*blinks slowly* Wait. I remember. In the before-time, it used to not take me a month to update a story. Before the children, and lesson plans, and the move-to-Asia...

I kid, I kid. But it does feel nice to have free-time to write once again. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Three: Hair and Shopping

"Bruce? Do you know how to braid hair?"

Bruce looked up from his laptop and raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I know how to braid hair?"

There were very few things in life that could make Natasha Romanoff uneasy. Decades of spy and assassin work had left her able to figure her way around most life situations.

When it came to most things domestic, however, she became almost adorably shy.

Hence why she stood in the door to his 'office' room, pulling on the end of a strand of hair.

"Shanta asked me to braid her hair. I-I thought maybe Christy might have asked you to, at some point…"

"You watched Christy way more times than me, Nat." Bruce pointed out. "And you've watched Lila. They never asked you then?"

Natasha slowly shook her head. "No…Laura always had Lila's hair brushed and styled, and it never came up when I watched Christy."

"Ah…" Bruce bit his lip. "I don't really know, either…"

Something died in Natasha's eyes. "It's okay. I can help her brush it, at least."

Before Bruce could say anything, Natasha turned out of the room. He sighed.

"Nat…" he whispered, heart hurting.

When are you gonna stop letting your past dictate your identity?

A tiny shadow passed over him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sleeve of Anish's borrowed blue t-shirt.

We need to take them shopping soon, Bruce thought. He was about to call out, when Anish poked his head into the room of his own volition.

That was new. So far, Anish had been barely skirting avoidance as far as he was concerned. Bruce tried not to be offended, since he had a guess where it was coming from, but he couldn't pretend it him happy.

"H-hey, kid…"

"She's upset."

It took Bruce longer than he cared to admit to figure out which 'she' Anish was talking about.

"Yeah…she is."

"I can braid Shanta's hair."

Bruce cracked a smile. "You can't cook, but you can braid hair? That's…sweet."

A slightly angry look flashed across Anish's face. For a moment, Bruce was worried he had hurt the boy's feelings.

Finally, Anish spoke. "…I used to watch ma do it. When she died, baba couldn't do it. And he was busy. Our stepmother didn't have time, so I did it."

Bruce could feel Hulk shift a bit inside.

'Didn't have time'. Who the hell doesn't have time for that angel?!

"Could you show Auntie Nat how to do it?" he asked, taking a deep breath.

After a moment's pause, Anish nodded. "I can."

"I think it would make her happy."

"Why doesn't she know how?"

Bruce sucked in a breath. Natasha's story was her own to tell and no one else's. Still, he owed Anish some sort of explanation.

"…she never had any kids. And her parents died when she was little."

Both technically true things.

Anish gave another calculating nod. "She knows how to use knives. She showed me a little. And you have guns."

"Yes, we do." Bruce sighed. "We've both done a lot of things that have made other people…mad at us. The guns are just in case."

"…if we stay here, will those people hurt Shanta?"

Bruce noticed how casually he left himself out of the scenario.

"No." he said firmly. "No one will hurt you, or your sister."

Anish raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You can't promise that."

"Kid…we have a pretty big family. Lots of friends. Lots of safe places where you could go if something really bad happened."

"…do you want us to stay with you?"

"I…do you wanna stay with us?"

Anish shrugged. "You don't hit or yell. And you treat Shanta well."

Hulk once more shifted inside Bruce. His face must have been turning green, because he could see Anish peering at him closely and backing away

"U-Uncle…"

Bruce shut his eyes tightly.

Please calm down, buddy. There's no one here for you to punch. Please…

Slowly, he could feel his anger go down.

"It's alright, kid…just makes me a bit sad that your best reason for staying in a place is not getting hit.

Anish shrugged. "I always get hit. But if Shanta is okay, then I will stay."

"…Shanta is okay here. We are trying to see if you guys can stay with us for a bit. But you have to go to school eventually."

"I don't want to leave Shanta!"

"You won't. That's what's taking so long…finding a place that will take you both."

Anish glanced around. "…this is a place that will take us both."

Bruce laughed. "Fair point."

Fair…and way too close to home.

From the living room Bruce could hear Shanta's high giggle. "No, Auntie, not like that! Like this!"

Curious, he got up and peeked into the room.

Some of the girls at Hope Center had found out about Shanta and Anish. One of the older girls had pressed a doll into his hands as he left work the other day.

"I'm better now; I don't need her anymore. She's good at keeping away nightmares."

