PIE IS CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL
Dean has pondered it. Has broken his head over it, has done his best to solve the mystery and bane of his life. He can't decide if it is he himself that is jinxed or if Sam is jinxed, but one is definitely the case. Sam can't—CAN'T—remember pie.
Which is probably why Dean has mostly take over the job of grocery shopping. After all if you want something done right you generally have to do it yourself. So he makes Sam a list already knowing that whatever the crap is going on with the Winchester brothers, the universe and pie is most likely not going to change today.
Sam leaves him the quiet of the bunker and Dean sighs with relief with the silence, Sam has been mother henning him, staying glued to his side and trying to divert him. The only problem is that Dean doesn't want to be diverted...he's diverting himself.
He's said he's okay with mom and her decision, but now he actually has to be okay. Which means work, lots and lots of work. More work than Sam is comfortable with, so out comes the little brother, puppy dog eyes, hot chocolate with extra cheddar cheese popcorn and The Walking Dead marathons until the early morning hours. (Sam is trying to get on his good side.)
All it gets him is two grumpy brothers in the morning with foul breath and even fouler mouths. Dean chuckles at his brother as he happily takes the list from Dean and abandons ship for a few hours. And so Dean sits FINALLY in silence and can concentrate on work.
Other than the actual hunt, Dean's favorite part is hunting down the job itself. Scouring police reports, news websites and internet for news of the weird. He knows time will pass by all too quickly before worried Sammy is back with more favorites...bribes for lifting his spirits. Seriously Sam doesn't take a hint, he decides to do something and then he's like a dog with a bone. (Wonder where he got that from? Dean hasn't the slightest...)
Dean knows his behavior can be alarming but you got to cope how you got to cope. And Sam should be used to him by now. Sam tries to care for him when Dean forgets to care for himself while trying to forget whatever is bothering him; it's endearing but as annoying as hell.
So Dean inhales a pot of coffee while Sam's not there to count how many cups and searches feverishly for a job. (He's about to go insane, SAM needs distraction from Dean, that's how extreme the situation has gotten.)
...
Speeding down back roads on the way to Lebanon on a grocery run Sam decides he may just tie Dean up in front of their telly and start a marathon of Nicholas Sparks movies. He thinks with all probability that by the time they get to the end of "The Choice" his brother will break, have a good cry and proceed to tell Sam all about where his head is exactly.
Catering to Dean Winchester was not an easy thing on a regular basis. Throw in some serious issues and guilt on top and Sam's about ready to do himself in. His brother is quiet, his smiles not fake but not the soft, sunny things they had been before Mary came along. Dean's hands are constantly doing something, Sam's about to go insane with the nervous energy rolling off his brother in waves.
Just the other night Sam was going on three days of trying to get him to open up and still nothing, he'd counted thirty cups of coffee in the last forty-eight hours and was starting to get concerned with the redness of Dean's eyes and the trembling in his hands. He was even less thrilled that he had to drink half a bottle of fine liquor with Dean in order to get him to sleep.
Even then Sam knows the sleep is shallow, his mind and emotions not really resting at all. He can hear his big brother tossing and turning, mumbling and occasionally calling out in his sleep. After finally drifting off Sam wakes up to find his brother's bed empty, sheets, pillows and blankets laying tossed misshapenly on the floor.
He sighs, fingers running through hair, eyes already burning tiredly. His brother meets him in the library already buzzing with caffeine, a cup of coffee in his hand. Sam adds it to his count, and takes the grocery list in surrender.
They both need some time off from each other. He can tell his constant badgering and urgings to talk is telling on Dean. And while he's glad because he knows Dean will break soon, he's sorry too, because he knows it's not helping with Dean's stress levels at all and therefore probably adds interference with his rest too. (Dean hates not being able to give his little brother what he wants.)
He sighs. Takes the list and the half drunk cup of coffee off Dean. His brother grins good-naturedly and waves him away. Sam throws back the luke warm caffeine and throws himself into the impala, soothing himself with familiar smell and feel.
