Fic: Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others, 1/2. SPN. Dean/Sam. PG-13
Title: Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: felisblanco
Characters: Dean/girly!Sam (yes, the ‘-y’ is there for a reason), Dean/Sam
Prompt used: “You were licking your lips/and your lipstick shining./I was dying just to ask for a taste.”
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ca. 14.600
Summary: “Seriously, Sam, what the hell? When did you turn into a thirteen year old girl?”
For a moment it looks like Sam’s struggling but then he sticks up his chin and glares at Dean with a look that hasn’t been seen in over a decade. “About five minutes ago,” he snaps and proceeds to cross his arms and glare out the window.
Warnings: Mild incest. Lots of swearing. Gender… not really swap. More of a gender mindfuck. And age mindfuck. And an excessive use of pink. I guess you’d call it crack. Except this could so happen. *nods*
Author’s note: Written for batoutofkansas. Beta’d by the wonderful spangels_girl. Encouraged by my flist so blame them. Title taken from the song by The Smiths. Takes place sometime during season 1. See more A/N after the story.
In two parts because LJ hates long posts. *pouts*
You’d think there be a clear sign of whatever the fuck made it happen. Like a pink mist floating through the air or a unicorn running across the road. Some stupid shit like that.
Instead it’s just an ordinary day in an ordinary town and Dean’s licking spilled coffee from the back of his hand as he holds the other cup out to Sam, hissing, “Dude, wake up and take your fricking pansy-ass mocha vanilla girly latte before I drop it in your lap, godammit!” when Sam looks over at him and says, “You shouldn’t swear so much. It’s not nice.” And then his eyes go wide as Dean stares at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Sam opens his mouth but seems to freeze and his lips slope into a pout instead. Dean contemplates smacking him across the back of his head but both his hands are pretty occupied with this goddamn coffee that’s starting to burn its way through the thin paper cups and zing his palms.
“Whatever. Just take your damn coffee and let’s get out of here. What kind of fucking diner doesn’t even have donuts? I swear…”
Sam swats at his hand, almost making him drop the damn thing just where he’d threatened moments ago. Would have served him right, the prissy little bitch.
“I don’t want it. I want a cherry soda.”
Huh? “Seriously, Sam, what the hell? When did you turn into a thirteen year old girl?”
For a moment it looks like Sam’s struggling but then he sticks up his chin and glares at Dean with a look that hasn’t been seen in over a decade. “About five minutes ago,” he snaps and proceeds to cross his arms and glare out the window.
Dean rolls his eyes and is about to say, “You sure it’s that recent?” but something about the way Sam’s lip is wobbling, and his eyes are glittering with unshed tears makes him pause and frown. “Sam?”
“I’m all tall and stupid and ugly,” Sam says between clenched teeth, fingers curling into fists. “It’s not fair!”
Ok, this is starting to get really disturbing. Dean takes a last sip of his own coffee then remorsefully chucks both cups out the window and starts the car. “I’m finding us a motel room and then you’re gonna tell me what the hell this is about, Sam. You hear me?”
“Stop yelling at me!” Sam pulls up his legs and wraps his long arms around them. “I hate it when you yell at me. You’re a mean poop head.”
Dean’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Come again?”
“You! You’re always so mean. You’re always making fun of me and calling me stupid names.”
“Well, right back at ya,” Dean says lamely because seriously, what the hell? “Dude, calm down. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know!” Sam closes his eyes and leans back, his jaw tight. “Fuck, man. We’ve gotta fix this. I can’t-“ His voice cuts off and then his lip starts wobbling again. “Stop looking at me!”
“I’m not looking! Jeez!”
Dean sighs in relief when he sees the neon sign of this shitty little town’s only motel as he comes around the corner. He swings into the parking lot, coming to an abrupt halt with a squeal of the wheels. “Just… wait here while I get us a room.”
“Stop ordering me about!” Sam yells and Dean instantly bites back, “Stop behaving like a little bitch!”
Sam stares at him and then he bursts into tears and seriously, a guy can only take so much.
“Jesus Christ!”
Dean gets out of the car and slams the door shut. Now granted Sam is an emo bitch on the best of days but this… this is ridiculous. Dean stalks across the lot to the reception, wondering if maybe he should take an hour detour to grab a beer, leaving Sam in the car to cool off. Better not risk it. The mood Sam is in he might key his baby or something worse.
The spotty faced kid behind the desk makes the tired old gay joke and for once Dean really can’t blame him as he follows his glance out the window. Sam has of course not stayed in the car but is pacing angrily beside it, arms crossed defiantly and lips again tugged into a pout. Dean groans in embarrassment as he watches Sam briefly stop to check his reflection in the side mirror, tugging his long hair behind his ears before his face crumbles again and he wipes angrily at his eyes with the tip of his fingers.
“You were saying?” The kid is looking at Dean with a smirk and Dean tries to remember what state they’re in at the moment. Does this one carry the death penalty?
“Mind your own goddamn business and give me a room with two queens!”
“Two queens it is,” the kid snorts, somehow making it sound like he’s not talking about the beds at all and Dean shoots him another glare. He wants to tell the little shit that they’re brothers but really, right now, he’s not sure he wants anyone to know that they’re related. At all. Instead he grabs the key and walks out, slamming the door behind him. When he gets to the car he grabs their bags out of the trunk and throws one wordlessly at Sam before stalking to their room, not waiting for Sam to follow.
“Are you mad at me? Dean!”
Dean doesn’t answer, just waits impatiently until Sam is through the door before slamming that one as well and pushing Sam toward one of the beds. “Sit down. Now!”
Sam’s lip starts wobbling again but he doesn’t argue, just scoots up on the bed and folds his long legs underneath him.
“Ok, spill. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I told you!”
Dean quirks his eyebrow. “Uh… no. You didn’t. Unless you mean whining about being tall and ugly, which isn’t exactly news, princess, so why the hell are you crying about that now? And, dude, seriously, turn off the waterworks.”
Sam looks stricken; hurt and disbelief glittering in his eyes. “Why do you always have to be so…? I’m a girl, Dean! That’s what’s wrong! And I think I’m about twelve or thirteen and if you don’t stop staring at me like that I’m gonna kick you in the balls, you freaking pervert.” He tugs down his t-shirt and gives Dean a glare, half disgusted, half freaked out.
Dean stares at him for what seems like an eternity before quietly asking, “Christo?”
Sam’s breath hitches and he wipes angrily at his eyes. “I’m not possessed! I’m a girl! And…” Sam looks down, voice breaking. “You really think I’m ugly?”
Dude, what? “Ok, this has gone far enough. I know I tease you about being…” Dean tries to find a word that won’t start Sam crying again. “… pansy.”
Judging by the glare Sam is giving him that wasn’t quite the right one.
“I mean, yes, you’re sometimes a bit too Village People but you’re not a girl. Ok? Because I know girls and you’re definitely not one. You’ve got no… you know….” Dean makes a lame cupping motion with his hands that has Sam huffing. “… and you haven’t even shaved since yesterday and I’m pretty sure that’s not a gun in your pocket because you always keep yours down the back. Which, frankly? Not the smartest move, Sam. What if it goes off and… Anyway, what I’m trying to say is you’re a guy, Sam. You look exactly the same as always!”
Sam rolls his eyes. “I know I don’t look like a girl. I’m still Sam, you di- nincompoop. I’ve just got… I feel like one, ok? I don’t know how else to explain it. In my head I feel like a thirteen year old girl.”
“How would you know how a thirteen year old girl feels, Sam?”
“I don’t! I just know I am one.”
Dean stares at him, exasperated. It’s been a while since he’s had to handle thirteen-year-old girls and they were never like this. Not this… well, big for one. And male. And his brother. The whole thing is making his head spin.
“Like, you wanna play with Barbies and have slumber parties? I can’t see how much different that’s from how you usually are.”
“Funny. And seriously, Dean, Barbies?” Sam giggles, a sound that’s almost more disturbing than the whole thirteen-year-old thing. “Yeah, right.” He licks his lips and tilts his head coquettishly. “If by Barbies you mean boys and by slumber parties you mean making out, then yes, that’s exactly what thirteen year old girls think about.”
“Oh God. Stop talking.” Dean sits heavily down on the other bed, running a sweaty palm over his face. “You’re really not kidding about this?”
“I’m really not. I wish I was because… being thirteen again sucks!” Sam pouts and for what it’s worth it really does make him look like a teenage girl. Well, neck up. If Dean ignores the stubble and the big nose and… well, Sam.
“Yes, that’s the sucky part here. Sam, you’re a fucking girl!” Dean shakes his head in disbelief. “What the hell are we gonna do?”
“Well, for one thing you can stop swearing so much. It’s not nice.” Sam scowls when Dean gives him the finger instead. “I mean it! And…”
He stops, eyebrows knotting in confusion and then his eyes go wide. “I gotta pee!”
He jumps off the bed and runs into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. Dean stares at the door in shock. He jerks awake when a loud shriek can be heard from the other side and he’s at the door, tugging at the doorknob, within seconds.
