Bucky IV: Cancer Free
He made counts on time for round seventeen and almost forgave his immune system for screwing him over last time. These three-drug cycles always hit him harder, but Bucky knew the knowledge that he never had to do this again would help him power through. Maybe he was just used to it, or maybe it was the fact that this was the last round, but he didn't feel nearly as terrible as usual. The good feeling was at least partly psychosomatic, because his complexion and his bloodwork indicated his counts had been devastated. Instead of being deaccessed and discharged, he got to stay another six hours for a blood transfusion.
By the time the last of it trickled into his veins, Bucky was bouncing on the balls of his feet ready to get the hell out of here. They pulled the needle out of his chest and bandaged the site up, and Bucky tore off to the common room to move his Xs back to his own column. He took a picture of it and immediately sent it to the Avengers group chat. Each of them replied with some version of "Congratulations" or "So happy for you." Nick wrote, "Welcome to the no more chemo club."
They scheduled his end of treatment scans for the following day. Until then, Bucky tried to focus on the fact that he was done with cancer treatment instead of the fact that nausea, mouth sores, and fatigue were still very much a thing.
"I know we can't do anything major because I'm still immunocompromised, but can I have a few people over to celebrate after my scans?" Bucky asked his parents as he picked at his dinner the night before.
"I don't see why not," Mom replied. "Who do you want to invite?"
"Steve, of course," he answered immediately. "Gabe, Jim, and Timmy too. And I know you don't know him really well, but I want to invite Tony."
"That sounds like a good list," Dad chimed in. "Do you mind if Mom and I invite Steve's parents too?"
"Of course not."
"Sounds like a plan. When do you want to do it?"
"Next weekend? I don't want to spend the party feeling like crap and I should be somewhat better by then."
"Okay."
The next day, scans tested Bucky's patience. Staring up at the ceiling of the scanner for an hour, he repeated, "I'm done with treatment. I'm done with treatment," over and over again in his head to remind himself they weren't looking for tumor but rather the continued absence of tumor. The possibility that treatment hadn't worked and his cancer had persisted did cross his mind, but he crumpled it up and cast it into the nearest mental trash can.
Sitting between his parents in Dr. Potts' office an hour and a half later, Bucky drummed his fingers on his knee waiting for her to tell him if he was well and truly done and what to expect in the coming months. Finally, she turned to the three of them and said, "Congratulations. You're cancer free and done with chemo."
Bucky's face lit up. He'd waited almost ten long months for this news. He felt like he could cry. "It's really over?" he whispered.
"This part is," she began. "However, I'm afraid it's not that simple." Bucky clenched his fist and tried to keep a level head as Dr. Potts explained what the next several years—and the rest of his life—would look like. Continued precautions to prevent infection until his immune system returned to normal three to six months from now. Scans every three months to check for relapse. Yearly echocardiograms forever to look for heart damage caused by the doxorubicin. The gist that Bucky understood from this meeting: chemo might be over, but cancer wasn't and it never would be. Somewhere in his head, he'd already understood that the end of chemo was just a new phase in his cancer journey and not its termination, but hearing just how much of his life it would still control was somewhat discouraging. At least he could begin working on getting his life back on track.
"Can I go back to school?" he asked, the most important question on his mind.
"We'll have to check your ANC, but given that you have about a month I'm hopeful it will come up enough that you can go. However, I recommend starting with half days so you don't wear yourself out. Fatigue can be a long-lasting side effect."
Bucky didn't care. As long as he got to walk into the building with Steve, Gabe, Jim, and Timmy just like he did on the first day of freshman year, he'd be happy. They scheduled his echo and his port removal surgery for the following week, and Bucky went home a cancer-free kid. He flopped onto his bed in his excitement and just stared at the ceiling. "Immune system, you'd better get your shit together," he muttered.
~0~
Mom spent the entire day cleaning and straightening up the apartment in preparation for their little celebration. Bucky offered to help, but she refused him, insisting he shouldn't have to work for his own party. Instead, Bucky texted Nick to ask for pointers on adjusting to life in remission.
"Abandon all hope that things will ever be like before," he sent. Bucky's eyes darkened when he read that message. He knew things would never be exactly the same—he'd lost an arm for goodness' sake—but he liked to think he'd find his way back into a semblance of a normal life. "The key word in new normal is new," Nick added. Bucky thanked him for the tips and asked him how he was doing.
