Sand and Salt

Time Off

Dean Winchester rested his arms on the steering wheel of his 1967 Chevrolet Impala as he felt the coastal breeze tickle his cheeks from the open window. His brother, Sam, glanced at him from the passenger seat with a look of peace.

"So, I was thinking...park this Baby and head straight for the water. You know, just to let her know what she's been missing."

Sam gave a small chuckle. "Sounds great."

Dean turned right onto a small road. He squinted, looking at the horizon, which was peeking from between the trees.

"Check it out, Sammy."

Sam leaned forward, seeing the bright blue ocean. He exhaled with a wide smile.

Dean continued to drive until he reached the many hotels lining the coast. He parked the car in the first spot he could find.

"Good thing about the ocean...it's got plenty of salt," said Dean. "Don't have to worry about the creepy-crawlies here."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's true." They both climbed out of the Impala and headed to the shore. Their hearts raced as they saw the sun reflecting off of the crystal waters. It was much more beautiful than they'd imagined.

They rushed through the gate, through a hotel's pool area, out another gate, and finally down the wooden steps to the sand. Dean tripped the instant his feet, now bare, sunk into it.

Sam laughed and placed his toes in the sand much more carefully. Dean smirked, then shoved his brother onto the ground. Sand was thrown into the air by his feet as he fell face-first. He was covered in it once he finally managed to look back up at Dean, who was now the one laughing. Sam snatched Dean's ankle, an Dean collapsed beside him.

They both pulled themselves up to their knees.

"Haven't even gotten two feet and we're already acting like teenage girls," Sam said.

"Oh, I embrace it," said Dean, looking up into the clear blue sky. He brought himself to his feet and began sprinting for the waves. Sam hurried behind him, quickly catching up with his longer legs. And then he passed Dean. Dean threw up his hands. "Aw, c'mon! That's not fair!"

They pulled off their shirts and threw them into the sand before splashing into the ocean.

The water was cool against their bare legs. This was one of the rare times that someone would see Sam and Dean wearing shorts.

As they waded farther and farther into the deep, waves crashed and foamed around them. One of them broke right as it reached the two brothers, and Dean lost his footing, being dragged under. He eventually resurfaced with coughs.

"Son of a bitch, that tastes awful!"

Sam laughed, still standing tall among the waves.

"Shut up, Goliath," Dean muttered, shaking his head to get water out of his ears.

Sam threw up his hands.

They stayed in the water for an hour, and then they decided to finally check in to their hotel room. Their luggage (other than the arsenal in the trunk) consisted of only a toothbrush, a few shirts, a couple of pairs of jeans, two pairs of swim trunks--Dean bought them during his giddy excitement as they'd planned for the trip--, and a stack of underwear each. But that was okay. They didn't need materialistic items to be happy; all they needed was each other, which was enough.

~(☆)~

Sam and Dean admired the hotel. First of all, it was a hotel, and not a motel. It was fancy, with fifteen floors. The elevator was a bit awkward, since a shirtless 400-pound man--who was three shades redder than they thought was humanely possible--had crammed himself in the corner that they were standing in. And he needed deodorant.