Archive of Our Own

Beep-beep-beep-beeeeeep. Beep-beep-beep-beeeeeep.

Castiel shifted in his bed and let out a grumble. The sunshine was bright against his closed eyelids. He groped the bed for his pillow, clutching it and shoving it against his face when he found it.

Beep-beep-beep-beeeeeep.

His hand flew into the air again and smacked the nightstand, knocking his alarm clock onto the floor.

He only had a few moments of merciful stillness until he heard soft pads coming from the next room. A second later he felt a slight sinking in the mattress beside him and then something climbed onto his chest and disrupted his breathing.

He pushed the pillow away from his face with a swift thrust and sucked in a strenuous breath. On his chest, a ginger cat was settling comfortably.

“Dean, we’ve talked about this,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with the first words of the morning. “Personal space.”

The cat rested its head on its paws, watching Castiel with an almost teasing look. Castiel sighed and scratched its head gently.

“Come on, buddy, I need to get to work.” He folded his knees and rose to his elbows, readying to get up, but the cat pulled his claws out and gently stabbed Castiel’ stomach, purring and resting his head on Castiel’s chest when the man’s head dropped onto the bed.

“I’ll give you the last piece of bacon if you let me get up.”

The cat jumped onto his feet. In a second, he was already waiting in the kitchen.

Castiel let out another sigh and stood up slowly, his motions much heavier than the Dean’s.

“Smart cat,” he mumbled and walked toward the bathroom.

He didn’t know whether Dean always understood what he was saying or whether he would just catch on what Castiel meant from his tone of speaking, but Castiel knew he was an out-of-the-ordinary creature.

He found Dean around a year ago, while he was traveling by himself in a forest three towns away. The cat was slender and feeble, and after Castiel had given it a meat snack and a pat on the head it had refused to leave his side. It was only when Castiel entered his car and started driving back home, watching the cat sitting at the side of the road and watching him drive away, that an idea crossed his mind and he stopped the car. He went back to where the cat stood and picked it up cautiously, careful not to upset it and get scratched, only then noticing the green collar – which Dean had later on scratched and kicked himself free from – that held a name tag.  They’d had some connection between the two of them ever since, some profound bond. They understood each other.

A fact Dean would often use as an advantage against him – Castiel thought grumpily as he grabbed his toothbrush from the blue plastic cup by the sink – like when he really wanted bacon. 

The scene he encountered a couple of minutes later when he entered the kitchen was so ridiculous he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Dean was standing on two, reaching for the door of the fridge with his front legs and trying to scratch it open.

“Idiot,” said Cas and lifted the cat, cradling it in his arms. He opened the fridge and grabbed two eggs from the shelf with his free hand, while Dean used his paws to snatch the yellow package of pork from another shelf.

While Dean skipped restlessly from his arm to the counter and onto the table, Castiel made a quick breakfast. Dean’s refined taste in food was something Castiel would often grumble about within himself; he’d tried to give Dean cat food multiple times before but Dean would either refuse to touch it, or taste it and spit it out immediately. And so it happened that most times they practically shared a plate.

It was almost seven thirty when Castiel stuck his key in the keyhole and snatched his trench coat from the coat hanger.

“Bye, honey!” He called into the air of the room, the smile that would once accompany the sentence long gone now. It was a joke he’d made within himself shortly after he moved into a place of his own, way before he found Dean. “I’ll be back at five.”

Dean was at his feet the moment he opened the door, though, protesting his leaving. Castiel knelt to pet his back – a gesture he accepted only with an unhappy huff. When Castiel rose to his feet Dean padded toward the sofa and leaped onto it, settling into a collected ball of fur with eyes on the clock. Castiel went over his checklist again – making sure he didn’t forget to wear his pants again (because that was one embarrassing encounter with his neighbor), making sure Dean has enough water (although he has been getting better at opening the faucet and drinking from the sink recently), taking his wallet and his keys.

He left the house and locked the door behind him, shoving the key into his pocket and pressing his index finger across the wall in a line parallel to the door until his finger was smeared with a thin layer of whitewash. That was for making sure that later on, if he forgets whether he locked the door, he could look at his white finger and recall he did. It was a trick his brother Lucifer had taught him before they all grew up and went their separate ways, and old Chuck Shurley was left alone in his big mansion.

He sighed.  

He was lost in his memories of Luci and Gabriel teaching him how to climb trees, write encrypted messages and get drunk – each expertise separately – when he turned around and felt himself stepping on something that wasn’t the floor.

“Ouch-“

“Oh, sorry.” As he spoke he looked up to see who he bumped into. His eyes met others, their color a combination of autumn rain and a pearl seen through sea water.

“Six B,” he blurted, not recalling having ever being told her name.

“Pant-less,” she responded with her own nickname and a hinted smile. Castiel’s lips parted soundlessly, searching within his brain for any English word used in the twenty-first century, and failing. Met with a tense silence, she started walking away, leaving a fresh scent of woman behind her – a mixture of perfume, soap and clean laundry.

“I’m Cas,” he called when she was nearly at the bottom of the staircase leading to the next floor.

“If- if you were wondering.” He felt like an idiot.

“April,” she said and the same cryptic smile appeared on her face, as if it were following her around. Her eyes lingered on Cas’ a moment more and then she was gone, leaving him to stare at the generic sign on her door that read 6-B.

He was actually quite fond of his nameplate, he realized when he glanced at it while locking the door the next morning. It was light blue with an ink drawing of a cat and CASTIEL SHURLEY written in Papyrus font. He got it as a late present for moving into the apartment, almost a year-

“Hey, pantless!”

He turned around promptly.

“Hello again.” The blank tone of his voice stood in conflict with April’s cheery morning attitude. He was turning to go, embarrassed, but halted at the first step when the voice behind him went on.

“Cas.” He turned around, rain-and-pearl eyes gazing at him and making his chest feel strange.

“Would you like to, erm, maybe go out for a coffee this evening?”

“Oh,” he said, his stare deadpan. “Sorry. I already have two girlfriends, I really can’t afford a third one.”

She stared at him with a blank expression, her lips parting with uncertainty. “Oh.”

Cas swayed from one foot to another awkwardly. “That was my attempt with humor,” he explained, somewhat concerned his joke was too blunt. “My apologies. I would love to go out with you.”

“Oh,” April repeated. Her eyebrows fell and cast shadows in the coherent colors of her eyes. Her lips pressed together, and then formed a smile. “Cool. I’ll see you tonight, then.” And then, as her way of doing, she was quick to disappear down the staircase.

That afternoon Cas hurried back home from work, entering the house with an untypical jauntiness.

