Bruce Banner had a girlfriend. A real, live girl who loved him. No, he couldn't believe it either. Bruce Banner loved Darcy Lewis. It felt so good to admit it.
"I love Darcy," Bruce told his lab culture, and the Other Guy rumbled happily in the back of his mind.
Just then, the girl in question bounced into the lab.
"Hey, Bruce!" she sang, twirling in a circle and tripping into his arms. "Clint and Natasha are cooking the turkey, and I want to help, only they don't really trust me with the ingredients since my eyesight's still not perfect and all, but Natasha said if you helped me I could cook. Come on, Bruce, it's Thanksgiving!"
Bruce stared at Darcy. Darcy stared at Bruce. Bruce raised an eyebrow. Darcy gave him puppy eyes. Bruce melted.
"We're making the pumpkin pie," Darcy wheedled. Bruce sighed and let Darcy pull him off the stool.
"You had me at the puppy eyes," he admitted, and Darcy laughed at him, towing him behind her out of the lab.
Bruce Banner was insanely grateful for Darcy Lewis.
The kitchen was warm and cheery, stuffed with mouth-watering smells, bickering and laughter. Outside, the cold wind whistled through the city, hurrying people home to their families. Bruce no longer had a family. But as he looked around the kitchen, at Clint waltzing Pepper around the kitchen in his pink flowery apron (a gift from Darcy), Natasha swatting Tony's wandering hands away from the stuffing, and a pouting Tony grabbing Steve as he passed and trying to teach him to dance. This was home now, Bruce realized. This was his family. Darcy seemed to be having similar thoughts as she grinned up at him and tucked herself under his arm.
How different this was from Bruce's childhood. Thanksgivings had been silent, cold, with his mother trying to hide her bruises as she placed a token meal on the table. His father got drunk at dinner and beat Bruce afterwards for not clearing the table fast enough. If Bruce pointed out that he would be able to clean up faster if his father didn't hit him, it would only be worse. Bruce didn't fight since he knew if he fought, his mother would be hit as well. The only thing Bruce could remember being thankful for in those days was his mother, and after her death, science. He shivered, and Darcy hugged him closer.
Bruce Banner was thankful for his new family and the first real home he had ever had.
Clint pointed Bruce toward the pumpkin pie supplies and Darcy rescued Cap from Tony, twirling him out of Tony's arms and taking his place. Tony dipped Darcy, laughing at her glee. She seemed to be glowing with happiness, and Tony noticed with satisfaction that Bruce couldn't quite take his eyes off her. Cap might be their appointed father figure, but it was Tony's house, and Tony liked order in his house. Suddenly, Darcy shrieked and darted forward to grab Banner's hand.
"Silly, you can't put horseradish in pumpkin pie!" She swatted at his head, snatching the offending spice from Bruce's hand and holding it an arm's length away, where Natasha promptly took it. "See, Clint, it's not my eyesight you need to worry about," she teased, and Bruce turned red. Darcy kissed his forehead, handing him a can of pumpkin instead.
"Tony," Jane called. "Help me with the relish?" Obligingly, Tony ambled across the kitchen.
"I warn you now, I cannot cook," he told her, taking the honey she stuffed into his hand.
"He really can't," Pepper stage whispered, and Tony stuck his tongue out at her.
"Neither can I," Jane admitted to Tony in a whisper. "But recipes read somewhat similarly to chemical equations, so how hard can it be?"
Tony stared at her. "Hard."
"Fair point," Jane grinned. "I feel like we should have on lab coats and protective goggles."
"We probably should!" Tony chuckled. "Screw cooking, wanna see how big of an explosion we can make with the cranberry relish?"
"Tony!" Jane scolded, but she was grinning. "Not on purpose. But, you know, life happens sometimes."
"I like the way you think, dear," Tony told Jane, and the two scientists put their heads together.
