Chapter Text
The wind was sharp and biting as Barnes walked across campus. Not that he noticed, he was focused on finding the right building. Once he had, it took only a minute to find his classroom. He glanced down at his watch, he was a full half hour early.
Oh well.
Being 15 minutes early for 15 minutes early was a hard habit to break. Luckily there wasn’t a class in session in the room so he could go in, sit, and get out of the wind.
He hesitated just inside of the door, he wanted to sit in the back corner where his back would be to the wall and he could keep an eye on the exit. But this wasn’t some bullshit general education class, this was part of his core curriculum and he wanted to be up front where he could connect better with the professor. He settled on a compromise, right up front but at the end of the row so he could turn his chair and still have a decent view of the room. He set his pack down by his feet, pulling a notebook and a pen out, placing them on the desk before him.
Sitting there, fiddling with his phone, he watched the door as other students started to filter in. The more the classroom filled up the more Barnes’ stomach dropped. It was all girls, it wasn't particularly unsettling that they were all female but they looked so young. He had known, intellectually, that he would be nearly a decade older than most college students, but he hadn't really thought about it. Then it got worse, the professor came in with a smile and a “good afternoon”, another woman who was closer to his age but only barely. He knew what he looked like, his hair long and in his face, he hadn’t cut it since he got out. His scruff, he didn’t bother with shaving daily anymore now that he didn’t have to. His sweatshirt declared Glock to be a superior brand of firearm. His Oakley sunglasses perched on the top of his head, and the fact that his pack at his feet was military issue, it still had dirt from Afghanistan on it for christ-sakes, couldn’t make it any more obvious that he was a veteran. He was glaringly out of place.
“Alright everybody.” the professor had a carrying voice at least; Barnes hated having to strain to hear soft speakers, “We’ll go ahead and give any stragglers some more time before we get started since it’s the first night.”
Barnes glanced down at his watch, two minutes past. The other students chattered and laughed. Clearly at least some of them knew each other or maybe they were just those naturally social types. He kept his eyes glued to his phone. He was just refreshing his email, trying to look busy to make it easier to avoid eye contact. A few more girls came in and found seats.
“Okay, let’s get started. First off is everyone in the right place? Introduction to Social Work, 250?”
There was a pause while everyone nodded or murmured an affirmative. Barnes just continued to stare at the professor, he knew he was in the right place, he did his recon, he did not make amateur mistakes like end up in the wrong classroom.
“Good, so if you’re in this class you're most likely a social work major, is anyone not?” another pause, this time no one spoke up. “Great so now let’s do some introductions. I’d like everyone to share their name, a fun fact about yourself and why you want to be a social worker. Surely you’re not doing it for the money so there has to be something that drew you to this field and I’d love to know it. Let’s start in the back and work forward.”
Tiffany, Amber, Karen, Anita, Maria, Natalie then they started to blur together. A room full of girls wanting to help disadvantaged kids. Over and over, “I want to work with children.” Or “I want to work in a school with kids.” Barnes chewed on his lip, this was good, he knew there were kids who needed help. He knew intellectually that the foster care system wasn’t great, that it needed these bright young women. But he couldn’t help but realize he really didn’t have any common ground with anyone here.
Bang
Everyone turned to look when door slammed open, which luckily meant no one saw Barnes jerk and reach to his thigh for a gun that wasn’t there.
“Sorry, sorry, there was a dog”
Barnes, as well as the rest of the class, stared at this guy. Dirty blond hair sticking up all over the place, face flushed and panting as he scrambled to the front of the class.
“Sorry,” he panted, “I really meant to be on time. I left early and everything.”
He dropped into a seat in the front row, giving more apologies in one long rambling breath, “Sorry I’m here okay sorry carry on.” He pulled a rolled up notebook out of his baggy sweatshirt and a pen out of the pocket of his jeans, ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before and beamed at the professor.
Barnes' irritation at being startled faded in the face of such genuine happiness. This guy was the most cheerful looking person Barnes had seen in a long time.
“Right, welcome Mr…” the professor trailed off.
“Clint Barton” the guy, Barton, supplied “again, so sorry”
“That’s alright Mr. Barton, since it’s the first class, just in the future if being late is unavoidable if you could try and make your entrance a tad less dramatic that would be appreciated.”
“Right, yeah okay.” Barton winced.
“So. We were doing introductions Mr. Barton and it looks like it’s your turn.”
Barnes looked away from Barton’s hands, that were fidgeting with his pen, to look around. He realized while he had been moping about not fitting in they had made it through the whole class already. It would have been his turn next if not for Barton’s interruption.
