Fic: Prime Assets
Fic: Prime Assets
Author: LMX
Fandoms: Avengers (Movie-verse)
Rating: PG
Pairings: Clint/Phil
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Classic oops-I-sex-switched-all-the-characters. Some leering, and some being unhappy with ones physical appearance (there's a word for that, I'm sure...)
AN: This fic kind-of isn't. As in, nothing happens. Really. At all. It's a not-fic. I apologise for the drivel. Block is still eating my brain somewhat.
-
"They've had to sedate Tony." Banner's announcement got the attention of the hospital waiting room packed full of Avengers. He made a pretty girl - tight curls framing his face, and glasses just slightly too big for his new features. Familiar. Not a model or an actress, but that girl you know from next door, or from work. Clint guessed his work wasn't the best example for a benchmark of 'girls from work'. SHIELD agents tended to fall into kill-you-with-their-looks or trying-to-be-men types. Sometimes both, he granted.
Well, it wasn't as if Clint could judge. He'd looked in the mirror a couple of times already today - since the frankly ridiculous events of the afternoon - and he'd been disappointed every time. Steve and Thor looked like they should be out there walking catwalks or in super-high-def on a cinema screen somewhere. Flawless, in every way. He was sure that Tony rated somewhere up there with them, even sedated in a hospital bed. Natasha… well, he would have been stupid to think even for a moment she would be anything less than perfect as a guy.
His adjectives ran into the 'mature' and 'well built' categories.
Banner was explaining to Thor why Tony's newly enhanced chest was causing him some serious issues, and Clint found himself picturing the too-brief moment they'd had to see Tony looking down at himself like he'd been given the best present in the world. It had only lasted the few seconds it had taken the intense pain of his breasts pressing around the housing of the arc reactor to hit, but that moment of sheer glee had been brilliant.
Once they'd managed to get him to the hospital - drugged to the gills and still squirming in pain - and had all taken a moment to take a breath, it had been more a matter of sitting around and thinking 'huh... so that happened'. They were all benched until someone could work out what exactly had just been done to them, and Bruce had been more concerned with making sure Tony was stable than on any kind of cure or reversal. There would probably be a mission debriefing at some point. That was bound to be fun.
A gaggle of SHIELD-assigned nurses turned up and stood tentatively at the door, taking in an assortment of Avengers in differing states of uniform sitting on the waiting room furniture. They didn't look much like a crime-fighting superhero troupe right now. With his costume distorted around his newly acquired assets, Cap looked far more like a themed stripper, and Bruce was in borrowed hospital scrubs.
"We'd like to take some new baseline readings," One of the men said, eyeing Steve and Thor with more-than-polite curiosity. "Now that Mr. Stark is resting."
"Are you going to be able to do anything for him?" Natasha asked, and she sounded loud to Clint. He wondered if he'd always adjusted his perception of her voice because it was higher, or whether it was just her adjusting to her new body same as the rest of them were. He'd always had more trouble with the high end since he'd blown out his hearing; higher pitched sounds and voices were inevitably quieter, sometimes entirely inaudible even with his hearing aids. He'd been lucky that all the women in his life had naturally low voices.
Clint had been fairly pleased to note that, at its new register, he hadn't been able to hear Tony's screaming at all. The pleasure had lasted as long as it took to realise that *his own* voice was now pitched outside the limits of his hearing. That had been a kicker to go with the less-than-catwalk-worthy face.
Natasha had told him he had a sweet voice - that he sounded like he would have a good singing voice. Which was just... great. Perfect. He hoped his expression had appropriately expressed his disgust. She'd still stuck nearby, taking a seat on the table next to the sofa-arm where he was perched, which he appreciated.
One of the female nurses was updating them on Tony's status, making Steve's brow pinch adorably. She was a tiny woman, with a tiny voice to go with her stature and Clint was too lazy to try and follow what she was saying so went back to watching the others and picking out visible differences.
Thor really didn't look that different at all, really; just a slimmer, less hairy version of himself. He could be a sports model, beautiful face and beautiful muscle definition. He found himself picturing Valkyries in a whole new light.
"You," Natasha said, calling Clint's attention back to the nurses. The male nurse jumped at being singled out. "You do us."
Clint wondered if it was punishment for leering at Cap and Thor or if Tasha had noticed he wasn't following the little nurse. Could be both - she was nothing if not perceptive, and a little of the tension had gone out of Steve's shoulders.
The male nurse looked disappointed. Dick.
An array of stethoscopes and needles appeared, and they were stabbed and pressed and listened to and talked at, notes taken on ubiquitous clipboards.
