Summary: Pre-Series, Teenchesters – "I can't believe I let you talk me into this." Sam laughed at Dean's grumbled comment. "Believe it." Because here they were...at the beach...in the ocean...straddling rented surfboards.

Disclaimer: Not mine

Warnings: Usual language

A/N: Inspired by the E/O Challenge word-of-the-week (crest).

Let's go surfing now... ~ The Beach Boys

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

Sam laughed at the grumbled comment.

"Believe it."

Because here they were – at the beach...in the ocean...straddling rented surfboards.

Dean cut his eyes at his brother as they bobbed in the water, waiting for the perfect wave.

Whatever the hell that looked like.

The surfers they had talked with at the rental place had been enthusiastic...but not descriptive or specific.

You'll just know it, dude.

Yeah. Sure.

That was helpful.

Dean sighed his annoyance.

"You know, I watch Shark Week, Sam," he reminded, glancing around for any signs of unwelcomed visitors. "To them, we look like big-ass turtles out here. You might as well just ring the fucking dinner bell."

Sam laughed again at his brother's bitching.

"Dean. After everything we've been up against in our lives, you're scared of sharks?"

Dean glared. "Fuck you, Sam."

Sam laughed once more – thoroughly enjoying this – and splashed his grumpy big brother.

Dean turned away from the assault, then returned the favor.

But Sam didn't seem to mind, shaking his floppy hair like a wet dog and wiping the salt water from his face as he grinned at Dean.

"Thanks for doing this, by the way..." he told his brother, the kid using that genuine tone and expression that always twisted Dean's heart. "Especially since Dad – "

" – yeah, yeah..." Dean dismissed, well aware that John would have a shit fit if he knew they had blown off research for a couple of hours in order to slack off at the beach instead.

But what John didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

And although Dean wasn't exactly in his happy place in the middle of shark-infested waters, the big brother was happy he could make Sam happy.

Anything for this kid floating beside him.

Dean smiled to himself.

Sam sighed, tilting back his head and enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face.

There was a beat of silence between the brothers as kids yelled on the shore and seagulls called overhead.

"How long do we have to sit out here like shark bait?"

Sam glanced at his brother and quirked a smile.

"It's not funny, Sam," Dean snapped, slipping back into his cranky mood. "I'm gonna be pissed if I've survived everything only to be eaten by a fucking shark."

And Sam didn't even want Dean to get started on how pissed he'd be if something happened to Sam while they were out here.

Just the thought made Dean want to kill something.

But Sam's smile widened.

"Dean. Relax. We'll hear the Jaws music before the attack."

Dean blinked with no expression. "Hilarious."

Sam laughed. "I'll be here all week," he quipped and shifted on his surfboard.

Dean rolled his eyes at his dorky little brother.

Another beat of silence passed.

"But seriously..." Dean pressed. "How long do we have to sit out here?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Until we find the perfect wave..."

Not that they were actively looking for the perfect wave.

Because according to the surfers, the perfect wave found you.

...which was the kind of new-age bullshit Dean tried to avoid, and he figured after agreeing to this, Sam would talk him into yoga next.

Dean sighed, wondering if he could return his bathing suit to Walmart if he had worn it only once.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Because buying the swim trunks had been a waste...just like renting these stupid surfboards for the afternoon.

The things Dean did for Sam…

The big brother shook his head.

An hour or so passed.

The brothers alternating between talking and just sitting together in companionable silence, enjoying the sun and the breeze and this rare opportunity to just be teenagers.

It was kind of perfect, actually, and Dean realized he would remember this as a good afternoon even if they didn't surf.

But then it happened – the perfect wave, appearing on the horizon and heading straight for them.

"Holy shit," Dean blurted, somehow knowing this was it.

The perfect wave had finally found them.

And the rush of adrenaline that flooded Dean's system was unexpected but awesome.

"Wow..." Sam breathed, motionless in the moment before erupting in a blur of movement. "Get ready!" he yelled, laying down on his stomach in preparation.

Dean did the same, hoping they could pull this off after watching a short "how to" video at the surf shop...and really hoping Sam didn't get hurt.

The big brother cringed at the thought as the wave continued to roll forward...and then everything happened at once.

The brothers rowing in sync beside each other before crouching on their surfboards and confidently standing; both finding their balance as the wave crested and then just enjoying the ride.

It was one of the most amazing feelings Dean had ever experienced, and he glanced at his little brother, making sure Sam was also having fun...and most importantly, that Sam was okay.

But there was no need for Dean to worry.

Sam was fine, the kid staring straight back and beaming at him...dimples and all.

Dean smiled as well, shifting his weight as the wave finally crashed and the surfboard slipped out from under him.

Sam's board did likewise, and they went under at the same time.

Seconds later, Dean was breaking the surface of the water, relieved that Sam was already there.

Both brothers breathless but smiling as they pulled their surfboards toward them.

"That was awesome!" Dean crowed, fist-bumping his brother. "I mean...that was pie-buffet-awesome!"

Sam laughed at the description, knowing if Dean was comparing something to pie...then his big brother really liked it.

"So does that mean we can do it again?" Sam asked, sounding like the little brother he was.

"Hell yes!" Dean replied, already laying down on his surfboard to row back out to deeper waters.

"But what about the sharks?" Sam teased, coming alongside his brother.

Dean snorted dismissively. "Sammy. Surfers aren't afraid of sharks."

Sam laughed again, amused that he and Dean had only ridden one wave...yet now Dean was over his shark phobia and considered them surfers.

"No, scratch that. Not surfers," Dean corrected, realizing a better term. "We're wave hunters."

Sam smiled and nodded. "I like that."

"Damn right you do," Dean agreed, playfully splashing his little brother.

Sam splashed back.

Dean chuckled.

And both brothers straddled their surfboards – the pair of wave hunters waiting for another perfect wave.

END