#hacker!robin

I saw this tik tok edit of Rachel McAdams in the movie Hot Chick where she gets a milkshake on house (and she's just totally playing the guy) and for some odd reason this spiraled me into thinking about Conman!Steve and Mob Boss!Eddie. So here is my brainrot I guess. Maybe I'll do more parts or make something longer on ao3 if people like it.

Steve wasn't one to not think things through. Yes, he was aware that it was a double negative. He played up the dumb part quite often, but Steve wasn't actually stupid. So it was all part of the game, really.

Steve loved the game. The rush, the push, and the pull of tricking someone, getting them for all their worth. Steve loved the game because it was fun. Steve loved the game because he got to use horrible people for his very lavish lifestyle. There was nothing like living rich by feeding off the rich. Well, he was trying to do that, at least. See, Steve, although good at what he did, he burned through money faster than you could say savings. It wasn't his fault, really. He used to be better at keeping track. Always made sure to have enough, just in case. Hadn't needed to worry about anyone but himself. Because the only thing Steve truly loved for a long time was the game itself.

But then he met people along the way, misfits and criminals like himself that he couldn't help spoiling. The only person who seemed to catch his problem was Robin, but even she couldn't resist a new hard drive for her computer. It's how she made her own money, after all.

Despite his problem with spoiling everyone, Steve always thought things through. He followed the rules of the game without rules and continued to fill his pockets, scamming the deserving and cruel. But sometimes, sometimes for Steve... his abilities and bad habits sometimes, well, overlapped. Sometimes, Steve could have been better at choosing the right people to care about. He was getting better at it, he swears. He let go of the wrong ones a long, long time ago.

But sometimes they came back begging.

Tommy had been someone from his life before. Before being on his own, back when purple and blue were his father's favorite colors to paint him with. It was a time before the game, a time that, although he tries to forget, had a grip on him.

So when Tommy called, seeking forgiveness, seeking help, Steve caved quickly. He would always be that same little boy, looking for love from a past that wasn't there. Tommy wasn't his parents, sure, but it was as close as he would get.

So, yes, steve normally thought things through, but there was the rare occasion, there was the exception to the rule, where Steve majorly fucked up.

He was in Boston when it happened. Even though years ago, Steve swears he would never be going back. He's in a small diner two blocks away from main street. And he had just finished getting Tommy's money back. Steve always celebrated with one of three things: drinks, sex, or milkshakes.

And Steve wanted out of Boston as fast as possible, so he went for his quickest and sometimes tastiest tradition.

"How much do I owe you?" Steve smiled innocently at the waiter, giving his best babygirl face.

The waiter bit his lips as he tried not to stare at Steve's mouth, "It's okay, it's on the house."

Steve licked part of his free milkshake off his finger, "Really?" Steve's voice was an octave higher just for the waiter. He could tell he was someone who had a preference for men, and most likely had a problem with letting go of his masculinity. So Steve knew the more feminine, the better. Steve couldn't help the sly grin that stretched across his face when the waiter got flustered. He was an attention whore; sue him.

His waiter—huh, Andy, according to his name tag—looked like he was about to say something when a throat cleared behind him.

"Andy, doll, you might be wanting to get back to the kitchen for a minute." A deep voice said behind Andy. It sent chills down Steve's spine. The Boston accent with a slight tilt of Irish was enough to captivate him. Andy moved faster than the speed of light at the command.

When Andy disappeared, with his tail between his legs no less, the most beautiful man Steve's ever seen revealed himself. A tall, pale, curly brunette stood before him in a suit with a ripped-up band tee underneath. It shouldn't look good, and it shouldn't look professional, but it did. Steve saw tattoos peeking out from exposed skin, piercings all over his ears, and enough jewelry to start a store. Steve was bewitched.

The mystery man smiled, hands in his pockets, and leaned down slightly into Steve's space. "Oh, sweetheart, I have been looking for you everywhere."

Steve stayed silent, drinking him in; he smelt of mint, smoke, and morning rain.

The man slid into the booth, put his arms on the table, and made a little beat with his knuckles on the plastic. Then, Steve noticed the words "Hell Fire" across his knuckles. Steve's heart sunk to his stomach. He had heard of those hands before. Those hands were famous.

The man leaned his face against his right fist. "Hell" pushed into his cheekbone. "The name is Eddie Munson, love." Eddie looked Steve up and down. "But I think you've already figured that out by now, haven't ya?"

