[Fic] Just like a Woman - Chapter 3
“Explain to me again why I need a bra?”
Sam sighed, they'd had this conversation three times on the drive to the store and it was getting pretty dull. “Just run on the spot for a couple of seconds.”
Dean looked at his brother with suspicion, but did it anyway. Okay, maybe Sam was right, that hurt like a bitch. “Fine you win. Though how you came to know that little nugget of information, I do not want to know.”
Sam started muttering something about actually paying attention to women, with the mention of a long term girlfriend thrown in to punctuate his point, but Dean had stopped listening.
Hitching up his jeans one last time, Dean made his way into the store, trying not to fall over in his overly large boots. He may not like it, but Sam and Bobby had been right, they had no idea how long he was going to be stuck like this, and he really couldn't walk about in clothes that were far too big, and boots that he was struggling to keep on his feet.
Walking into a women's clothing store, was like stepping into a whole other world, one he really, really didn't want to be part of. It didn't help that he was getting some rather interesting looks. Yeah so he looked a state, yes he was obviously wearing men's clothes. No need to be such bitches about it.
Walking over to the nearest sneering shop assistant, Dean put on, what he assumed was his best down trodden face, “I know I look awful, don't I? My boyfriends clothes really don't suit me at all, do they honey?” Dean grabbed Sam by the arm and tried his best to look at him lovingly, “I lost everything in a plumbing catastrophe, all my clothes, my make-up, my shoes! My poor shoes.” Dean made a show of clinging onto Sam at that point.
It seemed to do the trick, the shop assistants face immediately softened, as did that of all the women nearby. “Oh my god, that is so awful. If you need any help at all, just grab me, and we'll do our best to get you fitted out with everything you need.”
“Will do.” Dean smiled, “and thank you for being so understanding.”
“Boyfriend? Really?” Sam asked incredulously as soon as they were far enough away from the other patrons of the shop.
“Yeah you're right, that was stretching it a bit, I must be going through a desperate ‘get whatever I can’ stage. Because quite frankly I am way out of your league.”
Sam rolled his eyes, “just pick out some clothes will you?”
Twenty minutes later Dean entered the dressing rooms with an assortment of bras in an assortment of sizes held in his hands, plus numerous pairs of jeans and tops. The whole thing was rather overwhelming.
He didn't clothes shop, never had, well not in the browsing the aisles, trying everything on sense. If he needed a new shirt, he'd just grab whatever was handy, and not hideous, in his size and be done. It was the same with all his clothes. But now, now he had to find out what his size was, and there was a nagging feeling that he had to make some kind of effort.
This was pure torture.
Shedding his t-shirt he tried the first bra on, reminding himself as he struggled with the clasp that he'd never had to do a bra up before, he was merely the master of undoing them.
Okay he may have overestimated his cup size. Dean frowned, it was a fucking cosmic joke that he would get turned into a woman with small breasts, like whoever did this to him knew about his preference for Busty Asian Beauties and decided to give him barely a handful.
Although beggars couldn't be choosers and as Dean unclasped the bra, with a little more difficulty than he'd like to admit to, he cupped them with a curious smile, slowly but surely getting past the ohmygodihavebreastsnow! panic that he'd been in earlier. Okay so they weren't that bad, they may have been small, but they were perfectly formed.
“Everything going alright in there, Deanna?”
Sam's voice from the other side of the door startled Dean, his hands immediately dropping from his breasts, and a blush creeping over his face.
“Bras are stupid. This is stupid.”
“I'll take that as a yes then.” Sam replied barely able to keep the humour out of his voice, “just don't take too long.”
Dean tried on seven bras before he found one that seemed to be the best fit, before flinging it over the top of the door and telling Sam to pick him up a couple more in the same size. Not because he felt like he needed more than one, but because it gave him a smug satisfaction to know that now Sam would be lumbering round the lingerie section, trying not to blush whilst neck high in frilly bras and panties. That would teach him to think about this as one huge ass joke.
The bras were the hardest thing to get right, luckily the rest came a lot easier. It didn't take him long at all to find the perfect few pairs of jeans, and a selection of tops to go with them, he'd vetoed the suit skirt that Sam had picked out for him, deciding that any self respecting fake FBI agent would opt for the much more practical pant suit and flats. Because there was no way in hell he'd be seen dead in a skirt and high heels, even if he did have legs that went on forever.
“If I never have to do that again, I'll be a happy man.” Dean intoned as they left the store, his hands full with bags of their purchases.
