So...I started this months ago after watching the truly fantastic film 'But I'm a Cheerleader...' and I just found it on my computer, so here you go. At some point it will even get updated. BTW I am still writing the Devil wears prado, and it will be updated just as soon as I have an idea about what to write.


Its official, Dean hates his family.

Surprising him with an intervention was bad enough, dragging him to a gay rehabilitation camp was pushing it,

But the thing that really makes the whole mess so absolutely, fucking beyond stupid?

He isn't even gay.

A couple of pictures on the walls of his bedroom (rock posters, not like, guys in tiny shorts or whatever – for Christ's sake) a sudden interest in going to the high school football games (because they were WINNING for once) and a lack of interest in getting into Lisa Braeden's pants (she just wasn't that good, alright, and it's not like she was lonely anyway), did not make him a homo-fucking-sexual.

It made him...well whatever, not gay anyhow.

Everyone had gone insane, and now he was stuck at 'True Directions', colour co-ordinated boot camp for your gay offspring.

Fucking awesome.


Well, he likes blue. So that's nice.

Blue room, blue bedding, blue clothes, blue ceilings.

He likes blue. Good thing too.

Hey that rhymes.

Castiel was bored out of his mind, lying on his assigned bed and staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. Michael's last words rang in his ears.

Get well Cas, or you can forget about college.

Lucifer sniffing derisively, Forget about coming home too.

He shuffles his legs in their pale blue scrubs. He tries not to think about anything, what do straight people think about? Men couldn't just walk around thinking about breasts and football the whole time...what should he be thinking about? What was safe?

The door opened and the other new arrivals, all three of them, came in. A scrawny guy with a mullet, a scruffy guy with a beard and small glasses, twitchy as a squirrel. Backing them up is a taller boy, almost done with puberty, broad and tanned with dark hair. They take in the room and Castiel himself.

"Hey" Mullet says, launching himself at the bed labelled 'Ash'. The other guy, apparently called Chuck, judging from his graceless sprawl over the appropriate bed, opens a case and pulls out a sheaf of inked papers.

The remaining boy stands still for a second, looking over the three of them, then huffs a laugh and goes to his bed on the other side of the room.

"I'm Castiel" Castiel says, sitting up.

"Chuck" says Chuck, marking off his papers and frowning.

"Ash" Ash makes a sign with his little finger and index finger extended, the rest of his hand a fist. Castiel has no idea what this means.

"Dean" The other boy does the same thing, nodding slightly at Ash. "So...all you guys are queer?"

There's a lengthy pause during which Chuck blinks owlishly at him, Castiel feels himself blush furiously, and Ash lets his mouth form a slow smile.

"Hells yeah" his eyes widen and he makes his hands into claws. "and we eat straight boys like you for breakfast." He cackles to himself and rolls over on his bed. "You idiots crack me up."

Dean smirks. "Funny dude, hysterical, really." He nods at Chuck, "What about you twitchy?"

"I'm...uh...I'm undecided." Chuck does indeed twitch slightly at the address and busies himself even more obviously with his writing. Dean raises an eyebrow and turns his eyes to Castiel.


"Castiel." He keeps his voice low, he deals with bullies a lot of the time, low voices help. "and yes, I'm gay." He pauses, remembering what his counsellor told him about making people feel at ease. "Thank you for asking."

Dean laughs genuinely for the first time.

"Freak." But it's not unkind. "I'm not, just so you know."

"I'll try and contain myself." Ash calls from his side of the room. Chuck doesn't respond. Castiel stares fixedly at Dean.

"Dude, that's creeply."

"Sorry." Castiel keeps staring. Dean shrugs.

"Whatever, please yourself."

Castiel does.


Gabriel hunches behind the steering wheel of the van, looking out at the True Directions house.

Balthazar had changed the paint scheme.

Balthazar fucking would.

The plastic flowers in the garden were further proof that since Gabriel had left the staff the quality of the decor had definitely gone downhill.

The new recruits had already arrived and Gabriel picked up his phone to report back to base.

"The nest is occupied, should Archangel One initiate contact, over?"

A sigh crackles on the line.

"Gabe...we talked about this."

"You didn't say 'over' Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy...over."

