[steve vanishes again, and he can't help but think that surely he has better things to do this evening than sit around texting him. what he doesn't expect is just how disappointed he is by the notion - the reminder that no matter how real this feels, no matter how often he can get lost in those moments - it simply isn't.
so he does the responsible thing and pockets his phone. returns his focus to his company, which admittedly is not quite as exciting as the hope that he'll feel that telltale little string of vibrating pings to indicate steve is back (maybe pointing out his bendiness overdid it?)
he's sipping up the last of his drink and already planning on ordering another when he feels the sudden shift in the air behind him and assuming it's their waiter. or pietro getting ready to tug him into the club to get their evening really kicked off. but then there is a soft kiss to his cheek with the slightest brush of stubble while pietro is still firmly seated across from him and zemo is whirling around, face going through all the stages: indignation at a stranger being so forward with him, confusion as his brain catches up with his eyes, shock that yes, steve is in fact standing here beside him, and then utter delight at such a pleasant surprise being a reality.
he supposes it all helps with convincing anyone looking just how authentic this is. he presses a hand to steve's very firm shoulder, using it as leverage to lean up and murmur into his ear. it's low, nearly a purr at how pleased he is at the entire situation.]
And you came all this way for me to prove it, did you? I have to say...I'm thrilled you dropped by. But I feel I must warn you - I hope you're prepared for the Sokovian Inquisition.
[ Steve bends further over into Zemo's space, if only to meet him in the middle as he leans in. Without thinking, he lets one broad palm fall to the center of his back, sliding to his side as Zemo moves into his space. Steve smirks. ]
Maybe I was already out and about. [ Even though he sent him a shower selfie half an hour earlier, but who's going to tattle? He turns his head in such away that he noses Zemo's ear, intimate without being over the top, but just enough that the Sokovian Inquisition across the table whines something about PDA this and PDA that. ]
But I think I can handle the hot seat for a while.
[ Speaking of hot seat, he rounds to stand beside Zemo, hand still idle on the small of his back, and nearly poises to shake Pietro's hand when the fair haired Sokovian speaks up. ]
Nohy, you did not tell me he was this pretty in person, but we do not need to see you so happy and kissing and touching all day long, no? We are eating, it is gross. I would like to keep my fancy dinner thank you very much.
[ Pietro levels his grey eyes on Steve this time, expression pinched and scrutinizing. ] Pietro, and you must be this infamous Steven. All of Sokovia would be so very jealous of me now. It is like meeting a celebrity.
[ He snorts, sarcasm dripping from his words. Steve smiles through it all, even nudges Zemo's hip with his own to share a sliver of the high-top chair. Enough that he can tuck his arm around him, drag them flush together in the dim of the restaurant. ]
All of Sokovia, huh? That's a lot to live up to. Pretty sure I've already met the ones that matter, anyway. [ Pietro makes a wounded face, looking comically flattered before he rolls his eyes and fixes them on Zemo, full of mischief. ]
[somehow he doubts that, even as steve tries to make it sound convincing. that shower photo seemed...fresh, to say the least, but maybe that's part of the facade too. except that facade is certainly starting to blur - and if he weren't so dazed at his "boyfriend's" appearance right now maybe he'd linger on the questions in the back of his mind. should he pay steve for this time? is he here waiting for another date? or did he expressly come here off the clock to spend time with him because...
the hand at his back feels possessive, even moreso as it shifts downward to the little divot and he can feel the warm flex of fingers against it. it makes him want to shiver, to pull back and kiss his handsome, surprisingly stubbled face stupid like he would if steve was really his in this moment. it's maddeningly distracting, enough that zemo's gaze drops to his lips in a way he supposes he could explain away as fascination at his new look. before he can think better of it, he leans in to steal a kiss pressed lightly to the corner of his mouth - something the rest of the table won't be able to see from their angle and will assume it's something a little more heated. like the gala which he'd successfully managed to tamp down on replaying in his head until right about now.
there's something both apologetic and seeking approval in his gaze when he pulls back, hearing the whine in pietro's voice before registering the words and sighing heavily even as he shifts off the seat and gestures for their waiter to bring another. he rolls his eyes lightly, sokovian slurring a little bit from the wine and pleasant feeling steve has enhanced bubbling up in his stomach.]
