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

Chapter 16

"Buck."

Bucky turned around as he heard his name to face Sam. Zemo had already been led back to the plane, lest a Wakandan decide to defy their king and take matters into their own hands.

"I don't get it. Help me understand. Why are you putting your neck on the line for Zemo?" In contrast to Sam's more judgmental looks from earlier, there was something in his partner's eyes that seemed like he really did want to know.

Bucky locked eyes with him for a moment. He clenched his jaw.

"You're doing the staring thing."

Bucky cracked a little smile and canted his head. Then he looked away and took a breath. "I need to believe he can be redeemed. See, the truth is, I'm more like him than I am like you."

"You weren't in control of your actions. Zemo was. Nobody was mind controlling his ass when he blew up the UN or nearly got the Avengers killed."

Bucky shook his head sadly. "I don't know how to help you understand, Sam. There's more than one way to not be in control of yourself."

"OK, fine. I can get on-board with using his squirrelly ass to try and do some good. I don't really get why you're tying your reputation to his, but I'll trust you that you can keep a leash on him. And..." Sam sighed, "...you're right that he doesn't belong on the Raft." He knew, after all, just what it was like to be locked up there as a man with no powers. "But what I don't get is..." he glanced towards the plane, then back to his friend. "Sarah really liked you, man. You had a good thing going. And if you wanna be with dudes, hell, I got some nice guys I could introduce you to."

"Sarah deserves better, Sam. We've been over this." Bucky swallowed and held up a hand to stop any further argument. "It's...complicated. But as much as you might not want to hear it, or believe it? I don't need someone nice. I don't need someone who is going to spend every day trying to support me. Trying to redeem me. Who can't understand when I wake up in a cold sweat with nightmares of the things they made me do, or force me to see the fear in their eyes when they see a glimpse of who I used to be. That makes me feel like a burden, and it's not fair to them. I don't get any of that with him."

Sam was visibly holding his tongue, clearly wanting to launch into some kind of speech worthy of Captain America - probably something about love and the inherent goodness in Bucky's heart. But he wisely held his tongue, and instead, nodded slowly. "OK, but Zemo?"

"What can I say?" said Bucky as he turned to go back to the plane, "He's got a great ass."

"Ugh. I did not need that mental image" Sam sighed heavily. "Thanks for that."

---

T'Challa was true to his word. Wakanda did not protest when Bucky filed his petition with the UN to move Zemo to a Manhattan SWORD facility. It still took some convincing, and a few more speeches from both Bucky and Zemo, but eventually an agreement was made. The Sokovian would spend most of his days consulting on cases or analyzing data to help support various missions. Occasionally, and with approval, Bucky would be allowed to take him into the field. All of this depended on Zemo's continued cooperation and usefulness. He was informed that he would be on an exceedingly short leash, especially at first.

"Home sweet home," said Zemo from the other side of a pane of glass once again. Zemo's enclosure was built like an apartment, with the living and kitchen area blocked off by bulletproof glass. There was a door towards the rear for the bedroom. Everything was furnished in a sort of nondescript mid-century modern style. There was something a bit clinical and bland about the general decor in creams and red, but it was certainly a large step up to a cold, supermax cell in a sunken prison in the middle of the ocean. The bedroom even boasted views of the city.

Bucky walked around to the door and pressed his palm against the keypad. The door unlatched and he stepped through. "I spoke to Captain Rambeau. She's got a half a dozen cases for you to look at just as a start. I don't think you're going to be bored."

"No, I imagine I won't," said Zemo. They even allowed the Sokovian civilian clothes. He cut a slim figure in black slacks and a black turtleneck. He'd gotten a haircut and his beard had been trimmed. He still hadn't shaved - a fact that Bucky was grateful for.

"It's going to be awhile before I can take you in the field again. Sam and I have a couple of missions lined up, and I think you need to earn their trust with some paperwork first."

"I understand, James," said Zemo. "I don't know how to properly express my thanks. This is far more than I was expecting, and certainly more than I deserve."

Bucky reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small box. "Housewarming present." He handed it over.

Zemo canted his head in that almost birdlike manner of his, blinked in surprise, then took the box. He smiled when he looked down at it. "Turkish Delight."

"Sorry, couldn't get a houseplant or a bottle of wine past security," drawled Bucky.

"This is most excellent. Thank you." Zemo was quiet a moment as he held the other man's gaze. He looked unsure, and there was an unspoken question in his gaze.

Bucky rocked forward, closing the distance between them. He reached up and ran the fingers of his human hand through the edges of Zemo's beard.

"Aren't there cameras in here?" murmured Zemo.

"Yeah," said Bucky. "But not in the bedroom. And if you try to pull any shit, that's the first privilege they're going to take away."

"That's..." Zemo swallowed, then nodded. "...not precisely what I meant. But that is good to know. I did not think you'd want your allies and colleagues to know..."

"Zemo, I used to be one of the most feared assassins in the world. Steve defied the US government for me. Lots of people think I'm still dangerous or deserve to be in prison. Do you think I give a shit about what they think of my love life?"

"Touche," replied Zemo.

And then Bucky closed the gap to kiss him solidly and sweetly. He hooked his arm around his waist and held him close, savoring the heat his body threw off, and the sameness of their bodies. After a moment or two, he took Zemo's hand and led him back towards the bedroom.

It wasn't perfect. But men like them had to take their happiness where they could. 

END