If you stuck around for chapter 2, I applaud you. The next chapter will be the last. (If you're familiar with the song or have at least looked up the lyrics, you can probably guess I'm following the verses as much as I can)
Although, if you're interested in added fluff or maybe lemoniness, check out my tumblr within the next week or so. I will try to get some up that fits with this story. Because obviously stuff happens between part two and three.

Ooh, before I forget, I don't own anything affiliated with Marvel, the Police, or Sting. This is purely the work of a fan.

Two weeks later, Clint was having a wonderful morning. He had a great feeling about today in spite of the rain that pattered on his window and the grey skies that seemed to hang low. He stepped out to start his car before grabbing breakfast. An ugly cough sputtered from his car when he twisted the key. Clint tried it again, eyebrows wrinkled and pulled together, his good feeling sinking. He turned the key two more times with no success.

"Shit, baby, please don't die on me now..." He popped the hood and did a rapid check up. No luck. He attempted to start it one last time in desperation.

Clint went back inside and grabbed his backpack and an orange before heading out to the nearest bus stop. As he neared the blue bus stop sign, he saw two of his best friends.

"Rogers! Natasha!" Clint jogged the last half block.

"Hey, Clint," Steve grinned. "Why aren't you driving?"

"Car trouble..." Clint finger combed his rain soaked hair. "So bus it is for me."

"I bet Stark could give you a hand," Steve's voice had a hint of admiration in it. Clint smirked subtly.

"I'm sure he could."

A car pulled up next to the stop. The bus wasn't expected for another 3 minutes, and save for the car that had just pulled up, the street was empty. The passenger window rolled down and an all too familiar, deep voice rolled out.

"Clint, get in." The history teacher unlocked the doors. Steve's jaw hung open and Bruce nudged Clint. No way.

"He drives by this stop every day, you know," Steve murmured. "From the direction of your apartment, too."

"I'd get in there quick if I were you," Natasha whispered. Clint's cheeks had a pink tint to them. "Lucky bastard."

Clint reached forward and pulled the door open, his blush growing all the while. He ducked down into the vehicle and closed the door behind him. He was in mild shock, some uncertainty lurking in his mind.

"Do you usually ride the bus?" Laufeyson asked. If Steve hadn't said anything, Clint wouldn't know his teacher already knew the answer.

"I usually drive. Car wouldn't start today," he replied. "What brings you this way?"

"I live five blocks south of that bus stop. This is just my route to school. I'm running a bit late today, however." He kept his eyes to the street, the windshield wipers providing some background noise.

"Oh." The rest of the drive felt too fast, like they only had seconds together instead of an eight minute drive. The car stopped in front of the school to let Clint out first. On his way up the pavement to the doors, he thought about what it would have been like to kiss his teacher. He shook his head at himself and jaunted down the hall to his locker.

Loki pulled into his usual space around the corner of the building once Barton was inside.

What am I doing? He's just a kid. He seems to have an interest in me, but then again, teenage boys are sacks of sexual arousal and ever changing minds. It's probably the excitement factor. Or a stupid dare given to him by that Stark kid. He probably thinks I'm a creepy old man.

Frustrated, he switched off the engine and made his way into the building to prepare for class.