I'm back! Apologies for the long delay, things got a bit busy for awhile...and unfortunately, that is not about to change any time soon. But I will keep cranking out chapters for this story and the two I have planned after! I'm very excited to finally get into Infinity War and Endgame territory. In the meantime, enjoy the fluff!

Chapter Six: I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home

Christy Rogers stared at the Skype camera on the laptop screen, listening to the dial music loop in an endless circle.

"Please work, please work, please work…" she chanted under her breath.

Bucky snorted. "It's not going to listen to ya, kid…"

As he uttered those words, however, the music suddenly stopped, and a grainy picture filled the screen.

Christy shot Bucky a triumphant smile.

Sam laughed. "You of all people should know the kid has magic powers, Barnes."

Steve, meanwhile, was more focused on practical matters. "Nat, Bruce, you there? You can hear us alright?"

"Yeah, one second!" Bruce called. He must have set the laptop up on a table, because the picture stopped moving and suddenly became a lot clearer. "I moved it in the kitchen, we get better service in here." he shrugged. "Go figure."

"Are they there?" Christy asked impatiently.

Bruce smirked. "Hello to you, too, Christy."

Christy gave a deep sigh, the way she always did when one of 'her' grown-ups was being irrational. "Hi, Uncle Bruce. Where's Shanta and Anish and Aunt Tasha?"

"Right here." Natasha called, sailing into the kitchen. Shanta and Anish trailed cautiously behind her.

"Shanta!" Christy called from the camera.

Shanta's eyes lit up. "Christy!" She zoomed over to the table and crashed into a seat. "Miss you!"

Christy grinned. "Miss you, too. Hi, Anish."

"Hello…" Anish echoed, still a bit shy. He had told Bruce that Christy reminded him of a festival: loud, bright, and slightly scary. He still liked the girl, but he kept a bit of distance.

(Bruce and Natasha had shared a private laugh about that later, before both swearing never to tell Christy. Or Steve.)

"I keep telling ya she doesn' bite, kid." Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

Anish perked up slightly. He liked Steve and Sam, but Bucky was firmly his idol.

"Hello Uncle Buh-ky!" Shanta chirped. "Your arm okay?"

Natasha tried not to laugh. Shanta asked that every time they skyped.

Bucky was also trying not to laugh as he answered, "Yeah, kiddo, my arm's okay."

"Okay! I fix if hurts. I gonna be doctor!"

"You will be." Anish muttered. He had gotten rather pedantic about his English, lately, and Shanta's.

Shanta pouted slightly. Sam changed the subject. "So how are things in India?"

Bruce shrugged. "Wet. Hot. Crowded."

"We're going bed shopping this weekend." Natasha offered.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Can your apartment fit two more beds?"

"I gave up my office." Bruce said. "Not like I used it for much besides storage, and I can keep some things at work. But they need proper beds and their own space."

"I get blankets!" Shanta crowed. "Pink blankets, Uncle Steve!"

Steve attempted not to melt into a puddle of goo.

"Dad, is she cuter than me?" Christy demanded, folding her arms.

"Yes." Bucky deadpanned.

Christy glared at him. "I didn't ask you, Uncle Bucky!"

"You will always be cutest to me." Steve said diplomatically, hugging her. "Besides, you're almost twelve. You're more beautiful than cute."

Christy nodded slowly. "I guess that's fair."

Anish raised his eyebrow, in a way that was comically similar to Bruce. "And what am I?"

"Handsome." Natasha said, no hesitation. Anish blushed and ducked his head.

"Yeah, y'all got some pretty kids, no mistake." Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Can't even blame it on genetics, either, just good plain luck."

"I've been a little short on good plain luck in my life." Bruce answered. "So I'll take this one."

"How's paperwork?" Steve asked.

Bruce and Natasha glanced at each other and sighed in unison. Steve burst out laughing.

"Yeah, the paperwork here was bad enough. Can't imagine it's anymore sane in India."

"I hate bureaucracy." Natasha muttered ferally.

"My condolences. I promise it's worth it."

"Are you gonna stay in India a lot longer?" Christy asked. "You can't even come back for visits?"

"It's…complicated." Bruce said. "We have to stay here for some time to finalize the adoption, and so social workers can keep an eye on us for a while. Make sure things are okay. And then we gotta get visas for Shanta an' Anish. So more paperwork."

"…what's a visa? Isn't that a credit card?"

Steve bit his lip, Bucky snorted, and Natasha had to look away. Even Sam cracked a smile.

"Well, isn't it?!"

"It is." Bruce explained patiently. "But it's also the name of the document you need to legally reside a country. Because they'll be our kids, but they won't be American citizens."

