Chapter Text
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Boom!!! Explosions!!! Chaos!!!
Those exact noises filled the Master Chief’s ears as he walked through the foresty area they had just found themselves in, dodging different projectiles thrown his way by grunts and jackals alike. He was a teensy bit disoriented from that paralyzed fall, but he was alright. He’s been through way worse and survived perfectly.
He kicked a Grunt that had jumped at him in the head, dealing with it swiftly and taking it’s gun in order to nail a sniper jackal in the head and shoot it to death all in one smooth move.
A marine stared for a hot minute at how flawlessly the Chief fought before going back to defending themselves. The covenant was targeting all of them, not just the Master Chief. They had to defend themselves too…
Bullets and plasma shots whizzed past Master Chief as he ducked behind cover for a quick moment before peeking out and shooting an unggoy down without a second thought.
The Arbiter was here as well. He didn’t entirely know what to make of the defective Sangheili, but understood that they have to work together against the common enemy; that being the Covenant.
He took a moment to watch the Arbiter on the battlefield, seeing as his area had calmed slightly and he could momentarily observe without trouble.
He fought well, that much was obvious. The Arbiter moved with clear confidence, though Chief could still find ways to nitpick at his personal fighting style. Bias? Maybe. Hate? No. He may have a slight dislike, but hate wasn’t a contender in what he was feeling right now.
Watching the former commander fight, Master Chief was startled back to reality by a pained yell not too far away. When he looked, he saw a marine that had just gotten shot by three approaching unggoy. Chief instinctively shot them down before heading over, his heavy footsteps leaving slight indents on the grassy ground.
The marine groaned as they tried to sit up, to which the Master Chief responded with a tiny tilt of his head. He didn’t speak, but it was if he was silently asking; “are you alright?”. Once he got a nod, he heaved them up and directed them towards a slightly safer area with a brief gesture. After that he went back to fighting.
As skillful and flawless as the Master Chief was, he’s bound to make mistakes once in a blue moon. What makes a perfect man if he never made any mistakes?
He twisted his body away from an incoming plasma shot, only to feel an unpleasant stinging/searing in his side. It was just right under where the green Mjolnir armor ended and where the dark gray membrane began. Chief winced at the feeling, but moved on anyway.
Master Chief swiftly locked onto the jackal that had shot him, felling it with a quick shot to the head.
Normally, he would’ve just reacted like he usually did; which was let the shields regenerate and all of that stuff. But something told him that this wasn’t just an ordinary situation. Sure, the wound itself was ordinary, but he had this sinking feeling that something was gonna happen.
He noted that the Arbiter and the marines accompanying him on the escort were nearby. Walking without so much as a wince despite the pain in his side, the Master Chief goes to meet them. It seemed like the giant firefight was over anyway.
But of course… things didn’t always go as planned. They had to go rescue Sergeant Johnson because he got captured by Covenant forces.
Fighting, fighting, fighting… do you ever get bored of writing fighting scenes? Because I do.
Long story short, Johnson and his men get rescued after a long shootout between the covenant forces and remaining marines plus the charbiter duo. For now, they have some down time before they set off again.
The Arbiter notices how tense Master Chief seems to be. It was only a fraction more than usual, but his trained eye knew what to look for despite just meeting the Spartan-II.
During a lull in conversation, the Sangheili walks over.
”Spartan. You seem… tense. Did you perhaps sustain an injury?”
Master Chief doesn’t answer, instead looking at the Arbiter as if carefully picking out what he was gonna say (or do).
The armored soldier simply shook his head in response. A bit disappointing, but hey! He was known for his quietness.
Thel decides to try again.
”Spartan. We must make sure you harbor no injury. It would damage your talent in combat.”
Still no answer. Master Chief even tried to walk off before getting a rather forceful tap on the shoulder, making him look back. His golden unblinking visor met with the Arbiter’s stare.
”This is important. No matter how minor, it could evolve into something fatal. You of all people should know that.”
