A/N: so, I kind of got stuck on the progression of the plot on FW, but I'm using this story as a kind of jump starter, as well as something to lighten the mood. While it does have some darker tones in places, and of course, a little angst, this is a lot more light hearted and funny. It's easier to write, too, for some reason, which is odd. Anyway, this one will be updated as soon as I get the next chapter done.

It's a nice relief from all the angst about the whole hate on Misha ordeal, too. It's like a little happy haven for my soul during all the angsting. I'll see you all at the end!

Disclaimer: IF I owned Supernatural, I would cry every night, because my plots would look like a high schooler wrote them. Because I am. 'I've only been writing for four years,' I'd say, 'Oh, I didn't know you couldn't show that on public television,' I'd say, 'I think we need a little more porn between the angel and hunter right...there...and...ah, yes, there too!' and so on and so forth.

The halls of Lawrence High school hummed with last-day-of-school excitement as Castiel rode the wave of people leaving the school building. He would miss learning, but he definitely wouldn't miss any of the people.

Okay, that wasn't entirely true. He'd kind of miss the neurotic mumblings of Chuck, who would spend entire class periods working on his story. He supposed he'd even miss Becky spouting things out about couples and books and shows that Castiel never understood. Only a little, though.

Of course, there was one thing Castiel would miss the most. Dean Winchester. Not that the school's most popular guy would miss him. In fact, they'd only spoken to each other for the first time a couple of weeks ago, and it hadn't gone particularly…smoothly,

"Hey, do you have a pencil I could borrow really quick?" Castiel knew the voice belonged to Dean, who sat behind him, but Dean Winchester couldn't be talking to him. He'd practically been invisible to the majority of the school population since he'd started here. Not to mention Dean was the most popular guy in school, as well as the strongest player on the football team. No, Dean was probably talking to someone beside him. He wished he had their luck.

"Hey, you, in the tax accountant get up," he whispered louder.

Castiel froze. It looks like he did have their luck. Only he'd just completely screwed that up. Already.

He nervously turned in his seat to face an amused Dean, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. Castiel stared. This was it - his chance to make the best possible first impression. He'd planned things like this out in his head before - how he'd approach it with a charming smile, and not seem nervous or strange,

"Do you get your eyebrows shaped?" Well that had come out sounding a lot different than 'Of course.'

Castiel sat, horrified for what felt like minutes as Dean's amusement flickered out, and he frowned. Castiel was horrible at making out what expressions meant, but he was fairly sure Dean wasn't okay with what he'd just asked.

Castiel realized that the few people sitting around them had stopped to watch their conversation, and were waiting for Dean's reaction. Castiel turned his gaze back to Dean just in time to see a smile the size of Texas spread across his lips. Castiel couldn't help but notice that his eyes were crinkling, his smile was so wide. Castiel wondered if maybe he'd gone insane. Suddenly, Dean burst out laughing, Castiel watching on in shocked confusion.

How in the world was that funny? he thought.

It wasn't two seconds later, and the people who had heard the outcome followed Dean's suit, and laughed, although theirs sounded lifeless and forced in contrast to Dean's, natural and genuine one.

They reminded Castiel of imps.

Castiel continued to stare at Dean until he stopped laughing, not sure what else to do. When Dean glanced at him awkwardly, and cleared his throat, though, Castiel decided it would be a good time to just turn back around. So he did.

After that, Castiel tried not to so much as meet Dean's eyes, afraid he'd get a look of disgust, or annoyance, or anger. Or worse - be treated like a joke and a complete loser. He'd rather just watch on in appreciation, and pretend he hadn't even said the most ridiculous thing ever to the hottest guy in school. That got increasingly harder to do, however, thanks to the harsh looks he'd gotten from a couple of the people that were in the class that day.

Castiel didn't understand what they were so bothered by, since Dean hadn't even attempted to talk to him again after that incident, but they must have found something to hate, because he could feel them staring at him sometimes. It was mildly disturbing. Not to mention the other football players had cast strange looks at him. He was suddenly not so invisible anymore, and the change was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable.

