"I saw that," Darcy chimed up as the last of their sudden stream of customers, a group of businessman in high spirits who'd mercifully all taken their coffee black, left the counter and took a seat. They were booting up laptops that suggested they were probably going to make a single coffee each last at least two hours.

"Saw what? The guy's choice in ties? It was kind hard to miss." Bucky replied, throwing a glare at the offending tie-wearer, who seemed to be the leader of the group, whilst he was wiping spilt coffee grounds off the counter.

"Not them," Out of the corner of his eye he saw he wave her hand irritably, "You're sweet enough… That's real cute."

Bucky resisted the urge to smile as he throw the grounds into the bin; he'd actually almost forgotten about it in the onslaught of cappucinos and double whip mocha frappes that had come after. He turned to face Darcy so she could appreciate his eye roll and sighed, "It was a joke."

"You hate that joke," Darcy responded bluntly as she started putting away the last patch of washing up.

"I hate customers making that joke like they think it's original." Bucky specified. He watched her for a moment before she demanded he come over to help sort the dainty cake forks from the teaspoons and butter knives.

"You know when the girls say it to you, they're trying to flirt, right?" Darcy informed him, pointing with a knife and raising her eyebrows.

"It's not flirting - the guy just went through a break-up; I wanted to cheer him up." Bucky shrugged, pushing as much nonchalance into his stance as possible. It wasn't that he was exactly lying; it would be a pretty sleazy move to go after someone who'd just had a break-up. However, as much as he didn't want to be a dick, he also wasn't blind. He turned to age jokes to try and wiggle out of the situation, "Despite what you young people think, trying to be nice to someone doesn't instantly mean you're flirting."

"Would you stop with the young jokes, I'm like three years younger than you!" Darcy protested, making Bucky laugh. "Look, all I'm saying is if he'd been making googly eyes at me last time, I'd be all over him in a heartbeat. The guy's cute, blonde and stacked. What's not to like?" Darcy spread her hands out as if opening the question to a crowd.

"As nobody saw these 'googly eyes' except you, and you're in the flush of puberty-" Darcy thumped him in the arm.

"I said stop it!" She demanded irritably.

"Ok, ok! I surrender! Look, the guy just had a break up, Darce; I was just trying to give him a laugh."

"I bet that's not all you'd like to give him." Darcy winked outrageously and darted off to clear a table before Bucky had a chance to retaliate.

"Is Darcy teasing you again?" Wanda asked, her unmistakeable accent , coming from behind the floor-to-ceiling bookcase that separated the bar from most of the sitting area. It was a backless grid structure, filled with hardbacks, plants and travel souvenirs, and with plenty of gaps for people-watching. She was peering through one such gap now, a bronze antique watering can in hand.

Wanda was a contradiction. She was soft-spoken, but had a temper like a firecracker; she was meticulous about anything she made, but she hated order; she loved the peace of green, growing things, but got restless and irritable when she wasn't busy. Sometimes she could be a difficult boss.

"No more than usual. At least I'm never bored around her." Bucky conceded.

"One day, it'll be her turn and we'll be the ones teasing her. I'm looking forward to it." Wanda grinned wickedly. It was the kind of grin that made him believe the stories she told about her pre-marital life.

"You're a scary woman, Wanda." Bucky informed her.

"And don't you forget it." She responded, which came out more sinister than she probably intended in her Slavic accent.

It got busy after that and it was 3 o'clock before he knew it. He made his goodbyes and wrapped himself up in his big black coat and the charcoal scarf Wanda had gave him when she'd been going through her brief knitting stage. He let his hair down so he could jam a grey beanie on his head because there was nothing he hated more than cold ears.

He took a bus to the VAC, the Veteran Activity Centre, set up by Boots on the Ground NY, where he had attended and now volunteered since he'd left the army 3 years ago. Sam Wilson, his counsellor and friend, was already preparing for the 4 p.m. PTSD support meeting.

"Hey, man," Bucky smiled as he came into the room, "How's it going?"

"Bucky, hey! It's good. Are you here to help set up?" Sam asked, straightening up from where he'd been putting out chairs.

"Yeah, if there's anything for me to do." Bucky confirmed.

"There's always something for an extra pair of hands to do," Sam declared.

"Well, my hands are happy to oblige."

People started trickling in from 3.45 onwards. Vets, mostly, some family members, some friends, all affected by PTSD in some way. Some Bucky knew by name, old-timers who'd been coming for a while, some only by face because they'd never spoken up. He was speaking to Rev. Kev, another old Marine before he'd become a man of the cloth when he heard someone stay his name.

"Sergeant Barnes? Is that you?"

It had been a long time since anyone had called him a sergeant. It was a strange feeling to hear the moniker again. He turned around to identify the speaker.

