Love and a Lake Monster Thing | SPN | PG-13 | 1/?
Title: Love and a Lake Monster Thing (1/?)
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Length: ~3800
Spoilers: None
Warnings: The usual spookiness of any SPN episode. Also, unbeta'ed, mistakes mine.
Summary: Summer lovin’ happened so fa-aast... and so did the supernatural shenanigans.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
A/N: This began as a comment!fic meme reply to the prompt: Sleep-away camp AU. Dean is a lifeguard, Castiel is the nature counsellor.
Dean Winchester fell for Castiel when - no, scratch that. Let’s not sugar coat this.
One day, a guy that Dean didn’t know fell on him, and it was probably one of the most painful experiences of his life.
Falling for this guy was a long, excruciating journey - mostly because they were rolling down a steep, sandy hill that had old planks of wood cut into the decline as makeshift stairs, and Dean was fairly sure he was going to break his neck on one of them as they toppled down in a tangle of limbs.
The landing was about as shitty as the fall, especially when a gangly guy dropped on top of him with a soft ooph.
“Motherfucking OW,” Dean bellowed once he was able to breathe again. He would have scrambled to his feet, but he was fairly certain he’d broken a rib or something and if he moved it was like going to jab a lung.
The guy on top of him - all big lake blue eyes and dark curling hair - blinked down, one cheek smeared with mud and blood.
“You shouldn’t yell.”
“I’ll yell if I goddamn want to - I think you broke something!”
“Don’t be dramatic,” the stranger said matter-of-factly as he rolled off Dean and onto his back with a low groan. “I think I broke something.”
Dean would have laughed if he hadn’t been busy sucking in his last dying breaths.
“And who the hell’s fault is that?”
“I tripped.”
Dean’s knee was singing as fiercely as death-metal, and that was really the only reason why he remained lying there, staring up at the early morning sunlight dappling through the tall trees.
“Those stairs are literally the steps of hell,” Dean said as he lifted his palms to eye-level and inspected the abrasions and scrapes.
What a way to begin his first year as a counsellor. For the first time Dean looked like he’d been in a fight and it wasn’t actually the case. Well, if anyone asked, he’d just say he fought a cougar, and that you should see the other guy.
A shuffle and hiss alerted Dean to the person beside him sitting up - and not wanting to be outdone, Dean did the same. As they both made their wobbly way to standing, Dean finally got to really inspect his clumsy assailant.
Scarred, well-worn hiking boots that went mid-calf, coltish, knobby-kneed legs that were already bruising, khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt sporting Long Lake Summer Camp’s logo of a setting sun over a wavy line of water. A cleft-chin that was kind of fascinating, chapped lips and a sharp nose - and more leaves and twigs than hair at this point.
Dean couldn’t help but grin. The guy looked just about as worse for wear as Dean was, so that was some essence of comfort.
Without a second thought, Dean reached forward and began to pick the foliage from the counsellor’s hair. Because this guy totally had Wholesome Camp Counsellor written all over him.
“I’m Castiel,” he said as he nearly went cross-eyed trying to look up at what Dean was doing.
Dean swiped his hands through Castiel’s soft hair and sent sand flying in all directions. He laughed and dropped his hands to his sides. “Dean.”
“Hello Dean.” Castiel’s voice was too low, too growly for the pretty eyes and pale skin. It almost unnerved Dean.
“Yeah, hi. Um, anyway, why didn’t I see you in the introductory counsellor weekend?”
Castiel’s mouth twisted into a little scowl. “My brother drove me, and he was late.”
“Two days late?”
“He’s very good at being late, and no one will fire him.”
“Wait,” Dean huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Your brother works here too?”
Castiel nodded.
“Why won’t they fire him?”
Castiel shrugged faintly and wiped his sandy hands on his shirt. “He always comes back.”
Dean gave him an incredulous look. “Just who is your brother?”
“Gabriel, the camp nurse.”
“Gabriel? Shit, I heard that guy is terrifying.”
“He does rather enjoy the unnecessary use of peroxide on wounds.”
Dean winced. In the distance, up the hill and into the woods, a bell tolled haunting and hollow. Both he and Castiel looked dubiously into the forest.
Dean sighed. “I guess that’s breakfast begun. I was gonna take a swim beforehand.” Dean looked down at his bloodied knees, then up at Castiel with a half-glare. “Looks like I’m gonna have to visit Gabriel instead.”
“You don’t have to,” Castiel replied, his voice taking on a strangely breathless quality. “I know first-aid. Come to my cabin and I’ll attend to your injuries. You’ll miss breakfast, but I have a bag of gummy worms in my room.”
Dean peered quizzically down at Castiel for a moment before his face broke into a grin. “You know food’s not allowed in our cabins, right?”
Castiel looked perfectly serious. “Gummy worms are more important than rules.”
And that was how Dean ended up sitting on some strange guy’s bed in the middle of the forest while said guy was on his knees before Dean - patching up his legs, of course.
