Avengers Imagines

Speakeasy - Avengers

A/N: i was in history and my professor was talking about the roaring 20s and prohibition so this was the outcome

i blame all of you and this book for my not paying attention in class :)

also i've been writing this for a week i'm sorry it took so long :/

Description: mob boss steve & mob boss tony anyone ??

not as extreme as it sounds hah, but anyone else think tony could totally be an italian mobster?? no?? just me?? okay then

Warnings: language, illegal alcohol use, drugs, mobs, reference to violence

yeah, yeah there's winteriron here too but what can you do

Word count: 3159

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*Steve's POV*

The Captain knocked one, two, three times on the expensive wooden door to the building, the eerie silence of the night doing nothing to aid his increasing paranoia. Surprisingly, the door remains shut and he shifts on his feet drawing an annoyed huff from the man next to him.

"Would you cut it out already?" The brunette drawls, voice tinged with irritation and fond exasperation. "Ain't no way we're getting in with you acting like this."

The Captain opens his mouth to throw a snarky response back at his partner but the sound of a latch sliding open stops him before he can begin.

"Password?"

"Shield," the Captain replies before he can change his mind, hoping his voice sounds more confident than he feels.

The door opens without a sound and the Captain finds himself in a dark walkway staring into the eyes of a burly blonde man.

Without hesitation, the Soldier leads the way through the dark building through what, during the day, would be a high-end restaurant. The Captain follows his partner down a narrow hallway and finally through a slightly sheltered door. Only when they begin to walk down the stairs do they hear the music pulsing through the humid air. Even the Captain will admit-- the atmosphere is electrifying.

The scenery, as much as the Captain hates to admit it, is equally as pleasing. The large basement looks nothing of the sort, transformed into warm golds and yellow lights. Women and men alike dance freely encircled in fine suits and stunning crystal-like sparkles. The live music is entrancing and though it isn't his scene, the blonde Captain gets the appeal.

"Told you it was somethin'," the Soldier smirks, blue-gray eyes twinkling in the light.

"Yeah, yeah," the Captain waves him off, his own blue eyes rolling in amusement as he side steps lavish couches and various tables. "You sure he's here?"

The Captain's question is answered by the sight of a man, no, the man he's looking for sitting at the bar nursing a glass of scotch. He's well-dressed in a tailored black suit looking at home on a stool as he chats with the bartender. Despite never meeting the man personally, the Captain would recognize him anywhere due to the naturally smug aura and neatly trimmed facial hair that seems to be plastered on every newspaper in New York.

The Captain and the Soldier barely have time to make it to the bar before a brilliant redhead is pulling a revolver from a holster on her thigh covered only by her short, white-sequined dress. Her equally red lips are pulled into a tight "try me" smile and the two men freeze while the dirty blonde-haired bartender simply snickers.

Finally, the man of the hour turns to assess the situation, honey-brown eyes radiating interest as he looks the blonde and his brunette accomplice over. He seems calm which is something the Captain notes thoughtfully, almost as though he was anticipating this very situation. His eyes flicker briefly to the Soldier, honey-brown darkening to something that resembles hurt before falling away into carefully amused.