A/N: I wrote this while I was sitting on the beach one day, marveling at the sheer beauty of the ocean. I dedicate it to my mother, Georgia McQueen, who always told me that it was perfectly acceptable to find friends in the biggest of places and the tiniest of creatures.

A Life at Sea

Deanie McQueen

"Sam!" Dean calls. His hands don't leave the wheel and his eyes don't drift from the vast expanse of water. "Get your sasquatchian ass back on the poop deck!"

Sam's been a real pain in the ass recently. Ever since Dean commandeered this tug boat, the kid's been running all over the place on those long ass legs of his, the salty ocean breeze licking that mane of girly hair past his face as he leans over the railing and converses with the water.

"Not now, Dean! Boris is having an existential crisis!"

"Who the hell is Boris?"

"He's a bank sea bass! And he's hurting. Doris-"

"Doris?" All this yelling is making Dean's throat hurt. "Sam, I mean it. Get on the goddamn poop deck before I kick your ass. I think there's a storm coming and I need you to tell me-"

"Doris is the love of his life, Dean! And she just left him for some other fish and now he's-"

"Sam, for the last time. You can't talk to fish!"

Sam goes quiet after that, probably sulking because he's a fussy little bastard and Dean knows that he's just lonely. Such is life at sea. Dean's not gonna give into his dramatics, though. Not this time. Dude can sulk to his little heart's content.

Silence gets to Dean really fast these days. "Sam? I'm-"

The scream shatters the air. Dean drops the wheel for the first time in days.

"Sam? Sam!" He races across the deck to see his brother backing quickly away from the rail, his face pale and his hands trembling. Dean grips him tight about the shoulders, shakes him a little. "Sammy? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"


"What's wrong?" Dean repeats, a little harshly. He'll kill it...whatever it is.

"It was Pogo."

Dean arches an eyebrow. "Who the hell is Pogo?"

"He's a...a.." Sam looks like he's about to burst into tears.

"A what? Sam? What is he? Do I need to go get the shotguns? I got some rock salt in the cabin-"

"He's a clownfish," Sam wails.

Dean sighs and then grunts. He pulls his baby brother into a firm hug and resists pulling away as the kid sobs and rubs his nose into Dean's jacket-covered shoulder. Clown fish and violent waves: such is the life of Dean Winchester, tug boat captain.