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Did someone ask for Entire Team Is Ladies? (62)

1 .

Another request fill that threatened to take multiple chapters-- or rather, multiple vignettes. Starting with Fem!Engie, since I started sketching out a comic based around some of the idea for this ficlet.

I have a weakness for genderbends-- specifically, for the same characters but female. So have two teams full of girly action (and later, probably will incorporate the request for the guys finding themselves in an alternate universe with their female counterparts, facing condescension and misandry as a norm):

~~~A Woman's Work~~~

Della Conagher solved practical problems.

Right now, her biggest problem was how impractical her entire team seemed to be.

John, for starters. Now, the Soldier was good at what she did, and a lovely lady besides, but she was absolutely not the person you wanted shouting in your ear while you tried to solder things.

"Dagnabbit," She set her iron down on its sponge and tore her welding gloves off. "Get to the point or get going, 'cause I can't work with you here."

The Soldier freezes, before carefully wiping the pout from her face. "Battle plans."

"What about them?"

"WE HAVEN'T GOT ANY, BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE DON'T COME TO THE MEETINGS!"

"What meetings?"

"Nobody, actually. Nobody comes to the meetings. I put announcements up on the bulletin board!"

She's pretty sure John hasn't actually got the authority to call meetings. Suggest them, sure. Anybody on the team could do that, but if nobody wants to go... it's not as if they have any orders from on high to hold meetings.

"It's not a bad idea." She soothes. "Maybe nobody saw your announcement. Later on, we'll go tell the others we're gonna have a meeting. Maybe if they think it'll be nice and democratic--"

"Exactly!"

"Instead of you just shouting at 'em, they'll be happier to come."

John frowns. To her mind, a nice democratic meeting didn't mean she couldn't shout at the rest of the team... Even in a democracy, somebody had to be in charge, and who better than the loudest?

The Scout comes skidding into the workshop even as John leaves.

"Yo, Engie!" She hops up onto the bench, upsetting the soldering iron.

"Please tell me this is important. Barring that, at least promise me it's something I can fix."

"Sure hope so, pally." She tucks her feet up under herself.

"Honestly, sugar, I hope your daddy raised you better than that. Feet down off the workbench, if'n you please." Della taps the girl's foot gently with her wrench.

"My dad raised me just awesome. Anyway, my headset's busted." She tears it off and tosses it down. "Can you fix it?"

"I'll get it back to you in the morning. Shouldn't be too hard. Sooner you let me finish my work, sooner I can get it done..." She hints broadly.

The Scout was never one to take a hint. She tugs at her hair and looks for a place where she can sit without catching a scolding. "So what do you think you're gonna do when we win this war for good?"

The war was never designed to be won 'for good'. That's one practical problem there hasn't been any working around. Everything BLU has, RED has, womanpower, weaponry, technology... She can't seem to outpace RED's engineer when it comes to innovation, and it's the same for the Medics.

"I don't know." She sighs, righting her soldering iron and checking her blueprints again. "Find me a nice fella to settle down with, I guess. Have a couple kids to keep him busy while I'm teaching science."

"Oh man, you couldn't get me to settle down, no way. When this war's over? I'm gonna play ball! Nobody out there can run faster or hit harder than me, not even that bitch Donna from up the block who always thought she was so hot."

"That's not a very nice thing to call someone."

"Well, good, 'cause Donna ain't a nice... anything. She uses a wooden bat, can you believe that? And she acts like it makes her better than me? And she's got sisters, too, and those girls was always hellcats, I remember me and my sisters would always start out playing ball with 'em and wind up fighting. Donna pulls hair, that ain't no way for a lady to fight, right?"

"Guess not." Della sighs.

"I'll show her, though. When I get back, I'm playing for the Sox, and she can watch me get all the boys. They'll pretty much be falling all over themselves to get with me once I'm a pro athlete, ya know?"

"If you want your headset tomorrow morning, you have to leave and let me fix it."

"Sure, fine, whatever." Scout shrugs, wandering out of the workshop.

"I mean, bless her heart and all..." Della sighs again, shaking her head. She doesn't get much time to relax, or the chance to get any work done, however, before the Spy is swanning into the workshop in theatrical histrionics. "Oh, what is it now?"

"I am in misery!" The Spy announces, swooning across the workbench. "Pining! Wasting away over a love that cannot be!"

Well, histrionics aside, it couldn't hurt to be a sympathetic ear... "Aw, missing your fella back home?"

"'Fella'?" The Spy sits, her gaze withering as she produces her cigarette holder and a pink Sobranie Pastel. "I am afraid not."

"Mm-hm." Della's eyes stray towards her blueprints again. At least the Scout had brought her something she could work with... why anyone thought she would be a good sounding board for personal problems, she has no idea.

"A woman." Spy coughs. "I like women."

For a moment, Della lets that tidbit marinate. She tries putting the words in every conceivable order, but they still don't make any sense. "How? Why? What? What do you even do with another lady?"

"Oh, the answer might shock you." The Spy rolls her eyes, smirking. "So much... the possibilities are varied and wonderful."

"But-- There's no-- They just have-- I mean, it's all the same... same plumbing you've got, and-- I mean... I mean, there's things you need a man for!"

"I have never needed one. I would think someone as... resourceful with mechanics as you would know a man is hardly necessary."

"That's not what I meant. I mean there's other things you need a fella for. Having babies, you can't do that with another lady!"

"I hardly want an infant ruining my life. I do not see the appeal. I am not trying to convince you to change your own proclivities, I am merely explaining to you, since you asked, what it is I see in women. What I see in her... I dream of the sweet flower that is her--"

"Whoa now!"

"... Love."

"So why tell me all this?" Della crosses her arms uncomfortably.

"I had to tell someone. It was threatening to burst out of me. You struck me as someone trustworthy, inasmuch as I trust anyone. In return, you may unburden yourself to me, if you like. You can... talk about some 'fella'."

"No need to sound all scornful about it. Anyway, I haven't got one in particular. Wouldn't mind settling down with one someday. Be nice having someone to do the cooking and the cleaning..."

The Spy sneers. "Men cannot cook."

"Sister, cooking's one of about three things menfolk are good for."

"Really? How many men are chefs in four-star restaurants? I suppose a man can take care of feeding your children, if that is the sort of life you want, but cooking, like most worthwhile things, I would have to consider the sphere of women."

"I'm not looking to settle down with a four-star chef, I just want a husband someday. Imagine you want... well..."

"A wife. Perhaps, eventualment. I do not think so far ahead. And besides..."

"Let me guess, she doesn't know you exist?"

"Oh, she knows I exist..." The Spy gazes off dreamily. "But, she has no love for me. My own fault, I suppose. I am not the kind of woman one dreams of settling down with."

Della just bites her tongue. She'd bet her bottom dollar the poor gal in question dreams of settling down with a man, anyway, but starting an argument is only going to keep the Spy there longer.

"Thank you." The Spy goes to the door.

"What for?"

"For allowing me to pretend that I had a friend, just for a little while... I have none, you see, so... who can I talk to, about these things?"

"Aw, heck... Look, we're... friends, sort of. Long as we're on the same team, right?" She holds a hand out.

After staring at it for a long time, the Spy accepts, and shakes her hand warmly.

"By the way, wasn't nice breaking the girl's headset."

"But it feeds into the PA system. I could not keep listening to her!"

"Well every time you do it, I gotta fix it, so quit it." Della opens the door and gives the Spy a little push through. "And if Soldier asks you about having strategy meetings, just say yes, and if you have to, you can ignore her then. And if you see anyone else coming this way..."

"I will tell them you are not in. Perhaps they can find you in your quarters, or in some common area." She smiles.

Miracle of miracles, it works.

With no further disturbances, Della can finally get her work done.

2 .

ALERT TO THE GENERAL FUCKING PUBLIC.

THIS IS HOW YOU WRITE TF2 GENDERBENDS.

Absolutely spectacular from start to finish. Insanely impressed with the characterizations of all of the classes -- different in ways that complement the switched genders, but not in ways that turn them into OCs. The diction in the story wouldn't make sense if they were males; the genderbending is crucial to the success of this fic, which is ex-fucking-actly how genderbends are supposed to work.

b r i l l i a n t.

3 .

I love this already.

4 .

I love the reverse sexism. Good job!

5 .

First of all, I'm so insanely happy that you decided to run with this prompt, Anne! I love it, of course. It is exactly what I was looking for and I'm very eager to see what happens, especially once you get the universal crossover going. I absolutely loved the bit about Soldier and the meetings as well as Engie wondering why people kept coming to her for personal advice. I expect most of the lesbian sex (or at least insinuation of, if it doesn't end up as explicit) will be between cross-faction Sniper and Spy but I'd giggle with utter glee if you do anything regarding cross-faction Demo and Soldier.

Second, since I'm an utter whore for criticism (no lie) I would love it if Anne, Drillbot, and anyone else who drops in, if they have a moment and love the canon gender-bends, would mind skipping on over to my WIP in Workshop and giving me some constructive crit?

Warning: the image I included with it isn't exactly work safe and the story, what I have of it so far, has some squick. I've gotten some good suggestions for how to improve it, from a few other folks here, and I think it's congealing into something better but I definitely need more help. I haven't started reworking it yet because I am still slogging away at two Tavish POV fics (one semi-fluff and the other PWP.)

http://tf2chan.net/workshop/res/2823.html

If you have nothing to suggest, that's fine, but I'm desperate for help because I love the idea and I want to make it good. D:

6 .

pretty much everything >>2 said

This is exactly everything I wanted when I requested Entire Team Is Ladies

Perfection.

7 .

I'm enjoying this (especially the overwrought fem!spy; it's something I could just about see the canon spy doing).
I have a minor criticism that I'm afraid of wording incorrectly, though: I do think that, overall, characterization and description was a bit rushed. That, and the whole "person A is introduced and leaves, the person B and ditto with person C". I dunno, it feels a bit inorganic (?) for introductions to work in such a way. It's nothing that stopped me from enjoying the work overall, though, so please don't take offense (besides, with my former "critique", applying the latter might make everything too wordy...).
Anyway, keep up the good work and have a good day!

8 .

>>7

*"...then person B..."
Sorry for double posting, but I'm already afraid enough about being misunderstood.

9 .

Woah, cool. But whenever I think of the whole team lady-fied, all can think about is how the relationships would be different and my favorite pairing/heterosexual life partners, Heavy and Medic. I guess Heavy and Medic would be lesibans, whether in jokes or for real.
Wait.
Heavy and Medic would be lesbians /(OoO)\
Heavy and Medic Lesbians Yes!
((Sorry for emoticon, you just had to see my face when I thought of it.))

The only concrit I have at the moment is let me see all of the characters.
I like how lady scout is, not blushy or anything, pretty much scout minus boy issues plus girl issues.

10 .

Excuse me whilst I dramatically flail about as a show of joy brought to me by this fic.

11 .

THIS IS GREAT.

Now I'm usually NOT a fan of genderbend tf2, I can admit to that. But I really enjoyed this. The characterization was spot on without over-feminizing any of the classes, and I can't wait to read more! I'm pretty damn interested in seeing Heavy and Demo, when their turns come.

12 .

Wow, thanks, you guys! In regards to the concrit, I appreciate it-- I can see the weakness there, and I guess I mostly couldn't figure out how to tie it together better. I wanted the feel of constant interruption, though I didn't want to introduce every single character through that vignette and fashion... So hopefully you'll find characterization/intros less rushed in the other vignettes.

In regards to the praise, y'all are raising a blush to my cheeks. In regards to drama queen!Spy, I have to say it's a weakness. I mean, regardless of gender, I'm amused by Spy stirring things up/saying things for shock value/thriving on operatic levels of drama... And in regards to Heavy/Medic lesbians, YES. At least a couple different fem!H/M vignettes.

In fact...

