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“What kind of bullshit excuse for a fridge is this, Cas?” Dean mutters to himself, rubbing his hand over his face.
Inside the bullshit excuse for a fridge is half a gallon of milk, a yogurt cup, a carton of eggs, and a partial block of cheese.
Scrambled eggs it is then.
Too bad Cas has the domestic instincts of a four year old. He could really go for some bacon with these eggs. And maybe some orange juice. And toast.
Yeah, that would be perfect.
But no. Boring old scrambled eggs.
Scratch that.
Scrambled egg.
This is what he gets for spending the night at Cas’.
He’s here enough that he should know better than to assume Cas is ever going to have the breakfast ingredients to satisfy him.
It’s not like he’s got a drawer and a toothbrush or anything.
Well, he does have a toothbrush here, but that’s not the point.
Maybe he should get a drawer. Not that that would make much sense, since it’s more like they’ve left so many articles of clothing at each others homes, they’ve ceased to belong to either of them individually.
It started out innocently enough, but now it’s gotten to the point where other people are starting to notice.Mostly it’s not a problem, but Charlie says she throws up a little bit when they go out together and at some point switch shirts like no one’s going to notice. However Dean’s decided to take that in a positive light. Plus, it’s not his fault he can never remember whose shit is whose anymore.
Dean cracks the egg into the pan with one hand, the other crossed across his chest as he yawns blearily. He has to rush through slicing the cheese, because he’s turned on the stove too high. He nearly drops the plate in his hurry to get eggs out of the pan before they cook too much.
“Don’t sleep-drunk cook, kids,” he mumbles to himself.
As an after thought, he adds a glass of milk because otherwise there’s not nearly enough stuff to justify using the tray.
“Caaaas…” Dean says softly at the door to the bedroom, “I’ve got eeeeeegg.”
Cas grumbles something unintelligible and then buries himself in the pillows. He’s somehow managed to expand and take over the entire bed in the twenty minutes Dean’s been gone. It’s a talent really. He’s like a blob. A polymorphous goo without a container.
“I have no idea what you just said, but I have breakfast, so get your lazy ass up.”
Cas pulls the pillow off his face just enough for Dean to hear him.
“Why is egg singular?”
“Because you haven’t gone grocery shopping this week. Budge over and I’ll feed you if you want, you giant lump,” Dean reaches under the blankets and pokes Cas in the belly button.
He squirms and makes an annoyed noise, but rolls to the side, taking most of the blankets with him.
Dean makes a face. A disgustingly sappy face. He was certain if he could see the face he was making on someone else, he would make fun of that person for being so gone on someone.
In his defense, sleepy, grumpy, sex-ruffle haired Cas would make anyone disgusted at their own face.
“C’mon, man,” Dean grins, “get up and eat your scrambled egg.”
Cas flops the pillow onto his legs and glares at him.
“Stop laughing about eggs. It’s too early to be laughing about anything. Especially eggs. Don’t make fun of my egg situation.”
Then he pulls the pillow over his face again.
“Stop grouching and eat your egg situation.”
Cas flops the pillow a final time and glares harder.
Dean just barely manages to set the tray safely on the nightstand before Cas pulls him down by the shirt, which may or may not be his. He’s forced to flop on top of Cas with a huff.
“Screw scrambled egg,” Cas mutters somewhere into Dean’s neck, “I’ll buy you a real breakfast later. After I sleep more.”
“I gotta say, Cas, I’m a little offended you’re not going to eat the mighty feast I prepared for you.”
“Fine,” Cas growls.
He suddenly rolls them over so Dean’s on the bottom. He shovels the egg into his mouth, and then downs half the milk. Then he glares down at Dean, who’s snickering beneath him.
“Satisfied?” he quirks an eyebrow into what Dean not-so-jokingly calls his ‘Dom face’.
“Yes, sir,” he replies cheekily.
“Good. Now roll us back over so I can have you for my sixth blanket.”
“Sixth or sex?”
The dom face intensifies.
“But I don’t want to squish you.”
“You’re fine, it’s a good squish.”
Dean snickers some more.
“Okay fine, but can I have at least one of the blankets for me?”
Cas wraps his arms around Dean and smiles.
“No, you may not.”