"How you doing in there?" Lizzy says with an armful of clothing as she stands outside the closed dressing room stall. The reject pile is growing by the second and she doesn't know how much more of this she can patiently take.

"Horrible," Dean instantly calls back out.

"Just fucking pick some things, would you?" Lizzy complains with a huff. "I mean , Jesus Christ dude. You're the one who didn't want to go shopping…"

"Still don't!"

"But you're being the picky one!"

"Shut up…" Dean grumbles right back.

Lizzy sighs and drops onto the floor opposite the dressing room Dean is in. Her back against the wall, pile of clothing now in a heap by her side, she shakes her head in disbelief. She couldn't convince Dean to go to a mall. It just wasn't going to happen, no matter how many cheeseburgers and slices of pie she promised. Normally after pie she wheels and deals with blow jobs but right now… hmm, didn't seem like a viable bargaining chip. They settled on a local Target and Lizzy crossed her fingers that this wouldn't be so painful. So much for that.

They made it through bra trials and after a lot of complaining, fighting, and stubbornness they were able to find a few that Dean didn't find to be 'too freaking much'. They were all simple, no lace, no padding, just sports bras. Easy and as comfortable as possible. Lizzy almost died when Dean admitted one time they weren't that bad to wear once they figured out her proper size. Just as Lizzy had expected; 34 D. She found it ironic that Dean would do anything to get rid of boobs that size but most women would kill to get them.

"Dean, if you don't hurry up I am gonna lose my shit," Lizzy finally tells her. "I'm hungry. And after this I want a drink… or seven."

"Hey!" Dean starts as she comes out of her dressing room with a pissed off look. "You're not the one trying to find clothes for a body you totally aren't supposed to have!"

"Oh man…"

"And this whole fucking thing was your idea!"

As Dean waits for a response, hands balled up at her sides and brow lowered, she gets confused as she watches Lizzy look her up and down a few times with a calm and focused expression. "What!?"

"You look… good," Lizzy admits as she stands up. Dean had put on a fitted, solid color t-shirt, jeans that were meant for her actual size, and a flannel with sleeves rolled up like she normally wears while in her normal body. It was clearly still Dean in there but now she looked put together, less sloppy in ill-fitting items. Once in clothing that suited her body, Lizzy had to say she's impressed. "Really good. How do you feel?"

"Freakin' weird," she answers, not accustomed to such tight clothing. "I feel like I can't move in these jeans. And where the hell do I put my crap? My wallet won't fit in these things."

"And that's why purses are such a huge thing for us lady-folk."

"I am not, under any circumstances, carrying a fucking purse."

"Welcome to being a woman," Lizzy huffs. "Other than that though?"

"I'm alright."

"Good. Ok, how about this. Now that I know what you're cool with can I go grab some stuff and see what you think?"

"Ok…"

"I'll stick with familiar stuff like t-shirts and jeans like those."

"Fine, but…"

"And boots, we have to get you new boots. There's no way those fit you that well. Your toes must be squished."

"L, relax…"

"You need a jacket?"

"Lizzy…"

"Ooh! Would you wear…?"

"L!" Dean shouts out suddenly after being ignored for so long. "I'm not a fucking Barbie doll! Stop!"

Lizzy stays quiet for a moment, the fire in Dean's tone enough to let her know she over did it. She stares with wild eyes at the woman whose voice just actually scared her.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Dean starts when she realizes how off guard she caught Lizzy.

"Oh no, it's fine," Lizzy shakes her head with a little embarrassment. "I totally got carried away."

"Yeah, you got a little intense there for a minute." Dean looks suspiciously at her wife, confused and maybe a bit concerned.

"This kinda felt like old times all of a sudden." Lizzy keeps her focus on the floor rather than Dean as she begins to see what just happened.

"What does that mean?" Dean asks in a calm voice. After seeing Lizzy's reaction it makes her realize that something's going on that she doesn't understand.

"Felt like… when Lou was around," Lizzy says with a little pain. "Felt like I had a friend again."

"You have friends," Dean points out immediately.

"Not like I used to," Lizzy explains a bit, finally looking up at Dean again. "You and Sam are friends of mine, fine, but not like Louie was. I used to go do things like this with her, with a chick friend. I think I just kinda started to fall into that. Felt familiar."

Dean rolls her eyes and sighs. She can't be upset at that. How could she? Time isn't going to erase Lou and Dean never had the kind of connection with her that Lizzy did. She forgets sometimes that Lizzy deals with that loss every single day of her life, much like Dean does over her father.

"Alright, I shouldn't have yelled at you," Dean admits with a grimace.

"No you should have," Lizzy nods. "I got really lost in something there. I'm sorry I tried to make you my personal Barbie doll… even if you kinda do look like Barbie." She smiles wide when she stares at Dean, finding it to be true.

"I don't look like Barbie," Dean denies with disgust, highly uncomfortable with the label.

"Yeah, you do!" Lizzy steps closer. "We bleach that hair a little lighter you'd be the spittin' image."

"You suck," Dean says back, turning to head back into the dressing room to get away from Lizzy. "Can't believe you made me do this…"

"Oh, come on, Barbie!" Lizzy pleads jokingly as she follows Dean in. "You look good and you have to feel better in that than you did in my stuff that didn't fit very well."

"I feel fine," Dean returns, looking at Lizzy with narrowed eyes. "Can we just buy the clothes and get the hell outta here?"

"Sure." Lizzy shuts the dressing room door and leans against the wall inside the stall to wait.

"Uh, you mind?" Dean asks impatiently, wanting her wife out while she changes.

"Not at all," Lizzy smiles back.

"L, get out."

"Why?"

