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Monday - Renaissance Creek Resort, Aruba
Jul. 1st, 2024 06:38 amThe resort lobby was a sight to behold. The high, vaulted ceilings were painted in soft pastels that echoed the colors of the ocean just outside. Polished marble floors gleamed under the light streaming through tall windows, offering a stunning view of the turquoise water. Tropical plants adorned the corners and framed the entrance, giving the space an inviting ambiance. Guests lounged in plush chairs, sipping on colorful cocktails, while the friendly staff bustled about, attending to every need with practiced efficiency. One of the main attractions, a water slide that went through a shark tank, already had a line that reached from the pool to the lobby.
Dean pushed open the heavy glass doors of the resort, stepping into the cool, air-conditioned lobby with an audible sigh of relief. They had just come back from the spa session and… his back, surprisingly limber after the torturous hour-long yoga session, felt better than it had in years.
Dean let out a low whistle. "Well, ain't this place something." He stretched his arms over his head and felt his spine pop in a series of satisfying cracks.
He was never going to admit that the yoga session felt good. He’d never live it down. Somewhere in the universe Sam was smirking at him and it made Dean feel dirty.
He turned towards the concierge desk, intending to ask about the “Swimming with the Sharks” session later this afternoon, when something caught his eye. A large, colorful banner hung across one side of the lobby, announcing the week’s main event: a fan convention for the "Supernatural" book series. Dean's stomach dropped. His eyes widened as he took in the throng of people milling about in plaid shirts and trench coats, some even sporting fake stubble and wigs to resemble him and Sam. There were even cosplayers all wearing the same horrible Hawaiian shirts as Dean was.
"Son of a bitch."
Which would have had a bigger impact if four other Dean cosplayers hadn’t turned and pointed back at him and shouted “SON OF A BITCH!” right back at him.
[For the Astrophysicist/God of Thunder]
Dean pushed open the heavy glass doors of the resort, stepping into the cool, air-conditioned lobby with an audible sigh of relief. They had just come back from the spa session and… his back, surprisingly limber after the torturous hour-long yoga session, felt better than it had in years.
Dean let out a low whistle. "Well, ain't this place something." He stretched his arms over his head and felt his spine pop in a series of satisfying cracks.
He was never going to admit that the yoga session felt good. He’d never live it down. Somewhere in the universe Sam was smirking at him and it made Dean feel dirty.
He turned towards the concierge desk, intending to ask about the “Swimming with the Sharks” session later this afternoon, when something caught his eye. A large, colorful banner hung across one side of the lobby, announcing the week’s main event: a fan convention for the "Supernatural" book series. Dean's stomach dropped. His eyes widened as he took in the throng of people milling about in plaid shirts and trench coats, some even sporting fake stubble and wigs to resemble him and Sam. There were even cosplayers all wearing the same horrible Hawaiian shirts as Dean was.
"Son of a bitch."
Which would have had a bigger impact if four other Dean cosplayers hadn’t turned and pointed back at him and shouted “SON OF A BITCH!” right back at him.
[For the Astrophysicist/God of Thunder]
