Accidents Happen

Chapter Twenty-Just Feeling Happy

This Thanksgiving is different for Peter. When he woke, he immediately grabbed the stack of photos off of his bedside table. There were three sonogram photos now, and he took a moment to look over each one. To make sure it was real.

When he finally climbed out of bed and got dressed, he heard the faint sound of a Christmas piano playlist on Spotify twinkling throughout the apartment, the light smell of cinnamon and other seasonal spices hanging on the air. The combination made for a confusing atmosphere; the future of candy canes and the present of turkeys seeming to meld into one.

Peter left and went to help May with the last minute preparations for their mid-afternoon meal. After two hours or so, everything was in the oven and they were right on track.

In just under thirty minutes, at about 2 pm, Tony, Pepper, and Colonel Rhodes would be joining them for a small Thanksgiving Dinner, courtesy of May (with Peter's help, of course). They'd suggested having the meal Upstate at the compound, but his aunt insisted that the apartment would be much homier. Though now, she might have been regretting that decision as she scrambles frantically about the kitchenette.

To anyone else, this might seem fun; normal. A nice dinner with close friends, no hordes of random relatives jabbering on about what you're going to do with your life, no risk of angry political arguments, and perhaps most importantly, no kids table that Peter would be forced to sit at.

Under normal circumstances, Peter would be over the moon at the prospect of spending Thanksgiving day with his idol, his idol's fiancé, and a military colonel. But he hadn't seen Tony in person since the man found out about the baby. About Peter's daughter. He had no doubt that Tony had informed Pepper and Rhodey in on the situation, which made him slightly uncomfortable. But less uncomfortable than he would have been had it been his job to announce it.

For a moment, Peter feels a prick of jealousy knowing that his two best friends get to go somewhere else for the holiday, that they're going to be literally surrounded by relatives of all shapes and sizes. They'll come back with stories and rants about so-and-so saying this and so-and-so doing that, which relative got the drunkest and embarrassed themselves the most.

But the five days of break had made Peter slightly anxious. He knew Michelle was with her family, so he didn't want to bother her, but he also wanted to make sure everything was okay with the baby. May assured him that everything was probably fine, and that he should just enjoy the time off school. And he tried to, but his mind always wandered back to that ever-looming topic of all the unresolved issues they still had to face.

This is, by far, the most they've made for Thanksgiving in... ever, and needless to say, she's possibly the teensiest bit stressed at the idea of hosting the dinner for guests once again. Really, though, she has nothing to worry about.

The mashed potatoes are golden and buttery, fluffy but a bit droopy; almost perfect.The dressing is a little dry, but it tastes great. And the sweet potato casserole that Peter put together, even with the marshmallows being toasted a fraction unevenly, looks pretty darn good. Plus, with two fudge pies, she'd say they were all set. Sure nothing looked perfect, but it all tasted good.

All that was missing was the green bean casserole, the turkey, and the rolls, all of which being brought by their lovely guests... in about... 10 minutes.

May has never claimed to be a five-star chef, but damn it, if she isn't proud of the work she and Peter put in today. "You know, I gotta say, I didn't think we could do it...." May starts, wiping her brow. "But we're good at reading directions." She laughs, eyes sparkling as she shakes her head.

All Peter can offer is an amused huff through the nose as he nods in agreement. "Yeah," he says quietly. Of course, he's proud, too. But the feeling is short-lived, quickly being overshadowed by the gray rain clouds that's been looming over his head for the morning.