Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nausea did not suit a Zemo. Nor did throwing up every hour of the day. Helmut was completely miserable, he'd ended up having to remove his mask with how frequently he got sick. Which was plenty humiliating enough. His only solace was that he was basically alone in his lab, excluding Zola. Who was thankfully completely engrossed in his work. Far too busy testing on the DNA sample Zemo had graciously offered him, of the one and only Captain America. While giving no real explanation on how he got it. Or what it was prior to him tampering with it. 

 And he would continue to not tell him of that specific night.

 But keeping his condition hidden was growing harder, when he was struggling to even work on his own experiment. Altering the mechanical doctor to his aid when he shakily stood, hardly making it to the trash can. Lifting his head, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the swiss man was suddenly there, a face of concern (or as concerned as a screen could look) staring at him. That stupid camera clearly having been watching him that whole time. 

 "You're sick." Zola stated bluntly, earning a scoff from the German. 

 "I'm fine, I must have just eaten something bad," He grumbled, keeling over as another wave of nausea slammed him like a truck. 

 "...For the past three days in a row too?" There's a clear sarcasm in the Doctor's voice, and if he were able to, Zola would likely be glaring at him. Before Zemo could respond, Zola spoke again. "And don't try to say it's some minor virus either, you and I both know the Compound X you use makes that near impossible." 

 Zola wouldn't let him make any excuse would he? Zemo simply grumbled, walking back to his desk and gulping down some water. It wasn't uncommon that his fellow scientist would pester him on his health (he was a friend of his Father's after all), but it didn't make it any less awkward for him. He was an adult after all, not the child his father and Zola would have to shoo out of the lab anymore! 

 He was fine. He didn't need someone pestering him about eating on time, or getting more sleep. 

 He was fine.

 And the water hitting his cramping stomach was less than well received. 

 "I'm fine, it's not any issue." He huffed, swallowing hard and turning back to his desk. 

 "You haven't gotten anything done," Zola stated bluntly, a large robotic hand placing itself rather harshly on Zemo's shoulder. Helmut's ears went red, or as red as they could through the extreme scarring. "Let me run a diagnostic on you." 

 "I have made progress!" A lie. Managing to get barely one wire soldered in three days was not progress. He attempts to shrug the other man's hand off his shoulder. It does not move. 

 "It was not a request." Zola states bluntly. And knowing how stubborn Helmut is, doesn't hesitate to basically drag him from his desk by his shirt, like an owner grabbing a disobedient kitten. 

 And all Zemo can think is that Zola was simply lucky he wasn't still human, or he'd not have gotten him even an inch toward the medical table. 

 He opens his mouth to argue, but isn't even given the chance when Zola has already jabbed him with a needle, taking a blood sample. Gaining an annoyed hiss in response. 

 "Just get on the fucking table, Helmut." Zola orders, in the kind of voice his father would use when chastising him. If he didn't feel so awful he would argue, but at this point he just huffed and listened, laying over the table as the machines scan him. His scarred face twisted into what could best be described as a pout. 

 The table is quick, running nearly every test it possibly could in mere seconds. It was damn fine handiwork, which he could applaud Zola for, if the bastard wasn't always boasting about his genius every damm second the thing was used.

 Except the Swiss was being very… Unboastful at that minute, silent even. Helmut sat up, eyes narrowed. He couldn't see the results from where he was sitting, and no expression on the other's screen could even give him a hint at what kind of result he got. Thankfully, after an agonizing minute of silence Zola spoke. 

 "Helmut. What did you do? " It was not the kind of question he was anticipating. Nor was he given the chance to answer it, as the other speaks again. "Because somehow, you've not only gained a working fucking womb, BUT you are also very nearly twelve weeks pregnant." 

 Ah. Ah. 

  For once Baron Helmut J. Zemo is entirely silent. Pulling on his mask to hide that his face had gone almost entirely red. Zola doesn't repent on his questions though.

 "I'm waiting." 

 He swallows hard. He knows the answers to his questions. 

 "I had… Angered some witch, and got…" He motioned vaguely at his waist area. "About… Ah, possibly… 15 weeks ago. Something about 'ending the bloodline.' Which well… Didn't work, clearly," The irony was nearly funny, if it weren't so humiliating. 

 Zola was just standing there, clearly in thought. There was enough of an expression on the screen to tell Helmut they were not positive. 

 "And your fight with the captain. Where you were conveniently uninjured, When was that?" 

  Oh. 

  Gulping, he finds his hands fiddling with his loincloth. Zola was too smart. Damned robotic bastard. 

 "12 weeks ago, approximately." It's very nearly a mumble, and if Zola still had eyes he'd likely be glaring into his soul. Humiliation growing ten fold. He slowly got to his feet. 

 Zola only gave an affirming sound, typing something into one of the screens. Zemo started back toward the desk where his device laid, still in pieces. 

 "So. Not only are you just irresponsible, but you whore yourself out to the enemy? Is this a new plan you've yet to inform me of?" Zola spoke, his voice laced with pure venom. It was cruel. Angered. It stopped Zemo in his tracks. 

 "It wasn't-" 

 "Tell me, did the witch curse you with stupidity too? You cannot carry a bastard child! Especially not his!" 

  "Zola-!" 

 "This would destroy Hydra's reputation if it got out, your reputation! What would your father think!?" 

 Zemo suddenly finds himself pulling out his gun, firing. It misses Zola, a bullet burrowing into the wall next to him. It silences the other right away. 

 "Do NOT bring my father into this!" Helmut's voice isn't angry. He hates how it cracks, how hurt he sounds. What business was it to Zola what his family may think, what he did with his own child? Questioning HIM?

  He puts the gun back in it's holster, latching it. His stomach churned painfully, and he sat harshly in his seat. Thank god for the baggy mask, as the other couldn't see the way his eyes stung with tears. 

  This was just from a simple mistake. 

 "What of our plans?" Zola spoke after a moment of silence, quietly. "What… There's never been a child sired by a Super Soldier, what if-?" 

