Cross Dressing with a Difference
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Written for the prompt : Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, cross dressing
"Gabriel!" The word echoed through the deserted warehouse. "GABRIEL!" Dean stomped across the floor, kicking rubble out of the way. "Gabriel! Get your ass down here right the fuck now!"
Castiel stood looking awkward and uncomfortable at the door. "I'm not sure that he'll come right now, Dean. He probably . . . he probably wants us to suffer for a while . . . I don't think he'd find it amusing if he didn't make us stay like this for a while at least."
"A While! A While! How long's a while?" Dean turned angrily, beige trenchcoat swirling round him, hands tangling in the excess material. "What the . . . How do you wear this thing? It's . . . it's in the way all the time!" He gripped at the sides of the coat holding it out from his body. He tugged at it trying to pull it down his arms and off with no success.
"That's not going to work, Dean. You've already tried to remove the clothes," Castiel said simply. "It didn't work."
"Doesn't mean I'm just going to give up, lie down and take it! The dirty little bastard, sneaking, conniving, scheming . . ."
Castiel sighed again, "I don't think insulting him will help the situation any."
"Insulting him! I'll . . . a spoon . . . that's what I'll use . . . a spoon and I'll dig his grace out ounce by ounce with a spoon unless he puts me back in my clothes right the fuck now!" Castiel just waited, not doubting for an instant that Dean hadn't finished ranting yet. He turned again, annoyance clear at the flap of the coat around him. "How do you do anything in this thing? It's in the way!" Dean sighed, looking defeated and Castiel pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against, striding confidently across to Dean.
When he was close enough, he lifted his hands to rest on Dean's hips, sliding them under the coat as Dean often did to him when their roles were reversed . . . or rather not reversed, letting his thumbs work their way between the waistband of Dean's pants and his shirt, or rather his own pants and shirt that were currently Dean's mode of attire. Dean stepped closer, leaning in and resting his forehead against Castiel's. "Can't you do something about it?" he murmured quietly. "Just . . . the jacket . . . the jacket means . . . it was . . ."
Castiel tilted his head and caught Dean's lips in a gentle kiss. "I'll take care of it, I promise, nothing will happen to your father's jacket and as soon as Gabriel's had his fun, you'll get it back." Dean inhaled the scent of the jacket mixing with the scent of his angel and felt himself calm, roiling emotions soothing under Castiel's composed demeanor, the reassurance working.
"Why'd he do it, Cas?" Dean asked quietly.
"Because he can," Castiel shrugged. "Why does Gabriel do anything? He thinks it's funny and we know he's got a twisted sense of humor."
"It's . . . Is it . . . because we're . . . you know . . . us?" Dean asked tentatively.
"No. Seriously, Gabriel would have done something, if not this, just because he could. Dean, you know what Gabriel's like." Castiel watched Dean as he nodded, resigned at last to the wait.
Taking Castiel's hand, Dean pulled him along to a set of old stairs where he dropped to sit down, slipping an arm round Castiel's neck as he sat down on the step below, pulling him back to lean against Dean's chest.
"Oh, look at the lovebirds!" Gabriel's voice echoed from by the door on the far side of the empty space. He walked slowly across the room towards them. "I have to say, Dean, I'm not sure that beige is really your color! But hey, bro, you're looking cool and trendy, you should think about shopping in Goodwill more often."
Dean growled, starting to shift ready to stand, only to find himself pinned down by Castiel's weight as the angel leant back further to keep him in place. "Sssh," Castiel murmured quietly, "Just let him have his fun and we'll get back to ourselves quicker."
Dean subsided for the moment, leaving Gabriel to his taunts. "Oh bro, your influence on your boy there is quite stunning. I never thought that anyone would be able to get Dean Winchester to shut up quite as effectively as you do."
"Finished yet, Gabriel?" Castiel asked. "Enough fun for the day? Seriously, bro! Don't you have something better to do with your time?"
"Oh so honorable, Castiel, so single-minded. You, my dearest little brother, need to seriously lighten up. While you are clearly influencing him, he's not loosening you up any . . . Should I be drawing any conclusions about your technique? Or maybe it's Dean's technique in the sack we should be worrying about," Gabriel mused.
"You wouldn't know what you were talking about," Castiel replied, tone smug, as he glanced back over his shoulder at Dean with a smirk that was all Winchester.
"Ew! Seriously I need to bleach my brain of that thought! Oh, I'm tired of you both!" The tone of exasperation was accompanied by a lackadaisical flick of his hand and both Castiel and Dean found themselves back in their own clothes.
Castiel stood up, "Thank you, brother." He turned back to Dean and offered his hand, pulling the other man up to join him before starting to walk toward the door. They passed Gabriel and Castiel looked at Dean and with a smirk and a wink he said, "Oh and Gabriel . . ." He flicked his wrist, "Pink is very becoming, don't you think?"
The snort of disgust from Gabriel that accompanied Castiel's words were followed by a gasp of horror. As Dean looked back over his shoulder, he saw Gabriel stood in the middle of the warehouse floor wearing a light net bright cerise fairy tutu with a lycra pale pink leotard and ballet shoes and a pair of pink sparkly wings.
Dean buried his laugh in Castiel's shoulder as the two of them left Gabriel behind.