The Playgirl Parker #Wattys2016

C H A P T E R O N E

"Sam!" A very familiar voice made Sam turn, with widened eyes and an exasperated frown, to face Dean. "Look!" Dean held up a pie, all wrapped and covered, with a 20%-discount sticker pasted on the front. "Pie!"

"That's awesome, Dean." Sam said in a feelingless tone. The trolley he was pushing around, with the blue sticker of the Store-Mart, was half filled with canned items, quarter with twelve-packs of beer, and overflowing with pies.

Dean swiftly put in two more of the pies he'd just shown Sam into the trolley. Sam looked at Dean. "Dean." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, come on!" Dean replied, with a grin that lit up his face. "Just two more!" He broadened the grin, and his eyebrows danced. "We're getting it at a discount too!"

"There's ten more in the cart, Dean." Sam replied nonchalantly as he picked the pies in question and put them back on the rack.

"I don't need your permission!" Dean scowled deeply, putting them again, into the trolley. "If I wanna buy pies, I will."

Sam exhaled audibly. "Dean-"

"It's money I earned, Sam!" Dean cocked his neck and gave Sam an authoritative look.

"Playing poker." Sam rejoined.

Dean ignored that. "It's money I earned, and I'm gonna spend it as I like it!"

"But, Dean," Sam sighed. He often forgot who the older one was, in situations like these. "We need more items of necessity! You're not gonna live off of pies!"

"Don't be too sure about that." Sam and Dean exchanged a long look. After a few moments, Dean pulled away defiantly and pushed the trolley towards the cash counter, where there was a line in waiting.

"Fine." Sam walked up to Dean, and with a sigh, added in a slightly sarcastic tone, "We'll survive on pies, if that's what you want."

"Because I'm older, and thus, always correct." Dean added.

"Because you're older, and thus, always correct." Sam repeated. Most of their arguments either finished like this, or with them calling each other 'bitch' and 'jerk' respectively. But Sam was not really in the mood to get into a fight right now. You wouldn't wanna not be able to talk to the only person you're driving with, would you?

Dean smiled a satisfied smile, and moved further along the line, now two places away from the counter. He looked into a mirror sideways, and winked at himself, because that's what you do when you see a handsome son of a bitch, he'd probably justify.

Sam suddenly nudged Dean, and eye-pointed the boy in front of them.

He held in his hand, a black remote control with long antennae, and a small car, which probably was controlled by the remote. He wore a large grin on his face and was fiddling with the remote.

"What?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Don't you remember?" Sam looked, annoyed, at Dean.

"Uh," Dean pretended to remember, with widened eyes, then his face returned to a sour look. "Not in the least."

Sam shook his head. "Oh, Dean..."

*

John Winchester stood up from Dean's side, on the bed, with a single sentence. "I want this done by the morning, 'Kay?"