Potluck! {Entry for writing challenge}

Hello there! This is my entry for the #teamwriting1 challenge!

It is called POTLUCK.

This fic contains mild language. There is no romance.

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"WAKE UP, MAGGOT!"

"Aw jeeze! What day is it?" Scout mumbled, rolling over in his comfortable twin bed, cursing the disturbance of the peace.

Looking over at the doorway, there stood Jane, in his uniform with bazooka in hand.

"IT IS-"

"Would you PLEASE stop shouting." Scout interrupted.

"Sorry, cupcake." He mocked irritably. "Today is Sunday." Solider scoffed.

"But today is ceasefire..." Scout was getting plenty annoyed now, having Jane wake him for nothing.

He rolled out of bed as Soldier held out a piece of parchment. He dropped it on the floor.

"I have a letter for you. It is from the Saxon Hale. Frenchy says you are to get dressed. Dismissed!" With that, he turned on his heel, and slammed Jeremy's bedroom door.

Scout sat up, sunlight streaming through the corner window. Stretching and yawning, he glanced at the clock.

"Holy crap! It's already 9:30!" Dashing from his bed to his closet, then to the bathroom, slamming into his bedside table. He bent over and grabbed the piece of paper. He couldn't read it. No time.

"Aw, no! This sucks on ice!" He muttered to himself as he pulled on his black adidas' stumbling out into the hallway. The letter fluttered half-out of his back pocket.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, nearly sprinting, down the age, past the garage, obituary, and out to the kitchen.

Panting, he was utterly suprised to see that everyone was simply enjoying themselves.

Jane sat watching documentaries about the Civil war while Dell sat beside him strumming a few chords with his guitar.

Mundy laughed obnoxiously at Pyro, who was trying to set Mikhail's sandvich on fire to his horror.

Laurent stood smoking in the corner next to a suprisingly sober Tavish. Dr. Ludwig sat tinkering with his medigun.

"What the hell is goin' on around here?" Scout snapped, his accent think and menacing.

It was silent before the rest of the mercenaries broke out laughing their asses off.

"Ze-ze, look on jour face..." Medic managed to say between chuckles.

"Well, la Belle au bois dormant," Spy teased, "you were sleeping for quite some time."

"Whadda I miss?"

"Notzing. Notzing whatsoever."

"Spy, I swear to God, what are you pulling-"

He was interrupted again by Dell this time.

"Listen, boy. This company of ours, is having a lil' get together. What they call, ah, a company picnic. Saxon Hale and ah have been plannin' this thing fir a while now."

"Wha..."

"Little men go to tea party with little woman." Heavy concluded.

"Okay. Okay." He slipped his wrapped hand into the back pocket of his baseball pants.

Opening the letter at last, he read quickly.

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'Dear _Jeremy_,

Today I am hosting a company potluck at 12:30pm. Continue with your typical ceasefire activities until then.

See you soon,

Saxon Hale.'

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Jeremy's jaw dropped.

"Solider!"

"Yes!" He turned his attention half to Scout, still paying most attention to his combat documentaries.

"Why did you wake me up?"

"Did you flip it over?"

"Ugh, no. I didn't know I needed to." He sighed as he produced the paper again and flipped it over.

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'You will need to bring something eat and share, preferably alligator.'

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"Alligator? Who eats that!? Those things are nasty killing machines." Scout outbursted.

"Look, mate. Oi do. Oi shoot em', cook em', and eat em'." Mundy's voice rose above the rest with a bitter edge.

"Oh, of course. The van-man."

Sniper immediately reached for his jarate and kukuri before being restricted by Dr. Ludwig and Pyro.

"Alright, y'all. Settle down. We can see that y'all are rather irritable today, but really, boys. Who knows how to cook?" Dell inquired.

Sniper and Heavy raised their hands.

"Sorry, Heavy, but Sandviches do not count."

Heavy looked disappointed.

"And sorry Sniper. Ah meant meals that seemed everyday fir someone else. Pasta, red meat, vegetables. Not so much in the wild crocodile area. But otherwise, who cooks all of our meals?" He recited.

