Just Like Old Times, for ammcj062
Title: Just Like Old Times
Recipient:ammcj062
Rating: PG
Word Count/Media: 3775
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: So many good prompts here, thank you for giving me such bounty to choose from! I picked this one: Some quality time with the Winchesters, the Impala, pit stops, and the open road.
Summary: Dean needs pie. Sam needs a break. A road trip is the only answer.
Sam’s puttered around the bunker so much lately he’s taking on its grey concrete hue. Dean expects to come across his brother one day hunched in a chair, book in his bony grip, as dusty and desiccated as any long term resident of a mausoleum. Sam needs a break and as it happens, Dean’s jonesing for something only a road trip can provide. Sam’s coming with if Dean has to hog tie him and prop him in the passenger seat.
“Sammy,” he says the next morning; a good night’s sleep and some work in the kitchen vital to the success of his masterful subterfuge. “Come on, man, we’re getting out of here for a while.”
“You go,” Sam says without looking up from the text he’s studying. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Dude,” Dean says with gentle tact. “You look like something out of a thousand year old tomb. There’s mold growing in your hair. When was the last time you got some fresh air and sunshine?”
“Ahhhhh. I don’t know. Recently. I think.”
“Do you know what you’re writing?” Dean eyes Sam’s notepad as he sketches an upside down seagull and the approximation of an emoticon for ‘what the fuck does this even mean?’ Sam smacks at his finger as it traces a passage resembling the alphabet after it was tossed into a blender. “I mean, what does that say?”
“It says ‘my brother is an annoying jackass who won’t let me work’.”
“Really? I’m reading it as ‘my brother is awesome because he won’t let me turn into Gollum with fuzzy hair.’ Because, damn. Your hair has enough problems, don’t you think?”
Sam sighs and looks up at Dean. “I washed it this morning. Shut up.”
“Mold loves water, Sam.”
“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”
Dean pretends to think about this for a few seconds. “No.”
Sam marks his place with a strip of cloth and closes the book. “Okay.” He levers himself out of the chair, wincing.
“Stiff?”
“A little.”
“Shouldn’t sit so long. Bad for your heart.”
Sam snorts and shakes his head. “Think double bacon cheeseburgers might be worse.”
“At least I won’t die with fungus in my hair.”
“Whatever.” Sam heads down the hallway toward the garage. “Where are we going? You find a case?”
“I need pie. Ow!” Dean smacks dead into Sam’s back. “What’d you stop for?”
Sam turns to glare down at his brother. “You have pie. We bought, like, ten pies the last time we went shopping.”
“We bought two. And the last time we went shopping was three weeks ago.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“You’ve been shopping since then.”
“Not with my trusty pie buying sidekick.” Dean takes Sam’s arm, turns him back around, and steers him down the hall. “Come on. I’ll get pie and you can have someone pulverize revolting green stuff into a tasteless mess you can drink through a straw. Win/win, right?”
“Jerk,” Sam mutters and Dean grins behind his back.
*
“Fresh air and sunshine, huh?”
Dean shrugs as a gust of wind slaps cascading raindrops across the Impala’s windshield. “Air’s never fresher than on a windy, rainy day.”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty fresh from the purifiers back at the bunker.”
“Fake fresh air?” Dean shakes his head sadly. “I expected better from a smoothie loving guy like you.”
“I think there’s a funnel cloud forming over the barn across the street.”
“Don’t be melodramatic, Sam.”
“I was promised sunshine.” Sam turns to peer through the passenger side window. “You just passed the street to the diner. Uh, Dean? Why are we getting on the interstate?”
“Shortcut.”
“To where?”
Dean waits for a tractor trailer to roar by before easing the Impala onto the highway. “Sunshine, I hope.”
Sam eyes the gunmetal grey sky stretched out in front of them and casts a suspicious glance at his brother. “And where, exactly, are you planning on finding these alleged sunny skies?”
“Storm’s headed west. We’ll be out of it by the time we hit Indiana.”
“Indiana?” Sam slaps the dash so hard it echoes the crack of thunder outside. “There’s pie in Kansas. There’s pie in Missouri. And there’s pie in Illinois. Why are we driving so far to get pie?”
Dean gives Sam a sideways grin. “There’s amazing pie in all those places, Sammy. But we’re getting our pie in Baltimore.”
Sam bitchfaces Dean for a full thirty seconds before comprehension dawns and he drops his head onto his palm with a groan. “You’ve been watching the Food Network again, haven’t you?”
“No. Yes. Dude, pie.”
“Well said,” Sam says, shaking his head. “Remember what happened in Phoenix? And Long Beach?”
“I’m pretty sure the laws of probability state that not every place on a Food Network best of list has a malevolent spirit running around that’s going to toss you through a plate glass window.”
“Thirty stitches, Dean. And what about the ghouls, huh?”
“Or is run by ghouls who try to eat us. Come on, what do you say?” An ingratiating smirk doesn’t soften Sam’s stony glare. “Quick pie run to Baltimore?”
