DCBB: Welcome To Camp Wendigo (part 2)
Part One
* * * *
Now that Dean knew a little about Castiel, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. Several times throughout the week he thought, what must’ve it been like to be an angel? Dean had never in his life believed in angels, but then he’d heard rumors about them all throughout the past year. Of course, he was “a kid” so no one would tell him anything. Bullshit.
According to Cas he’d been a back up plan in jumpstarting the apocalypse, however that worked. At least the angel was honest with him, even if he spoke in a way that Dean didn’t entirely understand everything he said. He wouldn’t be able to understand everything. Castiel probably understood things no human ever would, from the mysteries of quantum physics, to all that was contained in the vastness of the universe’s stars.
And for some reason he’d sacrificed all that, and all that power, to live amongst humans and work at the world’s most niche market for a summer camp. Stuck getting drunk with Dean and Jo and Rufus, letting the alcohol nurse away his guilt for something he shouldn’t even feel guilty about. His vessel, whoever he was, would’ve died anyway. And so would’ve Claire too.
Well, probably. Claire was marginally terrifying. She kept eyeing him from across the dinner table like she knew what he was thinking about.
“Yes? What?”
“You’re not eating your macaroni.”
“Yes I am,” Dean grumbled, and took a bite.
“With gusto, Dean! This isn’t fat camp! What happened to going for seconds?”
Dean rolled his eyes and told Claire to finish her damn carrot sticks. He was allowed to drift off in thought occasionally. It wasn’t common, certainly not around food, but Claire doesn’t know his life story.
It was Friday, so there was an extra buzz of excitement around camp, with everyone looking forward to the weekend schedule. Morning was still more down to business on the weekend, but everyone got to sleep in. There was also less time spent in the library, and much more opportunity for choice. That’s what had the campers excited anyway. The counselors were mostly excited because Friday nights were always nights where they got away, enjoying drinking and campfires. Occasionally Rufus brought them to town, but not often.
Dean arrived last to the circle of trees, so the fire was already roaring and the girls were roasting some kind of thing covered in aluminum foil. “Roasted chicken and veggies,” Anna explained. “My family used to cook like this when we went camping.”
Dean nodded and sat down next to Castiel, and then realized that he’d just sat down next to Castiel. It was so automatic, he hadn’t even thought about it. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. Somehow. He looked around, hoping no one had noticed, but Ash caught his eye and mouthed, “Your boy,” with an evil little smirk.
Castiel, bless him, didn’t notice anything strange or uneasy, and immediately began talking to Dean about his growing confidence with the canoe, and how he was enjoying the human process of learning. The way it differed from how he’d learned as an angel. It was kind of boring.
Dean wound up telling him about how he’d become a hunter in the first place. How his mother died, and his father’s revenge, and growing up with Sammy. How this whole summer camp started, and how it was the best times of his life at this camp, except for how he was always glad for it to be done, because he missed his brother a whole lot by the end of it.
“I’m sorry for messing up your cabin arrangement. I knew it was upsetting you from the start, but-“
Dean waved his hand. “There wasn’t anything you could do about it.”
“You’re still angry.”
“Maybe a little,” Dean shrugged. Castiel tilted his head as he continued looking at Dean, like he was trying to inspect Dean’s every motivation.
“You can’t like, read minds, right?”
“Not so much anymore.”
“Well, good,” said Dean. He realized, suddenly that a lot of time had passed. The fire was half its size, Ash and Jo were thoroughly drunk, and all the normal activities of drinking and accidentally starting fires and whatever else had been going on. Meanwhile Dean had hardly noticed it, somehow sucked into his own little world, like he and Cas were the only two people in the entire forest.
Super weird. Probably some effect that Castiel’s residual angel powers had. Making it easier to converse with him or something. That would totally be a useful trick to have up your sleeve. Dean shook it off.
He clapped his hand on Castiel’s thigh. “Well Cas, about time we get ourselves something to drink. Beer?”
“I’m guessing you will not be challenging me to anymore drinking competitions,” Castiel smiled.
“Hell no. But I can get you a beer.”
“Thank you,” he said, and the look on his face could only be described as fond. Dean was maybe ready to reevaluate his dislike of the guy.
* * * *
Saturday morning Dean had a good long sleep in. By the time he woke, most of the kids in his cabin had dressed and left already, to go watch cartoons in the game room. Or at least, that’s where Dean assumed they all went. That’s where kids usually wound up on Saturday mornings until Rufus got the breakfast ready. He’d been drunk with the rest of them, so breakfast usually wasn’t until 9:30 or even 10:00, but on Saturdays there wasn’t an official schedule to keep.
Dean threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and headed up to the mess hall. Breakfast probably wouldn’t be up yet, but it would be soon, and Dean wanted to find Sam. It had been a whole week and Dean had seen less of him this summer than any summer in his life. All the more infuriating, as it was supposed to be the exact opposite this year, but Dean’s responsibilities kept taking him away.
Sam was leaning outside the Crossroads cabin, eating a candy bar from one of the vending machines. “Sammy!” Dean waved probably too enthusiastically, and almost certainly looking like a total dork, happy to see his jerk little brother. “How’ve you been?”
Sam groaned, tipping his head over so far it was resting on his shoulder in mock exhaustion. “Worst. Summer. Ever,” he proclaimed.
Dean rolled his eyes and punched him on the shoulder. Sam said this every summer. But it still hurt Dean a little every year. He knew Sam really did like it here. Here is where he belonged. Where all of the weird things he accidentally said out loud in class during the school year, were things that made sense and were appreciated. This was the place where the kid who didn’t have a knife collection was a weirdo. It was where they both belonged, and they both knew that if they were at any other summer camp, that’s when it really would be the worst summer ever.
But that didn’t make it any better. Especially when Dean was supposed to be there for him this year. He was supposed to be making sure it was the best summer either of them had ever had. Fucking angels.
“Dude, we need to hang out today. What do you wanna do?”
“I’m actually…” Sam trailed off and scratched behind his ear. “Actually I’m going out hiking today. With a girl from my cabin.”
“Oh, with a girl?” Dean taunted.
“Yeah. With Jess. So…”
“So you don’t wanna hang out with your awesome big brother, that’s what your saying. Even though you’ve seen Jess practically 24/7 everyday this week, you’re bailing on me.”
“We didn’t even have plans. Besides, we went canoeing. Relax,” Sam took the last bite of his candy bar and shoved the wrapper into the pocket of his jeans. “I’ll catch you later Dean.”
That afternoon, Ben and several of the kids from the Crossroads Cabin decided they wanted to put together a baseball game. Dean tried to remember the last time anyone tried to play an actual baseball game, and not just play a game of catch, or throwing the ball up for themselves so they could hit it. More commonly kids played basketball or soccer. It was just less ambitious to try and organize.
“I’ll see if I can get the equipment ready for you guys, but no promises I can find everything.”
“No problem,” said Ben. “We’ll just hang out in the game room and play foosball or whatever until you find it.”
Kid sure was horribly, annoyingly charismatic. It made it impossible for Dean to say no to him. He bounded off in the opposite direction, leaving Dean to sort through cobwebs and sports equipment.
Castiel was already in the shed, looking hopelessly through busted up equipment from a variety of sports. This shed was much smaller, and significantly more disorganized than the boating shed.
“Hello Dean,” Castiel greeted. “I’ve been sent to search for baseball supplies.”
“Ditto,” said Dean, and began rooting around in an old apple crate. He was pretty sure he’d find some gloves in there, underneath several deflated soccer balls and old t-shirts.
Castiel leaned over what Dean was doing to get to a large bin on the other side of him. The position didn’t work very well though, and Cas wound up pressed flush against Dean’s side, pinning him to the pile of broken sports supplies. He could feel the angel breathing and struggling with the bin above him, and okay…
Dean might have a distinct problem here, as a familiar heat rushed between his legs. He gulped and pushed Cas out of the way, causing the entire bin to crash to the ground.
“Sorry,” Dean gulped, refusing to look the angel in the eye. “I just… Started feeling claustrophobic.”
“My apologies,” he said, and he looked at Dean so knowingly that Dean had to remind himself that he’d said specifically the night before that he can’t read minds. He had no idea how Dean had grown affectionate for the stupid way he had no common sense for personal space, or how Dean could identify him by his smell because of it.
He definitely had no idea that Dean’s dick was half hard right now, or that it was his fault.
“Can you help me pick up this equipment, Dean?”
“No,” Dean said incredulously, still refusing eye contact. “You’re the one who dropped it.” Dean made to quickly exit the shed, but Castiel grabbed his shoulder and wheeled him around.
“Are you okay? You’re not acting like yourself.” Castiel ducked his head to meet Dean’s eyes with his own, pulling their gazes back together. And that… That wasn’t helping Dean’s situation any at all. He breathed a bit haggardly and ignored the tightening of his jeans. But as annoying as Castiel was, he was attractive. And then he had this whole other worldly power thing, and a caring about Dean thing, and recently a human innocence thing.
Dean gulped. It was a little overwhelming, and Dean was stupid enough he hadn’t realized this until his cock was throbbing and hard, and there was a guy standing two inches from his face, staring him down with a concerned look in his eyes.
“Yeah. I just need to get some goddamn air for a second. Leave me the fuck alone.” He shoved Cas out of the way and got himself out the door. The sunlight blazed down on his face, heating Dean’s already flushed skin. He supposed in this instance, thinking of baseball wouldn’t exactly be useful.
Son of a bitch. And here he’d hoped to be having a nice afternoon with his brother, and then there’s Cas fucking everything up like usual.
Castiel emerged from the shed several minutes later, his arms full of baseball gloves and a couple bats. “Feeling better?”
“What the fuck is your problem, man? Just leave me alone,” Dean glared at him.
Castiel tilted his head sympathetically, but said nothing. Dean watched him go as he carried the equipment out to the field, then he went back in the shed himself to dig out the bases and grab a few balls.
The baseball field was an overgrown mess, with patches of grass covering more than half of it, so it was a little difficult to tell where the bases were supposed to go at this point. Dean made his best guess and dropped the bases. No one actually cared, and probably only Ben would be paying enough attention to keep score. Somehow these games actually did become more about having fun with your friends, than playing a competitive game. Dean wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the lack of enough players to play a proper game in the first place. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone there was probably going to be stuck being a hunter for the rest of their life anyway, and the game by comparison was just silly and fun.
Dean picked Gwen and Ava to be team captains, so he didn’t have to bother with splitting the teams himself, and sat down on the bench. The thing with Castiel was probably just a weird fluke, he decided. Just that his body didn’t realize who was behind him, and he got caught at the wrong time.
It’s not like Dean had never hooked up with a guy before or anything. It’s definitely not like he never hooked up with someone at camp-hell when hadn’t he? It’s not even like Dean had never been with a guy at summer camp. Only, this was the first time he had a crush and didn’t know what to do about it. So clearly it wasn’t a crush, it was a mistake. A brain to dick miscommunication. He was still fairly invested in being irritated with Castiel for ruining what should’ve been the best summer ever, so this was definitely not a real thing.
