Author's Note: For Kelly who is the Clint to my Kate—always. This is an "everyone's in high school" AU, which just means that here all the Avengers are around high school age. It's not necessarily a "powerless" AU because Clint and Kate have no powers and archery certainly plays a part but there's no mention of superheroic type stuff, either, so take that how you will. The title is a line from the Onerepublic song Counting Stars, which is obviously not mine (and please consider it disclaimed, btw). Sadly this is unbeta'd, so do feel free to let me know if you catch any errors! Cheers all.
9/17/13: Edited to add more context, clean things up a bit and just generally make it better (I think).
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.
swing (my heart) across the line
by Bether
(or five times Clint and Kate were in complete denial and one time they weren't)
the first.
Neither of them remembered how it started, the competing. It was just a thing they did. Maybe it was because they were both archers, maybe it was because they were both stubborn as hell, maybe it was because they were both far too competitive. Whatever the reason, though, it was kind of their thing now. If they weren't trying to outdo each other on the archery range, then they were making bets about everything from sports to their classmates or daring each other to do increasingly stupid and-or dangerous stunts.
Today was no exception. Archery practice had ended about ten minutes earlier, the coach leaving the pair of them to clean up (ostensibly as punishment for their endless bickering but more probably so he wouldn't have to do it himself, since that was how they always were).
Instead of finishing with putting the equipment away, though, Kate Bishop was using this opportunity to try and bait Clint Barton into doing something dumb. (Not because he'd performed better than her that day, no way—it was just for fun. And if said fun involved his humiliation, well… who could blame her there?) "Come on," she encouraged with a smirk, "if you do the dare, then I'll do clean-up whenever we're assigned for the rest of the month." It was the nineteenth already but that was still more than a week. "If you wuss out, you'll have to do it."
Clint crossed his arms. Contrary to what she seemed to think, he was capable of simple math—"That's a crappy deal." Besides, her dares were stupid and embarrassing. So, yeah, no thanks.
"Aw, c'mon!" Kate was full on grinning now as she continued egging him on. "You know you wanna, Barton."
Clint shot her a dubious look.
Kate blew a raspberry at him. "Don't be such a baby!" She whapped him halfheartedly on the shoulder. "Just do it already."
And maybe it was because they were standing so close together or the way she said the words but Clint did do something then—he grabbed her face and kissed her. (Which was not, as it happened, the dare she'd laid out for him.)
For her part, Kate grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. But just for a moment.
Then they simultaneously released and pushed away. This was followed by a bit of dumbfounded staring, awkward shifting and uncomfortable silence.
"So," Clint was studying one of the bags on the ground with far more attention than it required, "that didn't happen."
Kate was watching Clint with narrowed eyes. "Yeah. No, it definitely didn't." She shoved some hair out of her face. "Let's just put this crap away, so we can get out of here." Without waiting for a response, she shouldered one of the packs and headed for the equipment room.
Clint hesitated for a moment before following suit. There was no more talking.
By Monday things were basically back to normal. On the surface. Because, you know, it didn't happen. So there was nothing to be weird about. Yeah.
…
the second.
Of course, they just happened to be at the same party when some idiot decided it would be fun to play spin the bottle. Typical. And everyone was forced to join in or be declared a wimp. (Something neither of them would abide.)
But there were, like, a couple dozen people there, so it would probably be okay. Clint was still feeling pretty confident when Bobbi's spin landed on him, too. (Because, hey, she was a hottie and there were way more girls than dudes at the party, so.)
He should've known better, though. As if the Powers That Be would miss an opportunity to fuck with him.
So, yeah, his spin landed on Kate.
Sucked, right? And people just had to make stupid comments and stuff. So lame. They didn't like each other! Why couldn't everyone else understand that?
Whatever—one little peck and it was over. The end.
(And he didn't mind admitting he'd enjoyed watching Jessica and Kate kissing afterward. It was always hot watching chicks make out—even when one was pretty much the bane of his existence.)