“Sam? What’s wrong? Open up!”
“I’m ok. Go away,” comes Sam’s muffled voice from behind the door. He sounds like he’s about to start crying again.
“Sam, I swear, if you don’t let me in I’ll break down the goddamn door.”
“I’m ok! I just…” There’s a slight pause and when Sam continues his voice is strangled with embarrassment. “I forgot I had a… boy thing. I got a bit freaked. Now leave me alone!!”
Dean stares at the door. “You forgot you had a dick?”
“If you laugh I swear I will rip yours off!”
“Not laughing! I’m not laughing!”
Later, when this whole thing is over and Sam is back to normal he knows he will laugh. And mock and tease and never ever let Sam forget the time he was a thirteen year old girl. But right now Dean is too damn freaked to find anything about this situation remotely amusing.
Instead he goes and lies down on the bed and stares up at the ceiling, frantically going over the last few days in his head. Did they piss anyone off? Unknowingly awaken a teenage spirit and allow her to take over Sam’s body? But he hadn’t even flinched at the word Christo. What else? A spell of some sort? But who could have…?
That girl at the bar two nights ago, who’d kept flirting with an oblivious Sam the whole time they were there? In the end Dean had felt so embarrassed for his brother he’d winked the girl and shaken his head apologetically, mouthing the word ‘gay’ as he discreetly jerked his thumb at Sam. She had blushed but she hadn’t seemed pissed off, just the opposite actually if her smile and ‘Aren’t you two cute?’ was anything to go by.
The implication made Dean frown then as it does now, and he turns his head briefly to glance at his reflection in the big mirror by the door. Why do people keep thinking he’s gay? He’s the manliest man he knows - well, aside from his dad and maybe Bobby - and according to Sam he has the fashion sense of a lumberjack. Seriously, they don’t come more macho than that, Monty Python whatever. And everyone knows gay men talk more Prada then girls. The only reason Dean even knows about Prada is that Oprah has these seasonal fashion talks…
“Hey.”
Dean jerks awake from his musings and turns to look at Sam who’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom, nervously tugging at his hair and biting his lip. Taking a deep breath Dean sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. However much this is freaking him out it’s nothing compared to what Sam must be feeling.
“You ok?”
“No.” Sam pushes away from the door and walks over to sit on the other bed, opposite him. “Dean, this… we gotta fix this. I mean, I look like me and I still got all my memories and stuff but I feel…” His lip starts wobbling again but he clenches his jaw and forces it to stop. “Like I’m all over the place. Mood swings and insecurities and…”
He looks up at Dean, panic in his eyes. “I really like pink.”
Dean scratches his head, fumbling for words. “Well, Pink’s cool. I mean, sure she has a teengirl fanbase, but she also did that really hot lesbian song-”
“I meant the color.”
“Oh.” Dean blinks then shrugs and purses his lips in thought. “What kind of pink? Because pale pink is like really gay but hot pink…” He grimaces.
“Hot pink.” Sam nods enthusiastically. “Definitely hot pink.” His eyes glaze over dreamily. “I really want a pink cell phone.”
“Yeah, you’re a girl. No doubt about it.” Dean gives Sam’s hopeful face a stern look. “And no, you’re not getting a pink cell, Sam.”
“Meanie.” Sam pouts and scoots up on the bed until he’s sitting Indian style, plucking at the sole of his shoes. “I bet Dad would have-“
“Dream on. If you’d really been a girl Dad most likely would have left you with mom’s family after she died. He’d had no idea how to raise a girl.”
Sam stares at him in shock and then he gets up and storms out, slamming the door behind him.
Oh hell.
“Sam!”
Dean scurries off the bed, grabbing their jackets and the keys before hurrying after his brother. It takes him a moment to locate Sam but then he spots him sitting at a small picnic table on the other side of the parking lot. He doesn’t move when Dean comes closer, even if the gravel crunching under his boots is a dead giveaway. Dean stops behind him, then drapes Sam’s jacket over his shoulders and pats them awkwardly.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it, Sam, I’m just frustrated.”
“You’re right.” There’s a hitch in Sam’s breath but he doesn’t look back. “I bet he would have left me.”
“No, Sam, ‘course not. C’mon, dude, not a way in hell he would have left you anywhere, whether you’d been a girl or not.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Sam’s voice sounds so small and doubtful and Dean suddenly remembers what it was like, being thirteen and confused and thinking no one cared or could understand what it felt like. He’d worked hard to make sure Sam never had to feel like that when he reached that stage, to let him know he was not alone, ever. Seems like this time around he’s screwing it all up.
Again he puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders and squeezes them tight, trying to bring Sam’s old confidence back, one way or the other. “Because I never would have let him.”
He can feel Sam trembling and then he’s turning on the narrow bench until he’s facing Dean. He wraps his long arms around Dean’s waist, buries his face into his t-shirt and starts crying heavy sobs, shoulders shaking.
“You’re the be-est brother e-ever, Dean. I love you so-o much.”
Uhm. Okay. Awkward.
“Dude. C’mon. Sam?”
“Sorry. Sorry. I can’t…” Sam sucks in his breath but then he just continues sobbing. “I can’t he-elp it.”
There are two girls walking along the road. Or they were walking, now they’re just standing there, watching the display with a mixed look of surprise and amusement. Dean gives them a nod and an awkward smile as he tries to pry Sam’s arms away from his waist. No luck.
“Dude! Seriously!” he hisses, but Sam is like a giant octopus, clinging to him with far more strength than a teenage girl would ever have. In the end Dean gives in with a sigh and just allows Sam to cry his due, running his fingers through Sam’s hair as he mutters, “Sshh, there, there. Everything’s gonna be alright, I promise,” and hopes that those pictures the girls are taking with their phones never make their way to the internet.
Finally Sam pulls back, eyes red and puffy, snot running down from his nose, and Dean rummages in his jacket for the napkins he snagged from the last diner.
“Here, clean up. You look like-” He stops himself at the last minute. “Let’s get you pretty again, ok?”
“Ok,” Sam sniffles and blows his nose. “Thanks.”
“No problem. You need to cry? You just cry, man. Just… let it out.” Dean nods lamely and tries to look supportive even if he feels completely at loss. “That’s what big brother’s are for, right?”
“Yeah.” Sam crumbles the wad of paper in his hand and throws it in the garbage can before gazing at Dean with his saddest puppy eyes. “Can we go buy ice cream? Please? Ice cream always makes me feel better.”
“Dude, that is so…” Sam tilts his head and sniffles pitifully and Dean finds himself nodding in defeat. “Yeah, sure. C’mon, kiddo, lets have a big chocolate sundae. My treat.”
The big smile on Sam’s face is definitely worth being whipped for.
Sam keeps quiet on the drive over to the ice cream shop and if it wasn’t for the way he keeps studying his nails and checking his reflection in the side mirror Dean might have thought the whole girl phase was over.
Being a small town, the shop sells everything from ice cream and hot dogs to plaid shirts and rubber boots. Dean picks up a couple of sodas and some beef jerky and a bag of snacks before heading for the counter. He pays for his purchases and then nods toward the ice cream machine.
“That work?”
“Sure.”
“Great. Sam?”
He turns around to ask Sam what he’d like but Sam isn’t there. With horror Dean spots him by the magazine rack, flipping through what looks suspiciously much like Teen!People.
“Sam!”
Sam pretends he doesn’t hear him but pulls down a copy of Cosmo and skims through it with wide eyes.
“Sam!”
Offering the clerk an apologetic smile he stalks over to Sam and rips the magazines out of his hands. “Dude, can you at least try and behave like the twenty three year old man you are? Seriously! You’re making me look bad.”
“Dean! I was reading that!” Sam blows a pink bubble and it snaps, covering the tip of his nose. “Give it back!”
“No. And where did you get that gum? Did you steal it?”
“No! I just…” Sam’s eyes shift. “…haven’t paid for it yet.”
“So you’re not just an annoying teenage girl, you’re a klepto as well?” Dean rolls his eyes. “Great, you’re Dawn.” He sticks out his palm. “Give it here. Now!”
“Ok, ok. Whatever.” Sam spits a gigantic bundle of pink bubble gum into Dean’s palm and he wraps it up in one of the napkins with a grimace. “And just so you know, if I were Dawn you’d be Buffy and no offense but… in your dreams, Dean.”
Dean grits his teeth and shoves the magazines back into the rack. “Ok, that’s it. You? No ice cream.”
“What!?! No! Dean! I was gonna pay for it, I swear.” Sam pulls on Dean’s arm and gives him his best puppy eyes look but Dean just shakes his head and turns to stalk out of the store.
“Dean! C’mon! You’re just being mean. Mean-Dean. Don’t… I’m telling mom!”
Dean freezes with his hand on the door and he turns slowly around, staring at Sam in disbelief. “What did you say?”
“I said-” Sam stops and then his eyes suddenly widen in shock. “Oh God. Dean…” He reaches out but Dean shakes him off.