“Dude,” Dean said with a scowl. “Don’t put band-aids on my knees. I’m not ten.”
“How will you stave off infection otherwise?” Castiel said, completely ignoring Dean’s request and pressing a large, square band-aid to Dean’s knee.
Dean rolled his eyes and lightly kicked his foot up, silently indicating that Castiel could back out of his personal space now. Dean’s toes were all mucked up and scraped too, because unlike Castiel, Dean had been wearing flip flops when he’d fallen. Who the hell wore hiking boots in the middle of summer, anyway?
“Who the hell wears hiking boots in the middle of summer, anyway?” Dean said, because he’d never been very good at keeping his thoughts locked up.
Castiel stood and peered down at Dean with a withering look that made him feel miniscule. “Allow me to make a guess. You’re a lifeguard, not a full counsellor.”
Dean frowned. “How’d you know?”
Castiel gestured to Dean’s red board shorts, the camp t-shirt, his beaded anklet, and the whistle around his neck. “It wasn’t difficult to figure out.”
“Are you saying I’m a stereotype?” Dean asked with something that totally wasn’t a pout.
“I’m saying you’re easy to read.”
“I’m not. I’m mysterious.” Dean lurched from the bed, checking his waterproof watch for the time.
Castiel was rummaging through a drawer. He looked up with what might’ve been a smile, but was gone before Dean could tell.
Dean caught the flying bag of gummy worms with a short laugh. He ripped the crinkling plastic open and shoved a handful of candy into his mouth.
“Breakfast of champions,” he said with chipmunk cheeks.
Soon after, they headed out of the room and into the morning air that was already growing sticky and thick.
“Hey.” Dean nudged his bruised elbow against Castiel’s skinny side. “So are you a full counsellor or what? You look barely older than me, if at all.”
Castiel spared him a glance as they hiked up the dirt trail that connected the staff cabins and the dining hall. “I’m nineteen and this is my second year working at Long Lake. I’m in charge of two cabins, as well as leading nature hikes and giving survival lessons.”
Damn, Castiel was actually a year older than him. Dean wasn’t in charge of any kids yet - he was just here to lifeguard from nine to nine, basically. The sun didn’t set until then anyway, and there were kids at the lake almost from dusk till dawn. But some days Dean would get to be trained to be a real counsellor next year, and he couldn’t wait until then.
“Survival lessons?” Dean asked with a laugh. “I could break you in half, man.”
Castiel paused as they approached the dining hall, which was clamouring with children. He gave Dean another one of those frighteningly stony looks.
“You could try.”
Dean gulped and mustered a cocky grin. “On my own time. Anyway, you’re late. See ya around, Cas.”
Before Castiel could reply, Dean was turning and holding up a hand in a vague wave as he wandered back to the beach. Despite the sour start to the morning, Dean found himself smiling for the rest of the day.
***
There wasn’t even a breeze as Dean felt a trickle of sweat slick down his spine. He’d shucked his shirt hours ago and was chugging water like he was doing laps rather than sitting on a twenty foot high bench that overlooked Long Lake’s sliver of beach. The flash and spark of sunlight on lapping waves was blinding enough that Dean opted for his oversized sunglasses as he gazed watchfully over the splashing group of eleven year olds.
Anna, a pretty flame-haired counsellor who filled out a bikini nicely, was in the water with nine of her twelve campers. One girl sat on the wobbly pier’s edge, with her feet dipped in the water as she likely watched minnows and sunfish flicker around her toes. The remaining two girls were, well -
“Hi Deeean,” chimed twin voices that Dean had come to know as Casey and Caroline - no relation to each other. What they did have in common was a severe infatuation with Dean that, over the week that he’d been here, had become the source of way too much teasing from Anna.
Dean looked over the side of his perch, tipped his glasses down his nose and grinned. “Hey ladies, how’s it hangin?”
The girls looked like they were going to combust from the attention at any moment, so Dean toned down the smile a notch. Couldn’t send some poor underage girls into heat stroke, now could he?
Casey went into a long narrative about her morning and how she’d seen a baby deer - which actually did interest Dean as much as Bambi could grasp his attention - but something in the water caught Dean’s eye.
A flash of something, ten feet past the pier and in the deepest swimming area allotted for campers. A slink of something inky and long beneath the waves, and then gone like an apparition. Something and then nothing.
Dean repressed a shiver despite the sweltering heat that stuck to his skin like honey. Casey and Caroline were white noise in his ears as he narrowed his eyes on the girl still splashing at the edge of the dock. The water around her looked clear; with his sunglasses cutting through the errant sunlight, Dean could see through the five feet of glassy, sepia lake.
“Are you gonna have dinner at our table again tonight?” Caroline asked, jolting Dean from his concentration.
“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, probably. If Anna will have me.” Dean pasted on a smile and wiggled his eyebrows. “And I don’t see how she could deny me, right?”
