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ticklishraspberries · 7 months

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Tell Him (George O'Malley x Reader)

Summary: You’re dating George O’Malley. You tell him about a certain liking of yours, and although he’s initially confused, he tries to understand. (This is incredibly self-indulgent and the reader is essentially just me. If anyone actually reads this, it’ll be a miracle, lmfao. Mentions of sex and tickling as a kink, but overall this fic is more fluff than smut.)

“I can’t.”

George sighed, but he had an amused expression on his face. “Whatever you’re gonna tell me, I won’t freak out. You know that, right?”

You blushed, avoiding his eyes. “It’s embarrassing. It’s not bad, but it's embarrassing.”

He took your chin, making you meet his eye. “Well, I’m not gonna pressure you. Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Alright. Go save some lives, Dr. O’Malley.”

He kissed you quickly before heading out, and you sighed, resting your head in your hands. It was silly, really, and you were getting him worked up over nothing. If only your embarrassment, your shame didn’t run so deep, if only you had the guts to spit out a simple confession.

And it was over something so stupid.

Cuddling in bed with George last night had been nice. He was warm, and groggy after a day of interning at the hospital, but present enough to rub your back sweetly, muttering sweet words. And then his fingers had strayed near your side, soft and it had startled you and made you twitch.

“You alright?” he asked.

You had nodded. “All good.”

And then, he’d done it again. By accident, still. And you had twitched again, a puff of air resembling a soft laugh leaving your nose.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I tickling you?” he’d asked.

You chuckled nervously. “A little.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“It’s fine.”

And that had been it. What you hadn’t said was that it was completely fine if he tickled you, and that it would be fine to continue, because you enjoyed it.

You just couldn’t spit that out. And George deserved to know, because he would clearly do anything in his power to make you happy, and yet, you were afraid that something as simple as a little tickling would be the thing to scare him off.

His shift was long. Long enough for you to think it over. To plan out everything you would want to say, to prepare for a worst-case scenario. It wouldn’t be so bad. George was sweet. He was an angel, honestly, and the chances of him reacting poorly were slim to none. But that fear still lingered. The fear of rejection, ridicule, or just plain old misunderstanding.

But George would understand. He had to.

So after a long, long shift, George was back in your bed. Warm, sleepy, and hopefully ready to listen to your words.

“You ready to tell me what you wanted to say this morning?” he asked.

“Yes. No. Maybe?” you replied. “It’s…I really need to stress to you that it’s not a big deal. It really isn’t, but I’m embarrassed and this is really hard for me to talk about.”

He pulled you close. “I’m here to listen. What’s going on?”

“So, last night…You were rubbing my back, and you…Well, you…”

“Is this about me tickling you?” he interrupted. “Because it was an accident, and I won’t do it—”

“No, no, that’s…I wanna tell you that it’s okay. That I…I liked it. I mean, I would like it if you did it…Intentionally, next time.”

George blinked at you, mouth opening and closing. “I’m sorry…You liked it?”

There it was. The twinge of judgement in his voice. It made you deflate, cheeks turning red.

He sensed the shift in your attitude and immediately shook his head. “No, no, it’s not a bad thing. I’m just…Surprised, that’s all! Because, well, my brothers used to tickle me all the time and I always hated it. I mean, they were rough, and it hurt, and they used to make me cry…So, I mean, the idea of someone liking it is just sort of weird to me. Not weird in a bad way, God, that came out wrong…Weird as in uncommon—”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” you said. “I’m sorry your brothers did that to you. But, it’s just…I’ve always liked it, and I can’t help it, it’s just wired into my brain for some reason, and it’s embarrassing and I’ve had partners react badly to it in the past, so if you’re weirded out, it’s fine, I just…I wanted to tell you because it makes me happy, and you make me happy.”

George smiled. “Okay. If you like it, that’s fine. I can…I can do it, more, if that makes you happy. Is it…Is it like, a sex thing or a cuddly thing?”

