xp_logs | Gabriel & Clint | Tutoring Session (backdated a fair bit)

xp_hawkeye posting in

Clint picks up some of Natasha's slack after she promises to help Gabriel study, then gets called into the city. Gabriel's not expecting the switch.

It was taking everything Gabriel had not to snap his pencil in half.

He hated this. He hated the GED or the HSE or TASC or whatever this stupid test was called. He'd wanted to take it to prove something. That he wasn't stupid, maybe. That he could push forward and do something. He wasn't sure, entirely.

Instead, he was sitting in the library, staring at math. Stupid, stupid math, that he hadn't seen in five years, let alone used. And his five years felt like everyone else's eight, a calculation Gabriel couldn't perform, but one he innately understood enough to know that it had been a long time since he'd heard the word "polynomial," let alone understood how to add one.

A loud crack broke his concentration, and Gabriel looked down at his hands to find that the number two Ticonderoga he'd been holding was now in two pieces. He flung both halves on the table and sighed. It was this frustration is what had driven him to text Natasha, asking for some remedial assistance. He'd found her to be both book-smart and street-smart, and when he'd mentioned offhand what he'd been up to, she'd offered to help him. So he was taking her up on that.

Clint sidled into the library with a few books under one arm. He checked his phone for the third time, but there was no misunderstanding the message he'd gotten from Tasha -- be in the library, prepared to help with high school math stuff. Apparently she'd felt momentarily altruistic and agreed to tutor somebody, but then her British booty call had turned up in the City and off she went.

Finding Gabriel wasn't difficult, at least. Clint cleared his throat and offered the younger man a smile. "Hey," he said. "I'm filling in for Tasha, hope that's okay."

"Oh." Gabriel felt his skin grow a little hot, but he gave Clint a small smile back. "Uh, sure?" That response sounded tentative. He didn't want to sound tentative. "Yeah," he said more enthusiastically, "of course. Sure." He scooted over at his table, pushing his things to one side in order to make room. "Sit, please."

Adult Clint with books under his arm, offering to tutor Gabriel in math. In different circumstances — the ones where it was happening to anybody else — Gabriel might have found this hot. Instead, he was trying to quiet his heartbeat, since it felt like a bass drum booming through his chest. It had been two years. Almost three. He knew it was stupid of him to think he couldn't handle this Clint. If Quentin hadn't gone and died, bringing up issues he'd thought were dealt with, this whole encounter might have even felt normal.

"I, uh — what'd she tell you?" It was important, when confronted with the elder, new-universe version of one's former teenage lover, to know just how stupid he was led to believe one was.

"Just that you were working on your GED," Clint said, laying the books on the table. "She mentioned the math was giving you some trouble, so I brought some workbooks. I wasn't sure if you had a scientific calculator or not, so I brought one of those, too. And I've got some links to websites that might help. I guess if you just tell me where you're at, we can figure out what needs doing? Oh, and are you a visual learner? I don't even know if that'll be applicable, but there's actually some really great models and stuff out there for hands-on stuff, too? But yeah -- depends on what you're on at the moment."

“Hands-on is generally good,” Gabriel said, his eyebrows raising instinctively before remembering just who he was talking to. “Honestly, I’m like — it has been literal years since I last looked at algebra. Or geometry. I didn’t make it through sophomore year before things kinda... happened. And so when I see all this shit about polynomials and f-parentheses-x, it might as well be in Korean.” He shrugged a little sheepishly. It was easier to be honest with Clint than he’d thought. Maybe this was growth. “I don’t know. Counting change and building shelves is the most I’ve used math in years. I guess that’s dumb.”

"Nah," Clint said, shaking his head. "Higher mathematics don't really have a ton of practical applications if you're not actually in a scientific or mathematical field, y'know? Half of what I do that could be considered math is actually instinctive. I mean, I can figure out angle and velocity and all that, but my brain does it automatically, so unless I'm sitting down to figure out aerodynamics and dimensions for a new project or something..." He shrugged as he slid the workbooks over to Gabriel. "And that's not even touching on theoretical mathematics and all that -- pretty impractical in real life, if you think about it."

Smiling, Clint pulled his spare scientific calculator out of his back pocket and put it on top of the workbooks. "Did you ever get around to using one of these?"

"A calculator? Sure." Gabriel stared down at it. Then, suddenly, he looked back up at Clint. "Sorry, so we're not going to talk about how you just humble-bragged about being a trigonometry computer after I just told you how I can't handle mildly complex equations?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Don't think I don't see what you're doing here, Barton. That was a low-key flex."

