SPN Fic, "Five Times Dean Acted Like A Girl" (Sam/girl!Dean/Andy), 4/6
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Five Times Dean Acted Like A Girl (4/6)
Author: arby_m
Pairing: various combinations of Sam, Andy and girl!Dean
Rating: R (cussing, Wincest)
Spoilers: Through Simon Said.
Warnings: None
Length: ~10k words in total, this chapter clocks in at ~1800 words
Disclaimer: Fictional characters used without intent of copyright infringement.
Summary: Andy and Dean go on a date, of sorts.
Author's Note: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.
4. Dean Gets Let Down Easy
Andy was not really sure what was going on here - well, ordinarily he'd have been pretty sure that he was about to get laid, but things were far from ordinary right about now. He was sitting across the table from a (very) cute girl who until quite recently had been both a guy and a friend of his - a seemingly straight friend at that. Said newly female friend was now attempting to drink him under the table.
He looked across the table. Dean had gone up to the bar and was leaning on it suggestively in the age-old manner of a girl trying to score free drinks. The bartender smiled at him indulgently and served him two shots. Dean dimpled in thanks and brought them back to their table. He was barely even swaying, though this had to be their fifth round.
"Tekillme!" Dean shouted as he neared Andy.
"Dude, you're going to kill me here. Ok, this is the last round, then I insist that we go out to the van."
Dean gave him a mock dirty look. "How do I know you're not Jedi-ing me into it? I really want to go out there!" but the way he smiled made it clear he was kidding about the mind-control - and was NOT kidding about wanting to go to the van.
Andy downed his liquid courage in a single gulp, then stood up and grabbed Dean's hand.
"Come on."
"Wait! Hold on," Dean squawked in an undignified manner. He drank his shot, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked around, peering under the table for a minute before sheepishly admitting, "Oh, right. I didn't have a bag."
"Geez, what a girl!” Andy teased. “Do you usually carry a purse?"
Dean scowled adorably. "Look, I have important stuff to carry! And my pockets aren't big enough."
Andy scoffed. "Important stuff like what, lipgloss?"
"Maybe. Hey, my lips get mad chapped, okay?"
They were in the parking lot. Dean was clinging to Andy as they walked in the classic way of a girl using the excuse of being drunk to drape herself all over a guy. Andy could feel Dean's tits against his arm, for God's sake. Dean wasn't supposed to have tits in the first place, let alone molest Andy with them at the slightest opportunity.
Thankfully once again the orderly procession of time and space continued in an opportune manner, as just then the van hove into view.
Ordinarily Andy could have opened the back doors with a single pinky, that's how good he was at it. Of course ordinarily he didn't have Girl!Dean hanging on him like a limpet.
With some degree of clanging and difficulty he managed to get the door open. The music kicked in and Dean started giggling. There was no other word for the sound he was making - there was nothing even remotely masculine about it.
"I forgot about the bow-chicka-bow, and the tiger! I love this van. Did I tell you I love it already?"
"Other than right now, you mean? No."
"Oh yeah, it was Sam I was telling before. Well I love it. I am in love with it."
"Wait, when did you see the inside of my van?"
"Oh, back in Olka- Okal- Ok-la-hom-a when we thought you might be the great Killinsky - you know, the mind-murderer. I pried open the doors with a crowbar. Sorry baby," and he stroked the fur upholstery lovingly. He sprawled on the rug, the disco ball sending little diamonds spinning over him, as Andy opened a secret compartment built into the floor above the wheel well and pulled out the dope.
"That was when I knew you couldn't have done it, by the way," continued Dean, enunciating just a tad too much, "No one with such good taste in rides could be a stone-cold killer. Question: did you get more girls with the wheels or the mind control?"
Andy frowned, thinking, as he efficiently packed the bowl. "By the time I got Sharona here I already had the whammy, so I don't know. In fact I used the whammy to get her - this dude had already tricked her out and everything."
He turned and when Dean saw what Andy was holding, he burst out laughing again. "Moby Dick's bong! That's what I said, I said to Sam when I saw it. Of course he of the permanent stick up the ass didn't even crack a smile, but come on!"
Andy grinned and took an (appropriately monster) hit before passing it over.
"Thar she blows!"
Andy had had every intention of taking Dean home before things got too weird. Of course, after about the 10th hit off ol' Moby Bong, Andy didn't feel like going anywhere. He was staring at Dean, fascinated.
"It's so weird," he breathed, for what had to be the fiftieth time. Dean's transformation was so subtle, at least in the facial features, that he'd be hard-put to say what had changed. The jaw more rounded instead of square, the overall contours of his face heart-shaped instead of boxy, the high cheekbones and delicate aquiline nose the same - a bit smaller (but then, his entire head was smaller, so it was proportionate), and there was something different about his mouth but Andy couldn't have said what it was to save his life.
