Summary: "I claim his life," she said, not bothering to turn and face Steve. His hand wrapped around her stomach and pulled her flush against his chest but she still didn't turn.
"I expect nothing less," he replied softly.
A Romanogers Mafia AU
The only real downside to living in an underground city, Natasha supposed, was the lack of windows to look out while her husband threatened untrustworthy capos. Velvet drapes were only entertaining for so long even if they did part to reveal the happenings outside the office where drunk drug lords and mafia dons chatted and laughed amongst one another.
Even lip-reading drew boring after more than a half-hour no matter how interesting the conversation. She often wondered why she bothered coming to these kinds of meetings when she knew she wouldn't be turning around to face the capo in question unless he was condemned to die. On the off chance he was, she did rather enjoy watching her husband pull the gun from his drawer and shoot the man through his head without hesitation. Something about watching the capo realize his demise was imminent as she turned around and looked him in the eyes sent a thrill up her spine that was unlike any other. She was, after all, only a rumor; a bad omen if the capos had anything to say about her.
It was not that she was unrecognizable. No, she was actually rather well known through New York and many people knew her face. It was likely many of the soldiers and capos in their family had seen her face in passing. It was when a face was given to the Captain's Wife that one knew he was doomed to die. No one in their family save the underbosses and consigliere had the honor of knowing her without also having their brain blown seconds later.
"You see why I am worried, Rumlow," her husband said.
Oh, how she wanted to turn and shoot that man herself. While Rumlow was one of their longest-serving capos and a damn good one, he was slippery. He'd been caught keeping profit without reporting it and meeting with dons from overseas without giving prior notice. His only saving grace was the amount of money he brought in and how well trained his soldiers were. If they needed something done quick and clean, they could count on Rumlow's soldier boys and sometimes Rumlow himself. That didn't mean he was irreplaceable, however.
"I do, Captain," Rumlow replied. Ever so calm, that one. "You must realize how much fortune these meetings have brought us, though. Without my initiative, we wouldn't have Stark setting up a new base in Romania and an alliance with the Urs himself."
"Romania is not an expected stronghold," Steve snapped.
Oh my, he wanted to shoot Rumlow too. Well, Natasha might just fight him on this one. He had been, after all, more bothersome to her set up than to Steve's when it came down to day-to-day operations.
"It is a weak arm of Russia and you know we have peace with them now. It was risky, joining forces with them and if it falls through, you'll be the first to go."
"Understood, Captain."
Too simple. Steve was letting him get off too easily and she knew he knew it. Either he was just waiting for a moment to strike Rumlow hard or he was about to need his soldiers. Whatever the reason, Natasha couldn't keep from stabbing the window sill in front of her as the door shut behind Rumlow. She scowled down at the patrons chatting amicably even though they couldn't see her through the one-way glass above their heads.
Her knife was still sticking upright in the shiny mahogany when Steve wrapped an arm around her waist but she made no move to remove it. She'd allow him to see her displeasure and assume what he wished.
"I claim his life," she said, not bothering to turn and face Steve. His hand wrapped around her stomach and pulled her flush against his chest but she still didn't turn.
"I expect nothing less," he replied softly, nuzzling her neck.
He never could resist when she had her hair pinned to one side; her bare neck just begged to be kissed when she had it that way. It was something about the way her red hair curled and made a trail over her shoulder. Sometimes he wondered if that's why she was so good at what she did; making men want something so bad they'd do anything to get it required a certain finesse Steve knew he could never attain.
"So I can have him?" Natasha asked, pulling away so she could turn and face him.
If Steve was upset she'd pulled away or revealed what she'd done to his windowsill, he wisely said nothing. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist again and pulled her back to his chest.
As his hand drifted to rest low on the small of her back, he shook his head and said, "Unfortunately, he's a good capo and I need his men to do what I tell them. I will let you know when the time comes, I promise."
"Don't go making promises you can't keep."
Her eyes were dark and Steve knew if he was any other man, he'd be in great danger of losing his life, but he knew her well enough that when he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and her annoyance slowly left her, he was unsurprised. He was lucky she did trust him to keep his promise or he'd worry about her going behind his back. A true testament to how long they'd known each other, he supposed, if they were both so willing to take nothing more than word of mouth as a promise.
"You do have dinner plans, yes?"
Steve hummed to hide his horror as he realized he did not, in fact, have plans for their dinner. Perhaps he could call Wilson up, make him create something quickly and deliver it to their residence. Natasha would know, of course, no matter how well he lied, but at least then neither of them would starve.
"It's a surprise," he told her. Natasha smirked and he knew the jig was alright up. If she knew already, it was best to go along. "In my defense, Stark felt the need to have a lengthy discussion about our situation in Romania."
Natasha pulled out of Steve's arms and he frowned as if it was a reaction programmed into his brain. Snatching her knife from the windowsill, Natasha slipped it back up the sleeve of her dress and reached up to cup Steve's cheek. He scowled at her but melted as soon as her lips touched his. The kiss wasn't half as soft as he expected, but he was in no hurry to push her back when she willfully parted her lips for him. He was on the cusp of pinning her to the wall and discovering just how many knives she was carrying today (and if she'd taken his favorite handgun as well) when she pulled back with a sly smile.
"It's a good thing I have a meeting," she whispered, her thumb rubbing away the red mark from her lipstick that had smudged on his chin. "Gives you more time to prepare."
As Natasha slipped from around him and strutted toward the door, Steve tried to calm himself back down. The look Natasha threw back at him seconds before she shut the door did nothing to help the ever-growing bulge at the front of his pants and he mentally cursed her for it. If she didn't arrive back home and finish what she started, he would make sure she paid. Until then, he was going to call Sam to fix them dinner so when she did return, she wouldn't be both covered in some poor man's blood and hungry, just covered in blood.