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With a bit of fitful sleep and uninspired meal choices in between, Dean had made it through Lord of the Rings (the director's cut), the Star Wars films (including the prequels and sequels) and was just finishing up on Last Crusade when his phone played the harp sound assigned to Cas. Fucking finally.
Cas 😇 : I've dispatched the ghoul in Topeka.
Cas 😇 : It was frustratingly elusive. However, a satisfying conclusion with zero further casualties was achieved.
Dean snorted as he waited for the inevitable third message. Like a dog turning three times before it drops for a nap.
Cas 😇 : 👍
There it is. Dean smiled down at his phone like a dumbass until he was interrupted by Sam snagging the remote to turn off the TV with an almighty bitch face.
"What the fuck, man? I was gonna watch Crystal Skull!"
"You hate Crystal Skull." Sam replied flatly. "You said 'that if aliens existed on Earth they wouldn't be fucking around with witchcraft because it's fucking gross'. What's your deal, man?"
"Nuthin'. I'm fine. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Dean asked sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes. Deflect, Dean, deflect!
Sam rolled his eyes and handed Dean an honest to god dossier. Manilla file, paperclips, red stamp…the whole shebang and Dean snatched it from him gleefully.
The stamp on the front read 'EPT' and he looked at his brother for clarification. Sam just shrugged so Dean flipped open the file.
"There's maybe a case. Witches in Wichita. Heh. This…" Sam gestured at the file. "...was in the archives. Looks like the Men of Letters have run into these guys before."
Dean shuffled through the old photos and documents, the lightweight paper crinkling pleasantly between his fingers. He resisted the urge to sniff it.
"I like this. We should do all our research like this." He dreaded to think how long it would take to type everything but he bet Cas could do it at superspeed. He was a man shaped angel of many talents. Dean caught himself smiling again and cleared his throat.
"Um, yeah, you can get on that. Anyway, we can head out in the morning, okay?" Sam didn't wait for an answer and Dean nodded absently; ostensibly absorbed by the file but really just enjoying one of his regularly scheduled 'Castiel's Hands' daydreams.
The harp played again, surprising him out of his reverie. Another text? So soon? Cas was really spoiling him!
Cas 😇: t d a tt tt d d ld hl it tutty a tcr y r rc
Great. A butt text.
Dean: Y'allright there, Cas?
Cas 😇: Yes, my apologies. See you soon.
Dean rolled his eyes but his hips did an involuntary happy little wiggle at the idea of Cas being home soon. He yanked the blanket off his lap, struggled momentarily to kick the recliner into a sitting position and stood up. Despite his body making a valiant effort to overcome two sleeping legs and a lighthead, it failed miserably and Dean promptly fell on his ass.
Castiel was endlessly intrigued by the contents of Dean's wash bag. On the outside was simple leather, with a strong zipper, solid base, manly, tough.
On the inside, however, hand lotion, hair putty, exfoliator…he sniffed each product as he rummaged and his fingers brushed something new, something smooth and long…and bright pink?
Cas wrapped his hand around the plastic and pulled it out. He sat, head bowed and hands close to his face, examining the curious item.
The door to the motel banged open and Castiel jumped, sending the thing flying to land at Dean's newly arrived feet.
Dean stared at the thing, Cas stared at Dean and Sam—smirking—looked between them like he was at a tennis match.
"Um…" Cas tried. Dean shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and Cas stopped.
Dean cleared his throat, picked up the offending item and strode up to Cas. He snatched his bag from him, and with a stern look, disappeared into the bathroom.
"Um…" Cas tried again so Sam took pity on him and changed the subject.
"Hey, Cas. Didn't know you were in town. We got wind of a case. Some witches in the city." Sam tossed the dossier on the bed. "We can stay here and just drive out later after a bit of research. Still can't believe this shithole has WiFi."
Dean arrived back in the room in a cloud of steam with a towel loosely slung around his hips. Cas could never help himself staring at Dean at the best of times but when he insists on baring himself so openly, what was Cas expected to do? Leave the room? He told himself, not for the first time, that he was looking respectfully.
