The Cat Story 1/?devilyouwereMay 31 2010, 01:58:25 UTC
(idfk what to call this story. Damn you, spacefragments.)
Heading west from Topeka on an all-night run, pulled over in a truck stop just outside Denver, Castiel finds a kitten crouching behind the back of end of an eighteen-wheeler. He came walking back to the Impala, the kitten resting in the palms of his hands, cradled close to his chest, and Dean just stared. Sam glanced up from the paper for a moment, a detached grin on his face, before looking back down. His eyes might have slid to catch a glimpse of Dean as Castiel came closer and rounded to the back seat.
"What the hell is that?" Dean asked as soon as Castiel opened the back door.
"It's a kitten," Castiel replied, slightly perturbed.
"Yeah, but no." Dean leaned behind him and pulled the door shut. "It's not coming in here."
"It's all alone," Castiel said. He stepped to Dean's window and leaned down, the kitten shivering in his hands.
Dean thought Castiel looked ridiculous standing there with a kitten in his hands, that pleading, unholy look on his face that Dean knew could work as many wonders as Sam's puppy dog eyes, in a parking lot where truckers were passing by. Even the sunset was making it worse, everything so pink and gold and like a kid's movie. Dean rubbed his knuckles along the steering wheel--they really needed to go and without the cat.
"No!" Dean said firmly.
"Aw, come on," Sam said. He had leaned over to the driver's side, elbowing Dean against the seat, and tapped on the window; the kitten pawed at the glass, it's little head tilted to the side and, if it could talk, it would probably sound like an angel. "It's kind of cute."
It meowed, muffled by the glass, and Sam grinned.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dean mumbled. "Fine! Bring it! Just get in."
-
Castiel carries it around in his coat pocket most of the time, it's wide grey eyes peering at Dean wherever they go. He's sure it has alterior motives to it's charmed cuteness, but Dean hasn't quite figured it out. He knows the predatory look when he sees it.
-
Dean's drinking in the motel room and Castiel is sitting cross-legged on the floor, dragging a piece of string across the orange-green carpet
"So, did you name it?"
Dean regrets it almost as fast as he asks it. Of course Castiel has probably named it God or, even worse, Dean, and Dean is going to have to smile politely and say thank you and this whole cat thing was going to get so much harder to handle than hair permanently affixed to his clothes or the insistent mewling at four in the morning, just as he's falling asleep. Stupid fucking cat.
"Sam suggested I name him Descartes, but he doesn't look like a Descartes."
Doesn't look like a Descartes. Great. Dean is going to remind himself later to find Castiel non-furry, human friends.
"I named him Winchester," Castiel finishes, pulling the string to shoulder length, the kitten mewling loudly, spinning around, jumping and tumbling to it's feet.
Dean blinks, the beer bottle poised at this lips. "Oh. Well, that's a little less creepy than I imagined."
"What do you think I should have named him?" Castiel asks.
Dean watches the kitten pounce around Castiel's knees, paws batting at his feet, rolling over to bit on the belt. "Boba Fett."
Castiel just smiles. "He looks like a Winchester, don't you think?"
Dean doesn't think so, he doesn't think it looks like anything but a cat, but he won't say anything.
Re: The Cat Story 2/?devilyouwereMay 31 2010, 01:59:18 UTC
They have to make a trip to a pet store in Oregon. Winchester needs a collar and treats, Castiel says. Dean has to reassure Castiel that no, he's perfectly fine not coming inside and sits in the parking lot, Motorhead whirring from the stereos.
The freaking thing is still riding around in his pocket.
-
In Des Moines, Iowa, Castiel says he's leaving.
"Where are you going?" Dean demands.
"I have found a lead on my father." Castiel is moving around the motel room, obviously gathering something, or even looking for something. Dean can't think of what, he never changes, never brings anything with, just a presence, is all. Nothing left behind. "I must go quickly."
"How long will you be gone?" Dean isn't liking the lilt of desperation in his voice that's seeping through.
"I'm not sure, Dean."
Dean feels out of sorts, something shifted. He sits down, rubbing his hands across his face.
"Where are you going?" It's Sam who asks this time.
"The Kalahari," Castiel says.
"I wouldn't recommend taking the trench coat," Sam says.
Castiel smiles lightly, turns around and faces Dean. "I need you to do me a favour."
