#i didn't even know i had hayfever until today

[cellarfulofnose]

Sneatles fic prompts/scenarios (KMKY universe) 1-60

(1) Pavlov's Dog: Paul & John's first shared cold in the studio post-revelation of Paul's fetish (shared, perhaps, because John deliberately caught it off him to double his agony). Paul is mortified by his own symptoms, never mind being embarrassed to death about John overselling his. John, terrible exhibitionist that he is, enjoys Paul's squirming so much that he starts to associate sneezing with getting turned on...

(2) First Time for Everything: The band touches down in the next stop on their tour, somewhere none of them have ever been before. Everyone's enchanted by this new country except Paul. For the first time in his life, he's suffering from hayfever, brought on by the exotic local flora. John starts to tease him but quickly picks up on how miserable he is about it. From then on he makes sure everyone else lays off him.

(3) Breathe You In: One of them is getting off on the smell of the other's clothes that they left behind. But they weren't prepared for how well fabric holds cologne. Or how sensitive they are to it up close...

(4) You'll Have to Excuse Him: John is used to Paul acting as PR man whenever John does something undiplomatic. They have a whole good-cop, bad-cop act. But Paul's not feeling very charming today; he's so miserably ill that he can't work at his usual standard, and the frustration causes him to snap at Mal or Neil (or worse, a reporter). John finds himself in the unusual, uncomfortable position of apologizing on Paul's behalf, insisting he didn't mean it, and assuring that he'll be back to his old self before they know it.

(5) Turn Off Your Mind, Relax: Even after the handcuffs session, Paul still stifles his sneezes around John. Every time. In front of other people, John doesn't bring it up to save him the embarrassment. But once he gets him alone, it's a different story. When gentle persuasion and some ruthless bullying don't work, John takes matters (and Paul's wrists) into his own hands until the lesson takes root.

(6) Can't Stay Mad At You: Late '60s, possibly the Let It Be sessions. John and Paul have a spat. A bad one. They can't afford this kind of rift between them when they're supposed to be putting an album together in a matter of weeks. When the day rolls around and they're still not speaking to each other in the studio (apart from flinging venomous quips and the occasional overt insult), John decides he's had enough. He goes for his snuff (or that bottle of cologne he can't wear anymore) and whips up a sneezing fit. Paul doesn't budge at first, but by the time he acquiesces a Bless you, John knows an apology isn't far behind.

(7) Wait Till You're Alone: John has to be out of the country for a while, possibly filming How I Won the War in Spain. Paul is gloomy about him leaving, so John leaves behind a tape (to listen to while I'm gone, the instructions say). Paul puts it off for a while because he thinks it'll make him sadder. One day, some of his art friends are over (Peter and Jane Asher?) and Paul decides they should hear whatever song demo John's been working on-- in part because he wants to show off that he hangs out with other prolific artists, too. He puts on the tape and gets up to make tea, trying to act casual as if John's raw, unpolished vocals are no big deal... but it's not a song. It's a sneeze. Then another one. Paul has a mini heart attack and turns it off as quickly and nonchalantly as possible, stammering that John must've left him the wrong take or something. Peter insists Paul turn it back on, practically snapping his fingers like a Beat poet, because it was obviously some sort of heavy performance art. A statement against the war in Vietnam, no doubt, and how it's a brutal sickness or some such. Paul has to choose whether to kick them both out (if it's the Ashers, out of their own house) or sit through the most unbelievable torture/fantasy for an indefinite length of time.

(8) No Business Like Show Business: The Beatles are allergic to the film industry. That's not just a dig at their acting skills; every time they step on set, something is making somebody sneeze. In A Hard Day's Night, it was the ostrich-feathered showgirls crammed into their dressing room. In the Penny Lane video, it was (who would've guessed?) the horses-- and they weren't even riding them. In Magical Mystery Tour, it was that terrible red-nose makeup they put Paul in (by the end, he no longer needed it!). One would assume they'd be safe in an animated flick like Yellow Submarine, but that's the funny thing about Pepperland...

(9) He Loves Me Not: Paul is back in his least favorite place: a press conference. It's equal parts dull and grating until someone hands him a gorgeous bouquet, bursting with color and perfume. A hopeless romantic (for the cameras, anyway), he takes a big, sweet sniff-- and swiftly regrets it when his hayfever kicks in with a vengeance. He wonders if he should try and make some excuse to leave, but he soon realizes it'll have to be John who bails him out, because he can't even risk opening his mouth to excuse himself. But will John catch on in time?

(10) Lovesick Blues: John's got a nasty cold, Paul's there to look after him. Why not help each other out a little? Paul tries to do his part by helping John coax out a stuck sneeze or three. But when John develops a rattling cough and is nearly in tears from the pain in his head and throat, it becomes clear that they're dealing with flu, and this isn't helping. When Paul checks him for fever and finds him burning up, he panics, distraught with fear and guilt. How is it that John ends up comforting and caring for Paul, when he's the one who can hardly breathe and won't stop shivering? Tea, and a lot of tissues, ensue.

(11) No Thank You Please: 3 Savile Row is the place for avant-garde fashion/haute couture right now. After seeing George regaled with ties, loafers, and the like, Ringo decides he wants to join the fun and requests a cologne sampler. The Beatle People/ Apple scruffs are all too happy to oblige, and soon the studio is full of the sound of spritzing and sniffing. (And sneezing. Oops!)

(12) What's the Matter With You?: George trudges into the studio with a cold. John is suddenly very interested, but only when Paul's around, for some reason. (Bonus: this is in the early days when George wasn't sure he'd earned John's respect yet, so he's oddly flattered but very confused by the sudden attention.) How's he feeling, John wants to know? When did it start? Mostly in his head or chest? Oh, bless you, has that been happening often? Uh huh...uh huh...oh, bless you again, no it's all right, you didn't get me, I don't need to move... (Across the studio, Paul's fingers slip on the strings of his bass.)

(13) Martha My Dear: Paul is a dog person. John finds out why. Alternate take: John's been a cat person all his life. When he suddenly develops an allergy to his darling pets, he has to decide what to do with them.

(14) Transcendental: The Beatles have never had a problem with smoke-- you name it, they'll smoke it. But incense, cultivated right there in Rishikesh, is proving a bit too much for [one or more]. Taking deep, meditative breaths isn't easy when every inhale sets your nose on fire. As if the marigold necklaces and omnipresent flower arrangements weren't bad enough on their own. Too much smoke inside, too much pollen outside... what's a Beatle to do??

(15) Cellophane Flowers of Yellow and Green: Of course, the Beatles weren't always okay with every kind of smoke. Who could forget how [one or more] embarrassed themselves in front of Bob Dylan when the smell of hash was just a bit too sharp? Among the many things they learned that day in the Delmonico: stoned sneezing is way heavy, man. Bonus: but that's nothing at all compared to LSD sneezes, where you can actually smell the fractal flowers blooming in front of your eyes... where you can feel the world beneath your feet gasp and hitch along with you (because it's not even your nose that itches, anymore, it's the universe's)... where colors burst out of your mouth with every sneeze that feels like it took a year from beginning to end...(of the beginning...)

