Anon Undercover by anonymous

The life as an undercover FBI agent infiltrating the elusive Lupino crime family is nothing short of dangerous. They’re always watching, analyzing the way you carry yourself, what you do, and how you do it
These are paranoid sociopaths we’re talking about, always worried about who’s listening or who’s a rat. Marry that with the stresses of kicking up their earning to the wiseguys higher in the pecking order, as in their capos
And their preoccupation bordering on obsession with how they’re perceived by their peers. Well, you’ve got the recipe for some very dangerous individuals. Any inconsistency in your persona no matter how minor, could lead to heavy consequences and possibly death
Then they have their own secret society protected by the unspoken oath of omertà
Now one thing about these crime families is that you need to be a pure blooded wolf to become a member of the organization, you can’t be another species and certainly no human could become a member
It is a wonder then, that while you’re posing as a lowly jewel thief, you catch the attention of one of these local Mafiosos. Your undercover operation never intended to target them, funny how fate works like that
Pasquale "Patsy" Cascone, a made wolf and soldier within the Lupino hierarchy takes an interest in you
You’ve spent some time establishing credibility where the lowlifes hang out, offering up your “score” of stolen jewelry (jewels acquired by the FBI from previous busts) for quick cash
So you aren’t exactly unknown to these guys, but this is the first time a made member comes to you for a chat
He’s looking for your appraisal on a diamond necklace he intends to give to his wife for their anniversary
The shit’s fake, you can tell. So you tell him so in no uncertain terms and as you point out the imperfections and the inconsistent details between this forgery and the real deal
He doesn’t say a word, his predatory eyes remain locked onto yours as you talk. His expression is a practiced, nonchalant
Casually he drinks his Cutty Sark, ears pointed forward to catch your every word
At some point you realize that this interaction isn’t about the fake piece of jewelry laid out between the two of you
He’s testing you. He knows that the thing is fake, all he wants to know is if you can tell the difference between a counterfeit and the real deal
He’s feeling you out; making sure you are who you’re pretending to be. Not some fraudulent asswipe who doesn’t know his business. His words, not yours
From that point forward you become an associate, now a guy with connections to the mob and part of Cascone’s crew
Your superiors were salivating at the chance to tap in on intimate details on the inner working of organized crime within this city. Hell, this is a golden opportunity for the bureau and your career
You know what they say about seizing the moment and all that
Much the better that Pasquale likes you, he’s taken you under the wing in a sense. Teaching you what he knows about life in the mob and how a man (or wolf in his case) should behave
Though he makes it clear that you being a human means that you can’t hope to be anything more than an associate in this thing of theirs. But it isn’t all bad, being associated with him means that nobody that isn’t also a made wolf can fuck with you
”Just keep your nose clean, and don’t be an asshole. Ya get me?” he’d tell you, and you’d answer “Yeah, I get you Patsy. I’m your guy. I won’t go behind your back for nothing”, then he’d give your cheek a pat with his soft, padded hand and call you a good man
Like he told you before, a wiseguy is always right. Even when he’s wrong he’s right
Our hustle was counterfeit jewelry, he knew a guy in Nevada who could hook us up and we’d turn around and sell it on street corners for more than what it’s worth. Not that the average Joe Jerkoff could tell the difference. The two of you made good money on the scam
As the months go by, you’ve got to know Patsy on a personal level. In fact you can’t go a day without Patsy taking you with him on business or hitting you up for drinks and spending time with him at his local haunts
When he’s not schooling you, he’s complaining about his capo. About how that snake doesn’t appreciate the earnings he kicks up. Or the things he has to do
It’s hard not to like the guy, even if he’s a hardened criminal. His wise-cracking never fails to get a smile from you. He does it often and to the point that you think he’s doing it just to see you smile. If the way his tail wags in anticipation for your reaction is anything to go by
You even have something in common with him, what part of your life you could let Patsy in on, you did. Like how you grew up without a father, which was tough. And living poor didn’t help assuage that fact neither. Patsy’s life was similar, though his father died instead of disappearing like yours. Patsy’s father was in the outfit too so it leaves little to the imagination for how he died. You didn’t pry
However good a wolf like Patsy could be though, he could still be temperamental. He had a temper, and he could take it out on anybody for any reason
Though if he were mad at you, sure he’d yell, insult you a little. But he would never lay so much as a paw on you. Instead he would take it out on something else. It was like watching a baby throw a tantrum, but on some level all these guys were like that from what you’ve seen
One day something happens that changes everything, you couldn’t have seen it coming. Not in a million years
Over the weeks, Patsy grows increasingly paranoid over being watched by FBI, police, whoever the fuck. It’s all in his head of course, you would know. Both of you are on vacation down in Florida, Patsy’s looking to carve out a piece of action for you both, make the right connections and all that. Which means you have to be in character around him at all times
You and him share a room at a nice hotel, separate beds of course. Things were going okay even with Patsy’s paranoia hanging over everything you do with him
Then the thermostat goes on the fritz, on one of the hottest days in Florida no less. You want to call a repair man to get it fixed. Patsy is telling you no because he’s afraid that some FBI agent will get sent posing as a repairman and bug the place
You’ve got the face pulled off the thermostat thing and you’re jiggling with the little container full of mercury as you talk