"What?"
"Take care of Winchester."
"What?" Dean says again, a little more heated. "No!"
"Dean, I cannot take him with me."
"I'm not taking care of your stupid stray cat!"
"Please," Castiel whispers.
Sam raises his eyebrows as Winchester leaps onto Dean's socked feet, claws out, and Castiel disappears with a soft pop.
-
Winchester rides between Dean and Sam for four days, curled into a mess of tangled black hair and white paws. They keep him in the motel room when they're out on hunts, out for food, at the bar. Dean doesn't think it's too bad; he mostly just sleeps anyway. Usually in Dean's bed. Sam thinks it's hilarious.
"You probably smell like him," Sam says one morning as they're packing up their bags, Winchester spread out on the pillows.
"Like who?"
"Cas," Sam says, shrugging. "Probably why he keeps hanging around with you."
"That's gross," Dean bites.
Sam just shrugs again.
-
It's the fifth day Castiel's been gone. It's not the longest he's been gone, but something about having this reminder of him makes the days drag on, no matter how Dean tries to fill up his time. Sometimes Winchester will stay up for more than five minutes and look at Dean forlornly, his eyes half-closed and everything feels wrong.
One night, Sam's gone for burgers and Winchester is sitting on Dean's knees, watching him, while Dean is trying to watch reruns of The A-Team. Winchester meows, but this one is different. Dean looks down at the cat. It's head is tilted. Dean's heart sinks.
"Yeah," he says, scratching Winchester behind the ear. "I miss him, too, buddy."
Re: The Cat Story 3/3devilyouwereMay 31 2010, 02:00:14 UTC
-
Dean thinks he could corrupt Winchester. As much as anyone could corrupt a cat. They sit out in the Impala, Dean showing him how to really enjoy music, Winchester crouched on the dashboard, lazily pawing at the volume dial. He lets Winchester sit beside him as he cleans the guns, throws empty shell casings on the floor for him to play with. He even thinks about feeding him pie and beer until Sam steps in and says that could probably kill him.
Dean doesn't really think he could explain to Castiel how he killed his cat.
-
Castiel is gone seven days. He shows up outside the motel room, late evening, looking a little worse for the wear, but still standing. He even has the courtesy of knocking on the door.
"You were in the desert for seven days and you didn't even get a tan," Dean remarks when he opens the door, Winchester resting on his shoulder.
"I don't tan." His eyes flick up to Winchester. "You took care of him."
"Well, I did try kicking him out of the car, but he's got sharp claws."
Castiel reaches up and takes Winchester into his arms, walking past Dean and sitting down on the bed. "Where's Sam?"
"Meeting up with Bobby about some demon signs," Dean says. He shifts awkwardly, almost sits down besides Castiel, but takes to pacing in front of the TV instead. "Did--was He there?"
Castiel sets Winchester down beside him, but he climbs back on Castiel's lap, paws resting on Castiel's clamped hands. "No. There was nothing there."
Dean stops pacing, let's his hands fall to his sides. "Cas, I'm sorry."
"I will just keep looking," Castiel says, almost defiantly, but his voice wavers. He sighs and strokes the back of Winchester's head. "Thank you, Dean."
"For what?" Dean looks down at the cat. "Oh, yeah. Well, it was no big deal. Just remember to feed him and whatever." Dean waves his hand and turns back to the TV, a light-soft air stretching over him.
"You didn't have to."
Dean knows he didn't have to. He could have easily just as passed it off to a shelter or left it at the side of the road, pawned it off to some young girl at a lemonade stand, it's a kitten, for God's sake. It's not like it was hard to get rid of. And it's not like Dean would have been inhumane--he would have made sure it was safe and not likely to get mauled by badgers or eagles or something. He wouldn't have regretted it or felt bad about it. But the thought of having to even tell Castiel that the cat was gone and he was the one responsible--there was something about that scene in his head that he couldn't really take.
So, yeah, he knows he didn't have to, but he did anyway. Dean thinks Castiel knows that and did before Dean even agreed.
-
The next morning, when Dean wakes up, Castiel is sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dean leans over. Winchester isn't there.
"It's gonna be hard to play with that string all by yourself," Dean jokes. "Where's your fifth furry limb?"
