Work Text
“Steve, you’re a dumbass.” Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head at his best friend. Steve made a noise of protest. Sam glared at him and continued on his rant. “Who takes an undercover assignment as a stripper for the biggest criminal on the East Coast? Apparently, my dumbass of a best friend.” Sam leaned against his desk and motioned for Steve to defend himself. “I’m not a dumbass.” Sam snorted and Steve glared at him. “I’m not! Lorenzo offered me the job, knowing I fit Barnes’ typical type and I took it. All I have to do is prove Barnes runs the gang and that they run the local drug ring, it’s easy.” Sam’s head snapped up. “Easy? Steve, easy? We have been trying to bust Barnes since he came into power 8 years ago. The man is untraceable, uncrackable and unreachable. He’s got a security detail the size of Manhattan.” Sam was whisper-shouting so the whole bullpen didn’t hear them. “Which is why I will be posing a stripper. It’s the perfect cover to get close to him.” Steve smiled at Sam and the other man groaned. “Barnes never holds a relationship longer than three months, or did you forget that tidbit?” Sam flapped his hands at him in a dismissively. “Guess I’ll just have to work fast then?” Sam shoved his partner playfully but the man was incredibly worried about his best friend. Steve had a tendency to dive headfirst into things and Sam was afraid the blonde would get too attached, too fast. Sam watched as Steve walked away, knowing he wouldn’t see the man for at least two months. “Hey, big guy, I love you.” Sam shouted before Steve opened the station doors. Steve threw his head back and laughed. “Right back at ya, Wilson! Don’t go too crazy while I’m gone.” Sam watched him go with a bittersweet smile. - After leaving the police department Steve headed over to his new apartment to meet his handler, Wanda. Wanda was a new recruit from the West Coast who had almost 6 years as a handler for undercover operations. She set him up with a new apartment, car, phone, phone number, email, and credit cards. She set up brand new social media accounts and had him update them over the course of a few months, to make them seem more realistic. Wanda set up new video streaming accounts and bought him a whole new wardrobe. Steve wasn’t even allowed around the station in the weeks leading up to his first shift at The Ritzy Glam, in case anyone who knew him as Steve Kelly; stripper extraordinaire from New Jersey. Steve even got a job as a barista to justify how he paid for his apartment in a nicer part of the Bronx. The only real thing Steve was worried about was Barnes. How was he supposed to get the man to look twice at him? Steve didn’t really turn heads but according to their informant, Steve was just Barnes’ type and this whole operation banked on that. - Steve was scheduled to start his new shift at The Ritzy Glam, a nightclub downtown owned by the Barnes Gang. The club was notorious as a place Barnes himself hung out at so it seemed like the best place to plant an operative. Normally, Barnes would send out his second in command, a woman only known as Spider. Steve had heard rumours of her and, honest to god, had no desire to ever meet her. He’d already met a number of seedy people from Barnes’ inner circle, a man by the name of Bow and another by the name of Hammer. The names came from their weapon choices and Steve could tell the gang had no creative director. Steve flitted about his new closet, throwing clothes behind him and around his room like a mad man. Steve picked through his closet twice more before settling on an outfit. On top of his pink and yellow comforter was a purple-green gradient fish scale tank top, cut off jean shorts, black fishnets and a shoelace belt; pair of knee high white boots leaned against the bed frame. Tonight was going to be smashing, Steve could already tell. - The text Steve had received told him to be outside The Ritzy Glam at or before 1800 so here Steve was, leaning up against the entrance wall of The Ritzy Glam, a fur coat wrapped tightly around his upper body. He had the foot with his handgun strapped to it crooked against the wall. “You must be Steve!” Steve watched a blonde woman walk down the sidewalk. She threw her arms around him and gave him a squeeze before letting go. