A/N: multiple updates in a day to celebrate the new trailer release! I'll probably regret this later when I have nothing to post and have to scramble to put something together but hey- this is a time of celebration.
Ps. This gif is one of my favorites EVER and it perfectly, PERFECTLY fits this imagine (so I'm very happy).

LOVE YOU ALL!!

-Winnie

Words: 2K

Starbucks: the place for teenage girls to take Frappe Snapchats, for business loners to make calls, for studying hipsters to sip on cold brew, and for the Avengers to meet over a cup of herbal tea.

There's a Starbucks conveniently located halfway between SHIELD HQ and the Avengers' new compound. Once every few weeks Tony Stark and Steve Rogers will drive out to see Nick Fury in the most inconspicuous way. This time Bucky Barnes is joining them, and so is Black Widow. The lot of five chooses a spot in the back corner away from any windows to meet. It's not as crowded of a café as anywhere else public they could meet. At this hour, six at night, there aren't a lot of caffeine partakers. Plus: Fury really fucking loves chai.

The four Avengers are second to arrive to the SHIELD director. They waltz up to the usual table and see that Fury's reading the daily paper. The rain comes down like bullets outside.

"You fuckers are late." Fury huffs and sets the paper aside. "I had to order your drinks for you." He points to Stark. "You payin' me back for it—cash."

"Sure, sure." Stark settles down on the seat opposite of Fury. "What are we talking about today? And why'd you have me drag Metal Man here? He doesn't like being exposed to direct sunlight." Tony awkwardly shifts away from Bucky's glare. "Or people."

"I wouldn't mess with that guy, Stark, he'll fuck you up." Fury chuckles then adds, "No offense, Soldier."

"None taken," Bucky grunts in reply. He sits between Nat and Steve at the crammed table.

"Anyway, let me tell ya what I know." Fury pulls out his tablet and starts typing something onto the screen.

Just before he can delve into his speech, the barista at the counter is hollering, "Chai tea latte for Nick!"

"Oh! That's me, y'all." Fury hurriedly shoves away from the table. "They got yours up here too, Stark! I'll grab it for ya!" he hollers halfway there.

Tony waves a half-interested hand. He's grabbed Fury's tablet and already started looking through the files. Nat reads over his shoulder.

"Americano for Steve! Half-sweet mocha for Nat!"

Steve slides off his chair. "Get mine, too?" Nat asks. She fiddles with the specials sign on the center of the table.

"Sure."

Bucky looks around the café uneasily. He taps his foot under the table and waits, on edge, for his name to be called.

"Breve for Becky!"

Tony snorts. Bucky shoots the man a glare. "That's you, Soldier. We're the only people in this joint." Bucky looks around and realizes Stark's right. With a grunt he gets up just as the barista calls for him again, "Becky!"

"It's Bucky, actually," he mutters impatiently and sort of crude when he makes it to the counter. He sees the foamy drink on the bar before lifting his eyes up to see the barista's face...

"Oh! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry about that," the young woman chuckles. She blushes as she softly pushes the drink in his direction. "They wrote Becky—they must've misheard—I'm sorry..."

"N—no worries," Bucky stutters. Since his blue eyes, hidden by the cover of his cap and the dark hair framing his face, have seen the girl he can't look away. His voice is warmer but just as quiet as it was before, "It, uh, happens all the time."

The girl raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Really?"

Bucky chuckles lightly. "No. Not really." He picks up his drink and looks down at the top of it. "Uh, what is it?"

"A breve," the barista responds. She tucks some loose hair back under her green hat and laughs lightly at his blank-face confusion. "It's like a latte, but with heavy cream instead of milk. Your friend said not to make you anything sweet, but I felt like a latte was too basic."

"Well, it's beautiful," Bucky comments on the pretty latte art heart the girl has created. He doesn't know why, but when he sees her smile at the compliment he wants to keep throwing them her way: compliment after compliment just so that he can get another glimpse of her lips pulling up in that adorable way. "You're, uh, really talented."

