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A general part one of my Clint/Bruce HS AU
They station themselves at two different places in the room. Bruce has seated himself on one of the bar stools, swirling his glass of water absentmindedly. Clint, on the other hand, is permanently in the center of the room, trading laughs, gibes and can after can of beer with everyone. Music thrums and vibrates; Bruce can feel his teeth chattering in time to the beat. Clint has taken advantage of the music to twirl girl after girl.
It happens in a flash, quick as lightning. Bruce centers his gaze on the man attracting the room's attention. He thinks it's safe because the crowd has thickened and everyone is moving. Someone has downed the lights and opted for the spotlights; it zips between people, hides and highlights enough features to make everyone interesting and attractive. He thinks it's safe to look at Clint with affection and want, instead of hurt.
Except, the moment he turns his gaze to Clint, the crowd separating them disperses, and Clint locks eyes with him. The grin shrinks and his brows furrow except Bruce can't read him, doesn't want to. His heart is pounding and he's imagining tears in his eyes.
The moment is over quickly. The music is turned up and the crowd cheers. Through the spaces in between limbs, Bruce sees someone tap Clint, who promptly turns away, and a second later, he is laughing once more. The sound carries all the way to his place in the room. It isn’t mocking, but he imagines that it is anyway, because it makes it easier for him to feel bad towards Clint.
Enough. He's leaving; he can't believe he let Steve talk him into this ("We haven't hung out for some time and I know you're not busy. Please?"). It's- it's not him, not him at all. He should be in bed or in the diner across his apartment, reading up on Physics or the latest issue of Time or brushing his tea, watering Betty- anything but this.
He strides out of the room, elbows his way out, ignores the people flipping him off, and gives a silent thank you for the party being on the first floor. He rushes past people, tells himself to breathe deep, inhales, but what fills his lungs is smoke so he coughs and holds his breath. He turns left at the end of the hallway and curses Tony's house for being huge.
"Aaw, Bruce! You came!" Speak of the devil. An arm wraps around him and he is pulled to Tony's side, Tony’s mouth directly beside his ear so he could be heard above the noise.
"Just about to leave!" Bruce shouts back, trying to wrench himself away, but Tony is having none of that.
"But I just found you! Isn't it-- your turn to find me, 'sn't it?" He can smell the alcohol Tony's been drinking, something strong, probably a large amount. Bruce can't help it; he wrinkles his nose.
"You haven't even had a drink yet, have you?" Tony's veering in topic would have normally amused Bruce, but Tony starts leading him back to the room he had left, because, sadly, that's where most of the drinks were coming form. Bruce settles a hand on Tony's arm, the one trapping him by his shoulders, and pushes it off.
"Buddy, buddy." Tony takes a hold of his arm. "Gotta tell me 'sup."
Bruce stares at him, incredulous. Wonders how much Tony has consumed. Part of him worries while a part of him wants to lash out at him.
"You knew he'd be here, you ass!" Bruce is shouting now, not just because the music is loud. Tony stares at him, wondering, calculating something in his mind but it's nowhere quick enough, not this time. Bruce pulls his arm close to him, Tony taking the hint and letting go.
"Gotta run, Stark! I'll see you on Monday!" Maybe, probably. Off he goes, knowing that Tony will forgive and literally forget. He spots Steve, who does not look amused by what is happening. Bruce grabs him and shoves him in the direction he’d left Tony. “He’s that way!” he says and leaves before Steve can react.
He hopes Steve finds him soon enough, and unless they were fighting about this (how quickly the party had gotten out of control- well, by Steve's standards and god, this better be out of control by Steve's standards), Steve should be hovering and ending the party in a few minutes.
He's finally outside, but the air isn't exactly fresh. In fact, it's probably as bad as that inside. It doesn't smell of sweat and alcohol and smoke, though, so he's happier. He walks pass the parked cars and makes a beeline for his bike. He unchains it and pedals home, trying not to think of how he'd said yes to attending this stupid thing. How disappointed he was when he saw Clint dancing with someone else and looking at him like he didn't know what to do with him.
**
It's hard not to know someone you share a school with; especially when one was a friend of Tony Stark, who, while not friends with everyone, knew everyone. And Tony knew Clint Barton.
Clint was someone who never melted in the crowd. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by one of his own making. Well. Nothing like Steve, whom everyone seemed to flock to, pulled by invisible strings of charm, but nonetheless, he was popular enough. Bruce knew of him, but it was because of Tony that he actually knew him.
