“Yeah, but that’s different,” Dean says, without missing a beat.
“Cause I ain’t gay. Not, y’know, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I’m not. So it’s different.”
“So you,” Sam struggles. “You understand that Cas would. Would make a good life partner. For you, specifically. And to you, that only works is if Cas is in a female vessel.”
Dean throws some peanuts in his mouth. “Right.”
Sam stares at him. Today I beat my brother to death with a copy of Gender Trouble because he can’t see that he’s in love with his best friend of a decade, he pictures typing into Reddit. AITA?
“I gotta go,” Dean interrupts. “I wanted to show Cas this TV show that’s just buildings falling down.”
Dean leaves. Sam tries not to have a stroke.
Cas wouldn’t even like videos of buildings falling down.
* * *
“Cas,” Sam says. “If Dean was a girl, would you marry him?”
Cas looks up from the book he’s reading, blinking and then squinting.
“Is this some variation on the would you love me if I was a worm quandary?” He asks. “Claire already did that one on me.”
“No. I’m asking in earnest.”
Cas blinks again. “If your brother wanted to get married, I would marry him in whatever way he happened to be presenting.”
This is an answer Sam more or less expected. “Okay. Cool. Thanks.”
Cas narrows his eyes. Sam tries not to get too deer in the headlights about it, realizing like a thunderclap that he’s forgotten that when it comes to Dean, Cas is a bloodhound.
Sam wilts slightly. “Uh-“
“Has Dean indicated he would prefer me in a different vessel?” Cas asks.
“No,” Sam answers, immediate and unconvincing. “I mean. It’s not as-“
Cas snaps his book shut, gets up, and strides out the door.
Today I may have driven my brother’s soulmate away because I said he wasn’t feminine enough for him, Sam thinks. AITA for fleeing the country before my brother finds out?
* * *
Cas hasn’t been back for two days.
“He didn’t say where he would be going, did he?” Dean asks, clearly trying to pretend he’s not anxious.
“I dunno, Dean,” Sam says, making a sandwich and not looking at him. “Probably angel business. You get it.”
There’s silence. Sam looks up to see Dean looking at him suspiciously. Shit.
“Dean,” Sam says, trying not to panic. “I think getting some kale into your diet would be really good for you.”
Dean scowls. “Alright, you listen good, Sammy,” he snaps, and Sam tries not to look relieved.
* * *
On the third day, the door scrapes open and Sam looks up. He rears back a little at what he sees.
There’s a woman with dark hair in curls, bright blue eyes looking down at him. Her legs are long and she is, in the most delicate way Sam can put it, well endowed. She’s in a black leather jacket, a blue dress that goes up to her knees, and a pair of killer heels.
“Hi,” Sam says, a little stupefied. “Uh. What. Can I help you with something or-“
“Sam? Was that-“ Dean walks in, looks up at the woman, and blinks. “Cas?”
Sam stares at Dean, baffled. “What?”
“Hello, Sam,” the woman says. “Hello, Dean.”
Sam whips his head around to stare at, evidently, Cas. “What?”
“What’re you doing in a new skin suit, Cas?”
“Hang on. Hang on, hang on.” Sam rounds on Dean. “How the fuck did you know that was Cas?”
Dean gestures at her. “She stands like Cas.”
“It is my understanding that you would prefer a more feminine vessel,” Cas says. “I went out to procure one.”
Sam thinks about clipping through the floor like he’s in a Bethesda game while Dean visibly struggles.
“I dunno, man,” he finally says. “I liked the old you.”
Sam wheels on Dean. “You what?”
“Well-“ Dean glowers defensively. “Well, he looked like Cas!”
“That’s fine,” Cas answers, unruffled. “I have my former vessel in the basement still.”
“You.” Sam is this close to spluttering. “You have Jimmy’s corpse in our basement?”
“That’s not Jimmy’s corpse,” Dean snaps. “That’s Cas’ body.”
“I’d like to go back into it, now,” Cas says before Dean can say anything else. “This young lady’s back hurts quite a bit.” Cas takes a step and trips in the heels.
“Here, let me help you with that, man,” Dean says, surging forwards. He offers Cas his arm, who takes it gratefully.
“Thank you, Dean. I do not care for the heels.”
“Yeah, heels wouldn’t be my favorite part of being a chick, either. Where’d you get this chick, anyway?”
“Well, we’re gonna have to figure out what to do about her.”
“It’s quite alright, I told her it may only be temporary.”
Dean guides Cas down the stairs and into the basement. Sam stares after them.
I killed my brother and his not husband today because they got on my last nerve, he thinks. AITA?
Then he goes to find some bourbon.
