Kroki_refur
"I think," Dean said, because this was very important, dammit, and Sam was going to listen, "that pie is the difference."
"I think you're drunk," Sam said, like he didn't even care. Bitch.
"You don't understand, Sammy, this is...this is it, dude. The pie is the thing that would make all the difference." And wow, when had his legs gotten a life of their own? He couldn't seriously make them do what he wanted them to do, which was step onto the ground, stand solid while the other leg did the same, then bend, push forward, and repeat.
There were probably steps in between he wasn't accounting for. But he had the general idea and they didn't, and they kept falling down.
Sam's legs weren't having any trouble: Sam, in fact, was the one that kept his legs working, because Sam was holding him up. "How come your legs work?" Dean demanded.
"Because I'm not drunk," Sam said. Prissy little know-it-all bitch. It was because he didn't like pie.
Oh, the pie. "Oh! Pie. Pie's the key, Sammy."
Sam looked seriously pained when he sighed heavily. "You shouldn't sigh; s'bad for you, dude," Dean said, giving away his knowledge. Superior knowledge, because he'd freakin' solved the world peace issue.
"Why is pie the key, Dean?"
"WHAT is pie the key," Dean corrected, and didn't understand when Sam frowned in confusion. "For world peace."
Sam didn't look impressed. In fact, Sam just heaved another painful sigh. "Fine; totally not gonna share the Nobel thing," Dean huffed, then glared at his legs. "C'mon people, work with me here!"
"Bobby never believes me," Sam muttered, but he pulled Dean to standing and forced his legs to move again. "Why does pie equal world peace, Dean?"
Dean grinned brightly. "Dude. S'pie. Demons an' people, one thing they all love s'pie. That's it, Sammy. Could make everybody happy."
They stopped and Dean immediately glared at his legs. Freakin' useless things, but no, they were standing like they were supposed to. He turned to ask Sam why he couldn't walk, then found his brother gazing at him strangely. "Demons and people in harmony, huh?" Sam asked, and now he was smiling a little. 'Bout freakin' time.
"Now you're catchin' on," Dean said, right before he belched. Ugh, hadn't remembered it tasting quite like that. He needed some pie to cover up that taste. "So I need some pie. Like, now."
"Like, no," Sam countered, and then they were moving again. "You need a bed, water, and aspirin, because pie might solve world peace, but it's not gonna help the hangover you'll have tomorrow."
Prissy know-it-all. "Bitch," Dean muttered, and could've sworn he saw Sam smile again out of the corner of his eye.
~Nebula
"I think you're drunk," Sam said, like he didn't even care. Bitch.
"You don't understand, Sammy, this is...this is it, dude. The pie is the thing that would make all the difference." And wow, when had his legs gotten a life of their own? He couldn't seriously make them do what he wanted them to do, which was step onto the ground, stand solid while the other leg did the same, then bend, push forward, and repeat.
There were probably steps in between he wasn't accounting for. But he had the general idea and they didn't, and they kept falling down.
Sam's legs weren't having any trouble: Sam, in fact, was the one that kept his legs working, because Sam was holding him up. "How come your legs work?" Dean demanded.
"Because I'm not drunk," Sam said. Prissy little know-it-all bitch. It was because he didn't like pie.
Oh, the pie. "Oh! Pie. Pie's the key, Sammy."
Sam looked seriously pained when he sighed heavily. "You shouldn't sigh; s'bad for you, dude," Dean said, giving away his knowledge. Superior knowledge, because he'd freakin' solved the world peace issue.
"Why is pie the key, Dean?"
"WHAT is pie the key," Dean corrected, and didn't understand when Sam frowned in confusion. "For world peace."
Sam didn't look impressed. In fact, Sam just heaved another painful sigh. "Fine; totally not gonna share the Nobel thing," Dean huffed, then glared at his legs. "C'mon people, work with me here!"
"Bobby never believes me," Sam muttered, but he pulled Dean to standing and forced his legs to move again. "Why does pie equal world peace, Dean?"
Dean grinned brightly. "Dude. S'pie. Demons an' people, one thing they all love s'pie. That's it, Sammy. Could make everybody happy."
They stopped and Dean immediately glared at his legs. Freakin' useless things, but no, they were standing like they were supposed to. He turned to ask Sam why he couldn't walk, then found his brother gazing at him strangely. "Demons and people in harmony, huh?" Sam asked, and now he was smiling a little. 'Bout freakin' time.
"Now you're catchin' on," Dean said, right before he belched. Ugh, hadn't remembered it tasting quite like that. He needed some pie to cover up that taste. "So I need some pie. Like, now."
"Like, no," Sam countered, and then they were moving again. "You need a bed, water, and aspirin, because pie might solve world peace, but it's not gonna help the hangover you'll have tomorrow."
Prissy know-it-all. "Bitch," Dean muttered, and could've sworn he saw Sam smile again out of the corner of his eye.
~Nebula