Dashing Roustabout

Clinton Barton

[dashingroustabout]

Clint shivered as he felt Natasha’s fingers on his arm.  Each movement of her fingertips over his skin sent fresh tingles shooting up his spine.

Clint looked down at his own hands before responding to Natasha’s question.

"Since Moscow, at least," he murmured to the roof beneath them.  "Or Lisbon even."  He chuckled.  "When we first met, I thought you were as cold as you were beautiful.  But the more we worked together, the more I got to know you…"

Clint trailed off as he pulled his eyes back up to look back at Natasha. He raised his hand to her face and gently brushed away the curtain of hair that had fallen over her eye, tucking the errant strands away behind her ear.  Letting his hand linger against her cheek, he leaned his face in towards her to look into her eyes.  Those eyes.  So often stern, and yet over the years he had seen such pride in them, such fear, and yes, such joy.  Now he did not know what he saw in them, but he felt his chest swell with emotion as he gazed into their swirling green depths.

His voice faltered as he started to speak again.

"I— I saw myself in you.  But more… and better.  Definitely better looking."  He smiled again, and tilted his head even closer to hers.  "We understand each other, right?"

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

Natasha sighed softly at Clint’s admission. “That long, huh?” She mentally went over all their missions, all of the down time they’d spent together. There was nothing too overt there, maybe Clint’s eyes lingering on her for a bit too long, but that was the way most men reacted to her. And that certainly didn’t mean he had feelings for her. She supposed she’d acted much the same way towards Clint, as he’d wormed his way slowly into her heart over all their years of partnership.

She couldn’t help but arch into Clint’s touch on her cheek and hair. Even though she logically knew her hair had no nerve endings, Clint’s hand sliding through her hair sent electricity down her spine. When she caught Clint sliding even closer, she was about to rebuke him. Tell him this was a bad idea and it would almost certainly get them fired. But then she saw the look in his eyes… almost like he’d been hypnotized. So open and bare in his affection, his respect for her. She felt disrespectful taking it all in when both of them were normally so guarded.

This was a tactical error as she found herself staring at Clint’s lips, pale and complemented by the light of the moon on them. Unconsciously, she licked her lips as he leaned towards her again, his breath now tingling her moistened lips. “No arguments about me being the better looking one,” she joked, “Understand…what?” Natasha managed before her brain turned to goo between her ears and she closed the gap between them, sealing their lips together and sending fire through every part of her.

[dashingroustabout]

Okay, thought Clint, this looks bad.

Natasha was his oldest friend.  Best friend, probably.  Kate was a good kid, but she hadn't been through what they had.  He didn't have the same kind of connection with her as he did with Nat.  They understood each other.  They were cut from the same cloth.  They would take a bullet for each other in a heartbeat.  At least, he knew that he would for Natasha, and he flattered himself to think that she might return then favor.

Natasha was his rock, as cold and desolate and beautiful as the Siberian wastes of her native land.  But he knew that she was fragile, too — deep down they were both hurt and scared, trying to find their way through life the only way they knew how.  They needed each other, and he couldn't let anything jeopardize the understanding they had with each other.

Except now her lips were pressed against his, and his nerves were sparking electric, drowning out every red flag and protest his mind was throwing up.  Her lips were smoother than he'd ever imagined.  He could feel her hot breath against his face, and he felt the tip of her moist tongue brush against his upper lip as he kissed her slightly open mouth.

One of his hands was still held against the roof in Natasha's tight grip, but the other still cradled her cheek.  He let it slide around the back of her head and ran his fingers through her silky hair.  His fingers stroked the nape of her neck, and he pulled her in tighter to kiss her mouth again.

This looks bad, he admitted to himself again.  But he couldn't help it — he wanted to hold her so badly, to kiss her face and caress every inch of her body, that he couldn't control himself.  To hell with what was smart, Clint though.  To hell with the future.  In the here and now, he needed Natasha.

[missbishop-hawkeye]

brave new world || open

[dashingroustabout]

Clint caught sight of Kate walking down the hall as he was retrieving his bag from his locker.  He hadn’t realized that she was coming so soon — or had he? What day was it?  Tuesday? Thursday? — and the sight of her wandering towards him brought a smile to his haphazardly shaven face.

"Hey Hawkeye," he called out as he swung his locker shut and leaned against the closed door.  "Glad to see you made it in one piece. Welcome to kindergarten."

[missbishop-hawkeye]

Kate could recognize that voice anywhere, and it took only seconds for her to look through the crowded hallway to find her ‘mentor’. It was weird to call Clint that, being as he was only barely older than her. The dark-haired girl stepped quickly over to Clint, crossing her arms and grinning. “Awww, you did miss me. The other kids haven’t been bullying you while I’ve been away, have they?”

While the younger archer didn’t mind being by herself, she was glad to have her friend around. Being brand new to a place was always sort of awkward.

[dashingroustabout]

"What, are you suggesting that I might have trouble making friends?" said Clint, putting on an indignant expression.  "You know I'm always the most popular guy in the room."

Clint reached out to pull the younger Hawkeye towards him and tousle her hair.

"It's good to see you, though. Apart from Natasha, I haven't had too many people to talk to.  Seems like half the kids here are more interested in makeouts and drinking than actual hero work. It'll be good to have someone around who understands the important things in life."

