Through the Bottom of a Glass

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any OCs.

Chapter 1: Off the Deep End

Clint Barton lived in a small apartment in downtown New York with his long-suffering best friend Natasha Romanoff. When I say 'long suffering,' I mean long suffering. Natasha had put up with Clint's antics for almost twelve years. She had even offered him a place to stay right after his now ex-girlfriend, Bobbi Morse, kicked him out. Natasha was beginning to regret that decision.

"Barton, get your ass up!" she yelled as she pounded on his bedroom door. After his break-up Clint had been drinking more heavily, and Natasha was often thankful to find him still breathing some mornings.

"Clint, I swear to God, if you don't open this door when I get to three, I will break it down!" Natasha barked. She was alarmed by how closely she resembled a rebellious teenager's mother.

Just as she got to three, the door swung open to reveal Clint standing in the doorway in a pair of dirty pyjama bottoms and a filthy white vest top that was now fifty shades of grey. His body concealed the eternal mess that was his room.

"The door is always open…" he grumbled. Natasha ignored his grumpiness and barged past him into the room.

"I talked to Steve last night. He says you can have a slot at the bar every Thursday and Saturday night. I also spoke to Daniel Duncan, he's okay with you playing outside his restaurant." She spoke at a rapid speed as she stepped over empty beer bottles and pulled out some clean clothes for Clint to wear. She threw open the blue curtains, momentarily blinding her hung-over best friend. Natasha picked up a few bottles and tossed them into the trash can in the small kitchen, chattering all the way.

"I've got to go now. Duncan's Diner is busiest around one so if you leave at twelve-fifteen you could do well. Be at the bar tonight by six-thirty. Saturday night's a good night for us, bring your A-game."

Clint rolled his eyes.

"Don't I always. Now get out of here, Rogers is probably counting the seconds until he sees you again," he teased. Natasha gave him a quick hug before sticking out her tongue.

"Steve does not have a crush on me!" she shouted as she prepared to leave.

"Keep telling yourself that, Tasha!" Clint called after her as the front door slammed due to Natasha's enthusiasm and the five-hundred windows she felt obliged to open every single morning.

'Fuck it' Clint thought. Might as well get going. He changed into a leather jacket and jeans and grabbed his gitar and equipment before finally grabbing an apple and a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Watch where you're going, jackass!" A girl yelled at Clint as he hurried along to Duncan's Diner. He glanced back at at the pretty brunette and smiled apologetically but kept power-walking. He got to the diner ahead of time and set up just right of the doors of the restaurant. In a few minutes, he was ready. Clint decided to start with a fairly well-known song- a guitar version of Riptide by Vance Joy.

Clint did not choose music because it was his 'passion' or 'dream.' He chose it because it was the only thing he could do. The guy had dropped out of college in his first semester, thus prompting his parents to kick him out. He then moved to NYC and subsequently fell head over heels for one Bobbi Morse after two dates. But then she kicked him out. Yeah, it seemed to happen to Clint an awful lot. With only his guitar, he began singing on the streets of the Big Apple one year after arriving and enjoyed it immensely. His voice was smooth and relaxing but could become rough and powerful, he was also gifted with a guitar in his hands. By the second verse of Riptide, he had already drawn quite a crowd.

'There's this movie that I think you'll like,

This guy decides to quit his job and heads to New York City,

This cowboy's running from himself…'

Yeah, that song kind of resonated with him. Clint welcomed every coin that was tossed his way with a wink and a 'thank you' if he could.

"I was beginning to think you'd be late, Nat," Steve Rogers joked as his favourite employee pushed open the front doors, her flaming red curls looking particularly lovely. His bar was called 'Cap's' in honour of his grandfather, the World War 2 hero, Captain America. It was large, long and curved in the middle.

The counter ran on the wall parallel to the front doors. The walls were dark red but the back wall of the right wing was a dark blue behind the stage. The back wall of the left wing was white. Long purple curtains hung over the bay windows on either sides of the front doors. Bar stools lined the bar and booths lined the far walls of either wing. There was two raised platforms either side of the door, each housing three tables and a bay window. A few standalone tables with chairs were situated in both wings.

