A/N: Thank you to all the reviews and story alerts so far! :) Sorry it took so long to get out the second chapter, but I have a tendency to toil over my stories until they're just so. As always, reviews are highly appreciated and definitely help me write faster :D
I'll see you all at the end, because I'm too tired to make a terribly long note...
Disclaimer: I do not own the show, or the characters.
Dean woke up to use the restroom at about five thirty in the morning. He ran into the door frame of his room on his way back, but only reacted with a grunt, sleep fogged brain too tired to exert the excess energy yelling required,
"That's what I get for challenging Gordon to a soda drinking competition," he sighed as the pain in his shoulder slowly trickled away and he fell back into his bed with a thump. He'd had to brush his teeth three times last night to get all traces of sugar off his prized pearly whites. He wasn't going to be making the mistake of ever challenging him again, that was for sure. That guy could drink like a line backer, which was precisely what Gordon was, actually.
He closed his eyes, hands moving over the soft fleece blankets underneath him. He didn't really need them on his body, but he usually slept on them, the texture itself acting as an antidote to slow his thoughts.
Though the air conditioner was on, the temperature remained at about seventy four degrees inside their house during this time of the year, since his mother refused to waste energy and allow them to turn it down any lower. Dean, who slept with sweats and a wife beater on, found it just the right temperature to fall asleep without the use of any blankets or sheets. It was one of the many small high points of the summer months.
He rolled onto his side, taking a deep breath, then letting it out slowly as he gave his body the chance to relax completely.
Behind closed eyelids, Dean saw a flash of blue eyes. Not just any blue eyes, though. The kind of magnificent merge between cracked ice, cerulean sea, and stormy grey-blue sky that only belonged to one person in Dean's mental file box of faces. Castiel Novak.
The first time Dean had gotten a good look at them - granted at the time, they'd been filled with horror following the dealing of an extremely off-the-wall comment towards Dean - he knew that they had to be the most beautiful set of eyes he'd ever seen, and possibly ever would.
It wasn't just the color, though, that had thrown Dean for a loop. There was something else there; something much more profound and deep that Dean simply couldn't put his finger on.
His dignity would never allow him to actually admit to thinking that, of course. Nor would it let him admit to seeing those eyes in his dreams numerous nights since their first encounter.
He decided to pin all these strange thoughts on the fact that he'd been too busy lately to…well, go out and get busy with someone.
With football practice, and social events, as well as the dreaded homework assignments calling for Dean's attention, he really hadn't had that kind of free time.
Hopefully, he thought as he drifted back into sleep, Sam'll be right, and there'll be some hot girls at the camp.
Castiel finally woke up again about four hours later, opening his eyes only to be blinded for a second by the light flooding in from his window. He groaned, and placed a hand over his eyes. It felt refreshingly cooler in contrast to his forehead,
"Hey, bro, I wondered when you'd wake up," the voice came from one of the chairs to Castiel's left. His hand slid off his face, and his head fell to the side, an annoyed glare aimed directly at a completely unfazed Gabriel. Castiel felt that his brother's greeting to the waking world didn't warrant a response, so he continued to glare, thinking as he did so about the likeliness of there being some sort of trap awaiting him the second he stepped out of bed.
Then he remembered what he had to do today, and his head flipped to the other side of the room where the alarm clock was, eyes wide in worry. Rightfully so, too, because the clock currently read 10:30, meaning he had only an hour and a half to get the rest of his belongings together, get ready, and get out to the airport.
Castiel sat straight up, fixing Gabriel with a stony stare, lips tight in anger,
"You turned the alarm off?" it wasn't so much of a question as it was a statement, though Gabriel took the liberty to treat it as though Castiel were giving an essay that needed an extended response,
"Of course, Cassie, I mean, I'm not going to get to see you all summer, so I have to get at least one last trick under my belt before you go off on your grand little adventure," he smirked, uncrossing his legs as he stood up from the wooden, hand crafted chair - the one left by their mother.
