experienceandpatience

Well, isn't that progress? Bucky is willingly talking without Zemo doing any digging until he snaps or doing all the talking for them both. He's quiet, actually, letting Bucky take his time to form his own words, to speak without interruption.

He tilts his head in that familiar way though, eyes lingering on Bucky as he reaches out to rest a hand against Bucky's lightly. "Isn't that what we've been doing, James? Sharing our lives, depending on each other?"

It seems that way to him at least. "I'm not asking you to do anything you're not comfortable with..."

And it doesn't-- sound like Bucky is all that comfortable, all of a sudden. After all those very sweet promises earlier too. Zemo goes quiet for a moment, dropping his hand away to give Bucky space. "Nothing will ease that void where my wife and son were. I think I will always feel that loss. It's-- how I imagine losing a limb would be... at times, I wake in the mornings and for a brief second, forget that they're not there. That it wasn't simply a nightmare."

But that said-- "I never planned on-- any of this happening between us, but lately, I have been closer to happy than I have been in a very long time. If not happy, then... content, perhaps. It hasn't been counting down the days, hours, minutes until I can rejoin my lost family as it has been in the past. For any frustration we've had with one another, or any problem, I can't say I've been let down so far. As a matter of fact, I'm not certain I would be in terribly good shape right now, if it wasn't for your company today, James."

He shrugs his shoulders. "You seemed-- to be enjoying yourself today. You seemed to enjoy the role of a husband earlier, at the cafe, with an idea of what that would entail. What happened?"

"Well-- yes..." That is what they've been doing. And there hasn't been any expectation that Bucky can be any kind of substitute for what Zemo had lost in Sokovia. It doesn't make their relationship any... less meaningful, or more inferior. They're just different. Even if they are married now.

Bucky maybe just couldn't see the positive impact he's had, on Zemo or on Oeznik. He's just internalised the fact that they're both helping him and he may not be as much of a burden as he used to be anymore, but they're still doing him favours everyday, taking care of him.

But Zemo's saying he's had a good time thus far, and he seems sincere about it, and Bucky is trying to reconcile that with his assumptions of how they're supposed to work and other presumptions of what their new marriage should look like.

"Nothing happened." Zemo's hand isn't on his anymore, and he pulls away from the gear stick, resting his loose fist on top of his thigh.

"I just... I was yours. And things felt simple." Bucky swallows and averts his gaze to look out the window.

"But now you're... You're also mine. And I..." His eyebrows furrow and he takes in a deep breath, reluctant to admit it. Can he admit weakness without getting hurt for it? His scowl deepens and he sighs through his nose, licking his bottom lip, plucking at the inner seam of his pants.

"I'm scared."

"Scared of what, James?" He prompts carefully, shifting in his seat to face Bucky properly. There's a slight twitch to his lips -- he's rather certain this is the first time Bucky has ever dared called Zemo his. Strangely, it isn't that terrible to hear.

"I think it's-- somewhat normal, considering our lives." Idly, he reaches across the seat to brush his fingers along Bucky's jaw, up to brush through his hair, comb it back a bit. Hopefully it's at least a bit soothing to them both.

They should have talked about this in the Alps. Or in the house. In bed. Bucky can just bury his face in the pillow when he thinks he's said enough and Zemo can just throw a shitfit until he gets Bucky to speak his mind. Now he's trapped in a car with nowhere to hide and Zemo looking at him and if he talks about what he's scared about, everything he fears will happen at once.

Like he'll wake up right now in an ice cold tank and the last decade has just been one long, strange dream. And it will come to light that he has nothing worth sharing with Zemo, or anyone else. In all likelihood, Zemo will just think he's being stupid and stop touching his face and his hair.

"Maybe you deserve someone to wake up to." In their bed. Where all the uncertainties and doubts started growing from. "And all you're getting is. Some whackjob in his underwear rolling around on the floor." It's not meant to be funny, despite the way he says it.