He counted them off on his fingers.

"Bows. Arrows. And drinking, admittedly."  He scratched his head. "You're old enough to drink, right?"

[dashingroustabout]

Clint’s heart leapt in his chest when Natasha grasped his hand in hers. He’d been drunk on adrenaline and longing (okay, and some whiskey), and had reached out to her fully expecting to be rejected.  He’d thought Nat would pull away, laugh at his touch and tease him for his affection. To have her place in her hand on his, though, to feel her fingers brush against his skin, and to hear her voice catch in her throat — he’d never dared to expect so much as that.

His blood was pounding so hard that he began to feel lightheaded. Half out of desire and half out of a need to check that he wasn’t dreaming, Clint moved his other hand on top of Natasha’s, sandwiching her hand between his own.  He ran his fingers down along the back of her palm, stroking her smooth skin, tracing the contours of her knuckles and feeling out the shape of her slender, dextrous fingers.  Her own grip was firm upon his hand — Natasha clearly did nothing in half-measures.

Clint’s hand came to rest at Nat’s wrist, his fingers wrapped softly around the joint while his thumb gently stroked the side of her arm.  He tried to catch her gaze as he studied her face.  Now that she had turned her head, her whole face was lit up by the moon.  Her eyes, lips, brow, cheekbones, even her ears were perfect to his eye, drawn in tender swathes of moonlight, their curves accentuated and defined by the sharp linework of the inky night.  Clint found his gaze torn — part of him wanted to get lost in great depths of her dark eyes, while the other kept trying to focus on her lips, so soft and pale, which glistened slightly where she had run her tongue over them after drinking from his flask.

Clint realized that he should probably say something before all his staring started to weird Natasha out, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a loose collection of mumbled syllables.  He found more success on the second try: “I guess I have been pretty prickly,” he said.  ”But why would I want to hang out with any other hero after meeting you?”

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

Natasha’s heart was beating so hard and fast against her ribs now, she was a little afraid her heart was going to simply quit. Of course, that was a ridiculous response seeing as she’d been under much more stressful situations on missions. Her heart had held out all those times.

She had to suppress a shiver when Clint began running his hands over her own hand. And wrist and arm. She was transfixed watching his hands go over every detail of hers. His hands were warm and steady over hers and if Clint just touching her hand could make her feel this overwhelmed, she was certainly in over her head.

While Clint seemed distracted by her looks, Natasha smirked and took the opportunity to rake her eyes over Clint’s form as well. Her partner was lithe with, in her opinion, the perfect amount of muscle. Even in the moonlight she could make out the occasional scar on the exposed skin of his forearm. She knows most girls wouldn’t like scars, especially not the amount either of them had on their bodies but for her, each one was a story. Some she’d know, some she might never know. But it intrigued her nonetheless.

Natasha rolled so she could absently trace a few of Clint’s visible scars with the tips of her fingers. She’d gotten so lost in the feel of his hands on hers, she jumped slightly when he spoke again. “I suppose I can’t argue with you there,” she said softly. “Plus you’ll need some friends when this doesn’t work out,” she half-jokes. But in her head, Natasha is sure that there’s no way they’re not damaged enough to ever work as something more than this physical connection. That, at least, is much too powerful, too present for her to deny. “How long have you…” she nodded to the scant space between them, “you know…?”

[dashingroustabout]

Clint shivered as he felt Natasha's fingers on his arm.  Each movement of her fingertips over his skin sent fresh tingles shooting up his spine.

Clint looked down at his own hands before responding to Natasha's question.

"Since Moscow, at least," he murmured to the roof beneath them.  "Or Lisbon even."  He chuckled.  "When we first met, I thought you were as cold as you were beautiful.  But the more we worked together, the more I got to know you..."

Clint trailed off as he pulled his eyes back up to look back at Natasha. He raised his hand to her face and gently brushed away the curtain of hair that had fallen over her eye, tucking the errant strands away behind her ear.  Letting his hand linger against her cheek, he leaned his face in towards her to look into her eyes.  Those eyes.  So often stern, and yet over the years he had seen such pride in them, such fear, and yes, such joy.  Now he did not know what he saw in them, but he felt his chest swell with emotion as he gazed into their swirling green depths.

His voice faltered as he started to speak again.

"I— I saw myself in you.  But more... and better.  Definitely better looking."  He smiled again, and tilted his head even closer to hers.  "We understand each other, right?"

[dashingroustabout]

Quick question before I write this reply, do Thor and Clint know each other?

Oh, crud.  I suppose they met at the battle for New York — I totally forgot.  I think we can play off my greeting to you as friendly ribbing in that case. 

[missbishop-hawkeye]

brave new world || open

Amalgam Academy was everything and nothing like what Kate had imagined it to be. It was a grandiose castle-like structure, tucked away from most of civilization, that would have made Hogwarts jealous. It was the new home to those with special powers, abilities, or other skills that would be honed during their time there. It had all of state-of-the-art amenities and technologies that a person could dream of, and then some. If someone were to ask Kate what she thought about the place, she would definitely reply with two words: “It’s amazing.” Being from a wealthy family, she’d gone to private schools before, but none quite as sophisticated as Amalgam.

