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cap_ironman2009-07-21 07:20 pm
jazzypom.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2009-07-21 07:20 pm
Entry tags:
Ultimates fic: Knocking on Forbidden Doors (1610)
Title: Knocking on Forbidden Doors
Author: jazzypom
Rated: R for language and concepts.
Beta read: Yes! one, two, two betas! mwahahahaha. Cheers to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ellyr_in_ink and posyvanilla for the look over. All errors mine. Truly.
Word count:7,500
Universe: Ultimates 1610
Summary: Ult Steve turns into a woman, gets with Tony. Complications of heart and body ensue.
Disclaimer: Characters and situations are the property of Stan Lee and Marvel Comics. No profit is being made off this fan-written work.
Notes: For the marvel kink prompt: Ult!Steve is turned into a woman and finds he likes riding Tony's cock. (anon would love if they fall in love with each other or is[sic] girl!ult!steve gets pregnant). Because I'm a greedy beggar, I'm attempting the whole nine yards. It's more of an actual story than a kink meme though, so sit a spell. Characterisation of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark are taken from Ultimate X-men , specifically the Ultimate War story arc.
Warnings:(Highlight to see) a throw away comment re: miscarriage. Yeah.
"Whoo, look at that tall glass of water."
"With them legs I'd like to..."
"Do you think she would...?"
"I'd like her to sit on my fa..."
Ears burning, unable to bear any more comments about his person, Steve stopped in mid stride, spun around and started to stalk towards the men; his hands clenched into fists and -
"Slow down, Calamity Jane." Steve felt fingers on his arm, and he stopped to glare at whomever was impeding his progress in giving these fools an - a butt kicking. It was Tony Stark, supposed teammate and not partner in crime. He was dressed in a dark suit, unbuttoned shirt and no tie. In his other hand, there was a glass of something alcoholic, Steve was sure. It was Tony Stark, anything non alcoholic would be... respectable.
Narrowing his eyes into slits, Steve took in Tony's fingers against his arm, and lifted his gaze to frown at Tony.
Tony was still... Tony, Steve noted. Perpetually amused, his mouth in that insufferable grin he did when he knew the secret to a joke or a solution to a problem about three steps before the rest of the team did.
"You might want to let me go, Tony."
"You might want to calm down for a minute, Steve."
"While they- they're-" Steve forced himself to spit out the words, "saying stuff about me? About my-?" He then clamped his mouth shut, knowing that he was blushing.
"Steve," Tony's smile was a lot warmer now. "Have you seen yourself lately? You're a vision."
Steve quickly dropped his gaze to his feet. Even in the dim light, he saw how much smaller and daintier they were, clad in - was it Mary Janes- and stockings with the the seam, because that's what ladies in his day wore. He then took in the flouncy flared hem of his skirt, winced at the draft between his legs.
"I'm not a vision, Tony. I'm a broad. And broad or not, I'm going to walk over there and kick their -"
"Steve."
"Are you going to let me by, or am I going to make you? I can still do that, you know. Being a dame hasn't changed anything else."
"I can see that," Tony said, and took a step forward, his breath hot on the shell of Steve's ear. Suddenly, the sweep of the bar became smaller, the lights a tad more intimate. Steve dismissed his thoughts as crazy, especially when Tony said the following: "Let me tell you why your course of action might be... impolitic, to say the least. We're still a part of the Ultimates, we're still a part of SHIELD and what it stands for. Those men over there? Are soldiers, the ones who'll have your back when you're... back to normal."
"So you're saying-" and Steve almost choked on the indignity of the situation. "Let it pass?"
"Take it as you will. You're a bright boy -or girl- Steve. You'll figure it out."
Steve could only sneer. "You still haven't let go."
"Forgive," Tony dropped his arm, taking a step back into the shadows. He left Steve standing alone in the middle of the bar, feeling foolish and strange.
"The doctors have no clue, huh?"
"It's complicated, Steve," he heard Jan sigh. From the corner of his eye, saw her hand flash on the short, squat jar of whatever was on the bed beside him.
They were in her room, the key feature in her sun splashed apartment on the Upper East side. Steve was seated at the edge of her bed, in front of her vanity table. He took in the powders, tubes and bottles of cosmetics on its surface, and made it a point not to look in the mirror.
"The body is an amazing thing," Jan began, her voice going into that professorial tone he now knew well. "Some parts are still marked 'Here Be Dragons', or should be. The closest we've come to your case is a South African woman who went from white to black overnight. But that's small beer compared to your sex chromosome turning from a Y to an X. Spontaneous combustion? Yes. Spontaneous sex change? No. There's no precedent at all."
Steve only moved his shoulders, then ran his thumb along his bra strap. "How do you gals wear these things without going nuts? It's so-"
"You get used to it," Jan said, as he heard her fumbling with the lid of the jar, and wrinkled his nose at the sharp smell of rubbing alcohol and rose. "I'm pretty lucky, in that I'm small on top and at times, I don't have to."
Steve remembered that all too well. Jan's breasts were on the smaller side, so she rarely bothered with bras and- he pushed that thought away, because it was weird.
"Right," Jan's voice was crisp, and Steve felt her fingers against his scalp, moving through his hair. "If you're going to give this girl thing a go, you have to invest in gel. You're lucky, in that your hair is thick, and a good colour..."
Steve half listened to Jan, and focused on how he got in this position in the first place. If he kept it looping in his mind, accessing, and re-evaluating, something might just pop, something...
"If you're going to fight hand-to-hand, Clint, this stratagem might be helpful -"
With an instinct borne from his enhanced reflexes and intensive practice, Steve blocked Clint's punch, shifted his body as Clint telegraphed his feint. Grabbed Clint's hand, side sweep kick and -
"Hey, Steve!" Clint's breath was coming in faster now, "Watch the hands! I'm a sniper, not a brawler and - hey, Cap? Steve?"
Suddenly one Clint became two. Steve blinked, as he gingerly rubbed his temples. His eyes were burning and -
"Off the front line? Wait a minute, I'm -"
"You're not fine, soldier." Fury cut in, voice firm and level. Steve knew, just knew that this was an argument he couldn't, wouldn't win.
They were in Nick's office, overlooking the vista of Upper Bay, with the mainland somewhere in the distance. Steve was clad in an oversized SHIELD jumpsuit, hands at his sides.
"But I can still fight, and -"
"Your entire physiology has changed," Nick Fury said, tapping the file beside him. He was leaning on the edge of the desk, because the meeting was supposed to be casual. "Sue Storm hasn't been able to come to a conclusion for your sudden 'transformation', and although you are still ... you, I can't risk you in the field."
"So you have me back on the sidelines, because I'm a..." and it was another humiliation, another burden.
"This isn't World War II, Steve, don't even think of it that way. You're not being sidelined because you're a woman. You're sidelined because you're unpredictable, and I can't have that in my field, there are too many variables to contend with as it is."
"Permission to be dismissed, General."
"Steve-" Fury began, but he must have seen that look that said Steve had had enough, so he only sighed. "Permission granted. You can still train with the rest of the team, still sit in on various meetings when needed, but for the time being, you're benched, soldier."
Steve lowered his head, and for a brief moment, closed his eyes.
"-we're done here," Jan said, holding up a small mirror to his face, and Steve brushed her hand away.
"I don't want to see it Jan, I don't need to know."
"Steve, you have to accept it. What you are right now-" he felt Jan move away, the bed felt lighter. Soon, there was a buzz at his ear, the tips of feet at his shoulder and Steve sighed.
"That I'm a - that I'm this?" he pushed off the bed, and moved towards the window, before Jan tch'd in his ear, and he was sharply reminded that he couldn't do that any more, not in his state of undress anyway, so he veered towards the bathroom, and sat on the edge of the bathtub instead.
"It's called being a 'woman'," Jan's voice was dry, and he felt the slight pressure of her feet on his bare shoulder, her wings tickling his earlobe. "If I remember, you actually liked them once upon a time, so what's wrong with being one?"
"I'm treated differently, for one, and -"
"You have to buck up, Steve. You're from The Depression, remember? I got my Mom to send over some of her collections that she showed in Paris from a couple seasons ago. You're as tall as the models she uses. Besides, the secret with working in a guy oriented space is that you have to demand to be there, you know? Then when they know you're serious, they'll have to give you room."
"We gave you room."
"In certain ways," Jan agreed, and Steve felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stir as from Jan's beating wings as she flew behind him and settled on his other shoulder. "But stifled me in others. When Hank did what he did - you took the option away from me. You all did. You. Tony. Nick. "
"Jan-"
"We've failed the Bechdel test," Jan's voice was half sad, half amused. "But it's true."
"But you're back with Hank," Steve said, wondering why it did not hurt more, somehow.
"It's complicated, Steve."
"Only if you want it to be."
"Rule one in relationships, nothing is as straightforward as you want it to be."
There was a short silence at that, what with Steve still adjusting the straps of his bra, and Jan still at his ear. "So," Jan began. "What shall we do next? Moisturise or wax?"
"Wax? Why would I wax and where?"
"Oh Steve," Jan's hair brushed along his jaw, as he felt her lean against the column of his neck. "You have so much to learn."
"As usual, it was nice doing business with you, Nick," Tony beamed as he clicked his briefcase shut, and made half way to get up when Nick waved at him to sit down. Tony raised an eyebrow at this, because Nick was very much a man of business, and not one for small talk after deals were done.
"About Steve," Nick began, and Tony sighed.
"Ah yes, " Tony said. "Our own Victor/Victoria. Anything new on that front, then?"
"No," Nick shook his head. "We've been trying to keep it from the press - thanks for your assist - and are just waiting on our best and brightest to figure it out."