 "We will continue our plan." Helmut dug through a drawer on the desk, swallowing down several anti nausea pills. "I'm not going to be hindered by something so trivial as this." 

 "But the fetus, how do you plan on being rid of it?" 

 Zemo pauses. The thought had never crossed his mind. He's silent.

 The thought of true fatherhood. It had never truly been something he thought about, continuing the bloodline, keeping his lineage going. In some way, when he'd 'adopted' the kindled, it had felt… Nice. When they were taken, he felt something more painful than a failed plan. Something like grief, that same aching feeling in his chest as he'd later felt when Heike passed away in prison, when she'd jumped in after him into the very vat that destroyed his face.

 Maybe… Maybe he was growing some attachment to the being forming in his new womb. Or maybe, the idea of proving that sniveling hag of a witch wrong was appealing. 

 And maybe. Just maybe. The idea of being a better father than his own was a pleasant thought. 

 "...I think I'll keep it." He stated simply, "I am… Interested in how the serum may have affected the good Captain's genes." He added, perhaps the prospect of science would appeal to his comrade. 

 "...If you're certain," Zola responds hesitantly, seemingly at least accepting of the idea. 

Chapter Text

  Sleeping is difficult. Memories of that night flood the Baron's mind every time he closes his eyes. Leaving him squirming in bed, as flushed and hot as he'd been then. 

 It had started as a fight.

  In a laboratory, S.H.I.E.L.D owned. It was ridiculously easy to sneak in, find the plans he was looking for, beat down some particularly brave agents. What grew hard, was trying to leave. When the Captain himself decided to arrive. Spouting his heroic bullshit that frankly, Helmut didn't care to remember. He never cared to remember what he said. 

 Of course they fought. But the happenings were a blur, almost all of it was. Until the mistake. One simple mistake. 

 Captain America threw his shield, Zemo ducks out of the way, hitting it away with the end of his sword. They both noticed too late what room they were in. It was full of gasses, samples kept in glass containers far too fragile for a vibranium shield to be thrown around near. Somehow by pure luck, it misses any of the fatal ones, though it turned out there weren't any there anyway.

 The glass cracked as soon as the shield bounced off, being quickly caught by the Captain. Zemo's mask does nothing, as the glass shatters. The room is quickly filled with the gas, clouding his vision. His mind, his senses entirely. 

 He remembered the way his body began to ache. Face flushed behind his mask, legs becoming too shaky to hold him up. He fell onto his stomach, curled up. An alarm blares, but he couldn't hear it over the way his heartbeat raced in his ears, metal panels going over every door, vent, or any way of exit. They're trapped, waiting for the gas to dissipate.

 Zemo learned quickly what kind of gas it was, as he felt his heartbeat elsewhere. An aphrodisiac, and a strong one at that. And he was certain what happened next was solely due to that gas. 

 Steve approached him, hands surprisingly gentle. Even through his clothes, feeling the other touch him sent shivers all throughout his body, dragging an embarrassing whimper out of him. He was light headed, too weak to pull himself to his feet, or sit up even. Steve pulled his hands away, driving yet another sound from Zemo. It was humiliating, how vulnerable he was while locked in a room with his mortal enemy. 

 He was glad though, that even under the effect of the gas, Steve was ever the gentleman. So… gentle. Far gentler than he deserved. 

 He trembled as Steve cuffed him, carefully taking the stolen plans away from him. But the gas was still filling the room, driving him more and more mad with every moment. He was drenched . Thighs rubbing agonizingly against one another, a level of arousal he'd never felt before. This was… much different than anything else he'd felt when he'd still had his penis. 

 He felt like he was in fucking heat. Desperate. Whining...

 The good Captain America must have taken pity on him, unable to just stand there and see him suffer until the doors opened. How selfless.

 "Do you want help?" Steve's voice was soft, hands gently laying over his hips. Not gripping, just… soothingly stroking. Every touch sent shivers through his body, driving another soft whimper out of him. A hand strokes along his back, as Zemo arches against it. Breathing in shakily. 

 "Please…" The Baron sputtered out desperately, breath hot against his mask. He felt like he was suffocating, but his hands were still cuffed. A hand slid along his clothed buttock, slipping down between his thighs. Trembling, Zemo's body pushes back against the other man's hand. "Oh… Oh please!" 

 "Shhh… Okay, I've got you." Steve leaned forward, whispering it into his ear. The captain's hand pushed forward, rubbing at Zemo through his clothes. He didn't even hesitate! "God… You're so wet, it soaked through your clothes.." 

 The way his hand rubbed at him, it was near expert. If he weren't under such a haze, Zemo probably would have been surprised in finding out the captain was experienced. But alas, all his mind found itself capable of registering was just how damn good that felt. His thighs squeezed together in a wince when Steve rubbed down against his clit through the fabric, dragging a hard gasp from the Baron. Tenderly, the hand on his back slid down, carefully spreading his thighs again. 

 "So sensitive…" Steve cooed, as Zemo could only whimper in return. He felt the other move, eyes widening when he felt something hard press against his thigh. Something big. 

 Steve must have been just as affected as he was by the gas. He wiggled in the cuffs, brain on autopilot. 

  He wanted it inside him, now. 

 But Steve just kept rubbing him through his pants, dragging gasps and whimpers out of his enemy. He was driving Zemo insane, desperately pressing back against the hand. It wasn't enough, he needed MORE. 

 "Scheiße… Fuck me…!" He meant for it to sound like an order, but it merely came out as a desperate cry, begging. He was begging. 

  For the man who killed his father to make love to him . The man who he wanted to see as nothing more than dead.

 Steve lifts away his hands. He didn't hear a verbal response, but the sound of rustling fabric was enough of an answer for him. Steve's hands return to his hips, pushing aside his loincloth and tugging at the fabric. His strength must have betrayed him, as Zemo's pants simply tear instead of coming down. Neither cared at that moment. The cool air against his now bare ass and cunt sends a shiver up the Baron's spine, followed by a choked back gasp as he feels Steve's heavy cock lay against him. Throbbing, warm. 