“You wouldn’t believe what I’m doing tonight!” He called out into the air, advancing in the direction of the bedroom after throwing his coat heedlessly on the couch. He entered his room and pressed the light switch, heading directly toward the closet and scanning the restricted variety of proper clothes he had. On the bed, Dean was yawning and stretching attentively. He stood up, still shaking the remaining haziness of his slumber away, and let out a meow which Cas took as a sign to elaborate.

“6-B asked me out! I’m going on a date, can you believe?” He babbled on while Dean padded to the side of the bed and curled into a ball behind him, blurting a suspicious meow when Cas emphasized the horrible word date.

“What should I wear? I don’t want something that looks too important, but I also don’t want to look too casual… But weather needs to be taken into account, and what goes with what…” He fell silent with concentration, and after ten minutes there were a relatively new pair of jeans and a few band T-shirts put on the bed with a ginger cat rolling over them repeatedly and trying to give them a mild hue of orange and extra smell. He put an exceptional effort on the pants, because they were Cas’ only choice of bottom apparel.

Preparation didn’t last much longer. Cas changed, heated some chicken for Dean, grabbed his wallet and left the surly cat alone in the apartment.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised while he crouched and scratched Dean’s head.

He hasn’t gone out much since he’d graduated high school. In fact, he was never an outgoing person. He’d spent his high school years trying to get through social events – such as lunches in the cafeteria, classes and sometimes even bathroom breaks – with as least interaction with other humans as possible.

He didn’t care much for people… But April was different. The way she always looked at him – her eyes bright, welcoming conversation but suspicious at the same time, and the mysterious hint of a smile the end of her mouth always held – it was almost as if she wanted him to want her, knowing she was out of reach, playing with his mind like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn…

Cas shook his head. His brain was overthinking again, trying to give him an excuse to flee back home and crawl under the blanket in front of the TV with his cat and a Doctor Boo DVD, right where he belonged.

He was standing in front of April’s door now, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against his thigh. He couldn’t back down now; what would he say when he saw her in the hall the next day?

He had to do it. He wanted to do it. He will do it.

Three light knocks on the door, giving the impression of mindlessness.

The door opened promptly and Cas’ neighbor appeared behind it, smiling at him in a sunflower-colored dress as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

“Let’s go,” she said and stepped into the hall, locking her door and grabbing Cas’ hand as she led him down the stairs.

“Did you have somewhere to go in mind?” She asked as they made their way through the streetlamps-lit alley. A few stars were already visible in the night sky, although the sun has just set.

“Not particularly,” Cas said, somewhat embarrassed for the first time of his lack of familiarity with the surrounding he’s been living within for the last few months. “Do you know a place?”

“Yeah, it’s not far,” she said, and after a few minutes’ walk Castiel found himself in front of a glass door which the sign above read: Clara’s Diner.

“It’s pretty cheap,” April said, searching his features for a sign of approval – or disapproval. “But very nice. It’s being run by some young woman who used to travel across the world.”

The insides of the place were decorated as a classic old diner, with black-and-white floor tiles and red squared tables with wide leathered cushion chairs.

 “I like your shirt,” April pointed out as they sat down, looking at Cas’ deep purple shirt with Led Zeppelin written on it.

“Thanks,” Cas said. “It’s the only one I’ve got,” he joked.

“I can see that,” April laughed. Cas glanced down at his T-shirt.

“Oh, he did that on purpose. He doesn’t like when I go out.”

“I’ll assume you have a very hairy child,” April said, and they laughed.

“It’s my cat,” Cas clarified.

“Oh,” she replied simply and took a sip of her cold tea.

He watched her, not missing the slight pull of her lips down.

“You don’t like cats?”

“I don’t care much for them,” she answered genuinely.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll like Dean,” he said, although he wasn’t sure at all. “He’s quite lovable.” Dean had a tendency of being a rude bastard when he wanted, and he did not like strangers.

April shrugged, and Cas deliberated. He was starting to recall some of the advice Luci had given him that day when he was in high school and was about to go on his first date. That had been a big day for him… although his date didn’t have much to do with that.

Ask her a lot about herself, and listen, was one of Luci’s tips. Cas decided to implement it. He asked April whether she had any pets, continuing with a series of questions once she was finished talking, keeping his brother in mind.

“Compliment her.”

“Give her all your attention. Show her you’re interested. Don’t check your phone-“ Castiel had pushed him out of the room and Lucifer had let him, confused.

“What happened? Cassie, is she made up? Did she-“

“It’s not a she,” Castiel had snapped, slamming the door in his brother’s face. “Alright? It’s a he. And I don’t need your stupid tips because-“ he’d sucked in a panicked breath, tears collecting in his eyes. He was sure his family would hate him so much when he would come out – but why should he be worried at all? They could go to hell. “Because- because we already kissed,” he’d said, hurling the truth at his brother.

Luci had been quiet on the other side of the door. Castiel had leaned against it and let his body slip to sitting on the floor.

“Cassie, you’re… gay?” Lucifer’s voice was surprisingly calm.

“No, I’m not,” Castiel had spat out bitterly. “I’m worse.” How could he have thought differently when that was what he’s heard all his life?

“…A mammoth?” Luci’s voice was suspicious now. Cas’ eyebrows had furrowed; he’d felt befuddled. His brother was hopefully joking, and that meant he wasn’t upset – Cas knew perfectly well that Lucifer did not kid when he was mad.

“I’m… bisexual,” Cas had let out, his voice calmer now. The anger and shame had given place to confusion. Wasn’t his brother mad at him? Disappointed with him? Disgusted?

“Hey.” April’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“You stared at the table for five minutes without blinking. Are you okay?” Her hand moved to cover his, and he smiled at her.

“Oh, here’s another one I forgot to ask – what’s your job?”

They were walking back from the diner, their arms crossed together. The wind blew at their faces softly, leaving the tip of Cas’ nose cold and numb.

“I work at the morgue,” April said, smiling at him mischievously.

“Spooky,” he noted and she laughed.

“What do you do?”

“I work as a data processor,” he answered, not sure how strange that sounded to unfamiliar ears; it’s been a while since he’d talked to someone except his cat about his job.

“What exactly does that mean?” April asked, her expression clearly baffled.

“Statistical analysis and data reconfiguration.” He didn’t expect her to understand, but being asked felt nice anyway.

“That did not make it any clearer,” she said and let out an amused huff. “But either way, it sounds pretty boring.”

“My coworkers will agree with you there,” Cas confirmed, brushing his hair with his fingers as he suddenly became aware of the possibility it might have looked disheveled from the wind.

“I’m the only one at the office who actually likes his job.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” April said, her eyebrows rising. They were back in their street now, slowly passing by all the landmarks Cas has learned to make in his mind.

