NOTES: another fic in the '30 Days of OTP' challenge - Steve/Maria, genderswapped. This series has kind of halted, I'm afraid, so it may not continue for some time, or possibly not at all. I'm sorry!
Discretionary Trust
One year and one day after the Avengers first gather together to save the world, Maria Hill wakes up in bed with a woman – gorgeous, blonde, built. It's not the first time she's done so, but it's the first time she does when she didn't go to bed with a woman the night before.
An arm comes around her waist and a breast presses into her shoulder, and she tenses. So does the woman. "Wh—?"
"What the hell?" Her voice sounds weird, throaty, and her eyes open wide as she stares at the ceiling of Steve's bedroom in the tower. Then she's pulling away, kicking off the sheets and reaching for the gun by the bedside drawer, but her body feels weird and heavy, and her feet hit the ground before she expects them to, throwing her off as she tries to spin—
Everything's unbalanced. She crashes against the windows which unshade in response to movement in the room. Tries to straighten up, but keeps straightening up a split second after she should stop.
Something flops against her thigh, but Maria's trained response to suspicion has kicked in.
There's a woman in the bed. In Steve's bed. Dirty blonde. Pretty in a strong-faced kind of way. Staring down at her own tits like she's never seen them before. And Maria lifts the gun and— "Who the—?"
She stops.
Her voice is low. Lower. Deeper. Male.
The woman looks up at her, eyes narrowing. "Mari—?" Her hand goes to her throat. Then she looks down at her breasts again. Horror dawns in blue eyes. "Maria?"
"Who are you?"
"Maria." The woman holds up her hands. "It's Steve. I'm Steve."
With a growing sense of horror, Maria looks down.
Yeah, that's a penis down there. Between the legs that appear to be attached to her body. Which is apparently her body because her head is attached to it and she's looking out of her eyes and—
She reaches one shaking hand down and—Yep. It's definitely attached to her.
Sweet Jesus, mother Mary, and all the saints in the circle of Heaven.
It's not just her and Steve.
The rest of the Avengers, Pepper Potts, and Jane Foster have all changed from women to men, or men to women. The exception is Bucky Barnes.
The results are, in a word, interesting.
"I didn't think you could get any prettier," Stark sneers at Steve, a drink in his – her? – hand. "Guess I was wrong."
Steve doesn't quite flinch, but the look he shoots Stark seems rather more pointed than usual. Maybe it's just the expression on a female face – strong bones, classic beauty. And the comment Stark made was distinctly catty – all he needs is a set of long scarlet nails and he'd fit The Vixen archetype in any soap opera ever written.
"You can't talk, Tony," says Pepper Potts, tall and raw-boned and yet somehow still managing to look utterly elegant in a red dressing gown that nobody is going to ask about. She's sitting on the couch with Banner, who looks like a placid woman in her forties, slightly stocky, and quite harmless in tracksuit and t-shirt.
She-Hulk, on the other hand, is very much not harmless, as Banner's wrecked quarters attest.
Thor looks like a Valkryie. Doc Foster looks like a stereotypical male geek. And Clint and Natasha look...kind of the same. Only with a lot more curves on Clint and a lot less on Natasha.
Ultimately, however, Maria's less concerned about what everyone looks like, and more concerned with how this all has come about.
Worst of all is the prospect of explaining this to Fury.
"Had a fun morning, Lieutenant?"
"It's been flowers, tea and toast, Director," Maria answers yet another situation passphrase-response question in the middle of an interrogation that would put the Spanish Inquisition to shame. So far, she's cited her duress passphrases, referred to two missions to which only she and Fury have the details, and is thoroughly tired of the questioning.
Yes, she's in a man's body, but surely between the video link to the 'new' Avengers and what she's already provided, Fury can believe that she is who she says she is, even if she's in an entirely new body.
"Did you wish to continue the conversation this way, sir, or am I going to have to contact Monica Chang?"
Maria doesn't bother to keep the bite out of her voice. Yes, she's thirty years Fury's junior, but she didn't make Fury's deputy by being meek or a pushover. She's given him enough rope, now it's his turn to show some trust.
The mention of Chang gets his attention, though.
"So you're telling me that this has hit everyone in Avengers Tower?"
