The humid, airless night settled over Dean like a warm blanket as he stood on the balcony, sipping absently on his beer bottle and staring out over the full moon which rode like a galleon on a millpond-still sea of liquid crystal.
Leaning on the railings, he gazed unblinking, soothed into a heavy-eyed silence by the moonlit vista before him and was so enraptured by the lovely panorama, he couldn't say how long Sam had been there standing beside him before the younger Winchester eventually spoke up.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Dean turned with a slight splutter on his beer towards the unexpected voice.
"How does someone so friggin' big sneak around as quietly as you?"
Sam smiled at his brother, ignoring the remark; "I mean, everything here is so fantastic; the sea, the stars, the trees, the pool, the girls, the sand ... I haven't seen anything yet that's not stunning."
Dean interrupted, "well, 'cept for your ass anyways," his eyes twinkled wickedly.
Sam leaned across and slapped the back of his brother's head; "hardly fair; that wouldn't have been on display if it wasn't for you."
"Back at ya," snorted Dean quietly, "you full-on deserved it; blabbing my secrets to everyone."
Sam grinned as he lifted the condensation-beaded bottle to his lips; "man, I said it before and I'll say it again, you totally squealed like a girl;" his chuckle echoed teasingly into the bottle.
"I so did not, bitch;" Dean rounded huffily.
"Did too," Sam responded, still grinning round the neck of his bottle.
"Truce?" he suggested quietly.
"Truce," Dean nodded.
The brothers clinked bottles and fell into an easy silence looking out over the silky ocean.
When Sam had eventually coaxed his reluctant brother back into the room, they paused in the doorway on seeing Bobby sitting on his bed, brow furrowed in rapt concentration as he studied his Blackberry.
Rapidly placing it face down on the bed beside him, he Looked vaguely flustered when he saw the boys.
Dean's face broke into a grin; "you surfin' porn Bobby? Aint' y'a bit old for that kinda thing?"
Bobby got up with a grunt; "no an' no so kiss my ass," he replied wearily, bending his fractious back into a stretch.
"I'm turnin' in," he muttered; "you boys stayin' out moongazin' on the balcony?"
Dean shook his head with a sly smile; "no, I've seen enough moonin' today," he grunted, tugging his shirt over his head as he sunk contentedly onto the sofabed; "reckon I'm scarred for life…" he lay back slowly and burrowed into the fat white pillow.
It wasn't long before sleep softly claimed him.
Sam awoke without, he gratefully noted, the help of a faceful of water. Looking up, he squinted through the brilliant sunlight to see Dean's silhouette seated on the balcony.
Glancing at the clock, he groaned when he realised it was 6.30 am, and the sun had just risen, coating the landscape with the fresh blue light of a new day. Sitting with a glass of juice in his hand, Dean looked cool, fresh and utterly relaxed in a flatteringly loose white, short-sleeved button down and a pair of beige chinos, Sam could hear him softly humming a song, no doubt some mullet rock atrocity which would be completely wasted on Sam.
He sighed, bowing to the inevitable, and glanced wistfully at his comfortable pillow as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched high enough for his fingers to brush the ceiling.
Walking over to the balcony, he mumbled a sleep-muzzed greeting to Dean; "not dressed for the beach?" he asked.
Dean drained his juice: and shook his head as he looked up at Sam. "Meetin' Leylaani, remember?" He replied quietly, conscious of waking Bobby; "she's showin' me the sights."
"I bet she is," muttered Sam with a wry grin.
Dean's soft smile stretched into a smirk at the thought. "I should be so lucky," he snorted.
By late morning, the sun was relentless, blazing fiercely down on the resort which simmered helplessly in the blazing heat. After braving the beach for a good couple of hours, both Sam and Bobby eventually retreated back into the resort, Sam to the safe haven of the pool to cool his sizzling shoulders and Bobby to the covered dining area where he hoped he might be able to hook up with his new best friend, Des.
Bobby had plans today. They'd have to wait until this heat let up a bit, and given that he knew damn well Sam wouldn't like them, he would have to make sure Sam didn't get to know about them. But his plans were reliant on a few more answers than he already had and he hoped that Des, given the right questions, would provide those answers.
Striding towards the counter, Bobby smiled as he saw the familiar premature bald patch emerge from behind the refrigerator. Des returned his smile and brandished the welcoming coffee jug.
Plan phase one was underway.
