A/N: I couldn't help it. This is a timestamp to "Racing (and Other Reasons to Sweat)," though it can stand alone, so long as you know that Castiel is a runner, Jimmy is a swimmer, and Dean is a cyclist.

By the way, I spent WAY too much time actually figuring out the route Dean planned; I had a distance in mind before I decided where they could actually be going, so then I had to see where that distance could take them and what would be there and along the way. Route planning is fun, though. If you're curious, the map of what they'll be doing is at MapMyRide(dott)com(/)routes(/)fullscreen(/)1607550001. (If you live in Lawrence and feel like trying this out, have at it.)

"So, first things first. Did you guys have any plans for Labor Day weekend? Family traditions, weekend road trips, whatever?" August was insufferably hot, even in the evening twilight, and Dean's enthusiastic arrival at the twins apartment was met with matching furrowed brows from where Jimmy and Castiel were sprawled bonelessly on the sofa. For once, their near-naked states were more likely attributable to the weather than to any sort of recent intimacy.

(That would have to come later, when it cooled a tiny bit more.)

Jimmy shrugged, lazily enjoying the sight of their boyfriend, flushed from heat and excitement over whatever was on his mind. "Eh, nothing concrete. Burgers on the patio grill, maybe. Last year we went out to the lake to cook out, but it was a spur of the moment thing."

"And we wouldn't have made any plans without at least mentioning them to you, Dean," Cas added mildly. Though their relationship with Dean had grown much stronger in the months since Alcatraz, there were still moments when it was obvious that he viewed himself as the weak point in their triad, separate from the twins' connection. Fortunately, those moments were becoming more infrequent with each gentle (or not so gentle, when the situation called for it) reminder they gave him.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said, lowering his eyes and smiling slightly, then suddenly remembering the point he was making. "That's good then. Great! Because if you two are okay with it, I got a call from my old friend Charlie—remember I talked about her? From high school?" Jimmy and Cas nodded, waiting. "Well, she's coming back this way for that weekend! I'm psyched, since we haven't hung out in, like, five years."

"So you'd like to invite her over for the holiday?" Cas nodded, considering. "That's simple enough. I assume, since she's your friend, that hamburgers or hot dogs would still be fine, and she wouldn't need any sort of vegan alternative."

"God, no," Dean shuddered. "But actually, no, that's not what I had in mind. See, she's coming back here for the Kansas City Ren Festival, over in Bonner Springs. According to her, there's some sort of massive LARP battle on the schedule, with alliances and armies from all over the country coming in for it. Charlie's been the reigning battle queen of her LARP group up in Seattle for ages, so she jumped on this."

"Uh, Dean, while I'm more than happy to meet your old buddy, I'm not sure how good I'd be at role playing," Jimmy said, dubiously. "I even got kicked out of our school's 'Wizard of Oz' production. My Flying Monkey act wasn't up to par, apparently." He smirked faintly, showing just how little he had actually been bothered by the slight. It had been much more fun hanging out in the lighting booth with Cas, anyway, teasing him into almost missing his cues.

Dean looked as though he wanted to hear the rest of that story, but then he shook his head. "No, she just invited us to watch. So, like, a weekend of camping, barbecued turkey legs, lots of alcohol, and some of the most epic people-watching you've ever experienced. I mean, if you want to. I get it if you think it's weird." His attempt at appearing casual was completely transparent to Jimmy and Cas, who didn't even need to look at each other to know they both saw through it. In any event, though, neither of them needed to fake their interest in the idea.

"Should we spend the whole weekend?" Cas asked, going into planning mode. "We could drive over Saturday morning, then come back on Monday. Other than accounting for any late-night parties or cookouts, of course, we really don't actually need to camp there. It's only a half-hour drive."