And yet, she hadn’t expected to actually feel like a student here. She’d expected that this was a place for the heroes of tomorrow to train and grow to their peak conditions. Yes, the trainings were designed to do this, but the young archer couldn’t help like she was back in the private elementary school she’d been sent to as a girl, with the outfit and the pre-arranged schedule. This wasn’t new to her, but it didn’t mean she was completely comfortable with it, especially being fairly new to the school.

With a small sigh, Bishop made her way through the halls of Amalgam, on her way to lunch, passing through the crowds of students. She still didn’t have many friends, and finding the ones she did have in the cafeteria had proven in the past to be rather difficult…

[dashingroustabout]

Clint caught sight of Kate walking down the hall as he was retrieving his bag from his locker.  He hadn't realized that she was coming so soon — or had he? What day was it?  Tuesday? Thursday? — and the sight of her wandering towards him brought a smile to his haphazardly shaven face.

"Hey Hawkeye," he called out as he swung his locker shut and leaned against the closed door.  "Glad to see you made it in one piece. Welcome to kindergarten."

[a-thor-and-his-hammer-blog]

Greetings! || (Open)

Thor woke up and took a deep breath when he thought of the day he had ahead of him. It was going to be his first day at the Academy. Come to think of it, it would be Thor’s first day at any school. Growing up an Asgardian prince, all of his education was done withing the comforts of his home, and even then, the two educational systems had nearly nothing in common. Thor spent his earlier years learning things pertaining to running a kingdom. Not obscure studies, like the physics the Midgardians were so fascinated by. Although he’d never admit it, Thor was feeling slightly nervous about his first day. He hoped to leave a good first impression with his peers.

After showering and dressing himself, Thor grabbed the backpack he purchased earlier  in the week and began to walk toward his Physics class. On the way to class, the Asgardian felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face the person behind him and gave them a warm smile and waved. “Good morning, Midgardian!”

[dashingroustabout]

The Asgardian's enthusiasm took Clint so by surprise that he almost leapt backwards.  He wasn't a morning person at the best of times, and there was a limit to the amount of energy he could tolerate in others prior to his first cup of coffee.  The thunder god's greeting boomed through the corridor, and Clint felt his eyelid twitch as he raised a hand to his ringing ear.

"Good God," mumbled Clint as he glanced up at the Norseman's hulking figure, "they make them big where you come from.  Never missed your Wheaties in the morning, did you?"

Clint ran his tongue over his dry lips as he tried to remember why he had got the blonde boy's attention in the first place.

"Oh," he said as the thought came back to him, "your uh, you backpack is open.  Thought you should know."

[teenageanthonystark-blog]

I. Am. Really. Fucking. Bored.

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

Welcome to the club… Seems like there’s never much to do. Unless the school is under attack.

[dashingroustabout]

Oh yeah. That was weird.  I mean, robots, right?  Kind of surprised we made it out of that one alive.  Good times, am I right?

[dashingroustabout]

Clint felt his face flush with heat as Natasha said his name — not stern, exactly, and he did not detect the usual cool detachment with which she usually spoke.  The butterflies in his stomach burst forth with renewed life, wheeling about his innards as if agitated by some natural predator.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and cast his eyes down.  He did not remove his hand from Natasha’s, though.  The back of her fist felt cool and smooth against his rough palm, and even her scars only served to highlight how flawless the rest of her was.

"It’s really nice to see you," he murmured.  "It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a friendly face.  And I, uh…" his voice trailed off briefly.  "I’m glad that it’s you."  He gave her a sheepish smile, although he wasn’t sure she would be able to see it on the dark roof.  "I guess I don’t have all that many friends.  Never got the knack."

Clint paused, waiting for her response.  He watched Nat taking his words in, and marveled at the crimson sheen of her hair.  His eyes traced the silhouette of her profile against the moon, lingering only briefly upon her pale lips, so soft and so rarely concealed by lipstick, yet always so quick with the sharpest retorts and most sleekest deceptions.  He drank in her beauty like this for a time — how long had it been?  Ten seconds? A minute? An hour — until he realized that Nat might not actually want him giving her all this attention.

Clint squeezed Natasha’s balled fist.

"You hair looks incredible in the moonlight," he began, then realized he was still doing it and let out a soft laugh to try and defuse the situation.  "I’m amazed it never got us shot on a night like this.  A sniper could see you a mile off."

Still he forgot — forgot — to take his hand off of hers.

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

Natasha wanted to close her eyes so she could pretend to ignore the intensity building between them. She certainly wasn’t the type to confront her emotions head-on… or at all, for that matter. But this was Clint and he was her best friend, and he deserved more. Instead she found herself locked in Clint’s gaze.

She frowned slightly when Clint apologized. It took her a second to think of what it might be for. For leaving his hand in place or forcing her into this sort of situation.

"I know," she says, still staring skywards, "I’m glad you’re here, too, you know." She calculates she could probably derail the conversation- not without Clint noticing but he’d probably humor her- by asking what he’d been assigned to that was so lonely. "I like having my partner back," she says instead. "You’d be fine at making friends if you didn’t just blow everyone off. Even if they are all annoyingly idealistic."

