Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all started on a boring, rainy day in the bunker. In the short stint Jack was God for, he rid the world of evil monsters, meaning that there were no hunts to go on. Sam and Dean had been discussing their next steps for a while now, and they both knew it wouldn't be long until they left and started looking for the white picket fence house and apple pie life they'd never thought they'd ever have. The bunker was their first real home though—the first one since the house in Lawrence that burned down—and neither of them were ready to leave yet. The bunker was packed with family, the brothers, Eileen, Cas and Jack, and an ever cycling group of the rest of their family coming and going. 

It was the happiest Dean had ever been. Especially since he'd gotten Cas back and finally been able to tell the angel the truth. They'd quickly settled into their relationship, and with Sam and Eileen still going steady, the bunker was full of love and bright futures.

On this particular day, however, it was just the five permanent residents and no one—except Jack—was in a particularly joyful mood. The heavy rain stopped them from going outside, and after three days of this, Dean was going stir crazy. He wasn't the only one either. Maybe this was his third batch of brownies in the last two days, but he wasn't the only one eating them. Even Mr-Eat-healthy Sammy was eating his fair share.

They were getting through the brownies quicker than Dean could bake new ones, and if they ran out of ingredients before they could go outside again, Dean was going to scream. There were only two things in the world that made him relax enough for it to count at all. One of them was baking and cooking, and the other… well, to put it this way, it wasn't quite as socially acceptable as baking was. Dean had never cared about what was socially acceptable, he was a wanted criminal three times over after all, and also legally dead, but he did care about not scarring Jack for life, and he didn't exactly want Sam to have that image seared in his mind for the rest of existence.

For either of their sakes.

He ignored the flicker of shame reminding him that they weren't the only reasons he kept the other thing behind closed doors. Cas had been working with him for ages—since before they'd confessed their love, when they were just friends with benefits, and nothing more—about not feeling shame about what he enjoyed, but he hadn't quite managed it yet.

Despite all that, the day was simple. Not exactly fun, nor the best day they'd had in a while, but it was simple and calm. Cas was off doing his own thing, and Dean had no idea where Jack was, but he, Sam, and Eileen were all in the kitchen, simply sharing space as they all filled their time differently.

That was probably why Dean wasn't expecting it, and why he reacted so strongly when it happened. He wasn't ready for anything to happen that was anything more interesting than someone telling him to stop baking so many brownies.

And then Jack skipped in.

"Look," Jack said, walking into the kitchen behind Dean. He didn't bother turning around, figuring someone else would do their job as joint-parent-figure of Jack, and he could just keep on baking. They were already out of brownies from the last batch, and Dean had a craving.

"Very nice," Eileen hummed, "where did you get it from, Jack? I thought you weren't using your powers as much anymore?"

"I'm not! This isn't mine! I thought it was yours?"

"No," Eileen audibly frowned, "it's too big for me, I'd drown in it." Dean heard as both she and Jack turned to look at Sam, who was sitting at the table and drinking—of all things—a kale smoothie. "Sam?"

Dean spun around then, to see what they were talking about. They all sounded really confused after all, and Dean was pretty perceptive. It was a long running joke in the bunker that if something happened, either Cas or Dean knew about it.

"I've never seen it before. Where did you find it? It isn't one of those cursed garments from the Men of Letters experiments, is it?"

Dean felt his breath catch in his chest, and he would have smashed the bowl of brownie mix if he had still been holding it, with how quickly he lost all the feeling in his arms.

Oh no.

As though he was summoned by Dean's horror, Cas appeared with a flutter of his newly-healed wings. He took one look at the scene in front of him, and reached out to wrap an arm around Dean's shoulder, knowing he needed support even as he pretended everything was fine.

"That's a lovely skirt," Cas told Jack lightly, when the young nephilim turned his bright eyes on his pseudo-dad.

"It is!" Jack agreed emphatically, "it was in one of the abandoned rooms deep in the bunker!" He twisted his hips to show them all how it twirled, and Dean felt his stomach lurch dangerously. "I don't know what it was doing there."

He knew exactly which room Jack must have found it in, and he cursed himself for ending up in this situation. He must have forgotten to put it away properly after his last scene with Cas, and somehow—in a show of just how bad Dean's luck was, even without Chuck fucking him over—Jack had stumbled across it, and decided to put it on! It was the only one he had, the only one he'd dared to buy, and yet it was still too much to ask for. The long, light, emerald green fabric—because Cas said it made Dean's eyes shine—wasn't his dirty little secret anymore. Not now, not while Jack was wearing it tied around his waist, parading it around the bunker as though every twirl wasn't ripping Dean apart.

