Work Text:
Five little turkeys standing at the door,
One waddled off, and then there were four.
May Parker had never hosted thanksgiving before.
Maybe that was a good thing, because she’d already managed to ruin the mashed potatoes, which resembled concrete more than anything, and burn the green bean casserole past recognition.
At least Ben was having more luck with the turkeys and gravy, and that was the most important part, right?
Right?
Oh goodness, this is going to be a disaster. I never should’ve agreed to host Ben’s family.
At least baby Peter’s gonna be here.
Staving off tears and chanting more positive things to herself in her head, May turned her attention to something she knew she could do: opening a can of cranberry sauce and dumping it in a festive pumpkin shaped bowl. Then she grabbed the homemade rolls Ben had made that morning and put them carefully in a basket with a pretty white towel to cover them.
Ben came up behind her, surprising her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Smells amazing,” he murmured in her ear.
May giggled despite the tears that threatened again. “Well, maybe it’s the ruined potatoes, or the burnt green beans.”
Ben spun her around, tenderly kissing her. “I wasn’t talking about the food, babe.” May blushed. “Besides, I’ve already called my mom, and she’s gonna buy more potatoes on her way to make a fresh batch, and we’ve got plenty more cans of green beans to make the casserole again. We’ll be just fine.”
Goodness, May loved this man. She told him so as she kissed him again, and again, and again.
May opened the door to her husband’s family and inhaled a steadying breath as she took in the five of them standing there. She focused on their genuine smiles and kind eyes.
I can do this.
Once hugs and warm greetings had been exchanged all around and a new batch of potatoes had been made, the others put their offerings on the beautifully laid table. What May Parker lacked in the cooking department, she made up for in the decorating department, and the table was stunning, and the food even tasted better than May had hoped. However, it quickly became apparent that it didn’t really matter what food had been made. Little 14-month-old Peter was the star of the dinner.
It was hard for him not to be with the chubbiest of cheeks and the sweetest of smiles. All eyes were on him as he tried turkey for the first time, then stuffing, and cranberry sauce. He was more interested in mashing the food with his fingers...until pumpkin pie. The little boy’s eyes widened as the sweet dessert hit his taste buds, and he eagerly made grabby hands for more. All the adults giggled along as he shoved another bite into his mouth, clumsily holding his spoon.
Ben was right, May thought. Everything is just fine.
She looked around again, her eyes lingering on her husband, who smiled back at her.
More than fine .
Four little turkeys sitting near a tree,
One waddled off, and then there were three.
Tony stared at his phone, trying and failing to keep the disappointment off his face. It seemed to fill him, all the way from his toes to the top of his head, accumulating into a grey cloud that dumped great drops of homesickness all over him.
He’d been looking forward to Thanksgiving. He wasn’t all that excited to see his father, of course, but he and his mother did get along, and he missed her. It was his first year at college, and he hadn’t seen his mother in nearly three months. He couldn’t wait to sit and play piano with her, hear her singing, feel her hugs. His mom had also promised him that his Uncle Jarvis and Aunt Anna were going to be there, and he was beyond excited to see them too. All that excitement turned sour in just one text.
I’m sorry it said.
Sorry sorry sorry. Always sorry.
He should’ve known his father would ruin plans. Should’ve never gotten his hopes up. His parents were traveling (again) and taking Jarvis with him. There would be no thanksgiving.
Tony resigned himself to spending the holiday by himself, hoping to see his mom and the Jarvises at Christmas. He started unpacking and putting everything away.
Then his roommate walked in.
“What’re you doing?” James Rhodes- Rhodey, as Tony had dubbed him their first week together- said.
“My parents are traveling. I won’t be able to go home,” Tony answered flatly. “I’ll be staying here for thanksgiving.”
Rhodey didn’t hesitate. “Oh, no, you won’t. Pack your stuff, Stark. You’re coming to the Rhodes house.”
“You don’t have to do that, really. I’m alright staying here. I’m honestly used to it! I prefer to be alone, actually.”