"Wanda and Pietro have something like that, baby." Steve clarified.

Christy folded her arms. "You laughed."

"I did not laugh!"

"You bit your lip like you do when you're hiding your laugh."

"Anyway!" Bruce cut in. "That's why we can't just pack up and come home. But we're working on it. Hopefully you can play with your cousins soon."

Those words had the desired effect. Christy's whole face lit up. "I can teach you guys how to play Manhunt with Lila and Cooper!"

Anish looked mildly intrigued. "What is it?"

"Everybody hides but one person, and if you're hiding, you gotta try and go back to the safe spot before the one person catches you!"

Shanta leaned toward the screen. "I catch Anish?"

"If you're fast enough, yeah."

Shanta nodded, with just the slightest break in her 'cute' look. "Auntie Tasha, teach me run fast catch Anish, yes, please?"

Natasha nodded back, convulsing with laughter. "Yes, baby, I'll teach you to run fast…"

"Good."

"So, is everything alright on your side of things?" Bruce inquired. "No megalomaniac robots or threatening government messages?"

Steve sighed. "I'm grateful that Tony keeps the politicians away. So far, no one is making too much noise about the Accords, but someone always brings it up every so often. We might need to go even more underground than we already have. I'm just glad…Africa is always an option."

"Same…anyway, keep us posted about how things are for you. We'll try to do the same."

"You've gotten all the emails, yeah?" Sam asked, folding his arms.

"Yeah, yeah, we've been reading all your psychology articles, Sam." Natasha said, rolling her eyes.

"You should be thanking me for putting up with all you sad sacks! I am still the only sane man! Clint forfeited rights to that when we found out about his secret family shtick."

"We know, Sam, and we're grateful." Bruce said quickly, knowing this was a line of conversation that could turn into hours of good-natured bickering.

"We're always thinkin' about you guys." Bucky added. "An' we expect a wedding invitation once all the paperwork is dead an' gone. You hear me, Romanoff?"

Natasha gave a quick salute. "Sir, yes, sir!" Bruce blushed lightly.

"Good. It's about dang time, anyway."

"Alright, do we have the list?" Natasha asked, as the taxi let them off by yet another mall that happened to contain a furniture store.

Anish held up the piece of paper with Bruce's doctor scrawl.

"And do we have the man that can actually read the list?" Natasha added.

Bruce sheepishly raised his hand.

"Yes! Uncle Bruce!" Shanta said. "Uncle, I write bad when I doctor?"

"Not on my watch." Natasha muttered.

Anish frowned. "What watch? You don't have one."

Bruce bit his lip in imitation of Steve's 'I'm trying not to laugh at my kid' look. "A 'watch' can also mean…looking for something. Like you are guarding it. She means she won't let Shanta write so badly as long as she is watching her."

"Oh…English is strange."

"Extremely." said Natasha, rolling her eyes.

They entered the store. Both children's eyes got very wide and started to wander around the large, air-conditioned store. It was packed with furniture of all sorts.

"Okay." Bruce glanced at the list. "Bedframes. Mattresses. Sheets, blankets, pillows. Sounds good?"

"Sounds fine to me." Natasha smiled. "Sound fine to you two?"

Anish still looked abashed, but he nodded. Shanta looked ready to explode with joy.

Both adults had agreed that the kids would be fine with twin beds. It was also the best fit for the room. Natasha was the first to spot a walnut-brown wooden twin bed.

"Hey, Bruce, see this." she called, looking the bed over.

Shanta touched the bed gingerly. "Pretty…"

Natasha grinned. "You like it, Shanta?"

"Yes! Like it! Buy, please?"

"Anish? You want a different bed or you like this one? Hopefully if we can go to the States, eventually, you can have your own room, and more pick of things…"

Anish wasn't even paying attention. He was too busy staring at the sleek bedframe.

Bruce glanced at the price, which was reasonable. "I think we've got a keeper. You see a mattress?"

Natasha gestured towards a display area and then smirked at the kids. "No jumping, you two."

Her warning fell flat, even though she was speaking Bengali. Shanta and Anish just looked puzzled.

"Jump? Where?" Anish asked.

"On the bed." Bruce clarified. "Some kids will jump on it because it's…springy." He switched to English on the last word, not even knowing how to begin translating it.

"What that?" Shanta asked, her eyes fixed on Bruce like he was a genie about to work magic.

Bruce grinned. "Watch!" he walked towards a mattress display and pushed on one of the mattresses. "It's soft! So you can jump."

Shanta gave a soft little squeal. "Jump?"

"So…it is fun?" Anish asked suspiciously, glancing at Natasha.

