#zemo is soft

Lydia was sitting in bed, wearing an oversized Metallica hoodie with her knees close to her chest. Her dull, red hair was a mix of slightly messy and living hell. She thought about everything she had just witnessed in the past couple of hours with one arm wrapped around her legs and the other holding champagne. Lydia sat in the same position for about an hour or two, either thinking, spacing out or drinking. A sudden knock on her door made her jump in surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” she heard Zemo ask on the other end.

“Um, yeah, sure,” she said quietly.

He opened the door and stepped inside. He raised his eyebrows in slight shock seeing her so distraught.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m over the moon,” she said sarcastically.

“I apologize, I probably should have warned you ahead of time what we were getting into.”

“Yeah, you think? I can’t really blame you though, I should’ve expected all of that. I mean, it’s you, Sam, and Bucky, how could it have been any different? Anyway, it’s more my fault for agreeing to get into all of this shit again.”

“It’s not-”

“No, wait, that’s right! It's not my fault. It’s you three that dragged me back into this shitfest. Why am I blaming myself? I guess I agreed… regardless! Why am I the one to fix your guys’ messes, huh?”

“Ok, that’s enough champagne,” Zemo said as he grabbed the glass from her, sensing her getting mad.

“I wasn’t done with that yet,” she said sternly, reaching for the glass.

“Yes. You were.”

Lydia glared at him, and Zemo rolled his eyes out of annoyance, grabbing the champagne bottle from the side table next to her. He went into the bathroom and poured the rest of it into the sink.

“Why do you have to ruin my fun all of the time?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Zemo raised his eyebrow and said, “I’m not. I just think you would rather not have a hangover first thing in the morning.”

“How would you know? Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet,” Lydia cockily stated.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, you’re trustworthy now?”

Zemo gave her a death stare and Lydia looked down, realizing she might’ve hit a nerve.

“Sorry,” she murmured, playing with the edge of her sleeve.

Zemo softened his gaze a little and leaned on the doorway of the bathroom. He noticed the tattoos near her wrist, each one a different pattern or idea than the other.

“What are those for?”

Lydia quickly put her sleeve back down and said, “Nothing.”

Zemo titled his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her but shrugged it off.

“Where did you find that champagne?” he asked.

“Um, I may or may not have stolen it from that club...”

Zemo’s face lit up in amusement, and he asked, “You stole two thousand dollar champagne?”

“Possibly,” Lydia said with a smirk.

“Impressive.”

“I can be spectacular sometimes.”

Zemo laughed breathly but didn’t say anything. Lydia wanted to thank him for helping her out when the shooting broke out, but she didn’t know if now would be the appropriate time or not.

Well, it couldn't hurt.

“Um, I wanted to thank you. For helping me out back there. It really means a lot to me, I mean, I know that I’m not your favorite person in the world, but-”

“What gives you that impression?” Zemo asked.

“You’re kidding me, right? You’ve shut down half of the ideas I had about how we were going to execute Madripoor, and look where we ended up!”

“I knew it better than you did.”

“Apparently not! We could’ve died, Helmut.”

“If we would have done it your way, that fate would have been met sooner.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you,” Zemo responded.

Lydia cocked her head and put her hands on her hips. Raising her eyebrows at Zemo, she went into the bathroom to grab something from under the sink. Lydia also noticed that some streaks of her hair lit up, but she hoped that he hadn’t noticed.

“What are you doing?” Zemo asked.

She answered him by holding up another bottle of champagne with a strained smile on her face as she was walking out of the bathroom. As she was about to open the bottle, Zemo grabbed it and put it on the bathroom counter. Lydia gave him a mock pouty look, and he rolled his eyes.

“You need to stop drinking, I’m serious. You giving me that look isn’t helping you,” he said.

“You sure?” she asked as she emphasized her look.

“Lydia. I’m serious.”

Her ears burned at the way that he had said her name, and she could only pray that her hair hadn’t betrayed her now. 