~~~Lover's Pillow~~~

When the bases are asleep, the Medic creeps out of her office and down the hall to the room she and the Heavy share, if not in name. The bed off the infirmary remains cold and empty most nights.

The bed in Heavy's room is always warm when she arrives there.

Heavy is beautiful, and Medic thought so from the first moment they met. The others may not see it, but then again, she doubts the others share her tastes in the broader sense, either. If they did, there would be no need for sneaking around.

"Doktor." The other woman's voice is rough and sleepy, but warm... warm as the bed and her arms and her bosom. "Waited for you."

Medic hangs her dressing gown up, and Heavy lifts the blankets to beckon her in. As she gets into bed, her hand goes immediately to the swell of Heavy's hip. Her head goes immediately to the crook of neck and shoulder, her lips find the ridge of clavicle that hides under soft flesh.

Unless they are both falling asleep after making love, Medic sleeps in her nightgown-- has to wear something, after all, to get down the hall. Heavy prefers to sleep topless. Even in the chilliest nights Teufort has to offer, she says, the blankets and the Doktor keep her warm enough, and Teufort has nothing on Siberia.

This is fine. This is more than fine. Medic wakes early most mornings to find her hand cupping one bare breast, rising and falling with her lover's breath. If she has enough time, she pulls back the covers to admire the generous curves in the early light that comes golden through the window.

Some people like a woman's breasts-- Medic is one of them, prefers those breasts to be large, loves to be able to rest her cheek just there... Some people like a woman's hips or her ass, and Medic enjoys both of those as well, loves the vast spread of firm muscle, and the little layer of soft fat over, just enough so that when her fingers dig in, there's something to really squeeze. There are people who like a woman's legs, and she has no complaint there, either, loves the soft wide thighs and the smaller and firmer calves, especially loves to lie between them.

It is to the Medic's eternal confusion that fewer people seem to appreciate other curves. She is entirely enamored of the Heavy's belly. There is hard muscle beneath that, as well, she knows this. Knows there is little on the Heavy's frame that isn't built for strength and power. She is glad, though, that there are so many soft and curvy parts that cover that strength, and she is glad that the Heavy's belly is a part of that. She loves to lightly touch the pale silky skin, to tease out a shiver from some delicate and ticklish spot. She even loves the thin, faint scar that runs across, just three inches higher than the navel, parallel to her waist.

She's heard the story of the scar many times, heard the story of all Heavy's scars. This one is her favourite, though.

In the mornings, she has to sneak away, and in the mornings, Heavy pulls on an old bra and a pyjama shirt before meeting the team for breakfast, and during the days they carry on as friends and teammates, close friends and teammates, but no more than that.

At night, though... at night, Medic will always be able to return, to lay her head over a steady heartbeat and her hand on soft furnace-hot flesh... It is something she thinks she can never tire of.

13 .

How novel, and how lovely.

14 .

Oh, Anne. I heart you so much right now. :)

Fem!slash isn't even my thing, what the hell. I mean, it's not a squick for me, it's just nothing I usually ship or go out of my way to find. This has transcended that, and I think that very much speaks of your wonderful characterizations. Despite the fact that in this story, they are both women, I love the *characters* together so much, that APPARENTLY GENDER DOESN'T MATTER LOL. I can't wait to see more of these two, especially Heavy when she's awake. I can't emote it, but I am rubbing my hands together maniacally.

I love you, never stop.

15 .

YES! YES!
I love the dynamic. It's a little different from man stuff, but not very. I suppose you're saying "just as planned" now, right?

16 .

Thanks, everyone!

>>14
It's funny, I'm generally the same way-- I can take or leave Fem!slash, depending. I even 'ship a few f/f things but never really felt the need to look up stuff for them beyond the book/show/whatever. But when I really love a 'ship, gender totally doesn't matter, so for that, I do love me some genderbending.

>>15
Just as planned...