"I gave Winchester to a shelter," Castiel answers. He's twisting the string around his hand.
"Why?"
"This is no environment to raise him in. He deserves a constant, someone to care for him all the time."
Dean laughs. "You talk like he's a kid or something."
"I cared for him very much," Castiel says quietly. Sadly.
Dean swallows, rubbing his hands across his eyes. "Well, why did you even take him in the first place, if you were just going to give him away? You were gonna get attached, you always do."
"He was alone and scared. I wanted to help him."
"Saving all of God's creatures?"
Castiel laughs, something small and breathless and so oddly him. "Yes, something like that, I suppose."
Dean lays his hand on Castiel's shoulder, a strange and familiar heat sweeping through him, leaving him light-headed. "Well, you did a good thing, Cas."
"As did you."
And that's when Castiel leans up, one hand cupping the side of Dean's face, lips pressed to his, something more than he expected, kind and soft and warm and so unlike anything else, smiling against the feel of it, hand drifting up to Castiel's neck, fingers brushing against his ahir. And Dean thinks maybe, okay, seven days of kitten-sitting was worth it, just for this.
Re: The Cat Story 3/3spacefragmentsMay 31 2010, 02:18:25 UTC
AHDKSHFGKHASHFK HE NAMED IT WINCHESTER. FHSJDGAKS.
WHAT IS THIS I AM MELTING. I ALMOST CRIED WHEN CAS HAD TO GIVE HIM AWAY OMG :( HE WAS SO SRS BSNS & DEDICATED ABOUT TAKING CARE OF HIM but he got himself a dean in the end so it's not so bad? and lol dean with the tough guy act. he totally liked that kitten. :''''(
FYI AFTER THEY AVERT THE APOCLYPSE CAS COMES BACK TO THE SHELTER TO GET WINCHESTER BACK AND HE AND DEAN AND THE KITTY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER IN A COTTAGE IN THE COUNTRY FFFFFFFF
Re: The Cat Story 3/3devilyouwereJune 1 2010, 01:40:41 UTC
I ENJOY YOUR CAPSLOCK ABUSE.
I am legit so happy that you enjoyed it. As I was writing it, my brain kept going, "NO STOP IT WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" but my heart was drawing smiley faces all over everything, so I couldn't stop.
OF COURSE CAS WAS DEDICATED TO TAKING CARE OF THE KITTY. He loves all of God's creatures, big or small (kind of like Russell, from Up). Dean was totally in love with that cat, but he's a ~man~ so he won't admit it.
DO YOU THINK CAS COULD LEAVE WINCHESTER FOREVER? I THINK NOT. THEY GROW OLD TOGETHER.
Re: The Cat Story 3/3devilyouwereJune 3 2010, 17:38:39 UTC
OH IF YOU DID, MY LIFE WOULD PROBABLY BE MADE OKAY? Even if it's for a little commentfic I wrote in like fifteen minutes, SOMEONE DREW SOMETHING FOR SOMETHING I WROTE.
Which means, you have to draw it now, or face my prolonged sadness.
Heading west from Topeka on an all-night run, pulled over in a truck stop just outside Denver, Castiel finds a kitten crouching behind the back of end of an eighteen-wheeler. He came walking back to the Impala, the kitten resting in the palms of his hands, cradled close to his chest, and Dean just stared. Sam glanced up from the paper for a moment, a detached grin on his face, before looking back down. His eyes might have slid to catch a glimpse of Dean as Castiel came closer and rounded to the back seat.
"What the hell is that?" Dean asked as soon as Castiel opened the back door.
"It's a kitten," Castiel replied, slightly perturbed.
"Yeah, but no." Dean leaned behind him and pulled the door shut. "It's not coming in here."
"It's all alone," Castiel said. He stepped to Dean's window and leaned down, the kitten shivering in his hands.
Dean thought Castiel looked ridiculous standing there with a kitten in his hands, that pleading, unholy look on his face that Dean knew could work as many wonders as Sam's puppy dog eyes, in a parking lot where truckers were passing by. Even the sunset was making it worse, everything so pink and gold and like a kid's movie. Dean rubbed his knuckles along the steering wheel--they really needed to go and without the cat.
"No!" Dean said firmly.
