145

The first night didn't look like much from the outside. No unpacked boxes stacked neatly. No art on the walls yet. No furniture beyond the basics that had arrived faster than expected and the rest that very much had not.But it felt like everything.

Athena kicked the door shut with her heel and leaned back against it for a second, keys still warm in her hand. The house smelled faintly of fresh paint and wood polish—new, clean, waiting. Carol set the takeout bags down on the kitchen counter and exhaled. "Okay," she said, looking around. "We officially live here."Athena laughed softly. "We officially own a kitchen with zero food in it." Tony had insisted on stocking the fridge. Pepper had vetoed him after the third case of energy drinks.

Morgan babbled happily from her carrier on the floor, chewing on a silicone spoon like she'd personally approved of the acoustics. Maverick immediately claimed the patch of floor beside her, lying down with his chin on his paws. Sage paced the perimeter, nose to the baseboards, cataloging threats that absolutely did not exist. Carol watched them for a second, something warm and almost disbelieving in her chest. "They already decided." Athena followed her gaze. "Yeah," she said quietly. "They do that."

They ate sitting on the floor of the living room, backs against the wall, cartons spread between them. Carol handed Athena the last dumpling without comment. Athena pretended not to notice and let her have the last fry later. Outside, the city hummed at a distance—not loud, not intrusive. Just there. "This counts," Carol said around a mouthful of noodles, gesturing vaguely at the empty room. "Even if the couch isn't here yet."Athena nudged her knee. "Especially because the couch isn't here yet." They laughed, easy and unguarded.

Later, when Morgan finally succumbed to sleep, Carol carefully lifted her and followed Natasha down the hall. Natasha had already claimed her room with surgical efficiency—bag unpacked, blinds adjusted, a chair positioned exactly where it needed to be. "She'll wake once," Natasha said quietly. "I've got her." Athena hesitated. Carol squeezed her hand. "Let her," she murmured. "We're allowed to sleep." Natasha paused in the doorway, just long enough to meet Athena's eyes. "You did good," she said simply. Then she closed the door gently behind her.

The mattress had arrived late. Which meant it was on the floor. Carol dropped onto it with a groan of exaggerated relief. "Luxury," she declared. "Very exclusive." Athena kicked off her socks and joined her, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. The room was bare—no curtains yet, no lamps—but moonlight spilled in softly, painting everything silver. Sage circled twice before settling at the foot of the mattress. Maverick followed, flopping down with a sigh that sounded suspiciously human.

Carol turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. She studied Athena's face—relaxed, unguarded, at peace in a way Carol didn't think she'd ever seen before. "You okay?" Athena asked. Carol nodded. Then shook her head. Then laughed softly. "I think I am. I just... didn't know it would feel like this." Athena reached out, brushing her thumb along Carol's jaw. "Like what?" "Like landing," Carol said. "Not crashing. Not touching down for five minutes and taking off again. Just—landing."

Athena's breath hitched, barely perceptible. She pulled Carol down into her, forehead to forehead. "You don't have to leave tonight," she said quietly. Carol smiled. "I'm not going anywhere." They lay there for a long time, listening to the sounds of a house settling around them. Pipes ticking. A distant siren. The steady, grounding presence of dogs and family and something solid beneath them. Eventually, Carol murmured, "Tomorrow we should get a table." Athena huffed. "Ambitious."

"And chairs."

"Let's not rush things." Carol laughed, burying her face in Athena's shoulder. "Okay. One thing at a time." Athena kissed the top of her head, the sapphire ring cool against Carol's back when her hand slid there. Outside, the city kept moving. Inside, they stayed.

Home—quietly, undeniably—had begun.