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Ever since the very childhood, you never liked thunderstorms. The darkness and that earth-shaking racket outside — as if something was going to bust inside — made your heart race and left you feeling abandoned. Luckily, like a shadow, there was always one person nearby who didn’t laugh at this, but carefully covered your ears and tried to make you laugh at every opportunity.
“Not much of a fun out there, eh?” Caleb scratched the back of his head as he stared out the window.
Tonight was exactly one of those stormy nights. It was way path midnight, and seemingly any sane person would’ve been thrilled to cozy up and snuffle listening to the rain. But that wasn’t your case for sure. Thunder fiercely slammed the roof like a jackhammer, and it felt like branches would break the windows in a wild flight. Thankfully, Caleb’s house had the solidness befitting colonel. And still, neither of you could sleep, so, shuffling a deck of cards, Caleb perched on your bed.
“Shall we play?”
He smiled with his eyes, reminding little sun. So needed on this stormy night.
“Let’s play,” you answer, trying not to give away your enthusiasm.
“Knew you’ve been waiting for this. You’re totally hooked on Kitty Cards, aren’tcha?”
It was your go-to distraction, indeed. Lately, though, life had been running you ragged, leaving zero brainpower for building good strategies.
“Not really hooked… It’s just that you’ve been winning too often lately. And I can’t let that slide.”
“That’s why you’re so eager to lose to me for the fifth time this week?” he sneered, dealing the cards. He knew perfectly well that the phrase “give up” was a rare guest in your lexicon, and he willingly took advantage of this.
“Eager? You were the one who asked!” You snatched your cards, getting into combat readiness. “Besides, you shouldn’t be so full of yourself. The higher you climb, the harder you crash. Just wait — you’ll be begging me for a rematch.”
“Oh, so that’s what you’re doing when drag me to cafés for playing… I’ll note that.”
Without warning, you both shot out your hands. He threw rock; you threw paper.
“Ha! See? Off to a hot start,” you said, immediately slapping down a Freeze card while he drew a Number one.
Luck swung your way. Into the red cup you gleefully slapped your highest-value card — a six. But sike! — the second you ended your turn, Caleb wiped your haul by flipping the cup’s color.
“Oops,” incredibly naturally and almost not mockingly flew off from the guy’s mouth.
You shot him a glare, but well, that’s only a start. Picking an Assist card, you decided to skip your attack to see what he was going to do.When Caleb’s turn rolled around, Lady Luck handed him two more Assist cards. He burned one to draw two more Number cards. Using all the assists somehow snowballed into a full hand, and here you silently widened your eyes, preparing for the probable defeat. Caleb dumped kittens into every remaining cup in one swoop, and now you were laser-eyeing your pathetic two-card hand, scrambling for a strategy.
He’d been studying your face the whole time till finally snorted: “You’re scowling so hard your forehead’s gonna crack. Want a mirror to check the damage?”
His jab yanked you out of strategizing like a hammer to the thumb. “And you’re grinning so smug your cheeks will split soon. Doubt you’ll see past them to any mirror.”
A spark lit behind Caleb’s eyes as he leaned on his palm, squinting. “You know, you’re like a little kitten yourself: trying to put your claws on me but ending up adorable and damageless.”
“Shut it!”
You slammed down a card as weak as your odds. Caleb eyed it measurably, then you, like you’d offered him a moldy sandwich, and spoke only after a pause.
“You’re playing so bad I’m starting to think you’re loosing me on purpose.”
“It’s you who’s the lucky one here. And the burden of thinking about tactics falls on me.“
“Tactics?” He barked a laugh, poking your forehead. “All your moves are written all over your face, pipsqueak. You’re fighting fire with gasoline.”
“Urgh, why are you being so annoying?”
“You’re just salty ‘cause victory…” he played his last Assist to boot your kitten and plant his own, “…is already mine.”
Before you could even comprehend what had happened, you looked at the game board, completely filled with Caleb’s kittens and branding him the winner. So easily. Total cheat, no doubt.
“Be honest, were you cheating?”
“No. You just don’t see me training all night to beat you…” he paused. “Just kidding. I sleep like a baby.”
“Big statement. I doubt you do anything other than watching me sleeping,” you tartly notice, arms crossed. Caleb pretended not to hear, waving it off.
“Don’t worry. One day I’ll be old, blind, and maybe you’ll stand a chance… Till then beating you feels like taking candy from a kid, honestly.”
Caleb’s hand plopped onto your head, messing up your hair into a nest. The cup of patience quickly began to overflow. Losing to someone so insufferable as Caleb is one thing; enduring his smug gloating and never-ending teases — funny only to his ego — was another.
