"Dean—!"
"Either put on makeup or shave your legs. Pick one."
Sam closed his eyes.
The feel of the powder puff patting against his face sent goosebumps across his skin.
Dean was unexpectedly skilled—foundation, concealer, eyeliner. When Sam opened his eyes and looked in the mirror, the person staring back made him pause.
The wig concealed the contours of his face, the eyeliner made his eyes look bigger, and the mask covered the lower half of his face.
In the mirror's reflection, he really did look like a somewhat taller woman.
"Now for the main event." Dean raised a razor and shaving cream.
Sam's expression froze. "You're kidding."
"The dragon might inspect you up close." Dean squeezed out a blob of white shaving gel. "Your arms and calves, Mr. Winchester. Smoothness is the bare minimum."
Over the next twenty minutes, Sam went through the strangest experience of his hunting career.
The sensation of the razor scraping over his skin made every muscle tense, while Dean hummed old rock songs, his technique as practiced as a professional beautician's.
As Dean applied moisturizer after shaving, Sam finally couldn't hold back anymore. "Where did you learn all this?"
"One summer, I staked out a shapeshifter in Ohio. It only targeted salon employees." Dean shrugged. "I played a shampoo girl for three days. Learned a lot."
The dressing continued.
Sam insisted on putting on the white stockings himself. Then came the gold necklace and bracelet, both gold-plated goods bought from a local jewelry store.
Finally, Dean brought out a pair of white low-heeled shoes. "Size 37. Make do."
Sam stared at the shoes. "I wear a size 43."
"Which is why I said make do."
"It's hard to find women's shoes that big."
"Fine." Sam resigned himself to it.
When he finally stood up,