Pairing: Misha Collins/Sebastian Roché
Warnings: Extreme crack and absurdity.
Summary: Prompt: "The how-to, do-it-yourself guide to taking over the world... Sebastian is intrigued."
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Notes: Written for the summary prompt, left by theinsaneeraser in whateven_memes's Misha meme. Because apparently I bend to her every need. ♥
"Eggs?" Sebastian's questioning tone broke the awkward silence that had fallen between them, save for the constant shuffle of papers over Misha's living room table.
"Eggs," Misha confirmed, glancing over the top of the wire-rimmed glasses that had slowly been sliding down his nose. "If we manage to obtain ownership of the world's supply of eggs, this will all become a lot easier on us both," he explained simply, sitting cross-legged on the floor, pencils strewn over the dull blue carpet beneath him.
Sebastian wanted to accept his logic as fact, to nod his head and move on, as Misha continued to scribble notes over a diagram, inked onto the first page of yellow notebook. But Misha's mind, well... Sebastian had pretty much surrendered to it's logics months ago. "What... what kind of eggs?" He questioned anyhow, cocking an eyebrow as he made his way around the table, moving to sit directly beside Misha, in an attempt to read over his shoulder.
"Eggs, genius!" Misha cried out, underlining the word the paper. "If we manage to imbibe the world's supply of eggs, we--"
"Sweetheart, I don't think 'imbibe' is the word you're looking for he--"
"Steal eggs! Find eggs! Take them, we... we find the eggs, we take the... never mind," Misha huffed, shaking his head rapidly as he turned his focus back onto the paper, scribbling out a word that looked suspiciously like 'imbibe'.
"You haven't answered my question," Sebastian reminded tentatively, feeling Misha's frustration spin into an almost tangible thing. "What kind of--"
"All eggs, Seb. Okay? All. Eggs."
Sebastian bit at his lower lip as he studied Misha's face, letting his own expression fall into one of incredulity. "Frog eggs?"
Misha moaned loudly, throwing his head back to rest on the cushions of the couch behind him. "Yes, frog eggs, chicken eggs, spider eggs, dog eggs, hors--"
"Dogs don't lay eggs, Mish--"
"Well then we won't get dog eggs!"
"I don't like frogs," Sebastian admitted softly, swallowing hard as he wondering if egg-stealing also involved egg-hatching. "They're slimy and wiggly and... and people eat them, you know!" He cried out, eyes wide as Misha ran a hand through his already-Einstein-like hair.
"What about marshmallow frogs?" He asked after a moment, turning a serious gaze in Sebastian's direction.
The responding silence was long and throbbing, as Misha challenged Sebastian's quiet disapproval.
"Okay," Misha shrugged finally, rubbing a big, pink eraser over the page, before blowing off the dust. "We switch our focus to marshmallows."