Hey guys.
New chapter! Updates! Yay! Woah!
WOOP WOOP! I'm living off the reviews left. You're all such nice people. Unlike Steve Carlsberg. Ugh. What an asshole.
And now Chapter 6: I Still Exist?...
Natasha POV
Ah, school.
I hate it.
I find no happiness in the dungeons of Hell. Also, pretty sure even Lucifer himself can't stand the torture. And he's the master of pain.
Still, I suppose there is some good in those halls. My companions, for example. If it weren't for them, I'd have already torched the place and commit fifteen homicides. Not to mention the nuclear explosions.
So, it's a good thing to keep me with friends and not have us separated- except from classes, then we have to be apart. But, it's a bad thing if you keep us apart for too long. The faculty is now aware of this. Either that, or they're too scared to tell us to quiet down.
I walk into home room and regret even considering to get out of bed that morning.
Tony had managed, how I will never know, to set fire to his coffee mug. It's certainly not the worst thing he's ever set on fire, just... One of the more confusing objects that has caught fire.
By this time in the school year, everyone has come to endure the fact that Tony will set at least one thing on fire during school. Daily.
Bruce had an incredulous look on his face as he helped put the fire out. Thor was too busy reading out of his textbook to notice the chaos, and Steve was eating an apple and thumbing through a journal. He occasionally glanced up and shook his head.
I sighed and sat down next to Steve. Looking around the room, I noticed Clint wasn't here. I frowned; he seemed like the kind of guy who showed up to class on time. Or before class even started.
Our class quieted as Mr. Sitwell stood from his chair.
"If we can cease the chatter for a moment, then we can begin roll cal-"
The door swung open and in the doorframe, panting as if he'd ran a mile, was a tired looking Clint Barton.
"Sorry, sir," Clint breathed. "Late start this morning. Won't happen again."
Sitwell nodded. "That's alright, Clint. Have a seat."
Clint nodded, still breathing rather hard. "Thank you, sir."
He headed to the back, but not towards us. I felt my eyebrows knit together in confusion and worry. I saw his eyes flicker towards us, widen, then snap right back to the floor. He slipped into a seat across the room from us. Those tricolored eyes were glued to the wrist he was writing on with a pen.
I stood and walked to his side. I could feel Steve stand and follow me over. When we were practically breathing down his neck, he still didn't look up.
"Hi?"
"Nat," Steve nudged me. "Don't be rude."
I waved a hand in his face. "What are you doing over here?"
Clint swallowed nervously. He then mumbled something I couldn't quite understand.
"What did you say? I couldn't hear you."
The blonde bit his lip. "I thought... you would've thought I was a freak after I had left so abruptly last night."
My mind froze mid-thought. Steve spoke before I could fully process what Clint had said.
"Wh.. What?"
Clint glanced up to meet our eyes. "After I had left, I figured you would think I was a freak. Did it not seem a little weird to you?"
"Of course is was a little weird, but people have their reasons," I said. "There's no way that we could ever think you were a freak for things like that. Why would you think you were a freak?"
He flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry-"
"And there's no need to be sorry for it either," Steve gave a smile and raised an incredulous eyebrow. "It's not your fault. I take it other kids used to pick on you and call you a freak."
Clint nodded. "Yeah; whenever I had to leave because of my d-reasons, everyone would laugh at my suddenness. Calling me a freak, picking on me, little stuff like that."
Steve sat in the chair in front of Clint. "Doesn't sound like it's little. It seems like it's a lot."
The latter shook his head. "It is a little thing, but I let it get to me. I shouldn't let it bother me."
I put my hand under his chin and forced him to look at me. "There are things we can and can't ignore. And if it does bother you, it matters. So don't you dare try and push those things away like that. We're here for you, Clint. I hope you understand that."
Clint was speechless. His mouth opened and closed but no words were heard.
Finally, he pulled away from my touch and blinked i confusion. "You-you really mean that?"
"Of course," Steve said. "We care about each other. So if you have any reason you feel uncomfortable or worried or anything, you come talk to us, okay?"
Clint was still blinking to clear his head, but managed to give a nod. "Okay; I will."
My hand made it's merry way to his shoulder before my brain could protest. "Good. Now, will you come sit with your new friends?"
He smiled and my heart sped up. "Yeah, why not?"
Tony's POV
They walked back over to us after their conversation had finished. Clint was smiling, thankfully, and he seemed much more relaxed than when he first walked in. They sat in the remaining seats; Bruce and Thor began talking with Clint, whom sat in between them.
"Are you well, Clinton?" Thor asked. "You seemed very tense, earlier."
Said per on bit his lip and glanced to Nat and Steve across the table. The two smiled and Clint returned a grateful grin.
He looked up at Thor with mirth in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just woke up a little late this morning."
"You sure?" I narrowed my eyes.
He nodded.
"Alright, but what's that bruise doing on your collarbone?"
The reaction was immediate and short-lasting. Clint's face was drained of color and his eyes went impossibly wide. His shoulders hunched up in fear. And then, as soon as it appeared, it was gone. Replaced with a look of confusion.
"Bruise?" Oh, that's clever. "What bruise?"
But not too clever.
Bruce leaned over and pulled Clint's shirt collar down. The blonde squeaked in protest and promptly fell out of his chair.
"Clint!" Steve all but leaped over the table.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Clint said. "I'm just not used to the whole touchy-touchy stuff. In case you haven't noticed that, yet."
Steve helped Clint to his feet. Bruce looked very guilty and opened his mouth, probably to apologize, but Clint beat him to the punch.
"It's not your fault. I'm fine, just.. not used to the touches of other people." Clint froze and shuddered. "Sorry; that sounded so wrong."
Bruce chuckled and had a look of relief in his eyes.
"Banner, Bruce?"
Sitwell's voice rang out among the chatter.
"Here."
"Barton, Clint?"
"Here."
"Herring, Kate?"
"Here."
Roll call went on for the rest of class and we continued to talk. Clint explained that a book had fallen on him last night. He was trying to reach for said book, but it slipped out of his grasp and fallen onto his collarbone. It was a reasonable story, but there was something about it that jet didn't add up.
We left homeroom and went to our lockers. I followed Natasha to her locker, considering it was in the same hall as my first class.
"Hey, Nat?"
"Don't call me that."
"Right, forgot. Don't kill me, please. Anyways, did something seem-"
"-Off about Clint's story? Good, you noticed it, too."
I nodded. Natasha never missed anything fishy or off-key. "So, what do we do?"
The bell rang. Typical.
Natasha closed her locker. "We'll talk during class, okay?"
"But, we don't have any classes togeth- right, phones."
She rolled her eyes. "I'll see you at lunch."
SO. YEAH.
New chapter, the Welcome to Night Vale book is almost out, and... that's about it. I think.
Anywho; I apologize for the late update (again). I had to go out of town for the weekend and wasn't able to publish. Then when I got home, wouldn't let me publish in general. But I sorted it out and we are back in business.
25 reviews. Wow. Wow. Wow. Oh geez. Um, THANK YOU ALL for your support and encouragement. It is most appreciated. I say it again, THANK. YOU. SO. MUCH.
Until next chapter..
