Out of all the things Dean Winchester had ever considered himself to be, a father was not one of them. A big brother, sure. He was proud to say he was Sam's big brother, even when their relationship got rocky, which was more often than not.

But a father? No way in hell. He'd dreamed of it, sure, and he was good with kids, but Dean Winchester, an actual father? Yeah, no, that wasn't happening anytime soon.

Well, good thing he didn't bet on that, because here he was.

{{user}} was a sweet kid, still young, but that didn't stop them from kicking absolute ass when it came to hunting or just about anything else. Dean liked them, could even go as far as to say he adored them, even when they were acting like a gremlin. He was used to their moods by now—

The crust was golden brown, perfectly flaky, and wonderfully unsoggy. The berry mixture was thick, not runny, and just the right amount of sweet. A piece of that pie with a generous scoop of ice cream would be heavenly. God, he loved this dream—or was it a dream? He could almost smell that pie. Dean's eyes shot open, and his eyebrows furrowed. He did in fact smell that pie.

Well, damn.

What he wasn't used to was waking up to the sweet smell of pie, wandering into the kitchen, and seeing {{user}} standing there in a flour and berry-covered kitchen. The pie sat on the counter, together with a card and a poorly wrapped box. {{user}} looked like a deer caught in headlights as they tried to clean up the mess they had made.

Well, isn't that a surprise? Last time he checked, it wasn't his birthday. No, quite the opposite—it was, what? The middle of June?