Who says a bakery needs a fancy name?
Dean Winchester thought the word PIE over the front door worked just fine and he smiled to himself upon walking beneath it and into the shop.
His shop.
It was a homey little place with a sealed brick floor and walls painted in warm colors. Three glass display cases lined the left wall next to a wooden counter that stood closest to the front windows. A large blackboard menu hung on the wall behind the cases, next to the open door frame that led into the kitchen. There was also a small counter along the back wall that held a juice case, soda fountain, and coffee pitchers with mugs stacked high around them. Small tables were scattered about the front room and each had two chairs tucked neatly underneath.
Dean had originally found the place by chance. He'd followed his stomach one afternoon while he was out running errands and had decided to make it a regular pit stop from then on. Unfortunately, the place was on its last legs and after awhile, he offered to take it off of the previous owner's hands. The man had practically given it to him and the elder Winchester managed to turn it around almost immediately, renovating and refurbishing it to his liking in under a month. He'd mostly worked with what had been left behind to keep costs manageable and had recruited Sam to handle finances. God knew Dean hated dealing with things like that. Let Sam handle the computer-nerd stuff.
As he walked behind the counter and stowed his old duffel underneath, Dean chuckled to himself. The bakery carried many things, from cookies and breads to hoagies and hamburgers, but the main reason it had taken off again so quickly was because of the pies they sold. Customers who'd tasted them seemed to be in nirvana from the first bite and claimed the pastries were nothing short of heavenly. Which was quite the coincidence as he just happened to have an angel working the kitchen.
Some time ago, when Castiel had been sapped of his Grace, he'd discovered that he had somehow retained Jimmy's knowledge of the culinary arts as he'd tried to keep himself occupied. The result had been some of the best damn food Dean, Sam, and Bobby had eaten in ages and Dean refused to let him forget it. So when he opened up shop, Cas was the only one allowed in to work the back of the house. Of course, the boys helped in the evenings with pie assembly, swapping things into and out of the large ovens, and slicing and dicing things for the next day, but all of the pies' crusts and fillings were made in enormous batches by Castiel, himself.
The angel wasn't terribly pleased with the current circumstances, but it gave him something to do until his Grace returned. Along with the fact that Dean had told him to indulge in as many hamburgers as he wanted as often as he wanted, Cas rarely complained.
Clearing his throat as he squatted behind the counter to rifle through the contents of his bag, Dean called out to the seemingly empty building. "Sammy! Where you at, man?"
The resounding silence that lingered in the air quickly set Dean on edge. The front door had been unlocked when he'd arrived so someone had to be here. Listening intently, he tried again, raising his voice some.
"Sam? You in here?"
Dean slowly stood as he spoke, straining his ears to hear anything, but still the silence persisted. Scanning the front room hastily, he pressed himself to the wall next to the kitchen doorway before he peeked inside. Everything seemed to be in order, but it wasn't like Sam to ignore him...usually.
Furrowing his brow, Dean slipped into the kitchen and gave it a brief once-over before trying his luck one last time. He raised his voice again and all but shouted, "Sam!"
At once, there was a loud bang and a crash from off to his left, just behind the door on the other side of the kitchen that led to the closet-sized office he'd set up for his brother. Muffled cursing and another bang followed before the door was thrown open from the inside.
Dean arched an eyebrow as Sam stood in the doorway, looking mildly disheveled and flushed despite trying to play it cool. Sam nervously ran a hand through his hair as he leaned against the doorjamb. "H-Hey, Dean! What's up?"
After taking in the sight of his brother, Dean tilted his head slightly and just managed to catch a glimpse of the laptop screen in the tiny office before Sam pulled the door shut. When things clicked, Dean grimaced in distaste and held his hands up in front of himself.
"Dude, really? At work?"
Sam stammered and flushed a darker shade of pink at being caught. "Well, I-I didn't know...I-I mean I thought that you-"
"Look," Dean cut him off. "I like Casa Erotica as much as the next guy, but just...keep it somewhere that's not here! Come on, man."
"Yeah, no, I got it. Won't happen again," Sam nodded hurriedly.
"Good." Dean shuddered at the thought of what he'd nearly walked in on. "I'd ask where Cas is at, but given you barely heard me yelling for you, I'm pretty sure there's no way you would've heard him moving around. Hell, I barely hear him do anything, even when he's not zapping in and out of places."
"Hello, Dean."
Dean practically jumped out of his skin at the voice that was suddenly right behind him, as if on cue. Sam couldn't help but laugh as Dean whirled around to come face to face with Castiel. "Dammit, Cas! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me?"
Castiel's face was set in its usual neutral expression except for the almost invisible tilt at the right corner of his mouth. "I didn't intend to surprise you."
