[there he goes, deflecting the answer, which leads him to believe it's probably more than he'd like to admit. what does steve rogers' rejection pile look like, zemo wonders? he had hinted at a slew of ridiculous messages, and somehow allowed zemo's innocuous one to filter through and bring them into this moment together. it's hard not to take it at least a little personally and allow himself to be flattered. he won't be so idiotic as to think he's steve's "type" or that the other man had any idea what the looked like or who he was before setting foot here today, but if nothing else at least there was something in the glimmer of his personality that shined through enough to be accepted. and he hasn't headed for the hills yet - delaying ordering solely by virtue of how engrossed he genuinely seems to be in this flirty banter they've established with one another.
so maybe zemo is one of many. being on the exclusive, perfectly curated guest lists for the likes of grand openings and nightclubs full of steve rogers-caliber actors and models and everything in between lost its novelty long ago, but somehow this makes him feel just a little selfishly giddy. i made it, look at me.
he's even gotten a second date tenuously confirmed. not a date - what should he think about these as? appointment, maybe. that's better. only it feels much like the former when steve reaches out for his hand again, smoothing his fingers along the back of them and resting one big palm as if to rid him of the idle motion covering much deeper nerves. it's as warm as before - maybe warmer, even - soft and enough to make his heart skip a beat when it gets raised to lips that are softer still. this time he can't quite suppress the rush of warmth to his cheeks, the way his lips part ever so slightly as he glances downward at the frankly romantic gesture before back up at steve through his lashes, a little stunned for the briefest moment before he composes himself.
he'll get better at that as time goes on, surely. or maybe it's just part of the game - he isn't sure yet.]
Likewise. But...between you and me, sometimes I overindulge.
[he decides two can play at that game after all, winking one eye shut even as the other follows a little more slowly after it and ruins it ever so slightly. maybe he'll at least get a laugh out of steve so it doesn't sound like an overt come on. but he'll take on good-naturedly after:]
Which is why I wouldn't mind getting lost with you at the tailor's later this week. I'll make sure to scrape together a few pennies - the French toast will only put me on the brink of it. [his tone is dry, clearly a little bit self-deprecation. but there's a little secret steve hasn't been let in on, which is his background and no small fortune behind his name - and that's something much too gauche and personal to share. he flags down their waiter with a pleasant smile, making easy small talk before tipping his head and thanking him for his patience. he ends up ordering a pain au chocolate and a black tea with milk for himself after steve. once he's gone, zemo leans back in his seat again, surprisingly relaxed for the moment.]
So, what else should we have prepared for this little charade? I'll warn you, Sokovians can be quite prying. Especially when an eligible bachelor in his early 30s is perilously single.
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so maybe zemo is one of many. being on the exclusive, perfectly curated guest lists for the likes of grand openings and nightclubs full of steve rogers-caliber actors and models and everything in between lost its novelty long ago, but somehow this makes him feel just a little selfishly giddy. i made it, look at me.
he's even gotten a second date tenuously confirmed. not a date - what should he think about these as? appointment, maybe. that's better. only it feels much like the former when steve reaches out for his hand again, smoothing his fingers along the back of them and resting one big palm as if to rid him of the idle motion covering much deeper nerves. it's as warm as before - maybe warmer, even - soft and enough to make his heart skip a beat when it gets raised to lips that are softer still. this time he can't quite suppress the rush of warmth to his cheeks, the way his lips part ever so slightly as he glances downward at the frankly romantic gesture before back up at steve through his lashes, a little stunned for the briefest moment before he composes himself.
he'll get better at that as time goes on, surely. or maybe it's just part of the game - he isn't sure yet.]
Likewise. But...between you and me, sometimes I overindulge.
[he decides two can play at that game after all, winking one eye shut even as the other follows a little more slowly after it and ruins it ever so slightly. maybe he'll at least get a laugh out of steve so it doesn't sound like an overt come on. but he'll take on good-naturedly after:]
Which is why I wouldn't mind getting lost with you at the tailor's later this week. I'll make sure to scrape together a few pennies - the French toast will only put me on the brink of it. [his tone is dry, clearly a little bit self-deprecation. but there's a little secret steve hasn't been let in on, which is his background and no small fortune behind his name - and that's something much too gauche and personal to share. he flags down their waiter with a pleasant smile, making easy small talk before tipping his head and thanking him for his patience. he ends up ordering a pain au chocolate and a black tea with milk for himself after steve. once he's gone, zemo leans back in his seat again, surprisingly relaxed for the moment.]
So, what else should we have prepared for this little charade? I'll warn you, Sokovians can be quite prying. Especially when an eligible bachelor in his early 30s is perilously single.