A/N: First - THIS IS MY FIRST SASTIEL, OKAY? And it actually turned out kinda cute. And I like it. It's my little project. There may be more like this in the future...
Second - This was written as a challenge to the judges of the Supernatural Monthly Challenge over on Tumblr. I was to choose three prompts from a list and write a mother's day story. And then...this happened. The three prompts I chose are: "Did you get the flowers?" "No, I got the chocolate." "Well I guess she gets a lot of chocolate, then."; "No pie on Mother's Day - that's the rule!"' Sam coaches Little League baseball
Third - All three of us judges that submitted were tied on the voting somehow. But I shall still consider that a win!
Fourth - That...seems to be all I have to say. Thank you for reading and enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

"Okay…I haven't asked yet because I wanted to trust you…. But I'm starting to get a bit nervous." They were coming up on a sign telling them that Lawrence was fifteen miles out. To say that Castiel was nervous…was a bit of an understatement. Butterflies were rapidly fluttering their wings in his stomach and he couldn't seem to breathe properly. "Why do you think Mother's Day is the best time for me to meet your mom?"

Sam was relatively quiet in the driver's side. He let out a long breath through his nose, but otherwise made no answer. He kept his eyes firmly on the road, even though Castiel knew for a fact that he was great at driving while distracted. It was fairly obvious that he was avoiding the question. Pretending it hadn't been asked.

"Sam."

Cringing at the force behind his name, Sam just barely peeked over at the other man. Castiel's expression didn't read angry. If anything, it read…scared. That was what brought his wall tumbling straight down. "Mom asks for the same thing from me every single year," he offered, clearly expecting that to have been enough explanation.

Rolling his eyes, Cas shifted in his seat so that his arms were crossed over his chest and he was almost fully facing the driver's side. "I am fairly certain I am not that thing she asks for, seeing as we have never met. Try again, please."

The grimace took over Sam's whole body this time. He reached forward to fiddle with the radio dial, most likely as a means of diverting his attention from himself. It took him nearly a minute to settle on a station. When he did, something sappy by Nickelback was playing uncomfortably loud in the car and it was Castiel's turn to cringe.

He reached forward to settle Sam's hand as he reached for the dial again. He replaced the action with his own, turning the volume down and nearly off. "Talk to me, Sam," he whispered just as Lawrence became visible in the distance.

"She wants more than anything in the world, apparently…for me to settle down." Sighing heavily, Sam steered them off of I-70 and into the city. They were getting closer and the blood pumping in Castiel's ears was only getting louder. "She wants me to find a wife and make many grandchildren for her to dote on. And I…. I fail to do this every single year."

Though Sam hadn't quite stated it yet, the reasoning was starting to become clear to Castiel. He furrowed his brow and shifted again so he was facing forward once more.

"I want to tell her this year. Finally. I want to tell her that I don't think I want that. That I've tried it time and time again and…it just doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like something I want for the rest of my life.

"But you, Cas…." Sam turned to smile at Castiel, stopping the erratic beat of his heart with just that one look. "You do. You feel more right than any woman I've ever spent my time on." He laughed, watery like he always did when things were starting to feel serious. "And I want to show my mom that. I want her to see that."

Outside the window, their surroundings were slowly fading into a residential feel. Castiel used this as a diversion, watching the houses as they each came into view in between the businesses. Each time they came upon a stretch of homes, he tried to guess their destination. Tried to figure out which house they were aimed for. Which house Sam spent as many holidays as he could at. Which house Sam had spent the first few years of his life in. Which house he knew Sam kept on a special pedestal in his heart.

"I hope I can live up to your expectations for this trip," he whispered after the long pause. "I hope…that you don't come to regret this decision."

"I know you can and I know you will."

Sam was always so positive. He was always so sweet and reassuring and aimed towards the bright side. Unable to help himself, Castiel allowed a smile to slip over his lips. He slumped over across the console separating them, his head coming to rest upon his boyfriend's shoulder.

"We're here," Sam whispered down into his ear a few minutes later. Castiel felt the car roll to a stop, shifted into park a quick moment later. The man shifted beneath him as he pulled in a deep breath and let it out in an emotional rush.

In that second, Castiel knew he needed to guide them. This wasn't his home and it wasn't his family, but Sam needed him to be strong enough to lead. "Let's go," he said into Sam's ear, nipping at the lobe so lightly it would have the other questioning if it had even happened at all. "I am actually kind of excited about this." The oily feeling in his stomach shouted that this was a vagrant lie. "It's been awhile since I 'met the parents'."

