Blood Debt - The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Bucky x Zemo)

Chapter 11

Somehow, Bucky and Zemo managed to slip back to the hotel room without being seen or followed. Bucky's vibranium arm was still a dead weight, hanging limply and heavily in its socket. The fact that it hadn't been reactivated in the absence of the 'field' the auctioneer referred to was enough to confirm that she was lying.

This wasn't the first time he'd lost the use of his arm, but it was still a disconcerting feeling. The arm was a weapon, yes, but it was also a prosthetic and part of his body. It never felt good when it was disabled.

"Not to worry. I am certain with this device, we can neutralize the virus. If I am not able to, then SHIELD or Wakanda will make short work of it." Zemo set the stolen device with its dangling cables on the coffee table, then shrugged off his jacket and shirt, then gently peeled off the photostatic veil. "It is fascinating that so much of Wakandan technology has made it to the black market. I was not aware that the veil was...--"

Bucky was on him before the Sokovian could finish his sentence. He pinned him up against the wall with his good arm against the other man's windpipe. He glared at him. "Tell me what the hell you were thinking."

"James, I...I told you..." Zemo shifted, and tried to alleviate that pressure on his windpipe. Bucky was an expert at restricting his breathing just enough to be uncomfortable, but not so much that he couldn't speak. "It was a gamble.These things do not always work out in one's favour."

"You expect me to believe the man who masterminded the fracturing of the Avengers with a carefully constructed plan with dozens of contingencies would be caught flat-footed by some underworld goons?" Bucky jostled him again and stared him in the eye. He was surprised at how angry he was at the other man. "You could have gotten us killed."

Zemo looked contrite and shrugged. "I have every confidence you would have been perfectly fine. After all, I could not kill you when I was actually trying. It would be impossible to do so accidentally, and with something as trivial, as you say, as a room full of underworld goons."

Bucky jostled him again, jaw tightening. "And what about you ?"

"Ah, hm, well, self-preservation has never been part of the equation. I have no doubt that was part of the reason for my success." Zemo cornered a look away and offered a constrained shrug.

Suddenly, Bucky remembered something T'Challa had once told him - that when he found the man in Siberia, he had tried to take his own life. Only the quick reflexes of the Black Panther saved his life.

The living are not done with you yet.

Bucky shook his head, then shoved off the other man. He huffed in an irritated manner and rocked back a step. He wanted to say something, but as often happened to him, he was at a loss for words. Without realizing it, he gave the other man a surprisingly vulnerable look.

Zemo rubbed his neck and straightened. "I know neither of us have wanted to face it, but soon I will be returning to prison. This is not a fate I relish. Until you came once again to my cell, I was resigned to my fate. But now? I have tasted freedom once again. So if I died helping you complete your mission, this would be preferable." He pursed his lips and wobbled his head. Despite his casual mannerisms, he saw a similar vulnerability mirrored in the other man's eyes.

Bucky knew all about death wishes. He'd been in a dark space many times over the years. Right after he found himself and was on the run after the fall of HYDRA, but also in Wakanda as Ayo helped him remove the tendrils of the Winter Soldier programming from his mind. He even felt it in dark moments in the years since Steve left them. It was something that never truly went away, and he had freedom and a chance at a new life. Zemo did not.

"You're an idiot," muttered Bucky after a moment. He turned and stepped away, then started stripping his shirt to remove his own inert photostatic veil. It got tangled up in his limp arm.

Zemo wordlessly stepped forward to help slide the silky film off his arm, then set it aside. He gently touched the metal shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Bucky could feel Zemo searching for eye contact, but he avoided it until he felt a finger on his jaw. He turned to look the other man in the eye, nose scrunched. He didn't want to have feelings for this murderer, this self-destructive, manipulative mastermind fueled by grief. But in the years since Siberia, so much had changed. The Blip, the loss of Steve, their cooperation to take down the Flag Smashers. His own repeated attempts to start a life that felt doomed to fail because his prospective partners could never really understand.

But Helmut Zemo did. Intimately. He wouldn't judge the former Winter Soldier, or call him a monster, or look at him like a broken thing. Bucky didn't want pity. He didn't want patience, or the promise of a soft, normal life.

He wanted the man whose dark eyes he was looking into. Against all reason and good sense, he wanted him.

Bucky leaned in to push the other man against the wall once again, only this time much more gently and followed by a deep and probing kiss.

He felt Zemo's mouth open to welcome and deepen the kiss. Bucky used his one good hand to grip the back of his neck. He gave it a little shake, like scruffing a kitten.

Zemo grunted softly and chuckled against their pressed lips. "Very well, then. A little longer in the fantasy." And then he leaned forward to grind against Bucky's hips.