There was an uncomfortable quiet before Sniper replied,

"Well, you do, mate."

"And that is why, fellas, I am not cooking."

"Hudah hmppmmhpm?" Pyro inquired.

"Yeah, that's right Pyro. No help from me."

They looked incredibly disappointed.

"So... What are we supposed to do, laborer?" Spy questioned, not really sure of what Dell was asking.

"Y'all are to make a dish of some sort each. Here." He shuffled then handed out little slips of folded up paper.

"Don't open 'em yet. Wait 'til everyone has one."

The pieces of mystery paper were ed around until every Merc held one in their rough hands.

"Alrighty then. Unfold." Dell commanded.

All of their papers rustled simultaneously.

"Mine says entree." Solider read aloud.

"I got dessert." Heavy questioned.

"Side dish." Dr. Ludwig said.

"I got that too!" Mundy said excitedly.

"Drinks. What type of drinks, lad?"

"That's up to you, Tavish." Dell had prayed that someone else got the job of serving beverages, but alas.

"Hhummpah hudduhah." Pyro added. They had also gotten dessert.

"I got entree too, hardhat." Scout said to Engineer, moving over toward Solider.

"Appetizer." Laurent mumbled. "I will see how to make this work."

"Alright, has everyone opened their papers?"

A chorus of "yes"s replied.

"So. You have about three hours. Ah need you to pick a recipe, make it, and bring it to the front of the base at 12:30. Sharp. No frozen meals. I know. I always do. Mixes like for bread or cake are okay. Good luck, fellas."

Everyone looked utterly suprised.

"One more thing, uh, Engie."

"Yeah, Sniper?"

"If there are two o' us who have the same part, are we allowed to work together?"

"Yeah, sure. Sometimes it's better to work together." He whispered to himself, "Sometimes even two is too many chefs in the kitchen. Too many cooks spoil the soup."

~ ~ ~ ~ (Magical timeskip)~ ~ ~ ~

The tires squealed to a stop in front of the grocery store. Solider, Medic, Scout, Pyro, Heavy, Sniper, and Spy hopped out of the Red Bread Van. Engineer stayed back at the base with Demo.

Sniper and Medic headed toward the fresh vegetables, Heavy and Pyro to the cake mixes, and Spy aimlessly wandered the aisles.

Scout and solider just stood at the doorway.

"Solider. We need to find somethin' to make for food. We can't make somethin' out of a box. Whaddaya thinkin', knuckle-head?" Scout questioned as the two of them headed toward the deli.

"Burgers."

"Do you know how to use the grill?"

"No."

"What else, then?"

"Steak. Hot dogs. Fried chicken. American foods."

"Solider, I think you don't realise that we can't make any of that crap." Scout rolled his eyes. "Oh wait. Hot dogs. Whadda 'bout that?"

"I thought you said-"

"I know what I said." Jeremy interrupted, "I think we can put them in the microwave."

"I know how to use the microwave!" Solider cheered.

"I know you do. And so do I. How about some brats for Medic? Bratwurst is German, right? What goes with hot dogs..."

"Bread."

"Yeah, buns. Let's get the 'dogs first."

Meanwhile, down the boxed-mix isle...

"Vich one, Pyro?"

Pyro pointed excitedly at a box at the top of the shelf, on their tip toes.

Heavy grabbed it easily and read the box.

"Strawberry. Seems good." He dropped it into the shopping cart that Pyro was pushing, and it seemed tiny in comparison Mikhail. "Needs frosting. How about marshmallow?" He picked up a jar of marshmallow icing.

Pyro giggled and clapped their hands and said, "Hudduhah huddmp mmphh humm."

"Da. Lots of sprinkles."

At the end of the isle there were numerous cans of sprinkles.

"How about the red? The sparkly red ones."

"Huddah!"

Meanwhile in the vegetable isle...

"Vat are jou thinking?"

"No idea, mate."

"Vat about... Carrots. And potatoes." Medic said thoughtfully.

"O'lright. But isn't boiled carrots and potatoes a bit borin'?" Sniper complained.

"How about cheese. Cheesy potatoes and carrots?"

"Sure, mate. Can we also get apples?