“Over a thousand miles is not a quick pie run.”
“Straight shot down I-70.”
“I didn’t…
“I packed for you. Your duffle’s in the trunk.”
“But…”
“Laptop too.”
“I better get my smoothie.”
Dean grins and guns the engine as the Impala shoots across the state line into Missouri.
*
Sam’s got nothing to say for the first two hours of the trip. They’re halfway across Missouri and the wind’s died down but an occasional bolt of lightning still cartwheels across the sky and the radio crackles with static.
Dean slips a mix tape into the cassette player and taps his hands against the steering wheel in time with the music. “Looks like it’s clearing up ahead,” he offers.
Sam cranes his neck to see past the slapping windshield wipers. “Way ahead.”
“Still. Hey, know where we’d be going if the storm had been heading east?”
Sam throws him a long suffering look and sighs. “There was a second option?””
Dean lets the fact that ‘best of’ lists usually have more than one item on them go because Sam doesn’t seem to be in the mood. “Seattle. The Pie Bar.”
Sam doesn’t look nearly as thrilled by this as Dean is.
“They have pie and it’s a bar.”
A ‘so what’ look and shug are Sam’s reply. Dean’s got one last bombshell.
“They’ve got pie-tinis.”
“You don’t drink martinis.”
Pie-tinis, Sam.”
Sam rolls his eyes and goes back to staring out the window.
*
Rays of light peek through the clouds as they pass into Indiana and Dean tries again. “Do you remember the apple pie moonshine we had that time, Sam?”
“Since I didn’t actually have any, I remember it pretty well.” Sam huffs an amused laugh. “I think the question is how well do you remember it.”
Sunbeams and a smile from Sam. Things are looking up.
*
By the time they’re halfway through Illinois there’s nothing but blue skies overhead and Dean desperately needs a pit stop. He swings onto an off ramp and steers his baby through back roads to a shaded picnic area. Hauling himself out of the driver’s seat with a groan, he stretches his back to work the knots out.
“Who’s stiff now,” Sam asks with a grin, snorting as Dean gives him the finger.
Dean holds up his phone as Sam exits the car and glances back at the road. “Want me to call you an Uber?”
Sam takes a deep breath and turns his face up into the warm sun. “No thanks. Think I’ll just hit the head and take it from there.”
Dean waits until Sam ducks through the door of the little wooden building holding the restrooms then hauls the green cooler out of the trunk. Choosing a picnic table far back from the parking lot, he pulls out sandwiches, tossing two on each side of the table, then puts a jar of bread and butter pickles in the center. He rounds out his table setting with a bottle of PBR by each pair of sandwiches.
“You packed a lunch?” Sam eyes the food for a moment then cuts his gaze back at his brother.
“Road trips need snacks, Sammy.” Dean gestures expansively at the food. “But if you’d prefer the more traditional road food…” A plastic bag lands in front of Sam on the table. Doritos and beef jerky spill out. “My turn to go. Eat up, man.”
By the time Dean’s back, Sam’s torn through one of the sandwiches and is picking pickles out of the jar with his fingertips. A pile of Doritos sits on the discarded plastic wrap of his first victim. Dean cautiously maneuvers his legs over the seat of the table and settles down opposite his brother.
“Mmmph, “ Sam says with his mouth full. He takes a heroic swallow and adds, “I love ham and cheese, man. Great sandwiches.”
Dean fishes a couple of pickles out and slaps them on his sandwich. “Gotta eat.”
“Yeah, well, usually our road trip food is microwaved at a mini mart.”
“We can stop later and radiate a burrito for you if you want.”
“No, man, I’m good.” Sam chomps off another monster bite of meat and cheese and swigs it down with the last of his beer. Dean grabs him another out of the cooler and lets his gaze wander around the picnic area.
The sun dapples the leaves on the surrounding trees and there’s a fresh light scent to the air that’s friggin awesome. One of those plants that really let their aromatic skills shine after it rains but Dean couldn’t begin to tell which one. Gurgling beyond the trees to the left means running water and a wood chip covered trail leads off that way.
Dean sighs and swallows down the last of his sandwich, pushing his wrappers toward Sam. “I cooked, you get to do the dishes.”
Sam balls up the trash and jump shoots it into a barrel by the next table over. Dean pops the empties in the cooler and stashes it in the trunk, then heads for the trail into the woods.
“Hey.” A few loping steps has Sam at his brother’s back. “Where are you going?”
“Not quite ready to get back in the car yet,” Dean throws over his shoulder. “Still got a few kinks to work out.”
The trail leads to a wide, gently flowing stream before turning left to run alongside it and Dean swings left right along with it. A rabbit scoots across their path about fifty yards in and Sam halts for a minute to watch a pair of screeching blue jays chase each other around the treetops. Ten minutes further Dean spots a calm pool and skips stones like a eight year old. When one bounces across the water ten times he turns to Sam with a grin, only to find his brother watching him with a worried frown.
“What?”
