Natalie comes in for Biology with a coffee the next morning, and Clint doesn't need more than a single whiff to wrinkle his nose. "God, that smells bitter already," he complains, and he sits down beside her with a raised eyebrow. "Please tell me you've got sugar."
She almost laughs, and she shakes her head. "Nope. Black – always taken it black," she says, and she toasts him with her cup as she knocks another couple of mouthfuls. Clint just shakes his head, dropping his bag to the ground beside his desk, waiting for the class to start.
It's the first time since term started that he's forgone his bow and the arrows that usually sit at the bottom of his bag, leaving him feeling a tad exposed. He laces his fingers together and rests his chin on his thumbs, rolling his shoulders out, fidgeting still, trying to get comfortable.
"Something in your pants?" Natalie raises an eyebrow as he crosses his legs for the thirteenth time in two minutes, and she shuffles the stack of paper in her hands as she looks at him. "Ants? Bees, even?"
He smiles a bit at the potential innuendo, and–
"If you make a dick joke, Barton, I'll make it painful," Natalie deadpans, and he has to laugh at that, a suppressed chuckle as their teacher walks back in. Tony, sitting a couple of rows in front, turns around at the sound, and he waves off the mild concern with a grin.
"How'd you know?" He asks her, joking a bit as he rubs his face. "Nah, I'm fine. Just tired, maybe? Didn't get a lot of sleep."
"Why not?" She asks, and it's a bit more invasive than the day before – but she's at least opening slightly, having found some traction in the school already. Effortlessly, it seems.
"Guys next door, football match," he says, and they both wince in understanding. The image of the insufferable cheering at four in the morning, all drunk on beer, seems to permeate all minds.
So she accepts it, mostly, but she takes a moment with her post-it before she picks her cup of coffee up, holding it out in his general direction. "Drink up, Barton," she says quietly, and there's a playful lilt in her voice that bleeds confidence. "It'll help."
"What've you got in there, Red Bull?" He tries to joke, and Natalie gives him that look. The one that calls him an idiot and show him an odd sense of forgiveness in the same breath. She reminds him of Barney, he notes absently.
"Just coffee. Russian," she says, smirking a bit, and he takes it with a raised eyebrow. Swirling it around, too, smelling it again.
"Does it–?"
"Yes," she responds before the question is even through his lips, and she laughs a bit. "Vodka, right? There's a fair bit, papa likes it."
"Mm, doesn't sound responsible," he says, and Natalie rolls her eyes.
"And neither do you," she retorts. "But here we are, and you're about to drink it anyway. Funny how that works out, isn't it?"
He takes a swig – a daring swig, just to rise to her challenge, and his tongue burns on the liquid as fast as the bitter taste hits him. He wrinkles his nose and promptly hands the tumbler back, letting her laugh even as the teacher gives her an odd look.
"Fuck you and your awful coffee, Rushman," he says, and she genuinely grins for the first time as she looks at him again.
"I'm going to take that as a threat," she says offhandedly, and Clint rolls his eyes. Natalie turns back as she takes a sip of her own poison, setting it down to take notes like it's the most normal thing in the world. He wipes across his mouth, and then he bends to get his water.
She's right, though. It helps.
It's probably not healthy, but he's had one and a half more cups of coffee and taken a couple of naps in class before he even gets to lunch that day, this time seated behind the ever-exuberant Tony Stark.
"Who invited the walking dead?" He asks absently, nudging him incessantly, finally knocking Clint's hand out under his chin. "Sit up and look alive for once."
He glares, Steve rolls his eyes, and Pepper gives him a look. The look. Tony has the good sense to cower, and Clint feels a bit too proud of himself.
"Something wrong?" Bruce prompts, and Clint sighs a bit – the man's a genius with emotional manipulation, he's concluded, what with the way Banner can make anybody talk. Even Tony, reducing him to tears on one occasion, the one no one dares to speak about lest they find themselves hung off Stark Tower begging for their life.
"S'nothing big," he says honestly, true enough to absolve him of the guilt of lying to him.
"But it's going to consume the hero's soul, God forbid," Loki adds from his corner, and Thor nudges him to shut up. Clint chuckles, then, and Loki continues to smile despite the chiding.
"Could get out, tonight," Tony suggests. "Or, over at mine–"
"Not having repeats of last week," Steve says tightly, and he looks at Bruce.
