Chapter Text
You didn’t have the luck to disappear during the blip. You had wanted to die - or at least not exist - since you could remember. The thoughts you had for a bulk of your life were very persistent, but no matter what you did or how violent you became, you could never quite hit the mark. When you didn’t disappear alongside half the world that set you off, it felt like a cruel joke.
You had just graduated college when the blip hit. Here you were at twenty two, with a whole career lined up, a purpose to keep you going - when everything went and collapsed upon itself. You and the rest in the world went into a state of shock, but everyone else somehow moved on. Everyone moved into new homes, took advantage of the bustling job market, reconnected with old friends and lost lovers.
And here you were, twenty five and still in your childhood bedroom. Clutching your laptop against you as you manically made a last ditch effort at taking control of your life and applying for grad school as far away from the life you knew as you could. You had just come off of an alcohol induced screaming match with your mother, which all centered around the words that had been haunting you since you were seven.
You need to move on .
You were so tired of it all, you were tired of feeling like a failure because you got a B.A. in Theatre, tired of the minimum wage job you worked at to kill time, tired of feeling like you were as a child. Alone, unwanted, and trapped.
So you decided to take a leap, and finally apply to a university your professors years ago thought would be a good fit for. When that exact school offered you an offer that you couldn’t refuse (you wouldn’t refuse any offer) you took that opportunity and found your way out.
You moved halfway across the world to Berlin, grateful for what you’d saved from your job as a result of not doing a whole hell of a lot with your time, found yourself the first one bedroom apartment that didn’t feel sketchy for your budget, found yourself a job at a coffee shop to keep the lights going and your tuition paid for alongside your work teaching introductory level courses and studying, and made a new life for yourself.
You were just grateful that things were falling into place when they did. You were in Berlin for the summer before your classes commenced, working a shift at the store when after what felt like five years, everyone came back. You couldn’t have picked a better time to get out when you could, because as soon as people came back things were scarce and shaken up. People got their homes back, jobs were harder to come by, and god did things get just a bit more expensive. But all in all, the return wasn’t as chaotic as the politicians made it out to be, there weren’t bodies falling out of the sky afterall. It was just really crowded, really confusing, and really tense.
So here you were, studying to hopefully get your PhD, working, and hopefully in a better place. Sure you were tired and a little broke, but you were managing.
It had been about eight months since everyone came back, it was a slow night at the coffee shop - which you were grateful for. You had quickly risen up the ranks and were a supervisor at the shop, so you sent the only other barista scheduled home. After all, she wasn’t older than 17 and dealing with too much homework and preparing for university. Because it was slow, you felt no need to hold the girl longer than needed.
As she left for the night, you watched as the sun began to set - casting the buildings around you in a halo. It was the threshold between day and night, a time where the earth stood silent and still, anticipating the light of the moon within a sea of stars.
You stood there in the comfort of some random indie music playing over the speakers, hands rubbing your face to wake yourself up. Because you sent her home you had a little more to do to close up shop, but luckily you didn’t have to handle floors - that was the last thing she’d done before heading home. Pen cap in between your teeth, you plowed through making a list of what all needed to get done. You still had a little less than a half hour till the store was officially closed, so all that needed to get done was wipe off any tables, shut the espresso machines down for the night, and count the tills.
The sky had transformed into a sea of midnight blue, contrasted by the warmth of the street lights outside and the star-like edison bulbs within the shop. It was peaceful. You didn’t mind work at times like this, sometimes on your nights off you would come here to work on grading papers and your own thesis just to escape the silence of your apartment.
Still looking down at your list, you heard the tinkling of the bell.
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, who was coming to a coffee shop on a Sunday this close to the end of the night?
Taking out the pen cap that was still between your teeth, before you spoke out your usual spiel of, “Hey, welcome in!” all before you looked up at whoever it was that entered the shop - secretly praying it wasn’t a whole crowd of people.
You were very grateful it wasn’t a crowd of people. Instead it was one man.
Upon first glance he was unremarkable. His head was down low as he straightened out his coat, gloved hand clutching under his coat at his side as he walked into the shop. You really hoped he wasn’t drunk, that was the last thing you needed. Despite his elegant attire he wasn’t walking very gracefully. His steps were hard and staggered, a sheen of sweat across his forehead as he breathed quite deliberately - as if he was really struggling to keep it all together.
“Are you all right sir?” You asked, already beginning to move around the bar, unsure if you needed to run over and help or call for medical attention.