Be nice, Pietro - this is as much a surprise for me as it is for you. And I did tell you he was this pretty, now you see? Unbelievable, right?
[he listens to them exchange pleasantries, pietro putting up a stubborn front as steve graciously manages to diffuse it with flattery. zemo thanks the waiter for the extra seat, nudging it next to steve's and angling it so their legs brush when he crosses one over the other.]
All you are missing is little Wanda - Pietro's sister. Steve you must tell me, what kinds of pretty friends do you have? If we find one for bleskový he won't be so hard on us.
[ Even Steve questions why he came out here, and why he's allowing himself to take up some of Zemo's space. He should have left the text messages at just that - texts. But the loneliness of his apartment and the appeal of seeing Helmut Zemo unwind in a club setting had been too much of an motivator. He's attracted to him, whether Zemo knows that or not, so it isn't all for naught, either. Sure, Steve knows that this is all some fanciful act, but for once he finds himself wanting to enjoy the night instead of worrying about money or anything else.
The soft press of lips to the corner of his mouth takes him by surprise, but it makes his smile grow wider, makes him duck his head just so in a near sheepish sort of way. It almost feels real, all of this. He tilts his head, listening to Pietro and Zemo both speak in Sokovian to one another, and the possessive hand on the slender man's hip flexes again as their legs brush, but Steve gives him a gentle tug closer, making sure his "boyfriend" is nestled snugly against his side. ]
I have a few friends that might fit the bill, but I don't know if they're on the market. [ He teases, looking over at Pietro apologetically. Pietro only huffs, folds his arms over his chest, and glares at Zemo. When he speaks, it's in Sokovian yet again: ]
And you told me he would have pretty friends. It is the only reason I was going to hold back all of my jealousy no? I will be left cold and alone while you and your pretty statue there walk into the sunset.
[ Drama, party of one, but there's no heat to Pietro's words, only the impish curl of a smirk on his lips. Steve can gather there's a back and forth happening, but he doesn't let on that he understands any of it. Instead, he dips his head to press a kiss against Zemo's neck, just above his collar. A quiet, but very obvious, nag for his attention. ]
But I'll see what I can do for... what did you call him? [ He laughs a little, glancing apologetically over at Pietro. ] You all could be saying anything about me right now and I wouldn't have any clue. I won't bother you two for long, but I wanted to come say hello when you said you were out. [ The very same waiter who brought the extra chair comes by again with a new glass of wine for Zemo, one for Steve, and a matching drink for Pietro. ]
I hope you're not tired of wine. I took a guess. [ The hand on the back of Zemo's hip curls around, resting warmly against his side. ]
[truthfully? the first half of pietro's sentence goes in one ear and out the other. he knows his dear friend is whining something about a pretty person of his own that steve was supposed to help facilitate, but he's too taken yet again by the simple fact that steve is here. steve is here of his own volition. or at least, zemo thinks he is - right? certainly there was flirtation, but he hadn't outright asked him to come here to lavo. inviting him to a lunch date had started as a tease, but the more it went on the more it was cemented as an actual thing that was going to take place. no pretense of needing to impress an ambassador or field off nosy neighbors, not even the excuse of showing up his ex he'd buried deep at the gala. it was unarguably the most selfish of his meeting requests to date because it was simply a need for steve's time and company. ironically the one thing he told himself he'd never need to pay for - a friend.
"friend" doesn't exactly encompass the chemistry he feels practically tangible in the small space between them now, not when there's a possessive hand on his hip and steve pulls him close enough to smell the cologne that's practically intrinsically ingrained into his olfactory memory from the kiss. he inhales lightly, eyes closing for a very brief moment to imagine they're back at the gilded halls of the sokovian embassy and the night is on its way to a very different end, the kind that would justify him coming here and making a splash among his friends. he looks utterly unapologetic for the dazed moment as he smirks lightly at pietro across the way.]
