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10 December 2012 @ 10:16 pm
Sassy-minibang - Story #7 - Eggs and Bacon  
Title: Eggs and Bacon
Author: trickylady
Artist: sphinx_face
Genre: AU - canon, humour, crack, slash.
Characters, Pairing(s): Sam/Cas, Dean, Bobby, Gabriel, Crowley, OFC.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2085
Warnings: innuendo, general spoilers for all seasons with Castiel.
A/N: I'd like to thank my betas - rock_chick_333, nicole_sill, verucasalt123 & kimberlelly.

Sam is making toast when Castiel appears at his side, trying to see the ‘bread-making device’. Sam just leans over to the side when it pops up, letting Castiel get a better view of the buttering. He glances over, and Castiel forces his eyes – with a visible struggle - away from the knife smeared with butter.

“You want some, Cas?” Sam murmurs, walking over to the table.

Castiel doesn’t say anything, but he licks his lips. Sam’s eyes dart down to them, and then, just as quickly, back up to Castiel’s now narrowed eyes. Castiel shakes his head. Sam bites into the toast, feeling the eyes on his mouth now.

It’s a strange sensation, but not as strange as Castiel pulling out the chair across from Sam to sit down at the table. In silence. Sam doesn’t deal with Castiel’s silent, epic staring as well as Dean does.

“I know you’ve tasted burgers before, but have you had any breakfast food? Eggs, bagels, cereal, fruit maybe?”

Castiel’s mouth curves downward into a perplexed frown. Sam looks down at his plate, guiltily. Maybe food and eating remind Castiel of the Horsemen, the apocalypse-

“I have no need for sustenance, Sam. But I must admit, you make it look very…” Castiel trails off when Sam looks up at Castiel with a curl to his lips he didn’t have before. “You find this amusing?”

“I just think it’s cute that you’re dying to have some of my toast.” Sam laughs softly, sliding the plate over. “I can make you some breakfast if you like this.”

Castiel nods – very slowly – but doesn’t make a move to take it from the plate. Maybe he’s shy.

Sam stands, turning the frying pan on, and Castiel’s shoulder bumps into his side when he follows. Sam realizes it’s due to Castiel lifting the toast to his mouth and biting into it.

“This is good.” Castiel chews, looking deep in thought for a moment. “What else would you put on this?”

When Sam glances down, all he can see is the crumbs at the corner of Castiel’s mouth, and he reaches over – the question forgotten somewhere in his subconscious – to wipe them off. He stops halfway there when Bobby’s resounding voice booms into the room.

“You idjits better not be burning down my house.”

Bobby doesn’t even ask about or mention the way Castiel is fully in Sam’s personal space while Sam cooks breakfast for him. Mostly because of Sam’s deer-caught-in-headlights look. Castiel, on the other hand, just looks irritated to have been interrupted.

“Just getting--” Bobby grabs his coffee mug from the counter near them. He half-grunts, half-laughs on the way out, but doesn’t say anything else.

Sam lets out a sigh of relief, and then gets bumped again when he almost burns Castiel’s eggs.


Sam is watching a movie – one of the few times Dean isn’t around to hog the remote – and Castiel decides to join him.

It’s…hard to pay attention to the film. Especially since Castiel’s hands aren’t on his lap like they would be with Dean. One is curled against the armrest, and the other is in the middle of the couch – between them. Sam wonders if it’s an invitation – or maybe that’s just what Sam wants it to be – but Castiel wouldn’t know about those things. Would he?

Sam chances a look over at Castiel from the corner of his eye, and Castiel is busy concentrating on the film. Sam looks down, and the hand is still there, curling and uncurling in the fabric of the couch – almost as if Castiel is getting anxious.

Now is as good a time as any.

Sam slides his hand across his thigh, subtly making his way there – just in case he’s reading this all wrong – and letting his hand hover –

“Sammy! Bro! Did you two miss me?”

Sam scowls, and Castiel stands at attention in front of Gabriel – movie (and possible hand-holding) forgotten.

Gabriel purposely popped in at that time, of this Sam is sure. And there are reasons why he believes he’s right.

First of all, Gabriel is an A-grade asshole, and becoming the Trickster – i.e. someone who ruins everyone else’s life as an occupation – reinforces that. The second reason Sam is convinced Gabriel chose that time to barge in is because of how much like Dean Gabriel is. Overprotective, stubborn, and now a cockblock, not that Sam wanted Castiel’s cock precisely.

Gabriel whispers something in Enochian for Castiel – which, suspicious, since Gabriel never uses Enochian – and then leaves.

Sam tries not to sound like an uncivilized, uneducated, man of the wild when he has asks, “What did he say?” But he feels like he failed.

“I believe it is a warning, or a spell perhaps.” Castiel shuts his eyes for a moment, concentrating, then looks at Sam. “I think the translation would be: ‘Watersports in the near future. Beware of the large one; it will milk you.”

Sam’s brow creases, but Castiel says, “I will look for the meaning of it and return once I’ve obtained it.”


Sam does some research, and really wishes he hadn’t. He doesn’t even know why – how – Gabriel found terms for those things in Enochian. The asshole knew – must have – that Castiel would translate and relay the message to Sam.

Thus, Gabriel has proven that his ‘visit’ earlier was to stop Sam from getting too close to his little brother, Castiel. He knew Castiel would rush off, and spend however long it takes to find this ridiculous – oh god.

Sam is suddenly afraid of the moment Castiel will return.


“I could not interpret my brother’s message, Sam.”

Sam sighs, sipping at a light beer. “It’s nothing important, Cas. Don’t worry, I checked.” Thank every deity that Castiel failed.

Castiel looks perplexed. “How could you have found the meaning?” Sam ignores the accusatory tone; it’s Castiel’s usual. He doesn’t know how to be any other way. “What does it mean?”

