Gabriel & Clint | More Prep (backdated)
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xp_logsGabriel and Clint meet up in the library. Clint attempts to encourage Gabriel to go ahead and take the GED and they get a little bit off track.
Clint finished setting out the materials he'd brought to the library and squinted at them. Two different practice tests for the GED on actual paper and several CDs with a few digital practice exams each. He'd been working with Gabriel for about four months at this point and he really thought the younger man was ready for the real thing -- convincing him of that, however, seemed like it was going to be a bit of a challenge.
Checking his watch, he kicked his feet up on the table and tipped his chair back onto two legs. He had some time before Gabriel was supposed to arrive.
And arrive Gabriel did, a sudden appearance accompanied by whiffs of cigarette smoke and Old Spice. It was as if he'd been waiting for just the right moment to make an arrival, and with Clint off-balance, he'd found it. "Boo."
Startling, Clint jolted forward in the chair. He managed to catch himself before he tipped onto four legs, but he did almost hit his funny bone -- almost. "Dude," he said, half-laughing. "Boo to you, too. I think you're a few months late, though."
Gabriel's delight at Clint's near-fall became muted. "Am I?" He tilted his head, clearly bemused. "How do you figure?"
Raising his eyebrows, Clint answered, "Halloween? Was in October? Which was a few months back? Where ghosts say boo?"
"Oh, right, right, sure, sorry," Gabriel waved the awkwardness away. "Time is all relative for me. Speed, vroom, vroom, et cetera. It's not inconceivable to me I'd ever be months late to something, honestly."
"You're an odd duck," Clint said, still quirking a smile. "I think you'd notice based purely on the decorations around the mansion... or in malls or whatever. But c'mon -- sit. I've got some more authentic practice tests for you to work through, both digital and hardcopy. Also, a few more advanced workbooks, just to keep you sharp."
"Oh good." Gabriel said dryly. "More math." He took a seat, moving at normal speed so he could make a show of eyeing the study materials suspiciously. It had been a while since he'd started working with Clint. After the first time, he'd considered calling the whole thing off; it seemed miraculous that their initial study session had passed without incident, and he didn't want to push his luck. But something told him the repeated exposure might be beneficial. And he'd been right, mostly. The tutoring seemed to add a structure to their relationship that made everything less... panic-inducing. "What does keeping me sharp entail, exactly?"
"By encouraging you to apply the basics that you've learned to higher level things -- numbers that're more difficult to figure out if they can be made into a simplified fraction, for example. It takes everything we've been working on for the past few months and knocks it into a higher gear. That way, when you get to the actual test -- or, in this case, the practice tests I've got for you -- you'll be like, 'Oh, hey, totes no big. This is easy.' Or whatever you kids in Texas are saying these days."
"Okay, I haven't lived in Texas in god knows how long, but I do know the kids aren't speaking like that. I'm not sure the kids ever spoke like that."
"Once upon a time, I promise they did," Clint replied solemnly. He grinned again, though, and asked, "But for real, these'll keep you working through stuff until you get to the point where you want to take the test."
"Yeah," Gabriel rubbed his eyes a bit and then leaned back in his chair. "The test." He wrinkled his nose. "I should probably look at a calendar and figure that out."
Balancing back on two legs again, Clint said, "Man, I think you're ready. But it's up to you. You gotta feel confident, good about what you know. If you go in doubting, you might psych yourself out."
"I guess," Gabriel said. "I feel like... I dunno." He shrugged, staring down at one of the workbooks. "I just really don't want to fail."
"Nobody wants to," Clint said, nodding. "I mean, that's like, objectively the exact thing everyone's trying to avoid all the time. It's why people get really angry while playing Monopoly." Pulling his hands away from the table, he shifted in his chair and used his arms to keep himself balanced as he continued, "But think about it this way -- if you don't do it, you'll never win, either. I don't think you'll have a problem, but if something happens and you don't pass, then you study more on whatever it was that stumped you and take it again."