The nurse had finished with him and moved on to Natasha when Phil appeared at the door, breasts straining against the buttons of his suit jacket. Clint nearly choked on his tongue, which earned him a concerned frown from the nurse.
Hill was stood at his shoulder - a looming, gangly presence, she'd obviously gained a few inches of height in her change, or Phil had lost a few - and they paused in the doorway to observe the chaos. Maybe they were just avoiding having any of it turned on them.
"Glad you could join us, sirs!" Clint called across the room, glancing at Tasha when he didn't get an immediate response. He probably hadn't been loud enough to be heard over the rabble of noise in the tiny room. Tasha had her tongue stuck out so that the nurse could look for god-knows-what and wasn't paying Clint any attention.
Phil was scanning the room, and Clint offered a half-hearted wave 'hello', pleased when Phil's eyes fixed on him immediately and didn't show any sign of disappointment. A girl's ego was so easily crushed.
Before they could move any further into the room, the two senior officers were apprehended by the nurse who had just finished checking over Bruce - an exchange that had seemed much more of a sharing of ideas than the vampirism it had been with the rest of them. The room was very crowded now, only really room for the three small sofas and little table in each corner, and Hill had left the door open to prying eyes. They were drawing quite a crowd in the hallway.
"You nearly done with me?" he asked the nurse, who frowned at him.
"What?" the nurse said, and Clint bit back the 'that's my line' only because he knew he was probably being too quiet to be heard in the crowded space.
Natasha leant towards him to say, "Speak up," and nearly overbalanced off the table onto him. Clint let go of her arm as she righted herself, and she let go of his thigh - the first thing she'd grabbed hold of - a little awkwardly.
"Am I done here?" he asked with a little more force, trying to test his tone, to lower his voice to something more audible.
The nurse gave him a dirty look. "Alright, no need to shout. I've finished with your work-up, but don't go far. We need to monitor you for the next twenty four hours."
Clint slid off the sofa's arm and resisted the urge to put an 'accidental' fist into the nurse as he passed. Caring profession his ass. He shared a glance with Natasha, letting her know where he was going. It wasn't as if he was even planning on leaving the room, but this situation wasn't exactly normal, and they both needed a little more reassurance when things got really wacky. Or maybe it was just him and she was humouring him.
He crossed the room a little bit awkwardly - still getting used to wide hips and narrow shoulders, though he was pleased he'd kept most of his muscle definition. It was unlikely he'd be able to draw his bow right now, no matter how much strength he'd kept in the transformation; this body just wasn't built for it. The thought turned something in his stomach.
Catching another sight of Phil soothed him, through and through. As a woman, Phil was showing his age a little more than usual. Laughter lines and thinning hair just a little bit more noticeable on softer features. He didn't look bad, though. Not by any reach of the imagination; and despite not fitting properly, the suit was still flattering.
Clint waited long enough for the nurse to stop hovering - giving him some illusion of the privacy that being so closely involved in a superhero team lacked - before slouching across the room into his space, squeezing onto the seat between him and Hill.
Hill gave him a look that was full of threat, and Clint reminded himself that she'd spent most of her life trying to make that beautiful face look severe - now she was a guy she was just over-doing it a little, purely out of habit. Same as the rest of them.
"So, this is fun, huh," he observed to the room out loud. He cleared his throat roughly as his newest attempt to lower his voice enough to hear himself backfired a little, but hey - he'd heard some of that, even if he hadn't made out his own words. He was pleased with himself until he noticed the look Coulson was giving him.
"You having ear trouble?" he asked, his voice rich and low in a way that released a knot of tension Clint hadn't even known was there. He had turned in his seat so that they were facing one another, and the look of concern deepened the crows feet in the corners of his eyes in a way that made him look more like Phil.
Clint gave up on trying to hear himself and went for soft again, not sure if he'd shouted. Coulson could read his lips if he needed to. "No more than usual. Only my voice is higher..."
"You can't hear yourself," Coulson deduced with a nod.
"It wouldn't be an issue, only everything..." he gestured briefly to his body, "Everything is different. I think I'm talking normally, and Nat says I'm whispering."
"It's noisy in the room, that's not helping. But yes, you're a touch quiet." His lips quirked in amusement. "You've got a sweet voice."
"Sweet?" Clint pressed. "As in... Dude...?" He received a patented Coulson death-glare and cringed, offering an apologetic grin.
"No. As in, if we'd just met I wouldn't have pegged you for going on forty. It's a nice voice, I like it."
"You know what I like?" Clint grinned, pushing his breasts together in front of him. "These."
Clint flushed as the unexpected noise drop in the room swallowed his words up, and everyone turned to look.
He glanced at Phil. "Too loud, huh."
"Little bit," Phil nodded, suppressing laughter.
