Corrode [Stucky]

ch.3

     James woke up with a start. He felt drowsy and disoriented, his heart beat relentlessly. He had a bad dream, he just couldn't remember what it was. 

     He stumbled to the bathroom and got ready. Nat had already left for her morning lecture by the time Bucky stumbled out of the bathroom. He peered into the kitchen to find Clint with text books sprawled out in front of him, studying for a quiz he had later that day. He greeted Bucky with a smile then redirected his attention back to his text book. 

     The three lived in a three-bedroom apartment a five-minute walk away from the university. The place was tiny, but very convenient.

     By the time Bucky was ready to leave, Clint was gone too. He walked slowly but managed to slip into his lecture hall a few seconds before the lecture started. Sam was seated not to far from him. He contemplated joining him but decided against him when noticed Steve sitting close to him.

     Steve wore a black shirt and blue jeans, but somehow managed to look like he was styled for a magazine shoot. He was radiant. All the people around him were leaning towards him, as if paying attention to his words and laughing pleasantly. Bucky sighed. 

     How easy it was to be an alpha. No discrimination. No oppression. More opportunities available.

     Steve wasn't enrolled in that class though. If he continued drawing a big crowd like he was, then the teacher was going to notice him. Not that it was any of Bucky's business.

     The professor cleared her throat loudly and started her lecture on War History. A three-hour long lecture which made Bucky want to impale himself on the long tables. He would have readily chosen to walk down a hallway of Legos barefoot rather than to be subjected to that lecture for the rest of the academic year.

     Bucky counted down the seconds until the lecture was finished. He quickly stepped out before the professor realized that she missed a point and forced the students to stay another fifteen minutes. A frequent occurrence.

     He jogged to his rendezvous spot with Nat and Clint. As always, they were there before him. They ate at the café Bucky worked at to utilize his employee discount then made their way to the training facility and checked in. 

     It was one of the rare days where there wasn't any lesson for either of them to attend. They went to the shooting range to practice. Nat and Bucky grabbed paintball guns while Clint grabbed his bow and arrow. They weren't allowed to used real weapons to train until they were in their third year. Of course, archery was an exception.

     Each of them used their weapon with ease, hitting the targets like it was their second nature. Clint decided to be a show off and shoot and arrow over one already lodged in the wooden target. It split the old arrow in half and buried into the red dot. "I've been practicing," he gloated. 

     "What's the point of archery during battle? You're being chased around, and you have to find your arrows," Bucky mused. He shot at the target board, drawing a smiley face with the splatters of paint. "Why don't you ever practice at the archery range?"

     "Archery is an art," Clint countered. "Also, I would be lonely."

     "Art has no place in war," Bucky said.

     A group of the instructors stumbled upon the two in the middle of the conversation. "It is unfortunate that you do not see the necessity of archery. When you are stranded, you can create your own bow and arrow. Could you do that for your gun Mr. Barnes?" One of the instructors spoke. It was Jarred the one who oversaw archery. His tone was so sharp, Bucky was scared that he had inadvertently offended him.