“Yes, quite alright” the man spoke as best he could through gritted teeth, you couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or feigning pleasantries. Yet, when he paused in the middle of the cafe to remove his hand from his side, your eyes widened at the amount of blood on his hands.
Oh shit.
You hurried over the bar, attempting to pull a chair aside for him in case he fell - but too late. You quickly found yourself getting down to his level as fast as you could, grabbing him under the armpits and dragging him so he was propped with his back against the wall of the counter, grateful he hadn’t hit his head.
“Sir, can you hear me?” You asked, adrenaline coursing through your veins in the anxiety of the moment. Out of all the jobs you’d had since high school, this was a first.
You prayed the first aid kit in the back would have anything to help in this situation besides the usual bandages and antiseptic wipe.
He grunted, eyes blinking up at you, eyebrows furrowed in aggravation.
“Of course I can hear,” He hissed, eyes blinking rapidly, “I’ve been stabbed, not deafened!”
“I didn’t know if you were in shock,” You stammered out, mouth slightly agape at his response. Although you supposed you would be aggravated if you’d been stabbed.
“Sir, tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.” You insisted, using your left hand to hold up three fingers as your other hand reached into your pocket to grab your cell phone to call for medical help - this was beyond your pay grade.
“Do not call an ambulance!” He yelled at you, you gasped as he quickly yanked your phone from your hands just as you began dialing for some sort of help, throwing it abruptly across the store.
“What the fuck!?” You scoffed, stomach dropping as you heard the sound of your phone hitting one of the nice glass tables towards the front of the cafe - you were glad it wasn’t the window, hoping your phone somehow survived.
“No one can know I was here.” He warned, grabbing his side with a sharp intake of breath.
You weighed your options. You either complied with the man bleeding out on your floor who was clearly into some sketchy stuff to wind up in this situation, or disregarded his warning - call the ambulance, and have to deal with even more people making it harder for you to close up shop and head home. No matter what you did, you’d still have a floor to reclean.
You made your decision.
“I’m supposed to be off in an hour,” You sighed, hands pulling off the scrunchie you kept on your wrist to pull your hair up in a bun, “I’m really not looking for some guy half bleeding out on me, I’ve got a first aid kit in the back, so please sir just comply with me and we can both be on our merry way.”
You looked at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat, trying to regain a sense of composure and nodded, waving a hand at you dismissively to do whatever you needed to do to make this situation end amicably for both parties.
“Alright,” you exhaled as you stood and rolled up your sleeves, “let’s get that coat off.”
You were shockingly composed for the situation, face blank as you helped him out of his coat - it was a nice coat, purple with a fur collar, sure would be a shame if the blood didn’t come out. Your eyes widened as you stared at just how bad the big gash in his side was, whatever blade got him went in deep - he definitely was in need of stitches.
“Put pressure on your wound,” You ordered, folding up one of the coat sleeves as small as you could to make some kind of pad for him to use, “I’ll be right back.” You made our way around the bar to grab the first aid kit out of the back, a tub of warm water, and some clean dry rags.
Once you’d compiled everything you needed, you rushed back to kneel at his side - ignoring the indents from the tile floor that were sure to form.
“Alright,” You cleared your throat, cracked open the first aid kit, slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, and rang out a rag of warm water, “I’m gonna need you to take your shirt off okay?”
He nodded, breathing heavily as you used your nondominant hand to remove his coat sleeve, helping him get that shirt off, then using your other hand to apply pressure to the wound. You couldn’t help but acknowledge that this was the most intimate you had been with a man since part of your undergrad, but there wasn’t time to blush at the firmness of his torso beneath his soft stomach nor how strong his arms looked. You sat there for a few minutes, happy to see that the rag wasn’t soaking through with blood, but a little disgruntled that the wound was taking a while to coagulate. His breathing was still a bit too heavy for your liking, but it wasn’t uncontrolled.
After a moment of silence, you decided conversation would probably ease the tension in the room.
“I think I have the bleeding stopped,” You acknowledged, the big knife wound in his side finally stable enough that you could move on, “Do you mind telling me why a guy half beaten to death finds himself bleeding out on my floor?” You asked, moving to switch to a clean rag to clean up the rest of the blood from his chest.
“Assholes,” He replied shortly, “I had the displeasure of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
You couldn’t help the slight laugh that left your mouth, “You can say that…”
You switched to disinfecting everything after the blood was gone.
“Is there anywhere else that hurts I should know about?” You asked, you didn’t see any bullet wounds luckily, you didn’t know if you had the ability to handle that. You’d cared enough for enough of your own cuts and injuries over the years that you felt comfortable with this. You gently prodded around his chest as you assessed what wounds you didn’t notice immediately, there was definitely a fair share of bruising - but you’d found all the cuts and gashes you could.
