The apple sits heavy in his hand. Heavier than he remembers, and he knows what the weight should be, from years of swiping them from crowded school cafeterias so Sammy would have something crisp and sweet to eat after school. Even then, Sammy had usually liked it best when they swapped the apple back and forth, bites overlapping each other, and they were both sticky with juice.
Sammy's been looking out for him for a long time.
If eating this damn apple is going to make Sam happy, make him see that Dean believes that Sam's got the smarts to beat the deal, then there's no choice, really. He won't even do his luau-pig impression.
"Here's to living healthy, Sam," he says, raising the apple like he's hoisting a beer. He crunches down on it, white flesh parting beneath his teeth. Man, he'd forgotten just how sweet it could be.