Thominewt oneshots

four

A/n: I'm typing this up on my phone on my web browser in the middle of online band class (in my defense, we aren't doing anything) so if there are any typos or my phone autocorrects something, that's my bad 😅

Anyways, I hope you like this one!  Potato (it won't let me tag her on my phone) gave me a prompt-someone messes up a dish on Thanksgiving but it somehow turns out really good, and though I know nothing about cooking, I tried my best...Hope you like it (even though it's a few days late)!

(It's a platonic Thominewt fic by the way-no romance in this one) (finally lol...i write way too many cheesy romantic fics)

WARNINGS: nothing unless botched mashed potatoes count

Thomas grinned and looked at the final product.  It was Thanksgiving, and he had been helping his cousin, Frypan, prepare lunch.  Still though, as he studied the dish closer, he realized that something looked a little off about the mashed potatoes that he had made...

"Hey, Thomas, how's it coming?" Frypan asked, walking up from behind him.  Before Thomas could answer, though, he took a glance at the mashed potatoes and his eyes bugged out of his head.  "Dude!" he exclaimed.  "Those are...you used...Thomas!"

"What?  I followed your instructions to the T," Thomas said defensively.

"Yeah, well, evidently not!  You used shuckin' sweet potatoes!"

Thomas felt his face flush as he studied the dish again.  "Oh.  Well..."  He sighed.  "How was I supposed to know?  They-they're both potatoes, anyways, so is it really that bad?"

"Is what that bad?" a familiar voice asked.  Thomas looked over and saw his two best friends, Newt and Minho.  The three had been friends since kindergarten, so they regularly celebrated holidays at each others' houses.

"This fool used sweet potatoes instead of regular ones!" Frypan explained, rolling his eyes.

Minho dissolved into laughter.  "Thomas-you-I-oh, Jesus," he wheezed, clutching his side.  "Nice going, shank."

"Slim it, Minho," Thomas grumbled, his face heating even more.

"Hey, I'm sure it's fine," Newt said, a little more thoughtful than his friend.  "I mean, how bad can it really be?"

"Famous last words," Frypan muttered, but he was smiling ruefully.  "Alright, let's give it a shot, I guess.  Not like we really have time to redo 'em."  He was right-ten minutes ago, they had told everyone that the meal would be ready in five minutes at the least.

Minho groaned, but when he saw Thomas and Newt share a grin, he cracked up again.  His friends followed suit, and soon they were all laughing.

Frypan was the one who stopped first.  "We still have a meal to serve, yknow," he said, and soon enough, the four were carrying dish after dish into the adjacent room to the awaiting diners.

A cheer went up amongst the younger kids-Frypan's cooking was renowned throughout their family.  He had the nickname for a reason, after all.  The older kids and adults had more self-control, though they all smiled when they saw the four of them bearing food.  Soon enough, people were passing dishes back and forth and making small talk.

"Tom, can you pass me the mashed potatoes?" Teresa, his twin, asked.  When Thomas nodded, his mouth already too full to answer verbally, and handed her the mashed potatoes, she frowned slightly at the dish but didn't say anything.

Frypan's eyes flicked over to her as she took a bite.  Teresa's brow furrowed further.  "Tom, did you make these?" she asked.

"Yeah...why?" Thomas asked nervously.