Fic: 3.14159265 (SPN, Gen, Complete)
Title: 3.14159265
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 892
Warnings/Notes: Brotherly fluff, or at least, as much as you can get with the Winchesters. Vague general spoilers for Season 7. This 'fic wouldn't let me go until I wrote it, so here you go.
Summary: 3.14159265 is more than just a number. It's a way of life.
Sam is trying to research the latest monster he and Dean are hunting when he hears Dean sigh melodramatically, pause, and then sigh loudly again.
"Something wrong, Dean?” Sam asks, glancing up from his laptop. Dean's sprawled on the threadbare couch that's one of the few pieces of furniture left in the abandoned house the two hunters are squatting in at the moment. It's close to where everything has gone down so far, and still has running water and electricity that they can use, so for the moment it's home base. Dean props himself up on one elbow and looks at his brother.
“I miss pie,” he says morosely. “Man, I haven't had a good piece of apple pie in forever.” There's a note of longing in Dean's voice that Sam has been hearing more and more these days, ever since the Leviathans' master plan started to go into effect. Sam has to keep himself from rolling his eyes at Dean's comment, and then a thought strikes him. It's a little silly, and will definitely invite a great amount of teasing from Dean, but it might just also serve a double purpose: one, to keep Dean from whining for a little while, and two, to prove that not all food needs to come full of heavily processed ingredients.
After looking up a list of things he'll need to make his idea work, Sam gets up from his chair and stretches luxuriously, his shirt riding up a little in the back and revealing a sliver of skin briefly before it settles back down . “Whatever, man. I'm going to head out and pick up some more supplies,” he says, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and then shrugging it on. “I'll be back in an hour or so.”
Dean flops back down on the couch and waves a lazy hand in goodbye. Sam gives into the urge to roll his eyes-- once his back is safely turned, of course --and then heads out. There's a store that should have everything he needs to carry out his plan. Sam's got a list, and when he gets to the store, he references it every so often to make sure he's got the right items.
Eventually his little shopping trip comes to an end and Sam returns to the house, two bags held in his hands. Dean's still on the couch, snoring lightly as he dozes. Sam doesn't want to bother his brother; Dean rarely has time to sleep like this during a case, and Sam is reluctant to wake him. With a small grin, Sam sets up shop in the kitchen. He loses himself in the familiar routines of mixing, cutting, and stirring, humming softly to himself as he works; it's a song Jess used to sing when she did what Sam is doing right now.
He's already set the oven's temperature, and has everything prepared by the time the pre-heat alarm goes off, so he's able to put his two creations into the heated chamber right away. Sam sets a timer on his cell phone for forty-five minutes, cleans up his mess, and then returns to his research as he waits for everything to finish. Sam checks on his project after forty minutes, finishing the final steps as per the instructions before going to check on Dean. The elder Winchester is still asleep, even with the tantalizing smell that has started to fill the house.
“Dean, wake up,” Sam says, poking him carefully in the shoulder. Dean jerks awake, jade green eyes narrowing briefly before he recognizes Sam.
“Something up, Sammy?” Dean begins to ask, but then his brain catches up with the signals his nose is sending it. He draws in a deep breath several times and then looks at Sam with a questioning look. “What's cooking, Sam?”
Sam just grins and beckons for Dean to follow him. Curious, Dean gets up from the couch and wanders after Sam. He stops in his tracks when he sees what Sam's made, a look of surprise forming on his face before a broad grin threatens to split his face in two.
“Dude, where did you get these?” Dean asks, eying the two still gently-warm apple pies. A small smile curves Sam's lips before his answers.
“I made them,” Sam tells him, shrugging. “Everything's organic, so you don't have to worry about any Levi-taint.”
Dean blinks suspiciously for a few seconds and then drags Sam into a quick side-hug before approaching the counter and the bounty it holds. Sam watches in amusement as Dean reverently cuts into the first pie and carefully puts it on one of the paper plates Sam picked up at the store. The first bite has Dean's eyes sliding shut and a small groan of appreciation escaping him as he chews. Sam just shakes his head in amusement and gets his own piece of pie. It's not too bad, if he says so himself, and relatively easy and cheap to make. And hey, if such a small thing makes Dean happy, then Sam's not too fussed about baking every now and then. Even if he'll get teased unmercifully for doing such a 'girly' thing, if it means Dean's happy, then Sam's happy. That's the way it's always been.
