This was written by me and my best friend. It is a ridiculous story written for fun only. No money is made off of this, and, of course I do not own the Marvel characters, Or Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Rated M for Sex, language, rude humor, Tony's ego and vanity, and Thor's near- constant nudity.

Chapter 1:

"I can't believe you talked me into doing this," Steve groused, pulling at his collar. Peggy had insisted he wear a dress shirt, "as was befitting of his role as Brad," despite being clad in jeans and a sweater herself.

"Relax," she replied, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. "They're all lovely people. Completely insane, but still lovely."

"That doesn't help," said Steve wryly, smiling back at her. Peggy grinned back, ruffling his hair as they walked backstage. They were met by a hassled-looking older man, looked at Peggy questioningly.

"Is this him?" he asked Peggy, pointing at the shorter man. When she nodded, he extended his hand, smiling.
"Phil Coulson; I'm directing."

Steve took his hand and shook it. "Steve Rogers," he replied. "glad to meet you."

"Likewise. Have you acted before?"

"A little, yeah." Steve glanced at his shoes, then back up. "I was Riff-Raff last time, though."

Phil's eyebrows rose. The kid in front of him couldn't be more than 5'4", and looked like a strong wind could blow him over. But Peggy had assured him Steve was a great actor with a beautiful singing voice, as well as a fast learner, so Phil had little choice but to accept his help.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "obviously, everybody knows their blocking and such already, but I'm sure they'd be willing to practice extra with a new guy-"

A head popped out from behind the curtain. "New guy?"

Another head appeared, elbowing the first out of the way, wearing a ridiculous short red wig. "Who's the shrimp?" The owner of the first head poked him in the stomach in retaliation, setting off a poking match.

"He's not a shrimp," came a voice from the left, as a woman dressed in Magenta's trademark maid outfit sauntered backstage. "That's Steve, right?" The woman quirked a smile, sticking out her hand. "I'm Natasha," she said, "And those two idiots are Clint and Tony." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the two men, who had frozen at the sight of her.

"Don't tell Pepper," Tony muttered.

"Sorry, babe," Clint offered. "He started it."

Tony stiffened at the accusation, about to reply, but quickly thought the better of it after a withering glare from Natasha.

"Natasha is the reason that the Cold War ended," said Peggy in a stage whisper to Steve, who chuckled. He definitely did not want to get on her bad side, if the recent display was anything to go off of. Then, the speakers outside crackled to life.
"All right, if everybody's done goofing off, I thought we might start to actually rehearse," Phil said drily over the mike. "Steve, you know how this works, just try and go with the flow, all right?"

"No problem," he called back. "I've been helping Peg with her practice, so I think I'll manage."

"Great," came a new voice. "I'm sick of teaching you bumbling morons how to dance." Steve could feel the eye-roll, even if he couldn't see it.

"Rhodey, we're fabulous and you know it!" Yelled Tony. "You're just jealous of how attractive I am" he gestured seductively to his legs.

Onstage, a man in an eyepatch rolled a large chair into the center, then plopped down wearily.

Nick Fury leaned back in the ornate leather chair, sighing heavily.

"Do we really have to do this? I look like a motherfucking librarian!"

Phil sighed and picked up the megaphone.

"Look. You tried out, you got a part. Quit whining."

"I thought this was Les Mis! Not some ridiculous sexcapade of a musical!"

"You were the best for the part of the Criminologist. Now please take this seriously, Mr. Fury."

"This is absolute bullshit!" Fury made to leave but was pushed back on stage by Thor.

"Fury, we must do this performance! …. I have worked so hard to get my lines perfect!"

"What lines?" growled back Nick. "You just prance around, flexing in a gold speedo!"

"I do not like your attitude. You know I spend hours making myself look perfect for the lights."

"You know you don't have to oil your entire body, Lord Thor." Clint said, sniggering.

"C'mon, Fury," Smirked Tony. "It'll be fun."

"Jesus, Stark! You just want to show off your boobs in front of an audience!"

"They're good, aren't they? Not even Nat has a rack like this!"

Seemingly out of nowhere, a shoe flew through the air and nailed Tony in the back of the head. Natasha storms out and grabs her shoe, making sure to clobber him with it a few more times.

"They're obviously fake," Nick continued. "You've done better drag drunk."

"Do I look like I care?" Smirked Tony, rubbing the back of his head. "I still look great! I mean look at the way my legs look in these tights! And I should tell Pepper to get me more of these corset things. I've been missing out!"

"Alright all of you, start scene one or I will come down there and make you scream like the girls you know you are!"

Maria's irate voice sounded through the speakers, making them all wince.

"That's Maria," said Peggy to Steve. "She's nicer than she sounds. Here she comes now," she added, as a woman stalked down the stairs. Despite being dressed in fishnets and a corset, she managed, against all odds, to look completely professional.

"Alright! Let's take it from the top! Places everyone!" Phil said, settling down in the directors chair.

Fury groaned in relief and walked off stage.

"Steve and Peggy! Please get in your places!"

"Don't worry, Stevie. You will do splendidly!" Peggy said, fussing with the collar of his shirt.

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"ROGERS! CARTER! You missed your cue!"

"Shit! Come on Steve!" Peggy whispered, shoving him on stage.

Hope you all liked it! Me and Hattie would love reviews. If you want to see her work, here is her account: /users/TheHatMeister/pseuds/TheHatMeister