…
the third.
It just figured Kate would be the assistant teacher in the self-defense course Clint was taking over the summer. That was the kind of luck they had. (Although, it was a bit better for her because she got to point out his flaws often and with a somewhat informed audience.)
They didn't really hate each other, though, so she offered to help him one day after watching him struggle through a particularly grueling class. They met up at the studio the following afternoon.
There was sparring and trash talking and gloating and even some pride on both ends—it was a pretty typical session, all around. Except that it was just the two of them with no witnesses. But whatever. Practically the same as ever.
Kate had a favorite move—a sweep that took her opponent's legs out from under them and landed him on his ass. She used it on Clint successfully more times than he cared to count until, finally, he lucked into a grab that pulled her down with him. Unlucky for him, she used the momentum to knock him flat onto his back and the wind out of his chest.
There was a moment after where Clint had his eyes closed and Kate hovered over him, visibly concerned. (She wanted to beat him not beat him up… most of the time.)
When he opened his eyes again, Kate hugged him for the relief of it all. "Oof," he grunted. "You know, Bishop, you're not as delicate as you think you are."
She whacked his shoulder with a smile. "Who needs to be delicate when you've got mad ass kicking skills?" She turned to kiss his cheek (because she really was relieved and it just felt like a cheek kissing moment)—
—right when he turned to say something else. Which meant that her kiss landed on his lips. Whoops. And then neither of them jumped apart all that quickly. Double whoops.
There was a large clang from somewhere else in the studio and Kate scurried off of him. "Um, sorry about the hard landing."
Clint leapt to his feet and scrubbed the back of his head with his hand. "No worries."
They didn't look at each other, just headed to their respective piles of stuff.
Kate chanced a glance his way after she ran out of things to fiddle with. "See you in class?"
"Sure." Clint was already heading for the door. "See ya."
She watched him leave, little frown lines at the corners of her mouth. Neither one ever mentioned the incident—nor did they practice alone together again.
…
the fourth.
Homecoming—what a joke. Neither Kate nor Clint had much of a desire to attend. Fortunately or unfortunately (depending on perspective), they were both in the Homecoming Court.
"What's the point of having princes and princesses?" Kate wondered aloud as she helped with the junior class float. "I mean, I guess I get the king-queen thing but we can't even win."
Teddy shrugged. "Eye candy?"
Kate smirked. "That doesn't explain how Barton landed on the Court."
"Funny," Clint interrupted dryly. (Of course he was passing by on his way back to the senior float just then.) "I was just thinking the same thing about you."
Teddy shook his head. "You two are ridiculous, you know? All that sexual tension…"
"Um, ew?" Kate wrinkled her nose. "The only kind of tension we have is the, you know," she waved her hand vaguely in front of her, "regular tense kind."
Teddy rolled his eyes.
Clint made a face. "Hate to do it but I'm gonna have to agree with Bishop on this one."
"Whatever you say." Teddy was obviously not convinced.
Clint narrowed his eyes at the younger boy, frowning slightly. There was something inside of him that needed to show the kid just how wrong he was and since they just happened to be standing beside each other, he did what he did best—acted without thinking.
In fact, Kate didn't even really realize what was happening until she felt Clint kiss her—firm and purposeful. It was over as quickly as it began and then he turned back to Teddy. "See? Nothing there."
Point made, Clint walked away, leaving behind an amused Teddy and severely pissed off Kate. "Did that jackass just kiss me to prove a point?" she asked when enough rage subsided for speech to return.
"If I say yes, are you going to jump him for revenge?"
Kate gaped at Teddy for a moment before shaking herself out of it. "I hate you."
There was a grin on his face as he shook his head. "No, you don't."
"Shut up." It was as close to admitting defeat that Kate ever came to.
…
the fifth.
It was just one of those things that happened. There was a party, there was liquor (too much liquor), there was relentless badgering on both ends and there was making out—a lot of making out. And, afterward, there were hangovers and regrets abound.
