Gâteau au fromage
Dean stared at the spot where his pie was sitting. Emphasize was. Now it was just an empty spot on the empty table, except for a few crumbs here and there; where his pie was previously sitting. The pie had only been there less than five minutes ago. Five minutes. Dean had simply forgot that he had left his gun outside, sitting openly in his precious black,'67 Chevy Impala next to the driver's seat. It was also loaded, and not on safety. So, Dean left his precious pie to go fetch his gun. And now his pie was gone.
An obvious anger seem to build up inside Dean as he stood there staring at the empty spot. Sam was watching Dean in utter horror.
"CASTIEL!!"
Dean's voice, harsh and degrading, reverberated off the walls of the motel room. Even Sam, who had been subject to Dean's yelling for, well, since the beginning of time for him, froze at the terrible sound and he even shivered slightly. A fear rose inside of him for the name that Dean had singled out from a population of 6 billion people, and the vast unknown population of angels observing from the heavens. Since Castiel was among the vast unknown population of angels observing on the sidelines, he, as every other angel could, heard Dean's cry of fury.
There was a soft, but beautiful sounds of fluttering wings, and a man appeared into the room. At least, he appeared to be a man. He in fact looked to be a, well, what some would think to be a tax accountant— a holy tax accountant. With his business suit and tie, complete with a long tan trench coat, he really did seem ready for work. His soft-looking dark hair was perfectly shaped, slightly spiked, and he looked around with bright blue eyes. He gave Dean and Sam a look of pure and utter innocence. But Dean ignored this. He stood there, his fists balled, trembling ever-so-slightly.
"Cas," he spoke, trying to control the tone and fierceness of his voice now that the angel was there, "Why. Did. You. Eat. My. Pie?" Castiel looked at Dean, then at Sam.
"Your... pie?" he said softly. Before Castiel could finish, Dean stopped him.
"I don't wanna hear it," he growled, "I know you ate my pie." Castiel stopped, his face falling.
"It… it was just sitting there…" he said very quietly.
"How many times…. How many times Cas, do I have to tell you…never to touch— MY PIE?!" Dean cried, exploding at the last two words.
"I suppose as many times as it will take for it to sink in…?" Castiel answered. Dean slammed his palm against his face with a loud smack.
"It was a hypothetical question, Cas!!" he yelled.
"C'mon Dean," Sam pleaded with his brother, trying to stick up for the defenseless angel.
"Don't get involved Sammy," Dean commanded, pointing a menacing finger at Sam.
"Does this angel ever steal your pie?" he added.
"You never let me have pie, Dean," Sam replied coolly. Castiel stood there silently, thinking.
"If I get you more pie, will you be satisfied?" he asked gently to Dean. Dean blinked in surprise, taking in this offered apology.
"Pie would be nice" Dean started, but he shook his head suddenly, "but that does not exempt you from this time of stealing my pie!!" Castiel cocked his head to the side.
"Then will an apology help to ease your anger?" he asked.
"No Cas," Dean said, "an apology will not help to ease my anger." Castiel remained silent.
"Just," Dean started, taking a deep, long breath, "get out of this motel room before I attempt to murder you." Castiel looked at Sam, unsure if Dean was serious. Sam nodded as if to say "you'd better go for your own safety." Castiel gave Dean one last fleeting look of apology before disappearing in another soft sound of fluttering wings.
"You really need to give Cas a break Dean," Sam said seriously, "he raised you from hell for God's sake! Literally."
"Well I don't see him stealing your things—" Dean started.
"God, it's not like he purposefully did it Dean!" Sam replied angrily, "He's just an angel!"
"You make it sound as if he's innocent," Dean said, bewildered.
"You are so unbelievable Dean," Sam said, looking at his brother strangely. He shook his head, then quietly left the motel room, Dean still fuming.
* * *
Dean begrudgingly opened the motel room. Things had been strained between him and Sam since Dean's outburst with Castiel days before. And not to mention that Castiel had not showed himself since then either. Dean refused to believe that Castiel did not mean to eat his precious pie, even though he really did buy Dean more pie as an apology. Every time Dean tried to tell Sam this, Sam would retort by calling him "selfish," and "stubborn," and "uncaring of Castiel's feeling" by rejecting his apology except, eating the pie as gave him.
Dean and Sam stopped in their tracks when they walked into the motel room. Everything seemed to be normal— everything you would expect in a normal motel. Apart from the peculiar decor. The only thing not right was the table in the motel room. But it was not so much the table as it was what was seated at the table. A man in a tan trench coat, his back turned and facing the motel room door where Dean and Sam, was sitting utterly still at the table. Castiel turned slightly, and seeing Dean and Sam in his peripheral vision, his eyes widened slightly. There was a sound of a fork dropping onto a glass plate. Dean dropped his hand from the door handle.
"Just when I thought you really were innocent," Dean said with a sigh.
"Dean," Sam started, rolling his eyes. But Dean ignored him.
"What kind of pie did you steal this time, Cas?" he asked.
"This is not pie," Castiel said sincerely.
'Oh great, he's mastered the art of lying," Dean grumbled.
"No, I am not lying," Castiel replied. Suddenly he held up a box.
"Gâteau au fromage," he said, pointing. Dean stopped.
"What did you call me?" he asked, dumbfounded. Sam rolled his eyes again.
"Cheesecake, Dean, cheesecake. It's French," Sam explained. Dean walked swiftly over the table where Castiel was. Castiel stood, as Dean grabbed the box roughly.
"So what, you're a French angel now?" he said.
"No," Castiel said, cocking his head in confusion. "I discovered that a combination of cream cheese, chocolate, and a peculiar thing called graham crackers in a crust, can make a very nice-tasting type of food I believe is called a 'dessert.'" It got very quiet.
"Um… yeah…" Sam said after the awkward silence.
"So does that mean you're not gonna steal my pie anymore?" Dean asked suddenly. Sam looked at his brother strangely again, as did Castiel.
"I no longer have a desire for pie any longer, for, I believe, that this new food I discovered is even better than pie itself," Castiel explained unemotionally. Dean and Sam stared.
"Nothing," Dean said quietly, "is better than pie."
La Fin!!