Just A Wrapper
It was an old shrine. Pagans or something of the like had built it centuries before. Overgrown with moss it was green from top to bottom. Somebody had an eclectic taste when constructing it as roman columns towered over Gaelic shrines.
Sam and Castiel had gone ahead while Dean stopped to pick up some rock salt. Silly thing to run out of, really. The angel and the hunter scanned the ground for trip hazards as they made their way to what appeared to be the center of the little formation. A white stone plinth engraved with intricate symbols that seemed to be glowing. There had been reports of...oddness around the area and all reports said it began here. A girl with antlers, the prom queen dying a bitter spinster at 18, a child molester sodomized with every phallic object in a 3 state radius, all of which screamed trickster.
The light was dimming as they drew closer urging them to hurry. Sam drew his gun, Cas his sword. They reached the plinth and the glow was all but gone. Cautiously, Sam reached out a hand to touch the stone.
"It's warm," He said over his shoulder, sharing a questioning look with Cas.
Cas' eyes were wide, "Sam, watch ou...!"
There was a blinding flash of pink light and both were knocked off their feet.
Dean was confused. The two figures up ahead were in Sam and Cas' clothes, but their stature was wrong. They seemed shorter, less the aggressive silhouettes they usually were.
"Sam? Cas?" Dean called uncertainly.
They turned and Dean about choked.
The clothes were too big for the young women that were wearing them. Cas' trench coat touched the ground and it looked like the girl was having a hard time keeping her slacks up. The girl in Sam's clothes was worse. While she was tall for a woman she was by no means the moose that Sam was and had lost her pants around her ankles when she'd turned.
Dean drew his gun. "What are you doing with my partners' clothes?!" He demanded.
"Dean...!" The girl in Sam's clothes held out a hand to indicate, "stop" as she dipped to grab at the pile of jeans on the ground, "It's us! Dean! It's me and Cas."
Dean looked from girl to girl. The girl in Sam's clothes had retrieved the jeans and was pleading with her eyes. Her lanky frame a little hunched over as she fought to keep her visage. The girl in Cas' duds only stood there, holding her slacks like a lifeline as she stared at Dean with bright blue eyes.
He lost it. A raucous peal of laughter burst from his mouth as his gun arm fell to his side. He clutched at his ribs as he gasped for air.
Sam rolled his eyes and fidgeted with his pants, but his cheeks were going red. Dean had fallen to his knees, gun carefully holstered despite the waves of guffaws coming from him. He pointed and smacked the ground with his open hand.
"Y-you c-c-can't be s-s-s-s-s-serious!" He bellowed.
"Dammit, Dean! Can we just go? We can't keep our pants up!" Sam yelled.
Dean only laughed harder.
"There," Dean tossed a pile of clothes on the closest of the two beds in the hotel room, "I raided the hotel laundry, this is all I found." He reached into the mini fridge and pulled out a beer.
Sam was wearing a white towel pulled up to her armpits. Her brown hair was wet from having showered. Apparently there was some kind of goo that came with the transformation she and Cas had experienced. She had a lean frame and small-ish breasts. Her hair was longer than ever, trailing down her back. But her eyes were Sam's. Dean started giggling again.
"Just stop it," Sam chided, "I'm gonna get dressed and go do some resear...WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
Dean snorted a mouthful of beer onto the cheap carpet.
"It's not funny, Dean! I can't wear this!" She was holding up a pair of short shorts in one hand and a mini skirt in the other.
"It's a little funny, Samantha," Dean sputtered between coughs.
Sam glared for all the good it did him and chucked the mini skirt at Dean's head. Dean didn't even try to deflect but continued laughing.
"Whatever," She grunted as she shimmied into the shorts, a site which Dean tried not to watch.
Sam grabbed her own shirt and buttoned it up halfway, then tied a knot into it to keep it from being so baggy.
"Where'd you learn that?" Dean pointed.
Sam shot him the bitchiest look Dean had ever seen, made all the bitchier by his her-ness.
"I'm headed to the town archives," She snapped and stormed out the door.
