the breakfast club [ avengers ]

unum

Silence hung heavy in the library as though a funeral had just been taking place. Only quiet breaths and subtle tapping- along with the incessant ticking of the white, plastic, analogue clock that hung above the door- attempted to fight away the void.

Natasha and Steve stared at the wall in boredom, boring holes into the plain white walls. Natasha looked away briefly to slip off her black cardigan and puff up her hair with her recently manicured hands.

Steve did his best to entertain himself by reenacting famous wrestling matches in his mind but with himself as the victor.

Clint pulled a small lighter from the inside pocket of his coat, one that was decorated with the outline of a hawk in silver. He pulled the lighter up to his face and started to click it rhythmically and watched as the gas-born flame rose and died with every click.

Tony ran his fingernails over the table, memorising the grooves and dents with his fingertips. He ran a hand through his already messy hair and twiddled aimlessly with his glasses to try and keep his mind off the sheer boredom that exhausted the other students.

And Bucky lay hunched forward with his cheek against the tabletop, drifting in and out of a half sleep. The dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his face warned the others not to bother to try and wake him as small- almost silent- snores came from his partially open mouth.

The library door was open and across a small stretch of corridor, Fury sat in the librarian's office while catching up on some marking, from his open door he could easily see the five students at their tables.

As the clock continued to tick, Tony whispered to himself as he tried to dull the boredom by doing what he was best at- mathematical sum. He needed to revise anyway, his father would go berserk if he found out that Tony hadn't been keeping his mind active. When he was around, Howard Stark could either be a decent father and husband or a sulky and malicious monster; plenty of nights Tony had found himself too scared to sleep- too scared for morning to arrive, bringing a knew personality for Howard.

"Sixty seconds in a minute. Sixty minutes in an hour, so that's... three thousand-six hundred seconds in an hour, times by eight... is-"

"What the fuck are you rambling on about over there four eyes?" Clint turned in his chair and narrowed his eyes at the wide eyed boy. He wiped the small amount of spittle that had gathered at the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand and wiped his hand on the table much to the dismay of Natasha.

"Four eyes? that's original. Way to go jackass," Steve muttered sarcastically causing Natasha to snicker behind her hand. Clint rolled his eyes and ignored the pair, turning his attention back to Tony.

"So Tommy, what were you whispering to yourself? Eh?" Clint hissed and leant forward on his chair closer to Tony.

The younger boy scratched the back of his neck and rambled in his nervous state, "my name isn't Tommy, it's Anthony- although I prefer Tony, only my father calls me Anthony- and my aunt Freida who I call Friday, it's funny really-"

"Jeez kid, I didn't want you entire family tree, what- were- you- saying- to- yourself ?" Clint harshly interrupted and spoke mockingly slow.

Tony stuttered, "right, right, sorry. I'm calculating the number of seconds we have left in detention. There are sixty seconds in a minute and sixty minutes in an hour so that's three-thousand six-hundred seconds. T-then times that by the the amount of hours in detention- eight- so that's now... twenty eight thousand-eight hundred seconds. Then take away the amount of seconds in thirty minutes- the approximate amount of time we have been here- which is one thousand-eight hundred... so we approximately have twenty six thousand and two hundred seconds left until we can go home." He finished triumphantly and a small smile.