Twist and Shout

November, 1967

-

It was strange how a three day promise could get lost. Cas was swamped with work and Dean was out every weekend racing or prepping or outfitting bikes at Bobby’s garage. Cas didn’t mind that their interaction usually consisted of watching the new Star Trek together while he memorized medical terminology, but with the end of the summer came the end of Dean’s racing season. Dean loafed around the apartment, pecking out of the fridge and complaining about how cold it was going to get in only a few weeks, between shifts at the bar. He cooked more, at least, and he was really only unbearable until the Twilight Zone came on. Cas’ complaints were few.

He was merely silly at best, and intolerably needy at his worst.

“You think I’m as good looking as William Shatner?” he asked, leaning between Cas’ legs, both of them crammed on the couch, Cas trying to jot down something about Shakespeare. The university was cruel and forcing him into English classes to make him well rounded. He had no interest in Shakespeare unless Shakespeare had written something on how to pass his chemistry class while still having time to write critical analysis essays.

“Anything is possible,” Cas replied, resting the back of his book on Dean’s head, scrawling something on his legal pad. Dean snorted indignantly, popping a pez from the dispenser in his hand. Cas heard the crunch of the candy as he chewed it.

“Watch this one. It’s got the creepy doll. William Shatner isn’t in it though,” Dean insisted as the opening to the Twilight Zone kicked in. When Cas didn’t respond he knocked his elbow into Cas’ leg.

“Dean, I can’t. I’m studying.”

“You study all the time, come on and watch with me. I barely see your face because it’s always in a damn book,” Dean whined, reaching blindly behind him to swat at the volume. Cas rolled his eyes and kept reading, pulling the book out of Dean’s reach.

“Go find something to do,” he sighed, tapping his pencil against his chin.

“Let’s fool around,” Dean twisted, looking at Cas who refused to make eye contact. “Come on,” he jabbed. “Come on, let’s make out or something.”

“Dean, what am I going to do when I tell my patients I can’t help them because I was too busy having my dick sucked by my boyfriend?” Cas grumbled, trying to concentrate.

“I don’t know. Your boyfriend is really good looking. He’s really cute, and he can ride a motorcycle, and he can do all sorts of fun things.” Cas became vaguely aware of the fingers walking up the back spine of his book and creeping over the edge. “If you cooperate I’ll give you a pez,” Dean continued, clicking another candy out.

“You are absolutely depraved. I can’t fool around with you right now,” Cas groaned, tapping Dean’s forehead with the pencil. “Please go find something else to do before I lose my mind?”

“I already know what I want to do. I want you to come with me and we’ll go on the bed and turn off the light and you’ll let me put my hand in your pants.”

Cas didn’t gratify him with a response and Dean pouted, resting his cheek against Cas’ knee for a while.

“You doing anything this weekend?” he asked out of nowhere and Cas’ brow wrinkled. He glanced up from his notes and resigned himself to giving Dean his attention.

“You know I’m not. Why do you ask?”

Dean turned back around, stretching his legs out, head pillowed by Cas’ stomach while he watched TV.

“You probably wouldn’t want to because you have a book to read.”

“Dean,” Cas said, shaking his head. “What? What did you have planned? We just went out to the country two weeks ago.”

“Well, I owe you a trip to the beach,” Dean started, not turning around.

Cas cocked his head curiously. Owed him? When was that?

“You know, after I won that race against Boyd? I told you I’d treat you to three days or something.”

“That was over a year ago.”

“Well, yeah, but still!”

“Ok,” Cas said timidly, closing his book, “I remember.”

“I know it’s starting to get cold, but I thought we could go to the beach. There won’t be as many people and if we go early we might have it to ourselves for a few hours. We can do other stuff too, like visit the marina or maybe go see your sister.”

Cas stalled.

“I don’t think so.”

“You said she’d moved out there, though. And you want to see her! I know you do!” Dean had sat up now and turned around. Cas tossed the book on the floor and opened his arms, Dean sliding forward to rest against his chest.

“I don’t want to surprise her like that. She’s moved back up with my Grandmother ‘til she goes to school in January. And just because she told Anna Milton about it doesn’t mean she meant for me to know,” Cas added quietly, playing with Dean’s hair. Anna had been kind enough to pass the message along when he’d met to help her with a research paper. Cas wouldn’t admit to Dean how he’d tried to pry more information out of her. Rachel hadn’t told Anna too much, but whatever Cas could get was enough.

