Natasha Romanoff was a senior. She sat towards the front of the class, slumped into her seat, a hoodie pulled over her red hair. Despite looking careless, her alert eyes were trained on the teacher, analyzing and memorizing every word that left his mouth.
Beside her sat Clint Barton. Most people would call them best friends; they never left each other's sides. He looked careless as well, except much less alert than his friend; he had headphones in, music blasting at a volume that most of the class could hear, but nobody commented.
Clint looked down at his unused notebook, his strong hands pulling at the metal binding. There were students around him; most of them just as bored. A group of sophomore girls behind him were being obnoxious, and a glance to the side confirmed Natasha's annoyance. Her jaw was clenched, her shoulders tense. Clint smirked at her teasingly, telling her to calm down with his eyes; her glare only got more intense. A laugh escaped his lips and he pulled his headphones out of his ears, about to say something when the bell rang, signifying the class's dismissal. "Thank God," he muttered instead, shoving his notebook into his backpack and shouldering it as he stood. Natasha did the same, then grabbed his wrist and pulled him alongside her as she rushed out of the classroom. As soon as they were out of earshot of any teachers or giggling girls, she exploded with pent up rage.
"I don't understand why can't shut the hell up!" she exclaimed, waving her hands in the air angrily. "All semester, they're driving me mad, Clint. I want to go one day without hearing ridiculous comments about Tony Stark and Steve Rogers," she said the names as if they were poisonous. As if on cue, the two boys mentioned passed them in the hall; Tony turned at the mention of his name, but kept walking; he was probably used to it, Clint thought with a laugh. Billionaire's son. "It's so superficial. They're only liked because they're rich, or strong."
Clint shook his head, listening carefully to his friend although he didn't agree. "They're actually cool guys," he commented, though admittedly a little afraid to disagree with Natasha. "Stark's an ass, but he's smart. And Steve's a nice guy." He shut up once he got another glare from Natasha.
"Why don't you just join those girls if you love them so much?" she muttered, annoyed. He grinned at the idea, amused, opening his mouth as if to agree when she muttered "shut up." They stepped out of the school doors, then slowed to a stop. Clint had Archery; Natasha didn't have a class that hour.
"I'll see you later. Don't kill any sophomores," Clint warned good-naturedly, then grinned. "Especially not the blonde. I heard her say I had nice shoulders the other day." The comment earned him a whack to the arm, and he laughed, stepping away from his friend.
"See you, Barton," Natasha returned, not being able to hold back a grin of her own despite her outburst. Clint could always make her laugh.
She gave a wave before turning and walking in the direction of her house, pocketing her hands. It didn't take long for someone to fall into step with her; she didn't look for several moments, thinking someone was trying to pass her. When they didn't, she glanced at the person; low and behold, it was Tony Stark.
Tony was taller than her, though not as tall as Clint. He had messy dark hair and brown eyes with thick lashes; that, alone, was enough to make people swoon. Despite his carefree attitude, he always had some sophistication to him, like an aura of importance. Natasha recognized that he was good-looking, but it didn't effect her very much.
"Do you need something?" she asked in a low voice, confused by his presence. They were in the same grade, but rarely spoke, so she didn't understand the sudden interest. He looked at her with smiling eyes; she held back rolling her own.
"I heard you talking about me a few minutes ago," Tony replied smugly, shrugging a shoulder. He watched her carefully, not shy or bashful in the slightest. "Care to elaborate?"
Natasha snorted. "I don't need to explain myself to you," she replied stubbornly, looking away from him. The entire situation wasn't worth her time. She had to be home soon so she wouldn't miss her Self Defense classes, and talking to Tony Stark of all people was the last thing she'd like to do with her time.
Tony grinned, finally looking away from Nat and out to the street in front of him. "I'll take the liberty of assuming you were talking about a crush, then," he said slyly, and received an eye roll in return. He slowed to a stop when they reached the parking lot, pulling out his keys and motioning to his luxurious car. "I can give you a ride home, Natalie," he offered, clearly trying to impress her with the vehicle.
Natasha didn't stop walking. "Not my name," she said dully, and continued home without a glance back. Tony frowned a little bit, not used to the overwhelming lack of response to his flirting, though he wasn't upset or anything. He'd have to get to know her, he decided, before boarding his car.
Nat appreciated the newfound silence.
The next day, Clint and Natasha sat at lunch in the cafeteria talking over their plates, along with their friend Wanda, who was a junior. Natasha was in the midst of telling them about yesterday's encounter with the school's very own playboy billionaire.
"He tried to offer me a ride home," she described with a laugh, leaning back in her seat, obviously very amused as she remembered what happened. "And then he called me Natalie."
