Chapter Two: Friends
Clint nodded and opened the door, waiting for Natasha to follow him. Once the door closed behind them, he turned to her and asked, "So where do you want to go first?"
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "You really don't want to be here, do you?" she asked, her voice low and husky. Clint immediately liked it but he didn't show any unnecessary emotions.
"Oh, don't worry I'd always rather anything other than Sitwell and Gonzales' classes. They're the biggest pricks in the school," he replied, smirking slightly at the red-head. "What's your schedule like? We can go by that and then to the other stuff," he offered; he noticed she was slightly tense, watching everything around her. Like he always seemed to do.
Natasha handed him her schedule; she had the exact same schedule as he did;
Period A - Science - Mr. Jasper Sitwell
Period B - History - Ms. Isabelle Hartley
Period C - Art - Mr. Daniel Whitehall
Period D - French - Ms. Melinda May
Period E - Math - Mr. Robert Gonzales
Period F - English - Ms. Victoria Hand
Period G - P.E - Mr. John Garrett
"Well, this makes it easier for us," he commented, looking up at her. "Same classes."
Natasha nodded, taking her schedule back off Clint. "Where to first?" she asked, looking around the hallway. She was quiet enough, but that wasn't unexpected for a new kid in a school in a different country.
Clint thought for a moment; since it was Thursday, the first two classes were Science and Math followed by French. Melinda May, who also happened to be his aunt, taught French so he would mind if he missed that class. "Okay. I will show you where French is first. Then the Art, English, History, P.E. and then Science and Math," he told her simply, pausing to see if she wanted to ask anything; she didn't. Not that he minded; he didn't want his bad mood to rub off her on her first day.
Clint showed Natasha to the first three classrooms in the order that he had told her. He didn't say much to Natasha either, just basic stuff she needed to know. He noticed that Natasha liked the quiet. And her space; there was at least three feet between them at all times, something he didn't mind. As the bell rang for the end of first period, he brought her to the lunchroom, trying to avoid any of his friends. But he wasn't that lucky.
"Oi, Barton, where the fuck were you for Sitwell's class?" an obnoxious voice came over the loud hustle and bustle of kids trying to get to class on time.
Clint groaned and slowly turned around to face the owner of the voice. "Stark, what do you want this time?" he asked, making his voice sound bored and standoffish; he really didn't want to listen to the Billionaire kid genius today. Or for the rest of the week. He nodded in greeting to Pepper Potts, Tony's girlfriend and their Class President.
Tony Stark was a scrawny enough kid, black hair and a goatee that was scruffy but no one really cared. His father was a Billionaire weapons manufacturer and a genius too. So Tony's genius ran in the genes of his family.
Stark stopped and casted his eyes over Natasha. "Who's the hottie, Barton? Your new girlfriend?" Clint simply glared at Tony as did Pepper. Noticing the death glares, Tony raised his hands in surrender. "Okay. Okay. I'll stop. See you at lunch," he offered, quickly exiting the lunchroom; he didn't want to become Clint's new target practice. Pepper nodded kindly at Natasha and Clint before following her boyfriend in an attempt to stop him from pissing someone else off.
"Friends?" Natasha asked when they were alone again.
"Unfortunately. That was Anthony Stark but everyone calls him Tony. He's a genius billionaire kid but a real pain in the ass sometimes. The girl was Pepper Potts. Our Class President. And Tony's girlfriend," Clint replied, glancing down at his watch. "I should show you to the rest of the necessary places," he added, looking up at her. Her red hair was curly and brought up in a messy pony tail. She was wearing a dark hoodie and black skinny jeans. Her bag was slung over her left shoulder and she had her arms crossed in front of her chest protectively. She looked uncomfortable. "You okay?"
Natasha nodded, glancing at Clint; he had unruly spiky brown-blonde hair, sharp grey-blue eyes, a square jaw, a rugged nose (broken a few times from the looks of it), broad shoulders, built arms (natural not those steroid pumped ones) and he was at least 5'11". She felt fairly small in comparison despite her average 5'7". She glanced at the exit of the lunchroom. "Where to next?"
"History. Then the gym. And then Science and Math," he replied, adding mentally, 'Although, I'm not looking forward to listening to Sitwell or Gonzales giving me lectures. Especially not in front of Natasha.'
Natasha nodded and followed Clint out of the lunchroom. She noticed the difference between the main front office and Fury's private office; Nick's office was more utilitarian and sterile except for the personal pictures of his and Maria's son, Tyler. The main office, on the other hand, had more cluttered shelves with a few neat spaces. Clint didn't say much to her, not that she minded. She liked the quiet and space. Clint only spoke to her when he needed to tell her the basic stuff she needed to know. Nor was he mean about it, he simply seemed to be someone who preferred to be alone most of the time. It was making the change less overwhelming for her. Even though her Godfather and his wife had done their best to help her. Being around Tyler did help.
She glanced down at her schedule, reading the times for each class;
Time Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday
07:25-08:15 Science Science History Science History
08:20-09:10 History French Art Math Art
09:15-10:15 Art Math French French Math
10:20-11:45 Lunch Lunch Lunch Lunch Lunch
11:50-12:50 Math English English Art English
12:55-14.00 French P.E. P.E. English P.E.
