Dizzojay's Dean Dreams (dizzojay) wrote,
Dizzojay's Dean Dreams

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Wish You Were Here - Chapter 9

Bobby stifled a long yawn and put his well-thumbed book down beside him, stretching to work the stiffness out of his poor bones. Time for a walk, he decided; even the immensely talented Mr Grisham wasn't enough to distract Bobby from feeling his barely-healed back as it had gradually started to protest at his well-deserved and delicious inactivity.

He pushed his cap back up from his face and heaved himself up out of the lounger with a groan, pausing as he bent into a deep stretch.

Hands in pockets, he strolled casually across the beach shaking his head in amusement at the sight of Dean sprinting in arm-flailing panic across the beach pursued by four Baywatch babes all clamouring for his hide as Sam stood leaning weakly into the volleyball net, wiping away tears of laughter, and accusing his brother of 'squealing like a girl'.

"Hey Bobby," spluttered Sam, between breathless chuckles.

"You two havin' fun?" Bobby smiled, turning to watch as Dean was tackled to the ground with an outraged yelp by the tallest of the girls.

"He's gonna kill me later," Sam snorted through his laughter.

All four girls had piled on top of their helpless quarry, and all that could be seen of Dean was his weakly thrashing legs as he struggled manfully under their onslaught.

The only coherent words that Dean seemed able to choke out between his own howls of laughter and the shrieks of hilarity from his tormentors were "Sammy … friggin' … bitch …"

"They'll eat him alive," Bobby grinned.

"Sam worked hard to compose himself; "just wait until he finds out I used to play Volleyball at Stanford – he'll eat me alive!"

"This is painful to watch;" Bobby grinned, "I'm goin' for a walk, back's stiffenin' up."

He paused taking one last look at the melee which was slowly working it's way along the beach as Dean made repeated and increasingly desperate attempts to escape, failing utterly each time.

"Maybe see ya later, if you've managed to rescue laughin' boy over there," Bobby slapped Sam on the shoulder.

"Yeah catch ya later Bobby; take care of that back."

"Yes mother," grunted Bobby in response.

Sam watched Bobby fondly as he trudged slowly off the beach into the resort, then turned his attention back to Dean who had finally managed to scramble to his feet, only to be dragged over again.

He pondered calmly on how long he should leave it before attempting a rescue.


After a brief stroll around the resort, Bobby found himself in an eerily quiet al-fresco dining area. He nodded amiably to the stocky, prematurely balding man who stood behind the counter.

"Coffee sir?"

Glancing behind himself, Bobby suddenly realised the man was addressing him.

"Uh, sure why not;" he walked over to the counter, "don't like Sir; Bobby suits me jus' fine," he smiled.

"Des," came the reply, together with an outstretched hand "and I'm bored," he smiled, as Bobby shook the proffered hand; "I could use the company."

Bobby scanned the area, and he realised; the resort was, indeed, strangely quiet. Yes, he knew it was well after peak season and wasn't expecting it to be packed, but aside from Bobby and the Winchesters, Dean's fan club, and a sprinkling of random holidaymakers, the place was deserted.

He took the coffee gratefully, taking an appreciative sip as he leaned on the counter looking out at the resort; "why's it so quiet? he asked, "beautiful place like this, I can't understand it."

Des puffed out his cheeks. "Weird isn't it? This time of year's never our busiest, and it's hard times economically for a lot of folk at the moment, but even so;" he trailed off for a moment before leaning forward to lower his voice.

"The management won't ever admit it, but my guess is it's the deaths."

Bobby briefly choked on his coffee; "what deaths?"

"Hell, man, it's just awful," Des explained; "three deaths in last six months, all at this one resort, real awful!"

"Crap," Bobby patted droplets of coffee out of his beard with a napkin, "what happened?"

"No idea, it's totally weird," Des lowered his voice further so Bobby was straining to hear; "all three were guys; the first two were found in their beds, and the last one was lying in the back seat of his rental car."

Bobby gaped, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Heart failure they reckoned," Des continued, "but all the three guys were all young, between twenty five and forty, all in real good shape and according to what I've heard none of them had any history of heart trouble."

