Holy Toledo, Batman. I bet a lot of you thought I disappeared off the face of the earth! Rest assured, I still live and amazingly, still write. I've been a bit distracted lately, whether it be writers block, another fandom, or family stuff. I recently gave birth to my third kiddo and with her my muse seemed to return! So here we are.
I've got a lot of AU ideas churning in my head, but I wanted to continue, and eventually finish this high school AU first. You might want to read the previous installment before this one, to refresh yourself on where we are with it. Anyway, here we go!
Please remember, this is unbeta'd and just for fun. So forgive any glaring grammar errors. I'm sure there are many.
Clint blinked at her, wondering if she was making fun of him in some way. His eyes shifted over her face, taking in whatever micro expressions he could decipher. When that told him nothing, he glanced around to see if someone was watching and had put her up to this. No one seemed interested in their interaction, so he glanced back at her to find her watching him with an arched eyebrow.
"Not so good with people, are you?" Natasha asked, a smile playing at her lips.
Clint narrowed his eyes, trying to decide how she meant that, if he should be offended or not. But her tone was warm, almost understanding, and the smile pulling at her mouth was nothing but genuine.
"No," he admitted simply.
He'd actually been told once he was charming and charismatic, but that was before everything that had happened with Barney. Rude and sarcastic were the more common descriptions of him now.
"I'm new here," she said. Her eyes, a startling shade of green, remained pinned on him even after Mr. Fitz started calling roll. He couldn't figure out what she found so interesting. He didn't even have any bruises or anything.
"No shit," he replied, instinctively snarky because, well, habit.
Instead of appearing offended, however, Natasha's eyes lit up, as if pleased by his reaction.
"Oooh, a personality does exist behind those baby blues."
Clint blinked blankly at her, completely at a loss. Even after being taken into the fold of the baseball team, he was still generally treated like a pariah by everyone else. A stint in juvie and a violent history tended to make people nervous. She wouldn't know any of that, he supposed. Not yet. He was sure the rest of the student body would fill her in before long, though.
"Where there no more open desks, or…?" He waved a hand towards the rest of the room in a 'why the hell did you sit here' type gesture.
She shrugged back.
"There were."
"And you sat here."
"Yup." She popped the 'p' with a grin.
He stared.
"Why?"
"Because when I walked in the room, you were the only one that didn't seem to care."
He'd been getting out his stuff, to be fair. If he was being honest though, he probably wouldn't have done much different if he had seen her come in. She was so far out of his league it wasn't even funny. Besides, Clint didn't like drawing attention to himself. Some ingrained part of him that hadn't quite recovered from the group home and juvie still insisted he do his best to stay invisible.
"Used to being noticed, are you?" he asked, sarcasm a little more biting than he intended.
He got it. She was gorgeous. People probably fell over themselves to get her attention.
"Something like that."
"And I, what? Offended you?"
She laughed.
"No. This isn't supposed to be punishment."
"Well it's all about perspective, I suppose."
She blinked, momentarily taken aback. But then her smile grew into something even more stunning.
"At least you aren't a liar. You're not good with people."
"Well I did warn you."
"That's okay, I like a challenge." The coy twinkle in her eyes made something in his stomach do a weird swoopy thing.
It was only after they stared at each other silently for a beat that he realized the rest of the class had fallen quiet. Clint snapped his head around to find literally everyone staring at them. A violently ingrained instinct to flee made him twitch in his seat. His hands clenched and he slid down a little in his chair, wishing he had just stayed home.
"Mr. Barton?" a voice said sternly.
Clint flinched, and then clenched his jaw in annoyance. It had been months since everything with Jacobs had ended. If only he could convince his instincts it was really over, that a sharply spoken word didn't precede violence anymore.
Not trusting his voice to be steady, he flicked his gaze to Mr. Fitz.
"If it's alright with you, we'll continue to take roll now."
Clint glared, wishing he didn't feel heat creeping up his neck the longer everyone stared at him.
