Okay...I watched all three and a half hours of the Disney Investor Day presentation and was literally *screaming* the entire time. It was the first time I've ever used the phrase, "I literally can't even" and MEANT it. New trailers for Wandavision, Falcon and Winter Soldier, Loki, and What If? Mark Ruffalo confirmed to be in She-Hulk? Ant Man & the Wasp Quantumania, with Majors confirmed as Kang the Conqueror? Christian Bale revealed as Gorr the God Butcher in Thor Love and Thunder? Chris Evans voicing the original Buzz Lightyear? A Guardians Holiday Special? Ironheart, Armor Wars, I am Groot, Secret Invasion, and Fantastic Four? Plus a shit ton of new Disney, Pixar, and Star Wars content? I'm literally losing my goddamn mind. I am not exaggerating, my respiratory and heart rate did not return to normal for an hour after the presentation concluded. It was the most elated adrenaline I've ever felt in a single day. As dry as this year was for new Marvel content, 2021 is going to be RICH.
Chapter 8: Brothers in Arms
Steve was more nervous to start third grade than any previous year. Not because it was notoriously more difficult, but because for the first time ever, he didn't share a teacher with Bucky. They'd been placed in different classes, and neither of them was thrilled about it. At least Bucky had his friend Gabe from soccer with him; Steve had no one he knew very well. A major disadvantage of having a best friend that he hung out with all the time: making new friends was never high on his priority list. Now it seemed he would have to.
After saying goodbye to Bucky in the school's hallway, Steve walked nervously into his classroom for the year. "Good morning. You must be Steve," his teacher greeted. He wondered how this man already knew his name, then remembered his parents had already come in for the yearly "Our son has CF, here's what you need to know" meeting.
"Good morning," Steve said back.
"Why don't you hang up your backpack and go find the desk with your name on it?"
"Okay." Steve did as he was told, walking around several tables of pushed-together desks before he found his. He glanced at the other name tags of his three tablemates: Timothy, Jim, and Jennifer. Jennifer was already here, nose buried in a book thicker than anything Steve had ever seen someone their age reading. He considered saying hi, but didn't want to interrupt and make her lose her place. His other tablemates arrived together, laughing and whispering. Steve twiddled his thumbs and waited for class to begin. These two seemed so close already that they wouldn't bother to include anyone else in their conversation. However, the first activity of the day required them all to talk and work together.
Mr. Chapman gave each table a single piece of paper, scissors, and a foot of tape to build a structure that would hold as many textbooks as possible. Jennifer, being obviously the smartest among them, took the lead and immediately laid out the plan.
"I did this exact same thing at camp last summer; I know the best way," she explained. None of the boys dared argue with her.
"So, do you guys know each other?" Steve asked as the three of them ripped tape into smaller pieces.
"Yeah," Jim answered. "We were in the same class last year."
"That's cool."
Before Steve could say more, Jennifer had them reconvene and start assembling. All they had to do was roll up a strip cut from the paper and tape it so it would hold its shape. Theirs ended up holding way more weight than anyone else in the class. With that icebreaker complete, they moved on to the mandatory first day of school introduction and overview of the year. Steve pulled out a notebook to write down anything important flipping through a few doodles to reach a clean page.
"Whoa, did you draw those?" Timothy asked.
"Yeah."
"That's amazing."
"Thanks."
By the time class dismissed for recess, Steve, Timmy (not Timothy, that was too grown-up a name), and Jim had bonded over a shared respect/fear of Jennifer. Steve tracked down Bucky, who was kicking a ball back and forth with Gabe, and introduced him to his new friends. The five of them played together for the entire half hour. When the whistle blew for them to line up to go inside, they were reluctant to separate. They lined up by class, so Steve ended up behind Jennifer and in front of Jim, with Bucky and Gabe in the next line over. As they started inside, Steve broke off to head to the nurse's office where his enzymes were required to be kept. It was strange not to have Bucky with him, but he was old enough not to need a buddy and now that they weren't in the same class it wasn't convenient for Bucky to tag along just for company as he'd done the past two years.
"Steve, where are you going?" Timmy asked.
"Yeah, lunch is this way."
"Oh." Steve had gotten so used to doing this with Bucky that he'd forgotten most kids went straight to lunch. That, and his new friends knew absolutely nothing of his condition. "I have to take medicine at the nurse's before I eat," he explained.