"Unlikely candidates for heart failure then," Bobby mused.

"About as unlikely as it gets," Des agreed with a distracted nod."Trouble is, news like this kinda gives a place a name; a bad one," he topped up Bobby's coffee as he spoke, clearly not wanting his companion to drift away, "and guests have dropped right off, a lot have cancelled and that's why the owner has offered those free vacations in various magazines, to try to promote Mau Loa again."

Bobby nodded, he could see the sense in that, "it'd be a tragedy if this place went bust," he sighed.

"Amen to that," replied Des, offering Bobby a muffin,. He politely accepted a blueberry one, and tucked in unenthusiastically, distracted by thoughts of healthy young guys between twenty five and forty dying in mysterious circumstances.


As the sun began it's slow descent, the shadows lengthened over the cocktail bar which Dean was overjoyed to discover was accessible from the pool. The whole pool area was largely deserted except for one honeymooning couple who were paying no attention to anyone or anything except each other, and six unruly figures fresh from the beach sitting around one of the tables which dotted the glistening surface of the pool.

"I can' believe all you lovely ladies are goin' home tomorrow," Dean drained his Pina Colada noisily, and slipped the paper umbrella behind his ear like a flower; "how am I gonna entertain myself with only Danno the dolphin and geekazoid here for company?"

He waved his hand dismissively at Sam and smiled droopily at the two girls who sat either side of him, about as close as it was possible to sit without actually being surgically grafted and the third who was sitting in his lap.

Sam knew that droopy smile, the one that became a permanent fixture on Dean's face when he was pleasantly and contentedly tipsy. It normally heralded an evening of relentless torment for Sam; Dean had a scarily fertile imagination in that respect.

He smiled as he watched the master at work. He could see why women adored his brother, and he admired how Dean could turn on that intangible 'something' that he possessed – charisma some would call it - effortlessly making any woman feel like they were the centre of his universe, showering them with enthusiastic and surprisingly sincere flattery, and giving them his undivided (if occasionally slightly drunken) attention, without ever once appearing sleazy or desperate.

Dean had promised faithfully on pain of death by all sorts of imaginative and disturbing means to think of the girls every single day, text them constantly and remain in their lives forever and ever when Sam knew perfectly well he would have forgotten all their names by morning when they were safely on the plane home.

"Hey, S'mmy, go get the drinksh again, bish," Dean grinned, enjoying the kiss of the cool azure water as it lapped around his chest, "Brandi, Jenny an' – uh - thingy here'll have a Harvey Ballwanger, an' I'll have tha' one wi' the rude name again," he slurred.

Sam hiccupped, gently lifting his own admiring companion, Francesca, off his lap; "what rude name?" he asked, stifling a soft burp.

Dean shrugged, and glanced down at the perky redhead on his lap, completely at a loss to remember her name; "um, summin' 'bout nipples I think …"

Standing up, Sam swayed precariously and reflected that he wasn't doing too badly in the 'obliterate your brain cells by drinking all sorts of exotic cocktails' stakes himself as he waded clumsily into the shallower water around the bar.

He didn't see Dean silently shooing the girls away and sliding awkwardly off his seat to follow his unsuspecting brother towards the bar, turning and making exaggerated finger-on-lips shushing gestures to them as he laboured his way through the water toward Sam.

Sam had only just ordered the drinks when Dean pounced, surprisingly agile for one in a state of moderate inebriation, and wrestled Sam fully under the water.

A fracas of splashing and shouting followed, ending abruptly as Dean leapt up out of the water to the delight of his shrieking, giggling audience, waving Sam's shorts above his head in a gesture of gleeful triumph.


Sam shot frantically up out of the water, arms flailing, spluttering and coughing; but shot back down into it even more rapidly when he realised it was shallower than he thought, "gimme those back, jerk," he yelled furiously, his hands shooting to a dignity-protecting position over on his exposed vitals.

"Consider it payback for your little stunt earlier;" snorted Dean, holding the shorts aloft like a victory flag, "my friggin' ribs still ache!"

