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This story was inspired by a Facebook conversation that was inspired by this picture.
Kevin brought a tiny grey kitten into the bunker. He was met with unbelieving stares and expected disapproval, even if Sam’s was less harsh. His first instinct was to cuddle the furry ball tightly to his chest. He wrapped a protective arm around it, just in case Dean tried to snatch it away from him.
Kevin quickly reminded them both of all the work he’d done for them during the clusterfuck that had become his life, since he’d first set eyes on Sam Winchester. He knew he was lucky to be alive, and it didn’t take much for him to make sure they realized the same. “I lost a finger for you guys! A FINGER!”
He drew attention to the loss by holding his wrapped hand up and shaking it at them. He almost laughed, reminding himself of an old man telling the kids of the neighborhood to get off his lawn. The missing digit was enough to make Sam agree. Dean, wasn’t as easily persuaded.
After he’d spent all of three minutes sneezing, he said no again.
“Sorry, buddy. I mean, If I wasn’t allergic, I wouldn’t have a problem with it but I think I’m already getting a little puffy.” He paused, pushing against the perfectly normal sized cheeks. Dropping his voice into an even lower register, he finished.”Yeah, and there’s a rasp in my throat, D’ya hear that, Kev.”
Kevin rolled his eyes. While anyone could see that he was actually allergic, Dean was just being dramatic and a little facetious. With a devious look on his face, Kevin muttered his prayer. “Castiel, I’ve never done this before, but Dean needs you in the bunker. Can you come down here please?”
It was, at most 30 seconds later, when Castiel swooped into the room. “What’s wrong with Dean?”
“Nothing is wrong, exactly. I wanted to keep this kitten and Dean said that it wouldn’t be a problem, if he weren’t allergic to it.”
CRAP! Dean knew he was screwed the minute Cas sat foot in the bunker. Trying to reaffirm the
horrible life choices he’d made that led him to his current situation, he spoke up. “I didn’t.. that’s not.. it isn’t exactly what I said.”
Kevin gave Dean a wide and far too cocky smirk. “Close enough,” he answered, turning back to Cas.
“I’ll make you a deal, Castiel. If you can take away Dean’s allergies, I’ll even let you name this little guy,” said Kevin, who was officially back on his not getting jack for Christmas list.
Dean knew he was getting bent, and not in the good way, the moment Cas took the kitten from Kevin.
“Well, it isn’t a guinea pig, but he is... quite adorable,” he said. His long slender finger rubbing against the white and grey fur across the top of the kitten’s head.
Instantly, Dean felt his breathing get easier, and what had become a familiar tight stretch in his nose disappeared immediately. The urge to sneeze was far more distant than he’d imagined it could be.
Castiel moved closer, his trench coat swooping gently against his legs. Even though he’d began wearing a less formal “uniform,” the familiar jacket hadn’t been rotated out of his wardrobe. “I wasn’t able to take away your allergies, Dean. However, it was hardly a challenge to take away the kitten’s dander spores.”
“I’ll bet it wasn’t,” Dean answered, just a little frustrated with both Kevin and himself.
“Why are you moving away, Dean. I told you I made it to where you’re not allergic to Zepplin.” Castiel said, holding the little furball toward him with wide curious eyes.
Dean swallowed thickly, “Zepplin huh?” he asked, taking the offered animal into his hands and trying not to seem too impressed with it or the name.
Cas moved, his head nearly touching against Dean’s relaxed shoulder as he pushed further into his personal space.“Yes, I thought Zepplin to be an appropriate name. You do enjoy the band Led Zepplin. Plus, he seemed to be okay with it when I asked.”
Dean gave a fond eye roll at his boyfriend, of course Cas asked the damn kitten about it’s preferences, because why not. As if on cue, the mangy feline pushed its cold, black nose into Cas’ hand and licked against his palm, making his boyfriend smile brightly and let out a small usually reserved chuckle.
Taking a deep breath, Dean realized this battle was lost. He wasn’t going to be able to get rid of anything that made Cas light up like that.
Kevin promised to take care of the damn thing, since he was the one at the bunker most of the time. At least there’s that, Dean thought to himself.
So of course, because he has Winchester luck.The very next day the kid’s mom called saying she’d been in an accident and broken both the arm and the leg on her right side. Dean understood Kevin’s insistence that he go home and take care of her while she was recovering, but it didn’t change the fact that the guy would be gone at least a month or two.
Dean wasn’t about to let Zepplin be carted off to friggin Michigan where he was sure Cas would track him down and spend most of his free time there playing with the thing. Obviously, the only choice meant leaving the little furball’s care to either Sam, Cas, or himself.
Castiel was quick to offer Kevin his “pimp mobile” and promised to look after Zepplin himself, once he’d heard about what happened.
Which is why just two days later Dean returned to the bunker half dead and more than a little exhausted. There’d been a simple salt and burn case, with a side of extra violent poltergeist about six hours north of Lebanon.
Yet to his surprise when it came time to leave, Sam insisted on staying with Cas to teach him how to take care of the damn cat.
“It’s food and water, how bad could it be, Sammy?” he’d asked, but of course that only earned him the biggest widest brown and blue eyed combo. Both, from his brother and his boyfriend at the same damn time. So what was he supposed to do?
When Dean reached the door he felt even heavier than he had just a minute earlier climbing out of the Impala. There was something about the feeling of coming home that offered both comfort and a big ol’ dose of reality, which meant it was even harder to pretend he wasn’t aching in places he’d forgotten he had.
Dean took off his boots, before flinging himself onto the couch of what they’d turned into a living room area. He’d just closed his eyes when he felt a scratch against his foot. He’d almost completely forgotten about the cat, until Zepplin jumped up attacking his socked feet with both his teeth and the tiny, but extremely sharp claws.
“Sorry man, I can’t play with you right now, I’m exhausted. I’ll catch ya later though,” he said to the thing, grateful Cas wasn’t there to look at him with a familiar glare of disapproval.
But as always, his angel abided by the Dean thinks, therefore I am, policy and popped in.
He’d known the second he heard quiet footsteps against the hardwood floor that it would be Cas. He’d expected snark, or even righteous fury, but when he saw the sadness instead, he knew he was truly screwed. Castiel was looking down at him, so pathetically that Dean was sure even Crowley couldn’t have withstood that gaze.
“Dean, why are you being mean to baby Zepplin? He missed you and this is the only way he knows to show you how much he cares for you.” Castiel asked, pleading with him even though he’d already given up internally.
A wave of thankfulness to be home, to see his boyfriend, swept over him. So he pulled Cas down just enough to give him a quick kiss before replying. “Did I say later? I meant right now. Bring on the cat toys.”
Cas’ face instantly transformed, a wide smile stretching higher than he’d seen in far too many years. Sitting up, Dean reached down to pull the grey and white kitten onto his lap and gave a fond chuckle toward Castiel, who was digging into the surprisingly large toy box that had Zepplin scrawled across the wooden top.
A warmth that had once made him uncomfortable, settled inside his chest. What could he say, he loved his Angel, and maybe the purring little squeak toy wasn’t so bad either.