Title: Mister Sister
Author: alakewood
Warnings: Serious spoilers for Wishful Thinking, minor-ish ones for all of S4.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1500
Summary: Sam interrupts Dean's thoughts as he's about to make his wish and ends up wishing for something he didn't want to wish for. [This was supposed to be a crack!fic. I, apparently, need to play around with the whole 'crack' factor a while longer. And, FYI, it was really hard to keep this from veering off into Wincest-land.]
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.

oxoxo

They stood in the lobby of Lucky Chins, staring at the fountain. "Only one way to find out," Dean had said, digging into his pocket for change. He opened his fist and poked through a few quarters, nickels, lint, a stray bullet, and a penny. He took the penny, returning the rest to his pocket, and flipped it off his thumb into the water where it landed with a plink!

"What did you wish for?" Sam asked immediately, sad, concerned eyes focused on Dean's face.

I wish you'd stop acting like such a girl. All your stupid worried looks and questions about "feelings.", Dean thought, before adding: Crap. Well, at the very least, it would be interesting to see how it turned out. "If I tell you, it won't come true." Which wouldn't exactly be a bad thing because, depending on what was about to go down, Sam might kill him.

"So?"

He watched Sam expectantly for another few moments. Nothing happened. "Huh. Must not work. We'll have to do some more digging. Mystical fortune cookies, maybe?"

"Yeah, right. That's even more improbable than a real wishing well."

They left the restaurant and headed for the car, Dean only slightly disappointed that his wish didn't pan out. "Back to the books, then?"

oxo

A high-pitched startled Dean out of his nightmare – he was surprised he'd been able to distinguish the present from the vivid memories of his dream.

"Dean." The husky female voice sounded very angry and very displeased – not to mention, very near - and he wasn't used to hearing those emotions from a woman. Sam, on the other hand... Shit! Dean rolled over, ignoring the spinning of the room. "Sam."

"You wished that I was a girl?"

"No – not exactly. You interrupted me before I could and I thought something like 'I wish Sam would stop being such a girl.'" He paused. "Well, stop acting, anyway. But it was totally unintentional. And your fault."

"My fault?!" He stood, looming over Dean, trying for intimidating, but, as a girl, Sam didn't have the height he used to.

Dean stood, too, and was, for the first time in years, a good five inches taller than his younger brother. "Okay," he conceded. "Partly. But hey – don't get your panties in a bunch."

Sam swatted Dean's arm. "I hate you."

"You're kinda cute when you're angry." That earned him a punch to the gut. "At least now you have a reason to hit like a girl," he said, even though that had actually kind of stung.

Sam's eyes – still Sam's eyes – started to tear up. "I need a drink." He started for the door.

"Um, Sam. You might wanna..." He gestured at the drooping, oversized clothes his brother had been wearing.

Sam's face became even more scrunched as he searched through his duffle for something to wear. "Thanks a lot, asshole," he sniffed, pulling out a hoodies and a pair of sweatpants.

"Dude, you're gonna swim in those." He felt guilty for causing all this – because it wasn't as if their lives weren't difficult under "normal" circumstances – and went to his own bag, producing his only pair of ratty sweats and his Bowie knife. He cut the sweats off somewhere around the knees, making them into a really long pair of shorts.

Sam swiped them away then started pulling off his clothes.

"Uh, Sam?" Dean's voice was pitched awkwardly high.

"What?" He glanced to where Dean was staring at his chest. At his boobs. Boobs. He pulled the hoodie over his head in a swift motion, long hair obscuring his vision. The embarrassment burned in his cheeks as he pulled the hood down and pushed the hair away from his face. "I already said 'I hate you,' right?"

"Yep," Dean nodded. Then, "I'm gonna..." He turned around to give Sam privacy as he continued to change, not wanting to hurt his brother's feelings any more by suggesting changing in the bathroom like any other girl would.

There was a quiet whimper from Sam. "I really hate you."

Apparently Sam just realized his pair was only part of a complete set.

They stopped at the Impala so Sam could dig a pair of flip flops (at least four sizes too big) from the backseat before they headed for the nearest bar.

oxo

"I need a shot of Jack and...some fruity chick drink for him – er, I mean her," Dean told the bartender, who eyed him curiously.

"Dude, you're such a dick," Sam said, climbing up onto the barstool beside his brother. "Make that two shots of Jack. And double 'em."

The bartender gave Sam a little half-smirk as he poured the drinks. "A woman who can drink." He nodded appreciatively as he slid the glasses in front of them.

Sam rolled his eyes then knocked the shot back. "Out of your league, buddy,"

Dean grinned, watching the defeated bartender walk towards the other end of the bar. "Not to mention batting for the same team." For the first time since Sam woke up as a girl, he smiled and it caught Dean off guard because he saw this woman – only his brother in the eyes and on the inside – through the objective view of the bartender and any other guy. "Wow, Sammy. You're...hot."

Of course Dean would hit on a hot girl even when it was his brother that was the hot girl. "That's...twisted."

"Yeah." Dean made a face as he looked away. "I feel...dirty." Sam smiled again. "Stop doing that."

"What?" Sam's slender brows furrowed over his familiar, concerned eyes.

"The coy thing." He tapped his empty shot glass on the bar then waved it when the bartender looked at him. "I need to get drunk. Now."

"I don't think there's enough alcohol in this bar to get you drunk, Dean."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The expression her - his - face was so recognizable, and Dean couldn't stand it. Sam, but not Sam; and attractive and very, very confusing. He was really going to need therapy after all of this.

"Maybe we should just go back and keep going with the research."

Sam shrugged. "Go ahead. I'll be back up in a while. I just...need time to adjust and think."

"I'll let you do that." He slid off the stool. "You gonna be okay? By yourself, I mean?"

"Do I look like a damsel in distress, Dean? I'll be fine."

"For what it's worth..."

"Don't."

"This isn't what I would've wished for."

"I know."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a footlong Italian sub with jalapeños."

Sam smiled again. "Sounds more like you."

"I'm gonna go. Before this turns into a 'moment' or something."

oxo

By the next afternoon, they'd figured out how it had all started and tracked down Wes. Sam didn't immediately turn back into his old self and started to freak out. "Just calm down, dude," Dean said, easing him towards the car. "You were asleep when it happened, so you probably have to be asleep to change back."

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. You're probably right. Do we have any NyQuil handy? I'd really like to get this over with."

Dean laughed, grinning at his brother – currently, sister - as he climbed into the Impala. "It'll be over before you know it."

Sam just gave him a dirty look in response.

oxo

Sam stared at his reflection in the mirror – everything just as it was supposed to be, everything where it was supposed to be – then turned towards Dean. "So, what did you learn from this?"

"Um...be careful what you wish for because you get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for." He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to forget how attractive his brother had been as a girl. "Like another reason to be in therapy."

"Good. 'Cause next time?"

"There will not be a next time."

"But if there ever is, you'll be taking one for the team."

Dean thought about that for a moment, pursed his lips and nodded. "I'd totally be a hot chick."

So Dean. Sam just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's get out of here."