**(IMPORTANT: if you have read my story before, PLEASE READ THIS. I didn't like the way it was going and have changed a few things: the biggest being my main OC's ages and the fact that Reyna's father didn't die, but rather is missing. I also saw my atrocious grammar and fixed it and will try to do better in the future)**

Hey all! This is the Introvertasaurus back with, surprise surprise, another Avenger story. *Le gasp* There will be pairings later in the fic, but I will not say who they will be yet. Anyway, this will be introducing two of my OCs: Reyna and Donovan. I, sadly, do not own Marvel or any of its characters, if I did... Age of Ultron would be very different. Enough said. I also do not own Starbucks. I have owned a few coffees from them, but I do not own the company. I do however own Reyna and Donovan, so no stealing! They are my precious!

Later on I will be adding Spider-Man and Deadpool along with several others probably.
Anywho, ON WITH THE STORY!

(This story is in Reyna's POV)

My story isn't too grand. I was born and raised in a little, but nice apartment complex in Manhattan, New York. My dad went missing when I was five, but, since I didn't know him long, I don't really miss him too much. He's just a mystery to me now; Mom misses him all the time though. She has done a wonderful job taking care of me by herself. They say that no one is perfect, but she is the nearest thing to perfection to me.

I am nineteen with brown eyes and longish, brown hair with teal tips. I am fairly tall, at 5' 10", and lean, well I think I have a good physique though I am sure some would disagree. In case you were wondering I am also a girl. My style consists of almost entirely Converse shoes, witty t-shirts, jeans or jean shorts that stop just above my knees, and lots of bracelets.

Recently I got accepted into an art college nearby. Though I have gotten a few scholarships because of my art, I still needed to make some extra money to pay for the rest of my books and classes. So, here I am, working as Starbucks' new barista. The pay isn't so bad, but everything gets crazy around the morning and coffee break hours. My start was a little rocky, I spilled a frappe on some angry lady's lap and mess up several orders, but I'm starting to get the hang of it around here.
Oh, I almost forgot! my name is-

"Reyna! One iced, mocha chip latte with cream!" my coworker Donovan yelled to me over the sound of the morning rush. Donovan, or Donny or Dondon or any other nickname that pops into my head at the time, is twenty and goes to the computer side of my college. He was the one that helped me get this job. He is kinda short at 5' 5" and has dark, messy, curly hair and dark, blue eyes. He is the order to my chaos, the Clyde to my Bonny, the Avid to my Costello, the John to my Sherlock, the- you get the idea. He's my best friend and has been for nearly eight years. One of my only friends actually; that's kind of sad now that I think about it. Oh well, that doesn't matter right now as he is about to jump me if I don't fill this order. "Rey! The order!"

"Yeah yeah, coming right up!" I yell back to avoid getting hit with a Cream Danish. Then to ruffle his feathers a little, I say, "Feisty little fellow aren't you, Donatello."
"Rey," he glares at me over the cash register. He hates being reminded of his vertically challenged problem. As far as I know, I am the only one that can call him short and not get murdered; a fact I pride myself in and extort as much as I can. I smile sweetly at him and make the order, saying, "Yes, sugar plum?"

He smiles and says, "Just make the coffee, honey bunny."

I cringe and frown. It has been a long standing silent agreement between us that whenever we are annoyed or angry at each other, we act overly nice. We smile, skip, call each other nicknames, and all around act like a couple dating. It is very scary to the people around us. Although we have already made another agreement long age to never date each other; it would ruin our perfect friendship. Anyway, this time he went too far. I am deathly afraid of rabbits. It started after seeing 'Monty Pythons' Search for the Holy Grail' and the bunny scene in it when I was nine. I was scarred for life and have never trusted a rabbit since.

That dumb move deserves retaliation. I will be avenged! I place the finished coffee on the counter and call out the person's name and then walk over to the pastry bins. Donovan likes to keep them organized, straight, and in alphabetical order; it soothes his OCD. I bend down to get a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit and switch two sets of bins with each other so that Donny's perfect order is destroyed. It may not seem like much to most people, but we know each other's pet peeves and this will make up for the name calling and then some.

I go back to making another coffee and see Donny reach down for a cake pop, but he comes up with a coffee cake. Ha! Reyrey 1; Dondon 0. Oh, now he is glaring at me. He knows. Not like anyone else could have done it; we are the only ones working here at the time. Now he's making the "I'm watching you" hand gesture after he rearranges the bins back. I give him the "bring it" finger movement with a sly smile.

He matches my smile and winks. Oh no. Nonono. Winking is bad! Winking means he has something planned which is bad! It is very, very bad! If Dondon didn't get the job with me at Starbucks, his other plans were to be an evil mastermind. He would have been better than that Loki guy. He would have actually pulled it off.

