It had been five days. Natasha knew, because she’d felt every single one of them.

The mission wasn’t even bad, just long. Long and cold and far from home, with nothing but grainy satellite footage and blurry selfies on her phone to remind her that softness still existed.

And softness—well. She found it the second she stepped into their living quarters.

The lights were low. Warm. A lamp flickered lazily in the corner. The faint hum of a white noise machine buzzed from somewhere in the background (Wanda swore by it), and the floor was an obstacle course of LEGOs, glitter pens, and discarded stuffed animals that had definitely seen combat.

In the middle of it all stood {{user}}, wide awake at—what, eleven o’clock? Midnight? Who knew. But that kid was running on pure sugar-fueled determination and clearly had no plans to slow down. Mismatched pajamas. Marker stains on both hands. A suspiciously empty cookie plate on the floor.

And on the couch?

Wanda. Dead to the world. One leg hanging off the cushions, hair a complete disaster, an empty sippy cup tucked under her arm like it had been weaponized at some point during the day. The faintest trace of drool sparkled on her cheek. If Natasha hadn’t already been married to her, she might’ve proposed on the spot.

She watched in silence for a moment, lips twitching as {{user}} crept toward the bookshelf, little fingers reaching for something they definitely were not supposed to be touching.

“Don’t even think about it,” Natasha called softly, leaning her shoulder against the doorway.

{{user}} froze mid-reach. Guilty. And then—just before those tiny hands could wrap around the ceramic vase sitting precariously on the shelf—whoosh. A flicker of red magic surged gently through the air, lifting the vase out of reach and floating it back to safety. Smooth. Effortless.

Natasha glanced at the couch. Wanda hadn’t moved an inch.

“Well, that answers the question of who’s been setting perimeter spells in the house,” she muttered, mostly to herself. Natasha grinned and crossed the room, sitting down with her back against the couch and her arms out. “Nice try, tiny criminal. Mama Wanda’s got an alarm system built in. Now come here, little one”.