Clint snickered as he unwrapped a brownie. "Smooth," he commented with a grin. "Bet you were all over him after that one."
Wanda listened carefully, smiling throughout the story. "He seems like an ass," she stated after a moment, cursing uncharacteristically, and Natasha nodded in solemn agreement. Then, Wanda's eyes widened slightly, and Natasha turned to see what had caught her attention.
"Shit, he's coming," Clint laughed louder than was appropriate. It was true; Pietro, Wanda's twin brother, was heading over, followed by Tony. The boys didn't hesitate to take seats at the table, which wasn't abnormal for Pietro, who visited often. Tony, however, was an obvious newcomer.
"What're you doing here?" Wanda asked shyly, embarrassed that her brother had brought along Tony of all people.
Pietro gave a grin and a wave. "Tony said he wanted to say hey, so we're here." The two boys casually set up their lunches as if invited, talking between themselves. Stark made no effort to introduce himself; in fact, several minutes passed before he spoke to anyone other than Pietro.
"Natasha," he said suddenly, and her head turned to looked at him. "Not Natalie. Sorry - I got a little bit of misinformation," he excused with a grin, still no embarrassment or shame to be seen. Natasha just nodded, not really knowing what else to say.
Pietro spoke for the rest of the lunch session, bragging about breaking various school records in Track. That was one of the reasons he didn't sit with them usually; his life revolved around Track, and the others knew nothing about it. He belonged with his teammates. Stark tried to engage in the conversation, but he didn't seem to be athletically inclined either. He spent the rest of lunch quiet, except for a few times when he spoke to the girls at the table behind theirs. Wanda picked at her food, wishing her brother would leave them alone.
Once the dismissal bell rang, Clint and Nat headed for their next hour. They sat at the very back of the room, where they could talk and be ignored by the teacher.
"He came to correct himself," Clint commented, watching Natasha's expression carefully. "Must have hurt his pride." She grimaced, not looking at him.
"He just gave me an excuse. We've had, like, three classes together," she protested with a scoff. "There's no reason he should get my name wrong. At least he didn't hit on me again."
"He doesn't seem that bad," he tried to reason. "But I'll still kick his ass if he keeps bothering you."
"I'll kick it myself," she grinned, nudging Clint fondly. "Don't worry about him... he'll shove off eventually.
Stark didn't shove off.
In fact, he seemed to grow quite attached to the group. He sat with them at lunch the next day, even though Pietro didn't. The day after, he brought a friend.
"Steve Rogers," the muscled boy introduced himself, smiling kindly. He was blond, blue eyed, strong jawed, looking like he belonged in a completely different crowd. And he did - yet he looked perfectly comfortable sitting with them. Wanda gave him a shy smile in return, and Clint waved half-heartedly. Natasha didn't react; she kept her eyes on an assignment she had due later.
Stark grasped Steve's shoulder, grinning. "My right-hand man. I'm the brains, he's the brawn." Steve brushed Tony's hand away, though he laughed. They seemed to be good friends.
"Brains?" Natasha muttered under her breath. Clint was the only one to hear it, and his smirk showed it.
The table went silent as everyone ate or studied. Despite the new arrivals, everything felt very comfortable. Even Wanda, who was usually very quiet around new people, had grown used to Stark, and was already fond of Steve; she had a class with him, and they shared notes sometimes.
When the bell signaled that lunch was over, Clint, Natasha, and Wanda stayed behind to talk. "Now we have three idiots at the table," Natasha groaned as she packed up her bag, glancing slyly at Clint, who shot back a light glare.
"Steve's not an idiot," Wanda protested quietly, her accented voice very gentle. "I promise. He's a quarterback, but he's a good guy. He's artsy; his notes always have doodles on them."
"And Stark?" Clint questioned, curious about Wanda's opinion. She was always the peacemaker.
"He's... different. I don't know much about him. But he hasn't hit on anyone since he's been sitting here," she replied hopefully. "I don't know why he's been sitting here, though."
Clint knew. If he was anything, he was watchful; and he noticed that Tony constantly glanced behind him at one of the tables. At first, Clint had scoffed, thinking he was flirting with an entire group of girls sitting there. But then he noticed that one strawberry blond was always the center of Stark's attention.
Natasha spoke up after a second. "I don't know, either. But Steve didn't talk about football the whole time, so... he's okay. For a jock," she said quickly, like she hated herself for saying it. She genuinely liked Steve, and was glad that her opinion on him had changed. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge.
The tardy bell rang, and Clint said a vulgar curse, the kind that made Natasha burst out laughing and that brought a red tint to Wanda's pale cheeks. Then they split up and headed to class.