Tony tried to keep his cavalier persona firmly in place, playing the situation off. But he should have known that Rhodey wouldn’t buy it. From day one, his roommate had been able to see right through Tony and his bullcrap and been able to call him out on it.
Rhodey arched an eyebrow, placing a hand on his hip. “Uh huh. That why you’re sitting here moping?”
“I’m not moping!”
“I can practically see the storm cloud above your head!”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine. Well, are you sure your mom-”
Rhodey placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder, cutting him off. His dark eyes were serious. “My momma would have my head if she knew I let you stay here by yourself. I’ll let her know to expect you, but trust me when I say that it won’t be a problem.”
Tony took a deep breath and placed the shirts and bag of toiletries he’d unpacked back into in his small duffle while Rhodey called his mom.
“She said you better come, and expect to bring home at least three Tupperware full of left-overs.”
And so Tony found himself sitting around the table with Roberta Rhodes, Lila Rhodes, and his roommate. He hadn’t expected to be treated like family so quickly, but it was clear that’s exactly how they viewed him as the chatted and passed him turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce.
Later, the Christmas tree cast a warm, happy glow over the four individuals laying around the living room in various stages of consciousness, their full stomachs lulling them into a contented stupor. Tony was surprised the tree was up so early, but he was glad it was. It’s branches were laden with ornaments that clearly held stories (like the handmade snowflake one that featured a picture of a young James Rhodes wearing the ugliest sweater Tony had ever seen, grinning ear to ear without any front teeth), so different from the sterile red and white decorations that went on the tree at his home every year.
The warm light and company seemed to fill him with happiness and contentment all the way from his toes to his head, accumulating into bright sun rays around him like a halo that warmed every part of his soul.
It was the best thanksgiving he’d ever had.
Three little turkeys with nothing to do,
One waddled off, and then there were two.
The first year is the hardest Tony had heard it said.
It gets easier people promised.
Well, so far, it had been the hardest year, but Tony didn’t think it was going to get any easier after the one year mark.
His parents were dead. Killed. Gone. Right before Christmas.
At each new “first” without them, Tony found himself turning more and more to the bottle, saw his roommate and best friend become more and more concerned, his grades more and more in danger.
Tony had refused Rhodey’s offer to come be with him for thanksgiving. He loved them, but he couldn’t stomach being around a family.
His family, because the Rhodes’ were almost more family than his own parents had been.
Maybe that’s why it was so hard.
So on yet another first- the first thanksgiving without them- Tony woke to a dull grey sky outside his window. Bare trees, brown leaves, and dead grass further matched his mood. It was another day to be drained from his memory, drowned out by the buzzing in his skull.
He was heading to grab a beer for breakfast (totally healthy, he knows) when a knock on the front door had him changing course from the kitchen to the entranceway of his apartment.
He had to grip the doorframe to keep from falling over when he saw who was on the other side.
“Jarvis?”
“Hello, Sir,” the man said with a kind smile, but he couldn't quite cover up the concern in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, Anna and I thought you might like some company today. Our neighbor gave us a turkey that is much too large for just the two of us, so we thought you might come help us eat it.”
Tony knew Jarvis well enough to know that it wasn’t really a question. Jarvis wasn’t leaving without him. And, really, Tony couldn’t refuse even if he had the energy or desire to.
“Okay.”
Later that night Tony hugged them both goodbye, a stomach full of good food softening the sadness that had gripped him earlier that day. After Jarvis dropped Tony back off at his apartment, Tony paused as he was heading up the stairs, and turned around.
“Jarvis?” The man looked up from putting the car in gear. “Thank you. And Anna, too.”
Jarvis’ face softened. “Anytime, sir.”
And as Tony went to bed, he grabbed a beer out of habit, but thought twice before putting it to his lips.
Maybe it was okay to feel sometimes.
He dumped the beer down the sink and threw away the bottle.
Two little turkeys in the morning sun,
One waddled off, and then there was one.
The bright sun woke Peter up. He wandered blearily into the living room, and was surprised to find his aunt already awake, holding a cup of steaming coffee.
“Hey, baby,” she murmured, holding out her arm for Peter to snuggle under.