"See, that's where the other half of my idea comes in," Dean said, sounding even more pleased about this than he had about the Ren Fest. "It's half an hour by car, but it's about two hours by bike! I spent some time today plotting out a map there, avoiding major traffic and sticking mostly to trails and country roads. It'll actually be really pretty, going along the Kansas River for a good chunk, and then halfway there we'll go through Linwood, which is this town with only a few hundred people that looks like frigging nothing, except they do have a bar, and we can take a break and grab lunch, maybe." This time, he wasn't babbling out of uncertainty; he was practically bubbling over with anticipation. "And don't worry about bikes, if you don't have 'em. I already checked, and Sam's older mountain bike, from before he grew the last ten feet, is still in good shape, and I can adjust his current bike to fit one of us, more or less. Good enough for one weekend, anyway."

Jimmy was grinning hugely, eyes sparkling. "Gee, Dean, that sounds awesome! I know that I, for one, would totally be up for a long bike ride! Hey, Castiel, don't you think it sounds like fun? Huh?" Sitting up and turning toward Cas, he let his smile turn wicked. Castiel was scowling uncomfortably, not meeting anyone's gaze.

"Cas?" Dean said, deflating a little in concern. "I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine. I just thought, since it's supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, with a little break in the heat, it might be a good chance to stretch our legs a little. But if you'd rather not…" He sounded a bit crestfallen, though trying to cover it.

"No, it sounds…it's…how far is it? Maybe I'll run along while you two bike," Cas offered, voice a bit strained. A snicker tried to fight free from Jimmy's throat; he fought to restrain it, feeling a desperate need to see how this discussion would go.

"It's about thirty miles, Cas," Dean said, eyes widening. "I know you've run a couple of marathons, but that would be kind of a hardcore way to start the weekend, you know? And you'd still have to run back a couple of days later."

Castiel was struggling, and Jimmy wasn't letting up. "Yeah, Cas. You wouldn't want to have to do that, would you? Besides, Dean already arranged for the bikes!" Cas shot him a glare.

Dean looked bewildered. He was obviously picking up on something unsaid behind the teasing, but he was more uneasy about how Castiel was fidgeting and frowning. "Look, I think I know what you're thinking. But, hey, I remember how you took it easy on me when we first went running. I'm not going to turn this into a competition or anything. It's just a fun weekend trip, nice and relaxed. So even if you haven't ridden outside since high school, it'll be okay. I mean, there's a reason they say things are 'just like riding a bike,' right? It comes back fast."

Jimmy thought his jaw would break, he was clenching it so hard.

Cas bit his lip, then huffed and dropped his chin, mumbling something into his chest.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What? Didn't catch that."

"I said," Cas growled, "that I don't actually know how to ride a bike." He raised his head and glowered, while Jimmy finally let loose his laughter.

"Jimmy, cut that out!" Dean scolded, rolling his eyes. Jimmy tried, but the best he could do was back down to a chest-shaking giggle fit. "Cas, that's…I mean, it's kind of a surprise, but it's nothing to be embarrassed about. Probably lots of adults out there who never rode a bike."

"Oh, he's ridden one," Jimmy interjected. "Just—just not for very long. Ten seconds, maybe?" He snickered. "Long enough to realize nobody was holding the seat behind him, and then…"

Cas huffed. "It didn't matter, anyway. It doesn't matter. I obviously survived adolescence without needing that particular skill."

"You should have heard him, though," Jimmy gasped. "I mean, everybody falls when they're learning, but not everybody launches into a deafening tirade about bikes, wheels, 'pointless rites of passage,' et cetera, et cetera." He stood up, stretched, and walked to the kitchen for a drink, still grinning. "You were eloquent in your rage, as always. Gotta give you that much, brother."

Dean dropped down onto the couch beside Cas, putting a hand above his knee. "Hey, it's not a big deal. I just should have asked first, before I got into all that planning."

"No, it's a perfectly normal assumption to make," Cas sighed, slumping toward Dean's shoulder. "You're right, there are certainly many grown men and women who have never had the privilege of even owning a bike, let alone becoming skilled at riding one. But with our athletic backgrounds, it would be logical to assume us having at least basic capability with operating a vehicle that many third-graders can use with finesse."

