A/N: Hello all!! This is going to be a series of stand-alone one-shots, hopefully. I'm going to try a bit of an experiment with this. I'm going to start with this one, and if you like it, please review and let me know, but also, give me another activity or scenario that you'd like to see for the next one, and I'll attempt to write it with the Winchester spin. Present or when they were kids, doesn't matter, so be specific please. If no one likes it, then it'll just stop here. So, without further ado, enjoy!!

Breakfast-Winchester style

Sam Winchester was dreaming. Or he thought he was. He heard the sizzle of bacon clearly, could smell it, and it was just too good to be true. He knew he was in a bed in a motel room, and the bacon just didn't fit, so he had to be dreaming.

He opened one eye and scanned his surroundings, his mind still muddled with sleep. His brother was awake already, which was odd in and of itself, but the strangest thing was that, although he was certain he was now awake, the smell and sound persisted.

He recalled the previous night when they had checked in, Dean exclaiming over the tiny kitchen nook in the corner of the room. Sam had just shaken his head. It was definitely different from any other motel room they'd stayed in.

He climbed out of bed and followed the scent to the kitchen nook, the crackling sound becoming louder the closer he got. He saw his brother, clad in an apron, in front of the small stove, a pan of bacon in front of him. On the other burner, Sam noticed a pan of eggs. Since when did they have pans?

"Dean?"

Dean whirled around, showing Sam that the apron he was wearing said 'World's Hottest Chef' in large red letters. Sam stifled a chuckle.

"You're making me breakfast?"

"Absolutely not! I'm making me breakfast. But, as long as you're here, I suppose I could be generous and allow you a slice of bacon or two, maybe some eggs."

"You're too kind….really. Nice apron. Although, I heard it's illegal to print something if it isn't true." Sam stifled a chuckle.

"As long as I continue to wear it, it's perfectly legal." Dean leaned over to look in the mirror and shot his reflection a megawatt smile. "Now, if you were to put it on, and it was illegal, you'd be in the slammer so fast, your head would spin."

Sam rolled his eyes and changed topics. "Where did the pans come from?"

"Well, I went out and did a little bit of shopping this morning. Got the pans, a spatula, the bacon, the eggs, and the apron." He looked pleased with himself and Sam decided not to say anything else.

Despite Dean's declaration that the breakfast was for himself, Sam believed firmly that it had been intended for them both to share, and he was thankful for the gesture. They usually went to diners for meals. Sam couldn't remember the last time they'd had something home cooked. Well, in this case, it was motel cooked, but that was beside the point.

He crossed the room to his bag, and pulled out some clean clothes. "I'm gonna shower real quick while you finish up, ok, Emeril?"

"All right, but just hurry, unless of course you like cold eggs. If you do, then take your time."

Sam nodded and headed into the bathroom, leaving Dean alone with his apron, the pans, and an open flame.

Dean flipped the bacon. It was about done, as were the eggs. He glanced out the window to check the sky. When he'd ventured out before, the day had promised to be sunny. It wasn't. It was pouring rain. Dean turned back to the pans and watched the bacon fry for a moment. Then it hit him like ton of bricks. He'd left the window down on the Impala!!

"Sonofabitch!!" he swore, throwing on his jacket, and racing outside in the rain to roll up his window. The wind was blowing and when he made it to the car, he noted that the interior was soaked. When they left later in the day, he was looking at a wet ass.

He frantically rolled the window back up, and locked the car back up when another thought hit him. The food! He'd left the fire on!! He took off through the driving rain back to their room, tracking water all the way, each step making a squish sound as it soaked into the carpet.

He shut the fire off both burners, but it was too late. The eggs were black lumps and the bacon was, quite literally, on fire. Dean panicked for a moment before stupidity took over and he tried to douse the flames with the apron.

It was wet, even though it had been covered by the jacket, but apparently not wet enough. Dean watched a small flame lick the corner of the apron in slow motion. He bit his lip to keep from yelling and alerting Sam. He grabbed the handle of the pan, and, the corner of the apron still burning, ran outside into the rain.

Sam finished his shower, dressed, and headed for the door, ready to eat. The smell of burnt food assailed his nostrils as he came out of the bathroom. He saw the blackened eggs in the pan, but there was no sign of the bacon or Dean. And the door that led to the outside was open.

Worried now, Sam made a beeline for the door, all kinds of scenarios going through his head. Dean could have been abducted…or worse. When he looked outside, he stopped short, and began to laugh.

His brother was standing in the rain, his face lifted to the heavens. He held the other pan in one hand, and Sam could see strips of black on the pavement that he could only assume had been the bacon he'd been looking forward to eating. The apron Dean had been so proud of was burned, the bottom of it singed.

Dean noticed Sam in the doorway, and blew water out of his eyes. "Don't ask. Just don't say anything." He calmly strode past Sam, dumped the empty pan on the stove, and grabbed his jacket and keys.

"Come on, we're going out."

Sam grabbed his own jacket and followed Dean out to the car.

"Aren't you gonna take the apron off?"

"No way, I love this apron!"

"Well, at least it's true now. From the looks of it, you did get pretty hot!"

"Shut up, Sam."

"Or maybe you should get another one that says 'World's Wettest Chef'!"

"SAM!!"

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry." Sam held up his hands in surrender.

They climbed into the car. Dean was at least slightly comforted by the fact that he was already so drenched his wet car seat didn't make a difference. His ass was already wet.

"I'm never cooking again."

A/N: So, let me know how it was, and if you want more. And if you do, shoot an idea my way, and I'll get it posted. Anything you want, as long as it's not slashy or M or anything like that. Thank you!