"I can hear your guilt through the synthesized voice reading this text to me," Nick said. Bucky sighed, because he did feel bad for asking how to adjust when Nick was facing a far more drastic adjustment. "But thanks for asking. I'm blind, but I'm okay."
"That's good to hear," Bucky told him.
The Rogers arrived half an hour early, as usual, and the first thing Steve requested of Bucky was a hug. Bucky remained self-conscious about this, considering he could only half-reciprocate. He tried to make up for it in enthusiasm, though, and based on the huff Steve let out, he succeeded. "I'm so happy for you," he whispered in Bucky's ear. "And even single-handedly you still give the best hugs."
"Thank you," Bucky said, trying not to cry. Both of Steve parents congratulated him and offered hugs of their own. Over the next forty minutes, the rest of the guests trickled in. Timmy called that morning and said he had a sore throat and wouldn't be coming so as not to put Bucky and Steve at risk, so it was just five of them.
"Mom, Dad, this is Tony," Bucky introduced when he showed up.
"Thank you for coming, Tony," Mom said. "We've heard so much about you."
"All good things, I hope," he said with a smile.
"Of course, of course."
Bucky led Tony back to his room, where all the kids had gathered. "Hi Steve," he greeted.
"Hey Tony," Steve replied from his usual perch on Bucky's bean bag chair.
"Is this your bionic friend?" Gabe asked, looking at Tony.
"Is that how your school friends know me?" Tony questioned.
"Maybe," Bucky admitted. Tony took the nickname in stride and easily inserted himself into the ongoing conversation. Bucky sat there silently for a few minutes, just watching his hospital friends and his school friends blend seamlessly together into one unit. Maybe he'd manage to do the same thing with his pre and post-cancer lives.
~0~
He took another massive leap towards post-cancer when his port came out. They did his echocardiogram first, and he nearly fell asleep lying on that table for forty minutes while they ran a gel-coated wand over the left side of his chest. Afterwards, Bucky turned down the option to be sedated for the procedure and opted for local anesthesia. They still put him in a hospital gown and took him to the operating room, but all things considered it was relatively simple. Not that he watched. Once they draped his chest, Bucky kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling until the stitches and dressing were in place. It hurt for a few days afterward, but compared to what he'd experienced with the tumor he barely noticed it.
Every day Bucky felt more and more like himself. Yes, he was still exhausted most of the time, more so than the average teenager, and his appetite refused to bounce back all the way, but other than that he felt great. He stopped living exclusively in sweatpants and T-shirts, but he quickly ran into a problem. Occupational therapy hadn't covered how to button and zip up pants, and Bucky could not for the life of him put his jeans on. Serendipitously, right after he gave up and just threw on sweatpants, he got a text from Parker of all people.
"I don't know if you've already heard of these, but I came across this ad and thought I should share it with you," the text read. Connected was a link to an adaptive clothing line. Bucky spent a few minutes looking through it and his eyes grew wide with excitement. Instead of a real button and zipper, these jeans had magnets hidden inside so they could be easily secured with one hand.
"Parker, you're a lifesaver," Bucky texted back. "I was struggling to button up jeans just a minute before you sent me this."
"Are you serious? What a coincidence."
"Thank you so much."
"You're welcome! Getting dressed was probably the hardest thing to do with a broken arm, and I'm sure it must be even harder with only one. Hope they help."
Bucky showed the link to his mother and she immediately ordered enough of them to replace every pair of jeans he owned. And over the course of the next few days, she cut the left sleeves off the last batch of his shirts and sewed the holes shut. When she saw what Natasha did to his hoodies, she took it upon herself to learn how to do the same thing and had gradually converted all his normal shirts into amputee-friendly ones. Everything was falling into place, and the only variable that remained was his ANC.
Bucky never would have imagined he'd be this excited to go to school. He used to dread getting out of bed in the mornings just to spend all day in classrooms, his only consolation being that he got to see his friends there. But now that he'd missed out for nearly a year, he wanted back in. And whether or not that happened rested entirely on the results of this bloodwork.
While they waited, Bucky stared at the bandage over the puncture site. He wanted to pick at it to give himself something to do other than fret, but it was impossible to reach the crook of his elbow with his only hand. After what felt like hours, his name was called. Bucky bit the inside of his lip and waited for Dr. Potts to say the words which felt like they would determine his entire future. "It's high enough."
