A/N: Sort of been having a 'What am I doing with my life/What am I going to do with my life' crisis, but I just watched Ashton Kutcher's People's Choice Awards acceptance speech and I'm feeling a little more hopeful.

Doesn't mean I know where this story is going, though. It's kind of derailed on me, but instead of trying to get it back on track, I think I'm going to watch and see where it goes. Thanks for reading so far! I hope I can continue to deliver.

Disclaimer: I have never been to a country club and I have no idea if they are still open in mid-November in Illinois. My dad goes to Scotland annually to play in rain and cold temperatures, so I figured there might be some people as crazy as him trying to get in one more game.

Castiel was starting to get a fetish for Preppy Dean.

He couldn't decide what turned him on more: Dean wearing his clothes or Dean looking so white-picket-fence perfect with his hair gelled and wearing a neat, charcoal gray sweater and spotless white sneakers. Not to mention, Castiel's clothes were just a little too tight on him, so the slacks hugged his ass beautifully. Castiel smugly noticed how many of the women and gay men at the club were eying him hungrily. To be truthful, so was he.

In the last couple weeks, he had accepted that he liked to stare at Dean a lot. There was much to appreciate. Initially he had been keen to stifle his attraction to Dean, mostly because he didn't expect anything good to come of it, but later realized that nothing would come of his interests anyway, as Dean was straight. And even if he wasn't, he had a certain public image to uphold that did not allow room for homoerotic tendencies. So Castiel continued to suppress his feelings, but allowed himself to look. And look he did as Dean made his way through the lounge with three cups of hot apple cider.

At first, Castiel had been apprehensive, wondering how Dean would behave in such a posh environment. Dean turned out to be a perfect gentleman, opening doors for him and Alfie and politely conversing with anyone who approached them. He was obviously uncomfortable, however, so Castiel kept him close and made excuses for him when his admirers got a little too predatory. There was quite a bit of envy going around, that much was for certain, and Castiel was shocked by how much he enjoyed being at the center of it. He began calling Dean his "boy toy" in private talk, just to annoy him and see him blush.

Once on the course, Castiel was actually very glad that Dean had talked him into coming along; Castiel's partner in the foursome turned out to be very boring and preferred talking with his friend when Alfie wasn't, so Cass indulged himself in Dean's company. Dean was in one of his inquisitive moods again, but Castiel wasn't bothered as much this time around. Half the time, he was explaining the game to Dean anyway. Until,

"Cass?" Dean handed him his driver. "Do you ever wish people would stop calling you a White Tiger?" Castiel hesitated before taking the club.

"I suppose, but mostly I just don't care what people think." Okay, so he was a little bothered by everyone's prejudiced attitude toward his stringent lifestyle, but he was mostly used to it by now. Dean gave him a look that said he could see right through him, but kept his mouth shut as he stepped back to let Castiel swing. The ball swerved to the left and didn't even land in the fairway. They waited for the others to tee off before heading out to the rough to find the ball. When Cass asked for his 7 Iron, Dean withheld it.

"Cass…"

"Look, Dean. I've always been the weird kid and I always will be as long as I stay here. Ergo I'll be more than happy to leave in a few months. Until then, I've accepted my fate, so I just try to keep my head down." Dean gave him a meaningful look.

"Don't ever put your head down, Cass. To anyone." Dean's tone was very serious, but a small half-smile soon crept onto his face. "And there's nothing wrong with being weird. You of all people should know that 'weird' is not a negative term; it's technically impartial." Castiel never failed to be impressed by Dean's random gems of unconventional wisdom.

"You speak so pretty now, Dean, I think I'm rubbing off on you," he teased, but was nonetheless grateful for his friend's support.

Dean threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah," he agreed distantly. The other boy shyly turned his smile away, gazing out into the landscape, but it wasn't long before his expression became grave again. He rubbed his nose against the cold and looked directly back at Castiel.

"You're different, buddy," he concluded, "and that's nothing to be ashamed of." Finally, he handed the iron over to Castiel.

The ball landed perfectly on the green, right next to the flag.

Castiel did well overall, but after firm handshakes with the other half of their foursome, he had to console his brother, who was worrying over what their father would say when he found out that Alfie had scored four points above par*. Dean patted Alfie on the shoulder and Cass handed them both some cocoa.

"Don't sweat it little man, these things happen. It's just one game." Alfie shook his head.

"No, I usually play much better than that. I should have done better. Now Father will think that I am not practicing."

"So…" Dean contemplated, "tell him that the fairways were a little messed up from the weather. It is almost winter, after all."