“We checked it,” he said. “Made a poll and everything.”

“Sounds like you guys are getting a lot of work done,” she laughed again as they climbed up the stairs. “How did you even get this job?”

“I actually started studying acting,” Cas admitted. They have reached their floor and he dug through his pocket for his keys. “But then I realized I was more of a low-key sort of guy, so I dropped out and started studying computer science. And then I found this job.”

“So you gave up acting in favor of sitting in front of a computer and staring at numbers all day?” She asked incredulously, and Cas found his keys. He confirmed her words and was about to put the key into the lock when he heard something screeching against the door. April’s eyebrows furrowed, but Cas made a hand gesture to signal her it’s fine.

“It’s Dean,” he explained. “He probably heard my voice from inside.”

“The cat has some serious separation anxiety from what it looks like,” April pointed out.

Cas shrugged. “Wouldn’t you feel alone if you’d be left alone in a house every day for hours?”

“I guess you’re right,” she agreed, and Cas stuck the key in and turned it. He felt as though he would be pushing his luck if he’d admit that he didn’t see Dean only as a cat but as a friend, as though there were something… human, about him. He knew that was a definite way to repel a girl he was – hopefully – dating.

“I’ll, eh, call you,” he said, his words almost a question. He wasn’t sure what to do next. April nodded, adding an “it was fun”, and they turned away to unlock their doors.

Dean was waiting impatiently by the door, his tail a straight line in the air. When Cas entered the house Dean leaped onto him, using his claws to climb up onto Cas’ shoulders.

“Hey, buddy,” Cas said, taking his coat off shoulder by shoulder.

He was fairly used to walking around the house with Dean on his shoulders by now, but washing his teeth that way was a skill he hasn’t yet succeeded to master perfectly. This time Dean jumped off his back onto the windowsill, recoiling from the strong water flow. He settled there, scratching and biting the dead plant that Cas had failed to take care of, only moving when the human turned off the light in his bedroom and lay down in bed.

“It was alright,” Cas said when Dean settled casually on his chest and meowed. “I mean, it was nice. We went to a nice place. She’s very friendly.” He brushed his fingers through Dean’s fur distractedly.

“In the middle… I recalled someone.” He gazed at the ceiling, not paying attention to

Dean’s head which rose as the cat turned to look at him.

“He’s an old memory now, but six years ago…” He sighed, his fingers curling around Dean’s tail, which swayed with annoyance at Cas’ motion. Cas, on the other hand, was sunken in his own reviving memories.

“We were seventeen. He just moved from a nearby town, and we had Literature together in school. He used to look at me like…” His voice faded, and he let out another sigh. His hand dropped onto the bed and he stared into the darkness.

“His eyes were dark gray like a pencil lead and all the girls liked him, but he just stared at me…”

He fell silent for a long time. Dean’s tail was still moving back and forth – waiting for him to continue, or to fall asleep – but Cas was deep within his mind, as if he were trapped there with the thoughts and dreams of someone who looked a lot like him, only younger, and more hopeful.

Eventually, his voice broke the cold silence. “It was the best year and a half I’ve known at the time,” he whispered. “I was sure he was the love of my life.” At that point, his voice was barely a murmur in the poorly moonlit room. “But he was sure of it too. So I guess I wasn’t the only one making that mistake.”

Silently, Dean laid his head on Cas’ chest and sent one paw to rest on Cas’ hand.

Cas turned over his hand and let Dean’s paw rest inside his palm.

“We’ll see how it goes with April, though. It might just go well,” he said eventually. “But what do you know? You’re just a cat.” He petted Dean’s head. Dean let out a huff and pulled his paw from Cas’ hand, as though he were offended by Cas’ words.

“Alright, move it,” Cas said, finally calling it a night. Dean rose on his feet and moved to lie on the bed by Cas’ side while the man rolled onto his stomach and spread his arm on the bed, covering Dean’s body. Like every other night, it didn’t take long until Dean squirmed from beneath the peacefully snoring body and curled into a ball between Cas’ shoulder blades.

Living with Dean was rarely boring. Most times, actually, Castiel felt like Dean was trying to get on his nerves.

In fact, getting on one’s nerves wasn’t hard after a long day of work. All Dean needed to do was sit on the TV remote or climb on one of the book shelves and knock down a Doctor Boo Pop action figure, and Cas would crack and give him another slice of ham, or settle in front of the TV and fall asleep so Dean could spend a couple of hours curled up on his lap and listening to the background sounds of MTV Classic or the Action Movies channel. This sort of Dean’s little victories would happen often enough – that’s why it was easy to notice when the routine stopped.

It started with the little things. Cas would stay in his seat after dinner and stare into the air for longer than usual, or cook himself instead of ordering food. It wasn’t long until he started buying flowers and leaving the house more and more often, until eventually, the worst happened.

Cas had been nervous the whole afternoon, running around from one room to another and shoving things into closets and cupboards and under the bed. Dean figured that the cause of all the fuss was one of Cas’ brothers paying a visit again – he was quite fond of the younger one, Gabriel, while Michael was a pain in the ass – or that the hot mailman was supposed to arrive with a package – that’s why he was surprised when a light knock on the door was heard and Cas opened the door… to a woman.

The humans exchanged greeting words and April was invited in, while Dean himself stood within safe distance. When Cas and the girl settled on the couch Dean crossed the room and sneaked underneath the dining table so that he was positioned in front of Cas, fifteen feet away from him. For a while he waited for Cas to notice him, while the human was submerged in his all-so-important social interaction. Dean even huffed loudly a couple of times, watching the human carefully, but he was left hanging. Eventually, he gave up and moved.

Cas didn’t halt conversing when he noticed Dean, not pausing even when Dean jumped hesitantly onto his lap and settled there – he just scratched Dean’s back absently, only paying attention to him when April stopped talking and looked down with distaste.

“Oh, that’s Dean,” he introduced, half a smile still hovering upon his face, trying to make the best out of the situation.

“Does it… scratch?” April asked cautiously, the ends of her mouth pulling down.

“He can be an asshole,” Cas said, his tone still friendly, which upset Dean. The damn woman called him it and Cas just corrected her?

“But he’s a good friend.” To that, Dean turned around and squinted at his human, stabbing his thigh gently with his nails as Cas continued. “And he’s very fluffy. He won’t hurt you.” His free hand gestured invitingly at Dean, while the other was still brushing against his back. April reached out a hand. Dean watched her cautiously, hissing when her hand neared him. He jumped onto the floor and returned to his previous position beneath the table, glaring at her.

How dare she-

“If looks could kill,” April said, and Dean hissed at her again.

