A/N: I tried to do some research, but I'm going to be taking a lot of liberties in this fic.

"So I'm stuck with another Winchester on my ship, is that right?"

"Yes, sir!"

"You're a Corporal, I see. And tell me boy, why'd you decide to be jarhead?"

"My father was a jarhead, sir! It's the family business!"

"But your brother is a squid."

". . . Sammy is. . . different. But it could have been a lot worse, sir!"

"How?"

"He could have been a flyboy, sir!" The Admiral laughed. He had a slightly wheezing laugh that started from deep inside his gut. Dean let out a small breath, but kept his face and posture statue like.

"Dismissed, Corporal." Dean saluted and walked out of Admiral Rufus Turner's office. A tall man with shaggy hair wearing dark sweats and a grey Navy tee shirt waited for him in the tight space. He was hunching over and Dean imagined that's why Sam was constantly volunteering for work outside on the flight deck or anywhere he could stand up straight.

"Dean! How'd it go?"

"Petty Officer Winchester, you'd do well to salute a higher ranking officer like myself."

"Oh, come off it, Dean. No one's around." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sammy, this is the military. You need to learn your place." It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. Dean sighed. He knew he'd never win this fight with Sammy. "Thanks for taking the day off to show me around."

"Dean, you're my brother. I just can't believe our luck! I'm really happy you got reassigned to the U.S.S. Colt."

"Me, too. Seriouslythough, your hair is getting kind of long. Hasn't anyone said anything?"

"Not really. Someone tried to say something once, but I told them I'd sue the Navy."

"What?" Sam shrugged.

"Just trying to get the most out of that Stanford Pre-Law education." He smiled at Dean, and Dean gave him one in return as he followed his brother through a tour of his new home. A small part of him twisted with guilt as his brother enthusiastically explained the parts of the ship, which of course Dean was already familiar with. After all, you've seen one aircraft carrier, you've seen them all. But he enjoyed it when his brother's eyes lit up as he explained something he found interesting. It was pretty rare these days that something interesting to Sammy would be something Dean could actually follow. It had been years since Sam and Dean had really been close, probably since the time Dean had enlisted with the Marines. Sam had gone off to college at Stanford, and things were going well for both brothers separately. Then that accident two years ago and everything seemed to just spiral out of control for Sam. Dean shook his head. He didn't need to be thinking about all of that.

"Why don't you show me the mess hall, Sammy? I'm starving." Dean flashed his brother a smile and Sam laughed.

"You're still the same, Dean. Always thinking with your stomach."

"Well, I get into trouble when I think with something else, so . . ."

"That's gross, Dean."

Sam took Dean to mess hall C and took seats with his Navy friends. Dean didn't mind at all, he really wanted to see the kind of people Sam was hanging around with.

"The jarheads normally eat on that side of the mess hall," said the fair skinned girl with brown hair. She seemed like a nice enough girl; a little nerdy and neurotic, but Dean found that to be a good sign.

"Trying to get rid of me?" Dean asked with a wink.

"We're still dealing with the last Winchester we found," said the Petty Officer with a serious face and dark eyes. He cracked a small smile and Dean took a bite of the burger before him. "I'm Jake. This is Ava."

"I'm Andy," added the skinny sailor next to Ava. He looked a little like he was stoned. They fell into easy conversation and Dean was so far pretty satisfied with Sam's friends. At first he felt worried about Andy, but realized the kid was harmless and actually kind of awesome. They had the same taste in music, movies, and cars.

"Oh, God, look whose here," said Ava. Dean turned and saw them. They were flyboys, Dean could tell from their identical grey jumpsuits, and their smug faces. Flyboys were always the same everywhere. Just because they flew planes they thought that meant they were above everyone else. Sure, maybe literally, but come on! Dean was about to write them off and go back to his pie, but something about them did catch his eye.

Flyboys were usually just that: boys.

But this bunch had not just one, but two very attractive women. One was blonde with a steely expression on her face making her look like the proverbial cheerleader captain and the rest of the world the geeky sophomore vice president of the A/V club. The second was a read head with a face that let no emotion in or out. She looked a little bit like those porcelain dolls Dean's grandmother used to collect. They both looked like total ice queens and combined with the fact that they were flyboys made Dean smirk a little.

