A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews guys. This may be a little early for Thanksgiving but I'm lame like that, always first to the party.

"No. No fucking way." Santana scowled, crossing her arms in front of her chest. To emphasize her point, she shook her head vigorously because fuck looking desperate; she really, really didn't want to stick her fingers up there.

This year, instead of heading back to Lima, the four of them (Rachel, Kurt, Quinn and Santana) had decided to break tradition and spend Thanksgiving in New York. It was only after the turkey had been unwrapped and placed on the table that they discovered a problem.

"I'm not sticking my hand up the turkey's pie-hole? Are you fucking insane?"

"Santana." Quinn tried her placating voice and turned on her puppy eyes. That usually worked wonders.

"Don't Santana me! I'm not doing it!"

She blinked, taken aback by the response. She guessed this wasn't going to be one of the usual times then.

So she turned on the charm and batted her eyelashes. Based on experience, that had a higher success rate but Santana merely gave her the stink eye, which she then gave to Kurt when she heard him snigger. Okayyy, so screw charming since that did jack shit. Nevertheless, the turkey needed to be stuffed and it sure as hell wasn't going to be her. She had already prepared the stuffing. It was time for someone else to get their hands dirty and if that happened to be her girlfriend, so be it.

"Santana," Quinn tried again. Maybe reasoning with her girlfriend would be a better idea. "You can't not do it. We drew lots. We all drew lots and you lost." She waved her arm to include both Kurt and Rachel who were standing on the same side of the table as her. "So it's only right that you do it."

But of course, how could she forget that one could not apply logic to Lopez.

"Please. The lots were totally rigged. You three rigged it when I wasn't looking."

"Erm Santana, may I remind you that you were the one who put the names in the fedora?" Rachel piped up.

"Hat Rachel. You can just say hat. And second, you are delusional if you think that's what happened." Santana objected, absolutely and resolutely stubborn, even if she was being ridiculously and unreasonably so. Quinn secretly thought that if she wasn't so heavily involved in this argument, she would actually be finding Santana's petulance adorable.

"We were all there Satan. You put the names in the hat." Kurt voiced out his agreement with an impatient eye roll. He too wasn't going to be doing the dirty work. He had just gotten a manicure.

"Oh. So this is how it's going to be. The three of you against one of me."

"Santana, nobody is against anybody."

"Is that so? Because from where I'm standing, it sure doesn't look so." Santana scowled, looking pointedly from her side of the table where she stood alone to the opposite side, where Quinn, Rachel and Kurt were standing in a row. It was obvious to her that the battle line had been drawn.

Quinn took a deep breath, trying her best to call upon patience and fortitude, but considering how the argument had been going on for close to five minutes and dinner was supposed to be starting in three hours, she was slowly losing it. This shouldn't have to be so difficult. "The agreement was that whoever had their name picked out of the hat stuff the turkey."

"Er yeah but that was before my name was picked so I declare a change of rules. Whoever's name gets picked out of the hat gets to choose who stuffs the turkey. I vote Berry!"

"You can't do that!" Rachel yelled, mortified at the turn of events. "I'm not even going to be eating the turkey! How is that fair?"

"Life isn't fair Berry. That's one thing I've learned over the years."

"Really?" Rachel shot back in a scathing tone, "So how about you learn to accept the unfair hand destiny has dealt you and stuff the damn turkey already!"

"How about I stuff my foot up your…"

"Santana!" Quinn chided before the argument could escalate. She didn't spend a whole twenty minutes putting the stuffing together just for it to go to waste when she could have been watching re-runs of The Bachelor Season 15.

"But babe," Her girlfriend scrunched her nose and whined, "The only hole I want to stick my fingers into is yours."

As if on cue, all three of them gagged. Or blanched. Or in Quinn's case, it was a combination of both.

It was Kurt who first broke the silence with a deliberate cough. "I'm not sure if you were going for romantic but for Quinn's sake, I really hope not."

"Shut it Hummel. No one is asking for your opinion. And don't be a prude about it. We all know how it works." She lifted her left hand and wriggled the index and middle fingers in a lascivious manner.

"Since you're such an expert in the matter, how about you apply that knowledge on that turkey. But just FYI, I think you're going to need more than just your fingers to do the job." Kurt answered with a sweet smile, grinning when he saw the look of disgust cross Santana's face.

