Natasha had a plan. 

     Granted, she didn't like Stark, but his reaction to Clint intrigued her and she was putting all her focus onto figuring him out. She was already watching him - she swears she's not a stalker - for investigative purposes. She's gotten far enough to disprove enough of the rumors around the boy that she'd realized she didn't know him at all. None of them really did. 

     Doesn't mean she likes him. In fact, she was more infuriated that she hadn't started sooner. 

     It's disappointing how, if anyone, Clint gets easily fooled by the rumors. Natasha had hoped she'd taught him how to read people better. She'd gathered that Stark got distracted. A lot. He's picky and lost himself in his thoughts very often, but he's creative and caring and extremely, achingly normal. He is not different from any of the other students. The only dividing factor was his money, but some S.H.E.I.L.D. students had trust funds too - using only legal hacking to find this little nugget - so it doesn't make sense that he's alienated so drastically. 

     But he does have weird quirks that she thinks stemmed from his upbringing in the spotlight - hiding in broom closets to think (not whatever vulgar thing Barnes said on the bleachers), making his driver do drop and pick up a few blocks away from the school (she's caught him walking to and from the building), rushing to finish his homework in the morning or during breaks. He also never eats during the breaks - a fourth meal, but everyone eats (she's eliminated pickiness)- and he's been vanishing from the canteen lately (she can't find him even with her sharp skills). Lastly, he has the widest eyes (definitely not a media tactic) when the rare occurrence of him not understanding a topic during class pops up. 

     It's extremely scarce. The rumors had one thing right - Stark is mind-bogglingly intelligent. He went to MIT before transferring to S.H.E.I.L.D. for whatever reason his father chose. She used to wonder why he didn't go to a boarding school, but she'll come back to that later. He doesn't rub it in people's faces as the rumors would suggest. Unexpectedly he's much quieter than she would've pegged him, but he still has a fast-running mouth and an even faster mind if confronted. And only when he's confronted because the kid has next to zero social life for a so-called media mogul. Whenever someone approaches him he'll start to look around for exits and escape routes with those confused eyes, and holding a conversation seemed to physically pain him. 

     She's merely investigating. That's why she bought him a peace offering: a bag of veggie chips straight from the canteen. She saw him picking at them a couple of times before he began pulling his disappearing act, and he'd better take it because she could've easily given it to Clint. Natasha wrinkled her nose and breathed deeply. She had a job to do. Compartmentalizing, Natasha sauntered to where Stark was hunched over at the furthest table. Her eyes ran over the curve of his back and she almost felt bad for his posture. His brown hair was messy and stuck up in places under his hood. He was wearing his usual attire of a solid turtleneck under one of his faded sweatshirts. Yes, faded as in old and not a fashion statement. He had this faded sweatshirt, one from MIT, and the robotics team's hoodie. He alternated between the three, but the clothing choices rarely varied. Another weird quirk for someone who supposedly liked the spotlight. Natasha flicked her eyes over him. The frayed and chewed edge of the right string definitely showed that he'd had the article for a long period of time. He never seemed to wear short sleeves. Even in the warmer months, though he discarded the hoodie - thank god, he should get rid of that ten-year-old thing - he didn't seem fazed by the sun beating down on him. He was either hiding something or he was self-conscious about his looks. Natasha raised a wan eyebrow. She cleared her throat softly to signal that she was there. 

     Stark jerked, a full-body kind of movement. His hand seized and his pencil rolled onto the ground. He clenched his hand before reaching down to retrieve his writing utensil with his wrapped fingers. She raised an eyebrow at the bandages, trying to remember when he could've gotten hurt. She pegged it to the robotics team. He could've jammed his finger in a piece of metal. He held the pencil close with trembling fingers. His social skills are definitely lacking, she thought. Natasha peeked at his Math paper and sank down across from him. He turned wide eyes up to her and she almost did a double-take at the black frames balancing on his nose. Stark wore glasses. When did he wear glasses?

     "Oh, hello," he muttered. He organized his homework to make space for her and she nodded. Stark pushed his glasses up and she couldn't help but notice that his eyes somehow looked bigger. More childlike. His eyes flitted around like he didn't know where to look and she waited patiently for him to decide. He settled on the milkshake in her hand. "Do you...need something?"

