Natasha sits in her second class, pointe shoes tied up around her ankles and waiting for the instructor to finish her explanation on an advanced step they will be working on today.
She's paying attention, but the back of her brain is focused on what will come at lunch. They'd been told to head to the cafeteria and find the table with their name on it. That will be their lunch table and group for the rest of the program. She glances at the few students, 5 girls and 3 boys and wonders if any of them will be in her group. For some reason she hopes not.
—
Clint mentally calculates aerodynamics versus propulsion force while he taps his pencil along the edge of the desk. His eyes stare up at the clock and he counts that there are only 7 minutes left of this second block. He rolls his shoulders and leans back further, half listening to the teacher who is excitedly explaining something about past airplane engines.
He'd tried to get into the lunch room early to see his group but the TA had been in the cafeteria, staring at one of the tables, looking like he was unsure about something, so Clint had snuck out and decided to head to his first class early.
—-
Bucky walks slowly to the cafeteria, he doesn't want to be the first one at the table. A coil of nerves rolls around in his stomach as he presses the crash bars and enters the bustling area. Kids are roaming around, looking for their names and letting out sounds of relief when they finally find it.
He walks in an organized fashion, circling each table, reading each unclaimed spot for his name. He's halfway through the tables when he sees it, James Barnes. His throat catches and he looks up at the two other people there so far, a girl with shockingly red hair and a serious face, and a boy, taller and older than him with dirty blonde hair and eyes that follow his every move.
"Hey, I'm James." He says calmly, but then scrunches his nose, "but I prefer to be called Bucky."
The girl's eyebrows quirk up and the corner of her mouth twitches. "I'm Natasha." She looks at the blonde guy who picks up his name tag and waves it at them. "I'm Clint. Why Bucky?"
It's a common question that he's used to answering. "My middle name is Buchanan, and my little sister called me Bucky and it stuck."
Neither comment on that, just nod in acceptance and he sits down. He slides his hand over and angles the two remaining names on the table: Steven Rogers. And—
His brain freezes. He looks at the other two, waiting for their reaction. When they just stare at him he gapes, "Anthony Stark? As in Tony Stark?"
When they still don't respond he reaches for his phone and pulls it out, its an outdated model but it still works great. He holds it up, "you know? Like the StarkPhone? Howard Stark? The inventor?"
Recognition starts to seep into their eyes and he stares at the name again. He can't believe it! He can't wait to tell his parents! Suddenly the nerves return in full force, what's the richest kid in America even like?
He doesn't have long to wonder because his eyes get drawn to the object of his thoughts as he saunters into the lunch room, bag hanging off his shoulder. All three watch as he eyes tables that still have empty spots and then finally catches his name on their table. He walks over, hanging his bag off the edge of his chair and sits down.
He eyes them all, a bit wary when they don't speak.
"What? There something on my face? Or did I get put with a table of mutes?"
—
Tony sets his bag down and sits, staring at the three kids at his table. He eyes the red head first. She looks at him with calm and steady eyes which has his impression of her rising. No one speaks and he rolls his eyes.
"What? There something on my face? Or did I get put with a table of mutes?"
A huff of a laugh is followed by: "I'm Bucky Barnes." He eyes the dark brunette boy to his left that seems a bit enthralled with him and reaches out to shake his hand. To the kid's credit he doesn't hesitate and Tony receives a firm handshake in return.
Tony looks up at the other two who take turns introducing themselves.
They're about to wonder about the last kid, as every other seat seems to be filled when the doors open one last time. Tony's eyes follow in disbelief as the scrawniest, rail thin blonde kid walks into the cafeteria, ducking his shoulders under the scrutiny of 99 pairs of eyes. He looks just the littlest bit helpless in the face of finding his seat when he hears two voices speak at the same time.
"Over here!" And "Hey, we're here!" The blonde kid looks up and relief floods his face as he locates the table. Tony glances and sees is standing, motioning with his arm for the kid to follow and the kid who introduced himself as Bucky also has his hand in the air.
The kid finally reaches their table and drops a well worn book bag at the foot of his chair.
"Hey." He says, not sitting down, "this my spot?" His eyes question them and Tony speaks up.
"Looks that way," he grabs the name tag, "You're Steven Rogers?"
"Yep." He sits down and Tony has to resist the urge to see if his feet touch the ground. "But I just go by Steve."
They take turns introducing themselves for the final time and when Tony says his name and watches the kid for his reaction. For good or evil his name has been in the papers since he was a baby. Having a world famous inventor for a dad will do that to you. Most kids follow him around acting like idiots, hoping for a piece of his money or 'fame'. He hates it.
"I'm Tony Stark."
"Nice to meet you all." Steve says, nodding his head up and down.
Nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition. Something in Tony is surprised because other than the slightly excited brunette to his left, none of the other kids in his group even seemed remotely interested in his name and what it meant.
He settles back into his chair as the TA walks to the stage at the far side of the cafeteria and taps the microphone. He spares a quick glance around his table again, watching as they stare at the stage, not dying for his attention or staring at him in awe. He shrugs and looks towards the stage, maybe he won't mind this group thing after all.
—
He's just finished washing and racking his supplies when he sees that other students had just left their brushes without washing them properly. He hesitates for a second before he could hear his ma's voice, "Steve, resources are precious, you always treat them the best you can. Respect the tools you're given."
He sighs and sets his bag down again, washing the supplies quickly and efficiently before storing them and almost running to the first floor. When his breathing starts to hitch he slows down, walking at an even pace. Do not give yourself an asthma attack. He scolds himself.
He steps into the room and mentally kicks himself for being the last into the cafeteria. He's glancing a bit frantically when he hears two voices.
"Over here!"
"Hey, we're here!"
He looks up at the noise and sees two boys, one blonde and one brunette, both using their hands to catch his attention. He lets out a relieved breath and hurries over.
"Hey." He says, a bit uncertain, "this my spot?"
A kid across the table, probably one of the oldest in the entire room speaks up, eyeing him, "looks that way. You're Steven Rogers?"
"Yep." He says as he sits down, straightening his shirt, "but I just go by Steve."
They introduce themselves to him and he nods at each name, "nice to meet you all." He says as the microphone squeaks out feedback.
—
Bruce steps up to the podium, knocking on the microphone to make sure it's on and then wincing at the shriek it lets out.
"Alright, sorry about that. Here we go, our first lunch together in the new groups. You all have gotten to know each other's names, but as you eat, a sheet of paper will be passed around and you should take turns reading the questions and then answering them."
He eyes the table he's been most curious about, but they just stare dutifully back at him.
"Once you've finished the questions and your lunches, you will need to head with your group to the electives board and study it, you will be discussing the options and deciding what is best for you. You do not have to take the same elective as your group members." He clarifies. "But use them as a sounding board, have them challenge your decision and see if you know why you want to take that elective, don't just select what looks fun or the easiest." His smile is genuine because he knows that, for the most part, all of these students want to be here, not to slack off.
The groups are nodding their heads and he steps back, handing a stack of papers to the other TA, Maria Hill, and starts his rounds around the room.