Mr. Fitz, never one to be overly stern, offered him a vaguely scolding look and called out the next name on his list. Gradually, the rest of the class turned to face forward and Clint slid further down in his seat, wishing he could pull his hood up and hide under it. Doing so would just draw attention back again as hoods weren't allowed inside.
He didn't dare look over at Natasha, he didn't want to encourage any more conversation. Not out of any need for class decorum, but because he'd had his fill of talking. Throughout the class, he felt her gaze slide over to regard him several times.
When the bell rang, he was ready to go and was halfway to the door before she had even gathered her things. Somehow, she still managed to catch up to him in the hallway.
"Hey! Hey!" She wrapped her hand around his arm to stop him and before he could stop himself, he flinched, pulling his arm free. Embarrassed by the overreaction and frustrated because he didn't know why she was fixating on him, he whirled on her.
"What do you want?"
Her mouth opened as if she was going to reply, but then her sharp gaze flickered over his face, then his posture, and something in her face softened in realization.
"I'm sorry," she offered sincerely.
Clint drew in a slow breath, forcing his shoulders to relax and his spine to loosen. A glance around showed several people watching their exchange with interest, already there were whispers poorly hidden behind hands.
"Look," he started, meeting her gaze squarely, "you're gonna kill your chance at any sort of social status if you keep talking to me. So whatever your fixation is, just…fixate on someone else."
She tilted her head slightly, glancing around at everyone watching them. Then her gaze slid back to meet his and she shrugged.
"Who gives a shit about social status?"
"Well…this is high school so pretty much everyone."
"You don't," she pointed out.
He opened his mouth to reply, but found he wasn't sure what to say because she was right. So instead he just stared at her, trying again to get a read on her motives. All he saw in her was open sincerity.
"I have history next…will you show me where to go?"
Clint blinked at her. He had history next. He let loose a deep sigh, realizing he wasn't going to shake her, not right now at least. An annoying part of his mind was sarcastically asking why he even wanted to.
"Fine."
Natasha had Biology after history and Clint had Advanced Physics, so they parted ways. He had been somehow both relieved and disappointed. Then after an entire period with Bruce and Tony, he was ready for some peace and quiet. So instead of eating in the cafeteria, he snuck up to the roof. Steve and the others knew him well enough by now to leave him alone when he actively sought solitude. If Phil needed him, he knew where to look. No one else had ever bothered him up here.
So, when Natasha appeared next to him, dropping down to sit and dangle her legs over the ledge next to his, he could only stare at her in shock.
"Nice spot," she commented, biting down into a carrot stick as she looked over the school grounds below them. "Quiet."
"It was."
She looked over at him, grinning despite his sour glare. He wasn't even sure why he was annoyed that she'd intruded. Or maybe he was annoyed because he suddenly found that he wasn't all that annoyed.
She mimed zipping her lips closed and went back to munching her carrot.
He stared at her, watching the wind lightly blow her long hair back from her shoulders. She really was beautiful and he could not for the life of him figure out why she had fixated on him of all people when guys like Steve existed.
He took a bite out of the sandwich Phil had made him and looked back out over the grounds as well. For a while, they both ate in silence. Her lunch, it turned out, was made of nothing but vegetables and hard boiled eggs.
"Why are you following me?" he asked eventually. "I'm not good company. Ask literally anyone."
She shrugged.
"Because you seem real."
He arched a brow.
"As opposed to all the not real people running around?"
She chuckled lightly, offering him a small, but genuine grin.
"You're just about the only person here who hasn't treated me weird because of how I look."
"You mean because you're fuckin' gorgeous?" He froze, his own mouth catching him by surprise.
Instead of the confident, coy smile she'd tended to sport up until now, something shy stole across her face and her cheeks turned a bit red at the blunt compliment.
"Most guys can't make it through a conversation without hitting on me. You, on the other hand, won't stop trying to get rid of me."
"And yet, you don't take the hint."
She looked at him properly then, gaze turning serious.
"You really want me to go?" she asked quietly, something in her voice more vulnerable than he'd come to expect from her in their limited interaction.
