Destiel Oneshots

Saltwater and Sand

A/N: No prompt, just felt like writing a Destiel beach day fic. I don't know. It's late- or early, I guess- and I'm feeling strangely motivated.

EDIT: not sure why but this wound up being a bit angsty... not super bad though! (I put fluff in there too, not to worry) Ends happy I promise :)))

     Dean's standing at the very edge of the beach, where the jagged edges of rock fade into the soft but gritty grain of sand. He nudges one cautiously with a single toe, frowning down at it before lifting his head to squint at the shoreline. 

     The sun is uncomfortably hot, beating down mercilessly on Dean's already too-warm black t-shirt- and it's only made worse with its warmth reflected up at him from the sand. The small grains are deceptively hot, burning the bottoms of his feet as he begins to edge towards the water. 

     He's beginning to regret giving in to Sam and Cas, he realizes, as the sand works its way between his toes and sticks to the bottoms of his jeans. He stops, briefly- wincing at the sand's near blistering heat- to cuff his jeans. He rolls them up just a few inches, then- with a sigh- pushes them up a little past his knees. 

     The sand is already everywhere, and despite his efforts to dust it off, the gritty feeling still remains. Dean groans, raking a hand through his hair. 

     He wouldn't be here- at some out-of-the-way beach on the Western Coast- if it wasn't for Sammy. 

     They'd been driving for a while, occasionally stopping as they bounced from motel to motel- some more dubious than others- and after a particularly harrowing experience in southern Oregon, the atmosphere in the car had been... tense. 

     Sam had spotted a local beach- that was virtually impossible to find- and suggested that they take a while off and go to the beach. Cas had enthusiastically agreed, staring at Dean- pleading- with that piercing blue gaze of his.

     It had made his stomach flip in a way he wasn't entirely comfortable with. 

     He'd shoved the thought away- like he always did- but Cas's pleading stare was damn near impossible to ignore. 

     Dean had grumbled about chick-flick moments and how they didn't need to go to the beach, not really, but he'd had to admit that they did need a break. They couldn't live in Baby, anyways. It was starting to feel cramped, if Dean was being honest. 

     That was why- or, at least, that was what Dean was telling himself- he'd eventually caved. 

     "Fine, Sammy," he'd conceded. "We can go, and you can frolic."

     "Jerk," Sam had scoffed. 

     "Bitch." 

     Secretly, though, Dean had been glad to take the day off. Lately, he'd had more time to think, and he'd realized that maybe he was wasting his years. 

     Well. Maybe not wasting, but surely not living all he could either. There was something missing, something that would make his years feel lived, full. 

     It felt like something taboo, something he shouldn't want, but he'd started to hope- despite himself- that there could be more to life than monsters, cases, and salt n' burns. 

     He had no idea where to start looking- and no idea if he even wanted to look, really- but he figured that spending time with Cas and Sam was as good a place to start as any. 

     Sam and Cas were already down by the waves- of course- and Dean can see Cas walking along a small patch of the beach, looking down at something in the waves.