Well helllloooo! It's been a while since I've written anything Avengers related and I got the urge to kick out the first part of the next arc of the high school AU. This isn't very long, but I ended it at a very specific point and I shouldn't be TOO long coming with the next part of this. So just to recap, in the first arc, Phil was the new guidance counselor at Bouclier Academy. It's here that he meets Clint, a kid there on scholarship. He comes to find out Clint is being abused at his group home. Push comes to shove, Clint ends up preemptively attacking his abuser, Phillip Jacobs, with a leg broken off a wooden chair. He goes to juvie for 3 months and when he gets out, Phil becomes his guardian.

This is unbeta'd and pretty much off the cuff. I hope you enjoy it anyway ;)


Phil glanced at his watch as he jogged up the stairs to the loft. His condo wasn't small, but it only had one bedroom. He's used the loft area as an office since the day he moved in. But now his desk and other office equipment was crammed into the corner of his bedroom.

Now the loft was Clint's.

He glanced over the railing as he crested the stairs and saw the teenager still sprawled face down in his bed. His head was half buried under his pillow and Phil could see earbuds in his ears. The blanket and sheet was twisted around Clint's waist and one bare foot was hanging over the edge of the bed.

"Clint?" Phil tried, but without any real conviction. With his headphones in, Clint wouldn't hear him and the kid never slept without music playing, not anymore. It had been an accidental discovery in the first few weeks after Clint got released from juvie and into Phil's custody. The nightmares had been bad, very bad. A combination of Phillip Jacobs and some of the more horrible things he'd seen in juvie. But music helped. Not in a huge or dramatic way, but it helped.

Phil sighed and made his way across the room, stepping over discarded clothes and baseball equipment. Clint's archery gear, Phil knew, was meticulously stored in a special cabinet near the window.

"Clint," he called again, this time louder. He grasped the heel of the foot hanging over the bed and shook it lightly.

The result was immediate. Clint's entire body tensed and he twisted, squinting blearily at Phil. A few rapid blinks more and Clint relaxed, pulling out his headphones and scrubbing a hand across his face.

"What time is it?" he asked around a yawn before burrowing back into his pillow.

"Almost 7, the guys will be here soon. I let you sleep as late as I could."

Clint nodded, but then went still, eyes closed again.

"Now, Clint."

Clint grunted and started sluggishly moving.

"I'm up. I'm up."

"Breakfast in 10," Phil called over his shoulder as he headed back for the stairs.

He glanced back and breathed a sigh of relief that Clint was at least sitting up now, even if he still looked half asleep.

Phil allowed himself a small smile as he jogged down the steps, hardly believing how far they'd come in just six months.


Phil looked up from his paper – he would always get a real paper no matter how far technology progressed – when he heard thundering footsteps on the stairs. Clint came leaping down from the last few steps and into view, his backpack on one shoulder, his gym bag strap slung across his chest, and his bow case in his left hand. He had a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and his hair didn't look like Clint had even looked at a brush, but at least he was clothed.

The gym bag and backpack were abandoned near the door in a haphazard pile, but the bow case was carefully leaned against the wall. Phil was still watching him as Clint made his way over to the bar island. He spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and then rinsed his mouth straight from the tap.

Phil blinked in patient disbelief. Life with a teenager had proven…fascinating.

"What?" Clint demanded, but without any rancor. He just cut an annoyed look at Phil out of the corner of his eyes as he slid onto a barstool.

"Nothing," Phil replied, looking back at his paper. He knew any attempt at sentimentality would be rebuffed. Clint had come a long way since he'd come into Phil's custody, but not that far. He still kept his emotions close to the vest, even around Phil. "Hope cereal is okay," he went on casually.

Clint hummed agreeably and then muttered under his breath, "Considering you can't burn cereal."

Phil glared over his paper.

"Hey, that was one time and I'd never made pancakes before."

"Those weren't pancakes. They were hockey pucks…literally. They were black and hard."

Phil huffed.

"See if I make you homemade breakfast again."

"Promises, promises," Clint teased with a cheeky smirk.

Phil glared to hide his own grin.

"Ungrateful," he accused.

Before Clint could reply, the front door swung open, heralding the arrival of three teenage boys.

"Morning, Mr. Couslon," Steve Rogers greeted brightly as he led the way inside. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner both echoed the greeting as they filed in after him, leaving the door hanging open in their wake.

"Clint, you have got to hear this new album I found when I was poking through that music store downtown," Tony announced as he leaned against the counter next to Clint and picked a piece of cereal out of the bowl with his fingers. "This is good," he stated. "Better than those hockey puck pancakes at least."

"Hey!" Phil protested.

Tony shrugged.

"Sorry, Mr. C, I just call it like I see it."

"You about ready?" Steve asked of Clint, probably to keep Tony from saying anything else. "Thor is loading your bike in the truck."

Clint nodded and shoveled a few quick spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth even as he slid off the stool.

