Ain't No Fortunate One {Leonard}

[fassa]

It was a mistake.

Okay - maybe "mistake" wasn't the right word.

Dean had intended to take the opportunity this morning to workout, because one, he needed to stay fit, and two, he'd been so used to his 4-hour sleep cycle it left him with so much more time in the mornings to do nothing because there were no ghosts to lay to rest, no demons to send back to hell here - so far.

Maybe this was God's way of telling him to pick a new hobby.

Right, he snorted. Well God’s a jerk.

Dean swung his feet off the bed and sat on the edge, head tilted towards Robin, who was curled up by his pillow. It was only, what - last week? - that he was in Rufus’s cabin. It would be great to wake up back there, to his brother reading at the table, or sleeping on the couch. Being here, he felt like a fish out of water, but it was kinda nice to be able to catch more shut-eye.

He sighed. He should leave this room, go outside, work out and clear his mind. Perhaps to the lake.

Robin nudged at his elbow, so that Dean would look at him -- Training? Yes, he could see it now, this would be excellent. They could both get stronger together, take on the world.

“Not you, squirt,” Dean interrupted his train of thought, bumping him lightly on his head with his knuckles. “No, you stay here.”

But Robin would have none of that, he scowled and spread his wings, attempting to look menacing. He continued to harass Dean as he went through with his morning ritual, getting ready to leave. Robin proved to be unshakeable, his human’s attempts at making him stay futile. The instant they left the room, Robin zipped ahead, with the knowledge of where they’d be heading..

“Robin-! Dammit Robin- Robin? Get back here!”

So here he was, a good way away from the residence in the direction of the lake. Robin never went too far ahead, and Dean never really tried to catch him anyway. They crossed the black sand, Dean finding he enjoyed the change of scenery (as compared to the somewhat claustrophobic weave of caverns), and Robin ecstatic from the abundance of open space.

There weren't many people about - and though it was early, it was already warm and humid, possibly due to the fact they were in a crater of an extinct volcano with trapped geothermal energy below the earth. Still, it wasn't that unbearable, thanks to the outfit the Weyrfolk have so generously provided, and the temperature reminded him of Kansas in July.

He had heard there's be some kind of orientation for the Weyrfolk to welcome the Lost, but he already knew that they knew just as much as he did on how people like him ended up on friggin' Tatooine. The Weyrfolk would probably absorb him into their lifestyle, but he'd like to work out anyway so that if he did get back, whenever that was, he'd be able to pick things up easily where he had left off. They can't all stay here forever, right?

Robin settled by the edge of the lake, splashing about while Dean surveyed the area - it was such an alien terrain, nothing like what he’d seen back home. He bowed, then shook his head - he’d best get started, before the sun came up fully.

[Inouken]

"Sheldon," Leonard hissed. "Sheldon, get back here!"

He stumbled through the brush, attempting to clear a path for himself, albeit futilely.

"Sheldon!"

A large, leafy branch refused to acknowledge Leonard's efforts and rebounded, slapping him in the face. "Oh, for crying out loud," he whined, wrestling with the thing before ultimately ducking beneath it and realigning his glasses. "Sheldon, if you don't get your little lizard behind back here right now, you are in serious trouble, mister."

The outing had started off simply. That was the frustrating part. He had left his apartment early, wanting to explore the surrounding area because as much as Leonard hated being stuck in Pern, he was curious about the environment his subconscious had trapped him in. As a scientist, he understood the importance of observation, of close inspection until the pieces came together. Investigation could lead to clues, to eventual freedom. Leonard had taken that possibility to heart, clinging to it with due diligence every morning before most of the Weyrfolk woke up.

Today had been just like any other morning. At least that had been the case until something had caught Sheldon's attention, leaving Leonard wincing as the firelizard used his claws to inelegantly scramble off his shoulder and into the vast unknown.

That had been awhile ago. Too long. Leonard grumbled, brushing debris off his sleeves. He wasn't built for this outdoorsy stuff. He was a scientist, not a ranger, regardless of how much he had wished his pseudonym "Aragorn" had stuck.

"Sheldon! I swear to the God you don't believe in when I get my hands on you--"

Rustling off to the side. Leonard stopped, tensing in place. "Buddy?"

