Chapter 1- Bruised but Not Broken

A/N- I couldn't resist. I love the Avengers so much! I'm trying to follow their normal life as much as possible, but there are some differences. They are all on purpose. And they don't have any powers or anything. Just kids in high school. But they have the same personalities and similar conditions. For example, Bruce has anger issues and a heart condition.

And I don't know who you like better- Edward Norton or Mark Ruffalo as the Hulk. But I'm picturing Edward and giving his character qualities of both.

NOT TAKING OC'S.

Couples and ages:

(15) ClintXNatasha (15)

(16) TonyXPepper (17)

(16) ThorXJane (15)

(15) SteveXPeggy (14)

(16) BruceXElizabeth (15)

(15) LokiX?

Freshmen:

Clint

Natasha

Steve

Peggy

Sophomores:

Tony

Pepper

Thor

Jane

Loki

Bruce

Elizabeth

Natasha had always been an extremely light sleeper.

She thanked God for it, too. If she weren't a light sleeper, God knows where she would be.

Or Clint.

Her uncle, whom she lived with, on the other hand, was an extremely heavy sleeper. His snores were more like rumbles of boisterous thunder, and Natasha could faintly hear it from the first floor when she was in her room on the second.

"God forbid we have a burglary." she constantly thought to herself.

But believe it or not, his heavy sleeping was extremely beneficial on her part. Almost every night, she had to deal with something of importance, and if her uncle knew about it, she'd be grounded even until after he was- and she really didn't feel like having no privileges until her 50th year.

A sudden noise jarred her from her sleep. It was familiar, and did not startle her. On instinct, she shifted from the middle of her bed to the left side.

She heard the usual pattern of noises- the window shutting and his shoes sliding off his feet before they padded against the hardwood flooring.

Clint's body weighed down the right side of the mattress, and she felt herself sinking. He wasn't laying down. She sat up and rested her hand against his back. "Really bad tonight, huh?" He made no effort to speak- he barely moved his head up and down in response. She almost missed it. It was difficult to see anything in her room, given the time of day, but the moon provided a small amount of light, and it shone on both of their fronts.

Her fingers traced along his back, leaving trails of tingling sensations that almost made him shiver. He was feeling himself become vulnerable, and quietly gulped down the lump in his throat. In the silent room, he might as well of just screamed at the top of his lungs. Nat knew him better than the back of her own hand. She was aware what every single noise, movement, and word signified.

"Shhh...tell me..." Natasha whispered, making slow, rhythmic circles. Clint, afraid his voice would break if he raised it, also whispered, "Look." She then knew how bad it truly was. She rushed to get off the bed and stand in front of him.

A thick black ring surrounded his left eye, and it was majorly swollen. It was barely open as he stared back at her with pale blue eyes. The right side of his jaw also looked bruised, though shadowing disguised his skin. His lower lip was also swollen and coated with dried blood. His arms had huge, dark welts decorating them.

Jade eyes as round as saucers, she stared at him in horror for a few moments before taking a rushed step away from him to go get an ice pack. He caught her arm before she could leave, and she turned and looked at him, alarmed.

"Don't. I'll wait until the morning." He begged her not to leave or heal him with his beautiful irises.

"It is morning." Natasha argued stubbornly, not falling for it. Clint sighed sadly, and bowed his head in defeat as he released her arm. She approached him and gently pulled his head to rest against her stomach. As she ran her fingers through his dirty blonde hair, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"It's not your fault, Clint..."

"Says you." he murmured against the thin fabric that covered her torso.

"Stubborn ass." Natasha remarked, deciding not to argue with him any further. She was stubborn too, and it was best at the moment to let him think he was the winner, but also know that she believed otherwise.

Clint chuckled softly in reply. She forced herself away from her best friend and made no effort to be quiet as she went downstairs and grabbed the two ice packs from her freezer.

If they had to wait until morning, it was certainly possible- Natasha just wanted the swelling to die down. Her uncle left the house at 6 for his job, and knew never to venture upstairs for he could wake her up.