The barista laughs. Bucky can't help but start to grin as the noise flutters into his ears. "I don't know if I'd call it a talent, but thank you." She gives her head a shake and that's when the fold of her apron moves and Bucky can read her nametag properly.

"Y/N?" Bucky watches her reaction as she nods her head. "Pretty name."

The girl's cheeks, freckled lightly in the warm café lights, swirl with shades of pink. "You're very kind," she chuckles lightly, "Maybe your friend was wrong and you'd like something with a bit more sugar in it instead. You're plenty sweet enough for it."

Bucky's thrown off by the girl's obvious interest in him. She meets his eyes with more courage and hutzpah than he's seen by anyone in the last two years of post-Hydra life. In fact, the longer he keeps staring at her, the cheekier the grin on her face becomes.

"No, uh, this—this should be fine." Bucky picks up his cup quickly: unsure of what else to do. In the hastened process he ends up spilling half of the drink all over the counter. The scalding liquid splashes all over his glove covered left hand and the wooden tabletop. "Shit, shit—I'm sorry."

Y/N only laughs. She's fetched a rag out from somewhere back there. "No worries. It happens all the time," she reassures the blushing man.

"Really?" Bucky asks.

The girl smiles. "Yes, really." Her eyes have momentarily flickered away from the sticky coffee mess to Bucky's face. She can catch quick glimpses of the intriguing color of his eyes beneath the shade of his dark hair. She wants to pull away the cap to get a better look at his scruffy, chiseled jaw face but keeps herself to taking a peek instead. The thing that draws her attention back to the spill is Bucky's hand softly taking the rag from her grasp.

"Let me. I made the mess, I can clean it up." Bucky's avoiding eye contact as he starts to wipe down the space.

Y/N notices that the man's left sleeve is drenched. "Are you okay? Do you need some ice? It was pretty hot..."

"No, no. I'm fine," Bucky quickly tries to assure her. Quickly he glances up at her on the other side of the counter. She nods and picks up an empty cup and a black pen.

"Let me at least get you another drink."

Bucky, now finished cleaning, pats his empty pockets. "That's alright; I don't have any cash on me."

"No worries: it's on the house," Y/N says. She smiles and adds, "You just have to let me pick the drink."

Bucky, sensing the eyes of the other Avengers on him now that he's taking so damn long, chuckles and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Sure. That'd be great."

"Alright. Thank you, Bucky. Your drink will be ready soon." Y/N shoots Bucky a flirty little wink before disappearing back behind the barista bar.

Bucky, awkward and confused, doesn't know whether to go back to his table or stay lingering behind the counter. He decides after a few moments that it'd be best to meet back with the team. So he strays from the spot back to his empty seat at the table.

"No coffee?" Steve asks, sort of confused when he sees his pal with nothing to drink.

"Spilled." Bucky shrugs.

"The barista's pretty cute," Nat mutters into Bucky's shoulder when the rest of the group is talking missions. She wiggles her plucked eyebrows suggestively.

Bucky scoffs. "W-what? What makes you say that? I didn't—I didn't say that." He scoots his bottom around the chair to try and find a more comfortable position.

"No, but I saw you making heart eyes at her." Nat grins as she witnesses the Winter Soldier blushing. "Get her number!"

Steve, who has been talking with Tony and Nick, glances over at the two whispering assassins. They play innocent under his stare and only resuming gossiping when his back is turned again.

"No, she's—she's so young."

"She's gotta be in her early twenties, Barnes. That's not much younger than you—biologically. A few years at the most."

"She's—she's adorable," Bucky relishes in the sight of the girl as she peeks around the corner for him. She's just finishing up on his drink, it seems. Bucky smiles at her before moving his eyes back to Nat. "I can't. I can't ask her." His dark hair sways as he shakes his head. "There's no way she'd actually give it to me."