Natasha got caught up in the thought that she was really glad that Clint was here. After New York when they’d split up again, she realised she felt an extra hole in her that seemed to be only filled when Clint was around. She’d forgotten about it since coming to the school. Though she’d been kept busy by meeting everyone and catching up in her classes before tonight. So when Clint squeezed her fist, sending the same wave of warmth through her whole body, she unclenched her fist and clutched onto his hand instead.

She chanced a look a Clint and found him staring at her hair, “Seems other snipers don’t always have as good an eye as you,” she replied with a smirk. Letting go of a breath she’d been holding, she rolled her head back to center.

[dashingroustabout]

Clint's heart leapt in his chest when Natasha grasped his hand in hers. He'd been drunk on adrenaline and longing (okay, and some whiskey), and had reached out to her fully expecting to be rejected.  He'd thought Nat would pull away, laugh at his touch and tease him for his affection. To have her place in her hand on his, though, to feel her fingers brush against his skin, and to hear her voice catch in her throat — he'd never dared to expect so much as that.

His blood was pounding so hard that he began to feel lightheaded. Half out of desire and half out of a need to check that he wasn't dreaming, Clint moved his other hand on top of Natasha's, sandwiching her hand between his own.  He ran his fingers down along the back of her palm, stroking her smooth skin, tracing the contours of her knuckles and feeling out the shape of her slender, dextrous fingers.  Her own grip was firm upon his hand — Natasha clearly did nothing in half-measures.

Clint's hand came to rest at Nat's wrist, his fingers wrapped softly around the joint while his thumb gently stroked the side of her arm.  He tried to catch her gaze as he studied her face.  Now that she had turned her head, her whole face was lit up by the moon.  Her eyes, lips, brow, cheekbones, even her ears were perfect to his eye, drawn in tender swathes of moonlight, their curves accentuated and defined by the sharp linework of the inky night.  Clint found his gaze torn — part of him wanted to get lost in great depths of her dark eyes, while the other kept trying to focus on her lips, so soft and pale, which glistened slightly where she had run her tongue over them after drinking from his flask.

Clint realized that he should probably say something before all his staring started to weird Natasha out, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a loose collection of mumbled syllables.  He found more success on the second try: "I guess I have been pretty prickly," he said.  "But why would I want to hang out with any other hero after meeting you?"

[dashingroustabout]

As Nat drew closer to him, Clint became acutely aware of her body next to his — not so close that they touched, but close enough that he imagined he could feel her warmth across the thin gap of cool night air that separated them.

Clint took the flask back and took a slug from it.  It wasn’t especially good whiskey, but it was strong, and when he drank that was all he looked for.

"Maybe it’s not the best for me," he mused out loud, his throat still burning from the alcohol.  "But I’m like you — no sense of danger."

He watched Nat handling his binoculars and smiled at her.  They’d been on stakeouts together before, and it felt good to find something so familiar in a situation as strange as this.  Clint felt something stir within his chest.  Although they would go for a year or more without seeing each other, Natasha was his oldest friend when you came down to it. He thought about all the nights that they’d spent on rooftops just like this, all the times he’d watched her red hair burn bright in the moonlight, all the ways he’d seen her take down an opponent in a fight…

His stomach twisted as his mind returned to the subject, probing at it tentatively again and again, like a sore gum that he couldn’t help poking with his tongue although he knew he shouldn’t.

Ah, to hell with it, arrow man, said a part of his brain, a deep, animal part, the part that made him take that first step onto the highwire and taught him how to shoot.  You can lead the target all you want, but at some point you’ve got the let the arrow go.

Before the rest of his mind could mount any resistance, Clint put his hand on Natasha’s and left it there.

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

Natasha occupied herself with the binoculars for longer than she actually had any interest in looking at slightly zoomed in stars through the lenses. She’d been bored a few minutes earlier but now her mind was empty in a more pleasant way. Just like she felt after a mission with Clint where they’d been in shockingly similar situations: lying on their backs on a roof with only a flask and whatever injuries they’d collected between them. And the silence.

Then Clint’s hand moved onto hers and it was so out of left field she thought maybe some night animal had decided to land on her hand. But then it was too steady for that and she could feel Clint’s calluses on the back of her hand and she couldn’t fathom what he might be playing at here. For a moment she considered simply ignoring it and hoping he would take his hand away but this was Clint. She lowered the binoculars and turned her head to stare at Clint. In the dim night she could just make out the storm blue of his eyes and a heat spread in her chest that she tried to convince herself was from the alcohol.

"Clint…" she said, voice unsure. Her hand balled into a fist under Clint’s, unsure of what else to do with it.

Mostly she wished she’d taken another shot of his whiskey, though.

[dashingroustabout]

Clint felt his face flush with heat as Natasha said his name — not stern, exactly, and he did not detect the usual cool detachment with which she usually spoke.  The butterflies in his stomach burst forth with renewed life, wheeling about his innards as if agitated by some natural predator.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and cast his eyes down.  He did not remove his hand from Natasha's, though.  The back of her fist felt cool and smooth against his rough palm, and even her scars only served to highlight how flawless the rest of her was.

"It's really nice to see you," he murmured.  "It's been a long time since I've seen a friendly face.  And I, uh..." his voice trailed off briefly.  "I'm glad that it's you."  He gave her a sheepish smile, although he wasn't sure she would be able to see it on the dark roof.  "I guess I don't have all that many friends.  Never got the knack."