Yet Dean was now as unmistakably female as he'd been male before. And no less strikingly beautiful in this shape, although Andy would still argue that the male version was more of a knockout, just because pretty girls were a dime a dozen, but guys who looked like Dean were usually models or actors, not real people who went around doing stuff. Like sticking their tongues into your ear, just as a for example. Not that he wanted that to happen or anything.
Dean's left eye had a flaw in the iris, a great dark crack like a sockeye marble, the good kind kids'd trade two and three for back in the day. Dean misinterpreted this interest and his face took on the dreamy look of a girl expecting to be kissed. Andy changed focus to Dean's hair, disconcertingly long and flowing, with a little anarchist wave to it that seemingly defied any attempt at styling. It looked soft and inviting to the touch, though, like a bunny's or a cat's fur, and he found himself stroking it lightly almost against his will.
Dean smiled. "Feels nice, huh? I found out the secret - they use special conditioners. And brush it a lot more than we do. The big trick to getting or maintaining your beauty is spending a lot more time on your appearance. That and buying mad products. You may or may not know this, but they have a product for every possible beauty flaw. It's crazy!" he snorted. "And crazy expensive."
It was as if Andy'd never seen a girl before - like he grew up in some strange faraway country where there was no such thing as female, that's how wondrous strange she seemed.
She's like Dean's sister, it suddenly hit him. It's just like Dean had a twin sister, like me and Ansen, and there's no law against me and Dean's sister. The fact that there was no "law" against him and Girl!Dean either did not bear thinking about at that moment.
Somehow Dean's head was in his lap now, sleepy eyes half-lidded, the little face looking up at him so expectantly, that Andy felt that sheer politeness impelled him to drop the slightest possible kiss on those lips, and the slow, sweet smile Dean gave him made him have to bend back down for just one more, and then they were kissing in earnest and it was languid and sweet and somehow still Dean and the combination was a little too much, somehow. Those eyes looking out of a girl's face, those lips that used to look so strong, feeling so soft beneath his own.
Andy broke away, gasping, a sort of floating horror rising up from his stomach as if someone had blown it up like a balloon.
"I, I can't do this."
"What's wrong?" Dean's hair was mussed, and his lips were beestung and pink... Andy had no words to describe them. He halfway thought that if he so much as looked at Dean's lips for another second, his brain would explode with the cognitive dissonance.
Dean looked at him, frowning. "Are you okay?"
Andy shook his head and instantly regretted it. He was beginning to remember why he hated tequila. He stood up suddenly and his head swam. He managed to stagger off the van before it hit him like an express train and his guts turned themselves inside out into the parking lot. He heard someone moaning in the distance and eventually realized it was him.
Dean was hovering around him, trying to help, but there was nothing anyone could do. Andy waved off the solitication with one hand and returned all his energy to horking his lungs out.
Finally the Jose Cuervo Barf Express stopped, seemingly of its own accord. He felt as if he'd aged years in the process. He wiped the helpless tears from puking off his cheeks and leaned against the open ledge of the van.
"Jesus. Got any water?"
Dean looked apologetic. "Sorry dude. Usually I would, but I didn't bring my bag tonight. You want me to run over to that deli and get you some?"
Andy nodded. Even that slight motion took all his energy.
"Ok hold on a sec, bro." He hopped down from the van and made as if to walk off across the parking lot.
"Hey, um," Andy croaked through his parched throat. "Sorry about, about that. It wasn't you. I just can't drink tequila."
Dean smiled and the sky got brighter - either the sun came out from the clouds in the dead of night, or maybe it was the fluorescent lights in the parking lot, shining in Andy's eyes.
But by the time Dean got back, Andy had had more time to think about it. He drank half the large Poland Spring bottle Dean handed him in one gulp, then turned to Dean and said, "Look, it's...just, it's just too weird for me, I'm sorry."
Dean was quiet for a second, looking disappointed. Then he shrugged and said with a trace of his old nonchalance, "It's okay, dude. I understand. Um, do you mind if I go back to the hotel now?"
Andy smiled, glad he was taking it so well. "Sure, no problem. I'd drive you, but I think I'm too fucked up."
"Nah, I can walk. It's not that far."
"Sure you're okay to go by yourself?"
"What, you think I can't defend myself?" Dean pulled out an absurdly wicked long knife. Andy had no earthly idea where he'd managed to keep it. "Yeah - anyone who tries to fuck with me will be sorry."
"Okay. So, um - see you tomorrow, then?"
"Yeah, see you." And he clambered out of the van and was gone.