Steve steeled himself. He should be okay. He hadn't wronged this man before, but something, something was telling Steve that he most definitely had. The look in his sweet abyss of eyes told him as much.

A smirk stretched across Eddie's face, and suddenly he kicked the leather bag next to Steve's feet under the table. Steve's cheek twitched slightly for a millisecond, but it was enough to give him away. "It seems here... like you and Hagan have stolen quite a bit of money from me." Eddie tsk-tsked while Steve's heart dropped from his stomach to his feet. Tommy screwed him.

"And that love, well, that just won't do."Steve had never seen such a sweet smile feel so deadly. "So, Sunshine, I am going to make you a deal, and you would be smart to take it."

Steve wasn't actually dumb, but yes, he most definitely did not think this through.

________

Sooo thoughts? I was going to write more but if this was a flop, I didn't want to put my heart in soul into it. But I did spiral a bit with it. Whoops!

edit: I made some grammatical changes but that's it. I realized I kept switching tense changes when I was writing in present, so I changed it to past. I'm much more comfortable with it. Let me know if there are any more errors.

This is by far the weirdest crew that Chrissy has ever worked with.

The hitter and the grifter are distracted working through some unresolved sexual tension, their mastermind appears to have secrets of her own, and the forger is proving to be an unnecessary distraction.

Chrissy may be the best thief in the world but she’s not sure she’s ready for this heist.

Access pt. 1 here. I've also decided to start posting this on ao3 as well, which you can find here.

Las Vegas, Nevada

Steve had met Robin during one of the lowest parts of his life. After leaving Boston and everything he knew behind, Steve hopped from place to place for a few weeks. Working odd jobs just to get from one place to the next. Eventually, he landed himself in Vegas. It had felt far enough from home where he would avoid being found, but also less obvious than a place like LA.

Steve had a lot of vices in his past life, sex, money, and women, but gambling wasn't one of them. So if someone was following the trail of his bad habits, Vegas wouldn't even cross their mind.

Steve began working at a bar on the strip when he arrived. It was a fancy place, wasn't part of a casino, and stood out independently. The Bearpoppy Lounge. It was the type of place where everyone wore suits and Gucci belts. Wealth was not only flaunted but required. It reminded Steve of the places his parents used to take him to impress business partners.

Robin had been his trainer for the bar, and well, she had absolutely hated him at first. Steve hadn't been able to figure out why. He was incredibly charming, and women usually fell at his feet. Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but people usually drew to him. It had been a shock to the system when the first thing Robin had said to him was,

"I give you two days before you quit."

"What?" Steve asked in shock. Surely, she couldn't have been serious. "Do I not even get your name? Or, I don't know, a hello?" Steve thought he should reel in the snark. It wouldn't help his situation to let out his bitchy side. He just wasn't used to it. The lack of immediate trust he got from strangers. Most people would find that mentality naive, but Steve was raised to be enticing.

"My name is Robin, like it says on my name tag if you had bothered to read it. And I don't usually bother with introductions. I know the pretty boy type; trust me, it doesn't last." Robin wiped down glasses at the bar and didn't look up as she spoke.

Steve was resisting the urge to blow up on her. He couldn't prove her right. He had to lay on the charm thick.

Steve took in Robin's appearance before answering. She was pretty. Short dirty blonde hair cut to her chin with pink at the ends. Light freckles decorated Robin's face, which defined her already high cheekbones. She was tall, almost as tall as him, but she held herself awkwardly, like she didn't know what to do with her limbs. Robin would be easy to charm. Beautiful, so he wouldn't have to lie, and insecure so he could work her. "Well, if pretty girls like you can make it this far, I don't see why I can't." Steve leaned his body against the counter and appraised Robin up and down.

Robin snorted, "Oh god, you can't be serious. Please don't tell me the next thing you're gonna say is how you 'got lost in my beautiful blue orbs' like we were in some cheesy fanfiction."

Steve's mask fumbled a bit. "Orbs? What? Eyes can't be orbs. Then you'd have to see all the way around? Right? Wait—" Steve spiraled for a minute. Robin threw him off his rhythm.

Robin's face cracked slightly at Steve's confusion before she sighed deeply. "Look, I'm going to be, uh, straight, with you." Robin paused as she had a sort of inside joke with herself. "I don't like you."

Ouch. "Ouch."