“Be nice, buddy,” Cas warned, and Dean turned to look at him. They squinted at each other for a long moment, until Dean turned around and silently walked away, his tail a straight orange line in the air.

“It’s… It’s almost as if he understands you,” April noted, her tone incredulous.

“He’s something special,” Cas agreed, his eyes moving from Dean back to her face. “So, uh, where were we?”

It was unacceptable. Unthinkable. Simply unimaginable.

Dean walked back and forth in the narrow living room space, continuing to think of same-basis words to describe the preposterous event that had just occurred. The suffering, oh, the torment this woman has brought upon him; it was absolutely outrageous. He could go on and on about her nightmarish personality, or about how she affected his friend – making Cas cook for her, watch movies with her, go outside with her – an activity Dean was positive Cas loathed just as much as he did – but today, oh, today was crossing the final line. She was a distraction so utter to Cas that he left the house without cooking Dean dinner, only recalling him and coming back after he locked the door. There was only one thing left in the world Dean loved as much as he loved Cas: food; and that witch took both of these from him.

He had to do something. It had taken him long to put the pieces together, but now he realized: eventually, it was going to be him or April, and he couldn’t let her take his place. Yes, of course, Cas would still have him in his home and give him food, but it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be Dean he’d cuddled on the sofa with. Maybe he wouldn’t let Dean drink water from the sink anymore. Maybe – Dean thought with terror – when it got serious, Cas wouldn’t want Dean to sleep in his bed anymore.

He was furious; outraged. He had to think of something, have a plan before she-

He froze. A plan – that’s what he needed. A way to drive her away, step by step.

He turned around in the silent room once again. If he were human, he thought to himself, he would have broken into an evil laughter.

The game is on, lady, he thought, determined to build up the new plan in his mind. He stood there for another moment, satisfied, and then leaped onto the couch and stepped deliberately on the TV remote, settling in place and waiting for the six o’clock rerun of Delia’s How to Cook.

“God, the view is great.”

Cas walked over to the window where April was peeking behind the curtain and pushed it aside.

“It is,” Cas agreed with a laugh. “I love how the flowers bloom in the spring,” he added, referring to the plastic plants swaying with the wind on the balcony of the knitting old lady they were watching. The building before them was blocking the landscape exclusively, leaving the sight of the old lady’s apartment and the one above it the only view available.

“Charming,” April said with a smile. “You know – my sisters, Tessa and Billie, got an apartment downtown…” At that moment, Dean – who was lurking nearby up until then – strolled toward the living room window and stood by April’s side, his tail brushing against her shin. She glanced at him, her speech faltering. Cas followed her stare, encouraging her to continue once he made sure Dean wasn’t up to anything harmful.

“I heard the houses there are really overpriced,” he said, his eyes planted on April’s face. She didn’t seem as composed as him, and Dean smiled to himself within his mind.

“Yeah,” April replied distractedly, her lips twisting as Dean walked in circles around her feet back and forth, his route forming a repetitive 8.

“I… so…  Um-” She stuttered, distracted. 

“How about you find something to watch on the television and I’ll prepare dinner,” Cas suggested, a hint of amusement joining the empathy in his eyes for April’s struggle.

“Dean,” he called and turned away, and Dean imagined him adding an “a word”; his tone matched the unspoken words perfectly.

As soon as Cas was out of earshot, April shooed him away using gestures of her hands. “Get away from me, you ugly creature,” she whispered. Despite her strict tone she didn’t dare to touch Dean, who hissed at her with hostility and padded promptly after the human.

Cas opened the fridge while Dean climbed onto his shoulders. He took out a few plastic boxes, quietly humming the tune of Ziggy Stardust as he pulled a bottle of white wine out of the fridge door. On his shoulders, Dean was swaying and stretching toward the upper shelf of the fridge. When he sent out a paw, missing the half-eaten strawberry pie by inches, Cas ducked and seized him, placing him safely on the counter.

“No pie for you, Sir,” he said severely and poked the air in Dean’s direction, missing April’s concerned look from the TV area.

“It gave you a hell of a stomach ache yesterday. You sounded like a tortured squirrel.”

Dean meowed pleadingly, but Cas only gave him an unpersuaded “nope”. He pulled two light blue plates out of the kitchen cupboard and poured onto them cold risotto and the fish with the fancy recipe Luci sent him via Email.

He threw a glance at April from across the room. She was beautiful…

He gulped, his brain getting ahead of him, and he couldn’t manage to stifle his thoughts.

Sometimes he worried that maybe… something was wrong.

Unconsciously, his hand rose up to brush through Dean’s fur.

He was just better equipped against the female beauty; that was all. He didn’t care about it all that much. He…

Sighed. Took a deep breath, and put on his usual lightly sarcastic veil. April was better than any woman he had a chance of meeting; he knew that.

As he inelegantly heated plate after plate in the microwave, a soft tune emerged from the living room. Dean’s head rose suspiciously and his tail swayed from side to side, slapping Cas’ arm repetitively.

“Hmpf,” Cas uttered as both Dean and him digested April’s choice of romantic background music over a TV show.

“Hey,” he called quietly a moment later, and Dean could swear there was a spark of self-satisfaction in his voice. Cas served the dishes while April sat down at the table and Dean climbed onto the seat beside her.

“make yourself comfortable, I'll get the wine.” while Cas searched the cupboard for wine glasses Dean snuck onto the table and gingerly, careful not to touch her food, sniffed April's plate. She gaped at him with terror, but before she could say anything Cas was back with two glasses and Dean retreated to his side of the table. Cas smiled at April and handed her a glass, and they started eating. Waiting cautiously to see the results of his masterminding, Dean took a seat on Cas' knees, sniffing his food every now and then and watching April's reaction. By the other side of the table April swayed in her seat, using a fork to play with her cat-sniffed meal. Cas glanced at her and then at his cat, and up again.

Causing trouble again, aren’t you? He grumbled to himself, not sure what Dean has done this time. He was determined to make his date comfortable, though, so he nudged Dean’s side, gently signaling him to go somewhere else. Dean stared back at him for a split second, and – God, if looks could kill – sprang to the floor.

Freaking witch, that’s what she is, he thought to himself as he ran toward the living room. He’d do anything to please her. Was that how Cas would act with other humans as well, if he’d have some? Was that how all adults acted? Shooing away their pets to please their mean lady friends?

He hissed heatedly. He wasn’t even a pet. That was ridiculous. He shouldn’t have befriended a human in the first place. Humans made everything their pets; owned everything they could, made it theirs. He should’ve known.

Dejected, he took a seat on the couch and grazed at it with his claws.

