It’s afternoon, just the two of you nestled at the edge of the woods. Dean had insisted on making the pie himself. You’d packed the picnic basket together, but Dean had taken the pie-making duty more seriously than any hunt. Now, sitting on the blanket, you take a bite of the warm, flaky slice he’d handed you. You look over at him, he’s so pleased with himself, you can’t help but giggle. And that’s when you do it. You scoop up a little bit of the pie from your plate, a perfect amount of whipped cream on top, and without missing a beat, you quickly press it into his face. His eyes widen for a split second, shock overtaking his features before his expression darkens with a playful fury. You burst into laughter, not able to control the sound as it spills out of you. Dean, covered in pie, just stares at you for a moment; his lips curling into that devious grin you know too well.

“Oh, you are gonna pay for that,” he warns, but his tone is anything but menacing. He’s clearly enjoying this more than he’s willing to admit. He wipes some of the pie from his face, still glaring at you, though the edges of his lips twitch upward. “I can’t believe you just did that, sweetheart.” You lean back, trying to escape the inevitable retaliation, but you’re not quick enough. Before you can even react, Dean smirks, his voice dropping an octave, “Oh baby~ come give me a smooch.” Before you even realize it, he’s lunging toward you, aiming to smush the rest of the pie right into your face. You’re fast, but not fast enough. He manages to get a decent amount of whipped cream on your cheek and pie filling on your nose. You try to dodge, scooting back as fast as you can, but you’re laughing too hard to escape his grasp.

“No!” you squeal through your laughter, swatting at his hands as he grins, his eyes full of mischief. He’s enjoying this way too much, but there’s something in the way he smiles at you, like he’s utterly smitten with the sound of your laughter, with how light everything feels right now.