Work Text:
“You don’t understand. This is literally a life-or-death situation. I need that pie.” Sam held out his free hand. “Please, man, it’s my brother.”
The stranger who had grabbed the last pie right out from under Sam’s hand raised an eyebrow. “Your brother will die if he doesn’t get convenience-store cherry pie?”
To hear Dean tell it? “He sure thinks so, but that’s not what I meant.” He motioned with his hand, eager to get this over with so he could get home. Dean with a broken leg unable to do anything for himself was bound to be driving Bobby crazy. Dean with some pie would be much easier to live with. Especially for Sam.
The guy just pulled the pie further away from him. “Then what did you mean, Sasquatch? Because you said literally life and death, and you look like the kind of guy who cares about the literal meaning of the word literally.”
Sam couldn’t stop the flat glare. “There is so much more important stuff for me to get worked up over than how people use words. I meant that my brother will kill me if I come home without pie again.”
“Oh my god.” The guy’s demeanor changed instantly, and he put the pie very carefully in Sam’s basket. “I’m… are you sure you want to go back? I know some people, they’ll find a way for you to disappear. Car accident, studly young man tragically killed by a poorly-secured ski pole on the top of the SUV, and we get you to Kansas or California or somewhere else way the hell away from Wyoming where you can live your life without an abusive brother watching your every move.”
“What the… Dean’s not abusive!” He could get a little harsh, sometimes, yes. Especially when pie was involved – or rather, pie should be involved but wasn’t. But he wasn’t abusive. He cared about Sam. Sure, he felt like he had to keep Sam in line, but after some of the shit Sam had pulled, he found it hard to seriously disagree. “Thanks for the pie, but really, I am fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
Sam just rolled his eyes. He had his pie, he needed to get out of there before the guy tried to take it back. He headed for the cashier. The sooner he got out of there, the sooner Bobby could stop tearing his hair out.
Somehow, he hadn’t noticed the guy following him all the way back. It wasn’t until the car – and it wasn’t exactly subtle, a bright red Camaro, there’s no way Sam could have just missed it – pulled in beside him at the cabin that Sam realized. This guy was either really good or really sneaky or really supernatural. Possibly all three. Sam texted Dean to let him know about the complication and got out of the car.
Dean clomped out on the porch with his pistol, Bobby right behind him with a shotgun. “Tell me you got the pie, Sammy. Tell me you didn’t make me drag my busted ass out here only to tell me there’s no pie.”
“Holy shit, he wasn’t kidding, and he doesn’t think you’re abusive? God, Dean, you are such a dick!” Sam gaped as the man from the grocery store got out of the car and put himself between Dean and Sam. He looked over his shoulder at Sam, shooting him a wink as he snapped his fingers. “What the hell happened to your self-respect, Samsquatch?”
Sam didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Dean was too busy running down the stairs – surprisingly well for someone with a broken leg where the cast had dramatically cracked in half and fallen off – to punch the guy, fist still clenched around a gun that was now entirely made of what looked like a massive red Jolly Rancher. It was Bobby – also holding a Jolly Rancher gun, although his was green – who found the presence of mind to snarl, “Trickster.”
“Oh, come on, aren’t we past titles now? You guys can just call me Gabriel, really.” He threw an arm around Dean. “Surpise!”
Sam narrowed his eyes and went inside. As expected, the kitchen counter was now full of pies of all sorts of flavors, all steaming hot like they had just come out of the oven. He went back out to find Dean and Gabriel cracking up together. “So glad you find this so funny, Dean. Maybe I should have taken him up on the offer to fake my unlikely gruesome death and ship me off to Kansas.”
“Oh, come on, Sam, lighten up. It was just a joke, no harm done, and look, he fixed my leg!” Dean waved a hand downward. “He said you remembered the pie?”
“I did, but go inside. Trust me, you don’t want the convenience store crap.” Sam walked stiffly to the Impala to grab the groceries while Dean went back inside. Gabriel followed Dean, while Bobby followed Sam out to the car.
“What was that about when we got here, Gabriel’s reaction to us coming out armed because you told us you’d been followed? Which, I’d meant to lecture you about paying better attention, but with Gabriel he probably went invisible or just flew out here to begin with.”
Sam rolled his eyes and explained the exchange at the grocery store. “It’s crap, and it’s Gabriel, so if Dean says we just let everything drop in the name of the joke, then whatever.”
Bobby stared hard at him, but nodded and let the subject drop. “If we want there to be any pie left for us, we’d probably better get in there now, huh?”
“Really not worried about it, even with those two in there.” Sam headed back in, completely ignoring the pie tins balanced in Dean and Gabriel’s lap as they dug into entire pies themselves. Gabriel was an archangel, and if Dean wanted to eat himself sick on pie, maybe he’d get over the weird obsession.
That didn’t stop the surprised noise from escaping when he saw Gabriel feeding a piece of his strawberry pie to Dean, or Dean returning the favor with his pecan pie. And then slurping each other’s fingers. He pointed at them and turned to Bobby, speechless again for the second time in only a few minutes.
Bobby only had one word for the situation, as the two started a pie-enhanced makeout session right there on the couch. “Idjits.”