When Dean eventually noticed Cas' eyes on him, Cas forced himself to look away. He picked a spot on the wall behind Dean and feigned indifference to the human who happened to interrupt his perfectly innocent staring at the wall.
Dean waved a hand in front of his face.
"Earth to Cas!" he singsonged and Cas used his entire heavenly patience to not roll his eyes. Instead he stood up, knocking the dossier to the floor in the process. He ignored it just to mess with Dean and stalked to the bathroom.
Dean got up to four in his head before huffing and scooping up the papers from the floor. He had no idea what had gotten into Cas recently except that he slept a bit, ate a burger now and then and was known to hog the shower for days on end.
Dean supposed losing grace was kinda like his bum knee and aching shoulder. A slow decline in faculties that would make anyone grumpy, let alone a guy with resting bitch…everything.
He was absently shuffling the papers back into order when something caught his eye. A sepia photo of a tabby cat, the scrawl along the bottom claimed it was taken in 1854.
"Hey, Sammy? What's with the cat?"
Sam looked up from his laptop with a frown and hummed. "I think it's some kind of familiar. Not like Portia, more like a really clever pet. The coven draws power through it."
"Huh, gank the cat, stop the witches?" Dean asked.
"Dean! No! It's ultimately just a cat. It's not it's fault these witches are using it." Sam admonished loudly enough for Cas to stick his tousled head and bare chest out of the bathroom door to frown angrily at Dean.
"Whoa, okay, okay, sorry." Dean raised his hands—and eyebrows—in surrender. "Not the cat…" he continued, muttering to himself "...unless it gets in my way…"
Cas' frown deepened and he shook his head before disappearing back into the bathroom. Damn angel hearing.
An hour or two later found them sitting in the Impala outside a small suburban house. Sam flicked through his notes to double check the address, confirming it with a nod. Cas straightened his tie as he approached the front door, posing as a Jehovah's Witness' to distract any occupants of the house while Sam and Dean confirmed their witchy status.
Dean and Sam made their way around each side of the house to meet at the back door.
Just as Cas rang the doorbell a cacophony of yowling started up inside the house, and Cas stepped back. He turned his head to see Dean running towards him, gun drawn, face grim.
A bright purple light enveloped him, giving him an instant headache. He heard Dean calling his name and he felt like he was swimming in leviathan goo, then nothing.
"Cas! Nononononono, Cas?!" Dean had just turned around the side of the house to see Cas blown backwards by a flash of purple light. He hit the ground hard and Dean slid to his side in the gravel Cas had landed in.
Dean cradled Cas' face in his hands. "Cas? Come on…"
Cas let out a pitiful sound but at least he was alive. Dean breathed a sigh of relief but a gun shot made him jump to his feet to go find Sam.
The witch had fired the spell at Cas then tried to run out the back, running straight into Sam who hadn't hesitated to shoot her with their witch killing bullets. A second witch was still in the house and the brothers didn't take long to track him down and take him out too.
"Cas was hit. He's down." Dean told Sam. "He's alive but out cold. We should grab as much shit as we can and take it back with us. Make sure we aren't dealing with anything too hinky."
Dean's hands shook and if Sam noticed, he didn't say anything.
Cas still lay where Dean had left him but now his eyes were open. He stared blankly at the sky until Dean leant over him, and he made the odd sound again.
"Okay buddy, let's get ya home." Dean grasped Cas' hand, hauled him to his feet then guided him carefully into the Impala. "Wait here, we're gonna grab some stuff." He rolled down the window halfway for some fresh air then retrieved a couple of empty duffles from the trunk.
Sam had started to stack the various spell books and he'd collected a pile of ingredients. They all went into the duffle.
They stripped the house bare, even taking the witches extensive collection of tinned food and fancy ass microbrews because why the fuck not?
Loaded up and ready to go, Dean heaved himself into the drivers seat and turned to look at Cas.
"You okay there, buddy?"