Natasha looked up when they reached a new classroom; the History classroom. Hartley was in the middle of a class so she didn't notice the two teenagers outside. "We don't have her today. But we have her first thing tomorrow morning," the red-head commented, glancing at Clint.
The seventeen-year-old nodded before a thought crossed his mind. "The guidance counsellor's office isn't far from here. Do you want to go there?"
Natasha nodded, glancing up and down the hallway. Barton wasn't a talker, which she was very thankful for, but her habits from her time in her native Russia were still present. "Which way?" she asked, turning back to the other teenager. His grey eyes were glancing up the hallway, similar to the way she had been doing, making the red-head mentally frown; why was he paranoid?
"Left," he replied, pointing to the door down the hallway. "Phil's usually in his office at this time," he added.
Natasha nodded and followed Clint down the hallway. As they reached the door, Natasha noticed an old scar running down the back of Clint's neck, hidden by his hoodie unless he moved. She mentally frowned, wondering how he could have possibly earned the scar but the door opened before she could even think of asking about it.
"Clint, Natasha, what can I do for you?" Phil greeted, stepping back and allowing the two teens inside his office. The room was completely different from Nick's office and the main office; Phil's office was more welcoming. The colour of the walls was a soft cream unlike the sterile white throughout most of the rest of the rooms in the school. The suit gestured to the two seats in front of his desk; there were various kids' drawings all over his office as well.
"Seriously, Phil? Don't you have anywhere else to put Skye's old drawings?" Clint teased, picking up one that had four stick characters on it and four names. Natasha smiled mentally as she read, 'Daddy, Mommy, Skye, Clint.'
"I like embarrassing her with all of these family orientated drawings she used to do," Phil replied with an easy grin. "So what can I do for you? Or is this just a social visit?"
Natasha couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Phil. The man was so easy going, so care-free. In her previous schools, no teacher had been like this. Everything was so strict and controlled. But Phil was currently going against everything she had been so used to.
"Social visit. We have the gym, Math class and Science class left," Clint replied, shrugging his shoulders before wincing and bringing his hands up to his ears. Natasha watched with surprise as the teenager pulled out a small earpiece out of his left ear after hitting a few buttons on his wristwatch. Phil made a few hand signs, concern written clearly over his face, making Natasha wonder what he had said. He was obviously using sign language and Clint was obviously wearing hidden hearing aids.
Clint nodded and turned a setting on his wristwatch before placing his hearing aid back in. "Signals are interfering with them again," the seventeen-year-old informed his uncle before he turned to Natasha. "Sorry, I'm deaf," he told her with a slight shrug, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
Natasha simply nodded; what else could she do?
Phil frowned at his nephew. "I'll call Harold and ask if he can do anything about signals interfering with the aids. Does anything else affect them?" he asked, writing down a few notes in his diary.
"Other than the usual of me being tired or upset, no," Clint replied, glancing up at the clock. It had just gone 08.45. "We better go. The gym is on the far side of the school," he stated, standing up and glancing at his and Natasha's school bags. "Do you mind if we left these here, Phil? Saves us from hoisting them around the whole place."
"Collect them before French," Phil replied. "My wife is not sending me to the dog's house because you were late to class after having to collect your bag from my office," he added, fixing Clint with a stern look.
"That wasn't my fault," Clint responded with a shrug. "Blame my fight with Rumlow. Prick shouldn't have tried to hit Skye," he added.
"Like Grant shouldn't have tried to ask her out when they were eight?" Phil asked, amused.
Clint turned and looked at his Uncle, pointing his finger at him. "Exactly," he replied with a grin.
Phil shook his head at the Clint. "Go. And don't get into trouble," he instructed before smiling at Natasha. "So far, how do you like SHIELD High School?"
"It's… different," she replied honestly, making Phil chuckle. "Ask me again in a month's time."
"Fair enough. Try to make sure Clint doesn't show you any bad habits," Phil replied. "Now, head off. I have an appointment in five minutes."
Clint and Natasha nodded before they left the office. "So… First the gym, then Math and finally Science. Anywhere else you want to see before French?"
Natasha shook her head. "Just the classes. If anything pops up, I'll let you know," she replied.
Clint nodded. "Let's go."
"Do you have anything to do in the afternoon?" Clint asked as they made their way back to Phil's office to collect their bags for French.
"I don't exactly have many friends," Natasha replied, turning to look at Clint. "I'm the new kid, remember?"
Clint frowned. "Didn't you have many friends at home?"
Natasha looked away. She didn't want to talk about her past. Period. "No. I was pretty much a loner," she replied, slowly turning to look at Clint. "I'm used to being alone."
Clint knew exactly what it felt like to be alone. "Well, now you're not," he replied, making Natasha raise an eyebrow at him. "I know what it's like to be alone too," he explained simply.
Natasha smirked slightly. "So you're my friend now. Why does that sound so childish?" She hated feeling like a child. It reminded her too much of her childhood in Russia.
Clint smiled and shrugged. "Because sometimes to grow up, you need to be a child at times," he replied.
Natasha snorted. "We'll see…"
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