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Not You, But A Girl Like You

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I

Tony was perched on Thor's knee, whispering in his ear; Thor's face was solemn, but his eyes were dancing, and he had one hand casually resting on Tony's bare knee. The skirt was far too short, Steve thought, and dragged his eyes back upwards. Tony had gone for a surprisingly demure neckline, and his make-up was almost subtle; he was an alarmingly attractive woman, all sultry eyes and seductive little mannerisms. Wanda appeared out of the crowd, and caught at Tony's hand; he laughed, and let her drag him back to the dancefloor, wobbling slightly on his heels. They'd be back inside of twenty minutes, taking cover with Thor from all the men they'd attracted. Pietro did his best to keep the crowds away from his sister, but Thor's bulk was a far more effective deterrent. Thor caught his eye and grinned; Steve smiled back, awkwardly.

"Relax," called Thor over the crowd. "They say it'll wear off in time."

"Yes, but how much trouble is he going to get us into in the meantime?" he asked grumpily. "Those two almost started a brawl at the last place."

"True," admitted Thor. "But if that is all the trouble Loki's plan can cause, we can count ourself lucky."

"It doesn't strike me as a particularly good plan," said Steve irritably, and Thor grinned.

"I suspect that Tony Stark was not his target; I imagine Loki picked a less... flexible target for his spell." Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. Thor laughed.

"So really, I think we can be grateful for the situation as it stands," said Thor consolingly. He got to his feet. "I will bring you back another beer, Captain," he said, and plowed off through the crush.

Steve was still considering with horror the possibility that Loki could have turned him into a woman, when Tony erupted out of the mob. Steve jumped to his feet as Tony looked around wildly for Thor, and then threw himself at Steve as the next best option. Steve caught him round the waist, and steadied him on his feet; Tony rested his cheek against Steve's shoulder and batted his long dark eyelashes. Steve scowled at him. Tony's lipstick was smeared. He very carefully wiped the smudge away with his thumb, and then raised his eyes to the man who had followed Tony from the dancefloor. There was a long pause; the stranger backed away slowly, melting back into the crowd. Tony giggled, a sultry little sound, and grabbed Steve's shirt as Steve tried to disentangle himself.

"Hey, Steve," Tony muttered into his ear. "Thor's got a lady friend. Found himself a Valkyrie."

"And?" Steve caught Tony's slender wrist, loosened his grip, but Tony just wound their fingers together. He could break the grip, easily, but... Tony was a woman. Sort of.

"And that means he won't sleep with me," said Tony, sweetly reasonable. Steve gave him an appalled look. "Come on. I have to try this body out. I can't take anyone back to my place, because me being a woman is supposed to be a secret. So it has to be someone who knows. Thor says no, Pietro's crazy and... crazy, Hawkeye's... also crazy, Hank's... well, crazy. There's always Fury, but to be honest, the way we argue, I'm not keen on letting him near my sensitive parts."

"You'd better not be suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Stark," said Steve, in grim horror, trying to work his fingers free. He could smell Tony's perfume, and his sweat, and the alcohol on his breath. The press of Tony's body up against his was altogether too enjoyable.

"Well... I suppose I could pick up one of these guys and go home with him?"

"No, you can't," said Steve automatically.

"Sure I can. I do it all the time."

"Not when you're a woman, you don't."

"That's just sexist, Steve," and Tony slipped an arm round Steve's neck, pulling him closer. "If I'm a woman, why won't you sleep with me?"

"Because - because you're a slut," said Steve, forcing the words out. It's not like Tony didn't know how he felt about his promiscuity.

"Steve, in this body, I'm a virgin," Tony laughed at his appalled look. "They did a full medical examination; virgo intacta."

"That's really not the point," said Steve, and he grabbed Tony's waist and set him back. "I'm not interested in casual sex."

"Then I'll just pick one of these guys," said Tony, with a shrug, and when he tried to move away, Steve's hands tightened at his waist. "C'mon, Steve, either do it yourself or let me find someone who will."

"No sleeping around until you're back to normal," said Steve finally. "And you stop being a - a cocktease." Tony considered him for a long moment, then smiled.

"Deal," he said, and true to his word, he behaved perfectly for the rest of the evening, drawing Wanda into a corner where they giggled together like - like girls.

II

Tony was pouring himself another drink as soon as they got in; he was a little pale under his make-up. Steve frowned at him.

"Can you really not go without until you change back?"

"Steve, this is a unique opportunity," said Tony, with mock solemnity. "I will be a pioneer of the sexual experience. Or I will be if you get your act together. You do know what you're doing, don't you?" He laughed at Steve's scowl, and wandered towards the bedroom, weaving back and forth. "God, these shoes are awful." He caught a heel in the carpet, and waved his arms wildly; he'd about recovered his balance when Steve swept him neatly off his feet. He had the satisfaction of seeing Tony goggle at him for a moment before he smirked.