Timmy and Jim looked at each other curiously before they turned back to Steve. "Okay!" Jim called. "We'll save you a seat."
"Thanks!"
"No Bucky today?" the nurse asked him as she fetched his medication. They knew each other so well at this point; she was basically his aunt.
"No," Steve replied. He downed the pills with a gulp of water and headed off to the cafeteria. Sure enough, Timmy saved the seat right beside him, and Jim sat across. "Hey guys," he greeted as he took his seat.
"You just missed Jim doing an impression of Mr. Chapman," Timmy said with a giggle. "It's really good."
"You'd better show me," Steve said, popping a potato chip in his mouth. Jim's impression was not exactly spot on, but it was rather humorous. All week Steve had been worried about how terrible a school year without Bucky beside him would be, but all that stress evaporated as he continued to laugh and talk with Jim and Timmy. When he got home from school that day, he couldn't wait to go back the next day just to see them.
~0~
Steve asked his parents if he could have Timmy and Jim over one weekend in September, and they enthusiastically agreed. Saturday afternoon, he sat in the kitchen eagerly awaiting the sound of their doorbell ringing. Exactly two minutes after the agreed upon time, they arrived. Steve's parents invited Jim's mom, who'd dropped both boys off, inside and they gathered in the living room while Steve ushered his friends off to his room. In his eagerness, he neglected to consider how his room might appear to someone who'd known him less than a month and had never seen it before.
"Whoa, what's that?" Timmy asked, pointing at the pole for his tube feeding.
"Uhhh, that's Roger," Steve explained, suddenly embarrassed. He should have anticipated having to explain himself when his room half looked like a hospital room. The desire to skip this part and just have them know everything without him having to slow down and explain it was overwhelming, but that was impossible.
"What's it for?" Jim questioned. They both seemed uneasy, and Steve hated that his room made them feel that way. Friends weren't supposed to make their friends feel uncomfortable.
"I get tube fed at night, and that's where we hang the bag of formula. And that's the pump that controls how fast it goes," he told them.
"Tube fed?"
Steve sighed. He might as well go through all of it now. "Yeah. I have this thing called cystic fibrosis, which means my lungs get clogged up really easily and I can't digest food like a normal person. That's why I have to take medicine when I eat, and I also have to eat way more than most people, so much that I need extra calories through my tube." He pulled up his shirt to show them the little button, and their eyes nearly bulged out of their heads.
"What's this for?" Timmy asked, pointing to his vest. "It looks like a life jacket."
"You're not too far off. It vibrates and help me get the mucus out of my lungs."
"That's so cool," Jim said.
"Not really," Steve admitted. "It's kinda gross, actually, but I won't ever make you watch it."
"Okay."
"Do you…have any questions?" Steve thought it was a reasonable thing to ask and he wanted them to satisfy their curiosity now instead of rehashing this conversation later.
"Is there a cure?"
"No. I can only manage it; that's what all this is for. Just keeping my lungs as healthy as possible for as long as possible."
"Oh. Okay."
He half expected them to keep pestering him with inquiries, but they just accepted it and started suggesting things they could do together. They ended up playing board games. Steve learned Jim was insanely competitive, even more so than Bucky, but he had a blast. Timmy offered to host next time when their ride home arrived, signaling the end of their time together.
"You don't have a cat or a dog, do you?" Steve asked.
"No."
"I do," Jim offered.
"I'm really, really allergic. I can't visit a house with a dog or cat living there or I'll have an asthma attack."
"That sucks. I was looking forward to having both of you over."
"Well, you're always welcome here."
"Thanks. See you at school!"
"Bye!"
Steve smiled and sighed as they left and closed the door behind them. He hadn't been actively hiding his CF from them, but letting them all know just what they were getting into by being friends with him removed a weight from his shoulders that he hadn't even known he'd been carrying.
~0~
In April, Steve's lungs acted up again and he had to tell his new friends that he wouldn't be in school for at least two weeks. Timmy and Jim asked countless questions and Steve had to restrain himself from growing frustrated because, unlike Bucky, they'd never experienced this before. He explained everything to the best of his ability, assuring them that he'd be fine, before he said goodbye that Friday. Bucky and his parents stopped by their apartment as they were finishing packing up to wish him luck and a speedy recovery and all that.
"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Steve told Bucky, as had become tradition every time Steve was hospitalized.
