Dr. Strange was a curious individual with a very fitting name. Their brief encounter during the scary Thanos period had made that more than obvious to Spider-Man. Now, months later, Strange had started stopping by the compound to discuss protecting-the-world type matters with Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner. It was crazy to think there were people on earth who could actually use honest-to-God magic. He was like a page straight out of a Harry Potter book come to life. Then again, how many onesie-wearing teenagers with spider powers were out there, swinging from buildings and fighting crime? The headcount from both ends was probably pretty slim.
Peter had only talked to Strange a few times. He seemed like a pretty cool dude. He used wizardry to help defend the world—how awesome was that?
But whenever Strange was around, Mr. Stark always seemed a lot more snappy and irritable. The two were constantly butting heads, arguing over whose methods worked best at keeping the world safe: science and technology, or sorcery and spell books. Which was exactly what was happening right now.
“My A.I.-equipped drones can locate a threat three thousand miles out from earth, gather data, and smother it before the bad guys even break the atmosphere. Or, if necessary, have a battle strategy drawn up for the whole crew to follow with more than enough time to stop for lunch.”
Peter gingerly peeked through the doorway, listening in to the heated conversation. Homework could wait: this was much more interesting.
“Or I could teleport the threat to another dimension. No casualties, no potential for system failure, and no need for your dumb metal play dolls.”
“Yeah, except you can’t be everywhere at once, doc. My drones can form a protective shield around the entire world. One dude in a robe and a cape isn’t gonna be enough for what we’re up against.”
“And how hell did that idea turn out for you last time, Stark? Sokovia ringing any bells?”
Peter frowned. Now that was going too far. He stepped into the room, crossing his arms against his chest.
“Hey, um, could you two stop fighting please?” The doctor and the billionaire turned towards him, surprised by the interruption. “It’s, uh, really loud. And mean. And unproductive.”
Dr. Strange glared at him, then settled into a meditation-like position, floating a few feet off the ground. “This doesn’t concern you, kid. We’re trying to protect all life and reality, not pass a biology quiz.” Diagrams and shapes began to appear from his hands, glowing gold and dripping with sparks. Peter couldn’t help but be intrigued, despite how much his words stung.
“Don’t talk to him that way,” Tony snapped. “The kid’s smart, and he’s right.” He looked to Peter, smiling suavely. “Which is why he’s going to settle this thing once and for all. Tell us, kid—which is better? Magic, or science?”
Strange rolled his eyes. Peter blinked. This was not a position he’d anticipated being in.
“Uh,” he said, looking between the two. For many reasons, he couldn’t help but be biased. “Science?”
“Ha! Told ya.” Tony elbowed Strange in the ribs, causing him to lose his balance and nearly drop to the floor. He staggered to his feet, shooting the pair a dirty look.
“His opinion means nothing. If it really mattered to me, I could change his mind in two seconds.”
Peter grinned. “You’re just jealous that magic’s lame and not cool with the kids. Get with the program, doctor: science rules, magic drools.”
“Hell yeah it does,” Stark cheered, giving the kid a high-five. Peter beamed as bright as the sun at his mentor’s approval. Their behavior was not unlike two six-year-olds at recess. Strange studied the young hero with a level expression. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.
“You know, it’s a bit unwise to insult the power of sorcery while face-to-face with the Sorcerer Supreme.”
Peter turned to Stephen quickly. Unease crossed his expression for only an instant, then quickly dissolved into artificial calmness. Now that he had earned Mr. Stark’s favor, he was determined to stand by him.
“Pfft, alright then, Carbonaro Effect. Your cute little magic tricks don’t scare me.”
“Are you sure about that, Peter?” he asked, summoning a bundle of magic streams between his fingers. “Perhaps a quick demonstration will convince you otherwise.”
Peter swallowed. “Uh, heh, I doubt it. Sorry doc, but you’re not turning this nerd. Science is awesome, magic sucks, and nothing you do will ever make me—wha—w-what is—hey!”