Ignoring it was the best solution available.
Castiel walked over, sneaking up on Dean and his thoughts, so it was almost like he’d just suddenly appeared there, sitting next to him on the bench. “Are you keeping score?”
“No. Ben probably is, if you wanna know.”
Cas shrugged and kept looking at Dean. Dean kept his eyes trained at the ant mound by his feet.
“Ben is keeping score while he plays?”
“He’s the only one who cares. What do you care anyway? Fuck off.” Dean stood up and when he turned Castiel was staring up at him, his eyes all big and stupid and blue and gorgeous.
Dean punched him in the face before storming away, nursing his hand. He knew it was going to hurt again, but it was goddamn worth it.
* * * *
After the game (Ben declared that his team had won by two points, but Dean wasn’t sure if he was just saying that or if they’d actually won), Ava and Ben asked Dean to supervise them at the target range. Both of them were considered “too young” to be out there on their own. Bobby said he had to set a boundary somewhere with activities that were actually dangerous. So kids had to be in the Devil’s Trap cabin to be out on the range by themselves. Which was stupid, because it meant Anna never had to do her damn job.
Dean got out a few kinds of guns for the kids to shoot, and sent Ava out to set up the cans. He and Ben were just standing in a comfortable silence, when Jo stormed up. She had fixed her most indignant look on her face, and clearly was about to get all up in Dean’s business.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she fumed. She had this cute little way her nose scrunched and unscrunched when she did that, that Dean thought was hilarious. When she was younger, when she was nine and Dean was eleven, he would push her out of trees or hold her head underwater, just to see her make that stupid face. It was cuter then, when her features were young and round, but even now it retained some humor.
“Nuh-uh, no,” Jo scowled when Dean started laughing. “You are so fucked up, Dean Winchester. What on Earth is your problem with Castiel? Seriously. He’s just trying to figure out how humans operate, and how the hell he got stuck having to be around you-“
Jo stopped in mid-sentence, and just like, inspected Dean’s face. “Of for fuck’s sake, Dean.”
“What?”
She side-eyed him. Hard.
The thing about Jo is that she knew Dean like she was his sister. They’d both come to camp every summer, and occasionally they’d spent holidays together, or met up randomly during the year when a hunt brought them in proximity. Dean had known Jo since he was eight, and she was six, and Sammy was two.
So the thing was, while Dean hadn’t said anything about him and Castiel, Jo probably knew all there was to tell. She could read him like a book, and right now that book said, “I’m falling for Castiel, but I already said I hate him. So I’m going to keep hating him, even though I keep looking longingly into his eyes and sometimes I get hard when he stands close to me.”
Jo rolled her eyes, but knowing all she needed to know, turned toward the beach. “Don’t let Ava shoot anyone,” she called back. “Girl’s gotta work on her damn aim!”
* * * *
The next day was stormy, and the forecast said it would rain them out all day. Were it a weekday, they’d probably have several library hours to log, but since it was Sunday it was easy to convince Bobby into a movie day. Dean snagged a spot next to Sammy on the couch nearest the TV. It was the best spot in the house to view the old twenty-inch set. Sometimes the picture blacked out for a few seconds, but it always came back in. It was a better TV than some motel rooms anyway.
Jo and Castiel were across the room, sitting near the window. Rain streamed down the glass behind them, casting weird shadows on Jo’s long hair. They were talking in hushed tones, and it was disconcerting, because what could they be talking about besides Dean? Castiel glanced in his direction, and Dean quickly turned back to the TV, hoping he didn’t look mortified right now. He wanted to go over there and make them shut up. He didn’t like the idea of people talking about him. But he refused to cause a scene, and besides, then he would be the one who looked like an immature asshole and that was not going to happen.
Only, causing a big scene and acting like an immature asshole was basically the only maneuver in Dean’s wheelhouse, so now he was stuck doing nothing. He wondered how difficult it would be to go the rest of the summer without speaking to Castiel again.
At least he was getting to hang out with Sammy today. He’d been busy with all his camp friends, and Dean had been busy with the younger kids. But Sam did seem genuinely happy this summer. Even more so than past years.
“Why did Gennaro even go with to look at the Triceratops?” Sammy wondered aloud. “How’d he walk down that big hill with the stick up his butt?”
Dean laughed. “Maybe that’s why he needs to use the bathroom so bad later.”
Completely unprompted, Castiel came over and sat on the other side of Dean from Sam, reached into the bowl of popcorn on Dean’s lap, and started munching on a handful. He didn’t say anything. Dean’s heart started racing anyway.
What was he doing? Was this some play he was making; something Jo had talked him into? What game was Jo playing at here anyway? Did she want Castiel to talk to Dean about his goddamn feelings? Because fuck that. Dean didn’t even know what his feelings were; much less did he feel like he should go blabbing about them at some angel who didn’t even understand human emotion in the first place.
Dean turned around and shot a death glare at Jo. She smiled sweetly and gave him a thumbs up.
Sam leaned over so he could better see Castiel as they started talking about the movie. Castiel, as it turned out, had many opinions on dinosaurs. The movie was getting to the T-Rex scene, so more and more people were setting down their board games and filtering across the room to see the crappy TV screen.
Castiel made a point to catch Dean’s eye as he was looking around the room, and he smiled at him in that way of his that just… Totally ignoring the fact that Dean had now punched him in the face not once, but twice, within the week. For basically no reason, other than maybe the guy had a really nice face, and Dean wasn’t okay with that. Dean really needed a drink, because when Cas looked at him, that fond look on his face that was all in his eyes, Dean got this rush of warmth in his gut. Like, being loved or something. He realized he’d been getting that all week, ever since they’d set up the canoes.
Jesus fuck, he was in trouble. No way anyone should be looking at him like that, ever. Not even Sammy should be looking at Dean like he deserves to be loved. Fuck, and now Dean just wanted to punch Castiel in the face again. Teach him a lesson about how little Dean deserved anything.
“Much of this scene is so implausible, and yet it’s very compelling,” Castiel noted.
“You mean the part about the Tyrannosaur’s inability to smell the humans?” Sam asked.
“Among other things, but yes, that is a major fault in the premise of this scene.”
Sam did the thing then, where he scooted forward in his seat and his arms got more animated, and he and Cas talked a whole bunch of nerdy stuff about dinosaurs that Dean didn’t understand.
Castiel showed his engagement in the conversation entirely differently. He stayed sitting back on the couch, and he looked interestedly at Sam. It looked almost like he was just as interested in Sam, and the way he explained things and got excited about them, as he was in the conversation about dinosaurs and artistic decisions in filmmaking, or whatever exactly they were talking about.
The rain finally cleared up just before supper, and Bobby decided it was a good night for an all-camp bon fire. They’d been cooped up all day and needed to spend some time outside to keep the day from being a complete loss. The whole world was damp, but the firewood was kept under a tarp for just such a situation.
It would be hot dogs on the fire for dinner tonight, so everyone was sent out into the woods to find themselves a roasting stick.
“You guys don’t have any sticks here? The nice metal ones?” Maggie asked in disbelief.
“Girl, when you get stuck out in the woods because some ghost led you there, do you think you’re going to have a roasting stick?” asked Ellen. “You’re gonna have to hunt or fish whatever you get to eat, and you’ll have to figure out how to cook it on your own. Now get your ass up and find yourself a way to cook your hot dog, or you can eat it cold.”
Maggie, to her credit, didn’t say a word, but she did look at Ellen like she was completely insane. Dean was pretty sure she didn’t even believe in ghosts, and had only been sent along to look after her little brother.
Dean and Claire set out into the forest together, but it wasn’t long before Claire decided to climb a tree. “Why don’t you just get a stick that’s already fallen?” Dean asked.
“Because I can climb a tree! And I’ve been inside all day, and I can climb a tree,” she said, like it was super obvious. Dean had to admit she had a point. He kept walking in his own search. He could just go grab the sticks from the other fire pit deeper in the woods, but then he’d have to remember to bring them back later, and it was probably easier just to find another stick. It was a forest after all. It’s not like there was a shortage.
Dean kept on, glad for his jeans and hiking boots, so he didn’t have to lookout for poison ivy as it was starting to get dark. He walked through a spider web though, and waved his arms around, trying to brush the sticky stuff off, spitting out bits of web. “Puh, pfuh,” he spit loudly, brushing furiously at his neck, because he was pretty sure he felt the spider crawling there. And that’s when Castiel stumbled into him.
Like literally, into him, tripping over a log. It was like something out of a movie, or maybe just some kind of cosmic joke, and the two of them tumbled into a pile of weeds and dead leaves.
Cas was wearing some kind of overcoat or trench coat that was definitely too big for him, and somehow in the process of falling, half of the fabric had wound up under Dean, with Castiel on top of him. The whole mess left it impossible for Castiel to get up until Dean moved, but Dean, his mind muddled in panic, hadn’t quite figured it out.
Castiel peered down at him apologetically. Dean tried to push him off, and when the angel got stuck on his coat, he fell back, flush against Dean, their chins bumping together.
Dean wasn’t sure whose heart was thrumming more, his or Castiel’s. He could feel the angel’s pounding against his own chest, and when he realized that it was him causing such a reaction in an ages old angel, he panicked even more.
“Cas, get off,” Dean choked out.
Castiel’s reaction was apparently to start squirming around, trying to take his coat off. Which was, okay, not helpful at all, and given what happened the day before Dean didn’t think he really needed the guy to be on top of him, accidentally sort of… grinding against him, whilst taking off an article of clothing.
Castiel, bless him, completely ignored the way Dean’s body was reacting, even though he had to have felt it. His dick was straining against his jeans, begging for more friction. Dean breathed, and lay stock still, avoiding Castiel’s eye contact like nothing else mattered.
Finally getting his arms out of his sleeves, Castiel was more or less straddling Dean, breathing hard. He seemed like he didn’t know what to do with himself next, and didn’t move. Pushing him again would require Dean to move though, giving his dick the exact friction it wanted, and Dean didn’t know where that would lead.
Probably to embarrassment and doing things that are way to inappropriate to even think about doing with an angel. He came from Heaven, for fuck’s sake. He probably never even thinks about his dick.
“Jesus Christ, Cas. How the hell are you this clumsy?”
“Walking wasn’t something that was necessary until recently, I suppose,” he replied, but he still didn’t move. He was sitting as awkwardly still as Dean was, and there was no way around it, Dean was going to have to move.
Then Cas pressed down. And the full weight of the situation, and Castiel’s cock, hit Dean. Cas was hard too, at least as hard as Dean was, and he was blushing, as he tried to get up without Dean knowing.
Dean stopped a moan in his throat, and Castiel looked down at him. Caught up in the feeling of Cas’ dick hard against his, Dean had forgotten about his intentions to avoid eye contact, and Castiel looked worried. Of course, he’d probably never been in this situation before. Dude wasn’t even used to walking through the woods, the likelihood that he would have had… dick…situations. Pretty unlikely.