"Yeah, sure you didn't," Dean muttered, shouldering past the shorter man and striding toward the front of the house. "It's almost time to open, so heads in the game, you two!"
Sam and Castiel looked at each other for a moment before shrugging simultaneously. As Sam returned to the office to deal with any leftover evidence of his prior goings-on, Cas shrugged out of his trench and suit jackets, rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and donned his apron.
Just another day in the life.
The lunch rush passed more or less the same as usual. Sam ran the register, Dean boxed and bagged orders, occasionally taking up a spot at the till while they switched off between manning the phones, and Castiel was quietly holding down the fort in the kitchen. You could almost call the atmosphere peaceful once the boys got into their daily groove. On a good day, the three of them worked together like a well-oiled machine; one might even think they could read each others' minds.
Unfortunately, all good things hit snags sometimes. Today, that snag came in the form of a snobbish-looking older man in a business suit who arrived toward the end of the rush. He was a thin man, about Dean's height with graying hair that seemed to be losing the battle with a receding hairline. He carried himself with an air of superiority and looked down his hooked nose to everyone around him, as if they weren't worthy to even breathe his air.
Dean was behind the register when he spotted the man and could tell that there was going to be trouble before he'd even opened the door. Dean immediately nudged Sam who had been wrapping up a phone order and flicked his eyes back toward their newest customer. Sam got the hint with a discreet nod and switched places with Dean to take over the till. If this guy was going to cause a fuss, Sam was better suited to handle it diplomatically and they both knew it.
There were two customers ahead of the newcomer, a pair of regulars. Mrs. Gundermann and her granddaughter were always a welcome sight in the store and as they approached the counter, the young girl bounded up to Dean with a smile that radiated happiness.
"Hi, Dean!"
Dean couldn't help but return the grin fondly as he slid two boxed pies along the counter to Sam, the Gundermann's usual peach and key lime. "Hey, Squirt! How ya been?"
The girl playfully stuck her tongue out at him in response. "My name is Melanie and I'm good! I got an A on my test on Friday didn't I, Gram?"
Crossing his arms and furrowing his brow in mock-suspicion, Dean turned to Mrs. Gundermann who was chatting with Sam as he rung out her pies. "Is that true, Gram?"
Mrs. Gundermann beamed at her granddaughter. "She did indeed, dear. We're very proud of her."
"Hey, hey, good job," Dean praised, turning back to Melanie with a smile and holding his hand out for her to slap in a high-five. "You know what that means, right?"
Melanie giggled and bounced on the balls of her feet while Dean made a show of looking around, as if to check that no one was watching him, before he gestured to the display case where they kept the cookies. He pulled a tissue from the box on top of the case with a small flourish as Melanie pointed to what Dean had come to recognize as her favorite treat, a large snickerdoodle that was nearly the size of Dean's splayed hand.
As he handed the cookie to its excited recipient, Dean caught their newcomer roll his eyes so hard that he was surprised they didn't fall out of the man's head. Dean shook his own head and pointedly ignored the suited man while he leaned down and cupped his hand to his mouth like he was telling Melanie a secret.
"Don't tell the big guy, okay?" he whispered, poking his thumb over his shoulder toward Sam. "This is just between us."
Melanie's smile was back full-force as she giggled again and nodded, clutching the large cookie to her chest. "Thank you, Dean."
Dean winked at her and grinned once again. "Keep up the good work, kiddo."
"I will," she promised, hurrying to her grandmother's side as the older woman walked out. "Bye, Sam!"
Sam waved at her as they left and then elbowed Dean in the ribs, gently. "And you say you're no good with kids."
"Don't be a bitch, Sammy. I can play nice when I want to," Dean replied snidely once the door had closed behind the Gundermanns.
"Yeah, whatever, Jerk," Sam chuckled, earning a light shove from his brother in return.
Dean busied himself with wiping down the back counter while Sam presented the man who was now their next customer with his best 'customer service' smile and asked, "What can I get for you, Sir?"
The man scoffed and threw a glare at the elder Winchester. "A cleaner mouth on this one would be nice."
At the comment, Dean set his jaw and straightened his back, ready to go on the offensive because who did this guy think he was? Just as he was about to open his mouth though, he caught sight of Sam's hand signal under the counter telling him to stand down.
Seriously?
Annoyed, Dean backed off and turned to hunt down a blank pad of order tickets, listening to Sam assure the man that he'd speak to Dean about his behavior later. Dean was glad his was back turned for that particular load of crap because he couldn't help the smirk that flashed across his features at the thought.
His amusement was short-lived though, when he heard the suited man ask disgustedly, "Do you have anything even remotely edible here? An acquaintance recommended I try this place, though I've yet to see the appeal."