Clint opened his mouth to address the potential calculator issue, then blinked and pursed his lips in an attempt to stop himself from smiling. "Sorry -- I really wasn't trying to do that. Just... even somebody who should be using all this stuff in daily life doesn't, is what I was trying to say." He paused, then tapped the calculator with two fingers. "And this is a scientific calculator, so you can actually put equations and stuff in it and then all you have to do is plug in the numbers to get the answers. You still need to memorize the equations, since I'm pretty sure they clear the memory of the calculators before exams, but then you can put them back in and it saves time later."

"Oh, cool." Clint's enthusiasm for gadgets had transcended dimensions, apparently. "Thanks." He hit a few buttons to see what would happen. "I feel like this test will actually be easy, and I'm overpreparing, but then, like," he slid a practice test he'd printed to Clint, "I don't know how to answer half these questions. At least with the science stuff, I don't have to know that much about, you know, actual science."

"Hm..." Taking the practice test, Clint checked it over. "Okay -- so a lot of this is equation memorization. Or proportional stuff. Mostly..." He flipped a couple pages back. "Yeah, mostly equations. Are there any particular questions on here that really stumped you? Can you give me some idea of which parts you struggled with specifically?"

"Yeah, here." Gabriel reached over, his hand brushing against Clint's as he flipped more pages. He didn't flush or flinch. "Here. This." He pointed to a problem. "Select the expressions that result in a rational number. Controversial definition of rational aside, this list of those square root thingies and a bunch of fractions? I can't even remember how to decipher that."

"So the easiest way to figure it out is to know that 'rational' just means you can write it as a simple fraction -- meaning any kind of fraction. Like, .001 can be written as one over one thousand -- fraction. Negatives can be rational numbers, too -- you could get -.1 and write that as negative one over ten. So like... pi is irrational -- you can't write it as a simple fraction. The square root of two isn't a rational number. Which basically just means for this question, you see which of the numbers you can write a simple fractions -- like, 1.5 can be written as three over two. If you take the square root of sixteen, that's four -- you can write that as four over one. That kind of thing. Which one of these options will actually give you a simple fraction -- a rational number -- when you convert them?"

"Ugh." Gabriel grimaced. "Okay, so..." He reached for half of the broken pencil, drumming it idly as he chewed his lip. "This one?" He pointed to one answer, a combination of fractions and radicals that he still thought was a pretty intimidating and unnecessary way to render a number. "Yeah." He jabbed the answer with the pencil's eraser. "Pretty sure."

Grinning, Clint said, "Yeah. Cause the fractions are all rational already and the numbers can all be made into simple fractions. That's great." Flipping through the practice test, he found a similar question and laid the papers out so Gabriel could see it. "What about this one?"

"Umm..." Now boosted by his success, Gabriel's expression appeared less irritated. "Well, I think this one, right, since you're just multiplying two fractions?"

"Yeah, exactly," Clint said, nodding along with the explanation. He reached for one of the workbooks he'd brought and flipped to the index before opening it to a specific section. "This'll help you work out more of the particulars, but it's all just remembering what rational numbers are... and I'm pretty sure there's a way to make the calculator turn a random number into a fraction so you can see whether or not it's simple." Picking up the graphing calculator, he started pressing buttons and working through various functions as he tried to find the one he thought he remembered.

Gabriel couldn't help but smile as he watched Clint essentially play with his toy. "Not exactly 'Stand and Deliver' over here, is it?" He reached for the workbook and started to skim it. "I mean, thank God," he added. "Don't try to teach me calculus in a year."

"Calculus is ridiculous and basically entirely unnecessary," Clint muttered, glancing up from the calculator with a smile. "But we can work on that next year, if you really wanna."

"Yeah, no," Gabriel held up a hand. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm not seeing most of this as useful as it is." He reached for the other half of the pencil and tried to fit the pieces together. When the cracks lined up, he pushed the halves into each other as if he could put the thing back together with sheer force. "Good to have a goal, I guess. Finally get to put a diploma on that resume I don't have."

"Resumes are also ridiculous, but unfortunately necessary for things like jobs. Usually," Clint said, patting down his pockets. Pulling a roll of electrical tape out, he handed it over to Gabriel. "Don't make one of those wiggle pencils, though. Those things are really irritating."

"I'm sorry," Gabriel quirked an eyebrow and smirked. "But did you just pull a roll of plastic tape out of your pocket?" Gabriel put the broken pencil down. "You know, like, you were just carrying it around?" He crossed his arms. "Barton."

"What?" Clint asked, eyes widening innocently. "It's useful stuff to have around. Like when somebody's trying to use the power of their mind to meld their broken pencil halves back together."

"Barton," Gabriel said again, his voice still playful as he shook his head. "Well. That Angel's certainly a lucky woman."

