Things were perfect. Absolutely perfect. There were six places neatly set at the table with the fine china and the good silver dinnerware. The napkins had been folded into neat, pretty little origami-style shapes. There was a bottle of red wine - she wasn't sure which, it had just been the first grabbed from the cellar, but it looked expensive - sitting in the middle of the table. It really did look picture perfect.

The smell of roasting turkey wafted from the kitchen into the dining room. Pepper kept rushing back and forth between the two rooms, grabbing platters and bowls and an assortment of foods to be piled on the table. By the time she was done it would be a feast. Tony had offered to get a cook, but really, how hard could Thanksgiving dinner be? Pretty hard, as it turned out.

Natasha sat silently in the kitchen, one hand tugging absently at the bandage that remained around her head. Though she'd recovered considerably - she was now allowed downstairs, and to walk around on her own - her skull wasn't quite done healing and so, the bandage stayed. The spy watched Pepper cook with a feigned interest. Though watching someone cook was infinitely better than watching a wall all day.

She reached into the fridge to grab at something before freezing in place. Tasha covered her mouth with one hand to hide her smile, waiting for the woman to turn around with an exclaimed question. She was disappointed to see her straighten instead, square her shoulders and return to the pots on the stove. It had been hard for Natasha to get that gun in the vegetable crisper, damn it, and she'd been working on that 'revenge is a dish best served cold' joke all day. Anything for entertainment.

Pepper glanced up to the clock. It was nearing midday, meaning the others would be back within the hour. Quickly stirring a pot of sauce that was sitting on the stove, she dropped the spoon when her hand touched the side of the pain. Sucking on the burned finger, she reached over to switch off the television before freezing and staring at the screen.

Of course Tony couldn't do subtle. He couldn't go to the Parade without someone seeing him and going mad because Stark, Iron Man, superhero Avenger. It didn't help there was an Iron Man balloon this year. He had suited up and was flying rings around the balloon. The crowd was cheering loudly.

She was going to kill him when they got home.

"Jarvis," She called, tossing a towel towards one of the bubbling pans on the stove. "Did I not specifically ask that the suits stay locked up today?"

I'm afraid you forgot to set the protocols forbidding Mr Stark from overriding your request, Ms Potts, was the AI's prompt reply. The woman sighed again and ran her hand under cold water.

"Well you'd think you'd have the sense to set them yourself, Jarvis, thanks."

I am an Artificial Intelligence created by Mr Stark. I am unable to take initiative in that way.

Pepper laughed and went back to cooking. Everything was almost ready, and it was nearing twelve-thirty. They'd be home soon.

As if on cue, the four men filed into the kitchen. Tony had his arms around both Bruce and Steve, having to stand on his toes to reach the latter's shoulders. The suit had come off and it's owner was laughing loudly, talking rapidly, exclaiming about the sheer awesomeness of the morning. Bruce was smiling shyly and Steve was laughing, something they were all unused to seeing. Clint trailed in behind them, his gaze flicking to the smoking oven. "Is that the turkey?"

"Son of a-" Pepper waved the towel back and forth to clear the smoke away, ignoring the laughter behind her. Tony was already pouring himself a glass of wine despite it still being early afternoon. She pushed him away when he reached over to steal some of the food, telling him sharply to go sit down. For once the man was obedient, taking a seat at the well made table. Clint and Natasha were seated opposite him, with Bruce at his right side and Steve down the end of the table. Predictably the good Captain offered to help with the food but was waved off by Pepper and told to stay where he was.

Tony reached for a nearby spoon to begin piling food on his plate only to have his hand slapped away from Bruce, who gave him a pointed look. With a childish pout the man folded his arms and waited somewhat impatiently, making no effort to join in on the polite conversation around him, instead taking increasingly large drinks from his glass.

Once the turkey had been placed on the table and Pepper had joined them, everyone fell quiet, not quite sure what to say. The sullen Tony sat up straight and placed his glass on the table. The others looked between each other somewhat nervously; he'd grown increasingly erratic since the fight that had ended in Tasha getting hurt. None of them were really sure what he was going to do or say next.

"So," he cleared his throat. "What are we all thankful for?"

When no one responded, he rolled his eyes, grabbed his drink and gave them all a disdainful look. "Well, I guess I'll start," he began, staring down his drink. "I'm thankful for you all."

Refusing to meet their eyes, somewhat embarrassed over the rare display of care towards the others, Tony took another sip and swallowed quickly. "I mean it," he added. "I'm thankful to have Pepper, and..."

Closing his mouth sharply, the man reached for the food and started to shove it on his plate. Pepper and Steve shared a smile while the others laughed awkwardly. Steve looked up and said, "I have to say, I agree. I'm most thankful to have the support of the team especially over the past couple of months."

"Hear, hear," Bruce muttered, unwilling to say anything else.

"I'm thankful to still have my brain inside my skull," Natasha shrugged. They all laughed, except Tony, who chewed slowly and kept his eyes to the ground before taking another drink, muttering something like he was thankful for that, too. Bruce was giving him a steady look out of the corner of his eye which he ignored, likewise ignoring the soft question asked of if he was okay.

"I'm thankful for this food I made that you all seem to not be enjoying." Pepper smirked at them. Everyone immediately began to eat, nodding and being overly enthusiastic when they told her how good it was, because no wrath was so great as the wrath of Pepper Potts.

As they ate, the conversation slowly started up again until they were all laughing and joking. Pepper finally got around to asking why there was what appeared to be a police-issue glock in her fridge and Tasha's revenge joke made Clint laugh so hard he had wine coming out of his nose. Outside, the sun had already began to set, and the warm atmosphere promised a happy night they weren't likely to forget.