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sunspotTitle: A Tachyon Is Just A Sub-Atomic Particle With No Taste
Fandom: The Avengers
Relationship(s)/Character(s): Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov, Jane Foster
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1600
Warnings: none
Summary: Clint is failing Professor Banner's class by a wide margin and gets asked in to the Professor's office to discuss the situation.
Author's Notes: Thank you tocantarina for the beta and for telling me when my fic starts getting creepy. And for always helping me with titles, though any bad-titling is still my fault. <3
It'll fulfill your science requirement, they said.
You'll love the professor, they said.
He makes the class so fun, they said.
What they didn't say was that Professor Banner's class was hard as fuck and that the lecture hall it was held in was the one where the thermostat was broken so it got all warm and stuffy by like, half an hour into the three hour class that started at seven in the evening. Then there was Professor Banner's soft, soothing voice and the light above Clint's seat that was burnt out and hadn't been replaced yet. It was the perfect storm of naps.
Clint woke with a start to the sound of someone snapping a text book shut right next to his head.
"I'm not giving you my notes from tonight, you know," Natasha said, staring down coldly at him. "Last time I did, you spilled coffee all over my midterm study sheets. You're officially not to be trusted."
"Thanks for nothing then," he grumbled, wiping a strand of drool off his chin. There was a patch of wetness on his notes. They proudly proclaimed 'Introduction to Physics and Applied Mathematics, Lecture 8' at the top, then the date, then nothing else because that's as far as he'd gotten. No worries, he'd convince Nat to give him the notes eventually. She always cracked.
People were filling the aisles but no one was leaving. "What's everyone doing?" he asked the brunette in front of him who was taking her time packing her things.
"He's graded the problems from two weeks ago," Jane said.
"Oh, right, cool. And hey, we're done twenty minutes early." Professor Banner always talked right until ten, so Clint was not complaining about him being early for once.
"Yeah, he said we all looked so tired." She gave him a pointed look. "You snore."
"I do not... Do I?'"
Jane nodded.
"And he noticed?"
"Threw a piece of chalk at you. There's some in your hair." She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked away with a smirk.
Clint ruffled his hands through his hair, trying to get rid of any tell-tale chalk dust and slipped off his sweat shirt. Maybe there were enough students that the professor wouldn't recognize him as the sleepy guy in the back that way.
Natasha flashed him the top of her homework when she passed him in the aisle. Fifty one out of sixty. He gave her the finger, that show off, but he was suitably impressed. He was pretty confident with what he had turned in, but she consistently out-scored him.
He fished his paper out of the mess and got back out of the throng of people to look at his mark.
"What the..." There wasn't a mark at the top of the cover page. He flipped through the assignment quickly and didn't find anything. "Shit," he said, when he'd got to the last page.
'See me during office hours, please,' written in neat green letters. Professor Banner had explained during their first class that he marked in green because someone somewhere had done a study and red ink was supposedly too disheartening to students, but even in green his message to Clint looked pretty horrible.
He had office hours the next day, though, so at least Clint wouldn't have to wait long to find out why he had been summoned.
--
"You're failing."
"I'm failing?"
"Big time."
"Are you sure?" Clint asked, slumping back in the battered office chair. "I mean, sorry, no, stupid question. Just... failing big time? Not just little time?"
Professor Banner shook his head. "You've missed two of the regular assignments, which are five percent each, your midterm was just... bad, I'm sorry, but it was bad. Your class participation is non-existent and your penmanship is sloppy. I'm sorry, Mister Barton, but even if you got a perfect score on your final, which you won't because no one does, you'd still only have a forty-six overall and that's not enough to pass my class."
Clint tried not to twist the homework he was holding his hands, but his throat was getting tight and he felt his stomach churning. "Okay. Okay. Is there something I can to boost my mark between now and then? Anything?"
Professor Banner sighed and set down his pen before crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell me why you took this class."
