Everyone was piling out of your car in the medical center parking garage. It was the early hours of the morning and it was time for your shifts. This morning though, Val walked in the bathroom while Scott was just taking a shower. She walked in in just a tank top and underwear, grabbed his toothbrush and began brushing her teeth.
"You don't understand," Scott continued as you all walked into the building. "Me gonads, you ovaries."
"Oh, that reminds me," Val said. "We are out of tampons."
"You're parading through the bathroom in your underwear when I'm naked in the shower."
"Can you add it to your list, please?"
"What?!"
"Tampons," you clarified. "To the list, it's your turn."
"I am a man!" Scott yelled. "I don't buy girl products."
"Ooo," Clint grimaced. "I wouldn't say that if you don't want to get kicked out. Besides, I bought them last time they needed some. It's really not a big deal."
"Still! I don't want them walking in while I'm in the shower. And I don't want to see them in their underwear!"
"It doesn't bother me, okay?" Val said. "Look at me in my underwear, Scott. Take your time. It's no big deal."
As you walked into the hospital and headed to the locker room, you spotted Steve down the hall. You bit your check because how could a man still look that attractive this early in the morning? All dirty scrubs and patriotic scrub cap. You got changed into your scrubs before meeting Gamora at a nurses station. Your group of interns was in charge of pre-rounds today.
"You are the first person they see in the morning," Gamora stated, explaining how you all should act. "You say please. You say thank you. You apologize for waking them up. You make them feel good about you. Why is that important? Cause then they'll talk to you and tell you what's wrong. Why is that important? Because then you can tell you're attending what they need to know during rounds. And why is that important? Because if you make your resident look bad, she'll torture you until you beg for your mother. Now get out there. I want pre-rounds done be 5:30 am."
You all nodded at turned away, heading to your patients.
"I better get good patients today," you told Natasha. "Yesterday, I had two guys with colostomies who needed dressing changes every 15 minutes."
"I'm gonna be in surgery," Natasha responded. "Today's my day."
"On what?"
"Like I'd tell you."
You squinted your eyes at her. "What do you know?"
"I know that I was here at 4:00 and you didn't get here till 4:30."
"Tell me."
"No. I'm not the intern who's screwing an attending."
"I am not screw-"
As you turned the corner, you suddenly rammed into someone. Their hands found your arms, steadying you. When you looked up, you saw Steve smirking down on you.
"I was just looking for you," he said.
"Oh, really?" You sqeaked, quickly clearing your throat. Natasha simply rolled her eyes before walking away. "Um, why are you here so early?"
"I have a cordotomy at 5:00. I'll be out at 6:00. I thought I might buy your breakfast before your rounds."
"I've already eaten." You moved out of his grip to head down the hall.
"What'd you have?" He asked, following you.
"None of your business."
"You a cereal person? Straight out of the box? Or all fruit and fiber-y?" He laughed. "Waffles? Do you like waffles?"
"Fine, leftover grilled cheese. Curiosity satisfied?"
"That's sad. Pathetic, actually. A good day starts with a good breakfast."
"Look, I don't want to be seen with you in this hospital. Okay? It's unprofessional."
"I'm just an attending getting to know one of his interns."
"The intern he slept with."
"I barely knew you."
"And it should stay that way."
"You want me to be professional? Fine. I'll be professional."
You stopped to face him. "That's what I want."
"Then that's what you'll get." He stared at you, glancing at your lips, as he leaned forward towards you.
"You're gonna to be late for your cordotomy." Then you hurried away.
"Nice talking to you, Dr. Grey!" His eyes followed you until you disappeared down another hall.
"You're whipped," Dr. Stark commented as he passed by. "A complete and utter, lovesick teenager who happens to be-"
"Seriously?!"
~~~
After taking care of a few patients, Scott found you walking up the stairs in the stairwell.
"There needs to be some rules," he said.
"So, what, you and Clint can walk around in your underwear and we can't?"
"It's not the same-"
"Or that you can see bras just not panties? Or are we talking Amish rules here? Because if you think you're gonna get Val to-"
"The amount of flesh exposed is not the point. You have to do something. It's your house."
