jmtorres | That time a plot device turned Steve into a woman

The full version of this story, the Morganstern, exists in some ideal Platonic state, but I will never get around to writing it all down, so I will be scribbling, as time permits and as they occur to me, the Goldman, that is to say, the good parts version.

Premise: a plot device has turned Steve into a woman.

"Have you seen the paper yet?" Jan asked him when he came down for breakfast.

She had an actual, physical paper rolled up under her arm, and she was standing nervously, flanked by Natasha and Pepper, so Steve assumed she meant had he seen the news, bad news of some kind that they couldn't superhero their way out of. Since he didn't check the headlines on google while brushing his teeth like Tony, Steve said, cautiously, "No."

"Okay," Jan said, "we're just gonna do this quick, like tearing a bandaid off. Don't kill anybody."

She shook out the paper, and Steve saw red.

BLONDE BOMBSHELL JOINS AVENGERS? read the headline. Most of the page was taken by a blown-up photo of Steve talking to Tony, who had most of his suit on but his helmet off, so you could see his flirtatious grin. Steve looked annoyed, as he assumed he usually did at Tony's passes. He was out of his usual uniform, wearing a SHIELD standard women's uniform (size extra tall) not unlike Natasha's: while it felt immodestly tight all over, somehow didn't compress his new breasts like his own had, making it difficult to breathe. So it wasn't that surprising that the paper hadn't recognized him as Captain America. But--blonde bombshell?!

Steve took a steadying breath. He didn't feel any less pissed off. "Are you sure I can't kill anyone?"

"I vote we let him," said Natasha. "It sure would have made me feel better when everyone was speculating which of the guys I was banging, if they didn't think I was just team slut."

"Steve," Pepper said, tapping on the device she used that was part phone, part computer. "Just for context's sake, can I remind you--" and holograms of last year's papers and magazines, from when Steve had just come back, popped up in the air. GRADE-A AMERICAN BEEF, said the most egregious, over a shot of him on his morning run through Central Park, in a white undershirt and shiny black jogging shorts that Tony had assured him were fine and his own observation of other joggers had indicated weren't uncommon. Time had done an actual shoot with him instead of stalking him doing his daily routine, but they'd talked him into posing topless with a barbell. Their title was inoffensive at least: MAN OF YESTERYEAR. Another had a shot of him in full uniform, rescuing a girl from a burning building, but with the headline HUNK-A HUNK-A BURNIN' LOVE. Steve remembered being mostly confused by that one until someone had played him the song.

"It's not the same," Steve blurted out, because in some unquantifiable way, it wasn't. He'd always felt like people were impressed by him, or proud of him, or something. Not just--thinking 100% about sex. Blonde bombshell. God.

"No, it's not," Pepper conceded, tapping once more so all the images went away.

"We've all been through this," Jan said comfortingly, folding the paper.

"It's not even like I was--" Steve cut himself off. He wanted to say wearing a skirt or make-up but Pepper and Jan were both in skirts and they all had make-up and none of them were, were, he couldn't even come up with the words. Even if there were times when a woman might want people to notice her that way, he didn't think bombshell was ever a respectful thing to call her. And he hadn't dressed up at all. He'd even had the zipper all the way up to his neck, not that he'd ever say that in front of Natasha unless he wanted to die. "I don't--gah. At least--at least they didn't say I was a--a--girlfriend of Tony's?"

"Um," said Pepper.

Natasha flipped over the Lifestyle section of the Times from beside her cereal bowl and held it out to him. Towards the bottom was an article entitled Avengers Mixing Business With Pleasure? across two columns and a smaller version of the same picture.

The paper ripped. Steve realized he was clenching his fists a little hard. "Please," he said, "tell me who to kill."

"No confirmation yet," Pepper said, "but it's looking like it might have been Tony."