Tony had never cooked before in his life. His parent's housekeeper Consuela, who had been more of a mother to him than his own, had always kept food for him in the fridge. Sometimes, though, Thanksgiving dinner had been cereal while his father was out drinking and his mother out socializing. One Thanksgiving, he had gone home with Consuela, who didn't want to leave a seven year old boy home alone. That had been and still was his favorite Thanksgiving, surrounded by women bustling around the kitchen, men shouting at the football game on the tiny black and white tv, and children playing tag. It was the first Thanksgiving Tony hadn't felt alone. When he returned home, his father was furious, and fired Consuela the next day. Even after he moved out, made his fortune, surrounded himself with people on holidays, he had still felt alone.
Tony Stark was thankful for all the people now living in his tower, and for the growing realization that without real friends, money was no good.
Natasha looked across the kitchen to where Stark and Jane were huddled over what hopefully would become the cranberry sauce, though at the moment, she didn't have very high hopes for the poor dish. Clint swatted her behind as he passed behind her, and she turned to glare at him, though she didn't make it as cutting as normal. He sensed that, and kissed her, his laughter making his lips vibrate against hers.
"This is nice," she told him, hugging him with one arm and stirring the gravy with the other.
"It is, isn't it," Clint agreed. "I love you Nat."
"Ditto," Natasha told him. She still couldn't bring herself to say the words, but Clint understood her. He moved away to baste the turkey, and Natasha handed the spatula to Steve, charging him with stirring the gravy as she went to check on Bruce and Darcy's progress on the pie. Bruce had a swipe of pumpkin on his forehead and nose, and Darcy had it all over her shirt. At the moment, Darcy seemed intent on licking the pumpkin off Bruce's nose, which had him bright red and laughing embarrassedly. Natasha definitely did not need to see that.
"Oy," she called. "Get a room."
Tony's head snapped up at the opportunity to heckle Bruce, and pie making resumed with an even redder Bruce and a completely unabashed Darcy, who was shaking her chest suggestively at Bruce.
Natasha had never celebrated Thanksgiving before, quite honestly, something that she had admitted only to Clint. For starters, she had been raised in Russia, and secondly, the Red Room wasn't known for holiday spirit. She had only heard about the holiday in passing as part of her cultural training. During her years as a contract assassin, she hadn't thought about mundane things such as holidays, and even after starting with SHIELD, there hadn't been a reason nor opportunity to celebrate such an occasion as Thanksgiving. Clint had first introduced her to the holiday on one of their missions, returning to their safe house with a few pieces of turkey wrapped in a napkin in his pocket. As she and Clint had grown closer, and by extension, she had gotten closer to Coulson, they started thinking more about celebrations, if they were all in the same city for Thanksgiving, meeting up at a nondescript diner or the like. Another Thanksgiving, three years after becoming Clint's partner, they were again on a mission. But this time there were no opportunities to swipe a few slices of turkey from someone's table. That day, Clint took a bullet for Natasha, and all she could think, as she dragged him to safety and urgently radioed for extraction, was that he had better live. Because even then, she couldn't live without him.
Natasha Romanoff was grateful for Clint Barton, her savior, her humanity, without whom she didn't know what she would become. He had saved her spirit as well as her body that day he had chosen to recruit her instead of kill her, and for that she was eternally thankful.
Clint Barton felt Natasha's stare across the kitchen and guessed what she was thinking about. He mimed kissing her, and was rewarded with an eye roll of epic proportions They were good at nonverbal communication, demonstrated further as she flicked her gaze toward the corner in which Tony and Jane were huddled over the cranberry sauce and raised her eyebrow. He nodded, seeing the danger in the duo, and took a step towards them just as Jane shrieked and the cranberry sauce exploded with an almighty BOOM. Clint sighed and swiped the paper towels off the counter, eyeing the resulting mess dubiously. Cranberries now coated Tony, Jane, the counter, walls, and, good lord, even the ceiling.
"Nice one," he told Tony, handing him the paper towels. He began mopping up the counter, trying to decide what could be saved, and Pepper came over to scold Tony. Suddenly the oven beeped, sending Clint hurrying back across the kitchen to check the turkey. It was, if he dared say, a beautiful bird.
