gummiwolf | Apple Pie Life

Title: Apple Pie Life
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Kat
Rating: Mature
Chars/Pairs: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Genre: One-Sided Relationship, Dreams, Angst, Domestic Fantasy
Warnings: One-Sided Incestuous Fantasy
Word Count: 522
Summary: Dean dreams his own version of the apple pie life.
A/N: Part of the Pi(e) Month Series, celebrating Pi(e) Month (March 2014). Thanks for pinking, Kira!
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do not make any money from this fanfic whatsoever.

Dean walked in through the back door of the house into the kitchen. He wiped the grease off his hands with a rag. It was about time for a dinner break. There was Sam, standing in front of the kitchen counter chopping vegetables for a salad. The light from the window gave him an angelic glow. He looked a little ridiculous in that flowered apron they’d found at the Goodwill. Dean couldn’t help but smile. His Sam was making dinner and there was a pie on the table. “Hey, is that apple?”

Sam turned to face him and smiled. “Dinner’s almost done.” He gave Dean a quick hello kiss and saw his brother had his dirty boots on. “Dean, take off your boots when you come in!” He playfully swatted him with the kitchen towel he had slung over his shoulder.

“You didn’t answer my question, Sammy.” Dean backed him up to the table, grin plastered across his face.

“You’ll find out after dinner, after you eat your vegetables.” Sam smirked back at Dean.

“Oh, come on, Sammy.” He brushed the hair out of his brother’s face.

Sam leaned in for a kiss. Dean deepened it and wrapped his arms around Sam. He slid his hands down his back, pausing to lightly knead his ass, before gripping the back of Sam’s thighs and lifting him up on the table. Sam clawed at Dean’s back, demanding more. Someone punched Dean’s arm, hard.

He woke up in the passenger seat of the impala. His arm hurt. He looked over at Sam who was dividing his attention between Dean and the road.

“What the fuck?” Dean squirmed in his seat, trying to get comfortable again. He liked that dream.

“Please tell me you were not dreaming about fucking a pie?”

“What? Why? I was… no.”

“You kept mumbling about apple pie and making sex noises. It was creepy.” Sam looked genuinely perturbed.

“Damn it, Sam. Wake me when we get some place we can eat.” Dean wrapped his coat more tightly around himself and tried to will himself back to sleep. He wasn’t sure what to do with his dreams. They started not long after Sam had left for Stanford and got more elaborate as the years dragged on. He’d always explained them away as just part of missing Sam and missing being a family and his brain had just twisted the translation in his sleep. But Sammy was back now. The dreams hadn’t stopped. The Sam of his waking world was not the playful domestic Sam of his dreams. The real Sam was sullen and thoughtful. He was also pretty sure that the real Sam wasn’t interested in playing house with his big brother. Sometimes he was tempted to test the waters, put his hand on Sam’s thigh, sit too close at the hotel, just to see what would happen. He knew he was too much of a chicken shit to really try though, no matter how he reframed it for himself. That left him with his wrong, stupid dreams. But he loved his stupid dreams. He’d take them and pretend they were enough.