"Whatever." Gabriel stretches and reaches for his thermos. "How're things at home?"

"You've been gone twenty minutes."

"So what I hear is, you're missing me already." He pours himself a cup of hot chocolate, locates the siphon of cream and carefully swirls it on top, adding marshmallows, a chocolate spoon and gummy bears.

"Like a hole in the head." Sam mutters affectionately. "See you in while ok? I'll leave you some tuna casserole."

"Thanks" Gabriel brings his binoculars to his eyes. "Think tonight's too soon to invite them out?"

"Leave it a night or two." Sam advises "Turning in now...Archangel One. Over."

"You enabler you." Gabriel purrs. Sam rings off and Gabriel resumes his stakeout of the True Directions house, sipping his beverage and relishing the moustache it leaves behind (because moustaches are manly, everyone knows that.)


He isn't a homophobe, he honest to God isn't. But now he has to share a room, and a bathroom with three guys who he knows are gay. He can't not freak out about that. It's not like he's worried about them jumping him or anything (because frankly he could take them) but they'll be looking and it weird's him out.

The lights are out and they're lying underneath their identical blue comforters, a slight glow from the porch light preventing the room from being completely dark. Dean can hear the stiff sheets rustling dryly as each boy turns over, and their breathing is loud in the silence in between. He turns on his side and opens his eyes, looking over the flattened shape of Ash, already asleep, and across the room.

Castiel is looking straight back.

His eyes are wide open, his face a blur of pale skin and dark feathers of hair in his nest of blankets. He doesn't blink when Dean's eyes meet his, but his body moves, a stretch and relax, like he was waiting for Dean to acknowledge him, and now he can get down to the business of sleeping. His smudge of pale rose mouth smiles slightly, and Castiel turns over in a rush of crinkling blankets.

Dean lies on his back and tries to get to sleep.

Fucking weirdo.


"It's practically abuse, I mean its 2011, no one should be sending their kid to gay-boot-camp." Sam sips his beer and Bobby the bartended sympathises with a nod, he may run a gay bar but he's not what Sam would call 'connected to the scene'. Bobby sells beer, hangs tacky rainbow flags and then goes home to his wife Ellen, and sometimes, like this, Sam wonders what it would be like to be in a relationship with someone somewhat normal.

"Give 'em the old razzle dazzle..." Gabriel gulps the last of his daiquiri on stage (read – any kind of flat surface he can find after eight drinks, in this case a pool table.) "Razzle dazzle 'em." He sings with a slight slur.

"Get 'im off the table Sam." Bobby sighs.

"No power on this earth old man!" Gabriel shouts.

Sam watches with amused slightly troubled eyes. Gabriel is about the outset, campest man that Sam knows, or has ever met – embodying almost every gay cliché he can think of, in a five foot package of show tunes, bright pink alcohol and candy. Despite Sam's insistence that he is just a guy who happens to be gay, and that he in no way likes musicals, interior design or any of the other crap that people assume he must love like he loves...well Gabriel, and Gabriel naked in particular, he can't bring himself to tone the smaller man down.

They'd met the summer that 'True Directions' was established. Sam, Gabriel, Balthazar and Zachariah were the founding members, having been through a programme like it themselves. It had gone great, and Sam had really believed in what they were doing, until he realised he was spending a lot of time with his fellow counsellor, that he knew practically everything about the man, just as Gabriel knew him, and probably wouldn't be averse to making out at some point.

They'd abandoned 'True Directions' and now lived a few miles away in a rather festively decorated bungalow. Gabriel had seen fit to devote the majority of his time to sneaking leaflets for Bobby's bar to the inmates of the camp, smuggling them out in their minivan for responsibly chaperoned fun (chaperoned by Sam, while Gabriel usually got drunk and sang on the pool table – which wasn't that bad all things considered given the voice on him).

"Razzle dazzle them...and they'll never catch wise!" Gabriel winds it up, hops off the table, bows to the three people actually watching him, and trots over to nuzzle Sam and order another drink.

"I'm cutting you off." Bobby growls.

"Can I just have a little umbrella?"

Bobby hands over a tiny pink paper umbrella – sometimes Gabriel was too cute for even Bobby to glare at him.