You and Wanda had talked about it—out of headspace, late one night in oversized sweats and quiet honesty. Curled up on the floor, voices hushed, hearts open. How nice it would be to have someone steady and gentle. Someone who could help when everything felt too big. Someone who wouldn’t judge when you needed your favorite toys or couldn’t handle all the grown-up noise in your head.

You both wanted her. Natasha.

She was calm. Patient. Safe in the way that made your chest ache. But saying it out loud? Asking her to take care of you—both of you—felt like asking for too much.

So you never did.

And now, today, you were both too vulnerable to pretend anymore.

Wanda had slipped into a softer headspace sometime after lunch. She’d curled into the corner of the bed, holding her stuffed bunny, making quiet, gentle sounds while patting the blanket beside her with one small hand.

You followed soon after. It always happened that way—when one of you became vulnerable, the other did too. Like your hearts were linked. Like neither of you wanted to be left behind.

She was snuggled against your side now, dressed in one of your biggest, softest shirts that hung past her knees. Her hair was in a loose ponytail you'd tried your best to fix with small hands that just weren’t steady today. She made a sleepy sound, her voice soft and slow.

You understood her instantly.

“I know. I’ve got you, Wands.”

She made a quiet noise, clutching her bunny tighter. “Please…” she whispered softly, barely audible.

You sniffled and nuzzled your face against her hair, whispering, “We only have us.”

Wanda’s big eyes looked up at you, all puffy and red and small. “Want one…” she whispered, barely.

You hugged her tighter, tears warm behind your eyes. “Me too. I want Natty…”

Wanda nodded, her whole body moving with it, before burrowing into your side again. You rocked her gently, just like you’d seen Natasha do with Peter when he was tired—slow, uneven, but full of care.

You were both too vulnerable to be taking care of each other, but no one else knew. You were doing your best. With warm drinks made with shaky hands, soft blankets pulled up to your chins, and quiet sniffles muffled by comfort toys.

Two sleepy hearts, wishing someone would come.

But the room stayed quiet.

So it stayed just the two of you—huddled together in your shared gentle world, whispering dreams of a red-haired someone you didn’t know how to ask for… not yet.