Slow Mornings
For someone who had served in the military and lived in a high-security prison for almost ten years, Helmut Zemo was a surprisingly late riser.
If you two had something to do he had no problem with being up early. In fact, on those days where you had to be up for travel or had planned an outing in the early hours of the day, he was a surprisingly chipper morning person, bustling around the kitchen to make breakfast and getting things packed. That being said, if he didn’t need to be awake before noon, you could be damn sure that he wouldn’t be.
This was one of those mornings. The kind where you woke up to the heavy weight of Helmut’s arms around you and the warmth of his breath on your chest. On mornings like these, you let yourself dawdle a bit more, leaning into his touch and basking in the warmth of the slowly rising sun. The bed beneath you was plush; warm, welcoming, and covered in surprisingly warm silk sheets. In contrast, a cool breeze blew in from the slightly-ajar door leading out to the balcony. After a while, though, getting up was unavoidable. It was time to wake the beast. With a soft chuckle, you attempted to shift yourself from his grip.
It didn’t work.
Even in his sleep, Helmut’s hold on you was firm. You tried again. This time, though, you added the incentive of your voice, still rough from sleep.
“Hel,” You called gently as you wiggled, “Hel, it’s time to get up,”
He didn’t even give a grumble in return. For all intents and purposes, he was dead to the world. How had he ever survived his short stint in Madripoor if he slept this deeply? You couldn’t even fathom it. Still, in this situation where there was no threat, you hated to disturb his peace.
Well, perhaps you could stay in bed for a few more minutes…
Those minutes quickly turned to an hour in the blink of an eye.
Only then did Helmut begin to stir in his place beside you, eyes fluttering open, still half glazed over with exhaustion. You smiled down at him softly. “Goodmorning, sleepyhead,” As you spoke, your hand made its way into his wild bedhead, doing his best to smooth it down.
He offered you a lazy grin. “Goodmorning, Schatzi,”
You loved him like this, lax against your body with his voice still thick and his accent strong enough to make your knees weak. Bare-chested and starry-eyed, he didn’t seem one bit like the intimidating man you knew he was outside your house. Here, he was simply Helmut. Grinning, sleepy, dopey Helmut who would never turn down a chance to drag you into bed and stay there for hours. It made you want to kiss him. So, that’s what you did.
Matching his lazy smile, you stooped down to place a soft kiss on his lips.
Helmut was quick to fall into the familiar rhythm. He nipped at your lower lip slightly, deepening the kiss and letting his mouth fall open against yours as you pressed yourself closer to his warm body. For a moment, you relished the feeling of his bare chest against your own. He was always so warm, so soft as he pressed himself flush against you. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but whine.
“Did I miss anything important?” He teased, propping himself on his elbow as you recollected yourself. Suddenly, you were feeling much more awake.
“Nothing much,” you giggled breathlessly, “but it’s almost noon. You owe me breakfast,”
“Breakfast?” He leaned in once again, giving you a soft peck on the lips that made your face heat up. “Now, Y/N, what in the world could you possibly want for breakfast,”
Slowly, you approached his face for another kiss. As Helmut let his eyes flutter closed, though, you pulled away with a giggle. “Pancakes I think. Maybe some fruit too?”
Helmut groaned at your antics. Rolling onto his back, he went limp against the bed. “Just five more minutes?”
You settled in at his side. “Fine, five more minutes, but then I get my pancakes,”
“Anything for you, darling,” He hummed, “Now come here, let me hold you,”
Maybe you could afford to stay in bed a little longer after all.