Chapter Text
It was just one of those days. One of those days when you wished you hadn't even gotten out of bed.
First, the morning delivery was late which meant he had no Armour Hot Dogs to sell to customers, but especially to Mr.Spartan who was known to get super angry if he didn't get his daily dose.
Then, a bunch of kids came into the store and made a mess while he was trying to calm down Mr.Spartan, and hurried to make him some hotdogs so he wouldn't demolish the place.
After that, midway through his shift, the slushy machine broke down and when he tried to fix it, he ended up spilling all the slurpy that was in the container across the store floor. He spent the rest of his shift cleaning it up, and he still didn't manage to get it all.
And now that he is finally done and on his way home, this happens.
Cas finds himself frozen in place, staring at the dog before him, paralyzed with fear. His heart is hammering in his chest and he can feel his skin growing hot as he starts to sweat. Even though the dog does nothing but observe him curiously as it lies on some cardboard next to the dumpster, Cas still can't help the anxiety that is growing within him with every passing second.
For a moment he is thrown back into the past, over twenty years ago, when he was just a small, happy child, playing around in the park. He can almost smell the scent of the fresh cut grass and taste the ice cream he had prior. He was such a foolish child who thought dogs were interesting and he wanted to pet one. The bite mark on the inside of his forearm throbs as he remembers the look in the dog’s eyes and the sudden attack.
The dog that's in front of him now shifts, and Cas’ focus is brought back to the present. He tries to make himself breathe, tells himself he is much larger than the dog now and could either stop it or outrun it. He sucks in a breath when the light brown dog sniffs the air, but relaxes marginally when it lowers its head to the ground and closes its eyes.
Slowly, Cas takes a few unsteady steps back, exiting the alley he usually takes to get home. He is trembling all over, but it feels a little easier to breathe now. Guess he's going to have to go all the way around the building, but it beats going anywhere near the stray dog.
He spends the rest of his day keeping busy with chores and dinner, doing anything to keep his mind off today's events. But when the evening comes and there is nothing left to do but either settle down on the couch and watch some mindless TV or retire to bed, Cas chooses the option that is less likely to bring those long forgotten memories to the surface.
Even with some old 90s action movie Cas knows by heart and still loves to watch, his eyes are drawn to his forearm and the bite that lies underneath his hoodie. Usually, it doesn't affect him as much anymore, but then there are days like these, days when life is just so adamant to torment him and remind him there's a good chance that he'll never find his soulmate. He pulls in a shaky breath, feeling that familiar pang in his chest.
Because under that red scar is nothing but an explosion of blue and green, mixing together like paint in water, but not making any recognizable form, a mark that would allow him to seek out his soulmate, meet them and… Well, live happily ever after.
In theory anyway. Most people get their soulmark at the age of sixteen and most of them meet their soulmate by the age of twenty, made easier these days by the development of technology. Only once did Cas try to seek out his soulmate, but the stupid algorithm wouldn't even recognize his mark as a soulmark. It kept saying the image was too distorted and that he should try taking the picture again.
So here he is now, at twenty-seven, alone in his apartment, working a meaningless job while having a psychology degree. Long time ago, he wanted to be a social worker and help people in need, but when that didn't work out, the only job he could find was working at one of the many Gas'n'Sips. It paid the rent and kept him afloat, so after a while, he just stopped trying to find something else.
It is just easier to build up that wall and shield himself as much as possible. If he ignores the pain and the sorrow, maybe they will eventually fade away.
It's been a while since he had a nightmare about that attack, but he isn't surprised when he wakes up in the morning, gasping and covered in sweat. The encounter from yesterday rattled him enough, so Cas knows he's in for a few sleepless nights.
Tired as he is, he goes about his morning mechanically, making coffee, brushing his teeth and grabbing some cereal for breakfast before heading to work. Nearly half asleep, Cas thinks about the fact that his next two shifts are nights as he exits his building and heads towards work.
He is not thinking where he's going, so when he finds himself face to face with the same dog, Cas freezes again. His heart starts beating rapidly when the dog gets up from his cardboard nest and starts walking towards him, but try as he might, he can't get his legs to move.