“Dean. Are you, like, dying or something?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Because, this!” Sam spreads his arms to encompass everything. “You get me out of the bunker under false pretenses, drag me off to Baltimore to get pie and now we’re in the woods skipping stones? Man, this is weird!”
“Sammy.” Dean grips his brother’s arm and stares into his eyes. “Do you really think my dying road trip would include packing my own lunch and a nature hike?”
“Well, then what the hell is this?”
Dean sighs and drags a hand across his lips as he settles onto a fallen log beside the trail. “There’s no impending apocalypse right now. There’s no big bad out there for us to worry about. In fact, there haven’t been many little bads showing their faces recently. And you and I… Both of us- are about as un-fucked up as we’ve ever been. No demon blood addictions. No Mark of Cain. Seemed as good a time as any to get out for a day or two.”
“You could have asked.”
“I did ask. You always had something else you had to translate or log or dig out of the stacks. You needed a break before you turned into the world’s tallest gnome.”
“And you miss this.”
Dean watches a neon blue dragonfly dart across the water. “What, nature hikes? I would now that I know how cool it is.” He grins at Sam. “Now let’s get back to Baby and hit the road. That pie’s not going to come to us.”
*
The road spins more easily under the Impala’s wheels with no case to head for. No death and destruction behind them, no horror in their future. Sam starts with the license plate game like when they were kids. Dean points out a giant statue of a cow on a far hillside. It seems like no time before they’re pulling into a one story motor inn outside Columbus. There’s a Biggerson’s down the block but by unspoken consensus they decide to give it a miss. The desk clerk directs them to an Indian place two streets over and they gorge themselves on curry and naan. Sam is quick to let Dean know that his lassi doesn’t count as his smoothie for the trip.
“Dude,” Sam says when they get back to the motel and Dean drops a few quarters from a baggie full of them into the Magic Fingers. “Seriously? I didn’t think these things even existed anymore.”
“Research, Sammy. Seek and ye shall find.” Dean settles back onto the jiggling bed and closes his eyes. Sam doesn’t move from inside the door and Dean tosses the keys his way without opening his eyes. “Laptop’s in the trunk. Go surf some porn or review books or whatever it is you do online.”
“Just like old times,” Sam says and Dean can hear the smile in his voice.
“Just like old times.”
Later, when the Magic Fingers have jittered themselves out and Sam’s snuffled breathing drifts from the next bed, Dean drops off for the best night of sleep he’s had in weeks.
*
Dean heads out early the next morning to a vegan joint called Aladdin’s to score a smoothie for Sam. He decides on the mixed fresh fruit drink because any weirdo who wants vegetables in their shake can order it for themselves. He also picks up a half dozen blueberry muffins because it’s still almost eight hours to his pie and he doesn’t want to pass out from hunger before he gets there. A dozen breakfast joints are within a mile of the hotel but this morning he doesn’t want to spend the time. Get in the car and drive is his theme for today.
Sam’s waiting by the door when he gets back to the motel and slides into the passenger seat before the Impala’s even stopped moving. If the noises he’s making as he slurps his drink are any indication, Dean chose well. Until Sam chokes with pain and drops his head down with his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose, sending Dean into a total freakout flashback.
“Sam?” Dean grips his brother’s arm while trying to keep one eye on the road. “Sammy? You okay?”
“Unnh.” Sam squints at Dean. “Brain freeze.”
“Brain freeze.” Dean drops Sam’s arm. “Brain freeze. Thank fucking Christ.”
“Well, what’d you think… Oh.” Sam gives Dean an apologetic shrug. “Just like old times?”
“If we could skip the vision portion of the old times, I’d be okay with that. Here.” Dean hands Sam a muffin. “Eat that. And small sips, okay? It’s supposed to be the bacon cheeseburgers that give me a heart attack, remember?”
Sam blows out a long breath and nibbles on his muffin.
*
Dean eyes the sign for Pittsburgh and almost takes the exit. Sam notices.
“No.”
“No what?”
“No Primanti Brothers. I saw that episode with you. ‘Dude, look. They put the French fries right on the sandwich!’. No. Pie straight ahead.”
“Pie,” Dean says reverently.
“Go get it tiger.”
*
They hit traffic twenty miles from Baltimore. Dean’s so close to his pie he can practically taste it and crawling along with a thousand other grumpy travelers isn’t helping his mood. Sam tries to distract him.
“Hey, what flavor will you get?”
“None if all these freakin’ morons don’t get out of my way.” He leans on the horn and yells out the window to the line of cars ahead of him. “Hurry it up!” Calming slightly, he turns to Sam. “Apple. Or maybe apple crumb. Cherry. Blueberry. Lemon Merangue. Oooh, strawberry rhubarb.”
“All of those?” Sam shakes his head.
“Oh, at least. Don’t know when I’ll be back Baltimore way again, right?”
Sam can’t argue with that.
*
“Dangerously Delicious Pies?” Sam stares up at the sign and shakes his head. “Doesn’t sound at all like a place that I’ll require thirty stitches after eating at.”