As Clint basted the turkey for the last time, he thought nostalgically about The Magical Madame, who had been one of his mother figures at the carnival. She was the one who taught him to cook, and it was a skill he had never forgotten. Thanksgiving at the carnival had always been a joyous affair, with everyone contributing something to the meal and a wild party finishing off the evening. Good things in Clint's life had a tendency to end, however, and after his departure from the circus, Thanksgiving had lost all meaning. Contract killers didn't celebrate holidays. He had always missed it, though. While working with SHIELD, he and Phil Coulson had come up with an unspoken arrangement where if they were in the same city for Thanksgiving, they met at a restaurant. But Phil was dead. There was that Thanksgiving that he had saved Natasha, throwing himself in front of her and earning a bullet lodged in his shoulder. It had nearly killed him, but it was worth it, since it had brought him and his partner closer. Clint was thankful for Natasha, but he missed Phil.
Clint Barton was thankful for life.
Another almighty BOOM echoed throughout the tower, and Jane looked around, puzzled.
"It wasn't us this time," she said defensively in response to the stares of the other occupants of the kitchen. "We ran out of explosive materials, promise!"
Darcy snorted at her best friend and turned back to her pie.
"Mister Stark," JARVIS interrupted the kitchen.
"JARVIS."
"I believe that Thor has just arrived."
"JARVIS, 'twas meant to be a surprise for the Lady Jane!" Thor's voice boomed from the hallway, and Jane squealed and threw herself at the doorway. Thor caught her, chuckling, and carried her into the kitchen.
"I didn't think you could make it," she told him. "But I'm so happy you did!"
"The Allfather no longer required my attendance and so released me to see my ladylove. Barton, is that the bird we will be dining on? I am famished!"
Clint didn't even look up. "Thor, you're always famished. Have a poptart."
Thor heaved a long suffering sigh and took the poptarts from Jane.
"Thank you, my love," he said, and Jane grinned. Then a thought occurred to her.
"Thor, you've never celebrated Thanksgiving before!"
"I have not, but it sounds to be a delightful holiday," Thor told her.
"Now that is sad," Tony sighed from across the kitchen. "To never have celebrated a proper Thanksgiving."
There was an intense nonverbal shouting match going on across the kitchen in which Natasha glared daggers at Clint and he grinned mischievously.
"Clint Barton don't you dare." Natasha hissed.
"Tasha's never celebrated Thanksgiving properly either," Clint announced triumphantly, wincing as Natasha punched his side. Jane grinned at the exchange.
"Natasha Romanoff!" Tony exclaimed, but Jane, sensing trouble, cut in.
"Thor, do you know the history behind Thanksgiving?"
"I do not, no. Perhaps you would enlighten me?"
"Do you tell the kindergarten skit version or the real deal?" Tony quipped from across the kitchen. Jane glared at him.
"Once upon a time, a group of people called the Pilgrims came to America aboard a ship called the Mayflower to escape religious persecution. The first winter they spent in America was a harsh one and many died. So the next year, when they brought in a good harvest due to the help of a Native American named Squanto, they celebrated it with Squanto's people."
"So this day of thanks giving is not in commemoration of a great battle?" Thor asked confusedly. "'Tis only to celebrate a harvest?"
Jane face palmed.
"Someone else's turn," she moaned.
Jane had never been a good teacher. Or delegator. In fact, her list of shortcomings was as long as Darcy's list of favorite foods. Very, very, titanically large. Jane's mom was a first grade teacher, and the history of Thanksgiving had been a part of the tradition for as long as she could remember. As she grew, she learned that the real story wasn't all peaceful Pilgrims and happy Indians, of course, but what in life was? Jane had already called her parents to wish them a happy Thanksgiving, and she missed them. But she had a new home now. And a Thor. And Science! which had brought her the Thor.
Jane Foster was grateful for Science! and Thor.
Pepper, being the team mom that she was, endeavored to finish Jane's mission.
"The war between the Pilgrims and Indians came later, Thor. This celebration is about things that we're thankful for, though. Not war."
"Oh," said Thor. "I'm thankful for Mjölnir and Lady Jane."
The occupants of the kitchen stared at him.
"Very good, Thor," Pepper sighed.
Jane kissed him. "At least he didn't say war," she told Pepper, and the women shared a look.
