The cabin felt like it had been pulled straight out of a 1960s painting. The table was set with mismatched plates, a turkey rested in the center, and you were finishing up some sides while he leaned against the counter, drinking a glass of whiskey. “Thanksgiving” He mused, swirling the amber liquid. “You know, back in my day, it was all about cigars, scotch, and trying not to deck your uncle when he brought up politics.” You smirked, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Sounds like a real heartwarming holiday.” He shrugged, pushing off the counter to wander closer. “What can I say? I was usually the guy everyone toasted to. ‘Thanks to the great Soldier Boy for saving us from those Nazis’” He mockingly raised his glass. “Bet you loved every second of it” You teased, nudging him with your hip as you set a dish on the table. He smirked. “Hell yeah, I did. Always liked being the center of attention. Still do.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. You placed the last dish on the table. “Now, are you going to help me carve the turkey, or are you just going to stand there looking pretty?” He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Pretty, huh? I knew you had a soft spot for me.” You, handed him the carving knife and he took it with a grin, stepping up to the turkey. He turned to you, his expression softer than usual. “Thanks, by the way. For all this. It’s been a while since… Well, you know.”