He resolutely decided that he'd take the time off of school this summer to try and get over this…fascination, he supposed, with Dean. He wanted to get to know him, for some reason. He wasn't sure what those emotions were, jumbled up in the pit of his stomach, but that's what they told him to do. It wasn't going anywhere, though, nor would it, and Castiel really didn't like that someone he'd never get to know could have so much of an influence on his moods.

He was really bad about that. Even his brothers, who'd practically raised him, he kept at arms length in regards to feelings. It was probably unhealthy, but Castiel wasn't sure how to change it, and he really wasn't strong enough to try, if he was honest with himself.

He finally made it past all the warm bodies, and out into open, even warmer summer air. He took a deep breath, taking in the summer smells of freshly mowed grass, and flowers. He loved all of the seasons, but Summer, for some reason, smelled the best to him.

Castiel looked around, spotting Michael's red sports car, the hood down due to the weather. Sure enough, he was sitting in the front seat, aviators on and lips set in a hard line that he always wore. Castiel's older brother wasn't what one would call the smiling kind, though he did crack jokes sometimes, it was mainly just to make someone else laugh. Michael was twenty six - rounding him in at nine years older than Castiel, who was seventeen, and six years older than Gabriel, who was twenty.

Michael was a car salesman, which he happened to be extremely good at. He had a way with words - he could really worm his way into people. Gabriel, on the other hand, was currently going to the college just outside of town. He was, unsurprisingly, taking the most obscure course - The Joys of Garbage. It was ironic, because his part time job was as a janitor.

Michael drove Castiel home after school most days, but today was the first day he'd picked him up in the convertible. It was a pleasant surprise, and Castiel grinned and waved when his brother saw him. He smiled back - the kind reserved only for Castiel, since he generally, again, didn't smile much. Castiel felt eyes on the back of his head as he strode towards the car.

Michael happened to be good at attracting a lot of attention. The car was brand new, and the kids probably noticed that. His older brother was also, apparently, very attractive, from what he'd heard. Right now, he could hear numerous girls giggling, and when he turned around, sure enough, half of the kids outside were staring at them.

Castiel's mind clanked in annoyance. What, do they think just because I'm quite, I'm some aristocratic know it all? The thought annoyed Castiel even more. You know what, this is the last day of school, I might as well make a scene. He turned to the glove box in front of him, and pulled out a pair of his own aviators his brother had gotten him for Christmas, and then proceeded to take off his over coat and tie, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt.

He heard another girl squeal somewhere, and he smirked. He usually kept his love for attention under grabs, but it ran in the family, and resided core deep. It reared its ugly head sometimes, and now apparently was one of them, much to Castiel's inner dismay.

He turned and smiled at Michael, who was watching him with amusement, and with a nod of his head that communicated pretty much everything between them, Michael began to make his way out of the drive through, and out onto the crowded street where even more kids were walking to the parking lot. Castiel wasn't particularly known for being very cool, he was mostly awkward, but he did learn a few things from the natural flow of his brothers over the years, and he knew how to look natural, even if it felt strange. He sat his right arm over the slot where the window would be if the car were closed, and let himself slouch a bit so it didn't look like he had a 'stick up his ass', as Gabriel would say.

It felt unnatural to him, but it was kind of fun to be a little different than usual. Be a little daring. He supposed that was probably due to his age. He'd read a lot of articles about how between ages 15 and 18, boys and girls start taking more risks, and going outside of their comfort zone. He supposed it was a sort of 'find yourself' phase, and the risk taking was just part of it.

He heard a few whistles from the group of girls they'd just driven by, and though Castiel knew they were probably mostly directed towards his brother now, it was still slightly gratifying. They slowed to a stop behind the line up of cars in front of the stop light. There were clashing sounds of yelling kids, engines, and some loud bass coming from at least three different cars. Castiel looked to his right, feeling mildly content.

That was, until one Dean Winchester appeared not more than four feet from the car on the side walk.