“Nein,” He breathed out, much calmer than he was when he first arrived, “You luckily got the worst of it.”
“Good,” You nodded, eyes looking away from him to ready a needle and some thread from the kit (shocked that your cafe kit even had this in it), “This is gonna hurt.” You spoke, handing him a rag to use to bite down on if needed.
It was needed.
Despite your speed, it hurt - after all, he refused to let you call an ambulance…so no anesthesia - but after a moment and a few strong words in German - his wound was stitched up to the best of your ability, and you were getting everything disinfected. Whatever mess he had found himself into, it was clear to you that this wasn’t the worst of what he’d been through.
The two of you sat there in comfortable silence as you worked, it was oddly comforting to be taking care of someone in such a way. After a while you had him take a few painkillers and got him bandaged up, handing him back his shirt.
“All done.” You sighed, sitting back on the floor and letting your legs stretch out in front of you after you’d been kneeling for what felt like hours. You lost track of time, but at least you were being paid for this mess. He let out a groan of his own as he put his shirt back on, stretching his back and shoulders out - a nice loud pop of a joint hitting the air.
“Thank you.” He spoke, attempting to stand up on his own to be done with the situation. You looked up at him as you stood up, quickly chucking your rubber gloves in the trash, moving to his side to assist.
“C’mon,” You groaned, “I got ya.” You helped stabilize him, and after a moment's shakiness he regained his stature, and you got a good look at him.
While he’d initially come off as unremarkable, now that you got a good look at him he was anything but. You couldn’t get a gauge of his height when he was doubled over, but he was taller. He was older, had what you guessed was a decade, maybe a decade and some change on you - and he was gorgeous. He had a proud almost regal face, was sporting a bit of a beard, and you could tell that in ordinary circumstances he maintained a meticulous appearance. Right now his hair was damp with sweat, but still only a few brown strands were out of place from his side part. Unfortunately he was your type in men, dark hair, prominent brow - but there was a darker element you couldn’t quite place - reminiscent of the dark romantic lead in the novels you read when you were younger.
But it was his eyes that truly enthralled you, but you didn’t have time for that. You quickly cleared your throat, desperately hoping he didn’t catch you ogling him. What you weren’t aware of was that he definitely did catch this, or that the Edison bulbs lighting the cafe seating behind you cast your silhouette in a halo - perhaps it was the pain and shock that cast you in a dazzling haze - catching him off guard for just a moment.
“Let’s get you a drink,” You offered, hands gesturing outwards as you talked through your own discomfort, “The caffeine’ll help the killer headache you’re gonna get later.”
After a brief deliberation, he couldn’t refuse. The reasoning was sound.
“What’ll it be?” You asked, you didn’t peg him as someone who’d drink an americano or just order drip coffee - but you certainly were hoping he wouldn’t order a pour over, the shop was well past business hours at this point.
A slight smile graced his lips, “A cortado, one sugar.” He ordered, elbows leaning against the bar as he observed you. You smirked at the order, good choice - and specific too, the man knew what he wanted.
“I’m gonna give you two sugars, just for being a good patient.” You joked, “Least I can do to help you recover from whatever mess you got yourself into,” You instinctively reached into your fridge, “Any particular milk?”
A smirk formed on his lips, his arms crossed, a hand coming to his lips, “Whatever the doctor orders.” He countered.
“Oatmilk then.” You grinned, getting the milk steaming on your steam wand, being sure to not get too much foam going, then getting the doubleshot of espresso pulled quickly switching to opening sugar packets into the glass. With the exception of the espresso machine, a comfortable silence fell in the air around the two of you for a few minutes as you worked.
“All done.” You smiled as you handed him the drink, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him take a sip. He’d clearly been through a lot. If this could help end his night on a good note, then damn it would be worth all the weird fucking hassle.
He took a few sips, and you thrummed with excitement as you watched the pleasant smile grace his elegant features. He shook his head, setting the glass down on the counter after he finished the drink. Eyebrows shooting up, nodding his head in approval.
“Wunderbar.” He acknowledged. There was something slightly endearing about you giving him the extra sugar packet, but it was just a drink. Nothing more.
“Thank you…” You smiled to yourself, wiping your hands off on a rag on the bar.
He had to go. You needed to close the store, and you needed to go home and work on everything you needed to do for your courses.
You cleared your throat.