The girls’ faces flushed bright as a sunburn as they squealed their agreements and scurried away with secretive giggles. Dean usually would have gotten pleasure out of encouraging a silly summer crush that the campers could look back on fondly when they were older - but frankly, Dean had kind of creeped himself out here.
What in this lake was actually that big - that swift and eerie?
Well, if there was one person to ask about the native wildlife, Dean knew who it was.
***
It wasn’t until after dinner and the kids had been scooted off to their bunks that Dean had a chance to approach Castiel. Technically he could have sat at Castiel’s table for the evening meal, but Dean had a weird niggle at the back of his throat at the idea of inviting himself beside a guy he hardly knew.
A week had passed since that first tumble, and just as Dean’s bruises still ached and blotched his skin, the memory of slow to smile lips and a steady voice refused to fade.
It was actually kind of annoying - and probably another reason why Dean had kept his distance from Cas all this time. He felt tight in his chest when he saw Castiel, and it wasn’t something he was interesting in pursuing. Something makes you uncomfortable? You walk away. Simple as that.
And fuck - he was putting too much thought into this. Whatever, it wasn’t like Dean was nervous or anything. They had interacted a grand total of once, and there was no other connotation to be slapped on to the situation.
With a scowl screwed on his face, Dean carefully made his way down the poorly lit Hill Stairs from Hell. It was past ten and pitch-dark but for a few dingy floodlights that lined the walkway once you cleared the forest. Something buzzed past Dean’s ear and he smacked the side of his neck with enough force to cause himself to wince.
Relax, man. He might not even be around.
Some of the counsellors went to bed at the same time as the campers, while others opted to have some breathing time down by the beach. Most sat around a fire pit and chatted, laughed, shot the shit. Some of them skinny dipped together when they thought no one else was looking.
Dean didn’t approve of the latter for the obvious safety reasons - but he wasn’t lame, so he wouldn’t say a word.
Crossing the beach, the heels of his flip-flops kicking up cool sand, Dean meandered toward the campfire in the distance. He could already see that Cas wasn’t among them, even from this distance - just Anna, Chuck and Becky tonight. No dark, mussed hair or nerdy khaki shorts.
He was about to turn tail and leave when he spotted someone sitting on the edge of the pier, swallowed in the glimmering black waves and lit white and glowing beneath the high half moon.
Dean grinned and set out across the beach. Away from the tangerine warmth of the fire, from the flickering flood flights, and into the silver-edged darkness.
“Cas,” Dean said, not wanting to scare the guy before he went clomping down the rickety, creaking boards. The entire thin dock wobbled slightly beneath his feet as he approached Castiel’s back.
Cas didn’t flinch - just looked up and over his shoulder with slow curve of lips. His eyes reflected the pale lustre of the moon.
“Hello Dean. Be careful with your guitar, you don’t want to drop it in the water.”
“What? Oh.”
Dean had forgotten he’d been holding his acoustic by the neck. He wasn’t much for singing in public, but he thought it wouldn’t hurt to play some stuff by the fire. No stupid camp songs, though. Only the good stuff, like rock power ballads.
Back in the days when Dad had been more sober, he’d played for Dean and Sam - sang melodies of Johnny Cash and Leonard Cohen in that world-roughened voice. It had been nice. Nowadays, strumming the strings still brought up only good memories for Dean, and that was something to which he clung.
“Have a seat,” Cas said, his words raspy and scraping delicately along Dean’s skin. Castiel scooted over and Dean hunkered down beside him. They both sat indian-style, their knees overlapping in the centre because the pier was just barely wide enough to handle too nearly-grown men sitting side by side.
Dean briefly considered small talk, but he hated that shit, so instead he said, “So what kinda big, creepy shit lives in this lake?”
Castiel cast him a curious glance. “There are no animals in this lake which I would deem creepy.”
“And big animals?”
Cas hummed under his breath, placed his palms upon his knees - and consequently brushed up against Dean’s leg.
Dean shivered, and not from the cold.
Cas raised his face to the speckled stars, his voice emerging low and even, soothing.
“Every morning at dawn a great snapping turtle comes onto this beach. He must be around fifty years old - older - and large as a cocker spaniel. He is absolutely magnificent.”
“What? We’ve practically got a teenage mutant ninja turtle camping out in the lake and no one is worried they’re gonna get chunk bit outta them?”
Cas huffed a soft laugh. “He is far too intelligent for that, Dean. You should see his shell. Scarred by hundreds of battles - a true warrior of this lake. He’s its guardian. He’s not going to hurt anything or anyone unless it’s lunch.”
Dean was highly doubtful that a fucking turtle had that level of cognisance, but he wasn’t going to burst Castiel’s Pocahontas bubble. Especially not when he sounded so deathly serious about it.
Although that could’ve just been how Cas sounded all the time.
“What else?” Dean pressed.
“Lake Sturgeon,” Cas said as he subtly shifted to face Dean a bit more than the lake. “Three to five feet long and ten to eighty pounds.”