He didn’t need to ask about the red rim around her eyes, or what she was doing up so early. The space on the side of the couch from her was too conspicuously empty, the two places already set at the table too obviously missing a third, the hole in their heart too Ben-shaped to be ignored.
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, again, the guilt eating him as it always had, but especially on holidays.
Once May had found out about Spider-Man, Peter had finally cracked one day and told her the real details of Ben’s death after a particularly bad nightmare about the night featuring rain that was red like blood and gunshots echoing all around him. He’d sobbed and sobbed, begging her to forgive him. She hadn’t even thought about it. She’d wrapped her arms around Peter, hugged him as tight as she could, and whispered over and over again that it wasn’t his fault.
But hearing it and letting himself believe it were two completely different things. Peter didn’t feel like he deserved May’s forgiveness. It was his fault that they were awake at 6 AM, watching the sun rise, and missing part of them.
“No,” May said, her voice firm but her hand very gentle as she pulled back to place it on Peter’s cheek. “No. None of that. Ben would not want us sitting here, moping away on his second favorite holiday.”
Peter chuckled at that, remembering how his uncle would always insist that if he weren't already a religious man, he might start his own church dedicated to food. Thanksgiving was almost as holy to him as Christmas.
“Remember that year he made cupcakes that looked like turkeys? With the little candy corn feathers? You couldn’t eat it cause the turkey was ‘looking at you’?”
They both chuckled, snuggling together again.
“Or that time you tricked us with that stupid microwave turkey thing and he called in a panic, screaming for you not to do it?” May laughed.
“Oh! what about that time he laughed so hard, eggnog came out of his nose?”
They continued to remember and honor the man they were missing. As the sun rose and lit their apartment, the memories of thanksgiving’s they’d shared lit their hearts.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” May whispered, remembering her husband’s words from years earlier and taking solace in them once more.
“Yeah,” Peter murmured. “It will. Thanks, May. I’m so grateful I have you.”
“You, too, kiddo. More than you know.”
One little turkey better run away,
For soon it will be Thanksgiving Day.
Peeling potatoes was a mindless task, and Tony found that to be a very not good thing.
It meant his mind had time to wander and think about...things. Like Peter, and May, and the thousand others who weren’t celebrating Thanksgiving for yet another year. Though it had been four years since Thanos, Tony still found his mind wandering every holiday, thinking about and dwelling on the people who were unable to celebrate.
Especially one very specific person. The most important one, really, at least to Tony. And Tony hadn’t even been able to tell him.
To make up for lack of words shared in life, Tony found time every holiday to talk to Peter. Found a little private space that was quiet and secluded and talked to his kid. His kid. It had taken that kid’s death for him to finally admit it, but that’s what Peter had been to Tony. Pepper knew what he did even though he hadn’t told her, and he had a feeling she purposely kept Morgan busy to give him that quiet time.
Tony placed the last peeled potato in the bowl and turned to his wife. Her face softened at the look on his face, and she nodded, gesturing to the back door.
Tony squeezed her hand before walking out the door and to the group of small birches by the lake that he’d chosen for this purpose. He called it Peter’s Place. He was working on a sign for it.
“Hey, Pete,” he whispered, sitting on the ground and leaning up against his favorite tree. “Happy thanksgiving, bud. Another one without you, and I gotta say, it doesn’t get easier. But it gets...different. I hope you know I’m thankful for you. Thankful that you opened my heart to having kids, that you let me get my fumbling attempts at parenting so when Morgan came I had a better grasp on how it worked. I’m thankful for you teaching me about memes, for the movie and lab nights, for your smile and hugs.” He paused to wipe his eyes. “Geez, you made me soft. Anyway, I just wanted to come out and say my piece as usual. I love you, kid. I hope you know that.”
He took a minute to compose himself before heading back to the house. He didn’t make it all the way in before the door opened and a little body was running towards him.
“Oh no! A monster,” he cried, running the other way, smiling as Morgan’s laughter peeled behind him. He ran slowly, letting his 3-year-old daughter catch up to him on her tiny legs. She grabbed his leg, and he theatrically fell to the ground, rolling and taking her with him.