Bruce was seated under a tree, not really caring what day it was, not really caring that the book balanced on his crossed legs was heavy. Not caring for anything, really, except for this mock exam in preparation for next week’s. He was trying to figure out if he'd get the answer quicker if he combined two equations. By chance, he chose a moment to look up and there he was. Clint was passing by, chatting with his friends and god, he was gorgeous; perfect hair (technically, no), perfect eyes (how could he even know that?), and perfect smile (well...). Just-just perfect and geez, how corny was he?
Then- he raised his hand and waved. Bruce was left dumbstruck and almost choked on air because Clint was waving at him. He was having a mental breakdown because he never thought Clint spared him a thought. He should wave back.
He raised his own hand, not as high as Clint's though, and managed to wave his own hand. He covered his mouth with his other hand as Clint turned back to his friends, because if he didn't, he was pretty sure his smile would blind the entire school.
Sadly, he didn't get to smile brightly, not even under his hand, because Tony took a seat beside him and, upon seeing his still waving hand, asked: "You know Barton too?"
Oh.
Of course.
"No," Bruce admitted because Tony was a terrific liar when the situation called for it. He'd been teaching Bruce the art of it all, in between science reports and, while Bruce was getting better at it, Tony could still tell.
"I thought he was waving at me," he clarified. "Didn't want to embarrass him," he added the lie and laughed, trying to swallow his own embarrassment under it, except he was pretty sure it was still heard.
Tony raised an eyebrow in reply.
"Hey, Barton!" Tony called out suddenly. Clint turned around before Bruce could tackle Tony and clamp his mouth shut.
"What?"
"Come here."
He leaned forward and took to pillowing his head with his hands. No way was this happening.
When he looked up, Clint was there, towering over them, something between curiosity and annoyance dancing in his eyes. Beside him, Tony snickered before clearing his throat.
"I can't go to the movies tonight."
What? Bruce had taken to raising both eyebrows at Tony, not an iota of an idea of where this was leading. Clint looked thrown off long enough to forget his annoyance. It returned though and he crossed his arms over his chest.
"And what? You want me to hold your hand while you wipe your tears away? Boohoo, pumpkin."
"No, no, none of that." Tony looked horrified at the prospect of being coddled by Clint; Bruce had to hold back his laughter. He didn't have to worry about holding it back for long though, since in the next minute, Tony managed to push it down to the depths of his stomach.
"It's for Bruce." Much to Bruce’s shock, Tony waved his hand at him. Clint finally looked towards him, but Bruce found that he couldn't meet his gaze. He couldn't, not because he knew he was blushing or might blush or that his brain cells may have died, but because he had no idea what Tony was talking about. Yeah, definitely that.
"What?" He asked at the same time Clint did. Bruce coughed and mentally kicked himself, sparing Clint a glance. Clint was still looking at him, amusement in his eyes.
"Yeah!" Tony continued with that tone that indicated he had just come up with the most brilliant plan. "You know Bruce right? Bruce, Clint. Clint, Bruce. Shake hands," he added. Clint met his hand half-way; Clint's grip was firm and his hand was warm. Or his hand was warm. Probably sweaty. He nearly flinched away from Clint’s grip at the thought.
"Hi, Bruce Banner." Idiot; as if Clint hadn't gotten that. Clint merely grinned at him and cocked his head in Tony's direction.
"Clint Barton. You're really friends with Stark?" he asked, which prompted a laugh from Bruce.
"Hey!" Tony protested, but held up his hand before either of them could speak.
"We're supposed to see MI4-- promised him I would-- but I gotta cancel tonight and someone has to go with Bruce. You want my ticket?"
Bruce was going to kill him. Seriously. Something that involved dipping his tongue in acid because he didn't have anything to run him over with. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and it was only after a moment that he realized that he was not breathing.
Relax, relax, he told himself, but how could he when Tony- Tony who was normally smooth and more logical than this- was being as subtle as his own cars? Never mind the fake movie date! Did he seriously just try to set him up?
Tony seemed pleased with himself. Bruce wanted to punch him. Instead, he took a deep breath and unclenched his fists (somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that his mock exam was slightly ruined).
He dared a look at Clint who- well, he wasn't mad, which was a good thing. He had that glint in his eyes that told Bruce that he had an idea what this was really about. (Yes. God be damned, even if Steve ended up killing him afterwards, he was going to kill Tony.) At least he hasn’t freaked out just yet.
"He's crazy. You know that, right?" Clint threw the question at him. Okay, he wasn't mad at all; Bruce relaxed instantly.
