Dean was shaken awake the next morning.
"Wh-what is it, Cas?" He grumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up on the edge of the bed.
"Good morning, Dean. We must begin our hunt. The ship will be arriving shortly at San Juan...And the breakfast will no longer be served after 11:30 AM." Dean glanced at his watch, which read 11:20. He hopped up.
"Alright, I'm up. I gotta get some of those waffles!" He quickly threw on a green T-shirt from his bag, and picked up his denim shorts from the floor by the bed. He stepped into the bathroom to change, and was out the door and out of the cabin in a flash. Cas smiled in amusement, and then followed Dean up to the buffet.
Later on after breakfast and lunch, the hunter and the angel walked into the art auction gallery on Deck 7. The room was filled with framed canvases and other paintings.
"Which one of these paintings do you think the spirit's attached to?" Dean wondered out loud as they browsed each section.
"It is this one," Cas replied standing in front of an old fashioned canvas with a gold frame.
"Well, that was easy." Dean said, coming over to stand beside the angel. "Are you sure this is it?"
"Yes, quite certain. I recall seeing this before." Dean looked it over, his eyes landing on the price label. He gave a low whistle.
"I'm guessing you're right, judging by the goes on vacation to buy art and crap? And look at the size of this thing! How the hell do they even get it home?"
"I believe it is delivered by mail," Cas answered, reading the label more closely. Dean looked around the room.
"How're we gonna get this outta here?" He asked, eyeing the several strategically placed cameras on the ceiling.
"I will have to teleport with it." Cas raised his arm, and Dean put a hand on it to stop him.
"Not now, Cas. We'll come back later. Let's get outta here before that lady tries to sell it to us." He suggested, jerking his head towards the art auction clerk who stood in the distance behind a desk. Cas nodded, and the two of them left the gallery and headed towards the stairs.
A commotion suddenly occurred when a woman stepped off the elevator clutching her bleeding arm to her chest. Several cruise staff rushed over to assist her.
"What deck did you just come from?" Dean demanded.
"F-four," the woman replied shakily. Dean grabbed Cas's wrist and stomped down the stairs. They grabbed the iron poles from the closet, and Dean snatched a handful of salt packets from the bowl of condiments on the bureau, shoving them into his pocket.
"Let's distract this thing until we can get that painting," Dean told Cas as they walked down the long, narrow hallway. The ever-repeating colorful carpet was making him dizzy. He saw something blur by the corner of his eye, and he turned just in time to see a small girl appear with a scowl on her face. She wore a cream colored old fashioned dress and she was dripping wet with blood and sea water. Cas came up behind her and slashed through her with the iron he brandished. He spirit dissipated for the moment. Dean exhaled and gave Cas a praiseful nod. "That won't hold it off for long. Cas, go zap from our room to the gallery and grab the painting and meet me back in the cabin." Cas nodded and complied with Dean's plan. Dean entered the cabin just as Cas was returning, the large canvas held in both his hands. "Nice work, Cas. Now where are we gonna burn it?"
"I do not advise burning it in this room. Perhaps we should go ashore to do so." He reached out and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder.
"No, Cas. Last time you zapped me someplace, I didn't poop for a week."
"I believe this time, you can blame your constipation on how much food you have consumed in the past two days." Dean gave him a look, and as soon as he blinked he was standing on a beach up to his waist in the cool waves of the ocean in San Juan.
"Dammit, Cas." Dean complained as he trudged to the shore.
"My apologies," Cas replied, setting the large painting on the dry sand. They were on a hidden beach where there were no tourists or even locals. Dean took a small packet of matches out of his shirt pocket. He lit one and threw it on top of the canvas. Nothing happened. And then the spirit appeared from behind the painting.
"Sonofabitch." Dean lit another match and pressed it against the painting. Nothing. He looked up and saw the spirit closing in on him, and no Castiel anywhere in sight.
"Cas-" Cas reappeared in a flash with a bottle of gasoline. He poured it all over the canvas, and Dean threw down his third match. The painting burned up in flames, and the spirit flared up and dissipated for good.
Dean sat down on the sand a few yards away from the fire and Cas walked over and sat beside him.
"Glad that's over," Dean said, starting small talk.
"I agree. Now we can truly enjoy the rest of our vacation."
"Yeah, I can start by trying to get all the sand outta my shorts."