Okay, some fem!Sniper/fem!Spy, and then eventually I'll get back to some lady Heavy times...

~~~Look At Her~~~

The opera glass manufacturers would no doubt be scandalized, if the knew what their good product was being used for.

The Spy considers writing them a glowing review anyway, though. Pity she wouldn't be able to see their faces on reading it.

She consoles herself with the knowledge that it is only mildly scandalous. Yes, to be fair, she is using them to... well, to spy on another woman. Not even for her work. Still, she has some standards. The RED Sniper is fully dressed. She is not intruding on her boudoir-- well, if one can call a dirty van a boudoir-- just watching her.

The RED Sniper is on the roof of the base across the way, watching the sunset. For once, her hair is down, just brushing her shoulders, and she is relaxed, instead of coiled like steel wire in the heat of battle.

They really are very good opera glasses... from the battlements of the BLU base, the Spy can see the smoke that curls from the other woman's cigarette, the twitch of her long fingers or the slight hitch of one shoulder when she draws a deep breath.

She reaches behind her-- well, off to her side, but past where the Spy can see-- and comes up with an old can, and once she's dropped the cigarette in, she stands and stretches.

The stretching, the Spy decides, is the best part. Her arms coming up over her head, the way her untucked work shirt rises up. Not so far as to show any skin, but enough to show the way her dark jeans hug at the curve where her ass meets the top of her thigh. She stretches her arms back behind her, and that is just as good, the way her small breasts rise. She rolls her neck and the Spy tries to imagine the groan or the sigh, the soft pop and crack.

The Sniper really does spend too much time crouched over her rifle, the poor sweetheart. She needs someone with very good hands to massage away all that tension, and the Spy would be lying if she said she did not possess excellent hands.

Her hands wouldn't even have to wander, though she would enjoy that very much. She just wants something, even if it's only digging her fingers into the other woman's shoulders. She's not sure when she decided it was love... she likes to think that it is, she has always loved the idea of falling in love. She has always wanted that love to be grand and tortured and spectacular. Even if it isn't really love, the Sniper makes her feel things no one else has. And their union would be so deliciously forbidden...

And she admires a hard woman with a few deadly skills.

She also admires the long limbs and torso, and the way her curves are compact, her body all rangy muscle. It is not that the Spy has a definitive 'type', not that she does not appreciate curvy women, or that she needs her partners to be tall or slender to be attractive, it is that the Sniper's body is absolutely perfect for its purpose on the battlefield, and that...

"What are you doing up here?"

For a moment, it is surreal, until she realized she has staked out a position in the BLU Sniper's nest to watch the roof from.

"Keeping an eye on the enemy base." She shrugs, rising. Funny, her own teammate inspires no similar feelings. Opportunity would have been easier, but... despite all the things the two snipers have in common, the Spy feels nothing.

"Not really necessary after hours, is it?" The BLU Sniper picks up a crumpled half-empty pack of cigarettes from the ground under her window. "Forgot my smokes."

"Not necessary, but everyone needs a hobby." Another shrug, and she pockets her opera glasses. "Mine is watching what other people get up to."

"Well..." The BLU Sniper scuffs her boot against the floor. "Guess I'd rather have you creeping around on the enemy than on us."

"Exactly." The Spy grins.

17 .

Oh man, never stop! cant wait to see if you do more on the Fem spy and sniper!

18 .

Oh baby, I think this was my favorite installment yet. Why is your Spy so much fun? Her attitude is so likable, somehow.

19 .

Ahhh, I love the description of snuggling up with Fem!Heavy. So cute, with a nice round belly to love. Makes me think of the chick (not Uma Thurman, the lady with the boxer) from Pulp Fiction. And Spy is so enthusiastic, it's adorable. The usage of opera glasses is especially evocative and perfect. I also love the way you described the Sniper's stretch and her looks. I can't wait for more of either of these pairings!

20 .

Unf... I loves me a woman who's built like a brick shithouse. And when I typed "brick shithouse" into google image search, the first thing that came up was that diagram of Heavy's skeleton that someone drew. ♥

21 .

Thank you! Definitely doing more with both pairings...

Also, now I have Brick House stuck in my head... but that's okay. That just means it's time to get back to lady Heavy sexytimes.

~~~With You~~~

The Medic is looking at her reflection critically again. It's not a thing that happens often, she's not a very vain woman, and Heavy has never seen anything to be critical over...

"I'm forty-nine." Medic sighs, brushing her hair back and eying the wisps of iron gray that thread through the black. "When did I get to be forty-nine?"

"October." Heavy sighs, reaching for her. "On your birthday. There was cake. Everyone sang."

"Months ago. This means I am almost fifty."

"And?"

"... I don't know. Fifty feels old, I guess."

Heavy shakes her head and pats the bedspread. "Sit. Maybe you look a little tired, but not so old."

"Well... I suppose respawn means my body is not quite so old. I don't care to do the calculations necessary to find out the difference." She sits, leaning back against her Heavy. "Maybe I am not too far past my prime, then... after all, everyone gets older."

"See? Besides... battle keeps you young."

"All that running around keeps my ass firm, anyway." She tilts her head back and smiles.

Heavy laughs. "You can't be old. Old ladies do not like sex as much as you do."

Medic starts to chuckle, then frowns. "Someday I will go gray down there as well... What if I already do? I never pay any attention, it could be true. I would really have to face my own inevitably advancing age if that were the case."

"I could check for you." Heavy leers.

"You won't tell me the truth, you just tell me I'm beautiful."

"I always tell Doktor the truth." Her eyes soften, and she strokes the Medic's shoulder lightly. "Doktor will always be beautiful..."

"You, how come you have never had a gray hair?"

"Never will. Some day it will all be white and you will wonder how it happened. But, by then, we will both be old ladies and no one cares. We will sit on sofa with many cats--"

"Ach, no. They will eat my birds."

"We will sit on sofa with many birds and listen to radio and complain about children on the lawn. Until then, though..."

The Medic sits up and shrugs out of her shirt, watches Heavy do the same.

Medic has invested in quality foundation garments, not because she cares about the illusion that her breasts have remained as firm as running across the battlefield keeps her legs and backside, but because she likes to think her body and her wallet will both thank her in the long run. She could never understand how Heavy could wear the same old brassiere held together with a couple safety pins, when she has so much more to contain. Thinking about it too much makes her own back hurt, but she is not entirely above enjoying it if the old bra allows for a little extra bounce sometimes.

Heavy strips her of her underthings, before settling between her thighs, and Medic decides she really is only as old as she feels. She suddenly finds she feels much younger, libido surging as Heavy's lips trail up her inner thigh.

Heavy's mouth never stops anywhere for very long, leaving soft wet kisses across the Medic's belly, at the crease of her hip, back down one thigh, and she nuzzles between, but never stops there either. There are times she likes to, but Medic loves being kept on her toes a little, likes to be surprised by an unplanned scattering of kisses and gentle nips, so instead, Heavy moves from place to place and sucks little love bites to the surface. Her hand never strays, two fingers sliding in and out, thumb resting at the top of the cleft, and when the Medic's hips start bucking, the hand stays even as Heavy moves up where she can kiss her Doktor properly.

Afterward, it is always sweet, even on those occasions where she is still left waiting. After, she can watch the Medic sprawled loosely across her bed, with the dazed smile she has, that moment where she can only mumble in German and her body is still flushed from pleasure and exertion. Heavy strokes her tenderly, anyplace so long as they touch, in no hurry for their positions to reverse. She settles down and wraps her arms around the smaller woman, spooned up behind her.

"Silly of me... worrying over something like age." Medic sighs.

"Da... as long as I can grow old with you, then is no problem."

Medic turns, one hand resting over Heavy's heart, the other slipping down between their bodies, between Heavy's thighs. "As long as it is not tonight, then by all means, grow old along with me. But tonight, let us both be young a little bit longer..."

22 .

Oh, Anne. This is a lyrical, quiet beauty.

Thank you for a genderbend story where it is not mere labels that are changed.

This is lovely. Please, keep writing.

23 .

