Author: Kat Lee
Dedicated To: A very Happy (late) Birthday, milly_gal!
Character/Pairing: Dean + Crowley with hints of Dean/Crowley and Dean/Sam
Word Count: 959
Date Written: 15 January 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
Dean runs strong hands over his tired face. He feels the stubble growing on his jaw for a moment and knows he should shave, but with the way he feels after the long string of cases he and Sammy just solved, he’d be more likely to cut himself than to do any good with a razor right now. Maybe tomorrow, he thinks, if they’re not back on the road again. He’s too tired to even think about what’s special about the current date as he gulps down some more black coffee.
Lowering his mug for just a moment, Dean catches sight of something on the table before him. He frowns, lines furrowing his brow. He knows the pie wasn’t there a moment ago. He lowers his mug and looks around the kitchen. “Sammy?” he calls out, but there’s no answer. When he’d left their room, Sam had still been passed out in bed; in fact, it had been his brother’s bearlike snores that had awakened Dean. “SAMMY?”
There’s still no answer, and Dean slowly lowers his mug the rest of the way to the table and just as slowly lifts the spoon in front of the pie. He tenses as he cuts into the pie, half expecting the dessert to explode and some kind of Demon to come chasing after him yet again. Dean closes one eye as he cuts deeper into the pie, but nothing moves. Nothing explodes. Nothing comes charging after him.
He takes the first bite of pie and moans with his mouth closed as he’s instantly transported to Heaven. His eyes drift closed as he chews, savoring each mouth-watering bite. He takes another bite from the pie without opening his eyes and then another and another. He cracks one eye open, but there’s still nobody around him. He’s still alone. He’s still safe in the bunker, and the pie is still delicious.
He realizes he’s already eaten a whole slice of the blueberry pie but doesn’t hesitate to start the next slice. As he dips the spoon into his mouth, he notices writing on the pie. He frowns, knowing he hadn’t seen the script a moment before, but the pie is so good he can’t really muster the desire to care about how writing suddenly appeared on his gift. The previous slice was blueberry, but it’s strawberry cream that oozes into his mouth now.
He moans again, licking his lips, and moves for another bite when one word on the pie catches his attention. Happy Birthday, Squirrel, is written across the crust, and Dean’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Crowley?” he mutters. His eyes dart swiftly around the room, but there’s no other sign of the King of Hell.
After a long moment of consideration, Dean shrugs and goes for another bite. So what if Crowley was the one to send him this delicious pie for his birthday? He’ll have to figure out how he got into the bunker later, but there’s no hidden attack attached to the pie. It’s just pie, and the most delicious, savory pie Dean has ever tasted at that. The rich mixture of flavors is amazing, and there’s no way Dean’s missing out on this one!
The first slice was blueberry, the second strawberry, and he’s just starting on the third, a lemon, when something shifts in the room. He doesn’t have to look up to know it’s his gift-giver. “Crowley,” he acknowledges, grinning, “this is the best pie ever!”
“Of course it is.” The Demon smirks smugly at him.
“And here I didn’t even know you could cook!”
Crowley shrugs. “I’m a very multi-talented ruler. You should know that by now, Squirrel. If you’ve got the nuts -- ”
Dean waves the spoon at him, interrupting him. “I’m not here to play those games again, Crowley.”
“No. You’re here to eat pie.” Crowley smirks again.
Dean hesitates in taking his next bite, but he still takes it. After all, he hasn’t keeled over from the pie yet.
Crowley clasps his shoulder from behind. Dean stops eating at the abrupt gesture. Heat flashes through him, but at the same time, he’s mindful of how much Crowley has caused to go wrong in his life up until now, of everything that’s gone down between them, and of the countless times Crowley’s tried to kill himself and Sammy. He gulps down his bite a little less steadily, but Crowley just pats his shoulder. “Happy Birthday, Dean,” he whispers.
Dean’s heart warms at the words. He may be the King of Hell, but he’s still the first one to wish him a happy birthday this year and definitely knows what he likes. Sam hasn’t even mentioned his birthday. Dean struggled for a few days to put the thought of his impending birthday behind him and had succeeded in blocking his mind of all thoughts of the day meant to be his until he read Crowley’s message.
He grins, takes another bite, and starts to turn toward Crowley -- but Crowley’s already gone. Sam enters the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. He clearly hasn’t seen Crowley and pauses as he looks at the pie, then to Dean, and back to the pie. “What’s that?” he asks.
“What’s it look like, doofus?”
“You know that’s not what I meant. Where’d it come from?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Dean says, taking another bite. He smiles proudly, his eyes twinkling. “It’s all mine!”
Sam smiles and doesn’t try to argue. “Happy Birthday, Dean. Enjoy your pie.” He pours himself a coffee, then leaves to prepare his own presents for his birthday.
“You bet I am,” Dean mutters in Sam’s wake. “Best pie ever,” he murmurs, taking another bite, and when Crowley appears again, he’s ready at last to thank him properly.