Oh, I forgot he walked home.

Castiel was about to turn away and pretend like he wasn't there, all his confidence from a few seconds ago racing away from him. He suddenly felt a lot more stupid. Dean had already spotted him, though, so hiding wasn't going to help anything. He cast a half-hearted smile towards Dean, who returned it with his own radiant one.

Castiel thought he saw Dean's eyes drag along his body, but it was probably just the sun. He was sure, though, that he saw Dean wink at him before he turned down a street and disappeared. Castiel stared after him, open mouthed.

What in the world just happened? He asked himself as he sunk down into the seat like a limp rag doll, no longer interested in keeping up his cool act. Did Dean Winchester just wink at me? Why is it so hot all of a sudden? He reached for the water that must have been Michael's and took a long swig as his older brother began to speak beside him,

"That your boyfriend?"

The water just wasn't meant to stay in his mouth, he supposed, because now it was sprayed all over his pants and the dashboard in front of him,

"Pardon?" the question sounded horrified, even to himself.

I don't like Dean like that! He is just particularly intriguing, is all. I just wanted to get to know him…I think that was my sentiment…

(-)

Castiel trudged into the house, trying feebly to air out his moist pants. It was a useless fight, though, so he resolved to simple take them off, and throw them in the wash along with his shirt. He walked into the kitchen sporting only his boxers, not that Michael really cared. They had lived together for many years, after all, though now Michael lived in his own apartment, and only came by to eat and talk to Castiel sometimes.

Michael was currently scoping out the fridge for anything he could heat up and eat right away. He found some left over pulled pork from a few days ago that Castiel hadn't finished. He turned around, and, seeing Castiel, gestured towards the food in his other hand,

"Are you going to eat this, Castiel?" he asked, and Castiel shook his head,

"No," Castiel replied, "Have all you want," Michael smiled respectfully, and went to heat it up in the microwave while Castiel grabbed a big glass and made himself some ice water.

He sat down at the table to drink it, Michael joining him about ten seconds later,

"So, Castiel, I need to tell you something," he began, and Castiel glanced up at him, already suspicious. Anything that started off like that couldn't be good news.

"Yes?" he questioned, his eyes beginning to narrow at his older brother. Michael didn't even flinch, though. In fact, his face resembled a very serious statue. Whatever he was about to tell Castiel, he wouldn't be able to do anything about. Castiel knew that look meant Michael had already decided, and it was done. Now, all Castiel could do was hope that whatever it was wouldn't be too horrendous,

"I signed you up for a traveling summer camp," he stated matter of factly, digging into the pork fork first. Castiel sat contemplating that. A few things went through his mind just then.

One. His brother had signed him up for something without asking, which was out of line completely, and Castiel really didn't feel that was very fair.

Two. What was a traveling summer camp? He got the just of it - but where would they be traveling to, and why?

Three. This sounded expensive. Then again, Michael had just gotten his tax return, but he'd said he really didn't know what to do with it. The company had been doing really well lately, and his brother suddenly had more money than he really wanted anything to do with.

Four. This, however, would probably be a great way to get his mind off of Dean. Maybe even make some new friends, if he was feeling brave enough.

"Okay," Castiel agreed. Michael stopped eating, and glanced up at him. Castiel realized he must have been expecting him to be angry, hence why he asked about the food before he told Castiel. It made sense.

"Okay?" Michael asked, looking honestly surprised. It was a strange look on his brother's face - he was never really surprised, and prided himself on knowing exactly what peoples' reactions would be. Castiel figured it was probably really unnerving for him right now, so he decided to ease his strain,

"It was very rude of you to sign me up without asking, but I suppose it won't be that bad," he explained, and Michael relaxed a bit, "Besides, I do not really have a choice, do I?" he prompted, and Michael shook his head,

"You're right, you don't," he agreed, and Castiel nodded once, sitting up straighter in his chair. The slight sound of the melting ice in his glass shifting reminded him of its presence, and he downed the rest of it in one go. When he was done, he took the glass and placed it in the dishwasher, closing it gently afterwards,

"When am I scheduled to leave?" Castiel questioned, feeling the chill of the ice water work its way through his body, giving him goose bumps. There was a moment of silence where Michael finished chewing, and wiped his mouth before he turned to point at a brochure on the counter top,

"You'll be leaving tomorrow for…I believe Glacier National Park, in Colorado," he began, "The lists of all the places are in there," he went back to eating his food as Castiel opened the brochure.