Should I feel bad that my first reaction after reading to the end of this chapter is "hot"? Mus is right, it is very beautiful, and that's what I should be focusing on, but there's no denying the sexiness that comes along with it. Heavy x Medic otp.

Also, bra held together with safety pins, pfft. Heavy, you earn millions of dollars a year. Splurge once in a blue moon, will you?

24 .

Heavy can't spend money on silly things like new underwear, she has to spend that money on bullets-- sorry, BOOLETS. And possibly also genderbent little trick-or-treaters.

And switching pairings again...

~~~Blue Silk~~~

The woman across the bar is making eyes at the Sniper. It's subtle enough to any outsiders, but it's clear enough.

Sniper isn't sure what to do about it. She never thought she was obvious, at least she's always tried not to be. Then again, maybe there's no real harm in a discreet assignation with one of the townies, some girl intrigued by whatever notion of glamour she equates with the mercenaries.

Well... Not some girl. She's a woman, polished and put-together. She looks too chic, too professional, to fit in with the folks who live out around Teufort, and she looks vaguely familiar, in a way the Sniper can't put her finger on. Had they met before, in another city? She doesn't think so. Still, when the woman's eyes flicker to the back door, the Sniper nods.

They leave separately, but they both wind up in the alley.

"I didn't know if you would consider it..." The woman laughs softly, and at the accent, Sniper feels something lurch in the pit of her stomach.

It isn't their Spy-- Spy has a bloke, anyway, and she'd recognize her eyes, she works with the woman every day. Someone not too different, though. Did the Spy have a sister, who lived in town? Sniper doesn't know. Her heart is pounding like it thinks she's stalking some dangerous predator instead of just talking to a pretty French lady.

Not that the two are mutually exclusive.

"Do you want to get out of here?" She coughs.

"Very much so. A back alley is not really my idea of a good time."

"I've got a bed." Sniper offers. Her mouth feels dry, her throat feels tight, but the woman's smile is a reward and a promise all at once.

Inside the camper, she buries a hand in the thick, dark curls, pulls the other woman into a kiss. She doesn't wear makeup, herself, and she's never kissed anyone wearing lipstick, but she doesn't mind it.

There's another little smile, when they part, lipstick smeared now, just slightly. Sniper touches her own lips, wonders how much colour they've taken.

"Unzip me?" The woman turns. It's hard to find the zipper on her little black dress, tiny and hidden, and she fumbles with it a little.

"Tell me the truth..." The Sniper whispers, buries her nose in all that hair. It smells clean and flowery. Lavender. "I know you, yeah?"

"We have met. I have watched you... admired you. I have-- wanted you."

She tugs at the zipper, slowly, her other hand on the woman's hip. "And... I normally see you in a mask, don't I?"

There's a throaty little giggle, not quite girlish, and the woman's hand lands on hers, slides it up from the swell of her hip to cup one breast instead. Still not skin on skin, instead she feels the warmth of the woman's touch through her dark silk opera glove. "Was it my voice that gave me away, or could you recognize me?"

"Not sure. Bit of both, maybe." She admits, kneading gently. The Spy moans just a little, her back arching, and the Sniper pulls the zipper down further.

She can see the back of the Spy's bra now, pale blue silk, and the thundering feeling in her chest and the churning in her gut both intensify. She'd been reasonably sure it wasn't her own teammate, hadn't she-- not that something as silly as underwear was definitive proof in any direction. She'd known, without that, but...

She could have pretended, if the bra was black like the dress and the gloves. She could have pretended this wasn't the woman she fought with.

"Is something the matter? Try tugging up and then back down, cherie, it will unstick."

"N-no. Just... I don't-- I don't do this, often. Ever."

"Oh." The Spy turns, slender arms winding about the Sniper's neck. "Shy? A pretty thing like you? I can break you of those silly fears, ma jolie..."

"We..."

"Kill each other? I know. Sometimes we do. I prefer not to. I prefer just to look at you. Still... sometimes it is worth it. Last week, you slammed me into the wall, your body crushed against mine as we fought, before you hit home... Do you know what I did, the moment I respawned?"

The Sniper remembered the fight, and she remembered she hadn't seen the Spy again. "You didn't come back for revenge. What, just... watched me?"

The Spy chuckles darkly, one hand sliding down to unbutton the Sniper's shirt. "I did not have nearly so much restraint. I locked myself in the powder room. To... relive the moment."

"You... Are you really telling me you--? I killed you..."

"I know, but you were so magnificent when you did it. The way your eyes flashed, the way you held me down... I confess, I have imagined a dozen different endings to that fight, and most of them involved the shedding of some clothes."

The Spy unzips her own dress the rest of the way and lets it fall. Her panties match the bra, icy blue and trimmed with black lace, and soft, when the Sniper can't help reaching out, her fingers just tracing the Spy's hip.

"I didn't know you went out without your mask on the weekends..."

"Sometimes. I do my hair nicely, wear different makeup. No one ever recognizes me. Of course, I often disguise my voice as well. I... I wanted you to recognize me, though. I wanted to think perhaps you looked at me as well."

"Guess so." Sniper admits. Even on the battlefield, the Spy was polished, and she made fun of the fact, but she wasn't above admiring it. Admiring the way the Spy's hands held her knife sometimes, the length of her legs in tailored pinstripe trousers or the way her waistcoat emphasized her waist and bust. The woman knew how to display herself to an advantage, after all... And the Sniper couldn't say she was completely unmoved by some of their more physical encounters. All the years she'd denied herself other women, it was the closest she ever came to having a girl in her arms.

She can't help feeling a little plain and more than a little inexperienced, as she gets her own clothes off, but the Spy watches her with wide dark eyes and parted lips.

"Beautiful," She sighs, her mouth brushing over a cluster of freckles that dust the Sniper's collarbone. "Lie down on the bed... let me... let me,"

Sniper nods. If she'd been expecting company, she might have changed the sheets, but the Spy doesn't seem to notice. The Spy doesn't seem to be paying much attention to their surroundings at all. She crawls up the bed to kiss the Sniper warmly, to rest just enough weight on her, and the Sniper runs her hands up the Spy's thighs, feeling her through dark sheer stockings and then bare above that, runs her hands up until they cup the Spy's pert, firm arse, and at that the Spy wriggles, trying simultaneously to push back into the Sniper's hands and forward to press their hips together.

As nice as it might be just to leave her hands there, the Sniper keeps moving, slides up over the smooth expanse of the Spy's lower back, up to the clasp of her bra.

"This is why I love women," Spy moans, and one of her thighs rubs up between the Sniper's legs. "So lovely... so beautiful... and men need a road map just to deal with a little thing like a bra."

Sniper laughs. "Easier getting one off someone else. Don't even have to twist your arms around."

The Spy sits up, bra coming off. The Sniper half-sits to follow, kissing one now-bare breast, cupping the other in her hand. They were the sort of perfect she'd only let herself imagine in the most private hours, round and soft and just a little heavy in her hand, just enough there to spill over from her cupped palm... the pale white skin and the dusky rose nipple, small and pebble-hard between her fingers or under her tongue...

The Spy guides the Sniper's unoccupied hand down between her legs, where the silk panties are damp.

"Touch me," Spy gasps softly, her body rocking just so. "It's all right... it's all right, just touch me. Touch me like you touch yourself, just touch me..."

"Mm-hm," Sniper is reluctant to leave off what she's doing, but she lays the Spy down on the bed so that she can lie behind her, and from there, it's a little more natural, not to have to turn things around in her mind. Natural enough to caress the Spy as though she were lying there touching herself. She slips her hand down the front of the underwear, explores a little just in case the other woman likes something different, but she's relieved to get the best response from the same familiar touches she'd use alone. Another time-- if they get another time, and she hopes they will-- she can be more adventurous. For now, it's surprisingly exciting just to be fingering someone else, to be able to press herself close to the Spy's back and kiss her neck and smell her hair. To make her writhe and shudder and gasp.

"These are a mess." The Spy sighs-- and it is a deep, satisfied sound-- as she wriggles out of her panties. She drops them on the floor, and doesn't bother pulling off the stockings, though she has lost a garter and they are no longer on straight, even the one that hasn't slipped down. "I should have stripped out of them when you got out of yours."

"Dunno. Kind of like you in your lingerie."

"Oh. Well, then, it is not so bad. But I... I like you like you are now."

The Sniper rolls onto her back, as the Spy crawls over her again, hovering, predatory. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yes." Spy kisses her, her mouth and her neck and her breasts... down to her belly. "Shall I keep going?"

Sniper makes a strangled little sound, her legs spreading wider. The Spy's little laugh doesn't even bother her-- not as though she couldn't have teased the other woman for being eager, earlier. And Spy isn't so much of a tease as to leave her waiting long. She shouldn't be surprised, the Sniper decides, to learn the Spy's tongue is as wicked and as clever as it is. If she ever had to describe the woman in two words-- at least, two words fit for public consumption-- wicked and clever would be them.

She feels almost as though she's flying apart, and the hands that travel over her body are still wearing those gloves, and the Spy seems to know her intuitively, gives her things she never would have thought to ask for, if there'd been time to ask.

She doesn't know what the etiquette is for after, when the tremors start to fade from her limbs and the spikes of pleasure have hit their peak and turned to a pleasant all-over buzz. Do they kiss? Cuddle? Pretend none of it ever happened?

She doesn't know how to ask any of that, either, but when the Spy gets out a cigarette, she can at least offer a light, and the question resolves itself, when the Spy curls up against her, with an arm around her waist.

"There is still more I could show you, if you like, sometime." The Spy murmurs, and there's something almost shy in it. "I have watched you so long... I did not flirt with you in the bar tonight just so that I could satisfy some curiosity and run. You would like me again, wouldn't you?"

Sniper nods, and when the Spy has put her cigarette out in the ashtray by the bed, she goes ahead and kisses her.

"Love to. Yeah." She says. "Weekend, so... You can stay, if you want."

"Love to." The Spy smiles.

25 .

Anne, this is why you're my favorite fic author ever. You write so many different scenarios so beautifully, and this is no exception. Please keep doing what you do, because I absolutely adore what you do.

26 .

Thanks a lot, Anne. Now I want a girlfriend. >:I


argghhh my latent bisexuality

27 .

You write relationships and physicality with a lot of careful detail; it's all vivid and strong, and you never fail to put the readers right in the actions along with the characters, and you manage it every single time. No mean feat.

As for Heavy's scar - is that from an oophorectomy?

28 .

Anne, I love you more than words can describe.

29 .

Baw, thanks, all! (and I hadn't thought very hard for once about where Heavy's scar came from... I think I had originally pictured an old glancing knife or even bayonet wound, if she had turned to the side and been grazed instead of stabbed, but the placement makes 'surgical scar' a good contender... I wouldn't even have thought of it, but Medic would probably enjoy a good 'I had this surgery with only half a bottle of vodka and a rag to bite down on' story more than a 'this is from fighting cowards' story...)

Okay, onto the universes colliding...

