Chapter 12 - Stained Glass Eyes And Colorful Tears

"Ok, so I've got this idea about what we can do for our project."

Will Brandt more or less fell in the door, when Will Scarlett opened the door on the following day. If Will had been the one to decide, they wouldn't have met at all, and instead let Brandt do all the work, since he actually seem interested in what they are supposed to write about.

"Some time after the war, there was a speech named 'The Lost Cause' and even if today's society would say it is only bullshit, and country also said that when it was given, it became really important in the early 1900s for how American's looked at the war and -"

"Calm down, Brandt. Scarlett looks like he might throw us out." To be honest, Will hadn't even noticed Hunt coming in the door, and even if he really wanted to be angry at them ( at the world at large, really) he still was kind of relived that Hunt had stopped Brandt from talking about more stuff Will had no idea what meant.

Hunt looked around, not even trying to conceal what he was doing, and Will turned around and started walking up the stairs to his room. He didn't care what Hunt and Brandt thought about his (not really, Robin's) house. It was about hundred times better than when he lived with his mother, he even had his own room now, and he had the ability to lock the door if he wanted (needed).

Will didn't turn around before he entered his bedroom, and then it was only to close the door behind Hunt and Brandt. None of the other boys were that far behind him, and when they had entered and Will had closed the door, looking over the room one more time to see that he hadn't left anything that shouldn't be out, out.

Brandt walked right to the desk by the window, that he almost never used, and put down all the book he had brought with him, before starting to unload his backpack as well. Hunt didn't seem to have a train to catch, and instead stood by the bed and looked over the room. It was probably smaller than the one he had, and all the furniture was hand-me-down from friends of Robin, but is was still more of a home than anywhere else.

"Okay, so I've printed out the speech, and given the background information, lacking as it was, it should be no problem to see the context, and then build on form there about why it was made, what influence it had both then and especially later."

Will was handed a sheet of paper. Hunt was also given one, and immediately started reading it, while Brandt kept pulling more and more book out of his backpack, and the finally also a laptop. Will looked down at what was in his hand, but didn't dare to do much more. He tried to do what Hunt did, look over it quickly, and then turn his head towards Brandt again.

"What do you think?"

"People really bought this shit?" Hunt asked, sounding more amused than angry. Brandt nodded and pulled up a website on his laptop, to talk on and on about how it had colored the society during the 20th century.

"I know it is not supposed to be a big project, and I'm thinking we could split the work between us, and then meet up again on Sunday, or maybe even on Monday, since Ms. Lang said she would give us some time in her class to finish it."

Brandt kept talking, but Will didn't really follow. He had pretended to look over the speech, but had only caught a word here and there. He had no idea what the freaking speech was a bout, and he was near to just walk out of his own room, when he heard the door downstairs open, and close, followed by heavy steps. Too heavy to be Marian's.

"Will, are you up there?" Robin called from downstairs, and Brandt stopped talking and looked at Will, starring with the way too blue eyes, and a serious expression plastered on his face. Will didn't even look at Hunt, just walked out of the room, and toward the stair until he saw Robin.

Robin was wearing his police uniform ( complete with the frown) and looked over Will, as if to make sure he wasn't high or drunk. "Are you having friends over?"

"No. It's just some people from my class. We're working on a project in history that has to be done by next week."

"You didn't clear this with me," Robin stated, and turned around, going into the kitchen. Will stood as if frozen for a few second before he walked as calmly down the stairs as he could. Inside he was shaking with anger.

"You said I was grounded. Not that I couldn't have people over. You want do punish me some more? IT WAS JUST SOME STUFF! I didn't even get the possibility to use it!"

Robin, who had been about to take the juice out of the fridge, slammed the door shut and put his hand on the kitchen table, in that typical position where you lean on the table and try to intimidate who you are talking to.

"No, William! It wasn't just some stuff. It was drugs!"

"So? Every other kid on the block does it!"

"Yeah? Well, they aren't you! They don't have a cop as a father!"

"WELL, GOOD FOR ME THEN THAT YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER!"

It became silent after that. Will was still shaking with rage and unfairness, and Robin seemed to be shaking too, but Will didn't know why. He didn't care! Caring took too much energy and was a dangerous game to play.

The door to a room upstairs had them both turning, and both Brandt and Hunt came down the stairs, talking to each other. They stopped by the kitchen door.

"We figured it was time for us to leave, I have to the library before it closes, so…" Brandt said, trying his hardest to look normal, but he didn't quite succeed. Will saw the way he looked between them, the way his hands couldn't quite keep still, as if he wanted to reach out and touch Will.

"We left a note in your room, with what the plan is, and what we would like you to do. We'll see you tomorrow." Hunt was always more competent at faking it, and he said their goodbyes and pushed Brandt out the door.

Will didn't turn around, and didn't think. He just walked up the stairs, without looking back.

"Will, wait. We need to talk," Robin tried to say, but Will almost didn't hear it through the white noise in his ears. He wasn't sure he could say something without yelling right now, too afraid and angry (at himself, at the world). If you can't say something nice, shut up. He just walked into his room, and closed the door, not slammed it, and locked it from the inside. If Robin was to throw him out, Will would like to be able to pack up his stuff first.

Clint was tired. He had been working for only two days, and already felt tired to the bone. On the plus side though, he never thought he had been done with his homework so early before. Rocket hadn't been kidding when he said they were in a slow season, and so far, all Clint had done was water some plants watch some basic steps in caretaking of flowers.

"I really appreciate you droving me home, Steve."