Dean continued to chortle as he finished his beer. After a few minutes passed he listened for the hiss of the shower. Cas was getting cleaned up as well. He hadn't said much, just sat in the back of the Impala on the ride back to the hotel. Only after Sam had expressed his desire for a shower had it occurred to Dean to suggest Cas do the same. Dean reclined back on the bed with another beer, smiling as he contemplated the situation.
The hissing stopped and Dean felt his ears perk up. There was silence in the hotel room. Then a click told him Cas was coming out of the bathroom. He turned his head. She...he came around the corner, a towel held in front of her but not wrapped around her. Her hair came to her shoulders in dark curls. While Sam's female figure was long and lean, Cas' was all curves, her hips peeking out on either side of the towel, her breasts threatening to as well from where the towel dangled over them. She looked confused. Was she...he blushing?
"Dean...?" Her voice was husky.
Dean sat up, setting his beer on the nightstand. His voice caught in his throat. "You okay, Cas?"
"My clothes don't fit..." She murmured.
"Yeah, I picked you up some new ones. Sam took the shorts," He gestured at the remaining pile of miscellaneous clothing, not taking his eyes off Cas.
Cas watched him, hesitating. She looked at the pile and her legs trembled a little bit as she looked like she was going to step forward, but didn't.
Dean stood, "Problem?"
Her eyes, Cas's eyes, focused intently on Dean, and gave the most familiar tilt of his head, "This form...you like it?"
"I...what?" Dean had not expected that question. He'd been preparing to give Cas some privacy.
"It's still my vessel, but it's different. It feels different. Softer," She clutched her towel a little tighter.
Dean's thought briefly of those curves that were barely hidden behind the towel, but Cas' eyes were what imprinted in his mind, "I'll bet." He rasped, looking away.
"Is it this form that has you uncomfortable?"
No. Was the first response that popped into Dean's head, but he said aloud, "I don't know what you mean, Cas."
"Or is it my other form that makes you uncomfortable? Would you prefer me like this? Would it make everything...easier?"
Dean's head snapped back to look at Cas. Were they having this conversation? He hesitated then took a step forward. He heard Cas' sharp intake of breath.
"Why now?" Dean asked, stepping closer.
Cas watched him, eyes gleaming, "This form...feelings are more," He paused, "More. I just notice you look more towards the females than the males and..."
Dean closed the distance and Cas backed against the wall. She still clutched the towel to her chest, her cheeks going pink.
"Cas," Dean's voice was as husky as hers as he tried to explain, "This is just a wrapper," He put his hand on her shoulder, making her jump, "This is just a wrapper," He touched his own chest, "It's what's inside," He gulped, "You and I," His hand started to tremble, "That makes us...us."
"Just a wrapper?" Cas' voice shook.
"It's all cosmetic," Dean felt his resolution solidify, giving him confidence to keep talking, "I'm me and you're you and we..." he sighed
"We...?" There was so much hope in Cas' voice.
Dean leaned in, his lips less than an inch from hers'. He hesitated once more, then closed in. He heard her gasp and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. The towel stuck between them as he held her tight. Soft and warm, Dean's tongue parted her lips, gaining access to her mouth.
She began to grow in his arms and her muscled arms snaked around Dean's torso. Her jaw clenched and stiffened as her once soft chin became rough with stubble. Her tongue flicked into his mouth drawing a gasp from Dean. He slowly pulled back to look into Cas' eyes. Cas watched him, his appearance as it usually was. Dean let his hands roam over the broad back of the angel as he watched those blue eyes.
"What the hell, Cas?" Dean whispered.
"I don't know, Dean," Cas replied in his regular raspy voice. He looked uncertain, "Do-do you want to stop?"
Dean had his answer ready, "Just a wrapper, Cas," And he covered the angel's mouth with his own, forcing him against the wall again.
Dean leaned back an inch to let the towel fall to the floor before deepening his kiss. Cas responded in kind, grasping at the back of Dean's shirt. Dean rolled his shoulders, shrugging out of his over shirt, and then put his hands on either side of Cas' face as he went in for another kiss.
"Closer," Cas insisted and started to lift Dean's under shirt up his torso and over his head, all the while stealing kisses.
Dean's hands ranged over Cas' back and down to the top of his bottom. Taking the final step, he cupped his bottom and squeezed tight, pulling Cas tight against him.
