I've been thinking about Fem!Destiel...
Dean's been in the bathroom for almost 20 minutes, trying in vain to dry her hair with the shitty little machine that the motel provided. She'd have better luck sticking her head out Baby’s window and driving in circles around the parking lot.
It's fucking ridiculous, and if it weren't below freezing outside she wouldn't be bothering at all- Sue her if she didn't want an iceicle on her head for the rest of the day.
Her hair is thick, and heavy, absorbing water like a sponge and never letting it go. She almost misses Jane's braids, done with military precision then tucked under a hat or into a bun to make it less of a grab risk. It never mattered if her hair was sopping when it went into a braid, because it was out of the way, but now Jane's gone and Dean can never get the braid quite right so blow dryer it is.
She's about 5 fucking seconds from throwing something through the window- probably the glorifed fan in her hand- when Cas decides to materilize over her shoulder.
“Cas-” Dean certainly didn't flinch at the sudden intrusion, “What the hell!?”
“Dean.” Cas doesn't sit, doesn't attempt to look like she didn't blip into existence, she just stands there, hands at her side, “Sam is waiting for you at the library.”
“She told me you're late.”
“She belives you to be preoccupied watching pornography-”
“Well obviously I'm not.”
Cas stays silent at that, cocking her head a bit to the right in thought.
Dean slams down the hair dryer with force, listening to it putter to a stop with a small sense of victory, “I'm not.”
Well shit, that part's true. Dean snatches up her bra from the pile of clothes on the toilet lid, clasping it around her chest then spinning it around so she can get her arms through the straps, “Better?”
“I'm not sure. Nudity means nothing to angels, our father created us to be glorious in all our parts, there is not a piece of flesh that is more precious or shameful than another.”
“Then why-” Dean really can't figure out why she keeps this angel around sometimes, “Nevermind. Just, go tell Sam I'll be there as soon as I get this-” She gestures to her frizzy, half-dry hair, “under control.”
“‘'Under control’?” Cas parrots as Dean scoops up the rest of her clothes and shuffles back into the motel room, shoving the dirty shirt and socks into her duffle back before coming back up with a fresh pair, “It's not a beast that needs taming.” Then Cas hesitates, “... Is it?”
“Really feels like it sometimes, buddy,” She throws on her under-shirt, a worn old cami that's going to need washing soon and tucks it into her jeans, “Guess you don't have to deal with it much, do you? Your meat suit did a good job of pinning that shit up.”
It's true, whatever Jenny Novak did to her hair before saying yes to Castiel must have required an absurd amount of bobby pins. Several shows of angelic force, hunts, and fights, and her bangs are still braided back into a nice bun at the base of Cas’ neck. Sure, it's got some stray bits hanging loose, but overall it's hung on pretty well.
“Oh, this?” Cas pats her own hair, “I simply use my grace to maintain its original state, it's a part of my vessel after all.”
“Cheater.” Dean huffs, buttoning up her flannel then plopping down to pull on her socks.
“Jenny Novak took great pride in her hair, it would be disrespectful to not treat it well.”
“Good for her.” Her tone is a bit more venomous than she intends it to be.
Cas squints at Dean, like she's studying her, and Dean focuses on her socks and boots intensely, waiting for the burn of the angel's eyes to disappear.
“You don't like your hair.” It's not a question, it's a statement, one that makes her face burn.
“Many people- My vessel and your sister, if you'd like more examples I'm happy to tell you about the amazing styles of the Neanderthals."
“I'm good.” She rests her elbows on her knees, looking up at Cas and suddenly feeling very, very tired, “and Sam's different.”
“She's just- Jeez, Cas, if we're gonna talk, stop hovering and sit down.” It feels weird to be looking up at Cas right now, wrong. Cas sits down on the bed next to Dean, ignoring the open bed right across from them.
Dean thinks for a second, trying to figure out if she really wants to just spill this all onto the angel who hasn't felt a single emotion in her existence.
“You know mom used to brush my hair?” God, she hasn't thought about this moment for so long, she's surprised to still feel the sting of embarrassment, “Apparently I have my dads hair, I dunno’ why Sam's the blonde one but I'm the one with Dad's hair but…. One night mom was brushing my hair- we'd gone on a hunt and there was some dried blood in the back I couldn't get to- and all the sudden I just had this moment where I realized I hated having hair like this. I hated that I needed my mom to help me with it, I hated how it stayed wet all day and how it wasn't all shiny like Sams. And I asked to cut it off.”
Cas furrows her brow and opens her mouth, probably to ask why Dean's hair wasn’t short then.
“It wasn’t the right thing to ask, Cas.” Dean can still feel her moms fingers in her hair like phantom-pains, grabbing onto the strand she’d been brushing and just… holding it, “She wanted to know why I was ashamed to be a woman, if I thought that cutting my hair would really change things.” She'd said other things, about who Dean would be attracting with short hair, about how ‘Deanna Winchester isn't a man’, “I didn't ask again.”
The angel thinks for a moment, “If she'd said yes would you have done it?”
“Then why not do it now?”
“Did you not hear what I just said-”
Cas turns sharply so that she's facing Dean head on, “Your mother is dead, Dean.”
Of course, Dean knew this already, she's known this for a long time, Jane Winchester died to save her daughter and that was the end of it.
“So what? Now that she's not around I can just go wild?”
“I don't see why not. There is no point in pleasing a memory.”
Then there's a flutter of feathers and Cas is gone, only a shiny pair of scissors where she sat to prove she was here.
I love finding new and interesting ways to torment the Winchesters...
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