[steve might blink and miss it, but there's a flicker of surprise followed by something almost melancholy in a split second across zemo's face. because - how lovely would it be if that was the truth? it's not that implausible at all, save for the fact that steve is a walking adonis and if he weren't in this line of work surely someone would have long since had the sense to scoop him up and put a ring on one perfect finger. maybe it's foolish, but even with all his partying ways, he'd really thought john was going to be the one he'd settle down with and live happily ever after with. his smile fades, and he shakes his head a little incredulously.]
I am either embarrassingly easier to read than I thought or you are simply terrifyingly good at this job. You are...spot on. I could not have concocted it better myself.
[zemo lets his fingers slip around where steve's palm is resting softly against his own, the brush of skin against skin still warm in a way that he knows he'll be thinking about long after he pulls it away and leaves the coffee shop. honestly? he didn't expect it to be this difficult to keep reminding himself this is a business transaction and nothing more. it feels like that story could be real, the beautiful start to a perfect relationship like every fucking american romcom he'd forced john to watch and threatened upon pain of death to never let on to anyone that he'd seem them.
but if there's one thing he's learned: it's that life is never like the movies, no matter how good it may seem. and all too often - when things are too good, they are simply too good. steve is skilled at making this real because it's something he must have done with dozens, maybe hundreds before him. in crude terms: a professional charmer, someone who probably has a lot of experience bullshitting on the fly or in the myriad of coffee shots dotted around new york.]
Consider me impressed. Maybe 90% of the way. [he waves his free hand in a side-to-side motion like he's calling something only so-so.]
The other 10% comes when I see you in a nicely tailored suit and properly gauge what you're made of on the dance floor for real.
[there's a question buried in there: will either of these be a problem to produce? he suspects no.]
A navy ensemble - if you can. It will especially bring out those lovely eyes of yours.
[his gaze flicks up to meet it, speaking of, and for maybe the dozenth time already he finds himself having to tamp down on how warm steve's smile is making him feel, or the swoop in his stomach.
pull yourself together helmut, for god's sake. you haven't even been single that long.]
What else do you need from me? To say yes to this, I mean. [realizing maybe that sounds demanding, he adds:] Of course - this is your chance to run while you can. After all, I can't make any promises about learning a foxtrot in five days.
no subject
I am either embarrassingly easier to read than I thought or you are simply terrifyingly good at this job. You are...spot on. I could not have concocted it better myself.
[zemo lets his fingers slip around where steve's palm is resting softly against his own, the brush of skin against skin still warm in a way that he knows he'll be thinking about long after he pulls it away and leaves the coffee shop. honestly? he didn't expect it to be this difficult to keep reminding himself this is a business transaction and nothing more. it feels like that story could be real, the beautiful start to a perfect relationship like every fucking american romcom he'd forced john to watch and threatened upon pain of death to never let on to anyone that he'd seem them.
but if there's one thing he's learned: it's that life is never like the movies, no matter how good it may seem. and all too often - when things are too good, they are simply too good. steve is skilled at making this real because it's something he must have done with dozens, maybe hundreds before him. in crude terms: a professional charmer, someone who probably has a lot of experience bullshitting on the fly or in the myriad of coffee shots dotted around new york.]
Consider me impressed. Maybe 90% of the way. [he waves his free hand in a side-to-side motion like he's calling something only so-so.]
The other 10% comes when I see you in a nicely tailored suit and properly gauge what you're made of on the dance floor for real.
[there's a question buried in there: will either of these be a problem to produce? he suspects no.]
A navy ensemble - if you can. It will especially bring out those lovely eyes of yours.
[his gaze flicks up to meet it, speaking of, and for maybe the dozenth time already he finds himself having to tamp down on how warm steve's smile is making him feel, or the swoop in his stomach.
pull yourself together helmut, for god's sake. you haven't even been single that long.]
What else do you need from me? To say yes to this, I mean. [realizing maybe that sounds demanding, he adds:] Of course - this is your chance to run while you can. After all, I can't make any promises about learning a foxtrot in five days.