Robin pushed on, "Look, it's not about you personally. It's about, ya know, what you represent. Like you came in here with no experience, no background, and just charmed your way into this job. Now I have to spend two weeks training you, only for you to stay a month tops. Guys, girls, and everything between, like you only come to work here for two things. Fortune and fame. They come to find a rich spouse or try to catch the eye of someone with a business card and a one-way ticket to Hollywood. And listen, it works. Most of you guys get what you want. Any other bar on the strip, I would tell you to quit while you're ahead. Big names come in here, though. And most of you get what you want. And if you don't? Well, you usually break and go back home to Mommy and Daddy. You all leave me high and dry and training another person. The worst offenders of all are the pretty boys. They come in here, lay on the charm, making assumptions about me, try to sleep with me, and when I don't give them what they want, they turn on me. So, sorry if I don't think we will get along."

Steve felt something inside him snap, "You know, for someone who hates people making assumptions about others, you really are assuming a lot about me." Robin looked taken aback by the bitchy attitude. Steve pressed on, "And I don't want that, Robin: fortune and fame. I mean, a little fortune would be nice, but who doesn't want that? And did you think that there was a reason I had to charm my way into this job? You said it yourself I have no experience! How will I ever gain that if I don't have the job to try it in the first place? And for your information Robin, there is no way I am running back to Mommy and Daddy. I think I'd rather take my chances with the streets, thank you very much."

Robin opened her mouth to speak, but Steve cut her off.

"Also, if you aren't into me, that's fine. I wouldn't make you uncomfortable for it. I'm not everyone's type; I can deal with that." Steve crossed his arms, emphasizing his point to her.

Robin swallowed, a bit of shame crept onto her face. "Sorry."

Steve sighed, "It's fine."

"No, it's not. I didn't give you the chance to fuck up first. I should at least give you that. And I get it, you know. Not going back to the parents."

The tension left Steve, "Yeah?"

"Yea, it's actually for the reason you're not my type. "

"Huh?"

Robin giggled but then looked hesitant. "I'm pretty sure the only kind of person you aren't the type for shares something in common with me. I'm a lesbian, dude. "

Steve took in the way Robin shrunk on herself even more and decided to share one tiny secret with her; even though he shouldn't be in the business of giving away his secrets. "It's okay. I'm safe. I'm not going to tell anyone. We share the same secret."

It was Robin's turn to say, "Yeah?"

Steve smiled at her, "Oh yeah. I, too, love the ladies, Robin."

Robin giggle-screeched. "Dingus!"

Steve warmed at the pet name. "But I also like the dudes. And everything in between."

Robin's smile softened, "Thanks for telling me."

Steve waved his hand in the air. "Yeah, yeah. Are you actually going to do your job and train me?"

"And just when I was starting to like you. Welcome to hell then; I'll be your guide." Despite her words, Robin's tone held an ease that wasn't there earlier.

Steve knew she'd be tough to crack, but he knew it would be worth it.

--------------

It was weird; it was Robin who gave him the idea. When they first met, he thought she would have been the judgemental type. Well, he wasn't far off from that, but she was surprisingly morally loose when it came to illegal activity.

"You know that man would have done anything to get in your pants, right?" Robin nodded toward the guy who just left the bar to go sit back with his buddies. He was in his late forties, and pretty fit for his age. He had introduced himself as Clark; which either the dude had the world's most bland name, or he was using Clark Clent as a pseudonym to cover the fact he was flirting with a man when Mr. Clark was clearly married (at least the shiny gold band said so). Steve hadn't been interested, though. For one, he wasn't looking to get attached to anyone (although Robin was starting to make that look difficult). Secondly, Steve had learned the hard way that being a queer person, no matter the day in age, wasn't always safe.

Especially with married men.

"And so what, Buckley? I don't think I have anything to gain from a married man looking to bang some random bartender, who, by the way, he doesn't even know likes other men?" Steve throws his towel over his shoulder and turns towards Robin.

"But you are into men." Robin deadpans.

"Okay, true, but not the point. Hey, wait, how does he even know I like men?"

Robin shrugs, "Same way that I did, like seeks like my hairy friend. However, I suppose we aren't exactly the same. Since I am only interested in the ladies. Oh wait—does that make us more alike since we both like women, and you liking men makes us less alike? But that's gay, so that makes us—"

"Robin, you didn't even know. I had to tell you. After you yelled at me."

