Work Text:
Rain falls from the sky, slicing through the heat and leaving behind a chill. The streets reek of the thick smell of water and pollution. He sits in a cafe, tucked away in a corner next to a window. His bruised face is mostly hidden by a deep purple hood. He twirls a pen between his fingers as a barista brings him a cup of hot chocolate.
"Uh…" he says. "Thanks? I didn't order this."
The woman nods her head in the direction of a young man then walks away. Clint nudges the glass away from himself and continues to look out the window. He can see the young man slide into the booth from the corner of his eye but he doesn't acknowledge him.
"You don't like hot chocolate?" He asks while leaning forward on his elbows.
"I don't like drinks bought by strangers." Clint says, finally looking from the street. His gaze meets the man's and he sits up a little straighter. "Do you want something?"
The man shrugs. "Just thought I'd offer something for someone in need."
"I'm not in need." Clint says, keeping his voice firm. "Who the fuck are you?"
"James Barnes, but I go by Bucky." He says holding out his hand. "Who the fuck are you?"
Clint stares at the hand for a moment before shaking his hand.
"Clint."