"And you likely deserve someone who didn't use you, or frame you, or tear you away from a chance at rebuilding a normal life." One where he doesn't have to watch over his shoulder or lie about or endure Wakanda's wrath one day when they realize he's on the run with the man who murdered their beloved king.

And what will they say when they realize he's married him on top of it all?

"I'm certain many would call me a-- whackjob, was it? I can hardly judge." There's a wry smile tugging at his lips. Even before he brought down the Avengers -- when he spend his days hunting down HYDRA and doing dirty jobs for Sokovia.

"I don't expect to wake to you every morning, James. The times I do are-- more than enough, and the times you feel the need to sleep on the floor, we will work through it. I'm not under any delusion we will live a perfectly happy, married life, James. We're both a bit too broken for that. But that doesn't mean we can't have something nice while it lasts, does it?"

They've managed plenty of nice so far. "Unless you truly do want to take the rings off, not-- mention any of this again. I will admit I wouldn't like it, but I would understand it."

"I never stood a chance." And he knows it. He would have lived his whole life exactly like that - looking over his shoulder, paranoid, waiting for the Wakandans to find him and kill him. If Zemo hadn't framed him, if wouldn't have been the Wakandans, but it would have been someone else, and he'd have been right back where he started.

Only, he wouldn't have been married. And he'd have had to endure the isolation and the constant high-strung fear and anxiety of living a very fragile lie as a fugitive, alone, and scared, and confused.

"I made a vow," he says quietly, swallowing, looking down at his bandaged hand, thumb touching the ring. "I made a vow. And you're mine."

And maybe one day he will see that Zemo had always been his, the day he broke him out of prison and started following him everywhere he went.

"I don't care that you can't remember making your vow. You can take it off when I'm dead." And not a moment before that. Zemo wanted to marry this stubborn whackjob after all. Now he has to live with that decision.

"Possessive," Zemo tries for teasing, even if there's a bit of relief at the insistence that he doesn't want to forget what happened, even if Zemo's own memories are rather hazy of the events. He can remember enough.

And now that he's not dealing with his own doubts and fears, he can... enjoy what it is they have.

There's a smile that's more genuine that follows the teasing before he leans in to try to draw Bucky in for a proper kiss. "You could always remind me of these vows. I would not forget again..."

Most likely. "You should give yourself more credit, James. You have not disappointed me today when I needed you."

There was a rough start to the morning, but-- it has certainly turned around, hasn't it? He likes to think so at least.

"Maybe I am." He's not sure because it's been so long since he last thought of something as his own, and no one else's. He can be quite careless when it comes to certain things, but. Zemo isn't exactly just something he would leave lying around the house. He would snarl and bite if someone tried taking his Sokovian chewtoy out of his mouth.

It's annoying, being in the car with the centre console and the gear box in between them, not much room at all when his legs shift and his knees hit the bottom of the steering wheel. Bucky has to resist the urge to yank Zemo over although he does grip tightly into Zemo's shirt and on Zemo's hip. Is there a butt there? Oops.

"I could just tell you you vowed to stop causing any more trouble and you wouldn't know," Bucky points out when their lips part. More likely than not, the vows were same old, same old. Cherish and love, sickness and death, blah blah blah. It would be disgustingly sappy to repeat them now.

He doesn't really want to be making out in the front seat of a car. Although maybe he wouldn't mind so much once they get to the drive-in movie, and it's dark, and if there's anybody around, they're minding their own business. So he tries to get Zemo to gently settle down again before he straps himself in and starts finding their way out of the carpark.

"You ever... made out in a car?" Bucky asks quietly.

"That doesn't sound like something I'd vow at all, James." He may not remember everything clearly, but causing trouble is something he's rather talented at. Bucky would be bored without that feature, he's sure.

But he does settle back in, buckling his seat belt as a quiet laugh leaves his lips. Not entirely subtle with that question, Zemo notes. "I've done more than just that, but yes."

