"No."
"Yes."
"Dean..." *Cue warning tone in Sam's voice. Add a dash of bitchface*
"Sam…" *Cue mocking tone in Dean's voice*
"I'm serious, Dean."
"Oooh Mr. Hotshot Lawyer is serious now. I'm quaking in my boots."
"Dean!"
"Bring me some pie." And with that, Dean flopped backwards onto one of the single beds in the hotel room, hands clasped behind his head. He bounced once, twice, but before he hit the bed for the second time—
Sam had whipped around at Dean's mention of pie. He crouched underneath the dated television set and opened the little cabinet—
"Wait. Is that—are you serious? Fuck, Sammy."
In Sam's massive hands sat a little pie from the Lancaster County farmer's market, located conveniently around the corner from their room. Figured. Dean could smell the fruit and could almost feel the crust crumbling in his hands. Cue extra saliva production.
Sam smile was mostly smug, but the quiet, sappy part of him really did love the look on Dean's face when his older brother saw pie. It's adorable, let's face it.
"We travel so much, Dean, but we've never even left this country! Not like it could ever get boring, but don't you wonder what it's like in other places? Better food, exotic girls… and for the less neanderthalic of the two of us, more cultures and languages to absorb! We're limiting ourselves by learning only about the demons on this side of the world anyways; imagine what we could learn in Europe! Books literally centuries older than anything we could find here! We—uhm, Dean?"
Dean's pupils had continued to dilate, so intense was his focus on the cherry pie still in Sam's hand.
Sam was tempted to just give in. It was such a far-fetched idea anyways. At least he'd tried. And it seemed wrong to take advantage of a man during his moment of weakness… But Sam hadn't been accepted to Stanford Pre-Law for nothing, and he wasn't quite finished here.
"So we have a deal, Dean?"
You'd think those words would have started to raise a red flag in Dean's head after all those years of deals going south, but noooooo.
If the demons think that I'M Dean's weakness, we better hope he keeps his love for pie hidden better, thought Sam wryly.
"Yeah, whatever. Give it here, ginormo."
Sam was tempted to avoid Dean's grabby fingers for longer just to torture him, but he had already gotten what he wanted. Plus, Dean looked ready to pounce on his prey from the edge of the bed. No need for that at this particular moment; the fighting would surely break out in a few hours.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
With that, Sam slammed the door shut behind him, full blown grin on his face. Not that Dean saw or heard this of course. Because, pie.