"See you at school." Phil offered Clint a smile and a slight wave of farewell.

The teen's mouth quirked into a bit of a grin and he gave Phil a nod before following his friends towards the front door. Phil watched Steve pick up Clint's gym bag and Tony grabbed his back pack. Clint handled his bow himself and Bruce brought up the rear closing the door behind them.

The silence that followed was strange. It always was.

Phil wasn't sure when he'd gotten used to the sounds of teenagers in his house, but he had. Even when it was just Clint, the kid always had music playing, or the tv on.

He didn't miss the silence though, not even a little.


"Why does he always get to ride shotgun?" Tony demanded from where he was squeezed in the back seat with Thor and Bruce.

"Because it's my truck and he's my favorite," Steve shot back with a teasing smirk.

Clint shot Tony a superior smirk but didn't say anything. They all knew the real reason, even if they'd never say it. After he'd gone after his former guardian, Phillip Jacobs with the broken leg of a wooden chair – and consequently ended up spending three months in juvie for assault – the truth about Jacobs and Waverly Home for Boys had finally come out. Years of abuse and neglect were cast into the light whether Clint liked it or not. So everyone knew now. Everyone. Most people were smart enough not to bring it up, the ones that weren't had to face the wrath of half the baseball team and Mr. All American, Steve Rogers, himself.

Clint wasn't allowed to handle any of the jerks himself, not with three months still left on his year long probation. So Steve and Thor played enforcers, even if it did make Clint feel like a damsel in distress sometimes. Tony took verbal potshots from the sidelines and Bruce usually warned of any adults headed their way. Having back up for the first time in his life wasn't so bad, even if it meant sometimes they saw beyond the walls he put up. They knew he was still skittish, even though he tried not to be. He didn't like to be touched, not even in a casual friendly way. They all knew it. They all respected it and made sure everybody else did too.

Phil was different, though.

Six months in and Clint had finally stopped holding his breath every time Phil gripped the back of his neck. He'd stopped nearly falling out of the bed when Phil shook his foot to wake him. It wasn't much, but it was more than Clint allowed anyone else.

"What time is your archery thing this weekend?" Bruce asked, leaning forward over Tony to better see Clint.

"Why?" Clint asked suspiciously.

"Because we're coming!" Steve announced cheerfully.

"And when you win, because we all know you will, we're taking you out to celebrate," Tony added.

"It's a regional competition, I might not win," Clint pointed out, fingers twitching nervously as he thought about all the practice he needed to get in before this weekend. "And you guys don't have to come. It's gonna be pretty boring and long…"

"We're coming," Thor stated firmly.

Clint snapped his mouth shut and fought back the rush of warmth that flooded his chest.

"Everybody needs a cheering section," Steve added with a grin.

Clint fought down an answering smile.

But mostly failed.


"Advanced physics? They're moving you mid-year?" Tony asked as he leaned against the lockers next to Clint's. He watched the younger teen pull books out and shove them into his backpack for first period.

"Yeah," Clint replied. "Ms. Simmons says it'd be more challenging for me. Apparently I become distracting when I'm bored." Clint thought back to the paper ball catapult he'd made after finishing his class work last Friday. He'd been lucky she'd been too impressed to give him detention.

"So you'll be in with me and Bruce!" Tony realized with a sly grin. He was likely plotting all the trouble he could get them into.

Clint rolled his eyes, zipped his backpack shut and turned.

And saw the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen walk out of the front office. Legs for miles, long red hair, and the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.

Noticing his sudden distraction, Tony turned too, letting out a low whistle when he saw her.

"Watch it, bird boy, you're drooling," Tony teased.

Clint realized his mouth had dropped open and he snapped it closed, glaring at his friend.

"Who's that?" Steve asked, coming up behind them and standing next to Clint.

"Don't know," Tony replied, still grinning teasingly at Clint. "But Clint sure wants to find out."

"Shut up, Tony," Clint growled, tearing his eyes away from the girl and turning pointedly away. "I gotta get to homeroom." He walked away without waiting for a reply.

He rolled his eyes as he heard them laughing after him.

He stalked into his homeroom class, ignored Mr. Fitz's greeting and slid into a desk at the back corner. He pulled out his iPod – a gift from Phil after they'd realized music helped him sleep better – and slid an earbud in. A book came out next, the latest Harry Potter, on lend from Steve.

Phil had offered to buy them all for him, but Clint had insisted borrowing from Steve was fine. Phil already did too much for him.

Usually the desk next to him remained empty. Nobody had liked sitting near him before he'd gone to juvie for nearly beating a man to death. But today he sensed a presence slide into the seat next to his.

He looked up on instinct.

Green eyes looked back at him.

"Hi," she greeted with a smile that Clint was sure made people go weak in the knees. "I'm Natasha."


*rubs hands together*

and so they meet

oh the drama to come THE DRAMA ;)

Love you guys! Until next time!