Dean quite literally bit his tongue to keep from interfering. Sam could handle this, he knew that, but he was this close to telling this guy to piss off. The question did seem to catch Sam off-guard though, and Dean could hear the frown in his voice when his brother responded.
"Um, well, we have daily lunch specials? Today's is a chilled roast beef sandwich with roasted potatoes, a slice of blackberry pie, and a drink of your choice."
"And the bread on the sandwich?" the man inquired, impatiently.
"Sourdough."
Chancing a look over his shoulder, Dean watched the man shoot his left arm out to hike up his sleeve and stare at his watch. He then sighed loudly and rolled his eyes again. "I suppose that will have to do. I have places to be."
As Dean scribbled the order down on the ticket, he heard Sam ask with undertones of both hopefulness and irritation, "So that will be to go then?"
"That depends on how quickly you numbskulls can fill my order."
At that, Dean balled his hand into a fist around the pad of tickets as he angrily tore the top one from the glue strip that held it in place. Right now, this guy was lucky Dean didn't just whip around and plant one of his boots in his gut. He should be grateful that he was getting food at all with all the freaking attitude!
When Sam began punching the total into the till, Dean turned and stalked back toward the kitchen to give the ticket to Cas.
Castiel was in the middle of putting another batch of potatoes in the oven when Dean slammed the ticket down on the prep counter bitterly. The angel didn't even flinch as he straightened up after closing the oven door. "Something wrong, Dean?"
Dean gritted his teeth and kept his voice down as he yanked the door to the walk-in cooler open.
"You're damn right there is," he growled as he grabbed the tub of shredded roast beef and a couple of pieces of cheese from a nearby stack to bring them back to Cas. "The prick who ordered this stuff has no respect. Shoulda kicked him out the second he came in."
Castiel nodded quietly and began assembling the sandwich while Dean grabbed a tin of the blackberry pie to begin slicing a portion and plating it. "Y'know, I'm really tempted spit in that," Dean muttered before he smirked to himself. "Hey Cas, gimme that piece of bread."
"Dean..."
"C'mon, it'll be fine," he urged, leaning toward Castiel to make a grab for the bread, but the other man pulled it out of reach and leveled a silent look of disapproval at him. Dean scowled and shook his head. "Fine, killjoy."
In no time, the sandwich was prepped and sitting, skewered with a toothpick, next to a pile of potatoes and a small cup of horseradish on the plate. Dean took the entree plate in one hand and the pie plate in the other, shot Cas a look of annoyance at the situation, and backed out of the kitchen.
As he crossed the threshold, Dean let his usual mask fall back into place. Louder than was needed, he called, "Order up! Lunch special!" as he slid the plates unceremoniously onto the counter with a clatter.
When the suited man didn't come to claim them, Dean arched an eyebrow. He could clearly see the guy sitting in the far corner of the room, but he appeared to be engrossed in his cell phone.
Once again, Dean called, "Lunch special, up!" as he glared at the man, but still the man refused to move.
"Going once!...Going twice," his tone was bordering on threatening.
The man audibly sighed yet again and lifted his hand in the air without taking his eyes off of his device. Dean's eyebrows shot up and he looked at Sam to confirm that he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Sam's eyes widened in surprise but he shrugged and nodded toward their customer, wordlessly telling Dean to just get it over with.
Dean made a face but retrieved the plates and walked them over to the table, all but dropping them onto the surface once he'd reached it. The careless action caused the man to snap his head up and glare at the hunter-turned-pie-shop-owner once again.
In return, Dean pulled his lips into a sardonic smile as he said with the utmost sincerity, "If you need anything else, please hesitate to ask."
He then turned on his heel and sauntered back behind the counter, letting his expression melt into that of annoyance once more. Sam gave him a quick pat on the shoulder when he passed and Dean grunted in response as he went back to folding boxes and pulling pastry orders. At least that debacle was over.
Or so they'd hoped.
It didn't take long for Dean to find his way back into the kitchen again for a breather. He'd originally gone back to pull another cherry pie from the cooler to replace the one in the front display case, but he'd set that thought aside for the moment. Right now, he was content to sit in moderately comfortable silence with Castiel who continued to putter around his work space.
Dean was just starting to pick at the small helping of seasoned potatoes Cas had set in front of him when the sounds of porcelain and glass shattering followed by retching erupted from the dining room. While Castiel appeared unfazed aside from a confused and slightly concerned expression, the commotion made Dean wince.
"Great. Now what?" he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He could hear Sam speaking quietly, but when another voice shouted a response, Dean was on his feet and in the doorway in an instant with Cas close behind.
"Alright? Of course I'm not alright!" the suited man exclaimed, shoving himself away from the small table and nearly knocking it over in the process as Dean took in the situation before him.
