Now's Your Chance!!! Spamton x Reader

Preparations

The Swatchlings haven't touched you.

Not so much as a peep in complaint at your presence. 

If anything, they seem grateful for your help. Every last one of them is rushing to get something done in preparation for the evening. The scent of sweaty feathers hangs heavy in the room, revealing the exhaustion the avians refuse to show.

At the moment, you're seated on the floor with one, who is teaching you how to fold napkins into cranes.

You're not half-bad at it.

On finishing a particularly neat one, the Swatchling coos in delight. It lifts the napkin out of your hands with a surprising gentleness, taking it to one of many tables and setting it on a plate. You don't have time to be proud, though, as another Swatchling taps your shoulder and gestures for you to join them. 

You stand up and follow it obediently. You're led to a box, from which the Swatchling hands you a smaller box filled with tiny forks.

It leaves to do something else, so you start to set up the forks. You've never seen forks this small before. Queen is quirky like that, though, so you shrug it off and keep working. 

You've finished three tables when a Swatchling- presumably the one from before- sees your work and shrieks. It rushes to collect the forks you'd placed out, scolding you in chirps and whistles as it does so. You're confused and frustrated- even moreso when the Swatchling gently places a fork in each of the champagne glasses stationed around the plates.

When it's done, it takes the box of miniature silverware from your arms with a last disapproving glare and sets off to finish the work.

It's not a second before another Swatchling whisks you off, leaving you disoriented in the middle of the room with a broom in hand.

You start to sweep. You find several Swatchlings beside you, sweeping at a frantic pace. You pick up your own pace, matching their speed as best you can.

You finish the floor far quicker than expected. The Swatchlings hum their praises, then return to the rush. 

For once, you're left without direction, and you're not sure what to do.

And then every Swatchling in the room screams.

You whip your head back to see them all perched on tables and clinging to each other, staring at a Maus on the floor.

Without a second thought, you push up your sleeves and flip your broom into attack position. 

Spurred on by the shrieks of the Swatchlings, you beat the Maus back. It squeaks ferociously, but you are unafraid. If Spamton can wrestle cheese out of their grubby paws, you can do a little clean-up, no problem.

The Maus gives up its reign of terror with one last cry. It skitters into the corner of the room, disappearing into a hole in the wall.

The Swatchlings hop down from the tables, cheering. Even the one that had been frustrated with you- at least, you think it was that one- seemed grateful. 

It isn't long before the work resumes, but any time you move to help, the Swatchlings insist that you rest instead. 

While you're not happy to just watch the others work, it's not much longer before it's all complete anyway. After final adjustments and a heavy dose of feather-scent-nullifying perfume, the work is done. The room is decorated in all the finery Queen demands. Every place is set, every banner is neatly displayed, every ribbon is perfect, and every champagne glass has a tiny fork inside. The floor is clean enough to eat off of. Queen couldn't complain even if she wanted to. You're proud to have been a part of the effort.