"Yeah." Gabriel said quietly. "Yeah," he looked up, a note of concession in his voice, "I mean, I know you're right. I just — like, how fucking stupid would I have to be, you know? Like, I'm not... what's the distinction people always make? Smart versus intelligent? Or cunning? I'm whichever one doesn't require multiple degrees, but I always thought I had a little of the other, too. Don't want to be proven wrong."
"Book smarts versus street smarts," Clint said. "And based on what you've accomplished while we've been working together, I think you've got both in spades. That's why I think you've got the test in the bag."
"Thanks." Gabriel smiled. He was blushing a little, in spite of himself, but it was less about Clint and more about the compliment. He wasn't good at taking them. "I guess I should bite the bullet. Only way to know what I don't know."
Holding out one hand, Clint offered Gabriel his fist. "Exactly."
Gabriel bumped his knuckles against Clint's. "The real question is, what will I do with all my free time?"
"Whatever you want," Clint said, laughing a little. "Switch jobs if you want, go to college, take up knitting... I tend to veg out and mainline Mythbusters -- only the older stuff, not the new stuff -- when I have some time off. Usually involves a lot of takeout and waking my brother up to keep me company until I pass out. Good times."
"Are they good times?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He sat up a little straighter and pushed his shoulders back until he heard a crack. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." His mouth quirked a bit. "Beats knitting, I guess."
"Definitely better than some times I've had," Clint said with a half-smile. Letting the legs of his chair thump back down so all four rested securely on the floor, he reached for one of the erasers on the table and said, "C'mon, crack a book. You get ten in a row and I'll make this thing bounce off at ten surfaces. You get twelve right, I'll bounce it off twelve. And you can pick where I have to make it land."
"I don't think that's as much of an incentive as you think it is," Gabriel smirked as he reached for a book on the table. "If anything, that feels like more of a reward for you than for me. But fine." He reached for a pen, then thinking better of it, grabbed a pencil instead. "You're on."
"Yeah?" Clint asked, grinning. "So what d'you want for your reward, since this isn't doing it for you?"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow, saying nothing as he pretended to contemplate the workbook in front of him. This was edging close to dangerous territory, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. "I can't imagine you've got much else to offer."
"Ouch!" Clint said, laughing again. "But I could make you something," he offered. "What kind of electronics do you want or need? Or something specially designed to function with your powers? I feel like since you've slogged through all this and actually done all the stuff I've suggested, you should get something for yourself -- something not contingent on the outcome of the exam." He paused, then shrugged and said, "I'd offer you sweets or something, but I'm a terrible baker. And I really do honestly eat way more takeout than I should, so cooking's kinda out, too. What about something fun? How d'you feel about ziplining?"
"I could be into ziplining," Gabriel looked up. "Never done it before, but I feel like it'd feed the adrenaline junkie in me. In like, a relatively safe, healthy, responsible way."
"Sweet," Clint said. "I know this great place. They change the course up depending on the season, so it's always a little different. There's other stuff to do there, too. Like rock climbing and bungee jumping and I think there's even base jumping maybe? I know another place that's got some awesome caves, but I'm not really into being stuck in small places with a lamp on my head and insects potentially crawling all over me."
"Not a spelunker? I feel like that fits with your whole... Neil DeGrasse Tyson and Bill Nye are my personal heroes thing."
Waggling his hand back and forth, Clint said, "Eh... it's mostly that I don't like not being able to see what's coming at me. It'd rather jump off a building than dig a tunnel, y'know? It wigs me out, being all closed in."
Gabriel made a vague noise of assent; he had started working on one of the algebraic equations in front of him. "That's kind of interesting," he said after enough time that an observer would have thought the conversation was done. "Most people hate the idea of, like, bungee jumping or whatever, because they have no control. But I guess when your brain sees exactly how you'll fall, that's not so terrifying anymore."