Dean sighed against him..

“Sure, we won’t see your sister then. We’ll just go to the beach.”

“We’ll have a good time,” Cas assured him. “We can play with your new camera.”

Dean brightened, smiling, nestled between Cas’ legs, his body warm and heavy.

“That’d be fun. Record it all or somethin’,” he rambled, pushing into the stroke of Cas’ hand over his forehead.

“I can’t believe they gave you a camera instead of cash. We should have sold it,” he said, thinking about it on the shelf in the closet, unused.

“Well, then I’m going to sell your Polaroid,” Dean threatened, and Cas paused his scalp massage to pinch him. “Ow!”

“I’m just saying we could have used the money. You’re running us out of house and home with how much you eat.”

“We’re fine; besides, video cameras are cool. I’ve never had one. It could come in handy someday.”

“When would a video camera come in handy?” Cas laughed, rubbing the back of Dean’s neck, the other arm looped around his back.

“I don’t know, I’m just saying it might. One day you may thank me for not letting you sell it,” Dean said sagely in return, nuzzling his face further into the collar of Cas’ loose sweater.

Cas laughed softly and ran his fingers through the back of Dean's hair, and he could feel Dean's lips brush against his collarbone. He hummed softly, smiling. "When that day comes, I'll be sure to thank you."

Cas had no idea what to bring to the beach with them besides Dean's video camera and his Polaroid. It was getting cold so he was sure the water would be even colder, so they probably wouldn't be able to go swimming, but just being at the beach with Dean would be enough for him. He packed a couple of sweaters and shirts, and couple of pair of jeans along with other essentials. It took Dean the rest of the week to pack because he couldn't decide on what he wanted to bring.

It was funny actually, that Dean wanted to look his best when he was going to the beach. In the end, Cas went through their bag and replaced some of the items that Dean had packed with other more suitable pairs of clothing. The last thing to get packed was the video camera, and Cas hung his Polaroid camera around his neck, bag slung over his shoulders, ready to go. Dean walked out of their bedroom and approached him, looping his fingers through his belt loops and pull him flush against him.

"We're gonna have fun this weekend." He smiled as he kissed Cas, and Cas brought his hands up, sliding over Dean's chest to rest on his shoulders.

"Shame that we can't do that in public."

Cas pressed his face into Dean's neck for a moment before pulling away, adjusting the straps of the bag and pulling his camera up to his face, looking through the viewfinder. Dean looked away and Cas snapped a picture. The camera whirred and clicked before producing a picture, and Cas pulled it away, waiting a moment before pulling the front off, revealing the picture of Dean.

"You're really photogenic, you know?" Cas laughed softly, and Dean smiled as he walked past him, snatching the picture from Cas. "Hey-!"

"Hmm, you're right," Dean inspected the photo as he opened the door, walking out into the hallway of the apartment building, Cas following behind him and closing the door on his way out.

"Give it back, Dean!"

Dean didn’t give it back ‘til they were at Bobby’s truck, their borrowed transportation for the weekend. Their things crammed in the back, Cas climbed into the cab, slamming the door, smoothing the folded corner of the photo. He pulled the camera over his head and put it on the floor, curling his own feet onto the dashboard, inspecting the scuffs on his loafers, the picture still held loosely in his hand.

Dean turned on the radio and they both sang along to songs they knew, laughing when they realized they had forgotten the lyrics. The ride wasn’t terribly long, but Dean wouldn’t let Cas drive, and so he’d gotten bored and ended up reading and napping, only waking up when Dean told him he’d checked them into a small hotel about twenty minutes from the water.

“We can go up there if you want. Woman up front said we’d come during the wrong season, but I told her you were my cousin visiting from out of state and you’d never seen the Pacific before.”

Cas smiled sadly at the lie.

“Two beds?” he sighed, and Dean nodded.

“We can squeeze,” he replied, opening the cab up to pull their bags out. Cas followed, and he supposed it really wasn’t that bad. They were standard doubles, to his relief, sitting down on one while Dean tossed their bags on the other. He eyed Cas up and Cas quirked the corners of his mouth up when Dean advanced, rolling them on the clean, slightly musty, coverlet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking into Dean’s eyes, and Dean kissed him chastely.

“Thank you,” Dean mirrored and Cas frowned, barking a laugh.