“Jesus fuck.” Dean wasn’t a ‘fraidy cat or anything - not by a long mile - but fish like that were goddamn creepy. And it sounded just about the length of what he’d seen this afternoon.
“They’re rare, but there have been reported sightings in Long Lake. Additionally, I’ve only heard of one ever being caught here, which leads me to believe there are some very...” Castiel’s voice dropped, as if he was getting off on freaking Dean out - the bastard. “Large beasts out there.”
“Awesome,” Dean said with a glare. “What else?”
“Muskellunge, Northern Pike, some soft-shell turtles. There are several species of water-snake, but they’re long and not particularly large. Why are you asking?”
Dean shrugged and settled his guitar properly on his knee. He plucked the opening notes to Stairway to Heaven, and the melody skipped and danced out across the lake, echoing back to them like a mermaid’s seductive song.
“I saw the shadow of something huge in the lake today. Fuck, it was like five or so more feet from where we’re sitting now. Just wanted to know it wasn’t something that would like, pull a Jaws on one of the kids, y’know?”
Dean flicked a glance to Cas, who was watching Dean’s fingers idly flicker over the strings.
“I’m sure it was nothing serious,” Castiel said after an overly-long pause that had Dean’s breath going humid and thick. “Small fish tend to kick up dust, make noise. Despite popular belief, larger predators of the water are attracted to scuffling, sand clouds, and water skirmishes. When they hear children playing in the shallows, they’ll come and investigate, realise the child is too big to be eaten, and swim off.”
“Right. And wiggling, edible toes splashing in the water?”
Cas looked up, his eyes bright and his teeth flashing in a genuine grin. “Toes are sometimes a casualty of war.”
“Dude, you’re an asshole,” Dean said, but he was battling a rumble of laughter.
“You said it first. Anyway, I’ve been coming to this lake since I was a child and I’ve only heard of one instance where someone had their toe seriously bitten - and they managed to keep it.”
“You’ve been coming here that long?”
Cas nodded. “Home away from home, I suppose. Or perhaps my favourite home.”
Dean thought of the home he was going back to and found that he could kind of relate to whatever Castiel was implying.
They were silent after that. Dean strumming Stairway to Heaven with the gentleness of a love song as they peered up at the pinpricks of light scattered above their heads. From across the lake a dog barked, and behind them in the distance Becky’s laugh and Chuck’s groan of embarrassment rung out. The slosh and sway of black water subtly tilted the pier back and forth, as if it were breathing with them.
The air was undoubtedly chilled, and over time Dean’s arm came to press against Castiel’s warm side. When the final notes of the song drifted and swirled over the lake to be heard by whoever was living in the homes on the far far end, Castiel sighed.
“Dean -”
Ba-BUMFP!
“The fuck?” Dean scrambled to his feet in time with Castiel as the entire pier shuddered beneath their feet. Cas clamped on to Dean’s forearm for balance, lest the impact of something massive beneath them overturn him into the water.
Neither of them had to say a word of agreement as they both took off down the pier and squealed to a halt once they’d reached the blessed sand. They turned, Dean’s fingers now wrapped firmly around Castiel’s wrist as they gawked out at the inky waves that splashed around the dock.
They waited - and waited - and nothing. The water calmed, the air was still, and Dean’s heart had crawled into his throat.
“What the hell was that, Cas? A fuckin’ sturgeon?”
“I -” Castiel didn’t jerk from Dean’s hold, but he cocked his head and began to walk to the softly lapping shore.
Dean jerked him roughly back and then released him with a glower. “Dude. You don’t have to be a lifeguard to know that you don’t actually walk towards aggressive shit in the water.”
Cas frowned up at him, his brow creasing in a totally not-adorable puppy dog way. “It must have been a catfish or turtle who hadn’t seen the bars of the pier.”
“And a catfish could make the entire fucking dock rock?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know. Oh good. Well if you don’t know then fuck if anyone else would.” Dean threw his hands up in the air, his entire guitar swinging up as he nearly hit himself in the head with it. “Whatever that thing is - it’s huge, Cas. And it’s either blind like you said - or it’s mean.”
“Animals are not mean, Dean.”
Dean stared at Castiel. Blinked. Castiel stared back. Didn’t blink.
Dean sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Well, whatever it was, it was creepy. Don’t go out to the piers late at night, alright? I don’t wanna fish you outta the lake in the morning.”
“What a charming way to say you care.” Cas almost looked like he was smiling - but a distant worry remained in his eyes, as if he were somewhere else, thinking about something else.
Dean snorted. “Whatever. Just doin’ my job.” He turned and bumped Castiel’s shoulder with his own. “I’ll walk you back. Make sure you don’t get eaten by a bear on the way.”
They began walking together; side by side, too close.
“It’s unlikely a bear would eat me, but I have seen cougar in the area. With cubs. They’ll have grown up now.”
“God, you’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”
Castiel’s laugh was subtle, faint. “I could say the same about you.”
“Yeah, well I’m amazing, so.”