"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you," he quipped back. They hugged goodbye, Bucky promising to keep Jim and Timmy out of trouble, before Steve and his parents embarked on the familiar drive to Gravesen.
"Is Brian here?" he asked Nurse Sharon as she took his preliminary vitals. Meeting Brian was the best thing that had ever happened to him at Gravesen; the other boy's presence made the experience way less horrible.
"No, but we have two young cancer patients starting treatment tomorrow. They're going to be your new neighbors."
"Two?" As much as Steve wanted company, he didn't want more kids to have cancer. He understood the more kids got cancer, the more kids died from cancer, and he didn't want that to happen.
"Yes. Now Steve, they're much littler than you, and it's their first time here, so it's probably going to be scary for them."
"Is there any way I can make them feel better?" he asked.
"Just be friendly, maybe share with them some of the good things about this place."
"Okay." If there was anything he could do to make this hospital less terrifying for little kids, he would do it. It was his responsibility as a seasoned Gravesen resident.
The next day, a little boy moved into the room directly across from Steve, and another moved into the room next to that one. Steve listened to the hustle and bustle from inside his own room, waiting for it to quiet down so he could go and introduce himself. When he suspected they'd settled down, he headed for the door, dragging the IV pole connected to his latest PICC line behind him.
"Where are you going?" Dad questioned.
"I want to introduce myself to the new kids," he announced.
"That's nice of you. Be careful. I'll be right here."
"Okay." Steve crossed the hallway and knocked gently on the first door. A tired woman opened it and startled when she saw him.
"Oh, I thought you were a nurse. Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm Steve," he introduced. "I just wanted to stop in and say hi. I'm staying across the hall."
"Hello Steve, I'm Edith."
"I'm sorry you have to be here," he said, sensing it was a polite thing to say. If her appearance was anything to go on, she'd done more than her fair share of fretting in the past week or so.
"Thank you, that's very thoughtful. I'm sorry you're here too."
"Mommy, who's there?" a little voice asked from deeper inside the room.
"It's one of your neighbors," she said. "Why don't you come in?" She opened the door wider and beckoned Steve into the room. Sharon wasn't kidding when she said young cancer patient; the kid looked younger than Steve had been during his first hospital stay.
"Hi," Steve said.
"Hi," the kid said nervously. "I'm Clint."
"Nice to meet you Clint, I'm Steve."
"Do you have cancer too?" Clint asked bluntly.
Steve shook his head. "I have something called CF." He didn't go into any specifics because this kid was probably too young to understand, but Clint didn't pester him any further. "Have you had a chance to look around the ward yet?"
"No."
"Would you like to see it?" Steve asked hesitantly, glancing at Edith and a man who must've been Clint's father for their approval.
"Sure."
"I can show you around." Steve had been here so many times, he knew it as well as he knew his own apartment. Surprisingly, Clint's parents allowed him to follow Steve without them tagging along, although they had a whispered discussion about it as Steve and Clint headed out. They paused at the next door over and introduced themselves to the other new patient: a boy Clint's age named Scott. Steve repeated his introduction to Scott's father, and the young boy was given permission to tag along.
"So, this is the hallway where all the rooms are," Steve began. "Sometimes there's a lot of people here, and sometimes only a little bit. Right now, I think it's just the three of us." He showed them to the common room and pointed out the little kid toys that he hadn't used himself in years. Scott and Clint were understandably excited about those, and about all the movies in the cabinet. As much as Steve was getting to know them during this tour, they appeared to be getting to know each other. They whispered in each other's ears as they walked from place to place.
"What's this?" Scott asked at one point, indicating Steve's pole.
"This? This is a pole," he explained. Steve knew enough about cancer treatment to figure they'd soon be getting their own. "It holds the medicine so that it can drip down into your body." He showed them the tubing snaking from the bags into his PICC line. Clint's eyes widened in alarm at the sight of the line disappearing into Steve's bicep.
"Will I get one of those?" he asked.
"I don't know. Maybe. But they're not nearly as scary as they look, I promise."
"Okay."
As he concluded the tour, Steve told them, "If you ever need me, I'm right behind this door." With that, he turned them back over to their parents, who thanked him kindly. "No problem," he assured them.
"How did it go?" his dad asked when Steve returned to his own room.
"It felt really good."
"That's great."