"Aw, come on," Sam said. He had leaned over to the driver's side, elbowing Dean against the seat, and tapped on the window; the kitten pawed at the glass, it's little head tilted to the side and, if it could talk, it would probably sound like an angel. "It's kind of cute."
It meowed, muffled by the glass, and Sam grinned.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dean mumbled. "Fine! Bring it! Just get in."
-
Castiel carries it around in his coat pocket most of the time, it's wide grey eyes peering at Dean wherever they go. He's sure it has alterior motives to it's charmed cuteness, but Dean hasn't quite figured it out. He knows the predatory look when he sees it.
-
Dean's drinking in the motel room and Castiel is sitting cross-legged on the floor, dragging a piece of string across the orange-green carpet
"So, did you name it?"
Dean regrets it almost as fast as he asks it. Of course Castiel has probably named it God or, even worse, Dean, and Dean is going to have to smile politely and say thank you and this whole cat thing was going to get so much harder to handle than hair permanently affixed to his clothes or the insistent mewling at four in the morning, just as he's falling asleep. Stupid fucking cat.
"Sam suggested I name him Descartes, but he doesn't look like a Descartes."
Doesn't look like a Descartes. Great. Dean is going to remind himself later to find Castiel non-furry, human friends.
"I named him Winchester," Castiel finishes, pulling the string to shoulder length, the kitten mewling loudly, spinning around, jumping and tumbling to it's feet.
Dean blinks, the beer bottle poised at this lips. "Oh. Well, that's a little less creepy than I imagined."
"What do you think I should have named him?" Castiel asks.
Dean watches the kitten pounce around Castiel's knees, paws batting at his feet, rolling over to bit on the belt. "Boba Fett."
Castiel just smiles. "He looks like a Winchester, don't you think?"
Dean doesn't think so, he doesn't think it looks like anything but a cat, but he won't say anything.
-
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The freaking thing is still riding around in his pocket.
-
In Des Moines, Iowa, Castiel says he's leaving.
"Where are you going?" Dean demands.
"I have found a lead on my father." Castiel is moving around the motel room, obviously gathering something, or even looking for something. Dean can't think of what, he never changes, never brings anything with, just a presence, is all. Nothing left behind. "I must go quickly."
"How long will you be gone?" Dean isn't liking the lilt of desperation in his voice that's seeping through.
"I'm not sure, Dean."
Dean feels out of sorts, something shifted. He sits down, rubbing his hands across his face.
"Where are you going?" It's Sam who asks this time.
"The Kalahari," Castiel says.
"I wouldn't recommend taking the trench coat," Sam says.
Castiel smiles lightly, turns around and faces Dean. "I need you to do me a favour."
"What?"
"Take care of Winchester."
"What?" Dean says again, a little more heated. "No!"
"Dean, I cannot take him with me."
"I'm not taking care of your stupid stray cat!"
"Please," Castiel whispers.
Sam raises his eyebrows as Winchester leaps onto Dean's socked feet, claws out, and Castiel disappears with a soft pop.
-
Winchester rides between Dean and Sam for four days, curled into a mess of tangled black hair and white paws. They keep him in the motel room when they're out on hunts, out for food, at the bar. Dean doesn't think it's too bad; he mostly just sleeps anyway. Usually in Dean's bed. Sam thinks it's hilarious.
"You probably smell like him," Sam says one morning as they're packing up their bags, Winchester spread out on the pillows.
"Like who?"
"Cas," Sam says, shrugging. "Probably why he keeps hanging around with you."
"That's gross," Dean bites.
Sam just shrugs again.
-
It's the fifth day Castiel's been gone. It's not the longest he's been gone, but something about having this reminder of him makes the days drag on, no matter how Dean tries to fill up his time. Sometimes Winchester will stay up for more than five minutes and look at Dean forlornly, his eyes half-closed and everything feels wrong.
One night, Sam's gone for burgers and Winchester is sitting on Dean's knees, watching him, while Dean is trying to watch reruns of The A-Team. Winchester meows, but this one is different. Dean looks down at the cat. It's head is tilted. Dean's heart sinks.
"Yeah," he says, scratching Winchester behind the ear. "I miss him, too, buddy."
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Dean thinks he could corrupt Winchester. As much as anyone could corrupt a cat. They sit out in the Impala, Dean showing him how to really enjoy music, Winchester crouched on the dashboard, lazily pawing at the volume dial. He lets Winchester sit beside him as he cleans the guns, throws empty shell casings on the floor for him to play with. He even thinks about feeding him pie and beer until Sam steps in and says that could probably kill him.
