The small cafe is buzzing with the late September morning rush of New York City. A time when people have a small break from work or classes, hurrying into the shop to order coffees and teas in to-go cup. They tap their feet impatiently as their drinks are made, then run back out the door once more. Coffee filters slam shut, the loud whirl of whole beans grinding in processor, the hiss of steamed milk, the quick shouts of names being informed that their orders are ready. It's a simple chaos that Charlotte revels in.

She knows chaos; has her own little group of it that she sees and loves every day at work. However, during her routine morning stop, it's nice to just sit and watch other people rush in and out of her favorite coffee shop. There's only a few simple things Charlotte asks for in life, one of them being her precious time sipping her beverage and expelling the lingering grasp of sleep up before she must go into work.

It's a little bit of her own time before she starts the day, popping into Ella Café as she's greeted with warm friendly smiles of the barista's. Today, she walks in, a little pep to her steps because it's almond croissant day, and all she wants is her dark roast blend with two sugars and a dash of cream. Just enough to make it a drinkable temperature the moment she gets it.

"'Morning, Charlie!" Her favorite barista, Pete, greets, waving happily over the machine.

She returns his wave, her smile fading when she has to dodge out of the way of a grumpy looking older man. The man is huffing under his breath, something about "those damn heroes make everything worse. Going to be late for the meeting, no regards for the working class."

Quirking an eyebrow, Charlie asks. "What the hell is all that about?"

Pete jerks his thumb over his shoulder at the small television hanging in the corner of the wall. "There's a threat just a few blocks from here, but the Avengers are supposedly taking care of it. People have been in a chipper mood this morning because of it."

She catches his sarcasm at the end. She scoffs. "Hmm, how dare they protect the people of the city! You'd think mankind would be a little more grateful to them after they saved the world…again."

Pete laughs, sliding over her usual Tuesday morning order. "I made it extra strong, should rotten your teeth and blacken your soul."

Charlie picks up the large mug, carefully rising it in a cheers. "Love of my life, hon."

He rolls his eyes, sliding three to-go cups onto the counter. "Be careful out there when you leave, Charlie. Don't want to get caught up in that."

"You don't think the Center will be affected, do you?" She questions worriedly.

"Nah, too far into the city."

She nods, then takes her spot at her favorite wooden table. The rustic piece of furniture is positioned just several feet away from the big glass windows, overlooking the busy street of the city. She likes to sit there and people watch when she isn't coordinating events or fundraisers for her job. It helps clear her mind, until she can go back to her task. She hangs her cross-body bag over the chair and cautiously sips her coffee.

Several minutes pass by before the volume of the TV is abruptly turned up, pulling her eyes away from the street. She places her mug down, looking over her shoulder. The news anchor is informing the citizens to evacuate parts of the city until the fight is clear. The coverage must be delayed a little, since a loud crash echoes from outside.

Spinning to face forward for the source, three blurry figures dash by, past the cafe window and further down the street. Charlie blinks as the voice of the anchor continues to detail a play by play, now informing the fight has moved to a different location. The anchor urges people to stay indoors, that the suspect is dangerous.

Looking back over her shoulder, she meets Pete's eyes. He just shrugs at her. Then his eyes grow wide, shock and fear overcome his express and he points behind her.

"Charlie! Watch out!" He yells.

It's like time slows down for three seconds. She looks at the window once more, sees a body flying towards it. She doesn't have time to react, all she can do is watch as the body crashes through the window, shattered glass exploding into the air. The loud, tinkering noise speeds up time again, a heavy thud lands on her table, arms flying backwards, but that's not what makes her gasp. Neither does the broken glass she is now showered with.

The hot coffee that was sitting in her mug two seconds ago, is now spilled all down the front of her torso, splattered on her exposed chest and seeping into her dark blue button up and the tank top underneath. The liquid is stinging her skin as it drips under her shirt and down her stomach. Her lap is thoroughly soaked just as much, and despite all of this, she just bites her cheek. She looks down at the person, the man, currently on the table.