Clint paused, waiting for her response.  He watched Nat taking his words in, and marveled at the crimson sheen of her hair.  His eyes traced the silhouette of her profile against the moon, lingering only briefly upon her pale lips, so soft and so rarely concealed by lipstick, yet always so quick with the sharpest retorts and most sleekest deceptions.  He drank in her beauty like this for a time — how long had it been?  Ten seconds? A minute? An hour — until he realized that Nat might not actually want him giving her all this attention.

Clint squeezed Natasha's balled fist.

"You hair looks incredible in the moonlight," he began, then realized he was still doing it and let out a soft laugh to try and defuse the situation.  "I'm amazed it never got us shot on a night like this.  A sniper could see you a mile off."

Still he forgot — forgot — to take his hand off of hers.

[princess-diana-of-themyscir-blog]

Valentine's day?

[dashingroustabout]

Clint shut his locker — he’d already put his stuff away, but had paused to listen to the girls talk before closing it — and leaned against it.

"Oh, I don’t know," he said.  "I think it’s kind of cute.  It’s like a day designed to force men who are terrible at expressing themselves to awkwardly try and confess their affection.  Makes for great people watching."

[princess-diana-of-themyscir-blog]

Diana looked at the pair with a raised brow. They both seemed…well, rather bitter towards the holiday. “I just find the decoration for it odd. Not to mention i don’t see the point in celebrating your love for someone only once a year. That should be something you do every day.” She sighed.

Looking back at the two before her she smiled kindly. “Do either of you have someone special to celebrate with this year?” she asked curiously. She of course didn’t. But yet again she had just found out what the holiday was even about. Plus she wasn’t very fond of many men. They mostly wanted something that she didn’t easily give, which made for awkward dates that usually ended with someone bruised, and it was never her.

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

Natasha rolled her eyes at Clint and his predictable use of the holiday as an excuse to people watch. “Don’t take too much pleasure in other people’s pain,” she said with an eyeroll in his direction.

She shrugged at Diana, leaning against the wall of lockers opposite Clint, “That’s another good point… You shouldn’t be forced or obligated to show someone you love because it’s a certain day of the year. All the more reason this holiday is pointless.” Natasha swept her gaze over Clint before answering Diana’s question, “No one special. Unless you count the chocolate vodka I’m going to pick up later. Do you think you’re going to celebrate it this year?”

[dashingroustabout]

Clint shrugged off Nat's scorn.

"I had to go through my awkward teens like any other guy," he said. "I don't see why I can't enjoy watching other kids struggle with it now."

He saw Nat cast her eye towards him before she spoke next, which made her response to Diana faze him all the more.

"I don't have a date either," he said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.  He wasn't he succeeded, but the conversation had already moved on to Diana's own prospects, for which he was thankful.

[dashingroustabout]

Clint lay down next to Natasha and took back his binoculars.

"You really don’t sense anything weird about this place?" he said, pointing the lenses at the stars and playing with the focus.  "Even if the circumstances don’t weird you out, you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed anything off about the teachers."

He lowered the binoculars and turned to look at Natasha.

"Maybe you’re right, though," he said.  "I’ve probably just been getting myself wound too tight since I arrived."

He dug around in his pants pocket and pulled out a small silver flash, which he wiggled in front of Natasha’s face.

"I know how to change that, though," he teased.

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

"Sense?" she laughed softly, "I think we both know by now I don’t have a well-developed sense of danger," She shrugged at Clint’s question, "Don’t you think you’d be a borderline criminally insane person to come here and teach a bunch of vigilantes and assassins? Powered or not? Of course there’s something weird about them…"

Natasha smiled almost imperceptibly at Clint, “Well you’ve always needed some project or mission to focus on. At least it seems like you’re the calmest then to me. Maybe you should take up sewing or start reading books? I think sewing would fit you better, but…”

She rolled onto her side, snatching the flask from Clint before opening it and smelling the contents. Definitely hard alcohol and probably not vodka. She sipped the liquid, letting it roll over her tongue before she had to frown at it. It was definitely high proof, and definitely burned something awful on the way down. She slid closer to Clint, passing him back the flask while taking the binoculars from him. “Hmm. Alcohol works well, too. But it probably isn’t the healthiest.”

[dashingroustabout]

As Nat drew closer to him, Clint became acutely aware of her body next to his — not so close that they touched, but close enough that he imagined he could feel her warmth across the thin gap of cool night air that separated them.

Clint took the flask back and took a slug from it.  It wasn't especially good whiskey, but it was strong, and when he drank that was all he looked for.

"Maybe it's not the best for me," he mused out loud, his throat still burning from the alcohol.  "But I'm like you — no sense of danger."

He watched Nat handling his binoculars and smiled at her.  They'd been on stakeouts together before, and it felt good to find something so familiar in a situation as strange as this.  Clint felt something stir within his chest.  Although they would go for a year or more without seeing each other, Natasha was his oldest friend when you came down to it. He thought about all the nights that they'd spent on rooftops just like this, all the times he'd watched her red hair burn bright in the moonlight, all the ways he'd seen her take down an opponent in a fight...