“I’m sorry to kick you out sir,” you admitted, walking around the bar abruptly to go towards the front of the store, bending over to collect the medical supplies, moving to get them in the kit. He quietly followed you, bending simultaneously with you as he grabbed his coat, your hands making contact for just a moment on the floor. Both of you shot up quickly at that, clearing your throats, him slipping his arms through the sleeves of his coat, you clutching that damn plastic kit to your chest like it was a lifeboat.
You quickly made your way towards the front of the store, setting the kit down on a table, fumbling to get the door open for him. You watched as he saw himself out into the cool night air.
You made the mistake of looking into his eyes again. The pull was practically magnetic. Those dark brown eyes shown with colors you hadn’t noticed with anyone else. You surprised yourself, hand grabbing for his own as he moved to walk away, your neatly manicured fingernails digging into the skin of his wrist as you held him there. He turned towards you, you knew if he kept looking at you you would do something you’d regret.
“What’s your name?” You asked, a chill taking over you - you’re not sure if it's the weather, the adrenaline wearing off, or him. “In case I need it for an incident report…”
You ignored the part of you that wanted to remember him.
A cheshire cat-like smile spread across his face, the embers of a fire emerging within his eyes.
“You won’t be needing to write one of those…” He trailed, almost as if it was an order.
He slinked towards you, close enough to close the distance between the two of you. Your stomach sinking at the dangerous look in his eyes.
“Especially if you know what’s good for you.”
Silence.
Goosebumps rose along your skin, heat rushed to your face. This man had the absolute nerve to come into your cafe so late into the evening, after all that you had done for him, he had the gall to threaten you. You forgot any draw you felt towards the man that instant.
“If you know what’s good sir…” You countered, eyes glaring up at him with as much ferocity as you could muster, “You’ll give me your name, leave and not come back.”
You weren’t afraid of one man. No matter how slightly intimidating. Enough crazy shit had happened in the past decade that this was water off a duck’s back.
“Are you threatening me?” He questioned, eyebrows raising an infinitesimal degree, your name seething from his lips. Your body stiffened at the sound.
“That depends,” You exhaled against the door to the coffee shop, eyes darting about for the nearest phone in case things went south. “How do you know my name?”
He came closer, arm reaching out to grab hold of your wrist (mirroring what you had just done moments ago) and drawing you towards him, his free hand grabbing hold of your jaw and forcing you to look up at him.
“It was on your nametag,” He chided, you could feel his breath against your skin, smell the faintly sweet aroma of the espresso he’d drunk just moments before.
When he wasn’t being a dick.
“Who taught you manners?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you took his hands off of you - ignoring the heat that rose on your skin out of sheer aggravation alone - and stepped back. A moment’s silence passed as you bit down on your lip to prevent yourself from saying something you wouldn’t totally regret.
You were tired, the last thing you needed was some man you’d helped out threatening you.
“Whoever it was did a shit job.” You spoke, and watched as he stepped forward, “You come in here, and bleed on my floor that we’d just cleaned,” you pointedly look at him, “I attempt to call the paramedics to help you , you destroy my phone, I stitch you up somehow by the grace of god, I make you a damn good drink, and just when I thought maybe you weren’t a total and complete asshole you go and threaten me when I attempt to do what is legally required for my job so I don’t lose what income I do have!” You ranted, hands flying in the air and moving to grab at your hair as you took a breath in, you weren’t letting him get a word in if you could help it.
“So I’m sorry,” You breathed out, gaining composure, “I don’t care who you are, you could be one of those fucking avengers for all I care, but you don’t get to threaten me, and you especially don’t get to just grab me when you don’t get your way.” You didn’t realize how close you were getting to him as you spoke, you looked up at him - your clenched jaws mirroring one another, just as your disdain did.
“I don’t have enough will to live for that bullshit. If you know what’s good for you ” you spat, “you’ll give me your name, leave, and I’ll stay here an extra hour and a half to clean up this mess.”
You flinched as he raised his hand, you braced yourself for the worse quite frankly. Instead, your skin burned as he moved a strand of hair out of your face before he drew his face against the side of your cheek and whispered in your ear.
“My name is Zemo.”
You sighed, glad to be done with this.
“Alright Zemo,” You said with an air of finality, “Get out of here and don’t come back.”
“Gladly.” He replies, determined to get the last word.
You're left standing there on the sidewalk as he pulls his hand away from where it was cupping your cheek, straightens up his stupid, fancy coat, and walks away. As you turn to head back into the cafe, you swear you catch the hand that was touching you flex in the distance.