Pleasure Remains the Same -Helmut Zemo(eventual winterbaron) x Reader

Continued 23

The Beach

"Doesn't today feel special? Different somehow?" You ask, with your arms under your head, your leg crossed over your knee, foot making little circles in the air.

"What do you mean?" Zemo asks, trying to decide where to start; there's so much food.

You take a deep breath of the air and let your head relax to the side, looking down over the sand to the clear blue waves sparkling in the sun. Lou and Ada sniffing and digging at something they probably shouldn't.

The peace is interrupted by the sound of Bucky's happy eating. "Petra, this sandwich is great." He says, raising the half in salute to her.

She nods her thanks, eating demurely behind you all.

You pull your hand from under your head, letting it lay on Bucky's very warm back. How is he so obliviously sexy. Even when a dollop of the spread falls from the lettuce and onto his finger, he licks it off and loses none of the appeal. You lick your own lips hypnotized by his.

Dropping your hand, you go onto your stomach, rest your chin on your arm and enjoy the show, deciding quickly that Bucky is like having your own personal bi-sexual 40's heartthrob always just a reach away— at least for the week.

"You were saying?" Zemo interrupts your thoughts snorting a laugh at your thirsty gaze, and tosses a piece of bread, hitting you in the face to make you jump and turn your head.

Bucky hardly notices he's so happy with his sandwich, and your innocent giggling stops Helmut from any more attacks, just a warm smile as he starts to eat, inevitably looking at Bucky, thinking the same lovely thoughts.

"I was only saying that today feels sort of — well, it's all sort of —timeless." You say dreamily.

Bucky lowers his last bite pondering before looking down over his shoulder at you. "I know what you mean." He says with his arms around his knees, turning his head to the ocean. He watches the dogs pant on the beach. "1940, 2040. Hell you could tell me this was a victorian picnic, and I wouldn't bat an eye."

"Except for the many modern amenities," Zemo says with a wink behind his glasses, "Like that arm. Open this, will you." He hands Bucky a dark skinny bottle.

Bucky's face twists with confusion, but he does it anyway. "Since when do you drink beer?"

"I don't," Helmut says, taking it back, letting the foam spill over his fingers before noisily sucking it up. He wipes the cold bubbles from his mustache with his hand. "But, on a hot day like this, it looks so cold and refreshing. And you certainly enjoy them for a man who can't get drunk."

"I'll drink to that," Bucky says, and they clink ends.

Turning onto your side, you rest your head in your hand cocking your brow, not believing him for a second. "Wait for it...."

Helmut takes a real sip, swallows, bares his teeth against the taste, and lets it grow into an exaggerated smile. "Thought I was going to spit it out, didn't you?" He says, settling his weight back on his left arm.

You shrug. "I can't lie. I'm impressed."

"I may have been royalty, but I did my time living among the common folk for a while in the army. You spit your drink out there; it's the last thing you'll do without shame."

"Oh, sounds wonderful" You roll back over. "Now stop playing. Did we bring Champagne? Tell me we brought Champagne."

"What, are you kidding? Of course. You think I would come here with only beer?" Helmut says, quickly handing his bottle to Bucky. "I love you soldat, but I would rather drink saltwater than finish that. Petra! Open the Dom."