With Zemo's love of classic and expensive cars, is it any wonder he's had a few intimate encounters in them? "Or were you asking if it's something I would like to do?"

There's a teasing note to his voice as his eyes drift to the road in front of them. "The answer is yes, of course."

He's not sure how it will go, but if he's stuck like this for a bit, he may as well see what it's like, especially if Bucky is so interested.

"I'm pretty sure getting married doesn't sound like something you would have done either," Bucky points out dryly, settling back into this comfortable kind of jesting banter that he really only does with three or four people. One of whom is dead.

"No I-- I was just. Wondering." Bucky swallows and shakes his head a few times, focusing on the road even though the lanes are pretty wide and there's no one else in front or behind him. That's Wyoming for you.

"It's a little. Crammed." This is a terrible topic to be making small talk for and Bucky clears his throat, shifting in his seat, looking out the window, then at the mirrors, then back on the road again. Maybe he can find something else to talk about...

"What kind of movie did you wanna watch? I don't know what's on." They don't make criminals smoother than this one, let him tell you that.

"It doesn't sound like something you would have done either... I must have left quite an impression." Or threw enough of a fit, but Bucky doesn't seem to quite regret it so much.

... And at least this is all much more comfortable territory than-- trying to navigate being married. Teasing or watching Bucky try to weasel out of being flustered. "Hm, that's why you move to the back, James. And it isn't quite as dangerous as falling from an exam table."

"I'm not picky." The idea had mostly been an excuse to be close, even without the promise of backseat makeouts.

"I think we have the choice of mindless action or horror."

"You weren't having any of it." Someone went full Bridezilla, 'how dare you even think about leaving me at the altar, do you know who I am?' and guess what? It wasn't Bucky.

"That was your fault too. I told you I didn't need medical attention." He was a quarter of a pint of blood away from passing out, and the cut was so deep that it needed stitches. But sure, Bucky was Fine. Fine enough to insist that Zemo was overreacting while he shoved Bucky into their rental car and sped down to the clinic to get him looked at.

Actually it was. Kind of sweet. What with the way Zemo said 'my husband' with that eyeroll and that tsking scowl, they were almost lovers.

"Let's go with action." They have enough horror in their lives dealing with this marriage. And if they really want to be watching this thing while huddled close together under a throw, a horror film would just get a whole lot of jolts and whimpers and them asking obvious questions about stupid people poking around scary places alone.

Bucky brushes his thumb over the side of the gear stick thoughtfully.

"We could bring Oeznik out sometime. And Steve." He hates the idea of leaving Steve alone in that big old house, but also, Steve probably wouldn't do well with noise and crowds and too much attention. He absolutely hated the plane and that weightless feeling. Bucky doesn't always consider what might be best for Steve when he tries to sneak him everywhere.

"I know what I want, James." Which isn't really an excuse for twisting his arm into marrying him, but-- ah well. He told Bucky he could take off the ring and he refused. Whose fault is that? Besides, he's wrinkling his nose, giving an incredulous look to Bucky.

"You were bleeding everywhere! Even super soldiers need medical attention sometimes." It was the right call.

"You obviously need me around to be sensible about these things." How can he ever leave Bucky alone if he would rather just ignore his wounds an pass out from them? Honestly. Although he could give a thank you for it...

"We could. Oeznik may appreciate going out to dinner for a change, or to see a movie." Although he doubts Steve would appreciate either. He's rather happy in that big house as long as they all seem to come back around to feed him eventually.

"Although that may be more difficult if my current predicament doesn't stick around for a few days more at least."

They can blame HYDRA for that. Their cyborg might have needed frequent repair works to his metal arm, but he never needed full-on medical attention. If he can't handle being stapled back together and scowling silently through his injuries, then he isn't worthy to serve them.

Naturally that's how Bucky tackles all adversities. With a deep scowl and without using his words. No reason why that should stop working after it's carried the Soldier through the past eighty years.