"I believe I have a better idea..." Cas suggested, putting a hand on Dean's face. Dean's heart pounded in his chest and his face felt as hot as the burning canvas behind them, as he stared into Castiel's crystal blue eyes. Cas surprised him by guiding his head to turn to the left. "We can view the setting sun," he continued. He took his hand away, as Dean tried to regain steady breathing. He looked out across the ocean at the horizon that was bright orange and yellow with pink clouds hovering over the turquoise water. He sighed and leaned back on his palms in the sand.
"Wow, that's really somethin'." Dean remarked.
"Yes, it is quite beautiful," Cas replied with a smile. Dean kept his gaze on the show in the sky. Suddenly he heard a thud in the sand beside him. He looked over right shoulder and stifled a laugh. Cas was laying back on the sand, looking up at him.
"What happened, Cas?"
"I was attempting to sit as you are, but I lost my balance." Dean chuckled and helped Cas sit up.
"Aw, you got sand in your hair. That's gonna be a bitch to get out later," Dean commented.
"I do not have much experience with sand." Dean smiled and turned back to watch the remainder of the sunset. He felt Cas lean over and rest his head on the hunter's shoulder. Dean tensed up, but then smiled, still watching the the sky grew dark minutes later, Dean stood up and held out his hand. Cas took a hold of it and stood up. Cas continued holding his hand, and in a blink they were back in their cabin again.
"Thanks, Cas."
"You are welcome."
"Go wash your hair, or you're gonna get sand in your bed." Cas nodded and stepped into the bathroom. Dean pulled off his shorts and T-shirt that were both still damp from the teleportation mishap earlier. He put on a dry pair of boxers when he heard Cas shout something. He walked over and knocked on the door. "Cas? You ok in there?" He could hear the shower running and some shuffling, but there was no answer. Dean sighed and turned the handle, pushing the door open. He raised a brow when he saw Cas standing in the shower fully clothed. "Uh...Cas? What exactly are you doing?" Cas paused and gaped at Dean, who stood in the doorway in only his boxers.
"I am bathing," he answered simply after a moment.
"Um...ok. You know you're s'posed to take your clothes off first, right?"
"I need to remove my clothing?"
"Uh - yeah...And wash your hair," Dean said before turning around and shutting the door behind him. Before he could get very far, the door opened again.
"Dean? Would you assist me with washing my hair?" Dean turned around and gulped. Cas had taken off his shirt and shorts, and stood in the doorway only in wet boxers, water dripping everywhere.
"You, uh- You sure you can't do it?" He asked, his eyes unconsciously scanning up and down Castiel's wet body.
"Yes. I need assistance." Dean closed his eyes for a second.
"Alright, fine." Dean joined Cas in the bathroom, and reached for the bottle of shampoo on the shelf. He told Cas to stand under the water and face the wall. Dean squeezed a glob of shampoo into his palm and then scrubbed it through Cas's dark, wet locks. He could have sworn he heard Cas make a quiet noise of satisfaction, and he bit his lip hoping that his boxers would hide his reaction. He hadn't entirely thought about the situation he was in until that moment. He was standing in the shower with Cas and they were both in their freakin' boxers! Dean took a deep breath, his hands gliding across Cas's shoulder blades. He told Cas to tip his head back so he could rinse his hair. He left his hands lightly resting on the angel's shoulders. His skin was so smooth and his biceps were so muscular. Castiel turned around to face him, the water from the shower cascading over one shoulder now. He looked into Dean's eyes, and Dean's gaze faltered as he stepped back. "Y-you're, uh... you're good, Cas." He stammered, before leaving the bathroom. He sat on his bed and took a deep breath as he tried to calm his racing mind and racing heart. He pulled his bag up onto the bed and rummaged through it to find some dry clothes to put on. He came up with a white short sleeved button up and tan shorts. He picked up the daily newsletter from the bedside table and read the schedule for the evening's activities. Oh, right. That chocolate party or whatever was happening soon. Dean went over to the bureau and gelled his short, spiky hair before spraying some cologne on his shirt. Several minutes later, Cas emerged from the bathroom holding a towel around his waist. He took a blue T-shirt and black shorts out of his bag before going back into the bathroom and changing. After a minute, Dean knocked before entering and stepped into the bathroom. "Here," he said as he grabbed a dry towel and ruffled it through the angel's hair to dry it. Then he slicked some gel through Cas's hair before giving him a thumbs up.
"Thank you, Dean. May we go to the chocolate buffet?"
"Yeah, let's do it. I can't wait to try the chocolate pie."