Tony placed his briefcase on the ground, and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, resting his index fingers against his lower lip. "I can offer the use of my people," he began, "but if you have Storm, Richards and Pym at your disposal, you already have the best."
"That's not why I asked you to stay behind."
"Indeed?" Tony raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, whatever the reason, tarrying is thirsty work, and-"
Tony took notice of Nick leaning against his desk, legs crossed at the ankles, full suit of black, and shiny shoes. Tony knew that pose, when Nick was pretending to be all civilian and bonhomie. It was a tragedy then, Tony thought, that he could see through it, because Nick was as dangerous as they came.
"I do know that you like capable women, Stark. Especially the ones who can kill you."
"You suddenly have a sideline as Ann Landers, Nick? Or is this a love connection? I have no trouble finding company, thanks."
"You're nobody's fool, Tony, so I won't spell it out for you."
"Good," Tony dropped his hands on his thighs, and pushed himself off the chair, making the signal that the conversation was over, and he was out of here. "Thanks for that. I have a three o' clock with a pair of beauties and a cuveé of Krüg. Cheerio, old boy."
Nick might have mumbled 'cheerio', but it sounded more ominous than pleasant. Tony gave Nick a jaunty salute as he left Nick's office, and wandered down the hall, trying to remember if he had chosen the correct gifts. It was important, really, because Adrianna liked her baubles and Natalie had a thing for antique books, and it just wouldn't be done if he got their interests mixed u-
"STARK!"
The voice might have been softer due to a sudden surge of oestrogen, and just a different voice box, but -
"Hark, I'd know those dulcet tones anywhere," Tony said, as he took Steve in. It was strange, although he looked like Steve, he looked different. Still had the height - gads, he was an Amazon- but it suited. His features were softer, nose a bit delicate, his lips a bit fuller. His eyes might have been framed by thicker lashes, and softer brows, but they still still had that hard, bright blue glare. Tch, Tony thought, shaking his head at the goddawful jumpsuit Steve was wearing.
"I heard," Steve began, and Tony raised an eyebrow at how pleasantly low his voice sounded, something with a bit of husk. "About you inviting Thor and Clint for a night out, and I'm coming too."
"It's a strip club," Tony said, shrugging his shoulders, as he continued to walk, Steve falling into step with him. "The last time, you stood outside the club on principle, remember?"
"It's different, now."
"I'll say. It's not a good idea."
"Because I'm a woman?"
"Yes."
"If you're taking Thor and Clint, I'm coming too."
"Steve-"
"If you say no, I'll launch a sexual discrimination lawsuit on your ass so fast, your head'll spin."
"It's surprising how quickly you have cottoned on to the attitudes of the modern woman. Astounding, really." Tony tapped his fingers against his chin, wondering how to side step this situation, but knew he had to yield. Sometimes, Tony thought, the best way of winning a war was just not to fight one at all.
"What time?"
Tony could only throw up a hand in defeat. "Be ready for seven pm. I'll send a driver to pick you up."
"I don't need your charity, Tony."
"No," Tony smiled, and it was on this side of sharp. He saw Steve's eyes narrow, ready for whatever barb he would throw. Ah yes, Tony thought, we know each other well. "But," he continued, "you'll graciously accept my courtesy. Now say 'thank you', Steve. Oh, and wear something nice."
Bulls-eye, Tony thought as he saw the veiled insult strike home.
"Perhaps you could have chosen a better sort of entertainment, taking into account Steve's changed circumstances?" Thor asked, before taking a sip of his beer.
From their seats in the VIP lounge, Tony made a great show of looking around. To shock Steve, he decided to take them all to the most risqué high end club he knew. It was an old building on the upper East Side, swivel hipped women walking by balancing drinks on trays in various shades of undress. To the front of the room was the entertainment; women twisting their supple bodies into pretzels as they slid and crept on and around shiny poles.
"Wine, women and song? What more could one ask for? This is fine," Tony said, as he took in the rest of his teammates around the table. Jan and Hank were absent - it figured. Clint was on his sixth -or seventh? Long Island ice tea, Thor was beside him drinking ale, and Steve was seated across from him, in one of those tops that Tony liked to see on women; all glittery and snug with bare shoulders. Steve's shoulders were still muscled, but in that lovely way of women, where the curves were softer. Tony wondered if Jan had had a hand in that inspired sartorial choice. Speaking of hands - Steve's fingers slender and graceful - were lightly linked around a glass of ale. His eyes had that gleam of battle familiar to Tony as he stared at the women performing on stage, the lights on them, their muscles flexing with effort.
Tony was shocked that Steve had stayed this long, to be honest. The last time, he stayed outside, on principle. Now he demanded to come to the strip club on principle? Forget women, he would never understand Steve. Only for Steve to lean over, to speak across the table to Tony, showing a flash of skin and the tops of his breasts shifting in his top. Well, Tony thought with great interest, hello nurse.
Later on, Tony would think that Steve had done that on purpose, to catch him off guard with his next comment: "I can do that. It just seems to be callisthenics on a pole."
What?
No, wait. What?
Tony realised that he had not been the only one to hear this, but Clint and Thor too. Clint finally raised his gaze from his glass and fixed his eyes on Steve in a most alarming way. Thor might have tried to stifle a laugh. Or a choke. It was hard to tell.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me, Stark." Although Steve's voice was low, and the music was fairly loud, it carried across the table. Clint started to eye Steve with unabashed interest. Actually, Tony thought, it was the first time Clint had an interest in anything outside his glass tonight. Too damned bad, Tony thought, taking the phone out of his jacket pocket, and quickly scrolling through the screen. If Steve was going to do this for anyone, it would only be for him.
"That I do," Tony said, with one eye on Steve and the other on his phone as he quickly skimmed his thumb across the keys on the screen.
"So," Steve said, "can you get me up there, or do I have to do it myself?"
"I'd hate to offer you my charity, Steve."
"Just consider it a courtesy, Tony. You can do that, can't you?"
Smug, Tony thought as he raised the phone to his ear, the bastard was smug. "Your wish is my command, darling," he said, gratified by Steve's flush.
After Steve strode away - no soft, subtle sway of hips there - Tony threw some bills on the table.
"Good night, gentlemen."
"Good night?"
"What Tony means to say is, we're leaving." Thor smiled, as he placed the mug on their table with a clunk. "No matter, my kind of entertainment is more in the open meadows anyway."
"And what about-?" Clint stopped, and tilted his glass towards him. Then paused, looked across at Steve just rapidly eating up the distance between the floor and the dais with his strides.
"Jesus," his voice was filled with awe, "Steve's legs go all the way to his neck. No chance of you boosting team morale and letting us watch too?"
"Oh no," Tony shook his head for emphasis. "Snowballs in hell and all that."
"Figures," Clint mumbled, before he got to his feet, and stumbled in the direction of the bathroom. "Gotta go pee."
Tony watched as Clint moved through the crowd, although reeling, still relatively steady on his feet as he weaved through the crowds. Amazing, Tony thought. Clint was almost as skilled as him when it came to drink.
"Tony, this isn't wise."
"Hmm? One minute," Tony held up a hand, signalling Thor to be quiet. "I have to take this call."
He felt the weight of Thor's patience as he finished his call, and because Thor showed him a modicum of respect when asked to, Tony turned to face Thor fully, and waited for him to finish his point.
"Steve's new form leaves him vulnerable to the likes of you, " Thor mused, a frown marring his features. It was strange to see it there, a thundercloud of emotion on a face that was usually open and well... sunny. "Actually," he continued, "you both will be lain wide open by his new form."
"Pity you didn't have that piece of sterling advice when I dated Natasha, old bean. Could have saved me a fair bit of trouble."
"As much as you bared your throat then, you weren't that vulnerable."
"But Jarvis - "
"Was destined."
Tony took a sip at his drink. To buy himself some time, he made a great show of noticing the throngs of people before them both, and searched the crowds for Steve.
"Steve and I-" Tony nodded approvingly as the patrons were moved along to the exits by the uniformed staff. He noted how some patrons just drained their drinks before placing them at the corner of the tables, before moving on.
"Steve and I," Tony repeated, "we know each other. We might not like each other, but we know each other. There's a bit of fun and comfort in that. Besides, don't you have somewhere to go?"
"Only if there's no reason to stay?"
"Oh no, not at all. I just bought the club," Tony shot Thor a grin. "You're now officially trespassing."
Thor only looked at him, then shook his head. Tony returned Thor's stare, knowing that he was displeased, but Tony also knew Thor was one to say his piece, and be done with it. "There's a party in a field two states over. I'll see if my entertainments would suit Clint."
"By all means, take him along," Tony agreed, as he slipped the phone in his pocket. "Because he's trespassing too."
******************************
Steve found himself in Tony's suite, hands jammed in the pockets of his coat, just waiting.
It was a tad more intimate than the wide, open offices with the panoramic view that made lesser men babble in that there was not a desk to be seen, and the lights were dimmer here. Steve did not sit, just stood there and waited, going through various options regarding this situation and Tony, but before he had the chance to get into alternative plan D, he heard the slap of leather on the marble tile, got a whiff of the alcohol on Tony's breath before he came through the door.
"Ah, Steve," Tony greeted, with that smile Steve know knew well. "How's my favourite girl?"
"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Every dame is your favourite girl."
"True," Tony said, and it still caught Steve off guard at the ease of accepting Tony just leaning in, just sniffing that delicate space between his neck and ear. "That's the secret of my charm, I actually believe it. But you-" he said, his breath moist and close at the base of Steve's throat, his lips barely skimming collar bone. Steve felt that sort of foolish again, just like that time at the bar some time ago, when Tony held his arm, and prevented him from going all out on everyone. "Are my favourite girl."
