|Thanks and Thanks and Ever Thanks
Author: ilovetvalot PM
It's Thanksgiving at the BAU. When the turkey is delivered ALIVE, hilarity and hijinks ensue as our merry band of profilers are forced to perform their own play...Death of a Turkey. TEAM FIC JJ/Ro, Ho/Em, M/G & Reid, of course. Four ChaptersRated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Family - A. Hotchner/Hotch & E. Prentiss - Chapters: 4 - Words: 7,533 - Reviews: 58 - Favs: 36 - Follows: 15 - Updated: 11-24-10 - Published: 11-21-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6494292
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's Note: My co-author and I would like to announce that our core stories (Sunday and Monday weekly publications) will be on hiatus for the weekend after Thanksgiving (an American Holiday on November 25, 2010). Due to familial obligations, we do believe there will be a week break on those ongoing stories. We will continue to publish one-shots and shorter stories through the holiday week.
Also, we're drawing near the close of our first annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards. WE CURRENTLY HAVE NINE DAYS LEFT TO VOTE FOR OUR FAVORITE AUTHORS AND STORIES. Please remember to try and spare a few moments over the upcoming days and VOTE for your favorite authors and stories in the "Profiler's Choice Awards" at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. You have through the end of November 30, 2010 to let your voice and vote be heard, and we want to hear from each one of you. If you don't know much about forums, links can be found through either my profile (ilovetvalot) or my awesome co-author (tonnie2001969). Remember, anyone that wants to help advertise the awards has our unending gratitude, and there is also a short blurb you can use on our profile pages.
We also want to take a moment and remind all those participants that have signed up for the Criminal Minds Christmas Fic Gift Exchange that we have just over a month to complete our gifts and publish them for our recipients. If anyone has any questions, please contact us via private message.
And finally, we'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their continued support of our stories. We truly appreciate each review, favorite, alert and private message. It means a lot to us. Please let us continue to hear from each of you!
Thanks and Thanks and Ever Thanks
Jennifer Jareau choked back a laugh at the completely irritated look on David Rossi's face as she shifted her son on her hip and turned her gaze from the man beside her to the caged bird in front of them.
"I can't believe this," Dave growled, blinking again as he eyed the gobbler in front of him.
"Well, it's a big turkey," JJ said mildly, pressing a kiss against her son's temple as the active baby attempted to reach for the gobbling bird. "I heard you tell the guy on the phone that you wanted the biggest one they had."
"Yeah, but I assumed that he'd be plucked and dressed when he arrived," Dave muttered indignantly, stomping across the hay strewn floor of the barn toward the oversized cage.
"Well, you hunt turkey. Is this really a problem?" JJ asked as Dave dropped his hands to his hips and stared down at the hapless bird. And if she wasn't mistaken, the turkey was staring back at him with something akin to a challenge in his turkey eyes.
"You got it in one, Jen," Dave muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I hunt turkey. This isn't a hunt, babe. This is a...a slaughter," he grimaced, watching the turkey cock his head quizzically.
"For a turkey that was born to die," JJ pointed out helpfully, bouncing a chattering Henry on her hip.
"Not by my hand," Dave yelped, turning to look at her with astonished eyes. "I can't kill a defenseless animal...it goes against every hunter's instinct in my body. There's no sense of fair play...no fighting chance...no..."
"No chance Penelope Garcia won't kill you if there's not a bird front and center on your dining room table this afternoon," JJ reminded him with a raised eyebrow. "If you remember correctly, you fought the battle for the Thanksgiving turkey and won. She won't let you forget that, you know."
"Don't remind me," Dave muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face as the turkey gobbled his two cents worth. "Oh shut up," he glared at the bird, wondering for the fourth time this morning if it was possible to sue his neighbor for negligence. "Nobody asked you."
Lips twitching, JJ lifted Henry up against her chest, pressing her hand against the little boy's soft head as he burrowed underneath her chin. "Henry and I are going in the house. We'll leave you to your...hunt."
"Gee, thanks," Dave grumbled, staring morosely at the turkey as he felt JJ press a kiss to his whiskered cheek.
"You're welcome," JJ called over her shoulder as the barn door swung shut behind her. "Remember, we need to get the turkey in the oven by eight to eat at one."
"Nothing like a deadline," Dave muttered under his breath as he stalked toward the locked metal cabinet in the corner of the barn. Quickly unlocking it and pulling out his rifle, Dave resolutely turned toward the turkey.
"Don't look at me like that," Dave groaned, the gobbler's bug eyes blinking slowly behind the metal bars of his cage. "A bullet will be a lot quicker than anything you would have experienced anywhere else," he reasoned to the bird lamely.
"Gobble, Gobble," the turkey objected, scratching his clawed foot against the bottom of the cell he waited inside.
"I realize that," Dave sighed, completely ignoring the obvious fact that he was conducting a conversation with a bird. "It isn't fair, but it has to be done," he said, lifting the gun and sighting the defenseless turkey in his crosshairs.
"Gobble, Gobble, Gobble," the turkey seemed to cluck indignantly, his feathers rustling inside the metal container as he tripped toward the back corner.
Grimacing, Dave promised, "It'll be quick. Trust me, bird, if you knew Garcia, you'd willing agree to the sacrifice," he explained, his finger hovering against the trigger hesitantly.
"Gobble," the turkey returned weakly with one spasm of his wrinkled neck, as if pleading for a last ditch stay of execution.
