Thanksgiving Tradition

"Do we have to?" A voice whines from the corner of the kitchen, where Ben is hanging half in the doorway while simultaneously trying to sneak away. His curls are spectacularly askew, damp with an early snowfall and he's pouting with his snow pants on.

"Yes!" Two voices shout back, insistent where they're settled at the kitchen counter, waiting for him to take said snow pants off and join them for the annual Allen sibling turkey cookie create-a-thon (as their dad loves to call it, much to their embarrassment and their mother's fond amusement).

"But Billie's dad is going to take us sledding while all the jumps are still good!" It's the first snowfall of the year, eight inches of heavy powder and counting, and he doesn't want to be left behind to hang out with his sisters—even if there is chocolate involved (and especially while mom and dad are out finishing up Thanksgiving dinner shopping and they're in charge of him).

Cara is still glaring at the doorway, more than a little annoyed, but Kella's expression softens with the hard won patience of being the oldest. "It's tradition Ben, we make turkey cookies every year." She nods at the supplies, all laid out along the counter, peanut butter cups unwrapped, fudge striped cookies open and a bowl of candy corn and chocolate stars waiting. Cara's eyes roll in exasperation as she turns to fill icing bags, which only deepens the scowl the youngest Allen wears as annoyed with her as she is with him.

Sighing, Kella slides from her stool and pads across the chilly hardwood floor to stoop down in front of her brother. "You know, I really missed you while I was at school," his hard expression falters a little—she knows he's missed her too. Cara and Ben are two peas from the same pod: all energy and enthusiasm and strong personalities and they've been fighting like crazy since Kella left for college, half from missing her and half from driving each other crazy without her to bridge the gaps. "And it would be really nice to get to do something just the three of us, like we used to do."

Cara huffs a little behind them, but she grabs a third bag and starts filling it with chocolate frosting, her own silent acquiescence that she's missed them all hanging out too. Kella notices from the corner of her eye and smiles a little. "Besides, if we don't make them, Dad's going to be pretty disappointed," this argument is the clincher—they all adore both their parents but Barry and Ben are constant partners in crime. There are few fates worse than the idea of disappointing their dad (probably helped by the fact that's he's a literal superhero—how do you disappoint the Flash?) and Kella knows that counts extra for Ben. "He was talking about turkey cookies the whole drive back from school and how excited he was for all our traditions this week."

Because Barry Allen is nothing if not a sucker for traditions and he's done nothing the last eighteen years if not drill the importance of them, and of family, into his kids' minds. They always make turkey cookies the day before Thanksgiving, while their parents finish shopping. Then they have their big family dinner on Thanksgiving, with Grandpa Joe and Uncle Cisco and Aunt Iris and Uncle Eddie and their cousins, after which they have game night and pie. The next day, the boys put up Grandpa Joe's Christmas lights and the girls go shopping and then they eat leftovers at Grandpa's house and put up his tree. Every single year, all planned out, all the same memories and traditions and it all starts with the turkey cookies.

Ben sighs, defeated, and starts shuffling off his snow pants, dropping them in a heap by his dripping boots. Kella smiles and leaves him to it, heading back to the counter to tape down their wax paper work stations while Cara divvies out supplies.

"You forgot the tray," Ben mumbles, when he slides sock-footed back into the kitchen and heads straight for the cabinet where the ridiculously painted turkey tray they made their mom five years ago sits. He's smiling at it by the time he pulls himself on to a stool, unable to resist (it's the ugliest thing any of them have ever seen, but Caitlin always insists on using it).

Cara grins too, leaning across the counter with her pastry bag to squeeze some frosting onto Ben's nose. "Sorry for being mean earlier," she says, laughing at the way his nose scrunches and a bit of chocolate drops to the counter before he swipes it away and licks his thumb clean.

"Sorry for wanting to skip cookies."

Kella hides her grin behind a fudge-striped cookie she's meticulously dabbing with her own bag of frosting, affixing it to the peanut butter cup as soon as her expression is back under control. They're so alike it's crazy and kind of frustrating, but she's definitely missed them the last two and a half months.

"Maybe we can all go sledding once we're finished?"

Ben beams at Cara then turns to Kella, since she's the only one who can actually drive. "Could we?"

"You bet."

They're all covered in frosting by the time Barry and Caitlin come home, bundled up against the cold and weighed down with grocery bags. They take one look at their three kids and start laughing. "Ah yes, the get-frosting-everywhere tradition," Caitlin teases while Barry pulls out his phone and snaps a picture (also a tradition: he has a collage of them on his desk at work).

First time writing basically just the Allen kids but hopefully you guys enjoyed it! I'll probably write some extra family holiday fics in the next month because I love family traditions this time of year and have a couple ideas of things to include. Hope all my American snowbarry family friends had a lovely holiday and everyone else as well!

Take Care & Best Wishes,

AkaOkamiRyu