"Hah," Steve said, as he angled his face to Tony's, and felt the whisper of Tony's breath against his lips.
"How long are you here for?" Steve felt Tony's hands ghost along his sides, the tips of his fingers making lazy patterns along his ribs.
"I have to see Sue Storm at 15:00 hours. Baxter Building."
"Hmm, that's what, two hours? It's just on 42nd Street and Madison, and- "
"I'm sure you can finish this in ten minutes."
Tony just laughed against Steve's mouth, and the gusts of laughter were bubbles in the blood. Steve closed his eyes as Tony kissed him, and allowed himself to be dragged to the floor.
Later, much later, when their bodies were cooled, Steve stirred and found Tony propped up on an elbow, looking at him. Steve was on his stomach, and linked his fingers under his head, not caring if his back was exposed, and enjoyed the somewhat novel sensation of his nipples hardening in the the chill of the A/C.
"A hundred dollar bill for your thoughts and all that."
"What, no penny?"
"Inflation is a damnable thing, Steve." Tony grinned, and Steve half wished that he had Tony's gift of seeing humour in everything.
"It's been four months, and I'm still... this."
"Whatever is that quaint word you use? A ... dame, is it?"
"I'm still not able to fight on the front lines. I train, I get tested, and I might be-"
"Might be?"
"Nothing," Steve closed his eyes against the sensation of Tony's fingers drifting along his shoulder towards his ear. Until he came up with a solution, it would be their problem instead of his. "Nothing at all."
"Well, look what I found."
Steve rolled his eyes and turned to face Tony, only to see a small oval shaped disc between Tony's thumb and forefinger. Despite his mood, he smiled as he held out his hand, wondering why Tony would give him old metal, until his eye snagged on the name 'Ovaltine' and Steve had to close his eyes against the sudden ache of nostalgia. It was astonishing, how something so small could still make his world pause, and shake.
"Jack Armstrong," he finally managed around the lump in his throat. The disc was small, the colour of old brass, with the alphabet, and numbers forming concentric circles. There was the dial that you had to spin, to line up the letters with the numbers for the specific message. Steve gingerly turned the dial, feeling rather awkward, because it was made for a boy's hands in the nineteen thirties, when people were just plain smaller. "I'd listen to this show when I could, I'd go by Bucky's. His parents had a radio, see? We'd -" Steve paused, and swallowed heavily. "Thanks."
"It's nothing, really," Tony sat up now, Steve's coat pooling around his waist. "Truly. Now, what brings you to my parlour, and all the rest of it?"
"I'm only here for the sex," Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat at how forward he sounded, but the soft smile that played on Tony's lips made the embarrassment worthwhile.
"Well then," Tony waggled his eyebrows. "I'd hate to disappoint..."
*****************************
The sun was setting over Upper Bay, and Steve needing to get away from it all, sat on the roof top. He was back - all of him- and Sue Storm and her team again, were at a loss to explain why.
"I just... " she said, her eyes wide and disbelieving. "It's as if you just- "
"I'm okay then, right?"
At this her eyes dimmed, and Steve felt the press of her fingers against his arm. "I'm sorry, your body rejected the -"
"-the environment was hostile -"
Steve could only nod, dry eyed. "I understand," he said, not wanting Dr. Storm to continue. "I'm free to go?"
"Yes, although it would be helpful if you could stay for observation-"
Steve shrugged into his clothing and high tailed it out of there. As soon as he got near enough to the body of water known as Upper Bay, Steve hurled his cellphone into the drink. Fury would get to him soon enough, Jan and Thor and the rest would know that he was back to being Steve.
Before that happened, he needed a breather, just some time to reflect, to see if there were anything he could have changed, would have changed. His mind kept going back to that night at the club, that time with Tony.
"I can do that," Steve heard himself say, "it's just callestentics on a pole."
It was gratifying, Steve thought as he saw Tony almost do a spit take. Steve knew that he was being reckless, careless, even. If Nick Fury ever got what he was up to, he would have torn a strip off Steve. However, that didn't matter, because for the first time, Tony Stark's face had something other than amusement writ across it. Thor covered his mouth with his hand, but Steve read the scepticism in his eyes. And Clint, well... he probably needed to stop drinking right about now.
"I beg your pardon?" Tony said, voice incredulous, and Steve knew then that he had Tony. Probably leaning over and flashing his chest at him was overkill, but Steve had a prime objective.
Tony, damn him, recovered quickly. "Your wish is my command, darling," he retorted, and Steve felt his cheeks warm. Committed to his mission now, he pushed away from the table, and walked over to the dais, feeling Tony's gaze on his back.
By the time Steve threaded through the throng of the crowd, feeling the press of the masses against his skin, and made his way to the stage area, he was met by a dancer. Tall and swarthy, she smiled at Steve, and it was... nice, Steve thought. He never got those sort of smiles from women. It was very much a comrade in arms thing that he found unexpectedly comforting. "Your man works fast," she said.
"Sorry, what? Tony is... No." Steve shook his head.
"Well, whatever, I'm Ginger Snaps, nice to meet you." She held out her hand, and Steve shook it. "I'm Steve," he said.
"Steve, eh? That's a good name," Ginger complimented. "Short, snappy... easily remembered. Your own?"
"Ah...Yes?"
"Okay," Ginger smiled, waving Steve towards the dancers' entrance, a nondescript door that made him think of janitor's closets in the Triskelion, and he pushed that thought out of his head.
"You do know how to work a pole, right?"
"It can't be harder than waiting in a foxhole, right?"
Ginger only stared at him, and Steve stared back. His confidence in his abilities was enough for Ginger to nod and say, "Okay, well, let's go through some basic safety rules and then you're on your own out there, okay?"
"Okay."
******************
It felt like flying.
The comparison was cliché, true, but after all those weeks inside, off team, being benched, to actually do something that was not a second tier team drill.
Keeping to time with the music was its own thrill, a brutal discipline. Invert, and climb. No crawling, because that brought back memories of war, tip toe, flex. The pole's slippery surface was a challenge, if he gripped too hard, his movements were too jerky, one kick, a twist and two. Transition to that movement of slink, slide and melt that demanded total control of leg muscles and torso to segue into one smooth movement, and Steve raised his head, only to realise two things that made him fumble a step, out of beat.
One, the club was empty, the lack of people made the area cavernous, the acoustics gave the music enough resonance to make the marrow in his bones quake.
Two, Tony was standing before him, glass in hand, and eyes on him.
Steve did not know when it changed, trying to do a routine and keeping to step, to this: not breaking Tony's stare, and feeling a lick of gratification along his spine when Tony didn't touch his glass of liquor at all, because all of his attention was on Steve.
Too soon, and about time, the last note died. The silence was sudden, and stunning, like the note of a gong, and self conscious about being on stage, Steve picked his way down the side stairs, his muscles trembling from exertion, because he still had trouble adjusting to the centre of gravity in his new body all these weeks later. Tony ambled towards him, tumbler in hand.
"There's something to be said about champagne rooms, and private dancers," he said by way of greeting, and Steve raised his eyebrows.
"Where's everyone else?"
"You took too long to show." Tony's smirk was insufferable, and Steve wanted to brush past, but he didn't. He just stood there, rotating his ankles with care, flexing and pointing his toes, making sure he hadn't pulled a muscle, or strained a tendon. But all he was aware of right now was Tony's presence, close enough to smell the notes of mint in his cologne, the sharp sugar sweet odour of alcohol on his breath.
Steve didn't mind silence, he even appreciated the tactic and leverage of it. He leaned there, against the dais, resting his hands on the small of his back, raised his leg, just to see what would happen. He frowned when he saw the tear in his fishnets, pulled his leg toward him to inspect the damage, and swore low and fluently.
"Just great," Steve traced the edges of the tear in his stockings, and dissatisfied, he dropped to the ground for a better view, his skirt spreading across his thighs. "This is just fantastic. I should have been more careful."
"Steve, they're just stockings."
"In the war, dames had to give up stockings for the effort."
"Oh that little skirmish," and Steve shifted as Tony dropped to his knees beside him, his fingers tracing the tear along his thigh, and Steve briefly closed his eyes against his involuntary quiver at Tony's touch, but that was before he cottoned on to Tony's comment, and slitted them open.
"That little skirmish?" Steve fumed, "that's the only reason why you aren't speaking German."
"Oh, Steve," he heard the laughter at the edge of Tony's words. "But I do."
At this Steve jerked his head up sharply, and found himself eye to eye with Tony. "You do? Figures. But at least it's by choice."
"You should wear gloss or something," Tony said, and Steve shivered at Tony's thumb brushing his lower lip, his hand still cool from the glass he was holding sometime ago. "Your lips are delightful."
"I- " Steve stopped, and swallowed. He was close enough to see each lash along Tony's lower lids, and well, one of them should pull away now.
"I heard that women gave up lipstick for the war effort too," Tony murmured. "If my old French teacher is to be believed, anyway."
"Don't tell me," Steve sighed at the scorch of Tony's tongue tracing along his lips, felt the weight of Tony's hand on his thigh. "You speak French too?"
"Don't ask, won't tell," Tony said against his mouth, and Steve felt his hands - the tips of his fingers surprisingly calloused- as they snagged on the silk of Steve's stockings. There was the lean muscle of Tony's thigh there, against his.
Steve opened his mouth to Tony's, only to feel the scrape of Tony's whiskers against his cheek. "Missed by a mile."
"I'll try harder," Tony said, his eyes lit with amusement. Steve found himself lifting his hand to cup the side of Tony's face, only for Tony to give the heel of his hand a quick nip.