"It would have healed on its own," he insists softly, like he's not exactly sure if it would have. Just about everything that's been inflicted on him has healed on its own, so. Slicing his hand open surely wouldn't have been any different...

"We'll see how long this lasts, I guess." If tomorrow Zemo wakes up in his old body, then it's not going to be a bad thing either. Today will have just been a weird kind of Cinderella moment that will have come and gone and they'll have made as much of it as they were happy to. If tomorrow he's still like this, they should just be upfront with Oeznik and spend another day out. Whether they tell him now, or later, they're just putting off the inevitable worrying and fussing and questions anyway.

"I think it's just over here." Bucky isn't using GPS. He'd taken half a day when they first got to Wyoming to scope out everything in the vicinity of the farmhouse, what the main towns had to offer, how many gas stations there were within 5 miles, how many ways to get onto the highway and everything else he thought was important, and he committed them all to memory. Usually Zemo drives, but when Bucky does get behind the wheel, he's able to navigate without one of those ladies in the phone asserting her dominance narrating orders at him.

There's only a few cars parked out front and the car rolls to a stop. He could have gone in the middle but Bucky would have been unconsciously anxious about being trapped in the centre, preferring to be slightly off to one side.

"Any last minute requests?" They do have enough snacks but it never hurts to ask the baron in case he has a last minute craving for a flute of Dom Perignon...

"And now it's healing with some help." And now, for a very brief moment, he possibly understands any frustration he brought on his own wife a little more intimately when he came in obviously on the unfortunate losing end of a fight.

Except he still had sense enough to at least give himself stitches when he needed them, if not find a doctor...

"I think we are good," he answers, a smile curling his lips. "Park at the back, away from others, James."

Both for the practicality of not getting boxed in and... well, because they may want some privacy from the other cars while they settle in the back.

"You could barely see the bone by the time the ice cleared and we could go back to the cabin..." Give it another day or two and it might scar but the bandages can come off completely.

Most people might want front row seats but thankfully Zemo also doesn't want to be sandwiched in the middle. Bucky checks over his shoulder and around the vicinity as far as he can see, satisfied that they're tucked away safely in the corner. Easy entrance, easy exit, and a semi-decent view of the screen.

"Wait, where are you going?" Is Zemo moving into the back seat? Why?

"James. We are not arguing over your hand again." Especially now that they're parked and tucked away comfortably in front of the screen.

At the question, there's a mischievous smile thrown Bucky's direction as Zemo reaches for the throw he threw back there and starts to spread it out. "Getting comfortable. Come and join me, James. It will be fine."

Either one of them can get to the front seat quickly, if they need to. Zemo doubts that will be the case though. "We won't have as much between us back here..."

Fine. They're only not arguing because they know Bucky is right. That's the only consolation he's giving himself as he steps outside briefly, letting just a little bit of cold air in as he climbs into the backseat and shuts the door. He could have climbed, and he would have if it was an emergency.

But they're taking their time today. It's much more roomy in the backseat, and he wraps his arms low around Zemo's waist, pulling him in close. There's nothing suggestive beyond wanting to get close, to nudge his nose against Zemo's cheek and tease at biting him.

God, Zemo's really soft in all sorts of strange places... Rather than grabbing and yanking insistently he finds himself trying to be delicate like he's handling a block of tofu.

"You feel different..."

If right means terribly wrong, then yes. Bucky is absolutely right. And Zemo is just glad that there shouldn't be any surprise stitches today if Bucky keeps whatever hidden knives on his person safely tucked away.

There's nothing suggestive in the way Zemo presses himself up against Bucky, slides an arm around his middle, beyond sating that need to be close without putting on much of a public show of it. Not that he minded, but-- this is nice too. There's an amused huff at that playful bite before Zemo tips his head back to brush a quick kiss along his jaw.

