Claire uneasily paced outside the locker rooms. The rest of the swim team had left already, but there was still no sign of Jesse. And if he had decided to get a ride from someone else, he would have told her, because Jesse was responsible like that.

Checking the hall in both directions, Claire slipped into the Boy's locker room, relatively certain that the only risk to her delicate sensibilities was Jesse and Claire found his selective modesty ridiculous anyway.

There was no outraged protest, or scramble for shelter. Green eyes didn't flash and a voice that wasn't finished deepening didn't squeak out an embarrassed accusation. The locker room was empty.

Claire moved past the shower room and into the tiled area surrounding the pool. At first she didn't see anyone. The coach wasn't even in the office like she had half-expected, and Jesse wasn't in the office or swimming extra laps or hovering lost in thought by the windows.

A second sweep of the pool revealed a scrap of red at the bottom, and Claire kicked off her shoes to run on the tile for a better look. Jesse was sitting on the bottom of the pool, eyes closed and absolutely still. Claire immediately dove in.

A few seconds later, Jesse was laughing at her as they both tread water in the deep end of the pool. Claire scowled at him, and shoved his arm away from her in agitation. "You scared the heck out of me, Jesse!"

He was still laughing.

Claire sent a wave over his head, and turned away in disgust to swim back to the ladder. Jesse caught up easily. "Wait, Claire. I'm sorry!"

Claire gave him a cold look and hoisted herself out of the water. Jesse grabbed the ladder, and looked up at her earnestly. "I'm sorry, Claire. Everybody left, and I lost track of time. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just thinking . . . wasn't in any danger."

"You were just sitting there," Claire's voice was still higher than she cared to acknowledge.

Jesse ducked his head in shame. "I can hold my breath for a long time, Claire. I'm sorry that I scared you."

In the rational corner of her mind, Claire can maybe admit that she overreacted a little, because the younger boy is the star of the swim team, moves through water like he belongs there, and professes to speak fish just to mess with people. But she doesn't like seeing him like that, and she's still an outraged, inconvenienced teenage girl so she doesn't forgive him.

She did however sit down on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water, seeing as she's completely soaked through anyway. Jesse smiled up at her a little sheepishly. "I didn't even notice everyone else leave, Claire," he admitted.

Which isn't anything new, because people overlook Jesse all the time, even people who should know better like swim coaches who leave teenagers in the pool when they leave. In a lighter mood, Jesse would call it his cloak of invisibility and waggle his eyebrows in that annoying way of his.

Claire crossed her arms over her chest, and Jesse hauls himself up onto the bottom rung of the ladder, putting him directly into Claire's personal space—not that she has any real sense of that anymore. Having an angel in your head made things like the bubble or modesty irrelevant.

"C'mon, Claire. Forgive me and I'll buy you ice cream," he promised, sounding years younger in his pathetic attempt to bribe her. "Chocolate Peanut-butter cup," he wheedled. "Totally my treat."

It was always his treat. Jesse always had money, and it made Claire wonder what Mr. Turner did for a living.

"C'mon, Claire, you know you want it."

The younger boy really did know her too well. Huffing in exasperation, Claire shoved him backward, catching him off guard, and Jesse went down with a splash.

Later, when they're sitting in the bed of Claire's secondhand truck with ice cream cones dripping down their hands, and Claire is wearing Jesse's spare clothes, Claire actually asked him about it.

He caught a drip of strawberry, and was lost in thought for a moment. "I like being underwater. It's quiet and a good place to think." His face was too serious, too blank, eyes shut like they were when Claire found him earlier. That look made him seem older and bigger than Claire like he's part of something that she can't be. It makes Claire shiver, and sometimes it reminds her of Castiel.

"Think about what?" she asked.

One eye popped open, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Whether the X-Men could take the Justice League in a fight."

Claire smacked him upside the back of the head, and popped the last of her cone into her mouth. "I think all that chlorine is killing your brain."

Boys made ridiculous best friends, and some days Claire didn't know why she bothered.