Cas opened his mouth, closed it, then simply nodded and turned to look out the window.
"Alrighty, then. Good talk." Dean shared a look with Sam, who shrugged, then with a roll of his eyes, Dean put Baby into gear and headed home.
About an hour out from the bunker, Sam cleared his throat. He spoke softly to avoid waking Cas who had almost immediately curled in on himself and fallen asleep.
"Uh, Dean? Mind if you drop me off? Uh, Eileen's in Belleville and asked if I could help out with something."
"Help out, eh? That what they're callin' it?" Dean snorted. "Yeah, sure."
Once Sam had been safely deposited with Eileen, Dean turned to an awakened Cas then glanced meaningfully at the passenger seat. Cas simply stared at him, big blue eyes blinking slowly, then looked out of the window.
Dean started to ask what the fuck was up but took a deep breath instead. The guy was going through some shit anyway then got knocked on his ass. He'd be pissy too.
Upon arrival at the bunker, Cas leapt from the car and headed immediately to the kitchen. Dean grabbed as much as he could carry—grumbling about strong as fuck angels literally not carrying their weight—and made his way inside.
By the time he'd unloaded, Cas was nowhere to be found so Dean started on dinner, safe in the knowledge that the smell of burgers would draw Cas out eventually. Sometimes it would take him a few hours to pull his head out of a book or a nap and go in search of food but he seemingly wasn't picky about how hot his meal was. The burger would get eaten but, Dean lamented, it would be nice to eat at the same time.
Once he'd finished his own burger, Dean decided to head to bed. He poked his head into the library, hoping to say goodnight to Cas. The angel was sitting in one of the comfier armchairs at the back of the large room. Back straight and staring into space. Communing with the cosmos or some shit.
"G'night, Cas." Dean waved. Cas ignored him completely but that wasn't that unusual, especially if he was having a little chat over angel radio.
A few Cas-free days later, Dean woke up with a yelp. Cas was sitting on the end of his bed, staring down at him, with his head tilted.
"Jesus, Cas." Dean sighed and dragged a hand over his face to cover his tired eyes.
"What did I say about watching me sleep?"
When Cas didn't answer, Dean peered out through his fingers. Cas had gone. Slinked out through the open door.
Fucksake.
Dean spent the day adding the new books and ingredients to the Bunker's inventory, only stopping for a lonely lunch, then back to it until an equally lonely dinner.
He was drying the dishes when a crash echoed down the hall. Dean had his gun out in a heartbeat and, in his socked feet, padded towards the sound.
As he reached the library, Cas left it, passing him silently in the hall.
"Cas!" Dean, whisper yelled, "What the fuck was that?" Before he could answer, the bunker door screeched open and Sam called out.
"Hey, I'm home!"
Cas had already disappeared so Dean went to meet his brother.
"Sammy! How'd 'helpin' out' go?" Dean waggled his eyebrows and Sam rolled his eyes. He tried to pull the bitch face routine but Dean saw through it immediately. "Atta boy!" He punched his brother's massive shoulder then shoved him further into the bunker. "Ya hungry?"
Sam grinned and nodded as he followed Dean to the kitchen.
One egg white omelette later—you're welcome, Sammy—Dean leaned back against the wall. He peered at Sam thoughtfully, taking in how healthy and, dare he say it, happy he looked. The bunker wouldn't ever have a white picket fence but its practical salt-infused iron railings were close enough. They weren't on wheels or attached to a motel for starters. Maybe he should suggest Eileen moves in. She's way out of Sam's league but she seems to like the giant goober.
Not for the first time, his thoughts drifted to Cas. Flighty, frustrating, loyal, gorgeous, Cas. Dean toyed with his fork, spearing the greens he'd put on his plate as a token gesture but hadn't eaten along with his egg yolk omelette.
Washing dishes while Cas dried, turning that scruffy bit of dirt out back into a garden, Christmases, birthdays, Netflix…all flicked through his mind like a hallmark movie. He sighed and threw the fork down making Sam jump.
