Jumper

Clint noticed a shift in the kid’s behavior as he was finishing up the last dregs of his coffee, but he didn’t delve too deeply into thinking about it. No, his concern had shifted back to the original reason he’d invited the kid out, and he set his mug down and steepled his fingers together, looking the teen dead in the eyes. The kid shrank a bit at his direct gaze, seeming especially nervous as he wiped his palms against his jeans and glanced away.

“So,” Clint began, more softly, understandingly. “I know you probably don’t want to talk too much about this, but-”

“No, no!” The kid interrupted, then looked absolutely mortified for having done so but continued on anyway. “You’re just doing your d- uh- civic duty,” he got out, tugging a bit on the strands of hair at the back of his neck.

Clint nodded along amiably. “Course,” he agreed, tilting his head slightly. “Would you be alright with letting me know if this was something you’ve thought about doing before?” he asked gently, subtly hunching his shoulders and lowering his head down so his figure was less imposing - not that it normally was all that imposing out of costume, he could ruefully admit.

The kid twitched forwards almost imperceptibly, but Clint had a faint suspicion that the teen had just barely managed to restrain himself from thunking his head against the nearest available surface. Then the kid winced, dropping his hand from his neck and switching to wringing it together with his other. “I really, really wasn’t lying about the thing about me, you know, not planning to um, suicide,” he managed to get out, cringing at himself.

Clint hummed, saving the kid from the embarrassment of him verbally acknowledging the garbled grammar. Still, as much as he’d like to take the kid’s words at face value, to do that and later find out that something happened after he walked away…

He couldn’t.

“Did something happen today, then, that made you go up there?” he probed, tone still pitched low and quiet, gaze centered on the kid without any judgment in his eyes. He didn’t feel any judgment towards the teen - nothing like what he might be worried about, at least.

The younger of the duo shook his head tightly. “No, I mean that I wasn’t going to do it, like, at all,” he clarified, tapping his hand against the table as if to emphasize his last word with the quietest of sounds. 

Clint gave the kid a sympathetic look. “Hey, don’t stress about it,” he mollified, giving a little shrug and a quirk of a smile. “I feel like you’re telling me the truth - but if you’re not, that’s okay too -” and he continued on when the kid opened his mouth to interrupt “- but it wouldn’t be alright with me to just leave you after finding you there like that, yeah?”

For a second, the kid looked mulish, but then his shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh that was more resigned than anything. “Yeah,” he quietly agreed, and his expression was so understanding - so knowing - that Clint wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“So,” Clint said, with a bit more brightness, choosing to move on instead, “wanna take a walk?” he asked.

The kid looked completely bemused, but he thankfully didn’t seem wary of Clint’s intentions or anything.

Clint frowned to himself. The kid should probably not be like that. Stranger Danger and all that jazz. He didn’t say anything about it at the moment, though, pushing it aside and hoping he’d remember to mention it later.

He stood up from his seat, and the teen hastened to follow, picking up his plate and cup and setting them by the bin after Clint was finished doing so. Afterwards, they promptly left the shop, and Clint had to slow his pace again so the kid would walk by his side instead of behind him. Like a duckling. Clint resolutely pushed away that thought as well. An adolescent teenager did not remind him of baby duckies. No siree.

“There’s a park down the street from here,” he mentioned, continuing his leisurely pace. The kid nodded agreeably but stayed quiet; he looked like he was pretty deep in thought, so Clint waited for a couple minutes, till the park was in sight, before speaking again. “You gotta let your folks know you're gonna be out for a while longer?” he gently probed, glancing at the kid from the corner of his eye.

The teen jolted a bit, then visibly shook himself out of his reverie. “Ah - no, she’s still at work,” he admitted, giving a shrug.

Clint hummed. “Your mom?” 

The kid winced. “My Aunt.”

Clint barely withheld a wince of his own, and resolutely did not give the kid a sympathetic look for that. He knew those usually didn’t go down well - they hadn’t when he got them in his younger years. “She often work late?” he questioned instead.

The kid opened his mouth as if to respond, then snorted, clapping a hand over his face as if to belatedly cover it up. Clint’s eyebrows raised and he felt his lips twitch up at the corners as he watched, bemused. It took the kid a few seconds to calm himself down, lowering his hand, but he still had a somewhat impish grin plastered on his face. The teen shot him a look, smirk widening. “Do you even hear yourself?” he questioned somewhat disbelievingly, a laugh lining his voice.

Clint tilted his head a bit, eyebrows furrowing a smidge. Then his own grin shot up, and he cupped his ear, exaggeratedly leaning towards the teen. “No, I don’t think I do - mind checking my hearing aids?” he asked with as much genuineness as he could imbue while still wearing a blatant grin.