He never liked humans that much, and they haven’t done anything to prove his aversion wrong; on the contrary – the world had taken everything from him – his family, his friends, even his own self.

Cas, though… Cas was different, he had to admit. Cas understood him.

He looked over at the dining table, his anger subsiding. He was stuck away from that area for a while, though, so he grabbed the TV remote and hit it with his paw, changing channels until he found something appropriate to replace the romantic melodies and ruin April’s mood a tiny bit more than he already has: Avenue Q. Perfect timing.

He stretched on the couch, scratching his ear and accidentally turning on the volume to the sounds of If You Were Gay coming out of the television.

The morning rays pierced into the room in a rather unpleasant way. The bed was soaked with yellowish light that flooded Dean’s fur and made his skin tingle. He yawned, stretching in his own half-cat half-human way, and his eyes opened to two thin slits.

One hour, three continuous naps and seven attempts of getting up later Dean rolled across the bed and onto the floor, landing on his feet merely thanks to his feline instincts. According to the red alarm clock on the nightstand it was six minutes past nine thirty, and as he padded closer and closer to the bedroom door it’s become easier to identify the sounds of a conversation… and a smell.

Dean’s tail straightened as the magnificent, salty smell of bacon hit his nostrils, and his padding toward the kitchen quickened. A second before he exposed himself outside the room, though, Cas’ quiet conversation tone fell into place in Dean’s mind and he halted by the entrance.

“I just think there’s more to him,” Cas argued. “Can’t you feel it at all? His consciousness, there’s something… human, to it.”

For a brief moment, Dean allowed himself to wonder who was Cas conversing with. And then the other person talked, and Dean called himself an idiot and kept on with his journey to get breakfast.

“So, what, do you have any conspiracy theories?” April’s voice, lightly cynical, irritated Dean even more than usual.

“…Is he an alien? Is it a Hulk thing, an experiment gone wrong? Did a witch cast a spell on him? I’m sure he made a wonderful prince. I finally understand the arrogance.”

“Stop ripping off from fairytales,” Cas said, snickering at her guesses. Somehow, they sounded to him more reasonable than his own explanation for Dean.

“I just think he’s smarter than any animal I’ve seen in my life. There are some pets, you know – I’ve seen this show about a brilliant dog who could recognize over one thousand of her toys by name. Her owner has trained her for years. Some animals can be naturally smarter than others of their species, that’s all I’m saying.”

While they were talking, their subject of conversation was sneaking out of Cas’ bedroom and – silently, with care – into the kitchen. He rested his front paws against the counter and stood up on two, sniffing. There was a new scent from this short of a distance – French toast? The greasy smell of pork still caught most of his attention, though, and he steadied himself back on all fours, preparing to take the leap. He was painfully close to charging at the countertop when April spotted him from the living room.

“If you’re so sure he’s some sort of a genius, why don’t we just ask him?” She suggested, her eyebrows rising challengingly. Dean bolted back to the hallway, hoping if he would avoid Cas he could wait in the bedroom and sneak back into the kitchen safely after he and his lady-friend would have navigated the conversation into a safer subject.

“You scared him,” Cas pointed out jokingly and Dean froze in place.

Scared him? He thought angrily. She did not- 

“Hey, buddy, April here thinks that that séance thing would work on you.” Cas' eyebrows rose, as though he were inviting Dean to condescend above April's foolish speculation.

“You in?”

Dean stared at him, two opposing paws still risen an inch above the ground in a somewhat comical manner. He stared into Cas’ eyes, squinting, as Cas stared back questioningly and the beginning of “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” theme tune started playing in his mind. The chick wants a show… I’ll give her a show. He padded over toward the living room and sat on the coffee table, facing the two humans. His tail flapped from side to side impatiently behind him. The vibe in the living room was odd, a mixture of Dean’s annoyance, Cas’ light humor and April’s attempt of keeping how seriously she took the situation secret.

“Well, then,” Cas opened, clearing his throat and looking directly at Dean with mock seriousness.

“One meow for yes, two for no. Are you a talking cat?” Dean looked at him meaningfully, silent for a few long seconds, and then meowed twice. That wasn’t a lie; he was, indeed, not a talking cat.

 Cas looked at his lady friend, and shrugged.

“He said no,” April pointed out.

“Exactly,” Cas replied. “He said no.”

“Please,” she said, the one word dripping with sarcasm. “You can’t tell me you actually buy this.”

Cas shrugged again, looking at Dean with a flicker of mischief in his grinning eyes. Dean gave his tail a rest, feeling as though he and Cas were sharing a private understanding that the female wasn’t able to comprehend.

“Do you want a further proof?” Cas asked, happily challenged. Dean settled more comfortably in his place, beginning to enjoy the exchange, which seemed particularly amusing to him considering Cas’ easy and humorous belief, conflicted with his lady friend’s somber disbelief.

“Go ahead,” April said, feigning indifference.

“Alright.” He turned to Dean again. “On a scale of one-“ he grabbed a coaster and placed it at one end of the coffee table, and then placed the other three at the other end “-to three, how much do you like cheeseburgers?”

Dean considered the words for a moment. Then he grabbed the single coaster, which lay a paw away. He picked it up with his teeth and added it to the others. He hesitated before seizing the remote and adding it to the pile. He looked at Cas, who looked at April.

“That’s a five.”

“Come on, this is ridiculous.”

“It is,” Cas agreed, only barely holding another smile back. “He already proved himself twice, and we’re still interrogating him.” He was laughing now, and April smacked his arm playfully, a smile making its reluctant way onto her lips now.

Dean watched him, his tail resuming its swinging back and forth. Dick, he spat out within his mind and bounced off the table, muttering to himself. Here he was, positive he was making progress, and despite all his efforts Cas was still affectionate toward the female. He walked away from the living room indignantly and discovered April’s purse on the floor, leaning against the couch which turned its back to the front door. He pushed the purse with his head and it fell to the floor like a lifeless fish, spilling out a pink lipstick and a couple of tampons. The quiet thump caught the humans’ attention and they stood up, April breathing out an oh my god while hurrying toward the bag, and Cas squishing his forehead with his fingers and taking a mental note to scold at Dean although the little furry troublemaker was nowhere to be seen.

From the bedroom, came the muffled sound of the Devil figurine Gabe had bought him a few years ago which, if one applied pressure onto its torso, recited a MUHAHAHA.

“I know I should be grateful,” Cas proclaimed. Dean’s tail lifted and shot back down, smacking Cas’ stomach with disinterest. They were settled in their regular position, Cas lying atop the living room couch and Dean lying on top of him.