"Here, let me help you," Steve grabbed Tony's collar, and they collapsed on the ground in a sprawling heap.
Jesus, this was fun. The scrape of teeth against his neck, the feel of carpeted floor against his spine, and the press of Tony on top. Their faces were close, Tony's eyes flame hot and on him. Steve felt Tony's fingers stroking his temple, his thumb stroking Steve's lower lip and true to his word, he tried harder. His tongue fluttering at the roof of Steve's mouth, the brush of his thumb at Steve's nipple through his clothing.
The only thing was, where should he put his hands? Steve didn't realise he was laughing until Tony broke their kiss. "Trying to give me a complex, Captain?"
Steve shook his head, still laughing, only for it to turn into a moan when he felt Tony's open mouthed kisses along the line of his neck. His moan shattered into broken sighs as Tony dragged his top down, with splayed fingers on either side of Steve's body, the cold air of the nightclub hitting Steve's nipples, before he felt the scorch and suction of Tony's mouth on a nipple, and who knew breasts were this sensitive?
"No bra, Steve?" Tony tried to be funny, Steve knew, but he heard the desperation, the edge. Satisfaction made his lips twitch, and made Steve bold, as he curled his fingers into Tony's dress shirt, and pulled him up so that they were face to face.
"You ca-?" and Steve kissed him this time, his hand on Tony's groin, as he fumbled for Tony's zip. It was all leading to this, as he felt Tony's erection against the seat of his panties, and he was -
"I'm-" Steve breathed, as he arched his hips at the flat of Tony's palm.
"Panties," Tony rasped at his ear.
"What?"
"Your panties, are you sentimenta-"
"I can kill you, Stark."
"Luckily for us - oh fuck- I'm so okay with that."
Steve did not have the chance to respond, as Tony wrapped an arm around his waist, and with a lot of pulling and tugging, Tony was on his knees, Steve astride his thighs. He shivered from Tony's splayed fingers against his bare back, the other hand with Steve's on Tony's cock, and Steve feeling the pulse and weight of it against his palm and the gusset of his panties.
"Steve," Tony's forehead pressed against his. Despite the chill of the air, Tony's face was flushed, his dress shirt clinging to his body with sweat. Steve nuzzled that spot behind Tony's ear, just taking in the smell of his skin, and the moment. When he had enough, Steve pressed his lips to Tony's. "Yes," he said.
Another shift, and he felt Tony's fingers under the edge of his panties, the tips already slick with his wetness. Steve gasped in Tony's mouth, at the strangeness of it. The lazy, easy stroke of Tony's thumb against his clit, and Tony's lazy kisses along the column of his throat and shoulder. Steve wriggled with impatience, wanting more.
"I hear-" Tony said on a hitch of breath, "that this might hurt a bit."
"Can't be worse than Operation Rebirth," Steve threw his free arm around Tony's shoulders, brought his face close to Tony's. "I'm ready as I'll ever be."
Both were right, Steve thought as he felt the blunt press of Tony's cock against his entrance, and he must have winced, or given a noise of pain, because Tony paused.
"No. Go on."
"It gets better," Tony said. "I promise."
And it did.
The thunder of the chopper and the whip of the wind ripped Steve from his musings.
Frowning, because he didn't expect to be disturbed, he watched the helicopter land, and shook his head when he saw Tony hopping down as soon as it touched down on the helipad, tugging at his tie. Tony's hair slightly longer now, long enough to be disturbed by the wind at any rate, and as Tony drew close, Steve felt the anger pumping off him. Oh, Tony still had that mildly amused smirk on his face, but then, that was Tony's default mien, Steve knew. Rumour had it that he cracked jokes after Romanov killed Jarvis, and got over their broken engagement by dating a... blonde.
"Steve Rogers," Tony greeted, his voice carrying over the whoosh of the helicopter blades as they slowed down in the distance. "A word, if you please?"
Steve only raised his eyebrows. No lie, he was impressed at Tony even walking across the roof. At this height, the occasional gusts of wind were something; a lesser man would have been lain low by the vertigo, but Tony just walked on, one hand in the pocket of his suit, the other still working at his tie.
"Tony," Steve raised his hand in acknowledgement, and as Tony loped over to him, Steve saw the ice in Tony's eyes, and knew.
"Were you ever going to say anything?"
"How did you-?"
"The how isn't germane to this discussion right now."
"Hacking into medical files is an offence, the last time I checked."
"God, Steve," Tony ran a shaky hand through his hair, and Steve knew exasperation when he saw it. "I really need a drink right now, but the Stoli will just have to wait. Whatever were you thinking?"
There was so much to say to that question, and yet, no answer would be good enough, Steve knew. So he went for the simplest one. "I made an executive decision."
"This isn't having a decisive stroke of victory for the Allies at Normandy, Steve! This is-"
The trill of his cell phone interrupted whatever spiel he was gearing up to give. "Blast it!" Tony swore as he tugged the phone out of his pocket, glared at the number.
With a temper Steve never thought he had, Tony drew his hand back and hurled the phone off the roof. Steve admired the high graceful arc, noted the wink of the highly polished surface in the dying light, before the phone tumbled out of his sight to the wide space of New York below.
Tony shoved his arms in the pockets of his slacks, and stepped away from the edge.
"You might kill someone, you know."
"I'll pay for that bridge when I come to it."
"You mean, 'cross'."
"Hmm," Tony stroked his van dyke thoughtfully. "That as well."
Dead air met this comment, nothing save the intermittent drone of planes overhead, the odd cry of a bird. Steve pulled his knees towards him, because it was getting chilly.
"I know that I'm an insensitive bastard. I live up to my press," Tony started, "but Steve..." and he stopped, and Steve tilted his head to look up at Tony, saw the expression in his eyes, and looked away.
"You don't have to be here, Tony," Steve looked out at the view before him, but seeing nothing but the white walls of a sterile hospital room, and the fingers on his arm. "You truly don't. The framework has changed."
"The framework?" The scorn in Tony's voice was palpable. "It lived, Steve. Even for only a little while, it lived. You have to acknowledge that salient point, " he spat, and Steve could only stare at Tony as if he were unhinged. This was the most emotion he had ever seen Tony put into well... anything.
But. Tony was right, he was right.
"Yeah," Steve said after a while. He cleared his throat, and looked Tony in the eyes, not wanting his voice to snag on any of the edges of the words in the next sentence. "I know, I felt it."
"How long?"
"Sorry?"
"Your 'executive decision'," Tony's enunciation was crisp, his voice clipped, and Steve flinched at the ice of it.
"That day in your suite - I knew then."
Tony worried his lower lip with his teeth, "Unless there's a problem with the time space continuum, that was a week ago."
There was nothing to say but, "Yes."
"Jesus, Steve," Tony's sigh barely carried above the wind. Steve heard the fatigue in the words, and looked away, the sun was setting now, the lights outlining the city in its grid. From this vantage point he saw his city, but for all he cared, they could have been on the moon.
"I wish... I wish you'd come to me sooner. We're friends of a sort, and... what's done is done, I suppose. There's nothing for it. Are you okay, at least?"
Steve raised his hand, hovered it over his knee, then dropped it. He opened his mouth, and was at a loss for words when Tony dropped to his knees, and sat on the roof beside him.
"No," Steve answered, as he stared at Tony's knee. "I don't think so."
"Well," Tony began, as he tapped his fingers against his thighs. "I have a case of Stolichnaya in the helicopter, and if needed, I can organise an orgy in twenty minutes. If... that's what you want. Or-"
Steve raised his gaze to Tony's and wondered if the glassy sheen in Tony's eyes was reflected in his too . "I'll stay here, thanks."
"Or, we can stay here," Tony finished, and Steve wondered if that had been his intent anyway.
"I'm sorry. "
"It's a hazard of being you, I gather. Executive decisions and all that."
Steve only stared at Tony, thought about everything, and had to speak around the lump in his throat. He was forgiven, just like that. "It shouldn't be that easy."
"But it is," Tony smiled, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Because you were my favourite girl."
Fin
Author: jazzypom
Rated: R for language and concepts.
Beta read: Yes! one, two, two betas! mwahahahaha. Cheers to
ellyr_in_ink and posyvanilla for the look over. All errors mine. Truly.Word count:7,500
Universe: Ultimates 1610
Summary: Ult Steve turns into a woman, gets with Tony. Complications of heart and body ensue.
Disclaimer: Characters and situations are the property of Stan Lee and Marvel Comics. No profit is being made off this fan-written work.
Notes: For the marvel kink prompt: Ult!Steve is turned into a woman and finds he likes riding Tony's cock. (anon would love if they fall in love with each other or is[sic] girl!ult!steve gets pregnant). Because I'm a greedy beggar, I'm attempting the whole nine yards. It's more of an actual story than a kink meme though, so sit a spell. Characterisation of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark are taken from Ultimate X-men , specifically the Ultimate War story arc.
Warnings:(Highlight to see) a throw away comment re: miscarriage. Yeah.
"Whoo, look at that tall glass of water."
"With them legs I'd like to..."
"Do you think she would...?"
"I'd like her to sit on my fa..."
Ears burning, unable to bear any more comments about his person, Steve stopped in mid stride, spun around and started to stalk towards the men; his hands clenched into fists and -
"Slow down, Calamity Jane." Steve felt fingers on his arm, and he stopped to glare at whomever was impeding his progress in giving these fools an - a butt kicking. It was Tony Stark, supposed teammate and not partner in crime. He was dressed in a dark suit, unbuttoned shirt and no tie. In his other hand, there was a glass of something alcoholic, Steve was sure. It was Tony Stark, anything non alcoholic would be... respectable.