“Should you be stuck like this forever though, just tellin' you dude I won't be going clothes shopping with you again.”
“If I'm stuck like this forever, you'll have bigger things to worry about than clothes shopping.” Dean opened the back door of the impala, dumping the bags on the back seat, before sitting in the driver’s seat and giving Sam a pointed look, “trust me.”
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
The sun was beginning to set by the time Dean eased the impala back into Singer's Salvage Yard, Bobby's house lit up like a beacon amongst the mountains of rust. Dean couldn't be happier to be back there, he was so goddamn tired; his body ached with unfamiliarity and having had to endure a world of girly shit he'd rather not have had to deal with.
What he needed was a few bottles of beer, a good home cooked meal, and then a nice long sleep, which with any luck he'd wake up from with all his bits back in their rightful place.
Well a guy could dream couldn't he?
“Honey, I'm home!” Dean called out as he and Sam entered the house, causing Sam to shake his head.
“Took you two long enough,” Bobby's voice sounded from the study, “now get your asses in here, I've got a hunt that I think you boys should look into.”
Dropping the shopping bags, Sam and Dean joined Bobby.
“Not to moan or anything, but don't you think we have enough on our hands already?” Dean leaned against the door frame, sweeping a hand out to highlight himself as the case in point.
“The apocalypse doesn't grind to a halt just because you're on your period.” Bobby ignored the spluttered chocking sounds coming from Dean and continued, “Now sit down, stop getting your panties in a twist, and listen.”
Dean, to his merit, did what Bobby had asked and sat himself down, though now of course he was stuck with the horrifying thought of menstruation, would that happen to him? Was his body now set up for that? Cos he really didn't want to navigate tampons or pantyliners.
Shivering, Dean frowned, he really didn't want to think about it. He was already having enough trouble getting comfortable in his bra, he didn't even want to entertain the thought of having his period. That was a part of being female that he really didn't want to experience.
“I've been tracking omens and I think I've come across something that could be of interest.” Bobby wheeled himself over to his desk and grabbed a stack of papers, handing them to Sam, “There have been a string of reports from a small town in Wisconsin, about a dozen men in the last three weeks have all gone insane. All of them perfectly healthy one day, and stark raving mad the next.”
“You think it's apocalyptic?” Sam asked, trying his hardest to ignore Dean and his attempts to get comfortable in his new bra.
“Couldn't say for certain, I haven't got any connections over there any more, and the reports don't say much. But I think it's worth investigating.”
“And it's only the men going mad? No women? No children?”
Sam passed the stack of information to Dean, “Oh good, you were paying attention.”
“You try wearing a bra, this thing’s like a torture device. Besides I can multi task.”
“Yes, it's only men.” Bobby huffed, “and not that it's something we'd be wantin' to try, not when we don't know if it's reversible, but it would be interesting to see if whatever it is would turn you mad.”
Sam coughed what sounded suspiciously like not that it would make any difference.
Dean responded in kind by flipping him the bird.
The rest of the evening passed in a flurry of activity, Sam and Bobby switching between research and making new fake ID's for Dean. Bobby had to put a stop to Sam making Dean an FBI ID, for a D Scully. Muttering about how he had no idea how the two of them lasted this long, being such idjits.
Dean spent a couple of hours cleaning their weapons and packing for the hunt, before getting bored and distracted by feeling himself up.
That was the point Bobby and Sam had kicked him out of the room, both their mouths agape with a mix of absolute horror and uncomfortably confusing feelings that neither of them had aught to be feeling. Because it was Dean that was touching himself up, albeit a female Dean, with an absolutely cracking rack. Yeah. Neither of them really wanted to go there, and Sam was sure that even if Lucifer wasn't already knocking at his door, and he didn't already have a VIP pass straight to Hell, that is definitely where he'd be heading now.
As Dean made his way out of the room with an undeniably male swagger, that really didn't fit his new form, Sam made a mental note to call Chuck and ask very nicely/threaten, that no mention of his lapse in concentration and his resulting disturbingly unwanted, unhealthy and completely wrong half hard state, make it any where near the Winchester chronicles, and that Becky should never, ever learn about it.
Maybe that phone call should be made sooner rather than later.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
The next day dawned with the promise of insufferable heat clinging to the morning's frigid air, coating Dean's skin in a layer of perspiration that made the sheets cling to his body, and plastered his hair to his face. Hair that was still annoyingly girlishly long.