Note: The recipe Sam uses is this one; I can't verify the taste for myself, but I'm sure Dean would eat it if it tasted like mushy cardboard at this point in time. ;)
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 892
Warnings/Notes: Brotherly fluff, or at least, as much as you can get with the Winchesters. Vague general spoilers for Season 7. This 'fic wouldn't let me go until I wrote it, so here you go.
Summary: 3.14159265 is more than just a number. It's a way of life.
Sam is trying to research the latest monster he and Dean are hunting when he hears Dean sigh melodramatically, pause, and then sigh loudly again.
"Something wrong, Dean?” Sam asks, glancing up from his laptop. Dean's sprawled on the threadbare couch that's one of the few pieces of furniture left in the abandoned house the two hunters are squatting in at the moment. It's close to where everything has gone down so far, and still has running water and electricity that they can use, so for the moment it's home base. Dean props himself up on one elbow and looks at his brother.
“I miss pie,” he says morosely. “Man, I haven't had a good piece of apple pie in forever.” There's a note of longing in Dean's voice that Sam has been hearing more and more these days, ever since the Leviathans' master plan started to go into effect. Sam has to keep himself from rolling his eyes at Dean's comment, and then a thought strikes him. It's a little silly, and will definitely invite a great amount of teasing from Dean, but it might just also serve a double purpose: one, to keep Dean from whining for a little while, and two, to prove that not all food needs to come full of heavily processed ingredients.
After looking up a list of things he'll need to make his idea work, Sam gets up from his chair and stretches luxuriously, his shirt riding up a little in the back and revealing a sliver of skin briefly before it settles back down . “Whatever, man. I'm going to head out and pick up some more supplies,” he says, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and then shrugging it on. “I'll be back in an hour or so.”
Dean flops back down on the couch and waves a lazy hand in goodbye. Sam gives into the urge to roll his eyes-- once his back is safely turned, of course --and then heads out. There's a store that should have everything he needs to carry out his plan. Sam's got a list, and when he gets to the store, he references it every so often to make sure he's got the right items.
Eventually his little shopping trip comes to an end and Sam returns to the house, two bags held in his hands. Dean's still on the couch, snoring lightly as he dozes. Sam doesn't want to bother his brother; Dean rarely has time to sleep like this during a case, and Sam is reluctant to wake him. With a small grin, Sam sets up shop in the kitchen. He loses himself in the familiar routines of mixing, cutting, and stirring, humming softly to himself as he works; it's a song Jess used to sing when she did what Sam is doing right now.
He's already set the oven's temperature, and has everything prepared by the time the pre-heat alarm goes off, so he's able to put his two creations into the heated chamber right away. Sam sets a timer on his cell phone for forty-five minutes, cleans up his mess, and then returns to his research as he waits for everything to finish. Sam checks on his project after forty minutes, finishing the final steps as per the instructions before going to check on Dean. The elder Winchester is still asleep, even with the tantalizing smell that has started to fill the house.
“Dean, wake up,” Sam says, poking him carefully in the shoulder. Dean jerks awake, jade green eyes narrowing briefly before he recognizes Sam.
“Something up, Sammy?” Dean begins to ask, but then his brain catches up with the signals his nose is sending it. He draws in a deep breath several times and then looks at Sam with a questioning look. “What's cooking, Sam?”
Sam just grins and beckons for Dean to follow him. Curious, Dean gets up from the couch and wanders after Sam. He stops in his tracks when he sees what Sam's made, a look of surprise forming on his face before a broad grin threatens to split his face in two.
“Dude, where did you get these?” Dean asks, eying the two still gently-warm apple pies. A small smile curves Sam's lips before his answers.
“I made them,” Sam tells him, shrugging. “Everything's organic, so you don't have to worry about any Levi-taint.”
Dean blinks suspiciously for a few seconds and then drags Sam into a quick side-hug before approaching the counter and the bounty it holds. Sam watches in amusement as Dean reverently cuts into the first pie and carefully puts it on one of the paper plates Sam picked up at the store. The first bite has Dean's eyes sliding shut and a small groan of appreciation escaping him as he chews. Sam just shakes his head in amusement and gets his own piece of pie. It's not too bad, if he says so himself, and relatively easy and cheap to make. And hey, if such a small thing makes Dean happy, then Sam's not too fussed about baking every now and then. Even if he'll get teased unmercifully for doing such a 'girly' thing, if it means Dean's happy, then Sam's happy. That's the way it's always been.
Note: The recipe Sam uses is this one; I can't verify the taste for myself, but I'm sure Dean would eat it if it tasted like mushy cardboard at this point in time. ;)