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Dean flexes his toes, savoring the tickle of the cool sand hidden beneath the sun-warmed surface of the beach. It’s at least a couple weeks past peak winter tourist season—and a Monday—so they have their patch of sand mostly to themselves, with just a smattering of retirees out enjoying the weather. A little ways down the beach, Sam and Eileen are supervising Jack’s enthusiastic splashing, easing him into actual swimming without the fear of losing him to the ocean. Cas is a bit tense, ever anxious about their kid’s safety, but he’s more relaxed than he’s ever been, the rigid set of his shoulders loosening the longer their vacation lasts.
“Hey.” Dean nudges Cas with his elbow, careful not to slosh whatever fruity drink Eileen had picked out for him, the tiny blue umbrella spinning around with the movement. Cas reluctantly tears his gaze away from Jack, who’s now completely upright in water that only reaches his waist. A flush of pink has bloomed across the bridge of his nose and cheeks after a few hours in the bright sun. “You could use some more lotion, sunshine.”
Cas squints even further and cants his head. “You told me I put enough lotion on this morning.”
Dean laughs, light and easy, warm from more than just the weather. “But that was this morning, bud. You gotta reapply.” He twists his cup down into the sand next to their chairs and digs around in the rainbow beach bag Jack picked out until he feels the smooth tube of sunscreen. Putting a generous glob on his fingertips, he leans over and swipes it across Cas’s face, to only mild sounds of protests.
“It smells, Dean. Why can’t they make it without the odor?”
“Quit your bitching, princess, or I’ll just let you burn.” Dean gently rubs the lotion into Cas’s cheek until it’s little more than a white sheen, then moves on to the other side.
“Terrible design flaw that humanity hasn’t developed traits to prevent the need for this,” Cas grumbles under his breath, barely more than a whisper, but they’re so close together it’s impossible for Dean to miss.
“Pretty sure it has,” he says, moving on to the bridge of Cas’s nose. “It’s called melatonin.”
Cas grins, an easygoing expression Dean’s been seeing more and more of lately, his eyes still scrunched up so tight they’re all crinkly at the corners. The urge to kiss the crow’s feet is tempered only by the fact that he just smeared sunscreen there. “Melanin.”
“Oh. Yeah, that.” Once upon a time, Dean would’ve been grumpy about being corrected by the know-it-all angel—especially since he knew that, his brain’s just on vacation mode—but now he simply smiles and taps the end of Cas’s nose. “There. Now you won’t look like a lobster when we head home.”
“Can we stay a few extra days? I like it here, by the ocean. And I think Jack does, too.” Cas nods toward their kid, who’s happily splashing Sam and Eileen—both of whom have hair plastered across their faces and are sporting the biggest grins Dean’s seen on them possibly ever. Jack stumbles and lands hard on his ass, the water lapping about his chin. After a moment of stunned silence, he starts laughing, and he raises his hands, both dripping dark sand in thin streams running off his palms. Atop the dwindling mound of sand and tiny bits of sea glass sits a bright white spiraled shell.
“Dad! Look!” Jack calls out. He scrambles to his feet, careful to keep the shell in his hand, and runs across the beach, seawater sluicing down his legs. “I found a shell! It hurt my hand a bit, but it’s okay, I healed it up right away because Sam said that ocean water isn’t the cleanest, and—” The words come out all in a rush, and Jack has to pause to take a breath. His hair looks blonder under the bright sun, the ends curling a bit behind his ears, just like his dad’s. Dean sips his drink to hide the smile fighting to split his face. Strawberry daiquiri. Nice.
“It’s beautiful, Jack,” Cas says reverently, as if the tiny shell is the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. “Would you like to add it to our collection when we get home?”
“You mean the shells from your honeymoon?” Jack’s eyes light up, and for a second Dean’s afraid they might actually start glowing a soft gold; the kid’s pretty in control of his powers, but he’s still a kid, which means he can get a little unpredictable when excited. The strangers on the beach would probably chalk it up to a trick of the light, but still. Gotta be careful.
“Do you think you can make room, or should we add a whole ‘nother shelf?” Dean shakes off his concern and slings an arm around Cas’s shoulders, relaxing back into his chair. Cas lifts his hand to entwine their fingers, easy as breathing. Sunscreen be damned, Dean presses a kiss to his temple, relishing that he can.
“Another shelf would be nice,” Cas says decisively. “For future memories.”
“Hey, Jack, why don’t you go ask Sam and Eileen if they wanna stay a bit longer? Cas and I were thinking we’d see if we can keep our rooms the rest of the week.” Jack’s off, sprinting toward the ocean as quickly as the slippery sand will let him, before Dean can even finish his sentence. “Well, I guess he liked the idea. Think I should be worried about how many shells he’s gonna find now?”
Cas hums softly in response, somewhere between agreement and a laugh. “I hope Eileen’s got room in her car.”
“She looking a little pink to you?” Dean waves to catch her attention and holds up the sunscreen bottle. She smiles and hits Sam’s arm, saying something Dean can’t quite hear. Sam pushes his hair back from where it’s plastered to his face and signs something to her before turning to get Jack. Before Dean can register what’s happening, they’re rushing at him with a red plastic pail full of water, soaking the wonderfully atrocious Hawaiian shirt Jack had bought him.
He still makes them reapply sunscreen first, but having thoroughly doused him, they’re finally able to cajole Dean into the water. The sky is streaked pink and orange by the time they gather up their stuff to leave, the setting sun casting the ocean a deep azure, and even though he’s tinged pink and exhausted, Dean’s pretty sure it’s the best birthday he’s ever had.