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The second Cas walks through the door, Dan can tell he’s hiding something.
“Dude,” he says, “why the guilty face? Someone catch you in the library after hours?”
“The library is open twenty-four hours a day, Dean,” Cas says, eyes fixed resolutely on the ground. “And it’s only 6PM.”
Cas’s hands are behind his back, shoulders hunched, eyes guilty. The way he slips off his shoes in the doorway is reminiscent of a dog trying to act normally while its tail is between its legs.
“Cas.”
“Dean.”
They stare at each other in stubborn silence. Cas, brimming with nervous energy, caves first.
“You can’t be upset,” Cas implores. It’s a plea disguised as a statement.
“Uh,” Dean says skeptically, eyebrow raising, “that’s pretty hard to guarantee.” He’d like to pretend that nothing Cas says could ever make him upset, but Dean doesn’t trust his own reactions. Better not to promise good behaviour when he’s not sure he can follow through.
Cas nods, and then nods again, stilted and mechanical. With a deep breath, he brings his arms out from behind his back and holds out his hands.
Dean blinks.
A tiny kitten sits nestled in Cas’s palms. Its ears are way too big for its body, and its eyes look more like a doped up human’s than a cat’s.
“What-”
“She’s hypoallergenic,” Cas blurts before Dean can say anything else, “so you shouldn’t have any adverse effects. We can always return her if allergies are a problem, but… There was a coworker, and she said that the cat needed a home, and I wasn’t going to offer but then she said–”
“Cas,” Dean laughs. “Breathe.”
Cas snaps his mouth shut and finally looks Dean in the eye – brow furrowed, mouth twisted, worry painted across every feature of his face. The cat is starting to squirm in his grip, its – her – astonishingly large ears flopping around like Dumbo.
“So… you brought a cat home.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Dean says. A pause, and then, “It looks like a house elf.”
Cas frowns, adjusting his grip on the kitten. “She does have… rather large ears. I’m told that’s normal, for this breed.”
Dean laughs again. “So she’s gonna look that dorky her whole life?”
“I… believe so.”
The cat meows in protest.
Shaking his head, Dean says, “Man, with how nervous you were acting, I thought you’d - I dunno, killed someone, destroyed a town, or became best buds with a demon.”
They’ve mostly moved on from that lifestyle - hunting, fighting, moving around and chasing new leads. A new generation of hunters is gradually taking the lead. It took a while, but Dean finally learned to sit back and live a life he never thought he’d get to live.
But sometimes one of them still gets an itch that can only be scratched with a good, satisfying hunt. They don’t go far – they’ve got a house, they’ve got jobs – but it’s known to happen. So, Dean’s mostly joking with the whole killing thing, but - well.
Cas smiles sheepishly and steps further into the house with the cat, who is still trying to escape his hold. “Not a demon, as far as I’m aware.”
He sets her down gently, and she immediately goes berserk. Her little legs launch her across the room, and she goes skittering across the slippery floor, head whipping back and forth as she crashes into furniture.
“Uh,” Dean says, watching as she latches onto the couch and claws her way up like she’s crawling her way out of hell, “she might be.”
Cas lets out a huff, and Dean can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when he turns back to look at his husband. “You’re an idiot.” He closes the gap between them and kisses Cas - quick, soft, habitual. “And I love you.”