It unfolded and Castiel stared as it did so. It had so many pages it almost touched the floor. He glanced over the first part - the generic stuff you hear everywhere about how they've been doing this since 1975, and have been enriching teens lives with the history and beauty of nature and education around the country. Two pages later, after an extensive section on how exactly it enriched lives, which Castiel felt wasn't really mandatory, was the list of locations and dates.

Locations -

May 20 to 26 - Glacier National Park in Montana

May 27 to June 2 - Brown County State Park in Indiana

Castiel kept reading, and felt a thrill go through him that was half nerves and half excitement. It kept going, and going,

"Michael, you are aware that this traveling camp lasts the duration of twelve weeks, right?" he questioned, realizing that was the entire summer that would now be down the drain - at least in terms of what he wanted to do on his own, not that he was sure what that would be anyway. Michael had finally finished his pork, and was getting up to throw it away,

"Yes, Castiel, that's why I chose it," he answered, sounding what Castiel believed was exasperated as he opened the cabinet beneath the sink where the trashcan was located. Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion, and when Michael glanced over at him, he let out a sigh,

"You would have essentially just sat and waited until school started again, you wouldn't do anything, and that's not healthy," Michael explained, "You need to socialize," Castiel's nose scrunched up. He supposed his brother was right, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. He stomped out of the room, half because he knew that's what his brother expected, and half because he felt indignant.

He knew his people skills were not very strong, but it wasn't as though he were an invert. Okay, perhaps he was a tiny bit of an invert at times, but wasn't everyone? Maybe not. These people really confused him. Life, in general, confused him sometimes. He supposed that was nothing new, though.

(-)

Dean smiled as he walked into the house, Sammy trailing a couple of feet behind him. He was greeted by his mom hug first, and for once, he accepted it without feeling the slightest twinge of annoyance. In fact, he actually reciprocated.

His mom then moved behind him to give Sam a hug, too,

"So, how was your last day of school?" she questioned, all gentle smiles and expectant eyes. She always asked how school went. Everyday. Sometimes it annoyed him, but his mom was the most amazing person he'd ever known. He loved her, so he didn't care.

Sam and Dean answered her question at the same time,

"Good," was Sam's,

"Great!" was Dean's. Mary looked at Dean, and he knew she could see a change in his mood, even if it was miniscule. She raised her eye brows,

"Oh, and what is it that made it great?" she asked, as Sam chuckled under his breath before leaving the two in favor of the kitchen. Dean grinned at his mom,

"You know that guy I told you about that was so funny, in a really weird endearing kinda way? The one I thought might be really mad at me when I laughed at him?" he questioned, and Mary nodded, looking as excited to hear what he had to say as he felt,

"I walked past him on the way home, and he actually looked at me and smiled, he didn't look away for once," Dean gushed, brilliant smile becoming impossibly wider. That is, until he heard the distinct noise of Sammy's spit take in the other room, followed immediately by laughter. Dean frowned,

"What the heck is wrong, Sam?" he asked, annoyance flickering in his voice,

"Oh, nothing, you just sounded like a little girl with her first crush, or something," he chortled. Dean was instantly seething.

I'm not a fucking sissy, Sam.

He stomped away from his mother, and into the kitchen, where Sam was eating fruit loops. Or, he was about to, until he saw Dean, and a secondary look of horror passed over his face. He was out of the chair in a flash, and they did the familiar tango around the table - Sam trying to avoid Dean's grasps at all costs,

"I'm sorry, Sammy, I think I heard you say I was a sissy," he growled, and Sam laughed nervously,

"Oh, you know, I was just joking," he volunteered, and Dean narrowed his eyes,

"Then take it back," he shot in return. Sam flinched. He knew Dean wouldn't hurt him, but when he was this mad, he was still scary as all hell, and there was still the danger of him getting a very uncomfortable wedgie.

