Due to the horrendous amount of times I have watched Dirty Dancing, here I am. A Clintasha AU. Obviously some things have been changed so it fits the characters and situations and blah blah blah. Enjoy.
The summer was one in 1963 - when we lived with the circus and traveled by train, and it didn't occur to me to mind. That was before President Kennedy was shot, before the Beatles came, when my only problem was whether anyone was trying to talk to me without me realizing, and I thought I'd never have anyone to ever look after me like my brother did. That was the summer we went to Kellerman's.
"Hey!" Barney faded voice just barely reached Clint, the older boy's elbow slamming into his side. "Come on, there's something going on."
Clint took his hands out of his pockets to reach out for Barney's arm, pulling him off the floor. The train had stopped its constant rocking only a few minutes ago, and Clint already felt the motion sickness start wearing off. The archer had impeccable balance, when it came to the show. Carson put him on in the big act nearly every other week, now that summer's back. Any time he didn't have the bow in his hands he was as clumsy as the rest of them.
The rest of them being the rest of the circus. Some clowns, the acrobats, the animal trainers, a strongman, the 'freaks' of the crew. The big man himself, Carson. Not that many of them talked to the archer anyway, really only Barney and Clint's own trainer Buck, and sometimes even Jacques, could even stand to slow down enough to talk to the sixteen year old.
'Deaf' they called him. 'Retarded'. He didn't care, he'd heard it all before. An expression, of course. But they were wrong. He could hear some things. Loud things, he could recognize familiar voices. Barney's. Buck's. Carson's, if he's hollering at him loud enough. He could hear garbled speaking around him but not understand unless he decided to lip read or just wing it.
And then there's Kate. Katie. Whatever he wanted to call her that day. Whatever Clint thought would annoy her that day. The spoiled one of their crew that somehow managed to get on board Carson's Carnival's train. And stayed there.
Which took them back to here. The train stopping for what was supposed to be a few days, put on a show for the country clubbers at some place called Kellerman's. Clints never actually stepped foot in any of the buildings there. Just did his routine and went back to the train. They were all packed up, ready to leave. And that's when Barney called.
Clint hopped off the car of the train and followed the older of them, Kate in toe. "Are we stuck? How can we be stuck? I knew I should've bought those coral shoes from the last city, I never buy enough shoes to last me a whole stay. I'm won't have enough to wear!"
Clint saw Barney suppress a roll of his eyes out of the corner of his own, mumbling something along the lines of "Ya brought ten pairs. This ain't a tragedy."
They stopped in front of Carson, a man with oil on his jeans, and a crowd of other performers.
"What do you mean it'll take weeks to get this fixed?" The Ringmaster of their show shouted loud enough even Clint heard a few words of it. He looked to Kate, but the younger one didn't show any sign of wanting to translate. The man Carson was currently expelling every curse word he knew to was facing away from Clint, so whatever was stopping them was a mystery to him.
So he stayed silent, some groans around him from the performers and Kate even crossing her arms like a child to show her displeasure. He let conversation carry on until they all dispersed, Barney grabbing him by the jacket to go back to their cart. "What's going on?"
Barney sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he pulled himself up on the cart. Legs swung out from the wooden, metal-lined train. "We're stuck here for a while." He shrugged, grabbing Clint's trunk from behind him and tossing it to the younger. "Apparently someone jacked some part of the train. It's gonna take months to fix it. We're stuck."
"So?" Clint set down his trunk and leaned over it, staying on the ground with Barney towering over him on the train. "Where're we supposed to stay?"
The brother shrugged. "Carson's friends with the guy who owns this place, we can stay." Barney hauled off his own trunk and hopped to the ground. "Don't fuck anything up and we won't be sleeping in the cart, alright?"
Clint took the hit to the chest and nodded as Barney passed. "I know." He hauled his trunk to rest on his shoulder, turning to follow his brother and nearly running right into him again.
"Don't freak out on me." He warned, finger pointing to the archer. "You don't hear something just guess what they want you to say. You get in trouble you come to me, don't worry about Buck."
The blond boy nodded again. "I know."
"Good." Barney gave him a grin, a fist pounding into his chest again. "Enjoy yourself, it's the only vacation you'll ever get."
The employees of Kellerman's set them up as three people per cabin. Clint. Barney. Kate. A bunk and a single. They got away with saying they were all related.
"Katie's just a little sister." Barney gave the manager his most shit eating grin with an arm around the girl, ruffling her black hair. "Mom was...a little promiscuous, that's all. The sins of the father are not always the sins of the son, right?"
The cabin manager only hummed and checked them off as family.
Clint managed to stand the week of doing whatever activity Kate dragged him off to. Barely.
