Work Text:
“Incoming!”
You looked up from the chart in your hands to see a slightly out of breath S.H.I.E.L.D. agent standing just inside the double doors of the med bay. Stealing one last look at the supplies in the clinical tray beside you, you took a deep, steadying breath. Here we go. Whenever The Avengers came back it usually meant a little bit of panic and a lot of barely controlled chaos.
The doors burst open again and in strode six weary looking heroes in various states of injury. Natasha looked the worst off as she cradled her arm against her chest, a messy looking bullet wound through her shoulder dribbled a dark crimson. They all looked like they’d been through the wringer, but you supposed that was just the price of saving the world time and time again.
Hawkeye, as full of energy as ever, sauntered past you, ruffling your hair as he went by. “Hey kiddo,” he grinned easily. It looked like he had gotten away with only a few cuts, scrapes, and minor burns but the dark hollows under his eyes gave him away.
“Uh! You’re the worst Barton!” you grumbled, smoothing down your hair again.
“Oh I know,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “But what would you do without me,” that famous cocky look entering his eye. You just smiled back and shook your head at your old friend. He’d been one of the first people you’d worked with at S.H.I.E.L.D. and you wouldn’t be where you were today without him.
As the archer carried on to where one of your colleagues awaited him at the next bed over, your own charge sat down on the clean, white hospital sheet. You turned to look at Steve Rogers, who offered a tiredly sheepish grin.
“Hello again Steve. Good to see you back.” He didn’t look too terrible – a few deep gashes along his arms, and what looked to be a particularly nasty slash slowly oozing across his chest.
“Thanks,” he murmured wearily. “It’s good to be back.”
You’d worked with Steve a few times now, but you’d never really get over working with the living legend himself - Captain America. The first time you’d been assigned to look after his post-mission medical exam you’d been beyond intimidated; your hands had shook, and your voice had quivered. But ever the 1940’s gentleman he had been sweet, kind, and most importantly patient. By now the two of you had fallen into a pattern that felt almost comfortable and routine. Almost. If it wasn’t for the fluttering in your stomach. But you were a professional, goddammit.
Carefully hooking his chart onto the end on the bed you turned to the super soldier, “Alright then, let’s get your shirt off.”
Steve, by now used to the drill, began to peel off his uniform when Hawkeye piped up from where he was getting looked over. “That’s a little forward, don't you think? He’s an old fashioned guy. At least buy him a drink first.”
Steve’s hands gave a stutter and you rolled your eyes, the back of your neck suddenly feeling very warm. “Ha ha,” you quipped back sarcastically. Hawkeye was always trying to get a rise out of you, but you knew better by now.
Noticing the cloth of Steve’s uniform sticking stubbornly to the drying blood you leaned forward to help ease him out of the shirt, “Here, let me help you with that.” You reached over and grabbed a bottle of antiseptic and a cotton pad. The shirt slowly gave way as you dabbed carefully at the places where the fibres had become entangled in the spreading pool of congealed blood on his chest. Eventually he was able to pull the shirt off. You took it from him and placed it on the end of the bed.
“Thanks,” he said again apologetically, “Sorry, I guess I’m a bit of a mess.”
You shook your head, “I’ve seen you worse off.” There was really only the one big gash that looked like it might need stitching, the rest of the wounds on his arms seemed mostly superficial. “It looks way worse than it probably is.”
“Feels worse than it probably is,” he groaned. Undoubtedly the adrenaline was filtering out of his system. It was no wonder he was really starting to feel it.
“I don’t doubt that,” you handed him a specially designed painkiller and a bottle of water.
That oh-so charming smile flitted across his face. “You’re too good to me,” he quickly downed the pill, his Adam's Apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
You couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face as you started on your work. The acrid smell of antiseptic filled your nose as you thoroughly inspected and cleaned each laceration. As you worked, bruises started to bloom across his pale skin, standing out sharply in patches of blue, purple, and yellow. The room buzzed slightly from the harsh florescent lights overhead and the dull murmur of conversation between the returning heroes and the medical staff tending to them.
You finished off the last stitch on Steve’s chest and put the equipment back on the tray with a satisfied click. As you turned back with a length of gauze in your hand you noticed a far-away look in Steve’s eye. “Are you alright there, Cap?” you asked as you stretched the clean, white fabric over the stitches to keep them clean.
“Hmm?” he asked, turning those famously blue eyes back to you. “Oh, yeah sorry. I’m fine.” As he tried to give you a reassuring smile a split in his lip that had scabbed over broke open again. He hissed and brought his thumb up to his lip, pulling it away to see the blood smeared there. “Damn.”
“Here,” almost without thought, you grabbed a fresh antiseptic pad and dabbed softly at his lip. “Sorry, I know it stings.” You took a good look at the split, “ Unfortunately not much I can do for you there.”
When you looked up you realized just how close you had gotten to him. A slightly startled look flashed across his face as your eyes connected. Feeling suddenly very uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed you stood back up and took off your sanitary gloves.
“Shouldn’t be much longer,” you said, turning your back to him and hoping he wouldn’t noticed the burn you felt in your cheeks. “You must be exhausted.”
“You’d think,” he sighed. “But I have a hard time sleeping after a mission.”
“Really?” you turned to look at him over your shoulder.
“Yes ma’am,” he shifted uncomfortably. “I just lay there in the dark for hours, going over every last detail. What do they say...'No plan survives contact with the enemy?' There's always something.”