“I can’t do this.” He pushes open the door and storms out, not waiting to see if Sam will follow him. He gets into the car and turns the key, not even glancing at Sam as he slides into the passenger seat, eyes cast downwards.
“I’m sorry. Dean? I don’t know why I said that.”
“Little Susie Q messing with your brain, Sam. Not your fault.” He tries to sound like it doesn’t matter but the big lump in his throat makes his voice come out flat and cold.
“I guess. I’m still sorry.” Sam bites his lip and glances over at Dean. “We need to get rid of her… this, whatever this is.”
Dean nods curtly. “You recall seeing anything in Dad’s journal that fits this?”
Sam shakes his head. “No. Witches are known for genderswap and age spells but both of those make the body change as well, not just the mind. Dean…” he pleads but Dean won’t have it.
“We better hit the library then,” he cuts Sam off and the car spits up gravel as he speeds out of the parking lot.
Three hours later he slams shut the last book with an irritated scowl and looks over at Sam who’s still tapping enthusiastically away on the laptop, only stopping every now and then to write something down in his note book. With a big, pink, glittery, feather-sprouting pen. What the…?
Dean opens his mouth to ask Sam where the hell he picked up that thing but changes his mind and sighs instead. No doubt he stole it from the store. Along with the Hello Kitty stickers now adorning the poor laptop. Great. Dean wonders if the girl in his brother’s brain actually is a thief, or if Sam’s life spent with credit card scams and other less than legal activities have somehow corrupted her into thinking stealing of any kind is just fine and dandy.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again Sam is carefully putting on pink lip-gloss, smacking his lips before running the tip of his tongue over them. Satisfied with the result he puts the gloss back in his pocket and turns back to the laptop, leaving the air smelling faintly of strawberry.
Dean blinks. That’s… He shifts in his seat and swallows. Get a grip, man. He’s not a girl. He’s not really a girl. He’s your very male, very straight brother. Brother! And you should put a stop to this before Sam embarrasses himself even further.
He is just about to clear his throat when Sam grins and then laughs softly before typing something again, a wicked smile tugging at his pink lips. Huh.
Dean slowly stands up and walks over to him. “Any luck?”
Sam starts and hits the keys frantically but not before Dean gets a good look at what he’s doing.
“You’re chatting on AIM? Sam!”
“No! I was just…” He tries to close the computer but Dean snags it from him and reopens the window. The screen reads:
WannaBBritn: For reals! U shold c my bro. Hes rly hawt
Justin<3Me: Not as hot as Orli, rite?
WannaBBritn: No1s as hawt as Orli!
Dean blinks and looks at Sam who’s blushing and doodling what looks like a unicorn in his notebook. “Dude, what the hell?”
Sam kicks the table and twists his pink lips into a scowl. “It’s private! You’ve got no right!”
“Like hell I have. Who the fuck is this? Who are you talking to?”
“I don’t know. Some girl.” Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Who cares?”
Dean rubs his eyes. He can feel a headache coming on. “For all you know it’s Chester the Molester trying to get into your pants. Jesus, Sam!”
“Aw, c’mon, Dean. Chill. We’re just chatting!”
“About guys? Sam, you do remember you’re not actually a girl, right?” He’s not sure how much more of this he can take. “You’re wearing lip gloss, for Christ’s sake! Which I hope to God you stole because like hell I’m going into that store again if you paid for it.”
Sam just stares at him indignantly, lips pursed thin. If anything it makes the lip gloss shine even brighter. Dean bites down a groan and looks at the screen again. It takes him a moment to decipher the cryptic message and when he does his eyes widen.
“Seriously, Orlando Bloom? Dude, I’m way hotter than him!”
Sam blushes deep red at that and rolls his eyes. “You wish!”
“Wishing has nothing to do with it, man.” He types a quick, ‘Get lost, asshole,’ and closes the window before leaning back in his chair, legs spread in a sprawl. “Orlando couldn’t get half the pussy I get,” he then adds with a smirk, cupping his crotch for good measure.
“Eeww!” Sam scoots back his chair, face contorted in disgust. “You’re so gross! I bet Orli never calls girls pussy.”
“Yeah? Maybe because he is one!” Dean shoots back. Man, this is fun. He hasn’t been able to rile his brother like this for… well, a decade.
“Not true! Shut up, Dean!”
“You shut up, Sally!”
“Either you boys keep it down or you have to leave.”
Dean jumps and looks up to find a somewhat amused librarian giving them a stern look.
“People are trying to read, you know,” she adds, glancing at Sam with a fond twinkle in her eye.
“I apologize, miss. We’ll be good, I promise. Right, Sam?”
“Yeah,” Sam mumbles, refusing to look up. “Sorry.”
Dean flashes her his most charming smile. She’s in her early twenties, wearing flip-flops, a denim skirt and a tight t-shirt that says ‘Librarians do it by the book’. His kind of geek.
“You have to excuse my brother. Not only is he loud but he’s got horrible taste. Help us out here.” He flutters his eyelashes for good measure. “Me or Orlando Bloom? Whatya say?”
She bites back a smile and looks him thoughtfully over before shaking her head. “Sorry. I’ll have to go with your brother. Orlando all the way.”
“What!” Dean stares at her incredulous. “You can’t be serious. Why the hell?”
She leans forward and whispers just loud enough for both of them to hear. “Because Orli would never call girls pussies.”
“Ha! I told you!” Sam exclaims in triumph and Dean scowls.
“Yeah, sure. You girls always stick together.”
She just smiles and then she unhooks a button from her t-shirt and hands it to Sam. “Here you go. Now play nice, ok?”
Sam beams up at her. “Ok.”
She winks at him and walks back to her desk, shoulders shaking with laughter. Sam sticks out his tongue at Dean before looking down at the button in his hand. It’s got a picture of Harry Potter swinging his wand and the text reads, ‘The library is where magic happens!’
Sam frowns. “Why did she give me this?”
“Probably because she thinks you’re retarded. Oh, excuse me,” Dean adds hastily at Sam’s outraged expression and raises his hands in mock apology, “I meant ‘mentally challenged.’”
“I’m not-!” Sam glances at the librarian who’s eyeing him disapprovingly again and lowers his voice to a hiss. “I’m not mentally challenged! I went to Stanford! I’m smarter than you and I bet I’m smarter than her.” He gets up and snaps the laptop shut. “I’m gonna go over there and tell her.”
Dean grabs his arm at the last minute, hauling him back. “Oh no, you won’t. We might need her help with something later and I don’t want her thinking us even weirder than she thinks already.”
“She thinks I’m stupid!”
“Not stupid, Sam.” Dean pulls Sam down to sit beside him and ruffles his hair with patronizing affection. “Just a bit slow.”
“It’s not funny!” Sam’s lip wobbles and he bites down on it. “Why are you always so mean? I hate you.”
“Jeez! I’m not…” Dean stops. Is that genuine hurt in Sam’s eyes? “Sammy? C’mon, you know I’m just kidding.”
Sam shrugs but won’t look his way and Dean wonders how much of that hurt is from the thirteen-year-old’s insecurities and how much is Sam’s own buried feelings.
“Sam, dude… You really think I’m mean to you on purpose?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Sam gnaws at his lower lip, smearing pink lip gloss on his teeth. “You called me selfish. And… and you make fun of me for being so tall. It’s not like I asked to be like this, you know. Everyone thinks I’m a freak. You said so yourself. You said I was a freak.”
Damn. On a normal day he’d roll his eyes and tell Sam to grow up and stop being such a baby. But nothing about this day is normal and he’s beginning to suspect Sam is closer to being the thirteen-year-old girl than he is to being himself. And Dean’s never been the kind of guy that belittles children and their feelings, even if they’re six feet four and can grow a beard.
“Sam, I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, you’re freakishly tall but it’s cool. Chicks dig that. They like a man that towers over them. Makes them feel secure or something.”
Sam glances at him, tugging at his sleeves as he unconsciously sits up straighter. “How ‘bout you?”
Dean frowns. “How ‘bout me what?”
“Do you like that I’m taller than you?”
Dean’s not quite sure what to say. ‘No’ will probably get Sam sulking again but seriously, who likes their younger brother towering over them? It’s not fair, that’s what it is, and Dean is sure it has something to do with all the extra bowls of Lucky Charms that Sam got while Dean settled for dry toast. But Sam is looking at him with those exact same eyes that always got him that extra bowl and thirteen or twenty-three, there’s no way Dean can hurt that kid’s feelings.
“I wouldn’t have you any other way, Sam.” He reaches over and pushes Sam’s long bangs out of his face and behind his ears. “I’ve kinda gotten used to the whole Sasquatch thing you’ve got going for you there.”
“Yeah?” Sam blushes and ducks his head, his dimples deep in his cheeks as he tries to hide how pleased he is. “And I’m not… I’m not ugly?”
Dean shakes his head, grinning. He’s gonna have a field day with this once his brother is back to normal. “Sammy, you’re my brother. There’s no way in Hell you could be ugly. It’s in the genes, man. Us Winchesters, we’re all handsome devils.” He smirks. “Some more than others.”
