This ficlet was inspired by a picture of a WWII gunner in a PBY Catalina during a search and rescue of an airman stranded after his plane was shot down. In the picture, the gunner is naked because he removed all of his clothing to help the downed pilot. The picture is on my tumblr, winjennster dot tumblr dot com. All you really need to know is that the P-51 Mustang was the most advanced fighter plane of the day, and that the PBY Catalina was a flying boat that could land and take off from the water.

Enjoy.

Rabaul Bay, Territory of New Guinea, 1944

The dogfight had been fierce and furious, but he'd taken down at least three planes on his own, rolling and diving and maneuvering his P-51 through the skies over Rabaul Bay. He should have known his luck wouldn't hold.

They'd come up behind him, rounds tearing through the skin of the wings and then he was spinning, down down down, out of control. He released the canopy and unbuckled his seatbelt, yanked hard on the stick with all his strength and turned the Mustang upside down, letting himself drop from the cabin. A feeling of vertigo, a swing in a violent circle and he was freefalling through the sky, ten thousand feet in the air and dropping fast.

The chute opened; drag jerking his body hard, and still the Japanese Zeroes circled around him, bullets ripping holes in the thin fabric of the chute.

Down down down, the Pacific sparkling sapphire below, and he was going to hit too fast, it was going to hurt, there was no way around it, and as he spiraled faster and faster towards the drink, Lt. Castiel Novak was sure these moments would be his last.

When he woke, everything was dark, and it didn't take long for Cas to realize he'd been blinded at some point. Maybe from an explosion he didn't remember, or the impact of his body with the water, but he couldn't see a damn thing, not even his own hand held mere inches from his face.

He could hear many things; the ratta-tatta-tat of weapons fire and the roar of plane engines. The waves were choppy, water splashing into his mouth and making him splutter around the salty tang. A rumble of twin props drew closer, and then there were voices calling, orders being barked over the growl of the engines and the crash of the waves.

"Hey! Hey Pilot, we're here to pick you up! Swim over here!" A voice called to him, and he could tell the general direction it was coming from, but he couldn't see, couldn't tell which direction to swim, but Cas moved his legs and arms valiantly, and that was when the first serious arc of pain shot through his limbs. He groaned, stars igniting in his still dark vision.

"Hey, you ok? C'mon, buddy, we gotta get out of here or we're gonna be dinner for the Emperor of Japan!"

"I can't see!" he called back, frustrated, pain lighting up every nerve along his spine. He must have hit the ocean hard, because he hadn't been in any pain when he'd bailed out of the Mustang.

"Gonna have to jump in an' get him, Winchester!" another voice called, thick with a southern drawl.

"Dammit. Hold this."

There was the sound of a zipper being pulled, and a few thunks, and then a splash. More splashing sounds, and then hands on him.

"It's ok, Pilot, gonna get you out of the Pacific. Don't wanna be shark bait, right?"

"Right," Cas said breathlessly. The pain was intensifying, but the hands on him were sure, and he let himself relax, let the other man tow him back to the plane.

"What's your name, Pilot?"

"Novak, Castiel Novak."

"Ok, Cas, I'm Dean. I'm here with a Catalina to rescue you. You up to being rescued? Sound like a good idea?"

"A very good idea," Cas wheezed.

"You in any pain?"

"Yes."

"Ok, well, we're a rescue bird, a Dumbo flight, and we've got a doc and pharm's mate on board, they'll fix you right up. Ok, hold on, me and Benny gonna get you on board."

"Here, lift him up to me, brotha."

Hands hooked under his shoulders, and as gently as possible, he was pulled aboard and laid out on the floor of the plane.

More voices calling, and the sound of machine guns very close by.

"We're taking fire! Winchester, get to your post now!"

"I'm on it!"

The plane accelerated, Cas could feel it in his bones, and then they were moving, back up into the blue, the angle hard and uncompromising. He blinked, the darkness in his eyes cleared a bit, and he could make out shadowy figures moving through the plane. He blinked again, and his vision cleared all the more.

A man with kind eyes smiled down at him, stethoscope around his neck. "Can you tell me where it hurts, son?"

"Kind of all over at the moment. My vision is starting to clear."

"That's a good sign. I'm thinkin' you just hit the water hard and it shocked your body for a moment." The plane rolled slightly to the left and the man lost his balance, toppling over. "Damn it, Angelus! Fly your plane straight, ya idjit!"

"Sorry, Doc!" a voice called from the front of the plane.

"Doing the best we can up here, Doc. Being fired at from all sides!"

"That's our pilot and co-pilot, Lt. Michael Angelus and Lt. Gabriel Loki. They're good boys, if a bit daredevilish at times. What's your name, son?"

"Novak. Cas Novak."

"Well, nice to meetcha, Cas Novak. I'm Doc Singer, but you can call me Bobby."

"All due respect, sir, you outrank me by quite a bit," he said, eyes sweeping over the man's uniform and the rank pins that identified him as a Lieutenant Commander.

"I only joined the Navy to help out with the doctorin' and 'cause my stupid old pal Frank asked me to. Trust me, I'd rather be home in Sioux Falls with my wife."

"Hey, you gonna help our fallen angel out here Doc, or talk him to death?"

