Chapter 6: …And That's Why We Ate...

Britin...

5:30 p.m... Who starts Thanksgiving Dinner on time anyway?

At half past five and a third snifter of Jim Beam that day later, Brian was ready to get the “beast” and the side dishes out of the oven and everyone congregated in the kitchen to observe. Brian was a little pissed that apparently no one had any faith in his cooking abilities, so needless to say he was a little smug when the “beast” came out of the oven looking utterly perfect - golden-brown and delicious. Everyone looked at it in awe, except for Debbie, who frowned slightly.

“It doesn't smell right!” She declared confidently.

At Brian's mutinous expression, Jennifer tried to explain as diplomatically as possible.

“It's looks lovely, Brian, truly, it does. But, I think we should check the internal temperature, just to be on the safe side. Do you have a meat thermometer?”

“A meat thermometer?” Brian repeated, feeling completely clueless.

“Out of the way, let me take a look.” Debbie elbowed everyone out of her path and started rummaging through the kitchen drawers. “Aha!” She exclaimed triumphantly, clutching a meat thermometer that has clearly never been used, as it was still encased in a plastic package. She freed it using kitchen shears that magically appeared in her hands, quickly rinsed it and deftly stabbed the bird with a practiced hand into the thickest part of the breast.

“Damn, Brain, this thing is still fucking frozen on the inside! It needs at least a couple more hours to cook through.” She declared as loud groans reverberated around the room. To say that Brian was not happy would be an understatement.

“But it looks done on the outside!” He roared, “It was in the fucking oven for four and a half hours, just like the package said it should!”

“It doesn't mean it's safe to eat, you moron!” Hunter smirked and earned himself a slap upside the head from Debbie.

“Be nice!” She told him, pointing her red manicured finger at his nose. Then turning back to Brian, she said, “You must not have defrosted it enough. Keep your panties on, everyone!” She said confidently, amid continued groans of complaint escaping from several people around the kitchen. “It'll be OK. We'll just have to eat it later. Much later...” She mumbled under her breath.

She covered the turkey with aluminum foil to prevent the outside from burning and told Hunter to put it back in the oven to continue to cook.

“OK, let's see what else we got here!” She demanded.

Everyone clustered around the kitchen island to inspect Brian's other Thanksgiving offerings, so no one noticed when Jennifer Taylor quietly slipped out of the kitchen.

In the end, he didn't do so badly to everyone's enormous surprise. The stuffing was just a little bit dry, but Deb found some chicken stock in the fridge and quickly remedied the situation. The scalloped potatoes were a little too browned, but she just grated a bit more cheese, sprinkled it over the top and called the dish a success. The green bean casserole, however, was declared to be nothing short of perfection. After taste-testing everything, Debbie declared it all to be “pretty fucking good” and directed her various helpers to pop all four side dishes (Cynthia's candied yams included) back into the oven, turned to its lowest setting, to keep warm for the next few minutes.

Besides the still partially frozen turkey, the only other dish that was deemed unfit for consumption in its current form were the mashed potatoes, which at this point, unfortunately, resembled soup. Deb tried to salvage them for a few minutes, but gave up soon after, saying that it would be easier to make a version of baked potato soup, than to resurrect the actual mashed potatoes. She decided to leave “that mess” alone for the time being and do something with it for leftovers tomorrow instead.

At Brian's somewhat stricken expression, Gus, being a compassionate kid that he was, gave him a hug.

“It's OK, Daddy.” He said, “I love potato soup. It's really good, especially if you put a whole bunch of cheese and bacon in it. So, don't worry, I'll eat it!”

Brain returned his embrace and said “Thanks, Sonnyboy! That's really sweet of you.” Then he turned towards Lindsay and Mel standing nearby, observing the exchange, and mouthed silently above his son's head, “What the fuck are you feeding him, you idiots? Cheese and bacon?”

Instead of answering, they just laughed and made their way towards the dining room, following several other people who were walking out of the kitchen.

“Well, Brian, all things considered you did pretty good!” Deb said with a smile on her face and patted his cheek affectionately. “We have your three perfectly good side dishes, Cynthia's candied yams and a salad. I saw the bakery boxes somewhere, so I know desert is all squared away. I'm proud of you, honey! But I'm getting pretty damn hungry, as is everyone else. So, let's sit down and start with the salad, at least!” She commanded, picked up the salad bowl and turned towards the direction of the dining room.