"Whatever you say."

"So we need potatoes, apples, carrots, and cheese."

Sniper grabbed a sack potatoes and a bag of juicy apples. Medic headed over for the carrots.

After showing each other their findings, they hurried over to the dairy isle.

Medic stopped and told sniper to go down farther.

"Where's the bloody cheese?" Mick Mundy muttered to himself.

He searched around refrigerated shelves.

Until a hand suddenly touched his shoulder.

"Gentlemen."

"Spy! You bloody mongrel! You scared me to death!"

Spy couldn't help to laugh.

"It's not funny!"

"Sniper? Vhat's going on down there?" Medic looked concerned.

Mick spun around and Spy was gone.

Meanwhile, in the bread isle...

"Alright, we got the hot dogs and the brats. Buns. I think we are good." Scout mentioned as the two made their way towards the front of the store.

"What about the ketchup?" Solider objected.

"Don't we got some back at the base, Solider?"

"Negatory. Pyro used the whole bottle on their french fries." Then, he said under his breath, "I don't know why they don't call when American fries."

"Well, you know what that means."

They both sighed and turned for the condiments. Rounding the corner, Jeremy bumped right into someone because he was too busy looking down at the hot dog package. His hat fell on the floor with a flop.

"Oh, sorry there, toots..." Jeremy cooed as he grabbed his hat and stood up, until he saw who he bumped into.

Laurent.

"Spy! What da hell? Seriously! I didn't even see you there!" Scout was outraged.

"I see you gentlemen have gotten what you are going to make for ze luncheon."

Immediately both Scout and Solider hid the packages behind their backs.

"Well, I am off to find an appetizer."

