Christine Vargas was one vial away from becoming a Flag Smasher until Baron Zemo crushed her chances, only to offer her the world instead...his world.
True love comes at a dangerous price, but it's one she's willing to pay if it means another day wi...
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37,000 FEET UP
Cherry blossom tea and Turkish delight had only been the start. She'd been saved in fast cars, dressed in designer clothes and now whisked away to the safety of the sky by private plane with champagne in hand.
How wild that these things, these indulgent delights had previously been nothing more than items and experiences to ignore and secretly desire, but they were all hers now.
Of course this life came with an inherent danger, but Christine couldn't remember a time after the blip when she hadn't slept with one eye figuratively open. At least now she could rest easy as she watched the sunset from heights formally reserved for gods and super heroes.
Letting her head rest against the wide leather seat she took in the view. An endless sea of thick clouds stretched on and on against a backdrop of pink sky and she realized in that moment why she loved flying so much. From up here she could forget the madness below. The clouds were a safety net, not to catch, but to keep the world from rising up. The barrier of puffy, dream-like white made it so much easier to pretend that for just a little while, all the chaos had calmed and all the noise had been silenced.
Up here it's just us...
The soothing hum of flight calmed her nearly to sleep as they put an ever expanding amount of distance between themselves and the trouble they'd both found in Latvia. Even the rousing touch of his hand heavy and so very warm on her thigh could not shake her peaceful state, but she did smile. It spread slow as honey across her face as she thought back to their mad dash from his beautiful apartment and into the night.
She'd put so much trust in him. Him. Helmut Zemo— and why not.
He gently squeezed her leg to get her attention and Christine turned her head from the window to find him watching her. It was that look right there— those soft brown eyes with bursts of pale gold, paired with the sly smile that could no sooner see him kill an enemy than it could coax the clothes from her body that got her here in the first place— damm him.
"Are you ready?" He asked, the effect of his rasping whisper enhanced by the way he gently stroked the inner curve of her thigh.
This was the first time she'd ever worn anything other than her utilitarian gear around him. Christine glanced down, enjoying the contrast of his hand against the sheer black stockings she'd changed into over her brown skin. She swallowed hard with a little nod, thinking back to the way he'd looked at her when she came into the cabin after changing; his eyes gliding up the length of her legs, lingering on the pert curve of her breasts under the white silk of her dress... she felt a familiar tingling in her belly which made her breath shudder lightly as she let her head rest against the seat. Gazing up at Helmut she admitted to herself that at times she still felt so wonderfully overwhelmed by him— even after everything. "Of course" She answered. "I don't think anyone could say no to, Ibiza." She said trying the accent out. "Even in the winter"
