As Dean would so eloquently put it, "... awk-ward"
Leylaani giggled nervously; "um; I … er … I just dropped by to see how you were doing and I … uh … slipped on the … um … sheet …" she stammered, her voice trailing off when she realised it was probably the stupidest excuse for ending up in a compromising position that had ever been made in the history of embarrassing situations; "I'll just … uh, you know …" she gestured toward the other side of the room, and moved to climb off the bed.
Dean gently grasped her wrist and stopped her.
"You've hurt yourself;" his brow furrowed in concern as he noticed smears of blood on his chest, and realised the source of the blood was not him, but Leylaani. He picked up her bleeding hand and inspected it closely.
She glanced across at Bobby who stood rooted to the spot, his eyes pleading with her not to come clean; "oh, it's nothing;" she lied unconvincingly, "I cut it on some broken glass in the bar earlier; I thought it had stopped bleeding."
Dean's large hand enveloped hers with consummate care; "we've got some antiseptic in the bathroom, let's go an' clean it up for y …"
Pausing, his words faded into silence as he glanced up over Leylaani's shoulder to see two familiar and concerned faces looking down on him from the side of the bed.
"You okay dude?" Sam asked awkwardly with a little shrug.
"Uh; can't a guy get a bit o' freakin' privacy?" Dean hissed between clenched teeth, folding long arms protectively across Leylaani's back, preventing her second attempt at climbing off the bed. He gestured toward the door with his head.
The meaning wasn't lost on Sam and Bobby; "Uh, sounds like he's doin' okay," Bobby muttered, grabbing Sam's arm and dragging him rapidly out of the room, making a point of kicking Leylaani's discarded knife under the bed where Dean wouldn't see it; "we'll see ya downstairs Dean;" he called back after himself; "when ya ready!"
Leylaani smiled, "it's nothing, honestly; there's a first aid kit behind the bar, I can take care of it there," she smiled; "but I really need to get back downstairs, poor Des has been taken very ill and the ambulance should be arriving any time."
Dean nodded with a forced smile and reluctantly let go, allowing Leylaani to clamber off the bed.
Suddenly feeling very exposed and embarrassed, he became aware of noticeable and unrequited stirrings beneath the sheet and blushed furiously as he untangled the thin sheet which was knotted around his legs and gathered it up into his lap.
"Uh yeah, uh, you better get down an' see Des is okay, poor guy." He hesitated, squirming as a slightly pained expression crossed his face; "I … um … think I need to take a shower."
He cleared his throat loudly, smiling weakly at Leylaani.
"A cold one," he muttered.
Clumsily wrapping the sheet loosely around his hips, he climbed out of the bed and stumbled stiff-legged toward the bathroom.
"I'm so glad you're better Dean," Leylaani smiled hesitantly, clearly reluctant to leave; "I really have to get back to work now."
She stood up on tiptoe and planted a friendly peck on Dean's cheek before scampering out of the room with a small wave.
Dean stood in silence, blinking blearily and scratching his head. He watched her go with a long sigh; "way to go, Winchester, you really made a big impression there, moron!"
Glaring down at the rumpled sheet wrapped loosely around his hips, he pulled on the waistband of his boxers on order to try to rearrange himself; "an' you didn't friggin' help either!"
It was only seconds later when her head reappeared round the door frame.
"But I get off at six …"
Dean's smile illuminated the room.
Sam and Bobby sat talking by the pool and watching as Leylaani calmly and sensitively oversaw the sterling work of the paramedics as they treated Des.
Bobby felt bad; if Des hadn't suffered like this, they would never have known the succubus was ready to pounce. Dean owed his life to the fact that Des was being loaded unconscious into the back of an ambulance.
He sighed as they watched the ambulance set off. He couldn't be more relieved that Dean was alive and well and seemingly unaffected by his close encounter. He just wished it could have happened some other way.
Even Leylaani's brief reassurance that although he was in a bad way the paramedics had been optimistic, didn't really go a long way towards salving Bobby's conscience.
He hesitated, lost in thought for a moment as he watched the back of the ambulance disappear around the buildings, then yanked his derailed train of thought back on track. He turned back to Sam, continuing their conversation; "an' so that's why I didn't tell ya son; I was just so desperate that you should enjoy this vacation."
He couldn't read Sam's expression. "I'm sorry Sam, it was a crap decision; I put you and Dean at risk an' I can't believe I did it. I must be goin' friggin' soft, but I jus' wanted you to have the best two weeks ever, an' not to have to worry about anything."
"You're right, Bobby, it was a crap decision, you could have got hurt;" replied Sam, taking a sip from his beer, "but you know what? It's the nicest thing that anyone's ever done for us, thank you."
He smiled warmly as Bobby visibly relaxed.
They sat in a companionable silence for a moment, nodding their thanks to the waitress, still disturbed from the mornings events, who scurried over with another two cold beers.
"Anyway, the succubus is dead;"
Sam announced, thinking aloud, "and Dean didn't know about her, he just
thought he was having some kind of ultra-pervy dream."
"I guess so," replied Bobby a stray smile creeping across his face as he thought back to the look on Dean's shocked face when he woke up overwrought and under Leylaani.
They sat in silence for another moment.
"Does he need to know?" Sam asked out of the blue.
Bobby looked up, thought for a moment, and his smile broadened; "nope, I don't suppose he does," he replied keenly.
The two men clinked their glasses in an unspoken agreement, and Sam took a long draught of his beer, spending a blissful moment savouring the icy bite.
A moment which was all too rudely interrupted when he received a hearty smack round the back of the head from Danno the Dolphin; he lurched forward in shock, spitting beer far enough to spray Bobby, further traumatising the passing waitress, and doubled over into a violent coughing fit.
"C'mon Samantha," goaded Dean, bristling with renewed vigour after his recent setback; "get your shorts on an' get your ass in this pool," he demanded, hopping in explosive excitement and seemingly unconcerned by Sam's red face and choking gasps borne of a windpipe full of Corona.
Whipping a towel from round his neck, Dean dumped it unceremoniously on the middle of the table between Sam and Bobby in the puddle caused by Sam's spilt beer. His pale yellow polo shirt was tugged off over his head, and dumped on top of it, followed by his sunglasses, another smaller towel, Danno, his phone and a pair of flip-flops.
Bobby sat stunned into silence, peering over the growing mound of accessories piling up on the table as their peace was shattered by the coming of this small seismic event in stars and stripes swimming shorts.
Dean squirted a blob of sunscreen into his hand and threw the bottle over to Sam who caught it despite his watering eyes.
"C'mon bitch, do my back;" he snorted, impatiently slapping the cool lotion over his chest and shoulders.
Obediently doing as he was bidden, Sam carefully coated Dean's broad back in sunscreen, ignoring his brother's testy squirming, and colourful encouragements to 'get on with it', and was rewarded by a punch in the shoulder; "c'mon Sammy, last one in the pool's a big girl with a hormone imbalance," he paused briefly; "oh you are anyway, so it doesn't matter!"
Without another word, he grabbed Danno by the beak, and charged, leaping headlong into the pool with a hoot of delight.
Bobby let out the breath he was holding and stared over the pile of discarded effects at Sam, a smile spreading across his shell-shocked face.
"Looks like normal service is resumed;" he sighed, "God help us all!"