Thanksgiving Ficlet
He listens to the others around the unfeasibly large table list what they’re thankful for and decides he hates this tradition.
Pietro is 100% on board with the turkey and the yams and the green bean casserole but this part, the part where they’re expected to speak about their feelings; he’s not a fan of this.
It’s not that he doesn’t have anything to be thankful for. These past few months with the Avengers; the chance to help people; to make a difference to people’s lives; knowing that Wanda is safe and happy; having a bed to call his own in a room that doesn’t have bars in place of one wall; Pietro owes more than his thanks to these people.
Like hell is he going to tell them all that though.
Clint keeps glancing at him as his turn gets closer, almost as if he can sense Pietro’s inner panic. He’s not sure when exactly the stubborn old man who had no time for him became the person who knew him best. He’d never had anybody like that in his life except Wanda.
The more he thinks about it, that might be what he’s most thankful for. He finds himself returning Clint’s glances as the others prattle on about finding Bucky and family and love and the newly designed flash grenades that SHIELD outfitted them with, biting his cheek to keep from laughing as Clint rolls his eyes in exasperated fondness at Nat’s five minute long ode to the grenades.
His turn sneaks up on him, taking him by surprise. What is he thankful for? The answer is our of his mouth before his brain can filter it.
“Clint Barton.”
Pietro finds out later that Clint tastes better than any green bean casserole ever could. Thanksgiving is maybe something he could get used to.