Work Text:
The Chicken Catastrophe
Tom always says that if he left his three boyfriends alone for too long, the flat would descend into absolute carnage.
Unfortunately, on this particular Tuesday, he was proved right.
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The Reminder
Sam is stretched out on the sofa, socks half off his feet, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. The glow of the screen lit up his face as he chuckles at a meme about an angry goose wearing Crocs. Life is good. Calm. Peaceful. Until his phone buzzes with a message from Tom.
Don’t forget to take the chicken out of the freezer. x
Sam froze. A cold dread spread through him that had nothing to do with poultry. "Oh, bollocks."
He leaps to his feet, knocking the TV remote onto the floor with a clatter, and bolts down the hallway.
"Luke!" he hollers, voice cracking like a town crier announcing the apocalypse. "Luke, did you take the chicken out?"
A muffled voice floats from the bedroom. "What chicken?"
Sam storms in to find Luke lying sprawled across the bed, tangled in bedsheets, hair sticking up like a distressed hedgehog.
"The chicken for dinner!" Sam cries.
Luke blinks, bleary eyed. "Ohhh fuck. I thought you meant metaphorically."
Sam’s jaw drops. "Why would I be asking about metaphorical chicken at..." he checks his watch, "...quarter past four in the afternoon?"
Luke sat up and scratches his head. "I dunno. You’re weird sometimes."
Before Sam could argue, the bathroom door opens and out strolls AJ, towel turban perched on his head, toothbrush dangling out of his mouth. Sam points at him as though he’d been caught red handed.
"Tell me you pulled the chicken out!"
AJ blinks, toothpaste foam on his lips. "...I thought you were doing it."
Sam threw his arms to the heavens. "Oh, for the love of.....no one pulled the bloody chicken out!"
---
The Crisis Meeting
Within five minutes, all three of them are gathered in the kitchen, staring down at the freezer like it contains the Ark of the Covenant. Sam yanks the door open and triumphantly hauls out a rock solid bird wrapped in plastic. He drops it onto the counter with a thud that rattles the cutlery drawer.
"There," he says grimly. "The Chicken."
AJ peers down at it. "It’s like… frozen Excalibur."
Luke pokes it with one cautious finger. "It’s harder than my GCSE maths exam."
Sam rubs his temples. "Tom’s going to be home at seven. He’s expecting to make roast chicken. Not… this."
A silence fell as the three of them consider the lump of icy doom before them. Then Luke straightens up, eyes gleaming.
"Right," he says with the confidence of a man about to ruin everything. "We can fix this. We are clever men."
"You’re barely a clever man," AJ mutters. "You once got lost in Tesco and cried. You don't even know how velcro works."
"Shut it."
---
Attempt #1: Microwave Madness
Their first bright idea is the microwave. Sam wrestles the chicken into it, wings sticking out like it's trying to escape. He slams the door and presses the defrost button.
The three of them huddle around, watching it rotate. At first, things look promising. Then the smell starts.
Smoke wafts out, setting off the smoke alarm. Luke flails a tea towel at the ceiling while AJ rips the plug out of the wall. When they open the door, one wing is blackened and crisp while the rest remained encased in ice.
Sam buries his face in his hands. "We’ve created a mutant. Half phoenix, half glacier."
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Attempt #2: Hairdryer Heroics
Not to be deterred, Luke fetches the hairdryer. He perches on a stool, pointing it dramatically at the chicken like it's posing for a glamour shoot.
Ten minutes later, the only thing melting is Luke’s patience. The chicken still resembles a frosty crime scene, and Luke’s arm is trembling.
"My bicep’s on fire," he complains.
"Yeah, but the chicken isn’t," says AJ.
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Attempt #3: The Spa Treatment
Sam has the next bright idea. He fills the bathtub with warm water and, with great ceremony, lowers the chicken into it.
The three of them stand solemnly around, watching it bob up and down like a pale cadaver on holiday.
AJ folds his arms. "Looks like it’s having a spa day."
"We should put cucumber slices on its eyes," Luke agrees.
Sam groans. "You two have the IQ of a grape."
Luke gasps in mock offence. "At least call me a raisin. Raisins are just grapes with wisdom."
Sam resists the urge to drown him alongside the chicken.
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Attempt #4: Sun Worshippers
By five o’clock, panic had well and truly set in. Luke suggests leaving the chicken out on the balcony to bask in the late afternoon sun. They place it carefully on the little patio table and pull up chairs like it's their guest of honour.
For ten solid minutes, the three of them sat watching it defrost at the speed of continental drift.
AJ sighs. "Brilliant. We’ll have dinner by Christmas."
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Attempt #5: The Science Experiment
Desperation breeds innovation, or in this case, stupidity. Sam rummages through the kitchen cupboards and emerges with every questionable household item he can find.
First, they try rubbing it with salt like it was a block of ice on MasterChef. No luck. Then Luke suggests pouring hot tea over it, which only results in the chicken smelling faintly of Earl Grey.
AJ, meanwhile, has gotten the bright idea to stick it between two electric heating pads. "It’s like a giant chicken panini!" he declares proudly.
Five minutes later, the pads short circuited, sparks flew, and Sam screams, "We're going to burn the flat down for a chicken."
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Attempt #6: Violence
By half six, all patience is gone. Luke took a rolling pin and began hammering the bird like he's auditioning for a Viking reenactment.
"Die, you frozen bastard!" he shouts with each whack.
AJ howls with laughter while Sam genuinely fears the neighbours would call the police.
Because they think Luke's finally snap.
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The Return of Tom
And then, of course, Tom walks in.
He opens the door to the smell of burnt poultry, damp towels, and faintly floral tea. He set his work bag down slowly, eyes narrowing.
In the living room, Sam, Luke, and AJ froze mid action: Sam holding a kettle, Luke gripping the rolling pin, and AJ poised with a cucumber slice he’d been about to stick on the chicken’s head.
There is a long, terrible silence.
Finally, Tom spoke. His voice is calm, deadly calm. "What. The. Hell."
Sam opens his mouth to explain, but Tom held up a single finger. "Don’t. I don’t want to know."
He looks at the bathtub, the hairdryer, the balcony, the blackened microwave wing. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly through his nose. Then, with all the love and fury of a man in a four way relationship, he bellowed:
"You absolute idiots! It's a chicken, not a science experiment!"
The three of them wilted like naughty schoolboys.
---
Takeaway Salvation
Dinner that night came courtesy of the Indian takeaway down the road. Tom sat at the head of the table, eating his curry in grim silence while his three boyfriends avoid eye contact.
Eventually, Sam pipes up meekly. "So… chicken tomorrow, then?"
Tom’s glare could have curdled milk.
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Pip’s Sympathy
Later, when the others are sprawled on the sofa watching telly, Tom slips into the bedroom and dials his best friend, Pip.
"Pip," he sighs, rubbing his temples. "My boyfriends tried to defrost a chicken in the bathtub."
There is a stunned silence on the other end, followed by uproarious laughter.
"I’m not joking!" Tom snaps. "They practically held a seance for the bloody thing. I come home and it’s floating in warm water with cucumber on its head. I can’t leave them alone for a single day."
Through the door, he hears Luke, Sam, and AJ still bickering about whether grapes technically counted as berries.
Tom closes his eyes. "Honestly, mate… pray for me."