"Sorry!" She cringed.

Steve sighed, "Besides, still nothing to gain from sleeping with him. Besides, the dude's name is Clark."

Robin snorted, "That's rich coming from you, James."

Steve was not lost on the irony that he and Clark were both using fake names.

"I'm not exactly sure you're getting to an actual point Robs."

Robin put her hands in front of her as if she was surrendering. "Okay, hear me out. The dude clearly has money and really wants to sleep with you. Heck, a lot of people come in who want to sleep with you. Men, women, everything in between, and everything outside of it. These people want you, Steve, which I don't understand, but they do. These very rich people want to sleep with you. And you, a very poor bartender who frankly is terrible at his job, could use that to his advantage."

Steve just stared at her.

"You do get what I am saying, right?"

"Yes Robin, I get what you're saying. You want me to prostitute myself to our customers."

"I believe the proper term is sex workers; you can be offended by not offensive."

"Robin." Steve whisper yelled.

"Oh, c'mon! It isn't the worst idea. You like money, and you like sex. I'm not really seeing a downside. I mean, it's your body, so you get to do what you want with it. But I wouldn't judge you if it was this. I mean you don't have to sleep with them even! Swindle them for their money; I know you're a charmer. You might not even have to go as far as sex. I mean, unless you want to. Again, your body, my dude."

"Why do you even want me to do this? Shouldn't you want me to stay on a legal path? Be the voice of reason? Isn't that what this whole nerdy good girl thing you got going for?" Steve returned to the bar while he spoke and started preparing a drink. Although he was protesting and acting offended by the idea, it wasn't actually a terrible proposition. Steve had done worse for less, and he had a lot of respect for those in the industry. It was just, he didn't get why Robin was pushing it. It was Steve's instinct to be mistrustful. People didn't offer things to him, especially very illegal ones, unless they wanted to gain something or get something against him.

"No, I don't want to be your pimp. Can't a girl offer some life advice to her helpless coworker? Besides, I'd be a hypocrite if I told you not to earn money illegally. Considering my side-gigs." Robin walked around the bar to stand directly in front of Steve. She placed her elbows on the wood and her head in her hands. She looked sincere, and that's when it hit Steve.

"First off, we are coming back to the side-gig thing—"

"We most definitely are not." Robin quipped.

"Second, I think I get it now. You're worried about me. We're friends, and you're worried about me."

"Take it back."

"No, no. You, Robin Buckley, care about me."

Robin shuttered, "We are not friends, James. And I am not worried. I simply became too invested in your pathetic life; my apologies." She started to lean back from the bar but Steve put the drink down and caught her by her elbows.

"If you admit we're friends, and that you're worried about me, I'll think about your idea." Steve gave her elbows a light squeeze.

Robin caved instantaneously, "Fine, you dingus! We're friends. I care about you! Despite my best efforts, your stupid face and jokes are incredibly endearing, and you always cheer me up on bad days. And every day here is a bad day. And I'm worried about you because you look like you're going to run every five seconds, and every time it's a shitty tip night, you deep sigh. And dammit, you're the only person I like here, and if you go at this point, so do I."

Steve felt himself blink back tears. Robin, in all her rambling glory, had managed to give him one of the best speeches he's ever heard. Steve hadn't had anyone care about him like this in, well, ever. It was a welcomed devastation.

Steve tugged her into a bone-crushing hug. Their stomachs pressed against the bar, the wood digging into their hips. "I'm gonna do it."

"Yea? You really don't have to. We can figure something else out. I would teach you how to hack, but I don't think you'd be very good at it." Robin let out a wet laugh.

Steve let her go and shrugged. "Nah, it's a good idea. And honestly sounds like a bit of fun. Swindling the wealthy into giving to the poor. Well, giving to me. But I count as poor currently."

Robin smiled, "Only if you're sure, dingus."

"I am. Now—" Steve pushed the drink with a bar business card that he wrote his name and number on underneath. "—go take this to money bags over there."

Robin grabs the card and throws it at him. "You can't give your real name and number, dummy. For now, I'm gonna give him my side gig number until you can get your own. All we need is a name." She grabbed a new card and wrote down the digits.

Steve took the pen from her and looked around the bar for inspiration. He jotted down the first thing that came to mind. "Here ya go."

Robin looked down and choked on a laugh. "You can't be serious."

"Deadly."

