AN: We are on our way to Madripoor! Finally. I want to thank everyone that has been following this story so far. I've never written anything like this before and I'm having so much fun. I would love to hear from you all and know what you're thinking of the story so far and what you hope to see in future chapters!
Title song: New Person, Same Old Mistakes – Tame Impala
Chapter 7: You've Got Your Demons, and She's Got Her Regrets
The cool Autumn breeze stung Zemo's face as he navigated his silver 1973 Porsche through the winding roads of the German countryside. The custom leather seats were a few shades lighter than his chestnut locks, gently blowing in the wind. For a moment, he forgot about his companions who sat in various stages of discontent in his car and pretended he was the man he used to be.
Happy.
His wife's bright face in the seat next to him and his son's cheery laughter ringing out from the back seat. He liked when Zemo would drive him past the horses. He always begged Zemo to pull over and get one for him. Zemo had planned on buying him his own horse when he was older and could learn to ride on the castle grounds, just like he had as a boy. He averted his gaze from the horses and gripped the wheel a bit harder, trying to shake the desolate mood that was washing over him.
He glanced at Chanel; the string of diamonds around her neck looked comical in contrast to the lazy sweats she had thrown on. But even when she wasn't tailoring her appearance for him, he found it hard to keep his eyes off of her. She had been staring out her window, biting her fingernails for the last half hour. He had a good idea of what was on her mind. His eyes kept glancing at the jacket pocket he had watched her hide the vial of super-soldier serum in. The drive had given him time to mull over his options. If he was going to get out of this, he needed her on his side. He couldn't simply confront her; he needed to get her to open up to him. It was a good sign that she seemed to be opposed to taking the serum, but he wasn't sure why she hadn't said anything to Sam or Bucky. He had to keep this information to himself until the moment was right to weaponize it.
For now, he tried to enjoy what was left of the relaxing ride. The car purred over the asphalt as he pushed the speed, showing off just a bit. It had been years since he had been able to drive like this. Intrepid and unfettered. The leather steering wheel was like a second limb as he effortlessly navigated the roads. As he neared his destination, his mood improved at the prospect of seeing his butler and probably his only friend, Oeznik.
"Here is our next ride." Zemo slowed down as they entered a private airfield.
Chanel sat up in her seat like an excited child who had finally reached their destination and realized dad wasn't taking them to the grocery store but to Disneyland.
I knew he was rich, but a private jet?!
"Wait, so you're like rich rich?" Sam asked, just as surprised as Chanel was.
"My family was royalty in my country before your friends blew it up."
Sam sunk back in his seat, no response coming to mind for the pain and resentment Zemo was clearly still feeling.
Zemo turned his focus back to Chanel, a playful smile on his lips. "What do you think, dear? Is it big enough?"
"Well, I do like them big Zemo." Chanel smiled coyly.
Zemo returned her smile, pleased with her willingness to play along.
"It looks lovely," she said, more seriously, as she lowered her sunglasses over her eyes.
Zemo stopped the car, and Chanel stepped out quickly to intercept Bucky. He hadn't said a single word the whole ride, not even when Sam and Zemo had briefly bonded over their mutual dislike for John Walker.
Before Bucky could join Sam at the trunk of the car, she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. "Hey, I need to talk to you."
He barely turned his head in her direction, "what is it?"
She moved in front of him, forcing him to look at her. The diamonds on her neck glimmered in the sun, sending an irritating glare into his eyes. He put his black sunglasses on, though it was mostly so she couldn't read his expression.
"In private," she nodded her head to the side.
"Fine." He turned and stalked away, forcing her to jog slightly to keep up with him.
Sam looked up from the trunk where he was unloading their luggage. "Oh, okay, I guess I'll just unload everything myself then!" His shout went unanswered, and he mumbled to himself, "that's cool, whatever," as he started making his way toward the plane.
Bucky stopped shortly and turned back to Chanel, his arms crossed over his chest.
His attitude was starting to grate on Chanel's nerves, but she knew it was partially deserved.
"Sam told me you talked to him last night." The statement came out more like a question.
"Yeah, I told you I would."
"Well, thanks." She looked down at her feet, waiting for Bucky to respond.
The awkwardness was new for Chanel. She didn't understand why she felt so nervous and why he still wasn't softening.
"Is that all?" The tone of his voice twisted her stomach, and she jumped straight to anger.
"Look, I know I was a bitch to you last night; I'm sorry about that. But, I'm not going to apologize for anything else," she snapped.
"I didn't ask you to apologize for anything."
