SPN Fic, "Five Times Dean Acted Like A Girl" (Sam/girl!Dean/Andy), 3/6
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Five Times Dean Acted Like A Girl (3/6)
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 ~1700 words
Disclaimer: Fictional characters used without intent of copyright infringement.
Summary: Andy's like a one-man Grateful Dead caravan - 100% stoned and mobile at all times. Dean primps for his arrival. The results are suitably impressive, if you're not named Sam.
Author's Note: Previously on Five Times, there were Chapter 1 and Chapter 2.
3. Dean Makes a Date
Sam was rudely awakened for the second time that day by the sound of his cellphone ringing. Apparently Dean had learned nothing from his experience earlier, because once again he burst into Sam's room without knocking, and looked around wildly for Sam's phone.
Sam heaved a mighty sigh. "It's called knocking, Dean - please learn how."
"What? You're decent now. Is it him? Is it Andy?"
He spied Sam's phone on the bedside table and snatched it up. Flipping it open, looking at the caller ID, he grinned - "It's him - answer it!" - and shoved the phone at Sam.
"What the hell, are you in love with the guy?"
Andy's voice came out of the phone, startling Sam. "Um, what?" Dean had pressed 'Answer' before handing the phone over. Sam resolved to put a key-lock on his phone. With a PIN. One that Dean didn't know. And couldn't figure out.
"Never mind." Dean was making 'speakerphone' gestures at him; Sam turned his back on him.
"Um. Did you call me? My phone didn't show a missed call, but I had a feeling that, that you'd called."
"Yeah, sort of." Sam suddenly realized they hadn't come up with a cover story to get Andy to come by. He went with the generic old standby. "We have this case that we could use your help on, actually. You interested? What's your current location?" it actually wasn't a total lie - well, the part about needing his help sort of was, but surely Dean's sudden conversion from DC to AC qualified as a case.
"Dude, you know I'm so there." Andy was so tickled to be asked. "Except for how I'm actually in Waterloo, Iowa. I just finished, um, finished a thing, though, so I'm free. Where are you guys?"
"Oh, it shouldn't take you too long to get to us; we're just down in Hershey." As if on cue, Dean snickered behind him, just as Sam'd known he would.
"Is that Dean?" Andy sounded annoyingly wistful. "Can I, can I talk to him?"
Sam decided to torture Dean. "Dean? Andy wants to talk to you."
Dean's eyes grew huge with alarm and he shook his head, making scissoring hand gestures. Of course his vanity immediately began warring with his common sense, and Sam could see him considering whether he could make his voice sound more normal or if it was doomed to come out high-pitched and unmistakably girly. Finally he made up his mind and sadly shook his head again. Sam guessed he planned on surprising Andy with his new appearance when Andy showed up.
"Sorry, Dean can't come to the phone right now."
Dean scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it up.
"Oh, but he says to bring your van." Another scrawl. "And some weed." Then, realizing what he'd just said, "Dean!"
Dean shrugged and mimed clutching his stomach. Apparently pot helped alleviate cramps. Who knew? Probably another helpful tip from Barbara Blanderson, or whatever her name was.
Andy laughed, not unpleasingly. 'You know me, man - I never go anywhere without both! I'm like a one-man Grateful Dead caravan - 100% stoned and mobile at all times.'
"Okay, so we're staying at the Hidey-Hole Motel on North Main Street. Call me when you get into the city."
"Okay, no problem. I'll be, I'll be there in about three days, give or take."
* * * * *
Dean spent those three days curled up in a ball on his bed, moaning in agony whenever the Pamprin+Aleve cocktail he was on wore off. Sam spent them next door, reading a Latin textbook, kicking the wall whenever Dean got too noisy. When he needed a break Sam sat in a coffeeshop for a few hours. Periodically (no pun intended) Dean would call Sam to whine about how hungry he was and coerce Sam into buying him pizza and donuts. By the time Andy got there, Sam was ready to kill him for being so annoying, if nothing else.
When Andy called back to say he'd arrived, Sam gave him his own room number. It was just easier. Dean was over there most of the time anyway, using his own room only to shower and sleep. He was over there right now, primping - though he would never admit it, and in fact gave Sam a punch (which from most girls would have been ineffectual, but from girl!Dean still stung) when accused of it - for Andy, seemingly, since as far as Sam knew neither Tom Welling nor Chad Michael Murray had been invited to join them.
His train of thought, such as it was, was interrupted by a knock.
"Come in," he said automatically.
Andy came in. He looked rumpled, and his hair was sticking up in a familiar fashion.
"Hey man," said Sam.