"But Castiel played well, as usual," Alfie pointed out.

"That's only because the new caddy's got the hots for him and changed his score when no one else was looking." Dean winked at the nervous boy. Castiel smirked at Dean's method of trying to cheer Alfie up but didn't stop to consider what Dean had actually said. Dean was just being silly, as usual. They suddenly heard laughter behind them.

"I thought that was you, Winchester. I wasn't sure at first, you look so…polished." They turned to find Guy, the school's newspaper editor, standing behind them looking smug as he pulled on his left-hand glove** over an expensive wristwatch. Castiel narrowed his eyes at the boy. Guy's parents were wealthy politicians, but their family's fortune was small compared to that of the Novak parents and siblings combined. Guy had been one of the many students who had tried to win Castiel over for the benefit of having an incredibly rich friend. And, like the other students, he had turned away when Castiel explained that his family had a strict "work hard, no parties" rule.

Guy spoke only to Dean as he sniggered, "I never expected to find you at this kind of club. And since when did you start hanging out with the Novaks? Or rather, since when did they get down from their thrones long enough to let you hang around?" Dean looked like he was about to say something colorful but Castiel cut him off.

"I had a slight shoulder injury and needed someone to carry my bag," he said coolly. "Dean said he could use the extra cash." Guy's eyes sparkled and he nudged Dean, who was completely bewildered by Cass' story.

"Oh I get it. Getting' buddy-buddy with the big money, huh?"

Now Dean looked downright angry, and Castiel wasn't sure if he was part of the cause.

"Hey, man. It's not like that—"

"No, no, I totally get it, Winchester. Smart move on your part." Guy winked conspiratorially.

Castiel himself was furious, but he refused to show it. He just wanted this asshole to leave as soon as possible, and without doing damage to Dean's reputation. Dean deserved better; Castiel couldn't bring him down and make him a Nobody like himself.

"Oh hey, Tiger Cub, how are you doing?" Guy had turned his attention on Alfie. "What, no nerd meeting today? Or are you just hanging around to sniff out some letters of rec for your Harvard app? Or was it Yale. Princeton? Heck, knowing your family, you'll go ahead and do all three. God knows you've got the money for it."

Alfie gripped one of the iron clubs in his bag and Dean looked ready to use his bare hands, but Castiel quickly took out his wallet and blurted out abruptly, "Thank you for your help today, Winchester. I hope this is enough for your trouble." He took out several twenties and pushed them into Dean's hands. Dean stopped and his eyes softened in surprise and confusion.

"Cass… You're not paying me—"

"Enough?" he finished for him. "I suppose you're right." He handed Dean another twenty and quickly put the now-empty wallet away so Dean couldn't give it back.

"Wha—?"

"And if you don't mind, it's Castiel. Don't be lazy, Dean," he scolded.

"But, I-I never…" Dean stammered, and Castiel's heart broke. He wished he didn't have to be so distant toward the other boy. To turn him away.

Guy chuckled and said, "Dude, that's eighty bucks. Just run with it, before he changes his mind."

"He's right, you should leave," Castiel agreed, though he very much wanted Dean to stay. "My brother and I must be going now, we don't have time to dawdle like you do. Thank you for your services, they were most useful."

"Fine," Dean gritted out, crumpling the money in a tight fist. "Call me if you need anything else. Or if you want to stop acting like an ass."

Cass kept a cold gaze on Dean, internally wishing for some alternate world where they could be friends.

"Don't hold your breath," Guy snorted.

Dean said nothing but thrust Castiel's golf bag back to him and stormed out of he club. Castiel allowed himself to stare after him longingly for a few seconds before grabbing Alfie's arm and leading him away as well.

"Castiel! Why did you—?" He avoided Alfie's confounded expression and slammed the car door. "Let's go home, Alfie. You need to practice your violin." With that, they drove away, leaving Dean by his Impala to stare after them.

Castiel didn't see Dean until after the break.

A/N: If you were surprised that Alfie seemed so ready to stand up for himself despite being a nerd, I would like to point out that he is also a swimmer; he's not exactly weak. And Samandriel was a soldier of god (albeit an adorable one) who didn't strike me as the type to back down easily, especially after his bidding war and torture sessions with Crowley.

*In golf, you want the score to be as low as possible, since you're tallying each stroke it takes to sink the ball in the hole. Below par would make for a very happy golfer, indeed.

**Many golfers wear gloves for grip and to protect their hands from blisters. It is common to wear just one, but some wear gloves on both hands.