"Yeah, but someone's got to make sure he doesn't actually go mad scientist on us." Bruce was surprised by how easy it was to slip into conversation with Clint. Clint shook his head.
"Good luck with that." That teasing smile was back. That smile. It overrode everything, even the fact that Clint was patting his shoulder, squeezed it once.
"I've learned to deal with it. Sometimes, all it takes is an experiment or two." He still hadn't let go and he had a perfect smile. Bruce would officially call himself a twelve year old by this point if he went on.
"My love isn't that easy to buy." Tony sounded indignant, but the truth was it really was their love of science that made them friends.
"No, no. It's much easier," Bruce reassured him with a pat on the arm.
"Much as movie night with a newly acquainted stranger sounds like a plethora of possibilities, I've already got plans." Clint did look slightly sorry, patting him again before letting go. Then he smirked at Tony and added, "You'll have to do better than that Stark. Maybe next time. See you 'round Banner." And he walked away, probably to catch up with his friends who had gone ahead.
To his credit, Bruce waited until Clint was gone, before he punched Tony in the arm. Tony shouted in surprise and rubbed at it, glaring at him.
"It wasn't that hard," Bruce said, batting his eyes, as if that would make it any better. Tony rolled his eyes but grinned, slapping Bruce on the back. Bruce would have told him that that hurt except he knew that the conversation would only devolve into something pointless.
"Dude, he totally likes you," Tony said with extreme confidence. Bruce wanted to believe him except that that was the exact tone he had used when they were mixing acids and had promised that nothing would happen to the Erlenmeyer.
"He's only just met me. There's nothing to like."
"You're kidding me, right? You're like a lovable teddy bear!" Tony narrowed his eyes and leaned back, eyeing him. "Hmm. Maybe if you put on more weight and maybe used a bench press once a month. Or got a beer belly. But, hey! Don't let go of all this fabulous!" Tony patted his hair, which he'd been growing, too lazy to have it cut. "Makes you seem wild."
"Unkempt," Bruce argued.
"Sexy," Tony insisted.
Bruce shook his head, but he was grinning because Tony might not be right, but he had gotten them to talk. And Clint had smiled. Christ, that should be preserved in some picture or song or deconstructed into molecular structures.
**
The rest is on tumblr
They station themselves at two different places in the room. Bruce has seated himself on one of the bar stools, swirling his glass of water absentmindedly. Clint, on the other hand, is permanently in the center of the room, trading laughs, gibes and can after can of beer with everyone. Music thrums and vibrates; Bruce can feel his teeth chattering in time to the beat. Clint has taken advantage of the music to twirl girl after girl.
It happens in a flash, quick as lightning. Bruce centers his gaze on the man attracting the room's attention. He thinks it's safe because the crowd has thickened and everyone is moving. Someone has downed the lights and opted for the spotlights; it zips between people, hides and highlights enough features to make everyone interesting and attractive. He thinks it's safe to look at Clint with affection and want, instead of hurt.
Except, the moment he turns his gaze to Clint, the crowd separating them disperses, and Clint locks eyes with him. The grin shrinks and his brows furrow except Bruce can't read him, doesn't want to. His heart is pounding and he's imagining tears in his eyes.
The moment is over quickly. The music is turned up and the crowd cheers. Through the spaces in between limbs, Bruce sees someone tap Clint, who promptly turns away, and a second later, he is laughing once more. The sound carries all the way to his place in the room. It isn’t mocking, but he imagines that it is anyway, because it makes it easier for him to feel bad towards Clint.
Enough. He's leaving; he can't believe he let Steve talk him into this ("We haven't hung out for some time and I know you're not busy. Please?"). It's- it's not him, not him at all. He should be in bed or in the diner across his apartment, reading up on Physics or the latest issue of Time or brushing his tea, watering Betty- anything but this.
He strides out of the room, elbows his way out, ignores the people flipping him off, and gives a silent thank you for the party being on the first floor. He rushes past people, tells himself to breathe deep, inhales, but what fills his lungs is smoke so he coughs and holds his breath. He turns left at the end of the hallway and curses Tony's house for being huge.
"Aaw, Bruce! You came!" Speak of the devil. An arm wraps around him and he is pulled to Tony's side, Tony’s mouth directly beside his ear so he could be heard above the noise.
"Just about to leave!" Bruce shouts back, trying to wrench himself away, but Tony is having none of that.