Castiel made a noncommittal noise - and jangled nerves or not, Dean had to laugh.
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Length: ~3800
Spoilers: None
Warnings: The usual spookiness of any SPN episode. Also, unbeta'ed, mistakes mine.
Summary: Summer lovin’ happened so fa-aast... and so did the supernatural shenanigans.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
A/N: This began as a comment!fic meme reply to the prompt: Sleep-away camp AU. Dean is a lifeguard, Castiel is the nature counsellor.
Dean Winchester fell for Castiel when - no, scratch that. Let’s not sugar coat this.
One day, a guy that Dean didn’t know fell on him, and it was probably one of the most painful experiences of his life.
Falling for this guy was a long, excruciating journey - mostly because they were rolling down a steep, sandy hill that had old planks of wood cut into the decline as makeshift stairs, and Dean was fairly sure he was going to break his neck on one of them as they toppled down in a tangle of limbs.
The landing was about as shitty as the fall, especially when a gangly guy dropped on top of him with a soft ooph.
“Motherfucking OW,” Dean bellowed once he was able to breathe again. He would have scrambled to his feet, but he was fairly certain he’d broken a rib or something and if he moved it was like going to jab a lung.
The guy on top of him - all big lake blue eyes and dark curling hair - blinked down, one cheek smeared with mud and blood.
“You shouldn’t yell.”
“I’ll yell if I goddamn want to - I think you broke something!”
“Don’t be dramatic,” the stranger said matter-of-factly as he rolled off Dean and onto his back with a low groan. “I think I broke something.”
Dean would have laughed if he hadn’t been busy sucking in his last dying breaths.
“And who the hell’s fault is that?”
“I tripped.”
Dean’s knee was singing as fiercely as death-metal, and that was really the only reason why he remained lying there, staring up at the early morning sunlight dappling through the tall trees.
“Those stairs are literally the steps of hell,” Dean said as he lifted his palms to eye-level and inspected the abrasions and scrapes.
What a way to begin his first year as a counsellor. For the first time Dean looked like he’d been in a fight and it wasn’t actually the case. Well, if anyone asked, he’d just say he fought a cougar, and that you should see the other guy.
A shuffle and hiss alerted Dean to the person beside him sitting up - and not wanting to be outdone, Dean did the same. As they both made their wobbly way to standing, Dean finally got to really inspect his clumsy assailant.
Scarred, well-worn hiking boots that went mid-calf, coltish, knobby-kneed legs that were already bruising, khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt sporting Long Lake Summer Camp’s logo of a setting sun over a wavy line of water. A cleft-chin that was kind of fascinating, chapped lips and a sharp nose - and more leaves and twigs than hair at this point.
Dean couldn’t help but grin. The guy looked just about as worse for wear as Dean was, so that was some essence of comfort.
Without a second thought, Dean reached forward and began to pick the foliage from the counsellor’s hair. Because this guy totally had Wholesome Camp Counsellor written all over him.
“I’m Castiel,” he said as he nearly went cross-eyed trying to look up at what Dean was doing.
Dean swiped his hands through Castiel’s soft hair and sent sand flying in all directions. He laughed and dropped his hands to his sides. “Dean.”
“Hello Dean.” Castiel’s voice was too low, too growly for the pretty eyes and pale skin. It almost unnerved Dean.
“Yeah, hi. Um, anyway, why didn’t I see you in the introductory counsellor weekend?”
Castiel’s mouth twisted into a little scowl. “My brother drove me, and he was late.”
“Two days late?”
“He’s very good at being late, and no one will fire him.”
“Wait,” Dean huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Your brother works here too?”
Castiel nodded.
“Why won’t they fire him?”
Castiel shrugged faintly and wiped his sandy hands on his shirt. “He always comes back.”
Dean gave him an incredulous look. “Just who is your brother?”
“Gabriel, the camp nurse.”
“Gabriel? Shit, I heard that guy is terrifying.”
“He does rather enjoy the unnecessary use of peroxide on wounds.”
Dean winced. In the distance, up the hill and into the woods, a bell tolled haunting and hollow. Both he and Castiel looked dubiously into the forest.
Dean sighed. “I guess that’s breakfast begun. I was gonna take a swim beforehand.” Dean looked down at his bloodied knees, then up at Castiel with a half-glare. “Looks like I’m gonna have to visit Gabriel instead.”
“You don’t have to,” Castiel replied, his voice taking on a strangely breathless quality. “I know first-aid. Come to my cabin and I’ll attend to your injuries. You’ll miss breakfast, but I have a bag of gummy worms in my room.”
Dean peered quizzically down at Castiel for a moment before his face broke into a grin. “You know food’s not allowed in our cabins, right?”
Castiel looked perfectly serious. “Gummy worms are more important than rules.”
And that was how Dean ended up sitting on some strange guy’s bed in the middle of the forest while said guy was on his knees before Dean - patching up his legs, of course.
“Dude,” Dean said with a scowl. “Don’t put band-aids on my knees. I’m not ten.”