"Clint seems fine with it."
"Y/N-"
"Do you like Val? Is that what this is about? Do you have a crush on her?"
"Val? No. I don't like Val. No. She's not the one I'm attracted to."
"Not the one." You smirked as you opened the door and went to the nurses station you saw Gamora at. "So there's a one?"
"That-That's not the point! Look, there just has to be rules. I need to be able to-"
"Lang, L/N!" Gamora called. "Get Barton or Quill and head down to trauma. Rogers needs you."
"Rogers is in surgery," you replied, confused.
"He got pulled before he could start."
"Great," you breathed out quietly.
On your way to trauma, you found Peter and unfortunately had to tell him to come with you too. Walking into the trauma room, you immediately noticed what was wrong with the man on the stretcher.
"This look like-" You began.
"Nails," Steve interrupted. He held up on x-ray that should 7 nails in the man's head.
"I can't see my hands," the patient complained.
"He's conscious!" Scott exclaimed, completely surprised.
"Breathe, Scottie," Peter said. "Don't pass out."
"Use 4 mg's of morphine," Steve ordered. "Titrate up to 10. You know what? I don't want him to move."
"I can't see," the man repeated.
"It's okay," you comforted. "We need you to be very still, Mr...?"
"Castro," a nurse answered. "George Castro. He tripped and fell down a flight of stairs holding a nail gun."
"Sick," Peter commented with a nod.
"Somehow he managed to miss a blood vessel. That's a minor miracle," Steve said. "Optic nerve's been affected. Can you feel this?" Steve poked George's right side.
"No," George answered.
"Numbness on his right side. What's our immediate concern?"
"Infection," you responded.
"Right. I wanna be pulling these nails out in the next half-hour. I need a CT."
"CT's are down," a nurse stated.
"What?"
"They exchanged them out last night. Computer's crashed; have them back up by 1:00."
"So typical. So what are the options?"
"An MRI?" Scott suggested.
"No!"
"Brilliant, Scottie," Peter said. "The man's got nails in his head. Let's put him in a giant magnet. You want films from three axis points and a C-arm in surgery."
"Excellent! You guys dig up research and find out if this has ever happened before. Go!"
The nurses and Steve began pushing the stretcher away.
"My wife, my wife, my wife," George cried.
"She's on the way, Mr. Castro," you said.
"Stay with him," Steve told you. "Keep him calm and look for changes."
"Ooh," George gasped. "I can't see."
You and Steve shared a concerned look.
"Watch him," Steve instructed. "Carefully."
With a nod, you and the nurses took George to a more private room. You've been asking him questions to fill out his chart.
"Would you say that your health has been good recently?" You asked.
"Maybe some headaches," George answered. "Nothing compared to now. Sally, that's my wife. Sally, she'll say, 'why you think they call it a gun, moron?' She hates the damn thing."
"With good reason."
"Baby?" A woman called, entering the room with Steve.
"Sally," George responded.
Sally rushed to his bedside. "You are in so much trouble."
Steve leaned in to whisper to you. "Get a history from her before you scrub in."
You had to hold in the shiver that itched to be released. "...okay..."
"Thank you."
You met his gaze. He definitely knew what he was doing to you, and enjoying it way too much. After asking George more questions, you allowed the nurses to prep him for surgery while you talked to Sally outside of the room.
"Will he be able to see again?" Sally wondered.
"We won't know until the nails come out," you replied.
"Did he tell you he takes photos? Beautiful photos. It's his hobby. I just got him a new digital camera now he can't stop, you know? He always has it out, always taking pictures of me."
"George told me that he's been having headaches. Can you tell me anything about them? Have they been recent?"
"Um, I'm not sure. Maybe the last couple of months."
"Have you seen him experience any disorientation or dizziness?"
"Yes, yes, I have."
"Okay." You noted that in his chart, thinking that there might be an underlying cause to all this.
~~~
"Vertiginous or light-headedness?" Steve asked. You were telling him what you had discovered as he scrubbed in.
"Light-headed," you answered. "Sometimes he'd have to brace himself to get out of bed."