"But I just found you! Isn't it-- your turn to find me, 'sn't it?" He can smell the alcohol Tony's been drinking, something strong, probably a large amount. Bruce can't help it; he wrinkles his nose.
"You haven't even had a drink yet, have you?" Tony's veering in topic would have normally amused Bruce, but Tony starts leading him back to the room he had left, because, sadly, that's where most of the drinks were coming form. Bruce settles a hand on Tony's arm, the one trapping him by his shoulders, and pushes it off.
"Buddy, buddy." Tony takes a hold of his arm. "Gotta tell me 'sup."
Bruce stares at him, incredulous. Wonders how much Tony has consumed. Part of him worries while a part of him wants to lash out at him.
"You knew he'd be here, you ass!" Bruce is shouting now, not just because the music is loud. Tony stares at him, wondering, calculating something in his mind but it's nowhere quick enough, not this time. Bruce pulls his arm close to him, Tony taking the hint and letting go.
"Gotta run, Stark! I'll see you on Monday!" Maybe, probably. Off he goes, knowing that Tony will forgive and literally forget. He spots Steve, who does not look amused by what is happening. Bruce grabs him and shoves him in the direction he’d left Tony. “He’s that way!” he says and leaves before Steve can react.
He hopes Steve finds him soon enough, and unless they were fighting about this (how quickly the party had gotten out of control- well, by Steve's standards and god, this better be out of control by Steve's standards), Steve should be hovering and ending the party in a few minutes.
He's finally outside, but the air isn't exactly fresh. In fact, it's probably as bad as that inside. It doesn't smell of sweat and alcohol and smoke, though, so he's happier. He walks pass the parked cars and makes a beeline for his bike. He unchains it and pedals home, trying not to think of how he'd said yes to attending this stupid thing. How disappointed he was when he saw Clint dancing with someone else and looking at him like he didn't know what to do with him.
**
It's hard not to know someone you share a school with; especially when one was a friend of Tony Stark, who, while not friends with everyone, knew everyone. And Tony knew Clint Barton.
Clint was someone who never melted in the crowd. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by one of his own making. Well. Nothing like Steve, whom everyone seemed to flock to, pulled by invisible strings of charm, but nonetheless, he was popular enough. Bruce knew of him, but it was because of Tony that he actually knew him.
Bruce was seated under a tree, not really caring what day it was, not really caring that the book balanced on his crossed legs was heavy. Not caring for anything, really, except for this mock exam in preparation for next week’s. He was trying to figure out if he'd get the answer quicker if he combined two equations. By chance, he chose a moment to look up and there he was. Clint was passing by, chatting with his friends and god, he was gorgeous; perfect hair (technically, no), perfect eyes (how could he even know that?), and perfect smile (well...). Just-just perfect and geez, how corny was he?
Then- he raised his hand and waved. Bruce was left dumbstruck and almost choked on air because Clint was waving at him. He was having a mental breakdown because he never thought Clint spared him a thought. He should wave back.
He raised his own hand, not as high as Clint's though, and managed to wave his own hand. He covered his mouth with his other hand as Clint turned back to his friends, because if he didn't, he was pretty sure his smile would blind the entire school.
Sadly, he didn't get to smile brightly, not even under his hand, because Tony took a seat beside him and, upon seeing his still waving hand, asked: "You know Barton too?"
Oh.
Of course.
"No," Bruce admitted because Tony was a terrific liar when the situation called for it. He'd been teaching Bruce the art of it all, in between science reports and, while Bruce was getting better at it, Tony could still tell.
"I thought he was waving at me," he clarified. "Didn't want to embarrass him," he added the lie and laughed, trying to swallow his own embarrassment under it, except he was pretty sure it was still heard.
Tony raised an eyebrow in reply.
"Hey, Barton!" Tony called out suddenly. Clint turned around before Bruce could tackle Tony and clamp his mouth shut.
"What?"
"Come here."
He leaned forward and took to pillowing his head with his hands. No way was this happening.
When he looked up, Clint was there, towering over them, something between curiosity and annoyance dancing in his eyes. Beside him, Tony snickered before clearing his throat.
"I can't go to the movies tonight."
What? Bruce had taken to raising both eyebrows at Tony, not an iota of an idea of where this was leading. Clint looked thrown off long enough to forget his annoyance. It returned though and he crossed his arms over his chest.
"And what? You want me to hold your hand while you wipe your tears away? Boohoo, pumpkin."
"No, no, none of that." Tony looked horrified at the prospect of being coddled by Clint; Bruce had to hold back his laughter. He didn't have to worry about holding it back for long though, since in the next minute, Tony managed to push it down to the depths of his stomach.