His stomach twisted as his mind returned to the subject, probing at it tentatively again and again, like a sore gum that he couldn't help poking with his tongue although he knew he shouldn't.

Ah, to hell with it, arrow man, said a part of his brain, a deep, animal part, the part that made him take that first step onto the highwire and taught him how to shoot.  You can lead the target all you want, but at some point you've got the let the arrow go.

Before the rest of his mind could mount any resistance, Clint put his hand on Natasha's and left it there.

[princess-diana-of-themyscir-blog]

Valentine's day?

Pink. Red. Hearts. They were everywhere! There wasnt one place she’d been that wasnt covered in these decorations. It was a holiday, that much she knew. But for what? Were they simply celebrating the function of the human heart or the matching colors? She was seriously confused.

Turning a corner within the long halls of the school she happened upon a sign labeled ‘Happy Valentines Day’

"Valentine’s day?"she questioned aloud. What was that?

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

"It’s a dumb holiday about love and relationships and sentimentality. Basically my least favorite holiday." Natasha answered from behind Diana, "I can’t believe they got these hearts everywhere… I think my eyes are going to start bleeding.”

[dashingroustabout]

Clint shut his locker — he'd already put his stuff away, but had paused to listen to the girls talk before closing it — and leaned against it.

"Oh, I don't know," he said.  "I think it's kind of cute.  It's like a day designed to force men who are terrible at expressing themselves to awkwardly try and confess their affection.  Makes for great people watching."

[callmehighball-deactivated20220]

Hal was only a few meters away from the entrance to the library when he heard several loud crashes coming from a corridor to his left. If he wasn’t mistaken that was were the locker rooms were located. Had someone tried getting their gear to fight whatever had wrecked the rest of the school? Hal quickly checked how much energy his ring had left and yup - 86 percent should be more than enough to take care of things. It had to be since his power battery was still stuffed inside his locker at Ferris Aircraft so he had no chance to charge his ring without leaving the rest of the students alone for a short while.

Hal dimmed the green glow of his suit down as much as possible and rushed towards the locker rooms. It took him longer than he liked seeing as some of the corridors hadf already caved in and someone had shot a hole through the ceiling in front of the cafeteria. It would have probably taken him a while to clear away the débris so he took the short take through the hole. Surprisingly enough the first floor had remained mostly untouched. The attackers must have stuck to the areas where most of the students had been at the time. Hal Kept an eye out for any attackers that might have found their way up here anyway while he used his ring to navigate him towards the locker rooms.

"Unknown entity 10 feet below your current position."

So he must have found one of the attackers and he was right in front of the locker rooms.

Hal heard another big explosion that made the ground under hi shake and without wasting any more time he created one of his trademark green-glowing boxer gloves and punched a hole right through the floor. When he flew down, he couldn’t see much at first through all the smoke. His action hade made a large part of the ceiling come down and burry his still unknown enemy underneath it. He could see an arm peek out from under the Rubble that would have looked human ifit wasn’t for the pieces of metal and wires sticking out of it.

So. You might want to come out of your hiding place now or wait until it corners you again.” He said to whoever was currently inside the locker room.

He flew a bit closer to whatever he had just caught unprepared and tried to get a reading with his ring. Even this up close to the source his ring was having trouble getting through the interference signal but it could tell him that whatever he had just knocked down was getting up again.

"And you might wanna hurry. It’s waking up again."

The rubble on top of the thing was already shaking again.

[mulanandpingthetwins-deactivate]

Cass’ brow furrow when Billy gave back the belt-he was definitely hiding something, or just stupidly cocky. She took it back, slinging it over her shoulder just in case-she didn’t know what was going on and when it’d end, might as well. Billy turned to the group and his tone was clearly evading-he probably spoke to avoid any questions.

She didn’t hesitate to follow Barry’s orders, grateful now to have something sharp/explosive at hand now. She nearly threw her batarangs after a humanoid thing toppled in after the explosion-until noticing it was Clint. She felt that twinge of worry for a team mate, like she did on patrol and moved to them standing in front of both Natasha and him. She knew she really could provide little protection, not having any special powers but she got into a battle stance batarangs at the ready. She noticed Barry was about to give specific orders to Billy-okay he had hidden abilities, it was obvious now if he wasn’t order with herself and Natasha.

Then Cass was thrown off guard by yet another crash, a Green Lantern had shown up out of the blue sending more dust into the air. She blinked the dust out of her eyes, still frantically searching for the enemy-only knowing that she was too protect her fallen team mates and survive. Cass didn’t know where the others came from-or even who they were fighting, but tried to stay diligent.

The Green Lantern called for retreat-or at least that’s what she got out of his words and helped up Clint, casting a weary glance to Natasha-broken ribs weren’t uncommon but could become worse. Barry could stand-a good sign but he’d need something to lean on for the moment. She offered her shoulder, not sure where exactly the broken team would head to.

"Is there still…Anywhere safe?" She called out to the group as they slowly shuffled out-taking care in not stumbling on the crumbling uneven debri. She didn’t know how deep the teacher’s had gotten into but there had to be somewhere they could hole up in.

