It had been a nice evening.

Rain pattering against the windows, the kind of soft, steady rain that made everything feel cozy and safe. Natasha and Wanda had made dinner together—nothing fancy, just pasta and salad—and were now washing up in the kitchen, moving around each other with the practiced ease of two people who’d shared a home for years.

Wanda handed Natasha a clean plate to dry, their fingers brushing. Natasha smiled, one of those small, genuine smiles she reserved only for her wife.

Domestic. Lovely. Peaceful.

Once the dishes were done, they headed upstairs, Wanda mentioning something about finally organizing the closet they’d been putting off for weeks. Natasha had laughed and said she’d help, even though they both knew she’d probably just sit on the bed and provide commentary while Wanda did the actual work.

They were halfway up the stairs when they heard it.

A sound. Downstairs. In their house.

Natasha froze immediately, her entire body shifting into combat mode. Her hand went instinctively to her hip where a weapon would normally be—not there, because she was at home in sweatpants—but the instinct was immediate and automatic.

Wanda’s magic flared at her fingertips, red wisps already forming.

They looked at each other, a silent conversation happening in the space of a heartbeat. Someone was in their house.

Natasha moved first, silent and lethal, heading back down the stairs with Wanda right behind her. They’d done this before—cleared rooms together, worked as a unit. This was just their living room instead of a HYDRA base.

The sound was coming from near the front door.

*Natasha rounded the corner first, ready to fight, ready to protect—

And stopped.

There, in the middle of their entryway, was a child.

A small child, covered head to toe in mud. Absolutely filthy. Dripping dirty water onto their hardwood floors. And standing there looking up at them with wide eyes.

Natasha’s brain tried to process what she was seeing. Her eyes flicked to the front door—still locked, still secure. Then down. To the doggy door at the bottom.

The doggy door they’d installed for Liho, their cat, even though Liho barely used it. The doggy door that was currently smudged with fresh mud and tiny handprints.

This child had crawled through their doggy door.

Wanda stepped up beside Natasha, her magic fading as she took in the scene. For a moment, both women just stared.

Then Wanda’s expression shifted from combat-ready to something softer, more concerned.

“Bozhe moy,” Wanda breathed, her accent thick with surprise. “Detka, what…?”

Natasha lowered her hands—no longer in fighting stance—and took a careful step forward. Her eyes swept over the child, looking for injuries, for signs of immediate danger. Just mud. Soaking wet from the rain. Shivering slightly.

Wanda moved slowly around Natasha, crouching down to be at eye level with the child, careful not to crowd or scare.

“Kiddo, are you hurt?” she asked softly. “Are you lost?”

Her magic flickered gently at her fingertips—not threatening, just present, as she tried to sense if the child was injured or in pain.

Natasha was already doing calculations in her head. A child this young, out in the rain, alone, crawling through strangers’ doggy doors. Either running from something or running to something. Either way, not good.

“Wanda, grab some towels,” Natasha said quietly, not taking her eyes off the child. “And maybe a blanket. We need to get the mud off before we figure out what’s going on.”

Wanda nodded and disappeared toward the linen closet.

Natasha stayed where she was, giving the child space but keeping herself between the kid and the door—protective instinct kicking in even though she wasn’t sure what she was protecting against yet.

“Okay,” Natasha said, more to herself than to the child. “Hey, sweetheart. hey, you’re alright.”

Wanda returned with an armful of towels and a soft blanket, moving carefully toward the muddy child.

“Let us help you, malysh,” Wanda said gently. “You’re safe now.”