Chapter Text
Sam Wilson had been a blessing. His sunny smile lit up the dark hole that had formed when Bucky left New York. It'd been him and Steve against the world. Till the end of the line. Until suddenly the line had already ended and Bucky hadn't known how to stretch it out any longer.
It was only different colleges, not different worlds. But it felt like he'd post him. It was so easy for Steve to make friends and socialize. But for Bucky it had only been Steve. It has always been Steve.
The first year is the hardest. He keeps to himself and focuses on his classes, feeling more and more distant from everything every day. They kept in touch but Steve was a dinosaur who liked phone calls more than texting. Bucky hated phone calls. So in the end they exchange only a few texts once in a while with the occasional update on life and how they're doing. Steve offers to visit. Bucky doesn't know why he declines. It felt like a punishment for abandoning him. Yet the only one suffering was Bucky.
In his second year he gets a new roommate. He had been less than admittedly nice to Sam when they'd met in their shared dorm that first day. Giving gruff one word answers and clipped responses. He watched in envy how Sam actually had people to see him off on his first day. His sister and parents helped him move in his things. Steve had been too busy doing his own moving to help him last year. And Bucky's dad was a lost cause so it'd just been him.
Two months into their tentative relationship, they're not exactly friends but there's the potential to be. Bucky might even try and take him up in one of his many offers to go out on the town. Sam has apparently already discovered all the best restaurants and bars.
"Okay seriously do you ever wash your clothes?" Sam makes a face, toeing the dirty jeans on the floor.
"It's fine," Bucky says from his place on his bed. He gestures to the febreeze bottle on his nightstand. "Spray it again if you want."
Sam gives him a Look. The distinction is so similar to Steve's Gaze of Disappointment it twists in Bucky's chest and he has to avert his eyes.
"Man that is not the same as actually washing them and you know it."
Bucky grumbles.
"It's cheaper." He rolls over on the bed. "I don't have any coins anyway."
"Then I'll lend you some."
Bucky sits up. "No, you don't have to do that. I don't want your money."
Sam raises his hands. "It's two dollars! I'm sure I'll survive the economic fallout!"
He turns and sets to work bringing out two laundry baskets. "Come on. I gotta do mine anyway. I'll show you where the laundry room is at."
That last part was a jab. They both knew that Bucky was fully aware of where the laundry facilities were.
Bucky sighs. He both hated and appreciated things like this about Sam. The other man was willing to give him the kick in the pants he needed, but he also didn't know when to back off and leave him alone. Sometimes he needed to process things for himself. Steve never did know when to quit either. But that was different. He liked having Steve in his space.
Nevertheless he lets Sam bully him into gathering his pile of dirty clothes and follows him out into the hallway. They take the elevator down to the ground where Sam leads him down the hall into a different corridor. They pass the rec room and the vending machines. Bucky had never really spent any time on the lower levels, preferring to go straight to class and back. Even after all this time it still didn't feel quite real. Like he'll wake up tomorrow and he'll be in New York with Steve. But as Sam looks back and gives him a quick smile, Bucky finds himself feeling hopeful.
They reach the far end and enter into the laundry room. There are a few people doing loads and folding clothes, but they fall into faceless shapes and blurs. Bucky stops registering Sam standing beside him. He can't hear the whirl of the dryers running round and round. There, putting his collared shirts into the washer, is Helmut Zemo. His brown hair is parted down the side. His hoodie is blue and halfway zipped, hugging his figure.
He can't breathe.
"Bucky? You okay man?"
The sound of his name jerks Zemo's head up. Their eyes lock. His fingers flex. Zemo tilts his head, studying him, watching him. Zemo opens his mouth.
Bucky doesn't let him get a single syllable out.
-
"I try to stay out of shit that isn't my business but what the fuck was that?"
It had taken three guys to separate them. Bucky had struck first. Zemo, being the deceptive snake he was, had tripped him up. As he'd fallen against the dryers, Zemo had opened the top door and slammed it down on Bucky's fingers, crushing them between the metal.
