Author: Kat Lee
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words:
Word Count: 656
Date Written: 29 August 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
“I’ve got you something special tonight,” Jo says in way of greeting as she slides up to where Dean’s sitting.
“Oh, yeah?” He piques an eyebrow in interest.
“Yeah.” She smiles, but there’s something dangerous in her smile. “Remember how the other day, when you found out I cook sometimes, you told me I’m too small to be a good cook?”
“Yeah,” Dean answers slowly, putting down his drink. Something is cooking, and he’s not at all sure he wants it.
“Well, Sam also told me how much you like pie and how you don’t often get to eat it.”
Dean’s stomach rumbles at the mere mention of the word of sweet indulgence, but he doesn’t trust himself to speak. He only nods again instead.
“Well, guess what I made you?”
“Pie,” Dean answers quickly this time and could kick himself for sounding so eager. He can count the number of times a woman has made him a pie, including his mother, on one hand. He could also kick Sam for telling Jo how much he likes the amazing concoction.
“Bring it out, boys!” Jo calls over her shoulder.
The bulging dishwasher throws the door open, and the regular cook, also a muscular man who looks like he could easily squish Dean between his muscular biceps, approaches the counter. “You better enjoy this,” he tells Dean. “Our Jo doesn’t cook for just anyone!”
The light in Dean’s round eyes dies a little as the pie is set before him. His face falls. He frowns. “It’s pink!”
“And you damn sure better try a piece,” the cook says, slamming a fork down next to him.
Dean picks up the instrument and pokes at the pie. It retains its substance and doesn’t wiggle like jello. He eyes it carefully. “What is it?”
“It’s pie,” the cook almost roars. “Now shut up and eat!”
Dean frowns as he cuts a small bite. He sniffs the pie. It smells okay, sweet enough and with a hint of something familiar. He glances at Jo. “You’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?”
“Why don’t you try a bite and find out? A man with as many triumphant hunts under his belt as you can’t be scared of a little, ole pie.”
Dean glares at her. Then he looks back down at the pie, closes his eyes, and forces himself to take the bite off of the fork. He half expects to feel something wriggling or oozing in his mouth, or at the very least to spit out the bite in disgust, but the taste is smooth and sweet and has him sighing with satisfaction as he reopens his eyes with a smile.
He’s just in time to see the cook beginning to lift the pie from the table. “Hey!” he protests sharply.
“It’s okay,” Jo says, putting a stilling hand on the man’s beefy arm. “We can leave it with him. I did make two, you know.”
“Yeah, but after the way he acted -- “
She laughs. “It just shows he doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does.” Looking back at Dean, she tells him, “I can make a mean pie. It has nothing to do with my figure. I can also hunt you under the table. Give me a chance, and you’ll see.” She winks, twists around, and saunters proudly back to the kitchen.
“Damn.” Dean moans this time in an altogether different manner.
The cook glowers down at him. “You touch that girl,” he tells him, “and you’ll be the next thing we serve in a pie around here.”
Dean whistles but lets the man slide with his throat. Jo has a lot of protectors around this hangout, and he’s beginning to see why. He moans against as he slowly savors another bite of pink lemonade pie. If she’s half as good as the pie she makes, damn, she’ll be worth getting through them all!