Robin rolled her eyes one last time before picking up the drink. "We will think of a better one later. But I guess for now; I'll deliver this to your first client, Cherry."

Steve knew then, and there he and Robin were for life.

________

Boston, Massachusetts

It was at this moment Steve was trying to picture how Robin would react to how majorly he fucked up. Considering she had already warned him about the dangers of Tommy Hagan's friendship, Steve didn't have to think too hard. Robin had always been good at that, calling him on his bullshit before it even happened. Steve could hear her voice in his head saying,

This is what happens when you play with fire Dingus.

Steve wondered if he'd ever get to hear her voice in person again.

"What kind of deal?" Steve asked before throwing himself to the wolves. Though he was sure his life was on the line, he couldn't just say yes to whatever Eddie asked. He didn't want to die, but he also had to consider that there were people he cared about in this world. Steve wouldn't put them at risk, even if it meant his own well-being.

In retrospect, he should have reevaluated the list of people he cared about, considering one was the reason he was here in the first place.

Eddie leaned back against the booth, stretched his arms across the back of it, and let out a dark chuckle. "Well, for starters, I'm going to need that bag back. That's the easy part. Considering it's mine anyway. Although, it does seem a bit light there. Why is that sweetness?"

Steve could feel himself go pale. God, Tommy had fucked fucked him. He was starting to consider that it was even a setup. He didn't peg Hagan for being that smart, though. "It's only half. Tommy took the other half with him when I met up with him. I'm so supposed to keep the other half safe for a few weeks, then bring it to him."

Eddie raised his eyebrows, "Pretty forthcoming, aren't we? Thought I'd have to push a bit more to break ya. Now I'm not sure if I even want to offer you the rest of the deal. Don't particularly like working with snitches."

Steve tried not to let out a frustrated growl. Charm, he had to charm Eddie. He was making it hard for Steve. "I'm not a snitch; I just don't see the point in covering for someone who obviously fucked me."

Eddie put his hands up in mock surrender, "Woah there, sweetness. Didn't mean to touch a nerve. I'm only having a bit of fun. You'll let me have my fun, won't you? Considering you made me stop my hard work in the middle of the day to deal with you?" Although Eddie smiled as he spoke, Steve could tell he wasn't happy. Steve decided to be smart and stay silent. "Now tell me, where and when did you meet him? And when and where were you meeting up again?"

Steve gritted his teeth, "What's the rest of the deal?"

"What's that?" Eddie ticked his head to the side.

"I'm not going to tell you anything else if I don't know what I'm getting out of it or what I need to do to get to the finish line. So, What's the rest of the deal?"

"You're a clever one, aren't you? I'm not surprised, actually, considering the sort of bravery it takes to steal from me." Steve noted in his head that Eddie said bravery and not stupidity. He tucked it away for later. "Fine, considering you've been forthcoming so far, I'll be kind and lay all the cards on the table. On one condition."

Steve gave up on being charming. He knew it was getting him nowhere. "Deal for a deal? Seems a bit convoluted, don't ya think?"

"Ooo, bitchy and knows big words? Full of surprises. I promise you this one is an easy one. Should you choose the right path, no harm will come your way Padalin. Well, none that you don't ask for, at least." A wicked grin spread across Eddie's face.

"Get to the point."

"You know I'd have a man's head at this point for that kind of talk. Fortunately bitchy looks good on you. Anyway, the condition is this. Tell me your name, sweetness. I think it's rude that I gave you my name and I don't have yours."

"Well I didn't ask for yours and like you said earlier, I don't think introductions were necessary."

Eddie gave Steve an unamused eyebrow; his patience was wearing thin.

Steve was buying time, he wasn't sure what name to give him. He wasn't stupid; he couldn't exactly give him his real name. He couldn't just tell him, Steve. For one, he was in Boston. A slip of the first name means a slip of the last. And besides coming back to Boston in the first place, that would be the absolute dumbest thing he'd ever do if he were to let that slip. Steve was well aware the Harrington name hadn't grown kinder over the years.

The other reason was if he were to give him his real name, Eddie would suddenly have access to his entire life in an instant. His story, his crimes, his weaknesses. Steve was sure that Eddie had his very own Robin, although he doubted they were any good since Steve had the best, but even a raccoon with access to Google could find him.