"Keep dreaming, Rogers," Natasha laughed as she pulled back the curtains of the bay windows. Light streamed through, illuminating specks of dust in the air.

Steve loved her laugh, and her eyes, and her hair, and her- Well, you get the idea. He had never made any moves, though, half-afraid of having his arms broken. He was no weakling but he had once seen Natasha dislocate a guy's finger with one hand. It was a moment hard to forget, as was the lawsuit that followed. It worked out okay, though. Tony Stark loved Cap's, and the best lawyers loved Tony Stark's money.

"How is he?" Steve enquired from where he was polishing glasses behind the bar. Natasha sighed heavily as she set her bag down on one of the tables.

"Clint is basically my brother. I love him with all my heart…" Steve stiffened at her words.

"But, he's gone off the deep end since Bobbie left him. I don't know if I can help him much longer." Natasha sounded like a worried mother.

"You're giving him your hand to stay afloat while reaching for a pole to fish him out at the same time. He needs a lifeguard by now. Maybe he needs to meet somebody, help him kick old habits," Steve suggested as picked up another glass.

"A damn good singer, though." Natasha nodded in agreement and sat on a barstool opposite Steve. He put down his dish cloth and slapped a black apron on the counter before turning around and turning on the coffee machine.

"He does meet girls, they just don't last more than one night," she sighed. She stood up briefly to tie the apron around the waist of her skinny jeans, unfortunately she had nothing to protect her favourite purple T-shirt.

"Anyway, enough about Barton… Expecting a big crowd tonight?" she queried, plopping down onto her stool again.

"We've got a two-table reservation, dinner included. Stark Industries have their bi-annual outing, so we'll have to bring Tony through the back again," Steve explained. Nat whistled as Steve set down a steaming mug of coffee in front of her.

"Sam's gonna be busy. Where is that guy anyway?"

Sam Wilson was their chef. He was a pretty laidback guy and did not move quickly for much, he had a good sense of humour, though. The words were no sooner out of Natasha's mouth when the doors behind her opened and Sam made his grand entrance.

"Aha, speak of the devil and he should appear," Natasha joked as Sam took off his aviators.

"Naw, Nat. Devil wishes he was this guy," Sam replied, pointing his thumbs toward himself. He sat next to Romanoff and Steve set down another mug of hot, brown liquid. It was a ritual for the three of them to enjoy coffee before a long day and night's work began.

Clint finished at 2 o'clock and counted his earnings: $55. Not bad at all Clint thought as he packed away his equipment. He decided to reward himself with one of Duncan's apple turnovers and headed inside the diner. He sat down in one of the booths. After a while a waitress came over to take his order.

"Hi, my name is- Jackass!"

"Hey, Jackass. I'm Clint," he mumbled looking up from the menu slowly. It was the same pretty brunette from earlier that day. He hadn't noticed her mustard uniform when he nearly bowled her over.

"No, you almost knocked me over this morning. I know I'm not the tallest, but c'mon dude, watch where you're going!" Man, this girl could talk. She was quite pretty, though. So, Clint opted for charm rather than his usual sarcasm.

"Sorry about that, sweetheart. I should have noticed a beauty like you." He flashed his trusted smile as he handed her the red-bordered menu.

"Are you gonna order, or do I have to tase you?" She scowled. Clint gave up and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

"Apple turnover and a cappuccino, darling." The waitress huffed and stormed off. Clint caught a glimpse of her nametag before she motored away from him. Darcy was a sure pain in his backside. He leaned forward with his elbows on the plastic tabletop and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. It was going to be a long day…

There you have it! Chapter 1 of a brand new story! Bad Ideas will, hopefully, not be affected too much but I had to get this out. I really like it. I'm no songwriter so I will be using other songs and may say Clint wrote them. I own nothing, though (unfortunately). :P Feel free to go find the songs I use, some may not be well known but will definitely be quality. Okay, I think that's about it from me.

Thanks for reading and please leave a review saying what you think.

Have a great day, night, afternoon, etc…

Love ya! ;)