 "Shh.." Steve soothed, again stroking along Zemo's back. He pulled his hips up just enough to get a good angle. Anxiety began to bubble in the masked man's stomach. He's so big. He'll split me in half! 

 Zemo feels the head of the captain's sizable cock press against his entrance, pushing his labia apart. Even with how wet he is, he is a virgin again. And the other was big.

  Steve fucking Rogers was going to take his virginity. And he was more than happy to let him.

 It takes everything in him not to cry out as he feels the other push in, spread him apart. He finds himself biting the fabric of his mask, body tensing. It hurts. And he expects the other to ignore it. He had every right to not care. 

  Steve stops though. Hands soothingly stroking along his sides. He doesn't want to hurt him. It confuses Zemo, and he doesn't get any question out before he hears the captain speak in that gentle tone again.

 "Relax, okay? I'll be gentle," Steve whispers into his ear, through the fabric mask. Zemo feels his muscled chest against his back, his heartbeat. As quick as his own. He listens, relaxes his body. His hands struggled in the cuffs. Steve's large hands stroke soothingly against his arms, gently undoing the cuffs. Letting Helmut hold himself up. 

  Why is he being so gentle?

  The movement inside him began again, dragging a strangled cry from him. It hurt less, but the sting is still there. Steve is stretching him open, so gently that the baron wonders if there's even any blood. Slowly, after what feels like HOURS, the captain is all the way in. 

  So full. He felt so full. 

 He doesn't give Steve the chance to ask it, before he finds himself begging again. 

 "P… please… please move," It's quiet, desperate. Zemo wants to move his hips himself, but can't find the strength. If Steve responded, he didn't hear it. Because all he could focus on was the overwhelming feeling of the other moving, slowly pulling back, almost all the way out. It pulls a near sob of a moan out of him, followed by a soft cry as the other pushes back in, bottoming out once more. 

 "Good?" Steve asked, and Zemo could have punched him for how sweet he sounded. Like he's with someone he loved. But instead, he gasps out an affirmation. He could sense the soft smile on the other's face. 

 " Why aren't you hurting me? This isn't right! Stop making me feel so good!" He wants to cry out. But instead he sobs out a "Y-Yes!" 

 He's certain Steve has kissed his head through the mask, hands still so gently stroking along his trembling form. So gentle. So sweet. 

  His body is a traitor, pushing back against Steve's gentle thrusts. Buttocks pressing against his hips. It feels too good, he doesn't deserve this. But Steve, the bastard, must believe he does. Because his hand slowly slides against his stomach, caressing him as it slips between his legs. Fingers pressing into his swollen clit. He's adamant on getting him to cum this early into it.

  He's planning on multiples. 

 Zemo can't fight it off, he tries to clench, anything . But the way Steve massaged at his throbbing clit and had his thrusts angled just right made that impossible, unavoidable. It hits him like a truck, dragging an embarrassing moan from him. Tension growing in his lower belly, clenching. He arches, fingers clawing at the floor. He sobs through it, hips spasming against that cock deep inside him. Ears ringing. Steve is gently fucking him through it, praising him. 

 He can't breathe through his mask anymore, chest heaving as he desperately pulls the fabric up over his mouth, gasping down air. It's too much, he's trembling. His body goes limp against the floor.

 Steve tried to pull out, to stop. To give him a break. Desperately, he reached back, catching the Captain's arm. He doesn't want a break. He needs more. 

 "P-please!" He struggled to gasp out, hand trembling against Steve's arm. "You haven't-" 

  Suddenly he feels selfless. He doesn't want to be the only one to cum. 

 "I don't think you can handle more…" Steve murmurs, but stops pulling out. Too caring, too gentle. It drives the Baron insane, desperate. 

 "I can…! I can!" He whines. It's a lie. He most definitely couldn't. He lacks the stamina Steve has, but he doesn't care. The thought of fainting, being that spent, it excites him, quells any logical thought in his mind. 

 Steve seemed to hesitate for a moment, but slowly, he took a hold of Zemo's hips, adjusting him so that he could comfortably thrust into him without the aid of Zemo holding himself up. Zemo felt himself pressed into the floor, legs pinned under Steve's hips that now straddle his ass. A shiver running up his spine as he lets out an excited gasp. 

 That sound seemed to have encouraged the captain, as he pushed right back in. Focusing finally on himself. Zemo let out a delighted squeal of a sound as Steve's pace grew faster, hips slapping against his buttocks. Hands gripping tighter. 

 Zemo's ankles crossed, legs bent upward behind him. It's so overwhelming, he was still drenched . Which thankfully provided just enough lubrication that Steve could fuck into him, leaving him raw, but not hurting. 

 Steve leaned over him, his breath hot against his neck. His hands slid off from Zemo's hips, moved up to press onto the floor by his shoulder to steady himself. Leverage, as his hips only moved harder into him. Dragging more and more overwhelmed gasps and yelps from Zemo. 

 "You sound so cute…" Steve purred into his ear as he gave a particularly well angled thrust. Zemo couldn't help but whine in response. He felt dizzy, like he would burst. "And you're so tight…" Steve added, moaning lowly. 

 Zemo perhaps, just wanted to hurry up and feel the other finish inside him. Far too aroused to truly think. Any thought of the very real risks of this entirely non-existent. He pressed his hips back, squeezing at the cock inside him. And maybe he took a little pride in the sound that drew out of the other. 

 Steve going harder wasn't quite what he expected to happen, but it wasn't unwelcome. Though Zemo was quickly learning just this wasn't enough to get him quite over the threshold, and he couldn't quite fit his hand down to his clit. How annoying, so much more effort…

  And Steve lasted a while. Damned Serum. 

 Suddenly he feels Steve pull out, gasping as he's flipped onto his back. The other handled him so effortlessly, dragging him down to meet with his thrust as he pressed back in. Zemo's legs wrapped around his waist, a moan escaping him as his scarred lips were selfishly claimed by the captain in a hard kiss, teeth bumping. 