Chanel grit her teeth. His voice wasn't angry or sad or even annoyed; he just sounded bored. Typically, this would be the point that Chanel would storm off and wait for the man she was arguing with to come crawling back, but she felt an unexpected need to explain herself. She didn't want to end another conversation with him like this.
"I was in a bad place last night, well really, I've been in a bad place for a while. But last night, when Steph—Stephan showed up, I just needed to pretend."
She forced herself to keep her eyes on his face, and they stared at their own veiled reflections in each other's sunglasses. Neither of them wanted to be the first to show weakness, to let their walls down.
Finally, the tension in Bucky's shoulders relaxed, making his crossed arms look less like he was trying to intimidate someone and more like he was hugging himself.
"I was just taken by surprise. You said you didn't—"
"I don't," Chanel cut him off. She raised her sunglasses, allowing him to see her face. "I don't. And truly, I'm sorry about last night, I didn't mean—"
"It's okay."
His arms remained crossed, but his tone finally shifted into the familiar soft rasp Chanel was used to. She felt a bit of relief, confident he would come around.
"It was just sex. And I think I made it very clear that I was yours for the taking; it's not my fault you're choosing to take your sweet ass time." A smile teased at the corners of her lips, waiting to see if his mood had indeed brightened.
Bucky scoffed but couldn't hide the grin starting to form on his face. "So, what, was this all part of your elaborate plan to make me jealous? You seem to be putting a lot of work into this. Are you sure you're not in love with me?"
Chanel's smile widened as she let out a short laugh, "Okay, I think I liked you better when you were brooding." She took a step closer to him. "Are we good?"
Bucky sighed, already knowing the answer before he even looked down at her. He knew she didn't owe him anything. She was right; he had no claim over her, no right to feel betrayed, no reason to have spent the whole car ride daydreaming about knocking out a few of Stephan's perfect teeth.
"Yeah, we're good." He finally uncrossed his arms to run his fingers over her cheekbone.
Chanel smiled and grabbed his wrist, holding his hand in place so she could kiss his palm. "I'm not trying to make you jealous, well not anymore. That was just something to do. I was bored and thought it might work out in my favor."
The words were meant to be comforting, but the way she said them, as if playing with people's emotions was the equivalent of a card game on a rainy afternoon, unsettled Bucky.
He thought for a moment as they walked to the plane, making sure to choose his words carefully. "You see, when you say things like that...how am I supposed to know if you're pretending—with me?"
"That's simple. Zemo is the mark; every interaction I have with him is manufactured. Every word is chosen carefully to draw out my desired outcome. With you, I'm not acting."
She shrugged her shoulders as if the answer should have been obvious to him. Bucky let out a frustrated sigh before he followed her up the stairs to board the jet.
The inside of the jet looked more like a club lounge than a plane. The tan leather seats up front were designed for business, but behind them, couches, loveseats, and flat-screen tv's painted a more relaxed picture.
Zemo and Sam sat in the business part of the plane, each staring out their windows silently. Zemo turned his head expectantly when Chanel walked in.
"Ah, there you are, is everything okay?" Zemo ushered her to the seat across from him and handed her a glass of champagne.
"Peachy," she said with a bright smile, throwing back a swig of the bubbly wine.
"You good?" Sam asked Bucky as he sat across from him.
"Yeah—thanks."
Sam noted the tacked-on thanks, and the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile.
Maybe I'm finally starting to get somewhere with him.
"Are we ready for take-off, sir?" Oeznik appeared in the doorway.
"Yes, thank you, Oeznik."
Zemo grabbed Chanel's hand, "please meet one of my dearest friends, Oeznik. He has been by my side for as long as I can remember."
Chanel offered the old man a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to meet a friend of the Baron. You must know where all the bodies are buried."
Zemo grinned faintly, "Oeznik, this is Chanel, a new friend."
His enunciation of the word friend sent a coded message to Oeznik; she was not to be trusted. However, Oeznik questioned the accuracy of his decoding when he saw the way Zemo looked at Chanel as if she was a forbidden cigarette and he was jonesing for a drag.
"Lovely to meet you, miss." Oeznik nodded respectfully but did not return her smile.
Zemo did not bother introducing Sam or Bucky, instead giving Oeznik the green light to start their ascent.
After several hours of laid-back conversation, drinking, reading, and Chanel forcing them to watch a season of Queer Eye, which had all of them misty-eyed, Sam decided it was time to focus on their plan.