“Dangerous is my middle name, Sammy.” Dean smirks at his brother and waggles his eyebrows. “Come on in and have some pie. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Dean’s like a kid in a candy store staring at the menu. Sam’s not unimpressed with it himself. While Dean ends up with apple, cherry and strawberry rhubarb slices, Sam gets himself a crab and cheddar quiche.
“Would you like cheddar with your apple pie?” the waitress asks. Dean just about pulls a muscle in his neck nodding.
“Oh, Sammy,” Dean groans through a mouthful of pie. “This was worth every mile, admit it.”
Sam can’t argue, his mouth’s too full and he’s not one to talk around food like his brother so he just nods and hums while the flaky crust melts in his mouth. The waitress appears at his side with a pot of coffee to refill his cup and he starts, making her jump back.
“Are you all right, sir?” she asks, eyeing him with concern.
Dean almost chokes on his pie as he tries not to spit it out while he’s laughing. “He’s fine, darlin’. Just the last time he was in a place like this someone threw him through a window.”
“Oh. Well, you didn’t think I…I wouldn’t…Actually, I don’t think I could…” She backs away, flustered.
“Still got your way with the ladies, Sam.”
“Bite me.”
“Uh, excuse me?” The waitress is back with an extra large mug in her hand. “I made you a cup of our special blend. To, you know, apologize for startling you.”
“Wow. Um, thank you.” Sam takes a sip and lets out a low moan. “That’s really good. Thanks really, um, Kelli.”
“You’re so welcome,” she says with an adorably dimpled smile. “Anything to help our patrons feel comfortable and at home.”
“Hey, Kelli?” Dean turns on his most charming grin. “Think I could get some of that special blend too?”
“Sorry,” she says without taking her eyes off Sam. “I just used the last of it.”
“I just used the last of it,”Dean parrots as she heads back to the counter. He takes advantage of Sam’s distracted laughter to swipe a heaping forkful of his pie. “Holy damn, what is that?”
“It’s quiche.”
“No, man, quiche is, like…I don’t know. But it’s not like this.”
“Some kinds are. I’m glad we’ve had this teachable moment.” Dean tries to steal another bite but Sam pulls his plate back and raises his fork threateningly. “Get your own.”
Dean’s tempted, he really is, but he’s not going to give Sam the satisfaction of ordering quiche. Instead, he sits there and digests his pie, watching Sam finish his dinner. Sam looks good. Sated with delicious pie (not quiche), extra special coffee served by a smokin’ waitress and with the real possibility of getting laid tonight. Unexpectedly, Dean feels a pain in his gut that could be indigestion because of the sheer amount of pie he’s eaten, but probably isn’t. God, he misses this time on the road with Sam. Sam catches his eye and smiles.
Dean calls Kelli over and starts to order one of every sweet pie on the menu. The bunker has exceptionally larger freezers. Sam’s speculated on some of the uses they might have been put to. Dean concentrates on keeping food in them. Anyway, Sam stops him short by asking Kelli to give them a minute.
“Are you pie blocking me?”
“That was really good coffee, Dean.”
“Okay. Now can I order my pie?”
“Know where else has good coffee?”
“Lots of places. Pie, Sam!”
“I was thinking Seattle.”
Dean’s about to throttle his brother when the words sink in. “Yeah?”
Sam shrugs as a corner of his mouth twists up. “Yeah. Why not? There’s no apocalypse pending, no bad guys are on the radar and we’re as un-fucked up as we’ve ever been. When would be better?”
“And you miss this.”
“What, pie?” Sam grins. “Now that I know how awesome it is, I guess I will.”
“Great. Now can I put my order in? We can drop it at the bunker on our way west.”
“Can we come back for it?”
“Back from Seattle?” Dean shakes his head. “Don’t you think that’s a little far?”
“No, man.” Sam shrugs and looks away. “I’ve never even been on the east coast except for a job. Can we head for D.C. for a few days? I really, really want to go to the Smithsonian.”
“A museum?” Dean wrinkles his nose and Sam grins.
“Giant dinosaur skeletons, Dean. Old war planes. Cool cars. Trust me, there’ll be plenty there you’ll love.”
“And then we’ll head west?”
“Sure, if you want. Anyplace along the way you’ve been itching to see?”
“Old Faithful,” Dean says without a moment’s hesitation.
“Awesome. As long as duty doesn’t call there’s no reason not to cross a few things off the bucket list, right?”
“Absolutely.” Dean can’t wipe the grin off his face as he corrals Kelli to order a slice of lemon meringue for the road. She looks crushed when Sam leaves with nothing but a slice of quiche but Dean’s feeling magnanimous enough to pat her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back through in a week or so.”
“My pies and I will be here,” she says and Dean gives her a thumbs up as he walks out the door.
*
Dean starts humming ‘On the Road Again’ as he steers the Impala out onto the highway. He and Sammy and Baby are on their way, heading wherever the asphalt might lead them. Just like old times.
