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"Goddammit Wash! I said to get the damn turkey out of here!" York danced out of the way so he wouldn't drop the green bean casserole as Wash almost crashed into him for the umpteenth time while chasing the live turkey Connie had gotten them. York wasn't even sure how her contact had managed to get a live turkey, much less sneak it onto the ship.
"Sorry!" Wash yelped as he almost crashed into the stove that they had commandeered from the kitchen staff. "I'm used to chasing cats, not turkeys."
"Well catch it faster because I've still got to have someone kill the feathery bastard so we can eat it and I've got to take out the pecan pie." York huffed and he put the casserole over by the other assortment of foods he had collected.
"I thought you couldn't cook? Didn't the kitchen staff ban you from the kitchen because you set fire to the stove twice and made the toaster explode?" Wash panted and lunged for the turkey again. It let out an alarmed squawk and evaded him. Again.
York shot Wash a look as he aimed a kick at the turkey. And missed. Seriously, how the hell haven't they caught it yet? The kitchen wasn't that big and the turkey wasn't small either.
"For your information, Massachusetts had already been trying to fix the toaster. I was unlucky enough to use it while he took a break. And the others are helping me. Connie can make cranberry sauce like nobody's business, Florida made the stuffing, Maine made the pumpkin and pecan pie, Wyoming's made the gravy that no one is going to eat, I'm making the mashed potatoes, and FILSS managed to find a pretty good green bean casserole recipe. And South naturally has acquired us some booze." York said.
"I'm making banana bread," Wash said, sweat gleaming on his skin after 15 minutes of many unsuccessful attempts to catch the turkey.
York raised a brow. "When? And why? We've already got two different pies." York was taking his self-appointed role of Thanksgiving manager very seriously and if Wash messed it up… well, York isn't going to immediately save him from his next unfortunate misshapen with a car (it'll happen. The mission doesn't feel completed without Wash having a bad run-in with a car).
"Not telling you where because Maria might actually kill me and I don't like pie. Neither do my sisters. Mom and Dad would have pie while I made banana bread for me and my sisters." Wash shrugged.
York narrowed his eyes before sighing. "Okay. Just gimme a heads up next time, mkay?"
Wash grinned. "You got it."
The brief moment of brotherhood was killed when the turkey decided to be the hunter instead of the hunted and charged at Wash, gobbling loudly. Wash shrieked and dove to the other side of the counter while York tried to find sanctuary on the counter.
At that precise moment, the door slid open with a hiss and South walked in, a bottle of wine in each hand (but York knew she had a small thing of vodka in her bra. York has seen one too many moments of when South would reach into her bra and pull out vodka during movie night).
"What the hell have you idiots done?" She asked, annoyed and not even surprised by the turkey. All of them have seen too much weird shit to be surprised.
"Help us!" Wash wailed as it was now the turkey chasing him. York nodded furiously from his perch on top of the fridge that he was balanced precariously on. And by that, he means he was about to fall off and break his tailbone or something.
South snorted and set the bottles of wine down and snapped a picture of the scene with her phone with a look of pure glee.
"South!" York complained.
"What? I need a new lock screen background." South grinned before whipping out a gun from her boot and shooting the turkey (no, he and Wash did not scream like little girls at the unexpectedness of it thank you very much), nailing it in the neck. It let out a blood-choked gobble before falling to the floor with a dull thump .
"Whimps." South scoffed as she marched over and picked it up.
"Uh, where are you going?" York asked South as she started to leave the kitchen, turkey in hand.
South turned around, a look on her face. "Well, I'm going to the showers to get this thing ready to be cooked. Easier to clean up the blood. Unless you want me to do it here?" She asked, an eyebrow raised.
York and Wash shook their heads vigorously, both of them saying, "Nope that's okay!"
"Good." And South strutted out of the kitchen with the smugness of a cat.
It was silent for a moment before York and Wash looked at the pool of blood on the floor, knowing someone was going to have to clean it. They locked eyes. "Not it," York said and Wash hurled a spoon at him, causing York to fall off the fridge with a loud thunk.
"Carolina! C'mon, dinners just about ready." York said loudly, banging on her door again.
York was about bang on it again until it opened to reveal an annoyed Carolina, her red hair disheveled and blinking away the final remnants of sleep.
"What?" She said irritability before squinting at him. "York, why is there smoke on your face?"
York cursed and dragged his hand down his face a couple of times. "I may have, might've… blownupthetosteragainandidontwanttotalkaboutit," York mumbled sourly.
Carolina's eyes were twinkling with amusement. "Talk about what?" She said mischievously. Something rare from their fearless leader.
York cracked a grin. "Anyway, dinner is basically ready if you wanna join us in the rec room?"
Carolina studied him for a moment, her emerald green eyes freezing him in place. "I assume South smuggled alcohol of some kind in?" The again went unspoken.
"Wine. Decent kind." York nodded.
Carolina sighed. "Give me a couple of minutes."
York grinned. "You got it, boss. See you in a little bit." He said before hurrying back to the rec room to help Wash set up. Or make sure he doesn't break anything because God forbid you leave Wash to his own devices.
As York ran off, he didn't see Carolina watch him leave with a fondness that she reserved only for him before slipping back into her room to make herself more presentable.
"Wash!" York hollered from the hallway. "Is everything on the table!?"
"Yup!" He called back. "Just waiting on you and Carolina!"
York skidded to a stop before he crashed into the doorway and made a fool of himself. Once York got himself situated, he strolled into the rec room and grinned.
York and Wash had gotten the big table that they used for poker (specifically strip poker) and had all the food dishes on the table. And better yet, everyone had turned up. Including Wyoming. Yay.
"Looks great, Wash. Thanks for not burning anything."
"Said the guy who literally just had the toaster exp-"
"I thought you said we weren't going to mention it. And what is up with the curly straw, Wash?" York sighed as he spied a curly straw in Wash's wine cup (they don't have proper wine glasses so they have to make do).
Wash just grinned, shamelessly.
"What's going on?" Carolina asked, appearing at York's side.
"Fuck!" He jumped, clutching his heart. "Jeez, you're quiet."
"Oh my god, can we eat?" South groaned and North elbowed her. South poked him back and went back to eyeballing the turkey.
Both York and Carolina took their seats, which were next to each other. Sweet.
"What's that?" Connie asked, nodding at the two loaves in front of them.
Wash beamed. "Banana bread. Family recipe. Thought I would make it this year, for old time's sake.
"I'm going to try it. Who said we can't have dessert first?" York grinned and took a slice. He took a bite and he used every ounce of self-restraint to not let his jaw drop open. "Holy shit Wash, this is really damn good." York shot Wash a thumbs up and wolfed the rest of it down.
Intrigued, the rest of the Freelancers took a slice, and pretty soon Wash was getting all types of compliments.
Carolina coughed and pulled something out of her mouth. It was… oh you've got to be fucking kidding. It was a damn turkey feather.
Wash paled and Carolina raised a brow. She looked over at South who had blood on her nose and a feather stuck on her shirt that had gone unnoticed.
"Am I going to have to deal with this later?" Carolina said.
"Don't go into the farthest shower and you won't," South answered, not bothered, and took a sip of her wine.
Carolina huffed and threw the feather behind her. "Then let's eat." She said, not wanting to have to deal with anything.
York and Wash grinned at each other. Somehow, Thanksgiving hadn't been messed up. That was a success. (And they only had to deal with a few complaints that Wyoming was British and he doesn't celebrate this holiday. He shut up pretty quickly when Connie pointed out he didn't have a problem with freeloading the food.)