Work Text:
It’s another perfect day in Barbie Land. So was yesterday, and the day before that, and so on. Every morning, Barbie takes a hot shower, brushes her hair, eats breakfast, and gets dressed. She already knows tomorrow will be perfect too, but she takes each day as it comes.
Barbie decides to go to the beach. Getting an ice cream cone with her girls sounds like a great start to the day. Her knee-length pink dress flutters in the summer breeze as she approaches the shore.
“Hi, Barbie!” It’s Supreme Court Justice Barbie, and she greets Barbie with a wide smile and a wave.
“Hi, Barbie!” Barbie waves back enthusiastically. The beach is busy today, just like yesterday and tomorrow, and the appearance of Barbie sets off a cascade of greetings and big smiles.
“Hey, Ken!”
“Hello, Barbie!”
“Hi, Ken!”
“Barbie! Hi, Barbie!”
Out of all the overlapping voices, the last one catches Barbie’s ear. It’s Ken. Her Ken, and he’s standing a bit further away from the shore with a surfboard tucked under his arm. “Hey, Barbie!” He calls again.
“Hi, Ken!” Barbie grins.
Ken’s chest swells at the smile Barbie directs towards him. Now that he has Barbie’s full attention, he puts his plan to impress her into motion. “Check me out!” She nods encouragingly, and he sprints full speed into the sparkling ocean waves.
Just like yesterday, he bounces off the plastic water with an “oh, no!” and lands several meters away. Ken ends up on his back, the breath knocked out of him, while his surfboard lands upright, sticking out of the sand.
“Oh, gosh. Ken!” Barbie breaks into a jog. So does Writer Barbie, and they both kneel at either side of him. “Are you okay?”
Ken opens his mouth to speak, but Barbie puts a hand on his bare chest beneath his unbuttoned shirt and the breath gets knocked out of him all over again. “I–I think I broke something,” he wheezes. Ken doesn’t have anything to break, none of them do, but he is a bit sore all over. He’s gently pulled to his feet by both Barbies who then secure his arms around their shoulders.
“We’d better take you to Barbie,” says Writer Barbie. She is, of course, referring to Doctor Barbie. Right on time, Doctor Barbie’s ambulance pulls onto the sand and opens up into a hospital room. With Writer Barbie’s assistance, Doctor Barbie runs a stretcher to the other Barbies and Ken. They change Ken into a pink hospital gown and set him down on the stretcher.
Ken wails as the Barbies wheel him towards the ambulance. “Do you think I’ll be okay, Barbie?” Unnecessary tears prick at the corners of his eyes.
“You’ll be fixed up in no time, Ken.” Barbie smiles down at Ken as she walks alongside the stretcher. Ken had had to see Doctor Barbie yesterday and the day before that, and he’d been fine both times. He tightly clasps Barbie’s hand, desperate to keep the contact he’d felt just moments before.
At the ambulance, Doctor Barbie prepares to take X-rays of Ken’s injuries. “Where does it hurt?”
“My leg,” Ken feigns a groan, and stays still long enough for Doctor Barbie to take an X-ray of his thigh. Truthfully, his pain had evaporated already. But now Barbie is rubbing comforting circles into his shoulder, so he keeps the lie going.
Doctor Barbie holds the film to the light, revealing a perfectly healthy femur. “Look at that! Your leg is fine.”
“My, uh, arm hurts too,” Ken tries, and Doctor Barbie dutifully takes an X-ray of his lower arm. The film once again shows unharmed bones.
“You’re good to go, Ken. Everything looks normal to me!” Doctor Barbie begins to put away the X-ray machine.
Barbie withdraws her hand from Ken’s shoulder. “Aw, Ken. You did great!”
“Wait!” Ken sits up suddenly, stopping the Barbies in their tracks. “My– my ribs hurt so much. Ow…” He wraps an arm around his ribcage and hunches over. “Barbie, do you think you could take a look?” He is, of course, asking Barbie, not Doctor Barbie.
What was Ken up to? He doesn’t usually take this much time with Doctor Barbie, Barbie thinks. If Ken stayed here any longer, she’d be late for her giant blowout party tonight with all the Barbies and planned choreography and a bespoke song. “Are you sure it hurts, Ken?”
“Of course it hurts!” Ken has the audacity to look offended at Barbie’s accusatory tone. “You know how hard Beach is.”
Ah, yes. Ken’s very important, very… impressive job. “I do know.” Barbie sighs good-naturedly and relents. “Where did you say it hurts? Here?” Barbie carefully peels Ken’s arm off his torso and places her hand on his ribs. She can feel Ken’s muscles relax under her touch.
“In that general area, yes.” Ken fakes a wince to hide a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He can feel the warmth of Barbie’s hand through his gown, and the soft kneading is effervescent.
Barbie palpates in a gentle circle against Ken’s ribs with her fingertips. “Tell me where specifically.” Barbie’s hand travels from the back of his ribs to the front. Interestingly enough, Ken stays silent. His eyes are closed as if he’s enjoying a massage instead of being assessed for broken bones, and it slowly dawns on Barbie that Ken has been faking today’s injuries.
