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It wasn't the worst idea she'd ever had. That didn't mean much, considering some of the shit she'd gotten up to, but Dean kept reminding herself of it anyway, as she wound the gauze as tight as she could around her chest.
Sam would be able to do it tighter — he was still stronger than her, plus he'd be able to reach all the way around her body without contorting himself the way she was, plus he wasn't fucking injured — but he'd also want to know why she wanted it that way, and Dean didn't want to get into explanations, or arguments. She figured the one would lead into the other if she ran this by Sam, and it didn't have to be that big of a deal. So she gritted her teeth and pulled as hard as she could on the gauze. It didn't even hurt that bad, after she got the first layer rolled, and she ran a hand over the wrapping after she used the entire roll.
She'd strapped down her chest a few times before this. Three times had been for hunts where they expected more running than usual, and she wanted as little bounce as possible, even under her heavy-duty sports bra. The other had been for a monster going after high school girls, and she needed to look as small-chested as possible in order to play bait. Dean glanced at herself in the mirror before pulling on one of her new tee shirts, and it was still strange, seeing pecs instead of her tits. It'd been almost two decades since she went for a run with wearing a bra or two, and she frowned again at the new shape of her body before shaking her head and finding her boots.
One more reason to avoid Sam: he was sure to give her shit about running in jeans and boots, when they weren't working a job, and she theoretically could wear athletic clothing.
It sounded like he and Bobby were in the kitchen, so Dean let herself out the back door, and walked around the house to the salvage lot. It wasn't quiet out here, with birds nesting in some of the cars and one of the neighbor's dogs kicking up a fuss, but at least no one was watching her, doing double-takes or just waiting to see when her new center of gravity would get the best of her again. She glanced behind herself once, making sure Sam wasn't watching her out the front door or anything, and then set off, in between a row of cars.
It was hardly the best idea she'd ever had. She'd been laid up in bed for the past however long, and she hadn't been getting more exercise than just walking around for about a week before that, and she would have been out of shape even if she wasn't sporting a banged-up rib cage and an improbable new body. Her ribs ached with every step, every breath, and Dean would have laughed if that wouldn't have hurt even more. This was ridiculous. Running through a junk yard with a cock and a busted rib: her life sounded like one of the too-longs titles of the albums Sam was always downloading.
The pain, though, she was used to that. She could see Bobby's neighbor's land spread out on the other side of the yard, and the fence he'd put up between them, but Dean lowered her head and kept running anyway like she could reach the horizon, like she could keep going no matter what.