The strings of magic stretched from Strange’s fingers and started curling around Peter’s arms and legs. They were pink and felt like feathers against his skin, which made him prickle with goosebumps and bite his lip. When he tried to pull himself free, they stretched with him and tightened their grips.
“They’re called the Arms of Skilamilog. What do you think?”
“They—heh—they feel k-kinda funny.” He shrugged, trying to look composed. “Still lame, though.”
“Really?” he said, flicking his fingertip. At the sorcerer’s command, the ropes tensed and split into more and more pieces. Then, all at once, they lunged for his torso, nuzzling his belly and twitching against his underarms. Peter jolted, sputtering in surprise, trying to rip his arms down to guard himself, but the magical bands held their grip, keeping them upright, leaving his entire midsection exposed. His face flushed pink as he bit back a tsunami of giggles.
“How about now? Still lame?”
“W-what is thihis supposed to prove?” he managed to say, grasping to maintain his relaxed front, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “You—eheh—you’re nohot gohonna—ehaha stahahap it!”
His willpower was short-lived. As the strings increased in both number and intensity, Peter caved and started wrenching against the restraints, giggles pouring from him in an unstoppable wave. They wiggled up his sides, brushed the backs of his knees, and tickled every inch of arms, honing in on the hollows of each pit. This was not the kind of magic display Peter expected from as stoic a figure as Dr. Strange. Nevertheless, with no defenses to deter them, the mystical streams attacked Peter freely and cruelly, driving the ticklish teenager up the wall.
“Had enough yet?” Strange asked smugly, watching him squeal and flail hysterically.
“Hey, that’s cheating,” Stark said, though he couldn’t help but smile at the kid’s ridiculously adorable laughter. Peter threw his head back, the tickly strings too much for him to handle.
“Ohokay! Okahay! I gihive up! Mahagic is cool toohoo!" He squirmed and blushed, giggling shrilly. "Now stahap! Pleehease stahahap! Mihister Strahange!”
Stephen grinned. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” With a twirl of his finger, the strings dissipated into nothing. Peter stumbled into the wall, hugging his belly, giggling breathlessly. “And that’s Doctor Strange to you.”
“Pete, you traitor!” Stark cried, feigning disappointment. “Where’d all that gusto and loyalty go?”
Peter burned inside and out, unable to believe he’d just been tickled into submission by a renowned superhero—and had barely lasted more than a minute against the unconventional torture method. Being extraordinarily ticklish was bad enough as is, but having Strange and Stark now know about it was beyond embarrassing.
“Told you magic is the best,” Stephen said triumphantly. It seemed the kid’s unexpected intrusion had turned their argument from a testosterone-fueled pissing contest into a silly little game. And Tony Stark was all in.
“Is that so?” he replied shrewdly, slipping on his pair of high-tech sunglasses. “My turn, doctor. FRIDAY, send in the drones.”
Peter recovered from the tickling magic streams just in time for the next wave of torment. Materializing from seemingly nowhere, two geometric-looking machines flew at him from across the room, drawing a yelp from his lips. They didn’t look anything like Tony’s typical Iron Man armors. He tried to spring out of the way, but their repulsor jets propelled them far faster than Spider-Man could move. In seconds, he was pinned to the wall, eyes wide as softballs.
“Hey! M-Mr. Stark? What are you doing? What are these things?”
“They’re my latest version of nano-drones, designed to morph into whatever form best suits the task at hand. Perfect for protecting the world from baddies, and for tackling any other challenge thrown their way. Like, for example…”
He clicked the side of his glasses, and the drones began to ripple and shape-shift. One formed peg-like extensions while the other developed claws. Peter didn’t understand what was happening, until Tony’s machines pounced on his vulnerable torso. Unlike the gentle magic tickling, which grew gradually in volume and intensity, this attack was insufferable from the start. Spider-Man shrieked, balling his hands into fists.