-------------------------------------------------------------
On to Chapter 5!
Title: Five Times Dean Acted Like A Girl (4/6)
Author: arby_m
Pairing: various combinations of Sam, Andy and girl!Dean
Rating: R (cussing, Wincest)
Spoilers: Through Simon Said.
Warnings: None
Length: ~10k words in total, this chapter clocks in at ~1800 words
Disclaimer: Fictional characters used without intent of copyright infringement.
Summary: Andy and Dean go on a date, of sorts.
Author's Note: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.
4. Dean Gets Let Down Easy
Andy was not really sure what was going on here - well, ordinarily he'd have been pretty sure that he was about to get laid, but things were far from ordinary right about now. He was sitting across the table from a (very) cute girl who until quite recently had been both a guy and a friend of his - a seemingly straight friend at that. Said newly female friend was now attempting to drink him under the table.
He looked across the table. Dean had gone up to the bar and was leaning on it suggestively in the age-old manner of a girl trying to score free drinks. The bartender smiled at him indulgently and served him two shots. Dean dimpled in thanks and brought them back to their table. He was barely even swaying, though this had to be their fifth round.
"Tekillme!" Dean shouted as he neared Andy.
"Dude, you're going to kill me here. Ok, this is the last round, then I insist that we go out to the van."
Dean gave him a mock dirty look. "How do I know you're not Jedi-ing me into it? I really want to go out there!" but the way he smiled made it clear he was kidding about the mind-control - and was NOT kidding about wanting to go to the van.
Andy downed his liquid courage in a single gulp, then stood up and grabbed Dean's hand.
"Come on."
"Wait! Hold on," Dean squawked in an undignified manner. He drank his shot, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked around, peering under the table for a minute before sheepishly admitting, "Oh, right. I didn't have a bag."
"Geez, what a girl!” Andy teased. “Do you usually carry a purse?"
Dean scowled adorably. "Look, I have important stuff to carry! And my pockets aren't big enough."
Andy scoffed. "Important stuff like what, lipgloss?"
"Maybe. Hey, my lips get mad chapped, okay?"
They were in the parking lot. Dean was clinging to Andy as they walked in the classic way of a girl using the excuse of being drunk to drape herself all over a guy. Andy could feel Dean's tits against his arm, for God's sake. Dean wasn't supposed to have tits in the first place, let alone molest Andy with them at the slightest opportunity.
Thankfully once again the orderly procession of time and space continued in an opportune manner, as just then the van hove into view.
Ordinarily Andy could have opened the back doors with a single pinky, that's how good he was at it. Of course ordinarily he didn't have Girl!Dean hanging on him like a limpet.
With some degree of clanging and difficulty he managed to get the door open. The music kicked in and Dean started giggling. There was no other word for the sound he was making - there was nothing even remotely masculine about it.
"I forgot about the bow-chicka-bow, and the tiger! I love this van. Did I tell you I love it already?"
"Other than right now, you mean? No."
"Oh yeah, it was Sam I was telling before. Well I love it. I am in love with it."
"Wait, when did you see the inside of my van?"
"Oh, back in Olka- Okal- Ok-la-hom-a when we thought you might be the great Killinsky - you know, the mind-murderer. I pried open the doors with a crowbar. Sorry baby," and he stroked the fur upholstery lovingly. He sprawled on the rug, the disco ball sending little diamonds spinning over him, as Andy opened a secret compartment built into the floor above the wheel well and pulled out the dope.
"That was when I knew you couldn't have done it, by the way," continued Dean, enunciating just a tad too much, "No one with such good taste in rides could be a stone-cold killer. Question: did you get more girls with the wheels or the mind control?"
Andy frowned, thinking, as he efficiently packed the bowl. "By the time I got Sharona here I already had the whammy, so I don't know. In fact I used the whammy to get her - this dude had already tricked her out and everything."
He turned and when Dean saw what Andy was holding, he burst out laughing again. "Moby Dick's bong! That's what I said, I said to Sam when I saw it. Of course he of the permanent stick up the ass didn't even crack a smile, but come on!"
Andy grinned and took an (appropriately monster) hit before passing it over.
"Thar she blows!"
Andy had had every intention of taking Dean home before things got too weird. Of course, after about the 10th hit off ol' Moby Bong, Andy didn't feel like going anywhere. He was staring at Dean, fascinated.
"It's so weird," he breathed, for what had to be the fiftieth time. Dean's transformation was so subtle, at least in the facial features, that he'd be hard-put to say what had changed. The jaw more rounded instead of square, the overall contours of his face heart-shaped instead of boxy, the high cheekbones and delicate aquiline nose the same - a bit smaller (but then, his entire head was smaller, so it was proportionate), and there was something different about his mouth but Andy couldn't have said what it was to save his life.