"From personal experience, yes." Natasha replied.

"Kids in America do this?"

"Some kids. Christy did a little, and Cooper. Lila still does it. It's more fun to do with others. Like Shanta. I think it would be good for her to have fun."

Anish watched his sister and she pressed on the mattress, copying Bruce. "…she trusts me. To know what things are good. But I don't know all the time."

Natasha put her hand on his shoulder. "Do you think we're a good thing?"

Anish looked backwards at her, a warring look in his eyes. He seemed torn between despair and cautious hope.

"…Yes." he said quietly.

"Then trust that we can take care of you both. That we know good things, and best things, and want them all for you."

Anish nodded. "Okay…" he paused, as though he were going to add something else, and then turned to hug her instead.

"I want you to be my mā."

The words were Bengali, fast and whispered. But Natasha was a spy and she was trained to hear everything.

She had never been so grateful for the skill until now.

Picking out blankets and sheets had been slightly less stressful, at least now that both children had been with them long enough to express color preferences.

Shanta liked anything pink, as well as purple, yellow, and any metallic colors.

Anish, in a strange twist for the subdued boy, liked orange best, but also red, blue, and green.

So they ended up with a pink butterfly blanket for Shanta and an orange and red striped blanket for Anish, as well as sheets to match for both.

That night, both looked very small in their new beds. They were pushed together, since the siblings were used to each other's presence and might get scared in the night.

"We want Shanta to actually sleep in her bed." Bruce had pointed out.

"You like the beds?" Natasha asked.

Shanta bounced excitedly. "Soft!" She looked at Natasha with hopeful eyes. "Night kiss?"

Natasha nearly lost all composure. "Sure, kid." She gave her a kiss and hugged her. "Now sleep well, okay? We're right in the other room."

Bruce laid his head on Anish's hair. "You like it, buddy?"

Anish nodded quietly. "I like it. Thank you."

After another round of goodnight hugs, they left both kids to sleep.

Except that wasn't quite what happened.

"Anish!" Shanta whispered in a high little chirp. "It's so nice!"

"I know." Anish whispered back, smiling. Only Shanta could make him smile so easily. "It's soft and nice, just like you!"

He pounced on her and started tickling her.

Shanta shrieked, so he backed off a bit. "Shh! Don't disturb Auntie and Uncle!"

Even in the dark, he could tell Shanta was pouting.

"You tickled me!" she whined. "It's not fair to say be quiet!"

"Alright, alright! What about this?"

He pounced again, but a bit more gently, sending Shanta into a state of quiet giggles. "A-a-anish! N-not fair!"

Finally, he stopped, grinning. Shanta lay on him, exhausted. "I love you, Shanta."

"Love you." Shanta echoed, snuggling. "Anish…Auntie and Uncle want to take us to America."

"Yes. They want to adopt us. Keep us forever."

"…be like Mā and Bābā?"

Anish was quiet for a minute.

"Anish?"

"Yeah. Be like Mā and Bābā."

"Oh. And we'll be safe forever? They'll…they'll love us?"

"Of course they'll love you! Who couldn't love you? Even stepmother liked you."

Shanta whimpered. "Stepmother was mean. And she didn't like you. Anish…I'm glad we ran away. And I'm glad we found Auntie and Uncle."

Anish sighed. "I…I am too."

"Can you sing Mā's lullaby, Anish?"

"…okay. But only if you go to sleep! No whining! Or I have to tickle you again!"

Shanta shook her head violently. "I'll be good! Go right to sleep!"

"Alright." Anish closed his eyes and started to sing.

Mā had loved this song. It was a love poem, written by a famous poet long ago, she had said. She had always sung it to them at night.

"Remember me still, even if I go far away.

If old love gets buried under a newer ardor.

If I'm living nearby

You see me not, I'm like the shadows,

Remember me still

If tears come to your eyes,

If play comes to an end on a dreamy night,

Remember me still.

If work is stopped on an autumn morning.

Remember me still

If you think of me but there are no tears in your eyes.

Remember me still…"

Shanta was asleep, worn out by the day. Anish cuddled her and shut his eyes tight.

I remember, Ma. Just because they want us, doesn't mean I forget.

I'll always remember.

A few days later, Bruce was in the middle of starting dinner. He was laying out ingredients on the counter, when Anish came in the kitchen, making just enough noise to be heard.

"Need something, buddy?" he asked.

Anish shook his head. "…can I learn how to cook?"

Bruce raised his eyebrow slowly.

Now where did this come from?

"Uh, yeah, bud, of course…what…what made you want to?"

Anish shrugged a bit. "You cook."

"Yeah, I do. I like it. It helps me relax and not worry about things."

