//Teatime, Frobisher, and #10 for the short fic meme please~
10. “Please don’t make me socialize.”
The assassin that gotten his head around the idea that he was friends with a talking bird. Honestly, the fact Frobisher was a large bird that talked, drunk, and shifted forms was easiest part of this to work into his worldview. The part where Teatime had kept the bird alive long enough to make friends was the surprising part.
What being friends with a self-described “one bird party” entailed was slightly harder to swallow. In this case, it meant that the penguin had dragged him along to a party that was still only one bird but at least ten humanoids (seven were visible, one was in the loo possibly being ill, and another two were on a terrace outside under the mistaken impression that their alternating kissing and arguing could not be heard) and one dog. Teatime made a valiant attempt at petting the dog before it went to hide under a bed until all the people went away. He didn’t quite envy the dog for having that option, but he could understand why it did so.
It didn’t help that Teatime didn’t know anyone at the party, but that didn’t appear to be hindering Frobisher much. Although he apparently knew the couple on the terrace. He wasn’t sure what Frobisher expected him to actually do, despite somewhat incomprehensible instructions on the subject (Teatime didn’t feel Frobisher had given an understandable explanation of what being “wingman” entailed for Teatime to attempt it, for a start) and in the time since Frobisher left him to get drinks, Teatime had attempted to look comfortable in a corner, came up with at least two ways of killing everyone in the room, and another two ideas he’d like to try on the shapeshifter for getting him into this mess in the first place.
Teatime watched the crowd. Civilizations rose and fell, new species crawled out of the primordial slime, grew wings, and flew away, the universe reached its inevitable collapse, and the minute hand moved a fraction of an inch. Finally, the not dirty but slightly-unwashed cop waddled out of the crowd with a drink in each hand. Well, flipper.
“Ya alright there, Johnny?” Frobisher asked, handing Teatime something in a thin red cup. It bubbled slightly but at least it didn’t smell of alcohol, so he grumbled out a “thank you” and took a sip.
“Haven’t ya moved since ya got here?” Frobisher asked. “Ya could at least loosen up a little, it’s a party.”
The temptation was to ask Frobisher “I’m here, what more do you want?” but a certain level of social graces had been instilled into Teatime by his education, or at least the elegance to not turn on his heel and leave immediately.
“I don’t know any of these people.” Jonathan explained lamely. Frobisher’s face split into one of those distressingly cheerful penguin grins.
“Let’s fix that!” Frobisher grinned, pulling Teatime out of the corner by his coat. It was a great testimony to their friendship that Frobisher’s flipper remained attached to his body and the assassin merely stayed in place, muttering “Please don’t.”