He lumbers moodily into the grocery store and takes the list from his back pocket and peers at it. Eggs, bread...and then all capital letters
"PIE
(Think you can handle that Sammy?)"
Sam rolls his eyes and laughs exasperated, but he can't help the warmth that spreads through his chest. Dean doesn't totally hate him for bugging him to death...yet.
He grabs two loaves of bread, white for Dean and whole wheat for himself, a dozen eggs and then he wanders over to the bakery. Literally as he walks up a lady is stacking three fresh pies onto the counter. He looks over each and picks the prettiest one. And really he doesn't know if he's ever seen a prettier pie at a store before, he grabs it and quickly necks out so he can head back home and to his cranky brother.
Like it or not Dean didn't need to be on his own a whole lot right now. He can't wait to get home and tell Dean he got EVERYTHING on the list.
EVERYTHING. Yes, including the pie.
...
Sam sulks as they pull up in front of the bakery after the hunt. Dean is massively pleased with himself, being overall obnoxious. The little brother rolls his eyes at the sign that reads, "Best pie for a thousand miles." A thousand miles isn't even that far especially when Dean is driving, and they had perfectly good, fresh pie at home. Or at least they did before Dean dragged them out on this stupid case.
Okay, it wasn't stupid, it was pretty awesome...but Sam's still sore...after all he missed killing Hitler and got no credit at all for actually remembering pie! He scoffs under his breath as they enter the bakery and the doorbell rings cheerily. None of these pies come remotely close to being as pretty as the one he brought home to his big brother.
"I gotta take a leak," Dean says, "Order us some pie and coffee."
"Not likely," Sam returns, "I got you pie yesterday and you didn't want it."
"Whatever," Dean shoots back, "You're such a girl. And of course I wanted your pie but duty called." He smiles turns a little mischievous, "I thought you would've been proud Sammy, my priorities were straight...kill Hitler then eat pie."
Sam rolls his eyes again and just takes himself off into the small bathroom before Dean can slip inside the single toilet room. Sam laughs as he hears Dean grumbling outside the door, something about small buildings and small bathrooms and moody siblings. He washes his hands and opens the door wide for Dean.
"All yours," he says politely and chuckles at the sour look Dean shoots him. So worth it. He slips into a window seat and stays true to his resolution to not in anyway assist Dean in getting more pie. Dean just shakes his head at him when he comes from the bathroom and sees Sam sitting smugly at a table.
Dean orders for them, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee over to their table as one of the workers follow with three plates of pie. Dean inhales a lungful of coffee steam and then flourishes his fork around as he 'eeny meeny minny moes' the three thick slices of pie.
Sam just laughs and tiredly rubs at the worsening(daily) wrinkles in his forehead.
"No apple?" Sam asks, perplexed. Apple is Dean's all time favorite of favorites.
Dean shrugs, "Try something new everyday." Through a mouthful of purple gooey blueberry pie. Sam looks down puzzled, blueberry, strawberry and rhubarb pie, all of which kinds he and Dean have eaten a thousand times over.
"What's different?" He asks.
Dean gives him a wide, dorky grin, teeth and gums purple with pie filling. "No apple," he gives Sam a look like, duh, are you stupid?
Sam grimaces at the display of what's in Dean's mouth and picks up his own fork. He swallows down some of the dark liquid sighing with contentment. It felt good to finish up a hunt on a positive note for once. Dean genuinely smiles at Sam and pushes one of the plates towards him.
"Dig in Sammy," he says, gesturing with his fork and licking sticky sweetness from the corners of his lips with the tip of his tongue, "We're celebrating."
Sam feels better, Dean looks better...things are better. Looks like Dean knew what he was doing working a case before pie after all.
...
They're finally home. Safe and sound. Warm and cozy. Clean and familiar. Comfort and love. Calm and understanding...
Home.
Sam Winchester has a home. Somewhere he calls home, somewhere he thinks and knows is home. It still blows his mind all the time. He's still in awe over the thought. Sometimes overwhelming thankfulness washes over him and he feels betraying stinging, wetness in his eyes.