Clint considered that for a long moment before nodding slowly. "There's that. But there's also... I don't know, there's a huge difference between feeling like the walls are closing in on you and feeling like you're flying..." Then he perked up and finished, "Besides, bungee jumping's got nothing on jumping off a building with nothing but a cord attached to a grappling arrow and trying to land just right on the window so you break the glass without it slicing you all the pieces! Especially when the cord's new and you've never tested it with something like that. So, y'know. It's all perspective."
"Well, yeah," Gabriel said as he scribbled some numbers down. His eyebrows were raised, but his focus stayed on the math problem, because the image of Clint Barton, action hero, was kinda hot, and it was easiest to avoid eye contact. "I can't say I relate, really, to the impulse or the experience." He started to erase what he was pretty sure was a mistake. "But I do find it interesting that you're an adrenaline junkie," he added slowly, almost cautiously, "who spends most of his evenings on the couch watching nerdy TV and eating delivery pizza." He shook his head and finally looked back up with a slight smile. "You're an interesting guy, Barton."
"Thanks," Clint said. Then he gave Gabriel the side-eye a bit and finished, "I think." Leaning forward, he peered over the other man's shoulder to check out what he was erasing. "Also, you had that right. Except for the last two digits -- don't erase the whole thing." After unabashedly watching Gabriel work through the problem for another couple seconds, Clint flopped back into his chair and stretched his shoulders until they popped before continuing, "I'm lazy when I'm off -- does that make sense? Running around all the time... it's pretty exhausting. I'm just lucky that Matt's almost never on a regular sleep cycle, so he's never actually tried to strangle me for waking him up at ridiculous o'clock."
"He and I would have very different responses to that. Although I guess I'm not usually asleep at stupid o'clock either." Gabriel shrugged. "I read somewhere that's bad for you. That, like, having your rhythm thrown off is driving you to an early grave. It was in the news." He scratched his shoulder. "Or on Facebook. Somewhere."
"It's true that it's not super healthy," Clint agreed. "But with Matt being blind, that really messes with his rhythms and stuff, anyway. He sleeps when he's tired and he does stuff when he's not. It's not the best, necessarily, but it's what's working for him at the moment. When he was in school and stuff, he had alarms to wake up for classes and work. It's just not as important at the moment -- we're all working toward getting this R&D team off the ground, so..." He trailed off and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Sorry. I feel like I'm totally interrupting your progress."
"It's really fine," Gabriel said, amused. "I'm kind of... finding the time when you take breaks between sentences. I'm surprised you didn't notice. I'm so obviously not good enough at math to be working this fast."
"Figured I'd let you work at your own speed," Clint said, sly. "And besides, we've been over this before -- why are you still mispronouncing awesome? I mean, come to think of it, your whole sentence structure was just weird there. I know I'm bad at words, but even I know how that sentence should've sounded..."
"Oh? How should it have sounded? Enlighten me. There's an English section of this test too."
"Still haven't gotten into my phone yet, have you?" Clint asked, laughing. "But look, now you're just fishing for compliments. Even though I see what you're doing, I'll fix the sentence for you, anyway. You," he pointed at Gabriel. "Are so obviously awesome at math, to be working this fast." He paused again, squinting one eye. "Maybe I comma spliced in there. But since I never really understood what a comma splice was, I'm not sure."
"You know, I haven't gotten into your phone," Gabriel conceded, his smile pretty wide from the compliment that he had, indeed, been fishing for. "It's been months. I forgot I was trying. The reminder is appreciated."
Clint laughed softly. "I do what I can." Shaking his head at himself, he continued, "But, that's not the point. The point is -- I think you've got this. Cause you're awesome."
"Well," Gabriel said. "Thanks." He played with his pencil and kept his eyes on the pages in front of him. "You're awesome too," he said, looking up at Clint. "I mean, you've been really helpful. You didn't have to be. So... thanks." He scratched his nose and looked a little sheepish. "I don't know if I've really thanked you yet."
