Steve followed Natasha out of the trauma room, dumping his gown in the clinical waste bin just outside the door.
"Steve, can you go and find out if there's been any word on the patient's ID? And while you're at reception, can you ask for this to be sent up to the OR for Coulson to look at," Natasha said, handing him the X-Ray. "I forgot to give it to him, he might need it."
"Sure thing. I'll take it up, I need to find Fury anyway." Steve turned away, and smacked right into another doctor.
"Sorry, Doctor Banner," Steve mumbled, blushing, before rushing off to reception, film in hand.
"Are you alright?" Natasha's eyebrows had knitted together in concern.
"Yeah, you know, at the start of every twelve hour shift you need something to wake you up," Bruce laughed, brushing it off. "I have to go see this patient, but I'll see you around, okay?"
Bruce swished open the curtain to reveal one of the regular attendees of the ER.
"Michael! I was beginning to worry; it's been nearly a week. We really should get you a permanent room here," Bruce laughed. "What's up today?"
"Well, doc, I may have been dancing a little too…exuberantly, and I somehow managed to give myself a black eye and break my hand…" The teenager looked extremely embarrassed by this, but presented his hand for Bruce to examine.
"I don't think you've broken it; it looks like some dislocated fingers, and none of these bones seem too misaligned. I'll move them back into place down here." Bruce paused, and then started examining Michael's black eye. "Did you lose consciousness when you punched yourself?"
"No, 'cause I can remember all my friends laughing at me."
"Do you have a headache? Double-vision? Blurriness?"
"Nope."
"Ok. Follow this light with your eyes," Bruce said, fishing a penlight out of his pocket, clicking it on, and holding it up in front of him. He moved it left to right, and then closer to Michael's eyes. "Well, your vision seems fine. I think you may have nicked your skin with a nail, but it's only a small cut so we won't worry about that. Now for the painful bit…"
"Crap."
Several swear words later, all the bones in Michael's hand were back in their rightful place, and he'd been given an injection in each finger to stop the pain. Once he'd taped up his fingers, Bruce smiled, and told Michael he could go home. He shuffled behind the reception desk and began filling out the discharge form, trying very hard not to listen to the conversation that was increasing in volume behind him.
"For God's sake Thor, just admit me already!"
"No, Loki! I know what you want; you're faking something again so that you can waltz in here and get a morphine drip. I'm sick of it, you can't keep doing this. I'll admit you o get you into a rehab program, but that is it!"
Loki grunted in disgust, turned around and stalked out of the ambulance bay doors, pausing to kick an empty gurney. Thor signed and rubbed at his eyes.
"Jeez, how long have you been on?" Doctor Banner had turned away from the phone, scribbling down an appointment time.
"Nine hours. Still got another three and I think I had a break about two hours in, and none since then. It's just endless," Thor replied.
"Go get some sleep; we'll cover you for a bit."
"You're too kind." Thor walked off to the staff room, presumably to crash out on the couch for half an hour.
"What's up with his brother?" Pepper was whispering to Clint.
"He's…ah…a bit of a junkie. He comes in here looking for whatever he think'll give him a high, and if Thor's not here he's likely to get it; if we don't catch him out that is," Clint said, shaking his head in sympathy.
"How can you tell when he's faking?"
"You can't really, same with any other person who's doing it for the drugs or the attention. We can catch Loki out, but not all the time and it's harder if Thor's not here, because he knows all of his tricks."
"Poor Doctor Odinson," Pepper muttered.
A/N: Yay! New chapter! Sorry it took so long... As always, thank you to the lovely Lizzie, and hopefully a new chapter will be up soon-ish...