Pie-Eyed
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Dean was in heaven… Pie Heaven. Otherwise known to everyone else as the dessert display at the local diner, to Dean it was a one of the greater things in life. One of the greater things in life being pie of course, not the diner. A diner is a diner, but pie…
"Apple pie," he muttered with glee. He stood inches away from the glass of the display, practically drooling as he watched the desserts spin slowly around. He ignored the faint humming emanating from the case as he hunted for the right slice. His eyes jumped to the next pie a level up the tall dessert case, skipping over the cakes that shared the same level as the aforementioned pie.
"Lemmmon mmmeringue," Dean hummed, overemphasizing the ems. A wide smile stretched across his face as he moved onto the next possibility. "Pecan Pie," he popped.
"Dude, just pick a frigg'n pie," Sam growled.
Dean shot Sam a dark glare and went back to ogling the shiny dessert display. Sam sighed loudly, and then plopped back into the booth they had been using. (Dean could hear the distinct poof that usually accompanied plopping into diner booths.) The older Winchester continued his self appointed mission to find the perfect pie to complete his meal.
"Coconut cream pie…" No, he didn't feel like picking coconut shreds out of his teeth today. "Blueberry pie," he cheered, drawing out the first part of the word playfully. "Naw, not feeling blue today."
"Chocolate silk," Dean oozed out. He whined, "However, as if I hadn't dealt with enough brown goop today." Normally he'd be all for the chocolate concoction, but this morning's hunt had turned him temporally off of anything that reminded him of mud. The recent rains had left the ground saturated, and the two brothers had to chase the most recent boogey man through the mud and the muck. They had been coated in it and so had his baby. She was liberally splashed with the filth both inside and out. He was not a happy camper about that.
"Dean, sometime today," Sam prodded from the nearby booth.
"Don't rush me!" he retorted. "Sweet potato pie, nope." He hmmed and moved onto the next pie.
"Bingo!" he chirped. Looking around, with a quirk of his fingers he caught the attention of their waitress, Theresa. She was a pretty brunette he had flirted shamelessly with during the entire time she had been near his and Sam's table.
"Hey sweetheart, can I have a slice of banana cream pie?" He gestured to his pie of choice and gave Theresa an extra big smile, that one that usually let him get away with more than he should.
"Sure thang. It'll be ov'r in jus a minute. Let me grab a plate for it." With a quick pivot, she walked behind the diner's counter.
Dean eyed her appreciatively for a few seconds and then settled himself into the seat across from Sammy. "My pie is coming," Dean announced importantly.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Heaven forbid you miss out on pie."
"Blasphemy! Don't mock the pie," his brother grouched.
A plate clacked gently against the table, the metal fork pinging against porcelain and the porcelain tapping against the plastic of the table. "One slice of banana cream pie." Theresa turned to Sam, her ponytail swishing behind her. "Anythang else for ya sweetie?" She idly tucked a strand of escaped hair behind her ear as she presumably added the pie to their bill. She flicked her eyes back over to Dean briefly while she waited for Sam's response.
Sam politely declined. "No thank you, I'm finished."
Theresa smiled again, this time at Sam, and scribbled something more on her tablet. She ripped off the sheet and placed it upside down at the edge of their table. "Let me know if ya'll change your minds. I'm jus a holla away." She tucked the pad into an apron pocket. "Oh, and enjoy the pie," Theresa added to Dean. "Joseph makes pies ta die for," she gushed before she left them.
"See, the pie is to die for. If I'm going to keel over again I want it to be over the right kind of pie." Dean picked up his fork.
"You are not dying over pie."
Dean waved his fork in the air. "You're right." Sam sighed in relief.
"If I'm going to die, it'll be after a wild night with a couple of busty beauties." Sam tensed up again even as Dean chuckled heartily.
"Shut up and eat your pie." Sam leaned back in the booth. Dean didn't bother with a retort. His pie was waiting.
He eyed his pie for a moment, taking in the whole slice as if he was figuring out a plan of attack. The bottom of the pie was a typical pie crust, but he could tell this version had banana slices on the bottom, and there were no wafer cookies. Then there was the yellow pudding layer, smooth and creamy in texture. Whipped cream topped it all off, with little banana pieces artfully setting on top of the white cream. Zoning in on the point of the pie, Dean cut off a forkful and stared at his soon-to-be-first-bite.
"Dean, that's not eating, that's dissecting," his brother teased.
"Shut up," Dean snapped. He promptly bit into the piece on his fork, enjoying the smooth banana flavor, creamy pudding and whipped cream in his mouth.
A tickling sensation grew between his eyebrows as he bit into another piece. It irritated him as the urge to rub it grew. A few more seconds and he gave in. With his free hand he rubbed a finger against the tickle turned itch---And immediately woke up to a disgusting mouthful of shaving cream, (with more of the cool substance also coating his face). He spat out the shaving material into a trash can by the bed. There was laughter somewhere nearby.
"SAM!"