"Shut up. She's totally been giving you the flirty eyes, too."

Bucky blinks. "R-really? You think so?"

Before Nat can answer the barista is calling out: "Bucky!"

A grin spreads over Nat's face. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Bucky tries to compose himself in a casual way. He tugs down the sleeves of his denim jacket and straightens the position of his baseball cap. Oh god, he should've worn something nicer today. Is this shirt even clean? He subtly tries to smell himself on his journey to the counter. He can't smell anything except for coffee and herbal tea. At least he doesn't reek of post mission grime and ripe body odor.

Y/N holds the lidded drink out with both hands. Her small, dainty fingers are so cute—Bucky thinks with an internal sigh. She's wearing pastel blue nail polish and little daisy shaped earrings he can see under the Starbucks cap.

"I made you something sweeter this time," Y/N announces when he comes close enough to hear.

Bucky thanks her with a soft spoken, "Thanks." He makes sure to use his flesh hand and not the gloved, cold metal one when he grabs the drink from her grasp. Their fingers brush and the girl's grin grows. "What is it?"

"A snickerdoodle white mocha," Y/N replies. She laughs—such a sweet noise—when Bucky raises a skeptical brow. "Just try it! I promise it's good."

Bucky's not nervous about trying the coffee drink. No, he's nervous about how he's going to propose the question that's on his mind. Would she give him her number? Would she let him take her out to dinner? Pull out her chair for her? Buy her flowers and run his fingers through her pretty hair? Would she want to hold his hand—doing it for the whole world to see? God, it's ridiculous isn't it? To want all of these with this girl that he's just seen. But she's... Y/N's sparked something in Bucky Barnes that this century has never seen. His heart is fluttering and his tongue sandpaper-dry.

Y/N waits impatiently while Bucky takes a drink. His head tilts back ever-so slightly and shows off thick veins when he swallows.

"Well?"

Bucky laughs. The noise catches Tony and Steve off guard from their table. They immediately turn towards the scene. Nat was already watching. She's thoroughly invested in this interaction now.

"It's pretty damn good, doll." Bucky's blue eyes widen slightly as he realizes what he's just said. Did he just call her doll?! He hasn't even used that word since the 40's. He doesn't even remember it being in his vocabulary until it just came rolling off of his tongue so naturally.

Y/N's smile is soft and sweet. "Good. I'm glad." Her eyes flicker behind Bucky to somewhere off-scene. "Your friends look like they're waiting for you."

Bucky hardly gives them a second glance. "They're fine," he excuses lamely.

Y/N chuckles. "Well, I'm sure they are. But I should probably get back to work..." She points somewhere far behind. "I have dishes to do, unfortunately."

Bucky's heart drops a speed. "Oh. Oh—okay." He forces himself to smile kindly. "Thank you for the drink."

The barista with the pretty eyes smiles one last time. "And thank you for being so sweet, Bucky." She turns around one last time before she leaves, "Or should I call you Becky?"

Bucky shakes his head good-humoredly and chortles quietly. It's only when Y/N leaves that he clenches his eyes and groans. Damn—he missed his fucking shot. He keeps his mug tight in his grasp on the way back to the table. His boots nearly stomp the whole way.

Nat opens her mouth but Bucky stops her there. "Didn't work. I'm a fucking loser." He shoves the drink a bit away from him on the table.

Nat raises an eyebrow. "Really?" She grabs his drink from him and starts to laugh lightly when she's about to prove that she'd been right. "Because it looks like you got the girl to me." She spins the paper cup around until the Sharpie etched digits can be seen.

Bucky sits up higher in his seat. He scrambles to snatch the cup up again—almost as if he doesn't look at it fast enough it'll fade away. Nat cackles, fully gathering Steve and the others' attention, but Bucky doesn't even care anymore. Printed in perfect penmanship is the happiest phrase Bucky's ever seen: "I'll call you Becky, and you can call me anytime."