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Devil You Know

Summary:

Steve has been undercover so long the lines are blurry. Loosing who he is under the mask. Can Danny be the light to guide him home?

Notes:

Beta read by the wonderful Lizlybear. <3

Chapter Text

It was curious to see how many people assumed major crime occurred at night. Like there was some kind of nocturnal attribute to mobsters and thugs. Yes, most of it did happen at night but mostly it was during the day. In filthy corners of the city where the good people don’t go. The famous crawling underbelly, running like an infection on the beautiful island. 

It had taken years of meticulous planning and hard work to build his cover. He wasn’t going to let up easy. So when his previous partner, Jerry announced retirement, he opted to stay on. Now here he was. Sharp cheekbones illuminated by the cherry of the cigarette as he stood, leaning on the side of a building. Manila folder tucked under his arm. Darkness shrouding the man and protecting him from detection. Big hands flicking the cigarette into the gutter. Watching it bounce as he saw a car approach. Slick and Black. It was beautiful. The light seems to bend over the paint. The growl of the engine sounded dangerous as shitty converse shoes moved the tall frame forwards. Passenger side window rolling down. 

Reaching out, dropping an arm over the window. Strategically blocking everyone’s view into the car. “Hey babe. You miss me?” The asshole grinned. Blues sparkling with mischief. 

“Get in, you bastard” rough voice of a man in his sixties, worn down by the life of a Major Crimes Cop. Grey hair slicked back and suit looking sharp as always as the loiterer pulled the door open and swung inside. 

“Who the fuck is this?” He snapped. Looking down at a slightly faded folder, open in his lap and a picture of a blonde man with strong features staring up at him in his blues. 

“He is Detective Sergeant Daniel Williams. And he, Steve. Will be the one you’re reporting to.”  

Greg, his handler, the man with his leash stated. Tapping his cigarette out the window and taking another drag. “He’s a bloody good cop, Steve. Eighty seven homicide cases under his belt. Hand picked by the Governor herself to oversee the rest of your mission.” 

“The fuck is up with you? Huh?” The man snapped. Obviously dealing with the change exceptionally well as per usual. 

“Cancer, you asshole. My wife is taking me across the state to Washington to get treatment. I won’t be here so I put in for a replacement. This guy is the best.” Greg rasped. Finger jabbing down on the picture of Detective Williams. Steve thought he’d indulge slightly and begun to read through the file. He was young, kinda hot. Fit. Smart too. Busted a few cases wide open as soon as they were assigned to him. Fantastic collar rate and he wasn’t trigger happy. He was a great cop. 

“Fucking knew it’d get your ass.” He huffed. Head hanging low. 

“Course you did, you ungrateful bitch” The old man just shrugged. “No one gets out of life alive, kid”  chuckling, stopping when he coughed hard. Looking back down at the file, Greg continued “He’s clean cut. Sharp as a fucking tac and he’ll be just what you need to reel you in. You’ve been acting crazy and looking like you’re some kind of Chihuahua fixin’ to run under a truck. You’ve been pushing the red and taking more risks lately” he sighed. Rolling his head in the car seat to look at the man, fixing Steve with that level stare. Danny looked like he would yell at him for so much as putting socks on a little odd in the morning. 

“He’s going to keep you in line. You’ve been stepping over it and soon they’re going to ask you something you know you can’t do. They’re going to chew you up and spit you out if you don’t get your head in it. Too fucking long you’ve been under. If I had it my way I’d have pulled you out years ago and fucked you off.” The grey man huffed. Already more violent than Steve had ever seen him before with his finger jabbing him in the chest. “We’re going to meet him in person soon.” 

“Nahh, Fuck that. I don’t want a new handler” Steve shook his head. Slipping the picture from the file. “Not yet anyway. Let me run my own background, Okay?” 

“Whatever, you’re going to fucking do it anyway. Just be fucking careful and dont fuck this up. He’s said if he’s going to take your information he wants to meet you in person too so shower once in a while.” Old man huffed. Shaking his head. “And none of this crazy disappearing shit okay? Last thing we need is to have you pulled because you’re in the middle of some fucking country i can’t pronounce again” 

“You know I can’t pull back now. It’ll set off way too many alarms. No i’m almost at breakthrough I can fucking feel it.” Steve snapped. Reaching out and grabbing a cigarette from Greg’s packet. “You should fuck these things off”

“Or What? They’ll give me cancer? You fucking smartass” Huffing a laugh that ended with a quick cough. “The fuck have you got for us this time? And no more of this CIA conspiracy bullshit you and I both know that will never fucking fly.”

“It’s not a theory if it’s true and no, not CIA this time. Real Estate. He’s making a push for affordable housing in the poorer areas. Drug and crime hotspots. Looks like he’s looking to open up an outlet store. Like an old corner shop. But A-K’s and blow” The folder he’d been carrying finally rested on his knees and fell open, brimming with plans, memos, emails and pictures. Even a few bank transactions.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, who’s dick did you have to suck to get this shit?” Slightly shaking hands took the file, popping his cigarette between his lips and reading over the pages upon pages of information.