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing a pantsuit, a weird combo standing next to Steve and a seedy nightclub. Steve eyes her wearily as she looked him up and down before nodding. The woman held out her hand to Steve. “My name is Pepper, I run every nightclub from here to Hell’s Kitchen.” Steve’s eyebrows hit his hairline as he reached to shake her hand. “That's-” Steve started. “56. It's a lot but it’s my job.” Pepper laughed and dropped their hands, motioning for him to go inside. Steve held to door open for her, he may be dressed like a stripper in broad daylight but his momma didn't raise a hooligan. Pepper looked at him with barely concealed surprise before entering Glam, thanking him. Once inside Glam, Steve pulled the jacket down to exposed his shoulders and pulled it closer to his waist with his pockets, creating a faux rich look. The outside of the Glam gave no hint to its interior. Steve should've guessed the seedy appearance was a false scent but he didn't expect the interior to be this nice. The bar was a dark, polished oak with gold inlays and beautiful white leather barstools with shelves of high end alcohol sitting behind it. Off to the left of the bar sat two white leather love seats with an ornate glass coffee table, a beautiful victorian rug under them. A wooden dance floor lined with more white leather loveseats sat in the middle of the club. Steve saw three or four doors and a staircase in the back before Pepper grabbed his hand and lead them through a door off to the side labeled “Ladies Only”. Pepper lead down a few halls and up a staircase to her office, throwing open the door with practised ease before waving Steve towards one of the chairs across from her desk. She sat down in her chair, a very tasteful red leather high-backed style office chair, and thumbed through the files on her desk. She flipped open what's Steve assumed was his file and leaned back in her chair. “So, Steve, you're a barista?” Steve nodded and settled back in his chair. “Any reason you applied for the job?” Wanda had given Steve an entire backstory. Steve was a nobody artist from Newark, New Jersey. He had no parents, no siblings, no friends and no money. He was in New York for a fresh start, a new slate. Wanda made sure she planted bits and pieces of Steve in Newark, should anyone care to look into his references. “I'm just here to get a fresh start, ma’am. I ain't got nothing for me back home. New York seemed like the place to make a life, yanno?” Pepper nodded and dropped the file, pinning him with a glare. “You're not a cop, are you?” Steve froze and genuinely thought Pepper had figured it out, stuttering and sputtering out defences. Steve stopped when he heard laughter and looked up as Pepper’s entire facade dropped and her whole demeanour changed. Her shoulders relaxed and her eyes lightened. “Of course you're not a cop, with an ass like that how could you be anything but a stripper?” Steve almost defended himself before realising, for all intents and purposes, he was just a stripper. Steve smiled and breathed a little deeper. “However, if you nark to the cops about anything you see here, your face might not stay so pretty.” Peppers voice was sweet but the threat still landed. “Yes, ma’am.” Steve fidgeted despite knowing he could take Pepper should she attack him. “You can call me Pepper, Steve. You're one of my girls now.” Steve nodded and crossed his legs. Pepper closed his file and slid it under a pile of other manila folders. There was an itch in the back of Steve’s brain that wanted to know just what else was held in those folders, what names they held. “You're scheduled to start tonight, but you won't be on the floor or stage until next week. For today I’m setting you with our trainer, Okoye.” Steve nodded to show he was following. “She's going to show you the ropes, introduce you to her team and then you get the night off to observe the club.” - Steve waited at the bar for Okoye, a virgin Shirley Temple clutched in this hands. Last week, Steve had thrown caution to the wind and gotten a set of coffin-shaped French-tip nails. He drummed his fingers on the side of the glass, listening to the clink they made. He scanned the club for threats, he was still a cop after all. “Why are you on edge, Steven? Steve gulped down the last of his drink and set the glass down, cringing when it clinked against the oak wood too hard. "Not on edge, just vigilante, have to he when you're dressed like this." Steve gestured to his outfit and Okoye gave an understanding nod. "Nothing wrong with being protective of yourself. You're always safe in one of Ms. Potts' clubs so you can relax." Okoye rounded the bar and