Dean knew he should’ve ordered that second cup of coffee before they left the diner, but he was determined to reach the bunker tonight, and the longer they’d sat in the booth, the more tempting the adjacent motel’s neon vacancy sign had started to look. Ignoring Sam’s suggestion that they check in for the night, Dean had signaled for the check. He’d filled his quota of burned motel coffee for a few dozen lifetimes.
He’d thought he was fine to drive–he’d gotten six hours last night after Cas insisted on rubbing his back–but with each mile, the monotony of the flat highway crept into his brain like fog, that out-of-body sensation that comes only with bone-deep exhaustion. He operated the car by muscle memory, spacing out between mile markers, and rubbed his eyes. If he could get them to water, that might revive him, but they were dry as charred bone. Normally he’d turn on the radio, but Cas was dozing in the back seat and Dean knew better than to wake him, since a sleep-deprived Castiel was only endearing in twenty-minute sprints.
Sam, though — Sam didn’t get off so easily. His head lolled against the passenger’s side window and his eyes were closed, but he repeatedly swept his tongue across his teeth in a manner that told Dean he was still awake.
“What is it?” Sam yawned and belatedly covered his mouth. He pulled himself upright. “You want me to drive?”
“Just talk to me. Everything’s starting to look the same.”
Sam looked thoughtful for a moment and said, seriously, “Actually, something’s been bothering me since we left the diner.”
A/N: This random little ficlet is dedicated to @magnificent-winged-beast and based on a conversation we had last night, discussing that Cas would probably love cheesecake way more than pie. :D Then all I could imagine is the delightful bickering and I couldn’t help myself. Surprise!
“What the hell,” Dean asks tersely, “is
“It’s cheesecake,” Castiel says. He’s leaning
over, staring intently into the fridge with a hand propped on top of the
door, probably letting all of the cold air out. After a moment, he reaches inside and slides over a container of
strawberries and a tub of sour cream, making room on a shelf before grabbing the cheesecake tin and placing it inside.
Sam, sitting at the table with a bowl
of cereal, freezes with the spoon halfway to his mouth.
Dean scoffs.“Uh, yeah, I can see that, Cas. Let me
rephrase: where’s the pie?”
“That is pie, Dean.” Castiel shuts the fridge and turns back to the counter, starting to pull groceries from the other bags. He places a bag of apples on the counter.
“Dude, cheesecake is not pie.”
“It most certainly is pie.”
“It’s cake, Cas. The word ‘cake’ is right in the name!”
A droplet of milk plinks from Sam’s hovering
spoon, startling him, and he slowly lowers it back into his bowl. There’s a weird sense of déjà vu and mild dread crawling over him. He
hates being in the middle of their stupid domestic squabbles, and he knows better than
to get involved in a pie debate with Dean.
Been there, done that, nearly
smothered Dean in his sleep with a pillow.
Sam eyes an escape route towards the
doorway and curses himself for being so tall and noticeable.
“Well, the name is misleading then,”
Castiel says curtly. “Cheesecake has all the characteristics of pie. It’s
traditionally made with fruit, just like pie. It’s usually cut into triangular
slices, just like pie. It has a crust, just like –“
“Cheesecake has a crust on the bottom, Cas,” Dean cuts in, pointing an
accusing finger for emphasis. “Pie has a crust on the top, too.
That’s why pie is the best, it’s basically a dessert sandwich, and anyone who doesn’t think that’s awesome is lying to themselves.”
A…dessert sandwich? Sam’s never
thought about it like that. That’s…actually not a bad point in pie’s favor. Huh.
“Not all pie has crust on the top,
“The best kinds do. Apple, peach,
“What about lemon meringue?” Castiel
interrupts. “Key lime? Pumpkin? Pecan?”
Who knew Cas knew so much about the
different kinds of pie? Apparently someone’s been binge-watching too many baking
competition shows on Netflix, and Sam’s pretty sure that someone is Castiel.
“…damn, you got me with the pecan, I
love pecan,” Dean mutters. “Okay, pecan gets a pass, but my argument still
stands. Say what you want about it, but cheesecake is not pie.”
Castiel narrows his eyes at him across the counter. “You’re being willfully stubborn, Dean.”
“You’re damn right I’m being willfully
stubborn! After twenty-nine years – “
Thirty-eight years, Sam corrects
silently to himself.
“- you think I don’t know my pies? I am
a pie expert. I am a pie connoisseur. I am a pie sommelier!”
That’s…not quite right, but Sam’s a little impressed anyways. Apparently someone’s been binge-watching too many of those independent, foreign
romance films on Netflix, and Sam’s pretty sure that someone is Dean.
Castiel turns towards Sam suddenly, gesturing
at Dean with a sharp wave. “Sam, what is your opinion? Is cheesecake a pie
or a cake?”
Oh, hell. He should’ve made a run for the
door when he had the chance.
Now they’re both looking at him.
Dean is smirking just a little, smug, like he has no doubts that Sam will take his side – and normally Sam would, just because he doesn’t want a lecture
on every individual merit of pie for the next three weeks, but Castiel is looking
at him too, eyes expectant and hopeful…
He clears his throat.
“…I mean, it’s really
kind of both, isn’t it? Basically like a pie and cake hybrid.”
“Great,” Dean huffs, throwing up his
hands. “So cheesecake is the unnatural Werepire – no, the Nephilim - of the dessert world, and
I’ve got one sitting in my fridge. Perfect.”
Dean slides off his stool and
tromps out of the kitchen, muttering under his breath about ‘dessert heathens’ and ‘shit just ain’t right’ as he goes. Sam shoots Castiel a perplexed look, shrugging, and then Dean’s voice carries back to them from down the hall.
“There better be
room in that fridge for real pie when
I get back from the store, Cas!”
Castiel just rolls his eyes and balls the empty plastic bags
together, placing them out of sight into a kitchen drawer. He tugs open the fridge, pulls out the cheesecake, and sets the tin back on the counter before starting to dig through the silverware drawer. Looking up at Sam, he pulls out two
forks and holds one up, offering it.
“Well, Sam, you heard Dean. We better make room for his pie.”
I’m trying to read some 90s Wonder Woman comics but the art is so overly sexy in the most “90s comics” possible way that it’s painful. Every woman has individual thighs which are as big as her waist and is running around in a thong during an athletic competition
The debate on who's perfect ass is in Geno's videos culminates when someone spots Sidney wearing a pair of yellow crocs. They happened to run into him at a sporting goods store and didn't even realize until they looked at the picture they had gotten with him that he was wearing the yellow crocs
vlogging the Sidney reveal and the title isn’t even clickbaity like “MY BOYFRIEND AND I IN BED” it’s like just titled “Food Shopping” and the first scene is Sidney in bed, looking very sleep-rumpled and adorable.
“Baby, wake up,” Geno’s voice says. “Wake up, wake up, wake up–”
“Have to work out butt,” Geno says, one hand reaching out to pat Sidney’s ass.
“Today is cheat day,” Sidney mutters, burrowing deeper into his pillow. “You’re gonna feed me an entire cheesecake in bed.”
“Pass. I’m leaving,” Geno says. Sidney pouts, and Geno leans back in for a kiss. “Just kidding.I’m just going to grocery store for cheesecake.”
anyways the comment section EXPLODES, some mourning that Geno is truly not single, some excited that YES they were always right about Sidney being the youtuber boyfriend, and the other shocked that serious-about-working-out Sidney wants to eat cheesecake all day in bed.