"One! Two! Three! Four! Stomp those grapes and stomp some more!" The dance instructor Kate so brilliantly thought of shouted at the top of his lungs. He seemed too enthusiastic to be real, Clint missed half the steps.
Clint wasn't stupid, he knew how music worked, just was never able to really enjoy it. Step to the beat, he could hear a beat. Just not when everyone else was elderly, incompetent, wore socks with sandals, or just stepped off of the beat. Katie got really into it, trying to help him find the rhythm.
"One! Two! Three! Four! Listen to the music!" The instructor swayed his long jacket back and forth, showing the group of people under the gazebo how the steps should work. He was the same age as Clint, long hair tied back in a bun and the stupidest orange suit the carnie's ever seen, coming from his own opinion. The group stalled to start the other way, leaving Clint to step on someone's foot as Kate pulled him in the right direction. "One! Two! Three! Four! Dry your caboose and shake it loose! Stomp those grapes!"
People scattered as Clint lost Kate, relying on the instructor's lips. "Come on ladies! Follow me into a round-robin!" Women clung to the instructor's shoulders, Clint spinning helplessly. "Men! Inner circle!" Older guys grabbed the blond by the shoulder and dragged him around in a circle, kicking their feet to the music. There was something about maracas and shaking them, but by that Clint's eyes were on his feet.
"When I say stop!" The instructor shouted, shaking his hands to get attention. "Find the man or woman of your dreams!" Clint locked eyes with Kate, the instructor yelling stop and stepping right in front of Clint to steal his one hope of not looking like an idiot.
"I'm gonna look around the main house." The archer only alerted his brother to where he was going after he was already out the door.
The cabin wasn't big, but small enough for him to start getting stir-crazy. And after a near humiliating dance 'lesson' by the guy who was apparently a backup dancer for Elvis, he really wanted to be anywhere but around people he knew.
A path of stones laid out in front of the porch amused him for a moment, stepping on each of the slabs like he were a child again. The stones leading to the castle-like structure of the main house. Granite stone on the outside and lights illuminating each window. Porches stuck out on the second floor, with tables on them so people could look out to the lawn and the lake behind. Little red and white cabanas blocked the sun.
Clint trailed slowly on the porches, a few cabins before the woods, then the lawn. Kids of the rich families swam in the lake and over-enthusiastic employees made sure they were okay. Clint glanced into the dining hall, staying hidden behind a pole to watch the servers be lectured by some nephew or something of the owner of Kellerman's.
"There are two kinds of help here." Neil started with a smile, all the servers standing, looking almost bored, around him. "You waiters are college guys, and I went to Harvard and Yale to hire you. And why did I do that? Why?" He paused, tone getting slightly more aggressive. "I shouldn't have to remind you, this is a family place. That means keep your fingers out of the water, hair out of the soup, and show the daughters and sons a good time...All of them." He pointed a finger. "Even the dogs. Schlep them out to the terrace, show them the stars. Romance them anyway you want!"
Clint rolled his eyes, at least explaining why the staff is so happy here. A crowd of men came through, a few girls. The head of which having the brightest red hair Clint's ever seen. Not counting the dye performers use.
"Got all that boys?" She smirked, sunglasses on even in the night's darkness and sleeve of her dress off her shoulder.
"Hold it! Entertainment staff! Hold it right there!" Neil Kellerman caught her by the shoulder, scowl on his face. Clint had to crane his neck to keep his eyes on their mouths. "Listen, wise asses, you people have your own rules. Dance with the kids. Teach them the mambo, the cha-cha, anything they pay for. And that's where it ends." He pointed a finger right at the girl as she put her head down, acting like the words bounced off her. "No funny business. No conversations. Keep your hands off!"
He pushed past the redhead and shoved a hand into another male's chest before storming off.
The waiters scoffed laughs at what Clint assumed to be the dancers, setting up table for the dining hall.
"Think you can keep that straight, Natasha?" One waiter teased her, the redhead rolling her eyes. "What you can and can't let lay their hands on you?"
She sighed as if she were bored, shaking her head. Clint raised a brow as she stepped towards the waiter, an almost intimidating presence. "Just put your pickle on everybody's plate, college boy. Leave the hard stuff to me." She placed a delicate finger on a carefully folded napkin, pushing it off the table.
Dinner was not as exciting or even relaxing as it should have been. The younger brother was currently leaning on the back of a chair, kicking his feet at the carpet. Katie, currently blabbering about some magazine she smuggled in when no one was looking, causing Barney to be the one wishing for the ever-being silence his brother had. They weren't usually trusted with actual money, but Carson had allowed some leeway for them for dinner, considering none of them were getting fed on their own. Barney was soaking it up, practically waving the cash whenever he counted it.