The kid, despite there being no way he didn’t get that it was a joke, looked absolutely mortified, face flushing puce as he pinwheeled his arms in front of him. He stuttered a few nonsensical words before he managed to formulate a somewhat articulated response. “I - dude - I am so sorry that was super rude for me to say ohmygod I’m sorry - I didn’t realize -”

“Hey!” Clint interrupted, practically shoving a hand into the kid’s face to get him to stop the word vomit. “It was a joke, kid. My aids aren’t really visible, anyways, so I didn’t expect you to see them anyways,” he added glibly.

The teen buried his face in his hands, but his ears were still visible and looked like they’d been affected by a rather violent sunburn. He let out a muffled groan.

“C’mon, what were you gonna say?” Clint goaded, gently grabbing onto the kid’s elbow and steering him around the street lamp he would’ve run straight into, seeing as to how they were still walking. There was some mumbled reply, but nothing understandable. “C’moooon,” Clint dragged out, bumping shoulders with the teen.

The brunette finally dropped his hands to scowl up at him, the color of his face having faded to a light pink. “I said that you’re acting like some kind of child predator,” he said crisply, narrowing his eyes, which glinted with an arch light.

Clint promptly choked on his spit, sputtering as he coughed and beat a fist against his chest, his companion patting mildly against his back. “What?” he wheezed out.

He took note that the kid’s cheeks - once Clint was able to see through the tears burning at his eyes from the strength of his own spluttering - were flushed again, but the teen still answered resolutely, ticking off his fingers as he went. “You take me out to eat-” Clint made a noise of protest, which was promptly ignored, “-you ask if anyone knows if I’m still out, check who’ll be worried about me, and you ask if I have family.”

Clint stared at him for a few moments, utterly speechless. He dazedly turned his gaze back in front of himself, the two of them heading into the park. He could see the kid starting to fidget more and more out of the corner of his eye the longer he went without giving a response, so he managed to gather himself together enough to give one. “Jesus. You’re right,” he said.

The kid’s head snapped to the right towards him, wide eyed and filled with complete shock and alarm.

Clint flustered, realizing how badly he’d chosen to word himself, waving a negatory hand in the kid’s face. “No - no! Not like that!” he exclaimed, slapping his own forehead. “I’m so bad at this,” he muttered. “Why am I so bad at this?” he despairingly mused, shaking his head.

He looked up when he felt a hesitant, consoling pat on his arm. “It’s alright,” the kid said, his comforting smile looking more like a grimace and his tone sounding like a question. 

Clint snorted. “Thanks,” he said amusedly, ruffling the teen’s bird’s nest of hair and ignoring the indignant squawk of protest. 

He glanced up to eye the horizon, and a small furrow formed in his brow when he realized the sun was already beginning to dip into the tree line. 

He tilted his head towards the other, pursing his lips. “Kid,” he started again, and the brunette let out a heavy sigh, raising a hand to cut him off.

He didn’t look at Clint, instead gazing at his feet as they continued walking. “Look - I get it, I really do, but I wasn’t going to jump. I - I wasn’t even thinking about it - not like that. And, I get that it’s your j- that you have to make sure, but I’m - I’m not lying. About that.” He glanced up at Clint, beseeching. Clint knew his expression was probably something between understanding but still resolute, as the kid’s expression turned a bit resigned as he let out another sigh. “I kinda should probably go home soon, so, could I just… give you my phone number and you can call me or something to make sure I’m good?” he asked hopefully.

Clint paused for a second, contemplating, and the kid took a couple of steps forward before he realized that he was no longer being accompanied and stopped as well, turning to face him.

It wasn’t a bad idea, really. It wasn’t like he could just kidnap the kid or something to make sure he was alright. That sort of defeated some of the purpose of the whole checking in thing. And, honestly, the more he talked to the kid, the less he felt like the kid was lying to him about this. Sure, he definitely thought there was something more to the situation, but he didn’t think it was what he’d originally suspected.

He gave a decisive nod. “Here, kid, hand me your phone - I’ll put my number in it and you can give me a call so I can save yours,” he said, taking the Stark Phone as it was handed to him and entering his digits, saving the contact under C.

The kid gave him a small smile and took the phone back, smile widening when he called it and Clint’s phone went off, belting out “We are the Heroes” before he hastily cut it off. He shot the kid a grin of his own. “Alright. I’ll let you get back to it, and you give me a call sometime tomorrow to check in, yeah?”

The kid nodded along readily, shooting him another couple of awkward finger guns. “Um,” the kid started, taking a couple of steps back towards the entrance of the park. “I’ll call you tomorrow then,” he affirmed, taking a few more steps away before turning around fully, Clint content to stand there with his hands shoved in his pockets till the kid would be out of sight. The brunette hesitated, though, nearly at the gate, and turned to call over his shoulder, “By Mr. Barton - thank you!”

Clint quirked a brow, raising a hand to wave goodbye as the kid darted around the corner.

Then his eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he jerked forward. 

Mr. Barton. 

The kid had called him Mr. Barton.

He knew who Clint was.

And - 

Clint wordlessly groaned, tilting his head back to stare beseechingly at the sky. 

And Clint didn't even know the kid's name.