"Shit."
Author: LMX
Fandoms: Avengers (Movie-verse)
Rating: PG
Pairings: Clint/Phil
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Classic oops-I-sex-switched-all-the-characters. Some leering, and some being unhappy with ones physical appearance (there's a word for that, I'm sure...)
AN: This fic kind-of isn't. As in, nothing happens. Really. At all. It's a not-fic. I apologise for the drivel. Block is still eating my brain somewhat.
-
"They've had to sedate Tony." Banner's announcement got the attention of the hospital waiting room packed full of Avengers. He made a pretty girl - tight curls framing his face, and glasses just slightly too big for his new features. Familiar. Not a model or an actress, but that girl you know from next door, or from work. Clint guessed his work wasn't the best example for a benchmark of 'girls from work'. SHIELD agents tended to fall into kill-you-with-their-looks or trying-to-be-men types. Sometimes both, he granted.
Well, it wasn't as if Clint could judge. He'd looked in the mirror a couple of times already today - since the frankly ridiculous events of the afternoon - and he'd been disappointed every time. Steve and Thor looked like they should be out there walking catwalks or in super-high-def on a cinema screen somewhere. Flawless, in every way. He was sure that Tony rated somewhere up there with them, even sedated in a hospital bed. Natasha… well, he would have been stupid to think even for a moment she would be anything less than perfect as a guy.
His adjectives ran into the 'mature' and 'well built' categories.
Banner was explaining to Thor why Tony's newly enhanced chest was causing him some serious issues, and Clint found himself picturing the too-brief moment they'd had to see Tony looking down at himself like he'd been given the best present in the world. It had only lasted the few seconds it had taken the intense pain of his breasts pressing around the housing of the arc reactor to hit, but that moment of sheer glee had been brilliant.
Once they'd managed to get him to the hospital - drugged to the gills and still squirming in pain - and had all taken a moment to take a breath, it had been more a matter of sitting around and thinking 'huh... so that happened'. They were all benched until someone could work out what exactly had just been done to them, and Bruce had been more concerned with making sure Tony was stable than on any kind of cure or reversal. There would probably be a mission debriefing at some point. That was bound to be fun.
A gaggle of SHIELD-assigned nurses turned up and stood tentatively at the door, taking in an assortment of Avengers in differing states of uniform sitting on the waiting room furniture. They didn't look much like a crime-fighting superhero troupe right now. With his costume distorted around his newly acquired assets, Cap looked far more like a themed stripper, and Bruce was in borrowed hospital scrubs.
"We'd like to take some new baseline readings," One of the men said, eyeing Steve and Thor with more-than-polite curiosity. "Now that Mr. Stark is resting."
"Are you going to be able to do anything for him?" Natasha asked, and she sounded loud to Clint. He wondered if he'd always adjusted his perception of her voice because it was higher, or whether it was just her adjusting to her new body same as the rest of them were. He'd always had more trouble with the high end since he'd blown out his hearing; higher pitched sounds and voices were inevitably quieter, sometimes entirely inaudible even with his hearing aids. He'd been lucky that all the women in his life had naturally low voices.
Clint had been fairly pleased to note that, at its new register, he hadn't been able to hear Tony's screaming at all. The pleasure had lasted as long as it took to realise that *his own* voice was now pitched outside the limits of his hearing. That had been a kicker to go with the less-than-catwalk-worthy face.
Natasha had told him he had a sweet voice - that he sounded like he would have a good singing voice. Which was just... great. Perfect. He hoped his expression had appropriately expressed his disgust. She'd still stuck nearby, taking a seat on the table next to the sofa-arm where he was perched, which he appreciated.
One of the female nurses was updating them on Tony's status, making Steve's brow pinch adorably. She was a tiny woman, with a tiny voice to go with her stature and Clint was too lazy to try and follow what she was saying so went back to watching the others and picking out visible differences.
Thor really didn't look that different at all, really; just a slimmer, less hairy version of himself. He could be a sports model, beautiful face and beautiful muscle definition. He found himself picturing Valkyries in a whole new light.
"You," Natasha said, calling Clint's attention back to the nurses. The male nurse jumped at being singled out. "You do us."
Clint wondered if it was punishment for leering at Cap and Thor or if Tasha had noticed he wasn't following the little nurse. Could be both - she was nothing if not perceptive, and a little of the tension had gone out of Steve's shoulders.
The male nurse looked disappointed. Dick.
An array of stethoscopes and needles appeared, and they were stabbed and pressed and listened to and talked at, notes taken on ubiquitous clipboards.
The nurse had finished with him and moved on to Natasha when Phil appeared at the door, breasts straining against the buttons of his suit jacket. Clint nearly choked on his tongue, which earned him a concerned frown from the nurse.