They were near their destination now; looking out the window, Chanel could only see all-consuming darkness as they flew over the Indian Sea. She tried not to think too much about the water below; it made her panicky. Large bodies of water were one of the few things that truly frightened her. That and cats (after she had been attacked by a feral cat as a child, she never liked the demonic creatures) were the only things that could ever make her freeze with fear. She pulled her gaze back to Sam and focused on the plan for getting to Zemo's contact, Selby.
Bored and already having his own plan in mind, Zemo leaned back in his seat and pulled out the little notebook he had stolen from Bucky. His good mood had him wanting to stir trouble.
"Hey, can you focus? We're strategizing here." Sam snapped his fingers at Zemo.
Zemo grimaced at the gesture; Sam would pay for that in some way later. "I'm sorry, I just got distracted with this fascinating book. It seems important. Who is Nakajima?"
Zemo's voice somehow both feigned innocence and taunted at the same time.
He got a bigger reaction than he was looking for. Bucky's hand was around his throat before Zemo could even give him a cocky head tilt.
"Touch that again, and I'll kill you." Bucky snatched the notebook out of his hands and went back to his seat.
The reaction confirmed what Zemo had assumed about the book. He took a moment to reset himself. "I'm sorry. I understand that list of names. People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier. Was he one you assassinated or just an unfortunate adoptee of the fallout?"
Bucky's jaw clenched. He refused to look in Zemo's direction, staring out his window instead. "Don't push it." His voice carried the same weight as a knife to the throat.
Chanel watched the exchange with fascination. This was a side of Bucky that she hadn't seen yet. She wanted to see more. At the moment, though, she just really wanted to look in that notebook.
"You have a list of everyone you assassinated?" Chanel turned to Bucky; her tone was light and curious, deflating the tension Zemo had caused.
"It's not—" Bucky began.
"Can I see?" She reached for the book, but Bucky stuffed it in his jacket pocket.
"Okay fine, can I ask then?"
"Chanel—" Sam started to chide her.
"Ask what?" Bucky responded, his voice sounding guarded.
Chanel grinned, and Bucky gave her a confused look.
Why is she so giddy?
"Okay, okay," Chanel was working herself up like she was about to ask a difficult question. "Did you kill MLK?"
"Chanel!" Sam interjected while Zemo chuckled to himself.
Bucky narrowed his eyes. "That's your question? That's what you want to know?"
"A non-answer is automatically a yes."
"No, I did not kill MLK. I think the CIA handled that on their own," Bucky said sarcastically.
"Touché. 2Pac?"
"Who?"
"You don't know who 2Pac is?! I bet even Zemo knows who 2Pac is."
Zemo nodded in agreement, "the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice." He winked at Chanel.
"Gross." Sam gave an appalled look to both Zemo and Chanel before turning back to Bucky. "But yeah, come on, Buck, you spent all of that time in Wakanda and don't know who 2Pac is?"
Bucky rolled his eyes and got up to move to the back of the plane.
"What about Biggie?" Chanel called after him.
"I can't hear you." Bucky shrugged as he put earphones in and laid back on one of the couches.
Chanel smiled to herself and shrugged when she met Sam's incredulous gaze. "What? You don't want to know?"
Despite himself, Sam laughed, "Yeah, I guess a little." He glanced back at Bucky and then looked at Chanel. "But I've seen that book; it was Steve's when he came out of the ice. He kept a list of things he missed. I told him about Trouble Man." Sam's voice trailed off as he got lost in his memories of Steve.
Zemo noticed the slightly forlorn look in Sam's eyes when he spoke of the late Captain America. "You must have really looked up to Steve. But I realized something when I met him. The trouble with people like him, people like the Avengers, is that we put them on pedestals."
Chanel and Sam both prickled in response to Zemo's words.
"Watch your step," Sam warned.
"They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. And from there, cities fly, innocent people die."
Chanel bit her tongue. She knew all too well how guilty Nat had felt after Sokovia, but it wasn't her fault. Zemo saw everything as black or white. Natasha hadn't been some pawn to be wiped out at the behest of his mad quest; she had been one of the good guys. Chanel was now finding it difficult to remember why she had kind of started to like Zemo. He would have killed them all, Nat, Sam, and Bucky included, if he had been able to all those years ago. She wondered where he stood on that now. It seemed like he was still ready to kill them as soon as he got the chance.
Zemo stood up."Anyways, Sam, follow me, and I'll show you the disguise I had Manfred pack for you."
"Disguise?" Sam asked warily.
"We can't walk into Madripoor as ourselves."
Bucky had taken his earphones off and sat up when Zemo stood.