[dashingroustabout]

Clint grinned weakly at Natasha as she inexpertly checked his pulse.  It wasn't like her to lose her cool like that... was she really that worried about him?  He accepted Cass' help gratefully and was glad to be back on his feet.  Still slightly unsteady, he opened his mouth to speak, but ended up doubled over and coughing up a cloud of drywall.

"No," he gasped, "there's nowhere safe, at least not completely.  Those things are roaming all over campus, trying to hunt us down.  They convene on any groups they find, but there doesn't seem to be any logic to their movements beyond that.  The only way we'll be truly safe is if we shut them down for good."

Clint felt groggy and held out his arm to support himself against a locker. He eyed the rest of the group to make sure he had their attention, then continued.

"I've suspected that something was up with this place for awhile, so I've been snooping around as much as I could.  During my recon, I discovered a huge amount of ventilation around the back of the admin building leading into a server room below — far more servers than a school of this size would ever need."

Clint felt his strength returning as he described his plan and he stood up straight again.  The familiar pounding of adrenaline in his ears was back — he was ready for action.

"We need to split up into two groups.  The strongest heroes should group together to protect the wounded.  Pick somewhere prominent but defensible, and attempt to draw as many of the robots to you as possible.  Those of us experienced in wet work will split off into a strike force to try and infiltrate the admin building and disable the servers while you keep the bastards distracted."

Clint realized that he'd been talking for some time, and coughed self-consciously.

"Does that sound good?  I sure hope so, because Mrs Delaney over there is getting back up, and I'd rather not be the one who has to put her out of commission."

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

Natasha levelled her pistols at the door when she heard something banging at it, but quickly lowered her arms once she saw it was another student. One of the Flashes, she thought, but she always had trouble telling them apart if they weren’t in the same place, even though they looked nothing alike. It took her another moment to realize that if he was one of the Flashes, he should’ve been running around faster than any of them could see, rather than just walking in on them.

She sighed and wrapped her utility belt around her waist and added her ankle holster so she could keep one gun at her hip and the other on her ankle. “I’ll wrap you up,” she said, turning back to- she assumed- Barry, “Put your leg up on the bench. Has anyone found any first aid kits in here? There should be tons in this school, right?” Natasha asked the rest of the room.

She noticed Billy’s evasiveness, but right now the more pressing matter seemed to be what they should be doing next. “Well it seems like for now, we’re doing a good job of finding other students… in a manner of speaking. But I don’t know what our best move is here. Have you seen what’s happening in the rest of the school?” Natasha turned back to Barry. While she was at it, she probed at his ankle, trying to find where it was broken. “Sorry.” she muttered after the fact.

[mulanandpingthetwins-deactivate]

Cass silently handed over a first aid kit, relieved that it was a friend rather than a foe banging on the door. His injury was unfortunate and definitely would slow them down if they were to proceed-as well as Natasha’s hidden one. However they were now geared up, and that definitely gave them an edge-strategy was their best chance. What their strategy was, well they’d figure it out eventually.

As Natasha wrapped Barry’s ankle, Cass fished out a spare utility belt from the back of her locker and tossed it at Billy-he apparently had nothing of value in it. Now she was concerned-all she could tell is that he was holding something back, but she wasn’t sure how to ask. She shuffled through her locker, not glancing back but listening intently.

[super-billybatson]

The sound of pounding on the door was enough to make Billy jump. He was already tired of the robots, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake as before. He spun around, prepared to scream out the word to change him into his alter ego. Taking a second for his brain to figure out who it actually was, Billy begins to yell out, “Sha-…wait. Barry?”

He watched as the man limped over to a bench. This was definitely bad news. In Billy’s mind, Barry’s entire M.O. was his ability to run super fast. But that would be impossible with a broken leg. And the thought of these robots being so strong that they would be able to injure such a powerful super hero like Barry really scared Billy to his core.

He only saw something big fly at him from the corner of his eye, causing him to turn and catch it after almost fumbling it a few times. He looked down and surveyed the belt that Cass had just thrown him. His mind raced to try and figure out what to do now. If he turned it down, that would just bring even more suspicion from his classmates to him. But if he took it, then he would have no idea how to use anything inside of the belt, making it a waste to just take with him for the sake of not looking weird.

Ultimately, after a few seconds of analyzing the belt, he walked over to Cass and extended it back out to her. “Thanks,” he began, “But I, uh, should be fine. It’s kinda complicated, but I’ll, um, be alright. I think. You don’t have to worry about me. Instead, lets worry about figuring out what to do next.” He turned back to the whole group, addressing them all with, “So, lets get a quick recap. Not only are the teachers trying to kill us, but they are apparently robots now. Oh, and not just robots. Super powered robots. The teachers are now super powerful killer robots. But the teachers wouldn’t just attack us, right? How do we know if everyone else is alright? We need to go find everyone and help them!”

[dashingroustabout]

Clint sprinted down the corridor as fast as he could.  His body ached, his mouth was dry, and he was dangerously out of breath, but he knew he couldn't stop.  Even if he'd tried, the adrenaline pounding through his veins wouldn't have let him.

Clint risked a glance over his shoulder at his pursuer.  He'd done his best to rendezvous with the rest of his team at the library, but they'd been nowhere to be found.  Just his luck for getting paired up with a trickster god and an emotionally disturbed orphan, he supposed — not that he was one to talk.  

