Cold as Ice - WinterWidow One-Shots

with love, russia xx

Summary: Shortly after escaping Russia, James and Natalia take over New York City and instill one of the most well-respected crime hierarchies that the city has ever seen.

Another modern, crime AU. Not related to the last one.

There was something to be said about New York City's inner crime ring and the way it followed such a strict hierarchy. What had once been battleground territory was now rigidly and uncompromisingly distributed and organized. If the authorities had concerns about the speed at which the problem was taken care of or the brutality of it, they kept them to themselves.

There was something to be said about the secrets in New York City's inner crime ring and the way they spread like snakes through the city. Families that had fought brutally during the time of the Maranzano now spent minutes together spreading intel across streets. There were still fights and still disputes, but the damage never made it to the authorities. Perhaps they had Widow to thank for that.

"No one knows me, baby." Her laugh echoed through the phone receiver and against the kitchen walls. "You can't thank a myth."

"I can think of a way or two you can," James hummed in reply. "You got a way with words, doll. Ain't no one better."

"Careful there, lubyov moi," Natalia hummed, a warning that James would not heed. "I still have an errand to run before I can come home. That accent is sure to cause problems."

"Better get goin' then, doll face. Wouldn't want ya to lose your touch."

Natalia muttered a string of curses and James chuckled. There was no one more fun to tease than her.

"If you're not home when I am." She let the threat hover between them, hanging up before James could assure her that he hadn't gone further than the mailbox since she left that afternoon.

With Natalia out, he was keeping house for the day and she knew it. There was, quite frankly, no reason for him to be gone aside from a sudden disruption in the city that required his attention. As such, if he wasn't at home when she returned, she'd bring hellfire down on the city in revenge.

Perhaps it was a bit too domestic, but James didn't mind fixing bills and cooking dinner on days when Natalia took care of the city. She did such a lovely job of it, he couldn't fault her if he wanted to. Running the city underground took a different kind of finesse than he cared for, but Natalia thrived in it. She'd long since mastered the art of turning hellfire into something inviting, if not a bit coy. Governments fell overnight for it.

Coy and demure were not words that could be attributed to James in return. While Natalia made men eager to bend and bow, James made them cower and disappear from history. No one could be blamed for the murder of someone who didn't exist, after all.

What a picture he painted now, standing over the stove with a spatula in hand and his hair tied back almost neatly. If only their trainers were alive to see this, James thought with a dry chuckle. Too bad they didn't exist. Not anymore.

Hardly an hour after Natalia had called, the door opened soundlessly and closed with a soft click.

"Fun night on the town, darlin'?" James turned to greet her, a cup of tea already in hand.

"Pierce will have to go," she said, trading him the tea for her handgun. James stuffed it in his waistband and snaked an arm around her waist as she murmured, "He's done following our orders."

"You spoke with him?" James asked with a frown.

Natalia shook her head. She never spoke with them directly. It was the quickest way to be uncovered and tailed. There were others―those more expendable than her―that did the face-to-face talks.