Dean stretched lazily, his brain slowly, and only with a small amount of protest, kicking into gear. He didn't know what the time was, but whatever it was, it was far too early, and it was far too hot.
His Long limbs tangled up in the thin sheets as he rolled over onto his back, dragging his arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out the suns rays that had snuck through the gaps in the threadbare curtains. He could hear the house coming to life around him, the creaks and whines of the walls and the floors shifting about, mixing with the sounds of domesticity, or as close to domesticity as the Winchester's and Bobby could ever manage these days.
He was pretty sure he could smell bacon, and it was almost enough to lure him out of bed. But a nice greasy breakfast could wait, staying in bed was definitely the more inviting prospect. Right now he was just going to drift back to sweet blissful sleep, until Sam inevitably lumbered in to wake him up.
“Dude! What the hell?”
Okay, that was too soon.
“S'up Sammy?” Dean slurred with sleep, wakefulness drifting in slowly.
“You're aware that you're naked right?”
Sam's voice had taken on a peculiar edge, and Dean smiled, the wheels in his head finally clicking into gear as he started to wake up properly and realisation dawned on him.
“I got hot, what of it?” Dean practically purred as he arched his back in a long fluid stretch.
“Boobs, Dean, boobs! And not the good kind.”
Dean sat up in the bed, taking a good look at himself, a pout gracing his lips, which didn't really work, seeing as the intended target for his pout currently had his back resolutely turned on him. “Hey! What's wrong with my boobs?”
“They're your boobs, Dean, that's what's wrong with them.” Sam shifted his feet uncomfortably, praying and hoping that Chuck would keep his promise.
“So was it just a sexual mind fuck that you were after barging into my room, or did you actually want something?” Dean covered himself up with the bed sheet before climbing out of bed, and making his way over to Sam, standing in front of him with his hands on his hips.
“Car's packed, Bobby's made breakfast and we should leave in the next hour.” Sidestepping Dean Sam high tailed it out of the room, his brother's girlish laughter following him all the way downstairs.
Arriving in the kitchen Sam sat down at the table, his head hitting the wood with a thump.
“You walk in on him naked or something?” Bobby laughed as he finished cooking the last batch of bacon, adding it to the stack he'd already served up and wheeling himself over to the table.
“He has no shame, it's like he doesn't even care.”
“He probably doesn't. It ain’t exactly his body.” Bobby poured himself a cup of coffee, “let’s just be happy he's not drinking himself into a coma.”
“Who's drinking themselves into a coma?”
All eyes turned on Dean as he breezed into the kitchen, grabbing a rasher of bacon, thankfully fully dressed, though the tank top he was wearing left little to the imagination.
“Sam's uncomfortable with the way you're flaunting your assets.”
Sam gaped at Bobby's statement, it my have been true, but he didn't need to go blabbering about it.
“Hey, it's not my fault he walked in on me naked.” Dean spoke with a mouthful of food. He definitely didn't make the most ladylike female. “Though dude, gotta say it's a bit gross you perving on me like that.”
“I wasn't, I didn't...just eat your food, we've got a long drive ahead of us.”
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
The drive to Wisconsin was going well until Dean picked up the nearest cassette tape and pushed it into the deck. What he'd been expecting had been a nice blast of Metallica, what came blasting out of the speakers however...
'If I were a boy, even just for a day, I'd roll out of bed in the morning and throw on what I wanted and go'
The car swerved as Dean scrabbled to punch the eject button, bringing his baby back under control as the tape popped out and he threw it out of the window, shooting Sam a glare.
“Not funny, Sammy.”
Sam smiled. “Oh come on, it was a little bit funny.”
“What you do, stay up all night with your ear glued to the radio, and your finger hovering over the record button? Actually no, knowing you that was probably your own personal mix tape. Bet you had Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers on there too.” Dean grabbed another tape, pushing it in and letting out a sigh of relief as the opening chords of Master of puppets filled the car. “And yet I'm the one that got turned into a girl.”
Sam gave Dean a curious glance, really wanting to ask how he knew who Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers were, but that would mean he'd have to admit that he also knew who they were. “We any closer on figuring out why that happened?”
“Haven't seen Cas since yesterday morning, so I assume he's still on the rogue angel line of enquiry. Whoever did it though, from what Cas can work out is just doing it to fuck with me. He doubts there's some huge master plan behind it.”
