Work Text:
With the cases Dean and Sam took on, calling ahead to rent a room was never a high priority on Dean’s list of things to do, but knowing that he and his brother were taking an actual vacation for once, he’d planned ahead and had booked a room at a seaside motel. Judging by the traffic he and Sam had been stuck in, booking a room had been the right decision. As he pulled up to the Laughing Seahorse and parked, he took in the pristine white painted clapboard siding and the seafoam green painted trim of the doors and windows. Each door was marked with a number in black, with an overly exaggerated laughing seahorse painted in purple and blue. For once, the motel he and Sam would be staying in for the next week seemed inviting rather than questionable, and possibly deadly to anyone who chose to sleep there for even a minute. But he also knew that looks could be deceiving. Parking the Impala, he cut the engine and gave the motel another look before getting out to be greeted by the hot afternoon sun, the smell of the salt air, and the squawking of seagulls flying overhead. “Be right back,” he announced, gently tapping the hood of the car before walking toward the motel’s office, where he was greeted by air conditioning that was more than welcome and an older woman with graying hair pulled up into a ponytail wearing a pink sundress. He braced himself for the judgmental look from the woman, knowing that he was a sweaty mess, only to be surprised by the genuine smile that spread across her face. “Afternoon,” he greeted as he stepped inside, careful not to let the office door bang closed behind him.
“Afternoon, sweetie. You look like you’ve been run through an oven and baked at five hundred degrees.” Getting to her feet, she leaned against the counter separating her and Dean. “Gotta tell you, if you’re looking for a place to stay, we’re full up,” she said softly with a sad smile as she shook her head. “We don’t have one of those fancy signs that advertise rooms…”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I called and booked a room,” Dean countered, closing the distance between himself and the counter, offering the woman a smile. “The room should be under Fletcher.”
“Oh… Let me take a look,” the woman, Marcel, as her name tag read, stated. Turning to her left, she began typing on a keyboard, chewing on her bottom lip while she waited for the reservation to load. “You’re in luck! Your room’s still available…” She peered over at Dean. “Booked for the week… Two full-sized beds.”
“Yeah, it’s for me and my brother. Family vacation,” Dean found himself explaining.
“Oh, that’s nice. Not too many grown adults like to take vacations with their siblings. God knows I sure wouldn’t. I’m sick of seeing my brother on a monthly basis,” Marcel revealed, laughing at her own joke.
“I hear ya on that,” Dean responded with a chuckle. He knew all too well how siblings could get on each other’s nerves. He and Sam had had many fights over the years, some verbal, some physical, before they had gotten to a place where they could talk to each other instead of at each other.
“Well, all I need is your credit card, Mr. Fletcher, and you’ll be good to go,” Marcel chirped, smiling at Dean.
“No problem.” Pulling his wallet out, Dean slapped down the credit card in question and then waited, hoping there were no issues. He smiled at Marcel when she ran the credit card and slid it and the room keys toward him.
“I hope you have a wonderful stay. There’s a welcome basket in your room. It lists the closest diners and restaurants as well as their hours, along with the local attractions. But if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask, and let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do,” Dean agreed happily before leaving the motel office to find Sam standing by the Impala. His brother looked like a drowned rat with his hair plastered to his head and neck from sweat. “Come on, we’re in room eleven. It’s at the end.” He pointed to their room and then joined Sam at the Impala, helping Sam grab the supplies they’d purchased earlier and lug them into their room, where they were met with cold air pumping out from the air conditioner. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he announced once the motel door was closed and locked, enjoying the cold air on his skin and an actual working air conditioner. “Dibs on the first shower!” he called out, not waiting for Sam to respond before he disappeared into the bathroom to test the water pressure, feeling spoiled as he stood under the rain shower head and the hot water cascading down on him, washing away the day’s grime and sweat.
Hearing the bathroom door open, Sam looked up from the full-sized bed he’d claimed as his own to see Dean strolling out in his boxer briefs with a fluffy seafoam green towel wrapped around his shoulders. He smirked at the idea of the bedding and towels matching the paint trim. “So, where’d you find this seaside motel?” he asked, wondering how his brother had managed to reserve a place where neither of them had to worry about updating their tetanus shots or needing a dose of penicillin from their stay.
Shrugging, Dean said, “Found it online. It looked halfway decent, so I figured why not. Why… Don’t you like it?’
“Never said I didn’t. It’s just a step up… Well, maybe five… From the usual nearly condemned places that we stay in.”
“Sam, we’re on vacation. I think we deserve something a little special. A seaside motel where we can open the door and walk right out onto the beach. What’s better than that?”
Shrugging, Sam had to agree that he liked the idea of being able to walk out to the beach if he wanted to, rather than having to hoof it in the hot summer sun. “Did you leave me any hot water?” he asked dubiously, remembering every other fleabag motel they’d stayed at that never seemed to have enough hot water for more than one of them to take a shower.
“Should be enough left for you, Sasquatch,” Dean teased, smirking at Sam.
“Quit it with the nicknames,” Sam mumbled as he disappeared into the bathroom to shower, marveling at the rain shower head, the water pressure, and the ample hot water that washed away the grime and sweat covering his body. When he stumbled out of the bathroom, pink-skinned and feeling human again, he noticed Dean standing by the open motel room door wearing nothing but his boxer briefs and a T-shirt. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat, fearing that something was wrong with his brother. That maybe the picturesque, seaside motel was more than what it appeared to be - a trap set for them by some witch or other supernatural creature out to take their vengeance on the Winchesters, and not just a motel by the beach. “Dean… What are you doing?” he asked cautiously, dropping the seafoam-colored towel he’d been using to towel-dry his hair.
Turning to regard his brother, Dean smiled. “Just listening to the waves hitting the sand. Never really saw the appeal of that… It’s kind of nice… Peaceful in a way I never considered. Kind of wish we got to do this as kids… Stay at a seaside motel… Play on the beach, build sandcastles, collect shells, swim in the ocean…”
“Yeah, me too… It was just never Dad’s thing,” Sam admitted, agreeing that it would have been nice to make those memories with his brother. “But we’re here now,” he pointed out, watching as Dean closed and locked the motel door.
“That we are, Sammy… That we are.”