 The other's tongue slipped into his mouth, exploring. The heels of Zemo's boots pressed into the captain's back, hand clinging onto his shoulders. Panting, he felt Steve's lips trail away from his lips, across his jaw and down his neck, kissing at whatever he could reach. Desperately, lovingly. He found a particularly sensitive spot, latching on and biting down gently. Zemo tilted back his head, mewling out in dizzying pleasure. 

 "S-Steven-!" He found himself gasping, as the other began to thrust into him again, even harder than before. Angled in such a way that he was able to hit that one spot inside Zemo to make him squeal. 

  Ah, there's the solution…

  His gloved hands gripped Steve's arms so tight he was certain he bruised the other, even if it healed almost immediately. His eyes rolled back, head feeling light. He was strategic in his thrusts even when desperate, the stupid perfect captain. He must have been hellbent on fucking the other into unconsciousness.

 As Zemo quickly found he wasn't staying awake much longer. Not when that same feeling of built up pressure in his lower belly was growing again, seeing spots in his eyes. 

 "I-I'm-going to-!" He started, voice cracking as he only trailed off into some german babbling, squirming under the other. 

 "Me t-too!" Steve gasped, hands gripping Zemo tightly. So tight Zemo found dark bruises on his hips later.

 What a shame it was, that Zemo found himself slipping out of reality when Steve actually finished, robbing him of the feeling of being filled up. 

 When he woke, he wasn't in the lab anymore, nor a prison. Steve, the absolute darling, must have dropped him off at home. Cleaned him up just enough to make it a little less obvious what they'd done. And thank god, for the loincloth that conveniently hid the tearing in his pants enough that he could sneak past Zola without him noticing the rips. 

 He certainly felt the soreness though, hips and back aching, legs shaky for the next few days. 

  Ever the gentleman, Steven… 

Chapter Text

  "You aren't getting too attached, are you?" Zola had spoken, startling Zemo out of how fixated he was on his device. He looked up, brow raised. 

 "What is that supposed to mean?" 

 Zola motioned at his now swelling stomach, and a notepad there on Zemo's desk. A list of names, sections for if the baby was male or female. Zemo scoffed, closing the notepad and cramming it away in a drawer, slamming it shut. 

 "It's perfectly sensible to think of names this early," He mumbled, leaning back in his seat. Back protesting the movement. He was getting farther along, nearing four months now. Thankfully, he was feeling far less sick nowadays. Though the odd cravings and occasional sharp pains weren't the greatest. Or how it was growing more and more obvious he was with child, and Zola's irritating insistence that he at least stay inside and hidden. But, that would hinder their plans too much, a teleportation device couldn't be made with just nothing. 

 And he was never one to enjoy being trapped inside doing nothing. He was growing stir crazy. 

 "You're naming it…" Arnim sounded disappointed, which earned him a scowl from the baron. 

 "You ought to mind your own business, Zola." Zemo simply said, standing slowly from his seat. Hand on his belly as he groaned softly. His back was not a fan of this new weight on his body, aching as he stretched. 

 If Zola had something to say, he certainly was hesitating. Which Zemo was more than happy about, glad the old bullet hole still in the wall still held its message. What business did the robotic bastard have telling him how to handle this? Telling him not to get attached to his own child? It was nearly every day for the past few months, either wanting to convince him to have a machine carry the fetus or to rid himself of it entirely. And every time he'd decline both options. Or entirely tell Zola to stick it. 

 "The Thunderbolts have been seen nearby by our allies," Zola finally spoke, wisely dropping the subject. Zemo simply shook his head, stretching one of his legs. 

 "They are of no consequence to us," He hummed, stretching his other leg. "Once we finish my teleportation device, they won't ever be an issue again," 

 "That's what I'm getting to." Zola grumbled, and Zemo was briefly certain he could hear his gears grinding. "You plan on powering it by stealing one of Stark's power sources." 

 "Yes. I am, what of it?" 

 "Just how do you plan on getting one?" Zola began, and stepped forward. Arms motioned to show the clear dissatisfaction his screen couldn't. "Just going into his lab and taking it? You wouldn't be able to get past his security like THIS!" 

 "I-" Zemo tried to interject, but the other kept ranting loudly. 

 "You can't properly wear your armor now, or even your belt for that matter!" Zola pointed at Zemo's belly, the baron's ears going red as he ranted over how frustrating being around him like this was. As if somehow this was so damn hard for HIM. When all he was REALLY doing was the occasional scan to make sure neither Zemo or the baby were dying. Hell, he didn't even TRY to check what sex the baby was. All Zemo really KNEW was that it was alive. "You've set back our plan by MONTHS, And all because you let that… that… Stupid AMERICAN of all people plant his filthy seed in you! Instead of someone WORTHY of-" 

  Ohh. So that was it then? 

 A sly smile spread across Zemo's face, eyes narrowing. He wasn't wearing his mask, so Zola took notice and went silent. 

 Little memories long left unspoken of, to keep things civil came back to his mind. Moments of their prior team ups, before he lost his face.

 "I see what this is now…" Zemo spoke, slowly approaching his mechanical comrade. "You're jealous of the Captain aren't you? Du Perverser… It must be so hard to see your fantasies come to life, and not get to do anything, isn't it?" He trilled. And he was certain if Zola could, he'd be a bright red. 

 "I-I" 

 "Just like back then, right?" He drew even closer, until he was basically pressed up against the other's metal frame. "When you watched me in the bath, thinking you were so well hidden … But it's so much more pathetic now, hm? Not being able to jerk off to me with that useless dick anymore," 

 It was clearly getting to the other, based on the silent way he stood there, just frozen in place. Of course, Zola never knew that the Baron had been aware of the scientist's peeping tendencies. 

 "And it must kill you, to know that Steven has pleasured me in such wonderful ways, in ways you never could have dreamed of even when you still had your pathetic human body." He continues, voice hardly more than a sneer. Same cruel smile on his scarred face. Was it deserved? Possibly not. But he was tired of hearing how he ought to deal with his own child. From a man so pathetic as fucking Arnim Zola. "Doesn't it?"

