Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it was very much appreciated. To clear some things up: this is a real universe mixed with an AU, it'll make sense at the end of it. Yes, Cas is a dude, yes he's in a skirt, and no, Dean can't tell the difference –clean shaven Cas is admittedly somewhat androgynous.

The ride back to the motel was anything but silent –Cas loved hearing about Dean's 'FBI' cases. Dean abbreviated stories of his past hunts to their bare bones, but that seemed to be more than enough for Cas, who eagerly filled in the details with Hollywood clichés of adventure. Dean couldn't help but wonder if Cas was a drama student in college. He also couldn't help but wonder why someone would be picking on a hot chick in the halls. Dudes usually picked on other dudes –and usually their targets were the truly nerdy and outcast. It seemed so odd, not only that Cas was knocked around, but that no one stepped in sooner to help. Their loss.

Once they were finally to the motel, Dean could hardly focus on the key in the lock as he and Cas exchanged fervent kisses, leaned just as much against the door frame as they were the door itself. As soon as the deadbolt on the shoddy motel door clicked open and the scant door knob turned, the two entwined individuals nearly fell into the room. They stumbled over one another briefly before Dean scooped the smaller boy up into his arms. He was surprised by the weight of him, 'Where the hell is she hiding the extra pounds?'

Cas took the new position as a golden opportunity to start grinding up against his newfound catch, and what a catch he was. This stoic, seemingly hyper-masculine man of an agent actually picked him up, and eagerly at that. Cas hadn't thought that Dean would be remotely interested, that men in skirts couldn't possibly be his type. If Cas had to have taken a guess, Dean seemed more the dainty blonde with a giant rack in a school girl outfit type. Nevertheless, Cas still found himself off the ground, legs wrapped around the waist of a finely built man, supported by Dean's strong hands on his buttocks. Definitely worth skipping class for.

Dean's eyebrow lifted slowly as his suspicions became more aroused than he was. Was there something down there? It felt like something was down there –but there couldn't be, no way. Dean broke the kiss off, hoping to ask Cas about it. Well, not ask her, but get a better look maybe.

Cas smiled and quickly dropped to the floor, "I'm going to use the washroom to freshen up, I'll be right back." With a wink and a smirk, Cas vanished into the small motel bathroom.

Dean's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like a fish out of water, but no words came out. He wanted to say something about it, but he wasn't sure what to say. He was more in denial that he was unsure, but there was just now way he felt what he thought he'd felt.

Resolutely in denial, Dean surveyed the motel room quickly. The curtains were drawn, the 'no cleaning' sign was permanently on the outside of the door –John had taught them that one early on, a lesson he'd supposedly learned the hard way, or so the story goes. Dean quickly made up the bed –no maid typically translated to messy sheets. Dean kicked off his boots and stripped out of his suit jacket and tie, unbuttoning the starch white shirt and loosening the cuffs. What looked better than a man in a suit prepping for sex with a chick fresh from class in her nearly-too-short skirt. If Sam were around there may have been a warning about transitioning from reality to porn, but that didn't bother Dean any.

Cas appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, the lights just flicked off behind him. The frilly pink panties were hooked around his index finger, swung around lazily on display. Dean couldn't help the lust filled smirk that crept onto his face at the sight. Cas strolled across the room, deliberately avoiding Dean's touch as a sort of tease. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, ice blue eyes still locked with Dean's. Cas' hands crept up his bare legs, curving inside his thighs and brushing against the hem of the skirt, creeping it up ever so slightly until-

Dean saw it, and there was no way in hell he was going to un-see it. Cas' hardening erection peered out from that skirt line and Dean was done. Capital 'D-O-N-E', done. "WHOA! No no no no no! Put that away!" Dean's hand's shot up to cover his eyes, a futile attempt to save himself from what he'd already seen.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You're a dude? Seriously!" Dean tried to lower his arms, keep eye contact, but nothing lower.

"What?" Cas asked, sincerely surprised, "Like you didn't know."

"Like hell I knew! You think I'd have taken you back here if I knew you were a guy?" Dean's face felt flushed, hot with embarrassment. He could feel the heat creeping across his cheeks and tinting the tops of his ears. How could he have not known, seriously, was it really that hard? And Cas hadn't even been trying to hide it.

"You seriously didn't know," Cas' tone changed from one of surprise to one of bitchy awe. "You're a real piece of work, you know that? Well if you like it so much, get a load of this!" Cas lifted his skirt up, nice and high, giving Dean a wonderfully unwanted flashing.

"God! Stop that!"

"Make me!" Cas proclaimed defiantly, repeating the motion a second and third time.

"Ok, that's it! Panties on, oddball, time to get the hell out of my motel room." Dean pointed sternly toward the door, which was apparently open.

"Did I miss something?" Sam snickered, knowing full well what he'd missed.

Dean's arm dropped to his side with dramatized defeat, his eyes narrowed at Sam. Gesturing over toward the bed, where Cas still sat –unmoving, "You knew about this, didn't you? About... THAT," Dean waved his arm over at Cas, indicating to Sam the entire scenario.

"Oh, so I'm a 'that' now, am I?" Cas glowered at Dean, the man was just unbelievable.

Sam just kept laughing, "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. But if you'd just listened to me, and got back to work, this never would have happened Dean."

"Just shut up," Dean sighed, hating Sam to his core at this very moment.

"Oh no!" Sam joked, "Don't let me interrupt, I can just wait outside." Was that smirk a permanent feature on his face? Dean couldn't help but wonder.

"No, we are done. Cas, grab your shit and get out."

"Fine." Cas huffed and slipped his panties back up his finely toned legs and out of sight.

"Dean, I really think you should drive him home." Sam's humour was gone, and that warning expression was creeping onto his face. Dean knew he was only moments away from a full-on bitch face.

"Why should I? He's the freak in a skirt."

"First, he's not a freak –you're an idiot. Second, you're the one who drove him all the way out here, and it's already dark out. And third, you know what's out there." Sam's expression was controlled, his words terse and his brow neatly furrowed.

Dean knew he couldn't argue with Sam's last point, and denying the first two still wouldn't redeem it. "Yeah, yeah I know," Dean droned, acting as though the conversation ended ten minutes ago and was already long boring. "C'mon Cas, let's get you out of here."

Cas paused before reaching the door and turned a sly but curious look toward Dean, "So, what is out there?"