Castiel stared firmly, undeterred,
"You mean to say you are bothered by Michael making the choice without your input on the matter, so you're sabotaging me right now to get him back," Castiel stated with conviction. He knew his brothers, and they usually didn't get along very well. If it weren't for Castiel, actually, he was pretty sure they'd be ripping at each others throats. Gabriel scowled at Castiel's perceptiveness, but quickly returned his lips to that aloof smile,
"You guessed it, Cassie, but I don't know why you had to be a party pooper about it," he mused, and Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion. It was very annoying when Gabriel used these sayings that Castiel could never get. It was like he was speaking in another language to purposefully throw Castiel off,
"I do not understand that reference," Castiel almost growled. Unfortunately, Gabriel was using it to throw Castiel off, if his triumphant smirk was anything to go by. Castiel's head flipped back over to the clock. It now read 10:40.
He threw one last glare at his older brother, before yanking the sheets back, and stepping out of bed. Unfortunately, he never finished his mental calculation earlier for the chance that their may be a trap waiting for him right when he got out of bed.
If there was any question before, though, it was now a certainty as Castiel felt something squish briefly beneath his feet, before suddenly they weren't there anymore, and Castiel fell back first onto the hard wood flooring.
Gabriel was by his side if the matter of seconds,
"Shit, bro, you were supposed to just step on the banana, not actually slip on it!" he exclaimed, sounding concerned. Castiel's back was aching, and he was still getting over the initial shock of the jarring impact. Luckily, as far as he could tell at this moment, the worst he would get was a couple of good bruises,
"Damn it, the Mythbusters were totally wrong on this one….or maybe it's just you…" Gabriel sounded contemplative. Castiel didn't understand any of that, and just groaned in pain as he sat back up, Gabriel's hand supporting his back. When he finally got his bearings back, he gave Gabriel another abrasive look,
"Are there anymore 'bananas'" he quoted the word, something he only did when he was truly upset, "I should know about before I get ready?" he asked, and Gabriel rolled his eyes as he sighed in defeat,
"There's a trip wire in the door way to the kitchen, I moved the bread into the microwave, and I rigged the shower to only run cold water," he admitted. Castiel nodded, appreciatively, before he shakily stood up, denying Gabriel's help along the way. Before he left the room, he turned to face his older brother,
"You and Michael really should get over that problem, I don't exactly enjoy getting stuck in the cross fire," Castiel pointed out. Gabriel shrugged,
"Sorry, little bro, but it is what it is, and Michael is just an ass….and I think you mean caught in the cross fire," he was trying to change the topic, apparently. Castiel rolled his eyes. This was going to be a very long hour and twenty minutes. He suddenly couldn't wait to get to the airport, and away from all this. It looked like this camp was a going to be a great way to escape.
Dean was brushing his teeth, hair smelling fresh from soap. His clothes clung to his slightly moist body. The shower had taken longer than he'd anticipated, and it was now…he looked down at the watch his father had gotten him for his 16th birthday. The hand pointed directly at 11:00. He had about another forty five minutes before they had to head out.
It took about fifteen minutes to get to the airport from his house, meaning he'd have to hurry to finish packing, but Dean didn't really need to bring much. The thing that was bound to be time consuming was saying good bye to his baby. The Impala. The '67 Chevy Impala, to be exact. That had been another one of the things Dean's father had given him that he always remembered fondly. There were so many good memories attached to that car, and Dean treated it like it really was a baby.
One time, when some moron had 'accidentally' scratched it while pulling into a parking space next to him, Dean had made his anger clear by smashing in the other guys window. Needless to say, it ended up being a lot more trouble than it was worth. He'd had to take anger management classes for a week, which was not only embarrassing, but also kind of degrading when Dean realized he actually did have anger problems.
He'd gotten over that for the most part, though.
Dean spit out the remaining tooth paste, looking up at his reflection in the mirror, and grinning, making sure he hadn't missed anything, even though he knew that was practically impossible, since he hadn't had anything for breakfast. He was too excited to eat, honestly, despite how child like that sounded. Well, excited and…horrified. He had a fear of planes, and while he had learned how to control his fear, it didn't make it seem any less scary.