Narrowing his eyes into slits, Steve took in Tony's fingers against his arm, and lifted his gaze to frown at Tony.
Tony was still... Tony, Steve noted. Perpetually amused, his mouth in that insufferable grin he did when he knew the secret to a joke or a solution to a problem about three steps before the rest of the team did.
"You might want to let me go, Tony."
"You might want to calm down for a minute, Steve."
"While they- they're-" Steve forced himself to spit out the words, "saying stuff about me? About my-?" He then clamped his mouth shut, knowing that he was blushing.
"Steve," Tony's smile was a lot warmer now. "Have you seen yourself lately? You're a vision."
Steve quickly dropped his gaze to his feet. Even in the dim light, he saw how much smaller and daintier they were, clad in - was it Mary Janes- and stockings with the the seam, because that's what ladies in his day wore. He then took in the flouncy flared hem of his skirt, winced at the draft between his legs.
"I'm not a vision, Tony. I'm a broad. And broad or not, I'm going to walk over there and kick their -"
"Steve."
"Are you going to let me by, or am I going to make you? I can still do that, you know. Being a dame hasn't changed anything else."
"I can see that," Tony said, and took a step forward, his breath hot on the shell of Steve's ear. Suddenly, the sweep of the bar became smaller, the lights a tad more intimate. Steve dismissed his thoughts as crazy, especially when Tony said the following: "Let me tell you why your course of action might be... impolitic, to say the least. We're still a part of the Ultimates, we're still a part of SHIELD and what it stands for. Those men over there? Are soldiers, the ones who'll have your back when you're... back to normal."
"So you're saying-" and Steve almost choked on the indignity of the situation. "Let it pass?"
"Take it as you will. You're a bright boy -or girl- Steve. You'll figure it out."
Steve could only sneer. "You still haven't let go."
"Forgive," Tony dropped his arm, taking a step back into the shadows. He left Steve standing alone in the middle of the bar, feeling foolish and strange.
"The doctors have no clue, huh?"
"It's complicated, Steve," he heard Jan sigh. From the corner of his eye, saw her hand flash on the short, squat jar of whatever was on the bed beside him.
They were in her room, the key feature in her sun splashed apartment on the Upper East side. Steve was seated at the edge of her bed, in front of her vanity table. He took in the powders, tubes and bottles of cosmetics on its surface, and made it a point not to look in the mirror.
"The body is an amazing thing," Jan began, her voice going into that professorial tone he now knew well. "Some parts are still marked 'Here Be Dragons', or should be. The closest we've come to your case is a South African woman who went from white to black overnight. But that's small beer compared to your sex chromosome turning from a Y to an X. Spontaneous combustion? Yes. Spontaneous sex change? No. There's no precedent at all."
Steve only moved his shoulders, then ran his thumb along his bra strap. "How do you gals wear these things without going nuts? It's so-"
"You get used to it," Jan said, as he heard her fumbling with the lid of the jar, and wrinkled his nose at the sharp smell of rubbing alcohol and rose. "I'm pretty lucky, in that I'm small on top and at times, I don't have to."
Steve remembered that all too well. Jan's breasts were on the smaller side, so she rarely bothered with bras and- he pushed that thought away, because it was weird.
"Right," Jan's voice was crisp, and Steve felt her fingers against his scalp, moving through his hair. "If you're going to give this girl thing a go, you have to invest in gel. You're lucky, in that your hair is thick, and a good colour..."
Steve half listened to Jan, and focused on how he got in this position in the first place. If he kept it looping in his mind, accessing, and re-evaluating, something might just pop, something...
"If you're going to fight hand-to-hand, Clint, this stratagem might be helpful -"
With an instinct borne from his enhanced reflexes and intensive practice, Steve blocked Clint's punch, shifted his body as Clint telegraphed his feint. Grabbed Clint's hand, side sweep kick and -
"Hey, Steve!" Clint's breath was coming in faster now, "Watch the hands! I'm a sniper, not a brawler and - hey, Cap? Steve?"
Suddenly one Clint became two. Steve blinked, as he gingerly rubbed his temples. His eyes were burning and -
"Off the front line? Wait a minute, I'm -"
"You're not fine, soldier." Fury cut in, voice firm and level. Steve knew, just knew that this was an argument he couldn't, wouldn't win.
They were in Nick's office, overlooking the vista of Upper Bay, with the mainland somewhere in the distance. Steve was clad in an oversized SHIELD jumpsuit, hands at his sides.
"But I can still fight, and -"
"Your entire physiology has changed," Nick Fury said, tapping the file beside him. He was leaning on the edge of the desk, because the meeting was supposed to be casual. "Sue Storm hasn't been able to come to a conclusion for your sudden 'transformation', and although you are still ... you, I can't risk you in the field."
"So you have me back on the sidelines, because I'm a..." and it was another humiliation, another burden.
"This isn't World War II, Steve, don't even think of it that way. You're not being sidelined because you're a woman. You're sidelined because you're unpredictable, and I can't have that in my field, there are too many variables to contend with as it is."
"Permission to be dismissed, General."
"Steve-" Fury began, but he must have seen that look that said Steve had had enough, so he only sighed. "Permission granted. You can still train with the rest of the team, still sit in on various meetings when needed, but for the time being, you're benched, soldier."
Steve lowered his head, and for a brief moment, closed his eyes.
"-we're done here," Jan said, holding up a small mirror to his face, and Steve brushed her hand away.
"I don't want to see it Jan, I don't need to know."
"Steve, you have to accept it. What you are right now-" he felt Jan move away, the bed felt lighter. Soon, there was a buzz at his ear, the tips of feet at his shoulder and Steve sighed.
"That I'm a - that I'm this?" he pushed off the bed, and moved towards the window, before Jan tch'd in his ear, and he was sharply reminded that he couldn't do that any more, not in his state of undress anyway, so he veered towards the bathroom, and sat on the edge of the bathtub instead.
"It's called being a 'woman'," Jan's voice was dry, and he felt the slight pressure of her feet on his bare shoulder, her wings tickling his earlobe. "If I remember, you actually liked them once upon a time, so what's wrong with being one?"
"I'm treated differently, for one, and -"
"You have to buck up, Steve. You're from The Depression, remember? I got my Mom to send over some of her collections that she showed in Paris from a couple seasons ago. You're as tall as the models she uses. Besides, the secret with working in a guy oriented space is that you have to demand to be there, you know? Then when they know you're serious, they'll have to give you room."
"We gave you room."
"In certain ways," Jan agreed, and Steve felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stir as from Jan's beating wings as she flew behind him and settled on his other shoulder. "But stifled me in others. When Hank did what he did - you took the option away from me. You all did. You. Tony. Nick. "
"Jan-"
"We've failed the Bechdel test," Jan's voice was half sad, half amused. "But it's true."
"But you're back with Hank," Steve said, wondering why it did not hurt more, somehow.
"It's complicated, Steve."
"Only if you want it to be."
"Rule one in relationships, nothing is as straightforward as you want it to be."
There was a short silence at that, what with Steve still adjusting the straps of his bra, and Jan still at his ear. "So," Jan began. "What shall we do next? Moisturise or wax?"
"Wax? Why would I wax and where?"
"Oh Steve," Jan's hair brushed along his jaw, as he felt her lean against the column of his neck. "You have so much to learn."
"As usual, it was nice doing business with you, Nick," Tony beamed as he clicked his briefcase shut, and made half way to get up when Nick waved at him to sit down. Tony raised an eyebrow at this, because Nick was very much a man of business, and not one for small talk after deals were done.
"About Steve," Nick began, and Tony sighed.
"Ah yes, " Tony said. "Our own Victor/Victoria. Anything new on that front, then?"
"No," Nick shook his head. "We've been trying to keep it from the press - thanks for your assist - and are just waiting on our best and brightest to figure it out."
Tony placed his briefcase on the ground, and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, resting his index fingers against his lower lip. "I can offer the use of my people," he began, "but if you have Storm, Richards and Pym at your disposal, you already have the best."
"That's not why I asked you to stay behind."
"Indeed?" Tony raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, whatever the reason, tarrying is thirsty work, and-"
Tony took notice of Nick leaning against his desk, legs crossed at the ankles, full suit of black, and shiny shoes. Tony knew that pose, when Nick was pretending to be all civilian and bonhomie. It was a tragedy then, Tony thought, that he could see through it, because Nick was as dangerous as they came.
"I do know that you like capable women, Stark. Especially the ones who can kill you."
"You suddenly have a sideline as Ann Landers, Nick? Or is this a love connection? I have no trouble finding company, thanks."
"You're nobody's fool, Tony, so I won't spell it out for you."
"Good," Tony dropped his hands on his thighs, and pushed himself off the chair, making the signal that the conversation was over, and he was out of here. "Thanks for that. I have a three o' clock with a pair of beauties and a cuveé of Krüg. Cheerio, old boy."
Nick might have mumbled 'cheerio', but it sounded more ominous than pleasant. Tony gave Nick a jaunty salute as he left Nick's office, and wandered down the hall, trying to remember if he had chosen the correct gifts. It was important, really, because Adrianna liked her baubles and Natalie had a thing for antique books, and it just wouldn't be done if he got their interests mixed u-
"STARK!"
The voice might have been softer due to a sudden surge of oestrogen, and just a different voice box, but -
"Hark, I'd know those dulcet tones anywhere," Tony said, as he took Steve in. It was strange, although he looked like Steve, he looked different. Still had the height - gads, he was an Amazon- but it suited. His features were softer, nose a bit delicate, his lips a bit fuller. His eyes might have been framed by thicker lashes, and softer brows, but they still still had that hard, bright blue glare. Tch, Tony thought, shaking his head at the goddawful jumpsuit Steve was wearing.