There was something about the tone in his voice, something that made you feel very sad for him. “That sounds lonely.”
“It can be.” For a moment he wasn’t Captain America, the super solider, American hero, and world saviour. He was just Steve Rogers, another soldier haunted by all he’d had to do to keep the people he loved safe. All the people he had lost along the way. And all the friends he’d never see again. And that broke your heart. All that he’d seen – it must have been hell to have to revisit those atrocities. And yet he charged back out there unflinchingly every single time the world needed him.
He called your name, his voice bringing you back to the here and now. “Are you okay?”
“Um, yeah,” your voice sounded falsely chipper even to your own ears. The last thing he probably wanted was pity. “Just a little tired myself. Nothing a good cup of coffee won’t fix.” Focus on the task at hand, you berated yourself. There was only one more check to do. You picked up the scanner S.H.I.E.L.D. had developed shortly after the New York incident. To be honest, you weren’t completely sure how it worked – you had been assured you knew all that you needed to know, and anything beyond that was strictly classified information. There was a lot of that sort of thing here.
“Okay, this shouldn’t hurt a bit.” As you switched the scanner on it emitted a dull hum and a blue light slowly flared into life.
“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” Steve said in his strange brand of dry humour.
“That’s definitely true.” You aimed the machine at him, slowly tracing the blue line of light down from the top of his head to his boots. The machine took a moment, letting out a steam of small, steady beeps before a green light flashed brightly on the back display. “Nothing abnormal detected,” you confirmed, “Looks like you’re good to go Cap.”
He flashed that dazzling white, grateful smile and hopped down from the bed. Muscles popped and cracked as he stretched his arms up over his head and you grabbed the spare set of clothes set out for him.
“Here you go. Bet you’re dying to get out of that uniform, huh?”
“You have no idea,” he said taking them from you. You quickly pulled the curtain around the bed closed to give the man some privacy as he changed out of what was left of his blood and debris covered clothing. Buckles clinked as he began to undo the mess of straps and belts. To your credit, you tried very hard not to think about what was going on only feet from where you stood.
Clint caught your eye and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him. Oh, how he loved to tease you. But where would you be without him. It was good to have a friend as close as he was; it made you feel a little less like a fish out of water.
The curtain rungs rasped against the railing as Steve pushed it back. “So how much longer are you here for?” he asked.
“Not too long,” you said turning around. He was now in his civilian clothes – a white tee-shirt, jeans, and a dark leather jacket. The clean cut look offset by the scabbed over cut in his lip. Somehow, it made him look all the more enticing. You pried your eyes off him to look at the clock further down the ward, berating yourself silently. You sighed, “I’ve got about another three hours to go. Though this was probably the most exciting part of my day.”
“Is that so?” his eyes twinkled.
You kicked yourself mentally as you thought how that must have sounded. “Well yeah. We’re never bored with you guys around.”
Steve nodded his head to where his companions were still getting stitched up. “Yeah, I can see that. Well, thanks for patching me up. Again.”
“Anytime,” you assured him.
As Steve left the ward you turned and picked up the clipboard with his file and starting making notes on it. Now that the adrenaline was leaving your body again you could feel your energy levels flagging; it was definitely going to be a long three hours.
***
The computer screen blinked into darkness as you stood up, grabbing your coat from the back of the chair. Finally, the day was over. These double shifts were killing your already complicated sleep cycle.
You rubbed your eyes tiredly as you pushed your arms through the sleeves of your jacket, nodding goodbye to your coworkers.
“Looks like it’s raining out there,” your friend warned you as you headed for the door to the ward.
“Really?” your shoulders slumped. Of course you hadn’t brought an umbrella along with you today. Well, on the bright side, maybe the shower would help to wake you up a bit. “See you tomorrow,” you murmured, resigned to a soggy walk out of the complex.
You pushed your way out into the quiet ward and crossed to the far doors. It was crazy to think that just a few hours ago this room had been bustling with doctors and nurses crossing back and forth while tending to Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. A small smile crossed your lips at the memory as you entered out into the hallway.
And stopped dead in your tracks.
Leaning against the wall opposite the door was Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers with an umbrella slung in the crook of his arm while is hands were preoccupied with two large cups of coffee. He smiled as he saw you.
“Still need that coffee?”
Slowly processing the situation you crossed towards him on bloodless legs. “What’re you doing here?” you asked rudely.
He smirked, “Well you said you might need this,” he handed you the warm cup of coffee. “And I figured since I’m not going to get much sleep anyway, maybe you’d let me walk you home? It’s really coming down out there.”
This man – this chemically engineered superhero – had been waiting out here for you. You knew that his nonchalant tone actually concealed an insecurity held over from when he had been just a skinny little nobody from Brooklyn. And that baffled you. This man could have anyone he wanted. And here he was asking to walk you home with all the chivalry of the 1940s.
Suddenly becoming aware that he was staring at you expectantly you shook your head in disbelief. “You, sir, are a trip,” you smiled. “Are you sure?” When he just gave you that look you knew. “S-sure. That sounds great.”
The two of you set off down the brightly lit hallways, an easy banter passing between you. Somewhere between walking away from the med bay and huddling close together under Steve’s umbrella as the rain poured down around you he had cautiously taken your free hand. His large, calloused fingers was still delightfully warm from the heat of the thin paper cups.
You smiled into the rim of your coffee as the two of you headed towards the main road.