"What the hell, Dean?!" Sam clutched his pearls and Dean didn't even have it in him to laugh. "You've been here sulking the whole time, huh? 'Cas okay?"
"Yeah, I guess. He's not been around much." Dean murmured as he took his plate to the sink. Sam hummed, altogether too knowingly, and Dean scoffed.
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"Nothing. Just…you get a bit…tetchy when Cas isn't here." Sam said carefully.
"Tetchy?"
Sam just shrugged.
"Whatever." Dean huffed as he stormed out of the room as non-tetchily as ever.
Later that day, as Dean found himself in the kitchen again, Sam cleared his throat in the doorway.
"Uh…Dean? I…uh…found Cas…" Sam muttered as he ventured further into the kitchen. Dean looked up at his weird tone to see Cas leaning bodily against Sam. Not in a 'too weak to stand but too proud to sit' kind of way, but in a 'pressing himself on Sam's flannel like a labrador' kind of way. Dean stared.
Dean kept staring.
Did he stare some more? You betcha.
"Why is he so hot!?" Sam stage whispered as if the guy wasn't less than an inch away.
"Excuse me?" Dean heard himself say flatly and Sam pulled a face.
"Temperature wise, Dean, Jesus." Sam rolled his eyes.
Oh. Right.
"Cas?" The word catching in Dean's throat. "Uh, whatcha doin?"
Cas merely squinted at him, dragged himself away from Sam then wandered silently away down the corridor towards their bedrooms.
Sam and Dean followed him to Sam's room and watched, bewildered, as Cas climbed into Sam's bed and promptly fell asleep.
"Uh." Dean started.
"Um." Sam added.
"Right." They said together.
"Library?" Dean asked.
"Library." Sam nodded.
Four hours later and they were no closer to an answer. Cas had appeared at one point, dragged himself against Sam's back as he passed him in the stacks then fallen asleep again in one of the leather armchairs at the back of the library.
Dean stretched. "I'm beat. Goin' to bed." He looked around for his phone before remembering he'd left it in the kitchen the last time he went for a beer. "You too, man. We can pick this up in the morning." He glanced at Cas snoozing, "I'd lock your door if I were you. Unless you want a weirdo angel sleeping with you, he's probably a blanket hog."
Sam shuddered. "Good idea. G'night." He hurried to his room to avoid Cas and Dean, reluctantly, did the same.
It wasn't until his head hit the pillow that he realised he hadn't collected his phone. Fuck it.
Sam woke Dean up in the morning by banging around in the kitchen after his run and Dean dragged himself to the noise. At least the moose made good coffee.
"Where's Cas?" Dean asked.
"Good morning, Dean. No idea." Sam answered and Dean rolled his tired eyes.
"G'morning, bitch. We should probably find him. Or maybe you can fart and he'll come running to sniff it." Dean tried not to sound bitter but it slipped out anyway making Sam laugh.
"Now you know what it feels like to be me." Sam snorted.
"Pft, whatever." Dean left Sam giggling like a little bitch in the kitchen and went to find Cas. He was in the dungeon before he realised he'd forgotten his phone again.
It was an hour or so of searching the grounds later when Dean found Cas squatting by the nearby lake. He had a horrible pang of deja vu but shook himself out of it, safe in the knowledge that Cas was here, on Earth, with Dean…even if he was acting like a complete weirdo.
"Cas?" Dean called softly so he didn't spook him. He seemed to be watching something in the water, probably a boatsman or something. Suddenly, his hand darted beneath the still surface of the lake and pulled out a small red and green fish. It was just a shiner but those bastards were quick!
Okay, Dean had a strong stomach. Growing up, he'd had to as he ate all the shit Sam refused to. From prison food to alternate reality roadkill, he'd eaten it. But when Cas shoved the still wiggling fish into his mouth and chewed on it happily, bile rose in Dean's throat. He could hear the crunching and the blood ran down Cas' chin like a (slightly) more attractive Smeegol. Cas turned at the retching sound Dean made and, honest to god, hissed at him.
