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If Bucky was writing an autobiography and decided to include the event that he had dubbed “wacky adventures in CPR class", he’d start by describing the morning of the 13th of May.
Sam put a stack of pamphlets down on the counter as he went to grab a plate.
Bucky ignored him and kept eating his Jell-O.
Steve paused his chewing to look at the pamphlets presented in front of him.
“First aid classes?” Steve looked up from the pamphlets to make eye contact with Sam, his expression one of question.
“Yep.” Sam simply says, scooping up some scrambled eggs onto his plate. “Think you two should go to one.”
“Would this have anything to do with the fact that Bucky almost choked on a chicken nugget last Saturday?” Steve asked, and Sam didn’t even look back at him to answer and instead continued to pour himself a glass of milk. Lactose-free, since they found out that Bucky and lactose no longer mixed a few weeks after he came back. Something about the way HYDRA froze him caused an intolerance.
“He did choke. Choking doesn’t always result in loss of life.” Sam corrected. “Choking is defined as a blockage of the airway that results in difficulty breathing, which he did have.”
“No, I’m Googling this, I know that’s not right...” Steve protested. Bucky just continued with his Jell-O. This conversation was more entertaining if he just observed it instead of engaging.
“Google away, I’m right.” Sam defended as moved over to the bar where Steve and Bucky were both sitting with a plate full of scrambled eggs and cinnamon rolls.
Steve huffed down at his phone in disgust, which presumingly meant that Google had proved that Sam was, in fact, correct.
“Fine. But Bucky choking didn’t mean anything bad. It was our first venture into solid foods. We’ve only had him off of his g-tube for a month. We’re making progress, even if it’s slow.” Steve argued, and Bucky opened another container of Jell-O. It’s the last container of orange flavored, too, and he wants to enjoy it and not get sucked into this debate.
“I’m not saying it’s bad. He’s making really good progress. It’s just that if I wasn’t here to perform CPR, I don’t know what would have happened. So I want you guys to at least know how to do that, in case the next time he tries solid foods ends the same way.” Sam clarifies.
When Bucky was in HYDRA's clutches, they never once fed him actual food. They gave him just enough nutrition for him to be conscious via an IV line.
When he came back, after Sam found him idly wandering the streets of NYC three days after the fall of the Triskelion, they quickly found out he had not only forgotten how to chew, but also had an aversion to food. They inserted a g-tube through his stomach and fed him that way when it became clear they needed a long-term solution.
He had the g-tube for five months. Two months ago, he had begun to consume foods that required no chewing and largely went down extremely easily. A month ago, they decided he was accustomed enough to eating real food again they removed his g-tube. His main source of nutrition were now prepackaged shakes that were crafted specifically to meet all of his nutritional needs that he had every night for dinner. For the rest of meals, it was either Jell-O, pudding, yogurt, and sometimes icing that he had slightly softened in the microwave so it went down easier.
The chicken nugget incident was Bucky's first time trying to eat solid foods since 1945. He wanted to see if his aversion was better and if he had regained the ability to chew.
He hadn't.
He choked on a tiny piece of the food, and Sam had to spring into action and perform CPR when Bucky collapsed on the floor.
He was awake for all of it.
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose as he looked back over at the pamphlets. "Just...just a basic first aid and CPR class."
Sam smiled, before looking over to Bucky.
Bucky grumbled around a mouthful of Jell-O. "Fine. But only if Steve and I take the same class."
Sam's grin grew impossibility wider.
~~~~~~~~~
"Keeping a first aid kit with the following items can be the difference between life and death: 2 pairs of sterile gloves, latex-free is best-"
Bucky doodled a bunny in his notebook as the teacher recited straight out of the textbook.
In the classroom full of nineteen year olds at the closest community college, Bucky and Steve sat in the back. Steve was diligently talking notes.
Bucky, as previously mentioned, was drawing animals in what was supposed to be his book for taking notes.
The teacher pulled out a first aid kit to demonstrate how a properly stocked kit should look, and it reminded Bucky of when they used to have to keep a g-tube kit under the sink.
Steve seemed to be thinking the same thing, as he looked over at Bucky for a brief moment with a knowing look on his face.
And then Steve's eyes zoomed in Bucky's current doodle, and he quietly asked "Is that a tiger?"
Bucky just stared at him, trying to wrap his head around where Steve could possibly see a tiger instead of a bunny.
After at least two minutes of silence between them, Steve tried again.
"That's a rabbit, isn't it." He said, more rhetorical than anything. He knew it was a rabbit now. and he too was attempting to figure out where the tiger guess came from.
Bucky just nodded, in a defeated kind of way, and went back to half-listening to the lecture.