“How will you stave off infection otherwise?” Castiel said, completely ignoring Dean’s request and pressing a large, square band-aid to Dean’s knee.
Dean rolled his eyes and lightly kicked his foot up, silently indicating that Castiel could back out of his personal space now. Dean’s toes were all mucked up and scraped too, because unlike Castiel, Dean had been wearing flip flops when he’d fallen. Who the hell wore hiking boots in the middle of summer, anyway?
“Who the hell wears hiking boots in the middle of summer, anyway?” Dean said, because he’d never been very good at keeping his thoughts locked up.
Castiel stood and peered down at Dean with a withering look that made him feel miniscule. “Allow me to make a guess. You’re a lifeguard, not a full counsellor.”
Dean frowned. “How’d you know?”
Castiel gestured to Dean’s red board shorts, the camp t-shirt, his beaded anklet, and the whistle around his neck. “It wasn’t difficult to figure out.”
“Are you saying I’m a stereotype?” Dean asked with something that totally wasn’t a pout.
“I’m saying you’re easy to read.”
“I’m not. I’m mysterious.” Dean lurched from the bed, checking his waterproof watch for the time.
Castiel was rummaging through a drawer. He looked up with what might’ve been a smile, but was gone before Dean could tell.
Dean caught the flying bag of gummy worms with a short laugh. He ripped the crinkling plastic open and shoved a handful of candy into his mouth.
“Breakfast of champions,” he said with chipmunk cheeks.
Soon after, they headed out of the room and into the morning air that was already growing sticky and thick.
“Hey.” Dean nudged his bruised elbow against Castiel’s skinny side. “So are you a full counsellor or what? You look barely older than me, if at all.”
Castiel spared him a glance as they hiked up the dirt trail that connected the staff cabins and the dining hall. “I’m nineteen and this is my second year working at Long Lake. I’m in charge of two cabins, as well as leading nature hikes and giving survival lessons.”
Damn, Castiel was actually a year older than him. Dean wasn’t in charge of any kids yet - he was just here to lifeguard from nine to nine, basically. The sun didn’t set until then anyway, and there were kids at the lake almost from dusk till dawn. But some days Dean would get to be trained to be a real counsellor next year, and he couldn’t wait until then.
“Survival lessons?” Dean asked with a laugh. “I could break you in half, man.”
Castiel paused as they approached the dining hall, which was clamouring with children. He gave Dean another one of those frighteningly stony looks.
“You could try.”
Dean gulped and mustered a cocky grin. “On my own time. Anyway, you’re late. See ya around, Cas.”
Before Castiel could reply, Dean was turning and holding up a hand in a vague wave as he wandered back to the beach. Despite the sour start to the morning, Dean found himself smiling for the rest of the day.
***
There wasn’t even a breeze as Dean felt a trickle of sweat slick down his spine. He’d shucked his shirt hours ago and was chugging water like he was doing laps rather than sitting on a twenty foot high bench that overlooked Long Lake’s sliver of beach. The flash and spark of sunlight on lapping waves was blinding enough that Dean opted for his oversized sunglasses as he gazed watchfully over the splashing group of eleven year olds.
Anna, a pretty flame-haired counsellor who filled out a bikini nicely, was in the water with nine of her twelve campers. One girl sat on the wobbly pier’s edge, with her feet dipped in the water as she likely watched minnows and sunfish flicker around her toes. The remaining two girls were, well -
“Hi Deeean,” chimed twin voices that Dean had come to know as Casey and Caroline - no relation to each other. What they did have in common was a severe infatuation with Dean that, over the week that he’d been here, had become the source of way too much teasing from Anna.
Dean looked over the side of his perch, tipped his glasses down his nose and grinned. “Hey ladies, how’s it hangin?”
The girls looked like they were going to combust from the attention at any moment, so Dean toned down the smile a notch. Couldn’t send some poor underage girls into heat stroke, now could he?
Casey went into a long narrative about her morning and how she’d seen a baby deer - which actually did interest Dean as much as Bambi could grasp his attention - but something in the water caught Dean’s eye.
A flash of something, ten feet past the pier and in the deepest swimming area allotted for campers. A slink of something inky and long beneath the waves, and then gone like an apparition. Something and then nothing.
Dean repressed a shiver despite the sweltering heat that stuck to his skin like honey. Casey and Caroline were white noise in his ears as he narrowed his eyes on the girl still splashing at the edge of the dock. The water around her looked clear; with his sunglasses cutting through the errant sunlight, Dean could see through the five feet of glassy, sepia lake.
“Are you gonna have dinner at our table again tonight?” Caroline asked, jolting Dean from his concentration.
“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, probably. If Anna will have me.” Dean pasted on a smile and wiggled his eyebrows. “And I don’t see how she could deny me, right?”
The girls’ faces flushed bright as a sunburn as they squealed their agreements and scurried away with secretive giggles. Dean usually would have gotten pleasure out of encouraging a silly summer crush that the campers could look back on fondly when they were older - but frankly, Dean had kind of creeped himself out here.