He'd stayed by the library as long as he could, surveying the courtyard outside from the opposite roof and taking down the occasional wandering LMD with his bow.  He felt he was in for trouble when a whole pack had shown up, though.  When the leader of the pack brushed aside a whole volley of arrows with a wave of telekinesis, he knew for sure that he was in trouble.

Clint had beaten a swift retreat through the grounds, weaving and dodging as best he could, losing most of the androids and even managing to take out two more during the pursuit.  The telekinetic unit, modeled after a diminutive older woman wearing a tight bun whom Clint had never seen before, was still hot on his tail, however, and Clint's supply of arrows had run dry.

His glance revealed that the teacher was still hot on his trail, her short, skinny legs blurring past the ground in strides so large that they would have appeared comical were the situation not so dire.  Clint urged his legs to move faster, but he could feel them reaching their breaking point as his muscles screamed to rest.  He would be sure to collapse if he kept running much longer.

Clint knew that the robot must be able to sense his weakness and decided to use that against it.  He feinted to the side, allowing his left leg to crumple beneath him as he staggered into the wall.  He caught himself against it to stop from falling over and tried to catch his breath.  He could hear the robot slowing behind him.  It was undoubtedly trying to size the situation up and work out the best way to dispose of him.

Step.  Step.

He could hear the robot come closer.  It could only be thirty feet away.

Step. Step.

Fifteen now.

Clint's hand darted up from where it had slid into his pocket, and in a single motion he span in place, flicked open his pocket knife and sent it spinning into the robot's throat.  At least, he would have if the machine hadn't anticipated his motion and flicked its hand out, catching the blade in a wave of telekinetic energy and sending it spinning into the drywall.

"Oh, shit," said Clint.

Then the android flicked its hand back, and this time the blast's target was Clint.  The wave hit him square in the chest and launched him across the corridor.  Clint barely had time to process the wind being knocked out from him before his back and head blistered with pain and his vision flashed black and white the plaster splintered beneath him and he tumbled bodily into the adjoining room.

The impact with the floor purged the last scraps of air from Clint's lungs, and he could do nothing but flail his arms as he slid across the cold tile, leaving a trail of plaster dust in his wake.  His trip across the floor was cut short by the side of a locker, which added another bruise to the back of Clint's well-punished head.

Clint gasped for air, and his eyes bulged in his skull as he tried to get his bearings.  He glanced around the room.  Lockers.  Benches.  Billy. Cass.  Barry.  ...Nat?  He blinked again.  They were all here, in the... locker room.  That's right.  He'd been heading to the locker room to get more arrows.  And he needed more arrows because...  Clint eyed the hole in the wall, just the other side of which the robot must still be waiting.

Clint tried to give the others a weak grin, but ended up coughing up drywall dust instead.

"Room for one more?" he asked between coughs.  "Only there's a horrible psychic robot outside, and I'd really rather not go back out there on my own."

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

[text] You alive?

[dashingroustabout]

[text] For now. Trying to find my team. You?

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

[text] I found mine. Try to stay alive.

[dashingroustabout]

[text] Seem MIA. That's what you get for relying on a trickster god I guess. Low on arrows. Gonna try and grab some more from the locker room.

[mulanandpingthetwins-deactivate]

Cookies (Clint & Cass)

[dashingroustabout]

Clint nodded.  In truth, he’d barely done more than that in the time that he’d been at the Academy.  He’d spent a few days tinkering with his arrows in the engineering workshop, of course, and then there was his ongoing obsession with investigating the school, but he’d done precious little that would count as relaxing by any normal person’s standards.

"Well, if you ever want to get off campus, I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to tag along with us in senior division.  We’ll say it’s for an exercise or something."

Sensing that he’d already pushed the limits of how much Cass wanted to socialize, Clint stood up and headed for the door.

"Think about it," he said when he reached it. "Our work is important, but it’s not all there is to life.  Taking it too seriously is probably just as dangerous as not taking it seriously enough."

[mulanandpingthetwins-deactivate]

"Really? Sure then I-it’s really…..boring," She said a short excitement obvious in her words. She didn’t hate the school but….sometimes it just got dull.

"Thank you," She blurted out as he got up to leave, just noticing how nice it was to have company. She didn’t blame him for leaving she was again not much of a conversationalist. But she didn’t want him to not visit again. She rose before she knew it a hand on his shoulder, an almost desperate feeling of going back to solitude.

"Come again. For uh…cookies?" She said a bit flustered, she didn’t met his eyes. She felt like a child, or a beggar. But then again she’d be willing to share those treasures for company.

[dashingroustabout]

Clint was surprised to feel the hand on his shoulder — Cass didn't really seem like to touchy feely type.

He gave her a grin, his real grin without a hint of irony or forced cool, the one that was a bit too wide and slightly lopsided and showed maybe a little more of his front teeth than was necessary.  The one that he had spent all those hours in front of the mirror trying to undo.

"Anytime," he said.  "Just holler next time Uncle Alfred sends another of those care packages.  You'll know where to find me — training and eating and not doing much else."

With that he turned once more and disappeared down the corridor.

[agentassassinaraneae-deactivate]

[text] You alive?

[dashingroustabout]

[text] For now. Trying to find my team. You?