All eyes in the store were on the scene taking place. Sam was slowly rising to his feet from a crouched position near the floor with his hands out in front of him placatingly. He was surrounded by broken dishes, scattered food, and a puddle of something that was either a spilled drink with bits of food in it, or a mess of sick. The man, himself, stood with his fists clenched at his sides, attempting to stare Sam down.
"What kind of place do you think you're running here?"
"I don't-" Sam started, flicking his eyes toward Dean momentarily.
Dean simply nodded and quietly made his way toward the counter where his duffel was stashed. As he knelt down to unzip it, the man continued to shout.
"This has been the absolute worst experience I have ever had in any restaurant, if you could even call this hovel that much!" he snapped furiously. "That mess of meat and cheese and Lord knows what else was appalling! I nearly gagged on that alone! But I decided to press on and try a bit of the pie that is spoken so highly of. Touched by the heavens, my foot!"
Just as Dean righted himself and propped his elbows on the counter with his hands carefully tucked out of sight and his expression controlled, the man rounded on him. He stormed over and lifted a hand to point at Dean, but noticed Castiel behind him lingering in the kitchen doorway and his attention shifted.
Taking a few steps to his right, the man instead pointed to the angel fiercely. "You're the cook?"
Lifting his chin somewhat defensively, Cas nodded once.
"You should be ashamed! I don't know what's gotten into the people around here, but if that's the way you normally prepare your meals, it was absolutely vile! The single bite of pie I had the displeasure of consuming was nothing short of revolting!"
Castiel's eyes narrowed as the man kept one finger pointing at him and turned his upper body to direct his attention to and point at Sam again, as well.
"I will have your jobs for this disgraceful service!"
Dean quirked an eyebrow at the declaration and watched as Sam struggled to keep the amusement from his own face. Unfortunately, the man caught the flicker of emotion and met it with a challenge.
"You think I'm kidding, Boy? You get me your manager right now and we'll see how big a joke this is."
"I'll do ya one better," Dean interjected casually, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm the owner."
As the man whipped his head around to face him and began to splutter in disbelief, Dean couldn't help the grin the spread across his face.
"You? You're nothing but a kid! Though, perhaps that would explain why this place is utter trash."
Dean's eye twitched at that and his expression faltered minutely, but otherwise he kept his head.
"Listen, Chuckles, if you don't like it, there's nothing stopping you from leaving," Dean pointed out, a note of boredom lacing his words. "In fact, I've already decided that I don't want you here. Get out."
The man breathed a wry laugh at that.
"And if I don't? What do you plan to do about it? Call the police?"
Dean pinned the man with a stare and smirked.
"Not exactly. Dealing with cops is such a hassle. I prefer to handle things, myself," he said, keeping his arms crossed but tilting his right hand up just enough to flash the muzzle of his nickel plated M1911A1 behind the counter, making sure the suited man was the only one able to see it.
The man blanched and Dean's expression darkened as he lowered his voice. "Catch my drift?"
Backing away, the man now pointed his finger at Dean and stammered, "Y-You can't do that! Do you have any idea who I am?"
Unable to pass up the opportunity, Dean's smirk returned.
"Not a clue, man. But hey, I hear there are places that can help you figure that out."
The surrounding patrons snickered softly as the other man's face flushed in anger. Balling his hands into fists at his sides once more, the man turned and marched toward the door, throwing one last threat over his shoulder as he walked out.
"You'll be hearing from my lawyer!"
This time, Dean did roll his eyes as he hastily stowed his gun back in his duffel, then zipped it closed before addressing the remaining customers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to apologize for the disturbance. If any of you have yet to pay for your orders, I will gladly comp them for you for the inconvenience. For those of you who have paid, please return to the counter and you'll be able to choose something from any one of our cases here, on the house," he announced before turning toward the back where Castiel was walking back to his station. "Cas?"
The brunet paused with his hand on the door frame and glanced back at Dean.
"Don't listen to that asshole, okay? Your pies are the best."
As Castiel considered the statement, some of their customers began to agree. They all reassured him that his pies were incredible and that the jerk of a guy couldn't have been more wrong. In return, Cas' eyes softened a fraction and the corners of his mouth twitched up into one of his almost-smiles.
"Thank you."
Dean smiled as well and inclined his head.
"You got it, man," he offered before turning his attention to his brother. "Sammy! You're on cleaning duty!"
Sam, however, had already made his way through the small crowd of people to grab the broom and dustpan from their little hiding spot next to the juice case. He raised them slightly in acknowledgment as he passed Dean.
"Already on it," he said with a smile of his own.
The rest of the day passed without incident, a small mercy that Dean was beyond grateful for. At seven o'clock on the dot, the front door was locked and all three men sighed in relief.