That… actually seemed to work. The Chief made an almost silent sighing sound, turning around fully instead of just looking at the Arbiter over his shoulder.
“I’m glad you see my views. Now come, let us find a proper sitting point. I wish to examine you.”
Master Chief tensed at the idea of letting this Sangheili he hadn’t even known for a day examine him so personally, but decided to let it pass anyway. He knew he could defend himself if things went awry.
Arby sits Chief down on a large flat rock, kneeling beside the green soldier as he squinted. No discernible or visible injuries… this would make it more difficult. He too was reluctant to actually put his claws on the Master Chief, but it was necessary if he wished for him to be in tip-top shape.
“…Chief. I see no injury, so I may have to examine you a little more closely.”
Ah. At least the Sangheili had enough respect to let Chief knew before he started poking and prodding him.
As the Arbiter started prodding around on Master Chief’s side, the Spartan felt a weird sensation. A tingly sort of sensation that set off alarms in his head. He didn’t react outwardly, but he did immediately notice something was wrong.
It wasn’t the painful kind of tingly, but rather something that caused a ‘butterfly in stomach’ feeling. A warm feeling that rose up in his chest and stomach; intensifying the more Arby prodded around his stomach and ribs.
It didn’t frighten him per se, but it made him feel very weird. He hadn’t felt this… vulnerable in a while. That was the word. Vulnerable.
The Arbiter didn’t seem to sense anything wrong with him yet, but did notice how the Master Chief’s grip tightened from where his hands rested on the rock.
Deciding to test something a bit further (a traitorous lace of mischief in his intent), the Arbiter pressed his claws into Master Chief’s sides a little harder. You’d have to be thorough with a Spartan-II such as Chief anyway, so it wasn’t that much of a problem.
But something happened.
Something neither of them expected.
Master Chief made a sound. A microscopic sound. A squeak? A harsh breath? Or was that… a laugh? No. It couldn’t be. The Master Chief doesn’t laugh.
Thel stared at Master Chief.
Master Chief stares back.
“Spartan…? Are you—“
”No.”
Master Chief had a firm tone when he spoke, possibly the first word he spoke since they all got here. His answer would’ve been believable had he not cut the Arbiter off. He also had this slight stiffness—as if he was hiding something.
Thel ‘Vadam squints, clearly not believing that answer. It was far too strained and rushed. Was the Master Chief of all people ticklish..? The thought stuck in Arby’s head as his hands froze from where they were “examining” the green-armored man in front of him.
”You do not give a believable answer.”
Master Chief grunted, that golden visor of his subtly looking to the side. He didn’t know what to think. He felt odd about this. Him? Ticklish? He wasn’t any stranger to the concept, it had just been a very long time since he’s last felt it. To the point he just forgot about it. He was numb to feelings already anyway, so why would he dwell on the thought of tickling?
It was useless to think of anyway. Spartans were weapons. Augmentations washed away any hope they had of feeling things normally. Master Chief’s gaze drifted to the ground. Internally, he spiraled even thinking about it.
But tickling… apparently even this childish sensitivity stuck through and through.
The Arbiter looked to notice this. Master Chief had gone even more silent than usual. He’d hate to do this to someone he hardly knew, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Chief was snapped back to reality by a squeeze on his sides. He stiffened, a hand immediately going out to grab the Arbiter’s wrists. He kept quiet, but not for long…
”Spartan. I think I may have to examine more.”
Master Chief felt oddly… flustered? Embarrassed? Maybe a mix of the two. All he could focus on was the Arbiter’s surprisingly deft claws pressing all across his sides. From an outside view, it’d look like something completely normal; only they knew what was truly happening.
”Pff…kh—“
He couldn’t believe how much this was affecting him. It was weird! Unprecedented! Yet he couldn’t get rid of that irritatingly persistent giddiness rising up in his veins.
Arby’s movements quickened a tiny bit at the tiny stutters that the Master Chief let out. There was no doubt that this was the first time Chief made these types of noises in a long while.
