"Dean?"
"Mmmmmph."
"Dean," Sam whispered. It was dark outside, but that was okay. The rom he shared with Dean at Bobby's house wasn't scary. Four-year-old Sam felt safe, anyway, knowing he was with Dean. "Dean!"
His whisper-shout made Dean groan and roll over. He flung an arm out and suddenly Sam found himself pinned. Dean's weight trapped him against the bundled up blankets and pillows.
"Dean!" Sam cried out, almost verging on a wail. That was all it took to wake Dean up, gasping and searching wildly for the source of the distress. He was confused when he looked down and saw Sam, half suffocating under a pillow and Dean's arm.
"Oh, sorry, Sammy."
As soon as Sam was free, he jumped up and tackled Dean. His wide excited eyes looked into Dean's and a mischievous grin lit up his face. It wasn't long before Dean found himself smiling back.
"Dean. Do you wanna bake a pie?"
"Sam," Dean protested. "It's the middle of the night."
"So?"
"So…why do you want to bake pie in the middle of the night?"
"I just…do." He shrugged his tiny shoulders.
Dean sighed and stood up. He walked over to Sam's bed and starting looking around. Sam watched him nervously.
"What are you doing, Dean?"
"I'm looking."
"Why?"
"Because you don't usually like pie, Sam. I like pie. You like…broccoli or whatever."
"Do not!" Sam stomped his foot.
Dean bent over and peeked beneath the bed. What he saw there made his jaw drop. Stacked in neat little piles of ten were five piles of pie tins. Empty pie tins. Slowly, Dean raised his head so that he could look at Sam over the top of the bed. Sam avoided eye contact not-so-subtly.
"Sam."
"Hmm?"
"Why do you have FIFTY PIE TINS under your bed?!"
Sam didn't answer, just stared at the floor for a moment. He waited until he heard Dean sigh in resignation. Then he looked up with a sneaking smile.
"So," Sam said, as he walked over with his best puppy eyes. "Do you wanna bake a pie?"