Meatballs - maydei

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"Cas!" Sam called as he let himself into the house they shared. The door squeaked almost unbearably; Sam winced and made a mental note to email the landlord to see about getting that fixed or oiled or something. "Cas? You here?"

"He's in the studio."

Sam startled and rounded the corner into the living room, only to find Cas' older brother sipping a mug of coffee at his seat on their well-worn couch. He broke into a relieved smile—Lucifer was a welcome presence. Since Sam had started at Stanford and gotten assigned Castiel as a roommate last year, his best friend had told him about his brother's generous sponsorship of his education. In fact, without Lucifer's financial assistance, they probably wouldn't have been able to afford the rent for the house they lived in; being off-campus was a boon to two boys that preferred quiet nights to loud parties in the dorms.

"Hey," Sam said, set his bag down on the floor, and kicked off his shoes beside it. He rolled his shoulders; sophomore year's workload was even more intense than the year before, and for Sam to keep his full-ride scholarship, he had to keep his GPA above a 3.5. Easier said than done, especially for pre-law. "You gonna be here for a while?"

Lucifer quirked a brow. "Why? Do you need me to leave? Have a date, perhaps?"

Sam snorted quietly. "Yeah, right. I just meant, you know. You can take your coat off."

Lucifer looked down at himself like he hadn't even realized he was still wearing his pea coat. "Oh. I suppose you're right." He set his mug down and his hands went to the buttons, only to pause as he looked Sam over. "You've gotten taller. Have you gotten taller?"

Sam flushed, embarrassed. Nineteen years old and still growing. Of course, it had been almost a month since he'd seen Lucifer last. Work kept him busy; he did something involving scientific research that he was never really clear on, but apparently made him more than enough money to financially support his "rebellious" younger brother, who had an "unconventional" love of the arts. The fact that Cas was ridiculously talented aside, Sam could understand a less-than-supportive family. He was glad that Cas had at least one person that had his back. He deserved it.

But sometime in the past year, Lucifer had decided to take Sam under his wing, too. He had no family, he said; no wife and no kids, and supposedly no interest in either. Married to his work , he said. Which, for a man pushing forty seemed pretty uncommon, especially for one as admittedly good-looking as Lucifer. But family was important to him, and those that were good to his family, he was good to in turn. He had initially taken to Sam because of Sam's kindness and support of Castiel. Somewhere in the months that passed, his appreciation for Sam had become more personal; for Sam's wit, his kind smile, and his studious nature.

Sam didn't understand it, himself. He supposed that Lucifer just had a penchant for taking care of lost, lonely things.

"I don't. I dunno," Sam answered, and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"I think you have," Lucifer replied. He looked Sam up and down once more, then nodded to himself. "We're almost the same height. You must be well over six feet by now. Were your parents tall?"

Sam swallowed. Lucifer rarely asked about Sam's parents. He shrugged, a one-shoulder noncommittal gesture. "My dad was—is. And my brother. But my mom, I don't... I don't know."

"Ah." Lucifer reached out to lay a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I didn't think before I spoke. Apologies, Sam."

"It's okay." Sam turned away and headed for the kitchen, more than ready for a change of subject. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry."

"I could eat," Lucifer agreed. "Are you cooking?"

Sam made a noise of agreement as he crossed the threshold into the small kitchen and started rooting through the cupboards. Pasta, rice, bread crumbs, a variety of canned vegetables... he moved to the fridge instead. Milk, parmesan cheese. Jarred minced garlic. Ground hamburger. He could make spaghetti, he supposed.

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