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The reception spilled out across the lawn like no one had tried too hard—and that was exactly the point. String lights were already glowing even though the sun hadn't fully set yet. Long tables instead of round ones. Food laid out family-style because Athena had said, "I want people to talk to each other, not pose." Someone had moved the chairs back to make space for dancing, and someone else—probably Sam—had already claimed the good playlist privileges. Yelena immediately stole the microphone. "This is best wedding," she declared. "Five stars. Would attend again. Bride is beautiful. Other bride also beautiful. I cry only a little." Natasha took the microphone from her without a word. Applause.

The music softened. Athena held out her hand. Carol took it without hesitation. They didn't choreograph anything. No spins, no dramatic dips. Just close, slow, foreheads almost touching as they swayed like the rest of the world had dimmed around them. Athena rested her forehead against Carol's. Carol smiled into her shoulder. Somewhere behind them, Tony whispered, "Oh my god, they're disgustingly in love," and Pepper leaned into him like, yes, and? Natasha watched from her seat, hands folded, chest tight in the best possible way.

The song changed. Athena turned toward Natasha. "Mama?" she asked softly, holding out her hand. Natasha stood before she could stop herself. They moved together slowly, familiar and easy. Athena fit against her the way she always had—like muscle memory. Natasha rested her cheek against her daughter's hair, eyes closed just for a second. "You did good," Natasha murmured. "I had a good teacher," Athena replied. Natasha laughed softly. She did not cry. She came very close.

The music shifted again. Nick Fury stepped forward, already shaking his head. "I want it on record that I objected to this." Carol grinned. "You're dancing anyway." Nick sighed like a man who had survived aliens, gods, and HYDRA but had finally met his match. They danced—awkward at first, then steadier. Nick's hand was solid at Carol's back. Protective. Proud. "You turned out alright," he said gruffly. Carol smiled, eyes soft. "I had help." Athena watched from the sidelines, heart full, knowing exactly what that meant.

By the time the music sped up again, Morgan was back in the center of the dance floor, Yelena teaching her questionable moves, Clint's kids laughing, and Natasha finally letting herself relax. The night stretched on—warm, loud, imperfect, and completely theirs. And for the first time in a long time, no one was counting exits.