He's got a job at one of those fancy banks that closes at 4 on a weekday and 1 on Saturday, closed on Sunday. The walls outside are old and brick, clean, and vintage. A gold plaque outside, a few stone ones commemorating a long list of contributors, owners, all the way a few hundred years back. Crazy stuff in New York, everything’s either brand new or old as balls. What with hurricanes or the snow storms caving in roofs.

Steve's no newbie when it comes to being homeless either, it just so happens that his friend in high school had a good paying job as a manager of a high-end Bank. Now, it's nothing huge per-say. Five floors and a box-safe is nothing new in a place like New York City. But it pays well enough that he can get a tiny brownstone with a broken window and an air conditioner that half works.

See, Steve fought in Afghanistan, he was a Captain for Christ sakes. Sure he could have taken a desk job doing accounting or something. Just, too much stress.

He's done taking orders from puffed up generals with sticks up their ass. Misogynistic, transphobic assholes. The lot of them.

He got up every day, a glass of water, and a cup of coffee, and then he was off to work. Today was no different, dressed in a white collared shirt, slacks that matched the jacket. Dark red and blue suspenders to match his tie. Tucking his thick rimmed glasses over his face and evenly placed.

It's not a huge glorified position either, especially for the first few months. The thing is, people could be real jack-asses. It's not like big-wig big-names came in all the time. But it had its days.

The random guy who wants to file in his checks too early for payment.

The woman who is holding a toy dog, furiously paying off some loan, muttering under her breath about 'men' and their 'god awful ways.'

Not like Steve can protest, he knows. It's not even like he enjoys recognition, not his thing.

Or one day, when some stuffy looking asshat in a suit slides up to the counter. A beautiful red head, elegant swan of a woman is standing a few steps behind him with a large bag, a starkpad, and two cellphones. (One of them had been carelessly handed off to her without a look back.)

Immediately, Steve disliked him.

He's got a creepy beard-styling thing going, smells good and Steve can smell it from his seat. Crazy attractive but what even?

"Yes, I'm here to pick up something an investor left me."

Tony wafts, messing with the nice fountain pens that sit in a crystal vase full of mixed-gems and swirly rocks. Just wiggles one around close to his ear, shoots a look at the woman who looks a bit disapproving. Like a mother with a child, still, this guy shrugs, closes the pen and slides it into this jacket pocket.

Steve is standing there from behind his window and looking at this guy a bit expectantly.

"Well..."

"Name sir?"

He appears scandalized for a split second.

"Stark, Tony."

Steve's about to type that up, but looks disbelieving.

"Can I please see some I.D?" Asking, the height of polite manners. The red head smiles sweetly and starts for her bag but this guy, 'Stark', THE Tony Stark? Pah; gets annoyed.

"I've been banking here for a while."

"Yes Sir..."

"I own shares for this particular investment..."

"Of course sir... but..."

"But? I'm Tony Stark." Stark asks, miffed, but not getting too pissy.

"Yes, and I'm the President, I still need to see a form of I.D. Please." Steve sasses right back.

Tony's face goes sideways, and he clenches his hand and Steve's afraid this might escalate when;

"Let me speak with a manager."

Steve rolls his eyes, but stands up and goes to the manager who's working on something in the back. When they both turn up, Natasha is immediately all smiles.

"Mr. Stark."

"Ms. Romanoff I..."

"Please, don't worry about our new teller. It's hard to remember the list of faces we serve here. I'll makes sure this doesn't happen again..." Tony smiles again, big and oddly seductive. Does his business, and then he's off as fast as he came.

Steve apologizes all that week for that, but no one holds it against him. Tony Stark can be a real dick sometimes. Natasha teaches him a few more important big wig faces. He gets to meet Mr. Fury, Mr. Pierce... Ms. Hill too. It's nothing, its like memorizing a the name of your important Superior Officers.

Today is low-key, a Tuesday and not as big as Monday or a day at the beginning and end of the month. It's a mid-month, rainy, Tuesday when he walks in.

He's wearing the most crisp silver suit Steve's ever seen, and not metallic or anything. But a white tinged grey and it suits that tanned olive skin, crimson lips; lord have mercy on Steve Rogers.