Yet Dean was now as unmistakably female as he'd been male before. And no less strikingly beautiful in this shape, although Andy would still argue that the male version was more of a knockout, just because pretty girls were a dime a dozen, but guys who looked like Dean were usually models or actors, not real people who went around doing stuff. Like sticking their tongues into your ear, just as a for example. Not that he wanted that to happen or anything.
Dean's left eye had a flaw in the iris, a great dark crack like a sockeye marble, the good kind kids'd trade two and three for back in the day. Dean misinterpreted this interest and his face took on the dreamy look of a girl expecting to be kissed. Andy changed focus to Dean's hair, disconcertingly long and flowing, with a little anarchist wave to it that seemingly defied any attempt at styling. It looked soft and inviting to the touch, though, like a bunny's or a cat's fur, and he found himself stroking it lightly almost against his will.
Dean smiled. "Feels nice, huh? I found out the secret - they use special conditioners. And brush it a lot more than we do. The big trick to getting or maintaining your beauty is spending a lot more time on your appearance. That and buying mad products. You may or may not know this, but they have a product for every possible beauty flaw. It's crazy!" he snorted. "And crazy expensive."
It was as if Andy'd never seen a girl before - like he grew up in some strange faraway country where there was no such thing as female, that's how wondrous strange she seemed.
She's like Dean's sister, it suddenly hit him. It's just like Dean had a twin sister, like me and Ansen, and there's no law against me and Dean's sister. The fact that there was no "law" against him and Girl!Dean either did not bear thinking about at that moment.
Somehow Dean's head was in his lap now, sleepy eyes half-lidded, the little face looking up at him so expectantly, that Andy felt that sheer politeness impelled him to drop the slightest possible kiss on those lips, and the slow, sweet smile Dean gave him made him have to bend back down for just one more, and then they were kissing in earnest and it was languid and sweet and somehow still Dean and the combination was a little too much, somehow. Those eyes looking out of a girl's face, those lips that used to look so strong, feeling so soft beneath his own.
Andy broke away, gasping, a sort of floating horror rising up from his stomach as if someone had blown it up like a balloon.
"I, I can't do this."
"What's wrong?" Dean's hair was mussed, and his lips were beestung and pink... Andy had no words to describe them. He halfway thought that if he so much as looked at Dean's lips for another second, his brain would explode with the cognitive dissonance.
Dean looked at him, frowning. "Are you okay?"
Andy shook his head and instantly regretted it. He was beginning to remember why he hated tequila. He stood up suddenly and his head swam. He managed to stagger off the van before it hit him like an express train and his guts turned themselves inside out into the parking lot. He heard someone moaning in the distance and eventually realized it was him.
Dean was hovering around him, trying to help, but there was nothing anyone could do. Andy waved off the solitication with one hand and returned all his energy to horking his lungs out.
Finally the Jose Cuervo Barf Express stopped, seemingly of its own accord. He felt as if he'd aged years in the process. He wiped the helpless tears from puking off his cheeks and leaned against the open ledge of the van.
"Jesus. Got any water?"
Dean looked apologetic. "Sorry dude. Usually I would, but I didn't bring my bag tonight. You want me to run over to that deli and get you some?"
Andy nodded. Even that slight motion took all his energy.
"Ok hold on a sec, bro." He hopped down from the van and made as if to walk off across the parking lot.
"Hey, um," Andy croaked through his parched throat. "Sorry about, about that. It wasn't you. I just can't drink tequila."
Dean smiled and the sky got brighter - either the sun came out from the clouds in the dead of night, or maybe it was the fluorescent lights in the parking lot, shining in Andy's eyes.
But by the time Dean got back, Andy had had more time to think about it. He drank half the large Poland Spring bottle Dean handed him in one gulp, then turned to Dean and said, "Look, it's...just, it's just too weird for me, I'm sorry."
Dean was quiet for a second, looking disappointed. Then he shrugged and said with a trace of his old nonchalance, "It's okay, dude. I understand. Um, do you mind if I go back to the hotel now?"
Andy smiled, glad he was taking it so well. "Sure, no problem. I'd drive you, but I think I'm too fucked up."
"Nah, I can walk. It's not that far."
"Sure you're okay to go by yourself?"
"What, you think I can't defend myself?" Dean pulled out an absurdly wicked long knife. Andy had no earthly idea where he'd managed to keep it. "Yeah - anyone who tries to fuck with me will be sorry."
"Okay. So, um - see you tomorrow, then?"
"Yeah, see you." And he clambered out of the van and was gone.
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On to Chapter 5!