“I don’t know where this is coming from. I mean, she’s great. She’s-“ he was going for sweet, but Dean’s explicit growl made him reconsider. “Beautiful,” he settled. With that Dean couldn’t argue; he hissed at the air and seized with his paw a flake of dust that floated by him. Of course, he was thrilled about Cas even considering breaking up with his girlfriend, the possibility that Dean wouldn’t have to see the witch again, but God, at what cost? He was sitting here listening to Cas’ rambling for minutes over minutes, taking notice of every argument Cas has made regarding feeling “strange” around April lately or “not wanting to hold hands with her anymore”, saying maybe he was gay and then immediately taking it back because April is so perfect, but on the other hand – it just doesn’t feel right. But what if he regrets it later? What if he changes his mind the very next day? But surely he won’t – he’s put so much thought into it, turned it upside down, shook it, squeezed it, made Dean feel like a fish fried on barbecue with all this talking until he stood up and intentionally stepped on Cas’ face on his way toward the window. Just decide already, you snot.

Cas sat up and sighed, watching Dean’s butt walking away.

“You’re a great listener, but sometimes I wish you’d say more.”

Dean turned around, giving him the direst look he could manage, and continued to walk away.

“You don’t know how to take a joke,” Cas said in a mock-serious tone.

Yeah, well, you’re a snot, Dean shot back in his mind wittily.

By the window, he bent down to get leverage and sprang onto the windowsill. As the time had gone by, the proud nature of the Felidae has slowly taken over and he wasn’t planning on even looking at the human during the next thirty to forty-five minutes – but then he heard cloth shifting against fabric and Cas sighed again, quiet and dejected this time.

He’s an inferior human… Dean thought, observing the familiar view. But he’s still my friend. Damn it. He turned around and walked back to the sofa, where Cas was sitting with his head buried in his hands, elbows leaning on knees.

He used to become hesitant when Cas had his breakdowns – his second worst curse was the horrible difficulty of expressing his feelings and dealing with other people’s emotions – but watching Cas, he’s become gradually better at responding to these situations accordingly. He climbed effortlessly onto the human’s lap and nudged the bottom of his chin with his head.

“You won’t understand,” Cas muttered quietly. “You’re a cat. I’m talking to a cat.” He breathed out heatedly, as though he felt betrayed by his own mind which allowed him the destructive act of talking to an animal.

“I’ve never had to break up with someone before – or whatever this is. And she has no idea, it’s- it’s way harder than it looks. And my family-“ he was speaking fluently and he paused now, catching his breath. He leaned back and his hands caught the roots of his hairs, fingers brushing tightly through them, until they reached his neck and fell apathetically to his sides. Dean raised one paw to rest on his shoulder, mentally humming a there, there, but for once, it was no help.

“They- I mean-“ Cas’ speech stammered, and he looked more discouraged than Dean has ever seen him before. It has only now hit him that this wasn’t at all just about April.

“At least until now I had the chance of being normal, you know? I could still find a woman, bring her home, and be like everyone else. But now- I’ll be the outcast. Not to mention ever bringing a guy home – half my family would stop talking to me, and the other half would think he’s not good enough. Being with a girl is just so much easier, you know?” His hand rose again, his fingers brushing the side of his face with concern. “Maybe I…” His throat tightened and his speech faltered, and he started over. “Maybe I fell for April in the first place because I just wanted so much for them to accept me. You know?”

God, the man had a lot of ‘you know’s in him hoarded for when he’s upset.

Cas stared at him with deep, morose exhaustion – an expression Dean had known to recognize far before he met this momentarily dejected human.

“The logic of my own brain is beyond me,” he mumbled, finishing the sentence a split of a second before the doorbell rang. He stood up, Dean hopping onto his shoulders. “Have I forgotten someone?” He wondered aloud as he approached the door.

Outside, April was waiting with her fingers intertwined in front of her and a smile coloring her face a lighter tone.

“Oh. Hey,” Cas blurted, forcing a smile.

“Is this a bad time?” April asked, apparently worried.

“Uh, no, not at all,” Cas said and shifted to let her in, realizing he's been blocking the entrance. “Listen, I, um, need to talk to you.”

“Stole my line,” she replied with a smile. Awkwardly, Cas led the way to the kitchen and took a seat by the dining table, gesturing April to sit beside him.

“What did you want to talk about?” She asked, her somewhat critical stare following Dean's figure, which hopped from Cas' shoulder to the table and down to the floor.

“You first,” Cas prompted, eager to delay the verdict. His fingers were fidgeting with the bottom tuck of his purple shirt.

“Alright, then,” April's back straightened, her hands put neatly on her knees. “I sort of wanted to talk about... Us.” Her beautiful gaze was so endearing that Cas began to wonder whether he was making the right decision. Her afire hair fell in perfect waves down her shoulders. She smiled at him, one corner of her lips rising crookedly, and the natural bright-red of her lips made him falter.

“I'm not sure how to say it...” She glanced down, and Cas' fingers reached up to scratch the top of his head.

What? He shot urgently at his brain. What do?

April's electric eyes looked up from beneath her lashes as she continued. “So I'm just gonna... Get to it, I guess.” There was that uneven, awkward smile again, as she leaned toward him, closing the distance between them. Cas' eyes closed instinctively as April's lips pressed onto his gently, their taste sweet and clean. After a brief moment she backed away, examining his reaction.

“I'm...” He breathed, dazzled by her action. He stared into her expectant eyes remorsefully, trying to hide the little amusement his brain disgracefully found in the situation, as well as in most things in life. “I'm definitely gay.”

He watched her face carefully as the emotions passing through her expression switched from blank surprise to betrayal, to anger.

“How dare you?” She spat out madly, standing up in a suddenness that startled him.

“I- I can't control it,” he explained defensively, standing up after her. His fingers reached out toward hers, offering comfort, but he didn't want to make things worse and his hand dropped by his side.

“April, please-“ He started, but there was nothing to ask.

“What more do you have to say to me?” She asked, her tone implying there was nothing in the world he could possibly find appropriate to say at the moment.

She was right.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said desperately, his stare holding onto her eyes, seeking forgiveness.

“I’m sure,” she replied resentfully. She turned around and left then, disappearing faster than Cas could gather within his mind a couple of words brave enough to stand up to her acidness.

“Jesus, woman,” Cas mumbled once she was gone. Quickly enough, though, his mood sank from confusion back to gloomy despair. He sighed, reclaiming his former position on the sofa, one hand in his hair.

“I probably could’ve made it easier,” he mumbled. I’m definitely gay. Tactless idiot. It just slipped out – he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

He didn’t notice where Dean came from, but suddenly he was on the couch, placing a paw on Cas’ arm comfortingly.

“You understand, right?” Cas asked wearily, lifting the cat and cradling it in his arms.