"Don't need Miss Potts on a table, no," he says, and Pepper blushes dark as she buries her face in her hands.
"Do not," she says warningly, and Tony laughs as he kisses her cheek.
Bruce just raises his hand and offers a chuckle, shrugging. "I'm sorry, that was mean," he admits, and he looks to Pepper. "I'm sorry."
"No harm done," she finally says, and her face is a brilliant shade of red as she rests her hands on the table. Clint waits a while and stays in their company, then he's getting up, his lunch abandoned as he slings his bag on his shoulder. "See you later, Stark," he says in dismissal, squeezing Tony's shoulder as he walks off.
Natalie's already in sight, this time, and her legs are hanging off the edge again as she overlooks the school garden. It's odd, somehow, how she seems to spend even less time in the cafeteria than he does, preferring this... comfort of height and silence.
"Rushman," he calls out, just so she knows that he's there, and she turns like she's been snapped out of a daze.
"Oh. It's you," she says, and she leans back a little as she looks back. "Coming to follow me again?"
"Not sure it's not the other way round?" He shoots back at her, and she smirks.
"Absolutely. Not denying it, are you?" She points out, raising an eyebrow.
Clint pauses for a moment before he grins, shaking his head. "Guilty as charged," he says, and he comes over to sit beside her. "Don't let the others hear you. Professional stalkers aren't meant to let their targets know."
"My lips are sealed," Natalie replies swiftly, and she crosses her legs. "Those guys–" She points them out, Tony laughing as Steve cuffs him. "You don't seem to like them much."
"You don't seem to like anyone much," he says offhandedly, and Natalie smiles a bit ruefully as she pulls her legs up into a comfortable sitting position.
"No one makes the effort," she says, just as callously, and then she looks at him. "Not everyone makes it a point to pick on the new kid."
"I don't pick on–"
"I never said you did," she says, and she looks back out. "Just saying that they don't. Not that I'm complaining."
"Don't imagine you would – Hey, d'you even get lunch?" Clint asks her, the curiosity popping up again as he pulls the apple out of his bag, taking a bite out of it. "Seems like you're always up here, every chance you get."
"Like you. And I do, it's a decently packed one," she says easily enough, shrugging as she tugs at the ends of her scarf – it's blue today, and it clashes with her hair, but it seems to keep her warm. "Can't be in a crowd too long."
"Introvert, I'm guessing," he quips.
"How could you tell?" She presses a hand to her chest, mouth open, scandalised. Clint has to laugh at that, and she quirks an eyebrow as she regains her calm again. "Guessing from how extremely far you remove yourself, so are you."
"No one's contesting that," he says, and he leans back on the ledge, the apple in his mouth. "Always liked high places."
"Right. Had many nests, then?" She says, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Eggs, mates, and all that–"
"Can it, Rushman." To his surprise, she does, but she doesn't look put out in the least. She still smirks at him, shrugging, and Clint rolls his eyes. "Just this one." He isn't going to offer any explanation beyond that, not yet.
"But you have friends," she says simply, like she hadn't been teasing him about his moniker moments before. "Them."
He knows without asking that she's referring to their little 'family', and he nods. "They're worth dealing with human beings. Promise," he smiles at her.
"I'll take your word for it, thanks," she says lightly, and she looks down again. "Don't like them. Prefer to stay hidden."
The bell is obvious from up there, calling him before he can get a reply out. She sighs as she watches people begin to move in toward their next class, the reluctance succinctly expressed in a breath. "Great. Math, now, right? The great class I missed?" She asks him dryly, waiting for him as she stands and dusts herself off.
"Yeah. All hail Mr. Patrick," he grumbles, too, getting to his feet.
"May as well be off," she sighs, and she makes for the staircase with a bit of hesitation.
"May as well," he agrees, and he casts a look back out at Bruce chatting with Pepper, smiling a bit. "Wait up!"
Question: Have you actually met the Avengers?
He slides the note over to her as they clock another forty minutes, Natalie's coffee long finished and Clint's attention long wasted. He figures they can't really carry conversation across an aisle, though, and he likes this better.
At least they're seated at the back, no need to start any premature rumours with the population of the school. Natalie Rushman and Clint Barton, scrawled across toilet mirrors in lipstick – if the hearsay was to be believed. Fantastic.