Maria hopes that she's managing to keep her face cool and blank as she faces the screen. It doesn't feel like her face – not quite – and it's very discomforting. The sensation of being in the wrong skin is like an itch all over her body.
It's hardly a relief to know that everyone else in the Tower has been struck by the same…malady. After all, there's the question of what she was doing in the Tower in the first place.
And, no, 'screwing Steve Rogers' would not be considered not an acceptable answer.
"With the exception of Bucky Barnes, sir."
"Well," Fury says after a moment, "this is bad timing, Lieutenant."
It's a choice between going into hysterics or setting snark to max. Maria chooses snark; hysterics would be worse. "There's such a thing as good timing for being turned into a man, sir?"
"Well, there's better days, and then there's the day that Wade Wilson wants to see you, Lieutenant."
Maria closes her eyes. Shit.
They're nearly an hour west of New York, sitting in a not-so-comfortable silence when Bucky comes to lean in the cockpit door. "So, Lieutenant, what's the detail on Wilson?"
Maria would much rather have made this trip solo, but Fury insisted she take backup when facing Wade Wilson, and to keep the complete truth of what's happened at Avengers Tower in the family – so to speak – she agreed to take Bucky.
Steve more or less invited himself along, and Maria's not sure if it more to avoid any more bitchy comments from Stark or because he thinks she needs backup. Extra backup.
Maria recognises that Steve needs something to do. The issues she and the others are experiencing at being in the 'wrong' body for their mental mindset have been minimalised in him. She suspects it's partly because he's been through this before when he first took the serum; but she also thinks it's partly because the serum itself makes him a fast learner.
And she doesn't need backup to deal with Wade Wilson.
That doesn't mean it's not welcome in its own way.
"A description of Wade Wilson in one word? Asshole."
Bucky snorts, more amused than offended. "And in two words?"
"Mutant asshole. He's more or less a mercenary and all-around troublemaker."
Steve shifts in the co-pilot's chair which he's been occupying. "Generally, or for you, specifically?"
"Generally and specifically."
She doesn't have to take her eyes away from the windscreen to know that Bucky and Steve are exchanging one of the wordless looks they do that speak of their shared history as eloquently as watching Bucky and Natasha work together shows the shared history of the Winter Soldier and the Black Widow.
"Do you have a history?" Steve asks after a moment.
"Not that way," Maria replies. There's a little ball of hot anger under her breastbone at his question which she keeps hidden. She doesn't have a history with every man she's ever encountered before he was defrosted. "Wilson has his obsessions, of which yanking my chain is one."
"You give him a reaction?"
"No," she says. "I don't. But that's part of the attraction for him."
Dealing with Wade Wilson is rather like dealing with Loki, only with less illusions.
"Sweet fucking Jesus, you guys are just getting prettier by the day," is his greeting when they reach the meeting point. "I'm waiting for the day there's a S.H.I.E.L.D. pin-up calendar. I've always wanted to nail Agent Hill up against my wall." The red and black mask he wears conceals his expression, but the leer is clear enough.
Maria's neck crawls, but Steve's already stepping forward, his temper up. She puts up a hand to stop him and finds her hand full of breast.
"Wow," Wilson laughs as she jerks her hand back. "You guys have really loosened up the procedures on sexual harassment!"
"Wilson," she says, her patience at an end, "you wanted S.H.I.E.L.D, you got S.H.I.E.L.D. What the fuck is going on?"
He tilts his head, studying her. Of course, he doesn't know that the person he's studying is a 'her' – what he sees is a lean man, dark-haired, sharp-boned, with grim blue eyes. "I don't believe I know you. And I asked Fury quite specifically for Agent Hill."
"Agent Hill is otherwise occupied. You're stuck dealing with me. Stop dicking around and get to the point."
Wilson is quiet. Too quiet. Then his cheeks shift beneath the mask and his chin lifts. "Well," he says in tones of abject glee. "Well, well, well, well, well…"
In the next moment her back is up against the wall and she can't quite get her balance right. He took her by surprise, even though she was watching for the leap. His hand is hard against her throat, his hips grinding into hers – balls to balls – and her body reacts to the pressure, to the sensation of being pinned.