~~~Dicks Everywhere: Ch.1~~~

It was rare for the whole team to wind up in respawn at the same time in the middle of a battle, but for once it's happening. Several of them don't actually remember being killed.

"Victory!" A voice pronounces, over the PA. Which is very strange, the entire team being recently-dead. Also strange, that the regular announcer had been replaced by a voice like a velvet bag full of gravel. Deep, smooth, and very male.

"Now that's just not right." The Engineer says, taking his hardhat off to scratch at his head. The announcer getting replaced mid-battle? Everyone coming to at the same time? Had there been some kind of serious problem? Was it even the same day they all remembered it being? What possible victory could they have won under any likely circumstances?

First thing first, he tells himself. He could check the calendar. The month is the same, of course, the same days marked off-- and why wouldn't they be, even if the whole team was missing time? With none of them there to mark them off, that wouldn't change. The problem isn't with the month, though, or the dates.

The problem is with the picture up above, a twisted mockery of the very concept of the girly calendar and all it stood for. In this picture, a toned young man in a very minimal red swimsuit gazes coyly at the camera, thumbs hooked into the waistband, the placement of his hands framing what is a very generous package or a very skillful stuffing job.

At first, he thinks the laughter he starts to hear on seeing it is all in his head, thinks this is what going crazy must be like, but it's not. The raucous laughter is echoing through the base and getting nearer, and while it's loud and rough, the voices are definitely female.

He still might be going crazy, but it's looking to be a more interesting trip than he first anticipated.

"Entire BLU team is babies!" A shout, deep for a woman's voice but still clearly not a man's.

The Heavy looks particularly startled, to hear his own frequent cry coming from some unseen woman, and in his own accent to boot.

Then the women themselves come through the door and into view, and all jaws drop.

"Girls!" The Scout yelps.

"Men!" A similar yelp, from a similarly dressed girl.

"Now that's just not right." A stocky little woman pushes to the front of the group to look the team over. Her hair is pulled back, with more thought to practicality than to fashion, and she's dressed in good sturdy working clothes, not all too different from the Engineer's uniform.

Not hardly different at all, he realized, except in terms of fit.

Heck, she even looked... she even looked a little like his mother, and that was what decided him, in the end.

"Fellas," He says, out of the side of his mouth. He can't quite turn away from the group across from them. "I think they... are us."

"What are we going to do with them?" He hears an irritated voice from the women's side, and this time the accent leads him to think it's their Medic.

"That is a good question. A war zone is no place for a man!" The answer comes from a fairly tall woman. Broad-shouldered for a gal, the Engineer thinks, but... not un-pretty, with short messy curls sticking out from under her helmet.

It's the hints of femininity about the lady Soldier that are really terrifying. If she had just been the Soldier, plus or minus a few things, he'd think nothing of it-- well, under the circumstances. The fact that she's got a little softness to her jaw line, the fact that she's wearing lipstick, the fact that there is a little tattered silk flower pinned to her helmet, those are things he cannot quite absorb.

"Who knows the kind of chaos if the BLU team knew there were men here?" The female Spy sighs, shaking her head as she crosses the resupply room to give the team the once over. She smiles softly at the Scout, though, an expression that is gone almost as soon as it's appeared. "Clearly we will have to keep them protected, until a solution can be found. For tonight, every woman will take charge of guarding her own... whatever they are."

She reaches the Spy at last, and while her tone is withering, he seems to at least pass muster, in terms of what she expects from her male doppelganger.

"And no hanky-panky!" The female Soldier shouts. "I expect you ladies to control yourselves! You will not sully the delicate flowers of these boys' innocence with your pent-up sexual frustrations!"

"Why do you think we are watching after our own-- them?" The Spy crosses her arms. "Surely that precaution should remove temptation. I am an unrepentant narcissist, but even I have some decency. Besides..." She sniffs, but does not continue.

"C'mon, then." A woman in a vest and slouch hat lopes forward, breaking from the group of women to beckon to the Sniper. "Long as you're here, you can help out with dinner. I'm on the roster for tonight. Be nice having a bloke around for that, for once."

"Uh, I'm not much good in the kitchen." The Sniper follows after her anyway, after a little prodding from his own team.

The female Sniper just shrugs. "Not going to hurt anything having an extra pair of hands. You... Wherever you come from, all you blokes actually fight?"

"Yeah. We do."

She laughs and shakes her head. "Well, now I've heard everything. And I'll just put this out here, in case our Spy's wrong and our Soldier's right-- be the first time for that, too-- but I'm not interested in... you know. Bothering you."

"Mutual." His face goes red. "I... uh... I've got someone."

She looks surprised at that for a moment, only to shake her head again. "Yeah."

After that, they work around each other in the kitchen in awkward silence.

30 .

I love this already

31 .

"You will not sully the delicate flowers of these boys' innocence with your pent-up sexual frustrations!"

I howled. HOWLED.

32 .

Oh, now here's a thought.

The classic male fantasy is said to be hot, girl-on-girl action. Does the converse apply in the bendiverse?