"Very Gone With The Wind. Is this how they did it in the forties?"

"It's how I do it," said Steve, and covered Tony's mouth with his, kissing him bruisingly; Tony would mock tenderness, he knew. But Tony moaned and clung like any romance heroine, and by the time they landed on the bed, Steve had almost forgotten the woman in his arms had been a man yesterday. Tony knotted his hands in Steve's hair, wouldn't stop kissing him, and Steve abandoned the attempt to get free and settled between his legs. When he slid his hands up those smooth thighs, his hands met silk; for some reason, he'd not expected Tony to be wearing panties. Steve shifted awkwardly, opened his pants, and then he was pressing his bare cock against the silk, feeling Tony's wetness spread through the fabric. Tony finally broke the kiss, bucking his hips up enthusiastically, moaning shamelessly.

"Steve, God, that feels good." He rolled his hips cautiously, small movements, and made a high-pitched sound, almost surprised. Steve took the opportunity to pull his dress up, drag it up over his head, and Tony yanked his arms free and threw it on the floor, falling back onto the bed with a groan as Steve's mouth closed on a nipple. Tony made a lot of noise then, as Steve sucked and bit, pinching the other nipple with his free hand, pulling back to light teases until Tony swore at him, then applying hard pressure. Tony rocked up against him frantically, hips twisting and rolling, and Steve could feel him getting wetter and wetter, until finally his back arched and he cried out, shuddering. After a long moment, he pushed Steve away from his breasts. "Ow," he said, breathless. Steve rested his head on Tony's sternum and tried not to feel smug as Tony recovered. It was several minutes before he felt a tug on his hair. "I'm pretty certain you agreed to fuck me," Tony said reprovingly, and Steve didn't bother answering; he just nuzzled his way down Tony's belly and mouthed at him through his panties. "Christ," said Tony, raggedly.

III

Steve'd never had this much sex in his life. Tony was insatiable, wanting him constantly; but he stuck to the deal, and didn't so much as flirt with another man - or woman, though Steve would have minded that less. He didn't flirt with Steve in public, either, and while Steve was grateful for that at first, after a week it started to irritate him, Tony's blue eyes passing over him as if Tony hadn't been naked and moaning in his arms five hours ago. Twelve days after Tony changed, he got into a stupid argument with Fury. Fury called him a whore. Steve knocked him out with one punch. Nobody said anything to him, not even Fury when he was brought round, but he was pretty certain they all knew what was going on, and he felt strangely better about the whole thing.

On day twenty-three, he stood behind Tony as Tony primped in front of the mirror, trying on earrings that probably cost as much as quite a nice car. He rested his hands on Tony's hips, and his forehead against the back of Tony's neck, and breathed in the scent of him and thought about nothing, until Tony turned his head for a kiss. "I need a haircut," said Tony idly.

"You'd look pretty with long hair," said Steve, and Tony frowned at him.

"I won't -" he paused. Then he sighed. "Really, I need it short for the suit." He took out the earrings, laid them down in a sparkling heap. "Steve, I'm going to turn back into a man." Steve didn't respond. "Steve?"

"I know." Steve kissed the back of his neck. "I wish you wouldn't."

"Yeah. Well." There was a pause. "This body doesn't have a brain tumour," he said finally, his voice bitter, and Steve wrapped his arms round Tony's waist, held him tight.

Tony turned back after twenty-seven days. He got his hair cut straight away, but for some reason the little holes in his ears remained. Steve didn't ask if the brain tumour was back. Tony looked at him as if they were barely friends, same as he always did in public.

IV

Steve stayed away for six days, and then he stopped by. Tony was drunk, and there was a blonde asleep in the hot tub. He fished her out and put her on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and then he took Tony up to one of the spare bedrooms. They groped clumsily, even kissing strange and awkward. Tony sucked cock as expertly as ever, and Steve could ignore the prickle of facial hair against his skin, but when he closed a hand around Tony's erection, he froze up. Tony didn't seem particularly surprised. He watched Steve from under his eyelashes with the owlish patience of the very drunk.

"I want to," said Steve, miserably. Tony sighed.

"I want you to," he said. He didn't sound very happy. He pushed Steve over on to his back, straddled him, and Steve's hands went automatically to his hips; it was completely different. Tony kissed him, sloppy, and rubbed against his belly; Steve kissed him back and tried not to think about it. He wished he were as drunk as Tony.

When Tony finally came, it was almost all right; he made the same noises, and when Steve nuzzled into the curve of his neck, he smelled nearly right. But no matter how they arranged themselves afterwards, Steve couldn't settle, couldn't find anywhere to put his hands. Finally Tony rolled onto his belly, face in his folded arms, and Steve curled up around him, arm around his waist, mouth at the nape of his neck.

"It'll get better," Steve promised, softly, and Tony sighed.

"Sure."

"It'll get better. I'll do better," Steve insisted, and Tony nodded.

"Sure," he said again, and Steve fell silent.