Fear and disgust dig hard claws into her gut, but Maria's not helpless. Her gun is in her hand, shoving into his ribs in warning.
It's a useless threat – Wilson isn't like other men, to fear for his life – but that doesn't mean she's not going to shoot him if she has to.
Then Steve's there – slighter and lighter than he was, but still powerful with the strength that the serum gave him – a female supersoldier. Dragging Wilson away, twisting his arm behind his back and shoving him down to the ground. "Get off her!"
And Wilson's laughing even as his face is shoved into the chewed-up bitumen of the street. Laughing like a maniac – which he is – and giving no resistance at all. Given his skill-set, Maria's not sure that even Steve as a guy could hold him if Wilson was really fighting back.
Maria shoves herself off the wall and fires a bullet into the ground by Wilson's nose, not caring at the bitumen chips that spatter like paint drops. The noise echoes against the walls, and Steve looks up at her in a moment of blinking surprise. "I know you regenerate, Wade," she tells Wilson coolly. "But this will hurt like fuck before you're whole again."
She doesn't need to see his expression, the smirk is in his voice. "Promise, Lieutenant?"
She's not surprised he's worked it out, but she's not in a mood to play games. "Why. Did. You. Call. Us. Here?"
The dark haired, blue eyed woman undulates in her seat, the cuffs sealing her wrists in. In Maria's opinion, they should have gagged her.
'Undulates' is the only word for it – this sinuous writhe of the body that catches the eye. Exactly where Loki Odinsson – presently Loki Odinsdaughter – learned that move is a terrifying thought and Maria is not thinking it.
From the way both Steve and Barnes are staring, it's very effective on the male psyche.
"I don't suppose I could persuade you to take the cuffs off?"
Maria is unmoved. Even in this body, her mind is still female, and the hard, cold facts of Loki remain: he's a dangerous mind in a pretty package – no matter his sex or gender. "Why don't you tell us what you did, and we'll discuss the matter of cuffs further?"
Loki shakes his head and looks at Steve, grinning. "I would have thought Captain America here demonstrates exactly what I did, very well. Looking good, sweetcheeks."
Bucky growls. "Is this a game to you?"
"Another of my brother's new best friends, I take it? Or should I say, my sister's best friends? A pity he missed out – although you..." Mischief and malice gleam in Loki's eyes as he turns to look at Maria. "You intrigue me, my dear. You're not the redheaded slut—Ooh!" He laughs as Bucky takes a threatening step towards him. Maria holds up a finger and he stops, but she has a feeling Bucky won't hold back if Loki slurs on Natasha again. "Testy, isn't he?"
"He has his reasons," Maria says. "And who I am doesn't concern you. What you've done, however, concerns me."
"Ahhh, and now I remember you – the persistent shooter." Loki sits up straight, and the movement puts Maria in mind of a snake rearing to strike – all the more as he smirks. "I should have turned you on the way out, Lieutenant. You'd have screamed yourself hoarse with my men – and loved every moment of it."
It turns her stomach, but that's Loki's goal. Maria shoves the clutch of horror away, only to catch movement in the corner of her eye.
"Steve!"
Loki is laughing as he sprawls on the floor. He didn't try to stop the blow – didn't even flinch from it. He wanted a reaction, and he got one.
"You don't talk to her like that," Steve is saying. "She's worth a thousand of you." His gaze meets Maria's and she bites back both the reprimand and thanks she wants to give him.
"So very touching," Loki says, still laughing. "I knew I'd get the redhead and my brother's cunt, but you're an unexpected catch, Lieutenant."
And Maria goes cold all over as understanding dawns.
"What does he mean?"
Both Bucky and Steve are looking at her, having missed the connections. She manages to find her tongue.
"He set the spell – it's probably a spell – to cue to the Avengers." Maria folds her hands on the table – too large, too long-fingered, too male. "Most likely linked into the physical essence of the Avengers he knew since he wanted to catch Dr. Foster in it as well, and her relationship with Thor is well-established."
"What does her relationship—?" Bucky stops and looks away.
Steve doesn't, dawning understanding and guilt.
A celebratory day - and a celebratory night, too.