"I heard," Steve began, and Tony raised an eyebrow at how pleasantly low his voice sounded, something with a bit of husk. "About you inviting Thor and Clint for a night out, and I'm coming too."
"It's a strip club," Tony said, shrugging his shoulders, as he continued to walk, Steve falling into step with him. "The last time, you stood outside the club on principle, remember?"
"It's different, now."
"I'll say. It's not a good idea."
"Because I'm a woman?"
"Yes."
"If you're taking Thor and Clint, I'm coming too."
"Steve-"
"If you say no, I'll launch a sexual discrimination lawsuit on your ass so fast, your head'll spin."
"It's surprising how quickly you have cottoned on to the attitudes of the modern woman. Astounding, really." Tony tapped his fingers against his chin, wondering how to side step this situation, but knew he had to yield. Sometimes, Tony thought, the best way of winning a war was just not to fight one at all.
"What time?"
Tony could only throw up a hand in defeat. "Be ready for seven pm. I'll send a driver to pick you up."
"I don't need your charity, Tony."
"No," Tony smiled, and it was on this side of sharp. He saw Steve's eyes narrow, ready for whatever barb he would throw. Ah yes, Tony thought, we know each other well. "But," he continued, "you'll graciously accept my courtesy. Now say 'thank you', Steve. Oh, and wear something nice."
Bulls-eye, Tony thought as he saw the veiled insult strike home.
"Perhaps you could have chosen a better sort of entertainment, taking into account Steve's changed circumstances?" Thor asked, before taking a sip of his beer.
From their seats in the VIP lounge, Tony made a great show of looking around. To shock Steve, he decided to take them all to the most risqué high end club he knew. It was an old building on the upper East Side, swivel hipped women walking by balancing drinks on trays in various shades of undress. To the front of the room was the entertainment; women twisting their supple bodies into pretzels as they slid and crept on and around shiny poles.
"Wine, women and song? What more could one ask for? This is fine," Tony said, as he took in the rest of his teammates around the table. Jan and Hank were absent - it figured. Clint was on his sixth -or seventh? Long Island ice tea, Thor was beside him drinking ale, and Steve was seated across from him, in one of those tops that Tony liked to see on women; all glittery and snug with bare shoulders. Steve's shoulders were still muscled, but in that lovely way of women, where the curves were softer. Tony wondered if Jan had had a hand in that inspired sartorial choice. Speaking of hands - Steve's fingers slender and graceful - were lightly linked around a glass of ale. His eyes had that gleam of battle familiar to Tony as he stared at the women performing on stage, the lights on them, their muscles flexing with effort.
Tony was shocked that Steve had stayed this long, to be honest. The last time, he stayed outside, on principle. Now he demanded to come to the strip club on principle? Forget women, he would never understand Steve. Only for Steve to lean over, to speak across the table to Tony, showing a flash of skin and the tops of his breasts shifting in his top. Well, Tony thought with great interest, hello nurse.
Later on, Tony would think that Steve had done that on purpose, to catch him off guard with his next comment: "I can do that. It just seems to be callisthenics on a pole."
What?
No, wait. What?
Tony realised that he had not been the only one to hear this, but Clint and Thor too. Clint finally raised his gaze from his glass and fixed his eyes on Steve in a most alarming way. Thor might have tried to stifle a laugh. Or a choke. It was hard to tell.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me, Stark." Although Steve's voice was low, and the music was fairly loud, it carried across the table. Clint started to eye Steve with unabashed interest. Actually, Tony thought, it was the first time Clint had an interest in anything outside his glass tonight. Too damned bad, Tony thought, taking the phone out of his jacket pocket, and quickly scrolling through the screen. If Steve was going to do this for anyone, it would only be for him.
"That I do," Tony said, with one eye on Steve and the other on his phone as he quickly skimmed his thumb across the keys on the screen.
"So," Steve said, "can you get me up there, or do I have to do it myself?"
"I'd hate to offer you my charity, Steve."
"Just consider it a courtesy, Tony. You can do that, can't you?"
Smug, Tony thought as he raised the phone to his ear, the bastard was smug. "Your wish is my command, darling," he said, gratified by Steve's flush.
After Steve strode away - no soft, subtle sway of hips there - Tony threw some bills on the table.
"Good night, gentlemen."
"Good night?"
"What Tony means to say is, we're leaving." Thor smiled, as he placed the mug on their table with a clunk. "No matter, my kind of entertainment is more in the open meadows anyway."
"And what about-?" Clint stopped, and tilted his glass towards him. Then paused, looked across at Steve just rapidly eating up the distance between the floor and the dais with his strides.
"Jesus," his voice was filled with awe, "Steve's legs go all the way to his neck. No chance of you boosting team morale and letting us watch too?"
"Oh no," Tony shook his head for emphasis. "Snowballs in hell and all that."
"Figures," Clint mumbled, before he got to his feet, and stumbled in the direction of the bathroom. "Gotta go pee."
Tony watched as Clint moved through the crowd, although reeling, still relatively steady on his feet as he weaved through the crowds. Amazing, Tony thought. Clint was almost as skilled as him when it came to drink.
"Tony, this isn't wise."
"Hmm? One minute," Tony held up a hand, signalling Thor to be quiet. "I have to take this call."
He felt the weight of Thor's patience as he finished his call, and because Thor showed him a modicum of respect when asked to, Tony turned to face Thor fully, and waited for him to finish his point.
"Steve's new form leaves him vulnerable to the likes of you, " Thor mused, a frown marring his features. It was strange to see it there, a thundercloud of emotion on a face that was usually open and well... sunny. "Actually," he continued, "you both will be lain wide open by his new form."
"Pity you didn't have that piece of sterling advice when I dated Natasha, old bean. Could have saved me a fair bit of trouble."
"As much as you bared your throat then, you weren't that vulnerable."
"But Jarvis - "
"Was destined."
Tony took a sip at his drink. To buy himself some time, he made a great show of noticing the throngs of people before them both, and searched the crowds for Steve.
"Steve and I-" Tony nodded approvingly as the patrons were moved along to the exits by the uniformed staff. He noted how some patrons just drained their drinks before placing them at the corner of the tables, before moving on.
"Steve and I," Tony repeated, "we know each other. We might not like each other, but we know each other. There's a bit of fun and comfort in that. Besides, don't you have somewhere to go?"
"Only if there's no reason to stay?"
"Oh no, not at all. I just bought the club," Tony shot Thor a grin. "You're now officially trespassing."
Thor only looked at him, then shook his head. Tony returned Thor's stare, knowing that he was displeased, but Tony also knew Thor was one to say his piece, and be done with it. "There's a party in a field two states over. I'll see if my entertainments would suit Clint."
"By all means, take him along," Tony agreed, as he slipped the phone in his pocket. "Because he's trespassing too."
Steve found himself in Tony's suite, hands jammed in the pockets of his coat, just waiting.
It was a tad more intimate than the wide, open offices with the panoramic view that made lesser men babble in that there was not a desk to be seen, and the lights were dimmer here. Steve did not sit, just stood there and waited, going through various options regarding this situation and Tony, but before he had the chance to get into alternative plan D, he heard the slap of leather on the marble tile, got a whiff of the alcohol on Tony's breath before he came through the door.
"Ah, Steve," Tony greeted, with that smile Steve know knew well. "How's my favourite girl?"
"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Every dame is your favourite girl."
"True," Tony said, and it still caught Steve off guard at the ease of accepting Tony just leaning in, just sniffing that delicate space between his neck and ear. "That's the secret of my charm, I actually believe it. But you-" he said, his breath moist and close at the base of Steve's throat, his lips barely skimming collar bone. Steve felt that sort of foolish again, just like that time at the bar some time ago, when Tony held his arm, and prevented him from going all out on everyone. "Are my favourite girl."
"Hah," Steve said, as he angled his face to Tony's, and felt the whisper of Tony's breath against his lips.
"How long are you here for?" Steve felt Tony's hands ghost along his sides, the tips of his fingers making lazy patterns along his ribs.
"I have to see Sue Storm at 15:00 hours. Baxter Building."
"Hmm, that's what, two hours? It's just on 42nd Street and Madison, and- "
"I'm sure you can finish this in ten minutes."
Tony just laughed against Steve's mouth, and the gusts of laughter were bubbles in the blood. Steve closed his eyes as Tony kissed him, and allowed himself to be dragged to the floor.
Later, much later, when their bodies were cooled, Steve stirred and found Tony propped up on an elbow, looking at him. Steve was on his stomach, and linked his fingers under his head, not caring if his back was exposed, and enjoyed the somewhat novel sensation of his nipples hardening in the the chill of the A/C.
"A hundred dollar bill for your thoughts and all that."
"What, no penny?"
"Inflation is a damnable thing, Steve." Tony grinned, and Steve half wished that he had Tony's gift of seeing humour in everything.
"It's been four months, and I'm still... this."
"Whatever is that quaint word you use? A ... dame, is it?"
"I'm still not able to fight on the front lines. I train, I get tested, and I might be-"
"Might be?"
"Nothing," Steve closed his eyes against the sensation of Tony's fingers drifting along his shoulder towards his ear. Until he came up with a solution, it would be their problem instead of his. "Nothing at all."
"Well, look what I found."
Steve rolled his eyes and turned to face Tony, only to see a small oval shaped disc between Tony's thumb and forefinger. Despite his mood, he smiled as he held out his hand, wondering why Tony would give him old metal, until his eye snagged on the name 'Ovaltine' and Steve had to close his eyes against the sudden ache of nostalgia. It was astonishing, how something so small could still make his world pause, and shake.
