[it's a little messy and more than a little unexpected the way steve suddenly sneaks in a soft insistence of his lips. not a proper kiss at all, but enough to make zemo smile against them even as he tastes the remnants of soup broth and chicken between a flutter of lashes and nuzzling noses. he wishes he could let steve rest against him like this for the rest of the night - taking comfort in the fact that he isn't alone, that he will be taken care of by zemo who feels as if his heart might burst from how quickly he's fallen head over heels now that he's decided it's easier to let the chips fall where they may. he hums in acknowledgment, pulling back with a small frown tugging down his lips in regret at the separation.]
I like it here. Better than quietly trying to sneak a glance across the way at study sessions, anyhow. But before we can make the most of it...we need to get you well.
[before they can even so much as think about heated kisses that won't be interrupted by second-guesses or frustrated outbursts. the thought makes him giddy, bolstered even higher by the warm fingers that twine with his own and the consideration in steve's gaze from head to toe like he's actually picturing zemo in a full nurse's attire. maybe someday. and with that internal admission comes the realization that yes - this feels different than anything else he's ever embarked on. not that he has much to compare it to, but even the closest thing he had to adoring another person in boarding school seems so small and far away in comparison. there's a heaviness to this, a devotion that he feels all the way down to his bones that warms him to his core thinking about them. steven rogers and helmut zemo. together, a packaged deal.
nevermind the reality of it waiting outside these dorm room walls. for now...he can feel like he's floating as he can't stop the stupid smile pulling at his mouth or the way his fingers flex fondly around steve's.]
It's okay - you need the rest.
[he dips down again, lips pressing softly against steve's temple for a gentle kiss. but mostly it's so he can whisper what follows in a soft drag against his skin.]
Was wird da künftig erst sein? Schlafe, mein Prinzchen, schlaf ein.
[but what will the future bring? sleep, my little prince, sleep. a german lullaby he remembers from his youth, back when he was struggling to juggle french and german alongside refining his sokovian. english was always the hardest - so different from the similarity of the others. maybe someday he can tell steve how he really feels in every language he knows.]
[ The tug of fatigue is unmanageable, undeniable, even if all he wants is to stay tucked up against this boy, whispering back and forth until the night turns to morning. His eyes stay heavy, lashes a dark fan against skin rubbed darker by exhaustion. The rosy hit of fever has dulled in his cheeks now, aided by the soup and the medicine, though he's sure it's more the company that's raised his spirits than anything else.
He hasn't ever considered being drawn to someone like he is this boy, with his sharp remarks and upturned nose, and yet he finds himself remembering coy little smiles, their intellectual arguments, the way beauty marks and freckles speckle his skin. Never has he felt the urge to memorize someone, to take quiet ownership of everything about someone and cherish it, whole and deep.
He's had girlfriends and a rogue boyfriend, but this feels different. ]
I think we can still sneak glances all we want, right?
[ He makes a point to sleepily open his eyes, half-lidded, and tug their joined hands to rest against his chest instead of in the bed beside them. He settles, finally, sliding down onto his back proper, his blond hair a mess of wild fringe in his face, around the pillow, cow-licked and sleep worn. If Zemo can look at him like that, while he's like this? Something stirs, warm and fond in his chest.
Eyes flicker closed again when he feels the pull of lips and whispers against his temple. He recognizes some of the words, enough to string together the phrases after a few years of studying languages, and a smile pulls at his lips, slow and lazy. He pulls Zemo's hands up, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles with a tired sigh. ]
That make you my princess then? [ He looks up at him, cheeky and tired, but there's not much fight in his voice. Instead, he turns onto his side in the bed, keeping his fingers linked with Zemo's, resting just near the edge of the mattress. ]
Thank you.
[ His lips move like he might say something else, like there's more he wants to say, but the fatigue wins and finally, Steve slips into light sleep, fingers slackening around Zemo's as he settles, dreamless and still. ]
Only when everyone is looking. When it's just us...we have nothing to hide.
[he looks miles better already, and zemo would like to think it's a combination of the cooking and his presence. eventually he'll gladly help change the sheets and make it even more refreshing, but for now he can quietly tidy up elsewhere while steve hopefully rests a little easier. his first consideration had been to simply sit with him until he drifted away into a more comfortable version of sleep - keep cooling skin, hold his hand, brush the errant and damp strands of hair from his forehead. and once he was fully asleep - steal a few moments to admire the gentle flutter of long lashes against his skin and start committing the light dusting of beauty marks across his cheek and bare arms to memory. and after he'd had his fill, steal away in the cover of the night when no one else was watching and sleep in his own bed. but seeing just how vulnerable steve actually is now - he can't imagine setting foot out of this room until sunlight is streaming in and making gold out of steve's hair.
he watches with a soft smile as steve gently tugs his hand up, brushing even softer lips across the backs of his fingers before seeming to deflate again from the energy that alone takes. he twists his hand - not to pull it away but to lightly cup at the warm cheek and let his thumb stroke across stubble that he's been too weak to get rid of. the slight flush that creeps into his cheeks is unavoidable when steve makes the comparison, and he dips his head briefly in a somewhat sheepish acknowledgment.]
That's exactly what it means. But even princes need their beauty sleep.
[he pauses, glancing back up and watching steve shift one last time before really starting to let himself be pulled into that enthralling lull. only when his breathing evens out does he lean forward and press another soft kiss to his forehead, lips dragging lightly against his skin.]
I'll be here in the morning. I promise.