“Why is everyone so fucking shocked when I do shit like this, did we all just collectively forget I was in Naval Fucking Intelligence?” Huffing, cigarette smoke billowing out as he did so. The files between them are illuminated by the quiet glow of the cherries.

“The bastard’s going to flood the place with drugs and guns” Old cop sighed. Closing the file and tossing it on the back seat. Shaking his head. Old knuckles cracking and creaking as he adjusted his grip on the leather wheel of the car. Teeth clenching. This fucker was bad news. He was going to burn the entire island, but as long as he was king of the ashes it was going to be okay. 

“I’m going to stop him, i’ll take the fucker down and we’ll finish this” Steve sighed. Dropping Williams’ file on the seat. “I’m not fucking working with him until I kow who the fuck he is and where he’s coming from. I can’t change shit up now. I’m in too deep. It’ll fucking kill me” bruised knuckles rasping against the car door as Steve arranged his long limbs and climbed out of the car. Tucking a fresh cigarette behind his ear and leaning back into the Audi. “I’ll let you know a time and a fucking place if you so badly want me to meet the fucker. Okay? But it can’t be anywhere around here. They’ve been watching too much fucking Vikings and want to try something called a blood eagle. Whatever the fuck it is, I’m not keen. So as usual my man. Keep your trap shut” he huffed. Pushing hands into the pockets of his jacket and kneeing the door closed. Boots grating on the gravel as Steve gave a mock salute as always and turned on his heel to head back into the night. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” Greg shouted out the window. Hissing the words aggressively. Knowing full well Steve had the image of Detective Williams tucked in his pocket and possibly the change out of his ashtray. Whatever else he got his hands on too. 

“To get a haircut!” Came the reply. The jacket zipping up and off strode Steve down the shitty sidewalks and into the night. It wasn’t far, and it wasn’t uncommon to see the man in his jacket wandering the streets at all hours. He liked the quiet. For a moment, even if it’s fleeting, it was peace. A quiet friend settling beside him. 

It hadn’t taken him long to build a rep in the area. Hitting anything and everything in a half mile radius hard, fast and dirty; getting in the right kind of trouble with the wrong kind of people. Didn’t take long at all for Steve, or Marcus as he’s known in the area. 

Cap tugged low on his face, Steve hooked a turn and spared a quick glance before crossing the road with natural swagger rocking his shoulders with every stride. Long legs closed the distance. Thankfully he was dressed for the chill that had set in between the buildings. It wasn’t like Hawaii to get too cold, so the light jacket, jeans and boots combo he often sported was enough. 

The Barber's pole is still illuminated, perfect. The door gave way as Steve shouldered it. Hell chiming out happily. The storefront itself was empty, bar the man in the back sweeping. Looking up when Steve stepped in and shut the door. Peering out between the blinds. Street was still empty. 

“Hey, I’m closed. Sign says closed. Do you have any respect?” Hawaiian shirt covering the thin frame of Ordell. Lawyer and barber extrodinare. 

“Aw, man. Not even for a quick trim?” The man grinned hazel eyes sparkling mischievously. Tongue poking out slightly between his teeth as he playfully leant into a mirror. Smoothing hands over his face and stroking the little patch under his lip he had going. It wasn’t his favourite look but it helped him blend. 

“Trim? You have no hair. What happened to your curls? You were so cute with curls” leaning on his broom and watching Steve closely. 

“Ahh, cut it all down man. Short, easy to maintain. Good for the Korean jungle” straightening up and fishing the picture of the blonde detective out of his pocket. Smoothing the corners. 

“The hell are you in Korea for?” Ordell demanded. Putting the broom aside and coming to lean against the counter beside Steve. They’d known each other a long time, Ordell acting as a CI sometimes for the force. So when he found out Steve was Under he was more than happy to help. 

“You know I can’t tell you” a low chuckle as he looked over at the lawyer. Handing him the picture of Williams. “Detective Sergeant Daniel Williams. What do you know about him?” 

“Williams… Williams. Hey is he the Haole they brought over from the mainland? Word on the street is he took a job with HPD. Got a place nearby. No clue how this island works, brah” 

“Yeah. That’s him. What have you got on him?” Steve pressed. Shifting in his spot and leaning closer to Ordell. Feeling a bit anxious that the man was going to keep the picture. Which was stupid, he hasn’t even met the guy.

“Well, let me see. He got a place not far from HPD. Nice three bedroom spot on Piikoi Street. He’s riding a desk because no one will give him time of day. Apparently he was a big shot in New York until something went down and that’s why he’s transferred.” 

Fingers rubbed at the stubble on his jaw as he thought about what was said. “So he’s running?” He asked. Eyes rolling to look at Ordell. The barber shrugged as he pushed the picture back into Steve’s palm. Moving back to his broom. 

“You think he’s dirty?” It was a natural question. It wasn’t often Steve came in asking for information on a cop unless something bad was going on. Dropping his gaze to the face staring up at him from under the cap. Blue eyes intense. 