"I'm not keeping track," Clint said, still smiling. "But you're welcome. I'm happy to help. It's honestly really satisfying to do this sort of thing -- explain stuff I love in a way that lets other people understand it."
Clint finished setting out the materials he'd brought to the library and squinted at them. Two different practice tests for the GED on actual paper and several CDs with a few digital practice exams each. He'd been working with Gabriel for about four months at this point and he really thought the younger man was ready for the real thing -- convincing him of that, however, seemed like it was going to be a bit of a challenge.
Checking his watch, he kicked his feet up on the table and tipped his chair back onto two legs. He had some time before Gabriel was supposed to arrive.
And arrive Gabriel did, a sudden appearance accompanied by whiffs of cigarette smoke and Old Spice. It was as if he'd been waiting for just the right moment to make an arrival, and with Clint off-balance, he'd found it. "Boo."
Startling, Clint jolted forward in the chair. He managed to catch himself before he tipped onto four legs, but he did almost hit his funny bone -- almost. "Dude," he said, half-laughing. "Boo to you, too. I think you're a few months late, though."
Gabriel's delight at Clint's near-fall became muted. "Am I?" He tilted his head, clearly bemused. "How do you figure?"
Raising his eyebrows, Clint answered, "Halloween? Was in October? Which was a few months back? Where ghosts say boo?"
"Oh, right, right, sure, sorry," Gabriel waved the awkwardness away. "Time is all relative for me. Speed, vroom, vroom, et cetera. It's not inconceivable to me I'd ever be months late to something, honestly."
"You're an odd duck," Clint said, still quirking a smile. "I think you'd notice based purely on the decorations around the mansion... or in malls or whatever. But c'mon -- sit. I've got some more authentic practice tests for you to work through, both digital and hardcopy. Also, a few more advanced workbooks, just to keep you sharp."
"Oh good." Gabriel said dryly. "More math." He took a seat, moving at normal speed so he could make a show of eyeing the study materials suspiciously. It had been a while since he'd started working with Clint. After the first time, he'd considered calling the whole thing off; it seemed miraculous that their initial study session had passed without incident, and he didn't want to push his luck. But something told him the repeated exposure might be beneficial. And he'd been right, mostly. The tutoring seemed to add a structure to their relationship that made everything less... panic-inducing. "What does keeping me sharp entail, exactly?"
"By encouraging you to apply the basics that you've learned to higher level things -- numbers that're more difficult to figure out if they can be made into a simplified fraction, for example. It takes everything we've been working on for the past few months and knocks it into a higher gear. That way, when you get to the actual test -- or, in this case, the practice tests I've got for you -- you'll be like, 'Oh, hey, totes no big. This is easy.' Or whatever you kids in Texas are saying these days."
"Okay, I haven't lived in Texas in god knows how long, but I do know the kids aren't speaking like that. I'm not sure the kids ever spoke like that."
"Once upon a time, I promise they did," Clint replied solemnly. He grinned again, though, and asked, "But for real, these'll keep you working through stuff until you get to the point where you want to take the test."
"Yeah," Gabriel rubbed his eyes a bit and then leaned back in his chair. "The test." He wrinkled his nose. "I should probably look at a calendar and figure that out."
Balancing back on two legs again, Clint said, "Man, I think you're ready. But it's up to you. You gotta feel confident, good about what you know. If you go in doubting, you might psych yourself out."
"I guess," Gabriel said. "I feel like... I dunno." He shrugged, staring down at one of the workbooks. "I just really don't want to fail."
"Nobody wants to," Clint said, nodding. "I mean, that's like, objectively the exact thing everyone's trying to avoid all the time. It's why people get really angry while playing Monopoly." Pulling his hands away from the table, he shifted in his chair and used his arms to keep himself balanced as he continued, "But think about it this way -- if you don't do it, you'll never win, either. I don't think you'll have a problem, but if something happens and you don't pass, then you study more on whatever it was that stumped you and take it again."