 He didn't get any response, nor did he even wait for one. The point was made, and he was satisfied with the silence. Pulling back, he sauntered back to his desk. The device was nearly finished, all it needed was power… The baron pulled on his mask, along with a far looser harness than his usual one. It was too easy for it to come undone, but he was certain he could move carefully enough just sneaking that it wouldn't affect it. Along with a dark leather overcoat to hide his swelling belly.

 "I'm going to get that power source," He stated simply, putting one of his handguns into the latch on his harness. He found himself unable to fit his belt, therefore leaving his sword far too inconvenient to try and bring with him. Zola did not respond, either still too humiliated or angry to even care what Zemo was doing. Either option suited Helmut just fine. 

. . .

 As it turned out, his former team was in the area. Though, they had still been entirely clueless of his being there. Also there was the Wrecking Crew. Which he found himself easily able to avoid, as their sheer destruction of anything they came near was easy to spot. And with the groups fighting, it was all too easy to sneak his way into the warehouse he’d tracked the power source he needed to. 

 It was a little childish, his smugness when he tucked it away into his pocket. Knowing he could rub this right in Zola’s stupid screen face. “You were worried over nothing at all, fool.” He could say, “I told you this wouldn’t hinder me!”

  Although, his delight was getting cut short. A loud explosion went off, and by how it left his ears ringing and head throbbing. It was close. Just barely down the street. His luck was running out quickly, and he’d need to leave even quicker if he planned on avoiding getting in the middle of the fight ensuing just outside the warehouse. 

 He couldn’t just walk right out of the doors, as that would put him right into the very street the fight was now moving to. He’d need to find another way out, a back door. Jumping out a window or climbing out a vent wasn’t exactly an option for him when he was as far along as he was. 

 “Scheiße…” He grumbled, trotting as quickly as he could over toward the back of the warehouse, spotting a small exit door. It would lead out to a back alley, perfect! He could use the backroads to sneak past the others and get back home! And finish that damned device that had taken up months of his precious time. 

 Or so he thought, as he instead found himself stumbling back with a startled cry. As a wrecking ball smashed through the wall next to him. Rubble cascading over the exit he was started toward. Another explosion fires off near where the first had, and he’s not given enough time to struggle to his feet when two of the destructive villains are climbing over the rubble, the ball dragging its way back to its owner. His luck is non-existent now, as he’s quickly noticed. 

  “Oh how lucky!” The leader speaks. Wrecker, holding his crowbar. “Just as we’re clobbering those annoying thunderbolts, we ALSO find their old boss, findin’ what we need,” 

  Oh no. 

  He clambers for his gun, only to find it missing. That damn harness! It had fallen off when he’d stumbled back, handgun ending up buried under the rubble caused by that stupid brute and his wrecking ball. And he most definitely was not in a state that he could fight them just by hand. 

 “You guys teamin’ up again, Baron?”

 It would be a good time for the thunderbolts to come into the warehouse, but alas, Zemo is smart enough to know the other two members of the wrecking crew are likely distracting them. 

 “Of COURSE not!” Zemo found himself scoffing as he struggled to his feet. Clutching his coat rightly around his body. They couldn’t see that he was pregnant, how vulnerable he was. Not now! “They’re nothing more than traitors to me..”


“Oh, good,” Wrecker took a step toward him, still gripping that crowbar like he was ready to beat Zemo over the head with it. Which, he was sure he was actually planning. He HAD made fools of the group before. Several times. “Then you can hand us that little reactor you took, and I’ll CONSIDER not caving your head in,” 

 Ah. They were after the same thing. Unfortunately, it wasn’t like he could just GIVE it to them, not with how much HE needed it. Certainly more than they did. The baron backed away with each step Wrecker took toward him, gripping his coat tighter. 

 “Apologies, but I plan on leaving with it.” he scoffed, which turned out to be the wrong tone to take. As the other brute threw the wrecking ball he held, smashing the ground behind Zemo. He loses his footing, again falling back. His ankle bends in a way it definitely shouldn’t, cracking loudly. Landing uncomfortably on his back, rubble jabbing into his skin. Crying out, his hands release the coat, which opens. 

 There's a moment of silence, and he knew at that point even if he covered himself again, they saw. There wasn’t any way he could really hide it, or any other real conclusions to draw. He’s struggling to sit up, but the end of the crowbar pressed onto his chest, pushing him back down. 

 He feels something he’s not quite accustomed to. Pure panic. He’s defenseless, outnumbered. Yet he kicked forward with his good leg, aiming for the other’s groin. Instead it’s caught at his ankle. Wrecker squeezed, eager to drag the cry of pain out of the baron as he pushed his leg uncomfortably into the ground. The larger man knelt, pinning Zemo’s leg with his knee as he roughly searches his torso, snatching the device. Even when he pockets it, he doesn’t get off. 

 “So that’s why you’ve been missing... “ Wrecker’s voice is no more than a husky growl that sends Zemo’s heart racing. The baron is frozen, like a deer in the headlights. The crowbar pressed over his neck, pinning him, choking him. “I’m almost gonna feel bad for this,”

  “He’s going to kill me, He’s going to kill my baby-!” Zemo thinks, hands uselessly trying to push at the crowbar bearing down across his throat. He’s not enchanted like the other man. No strange power giving him destructive strength. 

 “Boss-!” The other villain shouts. Wrecker seems to look up, and Zemo doesn’t see what he’s looking at until a blinding object comes careening in. It slams the other, hurling him off. He’s able to breathe again, and dammit if he doesn’t gasp down as many breaths as he can. Zemo blinks away the blur in his eyes, and recognizes the source of light. 

  Moonstone. 

 There was a sense of irony, that his rescuers were his enemies as well. And yet they seemed to ignore him, for a short while. As they beat down the remaining Wrecker Crew with ease. He doesn’t even try to get up, he knows his ankle is at least sprained. And he’s tired. He closes his eyes, groaning in pain.

 He’s certain they’ve noticed him. They’ll likely take him into custody too, they had every reason too. And it wasn’t like he would get very far even if he weren’t injured. 