She giggled, and he placed a kiss on her cheek, then another, then another, keeping her happy laughter ringing out.
Morgan was a bright spot in his life, the light that, along with Pepper, chased the darkness of his failures away and reminded him that despite all he’d lost, there was still so much to be thankful for.
And Peter would want him to be happy, to live, to be grateful and positive. That’s how he’d lived, after all.
So Tony kissed his daughter twice more, one for her, and one for his other kid.
“I love you,” he whispered to them both.
Soon it will be Thanksgiving day
Peter could hardly contain his excitement.
May laughed at him as she put the mashed potatoes (that Peter had made, with May “helpfully” giving tips and pointers...mostly to make him laugh) in a tin to bring with them to the Starks.
“Peter, calm down or I will intentionally make this take so much longer,” she threatened.
“But Maaaaay, I’m HUNGRY.”
“Yes, and I told you to eat something for breakfast. And did you?”
Peter mumbled something unintelligible.
“What was that?”
“No. I wanted to be hungry for turkey! And potatoes! And pie!”
“Peter, please,” she groaned, good naturedly. “Go get one of the super bars from the cabinet so your stomach doesn’t start digesting itself and so I don’t have to deal with you complaining the entire way to the lake house!”
“Fine,” Peter sighed, and dramatically went to grab a granola bar as requested.
“Grab two!”
Peter did, and waved them pointedly in front of her face. May laughed. “Okay, okay. Eat them, and let’s get out of here!”
They passed the time by belting Christmas carols on the ride down, laughing and dancing, and soon they were there. Peter carried the potatoes in and put them down on the counter so he could accept a hug from Morgan, who ran and jumped as high as she could, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Petey!!! Happy Thanksgiving!” She shouted, placing a kiss on his cheek.
“Hey, Mo,” he said, smiling. “Happy thanksgiving.”
The little girl placed both her hands on either side of his face, very seriously looking into his eyes. “Peter, I am thankful for you.”
Peter couldn’t help but chuckle a little at her dramatics, even though his heart was swelling from her words. “Well, thank you. I’m grateful for you too!”
Her mission completed, Morgan squirmed to go give May a hug, so Peter turned to Pepper. She was wearing an apron with little turkeys all of it, and was rolling dough for rolls into balls to be placed in the oven once the turkey was done.
He placed a kiss to her cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving, Pepper!”
“Happy thanksgiving, sweetie!”
“Where’s Tony?”
Pepper’s face held an expression Peter wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. “He’s out back. Why don’t you go find him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you’re here.”
Peter found Tony by the lake in a little grove of trees.
“Tony?”
“Hey kid,” Tony said, and something about his voice made Peter pause. He glanced around and saw a little sign that said Peter’s place. He looked quizzically at Tony. “I came here every holiday to talk to you while you were...gone. I guess old habits die hard. I couldn’t not come here today.”
Peter blinked back tears. “Wow,” he said, unable to find more eloquent words.
“Pete, you know I love you, right? And that I’m grateful for you?”
Peter’s voice wouldn’t form the words, couldn’t make sound come out through the lump of emotion in his voice. He settled for hugging Tony instead.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “You know I feel the same, right?”
Tony hugged Peter tighter. “Yeah, kiddo, I do.”
They stayed there for a little while, just holding one another, basking in each other’s love and the intense gratitude of being able to be together again that seemed to overwhelm them.
Eventually, Tony let out a watery chuckle. “Geez, today’s supposed to be a happy day. I blame you for making me all emotional!”
Peter nudged Tony with his elbow. “Rude, old man!”
And the two, still linked together by arms thrown over shoulders and around waists, headed back to the house.
As Peter looked around the table as they all sat down, the Starks, May, even Happy and Rhodey, he allowed himself to be a little bit sappy. This was what Thanksgiving was truly about, anyway: family. And he really couldn’t express how grateful he was for each and every one of them, including the ones he’d lost. He closed his eyes and mentally committed the moment to memory.
“Happy thanksgiving, everyone!” He said, raising his glass.
“Happy thanksgiving!” They called back.
And it was. It really was.