Sam giggles. Honest to God giggles and Dean doesn’t know whether to slam a hand over Sam’s mouth to shut him up or break into giggles right along with him because this whole situation is so goddamn ridiculous he feels like he’s about to lose his mind.
“You laughing at me, kiddo? You saying I’m not the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen?” he jokes and tries to look affronted. “And don’t give me that Orlando crap. The guy was an elf for God’s sake. How gay is that?”
Sam laughs out loud at that and Dean beams with pride. No one could ever turn Sam’s emo around faster than him. “Seriously, Sam, it’s super-gay.”
“You’re gay,” Sam snorts and shoves him playfully.
“No, you are,” Dean mocks back and shoves Sam almost hard enough that he falls off his chair.
“No, you.”
Thirteen year old or not, Sam carries enough weight to make Dean fall down hard as he’s tackled and he lands on his back with a giggling Sam on top, tickling him with the feathery end of his pink pen. And really, there’s no way that should make him think of that stripper with the feather boa he met in Vegas once.
“Stop it!” he yelps, while trying not to join the giggling, which is damn hard considering Sam knows all his most ticklish spots, grabbing at them with his long fingers while he brushes the feathers across Dean’s nose. “Get off me!”
“Stop saying I’m gay!” Sam shoots back and shrieks when Dean finally manages to roll them over and straddle Sam, desperately fighting away those tickling hands.
“Dude, I’m not the one with a thirteen year old girl inside me,” Dean laughs when he locks his fingers around Sam’s wrists and pins him down. Sam bucks and nearly has Dean flying but he’s done a round or two on a mechanic bull and his brother has nothing on that thing.
“You make it sound like I ate her, you dumbass,” Sam puffs and tries to wriggle away instead. His knees are bent, pushing up against Dean’s back and… Ok, definitely not a girl. Whoa!
Moving forward so his ass is resting on Sam’s stomach instead, Dean swallows and fakes a grin. “With your appetite I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Shut up, jerk.”
“Bitch.”
“Boys!”
They both freeze and Dean slowly turns his head to smile hesitantly up at the librarian, who is shaking her head in disappointment.
“That’s it. You’re out of here.”
“Aaww, c’mon. We’re just playing.”
“Well, this is a library, not a playground. That one you can find outside.”
Dean really can’t argue with that. He gets up and helps Sam to his feet. “Sorry. We were leaving anyway.”
Sam scoops up the laptop and puts it in his bag. The button falls to the floor and he reaches down to pick it up, standing still for a moment before turning to the woman with an annoyed glare.
“You know what, I’m not stupid. Or retarded.” He shoves the button back into her hand, ignoring her startled look. “I went to Stanford and I would have graduated top of my class if it hadn’t been for…”
He falters and looks away, eyes shimmering with tears, then runs out of the library, leaving Dean and the librarian to stare after him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Is he gonna be alright?”
Dean gives her a brief smile. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. He’s just…”
How to explain that his brother isn’t usually like this? That on a normal day he would be the smartest, most levelheaded guy she’d ever meet.
“It’s been hard,” he finally says for lack of a better explanation and her eyes go soft.
“I had a friend in college who… Well, he had an accident. He’ll never be the same but he’s happy, you know? That’s what’s most important, right?”
Dean nods. “Yeah. Look, I’m sorry, I have to go.” He offers her another smile and hurries after Sam, finding him eventually sitting on the steps outside, biting his lips and tugging at a loose thread in his right sock. “Hey.”
Sam looks up. His eyes are red and puffy and his cheeks are flushed. “Is she mad?”
“No.” Dean sits down beside him. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” Sam sniffs and wipes at his eyes. “I’m hungry.”
“Ok.” Dean pats Sam’s knee and stands up, offering him a hand. “Let’s find something to eat.”
“Pancakes?” Sam asks hopefully as he allows Dean to pull him up and for a moment Dean is tempted to actually let Sam eat all the things his twenty three year old self would balk at, being the health freak that he is.
“Burgers. And a salad. But if you’re good we can have pancakes later.”
“Ok.”
There’s an embarrassing incident where Dean has to explain that his brother is not a pervert, he just walked into the ladies room by accident, being brain damaged and all. And then he’s nursing a sore arm the next half hour from where Sam punched him. Other than that they have a surprisingly nice time eating dinner.
Thirteen-year-old girl!Sam is all smiles and giggles and it’s such a refreshing break from the regular emo!Sam, Dean doesn’t even mind that he has to listen to his starry-eyed brother explaining how Justin Timberlake is like the second coming or waxing poetically about the epic love affair of some people named Seth and Summer who Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know the identities of. The waitresses quickly forgive Sam the whole bathroom incident when they overhear their conversation and Dean finds himself suddenly shoved into the corner of the booth, warily listening to three girls and Sam gossip about Hollywood’s hottest in a way that makes him want to cover Sam’s ears. Are thirteen-year-olds really supposed to know about the G-spot?
As the evening progresses more and more people wander into the diner and the waitresses reluctantly leave the boys to let them eat their complimentary dessert of blueberry pancakes with ice cream in peace. Sam eats with the same enthusiasm he used to show as a kid, and Dean finds it such a relief from Sam’s usual poking and shoving the food around on his plate, hardly letting anything with more than a couple of calories pass his lips. Part of it is Sam’s Stanford health-freak style but most of it is just Sam, listless to the point of starving himself no matter how much Dean tries to get him to eat properly. Again Dean can’t help thinking that Sam being a little girl is not the worst thing that’s happened to them, in fact he wouldn’t mind it for a few more days if it means putting some meat on Sam’s bones and exchanging the wrinkles of grief with the fine crowfeet that now appear at the corner of his eyes every time he laughs happily.
Dean tilts his head and smiles softly as he studies the boy sitting across from him. Sam’s got ice cream and chocolate fudge smudged at the corner of his mouth. His fingertips are smeared with chocolate as well and every time he swipes at the wisps of hair falling into his eyes, they leave sticky fingerprints at his temple. His teeth shine white with every wide smile and he keeps glancing at Dean with such happiness that it makes his stomach clench. He can’t remember the last time Sam looked this happy and relaxed and his heart aches with realization that when they get this curse or spell or whatever it is to lift, Sam will once again be burdened with his adult grief and guilt.
“What?” Sam frowns in confusion and Dean quickly hides whatever feelings he must have been showing behind an amused smirk.
“Think maybe you should go and freshen up a little, princess. Don’t think brown is quite your color.”
Sam’s eyes widen and he licks his lips before wiping them with his napkin. It comes away smeared with chocolate and his nose scrunches adorably. “My fingers are all sticky too.” He slips out of the booth and heads for the restrooms, thankfully the right one this time.
Dean leans back and sips the last of his coffee. He feels relaxed and sated, stomach filled to the brim with food, and the sugar and coffee is buzzing pleasantly through his veins. Maybe, when this whole thing is over, he can convince Sam to put on the innocent girl act every now and then, just to see if they can get free desserts again.
His eyes slide to Sam’s notebook lying on the table and he reaches for it, not really sure why. The pink glittery pen is clipped to the edge and Dean can’t help grinning. He’s going to give Sam such grief about this whole thing once he’s back to normal. This is gold mock material. For years!
He flips the book open, skimming through the pages lazily. There are the normal notes about various demons and other things they’ve encountered and he reads Sam’s neat handwriting, adding a few notes of his own where he feels it’s needed. Every now and then he comes upon doodles in the margins, mostly various variations of Jessica’s name.
Dean swallows and runs his fingers lightly over the imprinted letters. Sam’s grief, he feels, is like a wall between them, the one thing that Sam won’t let him in on. Sam keeps it locked up in his heart and his nightmares and even saying Jessica’s name is almost more than he’s willing to share. So seeing it there, written so casually Dean’s sure Sam does it unconsciously, he feels like he’s invading Sam’s privacy on a far more intimate level than he has any right to.
He’s about to close the notebook and put it back when he comes upon the last written pages. The handwriting there is bigger, more childish and written in pink glittery ink. There are drawings of small butterflies and garish flowers, circling and intermitting just one word, written repeatedly all over the page. Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean. One of them is even encased by a stretched heart, the edges marked with broken lines as if it’s pulsating.
Dean stares down at the book in front of him. What the…?
“Here you go.”
Dean quickly slams the notebook shut before looking up to find one of the waitresses standing by the table, bag in her hand.
“Thought you boys would like some cookies to take with you,” she says with a smile and puts the bag on the table just as Sam comes out of the bathroom.
“Oh! Thank you!”
Sam smiles brightly, lips glimmering with newly applied strawberry lip-gloss, and Dean quickly looks away. He feels warm in his stomach and his heart is beating slightly too fast. Dude, get a grip! It’s Sammy! So he likes writing your name in his little book. It doesn’t mean anything.
He throws the girl a smile and thanks her, his hands unsteady as he pulls out his wallet. He leaves enough money to cover the bill and a generous tip and casually hands Sam his notebook before grabbing his jacket and scooting out of the booth. “C’mon, Sammy. We better get going.”