Donny's IQ is somewhere in the 200's, just below Tony Stark's, but he is a better hacker than Stark. He has hacked into seven banks, twelve FBI buildings, the pentagon twice, Stark Tower a handful of times, and SHIELD at least once. He has accessed nuclear launch codes, secret military operations, the location of Area 56, the identities of the Avengers and X-Men. You think I'm kidding. I'm not. If he hadn't disconnected from SHIELD's mainframe as soon as he did, I'm not sure what would have happened. Don's dream is to work from his bedroom, hacking into big time companies for money.

So yeah, him winking scares me. A lot.

Then again, he may have just done it to mess with me! But, wait: what if he knew I was going to think that? And what if he knew I knew that he knew I knew he knew? And if he knew I knew that he knew I knew he knew, then he also knows that I know he knows I know he knows I know he knows. And if he knows-
Hold the phone! His plan has already worked. Dang it! This was just a set up to get my head hurting! I hate it when he does this! He knows I hate it. I know he knows I- Crap! Not again!

I groan and glare at him, holding my head in my hands because of a building headache. He just looks at my all innocent-like and bats his eyes, the little twerp! I'll get him back for this! Right after some Aspirin, my head is killing me now! I hate thinking so hard.

It is now lull time: the time of day that only a few stragglers come in for their caffeine fix. I have been glaring at Donovan for all of an hour and a half, scaring a few customers, and making him edgy. To keep me away from sharp objects, he has switched places with me so now I woman the cash register. I have named it Hoobert and, while Donny has the hardest time with it, it has never caused me trouble. We have an understanding: I treat it well, keep it clean and have patients with it, and it gets to annoy Donny anytime it wants. Win-win.

Anyways, there is only one person here, Frank our friendly resident caffeine addict. He comes in every day and orders a quad-shot espresso, no cream, low sugar, heavy on the syrup, and then gets out his computer and earbuds starts working on whatever Franks do in their free time (no offence to anyone actually named Frank). I have my theories though. Among them is he lives in a house where his wife does not allow anyone to watch anime, so he comes in here to do so and acts all businesslike to avoid suspicion. Donny thinks he's a spy that's trying to monitor him and his part time occupation (*cough*being a hacker*cough*). I think Don's just paranoid.
So the place is basically deserted and so I have plenty of time to glare at Don from where I was leaning against Hoobert, while Don pretended to sort through the straws. Said that he was going to find the defective ones; I'm not buying it. Starbucks has regular, mid-sized straws without the bendy part so there is very little that could defect with them, but whatever Donny is doing over there has his total attention. He is avoiding my wrath. Whatever, I'll get him back later, there are customers now.

It is two men. The first is blond haired, blue eyed and is wearing a white t-shirt and khaki pants and the second is dark haired, brown eyed is wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, black, fingerless gloves, and dark denim pants and his longish hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Both are extremely muscular, without the look of steroids. They look to be in their early twenties and are, as most of the female population of the world would agree, very hot.

Wait a second... I know the blond guy... No! No freaking way! It's Captain Freaking America! And if that's Captain America, then the other guy... I've seen his face before... tall, brunette, fifty yard PTSD stare from traumatic experience most likely a war... War! The World War Two Museum! His picture was there! What was his name... John? Jeremy? Jack? Jame-James! James Buchanan Barnes or "Bucky," that's it! I can't believe these two war hero avengers are really in the same Starbucks that I work in!

On the inside, I am totally fangirling and squeeing like crazy, but I know how annoying it can be to celebrities to have everyone around them turn into a frantic fan mess so I try to stay calm (no offence to any offended fangirls as I myself am one). I nudge Donny with my foot, kind of hard, but he deserved it, I still have a headache. He turns quickly to look at me and I motion with my head to the two heroes and his jaw drops. Sure, he has hacked into Tony Stark's computers before, but actually seeing and meeting some of Avengers means so much more. I tap the bottom of my chin with the back of my hand to discretely tell him to stop drooling and shut his mouth and he complies.

The two men, who had been looking at the menu board from a little ways away, step forward. I look up at them, smile professionally, and say, "What can I get for you today, sirs?"

There must be some friction between them at the moment because Bucky glares at Steve before ordering, "I'd like a tall, iced Americano."

I hold back a snort of laughter, seizing the perfect opportunity, and say, "But you already have one."

Behind me, Donny fails to hold back a snort of laughter, but plays it off as a cough. Bucky blinks, processing what I just said, and looks at Steve for a moment before turning back to me. He smirks, saying, "Yes, but I'd like a different one; this one is defective. It thinks it's a lemming and tried to jump out of an airplane without a parachute."