Pepper was a mystery to the team, and she knew it. Unlike Natasha and Clint's top secret and bloody pasts or Bruce and Tony's dark and abusive ones, Pepper's was still secret because it was normal. Completely and totally mundane and uninteresting. Pepper Potts had a small but loving middle class family, had worked her way through college, and had gotten a job at Stark Industries right out of college. Needless to say, she had never left. Pepper knew her life wasn't fascinating, and she was okay with that. She was far better at dealing with tricky business executives than guns.
Pepper Potts was thankful for her job because of the wonderful people (Tony included) that she'd been able to meet, the opportunities it had given her, and above all, she'd been able to escape her tiny hometown.
"Darcy, are you and Bruce about ready to put that pie in the oven?" Natasha asked.
"Yup. Roger that, comrade. One pumpkin pie headed toward the oven."
"Great," Natasha sighed, taking the uncooked pie from Darcy and shoving a bowl of green beans into her hands. "Take these to the table."
"Thor! Don't eat the mashed potatoes when you're trying to smash them!" Pepper scolded. Then: "THOR! DON'T TRY AND MASH THE POTATOES WITH YOUR HAMMER!"
Darcy deposited the beans on the table. Natasha handed her the gravy. Pretty soon, Darcy, Steve and Bruce had been roped in to dish carrying too. Tony had disappeared, presumably to find the alcohol, and Pepper and Jane were trying to teach Thor how to mash potatoes. It was going swimmingly, as far as she could tell. Then again, any encounter with Thor and food in which plates did not get smashed and food didn't fly could be considered a definitive success. Darcy just hoped that no mashed potatoes would end up on the ceiling with the cranberries.
Darcy missed her home in Pennsylvania. She missed her family. Darcy didn't have a tortured childhood or an abbreviated one. Her past was also fairly normal. She figured that that was why she never had shared. Or been back, for that matter. Suburbia wasn't exactly as compelling as everyone else's pasts, not that she had read their files or anything. She thought of her parents, of their snug little house, of the woods she used to play in as a child. There were no woods in New York City, excepting those of the concrete sort, and there had been no trees in New Mexico at all. She missed it. But when Bruce smiled at her, taking the cornbread from her hands, her insides got all gooey and she didn't miss it as much.
"Cut it out," she muttered. "You're making me feel like Jane."
"Oh," he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "We can't have that now, can we?" He kissed her nose and forehead.
"Now kissing at the table!" Tony groaned. "We'd like to keep our appetites!" He plunked a bottle of some expensive alcohol or other on the table and became a hypocrite as he leaned down and kissed Pepper.
"Make way for the turkey!" Natasha shooed them away so Clint could place his bird on the table. Everyone sat down, Tony at one head of the table and Steve at the other.
"Who's carving?" Clint asked, holding up the knife. Everyone looked at Tony, who nodded at Steve.
"Cap, take point."
Steve blinked gratefully at Tony, accepting the knives from Clint. Then he paused.
"Do we say grace first?"
"We say grace first!" Tony declared. "Really, Cap, when I said take point, I meant take point. This is your good old fashioned American Thanksgiving."
Steve bowed his head, holding out his hands to Darcy and Jane, sitting on either side of him. There was a little grumbling and some confusion on Thor's part, who was ecstatic to hold Jane's hand, but not so much to hold Clint's, but eventually they all did.
"Bless us, oh lord," Steve began, and as he continued the ancient prayer, he remembered his own family's Thanksgivings in their tiny apartment. It was during the Great Depression, and there was not much, but they always had enough to share. His father had died when he was young, and after his mother's death, Steve spent Thanksgivings with Bucky's family. The army hadn't offered much by way of celebration, and neither had, as Tony put it, 'doing time as a Capsicle'. So when he looked around the table at the team who had become his family, he felt very grateful.
Steve Rodgers was thankful for the Avengers, his new family.
Later that night, after the team started falling asleep to the James Bond marathon, Bruce walked Darcy to her room. But five minutes later, she was climbing into his bed, her fuzzy footy pajamas tickling his legs.
"That's sexy," he grinned as she snuggled into his side. "And very warm."
"I know," Darcy murmured sleepily. "They're even cuter in the morning."
Bruce kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her. "Happy Thanksgiving, Darcy."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Bruce. Happy Thanksgiving Hulk."