Continued here
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: felisblanco
Characters: Dean/girly!Sam (yes, the ‘-y’ is there for a reason), Dean/Sam
Prompt used: “You were licking your lips/and your lipstick shining./I was dying just to ask for a taste.”
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ca. 14.600
Summary: “Seriously, Sam, what the hell? When did you turn into a thirteen year old girl?”
For a moment it looks like Sam’s struggling but then he sticks up his chin and glares at Dean with a look that hasn’t been seen in over a decade. “About five minutes ago,” he snaps and proceeds to cross his arms and glare out the window.
Warnings: Mild incest. Lots of swearing. Gender… not really swap. More of a gender mindfuck. And age mindfuck. And an excessive use of pink. I guess you’d call it crack. Except this could so happen. *nods*
Author’s note: Written for batoutofkansas. Beta’d by the wonderful spangels_girl. Encouraged by my flist so blame them. Title taken from the song by The Smiths. Takes place sometime during season 1. See more A/N after the story.
In two parts because LJ hates long posts. *pouts*
You’d think there be a clear sign of whatever the fuck made it happen. Like a pink mist floating through the air or a unicorn running across the road. Some stupid shit like that.
Instead it’s just an ordinary day in an ordinary town and Dean’s licking spilled coffee from the back of his hand as he holds the other cup out to Sam, hissing, “Dude, wake up and take your fricking pansy-ass mocha vanilla girly latte before I drop it in your lap, godammit!” when Sam looks over at him and says, “You shouldn’t swear so much. It’s not nice.” And then his eyes go wide as Dean stares at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Sam opens his mouth but seems to freeze and his lips slope into a pout instead. Dean contemplates smacking him across the back of his head but both his hands are pretty occupied with this goddamn coffee that’s starting to burn its way through the thin paper cups and zing his palms.
“Whatever. Just take your damn coffee and let’s get out of here. What kind of fucking diner doesn’t even have donuts? I swear…”
Sam swats at his hand, almost making him drop the damn thing just where he’d threatened moments ago. Would have served him right, the prissy little bitch.
“I don’t want it. I want a cherry soda.”
Huh? “Seriously, Sam, what the hell? When did you turn into a thirteen year old girl?”
For a moment it looks like Sam’s struggling but then he sticks up his chin and glares at Dean with a look that hasn’t been seen in over a decade. “About five minutes ago,” he snaps and proceeds to cross his arms and glare out the window.
Dean rolls his eyes and is about to say, “You sure it’s that recent?” but something about the way Sam’s lip is wobbling, and his eyes are glittering with unshed tears makes him pause and frown. “Sam?”
“I’m all tall and stupid and ugly,” Sam says between clenched teeth, fingers curling into fists. “It’s not fair!”
Ok, this is starting to get really disturbing. Dean takes a last sip of his own coffee then remorsefully chucks both cups out the window and starts the car. “I’m finding us a motel room and then you’re gonna tell me what the hell this is about, Sam. You hear me?”
“Stop yelling at me!” Sam pulls up his legs and wraps his long arms around them. “I hate it when you yell at me. You’re a mean poop head.”
Dean’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Come again?”
“You! You’re always so mean. You’re always making fun of me and calling me stupid names.”
“Well, right back at ya,” Dean says lamely because seriously, what the hell? “Dude, calm down. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know!” Sam closes his eyes and leans back, his jaw tight. “Fuck, man. We’ve gotta fix this. I can’t-“ His voice cuts off and then his lip starts wobbling again. “Stop looking at me!”
“I’m not looking! Jeez!”
Dean sighs in relief when he sees the neon sign of this shitty little town’s only motel as he comes around the corner. He swings into the parking lot, coming to an abrupt halt with a squeal of the wheels. “Just… wait here while I get us a room.”
“Stop ordering me about!” Sam yells and Dean instantly bites back, “Stop behaving like a little bitch!”
Sam stares at him and then he bursts into tears and seriously, a guy can only take so much.
“Jesus Christ!”
Dean gets out of the car and slams the door shut. Now granted Sam is an emo bitch on the best of days but this… this is ridiculous. Dean stalks across the lot to the reception, wondering if maybe he should take an hour detour to grab a beer, leaving Sam in the car to cool off. Better not risk it. The mood Sam is in he might key his baby or something worse.
The spotty faced kid behind the desk makes the tired old gay joke and for once Dean really can’t blame him as he follows his glance out the window. Sam has of course not stayed in the car but is pacing angrily beside it, arms crossed defiantly and lips again tugged into a pout. Dean groans in embarrassment as he watches Sam briefly stop to check his reflection in the side mirror, tugging his long hair behind his ears before his face crumbles again and he wipes angrily at his eyes with the tip of his fingers.
“You were saying?” The kid is looking at Dean with a smirk and Dean tries to remember what state they’re in at the moment. Does this one carry the death penalty?
“Mind your own goddamn business and give me a room with two queens!”
“Two queens it is,” the kid snorts, somehow making it sound like he’s not talking about the beds at all and Dean shoots him another glare. He wants to tell the little shit that they’re brothers but really, right now, he’s not sure he wants anyone to know that they’re related. At all. Instead he grabs the key and walks out, slamming the door behind him. When he gets to the car he grabs their bags out of the trunk and throws one wordlessly at Sam before stalking to their room, not waiting for Sam to follow.
“Are you mad at me? Dean!”
Dean doesn’t answer, just waits impatiently until Sam is through the door before slamming that one as well and pushing Sam toward one of the beds. “Sit down. Now!”
Sam’s lip starts wobbling again but he doesn’t argue, just scoots up on the bed and folds his long legs underneath him.
“Ok, spill. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I told you!”
Dean quirks his eyebrow. “Uh… no. You didn’t. Unless you mean whining about being tall and ugly, which isn’t exactly news, princess, so why the hell are you crying about that now? And, dude, seriously, turn off the waterworks.”
Sam looks stricken; hurt and disbelief glittering in his eyes. “Why do you always have to be so…? I’m a girl, Dean! That’s what’s wrong! And I think I’m about twelve or thirteen and if you don’t stop staring at me like that I’m gonna kick you in the balls, you freaking pervert.” He tugs down his t-shirt and gives Dean a glare, half disgusted, half freaked out.
Dean stares at him for what seems like an eternity before quietly asking, “Christo?”
Sam’s breath hitches and he wipes angrily at his eyes. “I’m not possessed! I’m a girl! And…” Sam looks down, voice breaking. “You really think I’m ugly?”
Dude, what? “Ok, this has gone far enough. I know I tease you about being…” Dean tries to find a word that won’t start Sam crying again. “… pansy.”
Judging by the glare Sam is giving him that wasn’t quite the right one.
“I mean, yes, you’re sometimes a bit too Village People but you’re not a girl. Ok? Because I know girls and you’re definitely not one. You’ve got no… you know….” Dean makes a lame cupping motion with his hands that has Sam huffing. “… and you haven’t even shaved since yesterday and I’m pretty sure that’s not a gun in your pocket because you always keep yours down the back. Which, frankly? Not the smartest move, Sam. What if it goes off and… Anyway, what I’m trying to say is you’re a guy, Sam. You look exactly the same as always!”
Sam rolls his eyes. “I know I don’t look like a girl. I’m still Sam, you di- nincompoop. I’ve just got… I feel like one, ok? I don’t know how else to explain it. In my head I feel like a thirteen year old girl.”
“How would you know how a thirteen year old girl feels, Sam?”
“I don’t! I just know I am one.”
Dean stares at him, exasperated. It’s been a while since he’s had to handle thirteen-year-old girls and they were never like this. Not this… well, big for one. And male. And his brother. The whole thing is making his head spin.
“Like, you wanna play with Barbies and have slumber parties? I can’t see how much different that’s from how you usually are.”
“Funny. And seriously, Dean, Barbies?” Sam giggles, a sound that’s almost more disturbing than the whole thirteen-year-old thing. “Yeah, right.” He licks his lips and tilts his head coquettishly. “If by Barbies you mean boys and by slumber parties you mean making out, then yes, that’s exactly what thirteen year old girls think about.”
“Oh God. Stop talking.” Dean sits heavily down on the other bed, running a sweaty palm over his face. “You’re really not kidding about this?”
“I’m really not. I wish I was because… being thirteen again sucks!” Sam pouts and for what it’s worth it really does make him look like a teenage girl. Well, neck up. If Dean ignores the stubble and the big nose and… well, Sam.
“Yes, that’s the sucky part here. Sam, you’re a fucking girl!” Dean shakes his head in disbelief. “What the hell are we gonna do?”
“Well, for one thing you can stop swearing so much. It’s not nice.” Sam scowls when Dean gives him the finger instead. “I mean it! And…”
He stops, eyebrows knotting in confusion and then his eyes go wide. “I gotta pee!”
He jumps off the bed and runs into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. Dean stares at the door in shock. He jerks awake when a loud shriek can be heard from the other side and he’s at the door, tugging at the doorknob, within seconds.