“Wait!” Brian exclaimed, “We can't eat yet! Justin isn't here. No one is eating a goddamn thing until he gets home, understand!”

“I just spoke to Justin,” Jennifer said quietly, suddenly appearing back in the kitchen. “He's about ten minutes away. We might as well get everyone and everything on the table, and wait there.”

“Fine, but we are leaving the stuff in the oven. I slaved all day over a hot fucking stove like some sort of crazed Donna Reed, so everything better be warm when he gets here.”

~*~*~*~*~

Everyone resigned themselves to wait for Justin, went to the dining room, got settled and amused themselves with wine, beer, drinks and conversation while waiting for him to arrive. Unfortunately, ten minutes stretched into fifteen, then to twenty and Brian was starting to get seriously worried. He walked out of the dining room, went towards the front entrance to look for his rental car and was about to call Justin's cell, when the front door suddenly opened and there he was – exhausted, laden down with bags, bundled up in a thick scarf up to his chin, his hair disheveled and sticking up in every direction; but his tired eyes were twinkling in happiness and his signature smile was still shining brightly on his face. To Brian, Justin had never looked better.

Justin closed the heavy door with a quiet click, leaned back against it heavily and whispered:

“Brian, I made it. I am so fucking happy to be home! Brian...”

Whatever he was about to say next was lost in Brian's kiss as he practically fell upon Justin hungrily, pressing him with his entire body firmly into the mahogany door. The next moment, Justin's duffel bag and fold-over suitcase fell from his right shoulder and his arm wound its way around Brian's neck, his fingers tangling in silky auburn locks. They were completely lost in each other, making out against the front door like horny teenagers or long-lost lovers who haven't seen each other in a decade.

Neither one of them heard when Gus poked his head around the corner and then shrieked from the top of his lungs “Justin's back, Justin's back! Let's eat, I'm starving!”

They didn't hear the scrape of multiple chairs against the hardwood floors as several people got up from the dining room table and made their way to the kitchen to check on the turkey and retrieve the side dishes from the other oven. They didn't notice as someone picked up Justin's bags and took them away and they didn't pay attention to a number of “hey, Justin, welcome back”s from several people that were for some reason walking in and out of the front foyer. They continued to kiss and touch, and feel and caress each other where possible and it didn't look like they planned on stopping any time soon. Their semi-private reunion was suddenly and rudely interrupted by a loud screech that could have only come from Debbie, followed by her loud “Well, fuck!”

Both Brian and Justin groaned, but reluctantly split apart and hand-in-hand walked into the kitchen. The sight that greeted them nearly gave Brian a heart attack. Their state of the art kitchen was equipped with two ovens conveniently stacked right on top of each other with the controls for each oven right in the middle of the two. Somehow, when the turkey and the side dishes were being “inspected” before, whomever returned them all for further cooking switched the ovens by accident; which meant that for the past half an hour the side dishes that were supposed to be warmed on the lowest setting were being burned at 350 degrees, while the turkey hasn't been cooking much at all, its center remaining pretty much frozen.

Brian's beautiful green bean casserole now resembled greenish, mushy goo surrounded by a ring of charred French's onions; the cheese atop the scalloped potatoes looked like a slab of hard, brown, corrugated armor and the potatoes underneath looked as dry as dust; the stuffing that previously was just slightly dry, now resembled one of those brick-like, rock-hard, universally hated Christmas fruit cakes, except with vegetables. Cynthia's candied yams didn't fare any better either. In effect, to Brian's eyes the twenty people gathered at Britin for Thanksgiving dinner had nothing to eat, but abandoned mashed-potato “soup”, a salad, two pies and a gallon of cinnamon ice cream.

Brian stood there looking stunned, his mouth opening and closing as if he as trying to say something, but no sound was coming out. Justin seeing his distressed expression grew immediately concerned.

“Brian, are you OK?”

For some reason, Justin's voice brought him out of his stupor. He let go of Justin's hand, sat down heavily on one of the bar-stools standing standing next to the kitchen island currently burdened by the ruined dishes, and lightly beat his forehead several times on the marble surface.

“I can't fucking believe I ruined our first Thanksgiving dinner!” He moaned mournfully. “What the fuck are we going to eat!” Everyone looked at him in shock - none of them have ever seen Brian this dispirited and morose in their lives, not in public and not when he was still quite sober.

