Supernatural Imagines.

3°° A Sweet Dare

“You can’t be serious Y/N!” Dean hollered at you.

“Dean… so what? You’re totally overreacting!” you rolled your eyes in annoyance. The older Winchester had a tendency to be overprotective when it came to things he loved dearly but enough was enough.

He put his hand on his hip like an offended middle aged women with hot rollers in her hair. His eyebrows shot up as he opened his mouth to continue on with his rant.

“Umm, I personally don’t think I’m overreacting at all. In fact Y/N, my entire view on you just changed. I don’t get how you could ever say something like that?! Seriously, I’ve never met someone who thinks the way you do. I currently doubt whether or not you’re even friggin human!”

“DEAN! Just calm the fuck down! It’s just my opinion. You can have your own. Can’t we simply agree to disagree? This is getting ridiculous…” with open arms you took a step towards him but all he did was putting his index finger up, signaling that he was nowhere near done.

“You. said. that. pie. tastes. gross,” Dean punctuated every word as if doing that would make you understand why he was reacting the way he did. Of course, you knew how much he loved pie but you simply didn’t. Why was he making such a big deal out of it?

“Urgh Dean… I just can’t stand the texture of it. I hate baked fruits. They are all mushy and weird. You can eat pie all you want but leave me out of it for God’s sake,” you said as you turned to leave the kitchen where a pie was placed on the counter next to your boyfriend.

You felt a hand on your arm, stopping you from leaving. You rolled your eyes and let out a grunt as Dean turned you around to face him. “Y/N, I do not take that as an answer. There is no one past or present who doesn’t like pie!”

“DEAN! STOP IT!!! I never liked pie and I never will, got it?”

“Sweetheart, you just haven’t had the right pie yet. I bet if I bake you one you’ll like it,” a proud smile appeared on his face. He seemed so sure of himself and you couldn’t wait for him to lose this bet.

“Okay, fine. You have one week to convince me that pie tastes good. If you don’t succeed you have to do the laundry for a month.”

“Pfft, a week? Babe it won’t take me that long I promise you.”

And so the game began.

On day one Dean baked you a cherry pie. He spent the whole afternoon baking it to get it perfect. When he put the plate in front of you, he sat next to you full of anticipation. You took the fork and opened your mouth to taste the pie. The second you started chewing you made a gagging motion and forced yourself to swallow it instead of spitting it in the trash. Dean’s face fell immediately.

“Oh come on, Y/N! I spent all afternoon on this. Give me the fork. Let me taste it.” He closed his eyes and moaned in bliss as he swallowed the piece of pie. “I don’t know what your problem is. This tastes delicious!”

“Dean I told you. I don’t even like jam because of its texture. It makes me want to throw up, I can’t help it.” You stood up and filled a glass with water to rinse your mouth. The green eyed Winchester’s body stood closely behind you, his chest touching your back.

With a stern voice he spoke, “Just so you know, I’m not giving up that easily.”

The next day it was pecan pie. The day after that apple pie. Then it was blueberry. The vicious circle continued itself day after day. Dean would bake you a pie and you would almost throw up while having to taste it. The thought of not doing laundry for a whole month was what kept you going while enduring this torture.

The last day of Dean’s week arrived and you woke up with a smile plastered on your face. To your surprise the side of the bed where he slept was empty.

Strolling through the hallways of the bunker, you smelled something. The smell which you inhaled deeply made you hum in contentment. You followed the trail it had left and you eventually reached the kitchen where Dean was standing in his flannel pajama pants and white t-shirt.

“What are you doing Dean?”

He turned around with a huge shit eating grin. “I’m gonna win this bet sweetheart,” he said and opened the oven to take out the seventh pie of the week.

You laughed internally. There was no way he could present you any sort of pie you could possibly like. “I’m ready Dean.”

Sitting down at the table you waited patiently for him to give you the plate.

Eventually the sound of the platter being placed on the table made you sit up.

You didn’t have to look at Dean’s face to know that he was still grinning like an idiot. “It’s chocolate pie, honey. I know how much you love chocolate. Have fun with the laundry!”

Your mouth watered at the sight of that piece of heaven. “You little shit,” was all you mumbled before you gave in and ate almost half of the pie in one sitting.

You could do laundry every week of the year if your boyfriend would regularly bake something like this for you in return…