"Yeah." Gabriel said quietly. "Yeah," he looked up, a note of concession in his voice, "I mean, I know you're right. I just — like, how fucking stupid would I have to be, you know? Like, I'm not... what's the distinction people always make? Smart versus intelligent? Or cunning? I'm whichever one doesn't require multiple degrees, but I always thought I had a little of the other, too. Don't want to be proven wrong."
"Book smarts versus street smarts," Clint said. "And based on what you've accomplished while we've been working together, I think you've got both in spades. That's why I think you've got the test in the bag."
"Thanks." Gabriel smiled. He was blushing a little, in spite of himself, but it was less about Clint and more about the compliment. He wasn't good at taking them. "I guess I should bite the bullet. Only way to know what I don't know."
Holding out one hand, Clint offered Gabriel his fist. "Exactly."
Gabriel bumped his knuckles against Clint's. "The real question is, what will I do with all my free time?"
"Whatever you want," Clint said, laughing a little. "Switch jobs if you want, go to college, take up knitting... I tend to veg out and mainline Mythbusters -- only the older stuff, not the new stuff -- when I have some time off. Usually involves a lot of takeout and waking my brother up to keep me company until I pass out. Good times."
"Are they good times?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He sat up a little straighter and pushed his shoulders back until he heard a crack. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." His mouth quirked a bit. "Beats knitting, I guess."
"Definitely better than some times I've had," Clint said with a half-smile. Letting the legs of his chair thump back down so all four rested securely on the floor, he reached for one of the erasers on the table and said, "C'mon, crack a book. You get ten in a row and I'll make this thing bounce off at ten surfaces. You get twelve right, I'll bounce it off twelve. And you can pick where I have to make it land."
"I don't think that's as much of an incentive as you think it is," Gabriel smirked as he reached for a book on the table. "If anything, that feels like more of a reward for you than for me. But fine." He reached for a pen, then thinking better of it, grabbed a pencil instead. "You're on."
"Yeah?" Clint asked, grinning. "So what d'you want for your reward, since this isn't doing it for you?"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow, saying nothing as he pretended to contemplate the workbook in front of him. This was edging close to dangerous territory, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. "I can't imagine you've got much else to offer."
"Ouch!" Clint said, laughing again. "But I could make you something," he offered. "What kind of electronics do you want or need? Or something specially designed to function with your powers? I feel like since you've slogged through all this and actually done all the stuff I've suggested, you should get something for yourself -- something not contingent on the outcome of the exam." He paused, then shrugged and said, "I'd offer you sweets or something, but I'm a terrible baker. And I really do honestly eat way more takeout than I should, so cooking's kinda out, too. What about something fun? How d'you feel about ziplining?"
"I could be into ziplining," Gabriel looked up. "Never done it before, but I feel like it'd feed the adrenaline junkie in me. In like, a relatively safe, healthy, responsible way."
"Sweet," Clint said. "I know this great place. They change the course up depending on the season, so it's always a little different. There's other stuff to do there, too. Like rock climbing and bungee jumping and I think there's even base jumping maybe? I know another place that's got some awesome caves, but I'm not really into being stuck in small places with a lamp on my head and insects potentially crawling all over me."
"Not a spelunker? I feel like that fits with your whole... Neil DeGrasse Tyson and Bill Nye are my personal heroes thing."
Waggling his hand back and forth, Clint said, "Eh... it's mostly that I don't like not being able to see what's coming at me. It'd rather jump off a building than dig a tunnel, y'know? It wigs me out, being all closed in."
Gabriel made a vague noise of assent; he had started working on one of the algebraic equations in front of him. "That's kind of interesting," he said after enough time that an observer would have thought the conversation was done. "Most people hate the idea of, like, bungee jumping or whatever, because they have no control. But I guess when your brain sees exactly how you'll fall, that's not so terrifying anymore."