Stupidly, he notices the little things about the dog, like how he's not too big, but could still take him down if it were to jump. It has what seems to be thick, copper furr, but what Cas is the most drawn to are the dog's eyes. Not only are they laser focused on him, but they also seem to be light green. Cas doesn't know much about dogs, but he knows most of them have either this light brown or dark brown shade – he has never heard of one with green eyes.
The dog slowly approaches him and Cas’ heart starts to race. The dog lets out a small whine, as though he could hear it, but it doesn't stop its approach. Coming completely into Cas’ space, the dog’s snout moves to his hand and it sniffs his palm before he shoves his nose into it and basically pets itself. The interaction is so strange that for a moment, Cas forgets to be terrified. Before he knows it, the dog is backing away slowly, tail tucked between his legs, as it slowly retreats back to the dumpster.
Cas takes a deep breath as he tries to calm down. The dog didn't attack him, so it is probably friendly. But Cas knows that can change in a heartbeat. Not wanting to risk anything, he forces himself to move forward, not daring to look back at the dog. It's not until he's at the store that he realizes he passed through the alley and didn't go around the building like last night.
Over the next few days, Cas encounters the dog every single time he has to go to work or come back home. Sometimes, the dog approaches him and sniffs his palm before backing away, and sometimes it just stands there, observing Cas curiously.
Only once is the dog not there when Cas walks by and, as odd as it may be, Cas gets concerned over the whereabouts of the hound before he realizes what he's doing. And while he does put it out of his mind, he can't help the strange relief when he finds it back at its usual spot by the dumpster the next day.
As days grow colder, Cas’ concern for the dog surprisingly grows bigger. More often than not, he finds it cowering behind the dumpster, trying to fend off the cold and the rain. He also thinks the dog has lost some weight and the worry starts eating up at him. He shouldn’t care. He knows he shouldn’t. The dog isn't his and it can fend for itself. But he can't help that little tug in his chest whenever he sees it trying to snuggle up to wet cardboard, and looks at Cas with those big green eyes.
One day at work, a kid accidentally drops one of those Armour hotdogs on the ground. Surprisingly, their parents apologize profusely at the mess their child has made, but Cas only smiles and tells them it's okay, it happens. Because it does. And they are nice about it, even buying a new one for the child and leaving a hefty tip. Despite the rain, it has been a good day for Cas, yet as he holds the dustpan containing the ruined hotdog, he can't help but think of that damn dog.
He never thought he’d want to come anywhere near one, much less feed it.
So there he is, putting the hotdog into a paper bag and leaving it in his locker.
Cas changes his mind half a dozen times as he walks back home, and somehow manages to freeze once again at the sight of the dog. Its nose twitches as it sniffs the air then perks up, watching Cas curiously, but it doesn’t move from its little spot by the dumpster.
Somehow, Cas manages to get his limbs moving, but he doesn't approach the dog. Instead, he takes the paper bag out of his jacket pocket and then takes the hotdog out of it. Slowly, he crouches down and drops it on the ground before taking a few careful steps back. Then, he waits.
He doesn't really know what he is waiting for, the dog will obviously come and eat it. Cas isn't too keen on approaching it and doesn't really want to watch it munch down on something that is very similar to the size of what his forearm used to be. Still, for some insane reason, he stands there, waiting.
After a few minutes, the dog slowly rises to its feet, edging towards the food while keeping a wary eye on him. Cas could have poisoned the food, that is true, but he doesn't really hate dogs in general. He just fears them.
Taking a few tentative sniffs, the dog slowly opens his mouth and Cas gasps at the sight of its teeth. They aren't really that big, but to him they seem huge and terrifying. The dog picks up the food, but doesn't eat it, instead, it takes it to the dumpster and… hides it in the cardboards? Cas is a bit confused by this that he almost misses when the dog lifts his head back up, looks at him and nods like it's trying to say ‘thank you’.
Completely baffled by the experience, Cas walks home and spends the whole evening thinking about the dog and its gesture. He never really interacted with animals and doesn't know much about them, but he's heard some are very intelligent creatures. Still, to get a non-verbal response from the dog? It sounds too strange.
Maybe he imagined the whole thing.
Yes, that must be it, he was too worked up and he let his imagination get away from him. Most likely, the dog just moved like that and he interpreted it as something it was not.