~~~~~~~~~
"One of the first things you should look for before treating anybody is medical alert jewelry…"
Bucky looked up from his doodling and a little bit of note taking as the teacher held up a medical alert bracelet to demonstrate what it looked like.
He tugged absent-mindedly at the ball chain necklace around his neck, with the attachments on it hiding in his jade green henley.
There were two tags. Both rectangular, with circular smooth edges.
They both read different things, the only constant being his name, and even that wasn't written out the same in both tags.
JAMES B. BARNES.
32557038 T41 T42 O
R. BARNES
3092 STOCKTON RD.
SHELBYVILLE IN P
JAMES "BUCKY" BARNES
PTSD AND MEMORY DISORDERS
UPPER LIMB AMPUTEE
MAY NOT RESPOND TO ANY NAME
IN CASE OF EMERGENCY: (202)xxx-xxxx
He ran his fingers down the chain, pulling it upwards, until both tags popped out of his shirt collar and were visible.
His dog tag was the same one from 1943, when he had been reassigned from the 107th to The Howling Commandos special ops force.
His medical alert tag was a month old. They'd gotten a new one engraved when he officially got his g-tube out.
The phone number his tag said to call in case of emergency was Sam's number. The warning that he may not respond to any name was necessary to put after Bucky's brain, on three separate occasions, kind of disconnected itself and made him forget everything.
The memories returned after a nap. They're not exactly sure why it happens, but they've accepted it's just something they have to live with and be prepared for.
Bucky fiddles with the tags as the teacher moves on to the next topic.
They're his comfort items. Even if he didn't have to wear the medical alert tag all the time, he still would. The cold steel is grounding and gives him something to fidget with when he's nervous.
He runs his fingertips over the grooves left by the engraved words for a moment more, before tucking them back into his henley and getting back to his notes.
~~~~~~~~~
The CPR course was a month long, with three one and a half hour classes a week.
Technically, it wasn't just a CPR course. It also had a lot of first aid lessons and even some paramedic training. But the main focus was learning CPR, and the final exam was passing the CPR certification test.
Steve could only attend a class a week, as it turned out. Full-time superhero-ing and college courses don't mix, apparently.
As such, Bucky was responsible for taking notes for Steve at the classes he was missing.
The teacher was showing the different types of wrappings for wounds and injuries in this particular lecture. Bucky sat in the back of the room, alone, both his dog tag and medical alert tag clearly visible in case something happened while neither Sam or Steve were by his side to explain his medical situation.
The teacher was showing how to wrap a cloth bandage around a wrist now. Over the course of two weeks, Bucky has found out that the teacher was really big on having visual aides and demonstrating how to do things in front of his students, instead of just making them learn from the textbook.
Bucky took notes while remembering all the times he'd wrapped Steve up the same way. Cradling Steve's hands and wrapping his bloodied knuckles with ripped pieces of an old rag. Putting a t-shirt that had already been ruined by oil stains on the nasty cuts on Steve's face to try and get the bleeding to stop. Blotting the blood on Steve's forearm after a fight with an actual piece of gauze they were able to afford for once.
He smiled a bit at the memories, even if it was kinda sad and a bit gruesome. He'd only now recovered these ones, and every time he'd remembered anything from before the war there's a rush of happiness that runs through his mind, and it can't help but make him smile.
He continued his note-taking as the teacher moved on to how to properly secure a piece of gauze under a cloth bandage, the brand new memories still fresh enough in his brain that he'd be able to write them down in his memory journal once he got back home.
~~~~~~~~~
Bucky had to step out of the lecture hall when the teacher began to go over electrical burns.
He puts his back against the wall in the hallway that was gratefully completely empty.
He slides down until he's forced to stop by the cold linoleum tile, and then he curls up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, refusing to cry in a hallway in the middle of a community college.
He doesn't even want to brush his hands over the places on his scalp where scars from electrical burns sit. There's one under his left earlobe, too.
That's what happens when a mad scientist says that the only way to keep you complicit is to administer regular rounds of unsafe ECT straight to your brain, he supposes.
Doesn't make the memories and scars any easier to deal with, but at least they had a reason to that torture. Sometimes they'd just hurt him for fun. The ECT actually served a purpose.
The door into the lecture hall swings open next to him.
Bucky can only hope it's Steve and not one of other students or even the teacher coming to check on him.
He lets out a sigh of relief when a pair of white sneakers that he knows belongs to Steve appears in his line of sight, and the next moment there's another body sliding down the wall to join him in sitting on the floor.
Steve doesn't say anything. Doesn't ask you okay? (probably because he knows Bucky's not). Doesn't ask what happened back there? (probably because he knows exactly what set Bucky off).