Clint considered that for a long moment before nodding slowly. "There's that. But there's also... I don't know, there's a huge difference between feeling like the walls are closing in on you and feeling like you're flying..." Then he perked up and finished, "Besides, bungee jumping's got nothing on jumping off a building with nothing but a cord attached to a grappling arrow and trying to land just right on the window so you break the glass without it slicing you all the pieces! Especially when the cord's new and you've never tested it with something like that. So, y'know. It's all perspective."
"Well, yeah," Gabriel said as he scribbled some numbers down. His eyebrows were raised, but his focus stayed on the math problem, because the image of Clint Barton, action hero, was kinda hot, and it was easiest to avoid eye contact. "I can't say I relate, really, to the impulse or the experience." He started to erase what he was pretty sure was a mistake. "But I do find it interesting that you're an adrenaline junkie," he added slowly, almost cautiously, "who spends most of his evenings on the couch watching nerdy TV and eating delivery pizza." He shook his head and finally looked back up with a slight smile. "You're an interesting guy, Barton."
"Thanks," Clint said. Then he gave Gabriel the side-eye a bit and finished, "I think." Leaning forward, he peered over the other man's shoulder to check out what he was erasing. "Also, you had that right. Except for the last two digits -- don't erase the whole thing." After unabashedly watching Gabriel work through the problem for another couple seconds, Clint flopped back into his chair and stretched his shoulders until they popped before continuing, "I'm lazy when I'm off -- does that make sense? Running around all the time... it's pretty exhausting. I'm just lucky that Matt's almost never on a regular sleep cycle, so he's never actually tried to strangle me for waking him up at ridiculous o'clock."
"He and I would have very different responses to that. Although I guess I'm not usually asleep at stupid o'clock either." Gabriel shrugged. "I read somewhere that's bad for you. That, like, having your rhythm thrown off is driving you to an early grave. It was in the news." He scratched his shoulder. "Or on Facebook. Somewhere."
"It's true that it's not super healthy," Clint agreed. "But with Matt being blind, that really messes with his rhythms and stuff, anyway. He sleeps when he's tired and he does stuff when he's not. It's not the best, necessarily, but it's what's working for him at the moment. When he was in school and stuff, he had alarms to wake up for classes and work. It's just not as important at the moment -- we're all working toward getting this R&D team off the ground, so..." He trailed off and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Sorry. I feel like I'm totally interrupting your progress."
"It's really fine," Gabriel said, amused. "I'm kind of... finding the time when you take breaks between sentences. I'm surprised you didn't notice. I'm so obviously not good enough at math to be working this fast."
"Figured I'd let you work at your own speed," Clint said, sly. "And besides, we've been over this before -- why are you still mispronouncing awesome? I mean, come to think of it, your whole sentence structure was just weird there. I know I'm bad at words, but even I know how that sentence should've sounded..."
"Oh? How should it have sounded? Enlighten me. There's an English section of this test too."
"Still haven't gotten into my phone yet, have you?" Clint asked, laughing. "But look, now you're just fishing for compliments. Even though I see what you're doing, I'll fix the sentence for you, anyway. You," he pointed at Gabriel. "Are so obviously awesome at math, to be working this fast." He paused again, squinting one eye. "Maybe I comma spliced in there. But since I never really understood what a comma splice was, I'm not sure."
"You know, I haven't gotten into your phone," Gabriel conceded, his smile pretty wide from the compliment that he had, indeed, been fishing for. "It's been months. I forgot I was trying. The reminder is appreciated."
Clint laughed softly. "I do what I can." Shaking his head at himself, he continued, "But, that's not the point. The point is -- I think you've got this. Cause you're awesome."
"Well," Gabriel said. "Thanks." He played with his pencil and kept his eyes on the pages in front of him. "You're awesome too," he said, looking up at Clint. "I mean, you've been really helpful. You didn't have to be. So... thanks." He scratched his nose and looked a little sheepish. "I don't know if I've really thanked you yet."
"I'm not keeping track," Clint said, still smiling. "But you're welcome. I'm happy to help. It's honestly really satisfying to do this sort of thing -- explain stuff I love in a way that lets other people understand it."
