Sunday had Steve visiting Clint at home; the new cast on his leg and painkillers in his system had him in bed for most of the day. The poor guy was so completely dejected by the end of his football season that he wasn't much fun, but as Thor and Bruce showed up in turn, he opened up a little. Tony showed up a little later, with a present which turned out to be a box of colored Sharpies.

"So people can sign your cast, you know." Clint nodded, thanked him and let the guys to draw on his leg. Steve took his time, drawing mini Clint with a bow and arrow, which was quickly declared the best. They did all they could to make Clint feel better, but left feeling certain they had failed at the task.

It was rather clear that Clint was miserable and the one person that could cheer him up was currently not speaking to him.

Monday had Steve back at the school stadium, again before everyone else and opening his locker only to pause. At the bottom of his locker, lying on top of his cleats, was a square piece of paper. Thinking it was a note from Bruce or maybe Fury, though he could not think of why either one would leave him a note in such an unusual fashion, he picked it up and opened it.

Dear Steve,

Sorry about talking to you like this. I would like to talk to you, but you're a little intimidating, you know? Probably not, you are one of the nicest guys out there. Forget that. The nicest guy. Ever.

I just wanted to let you know I like you. You are a really great guy, a good quarterback and a handsome senior too. I'm sorry I could not say that to your face. Maybe one day I will get the guts up to do that. But until then, good luck this weekend. You guys will do alright. I know it.

Yours,

S.A.

Steve could not believe it. Someone… Someone thought he was a great guy? A handsome senior? What the hell?

A second later, there was a loud bang that announced Thor's arrival, and Steve hurriedly stuffed the note into his jean pocket and resumed changing into his pads. He forced his thoughts away from the mysterious S.A. for the remainder of practice, but as soon as he was clear and out of sight of the stadium, he fished it out of his pocket again and read it a second time.

It was like reading a note that Jane might have left for Thor. A little bit like he was intruding on someone else's life, and if the note had not been addressed to him, he might very well have thought that. This S.A. he felt sure that it was a girl. Maybe the neat handwriting, or the sweet words, but no, it had to be a girl. How could a girl sneak into the locker room and put a note in his locker?

He did not have the slightest clue. And for now, he decided not to think any more about it. As much as possible.

Clint thought that dealing with his personal life was hard, but it turned out witnessing practice without him on Tuesday hurt physically. He would have given his leg up to be out there with them, running, hitting, practicing for the upcoming game against the Panthers. Watching Steve and Jimmy Sitwell, the back up running back, practicing HIS plays was rougher than he could have thought. It did not help that Jimmy was truly terrible.

Bruce stood next to him, his eyes on the play as Sif ploughed into Jimmy yet again.

"This guy is hopeless." He muttered under his breath

"Nothing we can do about it until you get better." Clint fumed as Bruce blew his whistle and called Fandral and Hokun over to work on some pass plays instead.

Clint felt like he was slowly drowning. Everything that had made his life worth living was disappearing. First Natasha, then football. If it had not been for his friends, he might have just given up altogether. Steve had been to his house almost every day, and was helping him with his homework. Thor was still unafraid of giving him a friendly punch, which Clint appreciated a hell of a lot, because it meant Thor knew he was still Clint and not some fragile weakling. And Tony had snuck him as much liquor as he wanted.

As the practice ended, and Thor drove him home, he reflected on just how long six weeks really was. He hated his life and hated his cast, and hated his best friend.

Natasha had been avoiding him too, he realised on Monday. No longer able to crawl through vents to stay away from her, he realised that she had been avoiding him too, because so far they had yet to bump into each other in the school.

He was struggling into pyjama pants, going through the same circles for the past two weeks. If only he could apologise to Natasha, make up with her, maybe things could be better. But he was too proud for that. He could not apologise to someone who had thrown his feelings out the window like that. He just couldn't.

The newly named Shield High Avengers have pulled through another big win in their second regular season game last Friday night, beating the Vemessa Rams 17 to 14. But the real news of the game was the ankle injury for running back Clint Barton. Sources have stated he will be on the bench for the next six weeks, or the rest of the regular season, with him maybe making a come back if the Avengers make it to the playoffs. But can the Avengers make it to the playoffs without Barton's running game?

Assistant Coach Bruce Banner stated earlier this year "No single player on this team is a star. They are all stars. A team needs each and every member to work at its best. We have each member of this team with us, and we are at our best." Should this statement reflect on the teams prospects without Barton, they would seem grim indeed.