Dean tried to make his face look reassuring. “Uh, it’s okay, man.”
Castiel shifted again and Dean closed his eyes against the ripples of pleasure that went up his spine and back down through his dick again. Then the friction was gone, and Dean felt cold, and Castiel was running off through the trees, leaving Dean alone, laying on the guy’s trench coat. He let his head fall back into the leaves and sighed, rubbing himself through his jeans.
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* * * *
Daily Itinerary: Silver Cabin (Week 4-8)
7:00 AM- Breakfast
7:30- Return to cabins to brush teeth, finish any daily organizing you failed to complete prior to breakfast. (It is mandatory that all campers complete personal hygiene tasks!)
8:00-9:00- Hiking (Dean Winchester instructing)
9:15-10:15- Hand to Hand Combat & Target Range practice (Dean Winchester & Jo Harville instructing)
10:30- Snack break
10:45-11:45- Library & Arts and Crafts (Dean Winchester & Castiel instructing)
12:00 PM- Lunch
1:00- Free Choice.
Dean stood in the mess hall, looking over his daily schedule for the second half of camp. He rubbed a hand over his face and turned to Rufus. “Make my coffee a double portion. Looks like I’m hiking in the mornings from now on.”
He made a point to ignore the point on his schedule where he’d be tag teaming with Castiel. They’d seen each other on a daily basis since the night in the woods, but spent the last three weeks pretending it never happened. Three weeks was like three years, camp time, so Dean figured it was firmly in the past. Or at least it had been, before they were put on the schedule together.
Dean was perhaps a bit worried his attractions would be rejuvenated with increased exposure to him. He’d spent the last few weeks valiantly convincing himself of all the ways Castiel was not perfect. He didn’t want to think about it. So ignoring it and focusing on one thing at a time, hiking first, was clearly the way to go.
“Like having first period P.E. class for half the summer,” Jo grinned. “Ouch.” She grabbed the Silver Cabin schedule and smirked, tossing a wink in Dean’s direction. “Looks like you’ve got your day cut out for you.”
“That’s why they give it to the younger kids first,” Dean sighed, paying no attention to Jo’s insinuation. “They actually like it. And you can shut up or I’ll ask Bobby to send you instead.”
“Can’t. I’m in Arts and Crafts with Anna.”
“Slackers. I know the only one who even needs any instruction is Becky, and no one even cares. Not like she has a hunter’s discount, if you know what I’m saying.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Have fun hiking, Dean. See you at the target range. I can bring the kids who want to fight over to the gym.”
After the kids had brushed their teeth, the cabin was abuzz about the schedule change. It meant they were now in the second half of camp for the year, and it was sad to think the downhill slide toward the end was in affect. It also meant that they were that much closer to the Wendigo hunt in the last week of camp.
Of course, it wasn’t a real Wendigo they’d be hunting. Sort of difficult to arrange something like that, but way back when Bobby was first setting up the camp it was set into agreement that Sam and Dean would get to attend for more than just a hunter’s discount. That they could go to Camp Wendigo for free, if John would play the Wendigo for the last week of camp.
During the hunt, all the campers came together to track and locate “the Wendigo”, and then together fight him off. Obviously it was a game, and special rules were put in place because no one was actually going to kill Sam and Dean’s dad, but it was still exciting, and once it was the last week of camp, no one knew exactly when the hunt would begin.
The change in schedule, including the start of hiking exercises, signaled a more specific turn in training. There were many trails through the several miles of woods that comprised the camp. Especially for the youngest campers, it was important they start to learn their way around, learn some survivalist skills for if they got lost, and some navigation skills to reduce the chance of that.
In Dean’s opinion, it was annoying when a case led him into the deep wilderness, but it can and does happen. “All right, hiking boots on. Bug spray. Hats. Canteens. Compasses. Everyone ready to go?”
“Ready!”
“Let’s go!”
Okay, Dean thought, rolling his eyes. The kids were excited for hiking. He led them to the edge of the woods and they all sprayed up with mosquito repellent. At least the fact that they were going so early in the morning meant that they got out before the sun had warmed things up, and ensured that if they got back late, they wouldn’t be late for lunch.
For the first day, Dean figured he’d review the basic path around the entire camp. It was the most well worn path, and everyone had already walked it at least once by now. He was met with groans of disapproval.
“You all know how to use a compass yet?” Most of them shook their heads no. “Then shut the fuck up. Claire’s gonna teach you it, because I’m shit with that stuff. Pay attention, because you’re gonna want to know your way back to camp during the Wendigo hunt.”
Dean started walking, trusting that the campers would follow suit behind him, and he knew they did because he could hear their chatter behind him. Claire got down to business explaining something about degrees and directions. Honestly, compasses had never made a lot of sense to Dean. He’d always been better at finding his way by instinct. Whenever he tried using a compass he’d messed it up somehow and wound up going in the exact opposite direction from what he needed. Usually he’d be with Sammy anyway, and Sam did understand all that math and nerd stuff.
Claire, apparently, had spent upwards of a month in the forest in Colorado with only the clothes on her back. She explained she’d taught herself the navigational skills she was teaching the rest of the group, when she’d come across an old campsite. There was a compass there, and the instructions were in a backpack pocket. “If only they’d also had a map, then I’d have known which direction to walk in!” she joked, then pointed something out on Krissy’s compass.
So the youngest person in the group was the one doing all the work, but that was fine with Dean if it meant he didn’t have to do anything. Once they got to the edge of camp, he pointed out where Bobby had placed the wards protecting the camp. “So don’t mess with any of that stuff, all right? Even as a joke, that’s not hilarious.”
It was a short hike today, and the group arrived back before the next activity started. Dean gave them ten minutes to grab some water and hang out before meeting at the target range. The field was starting to get overgrown, and Bobby was probably going to have Dean mow it within the next couple of days. He quietly hoped Uriel would offend Bobby somehow, so he’d make him do it instead.
“Okay,” Dean announced, once everyone had arrived. “New activities are open and you get a choice this period of two things. Practice at the target range, or go over to the gym and punch each other.”
Dean expected pretty much everyone to want to try hand-to-hand combat for at least the first few days, and he wasn’t wrong. The whole group abandoned the field and wandered over to the nearest cabin, inside which was one large room, the floor covered in mats. There were three martial arts dummies to punch and kick at, situated in corners around the room, and one wall had all sorts of protective padding in different sizes for the kids to wear as they beat each other up.
Dean and Jo had a few moves to show off, but mostly they just let the kids figure out their own style by trial and error. No better teacher than experience, Dean figured. Hell, he’d figured out most of his fighting by messing with Sammy and Jo, and he wasn’t dead yet.
“What are they doing?” Jo asked, pointing to Ed and Harry. Harry had pulled his shirt over his head, and was waving his arms around. Ed then jumped in and started kicking him in the gut. Both of them over balanced and fell.
Dean covered his mouth with his hand, masking his amusement, before he walked over to help. “What’s the point of the shirt, Harry?”
“I’m the ghost.”
“GMA,” explained Harry, like it was obvious. “Ghost martial arts.”
Dean had no response to that. He just backed away slowly and explained the situation to Jo.
* * * *
Up next the kids had another choice, arts and crafts, or library. Honestly, Dean didn’t know what they’d choose, and they’d all probably get a good mix of both just based on the whims of the day. The space was being split between his cabin and the Crossroads cabin. Which meant Cas would be there. The time when it was easy to ignore him was coming swiftly to a close.
The groups met in the library to start, and those that wanted to try the arts and crafts activity would be welcome to leave. Dean and Cas stood at the front of the room, as Castiel started explaining angel banishing sigils, and how they work.
Dean should probably be looking at him, and not the floor, but he couldn’t bring himself to. You’d think ignoring an awkward situation would make it easier to forget, but as it turned out, Dean couldn’t even hear the name Castiel without being reminded of what had happened. Without thinking about how his cock had felt against his thigh.
Dean was blushing, and he hoped no one noticed. And he hoped at least half the kids would be bored by the idea of angel banishing sigils, and would stay in the library. Thereby forcing Dean to stay in the library, allowing him to continuing in the Ignoring Castiel Project.
Just Dean’s luck, that apparently whatever Cas was saying was very engaging. They all wanted to make angel banishing sigils. Dean hoped this wouldn’t prove endlessly frustrating for anyone like some of Bobby’s sigil lessons, but then Castiel provided everyone with a large portion of bright red finger paints.
“Looks like blood,” Dean said.
“It supposed to look like blood,” scoffed Sam. “Weren’t you paying attention?”
Dean snorted, like the idea of him paying more than half a second attention to Castiel was preposterous. “No.”
Sammy rolled his eyes as if to say, “Typical,” and went back to listening to whatever Cas was going on about. Everyone was about to get their clothes covered in red paint smudges.
Dean was no help at all in this particular lesson, having never made, or even heard of an angel banishing sigil before ten minutes ago. He sat down at a table in the back and figured he’d pay attention. If he ever ran across an angel who was as much of a dick as Uriel, he was going to want to know this stuff.
Castiel wound around the room, checking over how everyone was doing and making small corrections. Dean’s heart started to flutter and oh my god, how much of a girl was he even being, when he couldn’t have Castiel come over to him to look at his stupid finger paintings without blushing and averting his eyes.
At what point, exactly, had he gone from face-punching-guy, to thirteen-year-old girl? He may as well be writing Castiel’s name over and over in loopy cursive on a notebook cover.
“That looks nice, Dean,” Cas smiled at him, and the warm fondness curled in Dean’s stomach. “No need for me to school the master.”
Castiel held his eye contact with Dean for decidedly too long, and then when he realized what he was doing, looked way quickly, rubbing his palms against his jeans and turning to go help someone else.
Dean couldn’t wait for this period to be done with. As soon as everyone took off for lunch, Dean snuck off to the showers, saying he needed to wash off the grime of the morning hike.
He pulled the pale yellow curtain shut behind him, and rested his head on the cool concrete of the shower wall. Castiel’s eyes, and the lithe way he moved around the room still coursing through his mind, he let the shower beat down on his back. He actually did have morning grime to wash off, and it felt good.
He also still remembered how it had felt to have Castiel’s body pressed up against his. How they’d been flush up against one another, and had fit just so under his stupid coat. Dean stroked himself at the memory of how maybe things could’ve gone differently. If when Castiel had shifted against him, and given Dean that worried look, Dean had pulled him closer. If he’d pressed his lips to Castiel’s to wipe that look away. If he’d reached around and cupped the angel’s ass, and ground up into him, feeling their dicks rub hard against each other through the layers of fabric, harder and more frantic as Dean would’ve stuck his tongue in Castiel’s mouth. Rutting together, and they both would’ve come in their shorts, panting against one another.