What in this lake was actually that big - that swift and eerie?
Well, if there was one person to ask about the native wildlife, Dean knew who it was.
***
It wasn’t until after dinner and the kids had been scooted off to their bunks that Dean had a chance to approach Castiel. Technically he could have sat at Castiel’s table for the evening meal, but Dean had a weird niggle at the back of his throat at the idea of inviting himself beside a guy he hardly knew.
A week had passed since that first tumble, and just as Dean’s bruises still ached and blotched his skin, the memory of slow to smile lips and a steady voice refused to fade.
It was actually kind of annoying - and probably another reason why Dean had kept his distance from Cas all this time. He felt tight in his chest when he saw Castiel, and it wasn’t something he was interesting in pursuing. Something makes you uncomfortable? You walk away. Simple as that.
And fuck - he was putting too much thought into this. Whatever, it wasn’t like Dean was nervous or anything. They had interacted a grand total of once, and there was no other connotation to be slapped on to the situation.
With a scowl screwed on his face, Dean carefully made his way down the poorly lit Hill Stairs from Hell. It was past ten and pitch-dark but for a few dingy floodlights that lined the walkway once you cleared the forest. Something buzzed past Dean’s ear and he smacked the side of his neck with enough force to cause himself to wince.
Relax, man. He might not even be around.
Some of the counsellors went to bed at the same time as the campers, while others opted to have some breathing time down by the beach. Most sat around a fire pit and chatted, laughed, shot the shit. Some of them skinny dipped together when they thought no one else was looking.
Dean didn’t approve of the latter for the obvious safety reasons - but he wasn’t lame, so he wouldn’t say a word.
Crossing the beach, the heels of his flip-flops kicking up cool sand, Dean meandered toward the campfire in the distance. He could already see that Cas wasn’t among them, even from this distance - just Anna, Chuck and Becky tonight. No dark, mussed hair or nerdy khaki shorts.
He was about to turn tail and leave when he spotted someone sitting on the edge of the pier, swallowed in the glimmering black waves and lit white and glowing beneath the high half moon.
Dean grinned and set out across the beach. Away from the tangerine warmth of the fire, from the flickering flood flights, and into the silver-edged darkness.
“Cas,” Dean said, not wanting to scare the guy before he went clomping down the rickety, creaking boards. The entire thin dock wobbled slightly beneath his feet as he approached Castiel’s back.
Cas didn’t flinch - just looked up and over his shoulder with slow curve of lips. His eyes reflected the pale lustre of the moon.
“Hello Dean. Be careful with your guitar, you don’t want to drop it in the water.”
“What? Oh.”
Dean had forgotten he’d been holding his acoustic by the neck. He wasn’t much for singing in public, but he thought it wouldn’t hurt to play some stuff by the fire. No stupid camp songs, though. Only the good stuff, like rock power ballads.
Back in the days when Dad had been more sober, he’d played for Dean and Sam - sang melodies of Johnny Cash and Leonard Cohen in that world-roughened voice. It had been nice. Nowadays, strumming the strings still brought up only good memories for Dean, and that was something to which he clung.
“Have a seat,” Cas said, his words raspy and scraping delicately along Dean’s skin. Castiel scooted over and Dean hunkered down beside him. They both sat indian-style, their knees overlapping in the centre because the pier was just barely wide enough to handle too nearly-grown men sitting side by side.
Dean briefly considered small talk, but he hated that shit, so instead he said, “So what kinda big, creepy shit lives in this lake?”
Castiel cast him a curious glance. “There are no animals in this lake which I would deem creepy.”
“And big animals?”
Cas hummed under his breath, placed his palms upon his knees - and consequently brushed up against Dean’s leg.
Dean shivered, and not from the cold.
Cas raised his face to the speckled stars, his voice emerging low and even, soothing.
“Every morning at dawn a great snapping turtle comes onto this beach. He must be around fifty years old - older - and large as a cocker spaniel. He is absolutely magnificent.”
“What? We’ve practically got a teenage mutant ninja turtle camping out in the lake and no one is worried they’re gonna get chunk bit outta them?”
Cas huffed a soft laugh. “He is far too intelligent for that, Dean. You should see his shell. Scarred by hundreds of battles - a true warrior of this lake. He’s its guardian. He’s not going to hurt anything or anyone unless it’s lunch.”
Dean was highly doubtful that a fucking turtle had that level of cognisance, but he wasn’t going to burst Castiel’s Pocahontas bubble. Especially not when he sounded so deathly serious about it.
Although that could’ve just been how Cas sounded all the time.
“What else?” Dean pressed.
“Lake Sturgeon,” Cas said as he subtly shifted to face Dean a bit more than the lake. “Three to five feet long and ten to eighty pounds.”
“Jesus fuck.” Dean wasn’t a ‘fraidy cat or anything - not by a long mile - but fish like that were goddamn creepy. And it sounded just about the length of what he’d seen this afternoon.
