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James came to a halt in front of the tall fancy building, facade completely made of glass. He looked back down at the business card Mel had given him. This was the address alright. With a sigh, he pulled off his sunglasses and stepped inside.
***
“I know what you’re doing,” Mel told him the evening before. They were on the balcony, further removed from the rest of the gala and the chitchat. It was nice up here. “You’re trying to get me on your side.”
James smiled at her. He supposed he wasn’t as smooth as others, nor as eloquent. His short-lived political experience had shown him that. With a sigh, he held out his business card.
Mel frowned at the paper. “What is that, your trash?”
James frowned at his card. Was it really that bad? He’d spent hours putting something together on Canva. He thought it looked great. “It’s my business card. If you ever feel like calling.”
At least he could speak more languages than all the people at the gala combined, not to mention had the martial arts skills to rival every single one of the attendees too. But whatever.
Mel gave him a look before taking his card. She was about to turn away when she hesitated. She glanced around and leaned a bit closer. “Listen. Come to my office tomorrow. Then we can talk.”
She drew out her own card from the cover of her tablet. The texture of the paper felt luxurious, the font stylish, the words printed in glistening gold. Show off. “We could talk then.”
James took a deep breath. “Sounds like a plan.”
***
The building wasn’t too far from the former Avengers tower but James ignored that fact. As soon as he was in the elevator, he punched the floor number a couple of times until the doors shut, not daring to look at himself in the mirror. He'd never gotten used to seeing himself like this, in a suit, all professional. He pulled at his collar. He felt more comfortable in fighting gear. It was about time he dumped this congressman act. Had it gotten him information? Yes. Had it been worth all the bureaucracy? Questionable.
The thought alone of throwing a few punches had his blood pumping.
He wasn’t fighting yet, though. He was just here to talk to Mel. Talk. Professional. Civil.
The elevator came to a halt. The doors opened.
James froze.
Beyond the door was an office, and a desk. And a man, wearing glasses, sitting at said desk, scribbling away, deep in focus with his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.
Bucky’s heart stopped at the sight of him, his body only remembering to move when the elevator doors threatened to close in on him. He held his breath as he crossed the threshold, staring at the freckled man, at those glasses that transported him back years. To being confined in that glass prison. He couldn’t breathe now either.
When the man finally glanced up, he too immediately froze in place, eyes big for a split second before he forced himself to seem composed. The usual.
“Good morning,” he croaked. Didn’t manage to hide the horror in his voice though.
Before James could even begin to think of something to say in return, Mel appeared from a door on the left in her high heels, beaming at him. “Ah, James, I see you’ve met Mr. Broussard, my assistant. Well, officially he’s Valentina De Fontaine’s assistant assistant. That’s, um… his official title.”
James was still staring at him. “Is that so?”
“A pleasure,” the man nodded as he stood, finger tapping the desk slightly. He was breathing through his mouth, bringing James right back to Latvia, after he had thrown that cup. Those brown eyes were darting all over Bucky’s face, analyzing, trying to figure him out.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” James decided to ask cheekily, stepping forward, tilting his head the way Zemo always did.
Instantly, James noticed the way the baron relaxed. Understandable, given that James was playing along. For now.
Bucky could see the relief spread though Zemo's expression. It was the minute exhale, the tension leaving his shoulders. So subtle that no average observer would have noticed it. But James knew him.
His composure regained, Zemo returned his gaze. “If we had met, I think I would have remembered it.”
Surely you would have.
Mel looked between them, clasping her hands together.
“Well, shall we speak in my office?”
James was still staring at Zemo. “Sure.”
Bucky made to follow Mel when Zemo cleared his throat, pulling something from his in-breast pocket. For a second, James thought he was going for a gun. But all Zemo got out was his own damn business card. Oh for fuck’s sake.
He held it out. “If you ever have any enquiries.”
James snatched the card from his hand, fingers brushing for a split second. God he hated the baron so much. “Don't worry. I won’t.”
***
As soon as he got home, James texted the number on the back of the card to meet at his address.
There was a knock on his door not ten minutes later.
Zemo didn’t even have the time to speak before James grabbed him by his collar and yanked him inside, kicking the door closed behind them. He smacked the baron against the wall with enough force to warrant a nice little gasp of surprise.
“Broussard?” James came up real close, pushing him into the wall. “Really? Couldn’t come up with a more original name?”