Back in her own body after two days and two nights as a man thanks to the research skills of Darcy Lewis, Maria stands in Fury's office and feels like a green recruit beneath the dark and uncompromising gaze.
S.H.I.E.L.D. has no hard-and-fast rules about fraternisation on the job. Unlike the armed forces, S.H.I.E.L.D recognises that sometimes the people you fight beside are going to be the people you want to fuck, and is willing to work it on a case-by-case basis.
The two core rules are don't fuck it up and be discreet.
But when one of the parties is Fury's right hand woman and the other party is Captain America of the Avengers, it's a big deal and the leeway for fucking up is measured in fractions of an inch.
Fury sits down in his chair and folds his hands over his chest. "I'm not going to ask how long it's been going on, I don't want to know. I'm not going to ask what you were thinking, because it's pretty clear you weren't. Your best points are that you've been discreet enough that the only person I can find who knew for certain was Thorpe, and that's explicable given your history together."
Maria holds on hard to her composure, although it's a hard battle. She made Lieutenant on the intelligence to see the path, the will to carry out what needed to be done, the strength to hold fast to her course of action when it was the best path and the flexibility to change direction if it turned out to be a false trail.
If she loses this...
Steve already asked if she was willing to fight for them – or if she was going to walk away from him again.
If they kick me out, she said, you might not like me much.
You mean you won't like me much.
She made no promises – it wasn't in her to promise what she wasn't sure she'd keep. We'll talk, was all she could promise him. Afterwards, we'll talk.
"There's that...regrettable incident in Vegas," Fury continues. "Which we wrote off due to the Asgardian alcohol and the fact that we had an Asgardian crisis brewing between Thor and Sif. However, we've got less wiggle-room on this situation."
"The incident was kept above Level 9 Classification."
Fury's eyes narrow. "I take it you don't intend to give him up."
"I thinks it's more that he doesn't intend to give me up, sir."
The old man sighs – a deep, gusty sigh of the kind that usually precedes the disclaimer that he's getting to old for this kind of shit. "I want us clear, Lieutenant. This is not approval. I will turn a blind eye – in addition to the one I already have – to your affair. Because you're a damned good agent, and because so far as I know, you've kept your head in the game and out of Rogers' pants."
She doesn't smile. It's not a moment for smiling and she doesn't want to seem inappropriate in front of the man whom nobody would think the worse of for firing her for her relationship with Steve.
"I'll take that as a compliment, sir."
"You should, because the next part isn't so pleasant." He steepled his hands in front of his body. "You're fucking Captain America, Lieutenant. Of all the men in all the superhero teams in the world, it had to be him. If that becomes public, then I will have to do something about it. And by 'do something about it' I mean 'fire your ass' because I unfortunately can't fire Rogers' ass."
Relief holds a tension all its own – one that she can't show. "So be discreet?"
"Since it seems the two of you aren't going to be sensible and end this thing, yes, be discreet. And by discreet I mean nobody else is to know. No kisses in public places, no No witnesses. No gossip. No paparazzi. No knowing looks from Barton, Romanoff, or anyone associated with the Avengers. If Ms. Lewis blows off her mouth in a public space, then that's too bad. If Stark makes a joke of you, then it's on your own head. Do you comprehend me?"
"I comprehend you perfectly, sir."
"Good." Fury climbs to his feet and goes to the door. Maria rises, thinking they're done and she got off relatively lightly, relieved that it's over and she can just get on with her job and the work that built up in the two days of her absence from work. So Fury's lifted finger surprises her. "Not you, Lieutenant. You have a meeting scheduled."
And he pulls open the door to the expressionless faces of Jasper Sitwell, Jerry Stone, Sharon Carter...and Phil Coulson.
They file into the room and Fury walks out, closing the door behind him.
Given the knife's edge that she's walking, it's probably unwise to let Steve stay the night. But if Maria has to behave in public, she sure as hell is going to push the limits in private. And after the grilling she got from her fellow agents in S.H.I.E.L.D, she needs this.
Much as she hates to admit it, she needs him.
"Are we good?" His eyes cling to her face as he draws her into his lap, her thighs straddling him, her fingers stroking down his pecs.
"Yes," she murmurs over his lips. "We'll be good."
fin