With that, the cloaking device was activated and he was gone.

~~~~~~(Magical Timeskip)~~~~~~

What am I going to do, Laurent thought to himself, Solider and Scout are making seemingly sausage, Sniper and Medic had some vegetables and cheese... What type of dignified food could I...

Ah, no, he thought. I can't get anything premade. I have to make it myself.

He fiddled with the small lighter in his pocket, and sighed.

Frustrated, lit a cigarette and was instantly shooed out of the door.

Laurent stood there smoking for a moment, before solider and scout were pushed out of the doors also.

"Sacrebleu. What did you two idiots do?" Spy scolded.

"Nothin'."

Spy couldn't help but be suspicious.

Moments later, Pyro, Heavy, Medic, and Sniper came all of the doors with grocery bags full of food.

"Ready, mates?"

Everyone replied with some variation of "Yeah, I think so."

"Great. Let's get goin'."

After all of the mercs clamored into the van, they were off.

A short ride later, the team returned to the base.

Sniper opened the front door and tossed the keys on the table. Everyone was carrying bags and set them all down on the kitchen table.

"So. Vhat do ve do now?" Medic questioned.

"We aren't allowed to work togezer," Spy concluded "What time iz it?"

"Hhuddapphh" Pyro intervened.

"Thank you, Pyro. 11:20am, for those who didn't hear them." Sniper added.

Engie suddenly appeared from the hall.

"Oh, hey, Engineer!"

"Greetings, Laborer."

They all greeted him, until he said, "Hey, y'all! So, who needs to use the stove?"

Sniper and Medic both raised their hands.

"And the microwave?"

Scout raised his hand, and Solider did a salute.

"How about the oven?"

"Da. Us." Heavy replied.

Spy tried to slink away, but Engineer noticed.

"Spy? What about you?"

Spy had to come up with a lie quickly, since he had no ideas.

"Yes, erm... Mine is a cold dish."

Dell was suspicious, but bought it.

"Okay. I'd start now, if I were y'all." He took off his hard hat, and started toward the television room.

"What about Demo?" Scout inquired.

"Oh, he already got the refreshments." He didn't seem so happy about that. He left uneasily.

Heavy leaned over toward Pyro and whispered, "Let's get started, da?"

Pyro giggled in response.

They started getting out the bowls while Heavy read the box.

Scout played with the tabs of hotdog package as he said, "Yo, Solider! Can ya be a pal and get me a plate?"

"Okay." He grumbled.

"Oh, there we go." He managed to open the package at last.

He sat one down on the plate and stuck it into the microwave. Scout started it and, one and a half minutes later...

"Presto!" Solider exclaimed, "Lookin' good son, real good."

"Wait. Solider. Think about it. If we could microwave one in one and a half minutes, could we make the half of the package at the same time... For about, say... ten and a half minutes?"

"Outstanding. We can." Solider cheered.

The seven hotdogs sat in the microwave. Scout laughed and punched the numbers into the microwave.

"Now we're doin' it!" He said excitedly, waiting for the hotdogs to be ready.

BLAM!

About three minutes in, all of the hotdogs had exploded. The innards of the hotdogs soaked the microwave. Scout and Solider were slackjawed.

"What was noise?" Heavy turned around and everyone else shrugged their shoulders. Except Medic.

"Scout! Schvienhund! It vas the hotdogs, vasn't it?" Medic shouted, accusing Scout because he was the youngest, and in his opinion, the dullest.

"Ah, I dunno. Don't'cha think it could'a been Spy?"

"The microwave is smoking."

"So does Spy."

Medic sighed, and realized that it was pointless to argue.

"Scout. What type of idea was that?" Solider scolded, "Get me a towel?"

Scout grumbled but made no resistance to the order.

"Here." Scout lazily handed solider the towel.

He muttered as he cleaned the inside of the microwave.

"Cook them one at a time." Solider ordered Scout, voice dripping with acid while walking out of the kitchen.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I'm going to check on Lieutenant Bites."

"Whateva."

"Good job, Pyro. I have all of the ingredients, so we can start." Heavy congratulated.

Pyro whipped out a spoon and started to measure the ingredients.

Meanwhile,

Medic started boiling a pot of water on the stove.

"So, ve need to cut the ingredients." He said dully to Sniper.

"Okay, mate."

Medic turned to start on the cheese. Well, it's going to melt. I'm not a complete idiot. I'll grate it.

He looked for a grater in the drawers, and turned to check the ones by Sniper.

Then, he noticed that Sniper was cutting the ingredients with his Kukuri.

"Vat are jou doing?! I meant to cut it with a kitchen knife." He nearly-screamed, alerting everyone once again.

He sighed, and said, "Just put them in the water." Sniper obeyed and put the lid on the pot.

Pyro had finished mixing while Heavy had greased the pan. (They seemed to be the only team who could work together well.)

Heavy dumped the thick pink mixture into the pan and stuck it in the oven.

"Now we wait. Good job, Pyro." Heavy cheered, and Pyro gave Heavy a high five and big hug.

Medic and Sniper sat down at the island in the dining room, and Sniper dealt a hand of cards. Vegetables take a while to boil.

Heavy and Pyro stayed in the kitchen, conversing about how to decorate the cake.

Scout sighed and put another hotdog in the microwave, wishing secretly that he had someone to talk to.

A few moments ed of peace before the lid of the pot flew off with a loud whistling sound.