"Jack Armstrong," he finally managed around the lump in his throat. The disc was small, the colour of old brass, with the alphabet, and numbers forming concentric circles. There was the dial that you had to spin, to line up the letters with the numbers for the specific message. Steve gingerly turned the dial, feeling rather awkward, because it was made for a boy's hands in the nineteen thirties, when people were just plain smaller. "I'd listen to this show when I could, I'd go by Bucky's. His parents had a radio, see? We'd -" Steve paused, and swallowed heavily. "Thanks."
"It's nothing, really," Tony sat up now, Steve's coat pooling around his waist. "Truly. Now, what brings you to my parlour, and all the rest of it?"
"I'm only here for the sex," Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat at how forward he sounded, but the soft smile that played on Tony's lips made the embarrassment worthwhile.
"Well then," Tony waggled his eyebrows. "I'd hate to disappoint..."
The sun was setting over Upper Bay, and Steve needing to get away from it all, sat on the roof top. He was back - all of him- and Sue Storm and her team again, were at a loss to explain why.
"I just... " she said, her eyes wide and disbelieving. "It's as if you just- "
"I'm okay then, right?"
At this her eyes dimmed, and Steve felt the press of her fingers against his arm. "I'm sorry, your body rejected the -"
"-the environment was hostile -"
Steve could only nod, dry eyed. "I understand," he said, not wanting Dr. Storm to continue. "I'm free to go?"
"Yes, although it would be helpful if you could stay for observation-"
Steve shrugged into his clothing and high tailed it out of there. As soon as he got near enough to the body of water known as Upper Bay, Steve hurled his cellphone into the drink. Fury would get to him soon enough, Jan and Thor and the rest would know that he was back to being Steve.
Before that happened, he needed a breather, just some time to reflect, to see if there were anything he could have changed, would have changed. His mind kept going back to that night at the club, that time with Tony.
"I can do that," Steve heard himself say, "it's just callestentics on a pole."
It was gratifying, Steve thought as he saw Tony almost do a spit take. Steve knew that he was being reckless, careless, even. If Nick Fury ever got what he was up to, he would have torn a strip off Steve. However, that didn't matter, because for the first time, Tony Stark's face had something other than amusement writ across it. Thor covered his mouth with his hand, but Steve read the scepticism in his eyes. And Clint, well... he probably needed to stop drinking right about now.
"I beg your pardon?" Tony said, voice incredulous, and Steve knew then that he had Tony. Probably leaning over and flashing his chest at him was overkill, but Steve had a prime objective.
Tony, damn him, recovered quickly. "Your wish is my command, darling," he retorted, and Steve felt his cheeks warm. Committed to his mission now, he pushed away from the table, and walked over to the dais, feeling Tony's gaze on his back.
By the time Steve threaded through the throng of the crowd, feeling the press of the masses against his skin, and made his way to the stage area, he was met by a dancer. Tall and swarthy, she smiled at Steve, and it was... nice, Steve thought. He never got those sort of smiles from women. It was very much a comrade in arms thing that he found unexpectedly comforting. "Your man works fast," she said.
"Sorry, what? Tony is... No." Steve shook his head.
"Well, whatever, I'm Ginger Snaps, nice to meet you." She held out her hand, and Steve shook it. "I'm Steve," he said.
"Steve, eh? That's a good name," Ginger complimented. "Short, snappy... easily remembered. Your own?"
"Ah...Yes?"
"Okay," Ginger smiled, waving Steve towards the dancers' entrance, a nondescript door that made him think of janitor's closets in the Triskelion, and he pushed that thought out of his head.
"You do know how to work a pole, right?"
"It can't be harder than waiting in a foxhole, right?"
Ginger only stared at him, and Steve stared back. His confidence in his abilities was enough for Ginger to nod and say, "Okay, well, let's go through some basic safety rules and then you're on your own out there, okay?"
"Okay."
It felt like flying.
The comparison was cliché, true, but after all those weeks inside, off team, being benched, to actually do something that was not a second tier team drill.
Keeping to time with the music was its own thrill, a brutal discipline. Invert, and climb. No crawling, because that brought back memories of war, tip toe, flex. The pole's slippery surface was a challenge, if he gripped too hard, his movements were too jerky, one kick, a twist and two. Transition to that movement of slink, slide and melt that demanded total control of leg muscles and torso to segue into one smooth movement, and Steve raised his head, only to realise two things that made him fumble a step, out of beat.
One, the club was empty, the lack of people made the area cavernous, the acoustics gave the music enough resonance to make the marrow in his bones quake.
Two, Tony was standing before him, glass in hand, and eyes on him.
Steve did not know when it changed, trying to do a routine and keeping to step, to this: not breaking Tony's stare, and feeling a lick of gratification along his spine when Tony didn't touch his glass of liquor at all, because all of his attention was on Steve.
Too soon, and about time, the last note died. The silence was sudden, and stunning, like the note of a gong, and self conscious about being on stage, Steve picked his way down the side stairs, his muscles trembling from exertion, because he still had trouble adjusting to the centre of gravity in his new body all these weeks later. Tony ambled towards him, tumbler in hand.
"There's something to be said about champagne rooms, and private dancers," he said by way of greeting, and Steve raised his eyebrows.
"Where's everyone else?"
"You took too long to show." Tony's smirk was insufferable, and Steve wanted to brush past, but he didn't. He just stood there, rotating his ankles with care, flexing and pointing his toes, making sure he hadn't pulled a muscle, or strained a tendon. But all he was aware of right now was Tony's presence, close enough to smell the notes of mint in his cologne, the sharp sugar sweet odour of alcohol on his breath.
Steve didn't mind silence, he even appreciated the tactic and leverage of it. He leaned there, against the dais, resting his hands on the small of his back, raised his leg, just to see what would happen. He frowned when he saw the tear in his fishnets, pulled his leg toward him to inspect the damage, and swore low and fluently.
"Just great," Steve traced the edges of the tear in his stockings, and dissatisfied, he dropped to the ground for a better view, his skirt spreading across his thighs. "This is just fantastic. I should have been more careful."
"Steve, they're just stockings."
"In the war, dames had to give up stockings for the effort."
"Oh that little skirmish," and Steve shifted as Tony dropped to his knees beside him, his fingers tracing the tear along his thigh, and Steve briefly closed his eyes against his involuntary quiver at Tony's touch, but that was before he cottoned on to Tony's comment, and slitted them open.
"That little skirmish?" Steve fumed, "that's the only reason why you aren't speaking German."
"Oh, Steve," he heard the laughter at the edge of Tony's words. "But I do."
At this Steve jerked his head up sharply, and found himself eye to eye with Tony. "You do? Figures. But at least it's by choice."
"You should wear gloss or something," Tony said, and Steve shivered at Tony's thumb brushing his lower lip, his hand still cool from the glass he was holding sometime ago. "Your lips are delightful."
"I- " Steve stopped, and swallowed. He was close enough to see each lash along Tony's lower lids, and well, one of them should pull away now.
"I heard that women gave up lipstick for the war effort too," Tony murmured. "If my old French teacher is to be believed, anyway."
"Don't tell me," Steve sighed at the scorch of Tony's tongue tracing along his lips, felt the weight of Tony's hand on his thigh. "You speak French too?"
"Don't ask, won't tell," Tony said against his mouth, and Steve felt his hands - the tips of his fingers surprisingly calloused- as they snagged on the silk of Steve's stockings. There was the lean muscle of Tony's thigh there, against his.
Steve opened his mouth to Tony's, only to feel the scrape of Tony's whiskers against his cheek. "Missed by a mile."
"I'll try harder," Tony said, his eyes lit with amusement. Steve found himself lifting his hand to cup the side of Tony's face, only for Tony to give the heel of his hand a quick nip.
"Here, let me help you," Steve grabbed Tony's collar, and they collapsed on the ground in a sprawling heap.
Jesus, this was fun. The scrape of teeth against his neck, the feel of carpeted floor against his spine, and the press of Tony on top. Their faces were close, Tony's eyes flame hot and on him. Steve felt Tony's fingers stroking his temple, his thumb stroking Steve's lower lip and true to his word, he tried harder. His tongue fluttering at the roof of Steve's mouth, the brush of his thumb at Steve's nipple through his clothing.
The only thing was, where should he put his hands? Steve didn't realise he was laughing until Tony broke their kiss. "Trying to give me a complex, Captain?"
Steve shook his head, still laughing, only for it to turn into a moan when he felt Tony's open mouthed kisses along the line of his neck. His moan shattered into broken sighs as Tony dragged his top down, with splayed fingers on either side of Steve's body, the cold air of the nightclub hitting Steve's nipples, before he felt the scorch and suction of Tony's mouth on a nipple, and who knew breasts were this sensitive?
"No bra, Steve?" Tony tried to be funny, Steve knew, but he heard the desperation, the edge. Satisfaction made his lips twitch, and made Steve bold, as he curled his fingers into Tony's dress shirt, and pulled him up so that they were face to face.
"You ca-?" and Steve kissed him this time, his hand on Tony's groin, as he fumbled for Tony's zip. It was all leading to this, as he felt Tony's erection against the seat of his panties, and he was -
"I'm-" Steve breathed, as he arched his hips at the flat of Tony's palm.
"Panties," Tony rasped at his ear.
"What?"
"Your panties, are you sentimenta-"
"I can kill you, Stark."
"Luckily for us - oh fuck- I'm so okay with that."
Steve did not have the chance to respond, as Tony wrapped an arm around his waist, and with a lot of pulling and tugging, Tony was on his knees, Steve astride his thighs. He shivered from Tony's splayed fingers against his bare back, the other hand with Steve's on Tony's cock, and Steve feeling the pulse and weight of it against his palm and the gusset of his panties.