"Because... I don't know? I need a full science credit and this one was recommended."
"You have no special interest in physics?"
Clint shrugged. The small office was suddenly feeling smaller as he felt more and more uncomfortable. "Not exactly? I'm an abnormal psych major."
"So why didn't you take bio or one of the many fine chemistry courses offered by my colleagues in the science department?"
"Many fine chemistry courses?" Clint repeated. "Are they actually that fine or are you reading off the school brochure?"
"Watch it," Professor Banner said. "You're asking me to do you a favour and give you extra credit, remember?"
"Sorry, sir. I took your class because people said you made the subject fun and because my friend Nat was taking it and because I didn't know I'd be so bad at it." Clint felt like an absolute idiot. He was supposed to be a grown up by this point in his life, and he should have known that this wasn't the best class for him and throwing himself on Professor Banner's mercy now was a little pathetic. Maybe more than a little.
"There's not a lot of time left in the year."
"I know," Clint said. "But if there's anything, anything that might bump me up to a pass..."
Professor Banner sighed. "I'm going to be holding review sessions after classes starting next week, all the way until the exam. I want to see you at all of them. And if I catch you sleeping in class again, I'll know you don't really care about your grade and that will be the end of that."
"Bring an extra large coffee to class, got it."
"And I want you to redo that midterm," he said, pointing to the pages in Clint's hands. "Something I can mark without want to gouge my eyes out this time."
Clint looked down at the unmarked paper. "It was that bad?"
"Yes. I wish it hadn't been, but yes. Get your friend to help you if you can, Miss Romanov. She has a decent grasp on the material." Professor Banner stood up and came around to lean against the front of the desk.
Clint had to sit back in the uncomfortable wooden chair and look way up to maintain eye contact, feeling very small all of the sudden. And he found he was aware of how much space was between them. Or, how much space wasn't between them. He could help feeling maybe that was intentional. Clint swallowed hard and tried not to notice the way the fabric hugged the curve of Professor Banner's ass.
"You know it's too late in the semester to take an incomplete." It wasn't even a rhetorical question, just a statement. Whether Clint gave up now or worked his ass off and still couldn't do it, it would show up the same -- a big, ugly F.
Clint nodded. "Yes, sir."
"If you really want to pass this class, I need to see you working for it. You need to give it everything you've got. I know your other teachers are probably saying the same thing, but I don't think you're doing this poorly in your other classes." Professor Banner was watching him carefully, frowning a little in a way Clint hoped was concentration and not disappointment, though it may have been both.
"I'm not, it's just the physics I'm struggling with, Professor." Clint had to look away then. Professor Banner was being nice to him, when he could have just broke the news that Clint was never going to be a physics superstar and kicked him out of the office. This whole morning could be going a lot worse for Clint, all things considered, and here he was feeling ashamed and stupid and childish. "I'll do whatever you need me to, I just really can't afford summer school and I have to get my science credit before September because my schedule's already full of honours classes."
"Good to hear, Barton. Honours Psych is tough at this school, I would hate for you to lose your spot."
"Thank you." Clint managed to look away from the ugly print of a boat behind the desk and back to Professor Banner. "I'm going to do everything I can to not fuck this up, I promise."
"I'm glad."
"Everything and anything, Professor."
"... Mister Barton?"
Clint risked a look up at his teacher, wetting his lips before he realized how much of a bad idea that probably was.
"I just meant --"
"Get out, please. I want your midterm by Friday or I won't take it. You're losing fifteen percent already for the mulligan. I'll see you in class next Tuesday."
"Yes sir, thank you." Clint stood up, holding his paper in front of his jeans in a way he hoped wasn't super obvious. "Tuesday, then. And I'll remember my coffee."
"See that you do."
Clint pulled the door shut behind him and through the frosted glass window, he thought he could see Professor Banner scrubbing his hands over his face.