"Yeah, I know," Dave sighed heavily, lowering the gun in resignation as he walked toward the cage. "A hunter can't shoot a caged animal," he agreed, his fingers quickly releasing the clasp on the cage and opening the door. "So, give me a run for you money," he said determinedly, stepping back and waiting for the turkey to walk out.
Staring down at the bird as it took a few uncertain steps out of the cage to stand in front of him expectantly, Dave waved his hands. "This only works if you run," he huffed. "Shoo, turkey! Flee for your life."
"Gobble, Gobble, Gobble," the turkey appeared to argue, its head moving in time to its reply.
"What do you mean? You're refusing to run?" Dave moaned, staring down in horror at the bird in front of him. "Here's your chance...make it a fair fight. Run!" Dave complained, flapping his arms and stomping his feet, hay scattering around his ankles.
"Gobble," the turkey returned.
Had that bird just raised an eyebrow at him? Great. It was just his luck to have a suicidal gobbler delivered to him on Thanksgiving morning.
"Please?" Dave begged weakly, watching as the bird shuffled in front of him, evidently unworried or unaware of his coming fate. "I hear that great turkey coop in the sky has all the feed you can eat," he cajoled, nodding helpfully.
"Gobble, Gobble," the turkey chortled obstinately.
"Well," Dave growled, propping his gun in the corner as he strode toward the barn door, "Fuck you, too."
Hearing the back door of the kitchen slam shut, JJ turned from the counter to look at the livid man standing on the welcome mat, stomping the mud off his boots. "Well?" she asked, arching a blonde brow heavenward.
Glancing from JJ's expectant face to the faces of Hotch and Emily, sitting at the kitchen table, Dave frowned. "When did you two get here?" Dave said, ignoring JJ's question for a moment as he stepped into his warm kitchen.
"Garcia told everyone to be here by seven to help with the cooking," Hotch shrugged, taking a sip from his coffee mug as he leaned back in the wooden chair. "I brought Emily," he said, nodding toward the brunette beside him. "What's going on?" he asked carefully, noting the lines of strain around his best friend's mouth.
"We had a small disruption with the turkey," JJ said straight-faced as she rinsed Henry's breakfast plate in the sink, her sparkling eyes the only sign of impending laughter.
"What kind of disruption?" Emily asked, glancing toward Dave as she placed her own coffee cup on the table.
"It's alive," Dave retorted huffily, shucking his jacket with a jerk and hanging it on the peg by the door.
"As in, "Gobble, gobble," it's alive?" Emily asked, her eyes widening as she flicked her eyes around the room.
"Uh huh," JJ chuckled, drying her hands on the dish towel by the sink. "And I'm assuming by the look on your face that said gobbler is still among the living?" she asked Dave as she propped a hand against her hip, narrowing her eyes as she watching his jaw tighten.
"It's not as easy as you might think," Dave muttered, brushing past JJ to wash his own hands.
"How difficult could it be to shoot a caged bird?" JJ asked, obviously exasperated. Glancing toward the digital clock on the nearby stove, she declared, "Dave, seriously, we need to get that thing plucked and dressed before Garcia gets here."
"First," Dave huffed, reaching for the dishtowel she had just abandoned, "a hunter can not shoot a captured animal. It violates the spirit of the sport and..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," JJ said, waving an impatient hand. "A good hunter must give the hunted a sporting chance, yada, yada, yada...You do realize that if that bird isn't dead when Garcie gets here that you run the very real risk of being served for Thanksgiving dinner yourself, right?"
"Wait," Hotch said, holding up a hand, dropping his coffee cup down to the wooden table as he scooted his chair back. "You were going to shoot the bird?"
"I was," Dave nodded. "Until I realized the animal was suicidal. I let him out and the poor bastard just stood there," Dave shook his head, wondering how he had missed this part of animal psychology in the past. "Like he was waiting for the great turkey axe to fall!"
Shaking his head as he watched his long time friend, Hotch's lips twisted. "There's a reason for that," he said knowingly.
"Oh, yeah?" Dave snorted, rolling his eyes as he canted his head. "What's that, Aaron?"
"You ordered the gobbler from that farmer down the road, right?" Hotch asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Dave nodded, accepting the cup of coffee JJ passed him, letting his hand wrap around the heated mug. "So what?"
"Dave, the turkey was waiting for the axe to fall. It's not a wild turkey. It's domesticated."
"Like I said," JJ said emphatically, slapping Dave's chest with the back of her hand, "Born to die."
"That just sounds so wrong," Emily shuddered, grimacing as she wrapped her arms around her waist.
"But, true," Hotch said, shrugging his shoulders as he reached for his coat.
"Too bad," Dave shook his head, taking a healthy sip of the roasted brew. "I'm not killing an animal that just stands there. I can't do it. A hunter never..."
"Would you stuff the hunting crap?" JJ groaned, reaching over to pinch his side. "Garcia is going to kill us all. If you recall, she wanted to be in charge of the turkey, Dave."
"No, she's not," Hotch murmured, pulling his winter coat around his shoulders and pulling the buttons into place.
"Where are you going?" Emily asked in confusion, turning toward Hotch.
"We are going to neutralize the turkey," Hotch informed her with a wink. "C'mon, Prentiss," he said, grabbing her coat and tossing it to her, watching with a grin as she easily caught the garment. "It's time to go have your first true Thanksgiving experience."