Mobster!Steve Rogers - Pt. II
PART 1
(Or you’ll be super confused.)
Y/N got lost in the painting before her. There was a tall flute of champagne in her grasp, but she had been getting so engrossed in the artwork that she kept forgetting she even had it.
It was Thursday night after work. Almost all of the galleries in New York would have open receptions that included free wine and hors d’oeurves. Y/N had a bad day at work, and decided to treat herself and try to calm down with art and alcohol.
Her eyes glanced around the gallery as she moved on to another painting. This gallery was definitely swankier than the others in the area. Y/N even had to stop her jaw from dropping when she overheard a potential buyer ask for a price and the curator gave a number in the thousands, as if it was no big deal. Well, Y/N guessed it wasn’t a big deal to the rich.
“Hi,” a voice said from behind Y/N.
She slightly jumped – not enough for anyone to notice – and turned around.
There was an older man smiling expectantly at her. He was well dressed and clearly one of the people at the gallery who could actually afford the art.
Yet everything about him felt off, sleazy. He was too confident, too sure of himself. It wasn’t charming. It was off putting.
“Hello,” Y/N replied with indifference before taking a sip of champagne.
“I’ve been trying to look at the art all night. But it seems you keep distracting me.”
Y/N was grateful she’d swallowed her champagne, because she snorted a laugh at the stupid pickup line.
“Is that so?” She made sure to make her tone sound as bored as possible.
Maybe her sheer lack of enthusiasm would scare him away.
“How about we get out of here, grab some real drinks?”
“No, thank you.” Y/N turned back to the paintings and took another sip.
“No?” He leaned forward so he was in her vision once again.
“Yes, that’s what I said.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“Ah… I see. You have a boyfriend.”
Y/N couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. She turned to him once again. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Then she got herself riled up. She’d had a bad day and therefore this man was out of luck. “Why is it that men can’t seem to respect the word ‘no’? It doesn’t matter if I do or do not have a boyfriend. I’m not interested. And that should be enough.”
“So you’re one of those girls…”
Y/N closed her eyes for a moment. She knew she shouldn’t take the bait. She knew that! But this idiot of a man was making it so hard not to verbally destroy him.
“One of those girls?” She challenged. Her eyes flickered around, making sure they hadn’t gained an audience of any sort. After all, this was a fancy establishment and the last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene.
“Man-hater. Acts offended whenever a guy tries to compliment her. I swear, men can’t even talk to women without getting accused of being a predator.”
He was starting to sound more irritated and angry as he went on.
Y/N’s fire was suddenly extinguished when her survival instincts kicked in.
She felt the fear all women felt when men became unnecessarily angry.
It didn’t matter if she wanted to have a night alone, looking at artwork. She needed to leave before this stranger really caused a scene – or worse, he got physical.
Y/N threw back the rest of her champagne and smoothly placed it on the tray of a passing server. She made moves to quickly walk past him.
Her heart pounded when she felt him following her retreating steps.
“I’m not some creep you know?” He practically hissed at her.
The man was clearly just trying to make himself feel better now. And in the process, he was making Y/N feel more and more unsafe and uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to treat me like some predator.”
Y/N chose the route of ignoring now, just wanting to escape as soon as possible. She hoped he wouldn’t follow her outside. Then she’d have to order a car, not wanting to risk jumping on the subway and getting stuck in a car with him.
“Excuse me,” a voice suddenly interrupted from behind both of them.
Y/N froze. She swore she knew that voice.
She turned around to find Steve Rogers standing in a classic suit and tie. Beside him was another man, just as handsome and tall and buff man, with shaggy brunette hair and scruff.
“Mind your own business,” the man answered, not doing a very good job of hiding his annoyance from the interruption.
Steve didn’t like that. “I own this gallery, so it’s very much my problem.”
Y/N shifted her weight.
Steve had yet to truly look at her. However, his companion was trying to assess how distressed she was from the situation.
“And I don’t appreciate you making my patrons uncomfortable. Please leave.” There was no room for argument in his tone.
The man didn’t appreciate be brushed aside. He took an aggressive step towards the two men. “You’ve got some balls talking to me that way.”
But before he could take another step or say another word, Steve’s friend stepped forward with an expression that instantly convinced Y/N that he was about to kill the guy.