Shanta now never went very far without that doll.

Currently, she was showing Natasha how to manipulate the doll's yarn hair into a braid.

"Like this?" Natasha asked, quietly uncertain.

"Hām̐!" Shanta squealed. "Ācchā, Auntie! Now my hair! And later, I do yours!"

Natasha laughed. "Alright, sweetie, you can do mine."

"Auntie, why is your hair so pretty?" Shanta's eyes were so wide and adorably serious.

"I…I was just born with it." Natasha replied.

"But it's so pretty!" Shanta pouted. "I want pretty hair."

"Shanta, your hair is pretty! It's all silky." Natasha smoothed her hair. "And your eyes are pretty, and your face, too. You're a very pretty girl."

Shanta looked ready to melt under all the praise.

"Auntie…why don't you know how to braid hair? Didn't your ma show you?"

Natasha gave a long, quiet sigh.

"My ma died, when I was little. I don't know who she was. And the place I grew up…they didn't care if I looked pretty. They just cared that I knew how to fight."

Shanta's face scrunched up. "Want the girls to fight?"

"Yeah, girls, boys…everybody."

Shanta looked down at the doll. "Here, they just want girls to look pretty and do chores."

Natasha slowly slid her arm around the girl. Shanta instantly leaned against her.

"Auntie...can you fight and look pretty?"

Natasha gave a bright, thin smile. "Yeah…you can."

"I don't think I want to fight."

"That's okay, too."

Shanta sat up. "…I'm not brave like Anish."

Natasha cupped her little face in her hands. "You don't have to be brave like Anish. Be brave like you. And I think…I think you're really brave."

Shanta gave a tiny sniffle and, without warning, climbed into Natasha's lap. Natasha went very still.

"You can braid my hair now, Auntie?"

Natasha jolted back to reality. "…yeah, honey, I'll try."

Slowly, she divided Shanta's hair in three bundles, and began to work.

"Nat?"

"Hm?" Natasha looked up from where she was practicing her braiding on Shanta's hair, for the hundredth time that night. The girl was already fast asleep, still in Natasha's lap. Anish lay beside them, half asleep.

"We need to get these kids some clothes and stuff. Our neighbor wants her kids' stuff back. And…they need a real toothbrush. Maybe some toys."

Natasha smirked. "Going to spoil them rotten?"

"No worse than you and Steve did when the Twins first came to the States. A hundred- and fifty-dollar heart necklace?"

Natasha's smirk didn't lessen in the slightest. "They deserved something happy. Their lives had been hell."

"Ditto for these two. So, mall tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sounds fine. Tomorrow is your day off anyway, right?"

"Right." Bruce smiled at Shanta. "She's pretty cute."

"Sounds like you're getting attached, Dr. Banner."

"…we're way past that, Nat."

Natasha gave a more serious nod. "It's too late now. What did Chandra find out about fostering?"

"Basically, we can do it, but it involves paperwork."

"Ah, paperwork and bureaucracy, truly the great equalizing forces in this world." Natasha muttered. "So when can we get this paperwork?"

"Well, I was gonna say tomorrow, but if we take them shopping…"

"We can swing by Hope Center and get it tomorrow and still go shopping."

"Fine." Bruce got up. "I should probably start making a list of stuff to buy. Indian malls are a headache and a half…"

Anish tried to keep as still as possible as he listened to Auntie and Uncle talking. Their English was fast, but he could follow most of what they were saying. He had always done well with English in school.

New clothes? Paperwork?

He still didn't know what to think of these foreigners. They were nice, nicer than anyone he'd ever known besides his mom. But they were hiding something.

Knives and guns…and Uncle said they've 'done things'. Auntie said she'd killed people.

Maybe they killed bad people?

He had promised their mother as she lay dying from fever that he would take care of Shanta. He had tried to keep his promise over the last year, but it had been hard. He was constantly worried that he would make a mistake, or trust the wrong person, and then Shanta would pay the price.

He had stopped caring what happened to himself a long time ago.

They seem to want us. And not just for slave labor. Maybe…maybe we can trust them.

He peeked at his sister through slitted eyes.

Shanta already does.

"Alright, Nat, do we have the list?"

Natasha held up her phone. "Got it on here. Sent you a screenshot. Are we splitting this by gender or staying together?"

"Ah…I mean most of the clothing places in the mall aren't that big. We can probably stick together."

"Works for me."