“Why I can’t say the right thing, even though I know I’m doing it all wrong?” Dean’s head rubbed against his chest and he purred in agreement.

“Maybe you were right about her. Maybe we wouldn’t have worked out anyway,” he wondered aloud. “Seems like it’s just you and me again,” he added. Dean rested his head on Cas’ shoulder, calm stillness replacing his restless movements. “Maybe that’s the way it’s just supposed to be,” Cas said and looked at him, “huh?”

Dean’s head rose and Cas kissed it fondly. “Just you and me,” he mumbled, but Dean froze. His back straightened and his tail rose into a line in the air. He jerked away from the couch then, landing on the floor where the coffee table stood between the two of them. He considered bolting out of the room but before he could manage to decide he collapsed on the floor, a blinding ache spreading into every corner of his body in a dreadful way he’d only felt once before. Slowly, his limbs lengthened and the fur disappearing off them, until he was man again, lying on the floor and panting heavily from the painful transition. For a moment, he could only stare at the ceiling and breathe as the pain disappeared gradually. Then, when his rapid breathing calmed down, he opened and closed his mouth, moved his jaw from side to side and spoke.

“Oh, man,” an uncontrolled grin spread on his face. “It’s good to be back.” It was only then that he recalled the astounded man still sitting in front of him with his mouth open and his blue eyes wide. Dean stood up too fast, balancing with an effort on two feet, smiling hugely.

“You’re probably wondering why your cat is gone and there’s a naked man in the middle of your living room,” he suggested. Cas gaped, then closed his mouth and nodded, and then gaped again.

“You bet I do,” he managed eventually, his tone amazed.

“I feel like we’ve never really had a proper introduction,” said the man, his perky smile still intact. “So, I’m Dean,” he said and sent out a hand to shake. Wide eyed and tongue tied, Castiel reached out and shook his hand. With a band T-shirt and an old pair of jeans of Cas’ he looked even more handsome than wearing nothing. His light brown hair was cut short and his intense green eyes were cheerful; free. And there was something about him… His features, maybe his smile – something familiar, as if Cas had seen him on the supermarket a couple of times, or sat by him during a long airplane flight.

He ran a hand through his hair and dropped Cas’ hand.

“I haven’t showered in a year, do I smell?” His expression was almost proud at this point. Cas stared at him. His brain struggled to come up with words that could clear up the situation, make sense.

“You’re just as cheeky,” he breathed out eventually, and Dean’s grin widened.

“That specific quality didn’t come with the animal traits. I was born this way.” Cas shook his head. Slowly – very, very slowly – things started to fall into place on their own: the reason Dean had refused to eat cat food, the reason he stuck with Cas the first time he’d seen him, the way he’d acted, as if he had a consciousness much more evolved than an ordinary animal’s – because he had.

“You promised me an explanation,” Cas reminded him and sat clumsily on the edge of the couch, trying and failing to sound less amazed and more severe. Dean dropped onto the couch beside him, spreading his legs.

“It’s a little… bizarre,” he said. “You’ll have to have an open mind.”

“I don’t think it gets much more bizarre than this,” Cas gestured nowhere specific with his hand. His mind felt dizzy, beginning to feel the implications of a long day.

Dean snickered. “Don’t challenge me.”

Cas let out a huff of laughter, smiling genuinely for the first time that day.

“Well, I think the best point to start at is the day my parents died. I was fourteen and we’d hardly had money before, so when the house burned down along with my folks, I didn’t know how to take care of my brother and sister except for taking them from town to town and looking for small jobs and charities that will get us through the day.”

Cas listened attentively, trying to keep his questions to himself. He blurted one out, though, when Dean didn’t seem to be answering it on his own.

“You have siblings?”

“Had,” Dean replied. His expression didn’t change, but the faded light in his eyes didn’t put on as good a show as the rest of his face. “Charlie – my sister – was adopted, one year after I was born. Sammy was four years younger than me.” Castiel listened, fascinated. Obviously, he had no idea Dean had such a difficult life. Even from his fifteen-minutes acquaintance with the man he could tell Dean was a person of the kind that lit the room they were walking into. Cas wouldn’t have guessed half of the things the man had to go through.

“What happened to them?” He asked tenderly, and a sudden, ominous feeling crept through him. Had they not survived the journey? Dean, however, put on his light-and-easy expression again, and Castiel was starting to wonder whether the seeming optimism he had radiated ever since he was transformed was only a pretense.

“God, being a victim of your impatience is much more irritating than watching it from the side.” He punched Cas’ shoulder lightly.

He had to stop and process that for a moment; while Dean saw him the same as before, Castiel had to make an effort to connect the cat he’d spent a year living with to the man he was now talking to.

“Anyway,” Dean continued, taking advantage of Cas’ momentary bemusement. “It’s been a few months, almost a year, and we were almost finished. And then, a man found us. He’d traveled in a spaceship and called himself the Doctor, and when he saw us sleeping outside a church – Sammy liked to go to those whenever we went by one – and he decided to take care of us for the night. He took us to his spaceship, which looked like a telephone booth but was endlessly huge from the inside.” Dean’s eyes glistened as he recalled the impossible place Castiel could only try to imagine. “When we woke up in the morning he told us his story – he was a lone traveler, flying across the world and protecting it from aliens. Of course we didn’t believe him at first,” Dean grinned. “But it’s hard to argue with plain proof when it’s presented to you. He told us he was looking for companions, and asked us to join him. I mean,” he snickered and looked at Cas, shrugging. “How can you say no to that?”

He looked down pensively then, sunken in sullen memories.

“What happened?” Cas asked quietly.

“It was the best three years of my life,” Dean said, looking up, and all Cas could detect within his eyes was sincerity.

“That was, until the witch found us.”

“I thought you said he was fighting aliens,” Cas said, feeling dumb. Dean paused, and a soft, slight smile made its way onto his lips.

“You actually believe me,” he realized. “I took it for granted. It hasn’t occurred to me quite how crazy I sound.”

Cas’ stare dropped. “Well, I mean, I’ve seen you change with my own two eyes. It’s hard to argue with plain proof when it’s presented to you, right?” He couldn’t admit out loud that it was easier for him to just accept Dean’s words as a story, without trying to believe them.

“Well… she was some sort of alien, only her powers resembled a witch’s,” Dean continued. “She’d been abducting people, performing experiments on them, until we tracked her down and confronted her.” There was another pause, and Cas sensed something bad was about to happen in the timeline of Dean’s story.

“It was an unpopulated building, Sunday night – just the doctor, us and the witch. He… misevaluated her. He thought we had her. He…” Had Cas imagined Dean’s silent gasp for air?