"And you're not yanking me where you want me..." Pulling, certainly, but Zemo can't quite help but notice the way he seems to be trying to be careful</i.. "I won't bruise any more than when I'm a man, you know." Probably. And in any case, Zemo doesn't mind the hand prints Bucky has left on him in particular moments of impatience.

He'll find a knife strapped against the side of Bucky's shin and one by his hip, but they're both sheathed so if anyone gets cut, stabbed or gutted like a fish tonight, it'll be Zemo's carelessness to blame.

Bucky's carelessness manifests in those angry red handprints and ugly little dark bruises. But he's usually quite controlled about it. Or, rather, he doesn't like the idea of not being in control enough that he's scared of leaving too many marks.

"Didn't we come here to watch a movie?" It's not started yet but they're getting very distracted already. Zemo for all intents and purposes seems to be quite the same. Bucky's the one trying to be gentle and trying to avoid grabbing tits and squeezing hips.

"What are you wearing?" He can't help but ask with a little laugh. There's all these extra straps he's never had to deal with before.

He's not at all surprised to find those knives. He wouldn't be surprised to find a gun tucked away somewhere either, but he's especially not surprised about the knives. "We did. It hasn't started yet, James--"

There's some squirming at the comment and a elbow jabbed lightly into Bucky. "And you scold me for wandering hands... I am wearing clothes, what else?"

Zemo gets an anxious little whine out of him when he removes the bigger knife by his hip. Yes, it was digging into him at an uncomfortable angle, but he's more uncomfortable not having it there. They do have an agreement about not fooling around or sleeping with weapons though, and Bucky reluctantly relents when Zemo puts the knife in the compartment at the bottom of the door.

Not wanting Zemo to get awkwardly naked in the backseat, Bucky opts to shove some clothes out of the way as he tries to slink in under Zemo. The seatbelt buckles poke uncomfortably into his sides but he doesn't seem to mind stretching out a bit so Zemo can hover on top of him.

There's no way he can laugh about these breasts without sounding like he's twelve so he just cups the side of Zemo's face and pulls him in for a few long, slow kisses.

No no no, they're only kissing. There's no teenage making out happening here. Nothing to see here at all.

"I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie?" He teases lightly as they settle in a more... comfortable position. He braces a hand on the seat as he looks at Bucky fondly.

It didn't feel that much different as they slip into kisses, slow and intimate and familiar. One of his hands slides down the other man's side to skip beneath his clothes and feel actual skin.

Clearly not acting like teenagers at all, no.

"Does it feel different, James?" He ventures a moment, curious. Of course there are obvious differences, but so far, Bucky doesn't seem like he finds it bothersome or unattractive at least.

"Well... You can tell me when it starts." He can't see the screen from here although he did leave the radio on so they can broadcast the audio into the car.

"It does. Your hair's in the way," Bucky points out with a snicker, forcing himself to relax after he'd jolted up a bit from that cool hand on his warm skin. It's not even hair at this point, it's a sentient mane that could probably strangle him if it gets tired of poking Bucky's face, despite how much he tries to move his head away.

"And I'm worried. If we do 'stuff'. And. You know..." Bucky's trying not to say, what if this is permanent, and he gets Zemo pregnant, and all that horror stuff. Today is supposed to be fun and light and not worrying about babies or being sent out to buy tampons next week.

"Ah, but I'm being thoroughly distracted." Well, he was until Bucky started to complain about his hair. His hand slides away from Bucky in favor of trying to push it out of the way--

And then he pauses, brows furrowing and mouth twitching into a frown as he pieces together what Bucky is insinuating. He's used to relatively consequence free encounters with him. He's not used to worrying about-- pregnancies or anything else. Bucky may have successfully killed any sort of arousal for a moment with the thought of cramps or babies if this is permanent and thorough by any stretch of the imagination.

"Did you... buy anything?" He's rather certain he'd have noticed if Bucky brought condoms, but there's a slight possibility, isn't there?

"There isn't any way of knowing if I could-- if whatever happened left me capable of that, you know."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject