[FIC] Girls Night Out
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write
Pairing or Characters Involved: Girl!Dean/Castiel
Category: crack
Rating: R
Warning: Girl!Dean, Language, sexual situations, attempted sexual assault
Title: Girls Night Out
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This was written for the spnland_writing Genderswap Me! Challenge
“Dean, are you all right?”
A mixture of scattered thoughts and jumbled memories crowded Dean’s mind and Castiel’s voice, muffled and sounding a million miles away, cut through them all as he struggled towards consciousness.
His eyes flickered, registering light and blobs of blurred shapes and colors before rolling back into his head. It took more effort than was pretty to muster up a groan of acknowledgement.
“Dean,” Castiel’s voice rumbled again. “Wake up.”
Physical sensations began to return and he became aware of the fact that his head was resting in someone’s lap. What the hell? Blinking his eyes open, he forced his body upright, noting that although his head was throbbing and his thoughts fuzzy, he wasn’t in a lot of physical pain. Well, that was a nice change of pace. Usually bouts of unconsciousness were the direct results of physical trauma, but he actually felt pretty good.
“What happened?” He mumbled, then stopped, eyes widening, mouth dropping open.
Had that been his voice? No way in hell. His voice was low, rough, sexy. The voice that had spoken those words had been considerably higher in pitch, smooth… feminine.
“Ah, hell, no!”
In a rush it all came back to him, the hunt, that skeevy witch with the twisted smile they’d been tailing for days. Something familiar about that bitch, something he couldn’t put a finger on. The way she had just dropped in on them at the motel. A flash of light and bang! Lights out.
“Dean, listen, it’s not as bad as it looks-“
“Dude!” Dean’s hands flew to his chest and the color drained from his face. “I got boobs!”
“Dean, you need to calm down.” Castiel urged.
“I don’t think you heard me, Cas. I got boobs!” A look of creeping horror crossed his face. “Oh, no. No. Not that. Anything but that.”
Closing his eyes, he reached down and groped his crotch with one hand. A moment later a small strangled sound escaped his lips. He dashed into the bathroom and glared into the mirror behind the sink. “Son of a bitch!” He exploded. “God, I hate witches!”
“It wasn’t a witch, Dean,” Castiel corrected when Dean returned red faced from the bathroom. “She was much too powerful.”
“If it wasn’t a witch,” Dean interrupted, heatedly, “then who - or what - was it?”
Castiel’s expression turned apologetic. “Gabriel.”
“Oh, that’s just great!” Dean ran a hand through his short hair. “Is there any way you can reverse it? I mean, you’re an angel, too, right? There’s gotta be something you can do, right?”
“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured. “I can’t undo what my brother’s done. Only he can change you back to normal. Perhaps,” He added hopefully, “if we ask him, he’ll reverse the spell.”
“Like that’ll ever happen,” Dean growled. He tried crossing his arms under his chest, but the two new additions made the motion uncomfortable so he had to settle for crossing them over his stomach. “Why me, huh? Why not Sam? He’s the one in touch with his feelings and all that shit.”
“I don’t know why he did this to you,” Castiel admitted. “But you can be sure he had his reasons, twisted though they may seem.”
Dean snorted, glanced around the motel room. “Speaking of Sam - where the hell is he?”
As if he had been magically summoned, Sam entered the room carrying a couple of plastic shopping bags. When he saw Dean his expression flickered between relief and amusement. “Good to see you’re awake.”
“And just where in hell have you been?” Dean snapped.
“Shopping,” Sam said matter-of-factly, holding up the bags. “What does it look like?”
“See?” Dean demanded, turning to Castiel. “What did I tell you? Perfect candidate for a little sexual switch-a-roo.”
Rolling his eyes, Sam dumped the bags on the table. “I had to get you some clothes, Dean. We can’t exactly have you running around looking like that, now could we?”
Dean glanced down at himself, sneering. “And what the hell is wrong what I’m wearing?”
The shoulder seams of both the flannel shirt and undershirt he currently wore bagged nearly down to his elbows. His jeans, ruggedly worn and fraying round the hems, were in danger of falling off his new body, curves or no curves and the bottoms pooled on the floor, threatening to trip him up if he wasn’t careful. And he could just forget about the shoes.
He felt like a little boy playing dress up in his daddy’s clothes.
“Damn, I’m a fucking midget!”
“Actually,” Castiel corrected, “You appear to be about average height for a woman.”
For the first time Dean realized that he had to crane his head back to look into Castiel’s eyes. It felt weird, looking up into those dark blue eyes from this angle. And Sam… holy shit, when did he get so freaking tall?
“God, I need a drink…” Dean moved to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer he’d left chilling the night before.
“So… what’s the game plan?” Sam asked, digging into the bag and pulling out his new purchases. Tee shirt, pair of jeans, a package of women’s underwear and… a bra.
Dean stared incredulously at the clothes Sam held out to him then glared up at him accusingly. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“No! Of course not!” Sam protested.
Dean glared up at him fiercely.
Sam scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dean, we can’t have you running around like that. You’re clothes are practically falling off your body as it is.”
“Fine,” Dean huffed, snatching the clothes and tucking them under his arm. “You go see if there’s any way to reverse this…. Whatever the hell it is. Cas and I will look for Gabriel. Any questions? Comments?”