He had learned the hard way that his niece was not a morning person.

She hurried back upstairs to find Clint laying on his respected side of the bed. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't asleep. She gently placed a pack on his eye and under his injured jaw, and he hissed in pain and cringed.

He cursed at himself for being so weak. Natasha had always been mentally stronger than him, and he envied her sometimes for this. But he knew why it was so.

They shared many things in common, the main similarity being that both their parents were dead.

A difference, though, is that Natasha didn't blame herself for her parent's deaths. They were killed in Russia by spies when she was about two, and didn't remember them well. Her uncle took her into his care and they moved to New York to get away from any other spies who threatened to kill her too.

Clint, on the other hand, had always lived in New York. When he was five and his brother Barney was eight, they were being babysat because their parents were on a date. Clint got sick, and their parents turned back to take care of them when they were hit by a drunk driver, killing them all instantly.

Ever since that day, Barney had blamed him for their deaths. Every day, he would remind Clint that it was his fault. And eventually, Clint started to believe him.

They moved in with their grandmother, who was nearly deaf, emotionally distant, and extremely forgetful. Barney, never able to let go, began to drink and smoke. He was violent and beat his Clint when he was angry. Any time he tried to fight back, it wouldn't benefit him, and the abuse would get worse. So he just learned to take it and reminded himself about Nat. If he didn't have her, he knew that he would've killed himself long ago.

But he remained silent. If word leaked out that his brother was abusive and his grandmother was unable to take care of them, Clint would have to go to an orphanage, away from the most important thing in his life.

He worked to get stronger, but Barney had three years on him. And was most likely on steroids.

Nat climbed into bed and scooted as close as she could without touching him. He looked towards her, careful to keep the ice pack lodged between his jaw and chest. But then the ice pack rolled off his eye. He sighed as she moved his head back and fixed the fallen pack.

"Can you sleep?" she asked, reaching over and fingering his hair again. A quiet groan of pleasure sounded from his throat as he closed his eyes. "I think so..." he murmured.

It only took a few minutes for both of them to fall into a deep slumber.

"Nat. I look like I'm fucking gay."

It was the next day at school, and Clint was standing with Natasha at her locker, admiring his face in the mirror that decorated the inside. The swelling had decreased significantly, but his lip was noticeably larger and his skin was still dark with bruises in the punched areas. So Natasha had covered them with makeup. It wasn't apparent unless you really studied his face. Clint, on the other hand, was convinced otherwise.

"You look fine." Natasha argued, slamming her locker shut. Clint frowned, folding his arms. He almost regretted it, both limbs protesting. They were extremely sore still, and the bruises looked worse, even though it was a sign of healing. She rolled her eyes at him. "Are you three? I could've sworn you were fifteen." Clint opened his mouth to reply, but the bell interrupted him, ordering the entire high school to head to their first class. Clint nervously pulled the sleeves of his jacket to his palms, making sure that his arms were hidden. Paranoia was eating at him, because under the jacket was a long-sleeved T-shirt, the sleeves dark purple and the rest black with a white eerie design. He also wore black jeans and purple and black checkered Vans that Nat had bought him for his 15th birthday. He kept three sets of clothes at her house, two for school and one for at night. The outfit he was wearing was one of the few he owned, considering he didn't have a job to earn money and his grandma only took him shopping at the beginning of fall every year. She also kept the money the boys got for their parents being deceased and saved it for their college.

Natasha, on the other hand, was allowed her money, and occasionally babysat. She bought a lot of her own stuff, such as clothes. Which today she was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt that hung off one shoulder and showed some cleavage, dark jeans, and black leather boots. And was secretly making Clint go crazy.

He looked towards Natasha nervously, and she smiled at him encouragingly in return. They quickly made their way towards Algebra before they were late.

Right before they walked in, Natasha stopped him by pushing on his chest, scanned the area, and then stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. She laughed at his reddening face and then said a sentence that Clint would never forget. He was left alone to collect himself, blushing darker at her flirtatious whisper of comment.

"I think you look adorable with makeup."