Death by wedgie.

That just didn't have a very heroic ring to it.

If Sammy had ears, Dean knew they'd be pressed to his head right now in defeat,

"You're not a sissy, Dean, I'm sorry," Sam spoke quietly, and Dean decided to drag this out, hoping Sam would get the picture. I'm not a sissy. And I sure as hell don't have a crush on a guy! He had himself convinced as of now, at least.

Sam blushed, and grinded his teeth, obviously feeling a bit humiliated at the whole situation,

"I'm sorry, you're not a sissy, Dean!" he blurted loudly, and crossed his arms in time with a pout. For being a freshman in high school, his floppy haired little brother sure acted childish sometimes. Dean, finally satisfied, nodded,

"Thanks, Sammy," he approved, turning away. Sam grumbled something about 'Don't call me Sammy,' but Dean ignored it, and went back in the living room to see Mary folding the laundry on the couch. She glanced up at him, a light of amusement in her eyes,

"Was, that really necessary, Dean?" she asked with a small smile playing on her lips. Dean shrugged,

"For me, yeah," he stated, "I'm going to go take a shower," he informed before heading up the stairs. He saw his mom shake her head again, as he started on the trek to the second floor.

He thought to himself as he went.

Of course I don't like him like that! He's a guy, for fucks sake! I mean, yeah, it was kind of hot when he didn't just give me what I wanted. Nobody ever does anything like that to me. Wait….fuck, did I just say hot! Shit, I really need to get laid.

(-)

John wasn't at dinner that evening. He was running late on his way back from Oklahoma. Dean's father was a traveling architect, and he went all over the states hunting for jobs. He'd helped create numerous well known buildings, and high rises in multiple big cities. His income was large, but that didn't really make up for his absence. Especially to Mary, who always looked heart broken and disappointed when she got that call from dad saying he'd be getting in late, and to eat with out him.

Every time he saw that tired look on his mom's face, he disliked his father a little more. However hard Dean tried, though, he never truly hated his father. He had many good memories with his Dad from when he was younger, and even now, when he did get to spend some quality time with his father, John always found a way to make it into something memorable.

It was a constant clash in his mind whether his father was good or bad. Dean didn't have the ability to see anything in shades of grey, even his own family, and it caused copious amounts of inner turmoil.

The conversation at diner that night headed off by a phrase that always set Dean on edge,

"Dean, there's something I need to tell you, dear," his mother stated after taking a couple bites of pasta salad. Dean stopped, his fork frozen in one of the green beans,

"What?" he asked warily, and Sam stopped for a second, too, glancing between them, then deciding he'd just ignore it for as long as was possible, and went back to his food. Mary cleared her throat,

"Your father and I signed you up for a traveling camp, and you're leaving tomorrow," that was very like his mom - though she was loving, and gentle, she was the type to just rip the bandage off all at once - get right to the point. And right now, there was a very painful sting,

"Without even asking me?" he asked, "What if I had other plans?" he asked, voice eerily calm. He actually had numerous parties he'd promised to go to, and he was going to practice with the team, and in fact had planned on trying his hand with wooing Lisa Braden. This was his last summer of his high school year, technically, and he so didn't want to spend it in the woods with bugs and bears and instructors breathing down your neck every second. Mary stared him down,

"Well, you don't anymore," she answered, and Dean nearly yelled the next words,

"So you just take advantage of me not being eighteen yet, sign me up to something without mentioning it to me, and suddenly tell me I'm leaving tomorrow?" he wasn't thinking in the heat of the moment, voice raised, "Do you want me to be like Dad?" he was steaming, and when he realized what he'd just said, he felt a pang of guilt. Mary looked like someone had just smacked her across the face, but she gathered herself quickly, and, in a stern voice that wasn't to be argued with, said,

"Dean Winchester, as long as you live in the house, you will do what I say, and you will go tomorrow whether you're happy about it or not," she said firmly. Dean squared his shoulders, and looked down at his food. He suddenly didn't feel like eating anymore.