"Could be a million things. Simple orthostasis." He noticed your face, still thinking about it. "What?"
"What made him fall down the stairs with a nail gun?"
"He said he tripped. Just because you hear hoof beats, don't assume zebras."
"Something caused him to lose consciousness and fall down the stairs. It's possible that he could have a tumor."
"Look, I have no idea why this guy's still alive, let alone moving and talking. Not a clue. Let's just get him through this before we start digging around for something else."
Steve entered the OR and you scrubbed in. The OR gallery was already jam packed with other doctors wanting to watch the incredible surgery. You held the tray as Steve pulled the nails out and set them in. The surgery took a few hours, which you were way too happy about.
"Do you see any bleeding, Dr. Wilson?" Steve asked.
"It's clean," Dr. Wilson responded. "Way to go, Cap."
Steve laughed. "No, way to go team. Good job everybody. Thank you. I don't think we made it worse. The big question is the optic nerve. But we'll know in the morning."
"Should I order the MRI?" You asked.
"He needs to stabilize." Steve walked towards the OR door, tearing off his gown. "We'll do it tomorrow."
~~~
The next morning, you, Val, Clint, and Scott were all getting ready for your shifts. Scott and Val were in the bathroom. Val was brushing her teeth in her underwear while Scott was showering, again.
"I reminded you before you went!" Val shouted.
"I forgot when I got there," Scott replied.
"No, no." She threw open the shower curtain. "You were so passive-aggressive."
"Naked!" Scoot covered himself. "I am naked in the shower!"
"They're just tampons, Scott. I really needed tampons." You and Clint entered the bathroom. "I'm not riding in the same car with him."
You began looking through the cupboards. "If you're going like that, you're not riding with me... where are the tampons?"
"He didn't buy them."
"You didn't buy them?!" You and Clint repeated.
"Oh, man." Clint continued, running a hand down his face. "Way to make both our lives hell now."
"Men don't buy tampons!" Scott shouted.
"You know what?" Val got into Scott's face. "You are gonna have to get over this whole man thing, Scott. We are women! We have vaginas! Get used to it!"
"I've got you, girls," Clint said. "I'll run to the store during lunch or, if that doesn't work out, after our shift."
"Thank you, Clint," you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You're a life saver."
"See, Scott!" Val exclaimed. "Real men buy tampons!"
~~~
After getting into scrubs, you made your way to George's room. He was awake and talking. As you read through his chart, Steve joined you.
"Grilled cheese again?" He asked.
"Cold pizza," you replied.
"You live a sad life," Steve chuckled. "Is he awake?"
"Even better."
"Really? Let's see what his nurse says." The two of you entered the room. "Hi, Sally, George. How are you this morning?"
"Tell them what color my dress is, George," Sally encouraged with a smile.
"I'd know the answer to that even if I couldn't see," he responded. "It's blue."
"Can you tell me what you had for breakfast on Monday?" Steve asked.
"Cheese omelet. And on Sunday. And on Saturday. And on Friday. Sally gets up every morning and makes me a cheese omelet."
"It's the only thing he likes," Sally said.
"It's the only thing you know how to cook."
Steve smiled as he wrote some things down in the chart. "Okay, well, things look good. But I am ordering an MRI for this morning to check for residual bleeding. Dr. L/N will take you down there right now."
With a nod, you wheeled his bed down to the MRI. You got him set up before going behind the glass to wait with Steve.
"How do you think I'm doing?" Steve asked. You quirked a brow up at him. "With this whole professional thing? Is it working?"
"Not anymore," you responded, looking at the screen. The scan began pulling up. "Look." You pointed.
Steve turned to study it. "Damn. Yeah, right there." Steve pointed to the scans. "That's a tumor. It's midline near the hypothalamus."
"Shit."
With a sigh, Steve explained the options to you before you two headed back to George's room, to explain to him and Sally.
"Best practice, probably to remove the tumor," Steve told the couple. "Probably because I can't get it all. 99%, but not all of it. Radiation and chemo, you're looking at maybe five to ten good years."
"Let's do it," George quickly said.