"Maybe we could get you some of your own skirts," Cas suggested, "next time we're in town? So you don't have to wear other people's clothes."

"That would be awesome!" Jack agreed, still swirling the skirt around him. It was cute, and while most of Dean's mind was focused on screaming in panic, there was also a small amount that was free to be proud of his son, for being true to himself, in the way Dean could never dare to. They'd done a good job with that kid.

"Whose skirt is it, anyway?" Sam frowned, and that was the moment that Dean had enough. He couldn't deal with it anymore. It was too much. No one was supposed to know about the skirt, no one but Cas anyway…

He ran away.

Like a startled animal he bolted out the room, wiping viciously at the tears that slipped down his cheeks against his will. He was probably being painfully obvious, or at the very least incredibly suspicious, but he couldn't find any other way out and he also couldn't stay.

So he ran, and he ignored it when everyone tried to call after him, and he kept on going until he was inside the very room that had started it all, where he felt like he could finally breathe again.

He didn't have to be Dean in this room, he didn't have to worry about anything except what happened in here, he didn't have to think for himself or panic over what might happen or try to ignore his fear or be strong. He just had to be himself, and do as Cas said. Anything other than that wasn't his problem. Not now.

He sank into proper posture without even thinking about it, his knees shoulder width apart, his back straight, his hands laying demurely on his thighs, his head bowed.

He breathed deeply, feeling himself sink into the peace and calm he couldn't find anywhere else.

He didn't even flinch when he heard the flutter of wings, keeping his eyes low as a pair of black loafers appeared in front of him.

"I thought I'd find you here, Princess," a soft voice murmured, "are you okay?"

"Yes, Castiel," Dean replied quietly, the tension dripping out of his shoulders. "I am now. I wasn't ready to see my skirt out of this room, especially not on Jack."

"No, I can imagine you weren't," Cas hummed, "would you like to talk about it now? Or wait until you're a bit calmer?"

"Wait a bit, please, Castiel."

"Alright then, Princess. You did such a good job, coming here when you knew you needed me." Dean squirmed uncomfortably at the praise, but he didn't argue. He knew better than that. Cas had decided he deserved praise, so his job was to accept it.

"Yes, Castiel," Dean whispered, as he knew he should. There was a certain thrill, and a certain calmness, that came when he did as he knew his Dom wanted him to do. It was so simple in this room. Some things he was supposed to do, some things he wasn't allowed to do. There was very little gray area. He knew what he got when he did well, and the punishment for doing badly. He knew that Cas would always love him, and be proud of him, no matter what happened. He knew he was safe in here, safe to be himself without worrying about unseen consequences.

"What do you need today, Princess?"

"Make me forget, please, Castiel," Dean whimpered.

"Of course, Princess. You know I'll always give you what you need," Cas smiled, going over to where they kept their supplies, and pulling out a blindfold and some rope.

Later, they lay in their bed, comfortable and sated. Dean was still feeling blessedly relaxed from their scene, but he was awake enough that he knew Cas was about to insist they have a conversation.

"Dean, are you ready to talk?"

"Do I have any other option?" Dean laughed quietly, snuggling back against Cas' front.

"No."

"Didn't think so," Dean muttered under his breath. "Okay then, what are we talking about?"

"I think you should tell our family that it is your skirt." Dean tensed up in Cas' arms, only relaxing a tiny amount when Cas started stroking a hand through his hair, which normally was enough to reduce him to jello.

"Why?" Dean whispered.

"Because you deserve a chance to be free to be yourself. You obviously don't have to tell them about the rest of what goes on behind that door, but you and I both know that the skirt isn't just a sex thing. If wearing a skirt makes you feel comfortable, you should be able to do it freely."

"But- I-" Dean didn't know why he had a problem with it. They'd made it more than clear with Jack that they didn't care about the skirt… but then again. That was for Jack, Dean was… Dean was different. 

"They just want you to be happy," Cas promised him, "this won't change their opinion of you."

Dean breathed deeply, spinning in Cas' arms so he could bury his face against the angel's neck. "You would be there for me?"

