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Carol was halfway through assembling what could generously be called a sandwich—bread, something toasted, something definitely not meant to go together—when she heard the faint thump-thump of plastic wheels on tile behind her. She didn't turn right away. "Guys," Carol called lazily, still focused on her plate, "if this is another prank involving hot sauce or—" The sound stopped.

Carol frowned and glanced over her shoulder. Morgan sat in her walker a few feet away, wide-eyed, hands gripping the front bar like she'd been sent on an important mission. She wobbled once, then stilled. Carol's expression softened instantly. "Hey there, trouble," she said, crouching slightly. "What are you doin' out here all by yourself?" That's when she saw the onesie. She blinked.

Once. Then leaned in closer, reading it again. Will you marry my godmother? Carol's brain stalled. She straightened slowly, heart beginning to pound, and looked past Morgan. Athena stood there. Nervous. Steady. Ring box in her hand, open, the sapphire catching the kitchen light. Her usual confidence was there, but underneath it was something raw—hope, fear, love all tangled together.

"Athena..." Carol breathed. Athena swallowed, then dropped to one knee behind Morgan, one hand resting briefly on the walker to steady herself. "I know you don't do subtle," Athena said, voice slightly unsteady but sure. "And I know you don't do 'easy.' But you do us. Every day. You stay. You choose me. You choose this family." From the doorway, Natasha held her breath. Somewhere down the hall, someone—probably Sam—whispered, "Oh this is good." Athena lifted the ring just a little higher.

"I don't need perfect," Athena continued. "I just need you. So—" She glanced down at Morgan, who babbled proudly, then back up at Carol. "Will you marry me?" The room was silent. Carol stared at Athena. At the ring. At Morgan, who squeaked and kicked her feet like she knew she'd nailed her part. Then Carol laughed. A soft, breathless sound that turned into a shaky exhale as she scrubbed a hand over her face. "You used the baby," she said, voice thick. "That's dirty." Athena smiled. "Effective, though."

Carol dropped to her knees too, right there on the kitchen floor, so they were eye level. She reached out, steady hands cupping Athena's face. "You're it for me," Carol said simply. "You always have been." She kissed Athena—gentle, grounding, certain—then pulled back just enough to say, "Yes. Of course I'll marry you." The compound erupted. Cheers, clapping, someone yelling "I CALLED IT," footsteps pounding toward the kitchen. Morgan squealed, delighted by the sudden noise.

Athena slipped the ring onto Carol's finger, hands only shaking a little. Natasha stepped forward last, eyes bright, voice quiet but full. "Welcome to the family," she said. Carol looked around at all of them, then back at Athena, smiling wider than she ever had. "Best sandwich interruption I've ever had," she said. And Athena laughed, forehead resting against Carol's, as Morgan proudly banged her walker against the floor—mission accomplished. 💍