A silence descended onto the kitchen as everyone looked at each other in a bit of a loss as to what to do next, when Cynthia said quietly, sending slightly apprehensive glances towards Brian:

“Deb? Plan B?”

“Plan B!” She declared and then looking pointedly at Ted and Emmett ordered, “Well, what are you two standing there for? Get your thumbs out of your asses and get the cooler out of the van, pronto!”

At those words Brian immediately sprang up and he looked at Deb, Ted and Emmett with narrowed eyes. “Plan B? Cooler?”

“Well, honey, don't be upset...” Deb trailed off, looked at Cynthia apologetically and then immediately threw her under the bus, “but when Cynthia found out that you decided to cook Thanksgiving dinner, she thought that we should all know and be prepared for...”

Ted decided to jump in with his two cents as Deb's voice trailed off without finishing her sentence.

“Well, Bri, we thought you might get a little... overwhelmed... yes, that's right, overwhelmed with cooking everything yourself for the first time, so we thought we'd....”

“Help you out just a little bit.” Emmett continued, “After talking to you, Deb was fairly certain you could handle the turkey, so we just made a few side dishes just in case... in case...” he trailed off, like Deb, unsure how to finish the sentence without totally pissing Brian off.

“In case I totally fuck it up?” Brian said in a neutral, even voice.

“Well...” Ted and Emmett said in unison and both nodded.

“Maybe there is a God!” Brian exclaimed, happy smile breaking out on his face. “Well, what the fuck are you doing standing there? Didn't Deb just tell you to get the damn cooler? Hurry the fuck up, will you? Justin's probably starving!”

Both Ted and Emmett immediately ran out of the room and towards the garage where Emmett's catering van was parked. In the meantime, Brian gave a stunned Cynthia a thorough kiss full on the mouth. When he released her a minute later he said “Thanks, mighty Cynthia. I owe you one!”

Then he enthusiastically hugged Deb, picking her up slightly off the floor and giving her a quick twirl. Then he kissed her on both cheeks and said,

“Thanks for the plan B, Deb! I am glad I didn't completely ruin this.”

“But, honey, you didn't!” She protested, “Your dishes were great – I know, I've tried them. It's was us! I...we were trying to help you and somehow switched the damned ovens. It wasn't your fault!”

“Well, the turkey...the damned beast is still undercooked and that totally IS my fault! Your plan B gives us side dishes, but what about the meat, the damned main course? We do have 20 people here to feed!“ He said crestfallen.

Justin, who was watching the entire scene in amusement, said loudly

“You want meat? How about plan C?” And lifted a large plastic bag that he still clutched in his left hand. He gently deposited it on the kitchen island and continued. “Mom called me when she found out the turkey wasn't going to be ready for a couple more hours. She suggested that I pick something up on the way, at least for the kids, so I stopped at the Burger Barn a couple of miles down the road...”

“Burger Barn?” several people exclaimed at once.

“Well, it was either that or McDonald's. I was actually surprised the place was open on Thanksgiving, but it was. That's why it took me extra 20 minutes to get here actually. It takes a while for them to cook and pack 20 turkey burgers.”

“Twenty? You got twenty turkey burgers?” Brian asked incredulously.

“Well, I was going to get just two for Gus and JR, but then I got really hungry and I thought – turkey, bacon, cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, pickle, some sort of secret sauce – pretty close to a Thanksgiving dinner, if you squint a certain way and don't think about it too much. So, I decided to get one for everybody!” Justin explained and then laughed at everyone's shocked expression.

About 30 seconds later, Ted and Emmett came in with a large cooler and got out several dishes containing Emmett's Southern style cornbread dressing with honey and jalapenos, Blake's grilled asparagus, Ted's sauteed green beans, red peppers and shallots, Mel and Lindsay's rice pilaf with wild mushrooms, Deb's mashed potatoes, Ben's glazed butternut squash and Michael's four cheese macaroni and cheese.

Brian looked at all the unexpected bounty in amazement, as each dish was put in the microwave one after the other to quickly warm up. He smirked and said,

“You fuckers had no faith in my cooking ability whatsoever, did you?”

After a moment of total silence in the kitchen Deb said “We hoped you'll pull it off, Brian. We hoped, because you wanted it so badly. But we decided to have an alternative just in case something were to go wrong. I guess we all went a little overboard with the number of side dishes, but...what the hell, it's Thanksgiving! And don't forget, all this shit stayed in the cooler until we had no choice, but to use it. If everything you cooked turned out OK, then we planned on taking it all back home and eating it throughout the rest of the Thanksgiving weekend with you being none the wiser!”