"Shut up, Lafitte. Don't you have machine gun to babysit?"

"Benny! We got bogies at 4 o'clock, what the fuck are you doing?" The voice that rescued him, Dean, Cas remembered, sounded rather anxious.

"I'm on it, don't get your panties in a bunch. Not that you're wearin' none."

Cas blinked again, sure his eyes were deceiving him still.

A man stood in his position at one of the guns, headphones smashed down over wet, spiky hair. He was tall, almost too tall for his position, skin tan and freckled, and miles of it on display. Cas watched the gunner track planes through the glass, aiming and firing at everything that came in his sites.

He was as naked as the day he was born, rivulets of water running down his back from his hair, dripping over the curves of his ass, the skin there paler than the rest of his body.

"Goddammit! They just keep coming!"

"Keep firin', Winchester!"

"I'm on it, I'm on it!"

Dean moved gracefully, one with the gun, tracking and shooting, cheering to himself when he hit the mark.

The Catalina continued her climb, as Bobby's hands moved over Cas's body, checking for broken bones.

"I think you're gonna be ok, son. Just need to lay back and rest."

Cas nodded, unable to take his eyes off the naked gunner, as he danced with his gun.

At some point, he must have dozed off, or passed out, because when he awoke again, he was on a stretcher, a blanket draped over him. Dean was sitting next to him, flight suit and boots covering his form.

"Hey. Want some water?" Dean asked, holding out his canteen.

"Please," Cas said, mouth dry and uncomfortable. A sharp pain traveled across his belly, but he ignored it, desperate for the water Dean was offering.

Dean maneuvered him into a sitting position, with his back against Dean's chest, holding the canteen and helping him drink from it. The tepid water felt like heaven to his parched mouth and tongue, and he slurped greedily, draining the canteen.

"Need more? I can get another canteen."

"I'm ok," Cas murmured, leaning back against Dean's comfortable warmth.

"Ok," Dean said softly, running his fingers through Cas's hair. The touch was comforting, and Cas drifted off again, the drone of the twin props lulling him to sleep.

When he woke again, there was bright sunlight, and everything was white. There was an antiseptic smell and crisp cotton against his bare limbs, white-clothed people moving about with a brisk sense of purpose.

Cas turned his head to the left, and it hurt, pain checking in from his neck and shoulder. His belly hurt, his legs hurt, everything hurt, and he couldn't help the groan that tumbled from his lips.

"Hello there," a pretty blonde with bright red lips smiled down at him, soft hand running across his brow. "Your fever's down. That's good. Are you in pain?"

All he could do was nod.

"Alright, then, I'll get you something for that. Do you know where you are?"

"No," he rasped.

"You're at the 4th General Hospital in Australia, and from what I understand, you're lucky to have made it this far. Internal bleeding - you almost died on the way here."

"I don't remember any of that."

"No wonder."

"What about the crew that rescued me?"

"Fine, as far as I know. One of them's been sitting in that chair for the last two days." She nodded to Cas's right, and he turned his head.

The gunner that had pulled him from the ocean, Dean, was curled into a small chair, face scrunched from the discomfort the narrow seat was undoubtedly causing him.

"He's been here since you were brought in. Won't leave for nothing. Guess he had to make sure you were going to be ok." She smoothed her hands over the sheet covering him. "I'm going to go get something for the pain. Be right back."

Cas swept his eyes over Dean, curled up so miserably. He was dressed in his flight suit, but his boots were at the base of the chair, socked feet tucked under him.

Dean snorted, and shifted, almost falling from his perch.

His eyes blinked open, as he looked around in confusion. "Hey, you're awake!" he grinned. "I was starting to worry that we'd gone through all that trouble of a rescue and you weren't gonna make it."

"I made it."

"Sure did!"

The nurse came back, and gave him a shot, and the pain went away, fading into a warm fuzz. He smiled dopily at Dean.

"They're giving you the good stuff, huh?"

"Mmm, I guess so."

"I'm glad you're ok, really. My name's Dean Winchester, by the way," he smiled, green eyes twinkling.

"I know."

"Oh. Ok."

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your crew?"

"Well, the bird took a few hits, so she's being worked on, and Lt. Angelus gave us a few days. So I'm here, making sure our hard work didn't go to waste." His cheerful face turned dark for a moment. "Gave us a couple-a good scares on the flight."

"I'm sorry," Cas said softly.

"Not your fault."

They fell into a companionable silence, Cas thinking about the rescue flight, and his first glimpse of Dean Winchester.

"Why were you naked?" he asked abruptly.

Dean's face flushed bright red. "Oh. Um. Well, you couldn't see, and you couldn't find the plane, so I had to jump in and get you. Can't swim all that well with a flight suit and boots weighing me down, so I just stripped out of everything and jumped in. And then, we were taking fire, so I had to get to my gun. Didn't have time to put everything back on."

"Oh."

The young gunner's face was still bright red, and Cas couldn't help himself. He started laughing. Dean looked at him very funny for a moment, then he started laughing as well.

"Guess I must've made quite a sight, standin' there in my birthday suit!"

"At least it was attractive sight," Cas grinned.

"Yeah?" Dean's eyes twinkled.

"Yeah."