 “You uh… Gonna run at all?” It’s Erik’s voice. Or Atlas’s. Whichever name he was using these days. 

 “Nein.” He states flatly, “I’m wise enough to know when there's no point.”

 Zemo opens his eyes again, and the looks on the Thunderbolts’s faces are priceless. And he’d laugh, if he weren’t gritting his teeth in pain as he moves his leg. 

 “You’re… h-how?” Mellisa started to question, before closing her mouth. He can see her hesitate, which he can at least chuckle over.

 “Obviously he had sex, Melissa.” Norbert interjects, rolling his eyes. He kneels down, as if to assess if it would even be wise to move Zemo yet. Zemo just rolls his eyes, even though they can’t see it. “With WHO though, is what you should be asking!” The man adds, snorting.

 “Yeah no shit Bert, but-!”

 “You can ask all about my sexual escapades later. Once you get me out of this RUBBLE please, The pressure on my back is likely not good for the baby,” He finds himself hissing, interrupting their spat. As painful as the chunk of concrete pressed into his back was, the worry about the baby overshadowed it.

 Zemo was a smart man, and knew that even if he could run, he shouldn’t. They would hunt him down if he ran, it could be a risk too pricey. And even if he did get away somehow… He felt a strong sense that returning to Zola empty handed was an even bigger risk. Zola hated this child already. It would be safest, to simply allow himself to be imprisoned until the baby was born.

 “I got him,” Erik volunteers before they can debate who would carry him, and Zemo appreciates it. He feels the other lift him off the rubble as carefully as he could, being as strong as he was. Zemo isn’t actually sure if its simply Erik being Erik, or him worrying about the baby. But he doesn’t dwell on it, as he can feel Moonstone’s eyes boring into him like some kind of drill. 

 He tries to ignore it, relax. He’s being arrested, sure, but it’s certainly the nicest one he’s been through. Even if the others kept trying to drag the full story out of him, on how he could even GET pregnant in the first place, and who it was that even did it. 

 And he refuses to tell them, it’s not like they’d even BELIEVE him if he told them Steve Rogers was the father… Right?

Chapter Text

Thankfully, Shield seems to have the sense to not immediately cram him into a prison cell. Zemo was nearly immediately brought into some kind of hospital room, gently laid onto the bed there and carefully examined. Far gentler than Zola was when he was the one doing it, and certainly more mindful than the thunderbolts when asking about the pregnancy. 

 He’s certain the doctors are confused, and he can’t fault them. As the last time he’d been imprisoned, he certainly had a PENIS and no womb. He refuses to explain out loud, not when two of the doctors in there were gawking at him like some kind of freak show, and the others seeming concerned.

 They don’t bother to ask who the father is, likely not caring. And Zemo appreciates that dearly.

 Only when they leave, does he truly relax. The baby was safe, ankle just sprained, and he was damn exhausted. He closes his eyes, laying back against the pillows as he lets out a breath. 

 “-Captain Rogers?” He hears a voice outside the room question, eyes snapping open as he sits up as quickly as he possibly can. His moment of peace is ruined, as the door is already pretty much slammed open as the star spangled man walks in, tailed by an incredibly confused and winded Mellisa. Who quite obviously had to run after him.

 “Helmut, what the hell are you plan-” Steve started shouting, face no more than a scowl, but he froze right in his tracks, as he seemed to finally actually look at him. Zemo sees about ten different emotions cycle through the captain’s face, before landing on a look of hard realization. A flash of guilt, perhaps? 

 “I was… Trying to tell you that-!” Melissa huffs out between pants, hands on her knees as she’s obviously trying to catch her breath. 

 “Hello, Steven.” Zemo finds himself saying all too calmly, finally leaning back against the pillows. Instincts tell him to panic, as Steve slowly approaches the bed, they’re telling him to run when his hand reaches out. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t even flinch when Steve’s hand finds itself resting on his belly, as if to feel if it was real.  

 “How... ? I mean, when?” Steve asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer. 

 “Is it not obvious?” Zemo finds himself teasing, grinning under his mask. Steve seems to easily hide the embarrassment that washed briefly over his face, but his ears still go red. But only Zemo seems to notice it, as he watches Steve straighten back up and clear his throat, as the doctor comes in, holding a few files.

 “Well, it’s a girl!” The doctor hums with a false enthusiasm, hanging up the images and plopping the file down. The woman glances around briefly, noticing that standing in the room were two of Zemo’s literal enemies. “Four months along, perfectly healthy… However when we ran some tests, it was as if she was enhanced.” 

 The room falls silent, though the shock was still rather obviously felt by everyone.

 Enhanced? How the fuck was his baby enhanced? His mind lands on Zola, but he knows he hadn’t let the robotic freak do anything other than scan him. And he himself certainly hadn’t done anything! But… He looks to Steve, whose eyes are wide.

  Of course!

 “Some kind of weird genetic experiment of yours, Zemo?” Mellisa finally speaks, crossing her arm as she shoots him an accusatory look. The baron finds himself grimacing at the accusation, and can see a brief wince in Steve’s face.

 Of course he would be offended… This was Steve’s child as well after all, but whether or not he’d admit to it, well…

 “Of course not, I wouldn’t risk my body experimenting like that,” Zemo scoffs. Melissa’s face falls, a clear confusion in her expression. He can’t fault her for it, but it is just a bit annoying to him. 

 “Then how the fuck is the baby-”

 Steve interupts her with a loud clear of his throat, face obviously going red. “Well, I might know why.” 

 Every set of eyes land on the captain, who looks as if he immediately regrets speaking. Zemo can see him swallow hard, fidgeting. Melissa’s face is slowly twisting from confusion to a disturbed realization, her green eyes rapidly darting between Steve and Zemo. 

  Oh dear…

  “Oh… my GOD,” Her voice is shrill, leaving a painful ring in Zemo’s ears. “Oh my fucking GOD! Seriously?” 