Hush, I said I did not know for certain if he had pretty friends. Besides - the night is so young and we haven't even started the dancing yet. Now don't be so rude, I haven't taught him Sokovian yet. Here, I'll start with something good.
[there's no bite to that from zemo, either, just the good-natured volley of someone with many years of experience. he's about to turn to steve anyway to explain (he knows how rude it is to prattle on and leave a flicker of doubt what's being said when you might be the subject) when soft lips press insistently at his neck. he can't suppress the shudder that ripples down his spine, the instinctive need to lean into it and tip his head just so in a way that allows steve better access over his finely woven clothes. it's only after he catches himself that he lets a little flicker of disbelief be visible in the wideness of his eyes. just for a moment before he's splaying long fingers across the back of steve's neck to lean in and answer his question.
and if his lips brush the shell of his ear while doing so - it's just a hazard of such close quarters.]
Bleskový - in English it means quicksilver. [here he turns to let pietro know they are in fact talking about him in return now, a sing-songing lilt indicative of years of familiar jabs.] Because he is so fast with his tongue, and even faster in how he works his way through his lovers.
[he turns back again, reluctantly letting his hand loosen and trying to hide disappointment at the idea of steve leaving so soon. there's a quick "thank you" murmured to the waiter and then steve, and before he can think better of it:]
You could stay awhile. We're only saying how handsome you are and I promise we do not bite. Besides - I should be buying you a drink. After we finish this one, of course.
[ Steve knows he should leave. That coming here is as big a mistake as any he's made in the duration of his career, but something about Zemo pulls him in, draws him close as a magnet might. There's no denying the crackle of heat between them, the lure of fingers and lips on skin. He doesn't feel this with his clients, not like this, and when he's sure Zemo had all but leaned into the little kiss on his neck, Steve's vision flickers white-hot at the edges. ]
Mm, Bleskový - did I say that right? [ The lips against the shell of his ear make his skin prickle, and he glances toward Pietro when Zemo looks away. It gives him a chance to press his lips to the man's temple affectionately, the hand on his hip creeping up just enough to settle warmly against his waist. ]
There isn't any shame in being picky and trying new things. [ Pietro huffs, even looks a little vindicated as he points at Zemo when he speaks next: ]
Don't you see? At least he understands me. You don't deserve such a pretty, smart thing. Why don't you let me introduce him to the dance floor, no? I will be good, I promise. [ He waggles his eyebrows, then follows it close with a pout, because he knows the answer.
Steve instead laughs, a little surprised, and he takes his own drink and sips from it, watching the pair exchange taunts and barbs all the while he gently strokes the man's side, possessive and affectionate all at once. ] You don't have to buy me anything, I interrupted your night, doll. Were you thinking of dancing? I don't want to cut in...
[ Pietro sighs like a woman who has lost her first born and sags in his seat, but not before drinking deeply from his new glass. ]
Ah, Nohy, go on then. Leave me to my lonesome. I will cry and cry and cry...
![[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
so he does the responsible thing and pockets his phone. returns his focus to his company, which admittedly is not quite as exciting as the hope that he'll feel that telltale little string of vibrating pings to indicate steve is back (maybe pointing out his bendiness overdid it?)
he's sipping up the last of his drink and already planning on ordering another when he feels the sudden shift in the air behind him and assuming it's their waiter. or pietro getting ready to tug him into the club to get their evening really kicked off. but then there is a soft kiss to his cheek with the slightest brush of stubble while pietro is still firmly seated across from him and zemo is whirling around, face going through all the stages: indignation at a stranger being so forward with him, confusion as his brain catches up with his eyes, shock that yes, steve is in fact standing here beside him, and then utter delight at such a pleasant surprise being a reality.
he supposes it all helps with convincing anyone looking just how authentic this is. he presses a hand to steve's very firm shoulder, using it as leverage to lean up and murmur into his ear. it's low, nearly a purr at how pleased he is at the entire situation.]
