Dean had been going to the same summer camp for the last four years. His dad sent him and his little brother, Sam, there ever since his mother died in a freak accident.
Sammy loved it and took part in the weekly quiz each week for the whole month they were there. Dean won all the air-rifle shooting contests.
It was fun and they fit in.
This year, as he had turned seventeen, he was to become a counsellor.
He walked into Mr Singer's office cabin. The old, bearded man smiled up at him and pulled the bottle of beer out again from under the desk.
"Hello, boy. Nice to have you again."
"Hey, Bobby. D'you know what cabin I'm in?"
Bobby laughed. "You could ask ya kid brother. That kid knows everything."
Dean smiled. He was insanely proud of his brother and protected him no matter what.
"You're sharing with a new kid. He's your co-counsellor. Um... Cabin 221."
Dean smiled and walked to the door.
"Bye, Bobby. Also, if you're worried about being busted for drink, there's three bottle caps on your desk and you have four discarded bottles in your bin. Seeya."
And he left, grinning as the man behind him cursed.
When dean walked into his new cabin for the month, his room mate was already there. He was folding clothes into the small chest of drawers.
When he heard the door open, the boy turned around.
Dean's heart stopped. The boy was beautiful. He had dark hair and pale skin, which contrasted amazingly well. He had startlingly blue eyes and full, pink, plush lips.
His mouth was frozen.
Eventually he managed to make out: "Top or bottom?"
The boy smiled.
"Top." Dean smiled back. Usually he had the top bunk, but damn it was worth it if that piece of ass was above him.
He slung his bag on the bottom bunk but the boy was speaking again.
"Oh, wait, you meant bunks? I'll have bottom."