It was just one of those things that happened. It didn't mean anything.
…
the sixth. (or the one that mattered.)
It wasn't common for either to seek the other out but today Clint had a good reason. He found Kate beside her locker. "What the hell, Bishop? Why aren't you doing archery this year?"
Kate shrugged, putting a book in her bag. "It's not fun anymore."
Clint slid between her and the open locker in an attempt to draw her full attention. "Look, just because you always lose to me doesn't mean the team doesn't need you." It sounded like it hurt him to admit it. (A small part of Kate was glad.)
(A bigger part was annoyed.) "You think that's why I quit?" She stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head. "God, you're an idiot."
It should've made him angry, he should've walked away. Neither had any idea why he stayed to push the issue instead. "Then why—?"
"I'm tired, okay?"
As if that was an sufficient explanation. "Of archery?"
"Of you!" Kate burst out. "I'm tired of pretending I don't—I mean, I don't like you. Like, I really don't." She emphasized the words as if just saying it didn't adequately convey her feelings. "But I… I'm so tired of our thing."
There was something dark and oddly blank in Clint's expression. "So you're quitting because you don't like me."
Kate shrugged again but didn't meet his eyes. "Yeah."
Clint glared at her, growling in irritation. "You're such a fucking liar."
"No, I'm not!" Kate snapped. "I honestly do not like you!"
"So what?" He threw his hands in the air to emphasize the question. "How is that any different than before?"
Kate stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head. "You are such an idiot."
She turned to leave but Clint latched onto her wrist and tugged her back. "No, we're not done yet. Tell me your real reason right now."
"Or what?" Kate smirked when Clint failed to answer. "Exactly."
It didn't make sense but when she tried to wrench her wrist from his grip, Clint did something crazy—he kissed her.
Kate shoved him away with all her strength and he landed hard against the edges of her locker. "Stop doing that!"
Despite the mild throbbing at the back of his skull, Clint smirked. "You didn't seem to mind before."
"I didn't but—" Kate frowned momentarily before straightening her spine and staring him directly in the eyes. "I have feelings, Barton, and I'm tired of feeling like your plaything."
Naturally he went defensive first. "Hey, I'm not the only one who—"
"You don't get it," she interrupted. "Of course you don't." She shook her head. (Boys were dense; she knew this. But it made her cheeks burn with humiliation, having to lay everything out there.) "I like you, you idiot! I mean, not your personality, obviously. But I feel this… spark type thing whenever we… you know and I—" she took a breath and rushed through the rest—"I don't want to, but I do, and I don't want you kissing me again unless you feel something too because the game isn't fun anymore, okay? It just… hurts now." (Like a big ache inside of her chest and she just wanted it gone but how could she be rid of it when he kept reminding her?)
Clint stared at her. Opened his mouth, then closed it again without speaking.
Kate shoved him aside and closed her locker. "Forget it. Forget I said anything. Just—stop, okay?" She wasn't looking at him anymore.
Somehow, Clint found his voice. "No."
Kate's gaze snapped to his face and she frowned. "Excuse me?"
"I said, 'no,' Bishop," he repeated. "You should be used to hearing the word by now."
"You jerk!" She smacked his chest. "I can't be—"
He cut her off with another kiss. "I'm not stopping because I feel things, too, okay?" He shared this admission like it pained him, too. (All that was missing was a, 'Geez, women!' and he'd be a complete cliché.)
Unlike the first time, though, his actions amused her more than anything else. Kate glanced between them and quirked a brow. "So I see."
"Ha. Ha. You're so hilarious," he said dryly. The way he rested his arms around her waist belied the attitude he was trying to throw at her.
Kate grinned. "Glad you're finally coming around."
The smirk on Clint's face was dangerous. "Not yet but we're getting closer…"
"Perv!" She shoved his shoulder and fought not to laugh.
He gave her a cheeky grin and leaned down to kiss her again.
(And as it happened—fighting? Not too terrible a way to go in the foreplay department.)