     Natasha cut her eyes to him. He smiled tentatively before ducking his head. "Yes," she spoke. Stark's throat bobbed as he swallowed. Natasha splayed her fingers on the table and set down her milkshake. She sat and crossed her legs, fingering the arrow pendant on her necklace. The condensation eased down the cup and Tony focused on the droplet. She dropped her hand from the golden chain. "I brought a peace offering." She slid the bag toward him. He balked at the food, confusion swirled in his eyes and he glanced at Natasha. 

     "I-I don't..." He trailed off when Natasha placed the bag in his hands. "Sorry," he squeaked and retrieved his wallet. She stared at the worn leather, not expecting to see the Stark heir holding such a normal wallet. On television, rich people usually had wallets that shined, but Stark's was dull and cracked in places. Normalcy was starting to become a recurring subject with the younger. 

     Natasha could barely keep her face straight when he tried to push two dollars into her hand. She ignored the trembling. "I told you it's a peace offering, Stark. You don't have to pay me back." She added some steel to her gaze when he tried to insist. "I gave it to you to apologize about Java Cup. I don't want money." Stark continued to stare with those confused eyes. Natasha sat calmly until he put the bills away. He hesitantly returned to his homework.

     "Stark," she started. 

     "Tony," he bit his lip. "Would you call me Tony?"

     "If you call me Natasha." Now they were getting somewhere. They both nodded. "Tony," she tested. "Where should we meet up? Somewhere with preferably less coffee. Have you been researching?"

     Tony half-shrugged. He rubbed his eyes and looked up. "You choose."

     "Your house," she said. Natasha knew how he'd react, but she wanted to be sure. 

     A microsecond passed and Tony was shaking his head so fast she feared he'd get whiplash. "Sorry, can we go to yours? Howard's still, uh, planning that function." Natasha recognized the look (and picked up the lie) and didn't push. She wasn't expecting him to accept. He had the yearning need to please his father but the underlying fear seized him. Haunted him. She used to feel that way. His eyes lit up a bit and he said, "Actually, how about the library?" 

     She hummed and twirled her milkshake. Her boots clicked in the air. "Sunday? I'm busy on Saturday."

     "Uh, sure. I mean, yes, that works for me too." He frowned at the paper and muttered something under his breath she couldn't catch. 

     Natasha leaned forward. She took the opening. "Are you busy on Saturday?" Tony nodded. "I'm going to this convention thing with Brucie. That's why I can't go."

     Here it comes. Tony leaned forward over the table, his nose almost brushing Natasha's in his excitement. His usually tired brown eyes sparkled mirthfully and he almost bounced in his seat."Bruce Banner's going?" He jabbed his chest. "I'm going to! He didn't tell me he was going!" he exclaimed. The small number of people sitting around looked over at the outburst, but Natasha turned them away with a cold glare. Her green eyes were forest dark as she narrowed her eyes back at them.

     "I better see you there then," she said around her straw when they all turned around swiftly. Tony seemed to remember where he was and sat back down in a heap. His mouth opened and closed, and his face burst into color so quickly she hoped he hadn't popped a vessel. He couldn't die from shame from her now; they had a project to do. His hands twisted in his hoodie and her eyes flicked away. Nervous tick. She tucked that away and smirked coyly. 

     She dipped her finger in the remains of her shake. "Alright. Sunday at two, it's a date." Natasha poked his nose, leaving a dot of vanilla in its wake. Just to coax a reaction from him. She watched Tony splutter and chuckled lightly on her way out. The idea of him being a huge flirt made her roll her eyes. She was glad though, he was too young to already be hung up on girls. And underage. 

     As the door to the study room swung behind her, Natasha looked forward to this weekend. It was the perfect way to gather more information on her latest project.

-----

     Natasha was once again disappointed in Clint's deductive capabilities. They'd talked about Tony's reaction, but nothing had changed. He still glared and spat his name like acid. It was getting on her nerves, but she couldn't blame him. She supposed she could blame him, punish him with the silent treatment, but Clint wasn't going to change overnight and it would take too much energy to ignore her... whatever Clint was to her. Not a friend; they were more than that by now. Maybe 'confidante' was a better word. She couldn't ignore her confidante. She couldn't wait to see his face when he realized he, they, were wrong about everything concerning Tony. All of them. Except for Natasha of course.

