fresh fics coming soon I promise you guys, so sorry for the delay :(

Hey I'm Back

I apologize profusely for the unannounced hiatus, but I'm back to stay now. I'll be replying to asks and taking prompts and requests, so please please send them!!!

Do you guys have any prompts you'd like to see? I have no inspiration right now. 

Dammit, Jim!

“Boooooooones!” Jim whined. With the assistance of Sulu and Mr. Scott, Chief Medical Officer Leonard “Bones” McCoy had managed to drag the proverbial 5 year old of a Starfleet captain to the medical bay for his checkup. It was, of course, going as smoothly as always.

Bones bit his tongue and made himself count backwards from a hundred by threes. Squared. He was fond of the kid, really, he was. They had been good pals at the Academy, and had saved each other’s asses a few times out in the final frontier. Nonetheless, there were times when giving Jim a hard jab in the neck with a hypo felt too good. Like NOW.  “If you’d sit still you could have been out of here ten minutes ago. Shut up.” For good measure, Bones gave him a poke in the side, at which Jim yelped. Bones smirked. “Quit squirmin’, or I’ll dose you with a tranquilizer.” Jim pouted.

Regardless, however, he continued his general bitching until the exam was over. He bounded out the door, throwing a parting shot back over his shoulder: “I’ll get you, old man!”

“Whatever you say, infant.” Bones rubbed his temples. He left the medical bay, and headed for the lab to pick up some specimens he’d need for research.

He grinned to himself as he walked. His buddy, Jim. World class little bitch when it came to check ups, but a good guy, and he’d admit, a decent captain. He was like his annoying, but cool (in his own weird way) little brother.

As if to prove his point, Jim appeared out of fricking nowhere as Bones rounded a corner, in a surprise flying ninja tackle.

“OOF!” Bones’ breath left him in a hurry as he was knocked to the floor. “What the actual hell, kid?! Get off!” He tried to throw Jim off, and soon discovered, to his very unpleasant surprise, that Jim had actually been learning a thing or two in their occasional wrestling matches, and was no longer so easy to toss across the room.

Before long, Bones had to call a grudging and somewhat curse filled truce. They sat against the wall in the empty corridor, getting their breath back.

Now it was Jim’s turn to smirk. “You really are getting old. No wonder you needed help getting me to the med bay.” He shoved at his friend’s shoulder. Bones shoved back. “Only because you’re such a little girl that can’t stand getting a damn tricorder held over you for a few seconds.” Once again, he jabbed at Jim’s side.

“Gahh!” Jim yelled, slapping at Bones’ hand and curling his fingers against his ribs. “How do YOU like it, jerk!?”

To his shock, Bones actually yelped, jumping back. “You’re liable to get your fingers broken off, punk!” He growled, trying not to smile.

The grin that was spreading across Jim’s face was amused, and devious. “Why, Bones, you never told me that you were ticklish. How very interesting…”

Bones looked panicked and grumpy at the same time. “I’m not, screw you!” He started to get up, but Jim pushed him back. “Not so fast, pal. After all the torture sessions you’ve put me through, it’s only fair that I get mine in.” He dug ten fingers into his ribs and wriggled them mercilessly.

“FuAHAHA hey! Stohohp!!” Desperately, Bones shoved at Jim’s hands and tried to scowl, but his smile and giggles broke through easily. “No, plehehehase!”

Jim laughed as he tripped his fingers up and down Bones’ sides, pausing at the sweet spots he discovered on his lowest ribs. After a bit, out of curiosity, he experimentally stroked at his neck.

And poor Bones almost hit the roof. “DAHAHAHAMIT JIM!!”

Jim tortured the good doctor for several more minutes, enjoying the laughter that poured from his usually stoic friend with such careless abandon. Finally he stopped, and sat back as Bones slumped against the wall and curled in on himself. “I hate you.” He gasped through the residual giggles.

“Don’t be such an infant.” Jim chuckled.

“Say your prayers, captain.”