“And,” Zemo continued, “For the record, I don’t hate you or anything like that. To be honest, you’re the only one I can stand out of the ones I’ve met.”

Lydia raised her eyebrow slightly, and he quickly added, “Not that you’re the best of the worst, it’s just, how should I put this… I guess it’s more around the lines of ‘you’re smart and they’re not.’”

“Wow, harsh,” Lydia said with an amused look on her face.

“Well, it’s true,” Zemo said with a smirk on his face. 

“Well, if I’m so smart, then that means… my plan was the best.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

Lydia rolled her eyes playfully at him and walked back into the bathroom, but Zemo stopped her by closing the door halfway.

“Lydia,” he said with a warning tone.

Now, Lydia could see her hair quickly turn into a brighter red color, and she cursed herself in her head silently, hoping he didn’t notice, but she wouldn’t bet on it.

“Does your hair always do that?”

God damn it.

“Do what?”

“Change color like that when your name is said.”

“Um, no. Not to my knowledge, no,” 

Zemo narrowed her eyes at her while his attention seemed to turn to her hair. Lydia felt slightly embarrassed by his staring, but this only led to it turning brighter again. He smiled a little and said, “It’s a nice color; it suits you.”

She could feel her face burning mainly out of embarrassment and something else she couldn’t describe. Lydia jumped a little when she felt Zemo touch her arm. She felt her skin burn up, and he said, “I apologize, but I recognize this one.”

Zemo went to touch her arm again, but before he did, he asked, “May I?”

Lydia nodded, and he lifted her sleeve, intently scanning the dragon on her forearm. He carefully traced the outline of it, and Lydia felt her skin heat up with each trail he left. The way that he was looking at her tattoo sent shivers down her spine, but surprisingly, it was a nice feeling, considering she hasn’t felt anything cool in a long time.

“Змај,” (“Zmaj,”) Zemo whispered.

“What?”

“Змаj, correct?”

Lydia nodded, and Zemo hummed, “Yeah, I remember that story. My parents used to tell me that all the time.”

“My parents weren’t into the whole legend thing, they always said it was just a bunch of lies people tell to poison our minds, but I have heard it a few select times.”

“Your parents were quite the people, huh?” He laughed.

She laughed with him and said, “Yeah, they were definitely something, alright.”

“Well,” Zemo started as his hand traced bits and pieces of her tattoos before stopping at the palm of her hand, his fingers slowly intertwining with hers. “They raised well.”

Damn you.

She felt her skin heating up with every second, but she tried to contain it as much as she could. She looked over at the bathroom mirror that was mostly covered by the door, but she could see that dozens of streaks of her hair were lit up bright orange like crazy. He glanced back at her hair, and his smirk grew.

“Does it usually change when people touch you as well?”

“A-again, not to my knowledge, no.”

Zemo hummed again and began tracing the tattoos on her other arm before grabbing her other hand and running his thumb over her wrist. He carefully moved his hands up her forearms, tracing the shapes of her tattoos more fully this time, while pulling her closer to him. Lydia’s heart picked up even faster, not that she knew how that was possible. To her, it felt like they’d been spending an eternity standing in the doorway, but at the same time, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Lydia?”

She took a breath in, and looked up at him, asking, “Yeah?”

It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how close they were to each other. Zemo’s breath lightly fanned her face, and his hands let go of her arms, slowly wrapping them around her waist instead. Lydia swallowed discreetly from his stare, and Zemo tilted his head to the left slightly and smirked at her.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“N-no, why would you? I could beat your ass into next year if I wanted to, what would I have to be nervous about?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. I’m sure your hair doesn’t light up around other people every time you stand next to them, or they talk to you.”

He pulled her closer and leaned his head down just enough so that he was only inches away from her face. 

“Unless… it’s something else that makes your hair light up whenever I'm around.”

