I was tweeting about this the other day, because I had Instacart deliver some milk, but I was out. I wasn’t home […] and then the milk got hot. And I was thinking, ‘Why isn’t there like little dump buckets in front of houses and they can just put cold stuff in it?’ Buy a fridge, put it on your porch, done. I just solved your problem.
Gavin ran a hand through his hair, mussing it absentmindedly as he searched the dimly-lit room for the missing prop. Apparently, he had been “responsible for bringing it” and “was a moron for forgetting the most crucial prop of the entire series” and consequently “had better find it, or so help me, Gavin, you are fired.”
He rolled his eyes. Geoff’s empty threats were as meaningful as white noise, honestly. And if the prop was so important, Gav could not think of a single reason why Geoff would entrust its welfare to him, of all people.
A playful growl from behind him tore Gavin from his thoughts. He squawked in confusion as fingers burrowed into the flesh of his sides and tickled up and down them, grazing the edges of his tummy here and there. “Ahahaha! Hey! Whahahat the bloody hehehe-”
“Shhh, they’ll hear us…” A familiar, eerily mad voice purred from behind him. Gavin felt his face flush as the fingers lightened their assault a bit, spidering with feather-light touches over his ribs that made him twist from side to side.
“Ryan! Wh-What are you dohohoing?” His voice seemed to have rocketed up a few octaves, a fact that seemed to amuse his tormentor. The fingers at his hips began to squeeze and knead lightly. Gavin began to double over, consumed by giggles and the effervescent sensations coursing through his middle.
“Just having a little fun. Now, don’t go making too much noise. I doubt you’d want the others to find out your little secret…” Stubble scratched against his neck as Ryan nuzzled into the crook between Gavin’s neck and shoulder and he squealed. “You wouldn’t ever want them to know how unbearably ticklish you are…so keep quiet.”