“Just one,” Sam said, breaking into a mischievous grin. “You’re looking rather pretty today, Dean. What’s your secret?”
A second later Sam made a break for the door and managed to duck behind it just as Dean’s beer bottle hit in an explosion of glass and foam.
“Bitch,” Dean growled, glaring at the door
“Takes on to know one,” Sam smirked, shutting the door behind him and beating a retreat for the library.
***
“So how are we gonna find Gabriel?” Dean growled, yanking his long hair back into a ponytail and securing it with a rubber band.
“The same way he found us.” Castiel murmured, glancing at Dean, then away as if he had caught the other man in an intimate act.
“And how the hell did he find us, anyway?” Dean demanded, wincing as some of the fine hairs at the nape of his neck were pulled too tight. Cursing under his breath, he carefully pulled out the rubber band and began the whole process over again. “I thought those sigils you carved into our bones kept us hidden from angels?”
“They do,” Castiel replied quietly, keeping his eyes averted while Dean stripped out of his normal clothes. “But he can still track me.”
“Great.”
“That may actually work to our advantage.”
“Yeah? How so?”
Castiel glanced at Dean, caught a glimpse of full, shapely breasts as he slipped the straps of the bra over his shoulders. He turned away, abruptly and felt heat wash across his face.
“Uh… I would have thought you’d have had more difficulty wearing a woman’s clothes.” Castiel said, clearing his throat.
“Nah,” Dean chuckled, stepping into the jeans and yanking them up. “I’ve had so much practice taking these things off that I could probably do it blindfolded and with my teeth.” Dean paused, considering. “Now that I think about it, I think I have.”
Feeling flustered and uncertain, Castiel closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. His body had never quite reacted like this before. He didn’t understand why that was. He had certainly been in the presence of women before. Jo and Ellen Harvelle, for starters. Both had been reasonably attractive women, but somehow neither had elicited such feelings of… he hesitated as he tried to put a finger on what exactly he was feeling. Arousal, he concluded. Sexual excitement. This realization did not particularly embarrass him; nevertheless, he felt his cheeks warm. If he were to look into a mirror now, he was certain his face would be flushed.
What a very… human reaction, he thought. He thought about it for a moment and came to the realization that the only person - male or female - that had ever made him experience this nerve wracking awkwardness… was Dean.
“Interesting,” He murmured under his breath.
“What was that?” Dean asked.
“Nothing.” Castiel cleared his throat and turned to Dean, who was - thankfully - fully dressed and slipping his feet into the new boots Sam had bought him. “I can track Gabriel the same way he was able to track me. If he’s within fifty miles I should be able to sense him.”
“I’d think he’d be long gone after the crap he did, wouldn’t you?”
“Not necessarily.” Castiel tucked his hands into the pocket of his trench coat. For some reason they were sweating. “Remember, Gabriel probably has a reason for doing what he did to you. He’ll want to stay nearby so he could… watch.”
“Pervert.”
Castiel frowned at that. “He took the guise of a Trickster for a reason, Dean. He enjoys dealing out what he feels is someone’s deserved punishment. He has quite the sense of humor. Always has.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not laughing. The sooner we find him, the sooner I can get my normal body back. So, what do you say we get this show on the road?”
Castiel closed his eyes, stretched out his arms and began chanting in low, guttural tones. Enochian was a harsh sounding language with mixture of clashing consonants and unpleasant sounds. Dean had once described it as an ‘ass ugly’ language. His angelic powers, faded as they were, stretched out and just on the edge of his perception, he felt it. The unmistakable presence of a fellow angel. He concentrated harder, brows knitting in effort.
“There you are,” He breathed as he fixed onto the location. He opened his eyes and a wave of dizziness swept through him.
“You okay?” Dean caught his shoulders as he stumbled back as the dizziness peaked. The touch of his hands on his shoulders sent tiny thrills shooting through him.
“I’m fine,” He managed. “And I’ve located Gabriel.”
“Great, now let’s go kick his feathered ass.”
“I wouldn’t advise that.” Castiel cautioned. “He’s tougher than he looks.”
“Yeah, I bet. Looks to me like he has a glass jaw.”
“Dean, please.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll play it your way. For now.”
“Thank you.” He extended his hand toward Dean, pointer and middle finger extended.
Recognizing the gesture, Dean stepped back. “Hell, no, Cas,” He muttered. “You know I hate that shit.”
“I know,” Castiel sighed, “But what other choice do we have? Sam took the Impala, remember?”
“Yeah… but we could walk, right?”
This earned an amused shake of the head. “I’m afraid not.”
Dean’s shoulder’s sagged. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
Castiel smiled, and just before he touched his fingers to Dean’s forehead, he said, “Sam’s right, you know.”
“’bout what?”
“You are looking rather pretty today.”
Before Dean could protest - or hit him for that matter - Castiel pressed his fingers to his forehead and they were gone in a whirlwind flutter of wings.
***
“Damn it,” Dean shoved Castiel away weakly as they reappeared in what appeared to be a sleazy dive. The air was heavy with the smell of greasy food, stale cigarette smoke and booze. Country music oozed out of an antique juke box. Nausea rushed through him as his mind and body tried to come to grips with the sudden jump to light speed and then the jarring landing. “I hate it when you do that.”