 Zemo isn’t sure if she’s yelling at him or Steve, as either option worked. The doctor seems to have snuck out already, as Zemo desperately tries to look around the room. And he REALLY wished now had been another one of those moments where Melissa had remained clueless, but his luck was still out it seemed. 

 “He… Is the only man that it could be so-” He begins.

 “No, you shut up.” Melissa snaps, and Zemo surprises even himself when he obeys. He is silent, as he realizes that she was definitely more angry with Steve. Which, well, made a bit of sense when he thought about it. She didn’t expect HIM to be responsible, but Steve? Of course she would, he was fucking Captain America.

 And right now, Captain America just admitted to not only having unprotected sex with his literal enemy, but to also being the one to get him pregnant. 

 It would almost be hilarious, if her yelling didn’t have the ability to literally deafen everyone in there. And if HE weren’t the one pregnant, as frankly, it was not that fun. 

 . . .

 Steve is really beginning to regret having said anything, as are his eardrums. 

 He never truly thought about the possibility of having children, he always felt it was too much of a risk. He was always careful, always used protection and hardly slept around. He was a bit of a prudish man, not a fan of really dating around. Sure, he had a few women who flirted with him, and he’d truly loved Bernie… God rest her soul. But well, sex never was his first intention. So he doesn’t quite know what the fuck happened here. 

 ...That was a lie. 

 He wanted desperately to solely blame that gas that had filled the room, claiming he truly had no real control over his actions. But he couldn’t, because it wasn’t true. It wouldn’t be very believable either. He was a super soldier, hardly anything affected him. The MOST that gas had done was cause his erection… everything else? Well... 

 He finds himself looking back over at Zemo, how his long legs sat crossed, the muscles visible through the tight pants he wore. How his hips were wider like a womans, transitioning into that (usually) narrow waist. And that ASS. Truly, a man crafted by the gods. And he remained to grieve that beautiful face, the guilt of being the cause of its destruction having never left. And somehow, the captain was quickly learning that he STILL found the man irresistible, no, he found him MORE irresistible swollen with the child in his belly. 

 Zemo was a damn attractive man, and seeing the way he squirmed there on the floor… How he BEGGED… There had never been a moment where Steve was more sure about wanting to make love to someone. 

 But he still fucked up. 

  How the fuck did he not even THINK about the risk of pregnancy?

  Melissa was calling him a “Fucking moron!” currently, and maybe she was right. Though he was ABOUT to be a deaf moron, because she was one loud woman, even without the supersonic screaming. Which was heard from all the way across the hall, because soon a certain annoying spikey haired technophile was peeking his head into the room. And before Steve or Melissa could even say anything to him, Zemo spoke after his several minutes of silence.

 “Hello Norbert, how much did you hear?” The masked man hummed, far too casually. 

  Was he not worried about his former teammates and now enemies knowing about this? He was acting so Casual! 

  “Just about everything,” Norbert walks into the room all the way as if he were invited in, plopping himself in the chair next to Zemo like he was a damned visitor. Steve can feel the other look at him, but can’t read the expression on his face. And finds himself nearly choking on the air when Norbert speaks again. “So, if I’d made myself a body like HIS I could have had you all over me? Damn, I missed out.” 

 Steve couldn’t tell if the man was joking or not, and the reactions of the others in the room didn’t help him figure it out any easier. Melissa just rolled her eyes like the other just made a corny joke, and didn’t say all that. And he swore he could see Zemo wink.

 The poor captain’s confusion only got worse when they didn’t even dwell on it. 

  “Okay, we know who the daddy is, cool. But here’s where I’m confused, HOW? You definitely had a dick last time I saw you naked,” Norbert said, earning a scoff from Melissa.

 “He’s able to make those weird monster things, you think he can’t just switch that out?”

 Steve looked over to Zemo, who was still way too calm about this! Though, he did find himself also wondering, how on earth DID he even get… Well, an entirely different set of organs? He hadn’t found himself questioning it then, he wasn’t one to try and make assumptions… And it wasn’t exactly like he’d ever seen what Zemo had. Not like Norbert, which was almost more shocking to him than everything else. It was fucking Norbert after all, he coud have sworn Zemo had better standards than that…

 “I can assure you all that any assumptions you’re making are incorrect,” Zemo began, clearly amused by the tone of his voice. “I happened to anger a witch, who decided this was the proper punishment, thinking she would end my bloodline by doing it.” 

 “ Oh. How ironic.” Steve finds himself thinking, watching Zemo nonchalantly motion at his stomach adding a quip of “And well, clearly that failed.”

 Melissa was the first to snort, trailing into a laugh. She was damn near hysterical as she clutched her sides. The tension dropped like a hat, it seemed, And yet Steve found himself glad that nobody was focusing on him anymore, and briefly wondered if he could sneak out of the room. Until he feels Zemo’s eyes practically laser focused on him, gaze hard…

He’s gauging how he’d react. Ever the tactician. Perhaps he’d find that threatening, if not for the circumstance. 

  He finds himself clearing his throat again, “I suppose she assumed you wouldn’t uh… Do it with a man then?” 

 That seemed to have made Melissa laugh even harder, as she was on the floor now, wheezing like that was the craziest thing she’d ever heard. Perhaps it was, as really… That witch must have been stupid. If she’d truly wanted to end the bloodline she had any other number of options. 

 “Seriously, LOOK at you, you are the least straight thing to exist!” Norbert snorts, earning a surprisingly gentle wack to the back of the head from Zemo. Steve expects him to be offended, telling them all to shut up. But… The german is still sitting calmly, unbothered. While Norbert just grins again in response.

  Maybe they weren’t as much of enemies as they thought...

 “I know, it's incredibly foolish of the old hag.” Zemo says, as he stands. Steve feels an instinct to go over and help him, even stronger when the man winces. Steve looks down, and can see the brace placed on his ankle. He was injured. And he was trying to hide it, by how he didn’t sit back down, how he walked himself over to the bathroom and closed the door without a word.