Dean propped his arm on the open window frame, his fingers drumming along with the beat of the music. There really wasn't much better in this world than driving along on the open road, window open, good music blaring out of the speakers and a cool breeze drifting into the car, slicing into the day’s heat. Even if he did have to contend with his hair flapping everywhere.
Six hours into their twelve hour drive, Dean's stomach started rumbling, and the glorious sight of a roadside diner came into view.
Dean's face lit up, and he pulled the impala to a stop in front of the diner. “Chow time!”
They entered the diner, taking a booth with views of all the exits, it was a busy diner, but not too packed. The waitresses looked like they were being run ragged though.
“Can I get you two any drinks whilst you take a look at the menu?”
A pretty blonde waitress appeared at their table, handing them menus. Dean took a moment to give her an approving look. She was cute, around early twenties and by the look of it, a great ass. Dean liked what he saw.
“I'll have a coffee, gorgeous, and he'll have a water.” Dean smiled and winked at the waitress, who looked a little uncomfortable as she left their booth, before opening up his menu.
“Umm, Dean?”
Dean looked at Sam with a raised eyebrow.
“Maybe you should tone down the flirting. I don't think she swings that way.” Sam motioned towards Dean, watching the realisation dawn on his older brother’s face.
Dean opened his mouth to reply but before he could say anything his phone chirped to life, not even looking at the screen he flipped it open and put it to his ear. “Hey Cas. Debbie's Diner, Charles City, Io...” Dean closed the phone, “and here you are.”
“I need to examine you.”
“Straight to the point as usual Cas, but if you want to see me naked again that badly, all you need to do is ask.” Dean smirked and winked at Castiel. The angels lingering gaze making him squirm in his seat.
Sam shot his brother a look that said 'please don't tell me you flashed an angel.' Which Dean chose to ignore in favour of continuing his staring competition with Castiel.
“I do not require you to be naked Dean.”
Unfortunately for all those sat in the booth, well Sam, the waitress chose that exact moment to return to their table, almost spilling Dean's coffee as she put it down.
“He prefers quickies.” Dean supplied the waitress with a smile, before letting out a small hiss of pain as Sam kicked him in the shin.
“Ignore my sister,” Sam said apologetically, “she recently escaped from a convent.”
Sam was the next person to let out a hiss of pain.
The waitress took their orders as quickly as possible before making a hasty retreat from the booth, she was used to dealing with weird, stoned and drunk customers, but it was never something she particularly enjoyed. At least none of this group had passed out or puked yet.
Castiel mercilessly hadn't said anything further whilst the waitress was at the booth, except to ask for a water. But Dean would bet anything on the fact that if Castiel hadn't been hit with the clue stick that he should just let Sam and him do the majority of talking around regular people, he would have interjected with something asinine like 'my examination of you will not be quick, I do not understand why you think I'd prefer that.' and 'unless I have missed something Sam, your brother has not been near a convent recently.' He's pretty sure that would have been fucking hilarious if Castiel had though. Uncomfortable for the waitress, and mortifying for Sam, but hilarious all the same.
“All scarring me for life aside,” Sam picked up the conversation again, “you were saying you needed to examine Dean?”
Castiel shifted his focus from Dean to Sam, “I am hoping that I will be able to discern which angel is responsible for Dean's situation if I can gather any trace elements from the bonds and workings of the transformation.”
“And you're just thinking of this now?”
Castiel's eyes immediately snapped back to focus on Dean, “It is a long shot.” Castiel sighed, “It is not always precise.”
“Anything that may help is fine by me.” Dean smiled, stretching his arms out along the backrest of the booth, aware that his previous question to Castiel had come across a little harsh. “Just tell me where you want me.”
“We should perhaps go somewhere a little more private.” Castiel replied, his eyes sweeping the crowded diner.
“I thought you said you didn't need me naked?”
“I need to connect with you on a higher level.” Both Dean and Sam raised an eyebrow at that. Castiel sighed and motioned his head at his branded hand print on Dean's arm. “I rebuilt you when I raised you from hell, it is with that connection that I was able to conclude this was an angel’s handy work, and with more contact with it, hopefully I will narrow down the search field.”
“Sounds... simple. But can we do it after I've eaten?” Dean smiled at the returning waitress, digging into his burger before Castiel could reply. “What? A girl’s gotta eat.” Dean answered Sam and Castiel's questioning looks between mouthfuls.
Once Dean had finished his burger, he and Castiel relocated to the impala, leaving Sam to finish his salad and get some more research done in the diner.