Sam grabbed them each a beer from the case they kept in the walk-in as they set about their nightly routine in preparation for the next day. The brothers worked together to scrub down the front of the house, replace baked goods and drinks in their respective cases, and count out the till while Castiel began to mix massive batches of all different pie fillings.
Once the dining room was sufficiently spotless and restocked, Sam and Dean joined Cas in the kitchen to aid in food prep. Sam chopped fruits and vegetables while Dean sliced meats and cheeses. Cas rolled out pie crusts he'd previously put into the walk-in to chill and began to cut them to size.
As they all finished their individual tasks and wiped down their work stations, they formed a small production line off of Castiel's right side. Cas would start things off by lining a pie pan with a circle of unbaked crust and sliding it to Dean who would scoop generous helpings of filling into the waiting tins before laying the top crust over it. From there, Sam pinched the crust pieces together, cut small vents into the top, and then place the uncooked pies onto a waiting oven rack. The technique changed some for open-faced pies, with Castiel pressing pastry or crumb crust into the tin, Dean ladling in the filling, and Sam applying the topping before putting it on a rack meant for the cooler.
Most of these chores were done in relative silence, with the exception of the classic rock music Dean left playing on a small stereo that sat tucked into a corner. Dean had a tendency to sing along under his breath with the songs and he occasionally paused his work for a brief air guitar riff or drum solo.
Tonight, however, Dean couldn't get his mind off of the asshole who'd caused such a headache earlier. As they all came together in their nightly assembly line, he finally cracked.
"So, what the hell was up with that guy today?"
Castiel didn't respond beyond creasing his brow a bit as he slid a tin toward Dean and Sam just shrugged.
"You got me, man. I mean, you could tell he was gonna be bad news. That's why we switched places, right?"
"Well, yeah, but I thought he was just gonna be one of those morons who wants to know exactly how many pecans are in his pie or something," Dean explained, drowning the pie crust in strawberry filling, covering it, and sliding it along to Sam. "But that? That was absolutely ridiculous."
"Yeah, you're telling me," Sam agreed, meticulously pinching the edges of the crust together.
"Like, what did he even want from us? He didn't demand we comp his meal or give him free stuff or anything. He just kinda came in and fucked things up."
"Maybe he was having a bad day," Sam suggested as he started on the next pie.
"A bad day? That's it?" Dean asked incredulously.
"Why not?"
"What, he can't just have a drink or three like a normal person?"
Sam smiled at the response.
"Doesn't always work that way, Dean. Not everyone feels the need to drown their rough spots in alcohol, y'know. At least he just decided to try and ruin our day too, instead of going on a killing spree or something."
Dean made a noncommittal noise in his throat and they dropped into a companionable quietness again until it was time to swap out the pie fillings. As Dean reached for a bowl of blueberry goop, he couldn't help but ask, "So, dude, did he actually make himself puke? Or was that just a convincing mess?"
Sam made a face at the memory.
"If the smell, or lack thereof, was any indication, I'd say it was just a really convincing mess," he replied.
"That's good at least," Dean nodded before bumping Castiel with his shoulder gently. "Hear that, Cas? You didn't do a damn thing wrong. Some people just want to watch the world burn and we happened to get caught in the middle of it...again."
Castiel knitted his brows together at the phrase and turned a confused look toward Dean as they continued their pie assembly. "Why would anyone want that? We've already put an end to the apocalypse. Would the rest of the humans rather we'd just turned the planet over to Lucifer? Or Michael? Any one of my brothers could have-"
"Cas," Dean interrupted, an exasperated but fond smile on his face. "It's just an expression."
"...Oh."
Once more, a hush encompassed the men, AC/DC acting as background noise until a new bowl of filling replaced the now-empty one yet again. It didn't take long after that for Sam's curiosity to get the better of him.
"So, how did you manage to get that guy to leave, anyway?"
Dean failed to suppress a grin as he ladled the filling out of the container.
"I might have had a little help," he replied evasively.
Sam paused his pie crust pinching at the response, instinctively nervous at the tone in his brother's voice.
"Dean, what did you do?" Sam asked hesitantly.
Dean lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug, but kept his eyes on the work at hand and the cocky expression on his face.
"I gave him a peek at my favorite toy. No big deal."
"Dean!"
"Oh come off it, Sam," Dean said, loudly dropping his ladle against the edge of the bowl before turning to face his infuriatingly taller younger sibling. "It's not like I was actually gonna shoot him. I was just-"
"That doesn't matter," Sam chastised. "Do you realize how much trouble you could get in for something like that? He could've been-"
"Dude, it's my shop! We don't have cameras and nobody else saw it, so it's our word against his," Dean griped. "What's he gonna do?"