“We know your name, but how about an interesting fact about yourself and why you want to be a social worker.” the professor finished.
“Okay,” he straightened and half turned in his chair to face more of the class. “Hey, I’m Clint.” he gave a little wave and his grin was somewhere between amused and embarrassed. “Uhh.. a fact about me, well I guess I’m an archer. Well I mean I know I am an archer, pretty good too, like I compete and win and stuff but I guess that's interesting. I guess...” His rambling petered out.
There was an amused snort, and it took Barnes a second to realize it had come from him. Barton turned his head and their eyes met. Bartons expression went from unsure to shit-eating grin in a flash, his eyes bright with amusement. With more than a little shock, Barnes realized he was smiling as well. Just a small upturn of the corner of his mouth but even that much was rare for him. There was a moment where they just stared at each other before Baron looked down at his desk.
“Right, anyways, uh I want to be a social worker cause me and my brother grew up in the system, which failed my bro spectacularly, but worked out for me, kinda, but mostly just dumb luck got me this far, and I uh wanna try and do better by other little shit-heads than was done for me, yeah so that's it.”
This was delivered with his eyes glued to his desk, while he rubbed the back of his neck. When he finished, he looked back up at the professor with a small, self conscious smile. Barnes couldn't help but be impressed and a little awed. This wasn't some naïve dream to save the world's children, but a genuine mission. Barnes could respect that. Not only that but that was a lot of honesty and vulnerability to just throw out there in a room of strangers.
He was still staring at the side of Barton’s head when he, and the professor, turned to look at him.
Oh shit.
Barton and himself were the only two in the front row, which meant it was his turn to go. He could feel the eyes of the whole class on him. But more importantly Barton was looking him right in the eye, an encouraging smile on his face. At the beginning of this Barnes had planned to be as vague and quick as possible. But after Barton’s, admittedly rambling, but truly candid speech, and with him only a few feet away looking right at him Barnes felt like he needed to match the authenticity. So, with a deep breath in, he turned his head to fix his eyes on a spot on the wall near the back of the class.
“My names Barnes, I’m Marine veteran, I was medically discharged in 2013.” Another deep breath, “My PTSD got the best of me a year ago, which landed me in court mandated counseling. That may have been one of the best things to happen to me. My counselor changed my life and that’s what I want to do. Help vets.”
Barnes cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, and risked a glance at Barton’s face. His smile was wobbling and his eyes were shining. Barnes jerked his eyes down to his lap, he was already feeling shaky from the whole, tell a bunch of strangers I’m crazy reveal, there was no way he could handle that much emotion on Barton’s face.
Fuck, Barnes you’re a goddamn combat vet don't you dare fucking tear up right now
While Barnes was busy talking to himself the professor had started going over the syllabus. He only listened with a half an ear, he had already printed it off the school website and read it thoroughly. In fact, it was neatly folded and tucked into his notebook with the particularly important information highlighted. Now that the attention was off of him and he was able to calm down he risked glancing back up at Barton. He was scribbling notes with a look of concentration on his face, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Then he muttered quietly,
“Aww, pen no.”
Barton looked up from where he was scribbling his pen frantically, and whipped his head around to look at Barnes, who was caught staring again. Then he grabbed his stuff and shuffled over a seat, and then another until he was sitting in the desk next to Barnes, who watched his approach in what he would never admit to being terror.
Leaning in, so close Barnes could smell coffee on his breath, Barton whispered,
“Do you have an extra pen?” He gave his, which was purple, a little wave as if to show its failure.
Barnes just stared at him until Barton quirked an eyebrow.
Barnes jerked around to grab his pack and reach into it. Barton chuckled. While the professor had tried to ignore Barton’s moving, she paused in her explanation of what kind of sources would need to be cited in their research paper to look at them now.
“Sorry, my pen died” Barton explained. He waved his pen again, this time in the professor's direction.
The professor sighed and resumed. Barnes kept looking in his pack, even though he knew exactly where his pens were.
Always plan for failure, bring extra supplies.
Barnes finally figured he could only “look” for a pen for so long so he turned back and offered a plain black one to Barton who smiled bright and genuine. Barnes’ stomach did a funny swooping clenching thing. Well, that explained it, why he had been so honest earlier, why he kept getting caught staring, why he had yet to manage to say a direct word to this man next to him. Barnes hadn’t fallen this hard this fast in a long time. But here he was, watching as Clint took notes, his tongue back to poking out, dog-hair covering his hoodie, and smelling of coffee.