She briefly wonders why, then supposes it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Ken has wasted her time. Barbie could have been getting a tan with Lawyer Barbie or gone swimming with Mermaid Barbie. And most importantly, she could have been prepping for her big party tonight.
But it’s okay. Because Barbie knows just how to get her revenge.
She presses her fingers a little higher on his ribs, just below his underarms, and Ken flinches violently. “Does it hurt?” Barbie looks innocently up at Ken, who now sports wide eyes and a wobbly smile.
Ken quickly clears his throat and hisses through his teeth in mock agony. “Oh, yeah, that hurts. Riiiight there. We should get an X-ray of that, probably.” Ken is suddenly aware of the very subtle, very mischievous glint that has entered Barbie’s eye. It sends a shiver down his spine.
He’s been found out.
“Hold on, Ken. I need to make sure I’ve got the right spot!” This time she wiggles her fingers and beams when Ken curls in on himself with a snort. “Is it here? Or here?” His arm slams against his side, trapping Barbie’s hand. She pinches and prods relentlessly. “Gosh, this rib must be pretty bad!” She winks at Doctor Barbie, who grins and starts packing up her equipment.
“B–Baharbie,” Ken pleads. He fights to keep the giggles out of his voice, but fails spectacularly.
Barbie furrows her brow in faux concern. “What is it? Does the other side hurt?”
“Yehes! I mean, no!” Ken simultaneously relishes and suffers under Barbie’s playful squeezes. His body wants to fight back, but his brain loves the attention he’s getting. Ken opts to hug himself to keep his arms out of the way.
“You seem unsure. I think I should check it myself.”
“You d-don’t hahave to!”
“But I do!” Barbie exclaims. “We have to make sure we don't miss any injuries.” Barbie massages up and down both sides of his ribcage, and Ken can’t hide his reactions anymore. He was doing such a good job of it, too.
Ken explodes into belly laughter so loud, it makes the Barbies and Kens in the vicinity turn their heads and chuckle at his predicament. Ken collapses against the stretcher, unable to keep himself upright any longer. “Please!” He manages between gasps for air. “Barbie, wai–” Ken cuts himself off with a squeal as Barbie digs her fingertips into his exposed neck.
“Now, I didn’t feel anything wrong with your ribs, but just imagine if you had a neck injury! You’d be in serious trouble, Ken.” Barbie can’t help but giggle when Ken scrunches his shoulders up in a weak attempt at self defense.
Tears well in his eyes again, but this time from mirth. His laughter becomes high pitched and strangled when Barbie scratches gently over the nape of his neck. “Barbie!” He tries to apologize, but it comes out as a squeak. “I’m sor–ack!”
“Shh, Ken,” tuts Barbie. “I know it hurts, but you’re gonna be okay.” She teases the sensitive skin on the sides of Ken’s neck until his heels drum against the stretcher. “There’s just one last place I want to check.”
Without any warning, Barbie digs all ten fingers into his belly. He lets out a string of cackles and writhes under Barbie’s touch. Ken’s hands finally grasp her arms, but don’t push her away. Barbie is delighted, under the impression that she’s tickled the strength out of him. “I’m just looking for some swelling!” She shouts over his hysterics.
As much as he loves it, Ken can’t take much more. His face is as pink as his gown and his lungs ache. He might actually need a real checkup after Barbie’s finished with him. She abruptly squeezes into his hips and his laughter goes silent. It takes a second for Ken to regain control of his limbs, but when he does, he rolls himself right off the stretcher.
He hears Barbie let out a surprised “Oh!” as he hits the sand face down. He stays there for a few moments, panting heavily and letting the buzzing across his skin fade away. Barbie leans over the stretcher.
“...Ken?” she calls, and Ken savors the tinge of concern in her voice. He pops back up, kneeling behind the other side of the stretcher and rests his crossed arms on the edge.
Ken swipes at his cheeks to remove the sand stuck to his tear tracks. “Why, hello, Barbie.”
Barbie gives him an apologetic smile. “I guess I overdid it, huh?”
“Don’t insult me, Barbie.” Ken holds up a hand to stop her. “Do you really think someone who Beaches as hard as me can’t take a little tickling?”
Barbie doesn’t really see the correlation. But Ken sounds like he’s back to normal, so she asks, “Would you like to come to my party tonight, Ken?”
Ken can’t believe his ears. An invitation to Barbie’s party…from Barbie. He didn’t even have to ask this time. “You mean it?” His voice trembles with excitement.
“Sure,” Barbie shrugs. “It’s just a giant blowout party tonight with all the Barbies and planned choreography and a bespoke song. You know, the usual.”
Ken jumps to his feet. “I’d love to!” He leans over the stretcher with his eyes closed and lips pursed for a quick peck.
Barbie just smiles. “Okay. See you there!”
By the time Ken opens his eyes, Barbie has already made her way towards a beach chair next to Physicist Barbie. Somehow, Doctor Barbie had even retrieved her stretcher. Next time, he thinks. For now, Ken basks in the afterglow of Barbie's company. She hadn’t spent this much time with him yesterday or the day before that or… ever, really. Yesterday was nothing like today, but maybe tomorrow will be.