(/Wow, I haven;t done one of these in forever- But here is finally a Barian Thanksgiving oneshot! Hope you all enjoy it and have a wonderful holiday!)

He knew little about the holiday, especially how one prepared for it, but he made sure no one else knew this. He was willing to try anyways. It really couldn't be that difficult anyways, right?

Most of it was a bit of a given; the holiday mostly focused around the family dinner, where, as per named, people said what they were thankful for to their loved ones. Though after a quick reminder of who he lived with, Dumon knew that was asking far too much and was better left out of the whole dinner equation. It would only end in tears that way, and was likely to even without adding extra room for insults.

So as it was, he only needed to focus on making dinner for everyone. Specifically one with turkey as the centerpiece. He could definitely do that.

In reality though, Dumon had little knowledge about cooking anything. He usually did breakfast since he was the first awake and breakfast foods were fairly easy to prepare, but when it came to dinners from scratch, that was when Marin took over. At those times he usually just stood off to the side to keep her company and handed her the things she asked for like a child. Luckily she didn't seem to mind and didn't mention his minor incompetence to anyone.

Now though, he was beginning to wish she had. It would have saved him from the grief he had now standing alone in the kitchen with no idea what to do or where to get started. He would ask for help, but Marin was out with Tori and Cathy, Nasch too wasn't home at the moment, and he was too nervous to call him to ask he come back to help, and he had a sinking feeling the others would be more of a burden than a help in this situation.

Yes, this was a fine disaster he'd gotten himself into. And the only person he could blame was himself.

Dumon turned toward the frozen turkey on the counter with a blank expression, unsure what exactly he was supposed to do with it. He assumed it just had to cook in the oven for a few hours, and the wrapping on it at least gave a temperature to cook it at as well as an internal temperature it should reach.

Sighing, he decided to do something self admittedly uncharacteristic of himself and simply wing it. He didn't have time to see if the cooking channels on the television were doing tutorials or run to the library for a 'How to: Thanksgiving for Dummies' book.

With a little more difficulty than originally planned, Dumon had cut off the wrapping on turkey and placed it in the tin tray it was supposed to cook in. He stared expressionlessly at the dead bird in hopes it would tell him what he should do next, but no such luck. He really had a bad feeling there was something else he was supposed to do before starting to cook it, but shrugged it off and managed to carry it to the oven. It was really a lot heavier than it looked.

He closed the oven and reread the turkey wrapper several more times for assurance it had no further directions and turned the dial to the designated temperature. He had briefly wondered how he was supposed to know when it's internal temperature was right, but dismissed it for the time being. It was still frozen at the moment and would take a while before it got anywhere near done, so he decided to use the time to go to the library and pick up a few cook books to study.

Three and a half hours later, and feeling much more enlightened about the world of food [but still helpless nonetheless], Dumon once again approached the kitchen with a minuscule more amount of confidence.

He dug out several pots and pans from the cupboards and placed them on the stove before getting the needed ingredients to begin the side dishes. Luckily, they didn't take long to get started.

Once they were nearly done cooking, Dumon decided to check on the turkey, only to find when he opened the oven door that it had filled up with smoke, and came billowing out as soon as he had pulled open the door.

He stumbled back in surprise and coughed, wondering what had gone wrong, though the thoughts were cut short when the fire alarm went off.

Finding a fire extinguisher was now top priority, Dumon turned to leave the room only to find he had no idea where exactly he was in the room anymore due to the incredible amount of smoke, and thanks to this, he tripped over a chair and faceplanted into the wall.

And that was how Mizar found him when he came to investigate the cause of the fire alarm; picking himself off the floor with a bloody nose, a black eye, and smoke smudged glasses with one lens cracked.

"What the hell happened?" Mizar wasn't sure what else to ask in the situation. He had no idea how Dumon of all people could make such disarray with just an oven.

Dumon blinked and glanced over to said weapon of destruction that contained a flaming, black bird and shrugged. "There were complications."

"I can see that!" Mizar replied, quickly turning off the oven and the burners that Dumon had neglected to do, then dragged the other Barian out of the room when he started coughing again.

They sat outside on the front porch in silence other than the harsh beeps of the fire alarm before Dumon weakly glanced up at Mizar. "Please don't tell Nasch.."

The blonde grimaced. "It's not exactly like we can hide it.. He'll probably be back soon, and there's no way there's time to clean up, let alone remake the food.."

Dumon sighed in acceptance that Mizar was right and hung his head.

"Really though, what did you do?"

The knight looked away in embarrassment. "..There must have been something wrong with the oven.."

"..You had no idea what you were doing, did you?"

"..Yes.."

Mizar shook his head and rubbed his temples. "Why didn't you just tell Marin or Nasch that..?"

"..I didn't want to let them down when they asked me.."

Of course you didn't.. He thought, looking up and wincing when he saw Nasch's motorbike pulling into the driveway.

When he approached the two, he had the same initial reaction as Mizar. "What the hell happened?"

Mizar glanced at Dumon who looked completely ashamed and guilty, and was obviously trying to summon the courage to admit he may have caused permanent damage to the kitchen as well as royally ruined the food. Smiling weakly, Mizar looked back up at the clearly confused Nasch and replied, "There was something wrong with the oven."

Dumon looked at him with poorly concealed surprise, and Nasch rolled his eyes at the obvious lie.

"Whatever.. I just better not find the kitchen on fire.. And you better clean up whatever mess there is.." He muttered, stepping past them into the house.

Once he was out of earshot, Dumon gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you Mizar.. You didn't need to do that though.."

Mizar shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal.. He clearly didn't even care either way. I only wish Vector was here, then I could have blamed it on him.."

Dumon shook his head in amusement and stood up. "I should probably start cleaning up the kitchen.."

"Alright.. I'll help you. It seems you shouldn't be left unattended in the kitchen. You're practically a fire hazard without Marin."

Dumon averted his eyes at the truth of the statement, but decided not to comment on it, instead murmuring, "Thanks.."

"No problem.. That's what friends are for, after all."