A/N: Fluff about Dean and pie. And Sam's problems with Dean and pie. It's got a fair amount of F-bombs, so watch out. Enjoy! :D
Pie was not good. Pie was not fun. Sam was never going to let Dean convince him into buying another fucking pie again. Ever.
They'd be eating salad as dessert now, damn it. Dean was going to have to suck it up and eat the fucking "rabbit food". Because salad had never caused them problems. Salad had never hurt them in any way.
Pie was evil. All evil stemmed from pie. In fact, pie was probably the favorite food of the devil himself.
They were so screwed. Completely screwed over.
And Dean still had the fucking fork in his mouth.
"Dude, this is delicious." Bits of crust flew out of Dean's mouth as he spoke. "You want some?"
Sam grabbed the plate from Dean's hand with a scowl. "Yeah." He threw it to the floor and watched with satisfaction as it splattered.
"Hey!" Dean looked outraged. "What the fuck was that for?"
Sam fought the overwhelming urge to slap Dean. Hard. "We're in the middle of a fucking crisis, and you're worried about your pie? You need to get your priorities straightened."
"You need to get your priorities straightened," Dean grumbled. "Bitch." Grinning suddenly, Dean pulled out a box from his back pocket. "Lucky I came prepared."
Oh my fucking god.
Dean had another pie.
Screw it. He was going to slap Dean so hard his face was going to fall off.
Dean merely grinned wider. "Watch the bitch face Sammy. I always have my backup pie." Using the pocketknife in his pocket, Dean scooped the pie into his mouth. "Pie is awesome."
"Stop. Your obsession with pie is what got us into this mess into the first place. Pie sucks. Period." Sam was done. He was so done with this shit. "Can you just ditch the pie and focus?"
"It's not my fault you left your wallet in the convenience store Sam. Don't blame it on the pie."
No. It was the pie's fault. Entirely the pie's fault.
A pause. Then, "Are you sure you don't want any?"
"NO, Dean! I don't want any fucking pie!"
"Okay, okay. Get your head out of your ass, Sammy."
How could Dean be so calm? They had just his fucking wallet in the middle of the hunt, and it had the numbers of all the hunters they knew in it, Sam's fake I.D., a stack of fake credit card, and a whole host of other things. Dean should be furious, freaking out, not standing in front of Sam with a box of pie, grinning like the freaking Cheshire Cat…
No.
He wouldn't.
Fuck, who was he kidding.
Of course he would. This was Dean he was talking about.
"Hand it over."
Sam could see straight through Dean's innocent façade. "Hand over what?"
"Hand it over."
Dean was smooth, but Sam wasn't buying it. "I don't know what you're talking about, Sam."
"Hand over the fucking wallet."
"Really, Sam, I don't know – "
"Stop. Give it to me. I know you have it, you fucking jerk."
Dean smirked. "No."
Deep breaths Sam, deep breaths. "Give. Me. The. Wallet."
"Give me pie."
"What?" What the fuck?
"Buy me more pie."
"What the fuck are you talking about – "
"Buy me more pie, and I'll give you the wallet. I'm thinking three. Maybe four. Four sounds better."
Sam wanted to wipe that smug look right off of Dean's face. "Dean."
"Four pies, Sam."
Was Dean twelve again or something? "I need my wallet for the hunt, Dean! Just give it to me."
"Nope. Give me the pie, and I'll give it to you. Or no wallet for you."
"Fine, fine, fine! I'll buy you the fucking pies! Just give me my wallet back!"
With a triumphant smile, Dean stuffed his hand in his jacket and held out the wallet, but snatched it back as Sam reached for it. "Wait. Pies first."
Four pies and a furious Sam later, Sam had his wallet tucked safely in his arms. Finally.
"How did you swipe it anyways?"
"Oh, I didn't. You left it on the counter. I just took it and decided to screw with you."
"Well, it wasn't funny."
"No, it wasn't. It was fucking hilarious."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
He would get his revenge.