“I think…it’s better you never find out.” At least not until they’re at least dating.

Sam expects Castiel to insist, to push Sam until he gives up the answer, but he doesn’t. Castiel takes Sam’s beer from him, stealing a gulp of it, and quickly handing it back.

“All right.”


Sam looks absolutely exhausted, even while in a deep sleep, when Castiel finds him passed out on the sofa. He’s breathing deeply, his arms are wrapped around a throw pillow close to his chest, and his mouth is slightly open. He shifts in his sleep, facing closer to the inside of the couch, and his hair falls over his eyes and nose.

It tickles, or at least that’s what Castiel deducts from the way Sam’s nose has crinkled up. Sam reaches for the hair, still asleep, but misses. His face stays scrunched how it was, a look of vague annoyance joining in.

Castiel wants Sam to get some rest; he deserves it.

Castiel leans down, careful to keep all noise down to…nothing, and gently tucks Sam’s hair behind his right ear. He knows he’s done the right thing since Sam’s face smoothes out instantly. His fingers, for some inexplicable reason, don’t want to stop at that, though. He’s rubbing Sam’s forehead, fingertips sliding down the side of his face, and then cupping his cheek and chin.

The stench of sulphur fills Castiel’s lungs suddenly, and he pulls away, cutting his exploration short. He’s glaring even before he turns around, and Crowley puts his hands up in faux-surrender.

“I don’t judge, mate. The Winchesters are a good catch, anyhow. Sam seems a bit more open-minded as well, if you want my opinion.”

They disappear a moment later, having some ‘errands’ to run, Castiel’s glare remaining in place.


Castiel worries Crowley will tell the Winchesters about their ‘working relationship’, but, in fact, he’s more worried about Crowley telling Sam about that little moment of weakness. Crowley says nothing though. Not even when he’s alone with Sam.

(Castiel knows this because he stays hidden and far enough away not to be detected by Crowley. Just close enough to hear their conversation.)


Sam may (or may not) have been shopping for Castiel quietly when Castiel showed up – unannounced – and scared Sam half to death. The clothes rack is the one that suffers for it, tipping over, but Castiel easily sets it back how it was before the clerk notices.

Sam just thought Castiel might want a change of clothes, or two. To be in something other than a dirty, borrowed trench coat, that’s all.

Castiel looks at the clothes draped over Sam’s arm. “That will not fit you.”

“It’s for you, actually,” Sam admits, looking down at the striped tie he’s holding bunched up.

“Oh,” Castiel replies, taking the pile from Sam. “Then I will try them on.”

It’s easier, logically, to shop for Castiel if he’s here, too. Sam didn’t know Castiel’s size at all.


The cashier, a young brunette with red streaks in her hair, is beaming at them when they get to the front to pay.

Sam quirks an eye at her, smiling in spite of her odd expression. “Hey.” Castiel follows Sam’s lead, nodding curtly.

She grins. “Aw. You two are the cutest couple I’ve ever seen. We don’t get a lot of gay people in here, but I think you guys would be great role models.”

Sam clears his throat while Castiel drops the clothing on the counter. “We’re not a couple.” Sam leaves out the ‘yet’ because he’s not sure if Castiel wants to be with him or if he’s reading into things all on his own. Either way, he hopes Castiel understands what he really means: it’s none of her business.

It’s not right for – Sherry, Sam sees when he glances down at the nametag – to assume clients are a certain way without even asking first. It’s between them and them alone.

(And maybe Dean since Castiel is ‘his’ angel.)

Castiel doesn’t look bothered by any of it, not even Sherry’s pouty face as they pay and wait for her to bag it all. But, then again, Castiel is good at playing the role of stoic angel, so Sam’s not too sure about what Castiel is feeling.


It’s the second time Sam is cooking for Castiel when he finally decides to stop playing it safe.

Castiel is leaning against Sam (again), watching him cook. Sam puts down the spatula – when he’s sure he won’t incinerate the eggs this time – and turns to face Castiel, waiting for him to react. As soon as they make eye contact – Castiel not distracted by popping bacon in the pan anymore – Sam takes Castiel’s face between his hands. He’s looking right at Castiel, so it’s hard to miss Castiel licking his lips. But, this time, there’s no toast, just Sam feeling like an awkward, uncool teenager.

Castiel closes his eyes though, making it easier on Sam, even leaning in for it a bit. And that – that is the best hint Sam could ask for. He moves forward, so close he can smell the clean, pure scent of angel coming off of Castiel, and he –

“Oops. Sorry, Sammy.”

Dean is, of course, the one who has to step into the kitchen when Sam builds up enough courage to grab Castiel for their long-awaited first kiss.

But Dean – Dean makes it…all okay, actually.

“Resume whatever that is, and I’ll just be back later.”

No venom, no teasing, no jealousy. Just a bit of a startle, and then he’s going out the same way he came.

Castiel stares in puzzlement at the doorway, probably just as taken aback by Dean’s surprisingly mature reaction, but it’s now or never for Sam.

Sam hadn’t let go of Castiel’s face when Dean interrupted, so all he has to do is move in and he’s pressing his lips to Castiel’s. Castiel sighs as Sam gently strokes his cheek, tracing the bones there, fitting his hips against Castiel’s with unexpected ease.

Sam likes how frail Castiel feels pressed this close, how submissive he’s being. It could be so easy to pretend Castiel is a woman – if he needed to, if he wasn’t already past his homosexual freak-out – but-

Castiel’s lips parted, wet, pink; his eyes blue and just slightly glazed over; the dazed, shy look on his face; the high line of colour climbing his cheeks wherever Sam touches; the stubble that’s endearing, not rough…

Why would Sam pretend Castiel is anyone else when he’s everything Sam needs?

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