"I dunno, man. Third-graders can be pretty scary," Dean teased gently. "Saw one on 'America's Got Talent' who was juggling knives."

Jimmy came back with glasses of cold lemonade for all three men, handing Castiel his with an apologetically sheepish smile. "Sorry about that," he said. "You know that I'm not laughing because you don't know how to do it, really. I told you this before, a long time ago." Sitting on the floor and leaning against his brother's lower legs, he continued. "It's just that it's so completely out of character for you, giving up on something like that. Shocking, I mean! You're the guy who made it all the way to the end of The Brothers Karamazov in our sophomore year, just because you didn't want to give up once you'd started."

"In fairness, you will remember the ass on the Russian foreign exchange student that year." Both men adopted dreamy expressions of fond nostalgia, making Dean choke on a gulp of his drink. Cas continued, "But also in fairness, I didn't have an audience watching me stumble over the difficult surnames when reading the book, and I didn't have Dad glaring down at me, making me feel as though my skinned knee reflected poorly on him. That whole experience was a fiasco. He'd rarely felt the urge to get involved in teaching us any of the other skills we developed, but I suppose 'teach the sons to ride bicycles' was on some checklist of things 'good fathers' do."

Jimmy patted the knee opposite the one Dean was now rubbing. "And if your kid falls, it's a smear on the family honor. We were nothing but lies, damn it! All lies!"

"Hell, I don't blame you for not getting back on at that point!" Dean was full of indignation for young Castiel. "Almost like if you had, it would have been like justifying that weirdness. But you never tried later, when he wasn't around?"

"It sort of became linked, irrationally," Cas muttered. "Every time I so much as thought seriously about it, all I could see was Dad's face, all cold and disappointed." He shook his head in frustration. "I've never had a problem with falling, getting hurt, being bloodied up in the name of a sport, but it wasn't really about that."

Dean hummed sympathetically, having experienced his own brand of dysfunctional fathering and knowing well that thoughts forged in those kinds of flames may not always hold up under rational scrutiny, but that didn't make them any easier to discount.

"We'll drive together on Saturday," Dean finally said, and Jimmy nodded readily. No amount of fun would be worth excluding the third member of their relationship.

Castiel tensed for a moment. "Labor Day is in two weeks," he muttered slowly. "That's…a reasonable length of time."

"Cassie, what are you thinking?" Jimmy said, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm thinking that you learned how to ride in an afternoon."

Dean looked pained. "You don't have to do this, man. I said we'd drive, and it'll be fine! We can load up the tape deck with road tunes—well, a few, anyway, since it's not that long a drive."

"I'm also thinking," Cas said more firmly, "that I'm tired of my father ruining things that are meant to be enjoyable. It will be satisfying to take this back." Decided, he stood up abruptly, almost knocking Jimmy over. Ignoring his brother's yelp, Cas turned to eye Dean challengingly. "Well?"

"Well, uh, what?" Dean couldn't help being a little distracted by the sudden demand in Castiel's voice, as well as the way his chest muscles tensed when he suddenly brought his fists to his hips.

"Well, show me the bike. I need you to teach me to ride it." Cas turned toward his bedroom, searching for his shoes.

Dean looked at Jimmy, grimacing helplessly. "But…it's almost ninety degrees out!" Jimmy closed his eyes, feeling another laugh coming.

"Seriously, though. I'm happy to work with you on this, any time you want. But there's no need to rush it, and thirty miles in a day…well, that might be a lot. I mean, if you've only just learned." Dean was trying his best to walk the fine line between supportive and practical, which was difficult in the face of the raw determination radiating from Castiel. He was also realizing, to his chagrin, that every doubt-laden word of caution coming from his mouth was translating into a dare in Novak-speak.