"Steve," Tony's forehead pressed against his. Despite the chill of the air, Tony's face was flushed, his dress shirt clinging to his body with sweat. Steve nuzzled that spot behind Tony's ear, just taking in the smell of his skin, and the moment. When he had enough, Steve pressed his lips to Tony's. "Yes," he said.
Another shift, and he felt Tony's fingers under the edge of his panties, the tips already slick with his wetness. Steve gasped in Tony's mouth, at the strangeness of it. The lazy, easy stroke of Tony's thumb against his clit, and Tony's lazy kisses along the column of his throat and shoulder. Steve wriggled with impatience, wanting more.
"I hear-" Tony said on a hitch of breath, "that this might hurt a bit."
"Can't be worse than Operation Rebirth," Steve threw his free arm around Tony's shoulders, brought his face close to Tony's. "I'm ready as I'll ever be."
Both were right, Steve thought as he felt the blunt press of Tony's cock against his entrance, and he must have winced, or given a noise of pain, because Tony paused.
"No. Go on."
"It gets better," Tony said. "I promise."
And it did.
The thunder of the chopper and the whip of the wind ripped Steve from his musings.
Frowning, because he didn't expect to be disturbed, he watched the helicopter land, and shook his head when he saw Tony hopping down as soon as it touched down on the helipad, tugging at his tie. Tony's hair slightly longer now, long enough to be disturbed by the wind at any rate, and as Tony drew close, Steve felt the anger pumping off him. Oh, Tony still had that mildly amused smirk on his face, but then, that was Tony's default mien, Steve knew. Rumour had it that he cracked jokes after Romanov killed Jarvis, and got over their broken engagement by dating a... blonde.
"Steve Rogers," Tony greeted, his voice carrying over the whoosh of the helicopter blades as they slowed down in the distance. "A word, if you please?"
Steve only raised his eyebrows. No lie, he was impressed at Tony even walking across the roof. At this height, the occasional gusts of wind were something; a lesser man would have been lain low by the vertigo, but Tony just walked on, one hand in the pocket of his suit, the other still working at his tie.
"Tony," Steve raised his hand in acknowledgement, and as Tony loped over to him, Steve saw the ice in Tony's eyes, and knew.
"Were you ever going to say anything?"
"How did you-?"
"The how isn't germane to this discussion right now."
"Hacking into medical files is an offence, the last time I checked."
"God, Steve," Tony ran a shaky hand through his hair, and Steve knew exasperation when he saw it. "I really need a drink right now, but the Stoli will just have to wait. Whatever were you thinking?"
There was so much to say to that question, and yet, no answer would be good enough, Steve knew. So he went for the simplest one. "I made an executive decision."
"This isn't having a decisive stroke of victory for the Allies at Normandy, Steve! This is-"
The trill of his cell phone interrupted whatever spiel he was gearing up to give. "Blast it!" Tony swore as he tugged the phone out of his pocket, glared at the number.
With a temper Steve never thought he had, Tony drew his hand back and hurled the phone off the roof. Steve admired the high graceful arc, noted the wink of the highly polished surface in the dying light, before the phone tumbled out of his sight to the wide space of New York below.
Tony shoved his arms in the pockets of his slacks, and stepped away from the edge.
"You might kill someone, you know."
"I'll pay for that bridge when I come to it."
"You mean, 'cross'."
"Hmm," Tony stroked his van dyke thoughtfully. "That as well."
Dead air met this comment, nothing save the intermittent drone of planes overhead, the odd cry of a bird. Steve pulled his knees towards him, because it was getting chilly.
"I know that I'm an insensitive bastard. I live up to my press," Tony started, "but Steve..." and he stopped, and Steve tilted his head to look up at Tony, saw the expression in his eyes, and looked away.
"You don't have to be here, Tony," Steve looked out at the view before him, but seeing nothing but the white walls of a sterile hospital room, and the fingers on his arm. "You truly don't. The framework has changed."
"The framework?" The scorn in Tony's voice was palpable. "It lived, Steve. Even for only a little while, it lived. You have to acknowledge that salient point, " he spat, and Steve could only stare at Tony as if he were unhinged. This was the most emotion he had ever seen Tony put into well... anything.
But. Tony was right, he was right.
"Yeah," Steve said after a while. He cleared his throat, and looked Tony in the eyes, not wanting his voice to snag on any of the edges of the words in the next sentence. "I know, I felt it."
"How long?"
"Sorry?"
"Your 'executive decision'," Tony's enunciation was crisp, his voice clipped, and Steve flinched at the ice of it.
"That day in your suite - I knew then."
Tony worried his lower lip with his teeth, "Unless there's a problem with the time space continuum, that was a week ago."
There was nothing to say but, "Yes."
"Jesus, Steve," Tony's sigh barely carried above the wind. Steve heard the fatigue in the words, and looked away, the sun was setting now, the lights outlining the city in its grid. From this vantage point he saw his city, but for all he cared, they could have been on the moon.
"I wish... I wish you'd come to me sooner. We're friends of a sort, and... what's done is done, I suppose. There's nothing for it. Are you okay, at least?"
Steve raised his hand, hovered it over his knee, then dropped it. He opened his mouth, and was at a loss for words when Tony dropped to his knees, and sat on the roof beside him.
"No," Steve answered, as he stared at Tony's knee. "I don't think so."
"Well," Tony began, as he tapped his fingers against his thighs. "I have a case of Stolichnaya in the helicopter, and if needed, I can organise an orgy in twenty minutes. If... that's what you want. Or-"
Steve raised his gaze to Tony's and wondered if the glassy sheen in Tony's eyes was reflected in his too . "I'll stay here, thanks."
"Or, we can stay here," Tony finished, and Steve wondered if that had been his intent anyway.
"I'm sorry. "
"It's a hazard of being you, I gather. Executive decisions and all that."
Steve only stared at Tony, thought about everything, and had to speak around the lump in his throat. He was forgiven, just like that. "It shouldn't be that easy."
"But it is," Tony smiled, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Because you were my favourite girl."
Fin
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"But it is," Tony smiled, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Because you were my favourite girl."
The last line is utter perfection. :)
Thanks a lot for sharing! <3
Hey, thanks for reading!
When at first I read the warning about miscarriage I have to admit I was a bit worried (even too often people tend to exaggerate a bit with the drama >.<) but you did a great, angsty job with it. çç
LOL, no. I don't do much drama at all.
D'awwww thank you for reading. :DDDD
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My God, the vision I have of Steve as a pin-up girl now...
LOL Steve as pin up girl!
Oh, very nice. I love how you write the squishy underbelly of Ultimates..
Ha. Am glad it was worth the click through. :DDDD
Re: LOL Steve as pin up girl!
OMG, he totally would. My hands are itching to draw this now.
"Oh Steve, you have so much to learn"
...hands up (or chime in), those of you who are female here, but don't wax or shave their legs. Cause I don't and I ain't the only one I know who don't (Of course, I'm in Canada, but the difference ain't that pronounce ain't it?).
(raises hand)
Is it evil of me to hope Jan insisted that Steve get a bikini wax?
Re: "Oh Steve, you have so much to learn"
Re: "Oh Steve, you have so much to learn"
When I need to do it though, I use wax, it is easier and it works for a looong time, so I don't have to do it as frequently. Besides I only do it when I'm going to the beach or something like that.
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I'm so glad it made it out of the gdocs. <3
Yeah, same. I'm glad it made it out too
I'm so glad it was worth the click through for you. :DDD
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You have a tendency to do that, you know... give us just enough that we know it's done and leave us wanting more. Beautiful job with this. Thanks so much for sharing (especially since I'm not really following yet another kink meme)
I only heard about the kink meme
I love how you end things so that the reader knows where it is going without you having to explicitly state Tony loves Steve... because Ult!Tony wouldn't actually admit to loving Steve, I don't think.
I agree. Ultimates Tony is a man of the big gesture though - proposing marriage in a big way, etc. But I don't think he'd say it, but he'd show it (like he did with Natasha).
I'm so glad the story was worth the click through.
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*hands tissues*
Oh, I'm sorry for driving you to tears. Yay, for you liking the ending.
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One of my favorite parts:
"You might kill someone, you know."
"I'll pay for that bridge when I come to it."
"You mean, 'cross'."
"Hmm," Tony stroked his van dyke thoughtfully. "That as well."
Oh, Tony.
And then there's that bit about the last line..... ¬_¬ Don't judge me, or I might just have to cry all over you.
LMAO.
LOL. I don't know if I beat it into submission per se. The winner has yet to be decided. Thank you very much for reading it over, especially so soon after your big_bang fic.
And then there's that bit about the last line..... ¬_¬ Don't judge me, or I might just have to cry all over you.
*hands over tissues* There, there. You're MY favourite girl.
Re: LMAO.
*hands over tissues* There, there. You're MY favourite girl.
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
Sweet talk will get you everywhere.
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"Don't ask, won't tell," Tony said against his mouth, and Steve felt his hands - the tips of his fingers surprisingly calloused- as they snagged on the silk of Steve's stockings. -- Okay, have to go fan myself now.
Poor Steve
I'm so glad that you finished this!
So am I! When it went over 6,500, I placed my head on the PC desk and... couldn't move for a while. I do get paralysed by long fic, I do.
But yayyyy it's finished, Posy! But the next prompt is giving me kittens. mrrrrrr?
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Steve only stared at Tony, thought about everything, and had to speak around the lump in his throat. He was forgiven, just like that. "It shouldn't be that easy."
"But it is," Tony smiled, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Because you were my favourite girl."
Oh, god. asd;flkj
Thank you!