Hill was stood at his shoulder - a looming, gangly presence, she'd obviously gained a few inches of height in her change, or Phil had lost a few - and they paused in the doorway to observe the chaos. Maybe they were just avoiding having any of it turned on them.
"Glad you could join us, sirs!" Clint called across the room, glancing at Tasha when he didn't get an immediate response. He probably hadn't been loud enough to be heard over the rabble of noise in the tiny room. Tasha had her tongue stuck out so that the nurse could look for god-knows-what and wasn't paying Clint any attention.
Phil was scanning the room, and Clint offered a half-hearted wave 'hello', pleased when Phil's eyes fixed on him immediately and didn't show any sign of disappointment. A girl's ego was so easily crushed.
Before they could move any further into the room, the two senior officers were apprehended by the nurse who had just finished checking over Bruce - an exchange that had seemed much more of a sharing of ideas than the vampirism it had been with the rest of them. The room was very crowded now, only really room for the three small sofas and little table in each corner, and Hill had left the door open to prying eyes. They were drawing quite a crowd in the hallway.
"You nearly done with me?" he asked the nurse, who frowned at him.
"What?" the nurse said, and Clint bit back the 'that's my line' only because he knew he was probably being too quiet to be heard in the crowded space.
Natasha leant towards him to say, "Speak up," and nearly overbalanced off the table onto him. Clint let go of her arm as she righted herself, and she let go of his thigh - the first thing she'd grabbed hold of - a little awkwardly.
"Am I done here?" he asked with a little more force, trying to test his tone, to lower his voice to something more audible.
The nurse gave him a dirty look. "Alright, no need to shout. I've finished with your work-up, but don't go far. We need to monitor you for the next twenty four hours."
Clint slid off the sofa's arm and resisted the urge to put an 'accidental' fist into the nurse as he passed. Caring profession his ass. He shared a glance with Natasha, letting her know where he was going. It wasn't as if he was even planning on leaving the room, but this situation wasn't exactly normal, and they both needed a little more reassurance when things got really wacky. Or maybe it was just him and she was humouring him.
He crossed the room a little bit awkwardly - still getting used to wide hips and narrow shoulders, though he was pleased he'd kept most of his muscle definition. It was unlikely he'd be able to draw his bow right now, no matter how much strength he'd kept in the transformation; this body just wasn't built for it. The thought turned something in his stomach.
Catching another sight of Phil soothed him, through and through. As a woman, Phil was showing his age a little more than usual. Laughter lines and thinning hair just a little bit more noticeable on softer features. He didn't look bad, though. Not by any reach of the imagination; and despite not fitting properly, the suit was still flattering.
Clint waited long enough for the nurse to stop hovering - giving him some illusion of the privacy that being so closely involved in a superhero team lacked - before slouching across the room into his space, squeezing onto the seat between him and Hill.
Hill gave him a look that was full of threat, and Clint reminded himself that she'd spent most of her life trying to make that beautiful face look severe - now she was a guy she was just over-doing it a little, purely out of habit. Same as the rest of them.
"So, this is fun, huh," he observed to the room out loud. He cleared his throat roughly as his newest attempt to lower his voice enough to hear himself backfired a little, but hey - he'd heard some of that, even if he hadn't made out his own words. He was pleased with himself until he noticed the look Coulson was giving him.
"You having ear trouble?" he asked, his voice rich and low in a way that released a knot of tension Clint hadn't even known was there. He had turned in his seat so that they were facing one another, and the look of concern deepened the crows feet in the corners of his eyes in a way that made him look more like Phil.
Clint gave up on trying to hear himself and went for soft again, not sure if he'd shouted. Coulson could read his lips if he needed to. "No more than usual. Only my voice is higher..."
"You can't hear yourself," Coulson deduced with a nod.
"It wouldn't be an issue, only everything..." he gestured briefly to his body, "Everything is different. I think I'm talking normally, and Nat says I'm whispering."
"It's noisy in the room, that's not helping. But yes, you're a touch quiet." His lips quirked in amusement. "You've got a sweet voice."
"Sweet?" Clint pressed. "As in... Dude...?" He received a patented Coulson death-glare and cringed, offering an apologetic grin.
"No. As in, if we'd just met I wouldn't have pegged you for going on forty. It's a nice voice, I like it."
"You know what I like?" Clint grinned, pushing his breasts together in front of him. "These."
Clint flushed as the unexpected noise drop in the room swallowed his words up, and everyone turned to look.
He glanced at Phil. "Too loud, huh."
"Little bit," Phil nodded, suppressing laughter.
"Shit."