Right, that's it. There was definitely something wrong. Cas had been known to be silent for days on end when he was in a snit, and sometimes, if he was feeling shitty, he would even hide in the bunker somewhere, nesting until he felt better. Hissing, however, was a new one. Eating fish straight from the lake? Definitely unusual.
Dean tried to approach Cas but the angel just hissed again and arched his back so he went to pull his phone out to call Sam the Cat Whisperer but it was still in the damn kitchen.
"Come on, buddy…let's go see Sam…okay?" Dean crooned softly and Cas relaxed minutely before stepping forward slowly. Dean backed away, leading Cas back to the bunker where Sam, hopefully, still was.
"Where have you been and why aren't you answering your phone?" Sam sighed the second the bunker door opened. "I couldn't find you or Cas so I called then I thought you'd snuck off somewhere to finally…You know what? Nevermind." He shook his head as Dean spluttered at him. Finally what?! What was that supposed to mean?
"Anyway, don't freak out but I think there's something in the bunker." Sam raised his hands to placate his brother but it didn't help much, especially as Cas had already put Dean on edge by immediately glueing himself to Sam's side.
"What do you mean 'something'?" Dean, effectively distracted, asked slowly. "Ghost? Demon? Ghoul, werewolf, vamp, werepire, djinn…? You gotta be a bit more specific."
Sam shook his head quickly. "No, no, nothing like that. Just a cat, maybe? I keep seeing it out of the corner of my eye. Along with Cas being…" He gestured as Cas, "...like this. It could be connected."
Dean nodded absently as he peered around the corners of the war room as if he expected a tiger to spring out from the shadows.
"Right, you take the East…and Cas, I guess…and I'll take the west. We'll find the furry son'bitch and deal with it."
Sam raised an eyebrow, "...and take your phone, dumbass."
Dean mimed a squawking chicken, expecting at least a lil smirk from Cas but got nothing. Huh. Curiouser and curiouser…
His phone lay on the kitchen counter and when he unlocked it a message from Cas popped up.
>don't hurt the cat<
"Yeah, yeah, dork, I know." Dean muttered fondly. He pocketed it and started his search.
He eventually found it curled up in room 15, which was Cas' room if he ever stayed longer than five minutes. It had been asleep when he first poked his head in but must have sensed the movement of air or something because it leapt up and off the bed to scramble under it.
Dean knelt on the floor, his old knees protesting, and peered at the whiskered face just visible under the edge of the comforter.
He looked around, checking for any judgmental little brothers, then held out a hand. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He sighed heavily.
"Psp psp…psp…?"
The cat blinked.
"Come on, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you. I promised Cas I wouldn't." Dean said softly and the cat took a cautious step towards him. The cat had a tag on its collar and Dean could just make out 'Veritas' engraved on it.
"Truth, huh? Well, don't tell anyone I said this but if I wasn't allergic to ya, I'd snuggle the heck out of ya." Dean chuckled and the cat came closer. "I've never told anyone that. I'm definitely more of a dog guy though, sorry." He shrugged, feeling less silly with every step the cat took towards him. Honesty seemed to be working and who on Earth could the cat tell?
"Sometimes, I like to watch romantic comedies. What can I say, Swaze always gets a pass." Another step.
"Um, I love a good salad. Yeah, with a shit tonne of mayo but still!" He admitted and the cat moved close enough to sniff at Dean's outstretched hand.
"I…uh…" He cleared his throat, "I might be in love." He whispered and the cat, rubbing it's head against his palm, made a small questioning mreow sound making Dean chuckle. "You don't know him but I think you'd like him. I know for a fact he would like you. Cas is my…" Dean stopped when the cat leapt into his arms and pressed it's head into his neck. The purrs it let out were deep and powerful against Dean's chest and he couldn't help but nuzzle back.
"Whoa, okay. Yeah, buddy, I like you a whole bunch too, okay." He cooed at the fluffball currently worming it's way into his flannel. "Let's go find Sam."