"Always."

"I'll… I'll think about it," Dean promised, "I might not be able to… but I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask," Cas said. "Now you should rest. If you want to talk about this anymore, we can do it tomorrow."

"Alright, that's-" Dean said, a yawn breaking through his sentence, proving Cas right. "That's a good idea."

"Sleep well." Cas pressed a kiss to his head, a warmth spreading over Dean that he knew were Cas' wings, even if he couldn't see them.

"I love you, angel," Dean whispered.

"I love you too… human," Cas replied, fondness and confusion in his voice in equal measure. It made Dean chuckle, but he was too tired to explain right then. He'd tell Cas what it meant in the morning, if he remembered.

Maybe he’d forget on purpose. He missed the days before Metatron mind-whammied Cas into understanding all his references. Maybe he’d leave it for now, and tell Cas later on. He’d just have to see. They did have forever after all.

Chapter Text

Dean couldn’t believe he was really doing this. Even that didn’t fully explain his shock at his own actions. There were many things he thought he’d never do, which he then ended up doing anyway—admitting his feelings for Cas was just one of them—so really, going back on his own internal promises was nothing new. But this. His deep-dark never-to-see-the-light-of-day secret, and he was about to actually admit to it?

He’d thought the world would end for real before he even thought about doing that. 

It felt like it had been years since Jack had slipped into the kitchen and accidentally brought all of Dean's walls crashing down, but that had all only happened yesterday. He'd promised Cas he'd think about telling his family, and when he'd woken up the next morning, he'd known he had to do it.

He'd had a dream, which was so perfect he'd had to check with Cas that he hadn't painted it in Dean's head. He hadn't. It had been his own subconscious telling Dean how much better his life would be if he just told everyone. How much better it would be if he wasn't hiding himself constantly.

And so he'd woken up, turned to Cas who was contently reading his book and running a hand through Dean's hair, and said, "I'm going to do it."

Cas had looked confused for a moment, and then he'd had a sudden moment of clarity. "Oh," he'd murmured, and then—knowing Dean wouldn't want to make a big deal of it—he'd quietly added, "I'm proud of you."

That had been two hours ago. Cas hadn't pressed when Dean just kept on procastronating, just waited, like he knew Dean needed him to.

Dean seriously had no idea how he'd been lucky enough to even end up with Cas as his Dom, never mind as his boyfriend as well.

"Alright," he murmured quietly to himself, swinging his bedroom door open and stalking to the library, where he could hear Sam and Eileen talking. He figured if he moved quickly enough he wouldn't have time to realize that this was a stupid idea and stop himself. 

Cas was just behind him, close enough that Dean could feel his warmth as he stood—shaking ever so slightly—just inside the library and stared his family down. Jack was there as well, which Dean hadn't realized until he was there, though he was wearing his normal jeans today, rather than another skirt. Dean wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, he didn't want Jack wearing his skirt—and only partly due to some of the things he and Cas had gotten up to while he'd been wearing it—but being reminded of the others' easy acceptance of Jack would have probably made it easier for Dean.

He was actually doing this.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"Everything okay, Dean?" Sam asked, which was probably fair. Dean couldn't see what he looked like, but he could feel how his hands were shaking, and he could guess how panicked his face was. He probably looked like he was a moment away from bolting away as fast as he could; which was exactly what he was ready to do.

"Yeah, it's- it's okay," Dean replied, suddenly realizing that he had no idea how to start this.

Cas didn't say anything, but his hand slipped forwards and cradled Dean's hand gently, a reminder that he wasn't alone, a reminder that Cas was there for him.

"The skirt! The one Jack was wearing yesterday," Dean blurted out before anyone could say anything else. He felt his face heat awkwardly as everyone turned wide eyes on him, clearly startled by his outburst.

"What about it?" Sam asked while Dean was still fighting with the words in his throat. His tone was dangerous, and Dean realized what Sam was about to say a moment before it left his mouth. "There is nothing wrong with it if Jack wants to wear a skirt. How he decides to express himself is up to him. No one else."

Dean found himself startled into silence for a moment. Not that he was pleased or anything about getting a lecture from his baby brother, but it did make the next bit a bit easier. There was righteous anger in Sam's face, and if he was going to be this protective over the possibility that Dean could have a problem with Jack, he probably wasn't going to have a go at Dean for admitting that skirt was his. If anything, Sam was probably going to be aggressively, embarrassingly, supportive.