When he was sure that his teeth were substantially clean, he made his way back to his room, stopping a foot away from the large brown suit case. He still had some space left, it was just a matter of what to bring. He was about to grab for some more underwear when he heard a voice behind him,
"You should probably bring some bug spray," Dean froze. It was Mary. He'd been trying to avoid her as much as possible - save the apologizing until later, hold it off for as long as possible. That plan was royally screwed now, though.
"Yeah, okay, Mom," he agreed, fiddling with the blankets on his bed, but still not turning around. It wasn't the saying sorry that was so hard for Dean, it was the admitting to being in the wrong that really made his teeth clench. Which was stupid, because he should feel guilty, but he really didn't. Not really. How could you apologize if you really didn't genuinely feel sorry?
Then he remembered the time John had been gone for a whole year. Dean had been ten. He remembered hearing his mother cry when his Dad didn't call for weeks on end. John would let her down every time, and Dean would go in and hug her until she stopped crying. Dean never wanted to hurt his mother that way, and he'd gotten really close last night.
"I'm sorry, Mom!" he blurted suddenly, realizing a second too late that Mary had still been talking, and he'd interrupted her. He finally turned around to face her, and she was frozen mid sentence, mouth open. She was wearing her favorite pink night gown that was made out of silk. It accented her long, blond hair. He watched and waited, until her lips rested into a gentle smile,
"It's fine, dear, I know you didn't mean it," she said, and Dean relaxed, returning her smile with relief,
"You said bug spray, right?" he asked, and Mary nodded, before heading out of the room to locate the can somewhere in the down stairs bathroom.
Castiel somehow managed to get ready in time, thanks to Gabriel feeling guilty about making him fall. Although there had been lotion in the tooth paste tube, Gabriel swore he'd just forgotten it was there. Castiel was extremely skeptical. Castiel had a travel sized one hidden away specifically for this reason, though, so it wasn't too much of a set back in the end.
They were heading out of the door at about ten till, and spent the next ten minutes to the airport talking about girls. Actually, it was mostly Gabriel talking about girls, and Castiel nodding in agreement, even though none of it really mattered to him. He'd figured out a couple years ago that he really wasn't into girls. After getting a hard on during a very small gay sex scene while watching a movie with his brother, he pretty much realized he didn't have any sort of feelings for woman other than platonic ones.
He was gay. That was it. Not that he told anyone, even his brothers. He was pretty sure, however, that Gabriel was onto him, and that meant Michael wouldn't be far behind.
Gabriel stopped in front of the stairs that led up to the building, waving a reluctant Castiel off, and then pulling away. Castiel stood and stared at the airport, people rushing in and out, women, men, families, couples, young, old - all kinds of people. This was going to be his first real trip. He'd never been gone for more than a weekend, and that was only to see some distant relatives in Texas two years ago.
Castiel took a deep breath, before heading for the glass doors. The rest of the people that would be going with him would be just past those doors, and Castiel promised himself to try and be more open with all of them. Even if it was a bit uncomfortable.
When he finally did make it inside, he was greeted by a woman with black hair, who appeared to be about Gabriel's age, and reminded Castiel of a cat. She seemed extremely comfortable in her own skin, and her stride was self confident. She wore an old T-shirt that had been torn a bit to reveal some cleavage along with some ripped jeans and tennis shoes.
Gabriel would be drooling all over the place, Castiel mused,
"Hi there, are you with the camp?" she asked in a slight southern accent. Yes, Gabriel would be all over this one. Castiel nodded in reply, before remembering his plan to be more open. I should probably speak,
"Yes, I am," he added, and smiled. That wasn't too hard, he told himself. The woman grinned,
"Well, it's great to meet'chya, I'm one of the group leaders, Pamela Barnes, what's your name?" this woman was very good at getting a lot of information out in one breath. Castiel cold take some pointers from her,
"My name is Castiel Novak," he answered, and Pamela's eye brows drew together,
"Are ya pulling my leg, kid?" and that's what Castiel had been waiting for. No matter who it was, when Castiel first told them his name, they always reacted with disbelief. If Castiel were the angry type, he would have probably gotten fed up by now. However, he sometimes even astounded himself with his patience,
"No, my hands are not anywhere near your legs, so I do not see how that would be possible," he hadn't meant to say that. It just came out. He knew that when he didn't understand things, he sometimes ended up sounding sarcastic, or just plain rude. He'd already said it now, though, and he couldn't rewind time, so he'd have to simply deal with it.