“Whatever for?” he breathed, rubbing his thumb on Dean’s chin. Dean shrugged. He never did answer, and Cas wasn’t convinced he knew exactly what it was he was trying to say. He just looked at him for a long time before straightening and stretching.

“Well, we’ve got hours to kill before nightfall. You want to go look at the water?” he asked and Cas smiled, eager.

They drove through the sleepy town, following the signs to the beach. Dean didn’t say much, and Cas didn’t either, looking out the window, watching the landscape roll by. He placed his hand on Dean’s thigh at some point and Dean took his own off the wheel to cover it. The window was cool against Cas’ cheek, and he imagined the glass like a camera, the trees and grass scrolling along, his eyes the shutter, remembering all of it, tucking it away with the millions of other little memories he had collected over the past six months.

The real camera was idle at his feet, its beige case bumping his ankle every so often.

The road narrowed and forked, curving around either side of the small bay. Where trees once lined the road opened up into a plain that sloped down to the beach, the wind rattling through the tall, weedy, grass and the short scrubby bushes. Dean made Cas choose a direction, but it didn’t really matter. There were no other cars. The tires crunched when Dean turned it into the little parking area, cutting the engine and rubbing his hands. He looked at Cas, but Cas was trying to see over the rocks in front of them, opening the door and stepping out, pulling his boots with him. He sat against the truck and tugged his loafers off, nudging his feet into the boots, listening to the rustle of Dean grabbing his coat from the back seat and shifting it on.

Cas shut the car heavy truck door once he had finished changing his shoes and jogged up to the edge of the little carved out space for parking. He stepped up, climbing up the rock face in front of him, and then jumped down, facing the beach. Beyond that, a winding trail through the grass led to the water crashing on the sand. Cas stood for a moment, fingers splaying and curling against his palms, watching the waves as they slid in and out, gulls screaming overhead, their shrill voices carrying on the wind. They dove at the sea, silhouettes muddied by the overcast sky, while the wind sliced through Cas’ hair, making his cheeks rosy. He pulled his windbreaker closer to him, tugging the strings at the collar so it went closer to his neck, and after a few more seconds of watching the surf, leaped back down to the loose gravel, wandering to the truck. He picked up the blanket they’d brought and held it against his chest before jogging back to the point, squeezing between the boulders, eager to look over the bay again.

The grey water crashed, and Cas found himself smiling despite the wet chill threatening to sneak under his jacket. He heard the scuff of a shoe against the rocks and turned to see Dean slipping around the side, squinting in the breeze, looking out at the swells with a subdued sort of happiness. He walked a few steps ‘til he was standing next to Cas, and his lips curled up, cutting into the side of his mouth in the crooked way Cas loved best.

“So?” he said, and Cas heard the wind roar on his ears and he moved his eyes from Dean back to the Pacific. The bright checks of his mackinaw coat made him look like a giant red poppy among the bleak rocks and sandy colored landscape, the video camera cradled in its case under one arm.

“We always went to the coast when we were kids,” Cas answered truthfully. “But that was during the summer.”

Dean scoffed, putting his free arm around Cas, taking in the bare beach, devoid of any other people.

“Well, you’re all grown up now, so I figured you needed a new experience,” Dean told him, free to take his hand. Cas let himself be lead down the slope towards the water, his own boots filling the shallow prints Dean left behind.

“Everything with you is a new experience,” Cas continued quietly, blushing, once they had finally gotten to the flat of the sand, squeezing Dean’s fingers reflexively as he tripped over a rock. The seabirds circled above, watching them, ducking their heads, beaks opening up in harsh calls.

“Like I told you!” Dean smiled. “All to ourselves!” Cas looked around the deserted sand and saw that it was true – not a soul except for the two of them. It was quiet except for the methodical rush of the waves and the cries of the gulls. The sun peaked through the overcast clouds and speckled the water with light before slowly folding itself up again. Cas dropped the blanket and let go of Dean’s hand, wandering towards the pull of the water without a word. He could feel Dean watching him as he zigzagged over the sand, stopping to pick up a shell and then toss it back to the sea, his hair blowing as he approached the dark waves. Dean didn’t follow, letting him get to the edge, staring at the threshold of the beach where the water capped and crashed, and then glided up to the toes of his shoes. He turned back to Dean, eyes wide and Dean smiled, taking a step to him.