Sam just shook his head and sighed, reigning in an expression he knew Dean had previously coined his "bitch face".
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
With that, they let silence descend one more time, neither one noticing how Castiel's eyes sparkled with mild amusement at their interaction.
Less than an hour later, they were just about done with their assembly line and had begun to disperse for last-minute duties. Sam was putting the finishing touches on the last few pies while Castiel washed up their mess of utensils and dishes, and Dean wheeled the racks into the cooler. He made sure the ones meant for the oven in the morning stayed in the front and took final stock to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything. Awhile back, Dean had made it easier on himself by laminating his inventory list instead of rewriting it every night. He just used a wet erase marker now and saved himself the headache of the constant repetition.
At this point, Dean had it down to a science of sorts. He knew exactly how many tins each shelf in the cooler could hold and had placed markers between the flavors to quickly identify which section held which pies or other goodies. The wheeled racks were set up very similarly and in no time, he had his numbers down and was ready to go home.
Or he had been, until he spotted a large slice of pie with his own name on it.
Dean smiled and grabbed the plate as he walked out of the cooler. Sometimes Cas could be such a girl, but he was grateful for the gesture either way. The angel really did know how to cheer him up after a bum day.
Grabbing a fork out of the clean bin of dishes, Dean hopped up on the counter where they'd previously been working and called out, "Hey Cas! Thanks for the pie, man," as he lifted his plate in an indicative gesture.
Castiel frowned and turned over his left shoulder to look at the man, tilting his head slightly as he wiped his hands on a nearby towel.
"Dean?"
Before he could question any further though, Dean had speared a bite of the confection and shoved it into his mouth. Following a slight pause, Dean moaned in bliss at the taste and practically melted against the counter.
Sam lifted an eyebrow at the reaction and chuckled, having just finished preparing the last pie for the cooler.
"Need a clean pair of pants there, Dean?"
"I dunno man, I might," Dean replied and shook his head. "Cas, have you been playing with flavors? I swear, this has to be the best thing I have ever tasted in my life."
Castiel's expression remained confused.
"Thank you, but I-"
"Sam, you need to try this. C'mere," Dean interrupted and gestured to Sam who did as he was told.
As Dean stabbed another bite with his fork, he noticed Sam lean toward him with his mouth open. The elder Winchester slanted himself back some and stuck the utensil into his own mouth before swatting Sam upside the head.
"Dude, I'm not going to feed you! You want some? Get your own fork."
Sam rolled his eyes and picked up the one he'd kept next to him to help pinch the pie crusts, holding it out for Dean's inspection.
"Better?"
Dean didn't respond for a moment and pulled the pie plate to himself almost protectively, shifting his gaze back and forth between the dessert and his younger brother.
Sam scoffed.
"Very mature, Dean," he said, taking a stab at the pie himself and making Dean flinch.
"Hey, hey! Not so much! Cas made it for me," Dean nearly whined, but then quickly perked up. "Speaking of, Cas, have you even tried this? I mean, I know you're supposed to taste things as you go, but it's different after it's cooked, right?"
Castiel narrowed his eyes minutely, still standing by the sink on the far wall.
"I suppose, usually, but I-"
"Oh man, you're trying this," Dean insisted and hopped off of the counter to walk toward Castiel. Behind him, he heard Sam reacting almost exactly as he had to his first bite.
"Man, that's incredible!" Sam exclaimed. "What did you use Cas? 'Cause if you can remember, we could make a fortune with these!"
"We've got time for that later," Dean snapped as he stopped in front of the smaller man, pie-filled fork level with Castiel's lips. "But right now, you're going to eat this."
"Dean, I don't-"
"Cas. Open. Now," Dean demanded, his expression showing that he was serious, but without malice.
"But, I-"
Dean refused to wait for an excuse and simply popped the fork into Castiel's mouth as he was speaking, surprising the other.
"Oh, what? You'll feed him but not me? Not cool," Sam pouted from across the room.
"Shut up, Sam," Dean replied, studying the angel's expression as Cas slowly allowed himself to relax enough to evaluate the taste of the dissolving mush in his mouth. "So? How's it stand up to the pre-cooked batch?"
Castiel pressed his fingers to his own cheeks gently as he chewed and made up his mind about the flavor. His expression flickered and changed so quickly that Dean couldn't read him at all.
"It's strange," Cas finally said, lowering his hands. "I'm normally adverse to sweet foods, but this is..palatable. The combination of fruits and other ingredients isn't offensive at all."
"Does that mean you like it?"
Dean watched as Cas nodded slowly and a small smile curved his lips, to which Dean responded with a pleased grin of his own.
"Yes. I like it very much."
"Good! Then we need to start keeping these on hand," Dean declared, leaving his fork with Cas and returning to the wash basin to grab another for himself. "We don't even have to start selling them or anything. I think I'd actually rather keep this one in the family, y'know?"
