"Hey kid," someone tapps me on the shoulder. "Kid. Kid!"

"Wha.." I jerk awake, tipping backwards off the stool I had fallen asleep on while studying in the kitchen. "'M awake" I mumble blearily, sprawled out on the cold tile.

"I'm sure you are," Clint says airly, leaning over the cool stone countertop. "Wanna poptart?" he asks brightly.

"Do you even have to ask?" I get up, wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth.

"It would be rude if I randomly shoved a poptart into your mouth, but if you're okay with that get ready for a sneak attack."

I yawn, "I'm always on guard, no attacking me, Mr. Barton, no siree."

"Judging by the way you fell asleep in the middle of the kitchen, I'm gonna say no."

"Eh, that's different."

"How so?"

"I have a science test coming up."

"Right."

I sit back down, rubbing my tailbone.

"What flavour?" he asks.

"Strawberry," Clints answers.

"Don't eat them all," I warn, "Strawberry is Pepper's favorite."

"Ah, thanks for the heads up, kid."

"No problem. I would incur Pepper's wraith too, so it's not that heroic."

There's a break in conversation.

"What's a smart kid like you studying so hard? Tony was bragging the other day about how smart you are."

"Just tired." I give non-committedly, flipping through my notes.

"Yeah," Clint leans forward, scrutinising the bags under my eyes, "Jesus kid, when's the last time you slept?"

I shrug my shoulders, "Like...Thursday...maybe?"

"How are you still alive?" He asks, sounding genuinely confounded.

"Redbull and desperation." I answer. The toaster pings.

"We'll talk about that later," Clint warns, getting the poptarts. I accept mine gratefully, biting into the fruity pastry. I groan in holy delight, poptarts will always sway my allegiance. Always.

After a few minutes of contented munching, Mr. Barton clears his throat. "So, Thursday? It's Saturday, kid."

"Time is just a construct," I supply, very determinedly keeping my eyes away from his.

"Not that much of a construct."

"You cannot define things on "how much of a construct they are"" I say, dropping my air quotes.

"Stop it, kid. I know you can talk circles around me, but I'm kinda worried."

"I've just been so busy, like with school and patrolling and we have Nationals coming up, and then helping Mr. Stark in the lab, and it's just so much." I sigh explosively, my strings cut.

"You need to sleep, superhero or not. You can take a break."

"People need me, Mr. Barton, you may be one of the avengers, but I'm just a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. I stop muggings and bank robberies, not super important shit like you guys."

Clint took a second to respond. "Yeah. I get that."

"So you see? I can't take a break."

"Kid," Clint looked me in the eyes, "everyone can take a break."

I sigh, "I guess. It's just a lot of pressure, you know?"

"I know. But no-one is pressuring you, or expecting you to save the world in recess, okay?"

"Yeah. But like Mr. Stark made me this whole new suit and flew me out to Germany. And then when my Aunt May was late on rent he paid it and I only know that because of my enhanced hearing. I just feel like he's helped me so much and I need to repay him, somehow," I suck in a shuddering breath, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

Clint walks around the bench, discarding his half-eaten pop-tart next to mine. "Killing yourself isn't repaying him. Tony…" Clint looks unsure on how to proceed. "I've never seen Tony so ridiculously happy than when he's around you," Clint smiles, and I see some of his parental-ness showing though. "Or Pepper, but that's beside the point" he adds. "The point is he loves you, and I don't think you could do anything short of blowing up the entire tower and he'd still forgive you. And even then - you could probably get away with that too."

I giggle wetly, a lone tear slipping down my cheek. I wipe it away stubbornly. Clint pulls me in for a hug, one of those big, warm, bear hugs where you get swallowed up. He smells like freshly mown grass and cologne.

We seperate, "Thank you, Clint." I say honestly.

He smiles back at me, picking up his poptart again, "don't mention it, kiddo."