"Well, if this goes well, maybe I can finally tell my dad the real reason we're always 'attached at the hip'," Sam teased, following his boyfriend out of the car. His gaze was wide as he scanned the walk up to the house. A bunch of peonies were starting to bud in the garden to the right of the front door and he stopped to lean in and examine them a moment. Their scent was as close to home as he had ever inhaled.

Eyes wide from cautious fear, Cas slowly shook his head back and forth. He skirted a finger along a flower petal. "I, uh…don't think we're quite ready for that…."

Sam gave one last cheeky grin as he straightened and strode up to the door. His hand hesitated for just a moment before he was reaching out to knock. Castiel sauntered cautiously up behind him, one hand hovering on the small of the taller man's back. Just enough for him to feel the slight pressure. For comfort.

"Sammy!"

The door swung open. Castiel wasn't ready for it. He had to take a step forward, further into the shelter of Sam's sturdy frame. Such excitement wasn't something he had prepared for. For some reason, he felt they would just stride silently into the house. Sam's mother would stare at that for a long time. She'd almost be too timid to ask who he was. They would sit awkwardly on most-likely plastic-covered couches and avoid personal topics. It would all be quiet and tame and he'd be happy to leave at the end of this weekend.

He wasn't expecting a full-grown man to step out of that house with his genuine deep-throated laugh and his childish name for the mass of man in front of Cas. It definitely threw him a bit.

"Hey, Dean," Sam half-laughed, half sighed. "You know, we've talked about the 'Sammy' thing before…."

"Yeah, yeah – Sammy's the name of chubby twelve-year-old. But…for some reason, I just can't ever get that through my head." Castiel wasn't looking, but he was extremely sure this guy was grinning up a storm. "Hey, did you get the flowers, by the way?"

Sam looked over his shoulder towards his car, frowning. He reached a hand around to pinch Castiel's side, silently questioning his strange behavior as he spoke. "No, I got the chocolate."

"Well, I guess she gets a lot of chocolate, then."

"I told you," Castiel whispered, shifting uncomfortably. Exposing himself just enough to catch attention. Cursing himself for his recklessness, he stepped fully out from behind Sam and was immediately pulled into the man's side. "I told you to just get both…."

Sam's hand was on Cas' hip and so were the eyes of the man in the doorway. Dean. His boyfriend spoke of him often – most likely more often than he realized. And most often with a fond glint in his eye. They may have grown up a bit distant, but the closeness was still there. If a little strained and reeking of longing.

The introductions were soft and careful, but not really in the realm of awkward. Just unsure. Sam didn't come right out and state their relationship, but it was pretty obvious that Dean could already guess it. He let them in and watched the pair like a hawk scanning its prey. Assessing it and its weaknesses for use when available.

"Mom's upstairs," Dean said after a clear of his throat, shutting the door with an unnecessary snap. "She's grabbing cash for dinner."

"What are we having?" Castiel asked nervously, refusing to catch Dean's eye. He didn't want the man sizing him up any further than he already was. It was like he was having to go through an impromptu interview he'd had no way of preparing for.

Squeezing the back of Cas' neck in an attempt to relax him, Sam walked them into the living room. "It's, uh, tradition…for us to have Chinese food the night before Mother's Day. And it's Dean's turn to pick it up this year. Technically he's supposed to pay, too, but he's a deadbeat with no real job, so…."

"What, like wrestling mangy strays all day is a real job?" Dean fired back.

Castiel's chest tightened. It was light-hearted banter, he knew, but it still managed to hit him square in the chest. He and Sam worked in the same place. They had met there, for heaven's sake! That seemed to mean that he would instantly disapprove of a major part of their life. And…for some reason, that meant something to him. It meant something terrible. It meant this might have been a mistake.

A cool set of fingers grazed down Castiel's back. He shivered, taking a seat on the couch beside Sam. His eyes pleaded for his boyfriend to calm down. They were a deep green today, reflecting a careful ease that he was trying to impress upon the smaller man. "The shelter is a steadier job than you hustling pool every Friday night."

"Hey, I made close to four-hundred bucks last night!"

A decidedly female laugh burbled down the stairs, aided by a soft set of footsteps. "So, why am I the one scrounging for cash tonight?"

Dean didn't answer the question; he merely shrugged with that cheeky grin he most-likely always wore. Seconds later, a woman – up in her age, but still undoubtedly beautiful – made her way into the living room. Her eyes were fully trained on the cash in her hand, counting every bill with care. "I want a receipt and my change back. You hear me?" Her eyes, a color uneasy to pin just like Sam's, settled in a hard gaze squarely on Dean.

"It's like you guys don't trust me!"

After a show of feigned hurt, Dean grabbed his jacket and left. (It was nice outside, summer starting to blow in. He was already wearing a flannel shirt over his short sleeves. Adding a leather jacket just seemed like overkill for vanity, Castiel thought.) The sound of a well-kempt classic car tore down the street and away from them.