"Hey," replied Andy with equal nonchalance.
"Dean's next door, he should be over any minute."
"So what's this case about?"
"Let's wait for Dean, if you don't mind."
"Sure, no problem."
Thankfully, just then the door opened and Dean sauntered in, right on cue. He'd chosen to go low-key, Sam saw, and it suited him. He wore one of his faded old Metallica t-shirts, which on the old Dean would have been unremarkable, but on Dean 2.0 it was a knockout - faded and ripped and strategically falling off. His jeans were too long for him now, but he'd cinched his belt up a notch and rolled up the cuffs. It made him look casual and - Sam had to admit - adorable. The overall effect was of a hot chick who was trying to look like one of the guys. Dean's long-ish hair was damp and he'd obviously just gotten out of the shower. He was just as obviously not wearing a bra.
Noticing all this made Sam feel like the world's biggest perv. He's effectively your sister! he reminded himself. He had a bad feeling about this, on so many levels.
The effect this sight had on Andy had to be gratifying for Dean. Andy's mouth was literally hanging open in shock and not a little male appreciation for his physical assets.
Dean smiled most disconcertingly.
"Hey dude," he said innocently.
Andy continued to gape. "What the..."
"Oh, this?" Dean made a 'this little old thing?' gesture at himself. "This would be the case Sam mentioned."
"What - what happened? I mean," Andy hastened to explain, "Not that it's not working for you - because it totally is - but how'd you get turned into a girl?"
"Oh, thanks!" Dean actually dimpled, but neglected to answer the question.
Sam'd had quite enough of this nonsense. "Um, we don't actually know what happened."
"Yeah. We got here last week, I went to sleep a dude and woke up a lady." Dean flung himself into a chair by the window and dangled his legs over the arm. He was wearing old-school Airwalks that looked absurdly tiny, as if he'd mugged a small child to get them. This was some kind of weird optical illusion, Sam had decided, because his feet weren't actually that small. Sam had no idea where Dean had procured these shoes, and he didn't think he really wanted to know.
"I take it you've retraced your steps?" Andy was still mesmerized by She!Dean - he didn't so much as glance in Sam's direction. Sam was starting to feel like Jan Brady. He was going to develop a complex about this if he didn't watch out.
"Yeah, but so far nothing popped out at us, ya know?" Was Dean wearing lip gloss? His lips looked unusually shiny. And there was no way that word choice wasn't deliberate.
Andy's voice was noticeably lower as he replied, "Maybe you - maybe I should go over them with you again."
"I think that's a good idea," Dean replied, almost as huskily.
Sam knew he was the third wheel here, but refused to give them the satisfaction of staying behind. He grabbed his wallet and the car keys.
"Okay, let's go."
Dean stretched in a way that could only be called kittenish, showing off his lithe little belly. Then he leapt to his feet with aplomb.
"Ok, let's do this thing."
* * * * *
Six hours later, they were exhausted and mildly downtrodden, having been to every place Dean and Sam had originally visited when they got to town, with absolutely no luck, despite Andy having expertly Kenobi'd the clerk at the courthouse and the hospital.
"Shit," Dean said succinctly.
"Now what?" said Andy wearily.
"What do we usually do? Tomorrow we'll have to hit the library, start looking for anything hinky."
Dean perked up a little at the word 'tomorrow'. "So are we excused for the night, teach?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
Dean looked at him seriously for a minute. Then he made a face.
"Okay, so Sam's planning on being a wet blanket, check. I, on the other hand, know how to have fun, and I want to go have a drink."
He turned to Andy, who was totally with him. Normally Sam would have brought an ancient tome and sat at the bar nursing a beer while Dean scored with as many hot chicks as he could get, either serially or in parallel, but tonight Sam didn't feel like playing 'ball & chain'. So he demurred on going out 'for a drink' with them, and watched not at all bitterly as they walked away.
"Later, sucka!" Dean called back over his shoulder.
Cute.
He went back to the hotel, thinking at least he could get some research done, maybe crack the case of why the Hardy Boy was suddenly a Nancy Drew. Dean's right, he realized with no small dismay: he was a wet blanket. Well, at least I'm not a slut. The thought had barely formed before he began chiding himself for it. Shame on you. That word has been used to oppress women for centuries, and - in the admittedly bizarre event that Dean gets a magical sex change - he gets more attention and you start doing it too. His Gender Studies prof would be ashamed of him. Although his teacher had never met Dean. Really, if you thought about it, Dean'd been a slut long before he'd been transformed into a woman. If it weren't for the double standard of the patriarchy, he'd have been tarred & feathered with the same brush.