Bucky knows there's files and reports of The Chair and how it was used. Bucky knows there's video recordings, almost like training videos to new techs.
Bucky also knows there's at least one video of The Chair in use in the Avengers File Archives. He knows this because one day he watched it, alone, sitting cross-legged on his bed with his laptop on his lap and earbuds plugged in.
(That was also the day he learned that conducting exposure therapy without a trained professional around to assist is a very, very bad idea.)
Bucky also knows Steve has seen the burns he sustained from it. For a month after Bucky returned, Steve and Sam had to wash and brush his hair for him. The pain in his shoulders used to be so great he couldn't even reach behind himself to do it himself.
Both men had become acquainted with the little circular scars in his scalp, being gentler around the areas where they were.
So yeah. Steve knew about The Chair, and the burns.
So there's no need for Steve to ask Bucky what happened. There's no doubt he knows.
They sit in silence for a bit. Bucky narrowly avoids a panic attack and manages to keep his tears at bay.
Steve doesn't say anything. Doesn't even move. He's just...there. There if Bucky needs him. There if Bucky walks to talk.
There so Bucky won't be alone.
The class is almost over by the time Bucky is feeling better, but they go back in anyway.
They don't talk about it.
And that's one hundred percent okay by Bucky.
~~~~~~~~~
When the class is over with, and both he and Steve pass their CPR certification with flying colors, Sam decides to take them out to dinner in celebration.
They go to a diner on the corner, which is Steve's favorite, that they haven't been to in a while. They've just had a lot on their plates, so to speak, so it's been months since they've sat down in one of the red vinyl booths.
Sam and Steve order their usual- three double bacon cheeseburgers with fries loaded with cheese, bacon, and sour cream for Steve, and a hot dog with a side of mac and cheese for Sam.
They get their usual waitress, an woman named Ivy with bangs and straight brown hair that has a bit of blonde on the bottom.
Bucky likes Ivy because she never questions why Bucky only orders a root beer float and no food. She just smiles and gets Steve is super-soldier sized platter of food and a root beer float loaded with ice cream for Bucky. She always winks at Sam when she brings him a full bowl of mac and cheese as opposed to giving him it as a side dish.
"Root beer float refill for Sarge-" Ivy says as she comes over with a full tray of food. She grabs the glass filled to the brim with root beer and vanilla ice cream and places it in front of Bucky, where he's tucked in the end of the booth, across from where Sam and Steve are sitting.
"-hot dog and mac and cheese for the Captain-" Bucky observes as Ivy places Sam's food on the table in front of him, and yep, that's definitely not a side dish proportion of mac and cheese.
"-and the usual cheeseburger platter for the other Captain." Ivy casually sets three different plates on the table for Steve. She's not fazed by his order anymore, and neither is the kitchen staff.
"Thank you Ivy." Steve and Sam say in unison. Bucky signs a 'thank you' instead. His words are being a little difficult today. He's only said ten words today total, the rest has been sign or vague gestures to get his point across.
Nevertheless, as they begin to eat, Bucky eyes the mac and cheese with an odd sense of hunger he hasn't felt in a very, very long time.
Sam catches him staring.
Sam grabs his extra spoon, holds it out to Bucky, and asks "You want?"
Bucky nods and takes the spoon.
He scoops up the tiniest bit on it, just a few noodles.
He brings it to his mouth.
He eats it.
He even chews on it, even if only for a moment.
It's a magical moment that meant absolutely nothing to everyone outside of their little family.
But to them all, it meant everything.
~~~~~~~~~
Bucky only has the little spoonful, but he did like what he had.
As they step out of the diner and head on back to their apartment, Bucky reminisces on the class and the day.
The class was...actually kind of fun. Bucky wouldn't mind taking another one, although maybe in a different subject. Like astronomy. Or engineering. First aid and health just isn't really his thing.
Bucky had been half-expecting a full-circle moment to happen back at the diner- somebody started to choke, and one of the newly CPR certified men would step in and help.
But hey. Having a bite of mostly solid food is one of those moments that he's looked forward to for months, seeing it as some sort of unattainable beacon of light that he was still going to strive for even if the light was impossible to reach.
And he did it.
He touched the light.
And that would be the point, the moral, the crowning jewel of the wacky CPR adventure story if he even made an autobiography.
Things may seem far away. Recovery may seem like an impossible task, but with every passing day, you get closer and closer to the thing you previously thought was unreachable.
It gets better.
The light gets closer.
And one day, you'll be okay. Maybe not perfect, but okay.
And that's more than enough to keep Bucky getting up in the morning every single day.