Cas yanked hard on the helmet straps beneath his chin, cinching them tight, before reaching for the cycling gloves that hung from Dean's handlebars. It was either a blessing or a curse that Dean had chosen to ride there that evening, rather than drive; had he taken his car, this impromptu lesson could have been delayed until the next day, pending the retrieval of the bike. As it was, there was little light left, but Cas wanted to strike while the iron (as well as the muggy air, shimmering over the blacktop) was hot.

Jimmy was being no help at all, having found a new source of entertainment in watching Dean try to tap the brakes on the situation. The humor was apparently worth suffering in the heat outside, though Dean noted that he was making no move to leave his seated spot in the comparatively cooler grass beside the parking lot. He had also brought a fresh drink, which he sipped appreciatively as he watched.

"Stamina is different from ability, Dean," Cas stated. "Do you honestly think my legs are too weak to handle the repetitive motion, once I've managed to get them going? Particularly considering the amount of strengthening and cross-training we do on a regular basis?"

"I don't think that's what he's talking about," Jimmy offered. "You won't even sit on a spin bike at the gym. Do you honestly think that you have any real idea of what your ass is going to feel like an hour down the road?" His eyes were full of mirth. "Somebody won't be bottoming for a while, anyway." Cas didn't immediately reply, turning to stare at the bike saddle in consternation.

"Okay, we can deal with that question later," Dean said. Just because he privately agreed with Jimmy wholeheartedly didn't mean that he wanted to intimidate Cas out of trying. "There are things we can do to make that part a little easier. For starters, I don't know that you'll want to be on this bike for the trip, anyway. It's a road bike, and trying to stay in aero position for that long wouldn't be fun for you this soon. Sam's mountain bike will let you sit up a little bit more. It has a little bit wider seat, too. Not too wide, since that can cause its own problems."

"And don't forget the Chamois Butt'r!"

Dean gave an exasperated look at Jimmy, who blinked innocently before slipping back into a cheesy grin. Turning back to Cas, Dean continued, saying, "And then there's the padded shorts. Not necessary for short rides, but mandatory for any kind of longer distances, trust me. I'd loan you a pair of mine, but, well…" His sentence trailed off as his eyes fell on Castiel's thighs. Dean's own legs were well-shaped, he knew, but Cas's lower body was something entirely different, thickly muscled and corded like an ancient Greek sculptor's fantasy come to life. Probably rip straight through the fabric on his first flex, Dean thought, trying not to groan at the mental picture.

Cas, meanwhile, firmed his jaw and lifted a leg to straddle the bike. The seat was just a bit too high for him, since Dean had slightly longer legs, and Cas twisted his torso backward to study the situation critically. Dean reached for his bike bag, unzipping it to retrieve his multitool.

"Hop on up," he said, patting the saddle. "Gotta see where you sit before I can fix it." Going onto his tiptoes, Can carefully leveraged himself upward, then tried to place his feet on the pedals. He grunted in surprise when they promptly slipped off.

"These pedals…" Cas accused, trying again.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention. Clipless pedals. They go with special shoes, which attach right to the pedals so you can pull up, too, instead of just pushing down."

Cas gaped at him in horror. "I'm not doing that."

Dean shrugged, trying not to smirk at the reaction. "It's not like you can't unclip in, like, a second if you need to put your feet down. But Sam's old bike has regular pedals, so that's fine. Hey, Jimmy, get over here and help for a second."

Between the two of them, they managed to steady the bike long enough to find the correct seat placement for Cas, who was rigid with tension by the end. Dean tried to stroke his leg soothingly as he double-checked the knee angle, but it didn't help a bit. Jimmy had dropped the teasing and was holding his brother about the chest somewhat more snugly than was required to keep him from toppling, whispering encouragement in his ear.

"But how will I practice tonight, if my feet won't even stay on the pedals?" Cas finally asked, as they finally stood back and he was standing astride the bar once more. He looked torn between jumping on the excuse and a visceral need to confront his fear before it won.

