You would not believe them if they had told you the tower was quiet on Thanksgiving. That could be because all the happy people were gone.

Clint and Natasha were the first to go; they were spending the holiday at Clint's farm, with his family. It wasn't as if they hadn't extended the invitation to the whole team. The were turned down on account of how many things were broken last time, and the team had grown considerably in size.

Peter Parker and his aunt were out of town, visiting some distant relatives.

The Macimoff twins were trying to track down their father. Much to the team's chagrin, the two had set off to try and spend a holiday with their "family" (if a mass murderer could be considered that).

T'Challa was in Wakanda with his people.

Sam Wilson had some buddies he warned to catch up with. Without supers—just normal people, he politely stressed.

Scott Lang was with Hank and his daughter, who had a severe disliking of Starks.

Thor was off in Asgard, they presumed. He came and went as he pleased, independent of Midgard's traditions.

The agents of SHIELD were having some sort of holiday business party. Everyone was to our afraid to see what went on behind those base doors.

So that left the orphans; Bruce, Tony, Steve, and Vision, to be exact. A depressing bunch, if you ever saw one. Tony helped himself to more than a few drinks, Vision couldn't cook for his life, and Steve and Bruce were trying to be cheerful.

Bruce was halfway through explaining Macy's Thanksgiving Parade when they heard a crash sounding like something big and metal crashing into something bigger and metallier. Our Bruce heard Tony describe something like that, he would ban him from the lab forever.

It took them three and a half minutes to get to the roof, and in that time, the smoke had cleared and four figures and a plant had appeared.

"Tony Stank!" Peter Quill exclaimed, throwing his arms out widely.

A muscle in Tony's brow twitched. From the mispronounced name or the sever damage to his roof, no one knew. Bruce quickly interjected, for fear of any profanity Tony might have spilt.

"Nice of you all to drop by. Any, uh, reason in particular?"

"Quill speaks of local festivities," Drax informed the Avengers dutifully. "A giving OF thanks."

"I am Groot," said Groot with a nod. Rocket snorted at Groot's statement.

Steve, Bruce, and Tony shared a glance.

Finally, Tony shrugged. "Eh, what the hell. We need something to lift our sad little spirits."

The following Monday, when the disbanded Avengers returned, they found a horrific mess. Leftover food from god knows when WAS on every surface; Bruce and Gamora had started a pool tournament; Rocket, Tony, and Peter were playing strip poker in the corner; Steve sat by himself, headphones on and Awesome Mixtape Vol. 1 on full volume.

No matter what, no one would speak of what happened during the days of that year's Thanksgiving. Frankly, they were too scared to ask.

Extremely short, I know, but A, it's a holiday. Gimme a break. And B, I wrote this within an hour because I have so much homework. Sorry I'm behind on my updating, but I have an 86 and a 75 in Spanish 2 and International Relations, respectively. Trust me, school work is not what I want to be doing.

But, enough airing of my grievances. For one, I'm thankful for my readers, followers, and favorite-ers. Thanks for sticking with me, through thick and thin. Also, thanks to my new beta, Maniac Jack.

Have a safe, Happy Thanksgiving (or a random Thursday for those who don't celebrate it).

Stay awesome, my dudes!

~palmtreedragons