"Flyboys," said Jake. He followed Dean's gaze and added, "Don't let the looks fool you. The long hair, the soft looking skin, the plump lips. Unh uh, brother. They may look like women, but truth is they're all the same. I'm not even sure if they're human. They're junkless, really."

"Sounds like you tried to make a run at it, and crashed and burned," replied Dean. Jake shrugged,a little flushed in the face and Dean noted the way Ava smiled into her hand and looked away.

"Dean, don't," said Sam. "Those guys are jerks."

"What? I'm just trying to get to know my new home for the next nine months."

"Wow, you really are going to be trouble, aren't you?" asked Ava with a small laugh. Dean waggled his eyebrows as he took a bite of his lukewarm apple pie.

"Holy shit! Is that Lance Corporal Winchester?" Dean turned his head once again and this time he found himself face to face with a warm smile and bright eyes.

"That's actually Corporal Winchester now," said Dean standing up to face the Marine better.

"Shut up! You're a Corporal now?" The slim blonde girl stood straight and saluted. Dean saluted back then took her in his arms and swung her around.

"When the hell did you get assigned to the Colt?" asked Dean.

"I've been here for a year now. I transferred from the Wendigo. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here now, too. I've been reassigned. Hey, this is my brother, Petty Officer Winchester." Dean beamed as he introduced his brother.

"Yeah, yeah, I've seen him around. The Moose is what we call him," the girl said, barely glancing at the sailors. "I didn't realize he was your brother, though."

"Yeah, not much of a family resemblance," said Dean trying to ease the tension.

"Yeah, the blue and gold really threw me off."

"Jo, that's my brother you're talking about." Jo absorbed this for a moment before pursing her lips.

"Well, it could be worse. At least he isn't a flyboy." Jo turned to face Sam and introduced herself politely to him and his 'Sailor Scouts' as she called them later.

"Please, join us," said Sam. Jo looked as if she'd rather jump overboard, but then she looked at Dean and sucked it up.

"I would really enjoy that," said Jo painfully and took a seat next to Dean.

"Jo, or Lance Corporal Harvelle, and I went to boot camp together," said Dean.

"Yeah, I don't know if I could have made it through without Dean the Machine."

"I did basic training with Sam! We used to call him Sam the Lamb, but that doesn't sound so tough," said Ava, realizing halfway that maybe Sam didn't want that story out. "Sorry."

"Moose doesn't sound so bad now, does it?" teased Jo as she stole a French fry from Dean's tray.

"Get your own food!" Dean swatted her hand away. "I was saving the fries for last."

…

The next few days were easy for Dean. He met the Marines and of course he fit in easily with them. Having Jo Harvelle around was an unforeseen bonus. She was like a kid sister to Dean at boot camp, and it was nice to have a younger sibling that actually looked up to him. Dean tried to spend whatever time he could with Sam, which usually meant lunch or dinner. Luckily their schedules were pretty similar in that regards. Unfortunately it was the same schedule as the uptight flyboys. They just made any room they walked into instantly stuffy. They'd look around the mess hall and Dean could just tell they were judging everyone around them. There was one of them, a mean looking bald one with unforgiving eyes, that would sneer the entire time they sat in the mess hall. It made Dean angry because the guy might as well have just pointed to all of them and called them mud monkeys. It would have been more subtle.

Two weeks after his first day, Dean began to get restless. He had never been on a ship this long before. His bunk felt smaller and smaller everyday. He would go out onto the deck as often as he could, but it wasn't enough. The sight of the boundless ocean just made him feel as constricted as he did in his bunk anyway. He needed a distraction, something fun to take his mind off everything.

He sat with the Marines today instead of Sam. Maybe that contributed to it. They were all in a pretty hiked up testosterone mood. Henricksen kept goading Gordon and vice versa about who could pull in the most tail when they'd pull into harbor next month. Jo just kept her mouth shut about it and pretty much just continued a conversation with Garth, the skinniest, most underwhelming Marine Dean had ever laid eyes on. They were talking about some practice drill from a couple of months ago that Dean couldn't find in the deepest parts of his soul to be interesting on any level. He was about to consider moving to sit Sam and his Navy friends when Gordon rounded on him.

"You do well with the ladies, Winchester?"

"You bet your ass," replied Dean. Jo rolled her eyes. "What? It's the truth."

"Yeah, we'll see when we pull into harbor next month," said Henricksen.

