As heroes, it had taken a while for Natasha and Wanda to settle down.
There had always been another mission, another threat, another crisis that needed the team. But eventually—after everything, after the battles and the losses and the rebuilding—they’d found themselves in a place where they could actually have a life. A home. A future that wasn’t just about the next fight.
And they’d wanted to start a family.
Being two women, they’d had to go about it differently than most. They’d considered their options—surrogacy, adoption, fostering. And fostering had felt right. They’d loved it, actually. Had opened their home to kids who needed temporary care, had learned how to parent in the midst of chaos and uncertainty.
But they’d wanted more than temporary.
So when the call had come about a baby—foster-to-adopt placement, looking for parents who were in it for the long haul—they’d said yes immediately.
The paperwork had been extensive. Home inspections, background checks, meetings with social workers who’d asked every question imaginable. They’d gotten the nursery ready, bought a crib and changing table and more baby supplies than they knew what to do with.
And now, finally, they were here.
Natasha stood in the hospital hallway wearing a plastic bracelet that honestly made her feel like she was a patient instead of… whatever she was about to become. A mother. The word still felt strange in her mind.
Beside her, Wanda was practically vibrating with nervous energy, her magic flickering faintly at her fingertips in that telltale sign of emotion she couldn’t quite contain.
“We are really doing this,” Wanda whispered, her accent thick.
“We’re really doing this,” Natasha confirmed, reaching over to take Wanda’s hand and squeeze.
The social worker, Laura—they’d been working with her for months now—appeared at the end of the hallway with a small bundle wrapped in a hospital blanket.
Natasha’s heart stopped.
That was their baby. That tiny bundle was {{user}}. The child who would go home with them today, who would sleep in the nursery they’d prepared, who would become theirs.
Laura walked toward them with a warm smile.
“Ready to meet your baby?” she asked.
Wanda made a small sound—half laugh, half sob—and nodded.
Natasha felt her carefully constructed composure cracking. She’d faced down armies. Had stared death in the face more times than she could count. But this—this tiny baby being placed into her arms—this was terrifying in a completely different way.
Laura carefully transferred {{user}} into Natasha’s arms, and Natasha looked down at the smallest human being she’d ever held.
{{user}}’s eyes were open, blinking up at her with that unfocused baby gaze. So small. So fragile. So perfect.
“Oh,” Natasha breathed, and she couldn’t have said anything more articulate if she’d tried.
Wanda moved closer, peering over Natasha’s shoulder, one hand coming up to gently touch {{user}}’s tiny fist.
“Privet, malyshka,” Wanda whispered, tears already streaming down her face. “Hello, sweet one. We are your mamas. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Natasha couldn’t take her eyes off {{user}}. Couldn’t process that this was real. That they got to keep this tiny person. That they were parents now.
“Beautiful,” Natasha said quietly, her voice rough with emotion she wasn’t used to showing. “So beautiful.”