Sam woke up instantly to thunderous clanging in the kitchen. Limping down the stairs faster than was comfortable, he raced into the kitchen, gun drawn.
"What are you doing?"
Mary turned to face him, irritation and streaks of dough running across her cheek. "What does it look like!" She snapped. "I'm cooking."
"Baking" Sam corrected, and dodged a pan lid. He smirked and moved farther into the room, letting his eyes wander around the trashed kitchen.
"Bobby's gonna have a cow when he sees this." Sam pointed out, amused.
"Bobby isn't here, and Bobby can suck it." Mary growled carefully lowering the top layer of dough on top of the fruit filler.
Sam grinned, "Are you making…pie? You hate pie." Sam hovered by her left shoulder, "Blueberry, apple, cherry, and what the hell is that?" Sam's nose wrinkled in distaste. Mary whacked his with a wooden spoon.
"Sweet potato pie, it's delicious. Don't touch it."
Sam did not look convinced.
"What about that one?" he asked pointing to the other pie with no top crust.
"Pecan pie"
"It's puh-kawn pie, Mary"
"No, Sam, this right here" pointing to the nut covered pie, "is pee-can pie" finishing with a southern drawl.
"The proper pronunciation is puh-khan" Sam argued, crossing his arms.
"Well, dawling we don't live in England where they speak prop-ah English." Sam narrowed his eyes at her sarcastic British accent. "We live in A-mur-i-ca, where my pie is made of pee-cans"
Neither of them heard the front door open, they were at a stand-off. Sam's face darkened, and Mary's face twisted with barely concealed rage.
Dean sidled in the kitchen frowning at Sam. "Wha- PIE!" Ignoring Sam and Mary, he cut himself a slice of the controversial pie.
Two pairs of eyes were on him in an instant "What?"
"What kind of pie is that?" they asked glaring at each other again.
Dean rolled his eyes and stuffed the piece of pie in his mouth; he was not getting in the middle of this.
"It's pie" he paused, chewing, "Damn good pie, too" his eyes back on the pie in question.
"I love me some pie" he muttered greedily considering the pie, knife in hand. Peeking over at his brother locked in a stare-down with Mary, he grinned putting the knife back on the table and took off with the entire dish.
Sam opened his mouth for his rebuttal, prepared to give detailed and lengthy examples concerning pronunciation in different regions of the United States of America, but Mary was grinning, a slight shimmer in her eyes, "Sam, he likes my pie!"
Mary was taking the last of the fruit-filled pies from the oven, when Dean returned to the kitchen. She held her breath praying that this had won her a few points in Dean's book.
Dean scowled at her, and looked away, almost embarrassed. He thrust the empty pan at her.
"More" His eyes drifted to her wary face. "Please" he added.
She took the pan from his hand and nodded, watching his back as his stomped out.
"Ice cream anyone?" Mary called from the doorway, grocery bags hanging off her arms.
"What kind did you get?" Dean asked not looking up from his book.
"The usual; Vanilla, Chocolate, Huckleberry, Mint Chocolate Chip, and Butter Puh-kahn"
Sam's head appeared around the corner, "What?" a shocked look on his face.
"We've got Vanilla, Choc-"
"Did you say Puh-kahn?" a sly smile inching across his face.
"That's what it's called Sam" she told him slowly, "Butter Puh-kahn Ice cream"
She glared at Sam, "That's just how it is Sam, pee-cans, pee-can pie, and butter puh-khan ice cream." She stomped away from him, and into the kitchen, "Deal with it, or you'll get nothing and like it!"