"I'm going to bed," he muttered quietly, and went up to his room to blast some AC/DC into his ears. It was official - his summer was completely lost now. Great. Just fucking great.

Fuck everything.

(-)

Dean's self pity fest was interrupted by a knock on his door,

"I don't wanna talk," he yelled. There was a huff on the other side of the wood,

"Dean, it's Sam," his brother said, and after a moments thought, Dean hesitantly opened up the door, and let his little brother in, closing the door behind him.

Sam sat down on the end of Dean's bed, and Dean fell across it next to his little brother.

They sat together in comfortable silence for many seconds, before Sam took a breath and finally spoke,

"You know, it probably won't be that bad," he ventured, and Dean gave a breathy laugh,

"Says you," he replied sarcastically. Sam turned to him,

"No, really, there are sure to be hot, smart girls there," Sam smiled, and Dean glanced at him quizzically, a smile of his own playing on his lips. His brother knew him better than pretty much everyone,

"You really think that's all I think about, Sam?" he asked, looking as incredulous as was possible for him. Sam pretended to think for a moment,

"Mostly, yes," Sam decided. Dean rolled his eyes, knowing Sam was just messing with him,

"And," Sam suddenly continued, "You didn't let mom finish earlier - Jo is going, too, Ellen wants her to experience something other than our little town," he finished, and Dean suddenly felt a little less moody,

"Really?" he questioned, and Sam nodded. Jo and himself had been friends ever since they were about five. They tried to date once, but it just felt terribly wrong, so they decided to just stay best friends. She knew the most about Dean, right after Sammy, that is,

"Huh, well, maybe you're right, maybe this won't be too terrible," Dean said, looking at the ceiling. He suddenly felt guilty again about what he'd said to Mary. He vowed to apologize to her first thing in the morning. Sam must have sensed his thoughts, as he often had a tendency to do,

"She knew you weren't going to be happy about it," Sam said, sounding for all the world like a mother himself. Dean really, really cared about Sam. While their mom had raised them lovingly, Dean and Sam had still always turned to each other for every problem they had. Dean suddenly felt another painful pang, and frowned,

"I'll miss you," he said quietly, gaze fixing on the ceiling again as he heard Sam shift beside him. He knew how chick like that had sounded, but fuck it, he was having a moment, and he was aloud to say things like that in a moment,

"I'll miss you too, eventually," Sam laughed, and Dean gave him the evil eye. The moment was over quickly, and Sam got up to leave the room, feeling the prudence of his presence dwindling. He was just out of the door when he sang,

"Who knows, maybe your boy crush will even be there," and Dean sprung straight up, That sneaky little brat! Dean wasn't truly mad this time for some reason, but he was all too willing to chase his brother to his room, only giving up after realizing it was locked. He sighed, and forfeited, deciding to take that as a cue to go to bed.

Tomorrow was bound to be horribly interesting.

Castiel woke the next morning to the dulcet chirps and tweets of summer birds. He groaned.

Just….just fifteen more minutes…

And he was already out cold again. He was usually a quick riser in the morning, but he'd been awake until the early morning hours most nights for the last couple of weeks, hoping fleetingly to avoid his dreams. He didn't always get what he wished for, though, as all people do not, and he was no exception.

For once, though, his dream this night had been influenced greatly by Dean's earlier gesture. Castiel knew dreaming of him was probably odd, and most likely had a meaning he completely missed out on, but he couldn't bring himself to care at all. It was heaven compared to the nightmares.

Even if sometimes, Castiel swore something flickered, and for a nanosecond Dean was in drag, which was horribly disturbing and yet, somehow, mildly intriguing.

Reviews are like kisses from Angels!