A/N: Sorry to leave you hanging for so long! I finished up the semester so I have much more free time (and access to Catching Fire). This chapter is unbeta'd so sorry in advance for any missed errors, but it does includes Dean in a dress. Enjoy 3


I'm a painted whore, Dean thought miserably, shifting uncomfortably in a body that was still unfamiliar to him. It was an odd sensation, like he was stuffed inside the wrong packaging; skin stretched too tight in some places, too loose in others. If all the shaving and plucking and waxing hadn't been enough, he'd had to suffer through a fashion consult of all things. Apparently, they were being prepped for some sort of "Opening Ceremony" to these barbaric games. And this ceremony involved a parade. In costume. In front of the whole friggin universe. To make matters worse, his stylist hadn't stopped talking since she'd entered the room.

"Now, the old District Thirteen was responsible for nuclear power and weapons. We're keeping that theme for you guys as well."

"Huh?"

"Oh you are so cute," she tittered, clapping her soft plump hands over her mouth. "Well, I'm sure President Snow will talk this half to death later in the evening, but your… District has been selected to replace District Thirteen, which has destroyed in a… rather tragic accident." She giggled again, nervously. "Anyhow, you and your brother- I think that's very sweet by the way, volunteering together to protect those other children- need to wear something STUNNING to show all of Panem that District Thirteen is back and better than ever!"

"I see," Dean muttered. His head was starting to swim, and the gallon of perfumes he'd been bathed in weren't entirely to blame.

"Now close your eyes, I'm going to fit this on you. Ohhh I can't wait to see your face!"

Dean obliged, feeling a cool, satiny material float over his head.

"Okay, ready!"

Dean's mouth dropped open. The wall in front of him had materialized into a full-length mirror. Staring back was a well-muscled woman in a fluorescent green dress that came down to her kneecaps, but was then slit all the way to the thigh on either side. At first Dean thought it was a trick of the light, before he realized that the material itself was actually glowing.

He reached nervously for the collar, a thin line of black that shadowed his collarbones. "Umm this dress, it's not-"

"Radioactive? Goodness no," she chuckled. "I did sew real graphite into the boots though."

Dean glanced back at the mirror. Sure enough, encasing his feet all the way to his mid-calf were shoes made of a shimmery grey material. Buckles and straps crisscrossed each other wildly. How am I ever going to get all this shit off? Damn dress feels like it was painted on. Dean stopped for a minute, inspecting the way the costume clung to every curve, revealing a tight ass and decent cleavage. I'm actually kinda hot as a chick. Go figure.

"Do you like it? I tried to mix in the element of danger along with utility. Just like nuclear weapons and graphite- the products from your district," his stylist whispered, suddenly shy.

"Uhh yeah. It's um… Really nice. Dean winced anew at the thought of a screaming crowd seeing him in this getup. Actually, screw the crowd. What the hell is Sam gonna say?


Dean was lead back upstairs, away from the stylists' lairs. He saw people of varying ages standing around in clusters talking. The other contestants? His eyes searched the room nervously for Sam.

Dean felt a tug at his elbow "He's over here."

"Dammit Cas! For the last time stop sneaking up on me."

Castiel continued as if he hadn't heard, "Your chariot is last in line."

"Wait chariots, like the ancient Greeks? are you SERIOUS?"

"Remember to smile nicely and wave at the crowd. We need people to like us, Dean. I am in a very precarious position here. I fear that several of the higher government officials are collaborating directly with Lilith. Ah, Sam!" he broke off with a falsely bright smile, raising a hand towards the younger Winchester.

Any qualms Dean had about looking ridiculous in front of his brother were completely unfounded. Sam's legs were sheathed in pants so tight that Dean could see his calf muscles straining against them. They appeared to be the same graphite material that covered Dean's boots. From the waist up he was naked and painted a nearly blinding shade of yellow, with a black radioactive symbol drawn suggestively low on his stomach.

The brothers stared at one another for a moment.

"That dress looks great on you," Sam finally managed to say, though he couldn't quite keep a straight face.

"You're just jealous because I have bigger boobs," Dean quipped.

Sam let out a small groan. "I'd laugh, but I'm afraid if I did, I'd never be able to have children. These people are evil, Dean."

"Can we please focus?" Cas begged.

"On what exactly?" Dean tore his attention away from one of the horses, who had been attempting to nibble on his hemline.

"Look around! All the contestants are here. Start picking out the biggest threats. Everyone in this room will try to kill you," Cas hissed.

Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. In fact, Cas and Dean could see it shaking his leg. He extricated it carefully. Ruby again. "Would ya look at that? I get service in an alternate universe." He tried to chuckle but it came out sounding forced. "Excuse me," he muttered, slinking off behind a group of large, exotic potted plants.

Dean watched him go, feeling anger slowly replace the camaraderie of the moment they had just shared. Yeah, go ahead and keep your secrets Sam. It's not as if our lives depend on it here.

"What's the matter, honey? Boy trouble?"

Dean whirled around, finding himself face to face with a handsome young man wearing only a fishing net.

"You talkin' to me?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt anything. You just looked so upset. If he hurt you, I'll-"

"Woah, hey that's my brother!" Dean yelped.

The man grinned, "So you're single then? Looks like the rumors about earthlings being mutants are completely false. My name's Finnick Odair by the way, District Four." He winked, brushing a stray hair off Dean's forehead.

Dean flushed, "Look uh I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding. I don't play for your team, pal."

Finnick's eyes widened conspiratorially, "You prefer women then?"

"Yes! Of course I-" Oh wait. "It's complicated," Dean huffed.

"Mmm I see," he murmured huskily, leaning closer until their noses almost touched. "Maybe I can help you." Damn this guy is good, Dean thought, appraising his copper hair and fresh, sea-breeze scent. I'll bet he's got all the chicks on this crazy town falling all over each other. Still, it takes two to tango.

Dean stepped back deliberately, adjusting the long braid that swept to one side, trailing down his front, where it stopped strategically at breast level. He pushed his chest forward ever so slightly. Hey, this has worked on me before.

"I'm sorry," Dean arranged his lips in a careful pout, "but I hardly know you. Besides, we'll be trying to off each other in a few days. Not the best circumstances for romance, don't you agree? I'm Deanna by the way, District um, Thirteen," he added with a slight roll of his eyes.

Finnick slowly ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. Clearly a suggestive motion, but there was something dark in his eyes. He's definitely one to watch. "Yeah, it's a shame we have to waste a pretty face like yours in the Games." He turned, glancing back up the line of horses. "Looks like they're getting ready for the procession. Better find that brother of yours." He cast Dean one last scrutinizing look before retreating to his chariot.

"Good idea," Dean mumbled. He marched over to the cluster of plants, swatting aside the giant leaves to reveal nothing but empty space. Where the hell is Sam?