He holds his left hand close to his chest, it still stung. He recalls how he'd chased Zemo out into the halls and through the rec room messing up a game that a group had been in the middle of playing. It figured Bucky would try to do a simple load of laundry and end up making everyone in the building hate him. Sam had masterfully talked the group down from beating Bucky to a pulp. In all the ensuing chaos Zemo had slipped out of the room unnoticed. Squirrelly little asshole.
"It's a long story."
Sam glares at him across their dorm room. Bucky winces from both the pain of his hand and from potentially ruining the budding friendship between them.
Bucky runs his uninjured hand over his face. He suddenly felt so fucking tired. He wants to go home where everything had been familiar.
"Okay, just... I'm trying to figure out where to start."
Sam's glare lessens. He looks down at Bucky's hand sympathetically. "You want some ice for that at least?"
Bucky looks at his hand. It was nothing too bad. A little swelling but it wasn't broken. He shakes his head. "I've had worse."
He needs to fix this before Sam writes him off. He searches his head for words, tugging at old memories off dusty shelves. It felt raw. Bucky had been friends with people in high school for years without telling them what his favorite color was let alone anything truly personal.
But Sam looks at him the same way Steve does. Or did anyway. Like he enjoys the way he's Bucky and no one else. He'll joke with him even if Bucky doesn't respond or laugh. He'll tease him about his staring in a way that doesn't make him feel self conscious. Maybe he owes it to himself to try.
"Steve and I were thicker than molasses on a cold winter day." It was something Steve's mother had said fondly. That woman had treated him like a second son. "We did everything together as kids. We grew up together."
Bucky looks at the floor. The carpet was a dull tan color. It felt draining.
"We were still best friends all throughout high school. But little by little our group started to expand. Then we joined the football team and Steve...Steve was the star."
The crowds had gone crazy for him. The girls had fawned over him. The teachers adored him. Steve was the perfect guy. But the problem with loving Steve was that everyone loved Steve.
"Steve became really close with another student, Tony Stark. One of those arrogant rich kids you kinda wanna punch because on top of being rich and charming he's also the smartest kid in school."
Bucky's lips quirk up in a reluctant smile. He'd hated Tony the second they met. But over time they had grown into the sort of friendship that only Steve could have sewn together. Steve was good at getting him to meet new people like that.
"Anyway, Tony held these huge parties at his house every time his parents weren't home. And more often than not they weren't home. So there I am at his house, surrounded by my classmates, my friends, and most of the football team. Everyone was either getting drunk or getting high." Bucky pauses at this next part, letting the past rise up to the surface from whence he'd drowned it. "Next thing I know the police are there. They're taking kids left and right, people are running and shouting. We're smashing beer bottles and hiding what we could."
He slips a glance over at Sam. He has a tight expression on his face but none of it is judgement. Just listening.
"The aftermath is hell. More than just angry parents or permanent records, half of the school had been there. They held an assembly about it. There were rumors Tony's dad paid off the school board not to expel him. I don't know, but the point was that it was the catalyst to the real fallout."
Sam's brows furrow in confusion but he doesn't interrupt. Strange how easily everything poured out of him once Bucky started talking.
"I mentioned Tony was smart, practically a genius with technology. After about a week he gets the idea to hack into the police systems to find out who had made the call that night at the party. Apparently it had come from one James Buchanan Barnes."
Sam looks appropriately shocked. His mouth hangs open slightly. Bucky gives a laugh.
"He called me out the first chance he got. But the thing was it wasn't me. I suddenly find myself the most hated person in the entire school. Only Steve and a handful of people actually believed me."
Bucky's heart twists at the thought of how Wanda had stood up for him. The way Clint never once doubted. Even through all the nasty things people said to him, all the fights he almost (and eventually did) get into, they were there. Even the dorky Scott Lang would sit behind him in chemistry, determined to literally watch his back.
"You have to understand, Steve and Tony were the most popular people in school. They were basically the poster boys. Everyone knew them. Everyone loved them. So when they fought...they practically brought the school down on top of us all. Everyone had taken sides. Former friend against friend. It was chaos in the hallways ans barely contained disasters at lunchtime."