“I know. And I’m sorry, but it was the only option we had-“
“Well, what a pleasant surprise!” A familiar voice said from a few feet away. “Castiel! Long time no see! I was wondering when you’d show up.”
Dean and Castiel turned to the voice and sure enough, Gabriel, aka the Trickster, sat at one of the bar stools looking perfectly at home in the sleazy environment. The archangel picked up a frothy mug of beer and brought it to his lips nonchalantly.
“Belly up to the bar, boys,” he called, gesturing over to them. “Drinks are on me.”
Dean stomped up to him, wishing he had his own body back. At five feet four inches and weighing in at maybe one hundred twenty pounds, he lacked the height and muscle to be truly intimidating. But that didn’t stop him from trying.
“Why don’t we cut the chase, asshole,” he snarled. “I want my body back.”
“And people in Hell want ice water,” Gabriel said loftily. “But I don’t see anyone opening any lemonade stands down there, do you?”
Dean felt his smaller, admittedly cuter hands curling into fists and would have probably launched himself at the smugly grinning Trickster if he had not felt Castiel’s hands rest lightly on his shoulders as if urging caution.
“What are your conditions, Gabriel?” Castiel asked, his voice dropping into a warning growl.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” The other angel motioned the bartender over. “I’ll need two more for my friends here,” he said.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Gabriel sighed and turned on the barstool until he was facing them. “Fine. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” He turned to Dean. “You have until midnight to break my little spell or you’ll spend the rest of your life as a woman.”
“What the hell?” Dean glanced at the clock above the bar. It was almost nine o’clock in the evening. “And how in hell am I supposed to do that?”
“You really want to know?” Gabriel grinned.
Dean ground his teeth in agitation and glanced at Castiel who gave him a warning look. “Yes, I want to know, damn it.”
“Then come here and let me whisper it into your ears.”
“Man, you are seriously pushing it.” Dean growled. Taking a calming breath, he leaned toward the angel. “So tell me already. Don’t leave me hanging in suspense.”
Gabriel leaned forward, smelling pleasantly of alcohol, salted peanuts and Old Spice cologne. He pressed his face close to Dean’s ears and whispered his breath warm against his skin.
Dean pulled back incredulous. “That’s it?” He demanded. “That’s all I’ve got to do?”
“Just that and nothing more. If you can manage that before the strike of midnight, you’ll turn back into a man and all will be right with the world.”
Shaking his head, a smug smile of triumph tugged at Dean’s lips. “In that case, I’ll be a man again in no time.”
“Oh, you think so?”
“You don’t know me very well, do you?”
Gabriel regarded him for a moment. “Actually, I know you better than you think, Dean Winchester. So,” he held out his hand, “Do we have a deal?”
“Dean,” Castiel said, alarmed, “What are you doing?”
“Trust me, I know what I’m doing, Cas.”
Castiel glanced at Gabriel, then back at Dean, his eyes wide and apprehensive. “Whatever you’re thinking of agreeing to, please, reconsider. There has to be another way.”
“Actually,” Gabriel said, cutting him off, “There is no other way, brother. It’s my way or the highway. Take it or leave it.”
“Trust me, Cas,” Dean grinned cockily. “I know what I’m doing.” To Gabriel, he said: “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Dean extended his own hand and they shook, sealing the bargain. “This’ll be a piece of cake.”
***
“Damn,” Dean muttered as he glanced at the clock, “This is harder than I thought it would be. I’ve never seen a bar with so many deadbeats in my life.”
The clock above the bar read a quarter to eleven. He’d been sitting at the bar for almost two hours and so far the only men who had shown an interest in him had been wrinkly old men and a few pimply teens with fake IDs.
Castiel hovered in the stool next to him and hissed, “I can’t believe you agreed to this, Dean.”
“Hey,” Dean hissed back, “I know what I’m doing here, okay? I’ve been having sex a hell of a lot longer than you. And, as a guy, I know what men want in a woman.”
A group of men entered the bar, three big guys with trucker hats and farmer tans. The tallest, beefiest one glanced in Dean’s direction with obvious interest. Then his eyes shifted to Castiel beside him and he scowled.
“Beat it, dude,” Dean whispered though the side of his mouth. “You’re cramping my style.”
“Dean,” Castiel pleaded, “Please, there must be another way…”
“Get going, will ya?” Dean snapped. “You’re gonna blow my chance.”
Castiel glanced in the direction the other man had gone, then back to Dean. “As you wish,” he said, his shoulders slumping imperceptibly. Without another word, he made his way to a deserted booth at the opposite side of the bar.
“That’s more like it,” Dean mumbled, scanning the smoky semi-darkness until he spotted the trucker.
Forcing one of his best come-hither smiles, Dean nodded his head in greeting then patted the now empty barstool beside him. Trucker’s pals nudged him, grinning and cracking wise until he eased his large frame out of the booth’s seating and lumbered on over to where Dean sat.
“You come here often?” Trucker ground out, taking the seat next to him.
Dean almost rolled his eyes at the overused pickup line, but stopped himself in time. He didn’t really have time to be picky and this guy was the first reasonably attractive guy he had seen all night. Besides, beggars couldn’t be choosers, now could they? If he didn’t get lucky soon, he’d be shopping in Victoria Secrets for the rest of his freaking life.