But then, the same happens the next time. The dog sniffs the food Cas brings him, takes it back to its nest then looks back at him and nods.
Fourth time around, Cas doesn't step back from the food once he drops it. Heart racing wildly once more, he stands his ground and watches as the dog tilts its head in confusion before taking a few tentative steps towards him. As usual, the dog sniffs the food, but then it releases this sort of a humming sound Cas hasn’t heard before and lastly, it looks up. Cas holds his breath as the dog sniffs his hand, worried that it would mistake his fingers for food as they smell like the hotdog he just dropped.
Quick as a flash, the dog licks his hand, making Cas gasp, but before he can freak out about it, the dog is already moving out of his space and towards the cardboard. Once again, the dog nods its thanks and Cas is left there with a strange ache in his chest.
So he starts bringing the dog food.
Cas is pretty sure it's male, so he starts referring to it as a ‘he’ rather than an ‘it’ (No, he hasn't checked, he just thought he caught a glimpse of what's down there). He knows he's familiarizing himself with a dog that could disappear on him any day now, but he can’t help it, the hound is on his mind constantly. A stray thought would just hit him suddenly - is the dog safe? Maybe he is hungry? Oh, God, what if he was hit by a car or otherwise hurt? It is stupid, but he can’t help it.
He even takes a picture one day, then Googles breeds to see what kind of a dog he is. He finds the dog to be a ‘Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever’, and ends up giggling at the typo he finds on the site.
“Temperament: Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retrievers are known to be very intelligent, curious, alert, outgoing, and high-energy dogs. They are affectionate, eager to please, busy, and get along well with children.”
They must have meant bossy, or something along those lines.
Nowhere does it say that they are friendly, yet, the more Cas reads, the more he finds it all fascinating. Just for a moment, a thought enters his mind about taking the dog in, but as soon as he thinks it, something cold runs down his spine as his old fear returns, reminding him of how quickly a dog's temperament can change and how fast it can attack him.
So he doesn't consider it, but keeps bringing the dog food every day after that.
Days turn even colder with constant rain pouring outside. Cas watches as the dog's thick golden fur gets dirtier and dirtier, always wet. The dog himself looks more miserable with every passing day and one time, when Cas brings him food after work, the dog doesn't even register somebody’s there.
Cas whistles before he tries calling out to him. “Hey, boy. I got you some food. Come here.” It takes a few more whistles to finally get the dog's attention. The animal raises to his feet and stumbles over, takes the food to his nest, but before he could hide it inside, a cat runs across the street, snags it and runs off with it. The dog just stands there for a moment, looking after it, then huffs. He actually huffs. Weakly, he goes back to his nest and Cas has to remind himself why taking him in would be a terrible idea.
Maybe he could make him a better shelter? Tomorrow is his day off, maybe he can come up with something to help the dog? All through his evening, he considers a few increasingly outlandish ideas before dismissing each and every one. A cardboard home would be ruined within a few rainy days and Cas isn't skilled enough to build something wooden. He could buy something, but he doesn't really have that much extra money to spend on something just to give it away. Not to mention someone would most likely steal it and the dog would be back to square one. Hoping to come up with something tomorrow, Cas goes to sleep.
When he wakes up the next day and sees a thick layer of snow outside his window, his heart drops. He scrambles for the front door, still in his pajamas. Grabbing his trenchcoat, he makes a wild dash towards the alley, but the dog is not there.
Worry fills his mind as he considers where the dog might have gone off to. He completely ignores that little voice inside his head that usually feeds his fears and is currently telling him that this is a bad idea, and starts calling out to the dog while also whistling. “Here, boy! Where are you? Come here, boy, come here.”
Slowly, he starts to lose hope, but then he hears a rustling sound near the dog's nest and he goes out to investigate. Removing one trash bag and one decomposing cardboard, he finds the dog amongst the garbage, shaking. He gasps at the sight, feeling an immense guilt weigh him down.
“Oh, crap,” he mumbles, then gulps before he reaches for the animal. Even with the lost weight, the dog must be around forty pounds or so. Slowly, Cas lifts him up, not caring at all about messing up his only coat. He'll just throw it in the wash with everything else.