“Sam? What’s wrong? Open up!”
“I’m ok. Go away,” comes Sam’s muffled voice from behind the door. He sounds like he’s about to start crying again.
“Sam, I swear, if you don’t let me in I’ll break down the goddamn door.”
“I’m ok! I just…” There’s a slight pause and when Sam continues his voice is strangled with embarrassment. “I forgot I had a… boy thing. I got a bit freaked. Now leave me alone!!”
Dean stares at the door. “You forgot you had a dick?”
“If you laugh I swear I will rip yours off!”
“Not laughing! I’m not laughing!”
Later, when this whole thing is over and Sam is back to normal he knows he will laugh. And mock and tease and never ever let Sam forget the time he was a thirteen year old girl. But right now Dean is too damn freaked to find anything about this situation remotely amusing.
Instead he goes and lies down on the bed and stares up at the ceiling, frantically going over the last few days in his head. Did they piss anyone off? Unknowingly awaken a teenage spirit and allow her to take over Sam’s body? But he hadn’t even flinched at the word Christo. What else? A spell of some sort? But who could have…?
That girl at the bar two nights ago, who’d kept flirting with an oblivious Sam the whole time they were there? In the end Dean had felt so embarrassed for his brother he’d winked the girl and shaken his head apologetically, mouthing the word ‘gay’ as he discreetly jerked his thumb at Sam. She had blushed but she hadn’t seemed pissed off, just the opposite actually if her smile and ‘Aren’t you two cute?’ was anything to go by.
The implication made Dean frown then as it does now, and he turns his head briefly to glance at his reflection in the big mirror by the door. Why do people keep thinking he’s gay? He’s the manliest man he knows - well, aside from his dad and maybe Bobby - and according to Sam he has the fashion sense of a lumberjack. Seriously, they don’t come more macho than that, Monty Python whatever. And everyone knows gay men talk more Prada then girls. The only reason Dean even knows about Prada is that Oprah has these seasonal fashion talks…
“Hey.”
Dean jerks awake from his musings and turns to look at Sam who’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom, nervously tugging at his hair and biting his lip. Taking a deep breath Dean sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. However much this is freaking him out it’s nothing compared to what Sam must be feeling.
“You ok?”
“No.” Sam pushes away from the door and walks over to sit on the other bed, opposite him. “Dean, this… we gotta fix this. I mean, I look like me and I still got all my memories and stuff but I feel…” His lip starts wobbling again but he clenches his jaw and forces it to stop. “Like I’m all over the place. Mood swings and insecurities and…”
He looks up at Dean, panic in his eyes. “I really like pink.”
Dean scratches his head, fumbling for words. “Well, Pink’s cool. I mean, sure she has a teengirl fanbase, but she also did that really hot lesbian song-”
“I meant the color.”
“Oh.” Dean blinks then shrugs and purses his lips in thought. “What kind of pink? Because pale pink is like really gay but hot pink…” He grimaces.
“Hot pink.” Sam nods enthusiastically. “Definitely hot pink.” His eyes glaze over dreamily. “I really want a pink cell phone.”
“Yeah, you’re a girl. No doubt about it.” Dean gives Sam’s hopeful face a stern look. “And no, you’re not getting a pink cell, Sam.”
“Meanie.” Sam pouts and scoots up on the bed until he’s sitting Indian style, plucking at the sole of his shoes. “I bet Dad would have-“
“Dream on. If you’d really been a girl Dad most likely would have left you with mom’s family after she died. He’d had no idea how to raise a girl.”
Sam stares at him in shock and then he gets up and storms out, slamming the door behind him.
Oh hell.
“Sam!”
Dean scurries off the bed, grabbing their jackets and the keys before hurrying after his brother. It takes him a moment to locate Sam but then he spots him sitting at a small picnic table on the other side of the parking lot. He doesn’t move when Dean comes closer, even if the gravel crunching under his boots is a dead giveaway. Dean stops behind him, then drapes Sam’s jacket over his shoulders and pats them awkwardly.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it, Sam, I’m just frustrated.”
“You’re right.” There’s a hitch in Sam’s breath but he doesn’t look back. “I bet he would have left me.”
“No, Sam, ‘course not. C’mon, dude, not a way in hell he would have left you anywhere, whether you’d been a girl or not.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Sam’s voice sounds so small and doubtful and Dean suddenly remembers what it was like, being thirteen and confused and thinking no one cared or could understand what it felt like. He’d worked hard to make sure Sam never had to feel like that when he reached that stage, to let him know he was not alone, ever. Seems like this time around he’s screwing it all up.
Again he puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders and squeezes them tight, trying to bring Sam’s old confidence back, one way or the other. “Because I never would have let him.”
He can feel Sam trembling and then he’s turning on the narrow bench until he’s facing Dean. He wraps his long arms around Dean’s waist, buries his face into his t-shirt and starts crying heavy sobs, shoulders shaking.
“You’re the be-est brother e-ever, Dean. I love you so-o much.”
Uhm. Okay. Awkward.
“Dude. C’mon. Sam?”
“Sorry. Sorry. I can’t…” Sam sucks in his breath but then he just continues sobbing. “I can’t he-elp it.”
There are two girls walking along the road. Or they were walking, now they’re just standing there, watching the display with a mixed look of surprise and amusement. Dean gives them a nod and an awkward smile as he tries to pry Sam’s arms away from his waist. No luck.
“Dude! Seriously!” he hisses, but Sam is like a giant octopus, clinging to him with far more strength than a teenage girl would ever have. In the end Dean gives in with a sigh and just allows Sam to cry his due, running his fingers through Sam’s hair as he mutters, “Sshh, there, there. Everything’s gonna be alright, I promise,” and hopes that those pictures the girls are taking with their phones never make their way to the internet.
Finally Sam pulls back, eyes red and puffy, snot running down from his nose, and Dean rummages in his jacket for the napkins he snagged from the last diner.
“Here, clean up. You look like-” He stops himself at the last minute. “Let’s get you pretty again, ok?”
“Ok,” Sam sniffles and blows his nose. “Thanks.”
“No problem. You need to cry? You just cry, man. Just… let it out.” Dean nods lamely and tries to look supportive even if he feels completely at loss. “That’s what big brother’s are for, right?”
“Yeah.” Sam crumbles the wad of paper in his hand and throws it in the garbage can before gazing at Dean with his saddest puppy eyes. “Can we go buy ice cream? Please? Ice cream always makes me feel better.”
“Dude, that is so…” Sam tilts his head and sniffles pitifully and Dean finds himself nodding in defeat. “Yeah, sure. C’mon, kiddo, lets have a big chocolate sundae. My treat.”
The big smile on Sam’s face is definitely worth being whipped for.
Sam keeps quiet on the drive over to the ice cream shop and if it wasn’t for the way he keeps studying his nails and checking his reflection in the side mirror Dean might have thought the whole girl phase was over.
Being a small town, the shop sells everything from ice cream and hot dogs to plaid shirts and rubber boots. Dean picks up a couple of sodas and some beef jerky and a bag of snacks before heading for the counter. He pays for his purchases and then nods toward the ice cream machine.
“That work?”
“Sure.”
“Great. Sam?”
He turns around to ask Sam what he’d like but Sam isn’t there. With horror Dean spots him by the magazine rack, flipping through what looks suspiciously much like Teen!People.
“Sam!”
Sam pretends he doesn’t hear him but pulls down a copy of Cosmo and skims through it with wide eyes.
“Sam!”
Offering the clerk an apologetic smile he stalks over to Sam and rips the magazines out of his hands. “Dude, can you at least try and behave like the twenty three year old man you are? Seriously! You’re making me look bad.”
“Dean! I was reading that!” Sam blows a pink bubble and it snaps, covering the tip of his nose. “Give it back!”
“No. And where did you get that gum? Did you steal it?”
“No! I just…” Sam’s eyes shift. “…haven’t paid for it yet.”
“So you’re not just an annoying teenage girl, you’re a klepto as well?” Dean rolls his eyes. “Great, you’re Dawn.” He sticks out his palm. “Give it here. Now!”
“Ok, ok. Whatever.” Sam spits a gigantic bundle of pink bubble gum into Dean’s palm and he wraps it up in one of the napkins with a grimace. “And just so you know, if I were Dawn you’d be Buffy and no offense but… in your dreams, Dean.”
Dean grits his teeth and shoves the magazines back into the rack. “Ok, that’s it. You? No ice cream.”
“What!?! No! Dean! I was gonna pay for it, I swear.” Sam pulls on Dean’s arm and gives him his best puppy eyes look but Dean just shakes his head and turns to stalk out of the store.
“Dean! C’mon! You’re just being mean. Mean-Dean. Don’t… I’m telling mom!”
Dean freezes with his hand on the door and he turns slowly around, staring at Sam in disbelief. “What did you say?”
“I said-” Sam stops and then his eyes suddenly widen in shock. “Oh God. Dean…” He reaches out but Dean shakes him off.