"Well, I was thinking about that," Dean said slowly. "Back when I was learning, my dad was regularly dumping me over at one of his friend's places. It was actually him who taught me, not Dad. Anyway, Pastor Jim didn't even have a bike with training wheels for me, but that was okay, because he didn't really like them. He said I needed to learn how to balance without help, and he had a really good way to teach that. He actually took the pedals off entirely."

Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion. "But if you have to be in motion to stay upright, how do you do that without pedaling?"

"He shoved me down a hill."

Jimmy caught Cas by the shoulders before he could leap away from the bike. "Whoa, there, Cassie. Nobody's throwing you into the deep end without warning."

"This is a terrible idea—" Cas babbled frantically, old emotions rising up all at once.

"Cas, Cas, listen. I'm not talking about Everest, or even any of the big downhills on the trails around here. I mean, like, a gentle slope of grass, where you'd pretty much need to push off hard to keep going all the way down. You'd be going super-slow, feet dangling down to catch you if you start to tip. It's actually safer than if I were to run behind you, pushing, and get you going fast here in the parking lot."

"Dean, I can't, I just can't, I—"

Jimmy put a finger against Cas's lips, hushing him, and then leaned in to put their foreheads together. "Stop. Breathe." With difficulty, Cas slowed his breathing, keeping his eyes locked on Jimmy's. "Now, I have total confidence in you. Dean has confidence in you. And Dean is sure about this idea. Question is, are you sure about Dean? Do you trust him?"

Cas turned to look at Dean, eyes still wide and a little dilated. "I…yes. I trust him."

"And as a show of good faith, I'm sure Dean is more than willing to put his, well, mouth where his mouth is." Jimmy eyed Dean, heat blooming behind his smirk. "If you fall, I know he'll make it up to you. Right, Dean?"

Well, it wasn't as though it was a hard promise to make.

Ten minutes later, listening to Castiel nervously chanting, "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" as he wobbled his way down the gentle hill behind their apartment building, Dean was already planning the reward he'd be giving in place of the apology. Jimmy hooted loudly, cheering and clapping when Cas finally came to a stop and planted his feet on the ground, and all three men laughed at the thrill of shared accomplishment.

"I'll drop the other bike off tomorrow," Dean promised when they were walking back up to the apartment. "You'll be off and moving in no time. Once you feel confident about balancing and keeping your feet resting up on the pedals going down that hill, try pushing the pedals a little as you go, getting a little further before you stop. After that, you can transition to flat ground."

"That easy," Cas mused happily, stunned at how simple it had been in the end. "Dean, thank you so much. I don't think I would have ever even tried if you hadn't surprised us with this."

"Yeah, well, I'm proud of you. The bike might have come easily, but I know that wasn't really the hard part. I'm just pumped that there was some kind of sport that I was able to teach you." He was feeling more proud about that fact than he had anticipated. It felt even better than when he'd taught Sam, since it was so much rarer that he felt truly valuable to the twins and worthy of their admiration.

"Don't sell yourself short. You've taught him plenty," Jimmy called over his shoulder as he unlocked the door and headed inside. "That thing with your thumb, for one. Don't know how we lived before that." He kicked off his shoes and eyed his lovers with speculation.

Cas huffed a quick chuckle as he stripped off his shirt. "And I'd say I don't know how I can thank you enough, but that wouldn't be quite accurate. I've been considering multiple ways since that first trip down the slope, in fact."

Dean's breath caught. "Wait, hang on. I was coming up with a reward for you! You're the one who did the work, man."

"What about me?" Jimmy asked. "I gave moral support."

Dean and Cas stopped arguing and turned to face him, matching expressions on their faces. "You know what, Jimmy?" Dean said, voice pitched low and dark. "You are a good support. So good, really, that I think you should take the chance to show Cas a little more of it. After all, he worked hard, right?"

"And Dean worked just as hard, fitting the bike and teaching the lesson, demonstrating innovative strategies of which neither of us would have dreamed. And soon we'll get to reap the benefits of his teaching with an incredible weekend together. Really, you should show him your gratitude for that." Castiel's tone made it clear that the words were not a suggestion, though the corners of his lips twitched.