Laughing ruefully, Clint shook his head. "Yeah she is," he said. "But not because she's dating me. Which she's not anymore." He considered the calculator in his hands before shrugging. "How'd she put it? I was cheating on my one true love with her. Considering how much I've been not-around lately, I'm gonna go with 'that's fair.'"

"Your one true..." Gabriel tilted his head. He hoped his face looked puzzled rather than... well, whatever it was he was feeling. Anxious. Sweaty? This was new information, so he was surprised. And the fact that Angel hadn't bothered to mention it was leading him to be concerned. And maybe also he was — well, not joyful, exactly, but relieved. "Please tell me it's not science."

Clint winced. "It's totally science," he said, shaking his head. "I'm a shitty boyfriend. I mean, I guess that's not right -- I'm not shitty. I just. I'm easily distracted. And easily obsessed. And I have to have Darcy maintain a chart with little gold stars on it so I remember to do basic human things like eat something other than a granola bar a couple times a day and go to sleep. So y'know. That's a thing."

"Hm." Gabriel frowned a little, because that's what was demanded, at least according to the half of his brain that wasn't still processing all of this. "Well, that sucks. I'm sorry." He gave Clint a half-shrug. "But you know, as much as I'm Angel's friend, probably means you just weren't right for each other anyway." He scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, the whole point is to find someone who, like, makes you want to remember to eat or whatever."

Huffing a short laugh, Clint quirked another smile and shrugged. "It's all good, man. It's not the first time. Won't be the last. To quote a currently popular song, I'm bad at love."

"Can't blame you for trying?"

Clint chuckled. "You know I'd be lyin'," he half-hummed, then trailed off. "It is what it is. Surprised she put up with me for as long as she did, to be honest. But especially the last year or so, what with trying to get the new team off the ground and the chapel reno and everything. All the trips I've been taking. Can't expect somebody to wait around forever."

"Oh no," Gabriel gave Clint a small smile at that, one that was a little more wistful and less cryptic than he'd probably have liked. "I know that's right." He finally pulled some tape off the roll, pulling the plastic until it ripped. "At least you're keeping busy." He pushed the pencil's halves back together and wrapped the tape around it. "Not like your life's not full, right?"

"Right. My one true love and all," Clint said, only half-wry. "But hey -- I've got friends and I've got an office to finish furnishing so my friends can make fun of it, so." The silence hung there for a moment before he shook himself a little and returned Gabriel's smile. "But hey. Math!"

“Yeah, math.” Gabriel sighed, making one final tape loop around the pencil. He wiggled it a bit to see if the bond would hold. “If Clint has an office that’s 20 feet by 14 feet, how many gallons of water would he need to fill it with 3-inch water balloons? Round to the nearest tenth.”

"How tall is the room?" Clint asked, half-smirking.

"Oh God," Gabriel moaned, smiling in spite of himself. "This is why everyone hates nerds."

Clint laughed. "Not everybody hates nerds. Just the people who don't know that a cubic foot holds 7.48 gallons of water."

"Which is most people, Barton. Most people don't know that." Gabriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

Reaching over, Clint snagged the cigarettes out of Gabriel's hand and tucked them right into the pocket they came from. "Dude. Topaz will straight up murder you."

"Uh, yeah, duh," Gabriel crossed his arms. "But I can run outside and smoke the time it takes you to sneeze, remember? One of my few talents?"

"You pronounced 'many' wrong," Clint said, then gestured toward the workbooks scattered across the table with the graphing calculator. "C'mon, we've been at this for like less than twenty minutes. No smoke breaks yet."

“Feels like forever, but fine, fine.” Gabriel, who was glad his skin hid light blushes, made a show of sighing as he picked up the pencil. “First, we math.”

"So mote it be." Clint paused after saying that, then grinned almost sheepishly. "I don't actually know what that means, except something something magic and something something agreement. Probably."

"'Something something magic,'" Gabriel smirked, "and 'something something agreement.' Thank God you're not responsible for teaching me English. I mean, honestly."

"Jesus, you don't even know the half of it," Clint said, laughing again. "Seriously, I catch so much flak for how I text -- and I can't even say I don't deserve it. I totally do. I'd show you, but I'd just embarrass myself. So for reals, math."

"It's funny how you think that I won't just speedy-swipe your phone out of your hands at some point." Gabriel put his finger on the first line of the open workbooks, looking down at it to start reading. "The properties of polynomial functions. Think we're on the wrong page?"

"Yes," Clint said, snorting softly. Picking up one of the other workbooks and flipping through the pages until he found a section that would actually help Gabriel. "And if you can crack my phone's security code to get into it, I deserve to have you embarrass me as much as you possibly can."

"Like you said," Gabriel shrugged, trying to look as coy as possible. "Many talents."