Pulling off his oven mitts, Dean grinned. The spicy, delicious smell of pumpkin pie had been teasing his nostrils for over half an hour, and now she stood there. All warm, steaming actually, and golden brown. He turned away from the temptation and checked his phone. Nothing yet. He groaned and turned on the radio. If Sammy, Mom and Cas didn't show up soon, he would cave. Lucky for him, the pie was still piping hot, and he would get nasty burns if he even tried to drag a finger across it. He sighed. Next step then... he pulled open the fridge door and grabbed the carton of heavy cream. Next the vanilla and the icing sugar... Humming to himself, Dean picked up the handheld mixer and clicked the whisks in place.

Half an hour later, he pulled the bowl of settled whipped cream out of the fridge and scooped it into the piping bag, ready to make pretty rosettes on the pumpkin pie. He wiped his brow and winced. Crap. Now his forehead was sticky. He licked his hand and smiled. That tasted nice. It would surely complement the pumpkin and spices. His phone buzzed and he yanked it out.

Received at 15.27 from: Sam

Finally done here. On our way back. Traffic should be ok. See you in about an hour.

Dean hung his head. "Fuck..." Of course it would take them so long. He glanced over at the counter. The pie still stood there, pristine, smelling like Heaven in a pan. It was tempting him, taunting him. He licked his lips. If he just... he could use the cream to... Yeah, who would notice, right? Almost without consciously making the decission to move, he walked over to the counter and stared at the pie. His hand dipped in, ever so careful, and it came back up, scooping the sweet, spicy filling. His fingers were covered up to the second joint and he let it slide down to his palm, mesmerised by the movement. He breathed in deeply, savouring the scent. Then, he tentatively lapped at his hand and moaned.

"Mmmh! Oh God... so good." He licked his lips and dove right back in, licking his hand spotless, even darting his tongue between his fingers to catch stray filling. As soon as he realised what he had done, a blush crept up his cheeks. "Mom was right. I am a glutton." he mumbled to himself, turning away from the pie. He washed his hands, trying to wash away the feeling of shame as well. His phone buzzed again, and he took it out, after drying his hands. Good. A distraction was just what he needed.

Received at 15.33 from: Cas

I am sorry we took so long. But you might feel better if I told you we ran into Garth. The BMOL did not get him. He and his mate are doing fine. I hope you are keeping yourself occupied. Cas

Dean swallowed hard. "Damnit Cas. Why did you have to use a word containing 'pie'?" His glance wandered off towards the counter again. The aftertaste of the pie still lingered a bit, and he bit his lower lip. Straightening his shoulders, he decidedly picked up the piping bag and prepared to fill the hole his fingers had dug. It was a bit uneven, and the rosette he would make wouldn't be nice. That would be a shame. He used his index to swipe around the hole and make it more circular, licking off the excess filling. The taste had him close his eyes. "Damn, I'm good at baking. Eat your heart out, Martha Steward." He eyed the pie. Still uneven, wasn't it? He ran his finger along the sides again, popping it in his mouth, if the blob of filling threatened to get too big. Satisfied, he picked up the piping bag and started filling the hole. Suddenly, he stopped, pouting in thought.

"What if I made the cream too sweet? Couldn't have that, could we?" he argued with himself. "Nope. That would not do at all. I should sample." He used his hand again, this time scooping up filling and whipped cream in one go. Like a chimp, he just dropped it right into his mouth, and slowly swallowed it down, enjoying the taste. "Hm. Hmhm. Maybe just a bit more, just to be sure." He dipped his hand back in, filling it to the brim with sticky, gooey sweetness. "Hm. 'S g'd... 's v'rry g'd." he mumbled around his mouthfull. He licked his hand clean, only to drop it in the pie right away.

While he cleaned off his hand from the last filling and cream, he realised something. "I never sampled the whole thing. I keep forgetting to get some of the crust. If I overworked that, it will be tough and unedible." Humming along to Tom Petty's 'Honey Bee', he picked up a wicked looking kitchen knife and cut himself a generous slice of pie, even if only half of it was covered in filling. Not wanting to be a total barbarian, he grabbed a plate and a fork. As an afterthought, he piped a perfect rosette of whipped cream next to the pie. He mixed cream and piefilling with his fork and cut off a bit of crust too. He happily hummed around it, once he had put the bite into his mouth.