"Why don't I show you now?" Dean sauntered over to where the red headed pilot was standing with her tray, collecting utensils for her dinner. Dean cleared his throat, but didn't elicit any sort of response. He turned around for a brief moment to see the entire mess hall staring at him. Well, it was too late to back down now. He cleared his throat again and this time the red head turned to face him.

"Did you need a lozenge? Sick bay is that way." She made to walk away, but Dean stepped in front of her.

"Maybe you could take me. I'm still pretty new on the Colt, and I'm afraid I'll get lost."

"Why don't you get one of your jarhead friends to take you?"

"You're much prettier and I thought maybe we could reenact a little bit of Top Gun on the way there." Dean could hear a few faint snickers coming from the Marine side of the room.

"Sure. I'll be Maverick and you be Goose?" A not so faint 'Ohhh!' could be heard wash over the mess hall.

"Look, I just want you to show me your skills in the cockpit," said Dean, giving her a charming smile. The blonde one walked up to them to pull the redhead away. Dean decided to add, "You're welcome to join us, sweetcheeks." That's when the two fighter pilots put down their trays on the table, and Dean expected a couple of slaps, but what he got was a punch to the nose, then one in the stomach. He stepped back in complete shock. The Marines in the room stood up as did the flyboys. There were more Marines, but the room was cramped with so many people trying to eat, it wasn't really an advantage.

The flyboys pushed and shoved Marines who were eager to push back. Heated words were being exchanged, but nothing really serious until the blonde pilot got shoved by one of the Marines and she almost fell over. The next moment one of the pilots (the one that constantly sneered that Dean didn't like) swung and caught Gordon's face. Then hell broke loose.

The Marines and the fighter pilots were throwing punches and insults, while the sailors picked up their trays of food and moved to stand against the walls. Dean was trying not to hurt anyone, instead trying to yell over all the noise for everyone to calm down.

"What the hell do you idjits think you're doing?" Dean turned his head at the sound of the words, but before he could see the owner of that ticked off voice, a fist connected with his eye.

"Dammit!" he yelled out in pain. With his one good eye he registered the fist belonging to a flyboy with dark hair and blue eyes.

"Break it up, goddammit!" The surly officer stepped between the two groups who had naturally separated like the red sea. The pilots glared at the Marines as they stood in their perfect straight line. "Now, who the hell started this mess?" Neither side spoke up. They just continued to shoot hard glares at each other. The older officer rolled his eyes. He walked over to the Navy squids who were still just trying to eat their food. No one volunteered any information, either.

"If one of you doesn't tell me, I will have everyone in this room doing training exercises for the next twenty four hours without a break." Dean sighed. God, he was such a screw up.

"It was me, sir." The Officer rounded on him.

"Boy, you better start speaking."

"I insulted a couple of the—Airforce pilots—and things got out of hand, sir."

"Which pilots?"

". . . I don't recall, sir."

"It was us, Lieutenant Singer," said the redhead. She and the blonde stepped forward. Lieutenant Singer raised an eyebrow at Dean.

"Well somebody better start explaining."

"This Marine made a crude sexual pass at me, sir. I declined his sexual advance, but he would not leave me alone. Airman Salomaa tried to call me away, but the Marine just made another sexual advance towards her, implying he wanted both of us to accept his advances . . . together." Dean clenched his jaw. When put that way he felt as if a dirty rag was being smeared across his face.

"That's why women shouldn't serve. You take things too seriously," said a voice from the crowd.

"Sir, if I may speak freely," requested Airman Salomaa.

"Go ahead."

"If—" she looked at Dean with all the hate in the world as she took in his patches, "Corporal Winchester were to have made such inappropriate sexual advances like that to any other crew member on this ship, they would have reacted in the exact same manner as Airman McNiven and myself." A small smile twitched in the corner of Lieutenant Singer's mouth.

"I believe you'd be correct. Now would either of you like to file a sexual harassment charge against Corporal Winchester?" Dean held his breath. Had he really just thrown away his entire career for a tiny bought with cabin fever? Both Airmen shook their heads. "And what about you? Would you like to file a charge against Airmen McNiven and Salomaa?"

"No, sir," answered Dean. The officer nodded.