After he said that, he backed up a little and looked at her hair. Several streaks of it were brightening up, lightly illuminating the aura around her head. He smiled and laughed lightly through his nose.

“If I remember correctly, ‘Miss Vesta’s abilities cause her physical appearance to change as well. Her hair will change into different shades if she has any sort of strong emotions, including, but not limited to: anger, stress, sadness, and attraction.’ Does that sound right?”

Lydia squinted at him in confusion, and Zemo chuckled, saying, “SHIELD’s not very good at hiding things like they think they are.”

Lydia sighed and looked to her right and then down at her feet.

“So, again, I must ask,” he started. “Lydia…”

He removed one hand from her waist and lifted her chin up to meet his gaze.

“Do I make you nervous?”

Lydia licked her lips and said, “...no.”

Zemo leaned in closer, guiding her face to his slowly. He stopped centimeters before her face, just like before, and she could smell his expensive cologne radiating off of him.

“Are you sure? Your skin is burning.”

‘Копиле.’ (‘Bastard.’)

“Maybe I shouldn’t-“

“Ох, забога.” (“Oh, for God’s sake.”)

Lydia put her hand in the back of his neck, pulled him down, and their lips met. Zemo’s grip on her waist tightened, and moved his hand from her chin to the side of her face, the extreme heat of her skin slightly burning his hand. He furrowed his brow and backed her up onto the doorway, allowing him to close any distance between them. The smell of strawberry champagne intoxicated his senses, and he couldn’t get enough of her. 

Lydia could feel every part of her body start on fire, whether she knew that’s what was actually happening to her or not. Her heart felt like it skipped ten beats at once, and heat filled her chest. She felt magnetized to him, and every break for a quick breath of air filled her with a sense of longing for more. Lydia thought her knees were going to collapse from underneath her, and she was grateful for the doorway behind her. She felt ripples of chills go up her spine for the second time that day, and the sensation of his thumb grazing her cheek only made it harsher. She felt her fingers become white hot, and she quickly retracted her hand to his shoulder, not wanting to burn him. She felt every bone and muscle in her body become the same temperature, and she felt the texture of the material of his shirt change. She removed his hand from her cheek and pulled away from him, catching her breath.

“I-I’m sorry. My skin… I can’t-”

Zemo shrugged and said, “To be honest, I never liked this shirt anyways.”

“No, you don’t understand, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Zemo tilted his head and raised his eyebrows quickly. He looked down and put his hands in his pockets, taking out the pair of gloves he was wearing earlier that day and putting them on. After he did that, he put his hands up and smiled at her.

Lydia lightly laughed and said, “I appreciate the gesture, but that’s not gonna do you much good. I’ll just burn-”

Zemo cut her off by saying, “I’ll take that chance.”

He kissed her gently, not wanting to make her skin burn back up again.

A sudden knock at her door caused Lydia to jump and separate from him, turning her head towards her door.

“Lydia? We need to discuss the plan for tomorrow. Have you seen Zemo anywhere?” Bucky asked through her door.

Lydia turned back towards him with a devilish look on her face. She whispered, “Play along,” and quickly pushed him away from her, a glare forming on her face.

“Yeah, he’s trying to steal my champagne.”

Bucky opened the door to the pair glaring at each other with murderous intent.

“You mean, I’m trying to take away the champagne that you stole from the club,” Zemo quickly countered, getting the message.

“Well, it’s mine now, isn’t it?”

“Alright! Look, she can keep the champagne, it doesn’t matter,” Bucky said.

“James, that was worth probably around two thou-“

“I don’t care,” Bucky said while giving Zemo a death stare before continuing. “We don’t have time for this anyway. We have to figure out the plan for tomorrow, come on.”

He left the room, and Lydia turned towards Zemo, raised her eyebrows, and dramatically put her hand out. He rolled his eyes and took the champagne bottle off of the counter and gave it to her.

“You’re only getting this because he likes you more than me.”

“And who’s fault was that?” Lydia retorted.