"Crust's ok, I think." He looked down to the plate and found it empty. The piping bag lay to the side, crumpled up like a dried-out slug, tip slowly dripping cream into a puddle on the counter. "Hm.. oh well. The pie tastes great without cream too." He burped gently and sat down on a chair. "Oooohhh." he groaned as he popped the button of his jeans. "I think I might have eaten too much." He droped his head on his arms and hummed. "Yeah... That was gooood pie..."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dropping his bag on the table with the world map, Sam sighed. That was one exhausting hunt. Mary groaned as she flopped on a chair. "Let's never leave Dean here again. He is damn useful on hunts."

Sam hummed. "I know. Why ever did we think this would go ok without him?"

Cas tilted his head. "Because we had most of the research done, including the location of the bones. And because Dean was in the middle of baking a pie." He sniffed. "Which I do not smell. Why would I not smell pie, if Dean was baking?"

Sam's head shot up, alarmed. "He didn't... no... he wouldn't..." Repeating that phrase, Sam stalked out of the room and towards the kitchen, Cas and Mary hot on his trail. They saw his back disappear around the corner and heard his shout. "Dean! You... oh my God!"

Not sure if Sam sounded disgusted or scared, Cas and Mary picked up the pace and rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Oh my God..." Mary gasped. Cas widened his blue eyes comically as he took in the kitchen. Patches of flour decorated every surface, including the tap. Smears of brownish-orange were concentrated on the counter, but also on the knobs of the tap, and over a large kitchen knife and a plate and fork. A small puddle of what looked like cream had formed around the wrung-out form of a piping bag. Crumbs of the brownish-orange and golden brown were littered in a pie pan. Uncertain, he turned to where Sam stood, hands in his sides, thunder brewing on his face. "Sam?" he asked softly. "What happened here? Was there a fight?" Sam hummed. "No." he answered.

Cas followed Sam's bitchface and bit his lip. Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, fast asleep. Gently snoring, head on his arms and his face completely covered with sticky smears of the brownish-orange and what looked like drying whipped cream. Golden brown crumbs stuck around the corners if his smiling mouth. Sam sighed, a smile tugging up his mouth. "Looks like Dean decided to sample the pie..."

Mary snorted with laughter. "Dean and his pie... so he's ok... just a foodcoma."

Sam sniggered too. "On the nose, mom..." he supplied.

Cas frowned. "Sample the pie? But there is no pie..."

That made Sam laugh. "Not anymore... once Dean starts sampling..."

Realisation dawned on Cas' face. "Oh... oh dear." He stepped up to the slumbering, pie smeared man and placed two fingers to his forehead. "It would seem he suffers no ill effects of eating a whole pie. Amazing."

"He has a castiron stomach, Cas."

Cas tilted his head, fingers still in place. "No he doesn't. His stomach is made of the same materials as any other human's."

Mary shook her head, smiling. "Just an expression, Cas. Means his stomach doesn't get upset easily."

"Oh..." He pulled his fingers away with a disgusted wince. "EW. Dean...you are all sticky. I suggest you go take a shower."

Dean hummed softly and mumbled: "gimme some sugar... little Honey Bee..." Cas stared at Sam, alarmed.

Sam just chuckled. "Guess he heard Tom Petty somewhere along the line... Cas, can you clean him up, and get him to bed?"

Cas nodded and picked up his sticky friend, who snuggled down in his arms, mumbling "don't tell your boyfriend, little Honey Bee."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dean opened his eyes and groaned as he stretched. When he realised he was in his room, he bolted upright.

"Hello, Dean. How are you feeling?"

His head snapped around to find Cas, sitting in the chair at the foot of his bed, ankle resting on his other knee, a book in his hands.

"Er... I... I'm eh... I'm ok. Actually, I feel fine."

Cas nodded, humming assent. "Good. I just wanted to make sure that your digestion was ok with consuming a whole pumpkin pie in one sitting."

Dean smirked. "Takes more than a pie to make me feel weird, Cas."

Cas actually smiled at that. "I gather." He got up and just before leaving the room, he turned towards Dean. "Too bad you stopped calling me little Honey Bee." he said with a mischeivous smirk and walked out, leaving Dean gaping at the door.