“I dunno man. I’m just looking to get a feel for the guy right now. I’ll decide which way I’ll jump once I meet him” a curt nod and the image was pushed back into his pocket. Brown wallet replacing the item in his hands as he fished out a twenty. “Thanks for the trim man” slapping the bill into Ordell’s palm and heading to the door. 

“Don’t mention it. Hey if you get hair again, come back and I’ll cut it properly” The other called. Waving his hand about to gesture the shop. It was much nicer than the previous one. Which was a relief. Attracting more, paying customers was beneficial for Steve. Helped him slip in and out unnoticed easier. 

With the bell tinkering happily behind him and the door shutting with a firm this. Steve found himself back on the dark street again. Pulling the cigarette from behind his ear and fishing the lighter from a jacket pocket. Lighting it quickly as the barber’s pole light went out. The quiet settled in around him again as he set off walking back home. Thoughts consumed by the information he’d received that evening. Facts bouncing about inside his skull. Who was this guy and could he be trusted? Was he an implant or the last genuine cop in New York? So many questions he didn’t even know how to start answering. Which, for someone used to being in control fucking sucked. 

Head low and pushing on down the winding backstreets of the much less glamourus part of town as he headed back home. Stopping at the local shop to pickup some longboards and a packet of smokes. At the till when the man behind it looked him up and down. Pausing silently on his face. The stretch of silence was deeply unsettling. For a second he looked over his shoulder. They were alone. 

“We got a problem man?” He snapped. Tired and sick of the world and all it’s questions at that present moment. 

“Nah Brah. We good” the cashier stated. Pressing a few buttons on the till before stepping back and heading into the back room. Leaving Steve there with his beers and cigarettes. 

“Hey! Hey! What the fuck is the matter with you?” The shout reverberating back on them and sounding twice as loud. “The fuck is this!” Hand instantly going for the gun in the back of his jeans when a man stepped out from behind the beaded curtain. 

“Marcus, just the dirtbag I’ve been looking for” the newcomer grinned. A short man with more hair than he’s ever seen on the one person. Tattooed up to his neck and the suit fairly middle market. 

“Sang Min. Run out of Lackeys?” He spat. The pair were never friendly, but he needed Sang Min. The guy was his ‘in’ to the inner circle. 

“Mm. Well I wouldn’t be if you didn’t keep fucking shooting them all. Difficult to find replacements now. They demanded hazard pay” he hissed. Reaching out and grabbing the packet of cigarettes. Scanning the box and tapping it on the counter to the side of the till. “Boss man has a job for you” 

“Yeah? And I’m supposed to trust the words of a checkout chick?” He seethed. It had been a while since he was ‘called for duty’ but it seemed the higher ups liked his skill set and the fact he worked alone. More efficient and cheaper. 

“Keep that up, and I’ll charge double” the snakehead smirked. Scanning the longboards too. Setting them aside with the cigarettes. “You gotta meet a client on a freighter. You’re his protection detail. He’s uhh. Made some new friends in the wrong places and we gotta get him out.” Sang Min continued. Pushing a few buttons and reading out the total. Opening his wallet and putting some cash in the drawers. “Tomorrow night. Be ready. Do what you gotta do.” He nodded. Pushing Steve’s beer to him and opening the packet of cigarettes. Pulling one out and sticking it behind his own ear. “If I were you, I’d pack for a long trip” before he tossed the pack to Steve, the other man cursing as he caught it and looked up. Nothing but the bead curtain swinging to show anyone was there. 

“Didn’t even bag my shit! I’m telling your fuckin manager!” Couldn’t help himself. Grabbing his stuff and headed out onto the street. Shaking his head. Great. Just what he needs another fucking job. 

The apartment complex he lived in wasn’t far from the corner store. Which was a good thing, because the flimsy cardboard on the beer was beginning to give way as he climbed up the stairs. Stopping only once to knock on a door and hand the older woman inside the mail he’d grabbed for her. Her arthritic knees couldn’t handle the steps and the fucking elevator was still out. 

“Bless you, Marcus, bless you” she smiled. Taking her mail and pinching his cheek. Sighing over how thin he was. 

“Alright, no problem. Hey you have a nice night Mrs Kelekolio.” He nodded. Heading further up the stairs to his own apartment. Key in the lock and shouldering the door. A quick scan of the barely two roomed flat turned up nothing suspicious. Finally he was alone. Kicking the door shut and dropping his stuff on the counter. Keys thrown into the shitty little bowl as he cracked a beer and took a long pull. Grunting with the cold liquid. 

Once he’d settled on the couch and flicked on a game, Steve dug out the picture of the detective. Putting his beer on the coffee table and leaning forwards. Elbows resting on his knees while he smoothed out the corners of the image. 

“Detective Williams. The fuck have you gotten yourself caught up in man? Why come to Hawaii? The fuck did you do?” But the blonde in the image wouldn’t answer. Steve scoffed at himself. Tossing the picture onto the table, putting bare feet up and reclining into the threadbare couch. Mindlessly watching the game in the peace of his own home.  

Finally, his head matched the quiet that settled heavily around him.