Chapter Text
Dean waited impatiently, his legs swinging above the asphalt, and ass getting sore from sitting on one of the wooden posts surrounding the camp's tiny parking lot. Since kids got dropped off at another part of the site, only the staff were allowed to park here. Indeed, Deans '67 Chevy Impala was in his line of site, and on the days between sessions, he would come out here and make sure she was still OK. Hell, sometimes he took the trek from his assigned cabin over here to see her. This day, however, wasn't just about Baby. Dean was out here sweating his balls off because his former co-worker got the chickenpox-what the hell kind of adult gets them?-and he had been reassigned a new one. With a sigh, Dean shifted his ass in the futile attempt to make it more comfortable, and took a swig from his water bottle before pouring the some over his head.
Another ten minutes went by, and he could hear the lunch bell coming from the mess hall. Damned if I miss cheeseburger night, he thought while sliding off the post. That sucker can find his own way. Dean began to the jaunt towards food, when his ears picked up the unmistakable sound of a wheezing engine. Talk about timing. Shaking his head, Dean turned around to see an old and beat up tan 1987 Lincoln Continental pull into the gravel lot and putter around to the only remaining parking spot left. It's a fucking pimpmobile! He almost laughs out loud. Smirking, he saunters over to the car just as the driver’s side opens, a joke on his lips about pimps recruiting underage kids from summer camps.
A short young man emerges from the car, and for the first few moments has his back to Dean.
“Hey, newbie, if you are going to drive a...a…” his voice trails off into incomprehensive strangled noises. The man had turned around and now all Dean can focus on are a pair of vivid blue eyes, and the desire to not make an ass out of himself.
“You are Dean?” the newcomer queries. His voice is lower than expected, and could probably do a damned fine narrating a documentary. Sticking out a hand, he continues “My name is Castiel. You are the Dean I am co-counselor with, correct?”
"Uh, yeah! Dean is me.” He takes Castiel’s hand and because he can’t help it, blurts out "What the hell kind of name is that?" following through with a mental kick to the junk.
"It is a religious one" Castiel replies, looking faintly amused. "You can blame my Father for that one. In any case, everyone calls me Cas." There is a slight pause, with both staring at each other, until Castiel raises a dark brow. "As much as I enjoy holding your hand Dean, I don't think handshakes usually last this long."
"Ah, right. They don't." He drops Cas' hand, and hopes that his red ears can be blamed on the heat. "Uh…” He begins, trying to collect his thoughts. “Uh, lunch is already being served, but there are usually leftovers if you want to move into the cabin first."
While Castiel thinks on this, Dean takes a moment to examine his new roommate further. Khaki shorts reveal legs shaped like a runner's, while underneath the loose white Nike t-shirt rests the broad shoulders of a swimmer. Not to mention those impossible blue eyes...
"I think I would prefer to move in first, if you don't mind waiting" Castiel decides, snapping Dean back to the present. He begins to unload his trunk, which apart from the standard sleeping bag and pillow, contains only a backpack.
"Dude, did you forget to pack some things?"
"Uh, I don't think so.” Castiel gives Dean a questioning look as he slings the pack over one his shoulder.
"Cas, I had a hockey-sized duffle bag. You do realize we are here for six more weeks?"
"There was a list. A change of clothes for warm weather, which I am wearing. A change of clothes for cool weather. Raincoat. Baseball cap-actually, should I put that on now?"
"It doesn't mat-you only brought one change of clothes?! Cas, you do realize that laundry is only done once the session ends which is two weeks away." He sighs "Please tell me you have two weeks of clean underwear in there."
A smile flickers on Castiel's lips. "I may, I may not. You won't get to see."
"OK then, someone never heard the Boy Scout motto" Dean mutters under his breath. Suddenly his stomach lets loose a savage growl, and he winces in embarrassment.
“Are you positive you do not wish for food first?” Castiel asks, not quite smirking.
In response, Dean begins to walk brusquely towards the path which leads to their cabin. Unlike the area by the parking lot and outside the mess hall, the trails to the different cabins are in the woods. While the paths are easily spotted in the day, trampled into dirt over the years, the tall trees and mountain vegetation on the sides have more than once disorientated a new camper who needed a midnight bathroom trip.
"So the paths here can seem pretty convoluted at first, but you should get used to them within a week” Dean begins, his voice taking on the tone of someone who knows his shit. “The younger kids are closest to the mess hall, so they don't have as far to walk" he gestures at the cabins to the left and right. "And though the cabins have sinks and a shower, if you need to take a crap or a piss, there are outhouses scattered here and there. I know since we are guys, it is easier to whip out our junk and take a piss behind a tree, but you have to keep in mind that there are girl cabins around here as well, and I don't think any of us wish to get arrested." Dean had ended off that last bit as a joke, but when he looked over his shoulder towards Cas, the man was nodding as though feigning an interest during a dry history lecture.
Feeling exasperated, Dean fully turns around, hands resting on his hips. “Dude, are you even paying attention?”
“Of course I am, Dean. Now please turn around so I can continue doing so.”
Confused, Dean continues forward, while unbeknownst to him Castiel keeps his eyes on the denim-clad butt in just ahead. It is only another couple of minutes before they reach their destination.
“So, here’s home” Dean says, heading to the door. Castiel remains a few paces behind, his head cocked as he reads the name on the signpost.
“Our home is ‘The Chattering Chipmunks?”
Dean grimaced “Well, ‘The Bucking Broncos’ was taken over by the teenage girls this year, and I wasn’t about to argue with them”. Dean opens the door, holding it for Cas to get through.
“Thank you, Dean. I am going to look around.”
“Well, there isn’t much to actually see, though you should remember now nice and neat it all is. Ten to eleven year old boys aren’t exactly the tidiest bunch of munchkins.” He watches while Castiel pokes around the room, and is a bit surprised when the guy pulls out a camera. “Wait, seriously?”
Castiel nods. “I wish to document my time here. Smile Dean!” There is a click, and Cas looks at the screen. “I believe I have captured your essence of surprise quite well. Also the lighting is good, brings out your eyes.”
Staring with mild disbelief, again Dean is forced to compose himself. “Uh, so as you can see, there are ten bunk beds. Ours is in the middle so we can keep an eye-stop taking photos!-on the kids. Now do you prefer the top or the bottom?”
“I think I am more of a top, Dean” Castiel replies, eyes glinting.
“OK, so I will take the bottom and…what?” He catches Cas’ eyes, confused.
“I didn’t know you meant which bunk I preferred.” Brushing past Dean, he removes the other man’s stuff and throws it on the top bunk, while arranging his own below. Straightening up, Castiel’s face is now a pinky-length’s away from Dean’s. “I believe I am going to enjoy myself here” he says softly, corners of his lips curled.
Dean’s breath hitches in his throat, but before he can reply, Castiel is already headed out the door calling out “Cheeseburgers!” at the top of his lungs. And though a cold shower was probably in order, Dean winds up following.