"Eew gross. Ok no. Nah uh, I don't think so. That hole is way too big, even for me." Santana cringed as she bent down to peer at the gaping cavity. "I don't feel too comfortable doing this."

"For fuck's sake –"

"Don't curse Quinn." Santana tutted disapprovingly, the way she always did when Quinn got frustrated enough to let out an expletive. That seemed to be becoming an increasingly regular occurrence.

"Are you going to do it or not? If you're scared, just say so!"

"I'm not scared! I just don't want to be a turkey-fucker!"

"Seriously?"

"What? It's true! It would be like…like raping a turkey."

They all winced at the description.

"Considering its dead, I don't think it's going to care at this point."

"Exactly! Don't you think it's even more indecent to be doing this to a dead turkey?"

"So you're saying would rather do it on a live turkey?" Quinn brows shot up in disbelief.

"Guys can we please just stop with this line of thought, be the turkey dead or alive?" Rachel cut in, wringing her hands in discomfort, "There's a reason why I've chosen to abstain from meat."

"Yeah, enough with the excuses Santana. We're waiting and you know how I can get when you make me wait too long."

Santana sniggered, "That's what she said."

"Santana!"

"All right, all right! I'm sorry! You had it coming."

"That's what she said." It was Kurt's turn to giggle but he stopped shortly when Quinn turned to glare at him. "Sorry." He mumbled sheepishly.

"So…." Santana eyed the turkey suspiciously. "Erm this may come across as shocking but I've never done this before."

"How shocking." Kurt stated dryly with a hint of a smile. It was common fact that Santana didn't do well in the kitchen. The banana cake (if that was even accurate) had been the first and last time she had voluntarily made something for them. (Kurt was actually thankful for that. The part about the cake being the last thing Santana ever made, not the part about it being the first.)

"I'm not going to get bird flu right?" Santana gave a nervous chuckle as she eyes the bowl of stuffing in front of her suspiciously before extending a tentative hand.

Glad that they were finally getting somewhere, Quinn smiled in encouragement, "Don't worry babe. Bird flu is curable."

"Wow that makes me feel so much better."

Quinn waved away the sarcastic comment. "That's it. Now, you just grab a handful of stuffing, just like that. Yes and you put it into the… no. No Santana! You can't just toss it around like that. You're getting it all over the floor! Into the hole! Into the hole! Hand into the hole!" She repeated in agitation when Santana ignored her instructions, causing the stuffing to bounce off the bird and onto the table and floor when Santana made a particularly enthusiastic throw. "Santana!"

"What? I'm getting the job done, aren't I?" Santana retorted, annoyed as she continued tossing stuffing carelessly into the turkey's cavity.

"No you're getting my stuffing everywhere but inside the turkey! Stop that!"

"How about you stop micro-managing and bossing me around for once?" Santana scowled as she flicked a pinch of croutons into Quinn's face.

"Uh oh." Kurt mumbled and took a step back when he saw the look in Quinn's eyes. He saw Rachel wisely doing the same. This didn't look like it would end well for either of them.

The spat would probably have ended then had Santana kept her big, fat mouth shut but of course, she had to laugh. Right in Quinn's unimpressed face.

"Oh so you think that's funny." Quinn cocked her head and took a menacing step forward.

"It was an accident babe. No.. no Quinn, don't! You don't want to –" The rest of what Santana intended to say never made it out of her mouth when Quinn smashed a generous fistful of stuffing down her t-shirt and into her bra. She grimaced when she felt a slice of onion slither down her stomach, only to see it plopping out from her top and onto the floor.

"Ha! Who's laughing now?"

And of course, Santana being Santana meant she had to retaliate.

And Quinn being Quinn meant she had to react to that retaliation.

Which meant stuffed turkey was off the menu for that night.

A consolation was that they still had the turkey, even if it was unstuffed. The girls at least had the common sense not to throw that during the food fight. Come to think of it, they should have just agreed not to stuff the turkey, then they wouldn't have had to spend half and hour scrubbing the floor and the doors of the cabinet. And the walls.

He made a reminder never to spend Thanksgiving with Quinn and Santana again.