“I can’t do this.” He pushes open the door and storms out, not waiting to see if Sam will follow him. He gets into the car and turns the key, not even glancing at Sam as he slides into the passenger seat, eyes cast downwards.
“I’m sorry. Dean? I don’t know why I said that.”
“Little Susie Q messing with your brain, Sam. Not your fault.” He tries to sound like it doesn’t matter but the big lump in his throat makes his voice come out flat and cold.
“I guess. I’m still sorry.” Sam bites his lip and glances over at Dean. “We need to get rid of her… this, whatever this is.”
Dean nods curtly. “You recall seeing anything in Dad’s journal that fits this?”
Sam shakes his head. “No. Witches are known for genderswap and age spells but both of those make the body change as well, not just the mind. Dean…” he pleads but Dean won’t have it.
“We better hit the library then,” he cuts Sam off and the car spits up gravel as he speeds out of the parking lot.
Three hours later he slams shut the last book with an irritated scowl and looks over at Sam who’s still tapping enthusiastically away on the laptop, only stopping every now and then to write something down in his note book. With a big, pink, glittery, feather-sprouting pen. What the…?
Dean opens his mouth to ask Sam where the hell he picked up that thing but changes his mind and sighs instead. No doubt he stole it from the store. Along with the Hello Kitty stickers now adorning the poor laptop. Great. Dean wonders if the girl in his brother’s brain actually is a thief, or if Sam’s life spent with credit card scams and other less than legal activities have somehow corrupted her into thinking stealing of any kind is just fine and dandy.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again Sam is carefully putting on pink lip-gloss, smacking his lips before running the tip of his tongue over them. Satisfied with the result he puts the gloss back in his pocket and turns back to the laptop, leaving the air smelling faintly of strawberry.
Dean blinks. That’s… He shifts in his seat and swallows. Get a grip, man. He’s not a girl. He’s not really a girl. He’s your very male, very straight brother. Brother! And you should put a stop to this before Sam embarrasses himself even further.
He is just about to clear his throat when Sam grins and then laughs softly before typing something again, a wicked smile tugging at his pink lips. Huh.
Dean slowly stands up and walks over to him. “Any luck?”
Sam starts and hits the keys frantically but not before Dean gets a good look at what he’s doing.
“You’re chatting on AIM? Sam!”
“No! I was just…” He tries to close the computer but Dean snags it from him and reopens the window. The screen reads:
WannaBBritn: For reals! U shold c my bro. Hes rly hawt
Justin<3Me: Not as hot as Orli, rite?
WannaBBritn: No1s as hawt as Orli!
Dean blinks and looks at Sam who’s blushing and doodling what looks like a unicorn in his notebook. “Dude, what the hell?”
Sam kicks the table and twists his pink lips into a scowl. “It’s private! You’ve got no right!”
“Like hell I have. Who the fuck is this? Who are you talking to?”
“I don’t know. Some girl.” Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Who cares?”
Dean rubs his eyes. He can feel a headache coming on. “For all you know it’s Chester the Molester trying to get into your pants. Jesus, Sam!”
“Aw, c’mon, Dean. Chill. We’re just chatting!”
“About guys? Sam, you do remember you’re not actually a girl, right?” He’s not sure how much more of this he can take. “You’re wearing lip gloss, for Christ’s sake! Which I hope to God you stole because like hell I’m going into that store again if you paid for it.”
Sam just stares at him indignantly, lips pursed thin. If anything it makes the lip gloss shine even brighter. Dean bites down a groan and looks at the screen again. It takes him a moment to decipher the cryptic message and when he does his eyes widen.
“Seriously, Orlando Bloom? Dude, I’m way hotter than him!”
Sam blushes deep red at that and rolls his eyes. “You wish!”
“Wishing has nothing to do with it, man.” He types a quick, ‘Get lost, asshole,’ and closes the window before leaning back in his chair, legs spread in a sprawl. “Orlando couldn’t get half the pussy I get,” he then adds with a smirk, cupping his crotch for good measure.
“Eeww!” Sam scoots back his chair, face contorted in disgust. “You’re so gross! I bet Orli never calls girls pussy.”
“Yeah? Maybe because he is one!” Dean shoots back. Man, this is fun. He hasn’t been able to rile his brother like this for… well, a decade.
“Not true! Shut up, Dean!”
“You shut up, Sally!”
“Either you boys keep it down or you have to leave.”
Dean jumps and looks up to find a somewhat amused librarian giving them a stern look.
“People are trying to read, you know,” she adds, glancing at Sam with a fond twinkle in her eye.
“I apologize, miss. We’ll be good, I promise. Right, Sam?”
“Yeah,” Sam mumbles, refusing to look up. “Sorry.”
Dean flashes her his most charming smile. She’s in her early twenties, wearing flip-flops, a denim skirt and a tight t-shirt that says ‘Librarians do it by the book’. His kind of geek.
“You have to excuse my brother. Not only is he loud but he’s got horrible taste. Help us out here.” He flutters his eyelashes for good measure. “Me or Orlando Bloom? Whatya say?”
She bites back a smile and looks him thoughtfully over before shaking her head. “Sorry. I’ll have to go with your brother. Orlando all the way.”
“What!” Dean stares at her incredulous. “You can’t be serious. Why the hell?”
She leans forward and whispers just loud enough for both of them to hear. “Because Orli would never call girls pussies.”
“Ha! I told you!” Sam exclaims in triumph and Dean scowls.
“Yeah, sure. You girls always stick together.”
She just smiles and then she unhooks a button from her t-shirt and hands it to Sam. “Here you go. Now play nice, ok?”
Sam beams up at her. “Ok.”
She winks at him and walks back to her desk, shoulders shaking with laughter. Sam sticks out his tongue at Dean before looking down at the button in his hand. It’s got a picture of Harry Potter swinging his wand and the text reads, ‘The library is where magic happens!’
Sam frowns. “Why did she give me this?”
“Probably because she thinks you’re retarded. Oh, excuse me,” Dean adds hastily at Sam’s outraged expression and raises his hands in mock apology, “I meant ‘mentally challenged.’”
“I’m not-!” Sam glances at the librarian who’s eyeing him disapprovingly again and lowers his voice to a hiss. “I’m not mentally challenged! I went to Stanford! I’m smarter than you and I bet I’m smarter than her.” He gets up and snaps the laptop shut. “I’m gonna go over there and tell her.”
Dean grabs his arm at the last minute, hauling him back. “Oh no, you won’t. We might need her help with something later and I don’t want her thinking us even weirder than she thinks already.”
“She thinks I’m stupid!”
“Not stupid, Sam.” Dean pulls Sam down to sit beside him and ruffles his hair with patronizing affection. “Just a bit slow.”
“It’s not funny!” Sam’s lip wobbles and he bites down on it. “Why are you always so mean? I hate you.”
“Jeez! I’m not…” Dean stops. Is that genuine hurt in Sam’s eyes? “Sammy? C’mon, you know I’m just kidding.”
Sam shrugs but won’t look his way and Dean wonders how much of that hurt is from the thirteen-year-old’s insecurities and how much is Sam’s own buried feelings.
“Sam, dude… You really think I’m mean to you on purpose?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Sam gnaws at his lower lip, smearing pink lip gloss on his teeth. “You called me selfish. And… and you make fun of me for being so tall. It’s not like I asked to be like this, you know. Everyone thinks I’m a freak. You said so yourself. You said I was a freak.”
Damn. On a normal day he’d roll his eyes and tell Sam to grow up and stop being such a baby. But nothing about this day is normal and he’s beginning to suspect Sam is closer to being the thirteen-year-old girl than he is to being himself. And Dean’s never been the kind of guy that belittles children and their feelings, even if they’re six feet four and can grow a beard.
“Sam, I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, you’re freakishly tall but it’s cool. Chicks dig that. They like a man that towers over them. Makes them feel secure or something.”
Sam glances at him, tugging at his sleeves as he unconsciously sits up straighter. “How ‘bout you?”
Dean frowns. “How ‘bout me what?”
“Do you like that I’m taller than you?”
Dean’s not quite sure what to say. ‘No’ will probably get Sam sulking again but seriously, who likes their younger brother towering over them? It’s not fair, that’s what it is, and Dean is sure it has something to do with all the extra bowls of Lucky Charms that Sam got while Dean settled for dry toast. But Sam is looking at him with those exact same eyes that always got him that extra bowl and thirteen or twenty-three, there’s no way Dean can hurt that kid’s feelings.
“I wouldn’t have you any other way, Sam.” He reaches over and pushes Sam’s long bangs out of his face and behind his ears. “I’ve kinda gotten used to the whole Sasquatch thing you’ve got going for you there.”
“Yeah?” Sam blushes and ducks his head, his dimples deep in his cheeks as he tries to hide how pleased he is. “And I’m not… I’m not ugly?”
Dean shakes his head, grinning. He’s gonna have a field day with this once his brother is back to normal. “Sammy, you’re my brother. There’s no way in Hell you could be ugly. It’s in the genes, man. Us Winchesters, we’re all handsome devils.” He smirks. “Some more than others.”