"You're an idiot, Barton," he muttered to himself, then fled to the library to find Nat.
Fandom: The Avengers
Relationship(s)/Character(s): Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov, Jane Foster
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1600
Warnings: none
Summary: Clint is failing Professor Banner's class by a wide margin and gets asked in to the Professor's office to discuss the situation.
Author's Notes: Thank you to
cantarina for the beta and for telling me when my fic starts getting creepy. And for always helping me with titles, though any bad-titling is still my fault. <3It'll fulfill your science requirement, they said.
You'll love the professor, they said.
He makes the class so fun, they said.
What they didn't say was that Professor Banner's class was hard as fuck and that the lecture hall it was held in was the one where the thermostat was broken so it got all warm and stuffy by like, half an hour into the three hour class that started at seven in the evening. Then there was Professor Banner's soft, soothing voice and the light above Clint's seat that was burnt out and hadn't been replaced yet. It was the perfect storm of naps.
Clint woke with a start to the sound of someone snapping a text book shut right next to his head.
"I'm not giving you my notes from tonight, you know," Natasha said, staring down coldly at him. "Last time I did, you spilled coffee all over my midterm study sheets. You're officially not to be trusted."
"Thanks for nothing then," he grumbled, wiping a strand of drool off his chin. There was a patch of wetness on his notes. They proudly proclaimed 'Introduction to Physics and Applied Mathematics, Lecture 8' at the top, then the date, then nothing else because that's as far as he'd gotten. No worries, he'd convince Nat to give him the notes eventually. She always cracked.
People were filling the aisles but no one was leaving. "What's everyone doing?" he asked the brunette in front of him who was taking her time packing her things.
"He's graded the problems from two weeks ago," Jane said.
"Oh, right, cool. And hey, we're done twenty minutes early." Professor Banner always talked right until ten, so Clint was not complaining about him being early for once.
"Yeah, he said we all looked so tired." She gave him a pointed look. "You snore."
"I do not... Do I?'"
Jane nodded.
"And he noticed?"
"Threw a piece of chalk at you. There's some in your hair." She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked away with a smirk.
Clint ruffled his hands through his hair, trying to get rid of any tell-tale chalk dust and slipped off his sweat shirt. Maybe there were enough students that the professor wouldn't recognize him as the sleepy guy in the back that way.
Natasha flashed him the top of her homework when she passed him in the aisle. Fifty one out of sixty. He gave her the finger, that show off, but he was suitably impressed. He was pretty confident with what he had turned in, but she consistently out-scored him.
He fished his paper out of the mess and got back out of the throng of people to look at his mark.
"What the..." There wasn't a mark at the top of the cover page. He flipped through the assignment quickly and didn't find anything. "Shit," he said, when he'd got to the last page.
'See me during office hours, please,' written in neat green letters. Professor Banner had explained during their first class that he marked in green because someone somewhere had done a study and red ink was supposedly too disheartening to students, but even in green his message to Clint looked pretty horrible.
He had office hours the next day, though, so at least Clint wouldn't have to wait long to find out why he had been summoned.
--
"You're failing."
"I'm failing?"
"Big time."
"Are you sure?" Clint asked, slumping back in the battered office chair. "I mean, sorry, no, stupid question. Just... failing big time? Not just little time?"
Professor Banner shook his head. "You've missed two of the regular assignments, which are five percent each, your midterm was just... bad, I'm sorry, but it was bad. Your class participation is non-existent and your penmanship is sloppy. I'm sorry, Mister Barton, but even if you got a perfect score on your final, which you won't because no one does, you'd still only have a forty-six overall and that's not enough to pass my class."
Clint tried not to twist the homework he was holding his hands, but his throat was getting tight and he felt his stomach churning. "Okay. Okay. Is there something I can to boost my mark between now and then? Anything?"
Professor Banner sighed and set down his pen before crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell me why you took this class."
"Because... I don't know? I need a full science credit and this one was recommended."