“What’s your name, handsome?” Dean purred, batting his eyes.
“Randy.”
“My, how apropos.” Dean muttered under his breath. He forced himself to reach out one hand and place it on the man’s knee in what could be hopefully be construed as an inviting manner. “Well, Randy, it’s been a long, lonely night. What do you say you and I talk a walk and get to know each other, if you know what I mean?”
For a moment Randy seemed taken aback by Dean’s forward manner. “Damn, girl, you are a fast worker, ain’t you?”
“You’ve no idea,” Dean admitted, glancing nervously at the clock.
“Let’s go, then.” Randy placed one manhole sized hand on Dean’s shoulder and urged him up out of the seat. “My car’s out back.”
Licking his lips nervously, Dean cut a glance at Castiel, who stared at them from his seat, a pained expression on his face. “Sounds good, sugar,” He managed through suddenly numb lips and allowed Randy to lead him past his friends, who howled and made rude gestures as they made their way past them.
“Animals.” Dean muttered darkly.
True to his word, Randy’s car was parked in the back. It was a beat up piece of crap with more rust than paint and Dean wondered how any respectable man could let his car fall into such a state of disrepair.
“Get in,” Randy said, opening one of the back doors and gesturing inside. Under other circumstances Dean supposed the gesture could be considered gentlemanly, but to him, it just seemed impatient.
He glanced around the parking lot and toward the bar where Castiel sat waiting on his return. With sudden reluctance, Dean eased into the backseat and scooted over as Randy pushed his way inside. The back of the car was a mess of crumpled newspapers and fast food containers which Randy simply shoved onto the floorboards. Dean’s nose wrinkled at the smell of garbage and stale beer. Nervousness became unease and suddenly he didn’t think that this was such a good idea.
Before he could make his excuses, Randy was upon him, mouth clamping onto his, tongue pushing past his lips. The reek of his breath was overwhelming and, outraged at this clumsy assault, tried to push him back. And, if he had his regular body, he would have succeeded. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case anymore and to his horror he found himself being overpowered, pressed back into the car’s sticky upholstery by the man’s sheer size and strength.
“Hey,” Dean gasped, breaking away from the unwanted kiss, “That’s it. I’m outta here.”
He pushed at Randy but was unable to budge the larger man, who ignored his protests and struggles. “Knock it off!” Dean shouted as Randy caught first one wrist then the other and yanked them up over his head and pinning him with the mass of his body.
He heard the ripping of cloth and then felt sweaty hands pawing at his flesh. “I said no!” Dean gasped, trying to pull away as Randy began raining slobbery kisses down his throat.
Suddenly the car door opened and Castiel was there, pulling the man away from Dean and out of the car. “I believe the lady doesn’t share your interest,” He said solemnly. His words were calm, but there was a tightness that betrayed the rage behind his actions.
“Who the fuck are you?” Randy demanded, face red and eyes narrowed.
“Just a friend.” Castiel replied. “Now get out of here before you make me do something I might regret.” He pushed the man away and turned his attention to Dean, who was climbing out of the backseat, holding the tattered remains of his shirt to his chest.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mumbled. “You - hey, behind you!”
Castiel whirled as Randy came upon him, fists raised and snarling. The angel’s right fist flashed out and connected solidly with the other man’s jutting chin, followed quickly by the left. Randy reeled back and struck the neighboring car. His eyes rolled into his head and he slid to the ground in a boneless heap.
“Good riddance,” Dean spat to clear his mouth of the other man’s taste. He turned to Castiel and sighed unhappily. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“As you wish.”
***
Dean exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam wearing nothing but a scratchy motel towel. He offered a tired smile at Castiel, who sat on his bed.
“Well, that sure as hell didn’t go as planned.” Dean muttered, flopping down beside him. His eyes were drawn to the clock. Ten minutes to midnight. “I guess I better get used to this body, eh?”
“Not necessarily.” Castiel glanced at him, almost shyly. “There is still time to meet Gabriel’s requirements.”
“No thanks. I’m not gonna put myself through THAT again,” Dean sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. He straightened suddenly, turned toward Castiel.
“Hey, what about… you know.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You and me having a shot at it. What do you say?”
Castiel sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “You and I… I don’t know…”
Sure, why not? Dean asked, excitedly, “You’re reasonably attractive.”
This earned a wry smile from the angel. “Thank you for noticing.”
“Besides, you owe me.”
“I… I do?” Castiel blinked at this, confused.
“Yeah. Gabriel’s your brother. And if it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”
Leaning closer, Castiel rested his forehead against Dean’s. “I suppose if you put it that way, how can I possibly refuse?”
“Damn straight. So…” Dean glanced into his eyes and smiled tremulously. “You wanna?”
“More than anything.”
***
“Dean!” Sam burst into the room, “There you are! Christ, man, I’ve been out looking for you all-“
Dean - the real Dean man parts and all glanced up from his cup of coffee. “Where the hell did you think I’d be? Jeez.”
“But… how… How did you manage to turn back to normal?” Sam wondered, plopping down in the chair next to his brother.