“Jesus, Patsy. I’m fuckin’ sweating my balls off here. Can we PLEASE just call somebody to get this shit fixed? I’ll check every inch of this place as soon as he leaves if it’ll help you stop acting like a mental patient.”

Patsy’s down to his boxers and wifebeater tank top, the sweat makes it cling to his furry body. He sits in a chair with his legs spread out to the point that I can almost see the entirety of his inner thighs and then some. He’s panting heavily due to the incessant heat radiating throughout the room.
He waves your comment off like he’s swatting an imaginary fly then adjusts himself in his chair. Thankfully moving his legs in a less distracting position instead of the splayed out with his junk nearly spilling through his drawers.
With a barely suppressed growl he chastises you, “I said no, ‘Non. You wanna be a stupid jerk all your life? Have federal agents crawlin’ up our asses and getting’ in our business? I don’t.”
You stop fiddling with the thermostat. Giving up on the stupid thing, every option you’ve tried proven fruitless

“Fine, can’t we get a different room then? Do we have to die of a heatstroke in this room?”

”Shaddap you furless ape. Lookit me, I got all this on me and you don’t hear me complaining.” He pinches the scruff of his neck for emphasis, “And no we can’t. They could just as easily move us to a room that’s been bugged for sound. Maybe that’s what they’re planning all along. You never know with these fucks.”
Sighing, you slap the face back on the thermostat a bit harder than intended out of frustration for Patsy’s behavior. When he gets in these paranoid moods it is hard to talk him down. Hard headed sorts like him don’t change their minds easily

“All due respect, Pat. There is such a thing about being overly cautious. You’ve been stressing about the feds and the police and crap. But how could they know? We’ve been careful about establishing ourselves out here, your capo or whatever doesn’t even know we’re out here.”

Patsy lets loose an annoyed grunt, hoisting himself off his seat, he pulls down his tank when it briefly exposes his midsection; the bushy fur of his flat stomach hardly contained by the hem of his shorts. Then, takes a brief moment to run a paw through his slicked back headfur, fixing it back in place. The pinky ring he sports glints momentarily from the sunlight coming through a nearby window
He trods over to the minifridge nestled between our twin beds, he grabs a cold one. Not to drink, but to rub it along his forehead and neck. You watch him rub the cold glass bottle along the name of his neck to cool himself of the near suffocating heat
His cloudy gray fur slightly slickened with the combined sweat and condensation formed from the bottle, he huffs, “Mister FBI agent over hear,” the comment makes you involuntarily tense up but only slightly. He continues with more sarcasm “Do you know something about law enforcement that I don’t know?”
You throw up your hands and shrug

“I’m just saying Patsy. I haven’t seen nobody following us. No suspicious looking cars around, nothing that says somebody’s ea-“

Your train of thoughts gets interrupted by a sudden ‘thwack’ of the beer bottle’s butt slamming onto the nightstand and a harsh word from Patsy “That’s what they want you to think ‘ya stunad. They’re not fuckin’ walkin’ around with neon signs sayin’ ‘hey, I work for the FBI’.”
He uses exaggerated gestures in typical wiseguy fashion to get his point across, even pretending to hold an invisible sign. It would be funny if you weren’t so irritated with him at the moment, he can grate on your nerves at times. That’s what happens when you’re practically living with the guy in these close quarters with no place to be alone