---------------------------------------------------------------
On to Chapter 4!
Title: Five Times Dean Acted Like A Girl (3/6)
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 ~1700 words
Disclaimer: Fictional characters used without intent of copyright infringement.
Summary: Andy's like a one-man Grateful Dead caravan - 100% stoned and mobile at all times. Dean primps for his arrival. The results are suitably impressive, if you're not named Sam.
Author's Note: Previously on Five Times, there were Chapter 1 and Chapter 2.
3. Dean Makes a Date
Sam was rudely awakened for the second time that day by the sound of his cellphone ringing. Apparently Dean had learned nothing from his experience earlier, because once again he burst into Sam's room without knocking, and looked around wildly for Sam's phone.
Sam heaved a mighty sigh. "It's called knocking, Dean - please learn how."
"What? You're decent now. Is it him? Is it Andy?"
He spied Sam's phone on the bedside table and snatched it up. Flipping it open, looking at the caller ID, he grinned - "It's him - answer it!" - and shoved the phone at Sam.
"What the hell, are you in love with the guy?"
Andy's voice came out of the phone, startling Sam. "Um, what?" Dean had pressed 'Answer' before handing the phone over. Sam resolved to put a key-lock on his phone. With a PIN. One that Dean didn't know. And couldn't figure out.
"Never mind." Dean was making 'speakerphone' gestures at him; Sam turned his back on him.
"Um. Did you call me? My phone didn't show a missed call, but I had a feeling that, that you'd called."
"Yeah, sort of." Sam suddenly realized they hadn't come up with a cover story to get Andy to come by. He went with the generic old standby. "We have this case that we could use your help on, actually. You interested? What's your current location?" it actually wasn't a total lie - well, the part about needing his help sort of was, but surely Dean's sudden conversion from DC to AC qualified as a case.
"Dude, you know I'm so there." Andy was so tickled to be asked. "Except for how I'm actually in Waterloo, Iowa. I just finished, um, finished a thing, though, so I'm free. Where are you guys?"
"Oh, it shouldn't take you too long to get to us; we're just down in Hershey." As if on cue, Dean snickered behind him, just as Sam'd known he would.
"Is that Dean?" Andy sounded annoyingly wistful. "Can I, can I talk to him?"
Sam decided to torture Dean. "Dean? Andy wants to talk to you."
Dean's eyes grew huge with alarm and he shook his head, making scissoring hand gestures. Of course his vanity immediately began warring with his common sense, and Sam could see him considering whether he could make his voice sound more normal or if it was doomed to come out high-pitched and unmistakably girly. Finally he made up his mind and sadly shook his head again. Sam guessed he planned on surprising Andy with his new appearance when Andy showed up.
"Sorry, Dean can't come to the phone right now."
Dean scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it up.
"Oh, but he says to bring your van." Another scrawl. "And some weed." Then, realizing what he'd just said, "Dean!"
Dean shrugged and mimed clutching his stomach. Apparently pot helped alleviate cramps. Who knew? Probably another helpful tip from Barbara Blanderson, or whatever her name was.
Andy laughed, not unpleasingly. 'You know me, man - I never go anywhere without both! I'm like a one-man Grateful Dead caravan - 100% stoned and mobile at all times.'
"Okay, so we're staying at the Hidey-Hole Motel on North Main Street. Call me when you get into the city."
"Okay, no problem. I'll be, I'll be there in about three days, give or take."
* * * * *
Dean spent those three days curled up in a ball on his bed, moaning in agony whenever the Pamprin+Aleve cocktail he was on wore off. Sam spent them next door, reading a Latin textbook, kicking the wall whenever Dean got too noisy. When he needed a break Sam sat in a coffeeshop for a few hours. Periodically (no pun intended) Dean would call Sam to whine about how hungry he was and coerce Sam into buying him pizza and donuts. By the time Andy got there, Sam was ready to kill him for being so annoying, if nothing else.
When Andy called back to say he'd arrived, Sam gave him his own room number. It was just easier. Dean was over there most of the time anyway, using his own room only to shower and sleep. He was over there right now, primping - though he would never admit it, and in fact gave Sam a punch (which from most girls would have been ineffectual, but from girl!Dean still stung) when accused of it - for Andy, seemingly, since as far as Sam knew neither Tom Welling nor Chad Michael Murray had been invited to join them.
His train of thought, such as it was, was interrupted by a knock.
"Come in," he said automatically.
Andy came in. He looked rumpled, and his hair was sticking up in a familiar fashion.
"Hey man," said Sam.
"Hey," replied Andy with equal nonchalance.
