Chapter Text
Barnes’ alarm went off with a light trill of bells. His eyes opened and his body tenced. He’d woken up ready to fight for years now, he wasn't sure he’d ever wake up slowly again. He didn't immediately roll out of bed and start some cliche workout and it wasn't the crack of dawn. He had no interest in keeping that shit up now that he didn't have to. But his body was programed to be ready as soon as it woken. These days it was his quiet alarm, not drill instructors yelling, the sound of reveille or gunny screaming “Oscar Mike fuckheads”. Regardless of how he was roused he was flooded with adrenalin; though now he got to roll over stretch out and take a moment before rising.
Which is when he remembered, the guy, Barton, he was supposed to meet him later. Barnes groaned and ran his hand over his face before climbing out of bed and striding into the bathroom. He bypassed the mirror and walked straight into the shower stall, hugging the back wall to avoid the cold spray. Once it was an acceptable temperature he ducked his head under the water. Standing there washing his hair, he pondered the previous day. Thank god they hadn’t gone over anything that wasn’t on the syllabus since he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything besides Barton. Obviously he was good looking, but toss in clumsy goofy mess and top it off with disarming honesty and Barnes was a gonner.
Get it together, you don’t even know if he likes guys, let alone damaged, scarred up ones.
It was with that thought that he finished up and shut off the water. No point in standing around wallowing in self pity. He dried off briskly, walking back into the bedroom to pull on clothes. Once he was dressed he returned to the bathroom to comb out his hair and brush his teeth. It was only like this - fully dressed - that he was able to look in the mirror. His counselor, Rogers, assured him with enough time he would come to accept his body, but he didn't see that happening any time soon. However he had been right about a lot of other stuff, so Barnes figured he’d trust him on that one. Rogers was the inspiration for Barnes to stop wasting his time sitting in his apartment and getting shitfaced at the bar and actually put his GI Bill to use. He had put it bluntly “You got blown the fuck up for this government Barnes, use their goddam money to get yourself a fucking education, even if for no other reason to spite the fuckers.” So here he was, working his way through a degree and slowly but surely getting his shit together.
Ready as he was going to get, he shoved his textbook into his pack and headed out the door. It was way too early but he knew if he didn't leave now he would start overthinking and end up talking himself out of going. Besides he could read the chapter himself before Barton got there so they wouldn’t have to try and read it at the same time.
It was only a short drive from his apartment to campus but it took him more than a few minutes to find a spot near the cafe. Once he had finished parking he figured it would be better to just go in now, get some good recon, find the best spot, and wait. It was a weekday morning and this place was popular so it was full of customers, most of whom looked to be students. Barnes waited in line, keeping his eye on the exits and the crowd.
Coffee in hand, he settled at a table in the corner, it had the best lines of sight and he was able to put his back to the wall. A glance at his watch showed he had just over an hour before Barton arrived. No reason not to put the time to use, he pulled out the textbook and opened it. He liked to be thorough so he started with the forward and author's notes; just because it wasn't assigned didn’t mean it wasn't good to read it as well. Once he got the the beginning of the first chapter he pulled out his notebook so he could write down his notes. It was tempting to put in his earbuds and listen to music but it would make him vulnerable. 15 minutes in he was ready to admit defeat, there was a reason he never studied in public places, he was massively distracted. It was impossible to focus and maintain an awareness of all the possible threats.
Snapping the book shut he took a moment to self assess. Shoulders and jaw tense, heart rate up and breathing shallow, he was on the verge of a panic attack and hadn't even noticed.
Great, you goddamn headcase, can't even sit in a coffee shop without melting down.
Time for a tactical withdrawal and reassess. He slowly and deliberately returned his things to his pack and stalked to the door. The jeep was a safe and secure location. He sat in the driver's seat, locked the doors, cracked the driver window an inch, no more, and put the keys in the ignition so he would able to go mobile immediately. He glanced in the backseat confirming his go-bag was there then checked the locks again. As secure as he was going to get he reached to the glove box to grab the pack of cigarettes he kept stashed there for just this reason. He had quit for the most part but fuck it, a panic attack now was a more pressing concern than eventual lung cancer.