grabbed Steve's glass, putting in the sink. She poured herself a glass of straight whiskey and walked out the other end of the bar, calling for Steve to follow. -Okoye taught Steve everything he needed to know for his first night in under an hour before shoving him onto the floor. She said being thrown headfirst helps you learn faster and Steve didn't have an prior experience in stripping or being a call girl so he agreed. He wished he hadn't. Steve had been on the floor for an hour before he had any luck. He’d only picked and talked to people he knew wouldn’t be interested in him; the beefy man who had his eyes on a woman trailing the dancefloor, a middle aged woman with gold on her neck and and an eye for one of the dancers, already. He had to keep himself isolated so he was unattached when Barnes finally showed his face. And when he did finally show, Steve found it frighteningly easy to spot Barnes. His entourage was no fucking joke, posted not very far from him but within easy distance to break up any trouble that surrounded their oh, so fearless leader. Of course they had no problem with letting Steve near him. He felt their eyes on the back of his neck, but really — who wasn’t looking at this point. He didn’t go directly up to Barnes, that would be all together too obvious. He took his time, ordered a virgin cocktail from the bar before he talked to one woman by the bar. Before she got too hopeful, Steve slid away. He slotted himself next to Barnes instead. Be downed the rest of his drink and smiled at the bartender. “Can I get another?” he asked. He kept his shoulders as loose as his smile and speech. He could see Barnes size him up from his peripheral. And, alright. “Size up” was incorrect. Barnes absolutely ate Steve up from first glance. His eyes paused down the curve of his back, (hopefully, if his damned shorts have done their job) on his ass. Bingo. “Put it on my tab, Dugan,” Barnes interrupted, raising his hand. “And double it.” Steve hummed, and he turned towards the man, leaning back against the bar with his elbows propped up. His chest arched out, and he regarded Barnes with a certain curiosity. “Tryna get me drunk?” he asked. “And if I am?” Barnes replied, his eyebrows raising. “‘Cause I don’t think I’d mind it, if it was you,” He told Barnes surely. Steve reached over and ran his fingers down Barnes’ arm, the lazy smile growing. “What say you and I make good on it? You know. Somewhere quieter.” Barnes regarded him closely, but Steve didn’t let it get under his skin. He didn’t let those eyes make him nervous, rather met them boldly, his chin tipping the slightest bit. “I ain’t ever seen you around here before, doll.” He twisted in his seat to face Steve, his elbow propped up on the bar next to his drink. The movement shifted his jacket, revealing the holsters strapped to his sides. Wanda wasn't fucking around when she told him Barnes’ was strapping, Steve wondered how this guy could walk with all the firepower strapping him down. Steve thought that the low register of his voice ought to be put on his rap sheet. It was downright sinful. “Guess you haven’t been lookin’,” Steve replied easily. “Come on, what d’ya say?” He fingered Barnes’ cuff, looking down before flicking his eyes up through his lashes. Barnes studied him for a moment. “You got a room here, sweetheart?” The question was teetered on a point, like he was trying to get a feeler on who Steve was working with, or if he was going it alone. He nodded along. “In the hotel across the street.” Barnes absolutely grinned at him. Jesus, this was almost too easy. Steve had it in the goddamn bag. “I don’t spend time in that hotel,” Barnes told him. “But I do have a room upstairs.” He held Steve’s chin and tipped his face up, despite the fact that they were perfectly level. Steve looked up to the ceiling, and let his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Bucky made a low sound as he tilted Steve’s face to the side. “We and me are gonna get along just fine, Doll.” Steve’s eyes fluttered open, and he connected eyes with Barnes again, a tipsy little smile coming up to his mouth. “Keep callin’ me that, and we’re gonna have a real good time tonight.” Barnes smiled and stood up. He nodded once at the bartender and led Steve away with a hand on his lower back, under his shirt. Steve almost smirked. This was going to be much easier than he thought. - Steve walked home with the promise of a limp in the morning, $500 tucked into the inside of his boot.