It gets hard for a moment, not to let those memories overwhelm him. He flexes his fingers, letting the pain of his hand remind him of the present. It takes him longer than it should. Sam fills the silence for him.
"Sounds like a soap opera." He smiles softly.
"Heh. Like you wouldn't believe." Bucky smiles back. Then he swallows and continues.
"Three of the guys on the football team cornered me in the bathroom. I wasn't found until an hour later bleeding out all over the floor."
"Jesus..."
"Steve took it straight to the principal. That's the kind of person he is. He only chooses violence as a last resort." A fond look crosses his face before fading away. "They ended up getting suspended. The team had already been suffering from high tensions, but with that final push it fell apart. We lost any momentum we had at pushing through to the championships. That made students even more angry. And then even more blame fell on me."
Bucky rubs his neck. He could feel a knot beginning to form there right under his shoulder blades.
"So we finally get to the end of the year; graduation. Tony gets up to give his valedictorian speech when his mic cuts off. We're all there, packed in the school gymnasium when Zemo--a foreign exchange student no one had ever paid any actual attention to--walks in through the opposite doors like a soap villain. He's got a microphone in his hand and a smirk on his face like he's been handed an entire kingdom. He walks down the fucking aisle and tells everyone there he was the one that stole my phone and called the police. He orchestrated the entire goddamn thing. He'd been watching us fight each other like lab rats. Like we were just playthings like…"
Bucky steadies himself.
"He was out the door before it truly sunk in. And by then he was gone. Somehow the principal managed to get the ceremony back on track. Later we were all standing outside in the parking lot with our robes looking at each other. The old gang back together. Tony tried to apologize first, but too many things had been said and done. It was too late. The circle of trust was broken and we were all going our separate ways anyway. New schools. New lives. It was over."
Bucky raises his shoulders in a slow shrug.
"And that was it?" Sam asks.
"And that was it. We parted ways."
Sam sits. He hums to himself. Then he opens his mouth. "Okay that...was a lot."
"Yeah."
Sam raises his hand. "I have questions."
"Didn't think you wouldn't."
"Why didn't Zemo just frame Steve?"
Bucky gives a weak laugh. "Because golden boy Steve didn't go to Tony's wild parties of debauchery."
Steve had attended a few in the beginning, but he never drank while there. Tony had kept calling him a buzzkill and a party pooper. Steve would respond by occasionally reprimanding Tony for underage drinking. Rather than let that continue Steve, just opted out of his parties. It had been easier on both of them.
"Okay. Second question. Why did Zemo do all that? Does he just get his kicks from manipulating people? What did he get out of it?"
Bucky stares at Sam. Why had he done it? Why had he destroyed so many lives? Crumpled friendships from the inside out? Why?
Bucky closes his eyes. He takes a breath. When he opens them Sam is still sitting there patiently waiting. He opens his mouth and tells him.
-
He doesn't see Zemo around the building again. It was unsettling to think they were living in such close quarters without knowing where and when they would inevitably run into each other again. Bucky wants to go door to door, banging on the wood until he finds him and drags him outside. But Sam gently reminds him that he should probably focus more on not getting kicked out of the dorms. He'd be lonely without him.
"Where would I be able to find another great roommate?"
Bucky knows he's kidding but it's nice that they can tease each other. After sharing everything that day it somehow became relatively easy to talk to Sam even about the most mundane stuff. They hung out both in and outside their room. And for the first time in a long time Bucky feels like he's not alone anymore.
A couple of weeks later Sam invites him to trivia night at the local bar because he's a giant nerd. They hitch a ride with one of Sam's friends. In total there's the four of them. Sam, Bucky, Torres, and Riley. They get there early enough for a good table and they all sit down.
"Remember no using your phone Bucky!"
Bucky huffs indignantly. "What about them two?" He gestures to Torres and Riley.
"They've done this before, they know the drill."
Riley laughs. "Aw man you're in for it now! Sam gets way intense at these things! You should have backed out while you still had the chance."
Sam slaps Riley's shoulder. Riley hits him back. They both laugh and set up their trivia boards. Bucky takes a look at his own apprehensively. He's not sure he'll be much help tonight.
