Winchester Boys Can't Cook by Luvscharlie

"Oh, that turkey's all golden brown. Why can't you make a turkey like Martha?" Sam asked, looking up from the television set and over at the smoking, black, charred bird Dean had just set on the counter.

"I break in to an out-of-towner's house to try and make us a normal Thanksgiving dinner. You think you could be just a smidgen grateful, Sammy?"

"I don't think normal birds look like that. See normal birds look like Martha's," Sam said, pointing at the golden brown turkey on the screen. "And you know, most people have more than a turkey." Sam turned back to the television. "Just look, Martha has those orange yam things and mashed potatoes. Boy, I love mashed potatoes. Why can't you make mashed potatoes?"

Dean's breath blew out in a huff. "I never said I was Martha Fucking Stewart, did I? I said it's been a rough year and I didn't want our normal Thanksgiving McDonald's burger. A Big Mac just didn't hit the spot. You want mashed potatoes, get off your ass and make some. Surely a fancy college boy like you can manage making mashed potatoes."

"Yeah, right. I can research a recipe for you. They teach us to research in college. The actual cooking, not so much. You said you could cook. You make the mashed potatoes."

"I can cook. It's this oven. It malfunctioned and killed my turkey." Dean pulled off his oven mitts and tossed them on the counter beside the ruined bird.

Sam's mouth cocked up in a smirk. "Um hmm."

"When did you become such a wise ass, Sammy. I mean you believe in ghosts and demons and vampires. Why can't you believe in a malfunctioning oven?"

Sam began to laugh.

Dean looked at the smoking bird and kicked the kitchen cabinet.

Sam laughed harder.

"Oh yeah, this is just hilarious. So glad I could make you laugh, little brother."

"Oh come on, Dean. You have to admit, it's pretty damn funny."

Dean snarled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not laughing. Do you see me laughing?"

"Well I'm laughing. Everyone else would laugh too if I'd been quick enough to snap a picture of you wearing those oven mitts. Think about it, Dean. It really is hilarious. Put either of us up against a ghost or a vampire or pretty much anything not of this world and we can hold our own. But one frozen bird kicks our ass. If this gets out the demons are going to attack with a new vengeance. I mean if a bird can do us in, surely we can't be that tough."

The corner of Dean's upper lip twitched. "I guess we probably shouldn't ever disguise ourselves as master chefs, huh?"

Sam's tried to control his giggles, but couldn't. "I'm thinking we'd be found out pretty quick."

"I guess it's McDonalds again this year, little brother. Sorry. I mean, I tried."

"Hey, don't be hard on yourself, Dean. You tried. Besides that's not what the holiday's about anyway."

"I guess not," Dean said, chucking the bird into the trash and reaching for his jacket and keys. "So what are you thankful for, Sammy?"

"You mean besides not having to eat your cooking every night?"

"You're buying your own burger, wise ass."

Sam grinned as he shrugged on his jacket and followed Dean out.

A/N: This was originally written for the fandom_Fridays community on Live Journal, where the prompt was "Oh, that turkey…" This was also my first attempt at writing anything in the Supernatural Fandom.