"Sitwell?" Jasper Sitwell had a gained a few pounds and started wearing glasses but his signature bald head and broad nose were unmistakeable.

"I know a reunion when I see one. I'll get out of your hair, kids." Rev Kev declared with a smile and clap on Bucky's arm. He disappeared towards the powdered donuts.

"Sorry to interrupt. I almost didn't recognise you with that hair; that's certainly not army regulation," Sitwell joked with a wry smile and then patted his own stomach reproachfully, "Then again, neither is this, huh?"

"I guess not," Bucky concurred with a grin and shook hands with his old unit member. He'd never had any strong feelings towards Sitwell, besides finding him a bit of an oddball, but it was strangely nice to see him again, even if he was a reminder of a bad patch in his army time, "Wow, it's been, what, five years?"

"About that." Sitwell agreed, "Haven't seen you since you transferred out suddenly. What happened?"

Bucky's grin turned a little forced, "Nothing." He answered a little too quickly, "I mean, in the end. Just a promotion opportunity that didn't pan out," he lied. "So, when did you get out?"

"About a year ago. I was in D.C. for a while but moved here last month. I'm working for a private security firm now, executive role. I'm hoping my promotion opportunity will pan out." Sitwell added in that dry, straight way that made it hard to tell if it was meant to be a joke or not. Bucky chuckled anyway, just in case.

Looking around for an escape, he noticed that people were finally starting to sit."Well, I think the meeting's about to start. How about we grab some seats?"

He was shamefully grateful when Sitwell said nothing but goodbye to him for the rest of the evening.

Wednesday morning went by quickly. He opened the cafe at seven and dealt with the steady stream of regulars until Tom came in at 8.30. Wanda started at nine, stalking in and setting up a double espresso before she said anything polysyllabic to anyone. After that ten rolled by swiftly and Bucky was clearing tables when he happened to see the teacher from the day before waiting at the crossing on the other side of the street.

He quick-timed his tray of dirty things into the back room and before darting back to the counter where Wanda was wiping down surfaces, waiting for their next customer.

"Ah… hey, why don't you get the ordering done while it's quiet?" He suggested, ignoring the little voice in his head telling him he was being an idiot, and apparently, a sleazy one at that. He was still pleased when Wanda agreed and disappeared into her office just as the teacher came in. The man smiled a little shyly when he saw Bucky at the counter.

"Hey."

"Hey ,regular latte?"

The man's smile grew a little wider and more natural, making crinkles at the corner of his blue eyes, "Yeah, that's right. You must have a good memory."

"It's a skill," Bucky acceded as though he remembered the orders of every customer who came through the door more than once. He was really glad that Darcy wasn't in today, otherwise he would've never heard the end of this. He rang up the guy's order and got the espresso shot started. Then he grabbed an empty cup and a pen.

"What should it be today…?" He asked, half to himself, tapping the end of the pen against his chin, "Ah… I've got it!" He scribbled, If you were a steak you would be well done.

"Do you have a stock of terrible puns in your mind, or do you make them up as you go along?" The man inquired, leaning against the counter as he watched Bucky write.

" A little bit of both," Bucky replied as he pulled the milk out of the fridge.

"So… busy day?"

It wasn't the most imaginative conversation starter, but Bucky couldn't help the grin it caused, "Not really, pretty standard." He replied whilst he tested the calibration of the milk jug scales - Wanda hated waste, so everything was to the gram in her cafe. "Ready for a day of shaping the minds of America's youth?"

The man laughed, a warm, honest sound that was impossible to dislike, "Something like that, I guess. I'm not sure how much shaping will be involved, my job's pretty much crowd control if I'm honest."

"I can imagine," Bucky sympathised before the sound of steaming milk cut their conversation off. He watched the swirl with an expert eye, judging the temperature with the back of his hand until it was hot enough. Then the familiar routine, twist off the steam, tap the jug to the counter, grab the cup. Espresso, milk, a quick flick to finish off the easy heart pattern, slide the cup to the customer.

"Thanks." The man turned the cup to read the inscription. "If you were steak… really?"

"It's a classic," Bucky countered defensively."

"I'm pretty sure it's not," The man replied, snapping a lid in place, "Or if it is, it really shouldn't be."

Bucky laughed, "Well they say the way to person's heart is through their stomach…"

"I think that means cook for them, not compare them to food items." The man argued laughingly.

"Oh is that what it means? They should really be more explicit." Bucky grinned and shrugged. The man laughed and was about to reply when the bell above the door heralded the arrival of a gaggle of middle-aged women.

"Ah, I better go…" The man said, "See you around?"

"Yeah, see you next time." Bucky replied and, with one last smile, the man left. The little sleazy part of his brain, the part that didn't care the guy had just had break-up, unhelpfully pointed out that it was a great view.