"Hello Sir, how can I help you?" Steve fixes his glasses, standing up a little straighter and trying to appear welcoming. Not intimidating. Since the brunette casually runs a finger through perfectly combed hair and smiles a dashing smile, Steve thinks he's doing a good job.

"Ah, Yes, you sure can. Look, I'm about to go on vacation for a few weeks... and I really need to take out a loan."

"Oh well, of course, have you banked with us before?" Steve tries not to stammer over his words cause this guy is just so damn beautiful that he's fighting himself not to nervously tug at the collar of his shirt.

"Oh yeah, been coming here since I was a kid, my names James Barnes..." To Steve's relief, Bucky pulls out his I.D and debit card before he even has to ask.

"Yes sir, that should be no problem sir." He says when glimpsing at his account with just a quick stare at the information that pops up on the screen after typing his information in.

"If you're looking for, a business loan at this time, I'll have to set you up with one of our special service operators over there..."

"No no, not necessary, it's just for $5000.00." He straightens the wrists of his jacket, appears sheepish, like its just any old errand.

"Yes..." Reluctantly. "Of course sir..." This man, has over a quarter of a million dollars and that is just in his checking account.

Steve gets the paper, and he signs one line and the measly 5 thousands (at least for this guy) is sent straight to his account.

"What will you be using as collateral, sir?"

Jame's face brightens, "Oh yes, here..." Handing Steve keys. "My Rolls Royce, parked her right outside."

A brand new $250,000 dollar vehicle, for a $5000 loan? Is this guy fucking stupid? Or some swindler?

"Uh, of course, Mr. Barnes... is there anything else I can do for you?" He's got all the right paperwork, numbers and identification. So Steve doesn't say anything stupid, although he wants to.

"No, nah I'm good thank you so much pal, you're a real help..." He looks down at a nice swiss watch and grins sheepish. "I gotta get going, but thanks, you're a real doll!" Winking, leaving as if he didn't just ask for the stupidest request Steve's ever heard.

Sooner than later, the whole staff talks about it.

"I don't know Rogers, I checked the feed, it really is James Barnes, so I have no idea why he's got a collateral like that..." Natasha says, then goes right back to work.

"Seems legit, but that is rather strange. Keep your eyes peeled Steven." Peggy smiles, but gets back to work.

Clint comes in, he's the BRINKS guy with big bags or safes full of money from an armed car. "No clue, I do know the guy, he owns a bunch of hair salons in Brooklyn. I pick up for him once a month at his main store in Manhattan."

Hair salons? For real? Steve just has a hard time believing this nonsense. To which Clint replies, "Yeah, that's weird... say you wouldn't happen to have a fresh pot of coffee brewed up would you?"

And there's the end of that.

Sure enough a little over two weeks pass like flying cars, Steve works, he sleeps, it's lonely but he has his best friend Sam to talk to when it gets really hard to go to sleep at night.

Yet this one moment, he's been waiting for.

"Mr. Barnes, how can I help you today?"

Steve remembers his name, cause really how could he not? But Bucky just appears flattered to be remembered.

"Well, I came back to pay off that loan... and the interest with it of course." Smirking, Barnes pulls the money out in cash. To which Steve sends it through the big bill counter after counting it by hand first. Sure enough $5000.00 with the $15.41 interest, and bam, it's done.

"Thank you sir..." There's some awkward silence between them a moment, Steve pretends to fiddle with the keys then looks up awkwardly. "Sir, while, er, we truly appreciate your business. I have one question. We looked you up and found out that you are a multimillionaire. Why would you want to borrow $5,000?"

James just looks at Steve like he's weird for asking, the teller is about to apologize for his inappropriate question. When he finally opens his mouth in a smile and responds. "Isn't it obvious?"

A sassy shrug of his shoulders.

"Where else in New York City can I park my car for two weeks for only $15.41 and expect it to be there when I return?" He's got a really sweet Brooklyn accent, Steve's eyes widen.

With the sexiest bite on his lower lip, James pulls out a business card from his deep navy jacket pocket. A navy that makes his silvery sapphire eyes pop. Grabs a pen and jots down his number on the back. A sloppily written, swervy kind of handwriting that says 'Bucky Barnes.'

"That number y'not gonna find on my record, call me some time and I'll buy you some lunch."

Then he winks, waving hi at Natasha, who in turn grins wickedly at Steve.

She probably knew all along.

Dammit.