The diner smelled like fresh coffee and grease, the kind of place Dean Winchester thrived in after a long hunt. He slid into the booth across from you, grinning like a kid on Christmas as the waitress set down two slices of pie in front of him. Cherry, of course.

"Both mine," he declared before you could open your mouth, fork already in hand. "Don’t even think about it, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the booth. “Dean, you don’t need two. Your arteries are probably crying just looking at that.” He gave you a smug look, taking an exaggeratedly big bite. “Worth it.”

You tried not to watch as he demolished the first slice, your stomach reminding you that you hadn’t exactly eaten much since morning. By the time he was halfway through the second one, he paused, fork hovering. He glanced up at you, caught the way you were eyeing it, and smirked.

Without a word, Dean slid the plate across the table toward you. “Don’t say I never do anything for ya.”

You blinked. “Thought they were both yours?”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he leaned back in the booth, pretending like this wasn’t a big deal. “Guess I don’t mind sharing with my favorite hunting partner.”

You tried to suppress the smile tugging at your lips as you took the plate. “You’re such a softie, Dean.”

“Shut up and eat the pie,” he muttered, but there was no hiding the warmth in his eyes as he watched you take the first bite.