His claws pressed a little harder, giving little scribbling motions as he went. Chief’s ribs had a surprising amount of ticklishness within them. His stomach as well, given that the Spartan nearly jumped when he barely dragged a hand across it.
”Hhf…hmhfkh—heh—“
More sounds of Master Chief’s rather amusing struggle to keep himself composed filled the air. Despite his clear reluctance to letting loose and laughing for once, he didn’t try to push or shove Arby away. The both of them knew the Spartan-II had the strength to do it.
Arby questioned why that was, but decided not to and instead focus on doing what he apparently did best—tickling the Master Chief. The most the Spartan even did was just weakly push at his wrists anyway.
Expanding his range of torture, Thel tests the underarms.
Boy, was that a spot…
The Master Chief nearly folds, one leg kicking out (which the Arbiter barely avoided) and his helmet angling away. He even heard a small wheeze! Oddly endearing…
”hmhmhpffhhh—hAH!!-“
They froze. Chief froze. Arby froze. Even a marine that had been a little too close froze.
Did he…?
He did.
He definitely did.
Thel ‘Vadam couldn’t just leave that spot untouched now. Not after that precious sound that just left the Chief’s mouth.
”hnnnmpf—!?”
Master Chief tried to escape, to at least dodge—but to no avail. The Arbiter grabbed him by the wrist, keeping him pinned to the rock the Spartan was sitting on as one of his hands went back up to his underarms, lightly scribbling on it.
”I would believe that you hate this, Spartan… had it not been for your useless struggles. You could easily push me away. Why haven’t you?”
Damn. He didn’t think that Arby would notice… but he did. He had to find an excuse, and fast.
Just as he was about to do or say something to save face, the Arbiter started doing mean scribbling under both of his arms. It caught him off guard, leading to a small and wheezy bout of laughter-like noises from the Chief.
”NahhAHAHA!!- HnMhPHAHA!”
He sputtered, the overwhelming feeling flooding his nerves as he began to squirm and kick more. Arby was not having that; upgrading from simple scribbling to firm clawing.
He was fascinated. Such a strong, notorious soldier known for his composure… yet he was undone by a little fluttering under the arms.
Master Chief’s laughter was a rare sound. Nearly nonexistent, actually. It was the perfect mix of wheezy and sweet—almost musical in the way it sounded. Despite that, he had a quiet laugh. Arby suspected that this was because he was holding back in order to save face. They weren’t alone, after all… marines and such were still walking around before setting up to go off on whatever objective they had next.
”noOHOHOHO!!! AHHAHAHHH-“
”Hm? What did you say? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“StoHOHOP!!”
”Stop what? I’m simply examining you. If you have a sensitivity, just say s—“
Arby grunted as he was cut off, a pain filling his leg. Had the Chief just… kicked him? No matter. He would not let that stop him in his endeavors… but he would also not let it go unpunished.
Master Chief, as weakened as he was by the torture, was still plenty strong. While he had no clue why he wasn’t just stopping Arby, he knew well enough that this was a new change. An embarrassing and annoying change, but a change nonetheless. Did he… like it? No. He couldn’t. He was THE Master Chief. He didn’t like getting tickled.
Did he…?
Before he could even formulate another response, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a change in pace. One clawed hand of the Arbiter’s was still clawing away under his arm while the other gripped his hip. For balance? Maybe. He wasn’t sure.
Then…
squeeze.
”wAAHAH—?!”
squeezed again.
”pffthah—“
a little bit of kneading.
”aaAAHHHAHAH!!-“
That seemed to work a whole bunch. Turns out, Master Chief’s hips were a bad spot too. Maybe not the worst, but still pretty up there in terms of sensitivity.
“Oh dear. It seems you have an injury on your hip.”
Then Thel idly hummed while the Master Chief fell apart under him. There were squirms, flails, kicks (he was still sour about getting kicked in the kneecap), all sorts of struggles. But never a shove. Never a true signal for the Arbiter to stop.