Sam giggles. Honest to God giggles and Dean doesn’t know whether to slam a hand over Sam’s mouth to shut him up or break into giggles right along with him because this whole situation is so goddamn ridiculous he feels like he’s about to lose his mind.
“You laughing at me, kiddo? You saying I’m not the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen?” he jokes and tries to look affronted. “And don’t give me that Orlando crap. The guy was an elf for God’s sake. How gay is that?”
Sam laughs out loud at that and Dean beams with pride. No one could ever turn Sam’s emo around faster than him. “Seriously, Sam, it’s super-gay.”
“You’re gay,” Sam snorts and shoves him playfully.
“No, you are,” Dean mocks back and shoves Sam almost hard enough that he falls off his chair.
“No, you.”
Thirteen year old or not, Sam carries enough weight to make Dean fall down hard as he’s tackled and he lands on his back with a giggling Sam on top, tickling him with the feathery end of his pink pen. And really, there’s no way that should make him think of that stripper with the feather boa he met in Vegas once.
“Stop it!” he yelps, while trying not to join the giggling, which is damn hard considering Sam knows all his most ticklish spots, grabbing at them with his long fingers while he brushes the feathers across Dean’s nose. “Get off me!”
“Stop saying I’m gay!” Sam shoots back and shrieks when Dean finally manages to roll them over and straddle Sam, desperately fighting away those tickling hands.
“Dude, I’m not the one with a thirteen year old girl inside me,” Dean laughs when he locks his fingers around Sam’s wrists and pins him down. Sam bucks and nearly has Dean flying but he’s done a round or two on a mechanic bull and his brother has nothing on that thing.
“You make it sound like I ate her, you dumbass,” Sam puffs and tries to wriggle away instead. His knees are bent, pushing up against Dean’s back and… Ok, definitely not a girl. Whoa!
Moving forward so his ass is resting on Sam’s stomach instead, Dean swallows and fakes a grin. “With your appetite I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Shut up, jerk.”
“Bitch.”
“Boys!”
They both freeze and Dean slowly turns his head to smile hesitantly up at the librarian, who is shaking her head in disappointment.
“That’s it. You’re out of here.”
“Aaww, c’mon. We’re just playing.”
“Well, this is a library, not a playground. That one you can find outside.”
Dean really can’t argue with that. He gets up and helps Sam to his feet. “Sorry. We were leaving anyway.”
Sam scoops up the laptop and puts it in his bag. The button falls to the floor and he reaches down to pick it up, standing still for a moment before turning to the woman with an annoyed glare.
“You know what, I’m not stupid. Or retarded.” He shoves the button back into her hand, ignoring her startled look. “I went to Stanford and I would have graduated top of my class if it hadn’t been for…”
He falters and looks away, eyes shimmering with tears, then runs out of the library, leaving Dean and the librarian to stare after him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Is he gonna be alright?”
Dean gives her a brief smile. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. He’s just…”
How to explain that his brother isn’t usually like this? That on a normal day he would be the smartest, most levelheaded guy she’d ever meet.
“It’s been hard,” he finally says for lack of a better explanation and her eyes go soft.
“I had a friend in college who… Well, he had an accident. He’ll never be the same but he’s happy, you know? That’s what’s most important, right?”
Dean nods. “Yeah. Look, I’m sorry, I have to go.” He offers her another smile and hurries after Sam, finding him eventually sitting on the steps outside, biting his lips and tugging at a loose thread in his right sock. “Hey.”
Sam looks up. His eyes are red and puffy and his cheeks are flushed. “Is she mad?”
“No.” Dean sits down beside him. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” Sam sniffs and wipes at his eyes. “I’m hungry.”
“Ok.” Dean pats Sam’s knee and stands up, offering him a hand. “Let’s find something to eat.”
“Pancakes?” Sam asks hopefully as he allows Dean to pull him up and for a moment Dean is tempted to actually let Sam eat all the things his twenty three year old self would balk at, being the health freak that he is.
“Burgers. And a salad. But if you’re good we can have pancakes later.”
“Ok.”
There’s an embarrassing incident where Dean has to explain that his brother is not a pervert, he just walked into the ladies room by accident, being brain damaged and all. And then he’s nursing a sore arm the next half hour from where Sam punched him. Other than that they have a surprisingly nice time eating dinner.
Thirteen-year-old girl!Sam is all smiles and giggles and it’s such a refreshing break from the regular emo!Sam, Dean doesn’t even mind that he has to listen to his starry-eyed brother explaining how Justin Timberlake is like the second coming or waxing poetically about the epic love affair of some people named Seth and Summer who Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know the identities of. The waitresses quickly forgive Sam the whole bathroom incident when they overhear their conversation and Dean finds himself suddenly shoved into the corner of the booth, warily listening to three girls and Sam gossip about Hollywood’s hottest in a way that makes him want to cover Sam’s ears. Are thirteen-year-olds really supposed to know about the G-spot?
As the evening progresses more and more people wander into the diner and the waitresses reluctantly leave the boys to let them eat their complimentary dessert of blueberry pancakes with ice cream in peace. Sam eats with the same enthusiasm he used to show as a kid, and Dean finds it such a relief from Sam’s usual poking and shoving the food around on his plate, hardly letting anything with more than a couple of calories pass his lips. Part of it is Sam’s Stanford health-freak style but most of it is just Sam, listless to the point of starving himself no matter how much Dean tries to get him to eat properly. Again Dean can’t help thinking that Sam being a little girl is not the worst thing that’s happened to them, in fact he wouldn’t mind it for a few more days if it means putting some meat on Sam’s bones and exchanging the wrinkles of grief with the fine crowfeet that now appear at the corner of his eyes every time he laughs happily.
Dean tilts his head and smiles softly as he studies the boy sitting across from him. Sam’s got ice cream and chocolate fudge smudged at the corner of his mouth. His fingertips are smeared with chocolate as well and every time he swipes at the wisps of hair falling into his eyes, they leave sticky fingerprints at his temple. His teeth shine white with every wide smile and he keeps glancing at Dean with such happiness that it makes his stomach clench. He can’t remember the last time Sam looked this happy and relaxed and his heart aches with realization that when they get this curse or spell or whatever it is to lift, Sam will once again be burdened with his adult grief and guilt.
“What?” Sam frowns in confusion and Dean quickly hides whatever feelings he must have been showing behind an amused smirk.
“Think maybe you should go and freshen up a little, princess. Don’t think brown is quite your color.”
Sam’s eyes widen and he licks his lips before wiping them with his napkin. It comes away smeared with chocolate and his nose scrunches adorably. “My fingers are all sticky too.” He slips out of the booth and heads for the restrooms, thankfully the right one this time.
Dean leans back and sips the last of his coffee. He feels relaxed and sated, stomach filled to the brim with food, and the sugar and coffee is buzzing pleasantly through his veins. Maybe, when this whole thing is over, he can convince Sam to put on the innocent girl act every now and then, just to see if they can get free desserts again.
His eyes slide to Sam’s notebook lying on the table and he reaches for it, not really sure why. The pink glittery pen is clipped to the edge and Dean can’t help grinning. He’s going to give Sam such grief about this whole thing once he’s back to normal. This is gold mock material. For years!
He flips the book open, skimming through the pages lazily. There are the normal notes about various demons and other things they’ve encountered and he reads Sam’s neat handwriting, adding a few notes of his own where he feels it’s needed. Every now and then he comes upon doodles in the margins, mostly various variations of Jessica’s name.
Dean swallows and runs his fingers lightly over the imprinted letters. Sam’s grief, he feels, is like a wall between them, the one thing that Sam won’t let him in on. Sam keeps it locked up in his heart and his nightmares and even saying Jessica’s name is almost more than he’s willing to share. So seeing it there, written so casually Dean’s sure Sam does it unconsciously, he feels like he’s invading Sam’s privacy on a far more intimate level than he has any right to.
He’s about to close the notebook and put it back when he comes upon the last written pages. The handwriting there is bigger, more childish and written in pink glittery ink. There are drawings of small butterflies and garish flowers, circling and intermitting just one word, written repeatedly all over the page. Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean. One of them is even encased by a stretched heart, the edges marked with broken lines as if it’s pulsating.
Dean stares down at the book in front of him. What the…?
“Here you go.”
Dean quickly slams the notebook shut before looking up to find one of the waitresses standing by the table, bag in her hand.
“Thought you boys would like some cookies to take with you,” she says with a smile and puts the bag on the table just as Sam comes out of the bathroom.
“Oh! Thank you!”
Sam smiles brightly, lips glimmering with newly applied strawberry lip-gloss, and Dean quickly looks away. He feels warm in his stomach and his heart is beating slightly too fast. Dude, get a grip! It’s Sammy! So he likes writing your name in his little book. It doesn’t mean anything.
He throws the girl a smile and thanks her, his hands unsteady as he pulls out his wallet. He leaves enough money to cover the bill and a generous tip and casually hands Sam his notebook before grabbing his jacket and scooting out of the booth. “C’mon, Sammy. We better get going.”
Continued here