Osric's Revenge (part 2)

Jared groaned through the bandage across his mouth.  In the episode they were currently shooting, the boys were investigating the death of a woman who had been convinced that she was possessed by demons that made her levitate, speak in ungodly tongues, burns showing up randomly on her skin, the whole nine yards. Sam was supposed to go to her doctor to gather information, and ended up lashed to the examination table by cloth bandages (with his arms pulled above his head, it was a miracle the thing was long enough), said doctor, of course, being no good, having brought the demons upon his patient and was planning on handing the entire Medical Board over to Lucifer.  Just like the good old days. If only his little gag wasn’t so damn annoying… The scene ended with the baddie doctor leaving, having stated his intentions and his promise to find and kill Dean, and with Sam struggling against his bonds and hollering after Doctor Doom as best he could.  Of course he had been tied up for real. Wasn’t it Jensen who always got himself roped into these things (pun intended)? “And cut!” shouted the director. “Alright, good job guys, everyone take 20! Someone untie Jared, please.”  “I’ve got it, Paul.” It was Jensen. He strolled over to his friend. “Hey, Jay, you’re in my spot!” Jared made a face at his friend. Suddenly he felt someone pull the gag off. He tipped his head to see Misha working the knot out of the bandage with a grin. “Hey buddy!” he said brightly.  “Hey, Mish,” Jared grinned back. “where’d you come from?” Misha wasn’t in that scene.  “Oh, you know.” Misha made a creeper face. “I lurk.” “Well, do you think you could untie me, please?” “Sorry buddy.” Jensen now stood next to his feet. “It ain’t that simple.”  What the hell… Jared frowned a little. “What are talking about-” And Osric stepped out from behind some equipment. Okay, what?? “Pipsqueak?? What are you-“ Malicious grins all around.  Oh.  EXPLETIVES.  Osric smirked. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming.” Jared turned his head to glare at Jensen. “You traitor!”

“Sorry, Jared. I was, uh -” he cleared his throat a little. “- compromised.” Jared jerked his head back to look at Misha. “You weren’t even involved, dammit!” Misha laughed.  “After all the crap you’ve put me through? Oh, I volunteered, Moosey.”  Jared quickly considered puppy eyes, remembered Osric’s shot down attempt, thought better of it, and was opening his mouth to call his co-stars every unprintable name he could think of or make up when the bandage came back down over it.  “Sorry, Jared, but we couldn’t have anyone spoiling the fun by hearing your cries for help and coming to your aid, now, could we?” Misha re-tied the knot at the back of his struggling co-star’s head.  Meanwhile, Jensen was holding the bonds around his ankles fast as Osric pulled off his shoes, and then wiggled his fingers evilly at Jared.  “Sorry NOT sorry, kid.” Osric practically crowed. “Think of it as… retaliation.” And he curled his fingers into his socked insteps.  “Hmmmmmf!!” Jared yelled in a muffled way. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to scream. His feet were devastatingly ticklish, which Osric now knew, no damn thanks to Jensen!  Osric was pulling off his socks. No! He ran one finger up Jared’s bare sole. “Oh my, does Gigantor have ticklish little piggies?” Damn kid! “Mhmf, mHMHMF!” Jared almost bit through the cloth in his agony.  “Too much resolve…” Osric lay off Jared’s feet and walked up to his torso. “Why don’t we try…” He squeezed his sides experimentally. He wasn’t disappointed. Jared bucked, and yelled muffled curse words. “That’s much better!”  He began running his fingers up and down his sides, squeezing every now and then. Meanwhile, Jensen had taken Osric’s place at Jared’s feet, and was working them over with the knowledge of an older brother.  Any resolve Jared had broke, and gave way to bucking and squirming (as much as his prop bonds would allow, that is) and shouts of muffled laughter.  Misha, who had been watching his tortured co-star, was getting bored. “Hey Os, check this out.” He tapped gently on Jared’s exposed armpit with one finger. At that slight touch, Jared’s already streaming eyes almost bulged out of his head. “Uh-UH” he shouted.  “Ah, I see.” said Osric. Misha grinned. “Care to switch places?” They manouvered around so that Osric now stood at Jared’s head. “With pleasure…” Osric said all too evilly.  In a last ditch effort, Jared shot his co-star his best Sam Winchester puppy eyes, a powerful weapon that he usually saved for Jensen.  They had no effect, whatsoever.  With a smirk, Osric began tickling his sensitive underarms, switching between spidering touches and digging in. Jensen and Misha renewed their attacks as well, and Jared screamed with helpless laughter. He was sure he would die soon from lack of air.  A full ten minutes passed in this manner, before Jensen FINALLY said “Okay guys, we’d better give him a chance to get enough air to finish the scene.” They untied him, and he curled up into a giant, giggly Moose ball onthe exam table.  “Screw… you… guys.” he gased. Misha ruffled his hair as he went by. “Payback’s a bitch, Padalecki.” Jensen slapped Osric on the back. “Well done, kiddo.” He followed Misha out.  Jared looked up to see Osric leaning nonchalantly against the wall. He couldn’t help but grin. He’d gotten his revenge, but good. He’d passed initiation. Jared sat up, and laughed as Osric poised himself to run.  “Welcome to the family, pipsqueak.” And Osric smiled.