“There’s a crab!” Cas said, pointing, and Dean came up to him, watching the little creature walk its charming sideways walk back into the water, bobbing with the shallow swirls that pounded relentlessly on the shore. Cas watched it, enraptured, and Dean gently slipped again into the realization that there was no one else. The empty beach echoed his thoughts, and Cas looked up at him, tugging the sleeves of his sweater past the sleeves of his jacket, his fingers starting to get stiff from the constant gale coming off the water.

Cas didn’t say anything as he studied Dean’s face – he merely looked back out at the water, turning his head to gaze off at the western corner of the sky. “A boat!” he commented, raising his arm, his finger following it as the vessel sailed slowly across the bay. Dean pressed closer to him, chuckling when Cas abandoned his pointing to wave at it. There was no response, but Cas waved anyway, and Dean, after a moment, did too.

When they weren’t acknowledged they let their arms drop, fingers brushing against each other’s hands before tangling.

“That’d be nice,” Cas spoke. “To sail. You know? Just out on the water like that,” he gestured at the waves. “Nobody to tell you how to be or where to go.”

“By yourself?” Dean continued, pulling on Cas’ hand, putting his other in his pocket, leading him along the water, watching the waves come in and out, always just close enough to his shoes, but never touching. Cas shrugged. The blanket and camera were a little dark dot up the slope, one corner of the blanket flapping in the wind like a little blue flag.

“Well, with you, of course,” he amended, flashing Dean a grin and Dean laughed lightly, leaning his head back to look at the birds swooping from the rocks. “I mean it!” Cas teased. “You and me. We could get a boat – one of those nice ones, you know, a house boat or something! We could just sail around the world. That’d be nice. I bet you’re allowed to kiss me in international waters.”

Dean smirked at him.

“I’m sure I’m allowed to do more than that-!”

He was silenced as Cas punched him gently in the arm.

“Don’t ruin it!” Cas growled, playfully, and Dean let go of his hand just long enough to sling his arm around his shoulders, roughly bringing Cas’ head to his, kissing his hair firmly, and then the side of his face, Cas staggering along. Cas put a hand against Dean’s side, attempting to pry himself off, but Dean was strong and he knew Cas didn’t want to get away. Not really. He kissed him again, right at the corner of his eye.

“You’re just so poetic,” he sighed against Cas’ ear, teasing, and Cas knocked his ribs with his forearm. Dean earned a laugh, though.

“You’re just jealous because I have great ideas.”

“Maybe,” Dean shrugged, letting his arm relax over Cas’ back, still holding him pinned to his side. Cas laid his head on Dean’s shoulder, leaning into him, his fighting hand sliding around Dean’s waist, settling above his hip. “That is a pretty good idea,” Dean added, “but where would we go when we got tired of it? Not back here.”

Cas hummed, falling into perfect step with him.

“I don’t know,” Cas trailed, looking at the choppy water. “When I become a doctor I’ll make twice as much as you do and buy an island.”

“A whole island?” Dean marveled, and Cas squeezed him, cheek nuzzling into the warmth of his coat and his body.

“A whole island, just for us,” Cas promised, “for when we get tired of seeing the world, or when we run out of records to play, or when we’re old. Then we’ll just go to our island. It’ll have a cabin with a huge veranda and we’ll sit on it and complain.”

“Why complain?” Dean laughed, and Cas stared dreamily past him, fixated on the ocean.

“Because that’s what old people do!” he explained. “I guess if you’re with someone you really love you don’t complain as much, though."

"I don't know," Dean hummed softly, moving to stand in front of Cas, bending to gently kiss him. "I'm sure that I could find things to complain about."

Cas laughed softly and pulled Dean's mackinaw open, sliding his arms into the warmth of the coat and wrapping around Dean's body, resting his head against his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him against himself, and Cas buried his face into the crook of his neck.

"We'd get a house built, a nice two-story house with plenty of room. And it'll have a white picket fence."

"All of this on an island?" Dean laughed and Cas could feel it rumble through his chest, and he settled his hands on the small of Dean's back.

"It'll be a pretty big island." He paused briefly, fingers slipping beneath the hem of Dean's shirt, and he could feel Dean shudder as his cold fingers rested against his warm skin.

Cas pulled back slightly, fingers slipping over Dean's skin beneath his shirt as he looked up at him.