Instead of being upset or insulted, Brian was rather touched, but before he could say anything, Mel and Lindsay who were in charge of warming up the stuff in the microwave, suddenly declared it all to be ready. The people closest to the food grabbed a dish each and everyone excitedly went to the dining room.

In less than a minute the kitchen was empty of noise, food and people, save for Brian and Justin who looked at each other and couldn't stop smiling. Then Brian suddenly grabbed Justin and kissed him hard on the mouth. It started out hard, demanding and almost desperate, but as the seconds turned to minutes, the kiss became slower, more gentle and ended with an unexpected succession of light, almost silly-sweet pecks that made them both laugh. Then Brian said:

“Well, I finally have something to be thankful for this Thanksgiving and probably every single one in the future....”

“What, the turkey burgers?” Justin interrupted impishly.

“No! You, you twat! You, Sunshine. I am so fucking thankful for you! I've never been more glad to see you, to feel you and to have you in my life than right the fuck now. I love you! I am so glad you are home and not stuck somewhere in Europe under that damned ash cloud.”

“Oh!” Justin gasped. Over time it became somewhat easier for Brian to say those three little words out loud, not that he said them everyday; therefore, Justin treasured every single time he heard them. However, it was still extremely rare for Brian to pour out his heart like this and each, and every time it happened it took Justin by complete surprise. “God, Brian. I love you so fucking much! I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, but right here. Happy Thanksgiving, Brian.”

“Happy Thanks...” Justin's stomach rumbled loudly enough to give Brian pause and make him laugh uproariously. “I think your insatiable stomach just told me to shut the fuck up and feed you already. Let's go to the dining room, Sunshine, before it has a 'John Hurt moment' and has ME for Thanksgiving dinner.”

A few minutes later, they were seated at the dining room table and along with their family, and friends promptly tucked into the turkey burgers and various side dishes. Two hours after the burgers, half the side dishes, the pies and the ice cream were devoured and no one had any room for even a bite more, the turkey was finally ready. Brian insisted that he didn't want to see, smell, touch or eat the “beast”. He insisted that it be carved, divided between all the guests, packed up and taken out of the kitchen as soon as humanly possible. Surprisingly, no one argued with his suggestion. Justin was unanimously voted to be the official turkey carver, a job he enormously enjoyed.

~*~*~*~*~

When the last of the guests left and Brian and Justin were standing by the front door, watching the tail lights of the last car disappear at the end of their driveway, they both though that it was by far the best Thanksgiving meal they've ever had together. As for Brian, it was the very best one he has had in his entire life, cooking disasters notwithstanding.

Brian looked at his partner, who five minutes ago seemed to be full of energy, but now that the last of the guests were gone, looked like he was ready to collapse from exhaustion.

“Hey, Justin, you look like you are about to pass out on me. Bed?”

“I like the way you think, Mr. Kinney.” Justin answered with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a sexy smile. Unfortunately, the effect was utterly ruined when he yawned widely the very next second. As Brian laughed, Justin admitted sheepishly, “On the other hand, I seem to be pretty tired. So, yeah...bed.”

They walked up the stairs to their bedroom, brushed their teeth and got in the shower to wash off the long day. The hot water, steam and a naked Brian seemed to revive Justin enough to initiate a blistering make out session. But before things could progress much further, Brian's sudden stillness and his quiet comment stopped Justin's downward trajectory towards his partners fully aroused cock.

“So, Sunshine... about that firstborn you mentioned...”

Justin stopped kissing the delicious area around Brian's belly button, stood straight up and looked into his partner's eyes.

“Brian, I was kidding. I am quite happy being an honorary uncle to Gus and JR. Daphne promised me the same status whenever she has kids of her own. Besides, I've had enough of dealing with children on this trip home to last me a good long while. I've got the ringing ears and bruised shins to prove it. So, don't worry, I was only kidding.”

“Who's worried? Me? I'm not worried.” Brian hastily replied, then he took a deep breath and continued rather coyly. “I just think that having a kid before we are married will be a little unseemly, considering you like tradition and all...”

“What?”