Osric's Revenge (part 1)

Osric grinned to himself. 

Almost a week had passed since the J2 inflicted tickle torture session, and revenge was finally within his grasp. 

And Jensen was his first target. 

He was laying in wait in his co-star’s trailer, his plan having already been laid. It had been a long day of shooting, and when Jensen got to his trailer, most likely the first thing he’d do was crash on the couch.  He would not rest for long, however. 

After a deliciously evil conversation with Daneel, Osric knew exactly how he would reduce Jensen to a squirming mess. 

Speak of the devil. 

The door to the trailer opened, and Jensen trudged in. Osric pressed himself into the wall just around the corner, praying he wouldn’t be seen. Sure enough, Jensen yawned, and flopped down onto the couch for a cat nap. Osric waited until his breathing got slower and more regular, and carefully eased himself out of his hiding place. 

Jensen was lying on his back, hands clasped on his chest. Gently, Osric took hold of his wrists… and pinned them to his sides as he jumped up onto the couch to straddle his waist. 

“OOF!” Jensen’s eyes flew open as his breath left him. He stared in sleepy surprise at his attacker. “What the hell ya doin’, kid?” he muttered. 

Osric smiled sweetly. “Just getting a little revenge, buddy!” He jammed Jensen’s hands under his knees, freeing his own hands. 

“For wha- oh.” Jensen smirked. “Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but I’m not a ticklish little girl, like some people around here. You’re better off bugging Jared, now will you please get off and let me sleep?”

Osric smirked back. “Nice try, but I had a little chat with Daneel the other day. She told me a couple very interesting weaknesses you have that very few people know about.” He reached back and let his fingers rest on Jensen’s hip bones. 

The smirk dropped off Jensen’s face like a dead fly. “She didn’t. You wouldn’t!” he said nervously. 

“Oh, she did.” He brushed the sensitive hip bones, and Jensen sucked in his breath and bit his lip. “And hells yeah I would!” He dug his fingers in. 

“HeEEHEHEY AHAHAHAHOSRIHIHIHA!” Jensen’s hip bones were quite ridiculously ticklish, and he couldn’t even protest through the flood of laughter that was coming out of him. He threw his head back and squirmed, but Osric had him very much pinned, and was showing no mercy. 

“Sorry pal, but you shoulda thought of this before you did it to me. Now, what other spots did she mention?” He brought his hands up to Jensen’s stomach, scratching experimentally. 

“NO! Anywhere but there plEHEHEASE!” The ticklish agony was unbearable!

“Awww, does the big badass Jensen Ackles have a ticklish little tummy?” Osric cooed as he lifted Jensen’s shirt a few inches to get at the soft skin. He kept switching between skittering his fingers lightly and digging in at just the right places, and it was driving Jensen insane! 

“Misha!! JayHAHAHAHALP MEHEHEHEE!”

“Holler all you want, ‘bud’,” Osric was enjoying this way too much. “No one’s coming to save ya!” 

Jensen was sure he’d pass out soon. “OKAHAHAY!” Osric ceased for a moment to let him get his breath. 

“What… do you want… I’ll do it.” Poor Jensen gasped. 

“Tell me how very sorry you are, to start.” said Osric. 

“Hell no!”

