A/N: Here's the next chapter! Next one will likely be Tuesday. In the meantime, enjoy, and REVIEW!

~PJA

Chapter 2: Clint

"C'mon, Nat. I told you, it'll be fun."
"I don't see why I should waste my time."

"Fine. If you don't want to, just sit back and watch."

Clint Barton, from his perch in the tree, sat back with his slingshot and waited for the perfect target to pass by. Pegging freshmen was fun, but no easy task. You had to be calm, patient, and absolutely silent for it to work. Like a sniper.

"Just don't hit them in the eye. Remember what happened last time."

"Shh, be quiet, Nat! And I won't hit them in the eye. I know how much it hurts to have an acorn in your eye."

He could hear Natasha sigh behind him. He knew she disapproved of this activity, but she never stopped him. Even when he got reported to the principal last time.

"I see one!" Clint shouted.

He aimed his slingshot, pulled back the rubber band, and then released it with a twang. He knew he'd gotten his target when he heard a thunk and someone scream, "Ow! What the hell was that?"

Clint turned around and grinned to Natasha. "I got it. And in the arm, not the eye."

Natasha shook her head, but Clint could see her grin. "Come on, Hawkeye. We should get to class."

"Aw, but Nat!"

"It's the first day of school. Please. Don't start the year off on a bad foot."

Clint groaned. "Alright. But just for you."

Clint jumped out of the tree and hit the ground hard. But Natasha was already on the ground waiting for him.

"How do you do that?" Clint asked.
"Do what?"

"Apparate."

"Clint. This isn't Harry Potter."

"Teleport."

"I can't teleport."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The warning bell rung. Natasha headed inside, and Clint scurried to follow, shoving the slingshot in his backpack. As he entered the hallway, he braced himself, hoping it would be different this year.

It wasn't. Everywhere he looked, all the guys were checking out Natasha; even all the upperclassmen. It made Clint sick to watch. This happened every year, since they had met. Natasha just happened to have a body that most men were attracted to, so guys were naturally drawn to her. It disgusted Clint. She didn't seem to mind too terribly much, though she averted their eyes, kept her distance and was probably used to it by now. Clint probably never would be.

No, he wasn't jealous. No way! He was simply...protecting her. Yeah, that was it, though Tasha could take care of herself just fine. She did gymnastics and martial arts, and she could beat him up in about fifty different ways. Clint only knew seventeen of those ways on a personal level.

Clint strayed another inch or so closer to Natasha. If she noticed or cared, she didn't say anything. He resisted the strong urge to get even closer to her, or to take her hand. That would be pushing the limit. Natasha was his best friend, and he hers. There were only so many things Clint could do. He knew Natasha didn't like him like that. And he didn't like her like that. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

The pair took a turn down a side hallway, leaving the mob of teenagers behind them. There were always less people loitering by the classrooms in the morning. Clint took a look at a flyer hanging on the wall and grinned at Natasha.

"So, are you gonna run for Homecoming Queen this year?" He winked.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "No."

"Why not? You know all the guys would vote for you."

"It's beneath me to run for a position like that, Clint. I don't want to put myself among all those girls who think about nothing more than how much mascara to coat their eyelashes and the guy they're gonna go mess around with at home later."

Clint chuckled. He knew Natasha would get like this; this was always her opinion when it came to other girls. But she could do it. She could run for Homecoming Queen if she wanted. Clint would vote for her.

Quickly, they arrived at their destination. Clint was just glad he had first period English with Natasha this year. He'd probably fall asleep while reading and/or discussing To Kill A Mockingbird. Thank goodness he'd have someone to wake him up this year.

They strolled in and took the seats in the back farthest away from the teacher's desk. The teacher currently wasn't in the room, and Clint hadn't bothered to read his schedule enough to see who his teacher was. He just prayed he'd get a good one. Clint closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"Don't get too comfortable, Clint."

"Why not? It's not like we're gonna have that teacher from last year. He hated my guts."

"Um..."

The bell rung, and the door slammed closed. Clint opened his eyes, and then immediately regretted it.

"Aw, damn it," he whispered.

"Language. It's the first day."

Mr. Inglehart, Clint's God-awful ninth grade English teacher, was looking around the room, but stopped when his eyes hit Clint.

"Well, well. If it isn't Mr. Barton. How...nice it is to see you again this year."

"It certainly isn't nice to see you, sir."

"I thought I'd requested for you not to be put in my class."

"I guess none of the other teachers thought they could handle me."

Mr. Inglehart stared daggers at Clint, but quickly regained his composure. "My apologies," he addressed the class. "Mr. Barton and I have a...history. Let me take attendance real quick."

After doing so, Mr. Inglehart stood up in front of the class.

"Welcome to tenth grade honors English. As most of you know, I'm Mr. Inglehart."

The class remained silent.

"We have much in store for the curriculum. But we're going to start off the year with To Kill A Mockingbird. I expect all of you to read the book thoroughly, understand it, and be able to analyze and ask questions about the book." He glared at Clint. "All of you."

Clint didn't even wait for him to turn around before making a face at him. Natasha elbowed him in the side.

"Get your underwear out of a knot. Don't ruin it yet."

"It's already ruined, Nat."

"I can't believe you got out of there without a detention."

"I can't believe I got out of there alive."

"Try not to make it worse next class."

"No promises."

"Clint." Natasha stopped him in the middle of the hallway, with people all around. She put her hands on his shoulders, Clint all too aware of her touch. Her green eyes stared into his.

"I want things to be different this year. We got into a bunch of trouble last year. I want to change that. I can feel something different, like something's gonna happen. I don't know what it is, but it's gonna be big. Can you try to be good? For me?"

Clint stared at her. He couldn't help himself. Her flawless face, piercing green eyes, and deep red curls. Perfection. But he snapped himself out of it, remembering she asked him a question.

"It won't be easy. But I'll try."

She smiled. "Thanks, Clint. I want to start over. Sort of...wipe the red out of my ledger, you know?"

"I gotcha."

They continued to walk to her next class. Unfortunately, Clint didn't have this class with her. In fact, his next class was on the opposite side of the school. He was going to be late. But Clint didn't care. It was Natasha who cared about being on time.

Natasha turned to face Clint when they reached her next classroom. "Aren't you going to be late, Clint Barton?"

Clint waved her question away like it was nothing. "Pfft. No. I can make it over there. Unlike you, I can teleport." He gave her a nice big grin.

Natasha tried to hide her grin. "Don't get into too much trouble without me. I can't save you all the time."

"What, am I the damsel in distress now?"

Natasha said nothing, though that grin still tickled her face.

Acting on a sudden impulse, Clint quickly drew her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him as well. He didn't let go for awhile. He didn't want her to leave his arms.

However, she released him. "See you soon, Hawkeye."

"You as well, Tasha."

She turned and entered the classroom. Clint continued to stare at the spot where she'd been standing, trying to deny all the thoughts entering his mind. It was making him blush, and he didn't like that. No, no he did not like Natasha like that.

...Did he?

The bell rung in his ears, and continued to ring even after it'd stopped. Clint sighed.

He was definitely going to be late.