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It felt a bit like wondering whether you needed to take your dog to the vet whenever something happened to Cas these days, or whether he just had indigestion and was being weird about it
He didn’t know what was happening, he was entirely unfamiliar with the functions of his meat these days and being unable to run a full diagnostic of himself had its downsides, who knew.
Right down to him throwing up in weird spots and looking at you all mournful about it, like it was your fault he’d decided to eat datura (horrible idea) or forgot to take his shoes off for 2 and a half weeks and was surprised when the skin was sloughing off his feet.
These kinds of situations. This time Cas had been looking.. Round. Weirdly so. If he was a cat they’d be checking him for pregnancy or maybe a tumour, since Cas couldn’t get pregnant (please please please no) they assumed tumour. They asked if he ate anything odd. Nothing. He did lick sams fingers when he tried to get him to throw up, just to see if there was anything in there, again. Why.
“Your fingers are broad.”
“Cas. not the time. Did you eat anything weird or not!”
“I did not, only things available in the refrigerator.”
Wonderfully vague and Sam, foolishly, took that at face value for a good while, he kept an eye on the angel for sure, he was definitely rounder in the belly than usual but maybe he was just getting fat(ter) again.
Well. till the little post shower cuddle they'd been doing for years, you washed the angel and all of a sudden he became soft and pliant as a cat in a sunbeam and draped himself on top of you with zero desire to go anywhere. Normal, comfortable. Till he felt the lumps
Cas was purring purring purring.
“Cas. Whats this.”
He prodded at the very hard lump in Cas' belly. Two. Four?
“Mm. Gastroliths.”
“......Cas you have teeth you don't need those.”
“Mm.”
“You also said you ate only things in the fridge.”
“I put the rocks in the fridge. Hence.”
Sam rubbed his hands over the lumps, five, eight. “Where did you even get these?” Cas moved to nuzzle the bottom of Sam's jaw, usually pleasant but he was trying to have a conversation here.
“Creek.” said close enough that he could feel Cas' voice vibrating at the base of his skull “the central Kansas uplift provides a great deal of minerals that please me.”
"You have teeth Cas."
"They are insufficient for what I eat."
"You eat leftover Mac and cheese and oatmeal."
"That is what you know I eat."
Ominous.
"Cas."
He had the audacity to look guilty for a second, again, like a dog that ate a golf ball and was now trying to pretend it hadn't and chose to hide his face like that would do anything.
"Cas."
"I occasionally hunt deer."
"We literally have venison. Dean hunts one every other month."
“It is not the same.”
In becoming more corporeal Cas had gained an alarming number of weird little predator behaviours, maybe he'd always had them and not needing to eat had kept them at bay or something but these days he preferred meat fresh and raw and Sam had a sinking feeling he'd been eating the bones also. God knows where he was putting all of it (he'd said something about something operationally similar to a crop that existed on the same plane as his wings which was something Sam just didn't want to unpack)
“Cas do you need the rocks to break down the fucking bones?”
He hid his face again. So that was an affirmative then.
“Cas.”
“I did not wish to concern you.”
“Dude I thought you had a tumour or something but you've just been eating rocks like some fucking goose.”
“Crocodilians also.”
He seemed to think that was enough information and closed his eyes again and took to lazily purring atop Sam, this was such a non-issue to him, he’d been doing it for a good while (years now, probably) but he tended to consume smaller ones prior, ones that wouldn't be so immediately obvious, and of course he'd only taken to lounging on Sam in such close quarters recently.
Dean should've noticed earlier admittedly, he'd been used as a convenient pillow for far longer but Dean had John's don't ask don't tell drilled deep into his skull, and most definitely regarding Cas. Nothing the guy did was normal or reasonable and as such he just, didn't need to know. Weird angel behaviour was Sam's domain, he'd let the angel sleep on him and not ask too many questions about it.
Unfortunately he happened to be passing while Sam was still palpating (for a lack of a better word, he was sort of groping but with professional intent) the geology that had taken up residence inside their angel.
“Dude, get a room.” with that stupid exaggerated gagging that made Sam want to strangle him or maybe kiss him he'd still not determined this
“Shut up Dean, he's been eating rocks.”
Dean just stared for a second. “Like, literally?”
“Yep, he's got gravel in him.”
Cas had the audacity to look affronted at the misidentification of the size and shape of his gastroliths “I have not been eating gravel. It is unsatisfying and difficult to swallow.”
He was roundly ignored.
“I prefer stones from the creek, round ones.”
He remained ignored as Dean approached, felt Cas' belly without asking, earned a low growl, annoyed with very little actual heat, that he ignored in favour of hearing the
Clunk.
“Holy shit you've actually been eating rocks, I just thought you were getting fat or something an’ that Sam was overreacting about it.”
Another annoyed grumble “that is irrelevant.”
Sam sat up a little straighter, jostled the angel who made an unhappy little noise and hid his face farther in “I was not overreacting, some bullshit happens to him at any given point in time and we never know what or why. It's worth checking”
“You checked and found rocks.”
“I didn't know he ate rocks!”
“I would like to point out” Cas’ voice was muffled “that I am not eating them, they remain inside me but I am not digesting them.”
“Because that's so much better.”
“It was useful for you to know.”
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, “Right, do we have to get him a scan or something?”
If Cas had a tail it would be puffed all the way up and he sounded immensely pouty when he said “I dislike scans.”
Dislike was a weak word for just how badly the poor guy fucking HATED almost all forms of medical imagery, X-rays jostled his grace something horrible, something about him existing as a wavelength himself had directed medical imagery disagree with him something severe. Radio waves were honestly worse because those spread him much wider and further and they didn't want to condense often.
“Yeah yeah we know. I mean, what would giving him a scan even accomplish other than debt and him scratching someone.”
“I don't know. Peace of mind? He literally didn't tell me he was eating rocks when I asked him a dozen times about whether he'd been eating anything weird.”
“Rocks are natural.”
“I'm not even going to entertain that. Cas, are you sure you're not dying or anything.”
“Relatively certain.
“You're going to tell us when you start putting things in your mouth that shouldn't be eaten.”
“Fine.”
Dean couldn't help but laugh a little, absurd as the situation was “Christ you're like a golden retriever.”
“I do not resemble a canid.”
“No but you'll eat dirt if it interests you.”
“I am very discerning in my consumption.”
“Sure.”
“You like being pet too.”
“Unrelated. Now stop questioning me about my rocks, you have determined their existence and I shall hear nothing more of them.”
“Suuuure.”
Cas hunkered back down and refused all further comment.
“God you're so fucking weird.”