(16) Don't Bother Me: Let It Be sessions. George hates Yoko; she's not too keen on him either. Even though he avoids her, it would be an exaggeration to say he's allergic to her... Until one day in the studio when he literally can't stand close to her without sneezing. Maybe she changed her perfume, or maybe she stores her extravagant fur coats in pepper instead of mothballs. Whatever the reason, they use it as an excuse to leave each other alone. Bonus: she knows good and well what's getting to George, and she deliberately applied it as bug repellent.

(17) Instant Karma: In the darkest depths of the post-breakup, when John and Paul are filling their songs with cheap shots at each other, John decides to see how low he can dig. His next song, buried on a B-side, sounds like your standard vague diss track about a certain someone who refuses to express their feelings. But to the trained listener, the lyrics are actually full of references to Paul's reluctance/shyness about sneezing: turn up your nose, right under your nose, hold your breath, bottle it up, shed a tear, you've still got that itch, you take all the praise but can't handle the blessings; he goes on and on. When Paul hears it on the radio, he's so insulted, mortified, and hurt that he resolves to prove John wrong once and for all. If you listen closely to Paul's new number-one hit single, just before the first chorus, you can hear some studio chatter and what sounds like a big, unrestrained sneeze in the left speaker (on the stereo mix, that is). Music experts are still trying to figure out what it all means.

(18) Ready Or Not: George's mantle of the 'Quiet Beatle' is a bit of a misnomer. The group finds this out when they embark on a game of hide and seek while the Ashers are away. George's hiding place, a large wardrobe about a hundred and fifty years old, couldn't be more perfect. That is, until Paul shows up and makes himself at home, insisting that George has got to let him hide there too because John's finished counting to 100, and they'll both be found otherwise. As soon as they settle into grudging silence, George realizes he should have picked somewhere to hide that hadn't been collecting dust since the days of Queen Victoria. Although maybe it's a stroke of luck that Paul decided to join him, because he's about to need some help staying quiet. Bonus: John can absolutely hear them but pretends not to in order to see how long they'll keep it up. Bonus bonus: It's Paul, not George, who ends up giving them away in the end. Bonus bonus bonus: after the round, George vows not to make the same mistake and asks for a rule change to permit hiding outside. This time, he's completely hidden (alone, thank you) where no one will ever find him: smack in the middle of the hyacinth bushes.

(19) All Together Now/From Me To You: Back in the early days when Ringo had just joined and the group was still regularly playing the Cavern Club, one of them falls ill. Not wanting to replace him for just a few shows (it didn't work out so well last time), they figure that if everyone is sick, no one has to play this weekend. Cue their race to infect the whole group before the day they're due to play. Bonus: Paul is deeply uncomfortable with the whole thing because he doesn't want them to see him sick (and some of the methods of contagion they're suggesting are just unthinkable), so he's the last healthy man standing. He claims he just doesn't want to miss out on the money they'd earn by performing this weekend, but that doesn't explain why he's now avoiding spending time with them outside of practice. John has had enough and decides to confront Paul directly. (Bonus: he's also wondering why Paul won't kiss him this week.) Trapped in his own house by a sick John, Paul has to own up or give in.

(20) Flowing More Freely Than Wine: Version 1: Some wild party, a movie premiere or album release. John is buzzed, but Paul is drunk. And sick. Possible that being sick killed his appetite, so he hasn't eaten much that day, causing the drink to hit him harder, or maybe he tried to self-medicate with alcohol (it kills germs, right??). With his inhibitions lowered, Paul's not only showing symptoms, he's practically showing off; sneezing loudly & uncovered, throwing his arm around people and saying how dreadful he feels, making a right show of himself. John again finds himself playing diplomat and trying to corral Paul before he does something really embarrassing. He knows Paul will have the king of headaches tomorrow, and hopefully little or no memory of the night, but John's ready to comfort him if and when the mortification comes crashing in. Version 2: Paul is buzzed, but John is drunk and sick. Last time John got this raucously drunk, Paul let him hear it the next day, almost leading to a fight. But tonight, they're both missing their edge. John seems sludgy and subdued, and Paul's being awfully gentle with him, bringing him water in between drinks, even feeling his forehead a couple of times. In fact, when John passes out cold on the sofa, Paul enlists someone to help carry him upstairs into a proper bed to sleep it off. He seems awfully blushy-- the person who carried John's legs hopes Paul hasn't got a fever too- but it's probably just flush from the wine.

(21) How Do You Sleep?: Another huge fight between John and Paul. This one might be the one that does them in, judging by the fact that Paul sounded like he was on the verge of tears the entire time and yelled until his voice actually gave out. He seems unusually affected by the fight, going so far as to disappear for a few days. John figures he'll let Paul sulk; he was in the right, after all, so he doesn't reach out. Four days come and go, and he's worried, but still determined not to break his silence. That is, until he gets word from Paul's brother that Paul has been nursing a miserable cold for five days now. John does some quick math and realizes why Paul was so upset, why his voice failed, and why he was sniveling so much. In a fit of guilt, he hurries over to Paul's with medicine and a thermos full of hot tea, fully intending to care for him and-- oh, all right-- to apologize. Paul is not happy to see him. In fact, he's livid. In fact he's... delirious and scalding with fever. John feels like an utter bastard and figures it'd be better if he just left (hasn't he done enough?). But something makes him stay. Maybe Paul calms down and asks him to, or maybe he just decides to power through and take responsibility. (Bonus: for his troubles, he gets sick. Of course he gets sick.)

(22) The Finer Things: Ringo gets rhinitis from red wine. Not severe, but bad enough so that he avoids it when he can. The British class system is cold and cruel, so when the other Beatles piece this together, they tease that he's far too working class for something as posh as a nice red. Bonus: Ringo keeps this whole 'too posh' thing in mind to torment them later, like when John turns out to be allergic to horses, or when Paul spends all day fighting a sneeze from all the designer perfume in the air on their first visit to Buckingham Palace.

(23) Ah, the Night Before: There's a big show tomorrow and John and Paul are fooling around. John lets Paul induce him for quite a while-- it seems like there's an itch in his nose that just won't go away. But when the sneezing (and resulting postnasal drip) trigger a persistent cough, they realize John's been coming down with something. (Might explain the itch. And how easy it was to set him off.) John's coughing rips at his throat so badly that his voice is gone by the next day, when they're supposed to perform on stage. Paul and John have to explain to a hysterical Brian Epstein (and the other boys) what they could possibly have been doing to kill John's voice overnight, when it was completely fine yesterday. Bonus: this is in the Beatlemania years, so the crowd can't hear whether John sings anyway, and they just go on as normal while he lip-syncs.