Dean came against the shower wall, then turned to face the spray, still thrusting into his hand, milking the last of it out. In another universe, he and Cas walked back to the campfire, trying to ignore the mess in their shorts, but at the same time hiding embarrassed smiles for the memory of what they’d just done. They would both have forgot about the roasting sticks they’d been meant to find, and laughed. “We’ll just have to go look again,” Dean would’ve grinned, and as the two retreated back into the woods, Dean would’ve found it impossible to keep his mouth off Castiel’s neck.
* * * *
Dean kept up with his daily, pre-lunch showers for the next few days, and he wondered if it would be too obvious if he kept that schedule for the rest of camp or not. Both Sam and Jo had given him significant looks when he finally did show up for lunch, but other than that things were going fine.
Bobby stood up in the middle of lunch, which was quite unusual. Announcements were usually saved for dinner. “Campers, everyone… Hi,” he started. “It looks like we have everyone in the room, if not, please spread the word. I just got some bad news.”
That got everyone’s attention. They stopped eating and looked at Bobby.
“Nothing that will probably affect us, however a camper from Camp Chipmunk across the lake has gone missing. Apparently a young boy, age nine. He has brown hair and eyes. So, just… We’re going to keep a look out for him at our side of the lake. More importantly, I know you guys are all thinking in the hunter mindset… What took this boy? Don’t forget, it’s more likely who took this boy. Our camp is warded against almost every kind of what, but humans can still get in. More likely than not, this boy was taken by a person. Be on your guard, and let a counselor know if you see anyone suspicious.”
The older kids were talking seriously about the threat. The younger kids were giggling. “Like we could take out a lake monster, but have trouble with a human?”
“If he tries to take me, I’ll stab him in the leg. If that doesn’t work, I kick him where I stabbed him, then I run. I’m not scared.”
“Don’t underestimate humans,” said Dean seriously. “Ghosts, monsters… They follow patterns. They’re predictable. Once you know what it is that you’re up against, you know what to do and you can beat it. Humans though. They’re just crazy.”
“Yeah, but they’re just humans. Monsters are stronger than us; faster than us. We can still beat them,” Krissy argued. “Humans and us are like, equally matched!”
“You tell us if you see someone. I don’t want to discuss it.”
“But they’re just people!”
“Wait until you live through Jr. High School. End of discussion.”
* * * *
Dean was set to be lifeguard for the afternoon; Uriel couldn’t do it absolutely everyday apparently. He was fairly insufferable, but Bobby didn’t see that as a reason to torture the guy. Not that lifeguard was even a bad gig, but it was pretty boring to do the same job every single day.
Dean got himself changed into his swimming shorts, which was nothing more than a pair of athletic shorts that were probably a size to small if he was honest. Not having sandals pulled on his boots without socks, then left them unlaced as he walked back to the boathouse. He had no idea where the hell Uriel had left the snorkel and goggles he’d been using, or even if there was another set somewhere he could use.
He was rooting around in the pile of lifejackets when he could feel eyes on him. It was like electricity dancing across his skin, and he knew it was Castiel watching him. The way his eyes watched him, and no one else could make Dean feel that unsettled and excited and amazed all at the same time. No surprise when he turned around to find Cas standing less than three feet away. After all the awkwardness, he still had no concept of personal space.
Or subtlety. He continued to look over Dean’s torso, mapping out his naked chest and abs, exploring down to the line of his shorts, apparently shameless. Dean really didn’t know what to say. This was the first time the two of them had been alone together in ages. He turned back without saying anything, and continued looking for his stuff.
Castiel stepped closer behind him to pick through the lifejackets, presumably why he’d come in the shed in the first place. He kept turning to look at Dean, then going back to the lifejackets. Like he couldn’t quite decide which thing he ought to do. Should he stay on his task, or should he deal with the problem with Dean? He seemed to be at an impasse of his own decisions. That free will can be a bitch.
Fuck it, Dean thought, and turned to face Cas. “What’s going on, man? Seems like years since we talked.”
Dean wasn’t really comfortable with someone looking at him the way Cas did. Cas looked at him like he was some kind of important, amazing person, which made it really awkward for him to say or do anything so long as Castiel was looking at him.
“I have missed talking to you, Dean.”
Dean nodded, and looked at his feet.
Castiel ducked his head down to meet Dean’s eyes. “I have,” he said. “I regret making you angry. I… Human interactions seem fairly self-explanatory, but Jo tells me you don’t interact like a proper human. I expect she judges you too harshly.”
Dean couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that. “I’m not angry with you.”
Castiel furrowed his brow. “You hit me. In the face.”
“Yeah,” Dean didn’t really want to explain all that. “I guess I was angry at myself.”
Castiel reached out and brushed Dean’s cheek with the back of his hand. And um, whoa… Dean’s eyes widened and his every instinct told him to grab Castiel’s wrist and push him away. But he didn’t. He had to hold his breath to stop himself, somehow having to stop everything he was doing at all, to keep himself from going for his first impulse. But he stopped himself.
If he stopped Cas now, this would just be another scene to regret and rewrite against the shower wall.
Cas stepped closer to Dean, and Dean was suddenly struck by not knowing what to do with his hands. What did he usually do with his hands when someone was touching his face? He had instincts and he was good at sex, he knew he was, but for some reason those things didn't apply when it came to Castiel. Castiel, somehow, was someone he liked differently than anyone he’d been with before.
And even though, okay by now it was painfully obvious that he did want to have all kinds of sex with Castiel, he was finding himself over-thinking every move. What did he usually do with his hands? With his mouth?
Castiel’s hands were sweeping over Dean’s shoulders, while the angel looked at him curiously, as though trying to figure out why Dean still hadn’t stopped him. His fingers danced over his muscles, fascinated as he explored Dean’s body. He peered into Dean’s face for any hint of disapproval.
Dean grabbed one of Cas’ wrists, because he guessed that if that’s what his first instinct was, maybe that’s what he should do. Only this prompted Cas to stop everything. “It’s okay,” said Dean, then rubbed his thumb over the pulse point in his wrist before stepping closer and putting his other hand on Cas’ hip.
Cas sighed nervously, his breath hitting Dean’s neck. “Sorry,” said Dean, “to make you nervous.”
“No,” Cas breathed. “I just didn’t realize how it would be. To be near you.”
“You… Want to be near me though?”
“Yes. Dean I-Promise you won’t tell the other counselors?”
“Shit Cas, why would I tell them anything?”
Cas smiled. “I have been curious. Since the incident in the woods,” he blushed. “It was surprising. This body is more reactive than expected.”
Dean smirked, moving his other hand to Castiel’s hip. “Yeah, it does that.”
They were close now, and Castiel’s breath found its way up from Dean’s neck to his lips as the angel shed some embarrassment and locked eyes with Dean again. Dean gulped, but his instinct now was way more clear, which, given their lips were practically already touching wasn’t that much of a challenge. He closed the rest of the gap and pressed his lips against Castiel's, reveling in the softness of his mouth. Shuffling even closer until the hard lines of his body were flush with Cas, Dean let out a soft moan as he parted his lips, letting his tongue tentatively stroke against Cas' bottom lip until he opened up.
Then Castiel’s leg was between Dean’s, shoving insistently where Dean’s cock was growing rapidly harder, while his hands were stoking up and down his back. Dean wasn’t sure whether Cas was doing this intentionally or not, but he decided to test the waters a bit by rubbing his thumbs along Cas’ hip until they snuck beneath the elastic on his briefs, before moving back up under his shirt, stomach muscles jumping under his hands. The angel dug into Dean’s back harder.
Dean tried to be slow and considerate, wanting to give Castiel time to discover exactly what he wanted. But his cock was straining against the soft fabric of his shorts, hard and desperate for more friction, and Castiel moaned against his lips as Dean's hands underneath his shirt stroked across his chest, and any thoughts of taking his time were quickly chased away by his need for more.
He shoved his own leg up to where Castiel’s cock was just as hard as Dean's, and ground against him, up into the space between their legs, his dick jumping at the friction. They both rolled their hips for more. Occasional gasps and the rustle of fabric as they moved filled Dean’s ears, the taste of Cas against his tongue- Dean felt surrounded, enveloped by Castiel.
Dean's hands itched to reach into Castiel’s jeans and wrap around his cock, but unsure if that would be moving too fast, he contented himself with teasing at his waistband again, stroking skin above the button. Castiel’s hips jerked at that, and Dean took that as a go ahead to undo the top button and slide down the fly, allowing Cas to pull his jeans down a bit, leaving only navy blue boxer briefs between Dean and Castiel’s cock.
He edged his hands down the backside of the briefs, cupping the top of Castiel’s ass. Castiel seemed to like that, if the groan and the way his head fell back was any indication. Dean bent his head forward and moved his lips across Castiel's neck, the movement eliciting another sound from Cas before he brought his head back up and slotted his lips against Dean's, sliding his tongue into his open mouth. Dean smiled around it, and they continued to buck into one another, Dean using his grip on Cas' ass to pull him forward, against Dean even harder. Cas shuddered, his ass flexing as he moved against Dean.
Cas' jeans had only been pushed halfway down his thighs, getting in Dean's way as he moved, the rhythm stilted. Dean pulled away just enough to reach a hand between them and moved the elastic of his own shorts down, revealing his erection. No longer restrained, he moved until his hips aligned with Castiel's and slid up against the line of his cock, still hidden behind blue fabric. Castiel seemed to be on board with this plan, his hands already moving to free himself from his briefs. With the material out of the way, Dean couldn't help but finally wrap his fingers around the angel's hard length. Castiel moved to do the same to Dean, and soon they began to stroke each other, the rhythm a little awkward at first, but Dean was too distracted by the feeling of a hand on his dick and Castiel's lips now kissing across his neck to care.
Cas' fingers moved softly against Dean. His grip on Dean's cock was too loose at first, but as he got used to the hot, thick weight of it in his hands, he grew more confident and his exploratory touches finally paid off when he found the right grasp and rhythm, the movement tearing a loud groan from Dean. The feeling of Cas stroking him caused Dean's own hand to falter, neglecting Castiel's cock as he bucked his hips against Cas' hand. After a few more strokes, Dean reached down, taking Castiel's hand away from him and interlacing their fingers as he slid his cock along Castiel's.
The slide of their erections against each other was clumsy without a hand to guide them, so Castiel reached down once again and wrapped his fingers around both of them, his other hand reaching behind Dean to grab hold of his ass, taking charge of their movements. Dean reached between them to stroke along with Cas, the angel moving their hips as he pleased. The feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other was like heaven. What started out as quiet gasps had long evolved into loud groaning, and soon Castiel tensed, his hand tightening even more as he came first, hot and surprised.
Even as he was winding down, he continued to roll his hips into their hands until it became too much and he moved to buck against Cas' hip, rutting against him until he came, decorating the bottom of Cas’ t-shirt.
Gasping, his lips searched for Castiel’s again, breathing hard into his mouth, licking a clumsy and wet kiss across his teeth before he let his head fall and rest on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel let most of his weight rest against Dean.
“That answer your curiosity at all?” Dean whispered, smiling into Castiel’s neck.