Dean smiled down into his coffee. “I’m surprised at you, Sam.” He chided. “You know a lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
Pairing or Characters Involved: Girl!Dean/Castiel
Category: crack
Rating: R
Warning: Girl!Dean, Language, sexual situations, attempted sexual assault
Title: Girls Night Out
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This was written for the spnland_writing Genderswap Me! Challenge
“Dean, are you all right?”
A mixture of scattered thoughts and jumbled memories crowded Dean’s mind and Castiel’s voice, muffled and sounding a million miles away, cut through them all as he struggled towards consciousness.
His eyes flickered, registering light and blobs of blurred shapes and colors before rolling back into his head. It took more effort than was pretty to muster up a groan of acknowledgement.
“Dean,” Castiel’s voice rumbled again. “Wake up.”
Physical sensations began to return and he became aware of the fact that his head was resting in someone’s lap. What the hell? Blinking his eyes open, he forced his body upright, noting that although his head was throbbing and his thoughts fuzzy, he wasn’t in a lot of physical pain. Well, that was a nice change of pace. Usually bouts of unconsciousness were the direct results of physical trauma, but he actually felt pretty good.
“What happened?” He mumbled, then stopped, eyes widening, mouth dropping open.
Had that been his voice? No way in hell. His voice was low, rough, sexy. The voice that had spoken those words had been considerably higher in pitch, smooth… feminine.
“Ah, hell, no!”
In a rush it all came back to him, the hunt, that skeevy witch with the twisted smile they’d been tailing for days. Something familiar about that bitch, something he couldn’t put a finger on. The way she had just dropped in on them at the motel. A flash of light and bang! Lights out.
“Dean, listen, it’s not as bad as it looks-“
“Dude!” Dean’s hands flew to his chest and the color drained from his face. “I got boobs!”
“Dean, you need to calm down.” Castiel urged.
“I don’t think you heard me, Cas. I got boobs!” A look of creeping horror crossed his face. “Oh, no. No. Not that. Anything but that.”
Closing his eyes, he reached down and groped his crotch with one hand. A moment later a small strangled sound escaped his lips. He dashed into the bathroom and glared into the mirror behind the sink. “Son of a bitch!” He exploded. “God, I hate witches!”
“It wasn’t a witch, Dean,” Castiel corrected when Dean returned red faced from the bathroom. “She was much too powerful.”
“If it wasn’t a witch,” Dean interrupted, heatedly, “then who - or what - was it?”
Castiel’s expression turned apologetic. “Gabriel.”
“Oh, that’s just great!” Dean ran a hand through his short hair. “Is there any way you can reverse it? I mean, you’re an angel, too, right? There’s gotta be something you can do, right?”
“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured. “I can’t undo what my brother’s done. Only he can change you back to normal. Perhaps,” He added hopefully, “if we ask him, he’ll reverse the spell.”
“Like that’ll ever happen,” Dean growled. He tried crossing his arms under his chest, but the two new additions made the motion uncomfortable so he had to settle for crossing them over his stomach. “Why me, huh? Why not Sam? He’s the one in touch with his feelings and all that shit.”
“I don’t know why he did this to you,” Castiel admitted. “But you can be sure he had his reasons, twisted though they may seem.”
Dean snorted, glanced around the motel room. “Speaking of Sam - where the hell is he?”
As if he had been magically summoned, Sam entered the room carrying a couple of plastic shopping bags. When he saw Dean his expression flickered between relief and amusement. “Good to see you’re awake.”
“And just where in hell have you been?” Dean snapped.
“Shopping,” Sam said matter-of-factly, holding up the bags. “What does it look like?”
“See?” Dean demanded, turning to Castiel. “What did I tell you? Perfect candidate for a little sexual switch-a-roo.”
Rolling his eyes, Sam dumped the bags on the table. “I had to get you some clothes, Dean. We can’t exactly have you running around looking like that, now could we?”
Dean glanced down at himself, sneering. “And what the hell is wrong what I’m wearing?”
The shoulder seams of both the flannel shirt and undershirt he currently wore bagged nearly down to his elbows. His jeans, ruggedly worn and fraying round the hems, were in danger of falling off his new body, curves or no curves and the bottoms pooled on the floor, threatening to trip him up if he wasn’t careful. And he could just forget about the shoes.
He felt like a little boy playing dress up in his daddy’s clothes.
“Damn, I’m a fucking midget!”
“Actually,” Castiel corrected, “You appear to be about average height for a woman.”
For the first time Dean realized that he had to crane his head back to look into Castiel’s eyes. It felt weird, looking up into those dark blue eyes from this angle. And Sam… holy shit, when did he get so freaking tall?
“God, I need a drink…” Dean moved to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer he’d left chilling the night before.
“So… what’s the game plan?” Sam asked, digging into the bag and pulling out his new purchases. Tee shirt, pair of jeans, a package of women’s underwear and… a bra.
Dean stared incredulously at the clothes Sam held out to him then glared up at him accusingly. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“No! Of course not!” Sam protested.
Dean glared up at him fiercely.
Sam scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dean, we can’t have you running around like that. You’re clothes are practically falling off your body as it is.”
“Fine,” Dean huffed, snatching the clothes and tucking them under his arm. “You go see if there’s any way to reverse this…. Whatever the hell it is. Cas and I will look for Gabriel. Any questions? Comments?”