He opened his mouth to say an emphatic 'yes' because he was an outcast and a loner. He usually preferred solitude to company and would rather be confident in his isolation than constantly wondering why she was sticking around.
"No." He frowned as soon as he said it, wondering where the wiring got crossed between his brain and his mouth. He'd meant to say 'yes', he was sure of it.
She smiled again, something warm in her eyes.
To hell with it.
With a sigh he reached down for the other half of his sandwich, holding it out to her.
"How the hell you survive eating that rabbit food?" he grumbled.
Her grin widened and she accepted he offering without responding.
She'd hear the rumors before the day was out, he knew. She'd hear about Phillip Jacobs and juvie and probably whatever twisted truth about Barney was still floating around. She'd realize he was damaged goods – a vaguely traumatize, sometimes violent criminal. She'd move on after that, he knew.
But until then, he'd pretend that maybe he was normal enough to be friends with someone like her. He'd tried to warn her. When she realized she'd made a mistake, it would be no one's fault but her own.
She didn't move on.
At the end of the day, she found him after school as he sorted through his locker.
"Hey!" She smiled and leaned back against the locker next to his.
He blinked at her in vague surprise, mouth hanging slightly open.
"Gonna catch flies, Barton," she teased.
He snapped his mouth shut and went back to looking through his locker.
"What? You thought I'd change my mind by the end of the day?" she asked knowingly.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
"The thought had crossed my mind," he admitted.
She shrugged, shifting to lean her shoulder against the lockers so she could face him properly.
"I don't know if I should be insulted that you think I'm that shallow, or insulted that you think I'm stupid enough to believe every rumor I hear."
He couldn't quite hold back a grin.
"So either way, I've insulted you?"
"Yup, now you have to make it up to me."
He arched an incredulous eyebrow at her.
"Take me to get ice cream," she demanded.
He stared at her, arm hovering in his locker with a book half-retrieved.
Had she just…
"Are you…asking me out?" he asked slowly.
Her smile was both genuine and amused.
"Yes, you idiot. If I waited for you to do it, I might die of old age."
"But…"
She arched a brow in challenge.
"I have baseball practice," he finished lamely.
"I'll watch." She shrugged. "We can go after."
"I have an archery tournament this weekend. I need to practice."
For the first time, her smile faltered and the confident playfulness in her eyes faded.
"Oh," she replied softly. "If you didn't want to go, you could just say so."
Clint's eyes widened when he realized he was an idiot.
"No!" he blurted. "I really do have an archery tournament and really do have to practice."
She nodded, but didn't look like she really believed him.
"I'm sorry I bugged you all day," she offered, retreating a step. She was going to leave. It was what he'd wanted this morning, but now it made him inexplicably panicked.
What was wrong with him?
He abandoned his locker and reached out, catching her wrist before she could turn away.
"Wait…"
Her skin against his hand felt almost electric and he quickly pulled away from the contact. She turned back to him anyway, watching cautiously.
"I'm an idiot – and an ass," he offered honestly. She bit her lip to prevent a smile. "I really do have to practice though, both baseball and archery." He almost left it there. She seemed to accept his sincerity. But once again, his mouth decided to start talking against the best advice of his brain. "We could go when I'm done, though. If you want."
A slow smile spread across her face.
"Yeah. I'd like that."
"Oh." For some reason he was surprised she had agreed so readily.
"I did ask you first, remember?" she reminded.
"Ha, yeah." He was an idiot.
"Can I watch?"
"Huh?"
"Your practice. Can I watch? It's not worth going home to come back, you know? I could just stick around?"
He'd never had anyone but Phil or Coach Bryan watch him practice archery before. They guys had come to a few of his meets, but he typically practiced after everyone had gone home for the day.
"O-okay," he stuttered, feeling wrong footed and vaguely self-conscious.
She smiled then, wide, warm and sincere. Somehow that made him feel better.
"Hey, that's the new girl!" Steve realized, wide eyed as he leaned out of the dugout. "She's gonna watch practice, I think."