Jimmy swallowed hard and pretended to look cornered and nervous, but, as he had insisted, his acting skills weren't at all convincing. As they advanced on him slowly, backing him toward the bedroom, one could easily have believed that he was the one leading the way with enthusiasm, steps quickening as eagerness overtook him.

It had been silly to doubt, after all. The same drive that propelled all three men to better and faster performances, along with the annihilation of any competition, pushed Castiel to throw himself into mastering the bike as fast as humanly possible. Looking at him now, pedaling hard along the Sandrat trail, Dean considered the possibility that Cas wasn't actually human at all. Surely nobody human could have made such a convincing transformation into a skilled cyclist so quickly.

The only adaptations to the original plan that he had insisted on making were to acquire larger saddlebags for his own bike, easing the necessity for Cas to wear a heavy backpack the way Jimmy was, and to plot out additional rest stops along the route, accounting for an increased need for stretching and recuperation.

Adjusting their expectations to account for their various levels of experience took the edge off any frustration Castiel might have felt. Dean had been more than happy to share painful and humiliating-at-the-time stories of when he himself had overestimated his abilities or made horrible mistakes in planning or execution. Jimmy had chimed in with his own ("...had no idea that the tide meant the waves would constantly be coming hard from my right, so I spent the entire distance breathing on one side, and I could barely turn my head the next day!"), and Cas had them all nearly hysterical when he soberly informed them about why one should never shake hands with the trail runner wearing a single sock.

They reached tiny Linwood around eleven o'clock and were thrilled to see the dilapidated bar was open for business. "Never underestimate a seedy dive bar," Jimmy said as they chained their bikes together outside under a tree. "I swear, they always seem to have the best greasy burgers around."

The statement held true, and they all had to remind themselves that they were only halfway to their destination, or else they would have been tempted to linger over drinks and the improbably diverse music selection in the corner jukebox. Instead, they promised to come back on their way home, and they climbed back onto their saddles. Cas sat his seat a little gingerly, but he didn't complain, and Jimmy was respectfully subtle with his hand-over of a packet of anti-chafing cream.

By the time they were navigating the busier streets approaching the festival grounds, even Jimmy was ready to be done riding for the day, and the visible tension in Castiel's shoulders was making Dean feel a little guilty. It had all been his idea, after all. They hopped off the bikes when they reached the last turn-off into the parking area, and Cas caught Dean's eye. Even though the soreness he felt was clear in his stride, now much more bow-legged than when they had begun, his grin communicated pure pleasure.

They were hardly through the gates when a sudden squeal had Jimmy nearly tripping over his bike. A small figure trailing a mass of red hair launched itself from a nearby gazebo directly at Dean, who barely managed to get an arm up in time to catch. "Dean! You made it! And— oh."

"Charlie, you remember I talked about Jimmy and Cas, right?" Dean said, feeling a little nervous. If there were another person on earth besides Sam who he could probably trust to understand and be accepting of him being with both brothers, he knew it would be Charlie, and she had indeed seemed okay with everything when he had tentatively brought it up over the phone. A telephone conversation wasn't the same as seeing it in person, though, and he couldn't help but worry, especially when Charlie stood in place for a moment, staring at his boyfriends. Then, abruptly, she turned and whacked him hard across the shoulder.

"Dean, you told me they were hot, but come on!" she hissed. "I don't even play for that team, and I can see how much you were holding back!"

"What, you wanted me to squeal like a teenage girl, spend a couple hours going on and on about their dreamy eyes?" Dean protested, trying to defend himself as she tried to punch his shoulder again. She made a scoffing noise and stalked away from him, smoothly slipping into her most regal smile.

"Welcome, loyal subjects. I trust my loyal handmaiden brought you here in good health?" She offered an outstretched hand, which Cas took and bowed over.

