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“Dean, I have an idea that will help you relax,” Cas stated simply. Directly. Why was he always like that?
“Make me,” Dean growled with little threat. He was just so tired. But also wired. A dreadful combination.
“Make you relax?” Cas cocked his head and contemplated for a moment. “I could try, I suppose. But it would go more smoothly if you were a willing participant.”
“Fine, whatever. What’s your idea?” Dean hoped whatever it was started with at least two beers and involved a full-body massage.
Given permission, Cas moved quickly across the main room of the bunker. When Dean managed to raise his eyes he saw that Cas was holding a lidded box with holes in the top. He set it carefully down and opened the lid.
Dean couldn’t believe what he saw Cas lifting out of the box. He sat upright and started to shift further down the couch. “No, nope. No way. This is not making me relax, Cas.”
Cas put one hand gently on Dean’s knee, stopping him from moving. Damn it. Then Cas placed the tiny black kitten he was holding in his other hand on Dean’s lap. The kitten looked up at Dean with huge black eyes that gleamed in the low light.
“This is Misha, Dean. His mother is unable to take care of him. I’ve been doing some reading on the benefits to humans when they interact with domesticated animals. The pet-human bond has significant impact on mental health, heart health, and overall well-being. And you know how much I care about your well-being.”
Dean couldn’t believe it. Or maybe he could. He wasn’t allergic to cats anymore since the hunt last week. Something Cas did during the healing had shifted his immune system around. And now Cas was bringing a tiny kitten into their home. How were they going to take care of it? Did any of them know anything about keeping a baby like this alive? This was going to be the opposite of relaxing.
But while he’d been enumerating disaster scenarios in his head, Misha had begun to make biscuits in his lap, purring louder than Dean had ever heard a cat purr. In short order the kitten had curled into a tight, warm ball. And the purring never stopped. Without even realizing he was doing it, Dean reached out to pet Misha’s head. His fur was actually as soft as it looked.
He could feel himself relaxing. Sort of sinking into the sofa. He glanced up at Cas, who was simply standing there with his goofy grin that should drive Dean crazy. But instead, Dean just quirked his lip, nodded his head, and tried not to disturb Misha as he settled in for a nap.