The rustling came closer.

"Come on," Leonard swallowed. He didn't have time for this. "Stop messing around. Let's just g-- oh my God."

Leonard staggered backward, needing to get as far away as quickly as possible from whatever had just slithered from the underbrush. The thing looked reptilian in nature, vaguely resembling a firelizard except it had six legs and an apparent temper because Leonard could count each and every one of its very sharp teeth.

"Um, down, boy," he laughed nervously. "Stay?"

It approached in a threatening manner, a growl erupting from its throat.

"Okay then," Leonard said.

He ran, springing forward on his legs and tearing through the branches without looking. Sheldon was on his own. He'd find him later if the little creature from hell didn't maul him before he made it back to his apartment. Leonard wasn't even sure he was heading in the right direction, but he could see a clearing up ahead, and he pushed towards it, his feet slamming against the ground.

In retrospect, he should have slowed down once he reached the edge of the foliage. Glancing over his shoulder while still plowing straight ahead had also been a terrible, poorly conceived idea.

He ran smack into someone, a man judging by the noise the person made as Leonard sent them both off balance in an awkward collision of limbs that ended with the two of them falling headfirst into a large body of water.

Sputtering and gasping, Leonard scrambled to a sitting position. "I'm so sorry," he said on impulse. "I should have been looking where I was going; there was just this--this creature with teeth--" He removed his already askew glasses and wiped them off somewhat uselessly on his shirt before putting them back on. When the guy came into focus, all Leonard could do was stare.

There in front of him, rising to his full height, was Dean Winchester. Or Jensen Ackles, the actor. But probably Dean because if Leonard was fantasizing about Jensen now then lord help him; he didn't want to examine the state of his mind any further. Leonard remembered him from the hatching, had hoped that his Supernatural character-spotting had been a onetime occurrence. Apparently his subconscious had other ideas, because here he was again, drenched to the bone and looking entirely put off.

"I--" Leonard articulated. He staggered to his feet. "I'm sorry," he repeated, then tested, "Dean. Um." He shook his head, choked out a laugh. "Wow, I never thought I'd address you in person in person. You know, barring the people who cosplay you at Comic-Con."

[fassa]

Dean was in the middle of his second set of stretches when he heard something rustling in the shrubbery behind him. He barely had time to turn when something, or someone, barrelled into his back and they both toppled into the water, his hands out in front of him by instinct to cushion his fall, though it was a fat load of help.

Not what he had anticipated when he woke up this morning and thought of what he'd be doing today - having the wind knocked out of him and finding himself face-down in water. At least that part of the lake wasn’t that deep.

When the weight was lifted off his back, he dug his feet into the lakebed and stood up, the water level only reaching up to his knees. He wiped the water away from his eyes only to see the human cannonball sitting before him already rattling an apology. Robin wedged himself between them both, hovering above the apologetic man, his agitation mirroring Dean’s.

He had a few rather crossed remarks to make to the stranger but they dissipated when he realised that he was speaking in a familiar American, albeit rapid, accent- definitely Californian. He also noted the change in his tone when the man slipped on a pair of glasses; Dean’s own eyes narrowed at the sarcasm in his words but widened at the last part.

“Cosplay? Comic-Con?”

Those were geek words and those thick frames on his face bespoke geeky - something about this man proclaimed the same too. Dean was pretty sure now that this man was Lost like he and Castiel were, perhaps from the same world no less- but wait-

“Hang on a sec’,” he said, eyeing the stranger as he flicked the water off his hands. “Did you just say my name? Do we know each other?”

[Inouken]

Leonard wrung water from the front of his clothes, taking a cautious step away from Dean's firelizard as it put its attitude on display. "Well I certainly know of you," he said drily. "Dean Winchester, older brother of Sam Winchester. You hate flying, like pie and drive a '67 Chevy Impala. You've died, like, over 100 times, which is ridiculous even by virtue of the Staying Alive trope." He stepped fully out of the lake, attempting to shake the water off his feet.

"Oh, and you're kinda gay for that angel guy, Castiel." Leonard was rambling now, but didn't care enough to stop. "Raj thinks you two should totally hook up. I believe his exact words were, 'Oh my gosh, whenever they eyesex each other I just want to sob over a whole container of ice cream and never stop.'" He feigned dramatic involvement, clutching his hands over his chest before he smirked and ultimately dropped the routine.