"Handmaiden—who, Dean?" Jimmy looked delighted, and Dean sighed as he shook his head. It was going to be a long weekend. Even so, he was looking forward to every minute of it. Charlie was grinning smugly as she linked arms with a twin on either side, steering them into the camp with promises of cool refreshments in their waiting tent, and the sight of his best friend charming his boyfriends was almost too much for his heart to handle.

"...and as a show of loyalty to your queen, I happen to know of a need of two strapping volunteers for the mud wrestling performance tomorrow evening. The local queen of this realm is a total babe, and she'd be so grateful to me if I—"

"Hey, now, hold on!" Dean yelped, hurrying to catch up, chasing the sound of the twins' easy laughter.

Later that night, full of mead and relaxing by a campfire, Dean cradled Castiel's head in his lap, shoulder to shoulder with Jimmy as they leaned against a tree stump. Many of the festival actors and entertainers had already retreated to their tents in various states of drunkenness, and Dean felt confident enough to turn his head and press a kiss into Jimmy's neck as he stroked fingers through Cas's hair.

"Really love you guys, you know?" he murmured. "So damn grateful to have this, have you here with me like this." Jimmy made a pleased, tired noise, tucking his head firmly between Dean's neck and shoulder.

"We love you, too, Dean," Cas said, deep voice thick with sleepiness. He turned his face toward Dean's palm and nuzzled into it without opening his eyes.

"Was fun switching things up," Jimmy yawned. "Hey, when we get back, let's go the rest of the way, make it my turn. Gotta add group swimming to the list, right?" When he felt Dean go still beside him, he lifted his head to glance up. "Dean?"

"Um, sure," Dean said, a little too slowly. "We can…we can do that. Gonna be busy for a bit at work, though—lots of things to catch up on after the weekend, and inventory is coming up—"

Cas caught Dean's hand, which had tightened in his hair slightly as he was babbling. "Perhaps another chance to thank you might be in order? Dean, have you ever been taught to swim?"

"Course! What kind of grown man doesn't know how to swim?" Dean blustered. "I just…you know, I got a rash last time I went, and I might be allergic to chlorine, so maybe it's not a good idea, so—"

"Dean." Twin sets of blue eyes were now regarding him skeptically, amusement lurking in the background.

He sighed heavily. "I don't really have a leg to stand on here, do I? You pushed through and let me teach you to ride, and I have way less of a good reason for being sca—I mean, not liking deep water."

"Hey, not the point," Jimmy immediately insisted. "You don't ever have to justify reasons for being nervous about stuff. Maybe just focus on the reasons to go for it anyway? Promise, we won't let you drown." He ran a hand down Dean's leg soothingly.

"Yeah, all right," Dean said, considering the thought. If he lingered on the memory of Jimmy in a tiny Speedo, wondered what Cas wore in the pool, he didn't need to say so. "Hey, Jimmy? If Cas didn't know how to bike, and I can't swim, what is it that you've been avoiding? Gotta be something."

"The Blue Man Group, with the paint all over. Gives me the heeby-jeebies." Jimmy's flip answer made them laugh.

"Fine, don't tell me. I'll find out on my own," Dean said, becoming too relaxed once again to pry into the matter. "If it's tarantulas, though, you're on your own. Can't help you."

The fire crackled, sounds of singing came faintly from the other side of the camp, and the three of them curled up together and let their eyelids droop in contentment.

EXTRA SCENE:

Castiel: "Ouch."
Jimmy: "Little sore in the posterior this morning, Cassie? DOMS* are a bitch in every sport."
Castiel: "Shut up."
Jimmy: "Wonder what passes for ibuprofen in a Renaissance reenactment camp? Leeches?"
Castiel: "I just need to find some ice."
Jimmy: "Better hurry on that, since we're mud wrestling in a couple of hours."
Castiel: "…"
Jimmy: [cackling]

* DOMS = Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness. It's the feeling of being WAY more achy the morning after a workout than immediately after it.