Part Three
* * * *
Now that Dean knew a little about Castiel, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. Several times throughout the week he thought, what must’ve it been like to be an angel? Dean had never in his life believed in angels, but then he’d heard rumors about them all throughout the past year. Of course, he was “a kid” so no one would tell him anything. Bullshit.
According to Cas he’d been a back up plan in jumpstarting the apocalypse, however that worked. At least the angel was honest with him, even if he spoke in a way that Dean didn’t entirely understand everything he said. He wouldn’t be able to understand everything. Castiel probably understood things no human ever would, from the mysteries of quantum physics, to all that was contained in the vastness of the universe’s stars.
And for some reason he’d sacrificed all that, and all that power, to live amongst humans and work at the world’s most niche market for a summer camp. Stuck getting drunk with Dean and Jo and Rufus, letting the alcohol nurse away his guilt for something he shouldn’t even feel guilty about. His vessel, whoever he was, would’ve died anyway. And so would’ve Claire too.
Well, probably. Claire was marginally terrifying. She kept eyeing him from across the dinner table like she knew what he was thinking about.
“Yes? What?”
“You’re not eating your macaroni.”
“Yes I am,” Dean grumbled, and took a bite.
“With gusto, Dean! This isn’t fat camp! What happened to going for seconds?”
Dean rolled his eyes and told Claire to finish her damn carrot sticks. He was allowed to drift off in thought occasionally. It wasn’t common, certainly not around food, but Claire doesn’t know his life story.
It was Friday, so there was an extra buzz of excitement around camp, with everyone looking forward to the weekend schedule. Morning was still more down to business on the weekend, but everyone got to sleep in. There was also less time spent in the library, and much more opportunity for choice. That’s what had the campers excited anyway. The counselors were mostly excited because Friday nights were always nights where they got away, enjoying drinking and campfires. Occasionally Rufus brought them to town, but not often.
Dean arrived last to the circle of trees, so the fire was already roaring and the girls were roasting some kind of thing covered in aluminum foil. “Roasted chicken and veggies,” Anna explained. “My family used to cook like this when we went camping.”
Dean nodded and sat down next to Castiel, and then realized that he’d just sat down next to Castiel. It was so automatic, he hadn’t even thought about it. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. Somehow. He looked around, hoping no one had noticed, but Ash caught his eye and mouthed, “Your boy,” with an evil little smirk.
Castiel, bless him, didn’t notice anything strange or uneasy, and immediately began talking to Dean about his growing confidence with the canoe, and how he was enjoying the human process of learning. The way it differed from how he’d learned as an angel. It was kind of boring.
Dean wound up telling him about how he’d become a hunter in the first place. How his mother died, and his father’s revenge, and growing up with Sammy. How this whole summer camp started, and how it was the best times of his life at this camp, except for how he was always glad for it to be done, because he missed his brother a whole lot by the end of it.
“I’m sorry for messing up your cabin arrangement. I knew it was upsetting you from the start, but-“
Dean waved his hand. “There wasn’t anything you could do about it.”
“You’re still angry.”
“Maybe a little,” Dean shrugged. Castiel tilted his head as he continued looking at Dean, like he was trying to inspect Dean’s every motivation.
“You can’t like, read minds, right?”
“Not so much anymore.”
“Well, good,” said Dean. He realized, suddenly that a lot of time had passed. The fire was half its size, Ash and Jo were thoroughly drunk, and all the normal activities of drinking and accidentally starting fires and whatever else had been going on. Meanwhile Dean had hardly noticed it, somehow sucked into his own little world, like he and Cas were the only two people in the entire forest.
Super weird. Probably some effect that Castiel’s residual angel powers had. Making it easier to converse with him or something. That would totally be a useful trick to have up your sleeve. Dean shook it off.
He clapped his hand on Castiel’s thigh. “Well Cas, about time we get ourselves something to drink. Beer?”
“I’m guessing you will not be challenging me to anymore drinking competitions,” Castiel smiled.
“Hell no. But I can get you a beer.”
“Thank you,” he said, and the look on his face could only be described as fond. Dean was maybe ready to reevaluate his dislike of the guy.
* * * *
Saturday morning Dean had a good long sleep in. By the time he woke, most of the kids in his cabin had dressed and left already, to go watch cartoons in the game room. Or at least, that’s where Dean assumed they all went. That’s where kids usually wound up on Saturday mornings until Rufus got the breakfast ready. He’d been drunk with the rest of them, so breakfast usually wasn’t until 9:30 or even 10:00, but on Saturdays there wasn’t an official schedule to keep.
Dean threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and headed up to the mess hall. Breakfast probably wouldn’t be up yet, but it would be soon, and Dean wanted to find Sam. It had been a whole week and Dean had seen less of him this summer than any summer in his life. All the more infuriating, as it was supposed to be the exact opposite this year, but Dean’s responsibilities kept taking him away.
Sam was leaning outside the Crossroads cabin, eating a candy bar from one of the vending machines. “Sammy!” Dean waved probably too enthusiastically, and almost certainly looking like a total dork, happy to see his jerk little brother. “How’ve you been?”
Sam groaned, tipping his head over so far it was resting on his shoulder in mock exhaustion. “Worst. Summer. Ever,” he proclaimed.
Dean rolled his eyes and punched him on the shoulder. Sam said this every summer. But it still hurt Dean a little every year. He knew Sam really did like it here. Here is where he belonged. Where all of the weird things he accidentally said out loud in class during the school year, were things that made sense and were appreciated. This was the place where the kid who didn’t have a knife collection was a weirdo. It was where they both belonged, and they both knew that if they were at any other summer camp, that’s when it really would be the worst summer ever.
But that didn’t make it any better. Especially when Dean was supposed to be there for him this year. He was supposed to be making sure it was the best summer either of them had ever had. Fucking angels.
“Dude, we need to hang out today. What do you wanna do?”
“I’m actually…” Sam trailed off and scratched behind his ear. “Actually I’m going out hiking today. With a girl from my cabin.”
“Oh, with a girl?” Dean taunted.
“Yeah. With Jess. So…”
“So you don’t wanna hang out with your awesome big brother, that’s what your saying. Even though you’ve seen Jess practically 24/7 everyday this week, you’re bailing on me.”
“We didn’t even have plans. Besides, we went canoeing. Relax,” Sam took the last bite of his candy bar and shoved the wrapper into the pocket of his jeans. “I’ll catch you later Dean.”
That afternoon, Ben and several of the kids from the Crossroads Cabin decided they wanted to put together a baseball game. Dean tried to remember the last time anyone tried to play an actual baseball game, and not just play a game of catch, or throwing the ball up for themselves so they could hit it. More commonly kids played basketball or soccer. It was just less ambitious to try and organize.
“I’ll see if I can get the equipment ready for you guys, but no promises I can find everything.”
“No problem,” said Ben. “We’ll just hang out in the game room and play foosball or whatever until you find it.”
Kid sure was horribly, annoyingly charismatic. It made it impossible for Dean to say no to him. He bounded off in the opposite direction, leaving Dean to sort through cobwebs and sports equipment.
Castiel was already in the shed, looking hopelessly through busted up equipment from a variety of sports. This shed was much smaller, and significantly more disorganized than the boating shed.
“Hello Dean,” Castiel greeted. “I’ve been sent to search for baseball supplies.”
“Ditto,” said Dean, and began rooting around in an old apple crate. He was pretty sure he’d find some gloves in there, underneath several deflated soccer balls and old t-shirts.
Castiel leaned over what Dean was doing to get to a large bin on the other side of him. The position didn’t work very well though, and Cas wound up pressed flush against Dean’s side, pinning him to the pile of broken sports supplies. He could feel the angel breathing and struggling with the bin above him, and okay…
Dean might have a distinct problem here, as a familiar heat rushed between his legs. He gulped and pushed Cas out of the way, causing the entire bin to crash to the ground.
“Sorry,” Dean gulped, refusing to look the angel in the eye. “I just… Started feeling claustrophobic.”
“My apologies,” he said, and he looked at Dean so knowingly that Dean had to remind himself that he’d said specifically the night before that he can’t read minds. He had no idea how Dean had grown affectionate for the stupid way he had no common sense for personal space, or how Dean could identify him by his smell because of it.
He definitely had no idea that Dean’s dick was half hard right now, or that it was his fault.
“Can you help me pick up this equipment, Dean?”
“No,” Dean said incredulously, still refusing eye contact. “You’re the one who dropped it.” Dean made to quickly exit the shed, but Castiel grabbed his shoulder and wheeled him around.
“Are you okay? You’re not acting like yourself.” Castiel ducked his head to meet Dean’s eyes with his own, pulling their gazes back together. And that… That wasn’t helping Dean’s situation any at all. He breathed a bit haggardly and ignored the tightening of his jeans. But as annoying as Castiel was, he was attractive. And then he had this whole other worldly power thing, and a caring about Dean thing, and recently a human innocence thing.
Dean gulped. It was a little overwhelming, and Dean was stupid enough he hadn’t realized this until his cock was throbbing and hard, and there was a guy standing two inches from his face, staring him down with a concerned look in his eyes.
“Yeah. I just need to get some goddamn air for a second. Leave me the fuck alone.” He shoved Cas out of the way and got himself out the door. The sunlight blazed down on his face, heating Dean’s already flushed skin. He supposed in this instance, thinking of baseball wouldn’t exactly be useful.
Son of a bitch. And here he’d hoped to be having a nice afternoon with his brother, and then there’s Cas fucking everything up like usual.
Castiel emerged from the shed several minutes later, his arms full of baseball gloves and a couple bats. “Feeling better?”
“What the fuck is your problem, man? Just leave me alone,” Dean glared at him.
Castiel tilted his head sympathetically, but said nothing. Dean watched him go as he carried the equipment out to the field, then he went back in the shed himself to dig out the bases and grab a few balls.
The baseball field was an overgrown mess, with patches of grass covering more than half of it, so it was a little difficult to tell where the bases were supposed to go at this point. Dean made his best guess and dropped the bases. No one actually cared, and probably only Ben would be paying enough attention to keep score. Somehow these games actually did become more about having fun with your friends, than playing a competitive game. Dean wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the lack of enough players to play a proper game in the first place. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone there was probably going to be stuck being a hunter for the rest of their life anyway, and the game by comparison was just silly and fun.
Dean picked Gwen and Ava to be team captains, so he didn’t have to bother with splitting the teams himself, and sat down on the bench. The thing with Castiel was probably just a weird fluke, he decided. Just that his body didn’t realize who was behind him, and he got caught at the wrong time.
It’s not like Dean had never hooked up with a guy before or anything. It’s definitely not like he never hooked up with someone at camp-hell when hadn’t he? It’s not even like Dean had never been with a guy at summer camp. Only, this was the first time he had a crush and didn’t know what to do about it. So clearly it wasn’t a crush, it was a mistake. A brain to dick miscommunication. He was still fairly invested in being irritated with Castiel for ruining what should’ve been the best summer ever, so this was definitely not a real thing.
