05 12 / 2012

Summary:A short drabble with no real plot, Dean just wants to tickle Cas because he can and because he knows how ticklish he is

Ever since Dean found out how incredibly ticklish his angel was, he couldn’t resist tickling Cas whenever he got the chance. Sometimes it would be just a poke to the ribs to see Cas practically leap 5 feet in the air. Other times Dean would pin Castiel to the bed, tickling his sides and belly and getting lost in perfect angelic laughter. However, no matter where or when Dean launched a tickle attack, Cas would always lock his arms down tight. It didn’t matter if Dean had attacked his sensitive neck, extremely ticklish sides or stomach. Castiel, it seemed, was always attempting to subtly protect another terribly ticklish target.

Dean soon got his chance. A different motel room and a new set of protection symbols were needed. Cas was reaching high on a wall to decorate it with a sigil and Dean was ready to strike. The underarms of Cas’ tshirt had two tiny little splotches of perspiration, but Dean dug his fingers in anyway. He was actually careful to get his fingers into the sleeve of the shirt and in the middle of the hairy patch. The reaction was immediate Cas basically screamed and clamped his arms down on his sides with Dean’s hands still under his arms.

Cas wasn’t going to release his arms for fear of exposing more flesh to Dean’s grasping digits so his fingers were just free to scratch and scrape away at hyper ticklish armpits. And for an enclosed space under the arms, one would be surprised at how much mobility is possible. As a result, Cas was in hysterics as Dean just calmly groped around his boyfriend’s underarms. He actually had fallen against the wall and was sliding down it, trying his darnedest to beg him to stop.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAA DEAN! HAHAHAHAHAHAA DE- HAHAHAHA ST-" Cas couldn’t even form words, his hysterical laughter robbing him of that ability. He ended up on the floor, thrashing from side to side as he tried to buck Dean’s hands out from under his arms. Dean’s left hand hand actually slipped out from a sensitive armpit but his other hand which was still happily trapped between Cas’ arm and his right side. A few more seconds later, Cas was in a full fetal position with Dean crouched over him, still tickling his right armpit relentlessly. By now, he sensed that Cas was reaching the limits of his endurance. Cas was now curled into a face-down ball with his elbows clamped down, shaking with silent laughter. Dean took advantage of this position to trap both of his feet in the crook of his leg. He yanked off too-big boots and peeled the socks off his feet before running his hands up and down his soft soles. His toes wiggled madly and roars of laughter poured from Cas as Dean ran his fingers along the edge of his heel and up to circle the soft ball of his foot. The biggest reaction came when Dean traced his short fingernails up and down the length of the foot over and over and over.

Cas’ face was drenched with tears of laughter and Dean decided to have mercy.

"What - was that - for?" Cas panted, remnants of giggles still bubbling out of him.

Dean shrugged. “Just cuz I can” he grinned as Cas jumped and squeaked at an index finger poking his ribs.

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