I really am no good with socializing, Michael was right, he thought to himself.
Pamela gave him an odd look, before pulling a clip board out from under her arm. Her gaze ran up and down the length of what must have been a check list. She stopped halfway down the page, and squinted, before glancing back over to Castiel, face a mixture of both surprise and pity,
"My fault, kid, but that's a very strange name ya got there," she remarked, to which Castiel tried not to roll his eyes, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his bag instead,
"Yes, I get that a lot," he sighed, looking down a bit. He loved his name, but sometimes, it was a real burden. Suddenly, Pamela's arm was around his shoulders, and he was being lead towards a crowd of people,
"Well, since you're on my list, it looks like you'll be in my group," she began explaining as Castiel glanced wearily around at all the fresh faces. There were probably about twenty people there already, and not everyone was here yet. Most people gathered in tight groups, laughing, talking, and seeming over all completely comfortable.
Castiel fidgeted nervously. Pamela must have picked up on his restlessness because she squeezed his shoulder lightly,
"Hey, don't worry, Novak, you'll settle in eventually," she assured him, "Some of these people already know each other since they're all from around here, and some go to the same school," she pointed over to a group of three that were sitting in one of the many rows of chairs a few yards away from them,
"That's what we have of our group so far over there, if ya wanna get yourself acquainted," she said, before someone shouted over the din of clacking heels, strained business men, and whining children,
"Pamela, we've got a code purple over here, I could use some help!" to which Pamela replied saying she'd be right there,
"Have fun, kid," she gave Castiel's shoulder a final squeeze, before turning and rushing off in the direction that the voice had come from. Castiel gazed after her, silently thanking her for being so kind to him, despite the fact that he was sadly lacking in social skills.
Then, with the determination of a bull fighter - okay, maybe half a bull fighter - he trotted over to the small group Pamela had pointed to. There were two guys, one who looked particularly lanky and had brown hair, and another who appeared to have a…mullet, if Castiel wasn't mistaken.
How very odd, he thought as he looked to the only girl so far in the group who had long red-orange hair and a soft complexion. When he approached them, the girl was the first to notice his presence, and turned to smile at him gently,
"Hello, are you in Pamela's group, too?" she asked, and Castiel immediately felt less tense. He could feel the friendliness coming off of her in almost tangible vibes,
"Yes, my name is Castiel Novak," he answered with an awkward smile. The two guys had now turned their attention to him, as well, and also sent him friendly smiles. Castiel felt relief rush through his entire body, the knot of nerves in his stomach almost completely gone,
"It's nice to meet you all," he added, nodding at the two guys in respect. The one with the mullet snorted, and motioned to an empty seat between him and the girl,
"No need to be so proper, Castiel, why don't you pop a squat?" he insisted, and Castiel's smile faded ever so slightly,
"Pop a…what?" honestly, why did people feel the need to use these sayings? They never made any sense.
The girl giggled, and shook her head in amusement a few locks of hair falling in front of her ears,
"He means sit down, Castiel," she explained, eyes alight at the scene before her. Castiel shifted,
"Oh," he said simply, before shuffling over to the seat and 'popping a squat'. Castiel stopped for a second, thinking to himself,
"Pop a squat…does that not sound just a little bizarre? It sounds like something you would do while exercising, not whilst doing a menial task such as sitting," Castiel froze. He'd just said that whole thing. Out loud. In front of these people. He'd just completely embarrassed himself! They probably thought he was some kind of nerdy outcast, now. Crap, and it had started out so promising, too!
Maybe…maybe this was a sign. Maybe he should call Gabriel to come and pick him back up. This was just too much, he knew he was going to make an idiot of himself. He knew it!