 A surge of protectiveness washes over him. Of guilt. For a man almost everyone in the room, hell, the WORLD would say didn’t deserve it. Nobody else in the room seemed bothered. Either they didn’t care, or…

 It was obvious. They didn’t think Zemo NEEDED help. Or they simply knew better than to offer it. The man was stubborn, he’d likely take help as an insult. 

 Norbert seems to notice, and damn near startles Steve when he’s up, giving a friendly punch to his shoulder. 

 “Hey, don’t worry about him man. I watched that idiot get almost all his bones broken by Moonstone and walk it off. He’s fine.” Norbert states simply, before walking over to Melissa to get her happy ass off the ground. Poor girl was probably in shock, which was a bit understandable.

 “That's not-” He tries to argue, but he’s a terrible liar. 

 Norbert is already leaving the room, basically dragging Melissa who’s still giggling out of the room. But he stops briefly, looking over at Steve. “Oh yeah. And congrats on being a dad now Cap,” He says, before closing the door behind them. Leaving Steve alone. 

 And slowly, it dawns on him. Norbert was right, he WAS a father now, even if the baby wasn’t born yet. He had a DAUGHTER now. He finds himself walking over to the wall, where the ultrasound pictures hung. 

 "Already feeling sentimental?" He hears Zemo ask, right fucking next to him. It startles him, he hadn't even heard him come back in. He spins around, half expecting him to stab him in the back. But no, Zemo is simply… there, staring at the pictures too. 

 "I-"

 "I was already thinking of names as soon as I found out," Zemo's voice was… soft, affectionate. Steve was only briefly surprised, before his mind wandered back to the image from so many years ago, of the Baron with the children he'd 'adopted'. Of course he'd be happy. 

 "How… Did you find out?" He's almost afraid to find out the answer, what kind of dangerous shit Zemo was getting himself into.

 " The doctor said she's fine, so not THAT dangerous." He thinks. 

 He hears Zemo laugh, watches him lean his weight onto his good leg. "When Zola got tired of hearing me throw up and dragged me to his table," He seems to notice the way Steve's face twists, and puts a hand on his hip. "Mein Gott, not literally ." 

 Steve sputters a bit, ears red as he huffs. 

 "I wasn't thinking that." He grumbles. He can't see Zemo's face, but hes certain that he has a dumb grin on his face. He wishes he could see it. See the clear smile he must have had writing out the names for their baby. Alone…

 Why wasn't he there? To help? Fucking hell, Zemo was with ZOLA of all people. No, he shouldn't be feeling bad for him! Even if he was an attractive man with nice legs… and a nice ass. And somehow made being pregnant look like the hottest thing in the world… No! He needed to focus on something else! And hide how his face went red again and his… No! Focus on something else!

 "AHEM… wh… why didn't you tell anyone?" He asks, after too many moments of awkward silence. It sounds ruder than he meant for it to. 

 Zemo is silent for a moment, as if he's hesitating. There’s an anxious pit forming in Steve’s stomach now, Maybe he didn’t want to know....

 “Ah well… Two reasons, Though I suppose they’re a bit connected.” Zemo started to speak, as he started back toward the chair in the room. Steve couldn’t help himself, and gently placed a hand on his hip, holding the other up against his side and leading him to the seat. He felt the other flinch a bit under his hand, but if he had any protests he didn’t voice them, his body only seeming to untense when he was sat down. 

 Steve still wasn’t sure why he felt so guilty. 

 “...Being?” 

 He hears the other sigh, letting out a nervous chuckle. 

 “Well, I am rather vulnerable in this state, I’m afraid. Zola agreed, I was essentially his prisoner.” He says it quietly, hardly more than a whisper. Steve can hear the shame in his voice, and that he was trying to hide it. But he’s hiding it poorly.

 Steve swallowed dryly, and he hated to admit it, but perhaps Zola was right… He’d heard about how the thunderbolts caught Zemo just in time, before the Wrecker had decided to try and strangle him. Of course, they’d intended on just carting him away to some prison but… well, this made things complicated. Even more so with the child being, well, Captain America’s. It was too dangerous, too cruel to try and imprison him while he was like this.

 “And your enemies could take advantage of it… Shit.” Steve found himself grumbling out. The idea enraged him, The fact that Zemo was out there alone, as such a risk, while Steve was entirely clueless of the fact, drove him near insane. Zemo could have DIED if not for the thunderbolts coincidentally finding him, their unborn daughter could have died! And he could have been none the wiser. 

 He isn’t aware of his clenched fist beginning to tremble, until he feels one of Zemo’s hands gently lay over it, although tensely. It’s clear he’s not used to this, to trying to comfort someone. 

  “There’s no use dwelling on what could have happened, Steven.” It’s as if Zemo were reading his mind. Though he’d always been unsettlingly good at reading others. For once, it was actually comforting. As insane as the thought was. He doesn’t know why Zemo is trying to reassure him, why he’s so calm about this. 

 The possibility that the other has a concussion momentarily crosses his mind, but he shakes that thought away. The other had to be feigning calmness, because Steve can feel his hands shaking too.

“So why didn’t you run?” He finds himself asking. There is the obvious factor of his leg, but he knew Zemo has escaped situations with worse damage, worse odds. He’d obviously LET himself be caught. But why? SHIELD was by no means a friend to him, and Steve was certain that if not for the baby inside Zemo, he’d already be being towed off to the vault. 

 “Because I know they… You, you wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.” Zemo motions to his belly. “You’re… Honorable, much more than Zola was… He wanted to-” Zemo manages to catch himself before he finished his statement, and Steve can see his eyes narrow from the eye holes in his mask. He didn’t need to finish though, for Steve to understand what he meant.

“Kill her?”

“...Ja, or treat her as an experiment… I couldn’t… Even I have limits,” Zemo answers. He sounds… Afraid. “I made a mistake, and I’m certain he will inevitably come to find me.” He doesn’t say what he’d done, but Steve doesn’t need to know. The tremble in zemo’s voice is enough to know the potential danger.

 “I’ll… Keep her safe,” Steve says, hand hesitatingly moving to Zemo’s belly. 

 “Good.”