Work Text:
DO NOT EAT
The sign on the pie says do not eat. Dean looks around. What.
Dean dashes out the motel door, it slams behind him. The sun beats down on a dusty lot and a squinty Dean. Hands in fists, fists on hips, bird baking on saguaro. Bird on saguaro?
Dean does a double take. Gross.
The car is gone, so is Sam, so is Cas. Dean and the pie are alone together.
Dean stomps back inside.
He grabs a fist full of bedspread and swings back to toss, but thinks better of it and drops it to the floor.
C’mon. It’s not that complicated. Just a man swooshing linens around to avoid pie temptation.
Dean takes Sam’s newspaper from the table, and arranges it delicately on top of the pie.
It looks delicious; big and full like a cartoon pie. Stuffed with something red, something creamy. An elaborate crust peaks out from under the Sunday funnies.
Dean spins a chair around and turns on the TV. The Food Network plays.