So Steve had to think. What name could he give him? He thought about the hundreds of alias he had over the years. Some of them are more thought out than others. Like Mark Odom, who was a sales rep just down on his luck at the horse tracks and just needed a bit of insider information for a win. He had a family to feed, after all.

Or there was the ones with less background, like Cherry, who didn't even have a last name. He was just a good disguise for Steve when he wanted to swindle money out of higher-profile men.

Those aliases, no matter the depths of their stories, were too used, too frequented, too recent. They had a history that could be traced. Steve thought of possibly starting a whole new alias for Eddie. But those took time. A quick lie in the moment was easy, but Steve had a deep feeling nothing about his interactions with Eddie would be quick.

Eddie looked at him expectantly, waiting. It had only been a few seconds since Steve had last spoke, but between the two of them, it felt like hours. It felt as though Steve was losing the game and fast.

An idea sprung on Steve suddenly. An old name he used once. It was a name thrust upon him more like, but he had only used it once. He was sure Eddie would catch onto it being fake, but Steve hoped that the man's affinity for nicknames let it slide.

"Angel. The name is Angel."

"Angel." Eddie deadpanned. "Angel, what? No last name?"

"No last name." Steve shook his head.

Eddie rubbed a hand down his face, "That's what you're going with? You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's all you're gonna get."

Eddie stared at Steve momentarily before a playful smile edged at his lips. "Alright, I'll bite. Angel, it is, for now. Just don't expect the truth to stay hidden for long. You see, I always get my way in the end. Okay, Angel?" Eddie's eyes penetrated Steve's, and silence again hung in the air.

"Okay." Steve believed Eddie. He secretly hoped he wouldn't be around the man long enough to see how quickly he got his way.

"Good. Now here's the deal Angel." Eddie emphasized Steve's name in mockery. "You give me the half you have under the table. That's been established so far. Then you are going to help me get the rest of the money back and get me a little chat with your good pal Hagan."

Steve opened his mouth to protest the idea of him and Tommy being good pals, but shut it before he could make the situation for himself worse. Probably better for himself to not push his luck.

"That's the easy part," Eddie continued. He leaned forward, taking his arms off the back of the shredded booth, and used his hand to grip Steve's chin. The grip was firm but not painful as he pulled Steve forward. It was as if he was trying to prove a point, trying to prove that Eddie was the one in control, prove that he didn't want to hurt Steve, just put him in his place. "The hard part of the deal is this. You see, it's not easy to steal from me. And yet, here you are. You've made it much further than others have. And that is a skill not many possess. And right now, I could use that."

Steve visibly swallowed. He was trying not to let this man get to him. It felt impossible with Eddie's hand on him and their proximity. It had been so long since Steve had been this close to someone, so intimately, without the illusion of the game. Sure, there was an imminent threat over Steve's head, but he couldn't shut off the part of his brain that kind of liked it. Steve had to push away the desire to breathe in all that was Eddie. Steve decided to blame these uncontrollable thoughts on the fact he hadn't gotten laid since Seattle over a month ago.

Not because he felt attracted to the man who was actively threatening him. That would be insane.

"How do you suppose I do that?" Steve licked his lips and didn't break eye contact with Eddie.

"I have a list. A list of people who have wronged me. Who has stolen from me, in one form or another? Usually, I'd have them taken care of, but I don't think they deserve such an easy out. I think I need to make a statement. I think they should be given exactly what they've taken. They bit the hand that fed them after all." Eddie squeezed Steve's chin lightly. It once again caused no pain, but it grounded Steve. Sent a silent reminder of who was in control.

"Big believer in karma, then? Wouldn't have taken you for the type." Steve pushed out a weak laugh. Eddie stared at him a moment before releasing him, sitting back into his original position.

Eddie's lip tilted slightly, "Maybe I am. Do we have a deal?"

Steve snorted, "That's it? You're not going to tell me more? No reason why, no, what do I need to do? Kind of feels like I'm getting the shit end of the stick here."

In the corner of his eye, Steve saw one of Eddie's men move when he raised his voice. It made Steve stop abruptly, shrinking back into his seat. Eddie waved his henchman to stand down. "No, you don't get more. And beggers can't be choosers, can they?"

" 'Suppose not."

"Good boy. Now, do we have a deal?" Eddie stuck his hand out for Steve to shake.

Steve had to suppress his reaction once again. Eddie had to be testing him at this point. Good boy would be seared into his brain forever. A brand of how dangerous this man was to him.!Steve looked down at the rough, veiny hands. "On one condition."