Zemo met his gaze, recovered from his momentary surprise. “My other alias, ‘James,’ might have been too obvious.”
“You don’t say.” James snarled down at him. “What the fuck are you doing out here?”
“You think I wouldn’t be here? I heard the rumors, about another serum. Valentina recruited me. She knew about our last mission. Wagered I could help.”
“It’s a cover up, she’s probably behind all of this.”
Zemo adjusted himself in James’ grasp, eyes darting to his lips. “I know. That’s why I agreed to help her.”
“A double agent now, huh? And when they find out?”
“I have nothing to lose, James,” Zemo murmured, gazing up at him with those dilated eyes. James couldn’t believe him. He sighed and let him go. Zemo tilted his head. “Isn’t that also why you went into politics? To get inside information?”
James gave him a look.
Zemo smiled in self-satisfaction. “I gathered as much when I heard you were running.”
“You’ve been keeping up, huh?”
“Always, James.” He adjusted his jacket. “I had nothing much else to do in that cell. The one you assured I was put in, if you recall.”
“It was the right thing to do.”
“You tell yourself that.”
“So what, is the parole conditional on you working for Val?”
“For now, yes. I am hoping for some sort of official pardon to be considered once I turn her in.”
“I might beat you to that, you know.” James looked between his eyes, then hesitated. “Listen… why don’t you join me?”
Zemo inhaled sharply, tilting his head again, eyes squinting. “Join you?”
“Team up, like old times? Only this time it won’t be about settling a score, you know. It’ll just be… I don’t know… just working together.”
“You and me?”
James nodded. “Yeah. You and me.”
Zemo scrutinized him like he did in the office, like he did in Berlin, taking note of every micro expression, as if there was some secret anterior motive hidden in James’ words. He stood there for some seconds, thinking, leaving James in suspense. But then he relaxed and gave him a half shrug. “Alright.”
James nodded. “Alright.”
Zemo held out his hand. James glanced down at it, taking a deep breath before clasping it, shaking on it. His chest tightened at the touch, all the more when Zemo's hand held tighter. The baron’s hand was warmer than he’d expected. And Zemo was staring at their shaking hands too.
James wasn’t a hand-shaking expert, but he was sure they were holding on for a tad too long.
When he pulled away, Zemo gazed up at him. “So, I make a plan? You make a plan? What’s the plan?”
“You, you stay where you are. If anything unusual happens, or really... anything, you let me know. I want to know about all of it. Oh, and try to get Mel on our side.”
“She already is.”
“I’m guessing you and your smooth talking did the trick?”
Zemo held up a finger. “On the contrary James. You were the one who convinced her.” He squinted his eyes again. “I've noticed, you often fail to see the effect you have on those around you.”
“Zemo. Have you met me? I'm not a people-person. I can hardly tie a sentence together in an interview.”
The baron smiled. “James. I have seen them, the interviews, the news, the speeches. They were awful, yes. But the real you? The authentic you? That version of you, only few have privy to. That James is…”
James’ eyebrows rose as he waited for the baron to finish his sentence. But it seemed Zemo had lost his train of thoughts, simply staring up at him.
“Yes?”
“That James is mesmerizing. Remarkable. Endearing —” Before he could say another word, James had him right up against the wall once more. The fucking baron’s eyes glanced at his lips again. Then he cleared his throat. “Apologies. I was… After months with nothing but the walls of my cell to keep me company… the sight of a familiar face, you understand…”
James came closer, his breath against Zemo's cheek. “Shut up.”
Zemo's response was less than a whisper. “Fair.”
James breathed against the baron's mouth, staring down at his lips as his pulse thumped in his ears. He leaned in first, because he knew the baron would never make the move. The warmth of the kiss burst something inside of him, heat flowing all the way to his fingertips as he grabbed the back of the baron's head and pulled him closer. Zemo was enraptured as soon as their lips had touched, kissing him back, grasping at his shirt like he was holding on to dear life, before those calloused hands roamed up and into his long hair.
When James finally pulled back for air, Zemo looked drunk, breathing through his mouth, pupils blown.
James smiled at him. “You got those glasses with you?”
Zemo frowned for a split second before he understood the question. “The Broussard glasses, yes. Why?”
“Good.” James smirked. “Because they're gonna stay on.”