Recipient:ammcj062
Rating: PG
Word Count/Media: 3775
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: So many good prompts here, thank you for giving me such bounty to choose from! I picked this one: Some quality time with the Winchesters, the Impala, pit stops, and the open road.
Summary: Dean needs pie. Sam needs a break. A road trip is the only answer.
Sam’s puttered around the bunker so much lately he’s taking on its grey concrete hue. Dean expects to come across his brother one day hunched in a chair, book in his bony grip, as dusty and desiccated as any long term resident of a mausoleum. Sam needs a break and as it happens, Dean’s jonesing for something only a road trip can provide. Sam’s coming with if Dean has to hog tie him and prop him in the passenger seat.
“Sammy,” he says the next morning; a good night’s sleep and some work in the kitchen vital to the success of his masterful subterfuge. “Come on, man, we’re getting out of here for a while.”
“You go,” Sam says without looking up from the text he’s studying. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Dude,” Dean says with gentle tact. “You look like something out of a thousand year old tomb. There’s mold growing in your hair. When was the last time you got some fresh air and sunshine?”
“Ahhhhh. I don’t know. Recently. I think.”
“Do you know what you’re writing?” Dean eyes Sam’s notepad as he sketches an upside down seagull and the approximation of an emoticon for ‘what the fuck does this even mean?’ Sam smacks at his finger as it traces a passage resembling the alphabet after it was tossed into a blender. “I mean, what does that say?”
“It says ‘my brother is an annoying jackass who won’t let me work’.”
“Really? I’m reading it as ‘my brother is awesome because he won’t let me turn into Gollum with fuzzy hair.’ Because, damn. Your hair has enough problems, don’t you think?”
Sam sighs and looks up at Dean. “I washed it this morning. Shut up.”
“Mold loves water, Sam.”
“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”
Dean pretends to think about this for a few seconds. “No.”
Sam marks his place with a strip of cloth and closes the book. “Okay.” He levers himself out of the chair, wincing.
“Stiff?”
“A little.”
“Shouldn’t sit so long. Bad for your heart.”
Sam snorts and shakes his head. “Think double bacon cheeseburgers might be worse.”
“At least I won’t die with fungus in my hair.”
“Whatever.” Sam heads down the hallway toward the garage. “Where are we going? You find a case?”
“I need pie. Ow!” Dean smacks dead into Sam’s back. “What’d you stop for?”
Sam turns to glare down at his brother. “You have pie. We bought, like, ten pies the last time we went shopping.”
“We bought two. And the last time we went shopping was three weeks ago.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“You’ve been shopping since then.”
“Not with my trusty pie buying sidekick.” Dean takes Sam’s arm, turns him back around, and steers him down the hall. “Come on. I’ll get pie and you can have someone pulverize revolting green stuff into a tasteless mess you can drink through a straw. Win/win, right?”
“Jerk,” Sam mutters and Dean grins behind his back.
*
“Fresh air and sunshine, huh?”
Dean shrugs as a gust of wind slaps cascading raindrops across the Impala’s windshield. “Air’s never fresher than on a windy, rainy day.”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty fresh from the purifiers back at the bunker.”
“Fake fresh air?” Dean shakes his head sadly. “I expected better from a smoothie loving guy like you.”
“I think there’s a funnel cloud forming over the barn across the street.”
“Don’t be melodramatic, Sam.”
“I was promised sunshine.” Sam turns to peer through the passenger side window. “You just passed the street to the diner. Uh, Dean? Why are we getting on the interstate?”
“Shortcut.”
“To where?”
Dean waits for a tractor trailer to roar by before easing the Impala onto the highway. “Sunshine, I hope.”
Sam eyes the gunmetal grey sky stretched out in front of them and casts a suspicious glance at his brother. “And where, exactly, are you planning on finding these alleged sunny skies?”
“Storm’s headed west. We’ll be out of it by the time we hit Indiana.”
“Indiana?” Sam slaps the dash so hard it echoes the crack of thunder outside. “There’s pie in Kansas. There’s pie in Missouri. And there’s pie in Illinois. Why are we driving so far to get pie?”
Dean gives Sam a sideways grin. “There’s amazing pie in all those places, Sammy. But we’re getting our pie in Baltimore.”
Sam bitchfaces Dean for a full thirty seconds before comprehension dawns and he drops his head onto his palm with a groan. “You’ve been watching the Food Network again, haven’t you?”
“No. Yes. Dude, pie.”
“Well said,” Sam says, shaking his head. “Remember what happened in Phoenix? And Long Beach?”
“I’m pretty sure the laws of probability state that not every place on a Food Network best of list has a malevolent spirit running around that’s going to toss you through a plate glass window.”
“Thirty stitches, Dean. And what about the ghouls, huh?”
“Or is run by ghouls who try to eat us. Come on, what do you say?” An ingratiating smirk doesn’t soften Sam’s stony glare. “Quick pie run to Baltimore?”