Zemo turned to Bucky, "James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone." Then, he turned to Chanel, "and you, my dear, you can certainly not walk into Madripoor, not with a price on your head. So I think you should stay here with Manfred and wait for us."
"Excuse me? Price on your head?" Sam looked between Chanel and Zemo.
Chanel glared daggers at Zemo, and he shrugged at her apologetically.
"What's going on?" Bucky asked as he joined the circle.
Chanel sighed, irritated because she knew where this was going. "I have a price on my head for the business with Stephan. The Power Broker wants me dead. He already tried to kill me once in Paris, and Nicolo was sent to kill me too; he was just too stupid to do it right."
Chanel pressed on before anyone else could get a word in.
"But I'm going with you. I've been to Madripoor undercover before, and that cover is still intact. So no one will recognize who I really am."
"Absolutely not," Sam and Bucky said in unison.
"I'm sorry, my dear, but it seems you're outnumbered this time. You can be our eyes and ears from the plane."
"How am I supposed to help from the plane? Can't I at least follow you into the city and watch from a distance?"
Sam and Bucky started to say no, but Zemo shrugged nonchalantly, "I may know of a place that would be safe for you to watch at a comfortable distance."
Chanel nodded in agreement. "Where is the meeting?"
"Selby owns a place called the Princess Bar. We'll meet her there."
Chanel furrowed her brows in confusion, "Since when does Selby own Princess?"
Zemo shrugged, "As far as I know, since everyone came back from The Blip. Why?"
"That's where I worked when I was undercover. I knew the previous owner."
Zemo smirked, "Now I'm even more despondent that you can't come. I would have liked to see your disguise."
"What's up with the Princess Bar?" Sam asked, confused.
"It's known for its—exotic dancers." Amusement sparked in Zemo's eyes.
"You were undercover as a stripper?" Sam's guffaw caught everyone off guard.
"Not exactly—he's laughing because he thinks I can't dance." Chanel flipped Sam off and returned her gaze back to Zemo. "But the outfit is still killer."
"Yeah, yeah, and we're all heartbroken we won't get to see it. You're still not coming; it's not safe."
"None of you even know the first thing about going undercover. Honestly, you all should stay on the plane and let me go talk to Selby."
"She's Zemo's contact. He's the only chance we have to get in the same room as her."
"Fine, Zemo and I will go. You two can stay here."
Bucky, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke up. "We said no."
An awkward silence fell over them in response to Bucky's authoritative tone and the glare Chanel was sending in his direction.
"Okay—well—Zemo, weren't you going to show me an outfit or something?" Sam said awkwardly.
"Follow me." Zemo led Sam to another part of the plane, leaving Bucky and Chanel alone.
Bucky put his earphones back in and walked back towards the couch he had been on.
Chanel stomped after him, ripping the earbud out of his ear before he even sat on the couch.
"What the hell is your problem?" They both shouted at the same time.
They glared at each other for a moment before Bucky's eyes shifted, once again displaying a level of hurt that Chanel hated. He sank onto the couch, and she followed.
"I thought we were good? Are you going to stay mad at me forever?"
"I'm not mad at you." Bucky started to say more but couldn't find the words he was looking for. He wanted to chide her for being reckless, tell her that he didn't want her to be in danger, but he couldn't say any of that without sounding like the clingy mess of a man he was.
"Well, can you try acting like it? You've hardly talked to me since we got on the plane, and then when you do, it's to scold me like I'm a child. What the hell is that about?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I just—we all want you to be safe. Why didn't you tell us about the price on your head? How long have you known?"
Chanel bit her cheek.
Shit.
"Don't get mad." She grabbed his hand when he rolled her eyes at her. "I may have gone with Stephan last night to the Agostinelli warehouse where I may have overheard Nicolo saying that the Power Broker wanted me dead. I didn't say anything because I didn't want this to happen; I'm not valuable to you on the bench."
Bucky closed his eyes in frustration. He had assumed as much but hearing her say it was a different story. "Why did Zemo know?"
"Well, he might have been there with Stephan and me when we overheard the conversation."
Bucky's eyes flew open, "Are you kidding?"
"You can't say anything to Sam."
"You took a wanted criminal with you to burn down a warehouse?! He could have escaped. He could have killed you! What were you thinking?"
"Well, he didn't," Chanel replied defiantly. "Please, don't tell Sam."
"I'm not a tattletale. But Jesus, Chanel—I thought we agreed to keep each other in the loop with our crazy plans?"
Chanel tilted her head. "Oh, so that's why you're mad? Because I took Zemo instead of you? I don't think that would have gone over well. You would have tried to stop us."
