Thunderstruck
Clint ran a hand through his short hair, attempting to give it some volume after being plastered to his head from the sweat inside his helmet. He was grateful that Tony had made his inner ear aids waterproof or they would have short circuited within the first fifteen minutes of tryouts. The evening breeze felt nice against his skin as he pulled his shirt off, resting his hands on the neckline of his padding. His right and left arms were both sore in a good way, the offensive coach wanting to test him after he had offhandedly admitted he was ambidextrous. “Everyone in!” The head coach, Fury, called, Clint breaking into a slight jog along with those around him. He caught Bucky’s eye and headed over to him, finding himself next to Bucky, Pietro, and Steve.
He had only known Bucky and Steve for a week but he already thought of them as friends. Bucky had joined their little riding group in the mornings on the way to school, both of them riding side by side listening to Clint's music. He ate lunch with Steve and Sam, both of them finding more difficult displays of accuracy to test him with. He shared physics with T’challa, both of them constantly complaining about how much of a pushover the teacher was. He shared four block English with Thor, partnering with him on their first project. He was surprised that they all accepted him so quickly but then again his friends had done the same, offering rides and homework answers and already making plans to go to the mall this weekend. He gave Steve a small nod and ruffled Pietro’s hair with a smile as the coach spoke up, gaining his attention. “Well tonight is the final night of tryouts and I thank everyone who came out. We had a larger turnout than I expected this year due to the redistricting bullshit which also means the main team has changed,” the team murmured quietly, tension growing in the crowd. Clint realized that a lot of the seniors here have played with one another for years, so having someone like Clint come in and possibly take their position was a threat. “And as you know, I’m not one to make you guys stay longer than you need to be here because I want to go home so let’s reveal the positions. If you have a problem or think you can do better, then work your ass off and prove it, don’t complain to me.” Fury grabbed a white binder with laminated pages inside of it that Clint could only assume was the playbook.
“Clint Barton, get up here,” the one eyed man called, the team staring at him. Clint felt his heart stop, his feet forcing him forwards towards Fury. He felt the bile building in the back of his throat, praying to whatever god was out there that he wouldn’t be the first player kicked off the team. He wasn’t leader material, shit he was far from it. He was a mess and he knew that this only meant that he was going to be taken of the team. But why was it so public, why didn’t they just list the people who made the team and let the others accept that they hadn’t made it. He stopped in front of him, the team to his back and his thoughts buzzing wildly in his head. “I know you’ve been playing for a long time at Shield and a lot of the players here have been spending most of their high school careers trying to injure you, but I feel like you will be able to lead this team well this year, possibly get us a state championship. You think you can be our Varsity quarterback?” Clint opened his mouth in shock, catching Sam and Thor’s stares. They were both nodding rapidly, thumbs up. Clint nodded back, still weighing what the man had said, meeting Fury’s stare once again.
“I would be honored coach, I won’t let you down,” he replied, shaking Fury’s hand as the man handed him the playbook. The man clutched his hand harder, catching Clint off guard.
“I know you won’t, I picked you for a reason,” Fury’s quiet words were still ringing loudly in his head as he turned around, staring at the team, his team. It was a mixture of looks of approval, confusion, and disgust, but mostly the first. Clint felt awkward, hand raising to scratch the back of his head when he heard a whoop from the back. Clint flushed to see Pietro cheering for him, Steve and Bucky joining quickly and the rest of the team soon after. Clint walked back to his spot, earning a warm smile from Steve and Bucky clapping a hand on his back.
“You’re gonna share that book, right?” Steve whispered, Clint laughing quietly in response. He remembered Bucky saying something about Steve being the backup quarterback because some asshole named Brock convinced Fury that he shouldn’t be the main quarterback due to his asthma.
“Rogers! I see you laughing, get your ass up here!!” Fury shouted, Steve’s face immediately paling as he jogged over to the coach. The team whistled and whooped as he ran up, Clint, Pietro, and Bucky all shared a guilty but content look as Steve stood in front of Fury, hand twitching. “You already know what position you’re getting, I just wanted to embarrass you in front of everyone, now go back,” the group laughed, Steve grumbling something about ‘the minute he turned 18 he could legally kick Fury’s ass…’ Fury pulled out a clipboard which seemed to have a list on it, reading off names as he went. A lot of them were people Clint didn’t know, some were some really good players from his old team, and then he got to the wide receivers. “Pietro Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, and Sam Wilson,” he called, all three of them shaking one another and high fiving each other. “Alright, you guys can calm down,” Fury shook his head, the group quieting until he finished the list. The team was giving gentle congratulations to one another, a few kids Clint hadn’t even met shaking his hand warmly.