"Sounds like a plan to me," Sam offered.
Castiel made a noise of agreement as he proceeded to lick the remaining filling off of the fork.
"Glad we're all on the same page," Dean said around his utensil and through another mouthful of the pastry.
"Yeah, great. I want another bite of that thing," Sam announced, stepping closer to Dean whose eyebrows shot up.
"Hell, no! It's already half gone and Cas made it for me," he responded defensively, hugging the plate closer to himself again.
"That doesn't mean anything. Don't be so greedy," Sam insisted, reaching for the plate with his fork anyway.
"Don't you talk to me about greedy, Sammy. I can think of plenty of times when that term applied to you," Dean shot back, tucking the plate behind his arm in an attempt to protect it.
"What does that have to do with anything? I just want another taste of the pie! It's not like that's the only one that will ever exist."
"How do you know?" Dean protested petulantly.
Sam cocked a brow and sneered.
"Really, Dean? Sometimes it blows me away that you're supposed to be the older brother," he claimed, crossing his arms.
"You really want to go there, Sam?" Dean challenged, narrowing his eyes and putting the plate down on the table behind himself. "I've protected you for your entire life and I could lay you out right now if I wanted to. Then we'd see who the big brother is."
Pulling himself up to his full six-foot-four-inch height, Sam looked down at Dean and simply set his jaw in response.
Dean pulled a face, giving his brother a once-over and subconsciously straightening up to his full height, as well.
"Don't you dare get technical on me. I can still kick your ass," he stated, his annoyance blatantly obvious.
"Dean, it's a piece of pie! Do you even hear yourself?"
"My ears work fine, thanks," Dean glowered.
Sam took a deep breath and visibly shook off his own irritation before speaking again in an attempt at a calming voice.
"I don't want the whole thing, okay? Just a-"
"No."
"Please, I'll only take a-"
"No!"
"I just want-"
"NO, Sam!" Dean bellowed, slapping his hand onto the table and making the plate rattle. "It's mine and it's special! And y'know what? Just because you won't stop pestering me, I'm gonna sit right here and eat the whole rest of it while you watch."
Sam glanced behind Dean and frowned a bit as he spoke.
"Are you?"
"You damn well better believe it!"
"Mind telling me how you're gonna do that?"
Dean blinked in confusion for a split-second before turning around to follow Sam's gaze.
"...Cas?"
Castiel was bent over the far end of the table, his arms stretched out so he could reach across to access the temporarily forgotten plate without attracting attention. Said plate was now devoid of any pie and Cas' fingers and mouth were sticky and stained purple, as if he'd completely forgone the fork to eat with his hands instead. The plate was being quickly cleaned of it's crumbs and filling residue as the brunet ignored the other men in favor of licking the tidbits of flavor from his fingers.
"Dammit," Dean cursed and then looked at Sam. "I didn't see any more in the fridge, but that was just a slice. He has to have stashed the rest of it somewhere!"
Before Sam could say anything else, Dean took off toward the walk-in. He was going to find the rest of that pie! It was the best thing he'd ever eaten and he wasn't going to be able to live with just three bites!
Yanking the refrigerator door open, it was all Dean could do to keep himself from tearing the inside apart to find the pie tin. He shoved the wheeled racks out the door to make room and hurriedly scanned the shelves for the tin with the missing piece. When he came up empty after a few minutes, Dean even dug through the boxes of fruits and veggies with just as little luck.
Growling in frustration, he threw the door closed again and went to check the freezer, shifting through piles of frozen dough and berries.
"Nothing!" Dean shouted after another couple of minutes and began to pace, muttering to himself.
Sam watched him and fidgeted absently, while Cas was practically vibrating with pent up urgency, though toward what, no one was sure.
The tense energy in the kitchen seemed to be nearing a breaking point when one of the oven timers dinged. The unexpected sound made everyone freeze for an instant before they turned cautiously toward the source of the noise.
"Cas, did you put it back in the oven?" Sam asked, hesitantly.
"I...don't remember," Castiel replied, meeting Sam's eyes as Dean crossed the room to the oven in question.
"There it is!" Dean exclaimed in excitement, cracking the appliance door and pulling the tin out with a towel. "I'm sure you just wanted to keep it warm, right Cas?"
"That would make the most sense," Castiel acknowledged.
This time, Dean chose a spoon as his weapon of choice and scooped up a massive bite out of the center of the pie. As he fed himself, he groaned in delight once more.
"Oh yeah, that's the stuff..."
Upon swallowing the mouthful, Dean walked the tin back to the table and set it down in the center, looking from Sam to Cas and back again. He wanted nothing more than to grab it back up and book it for the Impala sitting out back, but he forced himself to stay put.
