steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve

anonymous asked:

Hello can you write a stony for 84 or 79? Preferably with a crossdressing tony?

You bet, Nonny! It’s October, so I hope you don’t mind that I turned this into a Halloween party fic. I hope you enjoy!!!! <3

This one was way fun to write!

‘Verse- AVAC


79. You’ll be the death of me.

Despite knowing what he’s about to witness, Steve still finds himself shocked when he finally wanders up to Tony’s room, looking for him and knowing damn well he’s hiding in the closet and is refusing to come out. They’re supposed to be at the party already and Tony, suddenly seriously questioning their couples costume and throwing a temper tantrum about it. The sight… makes Steve’s mouth go dry.

Originally, when Jan made the joke and Tony’s eyes got all big and excited, Steve thought this idea was perfect. Between Tony’s enthusiasm, Steve’s love of 1940′s cinema, and the shock factor he assumed they’d be a shoo-in for best couples costume. But now, seeing the finished product for the first time, he’s doubting his decision making skills. They might win best costume but it’s going to take amounts of self control Steve’s not sure he has to keep his hands off Tony all night. Ginger and Fred. What the fuck were they thinking?

Tony’s leaning against the wall, his eyes shut and the line of his throat a welcome distraction from the rest of him. Steve’s eyes can’t stop wandering over his body and he has to physically restrain himself from closing the distance between them and making damn sure they miss the rest of the party. There’s something about the way Tony’s body curves in the black silk dress he’s wearing that Steve can’t get over; the whole effect is intoxicating. It takes a herculean effort to stay by the door. Steve clears his throat and Tony opens his eyes but doesn’t move away from the wall.

“Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve,” Tony whines, squeezing his eyes shut again, “I don’t wanna! This dress is tight and I hate wearing these stupid stockings and the heels hurt!”

“Too bad,” Steve says, his voice gruff and low, “we promised Natasha and Bucky that we’d be there. There’s no backing out now. Come on,” he gestures for Tony to get moving, “we’re late.”

Tony shrugs away from the wall and sashays over to Steve. “These heels are going to kill me. And I blame you.” He pokes Steve in the chest by way of hello.

“Blame Jan,” Steve says as he wraps his arms around Tony’s waist. He leans in as Tony tips his chin just right and soon Steve’s lost the ability to breathe and the room’s become far too warm.

He pulls away, knowing they’re going to be lucky if Natasha doesn’t flay them alive the second they walk through the door–they’re hopelessly past ‘fashionably late’. “You’ll be the death of me,” he says, smiling at Tony. He kisses him quickly on the nose before dropping his arms and grabbing Tony by the wrist, determined to pull him out of the closet by force if he has to.

“Fine,” Tony caves, smiling back at Steve, “but I expect there to be dancing, and booze, and and you better treat me like a real lady.”

Steve manages to treat Tony like a real lady for just shy of twenty minutes after they make it to the party. By minute nineteen he’s so worked up he can’t stand it and he pulls Tony into the nearest dark corner and accidentally rips the dress. Tony doesn’t seem to mind much.