Chanel imagined for a moment how the evening would have gone if she would have woken Bucky instead of Zemo. The thought of him watching her torture Nicolo made her feel sick. It showed on her face, all of her features plummeting downward in displeasure.
"Hey, are you okay? I swear I'm really not mad. I'm just in a shitty mood; I'm sorry."
"You apologize too much." Chanel brought her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them. "Last night, today, it's all been really overwhelming. I feel like I can't make anyone happy. I just really want to be there for Sam."
Bucky pulled her closer to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Chanel wiped her tears off of her cheeks before he could see them.
Seriously? More tears? What is wrong with me?!
"No," she choked out, evidence of her tears clear in her voice.
Bucky stiffened, not sure how to react. She had been on the verge of tears last night when she freaked out on him. He still didn't know what he had done wrong and had no clue how to proceed now.
He could feel the slight shake of her torso as she burrowed closer into his side. His body reacted naturally, doing what his mind had been overthinking.
He wrapped his free arm around her, squeezing her gently into a hug, and rested his cheek atop her head. "Okay."
Chanel couldn't pinpoint one reason as to why she was losing her shit. Part of it was that she felt like a horrible person as Stephan's biting words replayed in her head. Part of it was the hurt look she kept causing in Bucky's eyes. Part of it was leaving Stephan and knowing she probably couldn't go back. Part of it was Sam. She didn't want to disappoint him. She didn't want to lose him. She had to get something off of her chest before it all crushed her into oblivion.
"It's Sam."
Bucky almost didn't hear her whisper. He pulled back so he could look at her. "Sam?"
Chanel nodded, still trying to stop the tears that were falling freely. "God, I hate crying in front of people. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"It's okay. I won't think you're any less of the badass that I know you are."
Chanel smiled slightly as she regained control of her breathing.
"What about Sam? Did he say something?"
Chanel shook her head no, "I—I'm afraid of losing him. Like Nat." Chanel closed her eyes as a fresh wave of tears started flowing. "I'm terrified. He's the only thing I have." She started to add on other than Stephan but stopped herself, feeling her heart crack just a little more.
"He's the last person I would worry about, doll. I've seen him deal with much worse than anything we're facing in Madripoor. I mean, you do know we fought aliens, right? The dude is tough, and he can fly. Out of all of us, I think he has the best odds."
Chanel sniffed the last of her tears drying on her cheeks. "I don't know why you two insist on bickering all the time. You clearly love each other."
Bucky smirked; he thought about explaining to her why he was frustrated with Sam but decided it wasn't the right time. "You should really talk to him about this. I don't want you to put yourself in danger trying to protect him. It would kill him to lose you too, you know."
Chanel nodded, "I will. Just not now. He has so much other stuff on his plate right now. I've already piled on enough."
"Doll—"
"Please. Please don't say anything to him about any of this."
He ran his thumb over her cheekbone, catching one stray tear. Her eyes were desperate; her eyelashes sparkled with tears. "Of course not." Bucky knew there was more that she wasn't telling him, more that was hurting her; he just wanted to make her feel better. "Sam may be an annoying pain in my ass, but I'm not going to let anything happen to him. I promise." He kissed her forehead sweetly, a gesture that had been ingrained in him from taking care of his younger sisters in a past life.
Chanel's body was screaming for comfort; she wanted to kiss him, wrap her whole body around him and never let go. But the voice in the back of her head reminded her of what Sam had said that morning. He clearly has feelings for you.
Bucky leaned down to kiss her, and she placed her hand on his chest, pushing him away.
"I'm sorry—I shouldn't have—"
"God, if you apologize to me one more time, I'm going to scream." Chanel rolled her eyes and sat up on her knees so she could look him in the eyes. "I just think we need to clear up a few things. First, I truly am sorry for how I treated you last night; you didn't deserve that. I don't have an excuse; I'm just not good with emotions." She took a steadying breath. "Second, I don't want to lead you on; I've been selfish."
"Selfish? What are you talking about?"
"Letting you take a nap with me the other day for one. And I'm being selfish now, crying to you about my problems. I'm sorry for that too."
"What are you saying?" Bucky looked away from her, already expecting the worst. In his mind, she was already back with Stephan and wanted nothing to do with him.
"I'm saying that I think you are looking for something more than I can give you."
Bucky looked at her quizzically, and she sighed. "I'm attracted to you; I think you're a great guy. I want to keep having fun with you, but not if it means that you're going to expect me to—I don't know—think of it as anything more than that."