“Just one,” Sam said, breaking into a mischievous grin. “You’re looking rather pretty today, Dean. What’s your secret?”
A second later Sam made a break for the door and managed to duck behind it just as Dean’s beer bottle hit in an explosion of glass and foam.
“Bitch,” Dean growled, glaring at the door
“Takes on to know one,” Sam smirked, shutting the door behind him and beating a retreat for the library.
***
“So how are we gonna find Gabriel?” Dean growled, yanking his long hair back into a ponytail and securing it with a rubber band.
“The same way he found us.” Castiel murmured, glancing at Dean, then away as if he had caught the other man in an intimate act.
“And how the hell did he find us, anyway?” Dean demanded, wincing as some of the fine hairs at the nape of his neck were pulled too tight. Cursing under his breath, he carefully pulled out the rubber band and began the whole process over again. “I thought those sigils you carved into our bones kept us hidden from angels?”
“They do,” Castiel replied quietly, keeping his eyes averted while Dean stripped out of his normal clothes. “But he can still track me.”
“Great.”
“That may actually work to our advantage.”
“Yeah? How so?”
Castiel glanced at Dean, caught a glimpse of full, shapely breasts as he slipped the straps of the bra over his shoulders. He turned away, abruptly and felt heat wash across his face.
“Uh… I would have thought you’d have had more difficulty wearing a woman’s clothes.” Castiel said, clearing his throat.
“Nah,” Dean chuckled, stepping into the jeans and yanking them up. “I’ve had so much practice taking these things off that I could probably do it blindfolded and with my teeth.” Dean paused, considering. “Now that I think about it, I think I have.”
Feeling flustered and uncertain, Castiel closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. His body had never quite reacted like this before. He didn’t understand why that was. He had certainly been in the presence of women before. Jo and Ellen Harvelle, for starters. Both had been reasonably attractive women, but somehow neither had elicited such feelings of… he hesitated as he tried to put a finger on what exactly he was feeling. Arousal, he concluded. Sexual excitement. This realization did not particularly embarrass him; nevertheless, he felt his cheeks warm. If he were to look into a mirror now, he was certain his face would be flushed.
What a very… human reaction, he thought. He thought about it for a moment and came to the realization that the only person - male or female - that had ever made him experience this nerve wracking awkwardness… was Dean.
“Interesting,” He murmured under his breath.
“What was that?” Dean asked.
“Nothing.” Castiel cleared his throat and turned to Dean, who was - thankfully - fully dressed and slipping his feet into the new boots Sam had bought him. “I can track Gabriel the same way he was able to track me. If he’s within fifty miles I should be able to sense him.”
“I’d think he’d be long gone after the crap he did, wouldn’t you?”
“Not necessarily.” Castiel tucked his hands into the pocket of his trench coat. For some reason they were sweating. “Remember, Gabriel probably has a reason for doing what he did to you. He’ll want to stay nearby so he could… watch.”
“Pervert.”
Castiel frowned at that. “He took the guise of a Trickster for a reason, Dean. He enjoys dealing out what he feels is someone’s deserved punishment. He has quite the sense of humor. Always has.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not laughing. The sooner we find him, the sooner I can get my normal body back. So, what do you say we get this show on the road?”
Castiel closed his eyes, stretched out his arms and began chanting in low, guttural tones. Enochian was a harsh sounding language with mixture of clashing consonants and unpleasant sounds. Dean had once described it as an ‘ass ugly’ language. His angelic powers, faded as they were, stretched out and just on the edge of his perception, he felt it. The unmistakable presence of a fellow angel. He concentrated harder, brows knitting in effort.
“There you are,” He breathed as he fixed onto the location. He opened his eyes and a wave of dizziness swept through him.
“You okay?” Dean caught his shoulders as he stumbled back as the dizziness peaked. The touch of his hands on his shoulders sent tiny thrills shooting through him.
“I’m fine,” He managed. “And I’ve located Gabriel.”
“Great, now let’s go kick his feathered ass.”
“I wouldn’t advise that.” Castiel cautioned. “He’s tougher than he looks.”
“Yeah, I bet. Looks to me like he has a glass jaw.”
“Dean, please.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll play it your way. For now.”
“Thank you.” He extended his hand toward Dean, pointer and middle finger extended.
Recognizing the gesture, Dean stepped back. “Hell, no, Cas,” He muttered. “You know I hate that shit.”
“I know,” Castiel sighed, “But what other choice do we have? Sam took the Impala, remember?”
“Yeah… but we could walk, right?”
This earned an amused shake of the head. “I’m afraid not.”
Dean’s shoulder’s sagged. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
Castiel smiled, and just before he touched his fingers to Dean’s forehead, he said, “Sam’s right, you know.”
“’bout what?”
“You are looking rather pretty today.”
Before Dean could protest - or hit him for that matter - Castiel pressed his fingers to his forehead and they were gone in a whirlwind flutter of wings.
***
“Damn it,” Dean shoved Castiel away weakly as they reappeared in what appeared to be a sleazy dive. The air was heavy with the smell of greasy food, stale cigarette smoke and booze. Country music oozed out of an antique juke box. Nausea rushed through him as his mind and body tried to come to grips with the sudden jump to light speed and then the jarring landing. “I hate it when you do that.”
