Chapter Text
For anyone watching (and Zemo was at this point), it was an interesting dynamic. There was much more going on here than he had first anticipated. Stark’s gloriously expressive eyes were glued to the video, his chest beginning to heave with repressed emotion. What was more interesting though, was that Captain America was watching Stark’s reaction with a look that was both wary and . . . hungry? That was something that he hadn’t expected. And poor Barnes watched the pair of them like a wild, hunted thing (though that wasn’t really unexpected—the resignation just under the surface of his expression when he glanced at the Captain was interesting, though).
Zemo knew enough of the situation to already know that Captain America defied most people’s expectations, and not in a positive way. He had clearly hidden the Stark murders from the son, but Zemo had initially been sure that it was to protect Barnes, or the Winter Soldier. Zemo wasn’t convinced there was still much of Bucky Barnes left after Hydra’s work. Yet, Barnes seemed much more wary of his life-long friend at the moment if the subtle twitch of his eye was any sort of tell. He watched, first Stark, and then Rogers in this little stand-off, but he was definitely resigned to some less than ideal fate by this point (also not unexpected). And the video wasn’t even over yet! Zemo smiled a shark-like smile as he began to slip away. He was leaving just as Stark turned to Rogers with a broken look in his eyes—delicious revenge!
**
“Did you know,” Stark’s chest was heaving and his jaw was tightly clenched.
Steve thought for a moment about how he wanted this to play out.
“I didn’t know it was him,” he conceded, but he didn’t bother with any emotion at all at this point. It was too late for that.
“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers,” Stark hissed as he clutched at Steve’s uniform for a moment. Steve had to stifle a grin. Tony was worked up!
“Yes,” and this time he allowed himself a bit of drama. He pushed all of the regret and sorrow that he could muster into his unnaturally blue eyes, and willed Tony to see it. If Tony had been at even half his game, he might have laughed at him. Natasha would have swooned a little and then worked double time to achieve whatever goals Steve might have had. And Bucky shifted from one foot to the other nervously—oh it WAS Bucky. That was clear. The Winter Soldier wouldn’t have known to be nervous. Bucky would always know, though. That was the downside to childhood “friends”.
Stark turned away for a moment, and Steve objectively enjoyed how beautiful he was when he was broken. A man like Stark didn’t stay down long, and the opportunity to see such a thing was rare indeed. Tony turned back and bitch slapped Steve (there really wasn’t another word for it). He was clearly still reacting rather than thinking or he would have blasted Steve’s guts all over the bunker floor.
Bucky didn’t hesitate. He had his gun up in a split second, and that was all it took. The faceplate slammed down, and Iron Man, Captain America, and the Winter Soldier entered the fray.
**
Zemo had just made it outside into the snow when the fighting began. King T’Challa crept up behind him, though he clearly wasn’t trying to be stealthy—only catlike, Zemo supposed.
“Will you come quietly.”
“Yes,” Zemo shrugged. He had originally intended to commit suicide rather than allow himself to be taken, but he had to admit it to himself . . . certain, inconsistencies, troubled him. He wanted to see how things were going to play out between Stark and Captain America. Captain America in particular was hiding something spectacularly unexpected. Zemo knew that he was good at recognizing these sorts of things. The Black Widow was a child compared to what he was able to see. He wouldn’t get much by way of information where he would be going, but he had ways around that. It might be worth it in the end. He loved a bit of chaos.