"You have no special interest in physics?"
Clint shrugged. The small office was suddenly feeling smaller as he felt more and more uncomfortable. "Not exactly? I'm an abnormal psych major."
"So why didn't you take bio or one of the many fine chemistry courses offered by my colleagues in the science department?"
"Many fine chemistry courses?" Clint repeated. "Are they actually that fine or are you reading off the school brochure?"
"Watch it," Professor Banner said. "You're asking me to do you a favour and give you extra credit, remember?"
"Sorry, sir. I took your class because people said you made the subject fun and because my friend Nat was taking it and because I didn't know I'd be so bad at it." Clint felt like an absolute idiot. He was supposed to be a grown up by this point in his life, and he should have known that this wasn't the best class for him and throwing himself on Professor Banner's mercy now was a little pathetic. Maybe more than a little.
"There's not a lot of time left in the year."
"I know," Clint said. "But if there's anything, anything that might bump me up to a pass..."
Professor Banner sighed. "I'm going to be holding review sessions after classes starting next week, all the way until the exam. I want to see you at all of them. And if I catch you sleeping in class again, I'll know you don't really care about your grade and that will be the end of that."
"Bring an extra large coffee to class, got it."
"And I want you to redo that midterm," he said, pointing to the pages in Clint's hands. "Something I can mark without want to gouge my eyes out this time."
Clint looked down at the unmarked paper. "It was that bad?"
"Yes. I wish it hadn't been, but yes. Get your friend to help you if you can, Miss Romanov. She has a decent grasp on the material." Professor Banner stood up and came around to lean against the front of the desk.
Clint had to sit back in the uncomfortable wooden chair and look way up to maintain eye contact, feeling very small all of the sudden. And he found he was aware of how much space was between them. Or, how much space wasn't between them. He could help feeling maybe that was intentional. Clint swallowed hard and tried not to notice the way the fabric hugged the curve of Professor Banner's ass.
"You know it's too late in the semester to take an incomplete." It wasn't even a rhetorical question, just a statement. Whether Clint gave up now or worked his ass off and still couldn't do it, it would show up the same -- a big, ugly F.
Clint nodded. "Yes, sir."
"If you really want to pass this class, I need to see you working for it. You need to give it everything you've got. I know your other teachers are probably saying the same thing, but I don't think you're doing this poorly in your other classes." Professor Banner was watching him carefully, frowning a little in a way Clint hoped was concentration and not disappointment, though it may have been both.
"I'm not, it's just the physics I'm struggling with, Professor." Clint had to look away then. Professor Banner was being nice to him, when he could have just broke the news that Clint was never going to be a physics superstar and kicked him out of the office. This whole morning could be going a lot worse for Clint, all things considered, and here he was feeling ashamed and stupid and childish. "I'll do whatever you need me to, I just really can't afford summer school and I have to get my science credit before September because my schedule's already full of honours classes."
"Good to hear, Barton. Honours Psych is tough at this school, I would hate for you to lose your spot."
"Thank you." Clint managed to look away from the ugly print of a boat behind the desk and back to Professor Banner. "I'm going to do everything I can to not fuck this up, I promise."
"I'm glad."
"Everything and anything, Professor."
"... Mister Barton?"
Clint risked a look up at his teacher, wetting his lips before he realized how much of a bad idea that probably was.
"I just meant --"
"Get out, please. I want your midterm by Friday or I won't take it. You're losing fifteen percent already for the mulligan. I'll see you in class next Tuesday."
"Yes sir, thank you." Clint stood up, holding his paper in front of his jeans in a way he hoped wasn't super obvious. "Tuesday, then. And I'll remember my coffee."
"See that you do."
Clint pulled the door shut behind him and through the frosted glass window, he thought he could see Professor Banner scrubbing his hands over his face.
"You're an idiot, Barton," he muttered to himself, then fled to the library to find Nat.