Quick, somebody whistle up BLU base, see if they've been saddled with the same predicament! Let 'em know we'll take the Spy off their hands, no charge!

33 .

Thank you... I am in love with this story! Kudos for everything to do with Spy's bra and that hilariously tawdry calendar boy. Female Soldier makes me squee and titter maniacally, especially the flower. I don't know if the men would be flabbergasted enough to remain quiet in the face of their female opposite number but that might have derailed this a bit so I don't mind.

>>26 toxo, I feel your pain. This also makes me want a girlfriend! I would recommend we could solve our problems together but then there would be unfortunate consequences. Or I would just embarrass myself. One of the two. D:

>>32 I'm pretty sure that is true however I get the feeling that the BLU teams got swapped across the universes. Or something like that.

I do love how respawn is basically our applied phlebotonim for anything and everything bizarre that happens. It opens up so many wonderful possibilities.

34 .

Anon 32 here, clarification: The MALE BLU Spy. BLU femspy's doing juuuuust fine on her own.

35 .

Oooh, this reminds me of that one brilliant Red Dwarf episode where they are sucked into a parallel universe and all meet their female opposites--very similar to this, and absolutely hilarious, as well as a witty commentary on gender roles.

If anybody is interested, the whole episode is on Youtube. It's called Parallel Universe.

36 .

ahh loving this though you'd think the guys, especially soldier would have more to say.

37 .

Thanks! (and I believe the Red Dwarf episode was mentioned in the original prompt for the universe crossover, actually... so I'm glad it reminds you of it!)

~~~Dicks Everywhere: Ch. 2~~~

After dinner, it's movie night. Scout feels a little incensed that they never have movie night back home. He hopes if this trip into ladyville results in anything, it's movie nights.

Well, he hopes for two things, really. More movie watching after work when he gets back home, and making some time with his girl self while he's stuck. He's not used to a lot of available women, and it might be kind of wrong, but he thinks he makes a pretty cute chick. Not super hot, but he figures she's got to have killer legs, and if she's supposed to be his female self, then he hopes she's just as horny and desperate from not seeing many guys around.

Extra seats have been dragged in, and thanks to the lady Spy's pretty brilliant watch-your-own-opposite-sex-clone plan, Scout's worrying less about following the movie and more about trying to figure out the best time to put his best moves on his girl-self.

Besides, the movie isn't making a whole lot of sense, anyway... The Pyros seem to get a kick out of it, though, when a girl with wide eyes and curly hair sets an old lady's hat on fire. There's another girl he thinks is the first girl's sister or something, and earlier some lady did a song and dance thing, but it wasn't a sexy song and dance, so he gave up on watching that pretty fast.

He decides to just go for it. The next time a man and woman are on screen together, he yawns and puts an arm around the girl Scout's shoulders.

"You gotta be kidding me." She shoves him off.

"You wanna get out of here?"

"Yeah. But I don't want you following me."

This was not working out the way it was supposed to...

They were even in the very back! It was supposed to be easy! The Scout felt like the rug had been yanked out from under him and the floor had gone with it. What kind of girl version of himself didn't want to sleep with him?

"What kind of girl version of me doesn't want to sleep with me?" He asks her, voice low.

"I don't sleep with little boys."

"We're the same age, ya freakin' moron! Aw, whatever, you're not so hot, anyway."

"Uh-huh, and who was putting the moves on who, genius?"

"You got tits like a twelve year old." He crosses his arms.

"My tits are awesome, and you ain't getting your filthy little mitts on 'em anytime soon, buster. You never saw tits this nice." She bounces in her seat. Between the small cup size and the sports bra, there's no jiggle to speak of to back her point up. "If I was naked, they'd be all kinds of fabulous right now, just so you know."

"Your chest's flat as mine is."

"I don't normally talk like this to guys, but since you're supposedly a mercenary in your universe, I'll go ahead. Shut your fuckin' mouth, ya fuckin' pansy-ass, 'cause I'm spectacular."

"Your dirty mouth is kinda turning me on, I'm not gonna lie."

She just glares at him.

"What? I'm being honest here."

"I like older men."

"Really?" He makes a face.

"Yeah. And real big. I figure, I could pretty much take my pick, right? Not a lotta girls got what I got going for me. So why not want the frickin' best? He's gotta know what he's doing, I'm not interested in teaching some dumb virgin where to stick it. And he's gotta be hung--"

"Hey!" The Scout hisses. "You don't even know what you're talking about! I happen to be huge!"

She just raises an eyebrow. "Hung. And strong. He's got to be able to hold me up when I'm on him, after all. Maybe a real big guy, so we can do it up against the wall."

He has to admit, if not out loud, that he maybe couldn't hold her up that long. His strength isn't in his arms, is the only problem. Plus, for a skinny chick he thinks she probably weighs a lot.

"And I'm the boss and all, I mean, in any given situation, I'm just kind of a natural born leader. But shit, I wouldn't say no to letting a guy, you know, think he's in charge sometimes. You gotta let guys think that, it keeps 'em happy."

The Scout decides he doesn't really want to go for the female Scout after all. At first, getting down with someone who was essentially himself sounded like an easy lay, but she was opinionated, and headstrong, and kind of annoying. Worst of all, she kept glancing over at the Soldier while she talked about bigger, stronger, older guys, and that was really creeping him out.

He glances over at the lady Soldier to see if it worked both ways, but it doesn't. He glance over at the lady Spy next, because she had totally been giving him the eye earlier, but she's busy talking French stuff with his team's Spy over in the corner, and the dumb frog would never let him live it down if he caught him making a pass at her.

"I won't tell anyone if you wanna just spank it in the bathroom." The female Scout offers. "Cause I think that's the best you're gonna get."

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" He fires back. He'll take her up on that, offer, though, because he's got to do something.

38 .

Wow, this is some of the best dialogue I've ever read. Fem!Scout is something of an OC, and yet she's SO in-character! I laughed so much while reading this.
I won't lie; I held as much hope as Scout that the two would manage to hook up, but her reaction does make all kind of sense. If Scout prefers curvy, womanly women, then Fem!Scout prefers strapping, manly men. The Scouts don't suit their own tastes, lol!

Great chapter.

39 .

And Spy and Femspy are in the corner, laughing "HON, HON, HON" over and over and over.

40 .

>>39
I second that notion. Probably laughing it up over their Sniper-related conquests. Oh wait, that's the other Spies. Well, laughing it up over their Scout's parents related conquests, then.

Anyway, did I mention this fic is amazing? Damn fine characterization, and lovely smut. I love that you haven't made them girly just because they're girls. I know that's a dumb way of saying it but I think you know what I mean. Some people seem to think that if you make a female version of a character (usually scout) you can make them all weak-willed and emotional. I am glad to see your respect and care in your writing.

41 .

Thanks so much, you guys!

~~~Dicks Everywhere: Ch. 3~~~

"I think your plan is somewhat flawed..." The Spy whispers, jerking his head towards the loveseat in the back, where the Scouts are arguing.

"Ah, it will work out in the end." The female Spy shakes her head, smiling. "She is too vain to settle for someone like herself, and not quite wise enough to see any gap in her logic. But... she will grow up. Maybe."

"I don't think our Scout is so discerning. Though, madame, were I not spoken for, I might follow in the boy's footsteps." He nods to her.

"The BLU Scout's... mother?"

"Yes."

She nods to the two Scouts again. "That boy... looks so much like what the girl's father must have looked like, long before I met him. The BLU Scout. Then again... then again, so little difference in the girls."

Her smile is sentimental and considering, though it turns to a little laugh when the young man is rebuffed again.

"I suppose he would have been handsome. But, he is more handsome now. I suppose that may bode well for your Scout, if he can gain the maturity to go along with it. Or maybe my tastes just run to men my own age."

"Indeed. It is not only looks, of course."

"No, any man who fathers eight children has some experience under his belt." She laughs again, starting the male Spy off as well.

"Ma petite taught me a few things, to be honest."