Dean smiled and leaned forward to capture his lips, arms tightening around him for a moment before he pulled one away to card his fingers through Cas' hair. Cas pulled his arms out of Dean's mackinaw to wrap them around his neck, his fingers gently scratching through the fine hairs at the base of his neck.

Cas pulled back and Dean continued to kiss him, at the corner of his mouth and along his jaw, before he pulled back, smoothing his fingers through Cas' hair; pulling it away from his face.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Cas could feel his cheeks heat up, and instead of saying anything else, he kissed Dean like a man dying for air, taking everything that he could in that one short moment. Dean's arm pulled him closer against his chest, and he smiled against his lips as he slipped his fingers from his hair to rest against the small of his back, his fingers bunching up the back of Cas' jacket.

"That's a long time." Cas smiled and let his fingers trail over Dean's cheek. "Are you sure you want to spend all that time with me?"

"I'd give up my motorcycle to spend the rest of my life with you." There was laughter in Dean's voice, and Cas' smile grew wider. He pecked Dean's lips as he slid his hands down the front of his coat.

"You're serious, huh?"

"Dead serious."

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too."

Dean kissed him again before Cas pulled back, laughing softly as he moved up the slope of the beach to where he had abandoned the camera on the blanket, Dean right behind him. He pulled it out of its case and opened it, making sure that they had put a roll of film in it before they left.

"Just imagine though," he spoke as he fiddled with the camera, turning it on and pointing it directly at Dean. "An island all to ourselves, our own yard. We could grow old together."

"And become bickering old men," Dean laughed softly, shying away from the camera, but Cas kept it trained on him, watching him through the viewfinder.

"It'd be nice."

Dean kept shying from the camera before he grabbed it and pulled it away from Cas, turning it on him. Cas frowned and pulled his jacket tighter around him, turning away to look toward the sea. The wind blew his hair away from his face, and he had to squint against it. The breeze made his nose and cheeks rosy, and Dean stepped closer to him.

Cas turned his attention from the sea to Dean, smiling as he walked toward him, pushing the camera from his face to kiss him before turning away, walking toward the shoreline. Dean brought the camera back up, following him.

"We could see the world on a boat," Cas turned around, slowly, carefully, walking backwards as he spoke to Dean. "Just imagine all the places that we could go on a boat!" He threw his arms into the air, a grin spreading across his face, and Dean laughed behind the camera.

"I've always wanted to travel. Just could never find the time," Dean admitted as he followed Cas across the beach with his camera, careful not to trip on the sand. Cas stopped and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I love you, y'know. I love you so much, Dean."

Cas could see Dean grin behind the camera, and he pulled his hands out of his pockets and walked toward him, grabbing Dean's face in his hands to kiss him. When he pulled back, he saw that Dean had pulled the camera away and had it trained on them, recording the entire thing. He should have known that Dean would do something like that.

"I love you too." Dean kissed the tip of his nose, his lips warm against his cool skin, and Cas pressed his face into Dean's neck. He heard Dean cut the camera off as an arm snaked its way around him, and he ran his hand over the front of Dean's mackinaw, the material soft beneath his palm.

"We should get a house one day, though. I don't want to live in an apartment forever."

"It's cheaper than a house." Dean shrugged, and Cas slipped his hand into Dean's coat, fingers resting against his chest.

"Yeah, well, I'll make enough money for the both of us, and then we can get our own house. Maybe a house away from everyone so that we don't have to deal with people."

"You trying to turn us into recluses?" Dean snorted, hand moving up to gently tug at Cas' hair, and Cas pinched him through his shirt, laughing when Dean cursed.

"You know what I mean. I just don't want either of us to get hurt."

"Cas, I'm not going to let anyone hurt us." Cas pulled away to look up at Dean's face. He was serious, his green eyes hard and his jaw set. Dean's hand drifted through his hair, trailed over his cheek, and he smiled softly. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

"I know you won't," Cas smiled and kissed him before pulling away, taking a few steps away from him. "I forgot my camera in the truck, I’ll be right back.!"

Cas waved once before he jogged across the beach, clambering over the rocks to get to the truck. He pulled the door open, reached in, and grabbed his camera, slamming the truck door behind him, the metal loud in the silence. He made his way back to the beach, pulling the neck strap over his head to let it dangle against his chest, and he noticed that Dean had the camera up, pointing directly at him. He smiled and lifted his own camera, pausing to look through the viewfinder to snap a picture of Dean in the distance. The camera whirred and clicked, and Cas pulled the picture from it, dropping the camera against his chest.