Ignoring it was the best solution available.
Castiel walked over, sneaking up on Dean and his thoughts, so it was almost like he’d just suddenly appeared there, sitting next to him on the bench. “Are you keeping score?”
“No. Ben probably is, if you wanna know.”
Cas shrugged and kept looking at Dean. Dean kept his eyes trained at the ant mound by his feet.
“Ben is keeping score while he plays?”
“He’s the only one who cares. What do you care anyway? Fuck off.” Dean stood up and when he turned Castiel was staring up at him, his eyes all big and stupid and blue and gorgeous.
Dean punched him in the face before storming away, nursing his hand. He knew it was going to hurt again, but it was goddamn worth it.
* * * *
After the game (Ben declared that his team had won by two points, but Dean wasn’t sure if he was just saying that or if they’d actually won), Ava and Ben asked Dean to supervise them at the target range. Both of them were considered “too young” to be out there on their own. Bobby said he had to set a boundary somewhere with activities that were actually dangerous. So kids had to be in the Devil’s Trap cabin to be out on the range by themselves. Which was stupid, because it meant Anna never had to do her damn job.
Dean got out a few kinds of guns for the kids to shoot, and sent Ava out to set up the cans. He and Ben were just standing in a comfortable silence, when Jo stormed up. She had fixed her most indignant look on her face, and clearly was about to get all up in Dean’s business.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she fumed. She had this cute little way her nose scrunched and unscrunched when she did that, that Dean thought was hilarious. When she was younger, when she was nine and Dean was eleven, he would push her out of trees or hold her head underwater, just to see her make that stupid face. It was cuter then, when her features were young and round, but even now it retained some humor.
“Nuh-uh, no,” Jo scowled when Dean started laughing. “You are so fucked up, Dean Winchester. What on Earth is your problem with Castiel? Seriously. He’s just trying to figure out how humans operate, and how the hell he got stuck having to be around you-“
Jo stopped in mid-sentence, and just like, inspected Dean’s face. “Of for fuck’s sake, Dean.”
“What?”
She side-eyed him. Hard.
The thing about Jo is that she knew Dean like she was his sister. They’d both come to camp every summer, and occasionally they’d spent holidays together, or met up randomly during the year when a hunt brought them in proximity. Dean had known Jo since he was eight, and she was six, and Sammy was two.
So the thing was, while Dean hadn’t said anything about him and Castiel, Jo probably knew all there was to tell. She could read him like a book, and right now that book said, “I’m falling for Castiel, but I already said I hate him. So I’m going to keep hating him, even though I keep looking longingly into his eyes and sometimes I get hard when he stands close to me.”
Jo rolled her eyes, but knowing all she needed to know, turned toward the beach. “Don’t let Ava shoot anyone,” she called back. “Girl’s gotta work on her damn aim!”
* * * *
The next day was stormy, and the forecast said it would rain them out all day. Were it a weekday, they’d probably have several library hours to log, but since it was Sunday it was easy to convince Bobby into a movie day. Dean snagged a spot next to Sammy on the couch nearest the TV. It was the best spot in the house to view the old twenty-inch set. Sometimes the picture blacked out for a few seconds, but it always came back in. It was a better TV than some motel rooms anyway.
Jo and Castiel were across the room, sitting near the window. Rain streamed down the glass behind them, casting weird shadows on Jo’s long hair. They were talking in hushed tones, and it was disconcerting, because what could they be talking about besides Dean? Castiel glanced in his direction, and Dean quickly turned back to the TV, hoping he didn’t look mortified right now. He wanted to go over there and make them shut up. He didn’t like the idea of people talking about him. But he refused to cause a scene, and besides, then he would be the one who looked like an immature asshole and that was not going to happen.
Only, causing a big scene and acting like an immature asshole was basically the only maneuver in Dean’s wheelhouse, so now he was stuck doing nothing. He wondered how difficult it would be to go the rest of the summer without speaking to Castiel again.
At least he was getting to hang out with Sammy today. He’d been busy with all his camp friends, and Dean had been busy with the younger kids. But Sam did seem genuinely happy this summer. Even more so than past years.
“Why did Gennaro even go with to look at the Triceratops?” Sammy wondered aloud. “How’d he walk down that big hill with the stick up his butt?”
Dean laughed. “Maybe that’s why he needs to use the bathroom so bad later.”
Completely unprompted, Castiel came over and sat on the other side of Dean from Sam, reached into the bowl of popcorn on Dean’s lap, and started munching on a handful. He didn’t say anything. Dean’s heart started racing anyway.
What was he doing? Was this some play he was making; something Jo had talked him into? What game was Jo playing at here anyway? Did she want Castiel to talk to Dean about his goddamn feelings? Because fuck that. Dean didn’t even know what his feelings were; much less did he feel like he should go blabbing about them at some angel who didn’t even understand human emotion in the first place.
Dean turned around and shot a death glare at Jo. She smiled sweetly and gave him a thumbs up.
Sam leaned over so he could better see Castiel as they started talking about the movie. Castiel, as it turned out, had many opinions on dinosaurs. The movie was getting to the T-Rex scene, so more and more people were setting down their board games and filtering across the room to see the crappy TV screen.
Castiel made a point to catch Dean’s eye as he was looking around the room, and he smiled at him in that way of his that just… Totally ignoring the fact that Dean had now punched him in the face not once, but twice, within the week. For basically no reason, other than maybe the guy had a really nice face, and Dean wasn’t okay with that. Dean really needed a drink, because when Cas looked at him, that fond look on his face that was all in his eyes, Dean got this rush of warmth in his gut. Like, being loved or something. He realized he’d been getting that all week, ever since they’d set up the canoes.
Jesus fuck, he was in trouble. No way anyone should be looking at him like that, ever. Not even Sammy should be looking at Dean like he deserves to be loved. Fuck, and now Dean just wanted to punch Castiel in the face again. Teach him a lesson about how little Dean deserved anything.
“Much of this scene is so implausible, and yet it’s very compelling,” Castiel noted.
“You mean the part about the Tyrannosaur’s inability to smell the humans?” Sam asked.
“Among other things, but yes, that is a major fault in the premise of this scene.”
Sam did the thing then, where he scooted forward in his seat and his arms got more animated, and he and Cas talked a whole bunch of nerdy stuff about dinosaurs that Dean didn’t understand.
Castiel showed his engagement in the conversation entirely differently. He stayed sitting back on the couch, and he looked interestedly at Sam. It looked almost like he was just as interested in Sam, and the way he explained things and got excited about them, as he was in the conversation about dinosaurs and artistic decisions in filmmaking, or whatever exactly they were talking about.
The rain finally cleared up just before supper, and Bobby decided it was a good night for an all-camp bon fire. They’d been cooped up all day and needed to spend some time outside to keep the day from being a complete loss. The whole world was damp, but the firewood was kept under a tarp for just such a situation.
It would be hot dogs on the fire for dinner tonight, so everyone was sent out into the woods to find themselves a roasting stick.
“You guys don’t have any sticks here? The nice metal ones?” Maggie asked in disbelief.
“Girl, when you get stuck out in the woods because some ghost led you there, do you think you’re going to have a roasting stick?” asked Ellen. “You’re gonna have to hunt or fish whatever you get to eat, and you’ll have to figure out how to cook it on your own. Now get your ass up and find yourself a way to cook your hot dog, or you can eat it cold.”
Maggie, to her credit, didn’t say a word, but she did look at Ellen like she was completely insane. Dean was pretty sure she didn’t even believe in ghosts, and had only been sent along to look after her little brother.
Dean and Claire set out into the forest together, but it wasn’t long before Claire decided to climb a tree. “Why don’t you just get a stick that’s already fallen?” Dean asked.
“Because I can climb a tree! And I’ve been inside all day, and I can climb a tree,” she said, like it was super obvious. Dean had to admit she had a point. He kept walking in his own search. He could just go grab the sticks from the other fire pit deeper in the woods, but then he’d have to remember to bring them back later, and it was probably easier just to find another stick. It was a forest after all. It’s not like there was a shortage.
Dean kept on, glad for his jeans and hiking boots, so he didn’t have to lookout for poison ivy as it was starting to get dark. He walked through a spider web though, and waved his arms around, trying to brush the sticky stuff off, spitting out bits of web. “Puh, pfuh,” he spit loudly, brushing furiously at his neck, because he was pretty sure he felt the spider crawling there. And that’s when Castiel stumbled into him.
Like literally, into him, tripping over a log. It was like something out of a movie, or maybe just some kind of cosmic joke, and the two of them tumbled into a pile of weeds and dead leaves.
Cas was wearing some kind of overcoat or trench coat that was definitely too big for him, and somehow in the process of falling, half of the fabric had wound up under Dean, with Castiel on top of him. The whole mess left it impossible for Castiel to get up until Dean moved, but Dean, his mind muddled in panic, hadn’t quite figured it out.
Castiel peered down at him apologetically. Dean tried to push him off, and when the angel got stuck on his coat, he fell back, flush against Dean, their chins bumping together.
Dean wasn’t sure whose heart was thrumming more, his or Castiel’s. He could feel the angel’s pounding against his own chest, and when he realized that it was him causing such a reaction in an ages old angel, he panicked even more.
“Cas, get off,” Dean choked out.
Castiel’s reaction was apparently to start squirming around, trying to take his coat off. Which was, okay, not helpful at all, and given what happened the day before Dean didn’t think he really needed the guy to be on top of him, accidentally sort of… grinding against him, whilst taking off an article of clothing.
Castiel, bless him, completely ignored the way Dean’s body was reacting, even though he had to have felt it. His dick was straining against his jeans, begging for more friction. Dean breathed, and lay stock still, avoiding Castiel’s eye contact like nothing else mattered.
Finally getting his arms out of his sleeves, Castiel was more or less straddling Dean, breathing hard. He seemed like he didn’t know what to do with himself next, and didn’t move. Pushing him again would require Dean to move though, giving his dick the exact friction it wanted, and Dean didn’t know where that would lead.
Probably to embarrassment and doing things that are way to inappropriate to even think about doing with an angel. He came from Heaven, for fuck’s sake. He probably never even thinks about his dick.
“Jesus Christ, Cas. How the hell are you this clumsy?”
“Walking wasn’t something that was necessary until recently, I suppose,” he replied, but he still didn’t move. He was sitting as awkwardly still as Dean was, and there was no way around it, Dean was going to have to move.
Then Cas pressed down. And the full weight of the situation, and Castiel’s cock, hit Dean. Cas was hard too, at least as hard as Dean was, and he was blushing, as he tried to get up without Dean knowing.
Dean stopped a moan in his throat, and Castiel looked down at him. Caught up in the feeling of Cas’ dick hard against his, Dean had forgotten about his intentions to avoid eye contact, and Castiel looked worried. Of course, he’d probably never been in this situation before. Dude wasn’t even used to walking through the woods, the likelihood that he would have had… dick…situations. Pretty unlikely.