“Very well.” Osric renewed his attack, one hand on Jensen’s stomach, the other hand reaching back to dig into the hollow of his hip. 

“AAHAHAHA FIHIHINE! I’M SOHOHOHORRY, DAMMIT!”

“How sorry?” Osric circled his fingers around Jensen’s navel, and the poor guy screamed with the little breath he had left. 

“VERY SOHOHRRY! I’M SOHOHO SORRY!”

Osric decided to let up. “I’m sure you are, now anyway. Apology accepted.” He got up, and Jensen curled himself into a ball. 

“Thank God.” he wheezed. 

Osric sat himself on the couch next to his friend. “And you thought you were tired before?” Jensen laughed weakly. “Now. The rest of my conditions…”

“Oh, no…” Jensen moaned. 

Osric laughed. “Relax, I think you won’t mind this one.”

Jensen lifted his head with a questioning look. 

“I’m getting back at Jared next, and you’re gonna help me…”

To be continued…

Poor Osric

It was mid-afternoon on the set of Supernatural, and the cast was taking a break. Shooting that day was taking longer than it should have, seeing as Jared had discovered a new way to mess with his younger co-star Osric, and therefore could not leave him alone to save his life. In any shot where their lower bodies weren’t visible, Jared would stretch out his leg and rub it against Osric’s, causing him to hit the roof and screw up the shot each time. The Padamoose, of course, found this hilarious.  Break time found Jensen, Jared, and Osric sitting around a small table in the megatrailer, going over a script revision. Jared quickly lost interest, opting to torment the poor kid again instead. He reached out one foot, rubbing it against Osric’s upper thigh. 

BANG! Osric’s knees flew up and hit the bottom of the table, and hard. Jensen’s coffee was knocked over, spilling over the script papers. 

“Dammit, Jared!” They yelled at the same time. Osric rubbed his sore knees while Jensen scrambled to salvage what he could of the dripping sides. Jared was cracking up. 

“It’s not my fault the kid sucks at gay chicken!” 

Jensen grinned in spite of himself. ” If he keeps hanging around you, he’ll be world champion in a few days, bitch.” 

“If that’s so, then you’ll have to give up the gold medal and laurel crown, jerk!” Jared smirked and shot back without missing a beat. He turned his attention back to Osric. 

“Seriously dude, it’s ridiculous.” He punched his co-star playfully on the shoulder. Osric grinned nervously, and tried to go back to the scripts. Jared, however, wouldn’t let it go. 

“You’re even worse than Misha. So much as look at the guy’s legs and he jumps and lau-” Right then it hit him. “Oh.”

A devious grin began to spread across his face. “Ohhhhhhh…” Osric gulped a little and began to mentally measure how much distance was between him and the trailer door. 

Jared pushed his chair back and leaned forward a little. “Something you haven’t been telling us, buddy?” 

Jensen looked up. “What’s up now?” 

“I believe our prophetic prodigy is just a little… ticklish…” Jensen looked not uninterestingly at Osric, who was now wound tighter than a spring.

  “Guys…” he said. Suddenly he shoved his chair away from the table and bolted for the door. 

Too late! Jared had been sitting closer, and was now barring the way. He made his hands into claws and lifted them towards poor Osric. “Sorry not sorry, kid. Think of it as… initiation.” And with that he tackled the much smaller man to the floor. 

Osric struggled, but he knew that, even with his training in martial arts and stunt work, Jared’s sheer mass was too much for him. “Jared, please!” he begged. “Get off!” 

Jared had shifted so that he straddled Osric’s waist. Wasn’t much of a challenge, he thought smugly. “Admit that you’re extremely ticklish?” Osric tried not to blush. This was for kids.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, Osric, buddy, suicide!” laughed Jensen, who was now standing and watching. 

Jared rolled his eyes. “You really expect us to believe that? What do you call this, then?” He reached back and ran his fingers against the outside of Osric’s leg. 

“NoHOHAHATHING!” Osric mashed his eyes shut and bit his tongue. Jared grinned, knowing he’d won. “Um, Charlie horse?” And in one last desperate attempt, he did his best possible impression of the Sam Winchester puppy eyes. 