You gave another nervous laugh. “Both? It’s not inherently sexual, but it can be hot. We can talk about the sex part later, though. This is all too embarrassing for me.”

George laughed, too. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s fine,” he said, kissing your temple. “We can talk about it another time.”

You assumed that was the end of the conversation, but his hands found your sides and squeezed, making you squeal.

“So, you like this?” he asked. “Or do you like it better…here?” His hands moved upwards towards your ribs, his fingers prodding into the spaces between your bones with his surgical precision. It only made you giggle harder, feet kicking.

“You’re giggling too hard to answer me, baby,” he cooed.

“Shut up,” you whined. “You’re being mean!”

“How am I being mean? I’m doing what you asked! I think that’s pretty nice of me, actually.”

You had nothing to say in response, just laughing. You were so happy. So loved.

That night, you fell asleep wrapped in George’s arms, the phantom sensation of his tickly fingers still on your abdomen.

***

“Tickling you is really fun,” George said. “I mean, it’s cute. You smile and you laugh and it’s adorable, and I know it makes you happy.”

You flushed, biting your lip. “But…?”

“No, no but. Well, maybe? I think…If you did it to me, I don’t know if I would hate it or not, but…I know you’ve mentioned that you like it either way…If you wanted to try, I mean, I’d be open to it.”

He was blushing, too. How fucking cute could he be?

“Really?” you asked. “I mean, if you’re open to it, I would love to try. Only if you’re sure, though. I know your brothers were pretty harsh, so I don’t wanna push.”

“No, I’m…I want you to try it. You always look like you’re having so much fun. And, it might take my mind off of the three surgeries I scrubbed in on today.”

You grinned. “It is a pretty good distraction.”

He laid back against the mattress, looking up at you with those doe eyes. You grinned, sitting up beside his body and using one hand to stroke his hair. “Where should I start, hm?”

George squirmed. “Well, when I was younger, my stomach was really bad. And, and my sides. But I’m pretty much ticklish everywhere, as you’ve discovered during other activities, which, if I had known you liked it, I wouldn’t have apologized so many times when I laughed—”

You interrupted his rambling by using one hand to lightly tickle his stomach, feeling his muscles jump beneath your fingertips, listening to the loud, squeaky laugh that burst from his lips.

“Still bad?” you asked.

“Still ticklish, but it doesn’t suck,” he giggled in response. He was clearly fighting to keep still, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

You grinned. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute,” he cried. “I’m a strong, masculine—Ah!”

His laughter took on a new octave as you introduced your other hand to his belly.

“Too much?”

He shook his head. Then, after another minute, he shook it again. “Wait, no, actually, too much!”

You stopped immediately. “Are you okay?”

George wrapped his arms around his middle, protecting his middle although your onslaught had already stopped. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just…still a lot.”

“No worries. I know, it can be really overwhelming sometimes.”

He smiled. “A little. But I didn’t hate it,” he said. “We can try it again, another time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. For now, cuddle me.”

And, well, how could you say no to that?

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ticklishraspberries · 6 months

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Assessment (Cristina, George)

Summary: Cristina asks George to help her practice a simple abdominal examn, and it goes differently than expected. (Based on this prompt by @allytheally. Hope you enjoy!!)

“Just let me practice on you, Bambi!” Cristina said, her tone uncharacteristically close to begging. It still wasn’t quite begging, which George would have taken great joy in, but it was close enough to give him a little bit of satisfaction.

“Fine,” he said. “But you’re buying my lunch today.”

“Deal, lay down.”

Feeling ridiculous, George laid down on one of the extra beds in the hallway, elbows at his sides and hands resting on his chest.

“Bailey claims I’m too rough when I give secondary assessments,” Cristina said. “You’re wimpy, you’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?”

“Hey, I am not wimpy! I grew up with two older brothers, I can take a punch,” he replied.

Cristina rolled her eyes. “Whatever, just…Tell me if I hurt you.”