(24) Kitty Corner: It's time for a promotional photoshoot. Paul is excited to see whether they'll pose the group with luggage or raw meat and baby dolls, but when he arrives to the studio and sees a dozen tiny pet carriers, he regrets every decision that brought him to that moment. George and Ringo are reasonably pleased, with the occasional grumble that posing with kittens will make them look childish. But Paul is terrified. Up until this point, he's been able to keep his cat allergy a secret, so naturally, none of the people organizing the shoot would have known. Since John is beside himself with joy and has already bonded with his cats, the photographer elects to shoot him first and leave the other three to get acquainted with their animals in the meantime. As a longtime sufferer, Paul knows the cardinal rule of cat allergies is Don't touch your face. But his eyes are itching so badly he feels like they might fall out. And when the sneezing starts, well, he's got to hold it in somehow. This doesn't exactly make for an ideal bonding session with his kitten(s), so by the time he's called for the shoot, he's a teary, sneezing mess and starting to break out in hives. After a quick argument among the artistic team (how hard it's going to be to doctor out the rash in post-production, why no one was told Paul was allergic to cats), they try to get the shoot done as quickly as possible. It's not easy to keep still and keep from pawing at his face-- hell, he can barely keep his eyes open-- but somehow they finish. In the only usable photo of Paul, his eyes are closed, his mouth is pulled into a tight, embarrassed smile, and his nose is fully scrunched up. Somehow, this is worse, because it looks like he's trying to be cute on purpose. But a new clause is written into his contract: NO MORE CATS. Bonus: John somehow gets ahold of the photos they couldn't use (as in, the ones where Paul was contorting his face trying not to sneeze, or actively pre- and mid-sneeze). He teases Paul with them for a minute but eventually makes sure they're destroyed.

(25) The Man In Me: Late '60s. Paul is sick to death of still being labeled the Cute Beatle. He's not a boy; he's pushing thirty, for God's sake. He supposes his cow eyes and eternal pout aren't doing him any favors. He's always thought Ringo had such an effortless masculinity, though, as opposed to John's blustering machismo or George's soft, alternative style. One night, fueled by drink and drugs, Paul asks Ringo how to sneeze in a way that isn't so girly and kittenish; or, in a word, cute. Ringo, respectfully, has no idea what the fuck Paul's on about, but in the spirit of friendship, he tries to be helpful. They go somewhere away from the party/other people, and Ringo makes himself sneeze with a method Paul's never even heard of, just so he can describe to Paul what to do. Paul doesn't have feelings for Ringo, but he's enjoying himself a little bit. Until Ringo says your turn, show me what you've learned. As in most things, Paul is a star student/chronic overachiever. There's less embarrassment factor than doing it in front of John, or strangers, or even George. Bonus: Speak of the devil, John finds their hiding spot and demands to know what they're doing. (It's not like they were being quiet.) Ringo, who has no reason to believe Paul would want to keep this a secret, immediately spills the goods. John is furious-- one, that Paul would share 'their thing' with somebody else; two, that Paul didn't consider John's sneezes masculine enough to ask him for help. But he can't very well say that in front of Ringo, so he storms off and simmers angrily for a few days. Paul maintains that he hasn't done anything wrong, but he feels the need to ask John what he can do to make things right between them. John doesn't take any time to come up with an answer: an exam, where Paul demonstrates to John that Ringo's lessons stuck.

(26) The Boy Who Cried Wolf: The publishing house must be mad if they think John is going to sit through a signing/press conference for In His Own Write. He resolves to fake a cold to get out of it. TAKE 1: John does nothing by halves, so he starts snuffing heavily 24 hours before. By the time he sets foot in the studio the next day, he's wickedly congested, his voice is shot, and the sneezing is enough to break your heart. Paul is rather distraught and keeps checking up on him (or, bonus: Paul is in on the plan and struggling to keep it together). He can vouch for John-- the signing is not happening. Success! TAKE 2: John doesn't even bother to show up to the studio. All they get is a phone call. Since John is playing hooky with Paul, he asks him for a small favor to help sell his excuse. While he's on the phone with the publishing house, Paul induces him to make him sound sick. It works so well, by the end of the call, they're offering him tips to get well, and the signing is off. Success! Bonus: or is it? Shortly after the first call, someone calls back to check on John (evidently, they did such a good job that the publishers got worried and notified Brian/the other Beatles/etc). John and Paul have to race to get John sounding sick again (maybe Paul answers first and tries to stall, saying John's resting/not available, until they demand to talk to John). Bonus bonus: the second call was actually from a different event that John had already committed to and genuinely wanted to attend, but now they also believe he's sick, so he's got to show up anyway and keep up the ruse. John attends and is miserable, practically choking on his own fluids the whole time. Paul takes him home and nurses him back to 'health', which takes until the next day (he might have over-done it with the snuff).

(27) Free As A Bird: '70s, post-breakup. Paul is ready to shuffle off this mortal coil when Yoko and John release a new experimental film ("Free"). Surprisingly, no one's naked below the waist in this one. It's just a closeup shot of John from nose to collarbone; no dialogue, no music. Then Yoko's hand appears with a rolled-up tissue and twists it around in his nose until he sneezes. Messily. This continues for eight and a half minutes. He stays in the same position, not even lifting his hands except to put his glasses back on a few times when they slip (we can't see them otherwise). At no point does she clean him up or blow his nose (or let him do either of those things), so the aftermath is really quite ghastly by the end. There's not a hint of eroticism in it; it just seems to be an exploration of the abject. The critics thrill. The public shudders. Paul wishes the world would end. Bonus: some interviewer inevitably asks what he thinks of John and Yoko's latest piece, and his answer is so inadequate/stammery that John gets a good laugh when he sees it in a magazine later. Bonus bonus: does Paul eventually try to get his hands on a copy? For a better...private viewing experience? (Does John find out??)

(28) I Love Seeing You Like This: John comes knocking on Paul's door, drunk, in the middle of the night (at a period when Paul lived alone/everyone was away). Paul fears the worst, but apparently John just wanted to pay him a visit-- a productive one. As soon as they're behind closed doors, John starts inducing out of the blue with whatever he's got (possibly a feather for old times' sake, but by now he's for certain found something that sets him off even worse. Snuff? Cologne?). And it's bad... well, good. Paul's never seen him like this before; it's like being drunk makes John more sensitive and less inhibited, and it's getting Paul increasingly flustered. John finally confesses, garbled by drunkenness and congestion, that he just loves seeing how hot Paul gets when he sneezes. They keep the night going, but John, at least, falls asleep soon after. He wakes up the next morning with large gaps in his memory, trying to figure out why he feels like he's got a cold (on top of a brutal hangover).

(29) Get Well Soon: George stops by John's place to pick something up/drop something off. Only John didn't know he was coming, and he's got a bit of company at the moment. It's Paul, and they're fooling around the way they do best: inducing John to hell and back. When the door opens to George, John is sniffling, looks like he's been crying, and his voice is strained, besides uncomfortably adjusting his jeans every few words. George decides he doesn't even want to know. But he does care about the guy, so he mentions to Brian/George Martin that John seemed pretty poorly when they spoke last. The next day, John gets a phone call checking up on "how he's doing." At first he doesn't understand, but when they explain, he almost laughs into the line and races to come up with an excuse.

(30) A Day In the Life: During one of the band's 12-hour recording sessions for Please Please Me, Paul gets to watch John come down with a cold in real time. At the beginning, he seems almost healthy, sniffling and clearing his throat as often as anyone who's been woken up for work on a cold morning (and smokes a pack a day). But then, around noon, the scale tips. His voice is worsening, and his symptoms are getting harder to brush off. By the time they get to Twist and Shout, any time he's not sneezing, he's coughing; any time he's not coughing, he's blowing his nose like it's the last thing he'll ever do. The length of the workday and the vocal strain is obviously making it worse, coupled with the fact that all they've had to eat is milk and tea. Paul wants John to get home and rest as soon as possible... yet at the same time, he almost doesn't want it to be over. Looking back, it's a miracle they got the album recorded.