Steve quickly put a hand on his friend’s chest. “I’ll handle this, Buck.”
Buck. As in Bucky? Y/N remembered hearing that name. Steve used to mention him in their conversations all the time. He was Steve’s best friend.
He immediately stood down. Steve leaned in and added something in a whisper that Y/N couldn’t catch.
In that short-lived romance with Steve, Y/N could never even slightly imagine Steve angry or scary.
But now he looked like a different person.
Y/N finally saw the mobster.
“What is this, some kind of joke?” The man spat right as Steve grabbed his upper arm in a vice-like grip and dragged him away. But he didn’t take him to the main entrance, instead going towards a back exit Y/N didn’t even notice before. Steve managed to do all of this without disrupting any of the guests.
Y/N was now uncomfortable in a completely different way.
She was trying to figure out if she could make a clean getaway.
But Bucky seemed to be reading his mind. “Mind waiting? I know Steve would like to talk to you before you run off again.”
Again.
Had Steve told Bucky about her? The idea of two mobsters sitting around and talking girls brought amusement to Y/N.
“S-Sure,” she didn’t mean to stutter.
“Can I get you a glass of champagne? I promise it’ll be the good stuff that we keep hidden away.”
Y/N was taken aback that this man went from looking like he was about commit murder in plain sight to a charming gentleman.
“I’m good. Thank you though.”
He nodded. “Come on.”
She stuttered into step, not sure where he planned on taking her. But for some reason, she blindly followed him anyway.
Bucky led her to a back terrace. It wasn’t open to the public, but still lit to perfection.
An awkward silence settled between them.
“So you’re Bucky, right? The best friend since childhood. The one always pulling him out of fights.”
That earned her a chuckle from him. “That would be correct.”
Then the door opened to the terrace and they both turned to see Steve walking out as he straightened his tie and rebutted his suit.
Bucky turned back to Y/N and gave her a shy smile. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N,” and with that, he walked out of the terrace.
It took her a little too long to realize that she had never given Bucky her name.
Then the same energy that had passed between Y/N and Steve while they were dating returned as if it were only yesterday.
“So…Did you kill him?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask.
“He’s not worth the cleanup.”
Y/N’s eyes widened.
Then Steve broke into an innocent smirk. “I’m messing with you, Y/N.”
She blinked at him even saying her name. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me. After all, it’s been, like–“
“A year and a half,” Steve finished for her with a jarring amount of confidence.
“Yeah,” she admitted. Though clearly she hadn’t forgotten him at all either.
“You’re kind of hard to forget,” Steve admitted quietly.
Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that, or if she even should. So, she decided to change the subject.
“Do you really own this place?”
He looked around. “Yeah, I always had an affinity for the arts. I don’t run the place or anything. I just make sure it stays in business.”
“Guess that makes sense now that I think about it. You did go to art school after all.”
Steve seemed flattered that she remembered. “Yeah…but then my dad passed right after graduation and I…Well, I was expected to take over the family business.”
“I didn’t know that…I didn’t know that’s how you got to where you are,” Y/N admitted softly.
Steve cleared his throat. “How’ve you been?”
“Umm…fine.” Y/N hated questions like that. No one ever wanted an honest answer. She didn’t get why anyone even bothered asking it.
“Just fine?” Steve prodded, proving that he was one of the people that actually did care about her answer.
Y/N laughed then. “I mean…my life’s pretty much the same since you last saw me.”
God, she probably sounded like such a loser.
“That can’t be true,” Steve tried to argue.
She winced a bit. “Well, it is. Same apartment, same job, same friends–”
“Same boyfriend?”
Y/N stopped and read his face.
Steve instantly regretted his question. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t – I have no place asking you that question.”
“Steve, it’s OK.” Then she sighed. “Same boyfriend,” she confirmed, “as in there isn’t one.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but was using a lot of restraint?
“What?” Y/N asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, you want to say something,” she said through a smile.
“You don’t want to hear it.”
“Well, now I have to know!”
“I just…I don’t get it,” Steve sighed.
“Get what?”
“How no one is worshipping the ground you walk on…”
Y/N rolled her eyes.
“See! You don’t want to hear it.”