Most of all it's the thought that Dean has the same. Dean is safe and warm and comfortable, and surrounded by warmth and love and understanding. Perhaps it's the knowledge that Dean has all these things is what gives Sam the liberty to feel that same.
Home. Where they are together...where they know the other is safe.
Right now the feeling overwhelms him as he stands in the shower. Hot water pummeling against his back and neck and the sore muscles there. He remembers the water pressure being one of the first things Dean deemed as the 'best thing about this place' and god, was he right?
He twists his neck to get rid of a few cricks and let the shy of scalding hot water run through his hair and over his scalp. He massages shampoo in and revels in the feeling of the dirt and sweat being washed away. He can't even describe how much he hates that itchy dirty feeling.
Finally he sighs regretfully and turns off the water, he grabs his clean towel and vigorously rubs the excess water from his hair. He pulls on clean clothes and a pair of warm socks, looks in the mirror and tonight he doesn't particularly hate what he sees.
He'd seen Dean come in the bunker humming the tune of some new age crap he professed to hate, watched him toe off his boots in the kitchen and go for apple cider instead of coffee or an alcoholic beverage. His big brother carried a huge steaming mug of it and headed off to his shower. Weird.
But far be it from Sam to complain.
He opens his door for his bed to come into view. His occupied bed. Dean lays on one side of the bed in his sweats and a thick Henley, also have opted for some thick socks. (They're just cold not getting old.)
His big brother is still sipping on his apple cider and he gives Sam a crooked smile as he steps out from the steaming bathroom.
"Are you sure you're not a girl?" He asks, "You were in there for going on thirty minutes."
Sam just purses his lips and waves Dean off. "What are you doin'?" Sam asks, draping his towel over the back of the desk chair to dry.
"Coming to hang out with you Sammy," Dean says, "Or you tired of me?" An adorable pout accompanies this one.
Sam just rolls his eyes and lets himself fall onto the bed, "What you wanna watch?"
Dean shrugs, "Not The Walking Dead, I think we've about exhausted the limit of reruns allowed within bounds of sanity."
Sam lets out a sigh of relief, agreeing.
"You pick." Dean says, taking another drink. And Sam really almost does turn on Safe Haven, but then decides he's not quite that evil. He opts for Sherlock and Dean cuts his eyes at him but makes no comment, even though Sam's pretty sure they're close to the limit of reruns on this one too.
He looks over at a noise and finds Dean opening up the apple pie.
"Dude, we just had pie."
Dean throws him a fork, "Yeah, but not apple."
Sam just shakes his head with a fond laugh, so that's why no apple. Should of known Dean was thinking about pie waiting for him back at home.
He leans over and scoops up a bite, even Sam relaxing with the homey, familiar taste of baked apple, sugar and cinnamon.
"So we really not gonna talk about any of this?" He questions.
Dean takes a giant bite and shakes his head. "No need Sammy." He points his fork at his little brother. "Pie is like chicken soup for the soul."
"That doesn't even make se..." Sam starts to object.
Dean stops him. "Sammy, do you know how much pie I've had today?"
Sam shakes his head.
Dean reaches for the remote, "Two and half pieces at that bakery, and this pie is actually pretty small so probably this whole thing...in other words my soul is the epitome of calm and collected and balanced and UN stressed and..."
"Okay okay, I get the point," Sam sulks. "Unstressed isn't a word."
"Yes it is," Dean says through a full mouth "Look it up."
Sam does and frowns when Dean is right.
Dean just smirks, "Of course I'm right...I killed Hitler."
Sam groans and face plants into his mattress. Dean pushes play and Sam is going to have to remember this for further reference. If he wants Dean to talk no pie...apparently pie can be Sam's replacement.
Dean smiles down at him and laughs wildly as fingers thread into his little brother's hair and gives him a condescending rub. Sam growls and bats Dean's hand away from his head. Of course Dean is never deterred that easily. Sam ends up having to wrestle him away from his hair until he's sitting on top of his big brother's free hand, the other still holding tight to his precious pie.
"Don't worry, Sammy. You're still chicken soup for the soul too."
The end.
...
Plz review! If you like this that is. ;)
(Btw I simply worshiped this episode.)