(31) Heaven Scent: John returns from How I Won the War with a makeover: a haircut, round glasses, and a nice selection of Spanish aftershave/cologne. He asks for Paul's opinion, and it turns out there's one scent in particular that really sets Paul off. When Paul's recovered, he makes John agree to get rid of that one. John, who had his fingers crossed behind his back when he agreed, wears that very scent to their next rendezvous. He maintains that he has no idea what could possibly be making Paul sneeze that much, and as Paul's sense of smell slowly retreats behind a wall of congestion, it becomes almost impossible to prove it. But judgment day comes when John wears it on their next flight, where Paul can't run or hide. After he's had his fun, he comes clean, fully prepared to take Paul's wrath in whatever form Paul sees fit.

(32) Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust: The band's most rigorous recording schedule (Revolver?) coincides with the height of Paul's 'inducing John and fooling around before they both show up to work' phase. They're not the best with time management, so most days John comes in stuffed up, a little sniffly, if not still sneezing. Geoff Emerick, who doesn't have much else to do, takes notice and asks if he's all right. John can't claim a cold this time-- his throat and lungs are fine-- so he brushes it off as allergies. Emerick replies that it's the dead of winter and every plant in Britain is long dead. John counters by saying that he obviously meant dust, the bloody studio's lousy with it, or didn't Emerick know? Emerick takes this to heart and makes sure that the entire studio is deep cleaned from top to bottom on EMI's dime until every speck of dust is destroyed. (The vents, particularly, are a nightmare.) But days later, John's not any better, and Geoff can't understand why not. He tells John how long they spent meticulously dusting, vacuuming, and carpet-shampooing the studio, to which John only shrugs and says he simply must be sneezy by nature. Emerick gives up.

(33) You Won't See Me: Since Paul grew a beard, he's been able to ride public transport in relative peace and quiet. In fact, if he keeps to himself and doesn't make noise (he can't always stop himself from humming, even in public), he hardly ever gets recognized. He's gotten so comfortable with the Tube that he rides it to recording sessions. Everything's been nice and uneventful-- until today. One downside of public transport is heightened exposure to disease, and thanks to a sick stranger last week, Paul is on his way to work with the head cold from the Black Lagoon. He's already attracting more attention than he'd like with his gentle, quiet sniffling, but suddenly, he needs to sneeze. He tries as hard as he can not to-- with this cold, they've been coming in fits-- but he can't help it. Heads are turning now, at first with annoyance and pity, quickly replaced by recognition. The only upside is that no one is asking him for an autograph now. Some passengers even scoot away from him. John goes to greet him when he finally arrives to the studio, but Paul starts snuffling miserably about how half of London just watched one of her most famous musicians have a terrible sneezing fit on the Tube. He seems more upset than John would have guessed, but that might have something to do with the fact that his forehead's a little warm... Bonus: one week later, the tabloids are plastered with a random girl and the headline "TICKET TO RIDE: I CAUGHT PAUL MCCARTNEY'S COLD ON THE TUBE!" Paul never lives it down.

(34) Starkers: Three members of the band gang up on the fourth member for a prank that involves pushing them into water so they can steal their clothes when they take them off to wash/change. The idea was to get them to run around naked/in a towel for a while in pursuit of their clothes, giving them back when they'd had their fun, of course. But it's over an hour later and the victim of the prank is still shivering in his warm clothes. The other three start to wonder if maybe they pushed it too far, and when the victim lets out the first shivery sneeze, they all swallow their pride and apologize. Bonus: they make it up to him by nursing him back to health.

(35) Powder For the Shine: John and Paul are due to appear without the rest of the group on some talk show/conference/what have you. They're nervous, so they decide to get some tension out by locking themselves in a dressing room with the orders that they're not to be disturbed while they're "working on something important." Everyone leaves them reverently alone, assuming they're churning out another A Day In the Life. In actuality, John's taking a heaping helping of snuff off Paul's chest. Before they can even get down to business, though, a frantic knock on the door informs them that the schedule changed/they got the time wrong, and they're actually due on in ten. John and Paul race to get themselves dressed and presentable with fear in their hearts, but the snuff has still got John in its clutches. When the cameras start rolling, John's faced with two Herculean tasks. Not only does he keep having to duck to the side and muffle a sneeze every few minutes, but he also has to try and keep the interview on track when Paul frequently dissolves into Well, er... you see... um, I mean... (It's almost as if something is distracting him.) Bonus: If the interviewer asks John what's the matter, John either remarks that he's allergic to stupid questions (if the press are being especially nasty), or jokes that the makeup department got carried away trying to powder the shine off his nose. (They're not wearing any makeup.) Bonus bonus: Between that and Paul's jumpiness/blown pupils, the tabloids spin the story as proof that both of them are addicted to snorting coke.

(36) The Jig Is Up: Paul should have known that they couldn't keep this up forever, but it still comes as a nasty surprise when George and Ringo finally confront John about sounding like he's had a cold for the better part of seven months. John, ever the web-weaver, sadly explains that he just can't get his nic fix from cigarettes anymore, and started snuffing to sate his addiction. He's trying to quit, as a matter of fact. Ringo has a hand on his shoulder right away and assures John they'll help him through it, but George goes quiet. At the end of the conversation, he asks John if he can try some, and John doesn't see why not. To Paul's horror and John's ecstatic amusement, it's an instant hit. Before long, Ringo picks up the habit too. John's buying more, they've all got fancy snuffboxes-- surely something this good must be shared. They playfully chide Paul for being the odd man out and encourage him to try the stuff, not unlike their experience with acid. Paul clams up. Do they really expect him to do that in front of the entire group, regularly?

(37) The Fool On the Hill: Four twenty-year-olds with a taste for mischief and sudden disposable income. April Fool's Day. What could go wrong? This year's prank of choice involves sneezing powder (from the top shelf, now that they can afford it). TAKE 1: the hapless victim is Paul, and he's too embarrassed to even cook up proper revenge. TAKE 2: the hapless victim is someone other than Paul, and everything about this prank is mortifying him out of his skin, from the original idea to the way the others won't stop commenting on the victim's symptoms. If it's George or Ringo, he helps them get their revenge. If it's John...well, he saves that memory for a rainy day.

(38) Mr. Tambourine Man: During an actual songwriting session, Paul asks John to sing him a song while he induces him, and see if he can keep singing/playing through it. Years later, Paul still gets a knee-jerk hard-on any time that song plays. Bonus: John starts to change around some of the lyrics to better fit their... current situation. One of them almost sings those lyrics on stage after that.