Y/N cleared her throat and took a step closer to him. “Had it ever occurred to you that maybe the reason is due to how disappointing men are?”
Steve laughed. “Then I apologize on behalf of men.”
“Why? I wasn’t talking about you.” There was a playfulness in her eyes as she said it.
“Thank you, by the way,” Y/N muttered as she looked at the ground.
“For what?”
“Stepping in back there. I shouldn’t have riled him up. I was stupid – thought I could handle it.”
“It was nothing.” Steve shrugged.
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
“I can go finish the job and kill him if it’ll make you feel better,” he offered.
“Steve!”
“What?” He asked innocently.
Then Y/N caught sight of his hands. His knuckles were red and irritated, a few of them were already a little bruised. She assumed that man wouldn’t be harassing any women for a little bit. And the world was better for it.
A chill suddenly went down Y/N’s spine. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly.
“Can I walk you home? Or I can get my driver–”
“Yes,” Y/N answered before he could offer another option.
On the walk home, it was like no time had passed at all. Steve asked Y/N about her job, her friends, and her family, remembering names and specifics details.
Y/N wished her apartment was further away. During their walk, she realized how much she had missed Steve. Yes, they had never defined their relationship or made it official. But they had gotten to know each other so quickly. Not to mention Y/N had immediately felt comfortable and close with him since date one.
“This is you, right?” Steve pointed to her stoop. This wasn’t the first time he’d walked her home.
Y/N fidgeted with her hands in front of her.
“Wanna…uhh…Would you like to come up?” The words spewed out before she even knew what she was trying to ask.
She didn’t know why she bothered asking. Steve was a gentleman, too polite–
“Yes,” he answered almost instantly.
Steve kept his distance as they went up the building stairs. He was even patient as Y/N fumbled to put her keys into the door.
But as soon as Y/N closed her apartment door behind them, Steve was on her.
She didn’t believe it was possible to have a more heated and passionate kiss than the one they had shared in that alley.
Boy, was she wrong.
Steve took charge, made her feel just how much he wanted her.
But then he pulled away and stared into her eyes. “Sorry…I–I…”
“Steve, I swear to god, if you go all nice guy on me now, I will kick your ass.” Y/N gave him a warning look that proved just how serious she was. “My bedrooms that door. So, what are you going to do about it?”
Steve smirked and was back on her.
To Y/N’s surprise, his hands drifted down her waist and then on the outsides of her thighs until they moved to the back and lifted her up.
She giggled at the gesture and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Y/N let out another adorable giggle when Steve slightly ran them into a wall.
“I’m trying to navigate blind in an apartment I’ve never been inside. Give a guy some slack.”
————————————
Y/N awoke with the feeling like last night had been a dream. But the marks on her skin and the lingering feeling assured it that it was very much real. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a sleeping man on the other side of the bed to assure her as well.
Steve was nowhere to be found. Neither were his clothes.
Y/N sighed, trying to figure out how that all made her feel.
Was it for the best? Was she offended? Was she sad? Was she relieved?
Her racing thoughts stopped when she heard noises coming from her kitchen.
She quickly found a pair of shorts and an oversized band t-shirt that was laying around.
Deciding to be very quiet, Y/N slipped out of her room and found Steve in his undershirt from last night and boxers. His missing clothes were folded nicely on top of one of the seats at her counter.
Steve was lost in his own thoughts as he made breakfast.
Y/N leaned against the doorway taking it all in.
She wondered what it would be like for this to become her normal. Steve just looked like he belonged in her kitchen.
Y/N’s throat tightened and her stomach dropped when she realized that she didn’t know what it felt like to share her life with someone like that.
She quickly cleared her throat before the emotions could take over. “Thought you snuck out.”
Steve quickly turned around. “Really think I’d do that?”
Y/N shrugged and stepped further into the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen counter and watched in amusement as Steve continued making them breakfast.
“I made coffee already,” he pointed to the filled pot with his spatula.
She nodded and poured herself some.
“Steve…”
He quickly turned around and she noticed how sad his blue eyes looked. “Whatever you were about to say…Can we just – Is it OK if we enjoy this just a little bit longer?”
Y/N instantly shut her mouth and nodded. Then she eyed the scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast he’d cooked. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast…”
Steve just gave her a look that said, ‘Of course I fucking did. Why wouldn’t I?’
