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Dean’s life sucked. He knew it sucked from the depths of hell all the way to high heaven. but regardless, Dean was enjoying breakfast, because loud-sex pancakes were on the table and it was pretty much the closest thing he got to getting laid these days. and damn, that thought skeeved him out.
So Dean was understandably shoveling pancakes into his face with his mouth full when Sam walked into Bobby’s kitchen that morning, looking ready to set the world on fire. Dean closed his mouth to chew, but it didn't improve Sam’s mood.
“Who massacred an orphanage and put you in a mood?” Dean asked cheerily. Sam just glared at Dean and poured coffee.
“Enjoying the pancakes?” came Sam’s ‘clever’ retort.
“Hell yeah, its about the only perk I get out of a featherhead banging my brother.”
A second glare, and Sam was about to leave the room, so Dean sighed and delayed further pancake joy. “Sammy,” Sam turned and looked at his older brother, “do you want to …I don't know, talk about it?” Dean asked, with a minimum of sarcasm possible. which, granted, was a lot.
“Excuse me?” Sam barked.
Apparently not the morning to bait him. “Fine, I'm a dick.” Dean conceded, “but seriously, who pissed in your coffee?”
After a good five seconds of Bitchface Seventy Two, Sam looked away, “Me and Gabe, kinda had a fight last night.”
“Yeah well, from the taste of it, the make up sex was great. So what are you still pouting about?” Dean asked spearing more pancakes.
“What? ew, you know what- I'm not gonna ask. whatever. We didn't make up. He bamf-ed away, cause he's a coward.”
“You couldn’t have pissed him off that much, there’s loud-sex pancakes.” Dean stated. Read: please, don't let the pancakes be a lie.
“What?”
“The nights you partake in really good loud sex, I wake up to amazing pancakes.” Dean points out. “It’s about the only reason I put up with it. Because these pancakes, are *almost* as good as pie.”
“Huh,” Gabe said from the outside kitchen door, “I always wondered how you stayed alive this long. I would have never bet on you for figuring it out first.”
“Figuring what out?” Bobby asked coming in from the living room, “And what are you doing to that Audi?”
“Fixing it, if thats all right with you, sir.”
The three of them froze, all eyes in the room turning to stare at Gabe who in turn was staring at the floor.
“You feeling alright?” Bobby asked, trying to stealthily reach for a silver knife. Not-Gabe rolled his eyes and pulled a knife out of the drawer and cut a red line across his own forearm.
Bobby just raised an eye brow, “care for some water?” he asked, pouring from the holy jug of Poland Springs.
“I’m not possessed,” Not-Gabe sighed, but drank anyways, leaning against the counter. “I’m looking for a 3/8 hex head, but it wandered. anyone privy to where?” No one in the kitchen knew what to make of that.
“Yeah, we keep it on the ledge of the garage, use it a lot for baby.” Dean almost missed the snark that was the annoying, littlest angel.
Wait a minute.
“hold on, aren't you supposed to be possessed?” Dean asked.
“And I cant believe I live in a world where Dean is the smart one.”
Dean’s eyes widened, “They are *your* pancakes.”
Not-Gabe smirked, “The muffin man wasn’t taking applications.”
“What the hell is going on?” Bobby demanded.
“The name is Jones,” He introduced himself without a handshake, “and thanks for the water.” He called over his shoulder to Dean as he headed back into the yard, “when Gabriel gets back, tell him you like my pancakes better!”