(39) Just My Luck: Paul and John got the hint and have stopped messing around with snuff all the time. (Turns out, like every other drug, exposure builds tolerance over time. Ah, well.) With clear sinuses, John is sounding better than ever in the studio. Then one day, a clumsy intern knocks something over, sending up a flurry of dust, and John starts to sneeze by complete accident. They're sparse, just a minor annoyance every few minutes, but John knows an opportunity for mischief when he sees it. To mess with the intern (who meekly apologizes after every sneeze) and Paul (who keeps rubbing his face to hide his blush), he starts exaggerating the volume and urgency until he thinks the other two might cry. Before long, he's sent home for disturbing the peace to recuperate, where he plots how to make the same intern drop something again next week.

(40) Time of the Season: John has always taken antihistamines to make it through summer. That is, until this year, when he learned of Paul's fetish. He decides to skip the pills this time around, just to see how they both react. It's been years since he went without; he might not even need them anymore. How bad could it be?

(41) Out Cold: Paul waltzes into the studio one day, whacked out of his gourd on something. A bandmate yanks him aside to remind him they agreed not to show up to work high anymore, but in fact, Paul is just stuffed to the gills with cold medicine. He took the nighttime stuff by mistake, so he's a bit loopy, to say the least. Undeterred, he plays on as if nothing is wrong. He's giggling, his playing is sloppy, and his musical suggestions have no basis in reality, but to the credit of Vicks, he's not coughing and sneezing. Until the medicine starts to wear off, that is. Now his symptoms are getting harder to control as he gets sleepier and sleepier. It's the funniest thing the band has ever seen-- and more than a little worrying to John. Bonus: The other members of the band get him to lie down for a little while because he's swaying dangerously and they don't want him to crack his darling idiot head open. They've almost gotten back to work when they hear soft, congested snores from the back of the room. Alternate take: Paul goes too heavy on the nighttime stuff the night before, and sleeps right through the next morning. When he doesn't show up or answer the phone, John goes over to check on him. Paul opens the door in yesterday's clothes, unshaven, pale-and-pink, hair mussed, seemingly awoken by the doorbell with genuinely no clue as to why John's there.

(42) Rain (I Don't Mind): Cavern Club era ('61-'63). George is over at Paul's, and they have a little spat. Paul is feeling particularly strong-headed today, so he informs George he can leave if that's how he feels. George calls his bluff and marches out the door. There's one problem: while they were arguing, it started to rain, hard. Paul watches George trudge down the sidewalk through sheets and sheets of icy rain, and he almost throws open the window to tell him to come back inside, for God's sake. But he's too proud. By the next morning, he's ready to apologize, so he rings George under the guise of planning tonight's practice. For his answer, he hears a miserable sneeze and a congested I'm not coming. Paul's heart sinks, realizing that if he hadn't made George walk home in the rain, he wouldn't be sick. After wrestling with his choices for a while, Paul turns up penitently at George's with some tea and an apology.

(43) April Showers: John and Paul decide to save water by showering together. Everything's nice and (ahem) steamy until they start soaping up. After having used inexpensive Ivory Soap their whole life, one of them is not used to the sharp fruity/floral/musky scent of the other one's new soap. They're either very sensitive or violently allergic; either way, they start sneezing. (Bonus: Since steam loosens up the sinuses, they're extremely productive.) If it's John: they get each other VERY clean and stay in until all the hot water is long gone. If it's Paul: He's trying to keep a lid on it to save himself the embarrassment, but he can't. What's more, the shower is prohibitively small; he barely has enough room to turn away so John's not in his line of fire. But John keeps assuring him that it's fine because they're in the shower, everything washes right off, seriously, go ahead, I don't mind. It's almost like he wants to be sneezed on... Surely he's just trying to get him out of his comfort zone? Or has John caught the bug?

(44) Early Warning: Paul sneezes when he cums. He doesn't think much of it until he finds himself in a circlejerk with the Quarrymen. But in that room, until the lights come back on, everything's normal. Alternate take: It's John who sneezes when he cums, and anyone who makes fun of that is out of the band. He finishes before Paul, and for some reason, Paul finishes quite abruptly after that.

(45) Take Me Home, Country Roads: Paul and John (and possibly the others) are staying at someone's farm. Naturally, they decide to go for a literal roll in the hay. At first, the straw makes an uncomfortable mattress, but that quickly turns out to be the least of their worries. Between the pollen and hay dust, they soon can't breathe for sneezing. They don't want to stop, but it's serious enough that they scramble out of the loft/haystack and rush to get into a bath or shower. Only problem is, they have to go through the house to do that, and the others they're staying with are wildly curious as to how both of them got so thoroughly covered in hay. John and Paul have to come up with a story quick if they want to get cleaned off, even though they can barely get a word out. Bonus: John didn't even have allergies before this, but thanks to the overcorrection of his immune system, he develops infernal hayfever, for which he only partly blames Paul. On the bright side, he gets out of farm work until his antihistamines kick in.

(46) A New Low: Paul's embarrassment around sneezing is getting hard to manage. He decides to try to process/cope with it in a safe, controlled way: by asking John to do a Dom/sub scene with him where John induces him and degrades him about it. John, with his sharp tongue and knack for hitting people where it hurts, is all too happy to oblige. He lectures Paul on manners, ridicules his inability to hold back, refuses to clean him up, and generally derides what a sensitive, pathetic, dripping mess he is. Bonus: Paul's never been so turned on in his life. It's John who ends up having a breakdown as soon as they end the scene, apologizing to Paul through tears and saying he felt terrible being so mean, can Paul ever forgive him? (He can.) Mutual caretaking ensues.

(47) Thanks a Lot: Two Thursdays, ten years apart. 1964: George is down-and-out that the band left America before they had a chance to celebrate Thanksgiving in true Yankee gluttony. They decide to cheer him up with a feast back at home, complete with friends, family, and some very interesting food (who ever heard of a green bean casserole?). One slight hitch in the plan: somewhere in the crowded airports, Paul caught a bad cold, and he isn't too keen on sitting around a table squished next to two dozen other people. Oblivious Jim Mac asks him to say grace. 1974: It's just another Thursday in Britain when Paul gets a call from an overseas number. It's John in New York, who slipped away from the festivities when the Macy's Parade started. This year's feast is pretty brown rice-forward, but John mentions he wouldn't be able to taste it anyway-- he's got this wretched cold, you see. Paul sees (rather, hears), and is very thankful.

(48) Flock Together: The band is stuck in a hotel room, under strict orders not to leave their floor. With no girls, no cars, and an extremely limited supply of liquor, they're bored out of their minds. John decides to whack Paul with a pillow, and chaos ensues. They start off in teams, but soon it's every man for himself, swinging indiscriminately. John puts a little too much heat behind one of his swings, and the pillow bursts open at the seams, showering them in a snow flurry of delicate white feathers. Paul gasps in surprise and a couple feathers whoosh up his nose, good and stuck. John, George, and Ringo are so busy clobbering each other that they don't realize Paul's stopped playing. That is, until another pillow explodes and he's doubled over sneezing, losing the fight between hold it in and get it out. The others stop, but by then it's too late and they're succumbing too. They camp out in the bathroom for a while while the feathers settle into snowdrifts. Bonus: someone remarks to Paul that he'll never get the feathers out if he keeps trying to hold in his sneezes like that. John decides to herd the others back out into the bedroom to give Paul some privacy (and when they protest that the feathers are still adrift in the air, he suggests covering their faces with their shirts). They are not invited back to that hotel.