"Alright, park it. It's every man for himself here," he said, shifting his scrutiny again and indicating the stools tucked under the lip of the table. "Ready?"
Sam looked unsure, but Castiel couldn't seem to take his eyes from the dish. They'd never seen him coiled this tightly outside of a fight before and that was almost enough for Dean to take pause and ask if he was alright.
But not quite.
"Go!"
The three men nearly knocked their heads together in the rush to swarm the pie plate. Dean with his spoon, Sam with his fork, and Cas just stuck to using his hands, which resulted in practically being stabbed by taller men a few times.
The second the tin was clean, another oven timer went off and their heads snapped up to look at it. Dean was on his feet in nothing flat and moving toward the appliance, but Sam frowned.
"Dean, something's not right about all of this," he pointed out as Dean returned with another whole pie.
"Doesn't matter, Sammy. If too much pie is wrong, then I don't want to be right. Eat up," Dean informed, setting the new pie in the empty tin from the first and digging in immediately.
Castiel made brief eye contact with Sam, as if he knew there was something off as well, but quickly followed Dean's example without a word. It didn't take long for Sam to cave, too.
By the third pie that showed up the same way the second had, they were all beginning to feel full.
By the fourth, Sam felt ill from the large and unexpected sugar intake.
By the fifth, Castiel was starting to sway and had a visible food baby under his apron.
By the sixth, Dean could barely hold his spoon.
When the oven timer went off for the seventh time, they all moaned again; this time in pain. No one could find it in him to get to his feet and retrieve the pie. Minutes passed and Dean felt like he was going to be sick. Sam had already heaved into the nearest trash bin twice and Castiel was unceremoniously drooling onto the floor, keeping his head propped on the edge of the table and fighting back wave after was of nausea. It was because of this that none of them noticed the slightest shift in the air around them as they attempted to calm their stomachs.
"Only six, huh?" a cheerful voice chirped from the direction of the ovens. "And here I thought you Winchesters could do better than that! Especially with Samsquatch over there on your team."
All three heads shot up again to find the source of the voice and all immediately regretted the decision. Sam dropped his head to the table again, Dean did his best to curl up into a ball on his stool, and Castiel finally made use of the trash bin as his stomach violently protested the abrupt movement.
"Gabriel..." Dean grumbled.
"I should've recognized it..." Sam muttered from inside the circle of his arms.
"Aww, what's the matter, boys? A little full there?" Gabriel grinned from his seat on the oven top.
"Fuck you, man," Dean fired back, wincing and still unable to uncurl himself.
"Now is that any way to talk to the guy who provided you with the, what was it? Best thing you've ever tasted in your life?" Gabriel crossed one leg over the other and snapped his fingers sharply, another whole pie appearing on the table between the three. "Here, let me get that for you."
"No, not again," Sam pleaded as he, Dean, and Cas became inexplicably drawn to the new pie, despite the overwhelming feeling of illness surrounding them.
"Gabriel, what have you done?" Castiel demanded weakly, desperately fighting the urge to dig his fingers into the confection and gorge himself to sickness again.
"Right, your stupid pranks usually have lessons attached to them or something, don't they?" Dean asked, leaning dangerously toward the center of the table.
Gabriel seemed to consider this as he tilted his head back and forth a few times before shrugging.
"Ye-eah, most of the time. Other times, I just get bored."
"You just get..." Sam trailed off, the hand with his fork in it taking a stab at the pie against his will.
"And who better to mess with than my favorite knuckleheads and my youngest brother?"
Dean fumed momentarily before he had a thought.
"By making us eat ourselves sick? Sounds like you're taking a page out of Famine's book, man," Dean noticed, trying to ignore his own hand which was uncurling from around his body to try to get to the pie. "Not exactly original."
Castiel flinched imperceptibly at the reminder of past events and Gabriel narrowed his eyes at Dean.
"I suppose you're right," he acquiesced, snapping his fingers again, causing the pie to disappear and the three men to sigh in relief. "But that just means I'll have to get more creative with you three, doesn't it?"
The response was simply a collective groan.
"You asked for it, Dean-o! Don't you worry about unoriginality again," Gabriel declared, a glint in his eyes. "Nothing lethal, though. Or at least not permanently. Don't want to go breaking my favorite toys."
"Your favorite-!" Dean started angrily, but was cut off.
"See ya around, kiddos!" Gabriel crowed and with a rustle of wings, he was gone.
The three groaned as one once more and dropped their heads to the table. Dean was the only one to speak, though he was sure the others agreed with his sentiment:
"Frickin' angels..."
-END-
AN: It's been while since I've written anything substantial and this is my first dip into the SPN fandom. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome!