"…With extra onions, right?"
"Of course. And, hey, don't forget my pie!"
"Dean, when have I ever forgotten the pie?"
"…"
"Oh, come on. One time. One. I said I was sorry. When are you gonna let that go?"
"Never, dude. I just got back from Hell and you forgot my pie."
"Look, I'm in the diner right now looking at the dessert case. What flavor do you want? We got Dutch Apple, Lemon Meringue, Harvest Cherry and Key Lime."
"All of them."
"Dean."
"What?"
"Only one."
"Party pooper. Ah, does the apple come with whipped cream on top?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Cherry, with whipped cream."
"…Fine.
"What?"
"Nothing."
There was a pause, along with the clinking of glass.
"There. I for sure have your pie. Happy."
"Only when that baby's in my hand."
"Good bye, Dean."
"Later, little brother."
Dean chuckled, clicking the already disconnected phone shut.
He was about to unlock the door when a thumping noise from inside made him freeze. He stood silent, listening. When he heard it again, he traded the phone for his pistol before noiselessly unlocking the door and throwing it open.
The room was trashed, like someone had been searching for something. Both beds were stripped, the bed side tables pulled from the wall, both dining chairs toppled, paper and books everywhere.
There was movement to his left, and Dean swung around in an instant, gun raised, ready to fire when a familiar head popped up from the other side of the table.
Dean fumbled, lowering the weapon.
"Damn it Castiel! You trying to get yourself killed?"
"Hello Dean."
"What happened?" Dean asked, ignoring the greeting and pocketing his gun, glancing around the room more carefully,
"Why are you on the floor? You okay?" the hunter continued, the concern for a friend's safety worming past his adrenaline into his voice.
Ribbet.
Dean froze in his surveillance of the room, turning to look at Cas just in time to see something small and green jump into the downed angel's head.
Said angel sat motionless on the floor, body tensed, eyes wide, watching and waiting for the older Winchester's reaction with a mixture of anticipation and slight fear.
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"…There's a frog on your head."
"Why, yes. Yes there is. Your power of observation continues to excel forwards. That's good. Strong observational skills is important for a hunter, is it not?"
A pause.
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
Ribbet.
Dean closed his eyes, sighing. He stepped to the side, pointing out the still open door, eyes still closed.
Cas deflated, but stood. Shoulders slumped and head bowed, the almost human walked past Dean and out the door like a scolded child being sent to his room, a frog still merrily croaking on his head.
When Cas had left, Dean sighed, running a hand down his face and looking around the trashed room once more.
Damn, he wished Sammy would hurry up with his pie.