"No- um… that wasn't what I was going to say," Dean chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and squeezing Cas' hand hard enough that if he was human it would have probably hurt him. As it was, Cas just squeezed back reassuringly, and smiled at him when Dean glanced back at him.

"What was it then?" Eileen asked. 

Dean breathed deeply, now or never, and after all this, never wasn't an option.

"It was mine- fuck- is mine," Dean replied, his grip on Cas' hand tightening even more now that he was actually admitting it. "It's my skirt." 

"What," Sam frowned, visibly confused. His mouth worked for another couple of moments, as though he couldn't find the words to voice the questions he had.

"I don't wear it very often, and only in secret," Dean shrugged, staring at the floor so he didn't have to look at anyone. "I guess I didn't hide it properly, and then Jack found it, and- you know the rest."

"That's why you ran off," Eileen guessed.

"I wasn't ready for anyone else to know, and then suddenly my skirt was right there." Dean shrugged, suddenly feeling almost as though all the air was being dragged out of his lungs. He'd admitted it now. They all knew. They knew it was his skirt, he knew what a mess he was. They knew.

Cas walked forwards on silent feet, pulling Dean into his arms. Even though Dean was slightly taller than him, he felt small and safe in Cas' arms, tucked under his chin.

"It's okay," Cas whispered in his ear, "they don't care. They just want to support you." Dean looked up slowly, seeing his family's earnest faces. Cas was telling the truth. He was right. Thank fuck.

"Sorry for taking your skirt without asking," Jack said quietly, his eyes wide. Clearly he was worried about Dean being mad, even though that was the last thing on Dean's mind.

"Don't worry about it, kiddo. Just, next time you find something, make sure it's not someone else's before you take it."

Jack nodded. "When Cas takes me shopping to get my own skirts," he started hesitatingly, speeding up with each word as he gained enthusiasm, "you could come with us! Get some more skirts of your own!"

"Yeah, maybe," Dean smiled, and he was surprised to realize he actually meant it. It could be cool to go shopping with the kid, and he would like a few more skirts, especially if he was now able to wear them whenever he wanted.

"Is it like- a fashion thing?" Sam asked, and Dean could hear the question he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"No," he answered, hopping his head back against Cas' shoulder as he tried to figure out how else to answer. "I don't know what I am, not exactly. I'm not a man, but… I don't know what I am ," he shrugged, after so many years of carefully ignoring it all it made sense. "But the skirts? They're part of it." 

He'd only felt comfortable before to wear them in scenes with Cas, when he didn't have to be Dean the hunter, when he didn't even have to be Dean. But that wasn't all there was to it. It wasn't a kink, not really, it was more of a comfort thing. He felt settled in himself, when he wore the skirts, and it just so happened the only time he allowed himself to do whatever he needed to feel good, was when Cas was in charge.

He guessed that changed now. Sam hadn't started yelling at him yet, and no one had looked disgusted or like they wanted to throw him out the bunker, so he could assume he was probably welcome to stay, and wear whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

"Okay," Sam nodded, thankfully knowing better than to press any more. "Thanks for telling us. I'm- I'm proud of you."

It was the second time someone had said that to him that day, but Dean still wasn't fully used to it, and he still found himself looking at the floor awkwardly.

"Thanks," he murmured, and he wasn't just talking about what Sam had just said.

"You did so well," Cas whispered, kissing every part of Dean's exposed skin he could reach from his position lying on top of the hunter. Dean hadn't been able to stand staying with the other bunker residents much longer, not after being so vulnerable, so he'd disappeared deep into the bunker and given himself some time. He hadn't even meant to end up in his safe room, but when he'd realized he was there he wasn't planning to turn back, and it hadn't been long before Cas had turned up too.

They'd talked, for a bit, and then the words had dissolved into kisses and the conversation turned into something which said just as much, with a lot less talking.

Not that Cas didn't keep talking. The angel had a dirty fucking mouth sometimes, and he knew when to use it. Unfortunately for Dean, he also enjoyed using that mouth to make sure Dean knew exactly what Cas thought about him.

"You're so brave," Cas purred, nibbling at the skin over Dean's collarbones. Dean whined high in his throat, hoping that Cas would leave marks, but the angel was already moving on. "You're always so good, Princess, I don't understand how you can't see it in yourself."

