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"Oh my god," Stiles choked, staring down at his chest.
“Boobs." The woman that was previously a dude said, gaping. "Son of a bitch! Did you see the witch?"
Shaking his head, Stiles studied his fingers, the almost graceful curve, the frightening lack of visible tendons that made up his- his- his guy hands. The hunter was doing an equal inventory of him-her-whatever-self - maybe Stiles should start referring to themselves as zhe, which was like, gender neutral, right? “Should I refer to us with the gender neutral pronoun or just stick to our, I dunno, birth right? Which do you feel more comfortable with?"
The hunter stared at (him? her? zher?) incredulously, pursing her (god, fine, he was just going to go with whatever felt right or something, jeez,) full lips in thought. Finally, the hunter casually said, “You’re insane, you know that? Which sorta makes sense considering you run with werewolves, but whatever. ‘Least my boobs are bigger than yours."
Which… Stiles was horrified to realise was actually a good point. The hunter’s boobs really were bigger than Stiles. By a lot.
"Fuck." Stiles agreed sadly, staring forlornly at her (his? Holy shit this was going to get old fast) own breasts.
The hunter snickered, looking victorious, then went thoughtful again. “It’s probably a good thing I was named after my grandma. Dean to Deanna. Sam’s gonna shit himself when he sees this."
Frowning, Stiles reasonably (or so he thought so himself) pointed out that, “My werewolves will be here sooner."
Dean, the hunter that had breezed into town in search of a witch and didn’t give a shit about werewolves that weren’t hurting anybody, looked almost insulted at Stiles’ quite reasonable comment. “Nooooo," he drawled, feminine voice stretching the word out as green eyes squinted at him suspiciously. “Sam will."
"No." Stiles disagreed calmly. “Werewolves. As in, werewolves. A whole pack of them. That run on all fours. And can smell us. Logic defines that they’ll get here first."
"Well, if we’re talkin’ ‘bout logic," Dean replied magnanimously, “Then Cas will get here before anybody. And probably catch the witch and fix all…" He waved a hand in the air at their bodies. "… this."
Blinking, Stiles stared at her, confusion making him fold his arms across his chest, then automatically not fold his arms across his chest because whoa, boobs. “Who the hell’s Cas?"
Dean looked smug as he opened his glossy lips to answer (why were their lips even glossy, jesus this spell was weird), but the squeal of tires interrupted them both, making them turn towards the noise simultaneously just in time to see a sleek, black car come curving round the corner at top speed. It screeched to a halt in front of them, the headlights turning off, and Dean’s smug face turned to one of ecstatic glee as she bounced on the balls of her feet. The expression immediately turned sour as her breasts bounced with her, because while lip gloss had been part of the deal, bras obviously hadn’t.
Hah, Stiles thought vindictively, so much for bigger boobs.
A really tall man climbed out of the car, taller than Dean, but Stiles already knew him to be Sam, the partner that made up the two hunter’s hunting thing. Sam looked really stressed, looking around wildly, calling Dean’s name, until Dean waved at him with a roll of his eyes, in which case Sam just… looked bug eyed.
And then burst out laughing.
"Laugh it up, bitch," Dean told her little brother happily, even as Stiles started worrying about the lack of oxygen Sam was getting. “This means you have to find the witch."
The back doors of the black car opened, and Stiles felt his face go slack in surprise when Derek and Isaac climbed out, both of their eyes immediately moving to Stiles and taking him in.
"Is… that you, Stiles?" Isaac asked carefully, hesitantly walking closer to him like Stiles might be contagious. “Your… hair."
Huffing, Stiles did the little hair flip he’d seen girls all over the world do (especially Lydia), the light brown hair flying in a high arch to rest down his back. It only reached past his shoulders, but considering Stiles as a dude had pretty damn short hair, it was… something to get used to.
Dean, on the other hand, had a full waist length shock of hair that looked brown with blonde highlights, much like his guy-hair, and unlike Stiles it had somehow been plaited into… a french braid, maybe? Stiles didn’t know, all he knew was that it was pretty and damn long and in a style which Allison favoured for when she was donning her ‘badass hunter’ uniform. Not to be confused with her ‘badass girlfriend’ get-up.
