Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate! This is the only fandom I'm in where I can write a Thanksgiving fic, so I decided to take my chances with it. It doesn't have much of a plot, but, as the summary says, it is fluff-filled, and I should hope it's funny. If you liked it, feel free to leave a fav or a review!
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"Dean, one should give thanks every day. I do not understand the need for setting aside one entire day for the purpose of giving it."
"Ah, c'mon Cas, you're just cheatin' yourself outta some of Bobby's homemade turkey dinner." Dean Winchester said with a grin from the driver's seat of the Impala.
"Thanksgiving started out as a harvest festival, Cas. People who came to Massachusetts on the Mayflower had a really bad harvest until the Native Americans came and helped them. That year, they gave thanks to God for giving them such a good crop and they had a really big feast." Sam supplied from the back seat, cramped between the many duffle bags.
"Thanks for the history lesson, Teach. Now it's a celebration of family, football, and pumpkin pie." the elder Winchester said, his stomach growling at the mere mention of the delicious treat.
"So I should be spending the day with my angelic brothers and sisters?" Cas questioned, tilting his head.
"Yeah, but they're douchebags. And family don't end in blood." Dean said with a smile. Cas beamed.
"I...I'm honored you consider me family." the angel exclaimed, turning from Sam to Dean in equally amazed astonishment.
Dean gave a grin that said everything which needed to be.
"Welcome to South Dakota, kids. We oughta be there in a couple minutes."
:=/=:
Bobby Singer was sitting on his couch with a beer in his hand, waiting for the turkey to finish brining. He picked that particular technique from some random cooking show on a late-night marathon, and he decided "what the hell" and went with it.
He always liked Thanksgiving-the idea of it, anyway. The idea that the whole family came around to have a big feast and laugh about a pretty stupid football game. But now, though, it was an obligation...an obligation to Karen.
She had loved the fall, and this and Christmas were her favorite holidays.
Sighing at the memories flooding through his head, he got up when he heard the timer beep.
He only had gotten halfway there when he heard a knock on the door.
He wasn't expecting anybody, and demons didn't knock.
With a frown, he turned off the timer and then circled back to the doorway and opened it.
"Hey Bobby," Sam said with a grin, wearing earmuffs and a scarf that blowed in the afternoon wind. It was cold, unusually so for November.
"Got any spare turkey?" Dean said, sticking his hands further down in the leather jacket pockets than Bobby thought was possible.
Bobby gave a smile at their thoughtfulness (or lack of, knowing that they'd probably be eating him out of house and home by the end of the holiday), especially when he saw the half-frozen Castiel bringing up the rear.
"Come on in, you idjits, before you freeze your asses off." he said, opening the door wider.
The three hustled in, thankful for the heat system and cozy house.
"Is there anything we can do to aid you in your cooking endeavors?" Castiel asked, ever the helpful one.
"Yeah, actually-if you could grab some of the stuff from the fridge that I need for making the sides. Not as young as I used to be. Help yourself to a beer while you're at it, I gotta go get the bird." Bobby said, making his way to the garage.
"Shouldn't it be in there?" Dean said, pointing to the oven to a confused expression.
"New technique," Bobby said as he left the two younger hunters and one angel in confusion.
"Let's do as he says." Sam said with a shrug, getting out the various makings of pie, mashed potatoes, and stuffing from the refrigerator.
"Yeah, I could go for a beer right about now." Dean said, going for the six-pack as opposed to the cranberry sauce.
:=/=:
"Get your damn hands offa my pie!"
SMACK!
"Ow!"
Cas and Sam looked at each other and snickered at what was going on next to them. Dean had not-too-secretly tried to sneak a bite of the pumpkin pie, and Bobby had smacked him with his spoon. The eldest Winchester was now cradling the sore hand, and looking ruefully towards the older hunter. "C'mon, Bobby, just one little-"
"No, ya idjit. Not til later." Bobby said, before gesturing vaguely towards the living room. "Go turn on football or somethin', you're gonna have to wait until tomorrow to eat anything anyways."