Dean closed his eyes against the warm, fragrant wind which swept his face as Leylaani's cherry red, open-topped MG roared along the road. He inhaled deeply of her scent; the faintest of perfumes, sweetly citrus with a hint of spice, at once both elegantly subtle and wickedly alluring.
Taking a deep shaky breath, Dean felt his heart pounding in his chest, and it was then he realised; he was scared.
He was scared that his time here had to end.
This wasn't his life; Dean's life was dark and dangerous. It was a never ending treadmill of sorrow and anger, pain and regret and crushing concern for Sam; a maudlin cocktail of gun oil, holy water and whisky.
Here he was enjoying crystal seas, glistening white sand, brilliant blue skies, breathtaking sunsets which melted into intensely black, star-strewn nights, and the affectionate attentions of the most beautiful woman he'd ever set eyes on.
He couldn't bear the thought that it couldn't be forever.
A cool hand patted his forearm.
"Hey there droopy; is my driving sending you to sleep?"
Dean jerked into wakefulness; "uh … yeah," he stammered as he regained his bearings; "seriously Leylaani, I'm so chilled here, I could sleep for a month, only I don't want to. I don't want to sleep at all because I don't want to miss a second of the time I've got here."
The car pulled to a smooth halt outside a small restaurant.
"Hungry?" Leylaani looked up at Dean; "well, I can't let you even think about leaving Hawaii without sampling a lunch here; this place is wonderful they do the best seafood on the island."
Dean smiled broadly and nodded enthusiastically, utterly hypnotised by his companion's sparkling, chocolate brown gaze.
"That'll be something for you to stay awake for," she smiled.
Dean hadn't even heard any mention of seafood.
Sam finished his one hundredth lap of the pool, and glanced, prairie-dog like, over the side.
A beer with Bobby seemed like a good idea. Of course, it would be an even better idea if he could actually find the older man in the first place.
After a brief and fruitless exploration of the resort, Sam sat back down beside the pool beneath the shade of a tall palm tree; the one, he noted wryly, that Dean had seen fit to secrete his shorts in yesterday, and rummaged in his beach bag for his phone.
The phone picked up the other end after six rings.
"Hey Bobby, where are you? Thought you might fancy a beer."
"I – uh - went for a walk," Bobby responded cagily, "back was actin' up."
"Oh, okay," Sam shrugged; "where are you?"
Bobby hesitated; "I'm - uh - downtown," he replied economically.
Sam jolted in his seat, "downtown? That's about six miles away!"
"Well," Bobby cleared his throat; "I walked onto a bus; fancied doing a bit of sightseeing and lookin' round a few stores."
Sam frowned. Bobby and retail therapy; it wasn't an obvious partnership. "Well, how long you going to be?" he asked.
Sam almost heard Bobby roll his eyes; "not long;" he responded, "when I get back we'll have that beer. You never know; lover boy might be back with us by then."
Sam chuckled, "I don't think so; they way they were eyein' each other up this morning, we'll be lucky to see him before sundown."
Bobby let out a long, satisfied sigh; subject successfully changed. Nice one Singer.
The afternoon shadows began to lengthen as two figures strolled hand-in-hand along a remote and deserted beach.
"Enjoy that?" Leylaani looked up at Dean.
He glanced down at the tiny, elegant woman beside him, as delicate and exquisite as the crimson rose she wore in her hair.
"That was awesome," he smiled warmly, "never had swordfish before."
Leylaani, nodded, "it was wonderful wasn't it; so fresh and flavoursome."
"Real fresh," Dean agreed with a nod; "it ate my salad."
Leylaani hesitated, gazing up at her grinning companion before slapping his arm.
"Idiot," she laughed; "not THAT fresh!"
They continued their casual, directionless trek; barefoot along the glistening, sun-baked beach, their shoes abandoned in Leylaani's car.
They had been travelling that way for some thirty minutes when Leylaani suddenly stopped.
Dean stumbled to a halt beside her; "you okay?" The concern was genuine in his eyes.
She looked up at him with a shy smile; "yes," she reassured; "I'm okay, I'm really very okay indeed."
On tiptoe she reached up and cradled his face between her palms, ghosting a soft kiss across his lips.
He stared into her impossibly pretty face for a moment, his expression unreadable, before gathering her into his arms, stooping deeply as she melted into his hungry kiss.
Bobby slipped his phone back into his pocket and adjusted the tie that he had only just bought that afternoon along with the cheap shirt and suit from the charity store.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped confidently through the hospital's automatic doors.