Unbenownst to them, that "pot" was a pressure cooker.

Everyone jumped to see what happened, and what they saw was a a pitiful sight of a boiling over pot and a missing lid.

"What da hell was that crap? Doctah! Snipah! What did you do?!" He ran over and turned off the heat.

"I have no idea. Sniper is who put on the lid." Medic defended.

"I have no idea either." Sniper confessed as he crossed his arms.

"Where is top?" Heavy asked.

Slowly, Pyro looked up.

"HUUDUAAHH!" They shouted as they pointed to the ceiling.

Heavy grabbed it and set it on the counter. All of them were in a flurry.

"Vhat are ve going to do? There is a gaping hole in the ceiling!" Medic worried out loud.

"Ah, NO! Hardhat will be so mad!" Scout said shakily.

"IS ALRIGHT!" Heavy roared above their squabble. They all stopped.

"You are ALL babies. Finish your meals. Do your best."

Medic swallowed hard and mopped the water off the ground.

At least the vegetables were done.

Scout took out the last hotdog and set it on the plate with the seven others. He was upset that there were only eight, since there would be ten or more of them there. I wonder if Solider will give his up, Scout thought. Is he still with his pet?

He started down the hall and Solider met him half way through.

"What was all that noise? You scared Luetenant Bites. Scout, I swear to God..."

"It wasn't me! I swear it. Although, about the hotdogs..."

"I think it's done!" Heavy told Pyro.

Pyro popped on some oven mitts (heaven knows why, they already have rubber gloves.) And pulled out the cake.

Sniper spread the cheese over the potatoes and carrots in a glass dish, and set it into the refrigerator.

Both himself and Medic were completely done with cooking altogether, so Medic went back to tinkering his Medigun while Sniper re-sharpened his Kukuri.

Scout had wrapped the plate of hotdogs in plastic and placed it into the refrigerator also.

"That wasn't too hard." He muttered to himself.

Solider went back to his documentaries and Scout went outside to practice his batting. They all had a little time to spare before the picnic.

Misha and Pyro had left the cakes out to cool as they started a board game on the coffee table in the TV room.

The kitchen was abandoned until Spy uncloaked.

He frantically went through the fridge, looking for something to make. Sour cream... Leftover lunch meat...

And in the pantry, some crackers. What luck!

By the time he pulled out these three things, there was only 10 minutes until the picnic. Everyone had came back for their dish, re-warmed it if necessary while spy was cloaked and out of the way.

It'll have to do, Laurent thought, dumping the whole container of sour cream into a dish while placing a few crackers and rolled up pieces of lunch meat around it.

He rushed out the door, it being 12:27, ing what Dell said "12:30. Sharp."

Out of breath, he sat his tray down on the table next to a giant keg of beer. Dell, Ms. Pauling, and Tavish were sitting around a foldable table in the lush grass.

"Hello, gentlemen and Miss Pauling. Where is everyone else?" Spy said, out of breath.

"Oh, here they come now." Ms. Pauling replied.

"Hey, Spy?" Demo asked hesitantly.

"What is it, Demo?"

"Why is there a raccoon in your dip?"

Spy spun around to see Lieutenant Bites eating the sour cream and sitting on the items waiting to dipped.

"SOLIDER! GET YOUR MONSTEROUS BADGER OUT OF MY APPETIZER!" Laurent screamed.

Solider ran ahead to Spy, yelling at spy because he insulted his little raccoon, winding up to take a punch. Instead, when he threw his arm back, he elbowed Scout right in the gut.

Reacting to the punch, Scout stumbled backwards and dropped the plate of hotdogs right in the ground. Bites immediately disregarded the sour cream to start munching on the few burnt hotdogs.

Scout yelled in distress, and tired to shoo away the hungry vermin.

Medic and Sniper came up to the table, and didn't see the spilled hotdogs. Medic's shiny boots slipped on the remaining sausages. The dish flew out of his arms and was airborne for a few moments.

It landed on the ground with a splat. Jeremy, Medic were covered while Sniper had escaped with a little bit of splash damage. The raccoon didn't even look like raccoon anymore.

It's truly a mess.

While this whole moment has been frozen in time, Dell, Tavish, and Ms. Pauling were trying to help clean the spilled remains.

In the midst of tall this chaos, Heavy and Pyro waltzed out of the door with a goregous cake.

He set it down as Pyro lit the singular candle with the tiny lighter then clapped their hands.

"At least we have a cake." Spy commented, rolling his eyes.

"And beer." Demo corrected.

"Yes, Demo. And beer." Spy scoffed.

Everyone slowly then looked at Dell, terrified of his response.

His expression was cold and hard, until, he broke out laughing.

He giggled and turned to see the faces of many frustrated individuals.

"You're not mad?" Scout said timidly.

"Aw, no. I ain't mad. I see ya dummies only tried your hardest."

They finally cleared everything up, sitting at the table in the open air. The cake and beer was served silently by Pyro and Demoman until Engineer proposed a toast.

"To the knuckleheads who I threw too much responsibility on, who I am very proud of!"

Relief spread like a wave across all of the mercs, regaining a cherry mood.

All of the glasses clinked as one as everyone chorused,

"To us!"

Words- 3578

Translation notes-

{ La Belle au bois dormant - sleeping beauty }

That was it!