“Sorry my apartment is so…small.” Y/N apologized softly. She assumed he had not one, but multiple luxurious homes around the world. This place probably seemed like a dingy shoebox in comparison.
Steve looked around with a smile. “I love your apartment. It’s homey and cozy and it feels like you.”
Y/N was so taken aback by his retort that she just blinked at him.
They both ate in a surprisingly comfortable silence. Y/N kept wondering how he did that, how he made her feel so safe with him.
Once Steve was finished, he leaned back in his seat and looked at her patiently. That was the only cue she was going to get.
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for how I ended things last time,” she told him gently.
“You shouldn’t be sorry,” Steve corrected. “You did the right thing.”
Y/N’s mouth went dry. “I did?”
“I was selfish. I wouldn’t accept that you aren’t meant for my world. I refused to even consider how dangerous your life would become for just being with me.” Steve shook his head. “I was selfish,” he repeated.
Y/N refused to meet his eyes now. “So…what does that make last night?”
“Last night was…” Steve smiled shyly. “Last night was perfect.”
Y/N eyed him. “But you’re about to tell me that it’s all there’s going to be, aren’t you?”
Steve leaned forward and rubbed his face.
“Y/N, I can’t drag you into my toxic life. I won’t do that to you.” He shook his head at the mere idea. “Y/N… you deserve someone who can be an honest man for you. Someone who’s life isn’t going to get you killed.”
“You’ve never lied to me, Steve.”
“But I will. Because if I fully opened up that side of me, you’d never look at me the same. I can’t lie to you and I can’t terrify you with the reality. Don’t you get it?”
Y/N’s eyes glazed over, but she made herself keep it together. “So, what do we have then?”
Steve sighed. “I guess we just have the past.”
She scoffed at him. “After last night, with the way we feel when we’re together…You’re not even willing to try?”
“No, Y/N. I’m not willing to risk your safety.”
Then he was up, taking his clothes to the bathroom with him.
He came out a few minutes later, his hair fixed and his clothes looked like they could’ve come right from the cleaners.
“Please don’t hate me,” he finally whispered.
That’s when Y/N couldn’t keep the tears back any longer. She laughed from both the idea of hating him and being embarrassed for crying.
“Steve, I don’t think I could ever hate you.”
Then he couldn’t stop himself. Steve pulled Y/N into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest.
“I wish things were different,” he spoke into her hair. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
And with that, he kissed the top of her head and made his escape.
It was Y/N that pushed him away the first time. To protect her heart, her morals, probably her life.
But now it was Steve pushing her away. Not because he didn’t love her, but because he had to keep her safe.
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And you all thought you were getting a second chance at a fluffy, happy ending...
Part III
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The Beltway Boys | Jon & Warren
Tagging → Warren Elkins; Senior Senator of North Carolina.
Time Frame → Friday, February 23rd, 2017. 11:30 AM.
Location → Welbeck Estate, Oak Ridge, North Carolina.
Notes → The Chief Justice & Senate Minority Leader mobilize obstruction to the President’s Clean Energy Initiative.
“Good morning, Mr. Rutledge,” greeted a voice from the main Corridor of the East Wing’s ground floor.
Jonathan lifted his gaze, shutting the manila folder he’d been reading from, “Come in,” he called out in response, leaning into his high-backed Henry Miller chair. His Welbeck Estate private study was aggrandized to his image, with a desk of polished cherry wood enameled with silver, no windows to speak of, and wrap-around cabinets of charcoal Oak lining the walls. For a second he gazed upon the portrait of his forefather, Reuben W. Rutledge, that hung above the door.
“This just arrived for you, sir,” informed one of the Estate’s footmen, who wore finely-tailored charcoal slacks and a crisp, white shirt emblazoned beneath a vest. The Estate employed too many footmen for Jonathan to remember, but he smiled gratefully all the same.
“Who is it from?” asked Jonathan, reaching for the envelope with cautious finality.
“Your son, Jonathan Jr.,”
“Ah…that will be all,” he said, laying the envelop on his desk until the footman whisked from the Study. The Chief Justice peered at it for a moment, and then another. His eldest son, in Monaco negotiating a Real Estate deal with Prince Albert II, had sent their voluminous donation to the RNC right on time. Gently, Jonathan retrieved a mail knife from the upper-right drawer of his desk and slid it beneath the envelope’s fold.