And you came all this way for me to prove it, did you? I have to say...I'm thrilled you dropped by. But I feel I must warn you - I hope you're prepared for the Sokovian Inquisition.
no subject
Maybe I was already out and about. [ Even though he sent him a shower selfie half an hour earlier, but who's going to tattle? He turns his head in such away that he noses Zemo's ear, intimate without being over the top, but just enough that the Sokovian Inquisition across the table whines something about PDA this and PDA that. ]
But I think I can handle the hot seat for a while.
[ Speaking of hot seat, he rounds to stand beside Zemo, hand still idle on the small of his back, and nearly poises to shake Pietro's hand when the fair haired Sokovian speaks up. ]
Nohy, you did not tell me he was this pretty in person, but we do not need to see you so happy and kissing and touching all day long, no? We are eating, it is gross. I would like to keep my fancy dinner thank you very much.
[ Pietro levels his grey eyes on Steve this time, expression pinched and scrutinizing. ] Pietro, and you must be this infamous Steven. All of Sokovia would be so very jealous of me now. It is like meeting a celebrity.
[ He snorts, sarcasm dripping from his words. Steve smiles through it all, even nudges Zemo's hip with his own to share a sliver of the high-top chair. Enough that he can tuck his arm around him, drag them flush together in the dim of the restaurant. ]
All of Sokovia, huh? That's a lot to live up to. Pretty sure I've already met the ones that matter, anyway. [ Pietro makes a wounded face, looking comically flattered before he rolls his eyes and fixes them on Zemo, full of mischief. ]
no subject
the hand at his back feels possessive, even moreso as it shifts downward to the little divot and he can feel the warm flex of fingers against it. it makes him want to shiver, to pull back and kiss his handsome, surprisingly stubbled face stupid like he would if steve was really his in this moment. it's maddeningly distracting, enough that zemo's gaze drops to his lips in a way he supposes he could explain away as fascination at his new look. before he can think better of it, he leans in to steal a kiss pressed lightly to the corner of his mouth - something the rest of the table won't be able to see from their angle and will assume it's something a little more heated. like the gala which he'd successfully managed to tamp down on replaying in his head until right about now.
there's something both apologetic and seeking approval in his gaze when he pulls back, hearing the whine in pietro's voice before registering the words and sighing heavily even as he shifts off the seat and gestures for their waiter to bring another. he rolls his eyes lightly, sokovian slurring a little bit from the wine and pleasant feeling steve has enhanced bubbling up in his stomach.]
Be nice, Pietro - this is as much a surprise for me as it is for you. And I did tell you he was this pretty, now you see? Unbelievable, right?
[he listens to them exchange pleasantries, pietro putting up a stubborn front as steve graciously manages to diffuse it with flattery. zemo thanks the waiter for the extra seat, nudging it next to steve's and angling it so their legs brush when he crosses one over the other.]
All you are missing is little Wanda - Pietro's sister. Steve you must tell me, what kinds of pretty friends do you have? If we find one for bleskový he won't be so hard on us.
no subject
The soft press of lips to the corner of his mouth takes him by surprise, but it makes his smile grow wider, makes him duck his head just so in a near sheepish sort of way. It almost feels real, all of this. He tilts his head, listening to Pietro and Zemo both speak in Sokovian to one another, and the possessive hand on the slender man's hip flexes again as their legs brush, but Steve gives him a gentle tug closer, making sure his "boyfriend" is nestled snugly against his side. ]
I have a few friends that might fit the bill, but I don't know if they're on the market. [ He teases, looking over at Pietro apologetically. Pietro only huffs, folds his arms over his chest, and glares at Zemo. When he speaks, it's in Sokovian yet again: ]
And you told me he would have pretty friends. It is the only reason I was going to hold back all of my jealousy no? I will be left cold and alone while you and your pretty statue there walk into the sunset.