"I've done it before! I would have been fine!" Steve all but yells, but there is a whine in his voice. "You didn't have to tackle me to the ground and force-strap a parachute on me!"

"You aren't invincible Steve! You could have been seriously hurt or killed on impact! Then where would I be? I couldn't deal with that Steve!" Bucky yells back, glaring at Steve again.

I glare at him as well and say, "Well, I have to agree, it is defective. We will have a new one created momentarily. Would you still like to keep the defective one?"

"I'm not so sure," Bucky says, still glaring at Steve, and the blond wisely keeps his mouth shut.

"How would you like to swap? Mine is being defective as well," I ask, leaning forward against the counter and motioning to Donny behind me with my head. My short brunet friend gulps.

Bucky leans forward on the counter as well and asks, "Hmm... What can he do? I mean, I have to get something out of this."

"Hmm," I say, looking a slightly frightened Donny over. "Well, He isn't a good cook, but can make decent coffees. He sleeps a lot so that is kind of a con, but he is easily entertained and friendly enough when awake. Fairly good with computers. He need a lot of attention though and is very needy. He's also short so if you need something off the top shelf, you better get it yourself. Um... that's about it."

"Hey!" Donny shouts out indignantly.

I make a shooing gesture in his general direction without looking and say, "Can it shorty, adults are talking and I still have a headache." I turn back to Bucky and ask, "So what about yours?"

Donny pouts in the background, mumbling something about being older than me, but I'm not listening to him. Bucky smirks, appraising Steve from over his shoulder and says, "Tsk, about all he's food for is hitting things and jumping out of stuff. But he's pretty strong and is taller than yours."

"Eh, Donny's compact for traveling and convenience, so that's still not a very good deal on my end. I'm sorry to say that I will have to decline. Now if he could cook, that would be a whole new ballgame," I reply.

"Cook?!" Bucky retorted incredulously, "Ha! He can't even turn on toaster let alone make something edible. He could burn water. A bit of a pottymouth nowadays too. It would make his mother very disappointed if she could see him today. I guess I'm stuck with him then. Dang it."

"Hey! I can cook!" Steve protested.

Bucky deadpanned and said, "You nearly burnt down Stark Tower trying to make toast and making cereal is not cooking."

Steve defended his case by saying, "Do you know how confusing it is to work his toaster? So many settings. I panicked, okay?"

"You're Captain America! You don't panic!" Bucky exclaimed and turns back to me.

"Sorry I couldn't help, sir. Tall, Iced Americano right?" I ask, empathetically.

"You got it," he says with a smirk.

"And what for the defective one?" I motion over to Steve with my head.

Steve sighs loudly in irritation and steps up to the counter, saying, "I'd like a grande Iced Mocha, light ice."

"Light ice? Picky isn't he?" I say looking over Steve's shoulder to direct the question to Bucky.

He laughs as Steve grinds his teeth and I ring them up, taking the money Steve begrudgingly hands walks over to the tip jar and throws in a wad of cash, at least three hundred dollars, and says, "To my new favorite barista, Reyrey. Don't let your defect steal any of it."

He must have read my name tag and gave me a nickname. I smile and say, "He won't"

I proceed to make both drinks myself, seeing as Don-in-the-dumps is being a butt and refusing to move from his pouting spot, while Bucky and Steve move off to the side to wait. After I get through, I call out, "I have one tall, Iced Americano for Mr. Barnes and one grande, Iced Mocha, light ice, for the Lemming."

Steve stomps up to the counter where I placed his drink and grabs it, muttering a "thanks." Bucky walks over smiling smugly, takes his drink, tips his imaginary cap, and says, "Thank you and you can call me Bucky."

"You are very welcome Bucky, come again soon," I wave at him as he leaves.

Before he exits the door, he says, "Planning on it."

After he leaves, I look over at Donny, smiling. He gives me a disbelieving look and says, "We just met Steve Rogers and James Barnes: two war heroes and Avengers."

"Yes we did," I say back like it nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"You almost traded me for freaking Captain America."

"Yup."

"Why didn't you take his offer?! I thought you idolized him!" Donny screams, throwing his hands up into the air.

"First of all, I don't idolize anyone. Secondly, you're my best friend. I would never do that to you! Have a little faith," it's my turn to pout now as I say this.

"You thought about it, didn't you?" he asks, not believing a word I just said.

"If he could cook, it would have been a done deal," I say, deadpanned.

"I hate you."

"Love you, too, Dondon."

So there it is. Hope you liked it. Please review. If you do, I will be a happy fangirl. Introvertasaurus out.