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Changing Lives	By : Strailo Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 1441 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Changing Lives
Fandom: Avengers
Pairing: Phil/Clint
Chapter: 3
Words: 1413
Warnings: nothing yet
AN: What’s this? A chapter updated on time? Yes, that’s right. A chapter updated on time!

I’m actually working on a very long Neji/Shikamaru/Naruto fic that is on chapter 42 right now. I’m also editing (heavily) my Kuroshitsuji/Bleach shorter chapter story that will come after this.

I am going to go back to editing the next 5 chapters of this story so I’m ready for you guys with it. *goes off to flop*

*~*~*~*

Unlike when Phil Barton was born, Clint Coulson was automatically loved by his mother and father. After he was born, Aaron and Maria had waited to name him, deciding against calling him Philip in his grandfather’s honor since the man had his own history that would just weigh on their child. It took them only a few hours to agree to the name of Clint. The also decided to introduce him to the rest of their family at the next Christmas gathering in three months.

Any time they spoke about his first Chirstmas, his aunts and uncles all agreed that he was a happy baby, watching and gurgling whenever someone came near enough for him to see them. He rarely cried, mostly whining when it came time for him to be hungry or he had to be changed.

When he turned two, he was given a stuffed arrow with a matching stuffed bow that had been made by his uncle. The man himself was an archer and sniper for the military, and often did needle work in his free time. He had noticed that his nephew had amazing aim when he tossed stuffed toys at whoever was closest, and he wanted their attention. It wasn’t long after that he did that any time his ears started to hurt him. Due to the fact that he didn’t have the words to explain his hurting ears, they took him in to see an ear doctort.

Six months after he turned three, he was diagnosed as partially deaf, the strained hearing being what hurt him. It explained why he had thrown a toy, soft more often than not, at someone each time his ears hurt followed by rubbing at his ears when he got their attention. Once he was outfitted with some basic hearing aids in one ear and tubes in the other, he started to learn how to speak now that he could hear what his parents were saying clearly.

He later told them, when he had the words and thought process to use them properly, that it was like hearing words from underwater on one side.

Clint continued his path of growth, going from a content baby to a happy toddler and onto a chipper little boy and later a normal, content with life teen. By the time that he had started high school in a rather large semi-public boy’s school, he was also an accomplished archer. The uncle who had given him his first stuffed bow and arrow had started to train him in using various types of bows from the moment that his parents said he could. He continued to do so even when Clint joined the city archery club in his junior high years.

By the time that Clint started his high school career, he had learned all that he could about the archery club, knowing that they often went to Nationals. He kicked up his practicing to every day for a good three hours during the summer before his freshmen year. When he tried out for the team, he went for a reserve position, knowing that while he was good, he was still young. He landed a team position though and kept that position for the next four years at high school.

He took shifts on Friday’s, Saturday’s, and Sunday’s at his parent’s pastry shop for extra money in his pocket.

He wasn’t very surprised that his teachers didn’t like him and called him an annoying trouble maker. He had issues with paying attention in class in their eyes, always fiddling with something or another, but he still somehow got perfect grades. They didn’t know how he could get the grades he did, but he did it. During his freshmen year, his parents were often asked to come in to speak with the principle to speak them about another teacher complaining about things getting thrown at them.

They never once pinned it on him since no one had ever seen him do it, and he had never used something that could be traced back to him.

Some of the items that had been complained about had been bits of pink erasers, the same kind that everyone carried with his own still solid and only used bits found in his bag, and sometimes pencil lead that had broken from his pencils that he tended to keep nice and sharp anyways. Pins that the teachers could have sworn had been locked in desk drawers had also been used once or twice.

The accusations without any kind of proof had been dropped after the first six months of going in on the meetings between his parents and principle. Clint’s grades were also adjusted when he demanded that his grades were marked by someone not his teacher. The fact that they were marking him down on a lot of his tests and some of his longer homework assignments came out because of that. But he didn’t let that fact hurt him at all since he was too busy with the rest of his life to really worry about things like asshole teachers.

When not at school, practice or at tournaments, he was happily working at his parent’s bakery, surrounded by the smell of pastries, chocolate, and sugar. He had started working for them the moment he turned fifteen, starting as a part time janitor, mostly cleaning the tables and the bathrooms. He was soon allowed to do dishes, close the shop, and make sure that everything was set up properly.

He was proud of his hard work, and his parents were pleased, allowing him to become a part-time cashier when he turned seventeen and had passed his higher math classes. He continued to work for them and even started to learn how to make the pastries, taking over the cooking that happened at night for a couple of months after he graduated.

He had sat his parents down one day just before graduation and admitted to them that he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life after school. Aaron and Maria both agreed that they wouldn’t push him to figure it out for a year, allowing him to take the night job, but they wanted him to think about it and not push it off. He promised and took over the night shifts, making the starting batches and filling orders that would be delivered or picked up the next day. He found that working nights he was able to think and research as he needed depending on time of the week.

Whenever he sat down for his break or when something was cooking or cooling, he would sit at his laptop which was usually playing music, movies or a show on auto play while he worked, and research. He had gotten an archery scholarship, but he had given it up to one of his fellow mainline archers who didn’t have the college fund that he had. He also had several acceptance letters from colleges, but none really interested him anymore.

He did play with the idea of going to a culinary school. But after some research, talking to a few of the students there, and a detailed tour of the campus, he decided that it wasn’t a good idea for him. He preferred to learn with his hands and parents after all, and they wanted him to do a lot of classes based on theory first.

With that idea struck off his list of possible future careers, he turned to researching nursing schools, what he would need to get to be a teacher, business school, accounting degrees, and various other minor degrees that he could use to boost any major. He finally settled on doing a history minor with a nursing major, just because history was interesting to him. He started to figure out just what he needed for his degrees and started the base classes the January after he had graduated, still working night shifts.

Clint’s father had also set him up with an apprenticeship with another baker at one of their sister sites to learn new recipes from him for new items for the third shop that they were going to open. He would be teaching his replacement once he had finished with the apprenticeship and his first semester of college so that he was able to take over as the main baker of the new shop.

He was 19 and life was about to take a new turn.
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Changing Lives