Jared laughed aloud then. “Nice try kid, but that’s my thing. Shoulda been honest, now you ought to be punished for lying.” And with that he began scrabbling his fingers over his victim’s legs and knees. 

“NOHOHOHOHO JAY PLEHEHEHEHEASE DOHOHN’T!” Osric shouted with laughter and kicked with everything he had. Which was a lot.

“Sheez, kid can fight! Gimme a hand, Jensen!” 

Nothing daunted, Jensen went over and pinned Osric’s ankles to the floor. Jared took the opportunity to squeeze a particularly sensitive area right above his knees. “AHAHAHAHAHEELP!”

Jensen grinned. “Holler all you want, bud, no one’s coming to save you.”  Jared turned back to face Osric. “Okay, so pretty much anywhere on his legs is a sweet spot. How about…” He laid his fingers against Osric’s sides. He immediately stiffened. 

“Jared,” he gasped, “I’m begging you-“

“Nothin’ doing.” Jared dug his fingers in. Osric bucked and writhed, to no avail.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHO AHAHAHAHAH DAHAHAHAMIT!” 

“Such language!” Jared teased, shooting his hands under Osric’s arms. The kid shrieked, and Jared made quick mental note of the sweeter spot. Tears were beginning to stream from his eyes, and he begged and pleaded with his tormenter. “Okay, I’ll stop, but with your arms clamped down like that my hands are stuck!” 

Immediately, Osric lifted his arms. Jared smirked. “Wow, I haven’t fallen for that one since season 3. You must be new.” He renewed his attack, this time moving down to his ribs. 

Meanwhile, Jensen was getting bored at his post by Osric’s feet. He pulled off the kid’s shoes, and, pinning both ankles in one arm, scribbled all ten fingers over the soles of his feet. This time, Osric almost bucked Jared off. 

“JEHEHENSEHEHEN NOHOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHESE!!” Poor Osric’s face was turning bright red. “I CAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAKE IHIHIT!” He lost coherency after that, and for the next ten minutes could only laugh silently and gasp at his two torturers.

Finally - FINALLY - Jensen said “Okay, Jay, I think he’s had enough.” He stood, and strolled off to gather the sodden remains of the sides. 

Jared smiled at his work. Osric was a gasping, giggling mess. “Yeah, I suppose.” He helped him up, which was difficult, since Osric wouldn’t let his arms away from his sides. “For now.” Jared’s parting shot as he headed for the door. 

Osric collapsed onto a nearby couch, curling into himself to regain his energy. 

Boy, was payback ever gonna be a bitch.

Boys will be Boys

(Sam is 13, Dean is 17)

“Ouch.” John Winchester was taping his first born’s ankle. A tangle with a ill-tempered spirit had left Dean with a mildly sprained ankle and a not so mildly bruised ego. 

“Be grateful it’s just your foot that’s busted, and not your head.” John muttered. “People don’t generally survive being shoved off of a roof. You’re damn lucky that dumpster was open. And full.” Even as he berated him, John couldn’t help but grin as he remembered the sight of Dean hauling himself out of the dumpster, covered in rotting food and old diaper remnants and God knows what else. Even Sam had cracked a smile at the banana peel stuck to his neck.

At the thought of Sam, John turned and looked towards the couch. His youngest was laying across it, staring up at the ceiling with a distant look. He’d been that way for the last few days, sort of pensive, and almost sad. John had been easier on Sam than usual, hoping he’d bounce back, but now it was clear that something was eating him. He turned to Dean, who, after a hose down out back and two showers, was convinced he’d never be clean again. 

“I want you to go talk to your brother.” Dean pulled away the wet washcloth he had been vigorously rubbing his face with. 

“Why?” 

“Something’s bothering him. Go talk to him and see if he’s okay.” With that, John finished patching Dean up.

After putting some weight on his injury, and deciding he could walk just fine, Dean stood. “Yes sir.” He crossed the not very large room to where Sam was stretched out. 

“Hey,” he said, pulling up a chair so he sat at his brother’s socked feet. Sam didn’t look up. “Hm.” 

“Dad wanted me to talk to you-“

“To make sure I’m okay.” Sam’s eyes were still turned to the ceiling, relatively expressionless. 