Dean tried to duck his head, but with Cas above him he had nowhere to hide, and Cas' hand on his chin stopped him before he could even think about moving.

"Say it," Cas growled, his voice even deeper than it normally was. "Say you're good."

A shiver ran down Dean's spine at Cas' tone, and he couldn't hold back his embarrassing whimpers. Cas could reduce him down to little more than a mess with a raise of his eyebrow and a stern word. This was nothing for him, yet it still made Dean feel like he was about to float away from being insane levels of turned on.

"I'm-" He coughed past the block in his throat and ignored the voices in his head yelling at him that it wasn't true. Cas wouldn't lie to him. He knew he wouldn't. "I'm good."

"Yes, yes you are." Cas licked the side of Dean's neck, sending waves of pleasure through Dean's body. 

"Thank you, Castiel," Dean hummed, though it quickly turned into a grumble when Cas pulled away from him, leaving him cold and alone.

"It's okay, Princess," Cas purred, pulling the key from his trenchcoat to open the cupboard he kept all their supplies in. "You're so good, it's time you were rewarded for it."

"Really, Castiel?" Dean checked, his voice shaking as he watched Cas slowly look through the cupboard.

"Really. You were so brave, telling your family the truth. I know you struggle with that kind of thing, but you managed it."

Dean didn't think he really deserved a reward for that, he didn't do anything interesting. Really, all he did was talk to his family about who he was, something which normal people did every day without freaking out over it.

"Princess," Cas frowned warningly. He didn't even need to finish his sentence, Dean knew what he was saying. It was a warning, telling him to stop talking down on himself. "What were you thinking?"

"People tell their family who they are every day," Dean whispered, "I haven't done anything to earn a reward."

Cas frowned and Dean instantly knew he'd fucked up. The angel didn't normally show his emotions on his face. Even Dean, who had known him for years, and had been in a Dom sub relationship with him for about half of that, could only tell what he was thinking half the time due to very slight face movements. This however, was not subtle in the slightest.

"Sorry, Castiel," Dean whispered, scrambling to the end of the bed and desperately trying to figure out how to fix what he'd messed up. He hated disappointing his Dom, and it was even worse now that he was also disappointing his boyfriend.

"It's okay," Cas sighed, walking back over and starting to run his fingers through Dean's hair in the way that always made him want to turn into a puddle of bliss. "I'm not mad. I just wish you could see yourself as I see you."

"I'm still sorry," Dean murmured.

"We've talked about this too," Cas reminded him. He was telling the truth. Cas constantly reminded him that he didn't have to apologize constantly, especially not in this room.

"Yes, Castiel, sor-," he cut himself off with a cough. "Yes."

Cas chuckled quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean's forehead. "Now come on, I have plans. What's your color?"

"Green, Castiel," Dean replied, trying to lean into Cas' touch even as he pulled away.

"Patience, Princess," Cas chuckled again. He walked back to the cupboard and finally grabbed the supplies he'd been gathering, bringing them over to the bed. "Lie back." 

Dean lay back slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of what Cas was holding, even as the Dom did his best to hide them behind his back. He got a glimpse of something purple, but that really wasn't enough to tell him anything. They had a lot of purple items in their cupboard, and probably more than a few that Dean didn't even know about. Cas was more than secretive about his tools, claiming that the surprise made it all better.

It was true. Not that Dean would ever admit that out loud.

Cas left him lying there, waiting, for what must have been at least a minute, though it felt like closer to an hour. Dean could feel Cas' eyes on his skin, but couldn't see his face from the angle he was lying at. He tried to crane his neck to see better, but a stern "no" from Cas had him stopping that before he really began.

Time was moving like molasses as Dean lay still waiting, waiting, unable to do anything else. He felt like one of those dumb wooded dolls—the ones with the stings. Cas had his hands on the controls, he was the one holding his cross brace, but he wasn't moving it, which left Dean completely at his mercy, and completely still.

A heavy fog settled over Dean's mind, smoothing off all the sharp corners and leaving his limbs heavy and loose.

"So good, Princess," Cas hummed, and finally Dean felt his weight settle on the edge of the mattress. "Already drifting for me, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Dean murmured, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere. He never normally felt this carefree—normally he'd die before he giggled—but it was different in here. He was different in here. "You've got me wrapped around your little finger."