“They’re rare, but there have been reported sightings in Long Lake. Additionally, I’ve only heard of one ever being caught here, which leads me to believe there are some very...” Castiel’s voice dropped, as if he was getting off on freaking Dean out - the bastard. “Large beasts out there.”
“Awesome,” Dean said with a glare. “What else?”
“Muskellunge, Northern Pike, some soft-shell turtles. There are several species of water-snake, but they’re long and not particularly large. Why are you asking?”
Dean shrugged and settled his guitar properly on his knee. He plucked the opening notes to Stairway to Heaven, and the melody skipped and danced out across the lake, echoing back to them like a mermaid’s seductive song.
“I saw the shadow of something huge in the lake today. Fuck, it was like five or so more feet from where we’re sitting now. Just wanted to know it wasn’t something that would like, pull a Jaws on one of the kids, y’know?”
Dean flicked a glance to Cas, who was watching Dean’s fingers idly flicker over the strings.
“I’m sure it was nothing serious,” Castiel said after an overly-long pause that had Dean’s breath going humid and thick. “Small fish tend to kick up dust, make noise. Despite popular belief, larger predators of the water are attracted to scuffling, sand clouds, and water skirmishes. When they hear children playing in the shallows, they’ll come and investigate, realise the child is too big to be eaten, and swim off.”
“Right. And wiggling, edible toes splashing in the water?”
Cas looked up, his eyes bright and his teeth flashing in a genuine grin. “Toes are sometimes a casualty of war.”
“Dude, you’re an asshole,” Dean said, but he was battling a rumble of laughter.
“You said it first. Anyway, I’ve been coming to this lake since I was a child and I’ve only heard of one instance where someone had their toe seriously bitten - and they managed to keep it.”
“You’ve been coming here that long?”
Cas nodded. “Home away from home, I suppose. Or perhaps my favourite home.”
Dean thought of the home he was going back to and found that he could kind of relate to whatever Castiel was implying.
They were silent after that. Dean strumming Stairway to Heaven with the gentleness of a love song as they peered up at the pinpricks of light scattered above their heads. From across the lake a dog barked, and behind them in the distance Becky’s laugh and Chuck’s groan of embarrassment rung out. The slosh and sway of black water subtly tilted the pier back and forth, as if it were breathing with them.
The air was undoubtedly chilled, and over time Dean’s arm came to press against Castiel’s warm side. When the final notes of the song drifted and swirled over the lake to be heard by whoever was living in the homes on the far far end, Castiel sighed.
“Dean -”
Ba-BUMFP!
“The fuck?” Dean scrambled to his feet in time with Castiel as the entire pier shuddered beneath their feet. Cas clamped on to Dean’s forearm for balance, lest the impact of something massive beneath them overturn him into the water.
Neither of them had to say a word of agreement as they both took off down the pier and squealed to a halt once they’d reached the blessed sand. They turned, Dean’s fingers now wrapped firmly around Castiel’s wrist as they gawked out at the inky waves that splashed around the dock.
They waited - and waited - and nothing. The water calmed, the air was still, and Dean’s heart had crawled into his throat.
“What the hell was that, Cas? A fuckin’ sturgeon?”
“I -” Castiel didn’t jerk from Dean’s hold, but he cocked his head and began to walk to the softly lapping shore.
Dean jerked him roughly back and then released him with a glower. “Dude. You don’t have to be a lifeguard to know that you don’t actually walk towards aggressive shit in the water.”
Cas frowned up at him, his brow creasing in a totally not-adorable puppy dog way. “It must have been a catfish or turtle who hadn’t seen the bars of the pier.”
“And a catfish could make the entire fucking dock rock?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know. Oh good. Well if you don’t know then fuck if anyone else would.” Dean threw his hands up in the air, his entire guitar swinging up as he nearly hit himself in the head with it. “Whatever that thing is - it’s huge, Cas. And it’s either blind like you said - or it’s mean.”
“Animals are not mean, Dean.”
Dean stared at Castiel. Blinked. Castiel stared back. Didn’t blink.
Dean sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Well, whatever it was, it was creepy. Don’t go out to the piers late at night, alright? I don’t wanna fish you outta the lake in the morning.”
“What a charming way to say you care.” Cas almost looked like he was smiling - but a distant worry remained in his eyes, as if he were somewhere else, thinking about something else.
Dean snorted. “Whatever. Just doin’ my job.” He turned and bumped Castiel’s shoulder with his own. “I’ll walk you back. Make sure you don’t get eaten by a bear on the way.”
They began walking together; side by side, too close.
“It’s unlikely a bear would eat me, but I have seen cougar in the area. With cubs. They’ll have grown up now.”
“God, you’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”
Castiel’s laugh was subtle, faint. “I could say the same about you.”
“Yeah, well I’m amazing, so.”
Castiel made a noncommittal noise - and jangled nerves or not, Dean had to laugh.