Dean tried to make his face look reassuring. “Uh, it’s okay, man.”
Castiel shifted again and Dean closed his eyes against the ripples of pleasure that went up his spine and back down through his dick again. Then the friction was gone, and Dean felt cold, and Castiel was running off through the trees, leaving Dean alone, laying on the guy’s trench coat. He let his head fall back into the leaves and sighed, rubbing himself through his jeans.
Leave lavish praise for the artwork!
* * * *
Daily Itinerary: Silver Cabin (Week 4-8)
7:00 AM- Breakfast
7:30- Return to cabins to brush teeth, finish any daily organizing you failed to complete prior to breakfast. (It is mandatory that all campers complete personal hygiene tasks!)
8:00-9:00- Hiking (Dean Winchester instructing)
9:15-10:15- Hand to Hand Combat & Target Range practice (Dean Winchester & Jo Harville instructing)
10:30- Snack break
10:45-11:45- Library & Arts and Crafts (Dean Winchester & Castiel instructing)
12:00 PM- Lunch
1:00- Free Choice.
Dean stood in the mess hall, looking over his daily schedule for the second half of camp. He rubbed a hand over his face and turned to Rufus. “Make my coffee a double portion. Looks like I’m hiking in the mornings from now on.”
He made a point to ignore the point on his schedule where he’d be tag teaming with Castiel. They’d seen each other on a daily basis since the night in the woods, but spent the last three weeks pretending it never happened. Three weeks was like three years, camp time, so Dean figured it was firmly in the past. Or at least it had been, before they were put on the schedule together.
Dean was perhaps a bit worried his attractions would be rejuvenated with increased exposure to him. He’d spent the last few weeks valiantly convincing himself of all the ways Castiel was not perfect. He didn’t want to think about it. So ignoring it and focusing on one thing at a time, hiking first, was clearly the way to go.
“Like having first period P.E. class for half the summer,” Jo grinned. “Ouch.” She grabbed the Silver Cabin schedule and smirked, tossing a wink in Dean’s direction. “Looks like you’ve got your day cut out for you.”
“That’s why they give it to the younger kids first,” Dean sighed, paying no attention to Jo’s insinuation. “They actually like it. And you can shut up or I’ll ask Bobby to send you instead.”
“Can’t. I’m in Arts and Crafts with Anna.”
“Slackers. I know the only one who even needs any instruction is Becky, and no one even cares. Not like she has a hunter’s discount, if you know what I’m saying.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Have fun hiking, Dean. See you at the target range. I can bring the kids who want to fight over to the gym.”
After the kids had brushed their teeth, the cabin was abuzz about the schedule change. It meant they were now in the second half of camp for the year, and it was sad to think the downhill slide toward the end was in affect. It also meant that they were that much closer to the Wendigo hunt in the last week of camp.
Of course, it wasn’t a real Wendigo they’d be hunting. Sort of difficult to arrange something like that, but way back when Bobby was first setting up the camp it was set into agreement that Sam and Dean would get to attend for more than just a hunter’s discount. That they could go to Camp Wendigo for free, if John would play the Wendigo for the last week of camp.
During the hunt, all the campers came together to track and locate “the Wendigo”, and then together fight him off. Obviously it was a game, and special rules were put in place because no one was actually going to kill Sam and Dean’s dad, but it was still exciting, and once it was the last week of camp, no one knew exactly when the hunt would begin.
The change in schedule, including the start of hiking exercises, signaled a more specific turn in training. There were many trails through the several miles of woods that comprised the camp. Especially for the youngest campers, it was important they start to learn their way around, learn some survivalist skills for if they got lost, and some navigation skills to reduce the chance of that.
In Dean’s opinion, it was annoying when a case led him into the deep wilderness, but it can and does happen. “All right, hiking boots on. Bug spray. Hats. Canteens. Compasses. Everyone ready to go?”
“Ready!”
“Let’s go!”
Okay, Dean thought, rolling his eyes. The kids were excited for hiking. He led them to the edge of the woods and they all sprayed up with mosquito repellent. At least the fact that they were going so early in the morning meant that they got out before the sun had warmed things up, and ensured that if they got back late, they wouldn’t be late for lunch.
For the first day, Dean figured he’d review the basic path around the entire camp. It was the most well worn path, and everyone had already walked it at least once by now. He was met with groans of disapproval.
“You all know how to use a compass yet?” Most of them shook their heads no. “Then shut the fuck up. Claire’s gonna teach you it, because I’m shit with that stuff. Pay attention, because you’re gonna want to know your way back to camp during the Wendigo hunt.”
Dean started walking, trusting that the campers would follow suit behind him, and he knew they did because he could hear their chatter behind him. Claire got down to business explaining something about degrees and directions. Honestly, compasses had never made a lot of sense to Dean. He’d always been better at finding his way by instinct. Whenever he tried using a compass he’d messed it up somehow and wound up going in the exact opposite direction from what he needed. Usually he’d be with Sammy anyway, and Sam did understand all that math and nerd stuff.
Claire, apparently, had spent upwards of a month in the forest in Colorado with only the clothes on her back. She explained she’d taught herself the navigational skills she was teaching the rest of the group, when she’d come across an old campsite. There was a compass there, and the instructions were in a backpack pocket. “If only they’d also had a map, then I’d have known which direction to walk in!” she joked, then pointed something out on Krissy’s compass.
So the youngest person in the group was the one doing all the work, but that was fine with Dean if it meant he didn’t have to do anything. Once they got to the edge of camp, he pointed out where Bobby had placed the wards protecting the camp. “So don’t mess with any of that stuff, all right? Even as a joke, that’s not hilarious.”
It was a short hike today, and the group arrived back before the next activity started. Dean gave them ten minutes to grab some water and hang out before meeting at the target range. The field was starting to get overgrown, and Bobby was probably going to have Dean mow it within the next couple of days. He quietly hoped Uriel would offend Bobby somehow, so he’d make him do it instead.
“Okay,” Dean announced, once everyone had arrived. “New activities are open and you get a choice this period of two things. Practice at the target range, or go over to the gym and punch each other.”
Dean expected pretty much everyone to want to try hand-to-hand combat for at least the first few days, and he wasn’t wrong. The whole group abandoned the field and wandered over to the nearest cabin, inside which was one large room, the floor covered in mats. There were three martial arts dummies to punch and kick at, situated in corners around the room, and one wall had all sorts of protective padding in different sizes for the kids to wear as they beat each other up.
Dean and Jo had a few moves to show off, but mostly they just let the kids figure out their own style by trial and error. No better teacher than experience, Dean figured. Hell, he’d figured out most of his fighting by messing with Sammy and Jo, and he wasn’t dead yet.
“What are they doing?” Jo asked, pointing to Ed and Harry. Harry had pulled his shirt over his head, and was waving his arms around. Ed then jumped in and started kicking him in the gut. Both of them over balanced and fell.
Dean covered his mouth with his hand, masking his amusement, before he walked over to help. “What’s the point of the shirt, Harry?”
“I’m the ghost.”
“GMA,” explained Harry, like it was obvious. “Ghost martial arts.”
Dean had no response to that. He just backed away slowly and explained the situation to Jo.
* * * *
Up next the kids had another choice, arts and crafts, or library. Honestly, Dean didn’t know what they’d choose, and they’d all probably get a good mix of both just based on the whims of the day. The space was being split between his cabin and the Crossroads cabin. Which meant Cas would be there. The time when it was easy to ignore him was coming swiftly to a close.
The groups met in the library to start, and those that wanted to try the arts and crafts activity would be welcome to leave. Dean and Cas stood at the front of the room, as Castiel started explaining angel banishing sigils, and how they work.
Dean should probably be looking at him, and not the floor, but he couldn’t bring himself to. You’d think ignoring an awkward situation would make it easier to forget, but as it turned out, Dean couldn’t even hear the name Castiel without being reminded of what had happened. Without thinking about how his cock had felt against his thigh.
Dean was blushing, and he hoped no one noticed. And he hoped at least half the kids would be bored by the idea of angel banishing sigils, and would stay in the library. Thereby forcing Dean to stay in the library, allowing him to continuing in the Ignoring Castiel Project.
Just Dean’s luck, that apparently whatever Cas was saying was very engaging. They all wanted to make angel banishing sigils. Dean hoped this wouldn’t prove endlessly frustrating for anyone like some of Bobby’s sigil lessons, but then Castiel provided everyone with a large portion of bright red finger paints.
“Looks like blood,” Dean said.
“It supposed to look like blood,” scoffed Sam. “Weren’t you paying attention?”
Dean snorted, like the idea of him paying more than half a second attention to Castiel was preposterous. “No.”
Sammy rolled his eyes as if to say, “Typical,” and went back to listening to whatever Cas was going on about. Everyone was about to get their clothes covered in red paint smudges.
Dean was no help at all in this particular lesson, having never made, or even heard of an angel banishing sigil before ten minutes ago. He sat down at a table in the back and figured he’d pay attention. If he ever ran across an angel who was as much of a dick as Uriel, he was going to want to know this stuff.
Castiel wound around the room, checking over how everyone was doing and making small corrections. Dean’s heart started to flutter and oh my god, how much of a girl was he even being, when he couldn’t have Castiel come over to him to look at his stupid finger paintings without blushing and averting his eyes.
At what point, exactly, had he gone from face-punching-guy, to thirteen-year-old girl? He may as well be writing Castiel’s name over and over in loopy cursive on a notebook cover.
“That looks nice, Dean,” Cas smiled at him, and the warm fondness curled in Dean’s stomach. “No need for me to school the master.”
Castiel held his eye contact with Dean for decidedly too long, and then when he realized what he was doing, looked way quickly, rubbing his palms against his jeans and turning to go help someone else.
Dean couldn’t wait for this period to be done with. As soon as everyone took off for lunch, Dean snuck off to the showers, saying he needed to wash off the grime of the morning hike.
He pulled the pale yellow curtain shut behind him, and rested his head on the cool concrete of the shower wall. Castiel’s eyes, and the lithe way he moved around the room still coursing through his mind, he let the shower beat down on his back. He actually did have morning grime to wash off, and it felt good.
He also still remembered how it had felt to have Castiel’s body pressed up against his. How they’d been flush up against one another, and had fit just so under his stupid coat. Dean stroked himself at the memory of how maybe things could’ve gone differently. If when Castiel had shifted against him, and given Dean that worried look, Dean had pulled him closer. If he’d pressed his lips to Castiel’s to wipe that look away. If he’d reached around and cupped the angel’s ass, and ground up into him, feeling their dicks rub hard against each other through the layers of fabric, harder and more frantic as Dean would’ve stuck his tongue in Castiel’s mouth. Rutting together, and they both would’ve come in their shorts, panting against one another.
