In which Clint invites Wanda and Vision over for Thanksgiving and Vision brings the turkey.
"Daddy, when is Wanda coming?" Lila tugged at his sleeve. "I want to show her my pie."
Clint swung his little girl up into his arms. He dug his phone out of his pocket and placed it in her tiny hands. "Why don't you call her and find out?"
Lila beamed, displaying the gap where one of her front teeth should have been. She scrabbled at the phone. Clint reached over to help her when she gave a triumphant squeal and held it to her ear, Wanda's contact information peeking out on the screen beneath the curls of her hair.
"Hello?"
"Wanda! When are you coming over? You are coming over, right? What are you wearing, I want to match you!" Lila babbled.
Clint couldn't help the laughter bubbling up his throat. "Slow down, Lila."
She pouted, though her frown didn't last long. Her smile popped back into place as Wanda answered, "We're on our way, don't worry. Um, I'm wearing a green sweater."
"Okay! See you later!" Lila wiggled until he set her down, then she raced off, tugging up the hem of her shirt. He watched her dart up the stairs, shimmying out of the brown dress Laura had convinced her to wear. Clint shook his head, then lifted the phone to his ear.
"You still there?" he asked.
"I don't know about this, Clint," she fretted.
"Whoa, whoa," he said, "Lila's got her heart set on matching outfits, you can't back out now."
She sighed. "You know I appreciate you inviting me to spend Thanksgiving with your family, but I–I've never celebrated it before! I don't know what to bring—"
"Bring?" interrupted Clint. He wandered toward the kitchen, following the sounds of airplane noises. "You don't have to bring anything. We're cooking, Wanda."
Laura glanced up with a smile when he entered. The smile faded when Nate spit a glob of creamed corn in her face once she turned, yellow goop sliding down her cheek. Nate slapped his pudgy little hands together and giggled.
"I don't like the idea of just coming and eating your food—" Wanda protested.
"Hey, I gotta go help Laura with Nate. Look, if you want to bring anything, get a turkey. See you soon." He hung up, exchanging his phone for the baby.
Laura surveyed the mess of baby food, both on her and the table. He thought her shirt might have originally been white, but beneath the layer of puréed peas and coat of mushed carrots there wasn't a single clean speck left. Nate's regurgitated corn pasted a lock of hair to her forehead. He reached out and swiped it back.
Laura sighed. "I'm going to go clean up. Can you get started on the potatoes?"
Clint waved her off. "I got this." He swung Nate into the highchair and dragged it closer to the counter, but not close enough for him to reach out and skewer himself. "I'll call Coop in to watch him. It'll be fine."
Laura stretched up to peck his cheek. He intercepted her lips, catching a kiss.
"Mm." He drew back. "Creamed corn."
She smacked him with Nate's food rag before fleeing the kitchen.
It slightly unnerved Laura that Clint didn't even blink at the sudden banging on the door. He continued carving the honey ham, electric knife whirring as meat fell away from bone.
"Coop," he called, "get the door."
Cooper dropped his spoon into the gravy and darted off toward the door, untucked shirttails flying behind him like a cape. Laura glided around Clint, rescuing the spoon to finish stirring. Lila abandoned setting the table to peek around the dining room toward the front door. Laura stole a chunk of ham, popping it into her mouth just as Lila squealed. Laura choked.
"Wanda!" Her braids streamed through the air behind her as she flew through the hall.
Clint dropped the knife, moving behind her to do the Heimlich. She waved him off, coughing slowly subsiding. His hand settled on her back, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the knobs of her spine. She smiled up at him, swiping a fleck of mashed potato from the facial hair he'd grown out this fall.
"After 'No Shave November' you're shaving this off," she informed him.
He opened his mouth to protest, but the squawking of poultry beat him to it.
His hand stilled on her back.
"Clint," she said, "is there any way the chickens could have gotten loose?"
He shook his head.
"Mommy! Daddy!" Lila tore into the kitchen. "Vision brought a turkey!"
Cooper appeared after her, eyes wide. "They brought a turkey."
Laura closed her eyes. Please, please, let it not be what she thought it was. Please—
And it waddled in, flapping its feathers, gobbler quivering, almost as tall as Lila. It pecked at the floorboards, and beady black eyes fixed on the feast arranged on the countertops. The live turkey let loose a shrill gobble, advancing on Clint, who snatched up the electric knife and brandished it at the bird.
Wanda skidded into the room, breathless. Vision floated inside, settling onto his feet with a crease between his eyes as he noticed the tension.
"Is something wrong?" he inquired.
"You—you brought a turkey," Laura said, flabbergasted.
"I told you they didn't mean a live one!" Wanda fumed, then turned away from Vision. "Laura, Clint, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—" She waved her arms around as if to demonstrate the craziness the meal preparation had descended into. "We'll get rid of it."
"I am not understanding," interrupted Vision. "Mr. Stark said it was customary for turkeys to be hosted at Thanksgiving celebrations and directed me to a farm where I might acquire one. You also said we should bring a turkey. Was there some miscommunication?"
Clint spoke up, "Tony told you to bring us a live turkey?" He still stood between the turkey and the kids, jabbing with the carving knife whenever the bird dared come closer.
Laura didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry.
"Get rid of it?" Lila cried. "We can't get rid of it. It's ours now!" She hugged Clint's leg. "Daddy, it can be our pet!"
Cooper piped up, "Maybe we could train it to be a guard turkey."
"No." Laura pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, we cannot have a turkey as a pet."
"Why not?" Lila demanded, bottom lip jutting out.
"Yeah, you let us have that mongoose as a pet," Cooper added.
From over in the highchair, Nate gurgled, "Tuh-kee."
Everyone froze.
"Tuh-kee," he repeated, kicking his feet in the direction of the turkey, who cocked its head curiously at the baby.
"Nate's first word was turkey! We have to keep him now, Mommy!" Lila pleaded.
Laura locked eyes with Clint over the kids' heads. He reluctantly lowered the knife. The battle was lost since Nate's first pronunciation.
The turkey croaked in triumph. There was no way anyone could convince Laura, looking into that turkey's eyes, that it didn't know it had won, that its gobble wasn't one of victory.
"Happy Thanksgiving?" Wanda tried.
Later that night, Laura's belly ached just as much from laughing as it did from stuffing herself.
Hope you enjoyed this ridiculous fluff, and Happy Turkey Day from the Barton family to yours!