After he was gone, the woman finally turned to her younger son. Her eyebrow rose at the presence of his companion, but she gave little indication of shock. Instead, her exact words were, "Oh, good, you brought your boyfriend."

An absence of all sound lingered over the house. Sam's jaw dropped and Castiel shifted uncomfortably. She already knew. How did she already know? Slowly, Cas turned to look at the other man. He rested a hand upon Sam's knee and tilted his head in question. He received a just-as-clueless shrug in return.

"You're not a very good liar, Sam," the woman whispered, perching upon the coffee table in front of them. She leaned in to take both of their hands, squeezing in the very essence of motherly acceptance. "Even your father somehow picked up on it…. Though, I'm sure that Kate most likely had to be the one to point it out for him. Then again…. You do take him to all of Adam's little league games. And he doesn't have a kid on the team…. He's very obviously just there for the coach." She smiled, giving a soft chuckle as the perplexity grew on Sam's face. "We may be divorced, but we do still speak. Sometimes about you."

"I brought him because…because I wanted to show you. I wanted you to see that…that I could never give you what you really want." Sam averted his eyes to the floor, his hair curtaining his face and hiding the tear that trekked down one cheek. "I wanted you to see that I'm happy and I love this man. Even if that means I might have disappointed you…."

Cas sat, unmoving, unflinching, and afraid. He didn't know the outcome to this situation. He hadn't prepared for Sam's mother to already know. He hadn't expected her to come at them with such kindness and for Sam to break down. This was nothing he knew how to prepare for! Slowly, he shrunk back into the couch. It was his wish that the cushions would envelope him. That he would disappear. Something that, of course, was impossible, but didn't stop his obsessive thinking.

Disappearing – or pretending to – proved useless the instant those eyes fell on him. He found himself locked in a mother's gaze. It was tender and welcoming. It was nothing he ever recalled wanting, but so desperately needed in that moment. "Castiel, correct?" He nodded slowly in response, not even daring to blink. "It's very nice to meet you. You can call me Mary. Or…Mom, if you prefer. It's completely up to you."

"Nice to meet you, as well," he breathed.

It was silent once more for a solid five minutes afterwards. Mary sat there with an unwavering expression somewhere on the border of curiosity and…love, perhaps? She was soft in her features, but harsh in the way she held herself. Protective and motherly to the bone. Cas hardly even dared to breathe in this time, afraid that any move he made could be perceived as wrong.

Her approval meant a great deal to him because it meant a great deal to the man at his side.

"Everything I ever wanted for you, Sammy, was purely selfish." Sam's eyes flashed from the dirt spot he'd been avidly studying on the carpet. He reached up to push his hair, just long enough to brush against his collar by now, out of his face. Mary tilted her head, squeezing the hands still held within her own. "As your mother, of course it pains to me admit that." She laughed, still keeping her humor even as her eyes filled with tears. "But, also as your mother, I can't let you go on ashamed of what you have here. I don't know your relationship or your feelings, but I know you seem…proud of this. And how could I ever be upset about that?

"You don't have to settle down with a woman. You don't have to provide me with grandchildren to spoil. All you have to do to make me happy…is be you and do what makes you happy."

A bit flustered by his mother's words, Sam quickly replied with, "What I do with Cas makes me very happy!" and looked down to Castiel. Catching an uncomfortable double meaning, Cas lit up bright red and pointedly looked anywhere else. "I mean, I am! Uh…." Sam gave a short laugh and slipped his arm around his boyfriend's middle. "I'm happy, Mom. I am. Um…thanks. That means more than I think you know."

No more was said on either side apart from Mary whispering a soft dismissal of the thanks. Dean walked in the door a moment later, proclaiming loudly that dinner was 'ready'. They all somehow managed to keep from rolling their eyes as they stood. Sam slipped his hand into Castiel's, squeezing it just barely. Just enough.

"While I was at the store, by the way, I picked up everything you need to make pecan pie. Out of my own pocket, even." Dean's expression was serious as he pushed a Hy-Vee brown bag towards his mother. He even added in a wink, as if to seal some sort of deal. "Happy Mother's Day, Mom."

Mary laughed light-heartedly and pushed the bag back towards her eldest. "No pie on Mother's Day – that's the rule! That's always been the rule, Dean. You know that. But if you want one so bad, you know where the recipe box is."

Someone handed a plate to Castiel and he took it without paying much attention. He looked at the impressive spread of containers, distracting his over-stimulated emotions with the bribery of sustenance. For this reason, he nearly jumped out of his skin as an arm slung around his shoulders. He looked up, searching for the tall and familiar frame that was Sam, who had wandered across the kitchen to fill a pitcher with water. His back turned to the others.