“She made the whole place explode,” he continued a moment later, his eyes staring at a random spot on the coffee table. His expression was unreadable. “Sam and Charlie died, and she escaped. The Doctor looked for us for days… He even talked to the police, untypically for him…” Dean stared, sunken deep in his own thoughts, not noticing when Cas tensed beside him, his eyes widening.

“Dean…” He whispered, and Dean looked at him, his eyebrows furrowing at Cas’ expression.

“You were on TV,” he realized, his face lighting with understanding. “You, and your brother and sister. A year ago, the explosion… They said you died, they showed your pictures. You were all over the news.” He frowned thoughtfully. How ironic it was – three homeless children, abandoned by every person in the towns they’d been to, according to Dean – suddenly appearing all over the news, being the subjects of concern for thousands of people, only once it was too late to help them. How typical that was to human kind.

“… Hold on. They said you died,” Cas repeated himself. “How did you survive?”

Dean’s eyes lit up again, but for once, the rest of his features didn’t follow. “Now don’t you laugh,” he warned, and Cas raised his right palm.

“Promise.”

“I… I made fun of werewolves.” Dean’s eyes indicated how ridiculous he knew the matter was, yet they were completely honest. He spoke quickly, conversationally, trying to make it as least big a deal as possible. “It must’ve been a sensitive subject for her, because she turned me… into a more humiliating version of werewolf. Gave me that stupid collar too, on top of everything.” He huffed irritably.  

"Don’t be ashamed,” Cas said, but his tone and the upwards turn of his lips betrayed his amusement.

“You looked so young on TV though…” Cas glanced at him, hastily observing his features. Dean looked at least as old as him, even older.

“I was almost twenty when it happened, and cats grow faster than people – you know, dog years. So.” He shrugged it off, but after a moment he seemed to comprehend the magnitude of the consequences.

“I lost approximately six years of my life.” He gulped quietly, disheartened.

“I’m flattered you didn’t count the year you spent here,” Cas said, smiling gently, trying to lighten the air. “If that helps.”

Dean looked up at him, one corner of his mouth rising. “You’re good, y’know,” he noted. “More than you give yourself credit for.”

“Don’t you analyze me to make yourself feel better,” Cas punched his shoulder playfully, like Dean had done to him before. It was strange, getting used to Dean, but not too hard. He didn’t feel all that different from whom Castiel has lived with so far. Cas felt as though their adaption to one another would be easier than expected.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly aware that Dean staying with him was not obvious. Of course, he could let him go…

But where was the fun in that?

“Will you stay here?” He asked when Dean looked at him. “There’s the couch, until we find another bed, and there’s room for the two of us, I think…” He looked back at Dean hopefully. Living with him, hearing about the things he’d seen – there was something fascinating, enchanting, about the idea.

“I don’t have any money, or academic knowledge to earn some…” Dean retracted.

“That’s why it’s going to be much harder to find another place,” Cas shrugged. He smiled, and Dean smiled back hesitantly.

“It’s settled, then,” Cas decided, and Dean looked a small bit less lost.

“You know, that Doctor of yours kind of reminds me of Doctor Boo,” he mentioned as he stood up.

“Ugh, not that stupid show again,” Dean said, laughing.

“It’s not stupid,” Cas protested, but he joined Dean’s laughter.

“It’s a show about an alien guy hopping around with his blue box and complicating everything. The only resemblance to the Doctor is the alien business.”

“Can you even hear yourself?” Cas laughed, but didn’t argue further. Something within him could tell that he and Dean were going to get along.

Three years later

“’S my turn on the couch today,” Dean called behind his shoulder as he rinsed the last dish in the sink. Castiel stood by the television, looking at said couch.

“Remember when we used to say we’d buy a bed?” He asked nostalgically.

Dean dried his hands with a kitchen towel and turned to look at him. “Cas, we’ve talked about this. We don’t have room for another bed. Quite literally.”

“I know, I know. I was just thinking… things used to be different.” He sighed, lost in memories of outdated plans. “We used to think we had room for another bed; we used to think you wouldn’t find a real job… Things seemed to look harder than they turned out to be.”

Dean walked over to the living room, placing a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “We used to think your ex-girlfriend won’t think you’d brought your secret boyfriend home a day after you broke up with her,” he added with a sarcastic smile, and Cas snorted.

“That was a good one.”

They stood silently for a moment, recalling pleasant and less-pleasant memories.

“Well, I’m going to take a shower,” Cas declared, turning toward the bedroom. Dean’s hand dropped.

“Hey…”

He turned around, looking at Dean questioningly.

“Will you ever…. Y’know, stop thinking about me as someone who used to be…. Eh, a cat?”

Cas frowned. “I don’t…” He started. “Dean, it’s been, what, four years?” He paused for a moment to calculate. “Three? Two weeks after you changed you had no trace of anything inhuman in you. It would be absurd to look at you as anything otherwise.”

“Oh,” Dean blurted. He seemed mildly surprised. “Oh.”

“Why?” Cas asked, tilting his head at Dean slightly from across the room.

 “I got to thinkin’ lately, what happened if I… found someone.” He was vague, playing distractedly with the hem of his shirt.

“Good for you, then,” Cas blurted out, but something in his chest Stung. He ignored the feeling as best as he could. “You have enough money to move out, now,” he noted, forcing a smile. The thought of Dean not being there when he comes back home every day made him uneasy.

Who am I fooling, he sighed to himself. It made him scared.

“Yeah, but, I mean…” Dean hesitated, looking down. “What if finding that someone… Wouldn’t require moving to another place,” He uttered, his tone more a mumble than a question.

Cas’ eyes dropped, finally understanding what was Dean getting at. He could feel his face heat and redden.

“That would save some trouble,” he tried to say, but his voice was barely a whisper. He cleared his throat. “I mean, we wouldn’t have to move the couch.”

Dean smiled nervously; it was an unusual occasion for Cas to see him that tense, and honestly, it was quite flattering.

“Hey,” he called and Dean looked up from across the room. “You think if I kissed you again you’d turn back into a cat?”

His lips parted into his familiar wide grin, and Cas talked before he could chicken out.

“Let’s try that sometime,” he said and disappeared into the bedroom before Dean could react. He heard Dean’s voice from the living room after a moment nevertheless, thankfully not following him.

“You’re gonna take an hour long shower and avoid me like you do when you break a mug and feel bad about it, aren’t you,” he called out, only to hear Cas’ faint “yes” from the bedroom. He let out a long sigh and dropped onto the couch, mumbling, “you snot.” His heart was beginning to lower its rapid pace. Gradually, the tightness in his chest resolved and warm felicity took its place.

He sank back in his seat, counting down the minutes.