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“Dean, are you ready?” Sam called out while he sat perched on the edge of the full-sized bed in the seaside motel he and his brother had rented for the week. “The sun’s gonna set if you take any longer in there. What the hell are you doing in there anyway?” He looked down at his feet, which were in flip-flops and not boots - his standard hunting attire - finding it odd to see his toes. He flexed and then curled them, wiggling them, and then smiled at the thought that soon he wouldn’t even be wearing his flip-flops, having traded them for bare feet in the sand. He was dressed in a pair of light gray board shorts with a vibrant red thick strip that ran the length of the material from the waistband to the hem, ending at his left knee, and a matching red tank top, something else that felt odd to him, since he was used to wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a flannel overshirt as protection. Even though he was dressed, in a way, he felt as if he were exposed to the world. Hearing the bathroom door open, he looked up to see Dean standing there, looking sheepish as his brother smoothed down the dark charcoal tank top he was wearing. It took him a moment to realize that he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen his brother looking so casual in a pair of forest green board shorts with palm trees running down the length of his right thigh in the same shade of gray as his tank top. Seeing his brother dressed this way, in swim attire and flip-flops, was jarring to him, yet he had to admit that the outfit seemed to suit Dean.
Running his hands down the charcoal gray tank top, Dean fussed with it, smoothing it down before looking up to meet his brother’s questioning eyes. “I kind of feel naked…” he admitted, wondering when the last time was that he or Sam had dressed so casually. It might have been when they were children or even teenagers, but certainly not as adults, and definitely not while hunting. Fidgeting with the hem of his tank top, he sighed. “I guess this is how we’re supposed to dress if we’re going to the beach.”
Pushing himself off the bed, Sam nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure it is… I don’t think we’d fit in if we were dressed in boots, jeans, a T-shirt, and an overshirt, especially one that’s long-sleeved and flannel. And I kind of feel the same way… Exposed…” he admitted and then added, “But everyone else on the beach will be dressed like us.” At least he hoped everyone would be. Having been brought up as hunters from an early age, he and Dean hadn’t experienced life as others had. Their childhood had been filled with hand-to-hand combat training, the use of weaponry, so they were able to fight the things that went bump in the night, and memorizing and utilizing their extensive knowledge of the lore - all to keep them alive. So, beachgoing was new to him and Dean, and he knew that both of them were praying that nothing supernatural emerged from the ocean, because if it did, he, Dean, and the innocent beachgoers were screwed. Forcing that thought down, he offered his brother a dimpled smile. “Come on. Let’s get out there before all the good spots are taken,” he urged, grabbing his messenger bag that held what he considered his beach essentials - a book for him and one for Dean that he hoped his brother would find interesting, sunglasses, lip balm, and sunscreen.
Worriedly, Dean asked, “Is that a thing? I mean… Aren’t all the spots on the beach supposed to be good? Why would one spot be better than the other?” he mused as he followed Sam out of their motel room and down the wooden, sand-covered walkway that led from the motel to the beach to see several brightly colored lounge chairs in the same seafoam green as everything else that belonged to the Laughing Seahorse set up and dotting the area closest to the motel. “Guess these are for the motel’s guests to use,” he pointed out before claiming two chairs for him and his brother, settling into one with a contented sigh.
“Here, protect your eyes,” Sam advised, handing Dean a pair of sunglasses, donning a pair and doing as he’d suggested to his brother. “The glare off the water can cause damage if you’re not careful.”
Rolling his eyes, Dean accepted the offered sunglasses. “Okay, Mom,” he teased, flashing a grin at his brother when he saw the frown turning Sam’s lips downward.
Rooting around in his messenger bag, Sam pulled out the book he’d picked out for himself - The Serial Killer Files: The Who, What, Where, How, and Why of the World’s Most Terrifying Murderers by Harold Schechter, a topic he found fascinating given that these crimes were reported to have been committed by humans and not those possessed by demonic entities. He had his theories on those speculations, but nothing he was willing to share with anyone other than his brother. For Dean, he’d found a book he hoped his brother would find interesting - Insomnia by Stephen King. Turning toward his brother, he offered Dean the book. “Here, I picked this up for you. I figured you might like to read while we’re at the beach.”
Taking the offered book, Dean looked down at it and then flipped it over to read the synopsis printed on the back cover. “Thanks, Sam.” Placing the book down on his lounge chair, he pushed to his feet, kicked off his flip-flops, pulled his tank top over his head, and dropped it onto the chair. “I think I’m gonna go test out the water first.”
“You should put some sunscreen on,” Sam suggested, rooting around in his messenger bag for the tube he’d picked up when he and Dean had stopped for supplies the day before. “With your fair skin, you’ll burn if you don’t,” he urged, watching as Dean shrugged him off and walked toward the water. “Okay, just don’t come crying to me if you get a sunburn,” he murmured, shaking his head at his brother. He’d hoped Dean would have taken him up on the offer of sunscreen, but his brother was stubborn, and once Dean had an idea in his head - for better or for worse - his brother acted on it, sometimes with a good outcome and sometimes not so much. He knew how this was going to turn out for Dean, and it wouldn’t be pleasant for either of them.
“Son of a bitch!” Dean hissed, pressing his fingers to his shoulder and feeling the heat of his bright pink skin. His idea of testing out the beach water had turned into a walk along the shoreline under the sun beating down on him, and now he was regretting not taking Sam’s advice on using sunscreen. He had a sunburn that was making it difficult to find a comfortable position to sit in, let alone sleep in.
Glancing over at his brother, Sam sighed. “I told you to use sunscreen. You could have prevented this,” he chastised, waving a hand at his brother’s bright pink skin. “If you’d just listened to me…” He shook his head. “But no, you ignored me, and now you’re dealing with a sunburn.”
Glaring at his brother, Dean huffed, “Shut up.”