"Hey," Torres leans over to him. "No pressure. We're just here to have fun!"
"Speak for yourself! I'm here to win that $100 gift card!" Sam says.
Torres rolls his eyes. Bucky sits in the middle of their group and feels the pleasant buzz of camaraderie. Just like how it used to be in 7th grade when things were uncomplicated.
Something pricks at the back of his neck. Bucky lifts his hand, soothing the tingling sensation. He looks up, searching the rest of the tables. His eyes land on a lifted smirk and all sense of comfort vanishes, replaced with rage and burning.
"Yo Buck you okay?"
Anger flares up hot, striking him hard like metal on metal.
"Oh shit is that--?" Sam looks in the direction that Bucky is seething in. He turns back to his friend and rests a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, it's okay man. We're with you. He's not gonna do anything from there."
The anger simmers back down to a manageable amount and Bucky rips his gaze away from Zemo. Sam was right. They were here to have a good time and potentially win some money.
"Do...we need to know anything about what just happened or--?" Riley looks from Sam to Bucky.
Sam shakes his head at Riley, shutting down that line of questioning. Riley takes it in stride. As long as no one started throwing tables and screaming, he was fine.
Except it's not fine because apparently Zemo is extremely good at trivia questions. They're halfway through the evening and Zemo, who is running solo from his table, is dominating everyone in the bar.
Sam mumbles angrily into his card. "I'm gonna punch that asshole."
"Welcome to my world." Bucky grins at Sam.
Sam rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
For the most part Torres and Riley don't particularly care for whatever was brewing between Zemo and Bucky or why Sam was also mad. They weren't as into trivia night as Sam was, and they didn't know the history Bucky had with Zemo. To them, it looked like Sam was just angry that someone else was stealing his spotlight.
A staff member comes by and sets down several baskets of the pubs' famous garlic fries on their table.
"We didn't order anything." Torres looks up confused.
"Compliments from that European guy over there." The blonde woman jerks her head over to Zemo.
Bucky has been successfully ignoring him up until now. He looks over at Zemo who was sipping what could only be a mocktail as none of them were over 21. Bucky glares at him. Fuck him and his fries. Sam whines beside him, staring longingly at the fries. He clearly wants to eat them.
"Stay strong Sam."
"You've never had their garlic fries before Bucky! It's not that easy!"
"These are insult fries! He's mocking us!"
Torres and Riley dig in, not caring about the discourse around them.
"Oh man! These are sooo good!"
Sam's hand inches towards the basket. Bucky slaps it away.
"Hey!"
Bucky chances a look and sure enough Zemo is watching them with an all too amused expression on his face. He shakes with quiet laughter. Bucky burns.
"Dude I haven't eaten yet! And I don't know about you but I couldn't give less of a shit about what Zemo thinks! I'm eating these!"
He grabs a handful and stuffs them into his mouth. Bucky looks at him, betrayed. Sam moans into his hand. He swallows the last bite in bliss.
"You're missing out."
"I think I'm good."
The rest of the night Bucky tries not to acknowledge Zemo. But every so often the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he knows, he just knows that bastard is staring at him. He doesn't want to give him the satisfaction. Of knowing that it was just that easy to get under Bucky's skin. But by the third time it happens Bucky breaks. He looks up and catches Zemo's gaze.
His head is resting in his hand. He looks as proper and put together as he always does. His brown eyes are unnaturally soft as they stare back at Bucky with an almost thoughtful expression. Bucky feels open and raw as Zemo searches him. Like he can pull out every dark secret he's ever had since he was five years old.
Bucky rakes his eyes over every inch of the other man. Maybe if he stares long enough he can pull Zemo apart too. See every dirty lie he's ever told. But as he gazes back he only finds more secrets, more mysteries.
They lock eyes once more. Zemo's face softens then, almost like an apology.
"Ha! Hell yeah!"
Sam jostles Bucky from whatever the fuck that had been.
"I'm up 5 points!"
Bucky smiles, feeding off his positive energy.
-
As the evening winds to a close Sam is approached by a lovely brunette who congratulates Sam on a game well played. Torres and Riley make kissy faces at each other and Bucky tries to hold in his laughter.