“And I don't know about Charlotte/Charles thing...” Brian said purposefully ignoring the stunned expression on Justin's face. “I think it's a much better middle name than a first, don't you? I'm thinking Natalie or Nathaniel...Yeah, I think that's much better. Nathaniel Charles Taylor-Kinney or Natalie Charlotte Taylor-Kinney... Hmmm, that has a much better ring to it, doesn't it? Of course, the whole name thing is completely negotiable. You marrying me, though, is not... negotiable, that is.” He ended his speech somewhat nervously and looked at Justin, who's expression of utter surprise still hasn't left his face.

“You want to get married?” He whispered finally, after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah, I do. At the airport, before you left for London, you said that I could have anything I wanted. That you'd fulfill any wish...well, this is it, my wish.”

“You are asking me to marry you naked, in the shower?”

“Well, being naked is our thing and the shower is our place. Can you think of anywhere more perfect?”

Justin thought for a minute and grinned, “No, I can't, actually.” Then sobering a little, asked “And kids?”

“I wouldn't be opposed...”

“Seriously?” Justin asked with so much hope in his voice, that it squeezed Brian's heart.

“Seriously.” He replied with absolute conviction, his heart constricting even more from happiness as a glorious smile graced Justin's face.

“I don't want a big wedding, or golden gardenias, or any of that pomp and circumstance bullshit this time. Just you, me, the minister and the 18 people who were here with us today.”

“Sounds fan-fucking-tastic to me. Christmas?”

“New Years.”

“You got it, Sunshine.”

“Oh...and as far as kids are concerned, Brian... let's give it a couple of years, OK?” All Brian did in return was nod, then he laughed out loud and swooped down for a thorough, completely involving and ridiculously romantic kiss.

~*~*~*~*~

2019... Present Day

The night before Thanksgiving...

“Awww, I love that story! Especially the part where you decided to get married and chose my name.” Natalie sighed contentedly when the story was finished, not realizing that her fathers have been telling her a “kid-friendly” version of events, heavily edited for coarse language (cussing), adult themes (drinking) and sexual situations. The eight-year-old, still considered it to be the most romantic story in the world, as well as a pretty funny one.

“Why do you always say that it was the best Thanksgiving ever? I mean Daddy was stuck in another country and got home late. You had to cook for the first time, Dad, and everything got ruined anyway, and that's why...”

“And that's why we ate turkey burgers on Thanksgiving, yes.” Brian interrupted. “I think it was the best Thanksgiving ever – well, until you came along, of course – because up until that point, it was the happiest I've ever been in my life. Your Daddy came home safe and sound; the entire family was here; the dinner was saved at the last minute; I was promised that I would never-ever have to cook anything ever again as long as I lived; and, best of all, Sunshine said he'd marry me. Pretty perfect, huh, princess?”

“Yeah, Dad, pretty perfect.” Natalie agreed, “What about you, Daddy? Why do you think it was the best?”

“Same reasons, actually, but mostly because I was home with Brian.” Justin said simply, smiling happily at his husband. Then he turned to his daughter, gave her a kiss and said, “OK, honey, it's getting late. You need to go to sleep and so do I – it's my turn to cook Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, remember?”

Ever since the almost disaster that was Brian and Justin's first Thanksgiving dinner, the members of their family and friends instituted a holiday rotation where a particular family cooked the majority of a holiday meal, be it Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukah, New Years or Easter, with everyone else pitching in with one or two side dishes, dessert or drinks.

Thanksgiving, however, was treated a little differently, for it was always celebrated at Britin, no matter whose turn it was to roast the turkey and make the four main sides. It became a tradition for that cook to take over Brian and Justin's kitchen for the day, with everyone else arriving by five o'clock with a cooler of extra side dishes.

“Yeah, Daddy, I remember. Good night, Dad! Good night, Daddy! I love you!” She gave each of her dads a hug, a kiss and snugged into her pillows to sleep. Brian and Justin were walking out of Natalie's bedroom door, as always hand-in-hand, when she suddenly sat up and asked with a worried frown,

“Daddy, since you are cooking the “beast” tomorrow, who's making the big turkey burger to share this year? I really hope it's not uncle Ben, he'll find a way to put tofu in there...”

Brian and Justin laughed and answered in unison "It is uncle Ben!"

"But, don't worry," Justin continued, "All you have to eat is just a small bite."

"Even with tofu?"

"Even with tofu, princess!" Brian insisted, "Everyone eats one bite - after all, it's tradition."

~*~*~*~*~ The End ~*~*~*~*~