"It's for Bruce." Much to Bruce’s shock, Tony waved his hand at him. Clint finally looked towards him, but Bruce found that he couldn't meet his gaze. He couldn't, not because he knew he was blushing or might blush or that his brain cells may have died, but because he had no idea what Tony was talking about. Yeah, definitely that.
"What?" He asked at the same time Clint did. Bruce coughed and mentally kicked himself, sparing Clint a glance. Clint was still looking at him, amusement in his eyes.
"Yeah!" Tony continued with that tone that indicated he had just come up with the most brilliant plan. "You know Bruce right? Bruce, Clint. Clint, Bruce. Shake hands," he added. Clint met his hand half-way; Clint's grip was firm and his hand was warm. Or his hand was warm. Probably sweaty. He nearly flinched away from Clint’s grip at the thought.
"Hi, Bruce Banner." Idiot; as if Clint hadn't gotten that. Clint merely grinned at him and cocked his head in Tony's direction.
"Clint Barton. You're really friends with Stark?" he asked, which prompted a laugh from Bruce.
"Hey!" Tony protested, but held up his hand before either of them could speak.
"We're supposed to see MI4-- promised him I would-- but I gotta cancel tonight and someone has to go with Bruce. You want my ticket?"
Bruce was going to kill him. Seriously. Something that involved dipping his tongue in acid because he didn't have anything to run him over with. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and it was only after a moment that he realized that he was not breathing.
Relax, relax, he told himself, but how could he when Tony- Tony who was normally smooth and more logical than this- was being as subtle as his own cars? Never mind the fake movie date! Did he seriously just try to set him up?
Tony seemed pleased with himself. Bruce wanted to punch him. Instead, he took a deep breath and unclenched his fists (somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that his mock exam was slightly ruined).
He dared a look at Clint who- well, he wasn't mad, which was a good thing. He had that glint in his eyes that told Bruce that he had an idea what this was really about. (Yes. God be damned, even if Steve ended up killing him afterwards, he was going to kill Tony.) At least he hasn’t freaked out just yet.
"He's crazy. You know that, right?" Clint threw the question at him. Okay, he wasn't mad at all; Bruce relaxed instantly.
"Yeah, but someone's got to make sure he doesn't actually go mad scientist on us." Bruce was surprised by how easy it was to slip into conversation with Clint. Clint shook his head.
"Good luck with that." That teasing smile was back. That smile. It overrode everything, even the fact that Clint was patting his shoulder, squeezed it once.
"I've learned to deal with it. Sometimes, all it takes is an experiment or two." He still hadn't let go and he had a perfect smile. Bruce would officially call himself a twelve year old by this point if he went on.
"My love isn't that easy to buy." Tony sounded indignant, but the truth was it really was their love of science that made them friends.
"No, no. It's much easier," Bruce reassured him with a pat on the arm.
"Much as movie night with a newly acquainted stranger sounds like a plethora of possibilities, I've already got plans." Clint did look slightly sorry, patting him again before letting go. Then he smirked at Tony and added, "You'll have to do better than that Stark. Maybe next time. See you 'round Banner." And he walked away, probably to catch up with his friends who had gone ahead.
To his credit, Bruce waited until Clint was gone, before he punched Tony in the arm. Tony shouted in surprise and rubbed at it, glaring at him.
"It wasn't that hard," Bruce said, batting his eyes, as if that would make it any better. Tony rolled his eyes but grinned, slapping Bruce on the back. Bruce would have told him that that hurt except he knew that the conversation would only devolve into something pointless.
"Dude, he totally likes you," Tony said with extreme confidence. Bruce wanted to believe him except that that was the exact tone he had used when they were mixing acids and had promised that nothing would happen to the Erlenmeyer.
"He's only just met me. There's nothing to like."
"You're kidding me, right? You're like a lovable teddy bear!" Tony narrowed his eyes and leaned back, eyeing him. "Hmm. Maybe if you put on more weight and maybe used a bench press once a month. Or got a beer belly. But, hey! Don't let go of all this fabulous!" Tony patted his hair, which he'd been growing, too lazy to have it cut. "Makes you seem wild."
"Unkempt," Bruce argued.
"Sexy," Tony insisted.
Bruce shook his head, but he was grinning because Tony might not be right, but he had gotten them to talk. And Clint had smiled. Christ, that should be preserved in some picture or song or deconstructed into molecular structures.
**
The rest is on tumblr