He pulled the front off of it when he reached Dean, looking up into the camera as if he was looking directly at Dean's face, pulling the picture up in front of it to show him.

"This one's nice!"

Cas pushed it into his pocket, careful not to bend the corners, and he walked down the beach, turning around every now and then to make sure that Dean was following him. It was hard to hear his footsteps over the crash of the waves against the shoreline, but he could feel that he was there.

He snapped a few pictures of the water, pausing to look at the pictures before nodding to himself and putting them in his pocket. He took pictures of the tall grass near the rocks, depositing those pictures into his pocket as well. Mostly he took pictures of Dean behind the camera, Dean with the camera, just anything of Dean. Finally, though, his camera ran out of film and he was left with a pocket full of pictures and an empty camera dangling around his neck.

The sun was close to setting and the sky was getting dark. The wind picked up and it was colder than before. Cas pulled his jacket closer to the him Dean turned the camera off, moving toward Cas to curl his arm around his shoulders, pulling him against his side and kissing his hair.

"You ready to go back?"

Cas nodded and let Dean lead him back up the truck, stopping to pick the blanket up off of the beach where they had left it.

The drive back was quiet, Cas tired from the cold; he let his head rest on Dean's shoulder, and Dean kept his arm around his shoulders as he drifted off to the quiet music from the radio.

He was stirred awake a while later, Dean gently shaking him and pulling him away, carding his fingers through his hair.

"C'mon, let's get inside and get you to bed."

Cas smiled and crawled out of the cab of the truck, slowly following Dean to their room. It was warm and welcoming, and he pulled his pictures out of his pocket and set them onto the spare bed where their bags were laying; he knew it was going to be unused. He shed his jacket and sat,, taking his glasses off and setting them onto the nightstand between the two beds as he rubbed at his eyes with one hand.

Dean sat on the opposite bed across from him, his coat gone and his shoes off. Cas kicked his boots off and Dean held his arms out to him; Cas crawled onto his lap and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, closing his eyes.

"You have fun today?"

Cas nodded and tucked himself closer to Dean.

"Got lots of good pictures."

"We'll go back in the morning, how about that?"

Cas nodded and crawled off of Dean's lap to sit beside him, grabbing the hem of his sweater to pull it over his head. Dean did the same and then shed his pants, helping Cas get out of his own when he gave up on undoing the button, too tired to mess with it anymore. Dean laughed softly and pulled the blankets over them as he situated himself behind Cas, arm around his waist, pressing his face into his hair. Cas pressed back against him, humming softly.

Dean splayed his fingers over his stomach, and Cas brought his hand down to rest over Dean's, and Dean breathed a laugh into his hair.

"What's so funny?" he mumbled, his words a little slurred.

"Nothing. Just go to sleep, baby."

They slept late the next day, rolling out of the hotel room at a little past two. They ate cheap Mexican at a small cantina along the way to the beach, heads bent over the little picnic table out back, smiling shyly at one another, legs brushing across the benches.

They parked in the exact same spot, wary when there was another truck on the gravel, but the beach was deserted nonetheless.

“Probably fishermen,” Dean explained, sitting on the sand, fiddling with the camera. Cas leaned into his leg, trying to decide if the sun had warmed the sand enough for him to shed his boots. He decided against it and watched the water roll in and out, chin resting on his folded arms. They had picked along the tide pools earlier, Cas crouching at the little shallow places, dipping his fingers tentatively into the water and smiling at all the little crabs and sea plants, Dean leaning over him to point out things.

Now he shaded his hand from the sun glaring under the clouds, the birds still crying over their heads. The leftovers of their lunch were in a small paper bag at the feet,the last of the flour tortillas.

“How’s the film?” he asked after a moment, not looking at Dean. He felt Dean’s shoulder snag his as he shrugged.

“We’ve got plenty.”

Cas nodded, sighing, fixated on the swells.

“What’re you thinking about?” Dean smiled, scratching at his sleeve. Cas tilted his head, adjusting himself over his arms. He didn’t know how to put it. He only knew that he had never, in his whole life, in their whole relationship, loved anyone, Dean, more absolutely. There was a bitterness to it – he would never reclaim the moment, he knew. It was like reading a book for the first time, or the moment right after a movie is over and you’re just realizing what it meant.

