[zemo leans in again, eyes brightening at the mention of dancing. he's been classically trained in his youth - a near requirement for the sokovian equivalent of debutants, but he likes to think he can "cut a rug", as they say, even if he knows his parents and friends have begged him to stop occasionally after one too many martinis. that doesn't even begin to encompass the number of anonymous men and women he's danced dirty enough with in nightclubs strewn across europe and america. it makes the corner of his mouth turn up mischievously, eyes glittering with a fondness as he tries to picture steve fitting in alongside him. somehow it's as easy imagining the man in a tuxedo, stiffly elegant and gliding across marble floors of a ballroom as it is in low slung jeans and a clinging shirt not unlike what he's wearing now in the dark, neon-backlit heat of a nightlcub.]
Well, there is a traditional Sokovian waltz. The steps are quite simple - and you seem like the type to catch on quick. A foxtrot, however - I doubt anyone under fifty even remembers what that is.
[he makes a comical once over, frowning before making a light tease.]
You know, they say men lie about their ages all the time, almost nearly as much as their height. If you are...you look exceptionally good for your age.
[there's another waggle of his brows as he watches the picturesque stripe of sun splash across steve's cheekbones. it looks ridiculously picturesque, the kind of bone structure michelangelo would weep to sculpt. there are a million questions he wants to ask - how is someone like you single? how long have you been in the business? have you ever thought of getting out of it? or even just an observation, don't be so humble - anyone would be lucky to have the likes of you rich or poor. the fact that steve thinks money would somehow impact his ability to find a lover in another tax bracket is laughable when half the coffee shop including the ceo would probably give it all up to have one date with him.
he's nearly so distracted trying to politely formulate this that his breath catches when steve reaches for his hand, and maybe it makes him feel a little pathetic and touch-starved for something so softly intimate - a far cry from the string of hookups he's had since breaking up with john. there's a bloom of colour on the high points of his cheekbones as steve weaves in the start of the (faux) fairytale, even going the extra mile to do the kiss to the back of his fingers properly by leaning down instead of lifting it to his lips. his skin tingles where they brush, and his fingers squeeze down instinctively around steve's own.
am i allowed to keep you?]
I am hard-pressed to think there is anyone with eyes who wouldn't fall in love with a man like you.
[zemo's lips pull into a much softer smile, something vulnerable in the way he openly chooses to show his endearment in that moment.]
Consider me utterly charmed. I left my wallet at home, miserable and hungover on a Sunday morning while trying to buy my earl grey and a croissant. Thank god for the drop-dead gorgeous knight in shining armor who stepped in to pay.
[he's getting into it now, clearly entertained.]
I'm particularly susceptible to a tall head of blonde hair and blue eyes, you see. I insisted on repaying the kind favour for lunch...and here we are.
no subject
Well, there is a traditional Sokovian waltz. The steps are quite simple - and you seem like the type to catch on quick. A foxtrot, however - I doubt anyone under fifty even remembers what that is.
[he makes a comical once over, frowning before making a light tease.]
You know, they say men lie about their ages all the time, almost nearly as much as their height. If you are...you look exceptionally good for your age.
[there's another waggle of his brows as he watches the picturesque stripe of sun splash across steve's cheekbones. it looks ridiculously picturesque, the kind of bone structure michelangelo would weep to sculpt. there are a million questions he wants to ask - how is someone like you single? how long have you been in the business? have you ever thought of getting out of it? or even just an observation, don't be so humble - anyone would be lucky to have the likes of you rich or poor. the fact that steve thinks money would somehow impact his ability to find a lover in another tax bracket is laughable when half the coffee shop including the ceo would probably give it all up to have one date with him.
he's nearly so distracted trying to politely formulate this that his breath catches when steve reaches for his hand, and maybe it makes him feel a little pathetic and touch-starved for something so softly intimate - a far cry from the string of hookups he's had since breaking up with john. there's a bloom of colour on the high points of his cheekbones as steve weaves in the start of the (faux) fairytale, even going the extra mile to do the kiss to the back of his fingers properly by leaning down instead of lifting it to his lips. his skin tingles where they brush, and his fingers squeeze down instinctively around steve's own.
am i allowed to keep you?]
I am hard-pressed to think there is anyone with eyes who wouldn't fall in love with a man like you.
[zemo's lips pull into a much softer smile, something vulnerable in the way he openly chooses to show his endearment in that moment.]
Consider me utterly charmed. I left my wallet at home, miserable and hungover on a Sunday morning while trying to buy my earl grey and a croissant. Thank god for the drop-dead gorgeous knight in shining armor who stepped in to pay.
[he's getting into it now, clearly entertained.]
I'm particularly susceptible to a tall head of blonde hair and blue eyes, you see. I insisted on repaying the kind favour for lunch...and here we are.