This was a big day for you. It was your first day as an Emergency Room nurse at one of the best hospitals in all of New York City. You were from the Midwest, having just moved to the giant city only a month ago. Nursing back home had become a bit routine, and you felt like you were no longer being challenged by your work. Sure, you still cared about your patients, and honestly caught yourself getting too attached to them and their families, but the work and skills themselves had peaked for you there. You needed excitement in your career again, and what better place than New York?

It was a brisk January morning, your nose cold from the wind across your face. You had been staring up at the building for nearly 10 minutes when you finally decided that you should go in. You're okay...you're okay... Rubbing your cold hands together and straightening your posture, you stepped into your new home.

~~~

Your first six months were pretty uneventful; a few gunshot wounds, a lot of stitches and casts, a few heart attacks, and far too many patients with vague problems, just looking for a place to stay to get themselves off of the streets. You had learned the most important parts of your job very quickly: where to punch in, how to get to the cafeteria, and most of all where the bathrooms were.

Today was just the opposite; the city had gone crazy. There were aliens- yes, aliens attacking the city from a giant hole in the sky. No one back home is going to believe this. All of the available ambulances were out scrambling to pick up the wounded, and every staff member in the ER had been told they needed to stay until the job was done. At least the overtime would look good on your next paycheck.

After about 4 hours of a constant stream of patients with wounds ranging from dust in their eye to large debris lodged in their head, you were thinking that you would be able to go home any minute now. This was probably the worst that you've needed a shower in your entire life. Certainly this had to be blood in your hair, right? But did you really want to know what else it could even be at this point?

~~~

"Can I get some help over here, please?!"

Running to the ER entrance to assess the situation, you were met by a very large, very handsome, very patriotic appearing man holding a woman in his arms. She was unconscious and bleeding. She was extremely pale and didn't look long for the world.

"Jim, I need a gurney over here! Get her into room 2!" Grabbing your phone, you alerted the attending physician to meet them there, hoping that the poor woman had arrived to you in time.

The attractive man was turning to leave.

"Excuse me, sir?" He stopped and turned, his face looking exhausted and dirty. "Do you know who that woman is? Is there anyone we can contact for her?"

Taking a few steps towards you, he looked as if he was searching his mind for any information. After a moment he shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "'I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't know who she is, but I found her on the corner of 39th and Park."

You began to write some notes on a paper in your pocket when you noticed a large stream of blood soaking thru the man's pants and dripping onto the floor next to him. "Hey, we need to get that looked at!"

"It's nothing, just a scratch. I need to get back out there." Again, he turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You need to sit down." Pulling his arm away from you, he took a step back, losing his balance slightly. "You will sit down now, sir."