"Fuck!" The guys groans, quickly turning over. His blue eyes are bright, and his brown hair is wild, sticking to his sweaty forehead. There's a small cut above his right eyebrow, and he looks concerned, if a little pissed off as well.

His gaze assesses over her. "Are you alright?"

She blinks at him, dazed. "You spilled my coffee."

Now he looks utterly confused. "Um...sorry? But, are you hurt? Is anyone hurt?"

"Well, my boobs are burning, if that's your concern." Charlies deadpans, more annoyed that her body will smell like coffee for the rest of the day.

The man is bewildered. His eyes drop down to her chest briefly, then he blushes. "I-um- sorry? I'm sorry." He scrambles to get up, small pieces of glass falling from the table as he does. He checks over his shoulder for a moment, then looks back at her; a curious glint in his blue eyes.

"Charlie! Oh my god, Charlie, are you okay!?" Pete frantically asks, rushing over.

"Shit. We need to get everyone here to safety." The man says, nearly growls with how serious his tone is. He leans over to gently grab her bicep, more glass falling off her shoulder.

She blinks at him once more as she's being pulled up by him and Pete. She might be in a little bit of shock, hence the next words spilling from her mouth. "Shouldn't the Winter Soldier be more concerned about that?" She points behind him.

He turns, and she physically sees his shoulders drop. Captain America is fighting what looks to be about ten men, all twice his size. The Winter Soldier, rather, Bucky Barnes as the world is getting to know him once more, sighs. He actually huffs out an exasperated breath before turning to face her once more.

"Are you sure you aren't hurt?" Bucky questions, eyes roaming her body once more. "Your skin is a little red, and you got a few cuts on your arms."

She gestures to her chest, pulling her arm free from Pete. "Coffee. You. Spilled." The cuts he's speaking of are nothing more than little nicks.

Bucky winces. "Right, as long as you're sure." He squeezes her arm briefly as she slips on some glass. He steadies her before letting go. "Sorry again. Get to safety."

Then he pulls a knife from one of his thigh holsters and runs towards the fight.

"Charlie, come on." Pete urges, "through the back."

She allows him to tug her to a safer spot along with the few other workers and costumers. However, for a reason she's unsure of, she keeps her eyes glued to the back of the fighting Soldier. He moves lethally, dodging and attacking and bringing down the men faster than she can count. He lands a solid kick to the chest of the last standing man, knocking him back into the brick building across the street. Then he whips his head around, his eyes locking with hers over his shoulder. Charlie's breath catches in her throat, and she's sure it's her shock wearing off and finally understanding the danger surrounding them. His brows furrowed together as he stares at her for a moment, then his expression morphs into a stern one as he waves his bionic arm at her as if he's beckoning her to leave already.

Finally, she's pulled through the back exist, and the last she sees of Bucky Barnes is him turning and jumping into another knife fight.

Five hours later, and it's like the events of the morning never happened. The threat, a radical group of some sort that got ahold of some advanced weaponry, had been apprehended. Minimal damage to structures and thankfully, no casualties, but around a hundred civilians mildly injured. All in all, things could have been a lot worse, considering how events have gone in the past; especially recently.

Charlie practically ran into work after being forced to go to the hospital by Pete. She argued because the little cuts on her arm bled for only two minutes. She's had worse razor cuts shaving than this. He just insisted her to go due to her lack of reaction to the situation. Charlie pouted in annoyance as a nurse checked over her and Pete went to call his husband to check on him.

Charlie enters the building of the Loving Arms Therapeutic Center, quickly pushing pass doors and taking the stairs instead of the elevator. She reaches the floor she needed to go to, and when she walks through the stairwell door, she's immediately bombarded with thirty little kids.

They're all shouting her name excitedly, some jumping up and down, some yelling about seeing Iron Man on TV and that Spidey-Man that shoots silly string out of his hands. Or how they started to play a game of good verses bad and used the foam pieces of the puzzle mat as Captain America's shield.