Bucky could have whooped with joy. As it was, he stuck to hugging his mother and immediately texting every single one of his friends with the good news. "Congrats. Glad to have you back," Steve wrote back almost immediately. Gabe, Timmy, and Jim also responded with congratulations and thumbs-up emojis. For the first time in his life, Bucky found himself counting down the days until the first day of school instead of wishing they'd go by slower. As much as he wanted to jump back into normal life, his parents and his doctors agreed that he should start with half days for the first few weeks. Some pretty strong fatigue still lingered even now that he'd finished treatment, and immediately doing full school days might push him over the edge.
Like a seven-year-old girl, he picked out his first day of school outfit and laid it out the night before. He thought he might wake up early out of pure excitement, but post-cancer treatment fatigue ensured he slept right up until his alarm. Mom was already bustling around the kitchen when he got downstairs, making what looked like enough food to feed the entire Hudson Creek soccer team. "Good morning!" she greeted. When she noticed he was eyeing the busy kitchen with a look of utter surprise, she explained with a shrug, "I wanted you to have options." Bucky sat down at the table and checked his phone while she finished up. Within minutes, she dropped a plate of apple slices, scrambled eggs, and pre-cut pancakes in front of him.
"Mom, pancakes are on the easy-cut list," Bucky reminded her. They'd gone through all foods that needed to be cut to consume and figured out which could be managed with the sharpened edge of a fork and which actually required two hands. Pretty much the only things Bucky needed help with were chicken and steak, and even those he could manage with patience and diligence, but for whatever reason Mom insisted on cutting other things up for him too.
"I know, I just wasn't sure how much of a hurry you'd be in."
Though he wasn't really hungry, Bucky forced down half a pancake, three apple slices, and two forkfuls of eggs. He sensed Mom eyeing him concernedly, but he genuinely didn't think he could stomach much more without setting himself up for an uncomfortable few hours. Looking at the time, he realized he needed to brush his teeth and head out soon to meet Steve on the way.
"Bye Mom!" he called, heading towards the front door. She intercepted him and refused to let him leave without a hug. "I'll be back at noon, calm down," he insisted.
"I'm just so happy for you."
"Yeah, me too. Love you. Now bye!"
"Call me if you need anything."
"Of course."
The first thing Bucky said to Steve when they met up: "I wasn't sure my mom was going to let me leave at all."
"Yeah, my mom's the same way any time I come home from the hospital," Steve replied. "Sometimes I have to pry her off me."
"Maybe we should just ask them to hug each other."
"I'm not sure they'd go for that." Steve paused and took a moment to look at Bucky, and a small smile crept onto his face.
"What're you looking at?" Bucky questioned.
"Did you really buckle the chest strap of your backpack?"
"Yeah." Bucky looked down at the buckle in question. "The left strap falls off if I don't."
Steve instantly sobered. "Oh. Well, it looks cool."
"No it doesn't. But I'm not going to walk around like some middle school asshole who thinks he's cool using only one strap."
"Fair enough. At least you don't have to cart around this thing." Bucky had grown so used to his friend's oxygen tank that he often forgot it was even there. Once they arrived at the doors of Hudson Creek and people started staring, he remembered that it wasn't normal for everyone. Only this time he noticed that most of them weren't staring at Steve. Their eyes were fixed on him. Steve, ever sympathetic, whispered to him, "It's fine. Either ignore them or smile and wave." Bucky chose to go with the former.
"Alright, Bucky's back!" Gabe cheered. He, Jim, and Timmy strode up to them and each offered a fist bump.
"That's right! Though for the time being, this is a limited, half-a-day offer," Bucky replied.
"Dang, I was really looking forward to bio with you last period," Jim said.
"I'll alternate mornings and afternoons until I'm back to full days so I don't miss too much of either."
"I can't believe how fast your hair's growing," Timmy announced.
"Not fast enough," Bucky replied. In the five weeks since he finished chemo, it had started to sprout again, but he was still stuck firmly in the peach fuzz phase, making it look lighter and thinner than it really was. He couldn't wait until it was long enough to at least look like a buzz cut instead of a grow-out.
"Are you going to grow it out as long as it was before?" Gabe asked.
"Are you asking solely because of the half bun I wore for games?"
"Maybe."
"I haven't decided yet. To be frank, the answer is probably no since I don't think I'll be able to put it up by myself."
"I could help," Gabe offered.
"No thanks. Letting you play with my hair is where I draw the line."