Sam and the girl (Erin) talk for a bit and Bucky can already see where this was going. They have a contingency for this sort of thing. If one of them should hit it off with someone and want to take them back to their room, the other party was to come back to the dorm sometime after 2 am.
Sure enough the pair is walking out the door and Bucky is waving goodbye. Torres offers to let Bucky stay with him for a bit but he declines. He was fine with staying here for a few hours. He only just met them today. He didn't want to already be inconveniencing them.
Torres and Riley say their goodbyes and then it's just him. Bucky decides to move to sit at the bar and look at all the alcohol he can't legally drink yet. That's fine though. He'll order a burger or two and make chit chat with the bartender. Plus it was a bit of a walk back. He could kill even more time if he took the long way to the dorms.
He's sitting on his stool for about ten minutes, waiting for his food, when he feels a familiar presence by his side.
"You should have tried the fries, James. They're quite good here."
"Go away."
Zemo leans across the counter. He's not quite in Bucky's space but not far away enough for his liking either. If Bucky reached out, Zemo would still be able to dodge.
The other is blessedly silent for a moment. But he doesn't leave.
"What do you want?" Bucky grits through his teeth. Clearly Zemo wants something even if it's possibly just to bother him.
Zemo flicks head to the side, "I don't want anything from you. Is it so hard to just let me apologize?"
"Is that what those fries were for?"
"No, they were not." Zemo frowns. "You're not the type to indulge yourself, James. I thought you would like them."
How the shit would he know what he's like?
"How the shit would you know what I'm like?" Bucky growls. "We never spoke to each other in high school! And then you framed me and made everyone hate my fucking guts and left town!"
Zemo sighs like he's being an unruly child. "While I don't regret my actions a year ago, I've had time to reflect and I am sorry for involving you."
"Fuck you!" Bucky hisses. Sam would be proud of him for not leaping from his seat and smashing his pompous head over the counter.
He turns away. Conversation over. To his relief Zemo finally takes the hint and backs off.
In the next second, there is a brief splash behind him followed by an angry shout.
"Hey!"
Bucky turns his head. Zemo is standing in front of an increasingly angry man holding a glass.
"You made me spill my drink!" The man's voice is gruff and slurred. He's dressed in a thin short sleeve shirt that has seen better days.
Zemo frowns at him. "Judging by your state you would have spilt your drink with or without my backing into you."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" The man growls. What's left of his drink sloshes as he waves it around.
The man pushes Zemo and he falls back into the counter. He slouches over gripping a stool for support. He frowns, shaking his head and looking up at the other man. Something clicks in his face and a sly smile slowly replaces the frown over his mouth.
"How aggressive. But then again I like that in a man." Zemo changes his stance. He tilts his head back in a suggestive look, giving the other man a once over. He raises a challenging eyebrow.
The other man clenches his fists in rage. "You want some of this faggot?!"
The man is twice Zemo's size but he looks on, unafraid and unbothered. It should piss Bucky off. It does piss him off. But more than that the drunk bigot spewing out slurs pisses him off even more.
"Hmm…" Zemo makes a show of considering it. He eyes how the other man favors his left foot. "You probably couldn't handle me."
With a roar of rage the man throws himself at him. Bucky tenses. Zemo sidesteps him and kicks at his right foot. The man goes down, hitting his head on the bar stool. Zemo grabs a glass behind him on the counter and smashes it against the man's head.
From behind him one of the man's friends has gotten up from their table and makes a move towards him. He manages to clip Zemo's shoulder. Zemo jumps back but fails to sense the third popping up to grab his shoulders. He holds Zemo in place as the second man raises his fist high.
The fist slams to a stop in Bucky's hand. Steel Fist they'd jokingly called him in school. He could stop anything, run down any player on the field. The man looks at him with shock. Bucky doesn't waste any time taking his arm and twisting it back with a crack. The man screams and falls.
Quickly, Bucky turns behind him. The third man has let go of Zemo. A mistake on his part. Zemo sweeps around with a high kick. To both their surprise the man catches his foot and flips Zemo back onto the floor. Zemo lands with a hard thud.