"Dean!" Sam was pleading now. Shuffling into the waist-deep water he followed his brother, panic written all over his face."Dean! Don't you dare …"

Scrambling up out of the pool Dean stumbled across the decking, and pulled up a chair enabling him to hang the shorts on the highest point that he could reach on one of the palm trees.

"An that's for not telling' me you used to play Volleyball at Stanford."

He folded his arms across his chest, grinning in smug satisfaction at Sam.

Sam crouched down lower as the water shallowed nearer the edge of the pool, still clinging to his privates with a white-knuckled grip. "Give me my friggin' shorts, you moron," he hissed.

"Come and get them," Dean replied defiantly, egged on by the teasing laughter and cat-calls of the girls around him.

The honeymooning couple continued to climb all over each other, blissfully oblivious throughout their loving canoodles to the furore going on around them.


"hey there Dean!"

Dean suddenly spun round on hearing a voice behind him.

It was Leylaani.

"Wonderful to see you having such a good time," she smiled broadly at Dean whose face melted into a dreamily soppy grin at the sight of the dusky beauty, her long, silky black hair swept back with a yellow rose.

The four girls fell silent, glaring at the exquisite interloper with pure unadulterated venom.

Sam gasped, ducking down lower in the pool, his blush hovering somewhere between scarlet and molten lava.

Dean eventually found his voice; "hey, Leylaani, y'lookin' gorgeous again," his starry eyes scanned her slim figure, before settling back onto her delicate face.

"How are you and your family enjoying our resort?"

"Oh, it's awesome," Dean sighed; "we love it, don' we Sammy?"

He turned to Sam who was crouching so low in the water he was just peering over the edge of the pool like Mr. Chad.

"Hey Sam," she greeted him warmly.

"Hey, L-leylaani," Sam replied meekly, making a point not to wave.

She cleared her throat, looking up at Dean, "I have a day off tomorrow, Dean, and wondered if you'd like me to show you some of the sights.

Dean's eyes widened to the point that they seemed to take up half his face; "oh," he spluttered; "you mean … the sights," he waved his finger randomly at the mountains which surrounded the resort.

"What sights did you think I meant?" she asked with a wicked smile, her voice loaded with sauce.

Now it was Dean's turn to blush.

She smiled brightly; "I'll take that as a yes then, see you tomorrow morning." Turning with a little wave she shimmied away, the soles of her flip-flops tapping lightly across the decking.


Sam had finally realised the evil dick that was his brother had no intention whatsoever of helping him out of his predicament, and so decided to take action while Dean was momentarily distracted with thoughts of killing time with the beautiful Leylaani, and the girls were distracted with thoughts of simply killing the beautiful Leylaani.

Gritting his teeth, he clambered out of the pool which proved more difficult than he would ever have imagined with one hand still clamped firmly over his vitals, and scampered frantically across the deck to the palm in which Dean had hidden his shorts, cringing as the early evening breeze fluttered softly across his bare white butt-cheeks, and praying to God, heaven and anyone else who might be listening that he could remain un-noticed.

He froze, his heart sinking and his blush rising as he heard Dean's gleeful shout, "hey Sammy, pass my shades, your ass is dazzling me!"

No longer distracted then …


Bobby walked quietly, still mulling over his conversation with Des, towards the pool deck to catch up with the boys.

Lost in thoughts of the mysterious deaths of three young healthy guys, he would have to tell the boys to take care of themselves.

Rounding the corner he stopped dead in his stride as Sam, naked as the day he was born and blushing furiously, scampered past him like a frightened rabbit in headlights, bare feet pattering across the wooden decking as he clung grimly to his crotch.

Dean stood on buckling knees, sobbing with laughter and surrounded by his pretty admirers from the beach who were clearly appreciating the sight of the bewildered, naked figure darting around in front of them.

And Bobby decided there and then; these boys shouldn't be worrying about anything except having fun.

If there was any worrying to be done, Bobby would do it.



Tags: bobby singer, dean winchester, family, fan fiction, humour, hurt comfort, sam winchester, supernatural

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