"Honesty? Well... between the two of us, there is little point in trying to keep secrets." She scans the rest of the room. "Your doctor and the fat man..."

"I try not to think about it, but I have... learned some things."

Another laugh. "I would love to be a fly on the wall, when the four of them try to make their sleeping arrangements, if either pair thinks they are somehow different and a secret. The team does not know, of course."

"No. I am sure it is a well-kept secret, except from those whose business it is to uncover secrets."

"At least the Soldiers have stopped arguing..."

Both Spies nod. They had spent much of dinner trying to make their cases-- that the men were delicate blossoms in need of protecting, or that it was men who were the superior sex when it came to the battlefield. Most of the teams had wisely refrained from joining the argument-- no good could have come of it. There had been a largely silent agreement among most of the men, to abide by the rules of the universe they were in, until such time as they could get back home.

The two Spies wind up shifting their gazes at the same time, and always in the same way. From the Scouts, to the Medics and Heavies, to the Soldiers. Quickly past the chuckling Pyros-- the woman on screen had just broken out her torch again and was incinerating yet another hat-- and past the Demos, who were getting along without complaint, to finally rest on the bench with the Snipers.

"He has a secret... one that I haven't been able to figure out. What do you know about your own?" The Spy asks.

His counterpart shrugs and takes a deep drag, rolls her cigarette holder a little with her tongue as she thinks.

"She is an enigma. I know her name is Alice Mundy... I know she writes home to her parents, or at least to her father, and lives in a van and uses a filthy plastic funnel to fill jars with piss. I know something of her record, before this war, and aside from the... jars," She makes a face. "Nothing suggests that she is anything less than the most competent of professionals. She is private, though, and I have not cared to look too deeply into her life."

"Mm." The funnel, the Spy thinks, makes sense. He had been having some trouble picturing how that particular weapon in the Sniper's arsenal translated to this universe. He had hoped, briefly, that a world run by women would be somehow more genteel, that there would be no call for weaponized urine at all. "I can understand the reluctance."

His own Sniper seems awkward, around his counterpart. As much as the Soldiers argued, and as much as the Scouts had their problems, no one else seemed ill-at-ease with their female selves-- or their male selves-- the way that he was. Even the female Sniper did not seem quite so out-of-sorts.

"Do you think this has happened on the BLU base?" He is the one to ask, when the ending credits are winding down.

"Dunno." The female Sniper stands and stretches.

"No point in trying to find out now." The female Spy straightens, tapping her cigarette on the edge of the ashtray she and her counterpart had been sharing. "It may be possible to learn something in the morning, but I can make no promises. They will be trying to keep their men safe as well, if indeed they have any, and it is impossible to see into those parts of the bases that are off limits."

"Does it matter?" The male Spy shrugs and follows suit. He's nearly down to the filter. "We will not meet them either way. We have a day of vacation tomorrow, gentlemen."

The Soldier grumbles, but at least this time, he does not shout.

One of the Pyros-- no one can properly tell which anymore, ever since the two got up and enacted a mirror scene that ended with several place-swaps-- mumbles excitedly in the direction of the Engineers.

"Yeah, it's a good one." The female Engineer nods, snapping her goggles back into place.

"Sure." The male Engineer does the same. "Gotta say, I'm not used to seeing many movies like that one."

The Pyro mumbles again, and he laughs.

"Twelve of 'em, huh? That's not what I meant, exactly, but good to know."

"There are twelve movies just like that one?" The Spy raises an eyebrow.

The fact that both Pyros nod is a little disconcerting.

"Probably in our universe it's a man smoking cigars and chasing a woman around, instead of being backwards."

"The movie wouldn't work in your universe." The female Scout insists. "Not with everything backwards. Then instead of a sexy chorus boy there'd be a... a girl or something. Besides, guys aren't funny."

The Engineer wisely holds his tongue, and the two Pyros just shrug at each other and switch places again.

"I'll show you to the room, though I don't doubt you could find it." The female Spy nods to her counterpart. "We can skip the madness that is sure to ensue, now that our Soldiers have something else to fight over."

Behind them, they can already hear the argument starting up, including the female Soldier's assertion that her Scout is correct, and that men have no place being in comedy or in war. The words 'baby machine' are bandied about by both sides.

"I hate to ask..." The Spy blanches.

"Do not be ridiculous." The female Spy rolls her eyes. "Of course men don't get pregnant here. They aren't built for it. If a man could carry a baby to term, give birth, and then go back to work, we wouldn't need to protect them, would we?"

"I never looked at it that way. Back to the topic of comedy, then..." He pauses. "Does this universe have a... a lady version of 'Money From Home'?"

"An excellent choice." She nods. "Indeed we do. I hope for your sake that we can find a way to return you to your own universe before I have the opportunity to track down a copy, but I can look into it, just in case. Miss Martin is prettier, but of course, she is not quite so funny."

"Of course." He smiles. That would be a somewhat comforting constant, even with the genders all changed around.

"You will take the bed, of course." The female Spy opens the door to her room.

"I could not!"

"You are the gentleman, I insist!" She moves one pillow and an afghan from the foot of her bed to a low chaise lounge on the other side of the room.

"I absolutely must refuse, you are-- Well... Well, as you say, I am the gentleman. If you must insist..." He allows himself a little smile. This backwards chivalry did pay off...

42 .

<i>"Of course men don't get pregnant here. They aren't built for it. If a man could carry a baby to term, give birth, and then go back to work, we wouldn't need to protect them, would we?" </i>

Anne, I love you so much for this line! Brilliant.

I'm really enjoying this fic - your dialogue is witty. I'm looking forward to seeing where you're going to go with the plot.

43 .

> 41 You know, this whole universe MAKES sense to me. Not like Pha! This is logic, but rather like: I would ACT like them if i would be there. Looking for a nice lad which i can spoil and keep safe and coming home to after i worked the whole day. I´m a sexist.

44 .

Oh.
My.
Godess.

I normally don't like femslash...
but this... is really well written.
And now the reverse sexist stuff with the guys coming in...
I love you so much.

45 .

The "backwards chivalry" part killed me.

This is more than anything I could have ever hoped for.

46 .