Eddie barked out a laugh, "You know you really like pushing your luck, Angel. It's like you have a deathwish. You aren't exactly in the position to make demands, hasn't that been clear? You're lucky you are so goddamn interesting. So, once again, I'll bite."

"I get to veto someone, no questions asked, if I don't want to do it." Steve thought about how many enemies he had here in Boston. How many people he had no desire to run into? He needed to make sure most, if not all of them, never crossed paths with him again. Steve knew it was a long shot to ask of this. It defeated the whole purpose of helping Eddie if he was allowed to say no. They both knew this. And yet, Steve held out hope.

Eddie hummed to himself for a moment before answering. "You get one."

Steve whipped his head towards Eddie in shock. "What?"

"I'll give you one veto. No questions asked. But that's it. Once you use it, it's gone."

Steve knew when to not look a gift horse in the mouth. "Okay, deal." Steve stuck his hand out for Eddie to grab. Steve tried not to shutter when Eddie's warm hand engulfed his own. The smoothness of his rings and the callouses on his palms contradicted each other and send a delicious thrill down Steve's spine.

Yeah, Steve was fucked.

"Deal, Angel." Eddie slid out of the booth, and his men made to follow him. "Now, if I am correct, you're currently staying at the rundown motel on 3rd? Well, Ben here—" Eddie gestured to the eager henchman from earlier "—will follow you to the motel to collect your things. Then he's going to take you to the room I paid for you at the Palace Hotel. Where he, and a rotation of other people, will be standing guard outside your door 24/7."

"What? Don't trust me?" Steve tried to lighten the apparent tension.

"Oh, not in the slightest, Angel. Trust you just about as much as I can throw you." Eddie slid dark sunglasses on before walking up to the door. "Looking forward to chatting again. I think this will be a good thing for us both, sweetheart."

Eddie walked out without looking back, taking most of his men with him. Ben stayed behind, glaring daggers at Steve's head.

Steve couldn't help but feel a shift in the tide; he would be returning to this moment for the rest of his life. He knew there was no coming back from this, and even if there was, Robin would kill him anyway.

Steve looked down at his milkshake, it was fucking melted.

***

has it been a month since I posted the first part? Yes. Yes it has. Please don't murder me. It has been hectic, I got a new job which means I work two now and I got sick. I finally had some time to start working on this. I also wanted to actually plan this out, make an outline, since yes you guessed it…

it’s going to be a long fic.

As you can tell these parts are really long, so I’m thinking about just posting on ao3, and maybe putting previews on here. Unless you guys want it also fully here. Let me know! :)

I’m so excited for this thank you all for your patience. You can access part one here and ao3 here.

also if I tagged you and you didn’t want to be tagged let me know! some reblogs seemed interested in a part 2 but didn’t mention it specifically but I tried to tag you if I could!

tag list:

This is by far the weirdest crew that Chrissy has ever encountered.

It was supposed to be an easy job. Break into the office building and steal a bunch of papers. It shouldn’t even require much of a crew…and yet somehow their client managed to hire five of the strangest people that she’s ever seen.

And as the world’s best thief, she’s seen a few.

Their mastermind is straight up scary. She has dark hair pulled up into a tight ponytail and it’s hard to miss the bulge of a gun at the back of that expensive leather jacket. Chrissy’s heard of Nancy Wheeler, the terrifying con-artist who organized the Chicago heist, the Pumpernickel job, and who once pulled a Lady Godiva on a British Lord.

The hitter is no better. He might have incredible blue eyes and dirty blonde hair curling around his ears but Chrissy knows him as probably the most lethal hitter available for hire. There’s all sorts of rumors about Billy Hargrove – he worked for the CIA, he was in the army, he was an assassin… The stories keep changing but one thing remains true – you don’t want to take on Billy in a fight.

The other two she doesn’t recognise. There’s a girl in suspenders with a smattering of freckles and wavy shoulder length hair anxiously biting on her fingernails. The guy next to her looks like a cross between a model for the Gap and someone you might see at the local country club. He’s chewing gum with his mouth open and tilting his chair back and forth. Looking at them, Chrissy would probably have to guess hacker and grifter.

She might be wrong. But hackers usually aren’t known for their skills around people and the guy is doing that grifter thing of being so obnoxious that everyone around them doesn’t look close enough until all of their resalable belongings are gone.