D'script.: Castiel enjoys his first breakfast.

Disc.: I don't own SPN, Jensen, Jared, Misha, Kripke, everyone else. Since I haven't done a Supernatural fic for a while, I'd just like to add: RIP Mr. Kim Manners.

Love: For the SPN fangirls out there. Loves you!

Rootbeer Float

Dean stared at his reflection in the mirror before spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste and washing his face. When he looked back into the mirror, Castiel had appeared behind him.

"Dude!" he said, startled, "Knock first, man. Geez… what if I'd been taking a piss or something?"

Castiel tilted his head, indicating his unfamiliarity with the term before he brushed it off, "I need your help," he said flatly.

Dean blinked, unable to register this so early in the morning. He opened the door, glanced at Sam and then deposited Castiel outside before promptly shutting the bathroom door again.

Sam smiled in disbelief, "Hey, Cas," he greeted, pulling on a pair of socks, "What brings you to…our washroom?"

Castiel seemed to be catching onto the running theme of the sacredness of privacy in the bathroom. He nodded to the closed door, "Dean shoved me out before I could tell him the details of our new mission."

Dean emerged from the washroom, wiping his face with a small hand towel, "Our only mission right now is getting breakfast." He said matter-of-factly.

Castiel didn't acknowledge Dean's statement, "The archangels are tracking down lost angels, and they don't know that I killed Uriel."

"Breakfast, Cas," Dean repeated, "I'm not doing anything before breakfast."

Sam agreed, "I'm sure your host is hungry too, Cas. When's the last time you ate?"

"Ate?" Castiel asked softly.

"Yeah. You know. Filling your piehole with food so you shut up about 'apocalypse this' and 'apocalypse that,'" Dean piped in.

Sam shot him a look for that remark before looking back at Castiel, "Come on, you can tell us over eggs and grits," he added an encouraging smile for extra measure.

Castiel eyed the brothers warily, unsure if they would help him after having their meal. He eventually conceded with a sigh before asking, "What are grits?"

Dean chuckled before shrugging on his worn leather jacket. He snagged his keys and told Sam to grab his stuff.

When they were all settled in Dean's beautiful impala, Sam sitting shotgun and Castiel sulking in the backseat, Dean pulled out and drove to the nearest restaurant.

He pulled into a Denny's, and the three found a booth. Castiel had started telling them details about what he was up against, but at each turn Dean would cut him off with the same line.

"I don't see breakfast yet, Cas. You can start once I've had my coffee," he said before exchanging a wink with Sam on how 'whipped' his angel was.

Sam was looking over the menu when a busty waitress showed up to take their orders. Dean grinned widely, his patented wolfish smile. Sam rolled his eyes and interrupted before Dean could start.

"Yeah, I'll take a…Grand Slam, bacon and grits with scrambled eggs and rye toast." He said, folding the menu and giving it to her with a polite smile.

Dean nodded, giving her a quick once-over before glancing at his menu and order the first thing he saw, "Sure, sweetie. Coffee, two creams and one sugar and…I'll take your Ultimate Skillet, and I'm not picky about the details."

The waitress looked at Castiel who was staring outside forlornly. He hadn't even touched his menu. She glanced at the brothers before looking back at the angel.

"And for you, darling?" she asked.

Castiel's reaction was delayed, but he eventually looked at her. She was startled by his intensely blue eyes, but found herself smiling regardless.

"Uh, I'll take a water…"

Dean chuckled and Sam jumped in, "He'll have an omelette. The veggie omelette, he's been sick for the last week, you know," Sam said, with a courteous smile.

"Oh, and a rootbeer float," Dean added, with a comical grin, "He loves those."

Sam gave Dean a questioning look before sending the waitress off with Castiel's untouched menu. He nudged Dean after she was gone, "Did you have to throw in the float? You know he's probably not going to drink it."

Dean waved his hand, "Relax, Sammy. We're here for breakfast. The man's gotta eat something-"

Castiel saw this as his opportunity. "The archangels are going to-"

Dean placed a finger to his lips before pointing to the empty space of table in front of him, "Do you see a cup of coffee there?"

Castiel shut his mouth and slumped down at Dean's remark, "I need your help," he uttered.