Thanks much, you guys. Finally getting back to this one...

~~~Dicks Everywhere: Ch. 4~~~

"Now, I know it's not everyone's idea of comfortable..." The female Sniper excuses, leading her counterpart out to her van.

"Sure it's fine. Don't reckon it's all so different from mine."

"Oh. Right. Well, once you're settled in, guess I can go spend the night up in my nest, and that'll keep me out of your hair."

"I don't want to put you out or nothing." He shakes his head. "I really... I really don't need to be treated all delicate or nothing, honest."

"Just a bit hard to get over." She grins apologetically, unlatching the door of her camper. "You being a man and all."

In the shadows inside, there's a quick stirring, and a flash of something pale, and another woman's voice.

"A man?!"

"Bloody--" The female Sniper fumbles to get the lights on.

The woman in her bed is naked, with the bedsheets pulled up under her arms and wrapped around herself. Her hair is dark and tousled, her expression is shocked, and... hurt? It's the beauty mark that tears it, though, sitting just past where the hole might be in a mask.

"Let me guess." The Sniper averts his eyes. "The BLU Spy?"

"Who the hell is this?" She hisses, readjusting the sheets so that she can get out of the bed.

"I didn't know you were coming out here tonight," The female Sniper intercepts her. "Look, I can absolutely promise you it's not what it looks like."

"Oh, you didn't know I was coming out here, so you brought a-- a man? Where did he even come from? When did you decide I was not--"

"So I guess the same thing didn't happen out on the BLU side." The Sniper sighs.

"And how does he know who I am?" The Spy finishes.

"He's me. He's me from another universe. A whole team full of blokes just showed up in our resupply room after the battle, and they're mostly like us, and I needed somewhere to put him."

"He's you?" Still wearing nothing more than the bedsheet and a pair of gloves, she approaches the Sniper, lifting his chin with one hand and tilting his head around.

"Do you mind?" He does his best not to look down her cleavage. He's never been much of a fan of cleavage, but he has to admit, if he was going to be attracted to a woman, the Spy makes a nice one. Not really such a surprise, all things considered, to find her there.

"Hm. Rugged. A little horsey. Rather hairy." The Spy says, picking up one of his arms and inspecting him further. "But... all right."

"Gee. Thanks."

"He looks like he could be your brother, or something. You have the same atrocious accent." She smirks over at the female Sniper. "I am sorry I was so mistrusting, cherie. But you forgive me?"

"Aw, well..." The female Sniper swallows, her hand going to the smooth white shoulder, and there's something achingly familiar about the way she flounders to keep up with the mercurial Frenchwoman. "I mean, I know it looked bad and all..."

"I'm gonna go get some sleep up in that nest. Reckon I know where to find it." Sniper offers, ducking out.

There's a throaty giggle and a surprised, pleased 'Oh!' from the camper van, as he leaves it behind.

"It'll be nice to get back home." He says, to himself, to the empty space of the little nest-- a little nicer than his, if he's honest.

This universe has its charms, he won't deny-- the pinups scattered around the walls of the base, for instance, are more to his taste. Movie night was kind of fun, and it was a bit of a laugh seeing what some of the others were like as girls. He misses his own BLU Spy, though, and he doesn't like the niggling feeling he's got, thinking maybe back home, the Spy's waiting in his van for someone who'll never show.

With any luck, the engineers will figure something out. Between the two of them, if it's a respawn glitch, he thinks they could figure something out.

47 .

Awwwww... Poor sniper. He needs his own spy.

48 .

>He's never been much of a fan of cleavage, but he has to admit, if he was going to be attracted to a woman, the Spy makes a nice one>>
And now I'm going to be in my bunk pondering on what could've happened if male Sniper had hung around at the van. I hope that doesn't make me a jerk.

49 .

Ahahaha, poor BLU femSpy, and poor RED Sniper. It's like, "whoah, it's the female version of my boyfriend. Kinda hot." Also, LOL at his appreciation of the male pinups.
Hopefully BLU Spy isn't waiting for him... He'd be so worried.

50 .

>>49

Perhaps worried enough to go searching... perhaps check the infirmary to see whether he was unwell. And find the entire team's gone. What would he make of that?

captcha: special teamblig

51 .

I've never read a genderbend fic before--never was interested enough to actively look for one to be honest, but I figured I'd check out this and see what's up. I love it! It's hilarious (in a good way), with enough undertones to make a point. The Scouts, the Pyros, the Spies. The Heavy/Medic and Sniper/Spy. The amazing brainwork of two Engineers, now that's something I want to see. Also the reverse sexism/chivalry. What an interesting universe, one I wouldn't all that mind. This story is flawless.

52 .

Thanks, you guys!

~~~Dicks Everywhere ch.5~~~

The Engineers had been working on The Problem during every spare moment since the two teams found themselves sharing a base, sketching out diagrams over dinner and through Movie Night, staying up late in the workshop, stealing consults during breakfast and the day's lunch break, and in all of those spare moments, they could come up with no explanation. According to the big bank of computers that recorded everything, there hadn't even been a respawn error.

In the end, it is not the Engineers who hit upon the solution, or it's problem.

"I told you not to call me at work!" The female Soldier shouts into the telephone, her counterpart standing at attention nearby. With little else to do, he had spent most of his 'day off' standing at attention. "On the weekend, like every weekend, and I will do the vacuuming on the weekend! LIKE HELL IS IT MY TURN TO CLEAN THE HALL TOILET, YOU ONLY EVER USE THE HALL TOILET!"

The female Scout twirls a finger around at her temple, shooting a glance at her own counterpart. "Solly's imaginary friend."

"Merasma is NOT an imaginary friend." She slams the receiver down, turning to the Scouts. "She is a real magician, and she is my roommate, but she is not my friend. SHE IS THE REASON OUR GOLDFISH ARE DEAD! Also, the reason we went back to medieval times once."

"Oh yeah... I always figured that was, you know, a respawn glitch." Scout shrugs.

"Uh oh." Soldier looked at his boots.

"Uh oh what?"

"Imighthaveinsultedawizardandgottenussentintoladyland." He says.

The lady Soldier sighs and picks up the phone, dialing it almost violently. "I will clean your precious hall toilet that I don't use, but you need to juju up some things down here. Yes, at the base. I don't know, MAGIC. I thought SOMEONE was supposed to have WIZARD POWERS!"

"Well?" Soldier takes his helmet off, turning it around in his hands.

"Merasma said she'd fix it. In exchange for a draconian new ruling on latrine duty."

Both Scouts cheer and laugh and slap each other on the back, before remembering that they hate each other. Still, when the group is assembled and Merasma arrives to send them home, she gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Guess I can't hate you or nothing if you're basically me." She says. "That's all you're getting, though."

"Yeah, whatever."

She glances over at the male Soldier, standing at attention once more waiting to be transported back.

"Kinda too bad we couldn't keep you boys around, but Pyro said it was maybe a danger to the fabric of the universe somehow. She kind of reads a lot of comic books, but that doesn't mean it isn't true."

The Pyros hug, sharing muffled giggles before returning to their own groups, the Snipers share an awkward tip of the hat, and the Medics and Heavies part with an even more awkward series of handshakes and too-polite smiles, the male Medic mumbling under his breath in German.

"What did you say about a foursome?" Spy grins. The glare he is met with promises a hundred easily preventable grisly deaths, but he considers each one completely worth it.

It is only after the men have disappeared on a cloud of sparkling red mist, that the Scout has an epiphany of her own.

"Dammit!"

"What is it, Petite?"

"Last night! That asshole said my tits weren't any bigger'n his were and I should've said 'well your dick isn't any bigger than mine is!'. I can't believe it took me this long to think of that!"

The Spy laughs, patting the girl on the shoulder. "L'esprit d'escalier. It happens to the best of us. Come, I think we ladies deserve a proper celebratory drink, with the gentlemen gone."

"It's about time!" The Demowoman groans. "Do you know how hard it is to stay sober so you don't offend any menfolk?"

"Well, no, but I am not an alcoholic..."

"I need a bloody drink."

"Hear hear." The Sniper grins, following the Scot back towards the kitchens.

"Definitely." The Medic trails after them, and the Heavy after her.

"Da. Might have one or two myself..."

The Pyro shrugs. He'd thought the whole thing was a lot of fun...

53 .

Just when I thought it couldn't possibly be any more perfect, you had to throw in that last line.

Brava, madam. Brava.

54 .

THE BEST!
The last line made everything before it (already amazing) into perfection. Please, take all my internets.

55 .

>SHE IS THE REASON OUR GOLDFISH ARE DEAD! Also, the reason we went back to medieval times once.
This line made me laugh out loud. Aww, I'm kinda sad this one is over, though. But, bravo!

56 .

Oh god, I actually didn't even catch that last line until I read your guy's comments. LOLING FOREVER NOW.

I thought that the magic transportation part was over and done with too quickly.

57 .

Aw, yeah. Seemed over a little too quick, but it did keep the same momentum of the rest of it. Merasma was a nice touch.

58 .

LOUD APPLAUSE.

59 .

Is it then end? Either way I liked it!
Are they suggesting that they switched places or they were always like that? in the end.

60 .

I sit here waiting patiently to see if there is a final chapter about the guys settling back into their old routines.

61 .

Everything about this is love. Thank you for writing it!

62 .

I just- This- How do you-?
Why are you so amazing?
This should be given a medal. It's so in character and amazing and awesome and-
just-
I swear I'm usually more eloquent, but this fic- it just- so...

... This fic pressed all of my sexuality buttons. I- I never knew...

63 .

I'm currently rummaging through Anne's tumblr and I found an extra chapter ... I thaugh I'd share.


http://annethecatdetective.tumblr.com/post/26483431140/request-fill-for-raevenote
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