“Over a thousand miles is not a quick pie run.”
“Straight shot down I-70.”
“I didn’t…
“I packed for you. Your duffle’s in the trunk.”
“But…”
“Laptop too.”
“I better get my smoothie.”
Dean grins and guns the engine as the Impala shoots across the state line into Missouri.
*
Sam’s got nothing to say for the first two hours of the trip. They’re halfway across Missouri and the wind’s died down but an occasional bolt of lightning still cartwheels across the sky and the radio crackles with static.
Dean slips a mix tape into the cassette player and taps his hands against the steering wheel in time with the music. “Looks like it’s clearing up ahead,” he offers.
Sam cranes his neck to see past the slapping windshield wipers. “Way ahead.”
“Still. Hey, know where we’d be going if the storm had been heading east?”
Sam throws him a long suffering look and sighs. “There was a second option?””
Dean lets the fact that ‘best of’ lists usually have more than one item on them go because Sam doesn’t seem to be in the mood. “Seattle. The Pie Bar.”
Sam doesn’t look nearly as thrilled by this as Dean is.
“They have pie and it’s a bar.”
A ‘so what’ look and shug are Sam’s reply. Dean’s got one last bombshell.
“They’ve got pie-tinis.”
“You don’t drink martinis.”
Pie-tinis, Sam.”
Sam rolls his eyes and goes back to staring out the window.
*
Rays of light peek through the clouds as they pass into Indiana and Dean tries again. “Do you remember the apple pie moonshine we had that time, Sam?”
“Since I didn’t actually have any, I remember it pretty well.” Sam huffs an amused laugh. “I think the question is how well do you remember it.”
Sunbeams and a smile from Sam. Things are looking up.
*
By the time they’re halfway through Illinois there’s nothing but blue skies overhead and Dean desperately needs a pit stop. He swings onto an off ramp and steers his baby through back roads to a shaded picnic area. Hauling himself out of the driver’s seat with a groan, he stretches his back to work the knots out.
“Who’s stiff now,” Sam asks with a grin, snorting as Dean gives him the finger.
Dean holds up his phone as Sam exits the car and glances back at the road. “Want me to call you an Uber?”
Sam takes a deep breath and turns his face up into the warm sun. “No thanks. Think I’ll just hit the head and take it from there.”
Dean waits until Sam ducks through the door of the little wooden building holding the restrooms then hauls the green cooler out of the trunk. Choosing a picnic table far back from the parking lot, he pulls out sandwiches, tossing two on each side of the table, then puts a jar of bread and butter pickles in the center. He rounds out his table setting with a bottle of PBR by each pair of sandwiches.
“You packed a lunch?” Sam eyes the food for a moment then cuts his gaze back at his brother.
“Road trips need snacks, Sammy.” Dean gestures expansively at the food. “But if you’d prefer the more traditional road food…” A plastic bag lands in front of Sam on the table. Doritos and beef jerky spill out. “My turn to go. Eat up, man.”
By the time Dean’s back, Sam’s torn through one of the sandwiches and is picking pickles out of the jar with his fingertips. A pile of Doritos sits on the discarded plastic wrap of his first victim. Dean cautiously maneuvers his legs over the seat of the table and settles down opposite his brother.
“Mmmph, “ Sam says with his mouth full. He takes a heroic swallow and adds, “I love ham and cheese, man. Great sandwiches.”
Dean fishes a couple of pickles out and slaps them on his sandwich. “Gotta eat.”
“Yeah, well, usually our road trip food is microwaved at a mini mart.”
“We can stop later and radiate a burrito for you if you want.”
“No, man, I’m good.” Sam chomps off another monster bite of meat and cheese and swigs it down with the last of his beer. Dean grabs him another out of the cooler and lets his gaze wander around the picnic area.
The sun dapples the leaves on the surrounding trees and there’s a fresh light scent to the air that’s friggin awesome. One of those plants that really let their aromatic skills shine after it rains but Dean couldn’t begin to tell which one. Gurgling beyond the trees to the left means running water and a wood chip covered trail leads off that way.
Dean sighs and swallows down the last of his sandwich, pushing his wrappers toward Sam. “I cooked, you get to do the dishes.”
Sam balls up the trash and jump shoots it into a barrel by the next table over. Dean pops the empties in the cooler and stashes it in the trunk, then heads for the trail into the woods.
“Hey.” A few loping steps has Sam at his brother’s back. “Where are you going?”
“Not quite ready to get back in the car yet,” Dean throws over his shoulder. “Still got a few kinks to work out.”
The trail leads to a wide, gently flowing stream before turning left to run alongside it and Dean swings left right along with it. A rabbit scoots across their path about fifty yards in and Sam halts for a minute to watch a pair of screeching blue jays chase each other around the treetops. Ten minutes further Dean spots a calm pool and skips stones like a eight year old. When one bounces across the water ten times he turns to Sam with a grin, only to find his brother watching him with a worried frown.
“What?”