TWENTY-FIVE MILLION DOLLARS AND ZERO CENTS. A small note read; FOR THE REPUBLICAN NATIONAL COMMITTEE.
He perused the receipt of the electronic wire transfer. Twenty-five million dollars were wired through a dummy corporation based in the Cayman Islands, spending twenty-four hours in a Tax haven before transferring to the Canadian National Bank in Montreal. He tore the receipt from its check and eased it into a shredder built into the left corner of his desk. He glanced at his watch. 11:34 AM. It wouldn’t be too long before Senator Elkins arrived. Jonathan stood from his chair and slipped into his Brioni Vanquish blazer, which fitted comfortably atop a stark red turtleneck sweater and pleated black slacks.
As he turned to depart the Study he clasped the envelope. Into the main Corridor of the East Wing he went, the sunlight filtering through its floor-to-ceiling windows a sharp contrast from his dimly lit conclave. He wore padded moccasins that trekked silently upon waxed Oakwood floors, his head held high in pursuit of the foyer that joined the East Wing to West. The foyer was a palatial marvel, adorned with two identical rows of stairs that curled from the door to the upper level. The ancient Etruscan marble was dim, yet illuminated by a bedazzled crystal chandelier hung in the heart of the foyer. Jonathan breezed through the door and onto the Front Terrace, where he would await his dear friend.
The Front Terrace was one of the few parts of the Estate original to its construction in 1848. Eight columns of marble holstered the Main House, demarcating an alabaster white door as the Entrance. From the front, the House’s upper level was a deck barriered by wrought iron gates. Four windows, elegantly spaced apart, were accented with black shutters that rested sublimely upon walls of saffron stone. As Jonathan stood before the entrance, he gazed upon the paved roadway that weaved through two-point-four miles of front grounds space toward Keaton Drive. He glanced at his watch. 11:37 AM.
“Morning, Mr. Rutledge!” shouted Roger Lentworth, the Estate’s head groundskeeper. He swerved around the Main House from the left in one of the Royal Limo golf carts Jonathan reserved for special occasions. Roger wore a pleated Khaki zoot suit, teal golf shoes, and a sterling silver cap that wrapped around his shaggy blond hair. He had pale features; a high forehead, and a strong jaw.
“Good Morning, Roger,” Jonathan said, smiling as the Royal Limo eased to a halt a few paces from the terrace steps, “Where’s Stanley?” His D.C. driver had befriended Roger since taking up residence in the guest House, tailing him like a light in the week since they’ve returned to Oak Ridge. It was jarring to see them apart.
“He decided to stay out back to help with arrangements,” Roger started, turning the key in the cart’s ignition to silence it, “He also said he’d put on a penguin suit and serve,” he finished with a laugh. Jonathan joined him, managing to whisper, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
The three of them planned to the second his meeting with the Senate Minority Leader. When Warren arrived, Roger would cart them off to the rear grounds space where a six-thousand square-foot golf course awaited. Lunch was to be delivered from the Pavilion that served as the tee for the First hole. Jonathan especially yearned for a cup of spiced hickory tea; partly because it warmed the blood, partly because a cup strategically had at the beginning of each game had won many deals in the past.
Whether he would win the upcoming deal or not, he had no way of foretelling. The President’s joint address to Congress involved new legislation across the board from Education to Healthcare to Public Works. Were Wright’s address under any other circumstances, Jonathan would have remained uninvolved in Capitol Hill’s affairs. But as fate would have it the President was received by a Democratic Majority and thus the means to carry her absurd ideals through Congress. Jonathan scoffed at her segment on clean, sustainable energy, but would have been a fool to underestimate her Power with a Congressional majority – which prompted a meeting with Senator Elkins. If they failed to act swiftly to thwart the President’s ambition the Rutledge Family could lose the eight-hundred-million dollars of revenue Frontier Energy generated each year, which was something Jonathan would not abide. A preliminary twenty-five million dollars ought to set things in motion.
Or so Jonathan hoped, as he stood in wait of an old friend and invaluable ally in ensuring Big Oil trumped the White House.
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