Hate to love you

Chapter 5

“You took another ER shift?” Nat leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve been here for two days, Y/N. This isn’t healthy.”

You looked up at Nat from your place on the couch of the Doctors’ lounge, pressing a button on the remote to mute the characters in front of you. You eyed Nat, taking in her disheveled hair and dark circles.

“Look who’s talking.” You replied. “You look like you just came back from war.”

Natasha sighed and puttered into the room, rubbing her eye. Her scrubs were wrinkled, posture slightly swaying and showing you just how tired she was.

“Surgery was longer than expected.” She mumbled before scowling down at you. “But don’t turn this around on me. Why did you volunteer for another shift? And-” she raised a hand to cut you off before you could speak. “don’t even think of saying it’s for the extra points. We both know that Strange doesn’t give a shit about that.”

Strange was the Chief of Surgery and also, your boss, who thought that ER shifts shouldn’t be worked for the sole purpose of a better impression on your supervisor. He’d passionately spoken more than once about it being a ‘golden opportunity’ for finding new and interesting cases among the mundane everyday injuries you see in the ER and what not. But after every 36 hour shift you worked, you would beg to differ.

“Well, I’ve already volunteered.” You turned back to the TV, as if to signal that the argument was over.

“Clint wants to take the shift so he can ask for a day off on Thursday.” Natasha sat down next to your sprawled form. “Go and cut your name from the list.”

You replied faster than you meant to, almost as fast as a reflex. “No way.”

Nat glared at you then, and combined with just how tired and irritated she was, you couldn’t help but squirm under the heat of her gaze.

“I know you’re only doing this to avoid going back to Bucky.” She finally addressed the elephant in the room. “And let me tell you, this is literally the worst solution to your problem.”

You sighed, head falling back to rest on the couch cushion. You knew Natasha was right. You had actively been avoiding Bucky by working yourself to the bone. It had been a few weeks since the wedding, and in that time you had worked over 12 ER shifts voluntarily because you didn’t want to go home. Your coworkers who weren’t aware of the screwed up intricacies of your life thought that you had lost your mind.

The time that you did spend in your new, outrageously lavish home was painfully awkward since you and Bucky didn’t exchange more than a hello all day. You had gone as far as buying yourself a TV for your room so you wouldn’t have to share the TV in the living room. Bucky hadn’t said a word when some guys came to put the TV up, but you could’ve sworn you saw his body tense and his glare harden.

You wouldn’t know if it was the TV that made him mad or not. He always looked angry nowadays.

The times that you were at home, however, without fail, there would always be coffee waiting for you in the coffeemaker and warm toast in the oven every morning, whether Bucky was there or had gone before you’d woken up. You didn’t know why the simple gesture or it’s consistency made your smile, but it did, no matter how briefly.

It made you wonder what he must have felt like when he had come home from work to find the toast and coffee still in their places, now cold, realizing that you had never come home the night before.