Work Text:
It’s not so much that Kevin doesn’t like dogs. It’s that he’s terrified of them. He was bitten when he was very small, right through his hand, and he can remember screaming like he was being tortured. And he should know.
He stares at the dog, a moderately-sized black and white thing with longish hair and a face that almost looks like it's smiling. Dean'd gotten it for Sam after the whole dog-spell thing, said he finally understood what Sam saw in them all these years. It was weird.
Dean’s been weird, getting a pet notwithstanding. He feels off, and the dog is just the icing on that cake. The weirdest thing about the dog is the fact that he specifically got it for Sam, who, of course, fell in love with the thing on sight. Border collie, Dean'd said, he’d done research and it’s smart and independent and blah blah blah, Sam hadn’t been listening anymore at that point, he was all up in the dog’s face, petting it and talking baby talk to it. Kevin didn’t really care what breed the dog was either, but he’d picked back up on Dean’s ramble when he’d said "…and Kevin can take care of it when we go out on hunts."
"No, Kevin can't," he'd said, because besides not being asked (he's just a little sick of not being asked), he hates dogs. Even ones that seem all friendly and lick your face. Those especially, come to think of it.
He'd been summarily dismissed, as Dean does, and that's when he'd really taken a look at what was going on. He knows Dean considers the bunker their home and he really likes it here. He knows Sam sees it as a really big library with a cot in the back for when your eyes cross because you're too tired to stand up on your own anymore. He knows that something's been bothering Dean for months and he's lying to Sam about it. He knows Sam lets it go, presumably because he thinks he can trust Dean and he doesn't really trust himself anymore. The dog is part of all that - Dean trying to cover and Sam trying to trust and both of them dancing around whatever the hell is really going on. Kevin just hopes it's nothing big because he's got enough on his plate right now and the Winchesters both suck when they're not getting along.
He stares at the dog. It stares back. It whines at him a little, but not a terribly annoying whine. Maybe it has to go to the bathroom. "Outside?" Kevin asks. Its ears perk up and it shifts sideways, in the general direction of the garage, tilting its head at Kevin like it's trying to say, "come on, let's go!"
Kevin shakes his head as he follows the dog to the garage. Prophet of the lord, dogsitter. It's all the same around this place.