"I personally don't care if you do or not, but he kinda has a point." Pausing awkwardly, he continued, "You two longingly gaze into each other's eyes a whole lot."

Not for the first time, Leonard wondered why he even watched the show. It was just a sausagefest, a bunch of tall, athletically built studs who paraded around the country, saving people, hunting things, and eyefucking each other because the women never stayed alive long enough to matter.

He looked Dean up and down, uneasy with the realization that both of them were soaking wet and that in numerous corners of the internet, there were probably hundreds of fans keysmashing their desire to see exactly what he was seeing now.

Dean, dripping with water, clothes sticking to his body and accentuating his muscular physique.

Leonard made a face that was probably him about to be ill.

He leaned over and gagged into the lake a little, coughing up a mouthful of water.

He never thought about Dean that way, but there was a questionable GQ photoshoot going down in his head with Dean as the star, so.

What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

[fassa]

"I-" Dean began but didn't get a chance to put in another word in edgewise.

He listened on, eyes widening - he couldn't dispute the love of pie (seriously, who does that) or fear of flying, and he was spot on on Baby.

This s.o.b. better not be a psychic-

His mouth went dry at the mention of his death count. How did he even know that? Dean was pretty sure 95% of them didn’t even count, since they were all Groundhog deaths. He didn’t exactly live through them, which was pretty gracious on Gabriel’s part- though he couldn’t say the trickster had been the same to Sam.

Back up- what’s he talking about now? Hooking up? With Cas? Eyesex?

Freakin’ hell - Dean did not longingly gaze into Castiel's eyes.

"What?"he exclaimed with emphasis, creases between his brows more pronounced as his face settled for a look of offended bemusement after having gone through a myriad of expressions ranging from how-the-fudge-did-you-know-that to what-the-actual-fuck.

Robin continued to circle the provoker, mustering the narrowest, meanest eyes he could-- he’d attack this human for that ambush. He could take this puny human on if Dean allowed!

"I don't-" he hesitated and shook his head, rethinking what to say. It didn't help his thoughts were getting its lines crossed with Robin’s.

“Robin, no,” Dean shook his head, then closed his eyes for a moment, forefinger and thumb rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn’t have time for this crap here though time seemed to be all he had in this place. Whatever this stranger was spouting, the lackadaisical and slightly condescending attitude was pissing him off.

And he needed to get out of this lake.

Robin perched himself on his shoulder when Dean stood on the sand, about two feet away from the other man, eyes still on him. Maybe his human was right to dissuade him from attacking this man -- he didn’t seem so much of a threat at all. Robin shook his wings a little and tucked them in, tail curled up behind Dean’s back.

Dean knew the stranger wasn’t a psychic at least, but it wasn't much of a reason to like him more.

"Look, shortstop-" he continued, his pitch low. "Heh- I don't know where you got your info from but what crawled up your ass and died?"

Instead of an answer, the guy bowed over to puke into the lake. Dean made a face, stepping back, alarmed. Gross.

Dipping into the lake now would be off limits for the next couple of days.

“Guess it’s out of you now,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair and turning away in disgust.

The man said he’d been running from something before, but Dean couldn’t see or hear anything of concern in their immediate proximity.

He'd leave the s.o.b. here if he didn't think he was Lost; he looked to be a few years younger than Dean himself was, dressed for the Igen outdoors. Maybe he was from bizarro world, where Jensen and something called a Padalecki were. Couldn't help but shudder at the thought of people tuning in to watch his life on tv.

Or maybe he was from the same world, reading what Chuck wrote. Christ- he shuddered again, recalling that part of him going full frontal.

Why would anyone want to read or watch such crap of his craptastic life anyway?

He rolled his shoulders, hands pulling up his shirt to wring and lips thinned. He looked at the guy again. Then for the sake of saying something, he dropped his shoulders and asked, "You gonna be okay?"

“You know,” he continued. “You don’t seem like an outdoors sort of person, but I’m guessing you’re not from here either. You Californian?”

--

and bonus pic which is not really accurate but anyway