Dean came against the shower wall, then turned to face the spray, still thrusting into his hand, milking the last of it out. In another universe, he and Cas walked back to the campfire, trying to ignore the mess in their shorts, but at the same time hiding embarrassed smiles for the memory of what they’d just done. They would both have forgot about the roasting sticks they’d been meant to find, and laughed. “We’ll just have to go look again,” Dean would’ve grinned, and as the two retreated back into the woods, Dean would’ve found it impossible to keep his mouth off Castiel’s neck.
* * * *
Dean kept up with his daily, pre-lunch showers for the next few days, and he wondered if it would be too obvious if he kept that schedule for the rest of camp or not. Both Sam and Jo had given him significant looks when he finally did show up for lunch, but other than that things were going fine.
Bobby stood up in the middle of lunch, which was quite unusual. Announcements were usually saved for dinner. “Campers, everyone… Hi,” he started. “It looks like we have everyone in the room, if not, please spread the word. I just got some bad news.”
That got everyone’s attention. They stopped eating and looked at Bobby.
“Nothing that will probably affect us, however a camper from Camp Chipmunk across the lake has gone missing. Apparently a young boy, age nine. He has brown hair and eyes. So, just… We’re going to keep a look out for him at our side of the lake. More importantly, I know you guys are all thinking in the hunter mindset… What took this boy? Don’t forget, it’s more likely who took this boy. Our camp is warded against almost every kind of what, but humans can still get in. More likely than not, this boy was taken by a person. Be on your guard, and let a counselor know if you see anyone suspicious.”
The older kids were talking seriously about the threat. The younger kids were giggling. “Like we could take out a lake monster, but have trouble with a human?”
“If he tries to take me, I’ll stab him in the leg. If that doesn’t work, I kick him where I stabbed him, then I run. I’m not scared.”
“Don’t underestimate humans,” said Dean seriously. “Ghosts, monsters… They follow patterns. They’re predictable. Once you know what it is that you’re up against, you know what to do and you can beat it. Humans though. They’re just crazy.”
“Yeah, but they’re just humans. Monsters are stronger than us; faster than us. We can still beat them,” Krissy argued. “Humans and us are like, equally matched!”
“You tell us if you see someone. I don’t want to discuss it.”
“But they’re just people!”
“Wait until you live through Jr. High School. End of discussion.”
* * * *
Dean was set to be lifeguard for the afternoon; Uriel couldn’t do it absolutely everyday apparently. He was fairly insufferable, but Bobby didn’t see that as a reason to torture the guy. Not that lifeguard was even a bad gig, but it was pretty boring to do the same job every single day.
Dean got himself changed into his swimming shorts, which was nothing more than a pair of athletic shorts that were probably a size to small if he was honest. Not having sandals pulled on his boots without socks, then left them unlaced as he walked back to the boathouse. He had no idea where the hell Uriel had left the snorkel and goggles he’d been using, or even if there was another set somewhere he could use.
He was rooting around in the pile of lifejackets when he could feel eyes on him. It was like electricity dancing across his skin, and he knew it was Castiel watching him. The way his eyes watched him, and no one else could make Dean feel that unsettled and excited and amazed all at the same time. No surprise when he turned around to find Cas standing less than three feet away. After all the awkwardness, he still had no concept of personal space.
Or subtlety. He continued to look over Dean’s torso, mapping out his naked chest and abs, exploring down to the line of his shorts, apparently shameless. Dean really didn’t know what to say. This was the first time the two of them had been alone together in ages. He turned back without saying anything, and continued looking for his stuff.
Castiel stepped closer behind him to pick through the lifejackets, presumably why he’d come in the shed in the first place. He kept turning to look at Dean, then going back to the lifejackets. Like he couldn’t quite decide which thing he ought to do. Should he stay on his task, or should he deal with the problem with Dean? He seemed to be at an impasse of his own decisions. That free will can be a bitch.
Fuck it, Dean thought, and turned to face Cas. “What’s going on, man? Seems like years since we talked.”
Dean wasn’t really comfortable with someone looking at him the way Cas did. Cas looked at him like he was some kind of important, amazing person, which made it really awkward for him to say or do anything so long as Castiel was looking at him.
“I have missed talking to you, Dean.”
Dean nodded, and looked at his feet.
Castiel ducked his head down to meet Dean’s eyes. “I have,” he said. “I regret making you angry. I… Human interactions seem fairly self-explanatory, but Jo tells me you don’t interact like a proper human. I expect she judges you too harshly.”
Dean couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that. “I’m not angry with you.”
Castiel furrowed his brow. “You hit me. In the face.”
“Yeah,” Dean didn’t really want to explain all that. “I guess I was angry at myself.”
Castiel reached out and brushed Dean’s cheek with the back of his hand. And um, whoa… Dean’s eyes widened and his every instinct told him to grab Castiel’s wrist and push him away. But he didn’t. He had to hold his breath to stop himself, somehow having to stop everything he was doing at all, to keep himself from going for his first impulse. But he stopped himself.
If he stopped Cas now, this would just be another scene to regret and rewrite against the shower wall.
Cas stepped closer to Dean, and Dean was suddenly struck by not knowing what to do with his hands. What did he usually do with his hands when someone was touching his face? He had instincts and he was good at sex, he knew he was, but for some reason those things didn't apply when it came to Castiel. Castiel, somehow, was someone he liked differently than anyone he’d been with before.
And even though, okay by now it was painfully obvious that he did want to have all kinds of sex with Castiel, he was finding himself over-thinking every move. What did he usually do with his hands? With his mouth?
Castiel’s hands were sweeping over Dean’s shoulders, while the angel looked at him curiously, as though trying to figure out why Dean still hadn’t stopped him. His fingers danced over his muscles, fascinated as he explored Dean’s body. He peered into Dean’s face for any hint of disapproval.
Dean grabbed one of Cas’ wrists, because he guessed that if that’s what his first instinct was, maybe that’s what he should do. Only this prompted Cas to stop everything. “It’s okay,” said Dean, then rubbed his thumb over the pulse point in his wrist before stepping closer and putting his other hand on Cas’ hip.
Cas sighed nervously, his breath hitting Dean’s neck. “Sorry,” said Dean, “to make you nervous.”
“No,” Cas breathed. “I just didn’t realize how it would be. To be near you.”
“You… Want to be near me though?”
“Yes. Dean I-Promise you won’t tell the other counselors?”
“Shit Cas, why would I tell them anything?”
Cas smiled. “I have been curious. Since the incident in the woods,” he blushed. “It was surprising. This body is more reactive than expected.”
Dean smirked, moving his other hand to Castiel’s hip. “Yeah, it does that.”
They were close now, and Castiel’s breath found its way up from Dean’s neck to his lips as the angel shed some embarrassment and locked eyes with Dean again. Dean gulped, but his instinct now was way more clear, which, given their lips were practically already touching wasn’t that much of a challenge. He closed the rest of the gap and pressed his lips against Castiel's, reveling in the softness of his mouth. Shuffling even closer until the hard lines of his body were flush with Cas, Dean let out a soft moan as he parted his lips, letting his tongue tentatively stroke against Cas' bottom lip until he opened up.
Then Castiel’s leg was between Dean’s, shoving insistently where Dean’s cock was growing rapidly harder, while his hands were stoking up and down his back. Dean wasn’t sure whether Cas was doing this intentionally or not, but he decided to test the waters a bit by rubbing his thumbs along Cas’ hip until they snuck beneath the elastic on his briefs, before moving back up under his shirt, stomach muscles jumping under his hands. The angel dug into Dean’s back harder.
Dean tried to be slow and considerate, wanting to give Castiel time to discover exactly what he wanted. But his cock was straining against the soft fabric of his shorts, hard and desperate for more friction, and Castiel moaned against his lips as Dean's hands underneath his shirt stroked across his chest, and any thoughts of taking his time were quickly chased away by his need for more.
He shoved his own leg up to where Castiel’s cock was just as hard as Dean's, and ground against him, up into the space between their legs, his dick jumping at the friction. They both rolled their hips for more. Occasional gasps and the rustle of fabric as they moved filled Dean’s ears, the taste of Cas against his tongue- Dean felt surrounded, enveloped by Castiel.
Dean's hands itched to reach into Castiel’s jeans and wrap around his cock, but unsure if that would be moving too fast, he contented himself with teasing at his waistband again, stroking skin above the button. Castiel’s hips jerked at that, and Dean took that as a go ahead to undo the top button and slide down the fly, allowing Cas to pull his jeans down a bit, leaving only navy blue boxer briefs between Dean and Castiel’s cock.
He edged his hands down the backside of the briefs, cupping the top of Castiel’s ass. Castiel seemed to like that, if the groan and the way his head fell back was any indication. Dean bent his head forward and moved his lips across Castiel's neck, the movement eliciting another sound from Cas before he brought his head back up and slotted his lips against Dean's, sliding his tongue into his open mouth. Dean smiled around it, and they continued to buck into one another, Dean using his grip on Cas' ass to pull him forward, against Dean even harder. Cas shuddered, his ass flexing as he moved against Dean.
Cas' jeans had only been pushed halfway down his thighs, getting in Dean's way as he moved, the rhythm stilted. Dean pulled away just enough to reach a hand between them and moved the elastic of his own shorts down, revealing his erection. No longer restrained, he moved until his hips aligned with Castiel's and slid up against the line of his cock, still hidden behind blue fabric. Castiel seemed to be on board with this plan, his hands already moving to free himself from his briefs. With the material out of the way, Dean couldn't help but finally wrap his fingers around the angel's hard length. Castiel moved to do the same to Dean, and soon they began to stroke each other, the rhythm a little awkward at first, but Dean was too distracted by the feeling of a hand on his dick and Castiel's lips now kissing across his neck to care.
Cas' fingers moved softly against Dean. His grip on Dean's cock was too loose at first, but as he got used to the hot, thick weight of it in his hands, he grew more confident and his exploratory touches finally paid off when he found the right grasp and rhythm, the movement tearing a loud groan from Dean. The feeling of Cas stroking him caused Dean's own hand to falter, neglecting Castiel's cock as he bucked his hips against Cas' hand. After a few more strokes, Dean reached down, taking Castiel's hand away from him and interlacing their fingers as he slid his cock along Castiel's.
The slide of their erections against each other was clumsy without a hand to guide them, so Castiel reached down once again and wrapped his fingers around both of them, his other hand reaching behind Dean to grab hold of his ass, taking charge of their movements. Dean reached between them to stroke along with Cas, the angel moving their hips as he pleased. The feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other was like heaven. What started out as quiet gasps had long evolved into loud groaning, and soon Castiel tensed, his hand tightening even more as he came first, hot and surprised.
Even as he was winding down, he continued to roll his hips into their hands until it became too much and he moved to buck against Cas' hip, rutting against him until he came, decorating the bottom of Cas’ t-shirt.
Gasping, his lips searched for Castiel’s again, breathing hard into his mouth, licking a clumsy and wet kiss across his teeth before he let his head fall and rest on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel let most of his weight rest against Dean.
“That answer your curiosity at all?” Dean whispered, smiling into Castiel’s neck.
Part Three