“So how do you want to do this?” Dean asked Castiel as soon as they were both settled in the front seats of the impala.
“I need connect with your soul; there are elements of my grace woven into the fabric of it that will hopefully be able to give me the answers I need.”
In the small confines of the car there really wasn't much space, and Castiel's all encompassing gaze became almost claustrophobic. Dean's heart was pounding against his chest, and his palms were sweating.
Dean swallowed heavily and offered his arm out to Castiel, bracing himself for the contact. Castiel's gaze didn't falter as he reached out and gently took hold of Dean's arm. His hand fitting over the scar perfectly just like it did on the previous day.
He experienced the same overwhelming feeling of his entire body being set alight, stretching out from the contact to every inch of his body. It was an amazing sensation, and one that was both frightening and exhilarating all at the same time.
As he pressed his hand against Dean's flesh, Castiel muttered a string of Enochian, his eyes slipping closed as he concentrated on what he was doing. Dean couldn't take his eyes off him.
It was strange seeing Castiel like this, although he was calm and relaxed, power permeated through his skin. Dean was in awe of it. It was easy to forget these days, just what a powerful being Castiel was. Not because he was cut off from heaven, and by his own admission losing power. But by the fact that Dean no longer saw the intimidating angel that had threatened to throw him back into the pit, one night long ago in Bobby's kitchen, he now saw a friend and an ally.
Here now though in the confines of the car, Castiel working his angel mojo in such a calm and intimate way, Dean could once again see a glimpse of that powerful angel that he had seen that first night in the barn.
Taking a long, steadying breath, Dean tried to reign in some control of his body, tried to relax and just let Castiel do his thing. Clear his mind of all thoughts. It wasn't easy though, not when Castiel's words were washing over him and reaching right into his core, his touch setting his skin alight, and it definitely wasn't easy when Dean found his gaze drifting down to Castiel's lips.
Dean licked his own lips, suddenly finding them incredibly dry. This was so incredibly intense and strangely intimate that it unnerved him. Not to mention the fact that it was turning him on something rotten.
If Dean had to be honest though, this wasn't the first time he'd been aroused by Castiel. But he'd put the previous instances of it down to the fact that he hadn't had sex in a long time, and Castiel had a thing about staring at him with an intensity that screamed 'I want to fuck you right now' at least that's how Dean had justified it.
This though, this was different, there was no escaping the fact that Castiel was turning him on, and wasn't that a strange sensation. Parts of him that he didn't have a day ago were throbbing with an excruciating ache that made him squirm in his seat. This was too much.
“Are you okay, Dean?”
Dean hadn't been aware that he'd closed his eyes and stopped paying attention to what was going on, until Castiel had broken the contact and spoken to him directly, his blue eyes looking searchingly at Dean.
He had to take a couple of seconds to compose himself, hoping that Castiel couldn't sense what was wrong with him.
“Yeah I'm fine Cas, just a little warm. You find out what you needed?”
“My examination of you has been most...interesting. It shall certainly help.”
“Well good.” Dean smiled nervously, “glad that we've made some headway.”
Castiel left soon after that leaving Dean to sit in the Impala waiting for Sam to finish up in the diner, slender fingers tapping out the beat to Enter Sandman on the steering wheel, the pounding beat barely keeping his mind off of things he really shouldn't be thinking about. Like how wet Castiel had made him - her - by just talking. How he'd wanted to jump Castiel right there and then, and let Castiel work his amazing tongue on his throbbing clit, stubble tickling his thighs as he lapped at Dean's juices, making Dean cry out for more.
Dean let out a huff of frustration, head resting against the steering wheel, brown locks cascading down around his face, hiding the pink tinge that had crept over his cheeks.
He could feel the fabric of his panties clinging to his body. Stupid female body. Dean growled into the steering wheel. He really needed to get laid - preferably by Castiel - and soon.
This was ridiculous. He'd been female for less than forty eight hours and in that time he'd gone from confused, to pissed off, to mildly accepting and now he was ridiculously horny for his angel.
If he still had his junk, he'd be sporting a rock solid hard on right now.
That was the upside of being female he supposed, as Sam sat down in the car, at least there was no blatant erection to try and hide.
“You okay?” Sam asked looking across to his brother. His brow creasing with worry as he took in Dean's slumped position.
Dean sat up in his seat, taking a hair band from his wrist and putting his hair up. “Just peachy.”
Chapter 4