Work Text:
Zemo should have been more careful. But he was always so, so careful- scheming, planning ahead, looking over his shoulder. Sometimes it was easy to let his guard down, especially now that he was at peace with their current situation. Or at least, he was making the best of it.
The team had just gotten back to the Raft after a mission. He made his way back to his room to change out of his suit. He’d pulled on a pair of sweatpants and pulled out the photo he kept in the bottom of the drawer. Heike. It was more a force of habit than anything else. After missions back in the day, he’d always take a moment after to reflect. The paper was creased in several places from overuse. He found himself looking at it because he didn’t want to forget. Even though he’s moved on and put the past behind him. He still didn’t want to forget her.
His door whooshed opened and Sharon stepped inside. “You won’t believe what Yelena just told me-” she trailed off.
Her eyes immediately went to the photo in his hand. He tried to quickly hide it, but it was too late. She’d seen it, and more important, the resemblance. He’d told her about Heike, but she’d never known what the woman looked like, until now. She turned on her heel and stormed out.
“Sharon, wait-”
Shit. He took off after her. The hallway was empty, and so was the next one over. It took him twenty minutes of searching to find her. She knew every hidden nook and cranny of this place. Often in the middle of the night, she left his bed to go explore the place, because of her nightmares. She had them almost every night, waking up in a cold sweat. He always tried to stop her from tackling it alone. But she never listened.
She was in their training room, which didn’t come as a shock. He should have come here first. The door slid open and he stepped inside. The sound of slamming fists rang in his ears. Sharon was working the punching bag, hard. Sweat dripped down her forehead. Her brow furrowed with a striking determination. Her fists continued to slam into the bag.
Zemo slowly walked over to her. He crossed his arms before finally breaking the silence. “Are you trying to knock that bag off the chain?”
“I’ve done it before,” she said.
“No,” he shook his head, “I was there, John had used it first. He wore it down for you.”
Sharon stayed silent. She didn’t look at him either, she just continued to hit the bag with rippling force. He watched the muscles in her arms tense and flex with each punch. He took a step closer to her, being sure to stay out of the strike zone.
“About the photo-”
“Just forget it,” she hissed.
Oh, so that’s how it was going to be. He’d grown used to her attempts at shutting things down. Sharon wasn’t afraid of much, but she was definitely afraid of her feelings. She tried to push him away many, many times before. He’d always respected when she wanted to put some distance between them, but it still hurt. And this time it was his fault.
“If that’s not what’s bothering you, then what is?” he asked.
She continued to hit the bag. “I thought when we started this thing, we agreed that we could lie to anyone else- but never to each other.”
“When have I ever lied to you?” he asked. She turned to look at him, and pursed her lips. He corrected, “When have I lied since we started this?”
Sharon hit the bag two more times and came to a stop. She shucked the gloves and wiped the sweat from her brow. She took a step closer to him.
“If you wanted this to be a casual thing, I would’ve been okay with it. But I thought…”
She thought that it was more than that.
The look of complete and utter despair crosses her face. And then just in a second it’s gone. Years of being a spy snapped back into place. It looked as if nothing was bothering her. God, she was good. It would fool anyone else, but not him.
“I don’t want this to be a casual thing. I made it clear how I feel about you,” he said.
She shook her head and began to storm past him. That wasn’t happening today, they weren't avoiding this. He caught her arm and yanked her closer.
“Sharon-”
Her gaze stayed fixated on the floor. They stayed like that for a minute. His hand never moves from her arm and she makes no attempt to leave again. Even though she could just kick his ass and go.
“Tell me, when you look at me do you think of her?” she asks.
There was no denying the physical similarities between the two women. But they were simply nothing alike. Heike had been soft, kind. She had always worn soft silky dresses. She drank her tea on the terrace on the second floor of their home. She read the same worn book over and over. She was the most loving mother to Carl. Heike had been the one to ground him from the horrors of war. And he’d loved her ever since he was seventeen. Their love had been set from their first meeting.
Sharon had a hard exterior. One that not just anyone could get past. But once you did, there was a fire to her. She wore combat boots most days. She drank whiskey right out of the bottle and ate the greasiest cheeseburgers. She was more dangerous than even him. He sometimes would be the one to hold her back. Sharon had snuck up on him. What he felt for her was unexpected in all the best ways.
“No.”
She looked up at him and gritted her teeth. “Bullshit.”
If she wanted to be an ass about this, two could play at that game. His grip tightened around her arm. “Is this about her? Or is it about Steve?” he asked.
Sharon’s mouth set into a grim line. Oh, she didn’t like that. Every time he even mentioned the man’s name she went into fight or flight mode. She snatched her arm away. She sat down on the edge of the boxing ring, hands furled in her lap. Zemo carefully sat down next to her. His gaze wandered across her face, trying to see any type of reaction. But she didn’t look at him. It feels like forever before she speaks again.
“I already competed with a dead woman once, I can’t do it again.”
“Hey-” he said. Zemo reached out to take her hand. Fingers intertwined with his. He had known what he was getting into with her. Steve Rogers had left a blistering scar on her. One that still hadn’t healed after all this time.
“You’re not a replacement for anyone, Sharon.”
“I doubt that. Everyone leaves me event-”
“I love you-” he blurted out.
He's known for quite some time. There were so many ways he’d thought about telling her. Maybe over dinner, or after a mission when they had some time alone. But not this way. Not blurted out in desperation in the middle of the ocean. Sharon’s grip around his hand tightened. She turned to look at him, eyes wide in disbelief.
“You do?”
She has to ask because she doesn’t believe him. Because he knows for a fact that no other man has ever told her that. She’s been thrown away so many times that she couldn’t possibly believe that someone could love her.
“Yes.”
Sharon’s gaze bored into him and she held it there. He could see the gears turning in her head, plotting her next move. He half expects her to slap him or storm out. Instead, she gently cradled his face. She pulled him closer until her lips pressed against his. The kiss was soft, gentle. It expressed what she couldn’t put into words. That she felt the same way about him.
She pulled away and pressed her forehead against his. His eyes flitted closed. He relished in the intimacy, the closeness that he never thought he’d have again. Zemo smiled with the knowledge that someone loved him back. That alone is almost enough to make him break down. He leaned forward to kiss her again.
Later, he placed a photo of himself and Sharon next to Heike. So that he could always remember what he had lost. But he would never forget what he still had to live for...