[only when he's confident steve won't wake does he gently tug his hand away, pressing his palm briefly against the back of his hand as if to physically repeat what he's uttered. he wants to make good on his original mission - cleaning up the kitchen, doing the small bit of dishes that have piled up and been left sitting. wiping down the sinks and the mirror in the bathroom, then rummaging in both their drawers for some more aspirin which he triumphantly finds and sets down on steve's side of the sink. it easily be replaced before his roommate gets back, but for now desperate times. only when he's satisfied with the slightly more organized state of things does he quietly tiptoe back towards the bedroom and tug over a chair. his back won't thank him for it in the morning, but he'll be the first thing steve sees, and that far outweighs any discomfort.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
I like it here. Better than quietly trying to sneak a glance across the way at study sessions, anyhow. But before we can make the most of it...we need to get you well.
[before they can even so much as think about heated kisses that won't be interrupted by second-guesses or frustrated outbursts. the thought makes him giddy, bolstered even higher by the warm fingers that twine with his own and the consideration in steve's gaze from head to toe like he's actually picturing zemo in a full nurse's attire. maybe someday. and with that internal admission comes the realization that yes - this feels different than anything else he's ever embarked on. not that he has much to compare it to, but even the closest thing he had to adoring another person in boarding school seems so small and far away in comparison. there's a heaviness to this, a devotion that he feels all the way down to his bones that warms him to his core thinking about them. steven rogers and helmut zemo. together, a packaged deal.
nevermind the reality of it waiting outside these dorm room walls. for now...he can feel like he's floating as he can't stop the stupid smile pulling at his mouth or the way his fingers flex fondly around steve's.]
It's okay - you need the rest.
[he dips down again, lips pressing softly against steve's temple for a gentle kiss. but mostly it's so he can whisper what follows in a soft drag against his skin.]
Was wird da künftig erst sein? Schlafe, mein Prinzchen, schlaf ein.
[but what will the future bring? sleep, my little prince, sleep. a german lullaby he remembers from his youth, back when he was struggling to juggle french and german alongside refining his sokovian. english was always the hardest - so different from the similarity of the others. maybe someday he can tell steve how he really feels in every language he knows.]
no subject
He hasn't ever considered being drawn to someone like he is this boy, with his sharp remarks and upturned nose, and yet he finds himself remembering coy little smiles, their intellectual arguments, the way beauty marks and freckles speckle his skin. Never has he felt the urge to memorize someone, to take quiet ownership of everything about someone and cherish it, whole and deep.
He's had girlfriends and a rogue boyfriend, but this feels different. ]
I think we can still sneak glances all we want, right?
[ He makes a point to sleepily open his eyes, half-lidded, and tug their joined hands to rest against his chest instead of in the bed beside them. He settles, finally, sliding down onto his back proper, his blond hair a mess of wild fringe in his face, around the pillow, cow-licked and sleep worn. If Zemo can look at him like that, while he's like this? Something stirs, warm and fond in his chest.
Eyes flicker closed again when he feels the pull of lips and whispers against his temple. He recognizes some of the words, enough to string together the phrases after a few years of studying languages, and a smile pulls at his lips, slow and lazy. He pulls Zemo's hands up, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles with a tired sigh. ]
That make you my princess then? [ He looks up at him, cheeky and tired, but there's not much fight in his voice. Instead, he turns onto his side in the bed, keeping his fingers linked with Zemo's, resting just near the edge of the mattress. ]
Thank you.
[ His lips move like he might say something else, like there's more he wants to say, but the fatigue wins and finally, Steve slips into light sleep, fingers slackening around Zemo's as he settles, dreamless and still. ]
no subject
[he looks miles better already, and zemo would like to think it's a combination of the cooking and his presence. eventually he'll gladly help change the sheets and make it even more refreshing, but for now he can quietly tidy up elsewhere while steve hopefully rests a little easier. his first consideration had been to simply sit with him until he drifted away into a more comfortable version of sleep - keep cooling skin, hold his hand, brush the errant and damp strands of hair from his forehead. and once he was fully asleep - steal a few moments to admire the gentle flutter of long lashes against his skin and start committing the light dusting of beauty marks across his cheek and bare arms to memory. and after he'd had his fill, steal away in the cover of the night when no one else was watching and sleep in his own bed. but seeing just how vulnerable steve actually is now - he can't imagine setting foot out of this room until sunlight is streaming in and making gold out of steve's hair.
he watches with a soft smile as steve gently tugs his hand up, brushing even softer lips across the backs of his fingers before seeming to deflate again from the energy that alone takes. he twists his hand - not to pull it away but to lightly cup at the warm cheek and let his thumb stroke across stubble that he's been too weak to get rid of. the slight flush that creeps into his cheeks is unavoidable when steve makes the comparison, and he dips his head briefly in a somewhat sheepish acknowledgment.]
That's exactly what it means. But even princes need their beauty sleep.
[he pauses, glancing back up and watching steve shift one last time before really starting to let himself be pulled into that enthralling lull. only when his breathing evens out does he lean forward and press another soft kiss to his forehead, lips dragging lightly against his skin.]
I'll be here in the morning. I promise.
[only when he's confident steve won't wake does he gently tug his hand away, pressing his palm briefly against the back of his hand as if to physically repeat what he's uttered. he wants to make good on his original mission - cleaning up the kitchen, doing the small bit of dishes that have piled up and been left sitting. wiping down the sinks and the mirror in the bathroom, then rummaging in both their drawers for some more aspirin which he triumphantly finds and sets down on steve's side of the sink. it easily be replaced before his roommate gets back, but for now desperate times. only when he's satisfied with the slightly more organized state of things does he quietly tiptoe back towards the bedroom and tug over a chair. his back won't thank him for it in the morning, but he'll be the first thing steve sees, and that far outweighs any discomfort.]