(49) Hot Blooded: (Continuation of How Do You Sleep?) John finally gets Paul to unlock the bedroom door by insisting Paul think of his poor worried kid brother who won't sleep until he's well again. When John enters, brandishing a glass thermometer, Paul tells him in no uncertain terms not to come anywhere near him with it. But again, John implores him to do it for darling Mike (and he promises to only stick it in his mouth, if that's what's worrying him). Paul grudgingly gives in and lets the thermometer rest under his tongue. The glass kind takes nearly ten minutes to get a reading, so John tries to keep Paul entertained. Maybe he plays a song. But when the clock's almost up, Paul starts muttering. John scolds him, No talking, but he realizes he's warning John to take the thermometer, I have to sneeze, sludgy and muddled with cold. (Paul's hands, tucked in a blanket, aren't in the position to do the job.) John's response is to shove his finger under Paul's nose and continue looking at his watch as the clock approaches zero. Surely they can make it thirty seconds. He thought he was giving enough pressure, but Paul shifts the thermometer again to mutter Press harder or I'm...I'm gonna--! The clock runs out and John deftly grabs the thermometer while keeping his other hand lazily in place. But he's let off so much pressure that Paul has no choice but to stifle a fit of sneezes against his finger. That easy, is it? thinks John, and slides his finger back and forth very gently, just teasing Paul's nostrils, which provokes a couple more sneezes. John read's out Paul's temperature (at this point, he's earned it), and it's high. Delirious fever high. Bonus: perhaps a cold (or even ice) bath is in order.

(50) Heads Up: All four Beatles are in the studio recording together. John's feeling a little under the weather. A particularly loud, sudden sneeze sneaks up on him-- and on the others, too, evidently. George jumps about ten feet in the air and Ringo scalds himself spilling his tea. After they've caught their breath, they gripe at him to warn a fella next time, Jesus. So he does. For the rest of the session, he's stuttering out a breathless warning every time he feels a tickle. Ringo and George learn to ignore him. Paul practically explodes. They don't get many usable takes.

(51) All Things Must Pass: It's the band's second appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. Apparently the makeup department had some complaints about presentation last time: George's eyebrows were, well. Singular. This time, they'll have to be tamed. George is anxious it'll hurt, but admits he's never tried it before, so he grudgingly agrees. The boys are seated side by side in the makeup chairs when George discovers that having his eyebrows plucked makes him sneeze. Soon John and Ringo are snickering, and George doesn't think he can take much more, but the makeup artists insists she's on strict orders from the network not to let him on the air until there's a distinct gap between his brows. He can't do much but sit there and take it (and threaten John and Ringo between sneezes). It ends up taking so long that it's nearly their call time, but Paul might need a second to cool off first before they go on stage...

(52) Yellow Cowslip Cheeks: Paul is out with flu. John gets around Jim's "no Johns allowed" rule by acting as a live-in nurse for a few days until Paul can take care of himself. Paul is pretty out of it-- he spends most of his time slumped against John in bed, not saying much, hardly awake most of the time. He's so hazy with fever that he doesn't object to John helping out in ways that would usually mortify him (namely, catching his sneezes and dealing with the resulting mess). Then one afternoon, he wakes up with his faculties about him and starts to protest (No, urgh, please, that's disgusting...). If he thinks that's bad, John replies, he should have seen himself two days ago, making a right mess of the place. Paul tries to kick John out of bed, but his strength hasn't returned. John reminds him there's no point in refusing now (I've been holding your pretty little nose in my handkerchiefs for a few days now). Paul flushes so badly with embarrassment that John worries his fever has returned.

(53) Ono Sideboard: Throughout the Get Back sessions, John has complained (and openly bragged) about getting little to no sleep. Compounded with weeks of working themselves to the wire, the stress of the band almost imploding, and playing on the cold rooftop for hours, he's got himself a recipe for the cold from hell. Paul gets word a few days later that he's ill and stops by the Ono-Lennon household to check on him. Yoko answers the door. She informs Paul that John's poorly (apparently, he collapsed into bed the second they got home from Twickenham). Paul feels wounded that it's her taking care of John now, not him, so he says he should probably get going. Yoko agrees that's probably best, because John specifically expressed that he wanted to be left alone. (There's a spark of smug jealousy as Paul leaves, remembering that when it was him taking care of John, he expressly requested for Paul to stick around for company and warmth, and he seems to have asked her the opposite. But he still wishes he were the one doing the caretaking this time.)

(54) If I Fell: Filming Help! involved a few firsts for the Beatles: it was their first trip to Austria, as well as everyone's first time skiing. Well, John's had a bit of experience, but that doesn't stop him from falling down as much as the others. When the four aren't tripping over their own feet, the film requires plenty of antics in typical Beatles fashion. This includes rolling down snow covered hills, as well as sitting down for an alpine picnic. Everyone is a bit sniffly and pink in the face (it becomes clear that their thin coats were chosen for style over comfort). But Paul can't help noticing just how chilled John seems; he's been stifling sneezes into his scarf between takes. His eyelashes are wet with tears and snowflakes—he's beautiful, but Paul feels as infatuated as he does concerned. John doesn't mind how red or runny his nose becomes, as long as he gets to see the look on Paul's face. He'll be straight after a hot cup of tea, John tells him. But for now, John is all sniffles and shivers, and just a bit soaked to the bone. Bonus: the old wives' tale is true. The next morning, it's clear that John's got a cold coming on, and Paul tries to help him keep it together for the cameras.

(55) Jealous Guy: At a party for the launch of Apple/Indica bookstore, Paul is paying a lot of attention to Robert Fraser. Really, he's only a little bit older and, sure, an acclaimed artist or whatever, but Paul's starstruck fawning is starting to get under John's skin. As the party drags on, John loses his patience and dips away from the crowd for a quick pinch of snuff. Paul's attention is back on him the second he starts sneezing, and it only takes one I might be coming down with something for him to forget about Groovy Bob altogether. Ha. Bonus: Robert's obviously been snorting coke. John got the idea for his ruse/was particularly incensed when he noticed how Paul seemed to light up every time Robert sniffed/rubbed his nose.

(56) I'd Love to Turn You On: A couple years after John learned Paul's kink, Paul is almost totally comfortable sneezing openly in front of him-- but hates doing it in front of other people. One night on the town, they're spectacularly drunk at a crowded party, and someone wearing industrial strength perfume is standing right next to Paul. John begins to suspect something is up when Paul won't stop touching his nose (which is twitching like a rabbit as he tries to hold it off). He lasts about two minutes before grabbing John's arm and informing him that they need to go, now. John rushes a teary, gasping Paul to the bathroom, where he kicks out one partygoer sniffing coke and two others getting it on, before locking the door. The second they're alone, Paul is overcome by a wrenching, drunken, sloppy sneezing fit, clinging to John all the while just so he doesn't capsize. But he's not too inebriated to notice a key detail that he'd wondered about lately: John is rock hard.

(57) When I Get You Alone (You Know I Feel Okay): Early days. After a chaotic few weeks, John and Paul finally have some time to themselves. Luck would have it that John starts to feel unwell (whether it's good or bad, Paul won't say). John's disappointed, but of course, there's a silver lining. No matter how sick he feels, John gets a kick out of sneezing in front of Paul. And Paul seems entranced. It's John's first cold since he learned about Paul's "fascination," and Paul's ears perk up at the slightest hitching breath. In fact, Paul can't keep his eyes off him, and John is fully entertained. He assumes Paul doesn't want to risk missing a single sneeze, but John soon realizes it's about more than that. He knows there's an appeal in the buildup and release, but John didn't know Paul was interested in, well... the whole nine yards. With every cough, sniffle, and complaint about his sore throat, John notices Paul start to flush. "Oh hun, I didn't know you liked all of this," he says, and in an instant, Paul's as turned on as he is mortified. He's an apologetic mess trying to explain himself, but John is more than understanding. For the rest of their short break, John dials up the woe-is-me talk and indulges Paul each chance he gets. Paul's happy to hold a handkerchief to John's nose and prepare cup after cup of tea—it's a win for both of them. Especially when John's feeling up to returning the favor...

(58) (Won't You Please) Please Help Me: John finds himself in the throes of an awful head cold. There's so much pressure in his face, he can hardly keep his glasses on. It doesn't help that his eyes brim with tears every time his nose so much as tickles. It's the sort of cold you can see before you hear it, and when you do, there's no doubt how miserable he is. In fact, Paul is surprised by how little John has milked the situation—it's not a good sign. Soon, John begs Paul for some relief, stuffy and riddled with desperation: "Please make me sneeze." Maybe if he gets some of it out now, John can stave off what feels like an oncoming sinus infection. As for Paul, this is the moment of his dreams. The only question is how to go about it—he doesn't want to irritate John more than he has to. Cue a trial of different inducing methods, followed by John breathing over a steaming pot of water when he can't go on anymore.

(59) You Can't Do That: During some meeting or recording session, the band is joined by a young Apple Corps employee-- and a pretty little thing he is, too. He also happens to be suffering from infernal allergies, for which he apologizes more than once. Paul doesn't seem to mind; in fact, he's hanging on the man's every word. To George and Ringo, he's just doing the usual overly polite routine (Oh, bless you, ha-ha, you all right there?) John, however, can't believe how obviously and shamelessly Paul's into it, and it's turning him green with envy. When his bitter jealousy shows on the surface, Paul irks him further by having no clue what he's done wrong. He even has the nerve to go home with John and try to fool around with him. John's not in the mood. Paul asks what's wrong, and John tells him he should Ask the fella from Apple whose cock you were drooling over. Paul lets John know he's being ridiculous, he wasn't drooling over his cock, and John quickly amends, Oh, right, his nose then, and Paul gets it. Guilty and crushed, he makes it his mission to show John that he has, by a long shot, the most attractive sneezes he's ever heard...or seen...or felt across his skin...

(60) Your Day Breaks, Your Mind Aches: Early days. John and Paul fight over something minor. Paul expects him to turn up and apologize any day now, so when he doesn't hear from him for a while, he asks around and finds that not only is John sick, he's staying with George. I'm taking care of him, George says, blissfully oblivious to the blow he's dealt Paul. He mopes for a few days until John finally feels well enough to hold practice again (though he's still a little sniffly and his voice isn't back to full strength). Paul pulls him aside afterwards to ask if John was really that mad at him, to go and stay with somebody else. John might start to make a snide comment about how Paul just wanted to be there for his dick's sake, but Paul makes it clear that being a comfort to John in times of pain (and okay, yes, sickness) is extremely important to him, regardless of what he gets out of it.

[idiotobservator]

Don't you love it when period, hayfever and anxiety all kick in at once

[luna-rainbow]

Steve's medical conditions

Today's thesis that no one ever asked for: I know there's been tons of meta on Steve's medical conditions already, but some of the terms on this list have been bothering me so I had to check them up myself. This is again more for my own record.

The TL;DR version:

The combination of asthma and sinusitis/chronic colds suggests Steve probably also had allergies, so take your pick

Asthma/sinusitis medications could be the culprits for "high blood pressure", "palpitations", and "nervous trouble"

Scarlet fever causes rheumatic fever which is a nasty disease that killed a lot of young people. It also causes chronic heart problems (that can include "palpitations" and "easy fatigability"), often shortened people's lifespans, and I don't blame Bucky for freaking out that the military might accept him.

"Nervous trouble" was poorly defined and could be from his heart condition, medications, or actual anxiety

You know that meme that said Steve why are you even outside the house, yes that's how it feels.

Warning: this is super long

Asthma, sinusitis, chronic or frequent colds

I want to draw attention to this first. Sinusitis/chronic and frequent colds sounds on the surface like an underactive immune system - and it could well be true. But the other (statistically more likely) possibility is that he's got a hyperactive immune system, i.e. allergic.

There is a phenomenon called the "atopy triad": asthma, eczema and hayfever. Kids who score this triad tend to be prone to a lot of allergies. Of interesting historical note is that atopic dermatitis wasn't described until 1933, so it's quite possible that Steve had this without being recognised, and he already has 2 of the 3 in the triad -- so even if he didn't have eczema he's still more likely than other kids to have allergies.

Allergies

Common allergic reactions:

Anaphylaxis (*)

Skin: hives and swelling

Gut: vomiting, tummy pain, diarrhoea

Airways: difficulty breathing, throat tightness, hoarse voice, wheeze, cough, tongue swelling

Heart: low blood pressure, dizziness or collapse, pale or floppy

(*) I just want to note here that the EpiPen was not invented until the 1980s, so uh...if you write an anaphylactic reaction make sure he's close to medical care because he would otherwise die within minutes. Adrenaline was patented in 1901. The earliest timepoint someone has given for cardiac arrest is in the 1960s. I'm having trouble finding when adrenaline was first used for anaphylaxis.

Common childhood food allergens:

Nuts: peanuts, sesame, tree nuts

Grains: soy, wheat, rice, oats

Milk - depending on type, may need to avoid all mammalian milk

Fruit and vegies

Seafood: shellfish, fish

Egg - note sometimes kids can tolerate baked egg in cookies and cakes, but not otherwise cooked or raw egg

Frequent colds/Rhinitis

Nasal decongestants ephedrine and pseudoephedrine were available in the 1920s, followed by amphetamines (Benzedrine) in 1930s, and their abuse was recognised soon after. All adrenaline-based meds are stimulants, which cause high blood pressure, palpitations and anxiety. Guess what else is on Steve's file? It is probably also important to note here that if Steve had any pre-existing heart problems (rheumatic fever being one of them - we'll get there), these side effects will hit hard.

Amphetamines were introduced in 1933 and was over the counter for 15 years. Apart from being used for the minor sniffle, it was also used for narcolepsy, Parkinsonism, chronic pain, obesity, low libido and depression (!!!). The US (and most other) military supplied it to servicemen during the war to help sustain their performance. German soldiers were using it to help dampen the emotional impact of committing atrocities.

Psychiatrists based at military prisons in 1945 were recording large numbers of agitated and hallucinating patients. It is quite possible that the Commandos would have used it on long missions; or even if Steve didn't need it because of the serum, he might have had to deal with soldiers suffering from the psychiatric side effects.

Asthma history and treatment

Even in the 1900s, it was well known that asthma had an environmental influence: food, dust, pollen/flowers, reflux were potential triggers -- so I imagine Sarah would have kept the house very clean and been cautious about Steve's food (as mentioned above).

The mainstay of asthma treatment in those days were anticholinergics, adrenergics, and PDE-inhibitors. These days PDE-inhibitors are rarely used, and steroids play a big part in asthma management. Coffee was also recommended for treatment of asthma in a 1914 textbook. This section got super long (mainly for my own sake) so the key takeaway is: all of these drugs cause some form of stimulation - restlessness, palpitations, irritability and nervousness.

Anticholinergics: the famous asthma cigarettes were available since the end of 1800s to the mid-1900s. They were tobacco with added belladonna alkaloids (anticholinergics) which open up the airways. These days it's been replaced by ipratropium (1980s). Hypodermic injections of pilocarpine was also introduced around 1910s.

(As an aside, sorry this is already getting long, opposition to the use of fumes and cigarettes for asthmatics were already growing in the 1920s, although it wasn't until the 1950s that a link between tobacco and lung cancer was demonstrated. Meanwhile the tobacco industry tried all sorts of strategies to maintain their relevance. I'm so glad they didn't show Steve smoking even if that would be historically accurate because they do not need the free promo.)

Phosphodiesterase inhibitors: Theophylline (syrup) were available in the 1920s and IV aminophylline in the 1940s. They're used these days only in severe asthma exacerbations because of significant side effects and interactions -- reflux, nausea/vomiting, irritability, lightheadedness and dizziness. They have a narrow therapeutic range and can lead to convulsions and arrhythmias.

Adrenergics: as mentioned earlier, adrenaline was available by the start of the century and was recommended for use in asthma in the 1920s as a subcutaneous injection. By 1947, medical textbooks documented inhaled adrenaline solution via nebuliser. Metered-dose inhalers of adrenaline and isoproterenol (beta agonist) were available in the mid-1950s, but a spate of deaths were linked to high dose isoproterenol. Salbutamol, the drug used today, was introduced in 1968.

Corticosteroids: not available until late 1940s and did not become standard therapy until 1970s.

Poorly managed asthma in early childhood leads to progressively worse lung function even into the adult years.

Scarlet fever and rheumatic fever

Scarlet fever is an illness that is caused by a bacterial infection. Rheumatic fever is an inflammatory condition that can develop if scarlet fever is not identified and treated early. (medicinenet)

The TLDR version: scarlet fever is strep throat, but killed a lot of kids in the pre-antibiotic days. Rheumatic fever happens a few weeks after an infection like scarlet fever from the body attacking itself by mistake. It usually leaves lasting damage to the heart and was a big cause of death in kids and young people.

The nerd version: there was no treatment for scarlet fever in the pre-penicillin days. All doctors could advise was to keep hydrated, nourished and keep the rooms ventilated. The epidemics in the 1800s mostly affected kids younger than 16 (>95%), and 42% of childhood deaths during the 1858 epidemic were due to scarlet fever. Interestingly, it hit both the affluent and labourers in equal measure.

Rheumatic fever affects: joints (arthritis), heart, central nervous system (chorea - more common in girls) and skin (nodules). It was the leading cause of death in the 1920s for age 5-20, and second only to TB in those aged 20-30. Childhood rheumatic fever accounted for about half of adult heart disease. Pre-antibiotic era mortality following rheumatic heart disease was 1.5%/year (UTD). Management was mainly salicylates (aspirin) and bed rest, often for weeks and sometimes months, at times needing to be in foster homes or specialised institutions.

Super jargony stuff ahead: rheumatic heart disease predominantly affect the valves (mitral and aortic), detectable as new murmurs. Pericarditis is less frequent (15%). Heart failure is usually due to severe valve disease (mainly MR). Chronic valve disease can proceed to heart failure, angina (from AR), AF, and strokes (MS has the highest risk, especially if concommittant AF). Valvulotomy for severe MS was first trialled in 1923 with the patient surviving for 5 years after, but was abandoned due to a string of failures and not done again until 1948.

Nervous trouble

At some point I want to look up mental health in the early 1900s, because I think that's probably more pertinent to Bucky's story and how he would perceive mental health treatment.

I'm having a lot of trouble finding a 1930s definition of "nervous trouble". There's even a record in the education papers that "stammering" was a nervous trouble. The closest I got was a 1922 paper which described something psychologically:

When the conditions of life are unfavorable and adverse, tending to further cultivation of the impulse of self-preservation and the fear instinct, the outcome is a psychopathic disposition, ending in a nervous state with typical symptoms of some definite nervous trouble, formed by the latest or ultimate fear experiences.

Another interesting quote was from the US army, where a WW1 soldier wrote 6 years after his concussion that he has improved but "the only time that I can notice any trace of nervous trouble is upon being excited over some happening or some loud noise at an unexpected time." -- Which to me sounds like the hypervigilance of PTSD, if not some persistent traumatic brain injury symptoms.

In any case, it's very likely that nervous trouble was referring to anxiety-like symptoms, which would include shortness of breath, palpitations, dizziness etc -- all of which can also occur with Steve's heart and lung problems as well as medications. This is not to say that Steve didn't have anxiety, only that he had a lot of other medical issues that could be misinterpreted as symptoms of anxiety.

There are definitely medical conditions not on his list that could cause anxiety-like symptoms - e.g. thyroid and adrenal problems, but people do poorly when untreated so it's less likely that Steve has them.

High blood pressure

This is getting into real guessing territory now. My preferred take is that Steve's high blood pressure is from medications, because most other things, without good medical treatment, is going to be life-limiting. High blood pressure at his age is very unusual and would be kidney issues until proven otherwise. That's a bad thing to have in those days especially if he's already got heart and lung problems. Again, it could be due to thyroid/adrenal problems, but less likely.

Easy fatigability

Like, aside from all the meds he's popping (or smoking), is there any reason he wouldn't feel tired?

But the other big causes? Anaemia and hypothyroid (underactive thyroid) -- and most common causes for these (in his situation) would be malnutrition. Prior to the 1920s, iodine deficiency was endemic in the US, and it's one of the most common causes of hypothyroid. Iodised salt was introduced in the Great Lakes region in 1924 which saw significant improvement in cases. Anaemia from nutritional deficiencies are commonly due to iron, B12 or folate.

What does this all mean?

Assuming he has no other weird conditions: his lungs aren't at full capacity, neither is his heart; if he overexerts himself he's probably kicking into palpitations. If he gets a bad cold, he's winded; if it grows into a pneumonia, he's out for days, with a real risk of dying because of no antibiotics. Medications he take for asthma and sinusitis will make him feel better in the lung but worse in the heart. His heart is a ticking time bomb and unless he's lucky, it's probably going to kill him in 10-20 years...and luck hasn't really been on Steve's side for most of his life.

Added to this is his financial status, which will impact on how he can access medications as well as his nutrition, housing, sleep and stress levels, all of which can directly worsen his health.

In a way, the only thing he had left to lose was Bucky, and now Bucky is going off to war.