Coherent thoughts have left his head. It's just adrenaline and sweat now. It sends a pang thorough Bucky. He longs for the field again. He didn't care much for the glory part of football, but the roaring of the crowd in his ears, the pounding footsteps on the grass, knocking down opponents one by one… Maybe all he's been missing since then is a good fight.
He swings.
Dodge right. Dodge left.
Punch, kick, block.
The other man gets in several good hits to Bucky's head. He staggers, blood bursts in his mouth and he spits it out. He can still hear the roaring rush. He holds his hands up again.
Something crashes into his back. Bucky shouts. The floor rises up in his vision. He blinks wearily. The first man has gotten back up. Remnants of a chair lay in pieces on the floor. Oh, he's never been hit with a chair before.
"You and that fucking cocksucker are dead!"
"That's enough!"
The click of a shotgun quiets the room. The bartender has her gun trained on the large man.
"The police are on their way! You can either sit down and shut the fuck up while you wait or you can get shot and wait for the ambulance! It's your choice!"
Bucky looks between the man and the bartender. It's as if the room is holding its breath.
Slowly, he holds his hands up and backs off from Bucky.
The bartender then turns her gaze on Bucky. "Get your friend and go sit in the corner, now!"
Shit. Bucky really didn't want to wait around and give a statement to the cops. But he'd rather not argue so he nods. Cautiously, he walks past the three angry drunks and makes it over to Zemo. He was struggling to stand, a twisted ankle no doubt. Bucky takes his shoulder and heaves him up. Zemo hisses at the less than gentle treatment. They walk over to a booth and Bucky shoves him into a seat and takes the one opposite him.
Soon enough he spots the telltale of flashing lights outside. This is going to be a long night.
-
It's 1am by the time they're done. Seeing as several eye witnesses accounted for Zemo not having thrown the first punch, they're free to go but with a strong warning.
They walk together in a weird sort of silence back to the dorms. Zemo seemed determined to walk on his own even if he winced with every step. Whatever, Bucky wasn't about to offer to carry him.
They make it all the way back when Bucky realizes it still isn't past 2 yet. He can't return to his room.
Bucky stops in the middle of the lobby. Zemo turns and raises an elegant brow.
"You coming?"
"Can't. Sam's got company over,," He mutters.
Zemo shifts his stance. His eyes wander over Bucky as he considers his next words. "My room is available if you want to wait there for a while."
Was he serious? Bucky has no interest in going back to Zemo's room. It was probably full of booby traps.
Zemo rolls his eyes and somehow makes it look graceful. "I promise I'm not going to take advantage of you or anything. I have a first aid kit that you're welcome to use."
Bucky shoves both his hands into his jean pockets. "No thanks," He grumbles.
He walks past Zemo, determined not to look at him, and heads for the rec area. Most people should be asleep this time of night so he could reasonably crash on the couch before heading up to his room. He hopes Sam will be asleep by then too. He didn't want to explain his bruises just yet.
From behind him, he hears Zemo let out a soft sigh before walking to the elevator. Good riddance. This has been a very long and strange night. He just wants to go to bed and think about nothing.
Bucky flops down onto the couch and searches for the remote. It wasn't on the table or the arm rests. He looks through the cushions and underneath them. Why the fuck couldn't anyone ever put the fucking remote on the table where it fucking belonged?
Angry, he lays out on the couch and presses his burning face into the cool leather. His stomach grumbles. He never did get that burger. Fuck he should have eaten some of those garlic fries.
A few minutes pass and the ding of the elevator is heard from the lobby. Bucky thinks nothing of it. People come and go all the time. His eyes are closed as he wills time to go faster. Shouldn't be too long now. Soon he could go back up and get some food and then…
Someone clears their throat. Bucky closes his eyes harder.
"James could you please sit up?"
Reluctantly, Bucky opens one eye up at Zemo. He stands over him holding onto what he assumed was a first aid kit.
"I'm fine," He says and closes his eye again. Then he thinks better of it and opens both of them because maybe he shouldn't be closing his eyes around Helmet Zemo.