”AHAHAHAAHHA!!!“
Gee. He never took Master Chief for a wheezy type of guy… not that he’d thought about his laugh before now. But now that he was thinking about it, he would’ve gotten the impression that he was more of a gruff chuckle kind of guy.
Chief pushed at Arby’s wrists, “desperately” trying to get away from this torturous feeling that the Arbiter was oh-so-persistently dishing out. He hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time. He hadn’t laughed at all in a long time. When was the last time he laughed…?
No matter. He was brought back to earth by a mean knead on one side of his hip. Who knew Arby could be so thorough…? He could feel those claws wreaking havoc on his hipbones (affectionately, but still).
“STAHAHAHAP!!!”
He was almost whiny with the way he said it. Cute. They were beginning to attract attention now, but the Arbiter didn’t care. Whether he was more focused on the process of obliterating THE Master Chief with tickles than being in the real world was unknown.
Seeing that Chief was trying to muffle himself because of the onlookers, the Arbiter decided to do something a little mean. He knew Master Chief wouldn’t let this go for a while, but it was worth it. A Spartan’s Weakness had to be exploited; especially in this case.
What exactly did he do, you ask? I’m glad you did. Earlier, it was mentioned that Master Chief had quite the sensitive stomach. Put two and two together, would you?
Master Chief was suddenly caught off guard by a flood of sensation in his stomach. Before he knew it, he was in hysterics. He brought one hand up to cover his visor while the other desperately pushed at the offending claws practically drilling their way into his abdominal muscles.
”Do not mind us. I am only giving your Spartan an ‘injury examination’.”
The Arbiter said over the increasing sound of Chief’s laughter, the Sangheili looking over his shoulder at the astonished marines who had stopped what they were doing in order to watch the spectacle. Some were whispering, but Arby paid no mind to that.
“GHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHA! STOHOHOP!!!”
Master Chief complained, squirming against the rock he was pinned on. He even tried turning over in order to shield himself, but it didn’t work. The Arbiter simply yanked him back around and went to town.
He felt what seemed to be tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. His helmeted gaze was hellbent on not looking at Arby, to which the Sangheili found it entertaining. He tried to kick the defective soldier away again, but quickly learned not to do that when one clawed hand returned to his hips.
”Now. I believe a ‘finale’ is in order.”
”NOHOHO!!”
The man felt the Arbiter’s claws tracing over his body; searching for its next victim. He trembled as he sat, once again questioning why he hadn’t stopped the alien yet. And yet again he was proven that thoughts were dangerous. He was cut off from his own train of thinking when the Arbiter’s claws finally found their mark.
He could’ve kicked a Brute’s head off with how much it tickled.
Arby was now playing ‘piano’ with his ribs. Not literally, but with how deftly he felt Thel ‘Vadam’s claws gently scribbling across them, he might as well have been. It was driving him insane! This was worse than if he just clawed him instead.
He let out a rather embarassing shrieking noise as he was yet again subjected to this… this torture!
Worry not, because our green hero wasn’t subjected to the Arbiter’s mercilessness for much longer.
He heaved in breath after breath as it finally stopped, the Arbiter taking a few steps back as to give him space. The Marines that had been watching giggled a little at the sight of a blissed out Chief, but quickly rushed back to their work when they saw Arby give them a pointed glare.
”Ufff… haah…”
Master Chief panted, shaking off any remainder of the tickles before sitting up. He didn’t say much, but the way he looked at Arby spoke volumes.
The Sangheili didn’t react, only speaking the following;
”I speak for both of us when I say that you needed that. Even soldiers like you need a little relief sometimes.”
Chief could only grunt in response, putting a hand to the side of his head as he pushed himself off of the rock he sat on. He stood straighter this time; feeling strangely relieved. Maybe the tickling truly did help him relieve some stress…
The Arbiter gave him a gruff pat on the back as he and Master Chief walked to meet up with the rest of the group.
When one of the marines asked…
”Sir, did you just—“
”No.”