Natalie raises an eyebrow at him, and she deliberates her reply.
Avengers? Think Stark's mentioned them, though he makes them sound like his lackeys. Should I know them?
It's ridiculously neat, of course, and it sits in the lines of the page that he's offered her from his notebook. Clint raises an eyebrow at the description, though, and he frowns as he scribbles back a response.
Do I look like Stark's lackey?
A pause, and then:
Hm. Sometimes, yes.
He rolls his eyes, and he takes his time with the next one, trying to be objective. The Avengers – it's just a name, something they'd come up with in seventh grade, and the school had subsequently started referring to them by that name. Mostly due to Stark, he suspected, after his campaign for Student Body President as Iron Man.
Sure, it's a childish story, but Clint's compelled to tell her more about him; Nevermind that he hasn't the slightest idea about her.
I'm hurt, Rushman. Right in the poor heart. Stark doesn't own the place, not by a long shot. S'got four other guys, including myself, and there's Pepper. His girlfriend. Avengers, ta-da.
Natalie snorts when she reads it, and Clint isn't sure he wants to know why – not when she's shaking her head in exasperation, writing out what seems like a chiding response.
Pepper Potts? The best thing you have about our Student Body President is "his girlfriend"?
He rolls his eyes and laughs as he gets this one, enough for Steve to frown as he leans over to read the note. For good measure, he cuffs Clint on the back of his head, and Natalie lets a proper smile spread on her face as she props her chin up, hiding it.
Clint takes a moment to regain his composure as he flips Steve off, and he writes a longer reply.
Pepper's great. Stark's much less of an arse around her, must say. Worthy of a president, alright?
Guy next to me is Steve, he's a real charmer. Don't be too alarmed if he calls you dame, it's completely normal, ignore him and move on.
Natalie, on the other hand, seems to remain unimpressed.
So?
Steve waits patiently with a smile on his face as he looks at Clint, and he glares for good measure at the taller blond. Steve shrugs, and he takes the paper from him, writing a couple of words and handing it back to her.
"What'd you write?" Clint asks, watching her take it with a bit of a crease in her brow.
"Nothing you wouldn't have said," Steve says evasively – almost a private joke, what with the way Clint's known to say anything and everything most days. "And nothing untoward – look."
He turns, and Natalie has a slip of paper patiently held out as the period approaches its last minute.
Tomorrow?
"Rogers, you owe me an explanation–"
He can feel the odd sense that Natalie's watching them out of the corner of her eye, and her lips are quirked in amusement. Steve just smiles, warm and knowing, and Clint shoves at him, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm serious!" He insists.
"Pretty sure you are," he says callously, writing Natalie a reply, not even looking up.
He tosses it over and she snatches it out of the air without even moving her gaze. The kid on her left seems to stare a bit harder, but Natalie doesn't seem to care, favouring the note instead for a moment.
"Steve, I swear," he growls a bit, a last-ditch attempt to intimidate him into an answer.
Natalie's ball of paper hits him in the side of the head before he can, though, and he bends to pick it up while Steve's still smiling like a bit of a maniac.
I'll be there.
"And then another one," Clint grumbles, and he tosses the note back on the desk with a sigh. "You planning to stand her up?"
"Nah, this is better," Steve is saying just as the bell goes off, and Natalie gets her things together within the minute – she's out the door within seconds after, and Clint blinks a bit.
"What is?" He turns back to Steve, getting impatient.
"Lunch," he says, shrugging. "Figure you'd want to invite her."
"What are you on about?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Lunch, y'know, that free period that everyone's eating? Lunch with us?" Steve returns, mockingly patient, and he rolls his eyes. "Seriously, if I hadn't, you would."
Clint takes a moment, but then he finally understands, looking at Steve as his jaw slackens a bit, turning to where she'd been sitting. "What, got a crush?" He teases, and Steve smacks his arm.
"No, thanks. Don't fancy having Peggy on her tail," he grins back. "You?"
He has to consider that, considering how much time he's already spent with her in conversation, making a decent effort even though she's hardly stepped within his social circle. Sure, she's good-looking, and there's a decent sense of humour up her sleeve, but–
"Nah," he says after a pause. "Bit of a weird one."
"Like that's ever stopped you," Steve rolls his eyes, mumbling under his breath.
Clint shoves him again.
He's right.