"You worry?"

Bruce gave a half smile. "Lots."

"About what?"

"About…the future, mostly. Things that might happen. Or I think about old, bad memories. But when I cook, all I'm thinking about is making something for other people to enjoy. It's nice."

Anish inched closer to the stove. "I want that. To make something for others. And not worry."

Bruce nodded in understanding. "Well…alright. So I have rice soaking here. I thought I'd make biryani. You ever have it?"

"No. But I see in shops."

"Well, now you'll get to make it. And eat it. First, I need to rinse off the rice. It's been soaking in hot water. Can you get…butter and onions from the refrigerator?"

"Yes." Anish got out the items and set them carefully on the counter. "Now what?"

Bruce watched the rice, to make sure it was free of any husks or dirt as the water ran over it from the sink. "Get a knife from the counter. Cut off a piece of butter about this big," He spread his thumb and finger apart. "And then put it in the pan on the stove."

Anish did as he was told, carefully measuring off the butter. By that point the rice was clean, so Bruce came over and started chopping onions.

"Here, you can help with this, too. Put your hand on the knife like this…"

With the Anish's help, things went faster than they normally did with him cooking alone. They carefully worked through the recipe, cooking the onions, then the chicken, then the rice and raisins, and then combining it all.

Anish slowly started to relax throughout the process. Bruce even caught him humming to himself.

"What song is that?" he asked at one point.

Anish got very still. Bruce thought he wasn't going to answer at all, for a moment.

"…Mā used to sing it. At night, to us."

"Ah, a lullaby. It sounds nice."

"…it is. It's my favorite."

"Will you tell me the words?"

That brought an even longer pause.

"I don't know it in English."

"I don't mind singing in Bengali."

Anish stared into the bubbling meal on the stove. "You're very different from my bābā."

"How?"

"He…was good. He worked a lot. He had to travel to the city to get money. He took me fishing once. But sometimes he would come home worried. And instead of cooking, he would drink."

Bruce gave a wry smile. "There's a reason I don't drink much alcohol, kid."

"…do you drink?"

"I won't anymore if it scares you." Bruce said honestly.

"No! No, I…it doesn't matter."

"Clearly it does."

"I'm scared!" Anish looked up, and for a brief moment, his eyes were just as wide and vulnerable as Shanta's. "I'm scared you'll hurt, I'm scared…scared something bad will happen again, that Shanta will get hurt…and you…"

"Am I scary?" Bruce asked.

Anish wouldn't look him in the eye, so he knelt in front of him.

"Am I scary?" he repeated.

And finally, in a voice so tiny that it barely registered, Anish answered, "No."

Bruce sighed. "Kid…I don't tell everyone this. But my dad used to drink a lot, too."

"He did?!"

"He did, and he hurt my mother because of it. When I was little, I promised myself that I was never going to be like him. I've kept that promise so far. I'm not about to break it now. Not for anything."

Anish stared at him, openmouthed, for a long moment. And then, he started to cry.

Bruce picked him up gingerly and sat down at the table, prepared to wait as long as was necessary.

Finally, Anish calmed down and looked up at Bruce. "You want to be my new bābā?"

"I do."

"…I want it, too."

"I'm glad." Bruce pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Because I really, really want you, kid. Like…a lot."

Anish looked away. "Promise."

"Double, triple promise. You're not getting away from me, ever."

"…I don't want to." Anish lay back down against Bruce's chest. "I don't want to, ever."

That night, it was late. Both kids were already in bed, and Bruce was glancing through emails. Natasha came out of the bedroom.

"Hey stranger. Gonna sleep soon?"

"Yeah…soon as I finish these."

"Got a second to talk?"

Bruce looked up immediately. "Of course! Always. Something wrong?"

Natasha glanced away. "I owe you an answer. And I'm way overdue."

"An answer, about wha—ohhh." Bruce looked away as well. "D-did you decide?"

He heard Natasha give a deep sigh and his heart was pounding so fast he, swore he'd be sick.

"Yes, I'll marry you, you dork."

Bruce nearly fell over. Nearly. But he collected himself fast enough to stare up at Natasha in wide-eyed wonderment.

"Y-you, you really…?"

"I've always known." Natasha whispered. "Made all the excuses, but inside. I knew."

Bruce swallowed and blinked inanely, desperately looking for something to say in response.

Thankfully, Natasha took pity on him.

"Just kiss me, dork."

That, he could do.

Yes! It finally happened, folks!

Anish's song is Tabu Mone Rekho by Rabindranath Tagore, a famous Indian writer and artist from the nineteenth and twentieth century.

Tune in next time for...complications. And more angst but also fluff.