Bucky sat back on the couch and mulled over what she had said. On the one hand, he was surprised; he was still always expecting a total rejection. But, on the other hand, he wasn't sure if he could do what she was asking; he wasn't sure if he even wanted it.
She placed her hand on his arm, "We don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can just be friends if that's what you want."
It wasn't what he wanted. As he gazed at her, he couldn't even tell himself why he needed more than what she was offering. Something about her just called to him. Maybe it was because she didn't seem to take anything seriously. Or perhaps it was because she wasn't afraid of him. Maybe it was because she made him laugh, even when he didn't feel like it.
I can have all of that in a friend, too...right?
His gaze dropped to her lips.
I can either spend my time kissing her or wishing that I was.
One thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want to give up the comfort of her physical touch and presence. Not when he had spent so long feeling alone.
He leaned in until his lips were almost on hers. "What if I want to be your friend and kiss you too?"
Chanel smiled, "Are you being dramatic, or do you really not know what friends with benefits means?"
"Umm, both?"
"Are you sure you're down with that? You're not going to get all possessive on me?"
She was running her fingers through his hair, and he couldn't think. He probably would have told her anything she wanted to hear. "I'm sure," he breathed out before closing the distance between them. He could feel her smile against his lips, and he smiled back, pleased that he was the cause of hers.
With a few anchors released from her ship full of guilt, Chanel finally started to feel better. She found that she wasn't even embarrassed about her melt-down in front of Bucky. On the contrary, it had oddly been nice. Almost like talking to Sam would have been.
Truthfully, she had been expecting Bucky to reject her, and she was thrilled that she got to keep this part of their new relationship intact.
She maneuvered into his lap, "I'm so glad because I don't know how I would have restrained myself otherwise." Then, to accentuate her point, she pulled his jacket off so she could run her hands over his bulging arms.
"The feeling is mutual." Bucky kissed her again, a little more heatedly.
His hands were stagnant on her arms; Chanel moved them slowly down her body. "I want you to touch me." She placed his hands on her hips, and he relaxed a little at her verbal consent.
She leaned in to kiss his neck, her lips on a quest to find the spot that would make him hers. His hands grazed over her back and her hips and her thighs, igniting a fire in both of them. She knew she had found his weak spot when his fingers dug firmly into her thighs.
"Do you like that?" Chanel murmured as she repeated her movements.
"Yes," he gasped as her teeth grazed over his skin. He quickly lifted her off his lap and laid her on the couch, moving between her legs and giving her neck the same treatment.
"You know you still haven't made good on your promise from the other night." Chanel arched her back slightly when he sucked her earlobe into his mouth.
"What promise was that?" He teased.
"You know exactly what promise. Finish what you started."
"Right now?" Bucky grabbed her wrist when she started trying to remove his belt. He looked at her like she had suggested they jump out of the plane.
"Why not? They're busy. They'll never know."
Bucky wasn't convinced, but his body told him otherwise when she sat up and forced him onto his back, straddling his hips. Her alluring face above him, eyes glowing with desire, was a sight he could get used to.
"Fuck, you're beautiful."
Chanel snickered, "I'm wearing sweats, and I've literally never put less effort into my hair than I did this morning."
"I don't see a correlation." Feeling braver, Bucky moved his hands purposefully over her curves, finally relishing in her form.
Chanel leaned back down to kiss him; his lips had more urgency behind them, and he didn't stop her from undoing his pants. His breath hitched when she slowly moved her hand past the waistband of his jeans, and he groaned into her mouth when she finally wrapped her teasing hand around his stiff member.
She shushed him, "you're going to have to be quieter than that." She moved her lips back to his neck as she worked him over with her firm, needy touch drawing another moan from his lips. She tsked playfully in his ear.
"You can't tell me to be quiet and then do shit like that," he rasped, throwing his head back to give her better access to his neck.
Chanel smirked; she liked how responsive he was to her touch. It made her feel in control, and that made her feel stable. She increased her efforts and, this time, was rewarded with a breathy moan of her name. She could feel the need growing between her hips every time he gasped or moaned.
Bucky finally started to completely give himself over to her, the desire he felt for her reaching its peak. He needed more. Just as he began to pull the hem of her shirt up over her midriff, he heard footsteps heading in their direction.
"Shit," he groaned in frustration. "Someone's coming."
Chanel groaned too, "Can you tell who it is?"
"I have enhanced hearing, not psychic vision."
"Ass." Chanel hit his chest as she reluctantly sat up, still straddling his legs.