"And you've got me wrapped around yours," Cas replied fondly, his hands finally landing on Dean's exposed skin, running up and down his arms light enough that Dean would have assumed he was imagining it if he couldn't see Cas' hands right in front of him.

"What's your color, Princess?" Cas asked, holding up Dean's favorite purple rope.

"Green," Dean replied instantly. "So, so, green." There was little he loved more than being tied up, and although he knew Cas wouldn't go too far—they'd done a scene the day before after all—he desperately wanted to feel the rope around him, holding him tight.

Cas nodded, moving Dean's limbs for him as he pulled him into a kneeling position. Dean groaned at the display of strength, relaxing easily into the proper position. Cas started tying his arms behind his back, and then bringing the rope across his chest into a harness. The rope was tight enough for Dean to feel it pulling with every movement, even though he knew Cas would be checking each knot wasn't too tight.

"Feels good," Dean murmured, feeling almost as though he was high as he relaxed into the ropes, his head rolling back onto Cas' shoulder and smiling dopily at the other man.

"I'm glad to hear that," Cas smiled back, serious as ever. "You did such a good job today, didn't you?"

"Hmmmm," Dean hummed, unable to argue with Cas when he was in this state, "I was very brave." He was just parroting what Cas had said to him earlier, he didn't fully believe it, but he didn't fully disbelieve it either. Not when Cas beamed at him—gums and all—as though he was the most amazing thing the angel had ever seen.

"Yes you were," Cas agreed, his arms wrapping around Dean's torso so he was being hugged by the rope and Cas' strong arms.

"You know- Cas- you know," Dean murmured. One part of his brain was screaming at him, telling him not to admit it, telling him to keep it all locked up, but he ignored it. That didn't apply here. Cas already called him Princess, he pretty much already knew , he didn't have to be scared. "I'm not a man."

"I know." Cas spoke the words against Dean's neck, the words vibrating through his skin. "You told us all earlier."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "but I lied. I do know what I am. I just- I didn't want to admit it. But- I can admit it. I can when I'm here."

Dean's words were coming out faster than his brain was processing, but that was okay. Cas was used to him when he was like this, when his brain to mouth filter was non-existent and he was about ten seconds away from just drifting away.

"I'm non-binary." It was a word he'd found on the internet, years ago, and it had stuck with him ever since. This was the first time he'd ever said it aloud.

"What pronouns do you use," Cas asked, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles into his hip while the other one played with the rope across Dean's chest. He wasn't judging, or joking, or laughing at Dean. He just honestly wanted to know.

"He, still," Dean hummed. He wasn't ready to give them up, not after so many years. "But also they."

"Okay, Princess," Cas said, and Dean could feel his smile against their neck.

Huh. They liked that.

They really liked that.

Later, after Cas had untied Dean and they'd cuddled in bed until Dean came back to himself, Dean finally found the courage to ask Cas what he needed to ask.

"You'll be there for me and Jack, right," they murmured against Cas' throat. "When Jack and I go skirt shopping?"

"Of course," Cas promised, pressing a kiss into their hair, "However you both need me."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean murmured. He wouldn't say he was looking forward to the shopping trip—it seemed terrifying—but they were looking forward to having more skirts, and having Cas there as moral support would definitely make it more enjoyable.

Chapter Text

The store was busier than Dean had expected. They'd driven to the nearest Walmart first thing in the morning—way too early for Dean to be awake, but he'd wanted to get there before most other people—unfortunately, it seemed that a lot of other people'd had that very same idea. Dean almost turned back straight away, not wanting to have to deal with this, but Cas had squeezed his hand and Jack had hurried straight over to the first skirt he saw and Dean had no other choice but to follow.

Okay, that wasn't entirely true. If he'd said no, if he'd said he wasn't ready for this after all, then no one would have judged him. Maybe Jack would have been a bit disappointed, but Cas would have said he could go back to the car, and he and Jack would have shopped on their own. That was exactly why Dean didn't turn back. This was on their terms, and that gave them the strength to do it.

He held tightly to Cas' hand as they followed Jack deeper into the store. They saw a couple of skirts as they passed that they really liked, but he couldn't quite find the confidence to go over and get a closer look. He'd have to try them on—he didn't know his size—but he'd also have to walk into the woman's section, and he'd have to decide if it would suit him, and maybe even pick something out to wear with it.