     Clint sometimes liked skipping class under the excuse of his hearing aid malfunctioning. It worked on all the teachers - who wanted to say no to the deaf kid? -and she enjoyed the time out of class. Natasha tagged along under the pretense of guiding him to class, and they roamed the desolate halls. It was the fifth period and Clint had pulled his excuse with Mrs. Natalie. He pulled Natasha out of the room and sent Steve and Bucky a smug grin. Natasha rolled her eyes and followed him out of the classroom. 

     "You're lucky her class is easy, Clinton. I will beat the shit out of you if my grade starts dropping because you want to play hooky." Clint furrowed his brow and reached behind his ear. She heard the dial clicking and sucked her teeth. "Ass," she muttered playfully. 

     "You know you love me, babe." He smiled and Natasha wrinkled her nose. She shoved him away and they continued down the hall. Clint shoved his hands in his pockets. "I see you and Stark are getting all chummy."

     She shrugged. Her boots echoed in the hall and she trailed a hand down the chipped lockers. "You could say that." Clint frowned. Natasha moved in front of him and walked backward. "What? Are you jealous?"

     "Of him? Hell no," he snapped sharply. Clint rolled his shoulders and sneered. 

     Natasha pursed her lips. She nodded and stepped alongside him. "Right. Well, you have no reason to be. We're just project partners. You think Stark is going to steal my heart?"

     Clint snorted. "That rhymed. And, no. He's too much an asshole to stay with one person."

     Natasha smirked. "Of course. He is a playboy after all. Are we going to any particular place?" Clint pecked her cheek and she rolled her eyes. He grabbed her hand and led her down the hall. Natasha let Clint sling an arm around her while they walked. She cocked her head to the side when dress shoes clicked down the hall. 

     "Again?" A familiar voice exhaled. "If you weren't my kids, I'd give you detention."

   Clint leaned his head back until Coulson was walking on the ceiling. "Hey, Coulson. How's it hanging?"

     "What are you doing out here?" He folded his arms, pulling the black suit jacket with him. His forehead shone slick with sweat under the lights and Natasha quirked her lip. He probably just finished chasing after some skippers in the halls. He jutted his chin and Natasha picked up on the mock anger. 

     "Clint. His hearing aid wasn't working and I have to take him to the nurse." Coulson's jaw clicked. Natasha pulled Clint close. "I'm telling the truth."

     "Nurse is that way." He pointed back the way they had come. His blue-green eyes narrowed on Clint. "Do you need new aids, Clinton?"

     Clint cupped his ear. "What?" he shouted. "Tasha is taking me to the nurse, Coulson. Stop wasting time. I think I saw someone skipping in a hall over. Under the east stairs. Let's go, Tasha." 

     Natasha shook her head somberly and held her hand over her heart. "As you can see he needs to get to the nurse. We're taking the scenic route. Is that alright with you?" Coulson waved them off and Natasha pulled Clint down the hall. When they turned the corner, giggles tumbled from their lips as they ran. Natasha grinned and ran faster, glancing back to see Clint trying to catch up. She pushed harder, grunting when Clint pinned her to the wall. He smiled tiredly and let her go. "Cheater," she hissed. "I could've smashed my head on the locker, idiot." 

     Clint shoved her shoulder. "As if you'd get hurt after letting me catch up to you. I'm surprised you didn't trip me again."

     Natasha pushed her hair away. "I didn't want to deal with your sniveling tears. Get up," she clapped Clint's shoulder, "we're breaking into the canteen."

     "Now you're speaking my language." Clint pulled himself up, bouncing slightly on his toes. "We haven't done this in ages."

     Natasha smirked. "Aren't I always?" Clint shook his head and her lip quirked. Natasha tilted her head until Clint cracked out an, "Of course." Natasha nodded and they headed their separate ways. 

     That night, the school sent a voicemail to every student's homes, warning that the thieves were going to be severely punished. The punishment would be lessened if they turned themselves in. Natasha and Clint laughed until tears formed. They gorged on the stolen snacks (they weren't selfish and took a large amount) and lied out of their asses when Coulson asked if they were the thieves. Another strike from the Snack Bandits.