Mumbling a string of “shit, shit, shit,” he carries the dog into his building and then into his apartment. He doesn’t know if he's damn lucky or just plain stupid that he left the front door open and nobody came in, but at least he doesn't have to try and open it with a dog in his hands.
Pausing in his living room as his eyes dart over the couch, Cas considers what to do, before deciding the bathroom should be the first stop. The water should warm up the dog while also cleaning him up, and Cas could use a wash up himself. His heart beats wildly as he all but runs towards the bathroom.
Hoping the dog won't overreact, considering he is still half-conscious, Cas slowly puts him in the shower before turning the tap. He switches to the shower head as he adjusts the temperature. Then, he carefully moves it to the dog. The poor thing shudders for a moment then seems to just relax and melt into the floor. The sight makes his heart ache and without thinking, he reaches and smoothes the dog’s fur. Even wet, the hair is so soft and little by little, Cas starts relaxing too.
His movements turn from petting to washing and he adds some soap, hoping it will be okay to use on the dog considering it is mild and the only one that doesn’t affect his extra dry hands. He gently works the soap into the fur, then washes it away along with a lot of dirt. He is so preoccupied with cleaning the dog and warming him up that he doesn’t notice the dog watching him until his ministrations reach the animal’s neck. When he meets the dog’s gaze, he freezes, his soaped up hand slowly lifting up and away.
“Hey there…” He trails off nervously. “Um… You were so cold, I thought I’d warm you up a bit. Maybe even wash away all this dirt clinging to you? I didn’t mean–” Cas cuts himself off, realizing how ridiculous his words are. He’s trying to justify his actions to a dog as if it was a person, but the dog can't understand him. And even if he could, he could still decide to attack him.
Cas doesn’t realize he has stopped breathing until the dog moves, making him gasp. But the animal keeps his head low and only turns a bit towards him, those green tired eyes observing him quietly. Swallowing down his anxiety, Cas slowly, very slowly, reaches towards the dog again, hoping he could at least finish washing him. It occurs to him that he hasn’t thought this through. When he woke up and saw the snow, he just reacted on instinct and now he has a wild animal in his shower and he is kneeling next to it and touching it and–
Cas pauses and takes a deep breath, then lets it out. He knows he is just nervous and overthinking everything. The dog didn’t show any sign that he was going to hurt him, it was too weak for that anyway. Cas needs to finish washing him, dry him up a little and then… Then he’ll see. “Okay. Okay, let’s do this.”
Thankfully, the dog stays still, but when the time comes to wash his legs and rinse, Cas has no idea how to get him to do that. “Um, ah… Up?” He gestures with his hand, but the dog remains on the shower stall floor. “Come on, can you get up? Up? Please, I don’t think I can lift you and wash you at the same time.”
The dog releases a sound, and if Cas didn’t know better, he would call it a sigh. Then, with very shaky legs, the dog lifts himself up. He is barely standing and Cas is once again reminded how badly the dog had it, and why he brought the poor animal home in the first place.
“Alright, hang on, I’ll be quick. Then we can dry you up a bit and you could rest, um… In the living room? I’ll figure something out.” He does have that one old blanket he could set up on the floor near the couch. The dog could rest up while Cas figures out what to feed him. It’s not like he has any hot dogs in the pantry. He might as well take a moment to look for his mind too, because he seems to have lost it. He’s not the type to take in a stray and feed it and whatnot, especially a dog. What is he thinking?
Well, it’s too late now.
It’s not like he could toss the dog back out, now can he? Instead of dwelling on it, he finishes washing the animal and then wraps him up in the biggest towel he has. It’s his favorite one, very soft and fluffy, but it’s okay, he’ll wash it later. After Cas makes sure the dog is mostly dry, he leads the sleepy animal to the living room and lets him curl up in a corner while he finds that old blanket. By the time he gets back, the poor thing is shivering like crazy. Wrapping a blanket around the dog, Cas sends out a prayer that the poor guy doesn’t turn out to be sick.
It’s close to noon when he wakes up, his neck stiff because he dozed off on the couch, watching the dog and trying to figure out what he’s going to do next. He even made himself coffee, but didn’t get to drink it before he fell asleep. Groaning, Cas stretches, but freezes when he realizes the dog is not in the corner where he left him.
