The sun dipped low in the sky, throwing warm shades of orange and pink against the modern architecture of Bakugo's penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a panoramic view of the city, sparkling like a vast sea of stars waiting to emerge. It was Thanksgiving, but the squad had dubbed today "Friendsgiving," a chance to celebrate their camaraderie amidst their hectic lives as pro heroes.
Kirishima stood just inside the door, his vibrant red hair flopping adorably as he kicked off his shoes. "This place is amazing, Bakugo! As usual, you outdid yourself," he said, looking around in awe. The penthouse was indeed a stark contrast to Bakugo's usual fiery demeanor—a sleek, minimalistic paradise filled with modern art pieces and just the right amount of cozy accents.
Denki breezed in next, juggling a stack of boxes filled with homemade dishes. "I brought my famous potato salad! And, um, I think I might have burned a couple of rolls." His electric grin reflected his excitement more than his cooking failures.
"Didn't I tell you not to touch the oven?" Bakugo barked, but the corner of his mouth twitched up into a hint of a smile. After all, the holiday spirit was contagious, even for him.
Mina strutted in next, her hair a shocking pink that blended perfectly with her joyful nature. "I made my mom's cranberry sauce and, oh! I have cookies too! They're shaped like turkeys!" She set the goodies down with a flourish, her energy lighting up the room.
Jiro glided in, her dark attire offsetting the vibrant colors of her friends. She carried a carefully wrapped apple pie, her expression relaxed but focused. "I hope you all like it. I tested a new recipe," she said, giving Bakugo a teasing smile.
"Just keep it away from the flames," he shot back, softer this time—he wouldn't dare ruin the spirit of the day.
Shinsou sauntered in, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, "I brought some drinks. I hope no one minds if they're a bit strong." He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he caught Bakugo's glare.
"Alcohol? On Thanksgiving?" Bakugo's tone was incredulous, but he didn't pause long. After a moment's thought, he shrugged, "As long as it's not in my turkey, I guess."
Sero arrived last, rolling in on his skateboard. "Check it out, guys! I wrapped some sushi in Thanksgiving colors!" He held up a platter filled with intricately rolled sushi wrapped in orange and yellow seaweed—a fun touch to a classic feast.
With everyone unloading their culinary creations, Bakugo led them into the spacious living area. The long dining table stretched beneath the elegant overhead lights, waiting for the festive chaos to unfold. As they gathered, laughter and friendly banter filled the air, their worries falling away with every joke and playful jab.
Finally seated around the table, they served up the assortment of food, each dish a representation of its creator. Kirishima's hearty Oktoberfest bratwurst, Denki's bumpy potato salad, Mina's sharp cranberry sauce, Jiro's sweet apple pie, Shinsou's potent drinks, Sero's colorful sushi, and Bakugo's traditional turkey—an unexpected masterpiece thanks to a last-minute recipe he scoured online.
With plates piled high, they raised their glasses in unison. "To our friendship!" Mina proclaimed with a bright smile, her eyes twinkling. They echoed her words, a chorus of cheers ringing through the penthouse. Despite the inherent chaos within their lives, this moment of togetherness nurtured their connection stronger than any villain they faced.
They shared stories from the past year—their triumphs, the laughs they'd had during harrowing missions, and even a few embarrassing tales that surfaced from late-night training sessions.
As the evening wore on and the last scraps of food were picked clean from the plates, the mood grew mellow. They sprawled out on plush couches, settling into the laughter and warmth of friendship. Outside, the city lights flickered against the darkening sky, but inside, the glow of camaraderie ignited a shared warmth.
Bakugo, who had tried to maintain his brooding edge throughout the evening, found himself smiling—a small but determined gesture that was impossible to fight.
"Alright, alright! Let's just admit it. This was actually fun," he grumbled, arms crossed but the amusement clear in his eyes.
Each member of the Baku Squad exchanged knowing glances, unspoken understanding passed between them. Friendsgiving had become more than just a meal; it was a remarkable thread that tied them together, underscoring that even the strongest heroes needed a retreat every once in a while.
As they chatted about future plans—mission strategies, new training techniques, and just where they would celebrate next—one thing was abundantly clear: no matter how busy their lives got, they would always return to this. A mismatched family made stronger through challenge and laughter, and today, they found solace in each other's company and the spirit of Thanksgiving.