George nodded, looking up at the ceiling. He could have been scrubbing in on a surgery, but instead, he was helping Cristina practice her patient etiquette.

Without warning, Cristina brought her hands to his abdomen and pressed, and he twitched under her sudden touch, but it wasn’t as painful as she’d made it sound.

“See, you’re already squirming! I’m not that heavy-handed, you’re just being a baby!”

“People’s bodies react to stimuli,” he replied. “I’m not being a baby, I’m literally just reacting! It doesn’t hurt, just hurry up.”

“Fine, bossy,” she replied, and did as instructed, but George noticed that she did lighten her touch ever-so-slightly. But that just made it worse, because it hadn’t hurt in the first place, and now it…Well, it tickled, and George would rather be in pain than have Cristina Yang find a new thing to tease him about.

He tensed despite his best efforts, but he assumed the average patient would do the same. It was awkward, uncomfortable, sometimes painful and sometimes ticklish to get felt up by doctors. He would have to keep that in mind in the future, try and make the experience less uncomfortable.

“Why are you so tense?” she asked, annoyance clear in her tone.

“I’m not,” George replied, defensive.

“You are, you’re being all weird. There’s no way I’m hurting you, this is the pressure I’d use in pediatrics.”

To prove her point, she lightened her touch again, barely pressing down, brushing fingers over his belly through his scrubs and he couldn’t help but let out a little squeak.

Time seemed to freeze in the hall, and George looked up at Cristina, feeling as vulnerable as a patient with their chest cavity open on the table beneath her curious gaze.

“No way,” she said. “Are you…Are you ticklish?”

“No, I’m not, and I think I just heard my pager, actually, so—”

“Oh, no, O’Malley, you are not getting out of this one,” she said, grinning. “Lay down, I’m finishing my assessment. Have you been having any abdominal pain lately?”

“Cristina, seriously, don’t you dare!” George cried, but was quickly cut off by his own giggling.

“I am never letting you live this down. I’m telling Meredith, and Izzie. I’ll even tell Karev, he’ll have a field day with—”

“No, Cristina, please!” he said, batting uselessly at her hands. “I’ll murder you, I’m serious.”

He had always hated being tickled, his brothers always taking it way too far. If the others all found out, he would be tormented every day, just like when he was a child.

“You don’t sound so serious when you’re giggling,” Cristina said.

She used both hands to scribble fingers over his belly and sides, and George squirmed like mad on the gurney, whining. He felt ridiculous, blushing and giggling like a child while on call as a surgical intern.

She focused on the sides of his stomach, one of his worst spots, and he squealed in the most embarrassing way. God, he was never going to hear the end of this, he knew it.

“Oh my god, this is priceless,” Cristina said. She was laughing, too, but it didn’t feel malicious. George wasn’t as close to her as he was to Izzie or Meredith, but he still considered her a friend. She’s grown on him, despite her know-it-all attitude, her relentless teasing, and apparently, now, he would have to put up with her tickling him.

Life as an intern could get weird.

“What is going on here?”

George groaned when he recognized the voice as Izzie’s, and if Izzie was here, it meant that Meredith wasn’t far behind.

“O’Malley’s ticklish,” Cristina said. “I was practicing an abdominal exam on him, and he started giggling!”

Izzie giggled. “Oh my god, no way! George, how am I your best friend and I didn’t know this?” she asked.

George forced himself to sit up, squirming wildly away from Cristina. “No, no, we are never speaking of this again. I’m serious, both of you!”

“What’s George serious about?” Meredith asked, coming around the corner, just as he’d predicted.

“That we aren’t allowed to tickle him,” Izzie replied.

“I hate you all,” George said, arms crossed protectively around his middle. “And I’m leaving now, I’m gonna go do my job instead of messing around.”

He stormed down the hallway with the sound of his friends laughing, his cheeks still flushed, still slightly short of breath, but also feeling oddly lighter than he had when he entered the hospital that morning.

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