Meanwhile, millionaire and kicker Tony Stark...

Tony furiously threw the paper across the room. Stupid school paper. Not important. He hated to think about the team suffering, even through the poorly chosen lens of the wannabe journalist who had written that crap. He grabbed the cup of coffee off the table and chugged back half of it.

And, he was a billionaire, not a millionaire. She should do her damn research.

If Pepper read that, she would think him completely conceited as well. That he had wanted to be named in that order. It mad his temper boil.

Forcing his mind to change gears, he strode over to the window and took a deep, calming breath. He would need to be at the top of his game. The special teams, he had learnt in his sophomore year, was the least remarked part of the game. But, if they did poorly, people would blame them first. It was a thankless job, but he still liked to be a part of it. A part of a school team, not some upper class world. It kept him grounded. Sort of.

His reactor was still not working, and he was starting to think he was really wasting his time with Pepper. The horribly ironic thing, was that he had no desire to throw himself into another project, or another girl. It was like he still believed in those two terrible ideas, even if they had both proven not to work. No wonder people thought him crazy.

Sighing, he grabbed his school bag and met Happy in the drive with his Mustang. Maybe a brainwave would hit him. Maybe.

Thor sat on the highest row of the stadium, watching the sun set. Practice had ended an hour ago, but he did not feel ready to face his parents yet. If he was lucky, he might stay out late enough that they would already be down for the night. He thought about all the things that had happened in the past few months. Between Jane and his parents, he was in a place he never thought he would be. One he had sincerely hoped to avoid.

Someone dropped into the seat beside him, making him jump. He relaxed right away when he recognised Sif.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Did my parents call you?"

"No. Saw your car still in the parking lot." She grinned at him. "Don't worry about the game on Friday. Its going to be alright." He gave a dry chuckle.

"You really think that? Our offense sucks without Clint..."

"Just means that you and I will have to work that much harder." Thor felt his smile slip again and saw Sif studying him out of the corner of his eye.

Sif was his oldest friend. They had grown up together, wrestled in the living room at Christmas, raced bikes in the summer, even moved to the States nearly at the same time. She was like the sister he never had.

He knew his father (and hers too probably) wanted them to end up together. Wanted them to be a couple, to be the future. It was like an arranged marriage without signing a contract.

"What's wrong, Thor." She said, snapping his attention back to the present.

"Did... did you ever think I would be here, be in the same situation as..." He did not need to finish his sentence. She knew everything about what plagued him.

"Truthfully? No. But I don't think its the same situation. Don't think for one second that Jane has a bad influence on you, because she doesn't. You are better for being with her." She threw her arm around him. "Plus, I like her. She is just the opposite you are, completely logical and straight forward, where you are impulsive and strong. You complement each other."

"How come you can see that and Odin can't?" He said miserably.

"Because our parents only ever want to see what they want to see. They never actually look." He glanced over at her.

"Like how your parents see you dressing up for prom and thinking about dating boys and not tackling them?" She looked down at her hands.

"I think about dating."

"Really?" His original sadness had been replaced with curiosity. "Who do you thinking about dating?"

"No one you need to worry about. Come on. I'm starving." pulling him up and leading him out of the stadium

Bruce glared at the scoreboard. It glared right back at him, challenging him, egging him on. He hated the damn thing.

Resolutely turning his back, he strode into the change rooms where the team had gathered for half time. They were up against the Chargers tonight and it was proving to be a true battle for the inches. They were trailing by one touchdown. Not even a converted one, thanks to Thor's truly beautiful performance, but 6 points still meant they were behind.

And it was his turn to play.

Fury was standing just inside the changeroom. Bruce looked at him, asking permission to speak, permission to take control. Fury gave him a nod. Despite Bruce almost always taking control of the team as if he were the head coach, he never forgot that he was only there because Fury let him be.

"Alright listen up!" Bruce shouted, and the room fell silent as the team turned to him. He inhaled deeply, and took the time to look at each of the players as he spoke, forcing his own voice to stay steady. "We are losing. That is not what we are here for! We are going to start playing some damn football! Hokun, Fandral, be ready because you guys are going to score this half. And if you don't I will make you pay come Sunday practice." Hokun gave him a nod, and Fandral's grin vanished replaced with a somber look.

"That number 86, he's always covering me..." He said with a sheepish look.

"I did not ask for your excuses! I asked for you to get open! You can do that, so do it!" He felt his control slip ever so slightly as he tried to be as tough as he could. He turned to his quarterback. "Steve, keep that ball in the air. We are not running anymore, unless you run it yourself." Steve nodded once as well, a determined glint in his blue eyes.

