Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Wan, early morning winter sunlight filtered through the dirty windows of Steve Rogers’s art studio. After considering the painting he’d been working on for the better part of the past week, Steve switched on the little radio he always had tuned to NPR. As he settled in to begin painting, Tom Ashbrook’s words began to register:
“… Senate majority leader Pierce’s accelerated timeline for repeal of the Affordable Care Act, better known as Obamacare, was narrowly approved today. Changes to the law are now expected to go into effect six months from now, rather than at the end of the year, as Pierce originally suggested. Speaker of the House Brock Rumlow’s replacement plan, which many are saying will not guarantee coverage to Americans with pre-existing conditions, will be implemented simultaneously, according to a statement from Rumlow’s office. So-called Rumlowcare will also turn funds for Medicaid over to state control in the form of block grants, which critics say…”
Steve shut off the radio, looking first at the tubing connecting his insulin pump to his body, and then to the pocket in his messenger bag where he kept his emergency inhaler. “Shit,” he said, and let his paintbrush fall, “What the hell am I going to do now?”
***
Bucky was distracted and gloomy on his walk home from work. Their firm was short-staffed at the moment, and he had been forced to do doc review all afternoon, which had done nothing to take his mind off his and Liz’s deteriorating relationship. After almost six months, it felt like Liz had been looking for more, and while Bucky wasn’t opposed to something serious, something about their relationship wasn’t clicking. He had tried to tell himself he hadn’t been avoiding her, hadn’t been putting off the inevitable, but the frustrated texts he had been receiving from her over the past few days confirmed it: they were headed for a break up.
He was still mulling over his situation with Liz as he got back to his and Steve’s Brooklyn apartment, and was greeted as he entered by the sound of rhythmic footsteps coming from the living room. Surprised out of his reverie, Bucky watched his roommate pacing back and forth, hunched over a little notebook and looking pale as a ghost.
“Steve?”
Steve startled when he saw Bucky, and offered a grimace Bucky could only assume was an attempt at a grin. He noticed a slight tremor in the hand holding the notebook. “What’s going on, buddy?”
Steve’s voice shook, “I’m just… ah, Bucky… I’m trying to figure out… just trying to figure out how much all my uh, my meds are gonna be, you know… without… without the insurance.”
“What are you talking about Steve? Did something happen to your insurance?”
“You didn’t see?”
“Didn’t see what?”
“They’re getting rid of it. They’re getting rid of the ACA. They’re gonna get rid of my health insurance, Buck.”
Bucky set down his messenger bag and walked toward Steve to put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Hey, Steve, it’s gonna be ok, I’m sure we can figure this out.”
Steve glumly shrugged off Bucky’s hand and walked over to the window, looking down at the street. “You don’t understand, Buck. I, God, I need this stuff, all of it, and it’s not cheap. Insulin, test strips, insulin pump supplies – just for my diabetes it’s gotta be more than $25,000 a year. My allergy shots are $5000 a year, and my Epipens run $500 a year, assuming I don’t have to use them. Then there’s the asthma meds that are something like $3000 per year, and all of that assumes that I don’t get pneumonia again like last year, and have to go to the ER or be hospitalized. I just, I don’t know how I’m going to pay for it all. I definitely won’t be able to stay at Pratt, they barely offer health insurance, I’m going to have to get a job, but jeez, Bucky, who’s going to hire me with three fourths of an MFA?”
“They’re not taking it away today, man, I promise nothing bad is going to happen to you, we will work something out.”
Steve looked up from the notebook at Bucky, and Bucky saw that Steve’s eyes were red-rimmed and watery, and he was clenching his teeth now in an effort not to start crying.
“I was thinking, maybe I’d transfer to another school, one with better health insurance,” Steve said, and Bucky could tell he was getting worked up again. “Maybe in a different city, one where the rent’s not so high. I hate to leave you in the lurch, with no roommate, but I could get on Craigslist, or maybe Nat knows somebody looking for a place? I – shit, Bucky, this messes up all my plans, it has to.”
Finally too exhausted to keep going, Steve sat down on the sofa and buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking a little as he gave up fighting his tears. Bucky sat down next to him and started rubbing his back, catching a glimpse at the notebook Steve had been recording prescription prices in. When Steve had first decided to leave the graphic design job he’d been working to pursue an MFA, he had asked Bucky to look over health insurance plans, the two having mutually agreed several years earlier that, although Steve had many talents, evaluating long, technical documents was not one of them. Bucky remembered looking at the insurance Pratt offered and almost immediately rejecting it, pointing out that nearly all of the specialist visits Steve would have to make were excluded, and that a number of his prescriptions were not covered. If Steve stayed in his MFA program, the school insurance would be virtually his only option, and he would likely still be paying tens of thousands of dollars every year. Bucky wanted to reassure his friend, but he also knew that, without a dramatic change of heart from Pierce and Rumlow, it was unlikely that Steve would be able to complete his degree, or to complete it without going bankrupt.
“Listen,” Bucky said, “I know this looks bad. It’s a shitty situation and I think you’re right to be upset. But believe me, you are going to figure this out, you’re going to be ok, and whatever help you need from me – anything Stevie, I mean it – you’ve got it.”
Bucky, his hand still rubbing Steve’s back, felt Steve take several deep breaths. He looked up at Bucky and gave a small, but genuine, smile.
“Thanks, Bucky. This is, well, it’s a lot to take in, you know? Things have been rough since the election, and I know that’s not just me, but it’s different when it makes a difference for you, personally.”
“I know, buddy, it’s rough shit. We’re not going to be able to do much about it tonight though, so why don’t we make some popcorn and put on your least depressing documentary, and worry about it later?”
Bucky stilled his hand, squeezing Steve’s shoulder as Steve sighed and nodded. They both got up, Steve to make popcorn and Bucky to dig out the six-pack of Liz’s favorite beer from the back of the fridge he’d been saving for their six-month anniversary. So, he was a shitty boyfriend – under the circumstances he figured Liz would be hard-pressed to find fault with him for trying to comfort his best friend. And if she did, well, she didn’t deserve the beer.