"Dean's next door, he should be over any minute."
"So what's this case about?"
"Let's wait for Dean, if you don't mind."
"Sure, no problem."
Thankfully, just then the door opened and Dean sauntered in, right on cue. He'd chosen to go low-key, Sam saw, and it suited him. He wore one of his faded old Metallica t-shirts, which on the old Dean would have been unremarkable, but on Dean 2.0 it was a knockout - faded and ripped and strategically falling off. His jeans were too long for him now, but he'd cinched his belt up a notch and rolled up the cuffs. It made him look casual and - Sam had to admit - adorable. The overall effect was of a hot chick who was trying to look like one of the guys. Dean's long-ish hair was damp and he'd obviously just gotten out of the shower. He was just as obviously not wearing a bra.
Noticing all this made Sam feel like the world's biggest perv. He's effectively your sister! he reminded himself. He had a bad feeling about this, on so many levels.
The effect this sight had on Andy had to be gratifying for Dean. Andy's mouth was literally hanging open in shock and not a little male appreciation for his physical assets.
Dean smiled most disconcertingly.
"Hey dude," he said innocently.
Andy continued to gape. "What the..."
"Oh, this?" Dean made a 'this little old thing?' gesture at himself. "This would be the case Sam mentioned."
"What - what happened? I mean," Andy hastened to explain, "Not that it's not working for you - because it totally is - but how'd you get turned into a girl?"
"Oh, thanks!" Dean actually dimpled, but neglected to answer the question.
Sam'd had quite enough of this nonsense. "Um, we don't actually know what happened."
"Yeah. We got here last week, I went to sleep a dude and woke up a lady." Dean flung himself into a chair by the window and dangled his legs over the arm. He was wearing old-school Airwalks that looked absurdly tiny, as if he'd mugged a small child to get them. This was some kind of weird optical illusion, Sam had decided, because his feet weren't actually that small. Sam had no idea where Dean had procured these shoes, and he didn't think he really wanted to know.
"I take it you've retraced your steps?" Andy was still mesmerized by She!Dean - he didn't so much as glance in Sam's direction. Sam was starting to feel like Jan Brady. He was going to develop a complex about this if he didn't watch out.
"Yeah, but so far nothing popped out at us, ya know?" Was Dean wearing lip gloss? His lips looked unusually shiny. And there was no way that word choice wasn't deliberate.
Andy's voice was noticeably lower as he replied, "Maybe you - maybe I should go over them with you again."
"I think that's a good idea," Dean replied, almost as huskily.
Sam knew he was the third wheel here, but refused to give them the satisfaction of staying behind. He grabbed his wallet and the car keys.
"Okay, let's go."
Dean stretched in a way that could only be called kittenish, showing off his lithe little belly. Then he leapt to his feet with aplomb.
"Ok, let's do this thing."
* * * * *
Six hours later, they were exhausted and mildly downtrodden, having been to every place Dean and Sam had originally visited when they got to town, with absolutely no luck, despite Andy having expertly Kenobi'd the clerk at the courthouse and the hospital.
"Shit," Dean said succinctly.
"Now what?" said Andy wearily.
"What do we usually do? Tomorrow we'll have to hit the library, start looking for anything hinky."
Dean perked up a little at the word 'tomorrow'. "So are we excused for the night, teach?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
Dean looked at him seriously for a minute. Then he made a face.
"Okay, so Sam's planning on being a wet blanket, check. I, on the other hand, know how to have fun, and I want to go have a drink."
He turned to Andy, who was totally with him. Normally Sam would have brought an ancient tome and sat at the bar nursing a beer while Dean scored with as many hot chicks as he could get, either serially or in parallel, but tonight Sam didn't feel like playing 'ball & chain'. So he demurred on going out 'for a drink' with them, and watched not at all bitterly as they walked away.
"Later, sucka!" Dean called back over his shoulder.
Cute.
He went back to the hotel, thinking at least he could get some research done, maybe crack the case of why the Hardy Boy was suddenly a Nancy Drew. Dean's right, he realized with no small dismay: he was a wet blanket. Well, at least I'm not a slut. The thought had barely formed before he began chiding himself for it. Shame on you. That word has been used to oppress women for centuries, and - in the admittedly bizarre event that Dean gets a magical sex change - he gets more attention and you start doing it too. His Gender Studies prof would be ashamed of him. Although his teacher had never met Dean. Really, if you thought about it, Dean'd been a slut long before he'd been transformed into a woman. If it weren't for the double standard of the patriarchy, he'd have been tarred & feathered with the same brush.
---------------------------------------------------------------
On to Chapter 4!