[ Drama, party of one, but there's no heat to Pietro's words, only the impish curl of a smirk on his lips. Steve can gather there's a back and forth happening, but he doesn't let on that he understands any of it. Instead, he dips his head to press a kiss against Zemo's neck, just above his collar. A quiet, but very obvious, nag for his attention. ]
But I'll see what I can do for... what did you call him? [ He laughs a little, glancing apologetically over at Pietro. ] You all could be saying anything about me right now and I wouldn't have any clue. I won't bother you two for long, but I wanted to come say hello when you said you were out. [ The very same waiter who brought the extra chair comes by again with a new glass of wine for Zemo, one for Steve, and a matching drink for Pietro. ]
I hope you're not tired of wine. I took a guess. [ The hand on the back of Zemo's hip curls around, resting warmly against his side. ]
no subject
"friend" doesn't exactly encompass the chemistry he feels practically tangible in the small space between them now, not when there's a possessive hand on his hip and steve pulls him close enough to smell the cologne that's practically intrinsically ingrained into his olfactory memory from the kiss. he inhales lightly, eyes closing for a very brief moment to imagine they're back at the gilded halls of the sokovian embassy and the night is on its way to a very different end, the kind that would justify him coming here and making a splash among his friends. he looks utterly unapologetic for the dazed moment as he smirks lightly at pietro across the way.]
Hush, I said I did not know for certain if he had pretty friends. Besides - the night is so young and we haven't even started the dancing yet. Now don't be so rude, I haven't taught him Sokovian yet. Here, I'll start with something good.
[there's no bite to that from zemo, either, just the good-natured volley of someone with many years of experience. he's about to turn to steve anyway to explain (he knows how rude it is to prattle on and leave a flicker of doubt what's being said when you might be the subject) when soft lips press insistently at his neck. he can't suppress the shudder that ripples down his spine, the instinctive need to lean into it and tip his head just so in a way that allows steve better access over his finely woven clothes. it's only after he catches himself that he lets a little flicker of disbelief be visible in the wideness of his eyes. just for a moment before he's splaying long fingers across the back of steve's neck to lean in and answer his question.
and if his lips brush the shell of his ear while doing so - it's just a hazard of such close quarters.]
Bleskový - in English it means quicksilver. [here he turns to let pietro know they are in fact talking about him in return now, a sing-songing lilt indicative of years of familiar jabs.] Because he is so fast with his tongue, and even faster in how he works his way through his lovers.
[he turns back again, reluctantly letting his hand loosen and trying to hide disappointment at the idea of steve leaving so soon. there's a quick "thank you" murmured to the waiter and then steve, and before he can think better of it:]
You could stay awhile. We're only saying how handsome you are and I promise we do not bite. Besides - I should be buying you a drink. After we finish this one, of course.
no subject
Mm, Bleskový - did I say that right? [ The lips against the shell of his ear make his skin prickle, and he glances toward Pietro when Zemo looks away. It gives him a chance to press his lips to the man's temple affectionately, the hand on his hip creeping up just enough to settle warmly against his waist. ]
There isn't any shame in being picky and trying new things. [ Pietro huffs, even looks a little vindicated as he points at Zemo when he speaks next: ]
Don't you see? At least he understands me. You don't deserve such a pretty, smart thing. Why don't you let me introduce him to the dance floor, no? I will be good, I promise. [ He waggles his eyebrows, then follows it close with a pout, because he knows the answer.
Steve instead laughs, a little surprised, and he takes his own drink and sips from it, watching the pair exchange taunts and barbs all the while he gently strokes the man's side, possessive and affectionate all at once. ] You don't have to buy me anything, I interrupted your night, doll. Were you thinking of dancing? I don't want to cut in...
[ Pietro sighs like a woman who has lost her first born and sags in his seat, but not before drinking deeply from his new glass. ]
Ah, Nohy, go on then. Leave me to my lonesome. I will cry and cry and cry...