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“Hey, Sammy,” Dean started, smiling when he heard Sam huff at him, because he knew how much his brother hated that nickname, which made him use it all the more on his brother. “It’s Sam, not Sammy. Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It’s Sam, okay?” He could imagine the bitchy look his brother was giving him right about now, and if he hadn’t been driving down a congested highway, he would have glanced over at Sam to see that his brother had narrowed his eyes at him and was probably imagining him dead. Been there, done that, forgot to grab the T-shirt on the way out. “So, I’m thinking we should probably find a place to pull over at the next exit… Shop… Grab whatever we might need,” he announced, continuing on as if Sam hadn’t huffed his displeasure at him. “Maybe even pick up a couple of pairs of board shorts… Swimming trunks… Bathing suits…Whatever they’re called now. Just in case we feel like dipping our toes in the sand.”
Slouching in the passenger’s seat, Sam gave a long-suffering sigh. After all this time, Dean knew how much he hated that nickname, yet his brother still insisted on calling him that. He knew Dean did it on purpose to get a reaction from him, and he always had a knee-jerk reaction to it before he could even stop himself from reacting. It was the classic big brother, little brother dynamic, and there was no stopping that. Not from either of them. “Whatever,” he mumbled, sounding like the ever-petulant little brother that he desperately didn’t want to come off as. At least if they did stop, he’d be able to look through the book selection and see if there were any books worth picking up. The thought of having a few days off at the beach was something he’d never thought possible, but when Dean had announced that they needed some downtime at the beach, he’d readily agreed. Now, they were stuck in the Impala on a hot day with no air conditioning in slow-moving traffic, and he needed to stretch his legs. He’d take shopping for supplies over being crammed into the passenger seat and cooped up in a shiny black metal box that the sun was beating down on any day of the week right about now.
With the Impala and the rest of the traffic at a standstill, Dean glanced over at his brother to see that all too familiar put-upon look on Sam’s face and thought about teasing his brother just a little more, but then thought better. Needling Sam when his brother was grumpy, while fun for him, never ended well, and he wasn’t in the mood for Sam to explode on him… Not in the heat they were trying to survive. Maybe once they were in an air-conditioned motel room… Or a store, but definitely not now. Deciding to let things rest between him and Sam, he reached over, turned the radio on, and began to tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the song playing through the speakers.
Closing his eyes, Sam curled his hands into fists and sat there trying not to lose his temper. He knew Dan wasn’t deliberately trying to get on his nerves, at least not in that moment, but the incessant tapping on the steering wheel was akin to Dean running his fingernails down a chalkboard for him. He couldn’t wait for Dean to pull off at the next exit just so his brother would turn the radio off. Feeling the Impala come to a full stop and hearing his brother’s voice, he cracked his eyes open and then shifted in his seat, raising his left hand to shield his eyes against the glaring sun’s rays.
“We’re here,” Dean announced once he’d parked the Impala and had pulled the key from the ignition, pocketing it as he got out and stood in the sweltering heat, the hot rays of the sun beating down on him and reflecting off the sleek, polished body of the Impala. “We gonna do this or what?” he asked, directing his words to his brother, who had yet to move from the car. “Come on,” he called out to Sam as he started for the sliding glass doors of the box store he’d stopped at when he heard the familiar creaking of his brother’s door opening. “Air conditioning,” he murmured happily when he felt a burst of cool air coming from the store hit his skin. He’d stripped down to just a T-shirt, jeans, and his boots earlier that day in an attempt to keep cool, but the heat had been no match, and he’d found himself sweating no matter what he did. The cold air felt fantastic on his skin, making him shiver.
“Dean… Wait up,” Sam huffed, running to catch up with his brother before Dean disappeared inside, and then he was forced to walk up and down every aisle in the store until he found his brother. Reaching out, he grabbed Dean’s shoulder, stopping his brother before Dean could make his way further into the air-conditioned store. “We need a plan,” he started to say, stopping when he felt the cold air kissing his skin.
“You were saying?” Dean prompted, waiting for Sam to continue. When Sam remained silent, he smirked, knowing that his brother was enjoying the cool air. “Okay, so here’s the plan: you grab the supplies we’ll need… Food, beer, pie. Don’t forget the pie. That’s very important.” He ignored Sam, who was rolling his eyes at him. “I’m gonna grab the other stuff we need. Got it?” Not waiting for Sam to respond, he pushed one shopping cart toward his brother before walking off, pushing another cart to accommodate what he was in search of - beach attire - and ignoring his brother’s eyes, which he knew were boring holes into his back.
Looking around for the men’s section, Dean located the sign indicating where he needed to be and wheeled the shopping cart toward his destination, smiling when he reached it. New clothes were a luxury that he and Sam didn’t really worry about too often. They’d grown up shopping in thrift stores and wearing each other’s hand-me-downs. At first, it had been Sam wearing Dean’s clothes when Dean had grown out of them, but since Sam had had a growth spurt right after high school, Dean’s clothes hardly fit his brother. And while Dean couldn’t wear Sam’s jeans, he could still borrow Sam’s shirts, making their wardrobe stretch as much as possible. He grabbed what they needed - the essentials - before turning his attention to what would be considered a luxury for them. He grabbed shorts, T-shirts, tank tops, and board shorts, because how could they enjoy the beach if they couldn’t take a dip in the water? He even picked up two pairs of flip-flops because he knew they couldn’t wear their boots on the beach. Satisfied with everything he’d loaded into the shopping cart, he was about to seek out Sam when he noticed a display of Hawaiian shirts.
Smiling to himself, Dean wheeled the shopping cart closer to get a better look. He thumbed through several shirts until one caught his attention. It wasn’t his usual muted hues of green, black, and red. No, this shirt was an in-your-face yellow with green fronds printed across the shoulders, down one short sleeve, and at the bottom. But the Hawaiian print didn’t stop there. There were also Hibiscus flowers in red, white, and yellow scattered across the shirt. The pièce de résistance for Dean was the pineapples, in browns and reds, that made up the rest of the pattern. Grabbing the Hawaiian shirt, he added it to his pile and wheeled the shopping cart away, searching for Sam, whom he found in the suncare section. “You about done?”
Turning at the sound of his brother’s voice, Sam’s eyes landed on the hideous Hawaiian shirt. “What the fuck is that?” he asked, hoping there wasn’t another shirt like that in the pile for him, because if there was, he would be tossing it before they reached the cashier.
Grinning, Dean held up the shirt. “My Hawaiian shirt. You like it? You don’t think it’s too Hawaiian, do you? I mean, how Hawaiian is too Hawaiian?”
“You do realize that we’re not in Hawaii. It’s hideous, and there better not be a Hawaiian shirt in there for me because I won’t wear it,” Sam warned.
A wicked smile spread across Dean’s face as he met Sam’s eyes and winked at his brother. “Nah, Sammy, you could never pull something like this masterpiece off.”