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Carol didn't make a big deal out of it. She spread a few things across the dining table that afternoon—quietly, methodically. The circled calendar page. An old, slightly worn Air Force patch she hadn't touched in years. A photo Athena didn't even remember taking: the two of them half-laughing on the porch, Morgan perched between them, Sage's tail a blur in the corner. Athena leaned in the doorway and watched, arms crossed, heart doing something soft and unfamiliar. "You don't have to frame the calendar," Athena said lightly.

Carol glanced up, a corner of her mouth lifting. "I want to." She chose a simple frame. Wood. Nothing flashy. When she slid the calendar page in and smoothed it flat, her hands lingered—careful, intentional. "This one stays," Carol said, almost to herself. Athena felt it land. Permanence. Roots. Carol hung it on the wall just inside the hallway—not front and center, but impossible to miss if you lived there. Home, quietly claimed.

Later, as the house settled into its afternoon rhythm, Athena found her mom at the kitchen counter, rinsing a mug. Pepper and Tony had taken Morgan back to the main compound wing; the house felt calmer without losing its warmth. The dogs were sprawled in sunlit patches like sentries off duty. Athena hesitated. Then—

"So um... mama?" she said, scratching the back of her neck. "How long are you, uh... gonna stay with us?" Natasha didn't answer right away. She set the mug down. Turned. Really looked at her daughter—older now, steadier, standing in a house she'd chosen.

"As long as you want me here," Natasha said evenly. Athena let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Yeah?" Natasha nodded once. "I won't interfere. This is your life." Athena shook her head immediately. "You're not interfering. You're... stabilizing. And the dogs listen to you more than me, which feels personal."

A faint smile touched Natasha's mouth. "I'll stay as long as I'm welcome," she said. "Close. Not in the way." Athena swallowed, emotion sneaking up on her. "That's... exactly what I want." From the hallway, Carol watched the exchange quietly. She met Natasha's eyes for just a second—respect, gratitude, understanding passing between them.

Natasha inclined her head, just slightly. Later, when Athena slipped her arm around Carol's waist, she noticed the frame on the wall again. Carol followed her gaze. "Too much?" Athena smiled, leaning in. "Not even a little." The house held them easily—chosen family, steady ground, and a future that didn't feel borrowed anymore.