Writing prompt for Chuck! Pie night at Village Inn. (if you wanna make this a crossover with SPN solely for Pie™ Reasons, please go for it)
(So. I can’t remember there being a place called the Village Inn on Chuck. Buy More...Orange Orange...Largemart...Weinerlicious...Echo Park... But I’m always down for pie fic!)
It’s an out-of-the-way little shop on the Santa Monica pier, and the happy little sign swinging from over the door reads “Fresh Pie!”
Sarah Walker-Bartowski grins to herself and steps in, pulling the large, dark sunglasses off and scanning the dining room. A family of four by the windows are enjoying a pumpkin pie. A couple in the corner are sharing a slice of pecan pie.
But in the back, near the bathrooms, a man sits on his own, a slice of cherry pie in front of him with a scoop of vanilla ice cream nestled in next to it.
She catches his eye and gives her a wry grin, and a nods, signally for her to come sit with him, and when she does, he leans back in his chair and gives a wide, polite smile to the waitress passing by.
“Hi. S’cuse me. Can we have a slice of apple for my friend, here?”
The waitress - college-aged and sweet-looking - nods with a slight flush and hurries off.
“How old are you now?” Sarah teases. “Stop flirting with girls young enough to be your daughter.”
“Okay, first of all,” Dean Winchester snaps. “I wasn’t flirting, I was bein’ polite. And second of all...don’t remind me.”
She shakes her head. “So? What brings you to California?”
Dean shrugs. “Just passin’ through. I don’t get to see the ocean much. Thought it’d be nice.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
“What’s going on with you?”
“I’m quitting,” he tells her.
“Quitting...drinking? That’d be nice...”
“Hunting,” he corrects her. “I’m out, Sare.”
Sarah blinks, surprised. “Serious?”
“Yep.”
“What does Sam say?”
“Sam doesn’t know yet.”
“So...why are you telling the daughter of a dead man you used to know?”
“Cuz Sarah Singer would wanna know,” Dean shrugs. “Even if Sarah Walker wouldn’t be too interested.”
Silence falls over the table.
“He was like a father to me, too, y’know,” Dean reminds her. “Raised me an’ Sam a helluva lot more and better than John Winchester.”
“I know,” Sarah says softly. “Sorry.”
“Me, too. I miss him. Even with the uh...apocalypse world version of the guy runnin’ around...it’s not the same.”
Sarah nods. “There’s a reason I don’t visit.”
“Other than the two kids, the husband and the super secret spy job?” Dean teases.
“Eat your pie.”
Dean chuckles and does what he’s told, shoveling a large forkful into his mouth eagerly.
“So what’re you gonna do now?” Sarah asks, smiling up at the waitress politely as she settles a slice of apple pie in front of her.
“I dunno. Guess it depends on Cas. We could do whatever.”
“Well, if you ever wanna come visit, Burbank isn’t exactly paradise, but it is nice.”
Dean grins. “We’ll put it on the list.”