"We both took hits tonight. I'm simply trying to return the favor."
"I've had worse."
There's a glint in Zemo's eyes. It is the first true burst of emotion that hasn't been snugness or annoyance. Bucky finds he likes it. It makes Zemo look like a real person. Most of the time he walked around like a regal painting pretending he was better than everyone else.
There's a string of words in a language Bucky is unfamiliar with. He'd forgotten which country Zemo had transferred from in high school. It seemed insignificant back then. But now he suddenly wishes to know.
The words change to English. The accent is heavier, thick with underlying anger.
"Sit up. Now."
Bucky had always hated it when his father ordered him around. He hated it when instead of asking him, his father would demand it. Like Bucky was incapable of doing anything unless he was forced to do it. That familiar spark of defiance is still there, resting in his gut. But it's different. It feels different. Zemo clutches the kit with a fierce grip and glares down at Bucky like a haughty Baron expecting to be obeyed. And despite everything, Bucky is curious what his reaction will be if he complies. More so than his reaction if he refuses.
Slowly, so very slowly, Bucky sits up. Zemo takes a seat beside him and sets the kit down.
"Turn towards me."
He's not asking. He's not even bothering to try. But again, Bucky feels that pull. That this Zemo, the angry Baron that wants control is more real than the mask of feigned politeness. More real than the dull eyed smile that hides a sinister mind.
Bucky pulls his legs up onto the couch and allows Zemo to scooch in close. Zemo opens the kit and picks out some gaze and alcohol pads. Bucky is quiet as he works. He hisses slightly as Zemo dabs at his eye. He was definitely going to have a shiner tomorrow.
Bucky tries and fails not to look at Zemo while he works. He had an alluring quality about him, a focus in his eyes. His jawline was well-defined and clean shaven. Bucky finds himself wondering what it would look like with a 5 o clock shadow. It was a look he himself preferred. It made him look older, more mature.
Zemo's hands are meticulous and soft on his face. The first few times they brush against a bruise Bucky winces. But then Zemo looks him in the eye and does it again with purpose. Pain erupts from his cheek as long, pale fingers press down. Bucky doesn't look away. Even as it hurts he feels like this is some sort of test. He doesn't know why but he wants to pass.
The pressure relieves and Bucky lets out a breath. Zemo tucks everything back into the kit and sets it on the table. He straightens back up and then it's just the two of them. There's no clock in the rec room, no way to tell if time is actually passing or not. No steady tick ticking of the clock hands. They could be sitting there, suspended in motion, forever frozen.
It's not until Bucky breathes in that he realizes his hands are on Zemo's thighs. Had he been wearing pajama shorts before? He breathes out and flexes his palms. Zemo's skin is warm and smooth. He's staring at his legs. He should look up. Bucky looks up. Zemo is tracing the bottom of his chin, delving into the little cleft there. He looks at Bucky like he is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. Like a puzzle or an artwork. Like he's extraordinary.
Bucky's thumb drops low and strokes up Zemo's inner thigh. He watches his pupils dilate. Sees Zemo's mouth open ever so slightly in a small gasp. He wants to capture that breath for himself.
Their foreheads feel hot as they press together. Zemo's nose tickles his as they slide past each other. Bucky's hands are still on his thighs and Zemo moves to gently scratch his nails across Bucky's jaw down his neck. Zemo's fingers curl into his hair as Bucky's toes curl into his socks. He presses further into him, smelling expensive shampoo and fresh lavender. Zemo brings up his other hand to cup his face.
"James."
His name is whispered and seared across his lips. His blood thrums with unnamed energy. It's not the rush of a fight, nor the roar of football. It's something else. Something new.
And then Zemo is gone, pulling back from Bucky's body heat. He feels disoriented, confused by the loss.
Zemo's smile is back, but not the old one. Not the one Zemo plastered onto his face to ward off intruders. This one is almost fond.
"Go upstairs and get some food before you go to bed. It's bad health to fall asleep hungry."
Zemo collects the kit off the table and saunters out of view. Bucky sits where he'd been left behind on the couch, knowing he'll follow the order through.