“What the fuck coach, what about me?” A brunette stepped forwards, cross and flame tattoos visible up his arms. Clint felt his stomach drop as the man’s friends glared at Clint, knowing what was about to go down. Saying how Clint and Steve had taken the positions for quarterback, Clint could only guess that the man was Rumlow.
“You didn’t work hard enough Brock, it’s no one's fault but your own. You were also concerned about Steve being the main quarterback so Clint just beat your spot. I’m sorry,” Fury replied, shrugging it off like he was just another person, which Brock apparently didn’t like. Brock turned towards him, rage growing with every word.
“Coach how can you expect your team to be run by a deaf fag!” Brock growled, the words hitting a little too close to home. Steve began to step forwards but Clint put out his hand, a smirk crossing his face. He had been told that he had no self preservation at all, which wasn’t a lie.
“Sorry I took the only thing that made you somewhat noticeable in your high school career, which will most likely be the highlight of your life with where you’re going,” Clint responded, Brock’s face falling. Clint basked in the quiet ‘oh shit’s’ and ‘oooo’s’ from the group for a moment before he felt a fist collide with his nose, a hollow sound filling his ears. He felt a large flash of pain and stumbled backwards into Thor who steadied him.
“Alright break it up! Locker rooms and go home!” Fury demanded, the group grudging dispersing. Clint reached up to his nose, cursing as he felt it bent out of shape. It was throbbing in pain, the purple band-aid on his nose pulling in one place and was loose on the other. He felt a trickle of liquid roll thickly from his nose and he rolled eyes, wiping the maroon liquid from his lips and jaw.
“Aw, nose, no…” he sighed defeatedly, slumping as Thor laughed. He was glad he didn’t yelp, which was a regular response to someone breaking his nose. He winched at the thought, realizing he had it happen so often he could call his responses regular. That was a little fucked up, huh.
“I take it this happens a lot?” Thor asked, almost like he could read Clint’s mind. Clint managed a weak smile, not really wanting to talk about it.
“Yeah, I really need to get out of trouble, I’m just too clumsy,” Clint shrugged, earning a low growl from Bucky. He twisted to the man suddenly, the sound surprising him. Ever since he met Bucky he had been kind, with a sarcastic and fatalistic touch of humor. He was the last person Clint expected to be the protective type, and yet.
“I wouldn’t call Rumlow’s fist connecting with your nose “clumsy”. What were you thinking? I already have one reckless blonde to look after, I don’t need another!” Bucky looked exasperated, voice growing in pitch and Clint couldn’t help but laugh, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I’m surprised he went this long without getting punched,” Pietro pitched in, Clint shooting a light glare in his brother's direction.
“The death of me! That’s what you two are going to be! Between you and Steve I’m going to be found dead in a ditch cleaning up one of your messes!” Bucky threw up his hands, the group now joining Clint in laughter at the short flustered man in front of them, face getting redder by the moment.
“Aw, you’re cute when you’re mad,” Clint joked, watching as the man froze before turning a dark red, Steve laughing loudly at his best friend. He expected the man to ignore it, not get as flustered as he did. That was definitely going to be placed in his memory bank for future blackmail.
“Shut up,” he muttered as he bit his lip, Clint pulling the man closer to him so his arm was around Bucky’s shoulders. He enjoyed the soft blush on the man’s cheeks, it was a good look on him.
“C’mon, let’s go get some ice cream and celebrate, we earned it,” Steve smiled, Clint and Pietro sharing a nervous look.
“I’ll text dad, he’s more likely to listen,” Pietro signed to Clint who nodded. The others looked between them in interest, Clint blowing it off. He waited for Pietro to sigh in relief and nod before he spoke again.
“Last one there has to pay!” Clint said suddenly before taking off, the others squawking in shock before taking off behind him, Clint and Pietro pouring in all their energy to stay in front of the others. In the end Steve had to pay because his truck was slow and he blamed it on asthma and that running wasn’t fair, but Clint didn’t mind, at least he got purple sprinkles.