"Because…" Dean starts but doesn't know at first how to finish. "This is weird enough, alright. Can't you just leave?"

"Aren't I gonna see everything sooner or later anyways?" Lizzy just assumed she would.

"Why would you?" Dean wonders, not following Lizzy's thought process at all.

"Are you serious?" Lizzy asks with a little laugh but when Dean just stares at her with confusion she sighs in return. "Well, I guess we didn't really talk about it yet…"

"Talk about what?" Dean's impatience is growing.

"About us. About, well, sex… I guess," Lizzy honestly answers.

"What sex?" Dean asks, her anger once more coming back. "L, we can't even do that right now."

"Why not?"

"Why not…" Dean echoes in a shocked voice. "Wow. You really have to ask that?"

"I'm thinking that I do," Lizzy crosses her arms over her chest and stares at Dean. "I don't get it. I figured you'd be dying to see what it's like to fool around as a chick."

"Why would you assume that?" Dean questions, sounding almost offended by the assumption.

"Because you love sex," Lizzy answers with obviousness. "And you love lesbians. And you would be the first guy on Earth to get an insider perspective." She smiles calmly while waiting for a response, which she doesn't get. "Just last night you said it's a shame you're not a chick because that'd be hot…"

"And in hind sight I take it back!"

"Dude, you have to be at least a little curious."

"Nope." Dean stands defiantly, hands on hips and face wrinkled in a set, determined expression.

"Bullshit."

"I'm not!"

Lizzy observes Dean's body language and recognizes the absolute discomfort she's in with the conversation. Maybe now isn't the time to get into this, even if Lizzy is dying to sort this one out. She had assumed the first thing Dean would have wanted to do is fuck around. The fact that she doesn't makes her nervous.

"Ok. Get changed. I'll meet you out there." Lizzy turns and heads out the dressing room door, leaving Dean on her own.

Sighing with frustration, she avoids looking in the mirror as she changes back into Lizzy's clothes. To say she's completely awkward and excruciatingly perplexed by her current state would be an understatement. She doesn't know how to move, how to conduct herself, how to simply be at all. She can barely look in a mirror for more than a minute without starting to break down internally and now her wife, the one person who had her back and knew how to deal with her, just asked about sex. What the fuck?

It's not that Lizzy was wrong. She wasn't. Dean doesn't want to give up her physical relationship with her woman. And it's not like her sex drive is any different because she isn't a man anymore. On the contrary, it's about the same. But in order to do anything sexual right now she'd have to be able to be comfortable in her own skin… and she really isn't. Hell, she didn't even let Lizzy see her naked earlier in the day when trying to get dressed. Just the idea of being naked in front of anyone, even Lizzy, sounds horrible right now.

Standing in just a pair of Lizzy's panties, the black boy short ones that make her wife's ass look awesome, Dean grits her teeth with tightly shut eyes and sighs loudly.

"Ok," Dean whispers to herself. "Step one… look."

Moving to face the full length mirror, she very slowly pries her eyes open and forces herself to look. She waves her fingers on her right hand to be sure that it's her own reflection she's seeing. Sure enough, the look-a-like moves it's fingers too. That's definitely her.

Starting at the bottom, Dean wiggles her toes and watches her much smaller than normal feet in the mirror do the same. She drags her focus upward slowly, her legs slender and long; the kind of legs she used to ogle at when paired with some heels and a nice short skirt.

Her hips are slim, not at all like Lizzy's. Lizzy has nice round hips, complimented by an ample sized, perfectly shaped ass. Dean's not at all like that. For a woman she barely has hips and her own butt is a little on the small side. Still with character, of course, but not drool worthy like Lizzy's.

Moving up past her flat stomach and thin waist (God, there's practically nothing to her) Dean blows out a breath and looks at her own breasts, breasts that really aren't supposed to be there.

Eyes wide with surprise, she finds that Lizzy was totally right; her boobs are freakin' huge. Now if Dean were to see a pair like this walk by she'd have her eyes glued to them, even if she was right next to Lizzy. They're awesome if she's being honest and just looking at them alone helps come to terms with this situation a little more. This is real. This is happening. This is what she looks like now. Or for now… she hopes.

Her bone structure is thin, arms a little on the weak side, but overall Lizzy was right. God damn it, she does actually look like a fucking Barbie doll. Well, if he was going to become a she, she might as well be a smoking she.

"You almost done?" Lizzy shouts from outside the door after waiting for Dean to come out.

"Uh, yeah," Dean calls right back, pulling her eyes away from herself and scrambling to get dressed. "Be out in a second."

As she gets dressed she lets her mind mull over the situation for real. Before it was a game of avoidance. This wasn't happening. She wasn't a chick now. None of this is real. Now she's coming to let herself recognize it is real, it does suck, and she better find a way to accept it for the time she's like this. What other choice does she have?

Opening the door once redressed in ill-fitting jeans, too small shoes, and a bra that doesn't work for her, she sees Lizzy standing there smiling.

"Ready to go?" she asks with an armful of more clothes and a big shoe box.

"Yes," Dean answers while eyeing the haul in Lizzy's arms. "What's this?"

"It's what you picked out in different colors so that you have more than one of each since we don't know how long you'll have to, uh, be this way. And boots in a bigger size."

Smiling with the kindness she shows, Dean closes the space between them and kisses Lizzy quickly in thanks. She then takes the pile out of her hands.

"I'll carry that," she says, doing the usual gentlemanly thing of offering to bear the burden of carrying things.

"Um, you're a chick now," Lizzy reminds. "You don't have to do that."

"I want to," Dean tells her as she starts to walk away while holding everything. "Makes me feel like more of a man."