There was no denying the comfort found in giving in to the muscle memory. The crisp tap of the pack against the heel of his palm, the motion of extracting a single cigarette, holding it between his lips and lighting it. He didn't need to think about it, he didn't need to think about anything. Leaning his head back against the headrest, allowing his eyelids to shut halfway he just focused on the smoke filling his lungs. In, hold, release.
By the time the cigarette was done his heart rate had slowed, the tension was gone from his shoulders, and his mind had cleared. A few efficient motions had the lid off an empty soda bottle, the smoldering cigarette dropped in with his other butts, the lid back on, a quick shake to make sure it got wet and was extinguished and back into the cup holder. There was some serious consideration about just going home, but he’d told Barton he would meet him, the guy was counting on him to be there so he could read the chapter for class. Maybe it wasn't a date but he just because Barnes was a mess didn't mean he wasn't a man of his word. It just might take a minute to work his nerve up to get out of his jeep.
Fucking Christ you've been to war you can handle a coffee shop.
While he sat there preparing for his re-entry he observed Barton arrive. Walking down the sidewalk, a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. Barnes forgot to breath for a moment, this had to be an excellent sign, him showing up looking so happy to be here. Waiting for Barton to enter was the obvious choice, getting out now would make him look like a crazy guy who had been sitting waiting in his car, he’d give Barton some time then follow him in. With the best intention of giving it five minutes he found himself getting restless. Where had his discipline gone? He had laid in his own piss for hours waiting for a target to enter his sights but here he was giving in after only three minutes to follow Barton into the shop.
He had sat at the very same table Barnes had been at earlier, except in the opposite seat. Sitting there put his back to everything. Barnes couldn't help but shake his head, civilians, no sense of self-preservation. There was a moment of hesitation, should he get another coffee before going to sit? He’d already had one, more caffeine would just make him more jumpy. Making his decision he headed over to Barton.
Barton's purple hoodie was cleaner than it had been before but his hair was still a mess. His grin when he looked up at Barnes was infectious.
“Hey! I thought you might like this spot best.” He gestured at the chair across from himself.
Huh, not so clueless.
Barnes sat, dropping his pack at his feet. Barton picking this seat for him meant that he was aware of how vulnerable the spot he placed himself in was. But more interestingly, was willing to put himself there in order to put Barnes at ease.
“Thanks.” It was insufficient but Barnes wasn't sure what else to say.
“Yeah man, no problem. I figure you've got my back better then I've got my own.” This was delivered with a careless shrug of his shoulders and a ducking of his head. He continued, “Anyways you want some coffee man I'm going to get some for myself?” and stood.
There was a pause while Barnes considered he'd already had coffee and didn't really want any more but didn't want to be rude and refuse the offer.
“Hot chocolate” he blushed the second the words left his mouth.
But Barton just grinned and said he'd be right back. While he watched him waiting in line he pulled his textbook out and tried his best to not look as nervous as he felt. He managed to survive the few minutes until Barton returned.
Barton was grinning as he presented a frankly ridiculously large cup topped with a mountain of whipped cream.
“Okay, now I’ve got coffee and here you go, some chocolatey goodness for Captain Grumpy Pants.”
“Sergeant, not Captain.” Barnes couldn't help the snark, he even managed to deliver it dry and with a straight face, he was pleased with himself when Barton tossed his head back and laughed.
“My bad man, Sergeant Grumpy Pants it is. Drink up your choco and hand me that textbook.”
Barton pulled his chair closer to his so they could both read at once. Barnes considered telling him he’d already started but decided to keep quiet when he felt the press of Barton's thigh on his. They settled in and studied, nudging one another with an elbow as they traded the occasional smirking joke. They worked, book open in front of them, occasionally pausing to get more coffee or a muffin. Their things spreading out, steadily eating up more and more of the table.
Barnes’ face settled on an easy smile. It was right, somehow, this, being here. With the smell of coffee in the air, the taste of chocolate on his tongue, and the warmth of Barton against him it occurred this was the first time in a long time he actually felt hopeful for the future.