We spent way more time in the supermarket than we had to, and still didn't have all the ingredients.

"Is this thyme?" George was asking this question god knows how many times already.

"George, it's not funny anymore," I sighed, "put down the milk."

"Where's thyme then?" He complained, looking through the products.

"Not in the dairy section for sure," I didn't even know why he got us here, "what are you reading?" I noticed that he was squinting at the cardboard box.

"Where's the ingredient list on this?" He flipped it around.

"That's.. George, that's milk."

I was sure he was just trolling at this point. But the way he looked at me with realization in his eyes, told me otherwise.

We finally found the herbs section and got the stupid thyme. This better be worth it.

None of them let me pay whenever something like this happened which annoyed me, but I also knew that arguing wouldn't change anything.

And as we finally got to the house, we found Clay and Nick still in the process of murdering the veggies with teary eyes, cause the whole kitchen reeked of onion.

"Heeey!" I took off my shoes and jacket and went to wash my hands before I could go and check on them, "How's the progress?"

"Wanna smell my fingers?" I heard Nick's voice coming from the kitchen as I dried my hands, "Smells like I fingered the queen."

My hand slapped to my mouth even though there was no one in the bathroom to see my reaction, while I heard Clay wheezing and George getting offended.

"Do your fingers smell like dust then?" Entering the kitchen I heard Clay make it even more vulgar.

"Did you finish the veggies?" I started to check what they did and change the topic before George would make a scene out of this.

Ignoring the fact that all of the pieces of veggies had different shapes, some of them were extra thin and the others looked like a whole chunk, I'd say they did a decent job. I mean I wouldn't chop onions even if they threatened to chop me.

"For the stock, put the giblets, onion, carrot, celery and herbs in a saucepan and season," Nick started reading from his phone as we all washed our hands and got ready to work, "what the fuck is a giblet?"

"Isn't it the garlic thingies?" George raised a brow.

"You mean cloves..?" I understand they're bad at cooking (and so am I) but at least I have common knowledge about it, "It's the organs.. of the turkey."

"That doesn't make any sense. Isn't drumstick an organ?" Nick spoke again.

"What the hell," Clay started laughing, "then the whole turkey is an organ if you look at it like that."

"But our turkey is dead, it doesn't have any organs." The worst part about it was that George was being serious.

"I'm losing braincells, please stop." I was trying to follow the instructions but the stupidity radiating from their conversation was getting too much to handle.

"Do turkeys have dicks?" Clay went as far as looking between the legs of the turkey.

"No they lay eggs, idiot." Nick answered.

I don't know what his remark had to do with Clay's question, but the conversation kept going. For an hour. Until all was left to do was stuff the turkey, put it in the oven and make the gravy.

"We need to stuff it." I mixed the bowl of ingredients.

"Uhm.. how do we do this politely?" Clay looked at the turkey which was questionably big. We realized that getting there with a spoon wouldn't work.

"Get in there, boys!" Nick clapped, rolling up his sleeves and making his way to the turkey with determined steps.

He was actually about to get elbow deep into the poor bird, looking like he waited his whole life to do it. And I didn't mind it until George made a remark which made me question my thoughts.

"Your arm hair is gonna fall out. We're 'bout to eat a hair-stuffed turkey."

I cringed so hard from the mention of finding hair in the food that I had to pull Nick back from the turkey. And arm hair sounded way more disgusting for some reason.

"That means Lizzy's doing it." Clay realized that all of them were at the risk of shedding hair.

"Nah, you can do it too, Cleo," the nickname accidentally made a comeback, "no one will notice the blonde hairs anyway."

I just realized that George had no idea I kept calling him Cleo after the first day he introduced us. I got the name wrong back then, and it just kept going. Just as I expected, he cracked up. And Clay got annoyed.

Actually I ended up being the one shoving my whole elbow in the turkey. Nick even recorded a video of me doing so, saying that he already had a collection of photos and videos of us that he'll send once we go home. Little did he know I had videos and photos of him and George from yesterday, when they were so drunk they could barely pronounce their own names correctly.

When we came to the point of making the gravy, Nick and George just got tired and left to play minecraft. And as hard as we tried to make them not leave everything on us and go, they still left without further explanations.

On the other hand, them leaving lowered the overall loudness of the room. Who knew getting rid of them would get rid of my headache.

"Do we need more sugar?" Clay dipped a finger into the mixture to taste it, "I think we don't."

"Let me see."

My hands were covered in dishsoapy bubbles as I decided to do the dishes while Clay mixed the gravy until it would thicken. I expected him to get out a spoon or something to let me taste it, but as he wiped the corner of the bowl that was covered in gravy with two fingers, I realized that he had other plans.

I rolled my eyes before chuckling and taking his fingers in my mouth, circling my tongue around them to wipe them clean as his eyes stayed fixated on my lips.

"Fucking hell." He pulled out his fingers, probably regretting his earlier cocky move of offering them to me.

"Tastes great," I complimented the gravy he made, "you're good at cooking."

He was still a bit flustered to answer.

"Thanks," he finally spoke, "you're good at sucking."

And he's back.