"You three will surrender a day's pay for today's altercation. Don't let it happen again. As you were." Lieutenant Singer left mumbling "idjits" under his breath as he went. Dean wanted to go back up to McNiven and Salomaa, but the flyboys were already filing out of the mess hall. Dean went back to his seat. Many of the Marines slapped him on the back as if congratulating him on what a great show he'd just put on for them.

"Yeah, you're a real ladies man, Winchester," said Henricksen.

"Did you need some ice for when the tiny girl with the tiny fists punched you in your tiny face?" asked Gordon. Dean gave them a crooked smile. He was about to say something about how there wasn't anything tiny about him when he caught Jo's face. She had never looked at him that way before, as if he was some lowly disgusting parasite. She got up from her seat and left the mess hall, not even a goodbye to anyone or an explanation. He didn't want to draw attention to it, so he just kept quiet. He looked to Sam's table when Gordon began to steer the conversation about fishing. Sam looked up from his food and they locked eyes. He smiled at his younger brother who only shook his head and furrowed his brows, then looked anywhere but at Dean's direction.

What the hell, man?

…

The next day Dean sought out Jo. He knocked on the door of her bunk and flashed one of his most charming smiled at her when she opened the door. She looked at him the same way she had at the mess hall.

"What may I help you with, sir," she said through gritted teeth.

"Sir? What's up with you? You left yesterday without so much as a goodbye, while giving me the stink eye."

"God, Dean, you don't even understand."

"Understand what? Explain it to me." She pulled him inside.

"You are so thick, you know that? What you pulled yesterday, I thought you were better than that."

"Look, I didn't swing back at either of them!"

"It's not that, you jerk!" She huffed and Dean gave her a moment to catch her breath. "Those Airmen—McNiven and Salomaa? They're dicks like the rest of the flyboys, but they didn't deserve that."

"What? I was just having a little fun. I didn't know they were going to be so sensitive about it."

"Do you know how difficult it is to be a woman in the military, Dean? And to be on a goddamn metal ship with 5,000 men in the middle of the ocean?" Dean bit his tongue to stop the reply that was itching to get out. Jo obviously wasn't finished. "Twenty five percent of women in the military get sexually assaulted by her fellow soldiers. And that's only the ones that report it."

Dean looked down at his shoes, the shame of her words and obvious anger in her normally bright eyes overwhelming him at the moment.

"I didn't know," he said.

"Why would you? It's not a problem for you. When you treat any female soldier, Marine, squid, or even a damn asshole of a flyboy, you perpetuate the danger we face. Especially when you do it in front of others. It makes it a joke, like it's entertainment, like it's fun to taunt us sexually." Jo had tears in her eyes, and her body was shaking.

"Jo, are you okay?"

"No, Dean, I'm not. You want to know the reason I transferred onto the Colt? Because I almost got raped on the Wendigo. At first it was harmless joking, crude passes, getting felt up here and there, but one day a couple of jarheads, jarheads, Dean, got a little too drunk when we pulled into harbor and thought it was their goddamn God given right to take what they wanted from me. They were supposed to be like brothers to me, and if it wasn't for the fact that I keep my dad's old knife tucked under my pillow at night, they'd have done it." Jo was crying, streaks of tears running down her face. Dean felt anger course through him. He was angry at those Marines, at Jo having to have gone through that, and at himself. If he had felt like some dirty rag yesterday, how did McNiven and Salomaa feel?

"I'm sorry, Jo."

"It's not me you should be apologizing to." He nodded, instinctively knowing that hugging Jo would not have been comforting for her at the moment. "You're right. I didn't even realize how much of a giant dick I was being. Look, I'm sorry that happened to you, but if anyone here ever crosses the line, I don't care if they just look at you wrong, you tell me, okay?"

Jo gave him a small smile and nodded.

…

After Dean's duties for the day, he tried to find Airmen McNiven and Salomaa. He couldn't exactly ask anyone because he'd rather everyone just forget the whole thing, and seriously, this damn ship was bigger than he thought.

Finally he tried the hanger one more time and thankfully found both of them there. They were standing by the planes, talking to the flyboy Dean recognized to be the one that gave him the bruise on his right cheek. Dean approached them and they turned towards him, steely gazes in place.

"What do you want?" asked Salomaa.

"I came to apologize." They eyed him with suspicion. Dean out up his hands towards them to show them he meant no harm. "I shouldn't have treated either of you that way. I was out of line. I'm really not a big creepy pervert, I swear."