They went to Centre City Mall. It was massive and gleaming, as many malls in Asia tended to be. Anish and Shanta were both very quiet.

Shanta refused to let go of Bruce's hand. "I-It's big, Uncle…"

Bruce gently squeezed her hand. "Yeah, it's big. But I'm big, too. I'll keep you safe."

Shanta shyly lifted up her arms. Wordlessly, Bruce picked her up.

They found a children's clothing store without too much effort. Thankfully, most of the signs were in English.

"Socks, underwear, seven shirts, seven pants or shorts, at least four dresses, three shirts, three shorts or pants, and shoes." Natasha quoted from the list. "And that's just needs."

Anish's eyes were huge. "…w-we don't need all that…"

"It means we don't have to do laundry as much." Natasha said, straight faced. "I hate laundry."

"That's too much! S-seven shirts…"

"Seven days in every week." Bruce said. "One for every day."

While her brother tried to protest, Shanta couldn't take her eyes off an aqua-blue kurta dress with matching blue tights and purple and silver designs all over it.

Natasha followed her eyes. "Does that look pretty, Shanta?"

Anish stopped trying to argue when Shanta nodded.

"Maybe a few things…" he muttered.

They ended up buying more than 'a few things'. Both kids had very comfortable wardrobes by the time they finished clothes shopping.

They found a small pharmacy-like store and bought toothbrushes, toothpaste, brushes, and toiletries. Shanta wanted everything that smelled like strawberries.

Natasha barely held back a snort when Anish picked out a shampoo with a bad rendition of Captain America for a topper.

As they trekked around the mall, Bruce spotted a store simply labelled 'kidzz', which seemed to have stuffed animals and toys of every kind.

"I hope they don't pick the Minion." Natasha muttered in Russian. She had taught Bruce enough of the language that he caught the joke and grinned.

Thankfully, neither child went for a Minion plush. Shanta chose an Anna plush doll ("because she has red hair like Auntie!"). Anish, after lots of persuasion, finally chose a stuffed tiger.

"Alright, so Shanta has two dolls…" Bruce glanced around. "What do Lila and Christy play with?"

"Dolls and stuffed animals and action figures, mostly. Lila draws, Christy has a journal and plays guitar…" Natasha scanned the shelves and grinned. "Shanta, look at the tea set. It's got princesses."

Shanta clutched her little hands together and whimpered slightly. "F-for me?"

That cinched it. Natasha reached up and lifted it easily off the shelf, vowing to sterilize it before letting Shanta drink from the cups. "Yup, for you."

Shanta took the box reverently and stroked the plastic. "Pretty cups…"

Meanwhile, Bruce spied Legos (for once not a knock-off). And spied Anish spying Legos.

"You like to build stuff?" he asked casually.

Anish stiffened. "T-the tiger is fine."

"Of course the tiger is fine, but so are Legos."

For a moment, they stood in a standoff, the ultimate battle of wills.

"…you could make a palace for Shanta's doll. Or that one's a spaceship."

"…spaceship, please, Uncle."

Bruce bit his lip to hide the smile. "Spaceship it is."

I gotta introduce this kid to Tony…

That night, they reached home tired and satisfied. Shanta was already dozing on Bruce's shoulder by the time they staggered up the stairs to their apartment.

They had eaten dinner at the mall, giving the kids their very first taste of KFC. And ice cream, of course.

"We can put all this stuff away in the morning." Natasha said, kicking off her shoes. "And we need to get them real beds, Bruce. They can't keep sleeping on a mattress on the floor."

Bruce nodded, setting Shanta down on said mattress. "We need to re-arrange the apartment a bit."

Anish curled up on the mattress next to his sister and yawned. "Mattress is fine, ma."

Natasha suddenly was very grateful for years and years of spy training that allowed her to act like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

Bruce raised his eyebrows and mouthed, "Did he just…?"

Natasha gave a single, cool nod. Her eyes were wet.

"We're still getting you a bed, kid." she managed. "Now get some sleep. You've had a long day."

Anish yawned again. "Okay, Auntie." he said, curling up in the blankets and snuggling Shanta.

Natasha sighed. So it had been just a slip.

"We need to get the paperwork tomorrow." she said quietly. Her voice shook slightly.

Bruce, for his part, simply nodded.

"First thing."

Yeah, Asian children from any country are adorable. That's the only thing that saved my students many days... Not getting attached is impossible.

"Ham" is "yes"

"Accha" is "good"

Reviews make me squeal like Shanta over a tea set.