“Dean. Are you, like, dying or something?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Because, this!” Sam spreads his arms to encompass everything. “You get me out of the bunker under false pretenses, drag me off to Baltimore to get pie and now we’re in the woods skipping stones? Man, this is weird!”
“Sammy.” Dean grips his brother’s arm and stares into his eyes. “Do you really think my dying road trip would include packing my own lunch and a nature hike?”
“Well, then what the hell is this?”
Dean sighs and drags a hand across his lips as he settles onto a fallen log beside the trail. “There’s no impending apocalypse right now. There’s no big bad out there for us to worry about. In fact, there haven’t been many little bads showing their faces recently. And you and I… Both of us- are about as un-fucked up as we’ve ever been. No demon blood addictions. No Mark of Cain. Seemed as good a time as any to get out for a day or two.”
“You could have asked.”
“I did ask. You always had something else you had to translate or log or dig out of the stacks. You needed a break before you turned into the world’s tallest gnome.”
“And you miss this.”
Dean watches a neon blue dragonfly dart across the water. “What, nature hikes? I would now that I know how cool it is.” He grins at Sam. “Now let’s get back to Baby and hit the road. That pie’s not going to come to us.”
*
The road spins more easily under the Impala’s wheels with no case to head for. No death and destruction behind them, no horror in their future. Sam starts with the license plate game like when they were kids. Dean points out a giant statue of a cow on a far hillside. It seems like no time before they’re pulling into a one story motor inn outside Columbus. There’s a Biggerson’s down the block but by unspoken consensus they decide to give it a miss. The desk clerk directs them to an Indian place two streets over and they gorge themselves on curry and naan. Sam is quick to let Dean know that his lassi doesn’t count as his smoothie for the trip.
“Dude,” Sam says when they get back to the motel and Dean drops a few quarters from a baggie full of them into the Magic Fingers. “Seriously? I didn’t think these things even existed anymore.”
“Research, Sammy. Seek and ye shall find.” Dean settles back onto the jiggling bed and closes his eyes. Sam doesn’t move from inside the door and Dean tosses the keys his way without opening his eyes. “Laptop’s in the trunk. Go surf some porn or review books or whatever it is you do online.”
“Just like old times,” Sam says and Dean can hear the smile in his voice.
“Just like old times.”
Later, when the Magic Fingers have jittered themselves out and Sam’s snuffled breathing drifts from the next bed, Dean drops off for the best night of sleep he’s had in weeks.
*
Dean heads out early the next morning to a vegan joint called Aladdin’s to score a smoothie for Sam. He decides on the mixed fresh fruit drink because any weirdo who wants vegetables in their shake can order it for themselves. He also picks up a half dozen blueberry muffins because it’s still almost eight hours to his pie and he doesn’t want to pass out from hunger before he gets there. A dozen breakfast joints are within a mile of the hotel but this morning he doesn’t want to spend the time. Get in the car and drive is his theme for today.
Sam’s waiting by the door when he gets back to the motel and slides into the passenger seat before the Impala’s even stopped moving. If the noises he’s making as he slurps his drink are any indication, Dean chose well. Until Sam chokes with pain and drops his head down with his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose, sending Dean into a total freakout flashback.
“Sam?” Dean grips his brother’s arm while trying to keep one eye on the road. “Sammy? You okay?”
“Unnh.” Sam squints at Dean. “Brain freeze.”
“Brain freeze.” Dean drops Sam’s arm. “Brain freeze. Thank fucking Christ.”
“Well, what’d you think… Oh.” Sam gives Dean an apologetic shrug. “Just like old times?”
“If we could skip the vision portion of the old times, I’d be okay with that. Here.” Dean hands Sam a muffin. “Eat that. And small sips, okay? It’s supposed to be the bacon cheeseburgers that give me a heart attack, remember?”
Sam blows out a long breath and nibbles on his muffin.
*
Dean eyes the sign for Pittsburgh and almost takes the exit. Sam notices.
“No.”
“No what?”
“No Primanti Brothers. I saw that episode with you. ‘Dude, look. They put the French fries right on the sandwich!’. No. Pie straight ahead.”
“Pie,” Dean says reverently.
“Go get it tiger.”
*
They hit traffic twenty miles from Baltimore. Dean’s so close to his pie he can practically taste it and crawling along with a thousand other grumpy travelers isn’t helping his mood. Sam tries to distract him.
“Hey, what flavor will you get?”
“None if all these freakin’ morons don’t get out of my way.” He leans on the horn and yells out the window to the line of cars ahead of him. “Hurry it up!” Calming slightly, he turns to Sam. “Apple. Or maybe apple crumb. Cherry. Blueberry. Lemon Merangue. Oooh, strawberry rhubarb.”
“All of those?” Sam shakes his head.
“Oh, at least. Don’t know when I’ll be back Baltimore way again, right?”
Sam can’t argue with that.
*
“Dangerously Delicious Pies?” Sam stares up at the sign and shakes his head. “Doesn’t sound at all like a place that I’ll require thirty stitches after eating at.”