“So you say playing with me is the same as playing with a kid?” the complaint in your voice grew bigger, and the cheeks started filling up with blush from irritation.
“Worse.” Caleb payed special attention to the shade of your tomatoe-red face, his hand slid from your head to pinch your cheek, stretching it to hamster-pouch levels. “I even feel kinda bad…”
“Then brace for the fitting backlash!” you wanted to slap his hand away, but he managed to quickly dodge and pinched your nose along the way. At that moment, you shoved him with all your strength, sending him sprawling onto the bed, which even Caleb didn’t expect, looking at you in surprise.
“Whose face is gonna crack now, huh?”, you grabbed his cheeks and started mashing them in different directions, making funny grimaces on Caleb’s face. When his hands reach up to intercept yours, you just as deftly moved hands to the sides, running them over Caleb’s neck and ears, which caused a stream of light chuckles to escape from the latter.
Right… He is ticklish. A chorus of self-congratulatory applause erupted in your head for remembering such working weapon against his cockiness.
Without giving him a chance to get his bearings, you aimed at his sides and began to quickly tickle them.
“Ah- Wahahait pipsqueak! Ha-ha-ha… Don’t get mad!” Caleb wasn’t exactly sensitive to light touch — his skin was practically armor, and you knew pretty well that you wouldn’t break through it with gentle attacks, that’s why you expertly kneaded his weak spots, making him squirm like a hooked fish.
“Touché! Ahah!…You’re playing dirty, learn to lose grac–Ah!”
“Oh, I’m playing dirty? Pretty sure that’s been your move all along. And you’ll admit it soon.”
When your fingers skated down to the hips and started digging it there, he quickly grabbed and squeezed your wrists — but his grip slackened instantly, like he was scared to hurt you.
Or maybe… he didn’t want to stop you, low-key enjoying this game?
“Alright, fine, let’s rematch!”
You wriggled free and dove right back in, fingers dancing up his tense torso.
“Told you I’d make you beg for a rematch,” you grinned, doubling down on his most vulnerable spots, not letting him to catch breath.
Not loud, but very sparkling and clear laughter of Caleb filled the room. At moments he tried to stifle the chuckles, after all he always tried to look strong and unshakable in your eyes… But you were a pro at breaking this façade.
“Hahahaha! Ohoh come on! After all I do for you?!..”
“Do what? Being an ass?” his poor attempt to manipulate has failed, but, unfortunately, it faltered your rib counting rythm, forcing you to restart. From the bottom to the top. “You talked too much — pay the price now.”
Somewhere between the gasps, Caleb decided to flip the script: from the victim of revenge to a full-in wrestling participant. His tickle-induced squirming bucked you off and sent you both rolling across the bed as he attempted to tickle you back.
Not very successfully though…
At this point he couldn’t stand it any longer and grabbed you, pressing you to himself in a tight bear hug. Your hands crawled to his lower ribs to continue tickling him even in this position, but with the loud exhale he intercepted your “killing tools” and pressed them at the seams. His arms wrapped around over your arms, and now you were trapped in a human straightjacket.
“Truce. I understood. No more teasing…” he said softly after catching his breath, trying to smother your fighting spirit.
Finally, when you both quieted down from the playfight, Caleb huffed a chuckle again:
“In past you would always poke me whenever you were bored. You’ve studied my weak spots pretty well over years.”
“I remember a time when you laughed so hard a snort flew out and landed on grandma.”
“What?! You sure that wasn’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“You are ruthless…”
You arched a brow and looked up at him. You’d never thought about it before, but now it hit you that he often sounded like a nostalgic grandman. What’s this? A cheap trick to soften you up?
“Caleb, why are you dwelling on the past so much?” you couldn’t resist asking.
Caleb stilled, resting his chin atop your head.
…
“Maybe I miss those times much more than I’d wanted.”
The tempest was beginning to subside, but the rain outside continued to tap the roof in a chaotic rythm. The sounds of the storm contrasted with the warmth and cozyness of Caleb’s arms around you, in which you felt calm and safe.
As you chatted about childhood memories, Caleb tenderly scratched your back in a cuddle. Completely relaxed, you melted into him, sleep dragging you under.
Caleb cracked an eye open at your soft snores. Your face seemed so cute and peaceful to him, that he reflectively pulled you tighter. It’d always been torturous for him to hold back around you. Whatever bond was between you, he never dared to risk it, not when he thought that he was the only one whose heart raced like mad, while you only saw a brother figure. But right now he didn’t want anything more. He gently brushed a stray hair from your face behind ear and kissed your forehead softly. A rush of sleep crept up on him too now, but he wouldn’t unlock his arms.
“Sweet deams, pipsqueak,” he murmured, drifting off.