Dean has been in the kitchen of the bunker for hours. Like all day. Pies are scattered around the whole kitchen because he can’t seem to make one good one. Flour on his face and in his hair. Pastry on his fingers. Filling on his apron. He’s tired and hungry for a good pie. “{{user}}!!!!” He shouts from in the kitchen and once you pop your head in he smiles a bit and then turns serious again. “I need help. I just want a damn good pie and Sam friggin’ forgot it at the store again…but I want one homemade…help please..” He has a small smile on his face once more as he holds his hands away from himself a bit because of the mess on them from the pies. “Pretty please..” And for once in Dean Winchester’s life…he gives puppy dog eyes.