Author's Note: I really, really, dislike gender swap stories. I've never written one in my entire life and I probably won't. I write slash because it's what I prefer. Nothing like two attractive men being fluffy and romantic. I'm not going to lie but this one is a bit of a cop out, but I didn't want to do the cliché 'magic' or 'science gone wrong' idea. I did follow the prompt though! Lol enjoy anyway!

Little Moments Like These

Dream a Little Dream of Me (Prompt 14: Genderswapped)

"Oh my God Banner what did you do?" The frantic yell startled the blond man seated at the table.

"This is not happening! Fuck!" Clint blinked in complete confusion, he didn't recognize the voice at all. It was high pitched, almost melodic; a women's voice. Defiantly not his Natasha.

His curiosity lasted until the unknown speaker rounded the corner into the kitchen. Clint's jaw just about unhinged. It was Tony…only it defiantly wasn't Tony.

The handsome playboy was now a very curvy beauty.

Dark brown hair fell in waves to her shoulders, once sharp, clever features, now smoothed, softened. An exotic slant to dark mocha eyes currently narrowed in anger.

Clearly he…she? Had been working in the lab, once baggy jeans now riding low on curved hips. The white tank that had fitted him so snugly was straining against a rather well endowed Tony Stark.

He couldn't help it. Sharp eyes fastened on the bouncing, pert breasts as the inventor swore a blue curse, stomping around the room.

"Clint for fuck sakes man up here!" She roared glaring at him arms folding. The gesture only succeeding in accentuating her new features.

"Ummm…what?" he tired to raise his eyes he really did, but damn that material was all but see through and there was defiantly no bra there…just a blue glow now somewhat obscured by those beautiful…

"Tony I think something's happened," another, light voice joined them. By sheer will the archer managed to pry his eyes off Tony's chest, glancing to the new comer.

He was glad he did.

Apparently whatever was afflicting Iron Man, had spread to Captain America. Were Tony was petite, dark, exotic beauty; Steve was tall, elegant, and legs that went for a mile.

Steve must have been in the gym. Her sweats doing little to hide now feminine legs, curved hips and slender waist. Long, curling sunshine blond hair hung to her waist in a waterfall of silk. The once masculine chiselled face softer, heart shaped, and sweet. Bright, endless blue eyes, to big for the now beautiful countenance drawing attention to pink lips.

Clint however was finding his brain turning to mush as he dared a glance as the Cap's chest. A whimper escaping his lips, the white shirt left nothing to his imagination. "God bless America," he wheezed, unsure if he wanted to salute or cop a feel.

Tony pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head slowly. Dark hair swishing with her resigned movement. "Apparently we have been turned into women Steve, and the least helpful person in the world right now is Clint."

Normally the assassin would have bristled at the comment, got up and gone after the annoying genius, but he didn't think he could stand at the moment. All the blood in his body seemed to be pooling in his groin leaving him lightheaded. The whole unbelievable situation, becoming more surreal by the moment.

"I feel weird Tony," Steve confessed blushing as she glanced down, averting her eyes.

"I know, we'll figure out something," the smaller women stepped forward pulling her lover close in comfort. A little surprised and confused when her face was buried in the now ample double d's of Captain America

Clint bit his lip watching as they embraced, Tony shorter was all but motor boating the taller Cap. "I umm…should give her a kiss, reassurance…" he barely managed to get out, hand reaching down to adjust himself.

The female Tony gave him a wicked smirk before pulling the female Steve towards her. Lips mashing together as they crushed together best they could

All the air left Clint's chest. There was no way this was happening.

He could hear a soft, very female moan of pleasure from the pair. Echoing the wet sounds of lips meeting again and again. Fingers tangling in long hair as Tony arched against the taller women gasping in pleasure.

"Clint?"

Moaning he shifted in his chair, frozen in place. Watching long elegant hands wandered lower, caressing firm, lush ass.

"Clint?"

There was noise of surrender for one of them, hems of shirts inching upwards. Perfectly smooth soft looking skin revealed inch by agonizing inch.

"Clint!"

He woke with a start elbow slipping as he nearly banging his head off the table. Blinking in dazed confusion he glanced around, frowning. He wasn't in the kitchen at the Tower; he was in the debriefing room at SHIELD. The aches and pains in his body reminding him they had just finished stopping an attack on the city.

At the moment though the others were looking at him concerned, all but Tony that is. A very smarmy, very male Tony giving him an inscrutable look.

It had all been a dream.

A wonderful, dirty little fantasy cooked up by his exhausted imagination. It was a bit of a let down.

Depressed he glanced at Steve curled up behind Tony on the chair. Draped over the smaller man like an afghan; both very much breasts less. More's the pity the Cap had a fantastic rack.

Groaning he sat back in the chair, rubbing his face, trying to calm his traitorous body. He did not want to delve into the wealth of meaning behind the symbolism of that particular dream.

Tasha laid a hand his arm gently. "You ok? You where moaning…" she said softly, eyes betraying nothing but Clint knew her well enough to know when she's worried. There was no way he was going to share this particular little fantasy. Two men he knew well, suddenly women, and having a make out session? It was not a 'share with your friends' type of deal.

"Yeah fine, just overworked," he chanced a sidelong glance at Stark, damn the man looking smug as all hell.

"Need a vacation," he muttered, the vivid images refusing to be pushed aside.

"Nightmare?" Steve asked sympathetically voice muffled from his position against his lover.

Tony answered before he could, "That was defiantly not a nightmare moan. That was the moan of a man who's enjoying himself." Clint was ashamed to say he blushed.

Could the asshole read minds? God help them all if he figured out how. "None of your business," he groused folding his arms across his chest. Unable to help the small grin quirking his lips, wondering idly what he could get female Tony and Steve to do in his dreams later.