Derek stalked towards him, taking a step around Stiles, walking round him in a circle as he studied Stiles new form. He finally came to a stop in front of Stiles again, and wow, the alpha werewolf was way taller now, which meant female Stiles would have been shorter than male Stiles, which made sense but was still nice to know. Sam by now had stopped laughing, but he looked to be wiping tears from his eyes as he finally stood up, and holy hell, if Stiles thought Derek was taller than him, then Sam was a veritable giant.
Frost giant. Loki. Wait, no. BFG! The big friendly giant.
Stiles choked on laughter.
"Take a picture," Dean snarked, looking almost comfortable as he folded his arms across his chest, the movement making his breasts suddenly a whole size larger. “It’ll last longer."
"I really, really, don’t have too," Sam said truthfully, smiling so wide you could see his dimples. “This is something I will never forget, sis."
"Oh wow," said Isaac, looking between Dean and Stiles. “The witch did this to you?"
"You’re a girl." Derek announced, stating the obvious in that grumbly way of his he always did.
Waving his arms around, Stiles nodded his head and pointed in the vague direction of where the witch had run off too. “She went that-a way. And yup, totally a chick right now, Derek, thank you for reminding me."
Still grinning, Sam glanced a look at his watch and shrugged. “It’s almost midnight, we don’t have enough time to find her." Looking to his recently acquired sister, he said, “Cas?"
Dean nodded her head in confirmation. “Cas."
"Cas?" Derek parroted, scrunching his little werewolf nose up as if the word tasted disgusting on his mouth.
Isaac looked to Stiles, who shrugged, then to Dean who grinned and closed his eyes.
A second later, both werewolves tensed, head whipping around, and not a moment too sound as the sound of wings beating entered the clearing and a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere, standing stock still in front of Dean.
Stiles yelped when Derek suddenly had him pressed up against a wall, Isaac bristling besides him, fangs and claws out and eyes glowing yellow, but Sam didn’t seem all too surprised by the new addition to their group.
Dean opened her eyes, long, light eyelashes fluttering as she took in the newcomer, and happily said, “Cas!"
The so called Cas stared at them all with piercing blue eyes, dark eyebrows furrowed together intensely, but nevertheless dutifully greeted back with an extremely confused, “Dean." Then, he followed it up with an awkward, “You look nice."
Sam broke down into laughter again, trying to stifle it, but nobody paid him attention.
"You think so?" Dean grinned, batting her eyes at the man in the trenchcoat. “As much as I’d love to hear you choke at me some more, I can’t. The witch that did this to me and the kid over there is out there somewhere, and we only have ‘till midnight until she tries summoning up some demon we don’t know and don’t want to know."
Cas’ confused look turned peculiar, as if he couldn’t understand why a witch capable of summoning demons would turn her pursuers into women. Stiles couldn’t blame him for it, because yeah, witch capable of summoning demons? They generally shouldn’t go around throwing gender spells at their enemies. He expected more internal bleeding and exploding eyeballs, to be honest, but hey, that was just him.
“Very well,” Cas nodded, a single determined movement of his head, and as suddenly as he’d appeared he disappeared.
Derek growled, but Dean just flipped his hair at him, smacking a far too amused Sam in the face with the long braid, and happily said, “That, was Cas.”
Stiles would find out later – after ‘Cas’ came back with the witch and a strawberry blonde male with a judging look – that Cas was Castiel, an angel of the lord. Yeah. Okay. Dean totally won with the logic.
(“So what, you’re banging an angel?” Stiles asked the hunter, cupping his crotch and sighing happily as Lydia demanded Cas give her a day of ‘being on the right side of sexism’.
Dean cocked an eyebrow at him, patting at his own chest (somewhat morosely), as he deflected with, “You know Sam banged a werewolf once? You two should get together, trade tips, paint each others nails.”
It was true. Sam had banged a werewolf once. Then shot her in the head.
Hunters, man. Jeez.)