"And you'll get it once I get breakfast," Dean reminded.

Sam shook his head in reprimanding, "Dean, go easy."

Dean sighed and turned his attention to Castiel, "Alright, Clarence, shoot."

Castiel gave him a blank look, "My name is Castiel…"

Sam smiled at the reference that went over the angel's head; he began to open his mouth to explain but decided against it as he thought of the ensuing confusion. Instead, he told Castiel to continue.

"The archangels have decided that they need to find every last angel to help them win this war," he said, "They don't know that I killed Uriel and they're looking for him now."

"Did you leave a trail?" Sam asked.

Castiel shook his head, "Not that I know of."

"Do they know that he's a dickweed?" Dean asked.

Castiel's look of confusion came over his face again, "I do not understand this term, but no, they do not know of Uriel's crimes against humanity and my brothers."

"Then tell them," Sam suggested.

"Uriel was my superior. Unless I have someone to corroborate what I say, they won't believe me," he said before adding softly, "Anna's the only other person that could help…"

Sam spoke before Dean had a chance, "Lie low with us, and we'll figure a way out of this."

Dean tugged Sam away from the table to whisper harshly, "Dude, you did not just invite the angel on a friggen roadtrip with us!"

"Dean, what am I supposed to do? He's clearly scared. And you're not helping, with that attitude." Sam countered.

Dean sighed as if it was a chore, "Alright Cas, you can come with us, but we're going to have to lay down some ground rules-"

"Sorry it took a while, boys. Now, who had the Grand Slam?"

Once the waitress had settled everyone's orders, she left. Dean immediately took a sip of the piping hot coffee before spearing his fork into the juicy sausage and shoving the entire thing directly into his mouth. Sam set to spreading blueberry jam over his toast and taking a modest bite. Castiel looked at them both before staring at his omelette and gingerly picking up his fork.

Sam caught Castiel's struggle from the corner of his eye and looked up. He gestured with his own fork and knife on how to eat the omelette. Dean saw Sam trying to teach Castiel discreetly and they both missed the wicked smile the crossed his lips before he tried to help too.

"Cas, why don't you take a sip of your float?" Dean suggested.

Castiel looked warily at the cola with melting vanilla ice cream at the top. He grasped the handle and lifted the mug to his lips, glancing at the brothers, who wore equally different expressions. Dean looked eager and curious while Sam was a little nervous. Castiel gingerly tasted the rootbeer and his pupils immediately dilated from the sugar rush.

He set the mug down with more confidence, wearing a vanilla moustache and grinning happily, "Is that really beer in there?" he asked excitedly.

Sam shook his head, "No, don't worry-"

"I want beer!" Cas took a deep swig of the float, licking the rim to get more of the ice cream. Some of the rootbeer dribbled down his chin and he wiped it up, slamming the mug down and staring at Dean wildly.

"You're right, Dean-I love this!"

Castiel was immediately shovelling down his omelette in between gulps of his rootbeer float. He snagged Sam's Grand Slam from him and polished the rest of that off too. Sam stared at the angel in bewilderment.

Castiel spoke in between bites, "My host hasn't eaten since I took over," he admitted, "That was…about 3 months ago."

Sam gaped at him while Dean kept eating. He didn't want Castiel to steal his food next.

When Castiel's hand reached over to Dean's plate, Dean tugged his plate closer to himself. Castiel bent over the table to snag it and Dean lifted it out of his reach.

"Cas, if you want more food, we'll get you some. This is mine! Hey!"

Dean retracted his hand as Castiel made a very definite motion of trying to bite his fingers.

Castiel met Dean's eyes and resumed his solemn angel demeanour for a moment.

"I swear to God, Dean, if you don't let me have those grits, I will smite you!"

Dean's eyes went wide and he slid his plate over to Castiel's side, where the angel was waiting to devour his breakfast. Castiel hailed a waiter to bring him another rootbeer float before he dove into the rest of Dean's breakfast with vigour.

Sam and Dean watched Castiel with a mixture of curiosity and horror. It was Sam who spoke first as Castiel began to lick the plate free of ketchup.

"That's just not right."

Dean nodded, still staring. "I know. Can angels even get drunk off rootbeer?"

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