Shrugging, Sam put back the spoon he was using to stir the stuffing, and Castiel wiped his floury hands on the pink apron that was tied around his waist.
"May I have a roll, Bobby?" Cas asked in a sweet tone, looking at one of them with interest.
"Huh? Yeah, go 'head."
Dean looked at him, shocked.
"Wha-c'mon, Bobby! I thought we were tight, man!" he said in mock betrayal.
"Last time I knew, you didn't offer to clean up the whole kitchen." Bobby said with a smirk on his face.
"C'mon, if he gets a roll then I gotta get a little piece of pie." Dean wheedled.
"You can lick the bowl when I'm done." Bobby said simply, as if he was talking to a little kid. "And besides, you wouldn't smite my ass if I refused you pie."
Dean gave a shrug.
"You got me there." he said, and Free Will retreated into the living room, leaving Bobby in grateful peace.
:=/=:
"Why are they wrestling each other? Don't they have proper arenas to do that?" Cas said in between nibbles of his roll, which, in 2 hours, he had only gotten through the first eighth of the baked good. Dean was reminded of a very adorable, trenchcoat clad mouse.
"Beats me. Guess they're just stupid." Dean said, ever the sensible one.
"Then why are we watching it?" Sam piped up.
"Only thing on." Dean said with a shrug.
They tried to get involved in the game, but it was a failure-they were vaguely aware of Bobby shutting up for the night, turning off the lights and retreating back into bed, but then Dean noticed feet pressing up against his thighs, which meant that Sam had finally lied down and passed out, and then he found himself leaning his head on his hand more often...
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Dean shot up at a distinctive smell.
Turkey.
Somehow during the night, a blanket had wound up around the two brothers, and Cas was sleeping on the floor, curled up not unlike a dog. The hunter only hoped he hadn't fallen from his previous vulture-like position on the arm of the couch somehow and broke something.
"Rise and shine," came Bobby's amused voice from the kitchen. "We got a lotta work to do."
Sam had uttered a small groan and stuffed his head under the couch cushion, but Dean kicked him, and Castiel blinked awake, his big blue eyes shifting into focus and out of Dreamland.
"You heard him." Dean said simply, and shook the blanket off.
:=/=:
The next few hours were a frantic frenzy of culinary activity. Sam almost burnt the cranberry sauce (and how he figured that out, none of them would ever know), Dean almost poured the gravy down the drain, thinking mistakenly that it was grease at the bottom of the pan or something, and Cas had made the mistake of trying to sing along with the Christmas carols on the radio.
Yeah.
That didn't go so well.
And Bobby's glass gravy boat would never, ever be the same.
Even after two hours of Dean critiquing every single one of the Macy's acts, including the balloons, though, they all sat down to dinner.
"Is this where we make the toasts?" Cas said.
"Think you'd find that in the kitchen, Cas-no, no, I was kiddin', kidding!" Dean said, holding him by the arm when he actually went up to try to get to the kitchen.
"Then I would like to make a toast to Bobby, for making this delicious dinner."
"And I'd like to make a toast to family!" Sam said. "Where would we be without it?"
"And I'd like to make a toast to pie, because why the hell not!"
"And a toast to you three idjits, because I like ya a lot. God knows what possessed me to."
Their glasses clinked, and they were just reaching dessert after a delicious meal of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, nuts, rolls, and a salad when Cas piped up.
"Dean, what exactly did you mean last night when you cuddled into my side and murmured 'you're my cherry pie'?" he asked innocently.
Bobby had to clamp both hands over his mouth and turn away from the table to contain his laughter, Sam gave an iconic, shit-eating grin and snickered, and Dean turned a quite brilliant shade of red.
"S-shut up and eat your pie, Cas." he murmured as he dug into his own slice of rich, pumpkin goodness.