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Spike!

Summary:

December 3rd: Spike! - 500 words - Oh no, someone has spiked the Eggnog! How terrible!~ /s

Notes:

Set sometime after the Cell Games

Work Text:

“This party sucks!”

Chiaotzu blushed. A band of invisible power snapped Tien’s mouth shut, keeping it closed. The triclops glared at him, his cheeks flushed and his gaze slightly dazed. Yamcha had spiked the punch. Everyone was drunk. Bulma was furious.

Chiaotzu, let go of me.

Not until you get better at figuring out if you’re speaking through your mind or your mouth.

Tien glowered. His jaw tightened as he fought against Chiaotzu’s telekinesis. The telepath brought his fingers closer together, raising his eyebrows.

Do you really think this is the extent of my power? Don’t test me, Tien.

Tien flushed even redder. Fine. Okay. Telepathy only. Okay?

Chiaotzu shot him a look that told him that he was not convinced. Tien growled low in his throat and lowered his gaze. Bulma was glaring daggers at both of them. A winning smile from Chiaotzu placated her somewhat and she returned to telling Yamcha off. The desert bandit smiled dopily up at her, his cheeks coloured with his own drunken flush. Luckily the Saiyans were not present; the last time Goku had been drunk he’d accidentally broken the gravity chamber and torn one of Piccolo’s arms right off. Granted he could regrow it with only a bit of effort, but that had been a tense few days.

Tien mumbled something, his words muffled and forced out between his closed lips, and Chiaotzu glanced at him.

What was that, big brother?

The mumble again. An embarrassed frown pulled at Tien’s features. His eyes became distant, his gaze unfocused as he concentrated. With a great deal of effort, it seemed, he finally used his telepathic voice to say, This is real dumb, Chiaotzu. Can we go home yet?

Do you think you can fly straight?

Despite the band of power keeping his mouth firmly closed, Tien managed a grin.

You’d help me fly, wouldn’t you, little brother? The man who taught you how to fly all those years ago?

I’m the one who taught you how to fly, Chiaotzu replied darkly. Tien’s grin widened fractionally.

C’mon, Chiaotzu. You wouldn’t let me fly into the side of a mountain or off a cliff.

If you flew off a cliff it wouldn’t matter. But a smile was threatened at the edges of Chiaotzu’s expression and he found himself disarmed by his best friend’s demeanour. It had been a long time since Tien had been properly drunk, and the spectacle of it was quite amusing.

He stood and approached Bulma. She was still berating Yamcha, but her demeanour had softened and their long friendship had clearly reasserted itself.

“Tien and I are going to go home now,” he said, gently touching her arm. “Thank you for the party.” He turned his gaze to Yamcha, trying not to smile. “And for the entertainment.”

“Fly safe,” Yamcha said, grinning.

Tien got up, swaying back and forth uncertainly. He would definitely not be able to fly in a straight line. But that was okay. Chiaotzu would look after him.