Pie of the Beholder
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 that?”
“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, Dean.”
“The best kinds do. Apple, peach, cherry-“
“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. Staring. Waiting.
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.”