Clint and Scott started treatment for a cancer called neuroblastoma, Steve learned. In the interludes between his own treatments, Steve found them playing together in the common room and joined in. The games they enjoyed were a little juvenile for him, but he played anyway because it made them so happy to have a big kid join in on their fun. Steve had never had siblings, but these two kids almost felt like little brothers.
The second week of his stay began, and Steve found himself keeping Scott company in his room while his father took a much-needed shower. Steve knew from observing his own parents how stressful it was to have a kid in the hospital, and Scott's dad was new at this. Steve had brought his sketchbook and several pencils and offered some to Scott.
"Can I draw you?" Steve asked him. He'd been working on drawing people lately, and his skills were steadily improving. More practice would certainly help.
"Yeah! Can I draw you?"
"Sure." They sat in silence for ten minutes before Scott finished his drawing. He proudly handed it to Steve, who struggled for a while to figure out which lines represented which parts of a person. He identified the face, but there were a bunch of extra lines that he didn't understand.
"What's this?" he asked, indicating one of the lines in question.
"It's your pole," Scott explained, as if the answer should be obvious.
"Oh, I see now. That's awesome."
"Keep it." Scott practically threw the drawing at him.
"Thank you."
"Can I see yours?" Scott asked.
"Well, it's not done yet, but here's what I have so far." Steve showed him, and the kid's mouth fell open in awe.
"You're such a good drawer."
"Thank you." Scott worked on another picture while Steve finished up his drawing. It was one of the best pieces he'd ever done, and when he returned to his room he stuck it in a folder he'd started keeping of all his best drawings. Scott's drawing of him went into the folder too.
The next night, just before eight o'clock curfew, Scott dragged Steve into his room by the arm, demanding a bedtime story. "Can't your dad read to you?" Steve asked, unsure if he'd be allowed to stay over long enough to read more than a page or two.
"Yes, but I want you to read to me," Scott insisted.
"Okay."
"Thank you so much for agreeing," Scott's dad said, relief evident in his face and in his voice. "He was refusing to go to sleep without a story from you."
"It's fine," he assured. Steve sat down beside Scott on his bed as the younger boy eagerly handed him a picture book. Looking at the title, Steve was reminded of the book his mother had read to him to ease his worries about getting a feeding tube when he was little. This book was about cancer treatment, a way to normalize it for these kids enduring the unimaginable.
As he read, Steve periodically glanced at Scott to read his expression. Evidently, he'd already normalized these things. He even showed Steve his port that matched the boy in the book. Only when he reached the part of the book about hair loss did Scott show signs of nervousness. "I haven't lost my hair yet, but Daddy says it's going to happen soon," he sighed.
"Oh yeah?" Steve didn't know what else to say.
"Yeah. But it won't hurt. He said it's just like leaves falling off the trees. It'll grow back."
"Yeah, it will. Until then, I bet you'll find some cool hats to wear."
"Finish the book."
Steve finished the book, and by the time he did Scott was visibly sleepy. It was only twenty minutes past curfew, but Steve still worried he'd get in trouble as he crossed the hallway. Fortunately, no nurses caught him. Scott must have raved about his story-telling skills, because the next night Clint demanded he read to him. And that's how Steve spent the rest of his evenings, reading alternately to Scott and Clint. Sometimes he read books about cancer, other times normal children's books. Steve's parents told him how proud they were that he was helping out the younger kids, but Steve didn't need their praise. The looks on Clint's and Scott's faces when they looked up to him were reward enough.
~0~
"Lucky," Clint whined when Steve told him he got to go home. "I want to go home."
"I know you do, but you have to get better first."
"When will I get better?" As he asked this, Clint looked up at Steve with desperation in his eyes. Steve nearly cried because he didn't know. He didn't know what to tell this poor boy fighting a disease he didn't understand. Steve barely understood his own condition, but cancer he knew next to nothing about. All he knew was that, as with Logan, sometimes it killed kids. That definitely wasn't something he could tell Clint or Scott.
"I don't know," Steve admitted. "But when you do, have your parents call mine and we can have a playdate, okay?" That seemed like a reasonable platitude for a four-year-old.
"Okay!"
The last time Steve left the hospital, he'd almost been reluctant because he wouldn't see Brian every day anymore. This time, he was reluctant because he wondered who would take care of Scott and Clint when he wasn't there. Hopefully, they'd do a good enough job at taking care of each other.
No, his teacher's name is not a reference. I decided that I don't have to be clever with super minor characters like that.