“I know. And I’m sorry, but it was the only option we had-“
“Well, what a pleasant surprise!” A familiar voice said from a few feet away. “Castiel! Long time no see! I was wondering when you’d show up.”
Dean and Castiel turned to the voice and sure enough, Gabriel, aka the Trickster, sat at one of the bar stools looking perfectly at home in the sleazy environment. The archangel picked up a frothy mug of beer and brought it to his lips nonchalantly.
“Belly up to the bar, boys,” he called, gesturing over to them. “Drinks are on me.”
Dean stomped up to him, wishing he had his own body back. At five feet four inches and weighing in at maybe one hundred twenty pounds, he lacked the height and muscle to be truly intimidating. But that didn’t stop him from trying.
“Why don’t we cut the chase, asshole,” he snarled. “I want my body back.”
“And people in Hell want ice water,” Gabriel said loftily. “But I don’t see anyone opening any lemonade stands down there, do you?”
Dean felt his smaller, admittedly cuter hands curling into fists and would have probably launched himself at the smugly grinning Trickster if he had not felt Castiel’s hands rest lightly on his shoulders as if urging caution.
“What are your conditions, Gabriel?” Castiel asked, his voice dropping into a warning growl.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” The other angel motioned the bartender over. “I’ll need two more for my friends here,” he said.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Gabriel sighed and turned on the barstool until he was facing them. “Fine. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” He turned to Dean. “You have until midnight to break my little spell or you’ll spend the rest of your life as a woman.”
“What the hell?” Dean glanced at the clock above the bar. It was almost nine o’clock in the evening. “And how in hell am I supposed to do that?”
“You really want to know?” Gabriel grinned.
Dean ground his teeth in agitation and glanced at Castiel who gave him a warning look. “Yes, I want to know, damn it.”
“Then come here and let me whisper it into your ears.”
“Man, you are seriously pushing it.” Dean growled. Taking a calming breath, he leaned toward the angel. “So tell me already. Don’t leave me hanging in suspense.”
Gabriel leaned forward, smelling pleasantly of alcohol, salted peanuts and Old Spice cologne. He pressed his face close to Dean’s ears and whispered his breath warm against his skin.
Dean pulled back incredulous. “That’s it?” He demanded. “That’s all I’ve got to do?”
“Just that and nothing more. If you can manage that before the strike of midnight, you’ll turn back into a man and all will be right with the world.”
Shaking his head, a smug smile of triumph tugged at Dean’s lips. “In that case, I’ll be a man again in no time.”
“Oh, you think so?”
“You don’t know me very well, do you?”
Gabriel regarded him for a moment. “Actually, I know you better than you think, Dean Winchester. So,” he held out his hand, “Do we have a deal?”
“Dean,” Castiel said, alarmed, “What are you doing?”
“Trust me, I know what I’m doing, Cas.”
Castiel glanced at Gabriel, then back at Dean, his eyes wide and apprehensive. “Whatever you’re thinking of agreeing to, please, reconsider. There has to be another way.”
“Actually,” Gabriel said, cutting him off, “There is no other way, brother. It’s my way or the highway. Take it or leave it.”
“Trust me, Cas,” Dean grinned cockily. “I know what I’m doing.” To Gabriel, he said: “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Dean extended his own hand and they shook, sealing the bargain. “This’ll be a piece of cake.”
***
“Damn,” Dean muttered as he glanced at the clock, “This is harder than I thought it would be. I’ve never seen a bar with so many deadbeats in my life.”
The clock above the bar read a quarter to eleven. He’d been sitting at the bar for almost two hours and so far the only men who had shown an interest in him had been wrinkly old men and a few pimply teens with fake IDs.
Castiel hovered in the stool next to him and hissed, “I can’t believe you agreed to this, Dean.”
“Hey,” Dean hissed back, “I know what I’m doing here, okay? I’ve been having sex a hell of a lot longer than you. And, as a guy, I know what men want in a woman.”
A group of men entered the bar, three big guys with trucker hats and farmer tans. The tallest, beefiest one glanced in Dean’s direction with obvious interest. Then his eyes shifted to Castiel beside him and he scowled.
“Beat it, dude,” Dean whispered though the side of his mouth. “You’re cramping my style.”
“Dean,” Castiel pleaded, “Please, there must be another way…”
“Get going, will ya?” Dean snapped. “You’re gonna blow my chance.”
Castiel glanced in the direction the other man had gone, then back to Dean. “As you wish,” he said, his shoulders slumping imperceptibly. Without another word, he made his way to a deserted booth at the opposite side of the bar.
“That’s more like it,” Dean mumbled, scanning the smoky semi-darkness until he spotted the trucker.
Forcing one of his best come-hither smiles, Dean nodded his head in greeting then patted the now empty barstool beside him. Trucker’s pals nudged him, grinning and cracking wise until he eased his large frame out of the booth’s seating and lumbered on over to where Dean sat.
“You come here often?” Trucker ground out, taking the seat next to him.
Dean almost rolled his eyes at the overused pickup line, but stopped himself in time. He didn’t really have time to be picky and this guy was the first reasonably attractive guy he had seen all night. Besides, beggars couldn’t be choosers, now could they? If he didn’t get lucky soon, he’d be shopping in Victoria Secrets for the rest of his freaking life.