Oblivious to the fact that his boyfriend was about to be used in some sort of scheme.

"Oh, c'mon, Mom…. It's different this year, right? I mean, this guy-" Dean squeezed Castiel uncomfortably close to his side.

"Castiel," Mary provided freely, crossing her arms after setting the last plate beside the sink for Sam. Who seemed to be trying his hardest not to look up at the wideness of his boyfriend's eyes….

"Yeah, this Cas guy has never tasted the perfection of your pecan pie. It wouldn't be fair to make him miss out, right? He might never get a chance to have it again, if the revolving door of Sam's romantic life is any indication….."

Sam finally reacted. He set the pitcher off to the side very carefully, equipping it with its lid. He then turned back towards the sink, making like he was going to switch off the water. Instead, he grabbed quickly for the hose and – before Dean could see it coming – aimed an ice-cold jet of water towards his brother.

Being in the position he was, Castiel got most of the water right in his face. Dean was quick, ducking behind the other man's back after only a small soaking to his own carefully-styled hair. Shocked, to say the least, Cas let the plate slip through his fingers. It crashed to the floor, fortunately remaining in one piece, echoing his startled wail.

Realizing his mistake perhaps a bit too late, Sam released the 'trigger'. He stood there with the sprayer in his hands, aimed rather carefully towards the floor, with a truly apologetic gape about his lips.

"Samuel Henry Winchester!"

"Son of a bitch!"

"What the hell, Dean?"

Words flew around the kitchen – obscenities and blame and excuses. Castiel was soaking wet and afraid to move and figure out the extent of it. His white button-down was sticking to him, showing rather clearly his dislike for undershirts. He was uncomfortable and getting pretty chilled and actually rather afraid that he would get in trouble for dripping all over the floor.

And yet….

Shouts turned to laughter within no time. Sam returned the hose to its safe spot beside the tap, backing away like he was afraid of the further havoc it could cause. Mary dug in a drawer and pulled out all of the kitchen towels, tossing half to the floor and half to Castiel. Dean took one towel, scrubbing at his hair before placing it carefully over Cas'. It was calm and cool. It was casual. No one batted an eye when Sam came to his 'rescue', scrubbing the towel in his boyfriend's dark locks. Nor when he leaned in with a shy, whispered "Sorry, Cas…," before promising a better apology later around a kiss.

Sam handed over the keys to the Charger when Dean offered to grab their bags so Castiel could have a change of clothes. It was so damn easy. Relaxed. Sam and Mary were both wiping up the floor with big grins on their lips, whispering a revenge plan that included disguised non-alcoholic beer.

This was family, apparently. Their family. Possibly one day his family. A type of family Castiel had given up on inheriting the instant he met John Winchester and his incredibly Minnesotan second-wife and their pride-and-joy-child-athlete son. A family so different from his own uptight and respectable family who would have literally died and called for a complete scouring of the entire kitchen as punishment for such a childish act.

A smile spread over Cas' lips as his train of thought turned to an acceptance of the situation. He sunk down to his knees, grabbing a towel and snapping it at Sam's (probably purposefully) presented ass before helping clean up.

The nerves were disappearing, the tingling sensation under his skin falling away as the night drug on. Their food went cold before they even had a chance to finish consuming it. Mary brought out a bottle of wine that she (contritely) said was cheap but excellent. They went through it rather fast, but she was proud to state that she had more. Stories were shared and jabs were made. Mary's cheeks flushed pinker as the night dragged on, her giggles growing girlier and her joy more visible.

When they all finally said goodnight, Castiel fell into bed beside Sam feeling…sated. Full and bubbly and warm and tired, but extremely satisfied and happy. He snuggled up to the man's side, breathing in the scent of his childhood room. It still smelt like his boyfriend, even after all these years. Even though his time spent within it was minimal. "I like your mother," he whispered while he traced the scar (obtained from a bike race gone wrong with Dean, which he now knew the full and comical story of) over Sam's palm.

Sam chuckled, pressing a kiss into Cas' temple. "Uh…I'm pretty damn sure she likes you, too," he said gruffly, his voice heavy with half-sleep. "Thanks for that. Thanks for…being you. It means a lot that she likes you."

Rolling his eyes behind their lids, Castiel half-heartedly smacked the firm chest beneath him. It was ridiculous to think that he would be praised for such a thing. But it had meant a lot for Sam to feel accepted by his mother. And she had welcomed them with open arms! There was no telling if that was because of Castiel or not…. He had a feeling that Mary would most likely be proud of her sons no matter what choices they made to keep themselves happy. But he whispered a soft "You're welcome" anyway, his lips fixed in a permanent smile as he drifted off to sleep.