Again, much as I want their bodies-the characters of Bobby Hobbes and Darien Fawkes are not mine. They belong to their creators and I'm just borrowing them to play with for a moment (like that great scene in Spaceballs.) I promise I came up with this idea before I read Lucy Hale's 'Thanks' but for another point of view I suggest you check that one out.

The following story contains implied slash-I'm working up to an NC-17 one..but not quite there -yet-.if that bothers you (why would it?) then don't read on.as always comments would be greatly appreciated. I'd also like to say, that anything that comes out of my fingers is totally and completely Chalie's fault. Please excuse any grammatical errors-I'm working on it.If there are any numbered lines those are supposed to be italized-fanfic has been uploading my word files strangely but I wanted to get this up..so here it is.

Would the Turkey Be Invisible?



1 Crap

Thought Agent Bobby Hobbes. He stared down at the object of his current frustration. For once it wasn't Fawkes's smug-but handsome-mug, quite far from it actually. Unless Darien had suddenly gone really pale and goose-bumpy which made Bobby think about the other night.when he'd done that thing..and Darien had made that noise. He sighed but refused to be distracted for long. He just didn't understand it. He considered himself a good agent. He wasn't ever caught off-guard. He was on top of things. He was Bobby Hobbes. For one desperate moment the thought of calling Eberts crossed his mind. Eberts would probably look through the agencies files in two seconds and have the answer Bobby needed. But then again, Bobby didn't need the answer that badly. Besides, Eberts was probably too busy tending his temple to the Fat Man. Bobby sighed, poking the plucked and defenseless looking turkey in front of him. You wouldn't think it, but being a federal agent for a somewhat rogue agency and putting his life on the line was easier then cooking a turkey. It had all seemed so easy yesterday. In a rare moment of no one being around---they'd relaxed--- Darien had smiled that particular smile.

2 Do Federal Agents celebrate Thanksgiving Hobbes?

Don't get smart Kid, the Fat Man won't let us have the day off, not when we're about to finish this.

I already asked him that smug smile again he's already said yes. So, Bobby, my place or yours?

And through his own amazement he'd managed to stammer out -his- place and the time. And now, he was stuck with this. Again he eyed the turkey in front of him with distaste. With a shake of his head Bobby made up his mind. He grabbed the canister of Stove Top stuffing poured it into the turkey, added a glass of water and then plunked the entire thing in the oven. He set the oven timer for six hours and then eyed the table. It should take him more then six hours to figure out how to set that.

***Six and a half hours later***

Crap

Now, -why- was that sounding familiar? Bobby eyed the table as if expecting it to start walking away at any moment. Instead it stayed still and stubbornly retained it's elegant appearance. The silverware he'd cobbled together and the mis-matched candles in their (miracle of miracles) matching candelabras all glinted in the candles he'd just lighted. Who needed Eberts? Hobbes ran a hand through his still thick hair (I've seen the show -I- know) and allowed himself a smile.

*DING* and then a more mellow *ding-dong*

Fawkes at the door won out over the turkey but just barely. Hobbes loved his partner, but sometimes a turkey is just more important. Did he really just think that? Shaking his head at what Thanksgiving was doing to him, Bobby went to answer the door. Fawkes lounged against the doorframe, smiling smugly (what'd you expect?) at Bobby.

Hey partner he drawled, making Bobby's notoriously strong knees go weak. Two strong arms gripped his shoulders. Hard, almost bruising lips pressed against his. The neighbors Bobby thought for a moment and then quickly dismissed it in the face of Fawkes' searing heat. Man oh man; this made the turkey so worth it. Finally Fawkes' released him and smiled even wider. His eyes roved around the apartment, his smile growing even wider with each small touch that he noted.

You're such a turkey Hobbes. Darien began, but that's as far as he got before Bobby emitted a very un-Hobbes-like sound.

The turkey! And with a clang the oven door was open and steaming. When Bobby plunked down the turkey roaster, the turkey was..well..to put it kindly a sight to behold. Darien took one look at the charred mass and began to laugh soundlessly. Bobby sighed, not finding it in him to be upset at his partner.

I feel like I'm on a sitcom re-run. Any minute June Cleaver is gonna come out and show me the right way to cook a turkey. Do you know I even considered calling Eberts?

Darien wiped his eyes, but couldn't stop chuckling That desperate huh? Get me garbage bag Hobbes.

Bobby did as he was told, just like some kind of Boy Scout he thought ruefully, holding out the garbage to his partner. Darien smiled at the empty canister of Stove Top as he took hold of the turkey in a pair of oven- mitts. With one breath the mess of the turkey between the oven-mitts had disappeared. It landed with a hollow *thunk * inside of the garbage as Bobby sighed.

Sorry Fawkes he murmured, I had it all planned

So did I, and I wasn't planning on eating Turkey.

***Much, much later***

Hey.Fawkes.. Bobby gently prodded the warm body next to him.

Uh? Fawkes murmured half-asleep already.

3 Happy Thanksgiving



The End



Happy Early Thanksgiving everyone---may your turkeys turn out better!