[there was something equal measures thrilling and disappointing about watching steve go that night at lavo. any intentions to keep this strictly professional seemed to be blurring quickly into a dangerously gray spiral of what ifs. he'd laid awake that night, wired up with each and every insidious little thought sucking him like quicksand - further and further into fabricated fantasy. what if steve really did come because he wanted to? what if zemo was growing on him past professional boundaries? what if steve had gone home with him? what if steve felt that same inexplicably magnetic pull of seemingly genuine chemistry between them both?
all summarily shut down with a quick: what if he's just doing his job?
texts like this keep kindling that little spark he can't seem to fully stamp out, putting him squarely back at the long list of scenarios he's cultivated.]
What makes you think I don't? Though, I'll warn you they aren't exactly the kinds of establishments you'll find on any kind of search engine.
[this is where he'd offer one of his catlike smirks. speaking of cats:]
Always. I tell him he is like a cat on his permanent ninth life - a very select and cherished few can keep up with that.
no subject
all summarily shut down with a quick: what if he's just doing his job?
texts like this keep kindling that little spark he can't seem to fully stamp out, putting him squarely back at the long list of scenarios he's cultivated.]
What makes you think I don't? Though, I'll warn you they aren't exactly the kinds of establishments you'll find on any kind of search engine.
[this is where he'd offer one of his catlike smirks. speaking of cats:]
Always. I tell him he is like a cat on his permanent ninth life - a very select and cherished few can keep up with that.