Dean got back to the library to find it empty so he pulled out his phone. Cas' text was still on the screen and Dean noticed something odd. The message about the cat was sent from his phone, not received by it. What the fuck? Why would he send that to Cas? Was it a butt made voice to text? He didn't remember anyone saying that out loud since…before the hunt. Dean checked the time of the message. It had been sent after they had gotten back.
"Dean?" Sam shouted from somewhere nearby. "Over here, help!" Dean quickly followed his voice to find Sam splayed out on an armchair, with a six foot angel sleeping on his lap. "I couldn't reach my phone. He's too heavy! Help!" Dean froze for a second, hurt clawing at his chest. He ignored it as usual and approached Cas.
"Buddy?" He shook his shoulder. Cas opened an eye, looked at him with the utmost contempt then closed it again. "What did I do?! Hey, Cas! Get off!"
Jostled by the vigorous shaking, the cat crawled out of Dean's shirt and jumped onto Cas' trench coat clad back. Sam stared at it, then at Dean, then back at the cat who was now kneading the angel's back roughly.
"You found it then?"
"Yeah." Dean thumbed over his shoulder. "In Cas' room."
The cat stopped kneading to look at Dean, head tilting familiarly. Wait.
Wait a fucking second.
Dean felt a heat creep up his neck to turn into that weird burning sensation in his ears that accompanied acute embarrassment.
Fuck shit fuck shit fuck
Sam was watching Dean's internal meltdown with confused interest.
"Uh, I think the cat is Cas. And…uh…Cas is a cat."
Sam's confused face intensified and Dean irrationally felt envious of his brother's cluelessness. He wished he could go back in time half an hour. At least.
"Where did you put all the crap from the last hunt? The books and shit?" Dean asked weakly, avoiding looking at any pairs of eyes: weirded out (Sam), blankly stupid (Cas) and softly loving (the damn cat).
Sam pointed to the library archway where a stack of boxes stood waiting to be sorted and stored. Dean hustled over and began to search through until he found the photo he'd seen in the file. He held it up to confirm that the cat—that had followed him to the boxes—was in fact the same cat from the hundred and seventy year old photograph.
Yup.
"Veritas?" Dean called out and the Cas on Sam's lap lifted his head lazily. "Come here…please?"
Cas' slipped off Sam's lap and stretched languidly. He sauntered over, taking his time and Dean would have been annoyed if he didn't know that it was a damn miracle the cat had responded to his name at all.
Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Moment of truth. Heh, truth.
"Cas?" Dean asked the cat and it nodded. A cat nodding was actually pretty high on the list of weirdest things he'd ever seen and as a hunter that was saying something. "Any ideas?" The cat—Cas—shrugged. Okay, a cat shrugging just shot to the top of the list.
Sam had approached and watched the exchange with an amused smile.
"Time to hit the books then." Sam clapped his hands together, startling the Cas shaped Cat then started to pull tomes from the boxes.
Dean and Sam had the most relevant of the books open on the large central table of the library where they skimmed and read whatever seemed remotely related to body swaps. The cat shaped Cas sat on the table, his tail flicking occasionally as he read. He used a delicate paw to turn the pages and Dean's list of weird was officially topped again.
Sam still had a pet angel attached to him but thankfully it had settled on the adjacent chair instead of in his lap.
"So, from what this journal says the cat and it's magic is very strongly linked with honesty." Sam said suddenly and Dean felt himself flush. "The spell work for the body swap seems to rely on the curse latching on to a secret. Not for any reason except secrets are powerful. The bigger the lie, the stronger the spell."
Dean's stomach dropped. It was his fault Cas was like this. If only he'd said something sooner this never would have happened. Cas wouldn't want to be anywhere near Dean but at least he'd be safe. Fucking toxic, shitty, ass…
"--ean! Hey! Stop! I can see you spiraling. It's not your fault. It says here that it's the bearer of the curse that has the secret. Not just a random bystander..," Sam looked like he was torn between pity and amusement. It was an interesting combination twisting his face but it soon morphed into a smirk. "...dumbass."