"Defense, we need to start stuffing them. They have passed three times all half so Thor wake the hell up and block the damn run! Same goes for you Sif!"

He finally turned to the last person he needed to yell at. Clint was leaning against the wall, his jersey on over a pair of jeans. He had the same sullen look he had on his face for the past week, and as Bruce glared at him, he glared right back.

"And finally..."

"What? Don't break your ankle Clint?" The injured player sneared.

"No. If I hear one more negative comment come out of your mouth,. I will kick you off the field myself. You will be off this team. Your team still needs you, and your crappy attitude is dragging us all down. Understood?"

Clint glared at his coach, his friend for a long minute before finally saying, his teeth gritted. "Understood."

"Good. Lets get out there and win this thing!" Bruce roared and the change room erupted in a loud war cry.

Bruce had Tony line up for the kick off, with Thor, and Sif backing him up. Thor managed a beautiful tackle at the enemy thirty yard line to get the defensive drive started.

Thor and Sif led the defense through a tough block, and twice Thor stuffed the middle harder than Bruce thought possible, pushing the running back past the quarterback for a loss. Bruce felt a small amount of trepidation as he sent Sitwell out of a kickreturn. The only one who could carry the ball at all at the moment.

Thankfully, Clint stayed silent. The poor kid did get levelled, but managed to get up and hobble off the field, where Bruce heard Clint give him a small "Good job" even if Steve took the ball in terrible field position. Steve met his eyes, and a fierce determination passed through Bruce, who quickly sent a signal out to him, as he ran. They were going to take this game, if Steve had anything to say about it.

The horn finally sounded and Natasha felt that she had never heard such a good sound. The game was painful to watch with the ball nearly always being passed. As a result, Steve had gotten intercepted no less than five times, a record for the team and for Steve. But the fact was, more you pass, more chance you have of being intercepted.

The score had tied at ten points apiece. It wasn't a loss, but it was close. Natasha felt herself simmer at Clint. If he hadn't been so stupid, he could have been playing and the Avengers could have swept up a third win. Or maybe if Sitwell was not so god forsakenly terrible.

Pepper was the only one who shared her fury at the tie. Jane and Betty both did not seem to grasp the issues the game had presented with the team. They seemed focused on two things. Thor, and Bruce, respectively.

Natasha felt a tug at her heart and wished she could go find Clint and rage at him, vent, maybe beat him up a little, but she resolutely turned her feet in the direction of Bruce's apartment. She had stayed there as often as she dared, but tonight, she felt that if her uncle tried to take it out on her, she might end up in even bigger shit.

Silently, she climbed up the fire escape and was a little surprised to find Bruce already there, feeding his fish.

"Hi." She said softly.

"Jesus, Natasha. You know there is a front door."

"Mhm, I like the challenge."

"You're one weird girl."

"You're one weird guy. Shouldn't there be a girl you are meeting up with?"

"How..."

"She didn't shut up about it all night." Natasha said, taking a seat on his bed and watching a cloud flash across his face.

"I can't see her tonight. I can't see her at all. I'm... not good for her."

"Please, you are the H2 to her O. You are practically made for each other."

"Like you and Clint?"

"We're not..."

"You two have been joined at the hip from day one Natasha. I've seen the way he looks at you." He turned to her, a hard look on his face, one that she had never seen there before. It was tough, authoritative, mean even. It did not seem to fit on Bruce's face. She glared right back at him.

"Fine. I won't bug you about Betty if you won't bug me about Clint."

He gave a nod and turned to put the fish food away. "I'm sorry. That was mean." he said softly, in a completely different voice.

"Its alright Bruce. We are friends. Its all good."

Natasha quickly pulled out the matress that was her bed when she slept here. She had not dared to share Bruce's bed. She knew, deep down, it was not because she was guilty about Betty, or because she had already tried to use him. It was because he was not Clint. Bruce was a very nice person, too nice sometimes. But he was not Clint. She didn't want to sleep in the same bed as him. Whereas with Clint, she always wanted to. It was a strange dichotomy, but she felt no need to examine it closer. Maybe by the end of the year, she would want to sleep in the same bed as Bruce. Maybe by the end of the year, she would jump his bones just to distract herself from the pain of comparing him to Clint.

Ok, I admit it. This is a bit of a filler chapter, because I needed time. Next chapter will be up soon!

If you favorite this story, you will get a kiss at midnight on New years! (I think...)