The deal today had been that Richard was suppose to pick him up, but when Clint had walked out around half past 8, it was Steve who greeted him, and told him Richard had asked him to pick him up. Clint didn't mind. On the contrary, he really enjoyed it. Steve was easy to talk to, but also knew when to shut it, unlike Tony, who didn't really pay attention to other people that much.

"So, you think Tony will get around to ark Pepper out soon?" Steve asked, as they passed the school.

"Nah, I'm more curious if Natasha will pull it together soon."

"Natasha is after Pepper?" Steve asked. Clint gave him point for not thinking Natasha was lusting after Tony, and nodded.

"Yeah. But don't tell her I told you, okay? I like my neck in one piece."

Steve laughed, and Clint got this feelings in his stomach. It was like it was blowing a hot wind straight through him each time Steve laughed, or looked at him too closely. It made him squirm at the same time it made him feel good.

"No problem. I think Bucky might have a good eye for Jane. Not Foster, but the one Ethan tend to hang out with? I've noticed that he take a detour to his locker, just to pass by hers."

"Really? Now that's a couple I never saw coming," Clint laughed and looked over at Steve, who was keeping his eyes on the road, but smiling.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, while listening to the radio. Steve hummed along on some songs, and Clint felt happy, looking out the window, and listening to.

"Here we are," Steve said, as he pulled up by Clint's house. He killed the engine, and turned around to look at Clint properly. It made Clint's heart flutter a little, when Steve leaned forward.

"Have Tony talked to you?"

The mode changed so fast, Clint had to lean his head back against the window again, but this time, still keeping his eyes on Steve. Yes, Tony had talked to him, and when Clint said talked he really meant it. Tony had used all of their shared free hour to walk his through what he had found, and then defending the method, as if he expected Clint not to believe him and accuse him of lying. Clint may be many things, but stupid was usually not one of them.

"Yeah." And suddenly, Clint was exhausted again.

Steve nodded, more to himself than Clint, "That's good. Have you decided what you are going to do about it?" He said it as if it was no question that this was all up to Clint, and while Clint may appreciate it, he also hated it. He wasn't responsible for his stupid brother. It wasn't his fault that his brother was as bad as their father, maybe worse. It shouldn't be Clint's problem what to do about it, but it was.

He understood their thoughts and ways. If they had gone over his head, he would have been both furious and relieved, but the hadn't. because they were good friends. And good friends didn't keep secrets from their friends about theirs friend's brothers.

"Yeah, I think I have, but I really don't want to talk about it." I'm not ready he thought. Didn't know if he was ever going to be ready.

"Yeah, okay. Just remember that you can always talk to me, right? I'm not going anywhere."

Here Clint would have liked to think about the blue color in Steve eyes, and that it was the window to his soul, and who he got all lost in them, but he didn't. He felt it, so strongly he could almost taste it, but he didn't let the thoughts cross his mind. Instead he open the door, and pushed himself to the feet.

"Thanks, Steve. It's good to know. Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime," Steve answered, and Clint tried not to think about whether it was the answer to the first or last sentence. He turned around by the door, and waved, feeling both silly and young, before pushing his way inside.

"Clint, it that you?" Richard called from the kitchen, and when Clint entered, he was meet by a smile and a plate of food. "Figured you might be hungry."

And Clint was. Suddenly and really much hungry.

"Sorry I couldn't pick you up, but Kenneth wanted to go the park, and it has been ages since we did that, do I figured I could ask Steve."

"No problem," Clint answered, his mouth full of bread and meat. Richard smiled at him, before going back to the magazine he was reading. Clint ate the rest of the meal, before looking up again. He should do this now, and just get it over with.

"Um, dad?" Richard, looked up from the magazine at that. Clint never called Richard dad. Will used to, and Kenneth, but Clint and James had never been the type to show that kind of affection, and neither Richard or Ann had any problem with that. And Clint didn't know what made him say it this time, it just felt right. Because they were his caretakers now, they cared from him, and they loved him, sometimes more than others, but still, they never disliked him. And now, Clint was ready to take a step he hadn't thought he was ever going to take, because even if he was loyal, he never tended to ask for help. Not when it mattered, and because asking for help meant a whole new level of trust and loyalty, it felt right to use those terms now, because they were true.

Richard had straightened up now, and put the magazine down on the table, looking at Clint with searching eyes.

"I need your help, dad." Before Clint really knew what was going on, tears was streaming down his face, and Richard had left his own chair, to kneel down by Clint and hug him. Time passed by, but Richard didn't let go. Instead, he held on tighter, starting to rock slowly, stroking his hand through Clint hair, and telling him it was going to be okay. And that was funny, 'cause Richard didn't even know what the problem was yet, but he promised that it would all be okay, anyhow.

Finally, the tears stopped coming, and Clint started to pull away. Richard pull away too, but stayed kneeling on the floor by Clint chair, leaving his hands on his shoulders and looking at him, waiting.

"The boy," Clint tried, but his voice was ruff, as if he had been yelling, and he had to cough a little before trying again. "They boy from two weeks ago, the one on my school, who was assaulted." Richard kept still, but nodded for Clint do go on. "I think I know who it was. Who did it. Or at least one of them."

This got more a reaction, and Richard rose, and sat down on the other side of the table again. That involved taking his hands off of Clint's shoulders, and it made Clint hunch together. He pulled the phone Stark had given him out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"It was Barney. Stark found this on the scene and traced the one number it had called. It was mine. Barney call me with this phone just hours before it happened." And here was those stupid teas again. Richard sighed, and Clint got the thought that maybe Richard was angry at him. "And I don't know what to do, dad."

The next Clint knew, Richard had him in his arms, stroking his hear, and repeating the same thing over and over again. "It's going to okay, Clint. We are going to be okay. We'll fix this together, son."