Well, fuck!
Where could he be? While Cas’ whole body screams urgency, he still moves slow and cautious, worried to come face to face with the stray dog. The animal is not in the living room and just when Cas considers where he should look for him next, he hears a sound from the kitchen. He goes in there only to find the dog sniffing around. Even with his paralyzing fear, Cas notices that the dog beams up at him, but he just stares at him. As seconds pass, the dog’s demeanor changes while Cas just stands there, staring at him.
It’s almost as if the dog can sense it, Cas’ fear. Who knows, maybe he can; Cas certainly doesn’t know much about animals in general. The dog sits, then drops down and basically levels himself with the floor in what Cas considers to be an attempt to appear small and unthreatening. Surprisingly, it’s working. Little by little, Cas relaxes and starts to think more clearly.
He was in the living room when the dog woke up. If it wanted, he would have attacked him back then, right? It’s not like dogs are motion sensitive, right? Or maybe they are? Maybe they can misinterpret a move as hostile and launch into counterattack? Maybe?
Damn it, he really needs to stop watching those action movies.
The poor dog is probably just hungry. It did come into the kitchen, he was probably looking for food. Maybe he should have put something out for him? Taking a deep breath, Cas makes himself move, but doesn’t take his eyes off the dog as he walks to the fridge. There has to be some leftovers he could give the animal. Would he eat a pizza?
Cas stares as the dog devours the slice he was given, but when he realizes he’s being watched, the dog dials down its enthusiasm and calmly finishes his food. The more Cas looks at him, the more he thinks the pooch is a lot more intelligent than he considered dogs to be. It occurs to him that yes, Cas, the dog obviously would be thirsty, so he finds an old plastic bowl, pours some tap water and lowers it to the ground.
The dog eyes him warily as he approaches, or at least Cas thinks that’s what that look means. He also knows he should back away and let the dog drink, but he is rooted in the spot, drawn to those bright green eyes. They are so expressive and just looking at them makes Cas feel so calm. Like everything will be okay.
The dog laps up the water from the bowl and once he is done, he sits and looks up at Cas. They spend a few moments just staring at each other.
“This is absurd,” Cas says with a huffed laugh and shakes his head. It’s just a dog. He should feel stupid for letting his soft heart get him into this situation, and while his fear flares up occasionally, his instincts are telling him this dog won’t hurt him.
“You won’t attack me, will you?” He asks and immediately feels ridiculous because there is no way the dog can understand him. But then the pooch cranes his head to the side and makes his questioning kind of a hum. Then he slowly inches closer and sniffs Cas’ hand before he buries his snout in the palm, once again petting himself. Something inside Cas’ chest swells and he finally allows himself to move and pet the dog properly. The fur feels soft and warm, reminding Cas a little of his favorite blanket when he was very young. “You’re a good one, aren’t you?”
The damn dog hums in response. It makes Cas chuckle and relax even more, continuing to run his hand down the dog’s fur. “Okay, alright, I’ll buy it,” he says and locks eyes with the dog again. “What am I going to do? I can’t keep you.”
Can’t he, though? His landlord owns a dog too, so she should have no problem with Cas having one in the apartment. It’s not like he can throw him out on the streets. Couldn’t even do that if he tried. He can try the nearest dog shelter, but as soon as the idea pops into his head, he dismisses it. He doesn’t feel the dog will be treated there well, and besides, they must be packed now, considering the cold weather. He should just keep him.
Cas is so deep in thought he doesn’t even register that he has crouched down and that the dog is almost plastered to him. He hasn’t been this close to another dog, another animal since…
Strangely, there is no spike of fear when he remembers the incident. There is no cold shiver running down his spine, no twist in his gut. There is sorrow and he remembers the pain and how terrified he has been, but he doesn’t feel it now, not with this dog. Even more weirdly, he feels calm, soothed.
Maybe this would turn out to be a good thing?
And of course, that’s when the dog moves closer and licks his face. Cas grimaces, not sure if he is more disgusted or amused, but he does start to laugh as something loosens in his chest. “Alright, alright. I’ll see what we can do.”