Yeah yeah, okay, that makes more sense. It made Dean uneasy that Cas could be hiding something big enough for transmogrification though.
"So, uh, any idea what could fix it?" Dean asked then snorted, "Does he need to speak his truth?"
"Yes, actually. It says here that the 'truth will set ye free.'"
Dean snorted again. To be completely honest (heh), if he doesn't laugh, he'd cry. He really didn't want to know Cas' 'Truth'.
"Maybe you should deal with this, dude. I dunno if I'll be any help." Dean said, and before Sam could answer, sped out of the room. He heard Sam yelling after him but ignored it and locked himself in his room.
Dean sat on his bed, his feet firmly planted on the floor and his head in his hands. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when a mournful mew made him uncover his eyes and look down between his knees. Cas' whiskered face peered up from under his bed.
Dean dangled his hand down, not quite an invitation but close, and Cas rubbed his face against his palm. Dean smiled as Cas purred.
"Hey, Buddy." Dean said softly. "How're you holding up?"
Cas mrewoed and butted his head against Dean's hand. Dean patted the bed next to him and, after a wide eyed look, Cas jumped up gracefully to sit next to him.
"Okay, Cas. Sammy thinks that you need to confess something and you'll swap back." Cas nodded slowly. "Any idea what that might be?" Dean felt like he'd swallowed a rock, it slid down his throat and landed heavily in his stomach.
Cas turned away and stared at nothing, his tail flicking. Dean reached out and ran a gentle hand down the brown and white fur on Cas' back.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. No matter what you're hiding, it won't change things. I promise." Dean said, running a finger under Cas' chin to get him to turn back.
Cas shuffled on to Dean's lap and raised himself on his back paws with his front paws on Dean's chest.
"So how we gonna do this? You can't exactly tal…wait…you can't talk, right?"
Cas rolled his eyes and mrewped.
"Okay, okay. Sorry." He wasn't sorry, Cas was just a bitch and apologising was usually easier. "Wait, did you text me after…" He gestured at the little furry body "... this happened?"
Cas nodded slowly.
"So why not just do that again?" Dean asked excitedly.
Cas looked pointedly away but then stepped forward to where Dean had laid down his phone. Cas looked at Dean for a moment and he swore that if cats could blush, that's what was happening.
After some hesitation, Cas lowered his furry little head and his tiny pink tongue darted out delicately to lick the screen.
Dean pulled his lips into his mouth to stop the laugh that was bubbling up but it escaped out of his nose anyway. Cas' head snapped up and he squinted at Dean. His whole demeanour suggested that if Dean laughed again, Cas wouldn't hesitate to shit in his boots.
Dean looked away hurriedly and held up his hands in surrender. He couldn't watch without being hopelessly, fondly, amused.
He hid his big dumb grin just before Cas looked up at him expectantly and twisted his head to see the message.
"I live you." Dean read. "Huh?"
Cas closed his eyes slowly and dipped his head again. Dean watched him backspace and retype.
"Lo..ohh…" Dean grinned. "You love me?"
Cas mrowed, jumped off the bed and left the room. Dean gaped after him. What the fuck?
"Deaaaan!" Sam yelled from down the hall and Dean was up in a flash, running towards his brother's frenzied shout.
Sam sat in the war room under a very dazed Cas and a very smug cat.
"Uh…what's happening? Why is Cas on my chest? He just ran in and jumped up!" Sam spluttered.
"Sam?" Cas' graveled out and damn was Dean glad to hear his voice. "Why am I on your lap?"
The laugh was bubbling up again when Sam looked between Dean and Cas, bewildered.
"Looks your fan base is growing, Sammy!" Dean giggled and had two matching bitch faces thrown at him. "What? S'funny!"
Cas stood up, unamused, and straightened his coat. Without a word, he stepped around Dean to leave but was stopped by a hand on his wrist.
"Cas." Dean said softly. "Stay. Please?" He slid his hand down to tangle their fingers together, gazed into beautiful blue eyes, and smiled warmly. "I live you, too."