“What’s your name, handsome?” Dean purred, batting his eyes.
“Randy.”
“My, how apropos.” Dean muttered under his breath. He forced himself to reach out one hand and place it on the man’s knee in what could be hopefully be construed as an inviting manner. “Well, Randy, it’s been a long, lonely night. What do you say you and I talk a walk and get to know each other, if you know what I mean?”
For a moment Randy seemed taken aback by Dean’s forward manner. “Damn, girl, you are a fast worker, ain’t you?”
“You’ve no idea,” Dean admitted, glancing nervously at the clock.
“Let’s go, then.” Randy placed one manhole sized hand on Dean’s shoulder and urged him up out of the seat. “My car’s out back.”
Licking his lips nervously, Dean cut a glance at Castiel, who stared at them from his seat, a pained expression on his face. “Sounds good, sugar,” He managed through suddenly numb lips and allowed Randy to lead him past his friends, who howled and made rude gestures as they made their way past them.
“Animals.” Dean muttered darkly.
True to his word, Randy’s car was parked in the back. It was a beat up piece of crap with more rust than paint and Dean wondered how any respectable man could let his car fall into such a state of disrepair.
“Get in,” Randy said, opening one of the back doors and gesturing inside. Under other circumstances Dean supposed the gesture could be considered gentlemanly, but to him, it just seemed impatient.
He glanced around the parking lot and toward the bar where Castiel sat waiting on his return. With sudden reluctance, Dean eased into the backseat and scooted over as Randy pushed his way inside. The back of the car was a mess of crumpled newspapers and fast food containers which Randy simply shoved onto the floorboards. Dean’s nose wrinkled at the smell of garbage and stale beer. Nervousness became unease and suddenly he didn’t think that this was such a good idea.
Before he could make his excuses, Randy was upon him, mouth clamping onto his, tongue pushing past his lips. The reek of his breath was overwhelming and, outraged at this clumsy assault, tried to push him back. And, if he had his regular body, he would have succeeded. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case anymore and to his horror he found himself being overpowered, pressed back into the car’s sticky upholstery by the man’s sheer size and strength.
“Hey,” Dean gasped, breaking away from the unwanted kiss, “That’s it. I’m outta here.”
He pushed at Randy but was unable to budge the larger man, who ignored his protests and struggles. “Knock it off!” Dean shouted as Randy caught first one wrist then the other and yanked them up over his head and pinning him with the mass of his body.
He heard the ripping of cloth and then felt sweaty hands pawing at his flesh. “I said no!” Dean gasped, trying to pull away as Randy began raining slobbery kisses down his throat.
Suddenly the car door opened and Castiel was there, pulling the man away from Dean and out of the car. “I believe the lady doesn’t share your interest,” He said solemnly. His words were calm, but there was a tightness that betrayed the rage behind his actions.
“Who the fuck are you?” Randy demanded, face red and eyes narrowed.
“Just a friend.” Castiel replied. “Now get out of here before you make me do something I might regret.” He pushed the man away and turned his attention to Dean, who was climbing out of the backseat, holding the tattered remains of his shirt to his chest.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mumbled. “You - hey, behind you!”
Castiel whirled as Randy came upon him, fists raised and snarling. The angel’s right fist flashed out and connected solidly with the other man’s jutting chin, followed quickly by the left. Randy reeled back and struck the neighboring car. His eyes rolled into his head and he slid to the ground in a boneless heap.
“Good riddance,” Dean spat to clear his mouth of the other man’s taste. He turned to Castiel and sighed unhappily. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“As you wish.”
***
Dean exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam wearing nothing but a scratchy motel towel. He offered a tired smile at Castiel, who sat on his bed.
“Well, that sure as hell didn’t go as planned.” Dean muttered, flopping down beside him. His eyes were drawn to the clock. Ten minutes to midnight. “I guess I better get used to this body, eh?”
“Not necessarily.” Castiel glanced at him, almost shyly. “There is still time to meet Gabriel’s requirements.”
“No thanks. I’m not gonna put myself through THAT again,” Dean sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. He straightened suddenly, turned toward Castiel.
“Hey, what about… you know.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You and me having a shot at it. What do you say?”
Castiel sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “You and I… I don’t know…”
Sure, why not? Dean asked, excitedly, “You’re reasonably attractive.”
This earned a wry smile from the angel. “Thank you for noticing.”
“Besides, you owe me.”
“I… I do?” Castiel blinked at this, confused.
“Yeah. Gabriel’s your brother. And if it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”
Leaning closer, Castiel rested his forehead against Dean’s. “I suppose if you put it that way, how can I possibly refuse?”
“Damn straight. So…” Dean glanced into his eyes and smiled tremulously. “You wanna?”
“More than anything.”
***
“Dean!” Sam burst into the room, “There you are! Christ, man, I’ve been out looking for you all-“
Dean - the real Dean man parts and all glanced up from his cup of coffee. “Where the hell did you think I’d be? Jeez.”
“But… how… How did you manage to turn back to normal?” Sam wondered, plopping down in the chair next to his brother.
Dean smiled down into his coffee. “I’m surprised at you, Sam.” He chided. “You know a lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”