided to spare mercy. Slowly, Sans decreased his speed, replacing his kneading with gentle rubs. Ink practically collapsed, muttering frantically amongst his bouncing giggles, his kaleidoscope eyelights switching to warm colors.
A quiet sigh broke Sans free of his gazing, catching eye contact. Ink grinned humorously. “Stahars…”
“Mwehehehe!” Sans scooted off of Ink’s hips, clapping his hands together in celebration. “How do you feel now, Ink? No one can resist my tickle attacks!” He confidently beamed, watching Ink sit up and stretch out his bones.
Ink hummed momentarily, blinking, visibly adjusting to his new mood. “Actually, I do feel a lot better.” His smile became sincere, genuine happiness lacing his tone. “Thanks, Swap!”
Sans laughed once more, resting his gloved mitts onto his knees, sitting criss-cross applesauce beside his friend. “It was a pleasure! I will admit, I was unsure if it was going to work.”
“Me too.” Ink gazed thoughtfully down at himself, clearly theorizing, as he poked his own ribs. He frowned upon realizing that wouldn’t work, but soon, started staring at Sans up and down with new interest.
Sans’s eye sockets curiously widened. “What is it, Ink?”
Ink’s shoulders perked, gently jostling his vials. “I got an idea.”
“That’s wonderful!” Sans elated, staring up at the various sheets of paper scattered in the Doodle Sphere. “Your art block is gone, all thanks to-”
“No, no.” Ink shook his head, tilting his head, puckering his mouth to the side. “A different idea, more of a question really.” He relayed, a certain tone underlying his voice that Sans couldn’t decipher yet.
Sans raised an eye socket. “Okay?” He slowly drew out, cautiously encouraging further. “What is your question?”
Ink ripped the cat out of the bag. “Are you ticklish?”
Silence rippled across the Doodle Sphere, the hesitation becoming very obvious.
Sans abruptly stood up. “WELL.” He cleared his throat, taking a quick step back as Ink creepily followed suit. “It seems the MAGNIFICENT Sans must be going now!”
Ink’s grin grew wide, and his hands raised, poised for an attack. “OH NO YOU DON’T!”
Sans yelped, suddenly sprinting off as Ink barreled towards him.
“ANSWER THE QUESTION, TICKLE MONSTER!”
“NEVER! MWEHEHEHE!!”
Sans eventually got caught, and Ink was pleasantly surprised that his friend shared this ticklishness too. The two then wondered in the back of their skulls.
What if Dream was ticklish too?