Tables were set up around the sides of the room, leaving a dance floor in the middle. Another Kellerman approached their table, a male about Clint's age in a nice waiter's uniform had a towel draped over his hand.
"This will be your waiter. Robbie Gould." Kellerman introduced the man, exaggerating his syllables while making direct eye contact with Clint. He rolled his eyes, catching Kate nearly swooning over the Robbie. "Planning on going to Yale."
"Wow." Kate put her head in her hands, Kellerman leaving the table for Robbie to take over.
"I hear you all are special guests of Max." He smiled, fakely. Clint was immediately tipped off, but Barney wouldn't let it go.
"Yeah." The older brother shrugged, acting as if they were always treated like this. "You should keep it in mind."
And they ate. And ate. Anything Robbie suggested, Barney wouldn't turn down.
"Look at all the leftover food." He slapped his brother like it were an accomplishment. Some of the beer bottles that were empty on the table shook with it. "There still starving children?"
"I'm sure somewhere." Clint shrugged, thinking of about thirty countrie he could've listed off. "Southeast Asia."
He's read a lot, sue him.
"Right." Barney scoffed, waving down the waiter. "My brother wants to send his leftovers to Asia. Wrap it up, alright?" He smirked, Robbie smiled uncomfortably. "Kid thinks he's gonna save the world."
Clint glanced to the floor. "And what is Kate here going to do?" The archer thought about throwing up at the flattery.
"Decorate it." He deadpanned, everyone looking to him.
"She already does." Robbie defended, Kate nearly melting in her seat.
Now, he wants to throw up.
Barney looked like he was going to.
Before anything disastrous was set in stone, the older brother carted himself off back to the cabin. Kate was swooned by this Robbie onto the dance floor, loud music being blasted by a band up front. Most of the tables were empty, but Clint still sat, watching people twirl around the floor.
A loud beat came on and two dancers stormed the floor. The man with the bun - the apparent back up dancer for Elvis - started dancing seamlessly with the redhead. Natasha. Clint cocked his head, watching them twist and dip and march to a step like they were one people.
"It's a mambo!" Someone shouted in his ear beside him, causing Clint to move back. A skinny guy, maybe the same age as him. Blonde, but with a welcomed air around him. "Sorry, Steve." He held out a hand, Clint shook it a little awkwardly.
"Clint." He shrugged, sitting back in his seat and watching the dancers again. "Who are they?" He glanced over.
"The dance people. Entertainment staff." Steve shrugged, but watched them appreciatively. "Bucky's my cousin, partner's Natasha Romanoff." He watched, only glancing to Clint occasionally.
The two dancers stepped around the floor as if they were practicing since the beginning of their lives. Stepping together, back and forth, twirling away from each other and back.
"They really shouldn't be showing off like that." Steve shrugged again. "It won't sell lessons. That's what they do, you know. Dance lessons. you dance?" Clint raised a brow and shook his head. The pieces clicked together in Steve's head, the message went out about the deaf guest, but Clint was already looking back to the floor.
Natasha's leg slung over Bucky's shoulder, he dragged her across the floor in what could only be years of trust. Out of the corner of his eye Clint saw Max Kellerman cutting his throat with his hand.
"Don't think your boss likes it either." He hummed, tapping his fingers on the table.
Bucky lifted Natasha off the ground in a practiced spin, seeing Kellerman in the corner and nearly dropping the redhead. They paused awkwardly, looking at each other before separating. The two found other dance partners, dragging people back on the floor.
"The Kellerman way." Steve scoffed, tapping Clint on the shoulder. "Come on, you wanna get out of here? I know a place." He smirked, getting up from the table for Clint to follow him.
A dirt path leads out of the main house, lighted by solar lights, a soft glow on the ground. It winded through the woods, Steve leading the way to a kitchen-type house. Grabbing three large watermelons.
"Wanna give me a hand?" He rolled one of the watermelons in Clint's arms, the archer raising a brow.
"Where the hell are we goin'?" He sighed, taking the watermelon as Steve led the way again. A large cabin was in sight now, on the top of hill. Lights coming from the top floor. Silhouettes from the windows cast shadows onto the dirt ground around the cabin. Trees seemed to move with the shadows and Clint didn't register Steve talking to him.
"Hey!" The blond hit him with his foot.
"What?"
"I said can you keep a secret?" Clint shrugged, then nodded. "Your ringmaster guy'll kill you. Max will kill me." He smirked, starting up to the cabin.
The music was deafening as they neared.
If you want me to continue the story - which I would love to do, but not sure if I want to put in all the effort - please review or favorite!