“Oh my God, Dean, this motel has a pool! I haven’t been swimming in forever.”
Dean rolled his eyes, pulling his duffel from the trunk and slamming it shut. “Ah, yes. Because who doesn’t want to swim in a motel pool off the interstate with more dead bugs and communicable diseases in it than actual water?”
You punched his arm and threw your own bag over your shoulder, grimacing at the feeling of sweat sliding down your neck. While Sam took off for his own room, Dean led the way towards the motel room he’d rented for the two of you for the night, which just so happened to pass by the motel’s pool. It didn’t look nearly as bad as you’d expected; sure, the concrete was chipped in a few places, and maybe the water could’ve been a little bluer, but as far as sleazy motel pools went, this one was the top of the class.
“C’mon, Dean, it’s hotter than Hell out here,” you moaned, running a hand through your hair. “It would feel so good.”
“As someone who has personally spent 40 years in Hell, I can confirm that no, it is not hotter than Hell out here,” your boyfriend retorted wryly. You huffed before thrusting your bag into his hands.
“Fine. You don’t have to swim, but at least hold this and let me have my fun.” You stuck out your tongue playfully before turning and sprinting towards the pool. As you reached the outer edge of the water and kicked off your shoes, you could hear Dean shouting for you, but you ignored him, stripping down to just your underwear before getting a running start and canon-balling into the refreshingly icy water.
“Y/N! Y/N, what the hell! You know we have research to do,” you could hear Dean shouting, though his voice was muffled by the water surrounding you. Bursting through to the surface, you let out a content sigh and pushed your dripping hair out of your eyes to see that Dean had followed you and was standing at the edge of the pool, both your and his duffels resting at his feet and an unimpressed scowl on his face.
“I’ll only be a minute, Mr. Grouchy,” you assured him with a smile as you swam over to the pool’s edge, right in front of where he was standing. You stared up at him innocently, but Dean was not amused.
“You can swim after we’ve ganked the werewolf,” he compromised. You sighed, defeated.
“Okay, fine,” you mumbled. “At least help me out.”
Seeming pleased with your agreement, he stuck down a hand, and you grasped onto it, fully prepared to let him pull you out of the water until a wonderfully devious idea crossed your mind. With a mischievous smile, you yanked hard on Dean’s hand, catching him off guard and sending him tumbling after you into the water, fully-clothed.
You burst into laughter as Dean floundered around in the water for a moment, trying to make sense of the situation and adjust to the drastic change in temperature. “Y/N!” he shouted, shaking his head and sending water droplets flying everywhere like a dog drying off after a bath. You squealed and swam in the other direction as he followed after you, struggling not to laugh himself. “You are going to pay for that.”
Suddenly he appeared behind you, pressing you against the concrete wall of the pool and turning you around to face him. You giggled and allowed him to hold you there, hands braced on either side of you to keep you from escaping, while you wrapped your arms around his waist beneath the surface of the water.
His face only inches from yours, he smirked at you, muttering, “You are evil, Y/N, absolutely evil.”
“But the water feels good, doesn’t it? I told you it would,” you replied, running your hand lazily through his soaked hair.
Dean rolled his eyes lightheartedly but let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, you were right. It does feel good. I guess we can do that research later.”
You smiled as he pressed a dripping, chlorinated kiss to your lips.
(This is way longer than the other drabbles will be but I got a little carried away, oops.)