Title: An Honorable Tradition
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: G
Length: 577
Content Notes: fluff

Summary: Castiel figures out the real reason Dean likes pie so much.


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"Why pie?"

Dean glanced up from his plate, mouth full of cherry filling and flaky crust. A fork twirled between his fingers. "Because it's delicious."

Castiel stared at Dean from across the kitchen table, shoulders back and hands folded neatly in his lap. Water dripped in the sink, a steady plink-plink-plink, and down the hall Sam shouted at the television as he watched the highlights reel from last night's game. "Many things are."

"Yeah, but pie is…" Dean shrugged. "It's just…" He glanced up at Castiel. Castiel sat still, big blue eyes staring at him curiously. Dean pursed his lips, shifting uncomfortably under Castiel's intense scrutiny. "It just is, Cas. Jeez."

Castiel looked down at the slice of pie in front of him, still untouched.

Dean's fork cut through his dessert. Thick filling oozed across the plate. "Slide it on down here if you're not going to eat it."

"You haven't finished yours yet," Castiel pointed out.

"Don't worry," Dean said, shoving the forkful into his mouth and chewing heartily. "I'll make room."

Castiel picked up his silverware, gingerly poking the pie crust. Dean watched him, a bemused smirk pulling at his mouth. "It smells good," he said after a moment.

"You bet it does," Dean said, scraping the escaped filling onto his fork. It dripped and Dean darted forward to catch it on his tongue before it could stain the tabletop. "This is my mom's recipe."

"You're mother enjoyed making pie?" Castiel asked, carefully cutting a piece off his pie slice and spearing it with his fork.

"She liked to bake. Family tradition. She learned from her mom and her mom learned from her mom and so on." Dean stared down at his plate, surprised to find it already empty.

"And your mother taught you?" Castiel asked.

"Started to," Dean said, smiling a little at the memory. "Not sure four-year-olds make the best students. I was always more interested in the final product than the steps it took to get there."

Castiel lifted the pie to his mouth. Dean watched as he ate.

"She taught you well," Castiel said after a long moment of chewing. "It's very good, Dean."

Dean beamed at that, unable to quash the thrill of pride he felt at Castiel's words. "Well. Mom did it better. Wish you could have tasted hers. This-" He waved a hand towards the counter where the rest of the pie sat, lattice-top crust golden brown and filling a deep red. "This is just imitation. But it's fun, you know?" He looked up at Castiel, found those intense blue eyes on him again. "Reminds me of her, so…" He shrugged and dropped his gaze, fingers playing with his fork.

Castiel nodded, expression thoughtful. "I understand," he said.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"It's not so much the pie you enjoy as it is honoring your mother's memory."

"Well, yeah," Dean said slowly. "I guess. But I also enjoy the pie."

"It's very sweet," Castiel said. He offered Dean one of his blink-and-you'll-miss-it smiles.

Dean rolled his eyes, not quite liking the sappy turn of their conversation. "It's just pie, Cas."

"If you say so," Castiel said.

"Whatever," Dean said. "I'm getting another slice before Sasquatch comes in and steals the rest. Eat quick if you plan on having more."

"Alright," Castiel said, attention focusing laser-sharp on his pie. Shaking his head, Dean pushed away from the table and carried his empty plate back to the counter.

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End.