He was about to stand up when suddenly, a chorus of laughs broke out, and Castiel was shocked back from his horrified daze. They were all laughing. Mullet guy was slapping his leg, and the other guy had a hand over his mouth completely doubled over. Even the girl looked close to tears from laughter.
Castiel looked from person to person, unsure of whether he should be offended, or astonished.
Mullet guy slapped him on his back without warning, almost causing Castiel to choke on his own spit,
"Dude, you are priceless!" he began, breathing hard as he tried to regain his breath. Castiel didn't know what he meant by that, but he supposed it really didn't matter.
"My name's Ash, and this string bean next to me is Garth," he pointed over to the lanky guy, who smiled sheepishly, and waved. Castiel nodded to him, suddenly realizing that he was smiling. He wasn't sure why what he'd done had made them laugh, but he really didn't care. He was liked. He felt accepted, and that was enough for now,
"And I'm Anna Milton. We all go to the private school in the next town over," the girl finished with her own introduction. Castiel's smile widened,
"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Ash, Garth and Anna Milton," he beamed at them in turn. This was turning out much nicer than he would have thought.
Castiel worried his lip as the talking quieted amongst the peppering of people. It was time to be assigned their partners for the trip. Pamela had come over and briefed them on the basic protocol - no drugs or alcohol - and explained to them about the buddy system.
There were thirty two people in all, which were divided into four subgroups of eight, and then paired off into four groups of two within the main group. You were to stay with your partner at all times, other than, of course, the obvious bathroom situations, and this system was intended not only for safety, but also to help learn how to build strong bonds despite differences.
After two failed attempts at getting the groups completely separated, what with some people having just arrived, Pamela and some guy named Balthazar who was another group leader, decided to go ahead and just call names off, so they could would get done in time to board the plane. Pamela was the last to go, and the suspense was driving Castiel crazy,
What if it's someone I don't know? Then I'll have to go through that whole meeting and ontroduction ordeal again! Oh, God, whoever it is, please be someone I've already met! he pleaded in his own mind as Pamela read down the list,
"Anna and Charlie….Garth and Meg….Ash and Joanna…" Castiel felt an itch at the back of his mind,
Joanna, Joanna…I feel like I've heard that name before, he thought in his mind, the cog wheels turning, but only coming up with air. He couldn't remember where he'd heard that name before,
"And finally, Castiel and Dean," she finished,
"Alrighty, that sums it up, find your partners, and lets head out!" she yelled, and everyone broke into action, yelling names, and looking around for people.
Castiel, however, was stuck in place, mouth hanging open in shock and eyes still fixed on the same place they had been for the last five seconds.
Joanna. Joanna Harvelle, as in Dean Winchester's best friend? But that could only mean….No…
No way! Castiel's mind was still not anywhere near convinced. It had to be a coincidence. It just had to be.
Castiel should know better than to believe in coincidences, though, and he did, and yet, here he stood.
A familiar voice pulled him out of his second shock induced daze of the day,
"Hey, Castiel, dude, this is a really strange coincidence, isn't it?" Now how was a voice that…hot….even legal?
Oh God, no…I am completely into him….how do I stop it!
It was like someone had given Castiel rose colored glasses, and now, his 'insatiable interest' in Dean was abruptly uncovered, and Castiel saw what it really was - attraction. Maybe even borderline obsession.
Castiel's neck felt like cracking ice as he turned to face a grinning Dean.
Castiel tried - he really did - not to stare at Dean's exposed biceps, but, Damn it, everything about him was criminal!
Castiel was most definitely addicted to this gorgeous, almost-porn star - No, Castiel! - guy.
Why did I wish for someone I knew! he asked himself in panic as he gave Dean a small, half smile.
I am so very screwed.
So, I suppose in summary, Castiel is screwed. The next chapter is going to be very...fun to write.
Castiel kind of freaked out on me there at the end. That's what summer does to you, though, you see things through rose tinted glasses. In this case, however, I think it was more like Castiel finally had enough sense to remove the gosh darn blind fold. Thank you, Castiel. Good job.