A/N: The long-awaited third chapter! Again, I'm sorry for taking so long, but I had issues with inspiration and time, and other necessary things… So enjoy! Or hate it because it's filler, I don't care. :P
There's something inside me
That pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self-control, I fear, is never ending
-Crawling, Linkin Park
After the day finally ended, Clint insisted Bruce come with him to circle the school and discuss suspects. Why they had to do at the school, Bruce wasn't sure. He had a theory that Clint was just avoiding Natasha after a prank gone wrong. Clint's excuse was that they both needed the fresh air. Personally, Bruce didn't think you could get fresh air in New York. There was far too much smog, and pollution, and pot smoke? Bruce sniffed the air again. Yep, definitely pot smoke.
"I think those kids are smoking weed." He interrupted Clint's narrative of his adventures in the teacher's lounge, nodding at a group of teens huddled in an alcove. Clint just shrugged and kept talking.
"Clint, we have to do something." Bruce interrupted again. Cling sighed and veered off his course to head towards the now cringing kids. Bruce trailed behind him, wondering what the unpredictable archer was doing now. Clint snatched the joint that they were passing around, then took a drag on it.
"Wow guys, this is really horrible stuff. You want some?" He offered it to Bruce, who shook his head, exasperated with Clint's actions.
"Really? I thought that was how you were so zen all the time." Bruce rolled his eyes.
"No, that's called self-control." He corrected dryly. Clint shrugged.
"Personally, I've done without it this long." He turned back to the kids. "Uh, right, don't do drugs. It's not good for you." He admonished half-heartedly, then started walking away, continuing his narrative. Bruce shrugged and followed. At least the kids weren't smoking the pot. Clint was instead. Honestly, he wasn't sure which was worse.
"What did you do?" Natasha exclaimed when the two walked in, Bruce half supporting a hysterical Clint.
"Uh, I think he may have…gotten high." Bruce muttered the last part. Natasha helped him lower the archer onto the couch.
"How much did he have?" She asked. Bruce gave a half-hearted smile.
"Maybe three joints…" He mumbled. He was fairly glad it was just her and Steve in the room, Peter had left ahead of them and was probably in his room.
"How'd he get ahold of it?" Steve questioned.
"Uh, he kept taking it away from teens… I told him to stop it, but…" Bruce shrugged. Stopping Clint from doing anything was like stopping a freight train by shaking your finger at it.
"Did you at least find some suspects?" Natasha asked, shoving Clint down again.
"Personally, I think it's the evil gym teacher." Peter walked into the room, then did a double take. "Is he drunk?"
"High." Natasha snapped. Peter raised an eyebrow.
"You know what, I don't even want to know." He said, walking back out of the room. Bruce took the teen's cue and started slowly walking out.
"Don't even think about it. You still haven't told me if you have any suspects at all." Natasha wasn't even looking at him. Suddenly Morocco was looking really good.
"Um, no, not really. At least, I don't…I'm not sure about, him." Bruce replied, making eye contact with Steve and trying to telepathically send him a distress signal. The good Captain appeared to take a sudden interest in a couch cushion, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Fury was right about you guys, you're like a bunch of kids." Natasha muttered, kneeling in front of Clint. The slap she gave him across the face sounded throughout the room.
"Clint, if you don't sober up, I'm going to recalibrate your body and you won't like it." She threatened. Bruce winced. That really sounded bad. The archer looked up at her blearily.
"Tasha? Wh-whaz up?" Apparently threats worked fairly well, and Bruce filed that away for future reference. For now, he settled for escaping to his room. Betty was there, flipping through channels on the TV.
"Did you know there is nothing good on at 5:00?" She said without looking back at him. He approached the back of the couch, leaning over to rub her shoulders. She leaned into his hands.
"Oh, wow that feels good." She groaned. He grinned, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before walking around to plop on the couch next to her.
"There's always the news." He pointed out. She rolled her eyes.
"It's so biased that there's no point. Anyways, how was your first day of school?" She scooted closer, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Hm, not horrible. I think the kids hate me, but that's alright." He loved listening to her laugh, it was musical.
"I always knew there was an evil streak in you." She commented. He chuckled.
"Just wait until the first pop quiz."