There's so many voices, so many touches and hugs and yanks of her new shirt that it's a little overwhelming. However, the utter relief flooding Charlie's heart is worth it. She thought for sure the fight had made its way down the street of the Center, since it reached the café. They're only six blocks apart.

Once all the children settle down, with the help of her co-workers, they all back away and head off to play with some toys and continues their therapy sessions. One little boy remains, and Charlie kneels to gather him in her arms, hugging him tightly. He gently pats her back several times and she kisses her nephew's cheek. When she pulls back, he begins to sign to her, making slower movements with his hands.

"Aunite." He says as he signs, making an A and circling his hand next to his chin. He smiles widely at her.

She gently bops his nose and he giggles, two dimples forming in his chubby cheeks. She signs as she speaks. "You weren't scared, were you Colin?"

Colin shakes his head, his hazel eyes shining with laughter. He signs big boy, and Charlie hugs him tighter.

After frantic calls from parents, and an impromptu little celebration party, Charlie finally sits at her desk. She's worked at the Loving Arms Center for eight years now as their Event and Fundraising Coordinator, putting on charity, and awareness events and galas. The funding for Prosthetic's for children, and the therapy that comes with it becomes expensive. As they are only a small, affordable center, they have to hold events to raise money for the children they work with.

Charlie has sat at her same desk, staring at the same spot on her wall for eight years, but it doesn't stop her from sitting idly for so long, that her laptop has gone to sleep. It hits her right then, the events of the morning, and her mind drifts off a little.

Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, the newest Avenger, was thrown through a window, bleeding from his head and his concern was if he hurt her. All her stupidly blank mind could say was that her boobs were burning. Which was a clear overreaction, but still a reaction that was not called for. She drops her head down on her keyboard, groaning, because instead of thanking him for protecting the city, she said something embarrassing instead.

Someone knocks on her open door. "Charlie, want some coffee?"

She groans again. "The Winter Soldier spilled coffee all down my front today, after he was thrown through a window and fighting off bad guys." She picks her head up to look at her co-worker, Elizabeth. "No, thank you."

Elizabeth bites back a smile. "I saw that, on the news. They mentioned him landing in Ella's Café, about all the damages him and his friends cost."

Rolling her eyes, she says, "All the Avengers do is try to help and save people, and the people they try to help and save give them shit for it. As if they're ungrateful for their asses being saved in the first place. As if they didn't just bring everyone back four months ago."

"Please, tell me how you really feel."

She opens her mouth, but Elizabeth holds up her hand. "That was sarcasm, Charlotte."

She glares playfully at her friend. "Was there anything else?"

"Due to the Avengers incident today, the special guest was stuck on the subway and had to reschedule."

"I figured that might happen." Charlie sighs, picking up her phone from the desk, seeing a missed call and voicemail from the guest. "How did the kids take it?"

"They were more excited about the fight. They caught a little of bit on TV before Dave turned it off."

Sighing again, she scrolls through her contact list. "I have that hipster musician, the face painter or-" she pauses to cringe- "the balloon animal lady."

Elizabeth smirks. "You're the event coordinator of Loving Arms, and that's all you can come up with?"

"I was traumatized today, give me a break."

Her co-worker scoffs. "Right, the former assassin, otherwise known as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, falling face first into your boobs was traumatizing."

"What the hell?" She pauses. It clicks that her words were straight from the media. "They fucking said that!? They weren't even there!"

"Witness from the café, apparently."

"That's not-" Charlie points a finger at her laughing friend. "That's not what happened Lizzy!"

"I'm sure." Elizabeth teases. "Next time, maybe ask him if he'd like a cup, or a date. He is rather handsome." She winks, then raps her knuckles on the door frame before quickly escaping.

Charlie groans again, bringing her hand up to rub the phantom sting of hot coffee splattered over her chest. For the rest of the day, she can't seem to shake the image of deep blue eyes from her mind.