"You haven't heard the downside. See, the tumor is located in a part of your brain where your memory and your personality resides. And because of the fuzzy edges of this type of tumor, I have to cut out a lot. George, you stand a good chance of losing your memories. Of losing who you are."
"Is there any other way?" Sally asked.
"The alternative is gamma or cyberknife treatment with focus radiation. It's less evasive. There's little chance of memory loss or him losing himself but it would only give Jorge maybe three to five years."
"Three to five years?"
"This is an incredibly difficult decision. If you have any more questions or you need to talk to me, I'm here, okay?"
They nodded and you and Steve took it as your queue to leave. It was hard decision that they needed to make. You don't know if you'd let them cut into you at risk of your personality.
~~~
After taking care of some other patients, you found your way back to George's room. Steve was just walking out of it.
"They want the surgery," he told you.
"They want you to cut it out?" You clarified.
"Mm-hmm. It's their decision."
Steve left and you waiting outside George's room until he was asleep.
"Sally?" You called, motioning her to meet you in the hall.
"Yes?" She replied, meeting you.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
"Yes."
"You need to consider what you'll lose. What good is five years if he doesn't joke about your omelets and he can't remember seeing you in that blue dress?"
"It's still five more years."
"You don't understand. He'll be there, but we won't be George. He won't even recognize you."
"This is none of your business."
"You have no idea what this will do to you. Isn't five good years better than ten bad ones?"
"Y/N, what the hell are you doing?" Steve questioned, coming back up to you.
"She needs to understand."
"But I do understand," Sally said. "You think that I'm being selfish, that I don't want to give him up."
"I don't."
"This is George's decision. And it that means ten bad years for me, fine. I'll give him those years because I will give him whatever he wants."
"Look, I am so sorry, Sally," Steve apologized. "Just please forgive her. She's an intern."
"And if he doesn't remember me, if he doesn't remember what we are, he's still my George. And I'll remember for us both."
"Okay, alright."
Steve guided Sally back into George's room, shooting you a disappointed look. You watched as Steve spoke the couple through everything again, making sure to keep your distance from the room. When he was done, Steve came back out, shaking his head at you in disappointment.
"You crossed a line today," he warned. "It's not your place to talk to patients like that."
"Understood," you stated, stoically. "I'm sorry, Dr. Rogers. It won't happen again."
As you walked away, Steve sighed, looking back at you. You went to the locker room, it was time for your shift to end any way. After you had changed and packed up your things, you turned to head out and saw Steve leaning in the doorway. He looked nervous, in his street clothes with his hands in his pockets.
"Look," he started, "I'm sorry about-"
"Don't apologize," you interrupted. "I was out of line. Understood."
Steve gave a nod. "Right. Well... uh... I came... well, I occasionally eat breakfast at this small place on Broadway. I was wondering if you'd join me in the morning?"
"Really, Steve? Don't you understand that this is wrong?"
"It's just a breakfast. Two friends meeting up for a meal."
You sighed. "Where and what time?"
He grinned, straightening up. "The Broadway Cafe, let's say 7?"
You headed through the door way. "I'll think about it," you said as you passed him. "Good night, Dr. Rogers."
"Think about it?" He rushed after you.
"Yes, I'll think about it." You stepped into the elevator, turning around to face him. Steve didn't enter. "We'll see in the morning."
Steve gave a small smile as he shook his head and the elevator doors closed.
"Shit," he realized quietly. "Maybe Stark is right. I'm whipped."
"Did I just hear you say that Tony's right?" A strawberry blonde woman came up beside Steve. "Please don't tell him that, he doesn't need a bigger ego."
"I definitely won't, Pepper. He'll never let me live it down."
"No, he won't."
"But you should listen to him. Go out with him."
"Are you serious?"
"Sadly, I am."
Pepper clenched her jaw, studying Steve for a second. "Alright, I'll give him a chance. How bad could it be, right?"
"How bad could what be?" Tony asked, coming up to the other two doctors. "Good evening, Rogers, Pepper. What are we talking about?"
"Oh none of your never mind," Pepper responded. "I'll see you both tomorrow."
As Pepper left, Steve watched Tony watch Pepper walk away.
"I think we both might be screwed."