“Dangerous is my middle name, Sammy.” Dean smirks at his brother and waggles his eyebrows. “Come on in and have some pie. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Dean’s like a kid in a candy store staring at the menu. Sam’s not unimpressed with it himself. While Dean ends up with apple, cherry and strawberry rhubarb slices, Sam gets himself a crab and cheddar quiche.
“Would you like cheddar with your apple pie?” the waitress asks. Dean just about pulls a muscle in his neck nodding.
“Oh, Sammy,” Dean groans through a mouthful of pie. “This was worth every mile, admit it.”
Sam can’t argue, his mouth’s too full and he’s not one to talk around food like his brother so he just nods and hums while the flaky crust melts in his mouth. The waitress appears at his side with a pot of coffee to refill his cup and he starts, making her jump back.
“Are you all right, sir?” she asks, eyeing him with concern.
Dean almost chokes on his pie as he tries not to spit it out while he’s laughing. “He’s fine, darlin’. Just the last time he was in a place like this someone threw him through a window.”
“Oh. Well, you didn’t think I…I wouldn’t…Actually, I don’t think I could…” She backs away, flustered.
“Still got your way with the ladies, Sam.”
“Bite me.”
“Uh, excuse me?” The waitress is back with an extra large mug in her hand. “I made you a cup of our special blend. To, you know, apologize for startling you.”
“Wow. Um, thank you.” Sam takes a sip and lets out a low moan. “That’s really good. Thanks really, um, Kelli.”
“You’re so welcome,” she says with an adorably dimpled smile. “Anything to help our patrons feel comfortable and at home.”
“Hey, Kelli?” Dean turns on his most charming grin. “Think I could get some of that special blend too?”
“Sorry,” she says without taking her eyes off Sam. “I just used the last of it.”
“I just used the last of it,”Dean parrots as she heads back to the counter. He takes advantage of Sam’s distracted laughter to swipe a heaping forkful of his pie. “Holy damn, what is that?”
“It’s quiche.”
“No, man, quiche is, like…I don’t know. But it’s not like this.”
“Some kinds are. I’m glad we’ve had this teachable moment.” Dean tries to steal another bite but Sam pulls his plate back and raises his fork threateningly. “Get your own.”
Dean’s tempted, he really is, but he’s not going to give Sam the satisfaction of ordering quiche. Instead, he sits there and digests his pie, watching Sam finish his dinner. Sam looks good. Sated with delicious pie (not quiche), extra special coffee served by a smokin’ waitress and with the real possibility of getting laid tonight. Unexpectedly, Dean feels a pain in his gut that could be indigestion because of the sheer amount of pie he’s eaten, but probably isn’t. God, he misses this time on the road with Sam. Sam catches his eye and smiles.
Dean calls Kelli over and starts to order one of every sweet pie on the menu. The bunker has exceptionally larger freezers. Sam’s speculated on some of the uses they might have been put to. Dean concentrates on keeping food in them. Anyway, Sam stops him short by asking Kelli to give them a minute.
“Are you pie blocking me?”
“That was really good coffee, Dean.”
“Okay. Now can I order my pie?”
“Know where else has good coffee?”
“Lots of places. Pie, Sam!”
“I was thinking Seattle.”
Dean’s about to throttle his brother when the words sink in. “Yeah?”
Sam shrugs as a corner of his mouth twists up. “Yeah. Why not? There’s no apocalypse pending, no bad guys are on the radar and we’re as un-fucked up as we’ve ever been. When would be better?”
“And you miss this.”
“What, pie?” Sam grins. “Now that I know how awesome it is, I guess I will.”
“Great. Now can I put my order in? We can drop it at the bunker on our way west.”
“Can we come back for it?”
“Back from Seattle?” Dean shakes his head. “Don’t you think that’s a little far?”
“No, man.” Sam shrugs and looks away. “I’ve never even been on the east coast except for a job. Can we head for D.C. for a few days? I really, really want to go to the Smithsonian.”
“A museum?” Dean wrinkles his nose and Sam grins.
“Giant dinosaur skeletons, Dean. Old war planes. Cool cars. Trust me, there’ll be plenty there you’ll love.”
“And then we’ll head west?”
“Sure, if you want. Anyplace along the way you’ve been itching to see?”
“Old Faithful,” Dean says without a moment’s hesitation.
“Awesome. As long as duty doesn’t call there’s no reason not to cross a few things off the bucket list, right?”
“Absolutely.” Dean can’t wipe the grin off his face as he corrals Kelli to order a slice of lemon meringue for the road. She looks crushed when Sam leaves with nothing but a slice of quiche but Dean’s feeling magnanimous enough to pat her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back through in a week or so.”
“My pies and I will be here,” she says and Dean gives her a thumbs up as he walks out the door.
*
Dean starts humming ‘On the Road Again’ as he steers the Impala out onto the highway. He and Sammy and Baby are on their way, heading wherever the asphalt might lead them. Just like old times.