"Cas," He groaned at the feel of Cas' stiff length pressed against him and started making wet trails of kisses down Cas' jaw, his neck, then laid a bite on his shoulder.
"Dean!" Cas hissed.
Dean was getting harder, starting to hurt all caged up in his jeans and pressed roughly against Cas' groin. He made the executive decision and lifted Cas up by his bottom and walked over to the bed, his hands slipping a little from the sweat running off them both.
He hadn't meant to throw him, but otherwise he would have dropped him. Cas looked surprised but Dean covered up for his slip by smothering Cas' mouth with his own. For a moment they just breathed, taking in the others' scent. Pulling the longed for drug deep within their lungs as they never had been able before.
Dean began to unbuckle his belt as Cas explored the plain of his chest with his mouth. Dean moaned and fumbled the button on his jeans. Finally the zipper came down and he dropped his pants to the floor, boxers and all. It had all taken too long. Dean rushed back to kissing Cas, lowering himself onto the angel as he did. Their naked flesh pressed against each other, bringing a sigh of contentment from both.
"Closer!" Cas begged once more.
Cas kept a tight grip on Dean's back, kneading and exploring the dips and rises with his fingers.
Instinctively, Dean began working up a rhythm, sliding his length against Cas' and never leaving Cas' lips for more than a second between gasps. Cas' nails started biting into his backside and Dean's fists were balled up in the cotton coverlet. Pressure was starting to build as they rubbed against each other and their combined gasps were becoming more desperate.
There wasn't enough breath for kissing any more. Dean could only look down at Cas, trying to keep his eyes open against the throbs of pleasure cascading over him. Cas moaned and writhed as he kept up with Dean. Their bellies became slick with sweat and pre-come, causing them to increase their pace with the slickness.
The pressure was getting too great, lights were popping on and off behind their eyes and in room. Their eyes locked and Dean saw it in Cas' eyes when the angel came. The bulb in the table lamp burst in a shower of sparks and he watched Cas' eyes squeeze shut for a few seconds before his own moment came and the two of them were crying out, together.
Sam shrieked and clawed at the too tiny shorts. He had slammed on the breaks and was backing up traffic with his immobility. The shirt had ripped enough to allow him breath but the shorts were stuck. The button had flown off and he was desperately trying to get the tight sheath of denim off. He accidentally killed the Impala by dropping the clutch and was trying to motion people to go around as he attempted his own de-pants-ing.
Shouts of, "What the hell are you doing?!" and "Learn how to drive!" were coupled with his own, "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" Finally, the itty bitty, slightly mutilated, shorts were thrown out the window of the car and Sam was able to start her again. He flipped a bitch and headed back towards the hotel.
"What the hell?!" He screamed at the steering wheel.
Dean shuddered and gasped. It had never been like that before. The way Cas had watched him, looked at him, into him had made it so much greater. Cas was still trembling beneath him, his hands opening and closing with little tremors on Dean's shoulder blade and bottom. Dean felt his arms giving out, but he didn't want to have to look away from Castiel.
"I'll still be here," Cas whispered.
Dean gave a sheepish smile and let himself lie on Cas, resting his head on his angel's shoulder. Cas gave the most contented sigh Dean had ever heard, and he'd heard a few. He never wanted to hear any others'. Ever again. Cas gave him a squeeze as if in agreement.
He had to wait in the car for some time before the small parking lot was empty. Then it was a mad dash to the door with his butt out and plaid shirt still half tied around his waist. The door was mercifully unlocked. He slammed it behind him and heard a grunt, making him pause. His eyes wide, it dawned on him what an interesting situation in which he'd left his brother.
"Dean?" He called into the room. "Cas?" He called more softly.
He snagged his pants from the bathroom counter and hastily shuffled into them. He came around the curve of the wall next to the bathroom where a towel lay ominously. There on the bed, lay his brother and the angel. They were tangled up in the coverlet and twined around each other, half asleep.
"Ah," Sam felt his cheeks heat.
Dean half opened a sleepy eye, "Sam!" He started and sat up, flinging covers and poor Castiel everywhere.
"That didn't take you long," Sam lifted an eyebrow.
"Shut up! It's..."
"It's just a wrapper," Cas smiled drowsily from where he had landed on the floor.
Sam just smiled.