He looked torn, looking to you and back out the front door, trying to decide which way to go. Finally, he relented to your orders. "Yes, ma'am. Maybe I should get this checked out, but please be as quick as you can."

~~~

Pulling up the leg of his uniform, you gasped at the size of the wound. Trying to not alarm your patient, you attempted to mask your reaction. "Wow, that's so...I mean...I just realized that I don't even know your name yet."

"Steve. Steve Rogers."

"Well, Mr. Rogers, this is going to take quite a lengthy repair. We're going to have to stitch this shut in layers if you hope to ever have it heal appropriately. Not to mention that you'll need antibiotics to be sure you don't develop an infection. You may need to stay overnight." You were shaking your head as you spoke, still marveling that he could walk on this leg.

"Please, call me Steve." He cleared his throat, looking apprehensive to say more. "I heal quickly, so I'm sorry if I'm not as alarmed as you are. Could you just clean and cover it so I can be on my way? They still need me out there."

You looked at him as if he hadn't heard a word you said. Who is this guy? And what's up with the outfit? "Well, Steve, you do have the right to refuse treatment, but I highly recommend you stay. I would hate for you to lose this beautiful leg." Yep, you were the master of saying stupid things. "I mean, this otherwise healthy limb."

He sighed, clearly frustrated at the situation. "Tell you what, can we strike a deal? How's about you cover this up so it stays clean, I go finish this job and try not go get hurt anymore, then I come back and you do what you need to do?"

It was clear that you weren't going to win this, so you reluctantly began to dress his wound. "Ok, but I'm off in a few minutes, so I'll just have to take your word that you came back. Judging from your spangley appearance, you're probably trustworthy."

His head snapped up, a large smile on his face. "Did you just say...spangley?"

Your face was heating up, and you were sure you were now as bright as the sun. "Uh, yeah. Your uniform is very...Star Spangled Banner-ish."

Now he was laughing, and wow, did his gorgeous eyes light up when he laughed. "I may know a guy that you would get along really well with."

Ah, screw it. "You seem like a guy that I could get along with too." He didn't say anything, but you heard him take a deep breath. You had just finished your work and pulled his uniform back over his leg. "There you go. I held up my end of the bargain, so you had better hold up yours."

He hopped off the gurney, testing his leg for any pain. "See? Good as new." He took a few steps, slowly and with a small limp. "Well, almost," he smirked. "So, will you wait for me? I'd really like it if I could see you again when I get back."

You stood from your exam chair to look him in the eye. "Alright, Steve. But I have one question. Now, you be honest with me, are you really going to come back and finish the deal?"

He moved to stand within inches of you, looking down with those beautiful eyes, so close you could feel his breath in your hair. "Ma'am, I'm always honest."

Part 2

Looking down at your watch, you realized that you had been waiting for this guy for almost four hours. You should be soaking in your bath right now, not waiting for some guy that you don't even know, dressed like an American flag. What did you think was going to happen anyway? You'd help stitch him up, kiss his boo-boos, get swept off your feet and live happily ever after? Just go home. He's not coming back. Wait, what if was injured after he left and can't come back? What if he came back but some one told him that you had already left? What if he bled to death because he was too stupid to stay in the first place? Seriously, go home. Ok, ok, I'm going.

Steve walked thru the ER doors, looking around the room for you. His limp had worsened over the past few hours as he finished his duties with the Avengers. In retrospect it may have been wiser to stay and get his wound taken care of the first time around. Not seeing you, he approached the nurse's station.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Is there a nurse by the name of...of..." he had just realized that he never got your name. "Um, a nurse with (Y/C) hair, (Y/C) eyes, beautiful smile, just generally perfect...um, is she working?" He was certain his face was bright red now. "I was here earlier and she told me to meet her here."

The nurse was staring at him. Fumbling around the desk she looked for the schedule to see if you were still on. Her voice conveyed her nervousness around such an attractive man. "W-well, let's see. If you're talking about who I think you are, s-she should have left about...T-three and a half hours ago. Sorry, sir."

"Ok, well thank you." He turned to leave but quickly stopped, realizing a nearly missed opportunity. "Could you tell me her name please?"

"My name is (Y/N)." You stepped around the corner to see him. He had changed his clothes, now looking much cleaner and much more relaxed that during your last visit. "I was just beginning to think you weren't gonna hold up your end of the deal, Mr. Rogers."

Pointing him back to an exam room, he nodded and quickly followed.

~~~

"Alright, fella. Let's take a look." You gestured to an exam table. "Drop the trousers."

His face went pale at this, his expression was one of shock and uncertainty. "Um, excuse me? Don't you think we should at least grab coffee first?"

You giggled, handing him a sheet to cover his legs. "Come on, we're at a first name basis already. Don't you think we're past taking it slow?" Turning, you leaned against the countertop, arms folded. "Let's go, I'm on overtime here."

Steve hastily removed his jeans and threw them to the floor. He hopped onto the table, quickly throwing the sheet over his legs.

"Ok, so let's get some quick information, is that alright? First, I need your full name please."

"Steven Grant Rogers"

"Date of birth?"

"July 4, 1918."

Shocked, you nearly dropped the whole chart on the floor. "I, um, I'm sorry, did I hear you right?"

"Yes ma'am." He was amused at your completely confused reaction as you stood near motionless in front of him. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

"I bet." you whispered. "So, let's have the story behind this one while I consider getting a psychiatric consultation for you." I knew he was too good to be true.

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath as he waited for your reaction; he sighed loudly as he spoke. "Ma'am, it's a very long story."

You sat on your exam chair and rolled up next to his gurney with your supplies ready. "Well, Steve, you're in luck. Despite your fast healing, we've got some work to do on this leg. We've got plenty of time."

~~~

You slapped your hand over your mouth as you laughed, hoping to muffle the amount of noise you were making.

"SHUT UP! You did not!"

Steve was laughing now too, nodding his head as he finished the story. "I'm not joking! I thought the suit was waterproof! It's not totally my fault!"

As you uncovered your mouth and brought down your hand, your laughter died down, and you worked up the courage to lay it over his. "You know, Steve, we've been done with that leg for almost two hours now. I'm getting looks from staff, wondering why we're still here."

"Then let's get outta here." He hopped off the table, still holding your hand. He took a few steps, testing his repaired leg. "Very good, this will do nicely."

Your brow furrowed a bit, wondering what he meant. "What are you doing?"

"If you're gonna sweep a lady off her feet, you need to be ready to carry her."