The bell rang to signal the beginning of first period, so Bucky and Steve set off for English together. First days of school were always boring, but Bucky found it nearly impossible to focus. Dr. Potts had warned him that chemobrain could linger, possibly forever, but he hadn't expected it to be this dramatic. He suspected that if the entire faculty hadn't been informed he was straight out of chemo, he would've been chastised for not paying attention. Some of his peers also diverted their attention from the teacher, but most of it ended up directed at him. Kids he'd known since elementary school and people he'd never even spoken to failed to hide their fascination with his lack of a left arm. Their eyes on him made him feel like he had ants crawling up his spine. Now he knew how Steve felt when he first started using oxygen. People in their grade barely spared him a second glance nowadays, and Bucky longed for the day when they grew similarly used to him.
Even just that half a day completely drained him. Bucky's mom picked him up at lunch and he nearly fell asleep on the way home. "How was your first day?" she asked eagerly.
"Pretty boring. A bunch of people stared at me, though."
"They haven't seen you at school in forever. I'm sure they'll get used to you being back soon."
"Mom, you can say it." She'd danced around the true reason for their interest in him. "They haven't seen me since I still had two arms."
"Still, they'll get used to it eventually."
"I certainly hope so."
"How about the rest of it? Did you feel okay?"
"Yes, mom. I'm fine. It was a little hard to focus, but I think I'm just out of practice with the whole public school thing."
"Chemobrain?" she questioned, seeing through his charade.
"Yeah," Bucky sighed. "I hope it gets at least a little bit better, because at this rate I'll probably flunk sophomore year."
"It's only been one day. I'm sure it will improve, and even if it doesn't nobody's going to let you flunk sophomore year."
"Okay."
"Do you want to go out for lunch?"
"Not really."
"Okay, then will you let me make you something at home?"
"Sure."
He ate half of the sandwich she made him and finished the rest of the apple from breakfast. She'd stored it in pineapple juice to prevent it from browning and it gave it an extra sweetness that Bucky loved. He didn't even make it to his bedroom to take a nap, collapsing instead on the sofa.
~0~
The rest of the week proceeded much like that, with Bucky alternating whether he stayed for classes before or after lunch. By Friday, he was completely exhausted and more worried than ever that he'd start failing classes, but he mustered the energy to spend the evening at Gabe's house with all their friends.
"Have I ever talked about my little cousin with you guys?" Gabe asked, leaning against the base of the recliner in his living room. Whenever they hung out at his place, the guys took up residence in the same spots: Jim in the recliner, Gabe at his feet in the perfect position for Jim to kick him if he said something stupid, and Steve, Bucky, and Timmy on the sofa. When Brock joined them, he took up the position on the floor in front of the couch.
"No, I don't think so," Jim replied.
"Why do you ask?" Steve questioned.
"She just told me the craziest story and I wanted to see what you guys think. But first I have to ask you this: is it awkward to date a former step-sibling or other non-blood relative?"
"That's so specific," Bucky remarked. "What the hell does that have to do with your cousin?"
"Just answer the question."
"I mean if it's not a blood relative it's not technically incestuous," Jim said.
"In that movie Clueless she got with her stepbrother, didn't she?" Timmy pointed out.
"If you really think about it, becoming step siblings is just as much of a chance encounter as being put in the same class or meeting at a party," Steve said.
"So what I'm hearing is that a romantic relationship between two such people would not be immediately dismissed as gross and wrong?"
"Yes, that's what you're hearing," Bucky stated. "Now get to the point."
"Okay, so my cousin's family fosters kids, you know, provides a home while they're waiting for a parent to get out of jail or for someone to adopt them. About two years ago they took in this boy and my cousin developed a huge crush on him during the year he was with them. Then he went away for a while, I'm not sure why. She seems to know, but she wouldn't go into any specifics when I asked. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is she just started high school at this school for really smart, techy kids, and guess who she ran into in her math class? ...The foster brother she had a crush on."
"No way," Timmy gasped.
"That's insane," Jim continued. Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance because they both strongly suspected who this kid was.
"I told her it's fate, but she said she doesn't believe in anything that lame. What do you guys think?"
"It's meant to be," Timmy insisted.
"Does she have any idea if he liked her back?" Jim questioned.
"No."
"I think I can find out," Steve said cryptically. He smirked at Bucky.
"What? How?" Gabe asked, shocked.
Bucky answered the question for him. "Steve and I and this foster brother are old friends."
I don't think Gabe Jones and Michelle Jones are related in canon, but they have the same last name, so I thought...why not? Also, the Bucky stans go crazy for the fact that he buckled the chest strap of his backpack in Civil War, so naturally I had to canonize that here :)