Bucky finished tightening his belt just as Sam and Zemo walked through the door. They didn't notice Bucky and Chanel at first, as they finished up a conversation.
"Sorry about that," Chanel vaguely gestured in Bucky's direction, her apology directed at their unfinished business.
"Me too," he peeked back to make sure Sam and Zemo were still oblivious to them and then sat up and nipped at the hardened nipple that was protruding through her t-shirt.
Chanel yelped, surprised and aroused by his brazenness.
That caught Sam's attention, and he finally looked up, finding Chanel sitting on Bucky's lap. "Oh, come on. Really guys? On the plane?"
"This is your fault," Chanel muttered to Bucky, a teasing grin on her face.
"Hey, I told you now wasn't a good time," Bucky smirked at her as she climbed off his lap.
Chanel eyed the wardrobe bag in Zemo's arms. "Are you all going to play dress up for me now?"
"That's the plan. We're landing in about 30 minutes." Sam scratched his head nervously.
Chanel rubbed his arm, "Great, then get dressed, and I will give you a quick lesson on how to properly go undercover."
"Thank God you're here. I have no clue what I'm walking into."
Zemo handed Sam his wardrobe bag, "The restroom is at the back if you're shy." Then, he turned to Bucky, "I assume you have your wardrobe handled?"
Bucky nodded curtly; he was not looking forward to this. Part of him wished he could switch roles with Chanel, but he couldn't put her in any more danger than she was already in.
"Excellent; I will return shortly for the lesson." Zemo winked at Chanel and disappeared again.
"I'll go first. I feel like you probably take a while to get ready." Bucky jabbed as he grabbed his duffel bag and headed to the back of the plane.
Chanel took a seat across from Sam as he started changing into the loud red and yellow suit Zemo gave him.
"So, you two are good then?" He raised an eyebrow at Chanel.
Chanel shrugged her shoulders, "We had a communication issue; you know it's not my strong suit. We're just friends. He gets that now."
"Friends," Sam laughed. "Friends that make out every time I leave them alone. Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Chanel rolled her eyes, "I told you, we fixed the communication issue. We're good."
"Just don't come crying to me when it blows up in your face."
Sam pulled a stack of chains out of the wardrobe bag with a skeptical glance. Chanel gave him an amused smile and took them from him, standing on the seat to fasten them around his neck.
"Speaking of crying, don't think I didn't notice your eyes when you got in the car earlier. I hate to say it, but Zemo was right; you deserve so much better than that dude. He is the literal worst, and I only spent a total of like 10 minutes with him."
"I wasn't crying because I was leaving him."
It wasn't a total lie. She had been more upset about leaving than she had expected, but Sam didn't need to know that.
"Did he do something? I swear I'll kill him if he laid a finger on you."
"Calm down, Big Bird. We just had a fight, that's all."
"I hope it didn't involve throwing things again," Zemo added as he took a seat across from them. He had changed into a snug purple sweater and an obnoxious floor-length coat with a white fur collar.
Chanel glared at him, trying not to notice how his sweater subtly defined his lean muscles.
Why is he being such a dick today?
"Throwing things?" Sam looked to Chanel and didn't get a reply, so he turned to Zemo, "Did you see something?"
"He didn't see anything," Chanel snapped. "I may have thrown a Fabergé egg at Stephan's head last night, but we've done worse. So don't worry about it."
Zemo's features darkened, "He deserved it."
"Chanel, you know that is incredibly unhealthy, right? Please tell me you know that. And you can't make excuses for his behavior."
Sam had slipped into his counselor voice, and Chanel moved away from him, going to grab her weapons case. "Just lay off; you don't know what you're talking about."
She slammed the weapons case on the coffee table in the middle of the plane. "Come on, lesson time."
Sam and Zemo joined her, sitting on the couch while she stood in front of them like a teacher.
"What is this outfit, Zemo? I look like a pimp."
"Only an American would think a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like who you are supposed to be. His name is Smiling Tiger." Zemo looked up as Bucky approached, "And there's our Soldat."
Bucky and Sam both glared at him, and he put his arms up in surrender.
"Focus, we don't have a lot of time." Chanel was trying to take her own advice; she had a hard time focusing on anything other than how fine Bucky looked. She definitely had a type. Dangerous with a touch of instability sprinkled in, a heaping side of implicit dominance. Bucky's face was already hardening into his emotionless mask. His brown leather jacket was missing a sleeve, leaving his vibranium arm on display. Her eyes roamed over his broad chest and down to his hands.
Jesus Christ, fingerless gloves?
Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, and she cleared her throat, licking her lips before refocusing. "Here are your comms," she handed them each a communication earpiece. "As long as those are turned on, I will be able to track your movements on my tablet. And Sam, wear this camera pin so I can have a live feed of everything you're seeing. I'll see if I can hack into the security cameras when we get there. Next, weapons, I have—"
"No weapons." Zemo cut in.
"What?" Chanel asked.
"We can't take any weapons. If they think we are a threat, they will kill us all. No weapons."
Chanel looked at Sam, who shrugged. Chanel gave Zemo an irritated smile."Okay then. No weapons." She closed the case and sat on it, fixing the men with a serious stare. "The most important thing about being undercover is to stay in character. Any break in character, a concerned glance, holding back your punches, saying the wrong thing, ordering the wrong drink, any of those things can get you killed." Chanel focused her stern eyes on Sam. "I'll be honest, Sam, you're the one I'm most concerned about."
"Me?" Sam started to protest at being singled out.
"What are you going to do if you see something bad happening and you can't jump in and save the day? This is a rough place. You have to remain in character. Do you understand?"
Sam nodded curtly; he was also starting to wish he could just switch places with Chanel. He wasn't cut out for this.
"Remember, I'll be able to see and hear everything. I'll talk you through any sticky situations."
The plane started its descent, and all of them attributed their nervous stomachs to the drop in altitude. Zemo and Sam moved back to the front of the plane to go over Smiling Tiger's file.
Chanel grabbed a backpack and stuffed her gear into it, including her wardrobe change.
Just in case.
She pulled on a black hoodie and changed into black jeans, unconcerned about the appraising eyes of the men watching her.
"How do I look?" She asked sarcastically as she plopped down on the couch next to Bucky.
"Stealthy."
Chanel gave him a half-smile. He didn't return it, and she chalked it up to nerves.
Chanel admired the three men in front of her, the ominous lackluster lights of the city acting as their backdrop. A haze hung around them like a ghostly whisper; Chanel wasn't sure if it was fog or pollution; that was Madripoor.
"How did I get so lucky to have such dashing companions?" She teased. She straightened Sam's suit jacket and then ran her hands over the fur on Zemo's coat. "Is this real or faux?"
"Faux, I'm not a monster."
Bucky rolled his eyes, and Chanel snickered. She moved away from Zemo and ran her hands over Bucky's leather jacket. "I would tell you to lighten up, but that's not really in character."
Chanel put her hood up, trying to obscure her face as much as possible. "Try not to have too much fun without me. I'll be watching you."
"You'll be good getting into town on your own?" Sam asked.
"I'll be fine. I'll let you know when I'm in position."
"You really shouldn't be wearing that necklace. Even under your jacket, it's like a shining beacon."
Chanel rolled her eyes; she had been unwilling to part with it on the plane. "Fine." She took the necklace off and handed it to Zemo, who looked at her questioningly. "You're the only one that has pockets."
Zemo nodded and took the necklace from her, securing it in his coat pocket.
"And you're the only one that knows exactly what I will do to you if that gets lost or broken," Chanel whispered to him.
"I'll protect it with my life," Zemo assured her, amused by her threat.
Chanel turned around at the sound of an approaching motorcycle. "This sounds like my ride boys," Chanel stepped forward and put her hand out like she was calling a taxi. The bike slowed down and came to a stop in front of her. A stocky tattooed man stepped off the bike and cockily approached Chanel. "Need a ride, sweetness?" He placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
Chanel smirked, "Why yes, thanks for the bike." She clasped both of her hands around his wrist; in the blink of an eye, she forcefully twisted his arm until he was leaning forward with her elbow digging into his back.
"I'll need the helmet too," she said calmly.
When the man yelled back profanities instead of complying, she pulled his arm further back behind him until he ripped the helmet off with his free hand and threw it on the ground.
"See, that wasn't so hard." She pushed her elbow hard into his back, causing his shoulder to make a loud pop as it dislocated.
Chanel quickly rifled through his pockets, throwing his pistol over the bridge and into the water. She put the helmet on and straddled the red and black motorcycle.
"You're such a drama queen!" Sam yelled over his shoulder.
"Just a little bit," Chanel smiled to herself as she took off towards Madripoor.
Sam said a quick prayer as he watched the baleful darkness consume her. The city gave him an uneasy feeling. It felt alive like they were about to dive right into the belly of the beast.
A town car approached them, and Sam sat in the back with Bucky. They shared a nervous glance and then steeled themselves for what was to come.
"Here goes nothing," Sam muttered as they took off into Madripoor's awaiting jaws.