The certainty came and went and Cas took a deep breath and began to stand. Dean watched him straighten and Cas smiled at the water. Every time it touched the shore it was new – it was falling in love all over again, and the previous one was forgotten, and that wave was the most precious wave for just a second and then it withdrew. It cycled, over and over, steady as the sun rising. The salty air was cool and damp as he inhaled, warm and wet as he exhaled.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked, and when Cas turned over his shoulder, Dean was holding the camera up at him.

Cas waved.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I love you!” he said, and Dean laughed; Cas had apparently not heard him. Or maybe he had. Either way, he seemed alright.

“I know!” he called back and Cas shook his head. No, you don’t, he thought, but it didn’t matter. He would understand someday. He continued down the beach, knowing Dean was still watching him, and picked up a shell, tossing it to the sea, where it sunk to the bottom. He picked up another, rubbing his hands over the ridges. It was pale with faint stripes, and the interior was worn smooth by the surf and the sand. He tossed it.

“Let me see you!” Dean called, and Cas obliged, turning and waving once more. He cupped his hands, and shouted.

Dean smiled, the wind carrying his voice to him.

Cas dropped his arms, and Dean sensed that something was different. The air had changed.

After he had yelled, it had shifted. Cas was framed in that tiny window, that tiny moment, and when he turned something in Dean reached out, wanting to see his face again. Cas walked to the water, tossing another shell instead.

Dean lowered the camera from his eye.

The sound of Cas’ voice on the wind seemed too faint to his memory. He wanted to hear him again, to try and recapture the second that had already gone, as sudden and sharp as the birds winging overhead. He opened his mouth with the intention of saying something, but nothing came. The waves rolled in, and the wind roared over his ears and through his knit shirt. He had shed his mackinaw, and Cas had only his windbreaker, fluttering around his narrow waist like a war-torn flag. Cas paused, watching the flock of birds go rushing over his head and out to sea. He slipped his hands into his pockets, watching their silhouettes blend into the clouds, wings muddying together until they couldn’t be distinguished.

The sun slid out, glaring off of Cas’ back and then shadowing again.

Something upset Dean about it; the way Cas stood, so far off, his hands held so simply against his body. Dean wanted to ask him to come back, to walk toward him, but he was so fixated on the ocean that Dean nearly regretted bringing him.

Turn around, he wanted to say. Let me see you. Yell again. But he couldn’t.

As if he had sensed Dean’s discomfort, Cas turned one more time and waved at the camera. Dean waved back, and a wave crashed, water biting at the edges of Cas’ boots, pulling back into the sea bed, the shells left behind glinting as tiny shining reminders, their insides silky and iridescent, glimmering with blue and indigo and streaks of green. They rolled back with the water, tumbling in the undertow, the sun glancing off of them. They were like little jewels being pulled in, something strange and glorious, and Dean knew if he went closer he’d see them half-shelled, missing their pieces, the smudged insides exposed. Those shining insides, like God had pressed his thumb in, leaving his shimmering fingerprint.

He wondered if Cas was like that – if God had left his thumbprint in him. Dean didn’t want to know; it meant you’d have to crack him open to find out, but in the end, Cas would be beautiful on the inside, he knew. The kind of lovely that when you tilted it in your hands you could see the smoky soft violet and bits of sunlight still caught in him.

Dean lowered the camera from his eye and laid it gently on the blanket, Cas still watching the water, dark hair blown back.

It was the sort of thing that made you want to cry.

They made love slow that night, and the box spring mattress groaned with every thrust, but neither of them noticed. Afterwards, Cas stroked Dean’s back, his own skin flushed and hot in the small room.

When he closed his eyes in the darkness he could see the faint outlines of deep blue and smears of purple and green like the fireworks you got when you rubbed vigorously. They stayed a moment then evaporated - a glimpse.

Cas sighed in his sleep and Dean tried to stop thinking.

On the way home, Cas leaned serenely back against the headrest. He looked like he was asleep, but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to ruin the image of the empty beach and the endless water with the scroll of the landscape or the naked road. Even when Dean told him they had recorded all of it, so it didn’t matter, he’d shrugged and kept his eyes shut.

“I really liked it there,” he murmured. “We should go back.”

“We will,” Dean had said softly over the crackly twang of a guitar, “I promise.”