“Ahahaha! Oho gahahad, wahait! Nohohaha!” The pegs buzzed mercilessly against his ribs while the claws dragged up and down his sides, sending the kid into a frenzy of laughter. But they didn’t stop there. They moved all over, teasing him relentlessly, exploring the full extent of his sensitive midsection. The drones seemed to be calculating which areas were most ticklish based on his reactions, and then focusing more of their attention on those spots. Armpits and tummy were their final verdicts. It was maddening. Peter was reduced to a squealing, laughing mess almost instantly, his face and ears flushing pink.
“Now, remind us again: which is the best, Mr. Parker? Magic, or science?”
“Ehehahahaho my gahahad!” he screeched. “S-scihihience! Scihience is behehest! Ahahahahagh!”
Stark offered Strange a quirky salute. “Check and mate, my friend. FRIDAY, you may cease fire.”
The drones released him, retreating back to their creator. Peter dropped to the ground, barely keeping his footing, his head spinning with giggles. He had no idea how he’d tangled himself up in this war between magic and science, or why they’d decided that tickling was the chosen way of proving which one was better, but he was more than ready for it to be done with. He hugged himself around the middle, puffing weakly.
“Is that really the best your bots can do?” Strange asked, faking an unimpressed yawn. Peter looked up sharply.
“Oh my gohosh, stop! Noho more! Both are cool, okay? Both are the best! Let’s just agree with that, or agree to disagree, I don’t care.” He help up his hand, giggling dizzily. “Just…stop.”
Tony chuckled and grinned at Stephen. “You know what? I think the kid’s right. Science and magic are both pretty good at protecting the world.”
Strange smiled back, a gleam in his eye. “I suppose so. After all, both have their own benefits and drawbacks.”
“But you know what would make science and magic even better?”
The pair turned to Peter at the same time, a mischievous energy radiating off them. Peter went stiff.
“Working together.”
“Huh?” Peter yelped, realizing what they meant. “N-no, wait! Dr. Strange! Mr. Stark! Nononohohohahahaha!”
The mystical strings returned, sprouting hands this time that squeezed his sides and scribbled all over his belly. The drones came too, drilling mercilessly into his ribs and underarms. Peter screeched, thrashing against the newly reformed restraints, laughter pealing from his lips, hiccups punctuating every bout. The tickling combo was on a whole other level of evil. It was too much for the teen to bear. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, squealing hysterically.
“HEHEHELP! PLEEHEEHEASE! I CAHAHAN’T—AHAHAHAHAHAAA!”
“Well, what do you know. Teamwork does make the dream work.”
They teased the kid for a couple more minutes before letting him go, amused by how cute and ticklish the young hero was. The happy, childish side of him rarely made an appearance nowadays—near-world-ending events tended to have that effect. But they were glad to know there was one sure-fire way they could bank off of in case he was in desperate need of cheering up. When they finally withdrew their forces, Peter was on the ground, wheezing with giggles. Strange and Stark helped him to his feet, patting his back and ruffling his hair.
“Oho gosh…oh mahan…eheheh.” He leaned against Tony feebly. “I’m n-never getting involved…in your guys’ fihights…ever again.”
“But look how well you dissolved the conflict,” Stark insisted, slinging an arm around his shoulders. He poked him in the tummy, making him squeak and recoil. “And your laugh is so adorable, it could probably end any fight. And possibly cure cancer.”
“True,” Stephen agreed. “Though my resolve on the matter still stands. Magic is so much cooler than science.”
Tony smirked at him threateningly. “You really want to keep this up, old man? Pete, why don’t you—”
But Peter was already booking it towards the door, arms curled around his midsection. “Figure it out amongst yourselves!” he shouted. He disappeared into the other room, red with embarrassment and still stifling some leftover giggles. Tony Stark and Stephen Strange looked at each other amusedly, sharing a quiet laugh over the endearing kid.