"Oh! I like this one!" Jack called, loud enough for some heads to turn. Dean could feel themself tense up, instantly scared that someone would say something about the male-looking teenager holding up a short denim skirt.

"That is very nice," Cas agreed, squeezing Dean's hand again as they slowly walked over. The sign above their head announced that it was women's skirts and Dean knew that Jack had to have noticed it, but he didn't seem to care. He just wanted to wear a skirt.

One day, Dean hoped that he'd learn to be as carefree about this kind of stuff as Jack was.

"You're such good parents," one of the women standing nearby gushed, her eyes sparkling as she looked between them. "Letting your teenager wear whatever he wants, not everyone does that."

Cas squinted, while Dean was a little bit too busy trying not to collapse in panic about being talked to. "Yes, well," Cas said, "it's not our business what our son wants to wear. It's him that has to wear it, so he might as well be comfortable."

"Of course," the woman nodded, "you must have raised him well, for him to feel safe enough to express himself however he wants."

"We try our best," Cas nodded, sending her a small smile before walking the last couple of meters over to Jack. He quickly struck up a conversation with Jack about sizing and colors, but Dean wasn't really listening. He was still reeling from being jumped by that woman. She was proud of them for letting Jack be whoever he wants to be, and for a moment Dean wondered what his life would have been like if John had done the same for him.

Maybe they wouldn't have the problems they had now. Maybe they wouldn't be half a second from having a panic attack just from standing in the women's section in Walmart.

"What about you, Dean?" Jack asked, his eyes shining in the store's bright lights. "What are you looking for?"

Dean froze like a deer in the headlights, his arms shaking a little bit. "Ummmmm." He didn't know why he was struggling now, after getting all the way here. It was like he was scared that if he said it out loud then everyone in the store would know exactly how messed up he was.

"That's not true," Cas whispered into his ear, quiet enough that not even Jack—who was visibly still waiting for an answer—would be able to hear. "There is nothing wrong with you."

Dean couldn't help but snort at that. There was so much wrong with Dean Winchester that there was more wrong with them than right.

"Dean," Cas whispered warningly, and even without him saying it, Dean knew that this was Cas warning him as his friend, his boyfriend, and his Dom. He was telling him to stop looking down on himself, or face the consequences.

"Sorry," Dean murmured, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, before he was finally able to turn to Jack and answer his question. "I'm not entirely sure, kid. Just something wearable, I guess."

"Okay," Jack grinned, "I'll make sure to point out anything I think you might like."

"Alright," Dean nodded, "thanks, kid."

It had taken ten minutes of excited Jack chatter and comforting Cas smiles, but finally Dean picked out a skirt that he liked, one they'd been eyeing ever since they first walked in. They were self conscious about it, scared that at any moment someone was going to come and yell at them for daring to pick it up, but no one seemed to notice.

After that, their confidence only grew, and a bit later they had an armful of skirts—and a few tops as well—that they needed to head to the changing rooms to try on. Jack also had a collection of skirts, though he'd also grabbed some jeans from the women's section as well, for the cute embroidery down the leg. Despite the fact he was buying skirts, Dean didn't think he was ready for buying women's jeans, even if he did think they'd be nice. At least with the skirts he could tell himself that he was only buying them because there weren't any skirts in the men's section. At least he could claim he had no other choice. The tops were a big enough stray out of his comfort zone, he'd leave the jeans to another time.

"Are you ready to try those on yet?" Cas asked, probably noticing that Dean was staring into space and no longer actively shopping. 

"Yeah, I think so," Dean nodded, though actually making himself walk to the changing rooms felt like an insurmountable challenge.

"Yeah," Jack grinned, speedily heading towards the changing rooms and making Cas and Dean hurry after him before they lost him in the crowd. Dean was seriously thankful that they'd agreed to come with Jack, he made things a lot easier.

He could feel a couple of eyes on them as they walked, but Dean was fairly sure they were looking at Jack's energy and enthusiasm, and not either of their skirts.

It was a weird feeling. After so many years of hiding it all, bottling his feelings up so that no one would know, and now there was a chance that people could know! But they all had bigger things to focus on than what Dean was buying. Maybe if he was actually wearing the skirt it would be different, but that was a different bridge to cross.

