Another comment-fic
Live Journal, I think I have a problem.
I wrote yet another comment - fic, this time for clint/coulson I don't normally write slash, but I liked this prompt, (and this 'ship) so there we go.
Here's the prompt : "The general consensus is that while Clint Barton is not a stupid man, he is also not a highly educated one. At least not beyond his GED which he may or may not have acquired while travelling the world with the circus. He was fine with this general perception, he had made his life out of misleading people, even the ones closest to him. It was generally understood that while he might not be book smart he was sharp and more than capable of handling the complications of the job.
But he kind of had this thing for math/physics/geography/language/engineer
ing/whatever, as in he only needed the most basic concepts laid out before him and a whole world of possibilities opened up. Of course he didn't think too much of this gift, didn't see the point in sharing it as it was his. Didn't think anyone would really care; he was just a runaway orphan child from Iowa with skill for acrobats, aim, and a loud mouth.
Naturally Coulson disagrees and, maybe, so would the team if he ever gave them a chance.
Good Will Hunting genius? omg, he could confuse the hell out of SHIELD scientists by leaving answers on their whiteboards ninja style!"
and here's the fic: You need three things to be an archer. You have to have steady hands, the patience of a saint, and you have to be good at math.
Because bullets and arrows both are all about physics, parabolas and terminal velocities and wind speeds. It's not all just aim - shoot. There's a lot of things you have to have right before you even get close to the shooting.
His first CO got that when he asked to lose his spotter, saying the man just slowed him down. He asked him whether he thought he could honestly handle all that math at once, and once Clint had done it for him, he'd left it alone. He'd told him that as long as he didn't miss, he didn't care how it got done.
That his first CO also set it up for him to take long distance classes as UCLA, because "You need a career after you stop playing war with the rest of us, kid" had told him that maybe being able to do all that math wasn't quite normal, but he'd never thought much of it. He was just a good shooter. No big deal.
Coulson isn't a stupid man, and he doesn't treat Clint as though he is one, and he appreciates that. Too many handlers have seen ex-marine and just went with dumb grunt. Coulson looks down farther, sees special forces and a masters in applied mathematics, and looks impressed.
They don't speak of his education again, not for years, not until one night, when they're in bed, and Coulson is tracing little patterns on the skin of his shoulders, asking him, "When did you go to college?"
He tells him, "Long-distance. I used to read my books while I waited for targets."
Coulson laughs at that, then says, "All right."
When Tony makes a comment about him not understanding what his calculations mean, or even what they're for, he just shrugs and moves on. He doesn't want to upstage the guy by telling him that he might be a genius, but he's not the only one who's good at math, that Clint can compute with the best of them.
The others make a few comments about his intelligence sometimes, although not Steve, he notices, becuase the man has probably gotten a few comments about his own education, or lack thereof. Steve is abysmally bad at math, and for whatever reason, Clint finds himself balancing the poor mans books ever month, because decimal points are enough to send him into a tizzy.
He'd think it was funny, but it 's Steve who helps him with his paperwork, working through it with him if Coulson's not around, helping him see the words in the squiggles everyone calls English.
Dyslexia, Coulson had said he had, when he'd finally admitted why he hated paperwork. He had dyslexia, and it wasn't his fault, and calm down, Clint, no one's angry.
His father used to get angry. When he couldn't read his own report card. He'd stared and stared but he'd never been able to, and he hates to admit it, but he stopped trying after sixth grade, after his father almost killed him because he got so angry.
He just stopped bringing them home.
This lasts until one day Tony says something about an article in the paper, and Clint tries to talk to him about it, and he says, "Never mind Clint, you can't read it anyway."
Steve ends up having to pull him off, Phil just stands there. So does Natasha. When he's up, gasping, with Steves arm still locked around his neck, Phil hisses, "He's got a masters in mathematics you bastard, and if you don't shut your mouth, I'll - "
He trails off, as he realizes that everyone is looking at Clint. Clint wipes his nose, sniffs righteously, looks around, and mutters, "I'm not stupid, you know."
Marines aren't stupid, his CO used to tell him, when he was panicking about tests. Marines aren't stupid and neither are you, so stop calling yourself that. That, would be stupid.
If, after that, he gets a lot more respect when he asks what people are reading in the paper, well, he'll take it. Steve still uses him to balance his checkbook, and so does Phil, with his expenditure reports. And one day, when Tony asks him to double check some figures, he just smiles, and does.
So there we go.