Clint focused intently on the laces of his cleats.
"She must have heard how sexy I am in baseball pants," Jared Mathews declared.
"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," Sam, the first baseman, replied mildly.
"I saw Clint talking to her in the hall," Thor announced loudly as he strapped on his catcher's gear.
"What?!" Steve crowed excitedly. "And you didn't tell me?!"
Clint sent Thor a dark glare and all but dove around Steve to escape the dugout. He might have known better, Steve just followed him to where the team was assembling for their warm up.
By some divine mercy, Coach Bryan blew the whistle to start practice before Steve could pursue the subject. After that, Clint was able to lose himself in the physical exertion of practice and just made sure to avoid Steve during any lulls.
Whatever hope he had of avoiding drawing more attention, though, was shot when Natasha lingered outside the dugout after practice ended, smiling brightly when he emerged.
Various catcalls and jeers followed after him as he made his way over to her, the loudest coming from Steve and Thor.
He was friends with a bunch of assholes.
His archery practice passed more smoothly. It helped that once he had a bow in his hands and a target downrange, he kind of just…tuned everything else out. An hour passed in what felt like a minute and when he put his final arrow in the target, he looked around to realize Natasha had moved from a spot near the door with a book to a place on the bleachers directly behind him. Her book was nowhere in sight and her eyes were watching him with rapt interest.
He cleared his throat self-consciously and jogged to retrieve his arrows.
"You're really good at that," she stated when he came back towards her.
He shrugged a little, brushing off the compliment.
"Can you teach me?" she asked next, hopping off the bleachers and coming towards him.
"W-what?" he stuttered, feeling wrong footed once again.
"Teach me?" she asked again.
He couldn't think of one good reason to tell her no so instead he nodded.
A few minutes later he found himself standing with her back pressed into his chest and his arms wrapped around hers as he helped guide her into the proper stance.
"So," he cleared his throat, "you wanna keep your elbow up and sight down the arrow."
"Like this?" she did her best to pull into a full draw, arms quaking a bit with the strain.
"Yeah." He swallowed thickly, trying not to think about the smell of vanilla in her hair where it was tickling his nose. "Then breath out and release."
She did. The arrow sailed wildly left and clattered to the gym floor beyond the target.
It was an awful shot.
"That was good," he said.
She turned her head a little and he swallowed again when he realized just how close their noses where when she turned like that.
"It was terrible," she disagreed with a smile.
"Uh-huh," he agreed distractedly, unable to tear his eyes away from hers.
He jumped about a mile when the gym door opened with its usual clang. He cleared his throat and retreated, hoping his neck wasn't as red as the heat he felt suggested. He turned to watch Phil stroll towards him, eyebrow arched as he took in the extra teenager present.
"Came to see if you were ready to go," Phil explained.
It took Clint a good twenty seconds of awkward silence to get his mouth working.
"Yes. I mean no. I mean, I'm done, but I'm gonna…" he waved vaguely towards Natasha. "Is it okay if… We were gonna get some ice cream," he finally forced out.
Phil's eyebrows disappeared up into his hairline.
"Ice cream," he repeated non-pulsed.
"Yeah."
Phil blinked and then smiled slightly.
"Okay."
Phil looked between them for a moment and then grinned, turning away. Clint risked a glance at Natasha to see her biting back a smile, his bow still in her hands.
"Drop your stuff in my office, I'll take it home. Be back by seven for dinner," Phil called over his shoulder and Clint nodded, even though Phil was already halfway to the door and not looking at him. When the door slammed closed behind him, Clint turned to Natasha, accepting his bow when she held it out.
"Isn't that the guidance counselor?" she asked, following him over to the bleachers where he'd left the case.
"Yeah. It's a long story."
She didn't ask him to tell it, just nodded agreeably and retrieved her backpack.
Stopping there for the night! I wanted to get this posted for you guys and need to get some sleep since the baby will be having me up in the middle of the night. Hope you enjoyed this newest installment. As long as I have time, I'm planning to write the next one tomorrow!
Later!