Dean was exhausted by the time they got back to the bunker. He managed to make it to the library before he dropped into a seat and decided he was never going to move. It turned out that trying to find your size was exhausting work. He kept on finding himself between sizes, and then would have to decide which one was less bad, or something would fit in the waist but nothing else and he'd try and find something that was a better compromise.

Jack didn't have these problems, but maybe that was because he was an overenthusiastic teenage nephilim who could probably use his grace to make things fit. Jack had tried everything on and was ready to buy in minutes, while Dean just kept on going. It wasn't even that he had an excessive amount of things to try on, the clothes just really weren't built for his body.

He'd almost given up, but Cas had convinced him not to, and now, with his bag of clothing in front of him and the knowledge that he could go to his room right now and put it on… the mess from before was more than worth it.

"Hey," Cas said quietly, dropping into the seat next to them. Dean could feel a heavy warmth settle across their shoulders, and even without being able to see them, they knew it was Cas' wings. "How're you doing?"

"Tired," Dean hummed, tipping his head back until it too was surrounded by the invisible warmth of Cas.

"Was it a successful trip?" Dean knew what Cas was really asking. He was checking that Dean had enjoyed, that he'd got what he wanted, that his new clothes made the whole thing worth it.

"Yeah," Dean smiled, one of his hands blindly reaching out until he found Cas' and held it tightly. "Thanks, by the way, for everything." For not judging Dean when he first said he wanted to wear a skirt when they were scening, for encouraging Dean to tell his family, for helping when at the store. Everything.

"It was a pleasure," Cas said, and even without looking at him, Dean could hear his smile. The dork.

"I love you," Dean whispered into the space between them, a soft lilt in their voice as they reopened their eyes and smiled across at their boyfriend.

"I love you too," Cas replied, his voice practically screaming with fondness. Cas really was everything Dean had ever wanted and never deserved.

Dean didn't know why he was nervous again. He just couldn't seem to stop. Unfortunately this time, he didn't have Cas with him. He'd sent Cas ahead to get started on breakfast, and waited until after he was gone to start getting changed into one of his new skirts and one of his old band shirts. He'd thought he'd be fine. Everyone already knew he wore them, and he'd gone through the horror of having to buy it, but even knowing that, he couldn't force himself to walk through his bedroom door.

They looked back at their reflection, scowling at themself. It didn't- it didn't look bad. They would even go as far as to say it looked right, though only in a very odd way. There wasn't a mirror in the room he and Cas scened in, so this was the first time he'd actually seen himself in a skirt.

Now he just needed to prepare himself for other people seeing him too.

"Dean," Cas yelled across the bunker, "waffles are done."

Dean didn't move. Not just yet. They frowned at their reflection some more, tugging at the dark blue fabric. It went down to just below his knee, with small polka dots along the waistband and the hem. Their shirt didn't really match it, but it was one they were comfortable in, which was the most important thing.

They didn't feel ready to face their family, but at the same time… they did.

This was who he was.

With a deep breath, and a plastered on smile that was at least thirty percent real, he forced himself to turn the door handle and venture out into the hallway. It was empty, of course, everyone else was probably in the kitchen, but that didn't stop every step from feeling like an achievement.

They could hear conversation coming from the kitchen from down the hall, so with a final burst of bravery they tucked their chin to their chest, and hurried down the hall and into the kitchen. Plates of food were already on the table so they threw themself into their usual chair before they had time to start getting self-conscious, and focused on stuffing as many waffles into their face as possible.

"Slow down before you choke," Cas chuckled, his hand finding Dean's knee under the table and just sitting there, a comforting presence.

"I like your skirt," Sam told them, not looking up from his waffles, as though he knew it would make things easier for Dean.

"Thanks," he murmured, fisting his free hand into the fabric for a moment, as though he needed it for it all to feel real. "I do too."

"Give us a spin," Eileen said with a smile, and Dean knew that he could just say no, he knew they wouldn't press.

That was what gave him the strength to stand up and slowly spin around, the fabric swaying with the movements. His family wouldn't force him into something he didn't want to do. This was all on his terms.

This was him moving on, and finding who he wanted to be.

They smiled as they looked around the table as their family, digging back into the waffles. They were pretty fucking lucky, they knew that, and they hoped their family knew that too.

"I love you guys," they whispered, and even though no one replied—thank goodness, he didn't know what he would have done if they had—the looks they all sent him said all they needed to say.

Dean Winchester was loved. And that, more than anything else, mattered.