They didn't say anything back and Dean felt his smile falter.

"Well, I gave it a shot." He dropped his hand from the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "Look, I'm really sorry. I was just trying to ruffle your feathers, and I didn't think about how you'd feel about it. You shouldn't have to feel like you're not safe on board, or that you can't walk away from a douche bag that's hitting on you. I'm sorry."

Dean turned on his heel and headed out of the hanger the way he came. He was halfway to the exit when McNiven spoke.

"There's something you can do to make it up to us." Dean turned around with a ready grin.

"Name it, and it's done!" He instantly regretted the words when three identical conniving smirks appeared on their faces.

…

"It's a $10 entrance fee."

"Um, okay," said Sam as he pulled out a twenty dollar bill for him and Ava and gave it to one of the flyboys he'd never spoken to before. His British accent was really throwing Sam off. The flyboy smiled at him and Sam instinctively felt to make sure his wallet was safely in his pocket.

"I'll get you a couple of beers when we pull into harbor next month," Ava said.

"Don't forget," he said with a smile. They walked inside and found bleachers set up to face the planes. It was packed and Sam guessed all these people paid to get in, too. He and Ava stood on the edge of the bleachers next to Andy and Jake. Andy was clutching his sides as he doubled over in laughter. All the crew members of the ship were hooting and hollering, and laughing; the Marines, the Navy, even the Air Force personnel were all enjoying the show. Sam looked at what $20 got him, and his jaw dropped.

Dean was washing one of the fighter planes wearing only his combat boots and a camouflage patterned string bikini.

"Oh my God," said Sam. His face was contorted in utter horror. Dean's face was red, but he had plastered a cheeky smile on his face as he wiped the fighter plane. At one point he had to bend over to dip the large sponge back into the bucket, and he received scattered catcalls from the audience. He winked at the soldiers watching him at large, which only made them all laugh harder, and went back to his work.

The Marines especially were dying, some of them rolling in their seats at the hilarity of the situation. Dean kept on scrubbing. The flyboys stood together a little ways away from Dean, sometimes pointing out a spot he missed. He'd then go and wipe that part over again. After a while, Sam even joined in the laughter. Dean looked up and he caught his brother's eye. Sam waved at him. Dean's face broke out into a genuine smile and shrugged at his brother as if to say "What do you think of my new look?" Sam nodded his approval, knowing his brother was making amends for what happened yesterday. He remembered why he always looked up to him all those years ago. He'd always give up pride if it meant doing the right thing.

"What in God's name is going on here?" The entire hangar silenced itself and stood to salute Admiral Turner as he walked in. There were a few chuckles that couldn't be quite squashed, especially since they were all facing Dean who was covered in bubbles and sweat, still donning the bikini and combat boots, saluting and standing to attention.

Admiral Turner walked slowly up to Dean, surveying him with shrewd eyes.

"Corporal Winchester, would you mind explaining what it is you're doing?"

"Washing the fighter planes, sir!"

"Why?"

"They were dirty, sir." More chuckles escaped from the audience.

"And it's your duty to clean them?"

"It's all of our duties to make sure the USS Colt is in her top form, sir, including the planes that reside inside her, sir!"

"Boy, are you sass mouthing me?"

"No, sir! God, no!" Dean's eyes widened. Admiral Turner nodded. He took a moment before asking his next question.

"Corporal, why are you in a bikini?"

". . . It shows off my curves, sir!" Sam snorted at that one, and the entire room seemed to be holding back laughter. The Admiral's eyes snapped to the soldiers all watching, but there wasn't any anger in them.

"All right then, I can see this is just harmless fun. When you finish here, Corporal, I'd like you to go ahead and clean up the Officer's mess hall so that the USS Colt can be in 'top form'. I expect a full cleaning, top to bottom. And don't bother changing. I'd hate to rob you of another chance at showing off your curves. As you were," said the Admiral as he walked off. The hanger erupted in laughter and joy.

Dean hit his head against the plane he was cleaning and realized he was not going to be getting any sleep tonight.

"Hey, don't scuff the plane," growled Airman Salomaa. Dean sighed, put on a smile, and wiped that spot once more with the sponge.

A/N: Thanks for reading, and please leave a review! Oh, and if you can name which angel is which flyboy we've been introduced to, you get 1,000 points per correct answer!