“…yeah.” Dean wasn’t feeling particularly patient. “So, are you?” 

“Yeah…” Sam sighed halfheartedly. 

There was a pause. Then Dean started to get up. “Okay, good talk-” 

“Maybe not.” Sam said suddenly.

Dean looked at him, first surprised, then concerned. He sat back down. “What’s up, Sammy?” 

Sam sat up, his legs still stretched towards Dean. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About being a hunter. And, well…” He looked towards the door, where Jon. Had gone out a few moments ago. “Have you ever wanted… to be anything else? You know, not do what Dad does?” 

Dean gazed at his little brother. He’d been expecting this, almost. Sam wasn’t the hunter type. He was too… Sammy. But he was also scared of losing him, although he’d never say this out loud. And he knew damn well what John would say about this little development, and didn’t want a rift in the family. Not now.

He sighed. “Look, Sammy. I can get where you’re coming from.” Dean racked his brain for what to say next. “But… look at these people we see everyday. Living their… ‘normal’ lives. Winchesters… just aren’t cut out for ‘normal life’, Sammy, and… well…” Wow, this was lame. “It really means a lot to Dad.” 

Sam sat and took this speech in for a moment. Then he smirked. “You’re so full of crap when you try to be deep.” Dean grinned. “Yeah, but it sounded pretty good, didn’t it?” 

Sam laughed then, and kicked at Dean, jarring his injured leg. Dean sucked in his breath sharply and went stiff. Sam froze, and look horrified.  “Oh crap, I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

Suddenly, Dean’s pained expression became a laughing, teasing one. “Gotcha, didn’t I? Didn’t feel a thing, sucker!” 

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “You jerk!” He yelled with relief. Glancing around quickly, he saw a glass of water sitting on the coffee table next to him, and promptly threw it in Dean’s face. “There you go, ‘sucker’, help ya wash the garbage off!”

Now it was Dean’s turn to be agog. Dragging a sleeve across his dripping face, his expression turned mischievous and predatory. “Okay, that I felt. You’re in for it now, Sammy!” He grabbed Sam’s ankle and began scribbling five fingers all over the sole of his foot.

“HeEHEHEHEHEHEY! DEAN NOHOHOHO PLEASE!” Sam fell back on the couch, shouting with laughter. He had agonizingly ticklish feet, and Dean knew this all too well. 

Dean laughed, and quickly moved to the couch so he could hold Sam’s ankles with one arm and work his feet over with his free hand. “Sorry Sammy, but you leave me no choice. You need it, anyway.” He reached up to scratch behind Sam’s knees. 

“AHAHAHAHAHNOOOHOHO!” Sam kicked, to no avail. Dean knew how to reduce him to a giggling, ticklish mess, and was well underway. Sam’s knees weren’t as bad though, and soon Dean was bored. 

“If I remember correctly, Sammy,” Dean said, yanking on Sam’s legs to get him closer, “you’re ribs were pretty bad. Let’s see if they still are.”

Grateful for the chance to breath, Sam protested “No, Dean, please, I’ve had enough!” 

Ignoring him, Dean went to work, spidering his fingers over his little brother’s ribs, sometimes digging in, or raking down over them to his sides. Poor Sam screams jumped to a higher pitch when Dean dug his fingers into his sensitive tummy. “AAAAAHAHAHAHA OKAY! I’M SOHOHOHORRY HAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEASE STOHOP!” 

Nothing daunted, Dean pulled Sam into his lap and continued the loving torture. “No way, Sammy, I’ve got to do this while I still can. You’re growing too fast. Now, let’s go for the kill, shall we?” And he shot both hands under Sam’s arms. 

Sam bucked and writhed, almost knocking both of them to the floor. His face was a deep red, and there were tears in his eyes. “NOHOHOHOHO DEAN PLEHEHEHEHEASE I CAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAP IT!!” 

For the next half hour, Dean mercilessly worked over his little brother’s sides, ribs, and underarms. John stood quietly, just at the door, having heard the entire exchange. He knew Sam was not a hunter. He had too much of his mother’s gentleness. He knew he’d have to deal with it. But for now… He would let his boys be boys. He smiled, and left poor Sam at Dean’s mercy.