Dean doesn't really think he could explain to Castiel how he killed his cat.
-
Castiel is gone seven days. He shows up outside the motel room, late evening, looking a little worse for the wear, but still standing. He even has the courtesy of knocking on the door.
"You were in the desert for seven days and you didn't even get a tan," Dean remarks when he opens the door, Winchester resting on his shoulder.
"I don't tan." His eyes flick up to Winchester. "You took care of him."
"Well, I did try kicking him out of the car, but he's got sharp claws."
Castiel reaches up and takes Winchester into his arms, walking past Dean and sitting down on the bed. "Where's Sam?"
"Meeting up with Bobby about some demon signs," Dean says. He shifts awkwardly, almost sits down besides Castiel, but takes to pacing in front of the TV instead. "Did--was He there?"
Castiel sets Winchester down beside him, but he climbs back on Castiel's lap, paws resting on Castiel's clamped hands. "No. There was nothing there."
Dean stops pacing, let's his hands fall to his sides. "Cas, I'm sorry."
"I will just keep looking," Castiel says, almost defiantly, but his voice wavers. He sighs and strokes the back of Winchester's head. "Thank you, Dean."
"For what?" Dean looks down at the cat. "Oh, yeah. Well, it was no big deal. Just remember to feed him and whatever." Dean waves his hand and turns back to the TV, a light-soft air stretching over him.
"You didn't have to."
Dean knows he didn't have to. He could have easily just as passed it off to a shelter or left it at the side of the road, pawned it off to some young girl at a lemonade stand, it's a kitten, for God's sake. It's not like it was hard to get rid of. And it's not like Dean would have been inhumane--he would have made sure it was safe and not likely to get mauled by badgers or eagles or something. He wouldn't have regretted it or felt bad about it. But the thought of having to even tell Castiel that the cat was gone and he was the one responsible--there was something about that scene in his head that he couldn't really take.
So, yeah, he knows he didn't have to, but he did anyway. Dean thinks Castiel knows that and did before Dean even agreed.
-
The next morning, when Dean wakes up, Castiel is sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dean leans over. Winchester isn't there.
"It's gonna be hard to play with that string all by yourself," Dean jokes. "Where's your fifth furry limb?"
"I gave Winchester to a shelter," Castiel answers. He's twisting the string around his hand.
"Why?"
"This is no environment to raise him in. He deserves a constant, someone to care for him all the time."
Dean laughs. "You talk like he's a kid or something."
"I cared for him very much," Castiel says quietly. Sadly.
Dean swallows, rubbing his hands across his eyes. "Well, why did you even take him in the first place, if you were just going to give him away? You were gonna get attached, you always do."
"He was alone and scared. I wanted to help him."
"Saving all of God's creatures?"
Castiel laughs, something small and breathless and so oddly him. "Yes, something like that, I suppose."
Dean lays his hand on Castiel's shoulder, a strange and familiar heat sweeping through him, leaving him light-headed. "Well, you did a good thing, Cas."
"As did you."
And that's when Castiel leans up, one hand cupping the side of Dean's face, lips pressed to his, something more than he expected, kind and soft and warm and so unlike anything else, smiling against the feel of it, hand drifting up to Castiel's neck, fingers brushing against his ahir. And Dean thinks maybe, okay, seven days of kitten-sitting was worth it, just for this.
(ajfhksjfa, Idek what this is, omg I'm sorry.)
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WHAT IS THIS I AM MELTING. I ALMOST CRIED WHEN CAS HAD TO GIVE HIM AWAY OMG :( HE WAS SO SRS BSNS & DEDICATED ABOUT TAKING CARE OF HIM but he got himself a dean in the end so it's not so bad? and lol dean with the tough guy act. he totally liked that kitten. :''''(
FYI AFTER THEY AVERT THE APOCLYPSE CAS COMES BACK TO THE SHELTER TO GET WINCHESTER BACK AND HE AND DEAN AND THE KITTY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER IN A COTTAGE IN THE COUNTRY FFFFFFFF
edit: lol shit holy capslock abuse.
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I am legit so happy that you enjoyed it. As I was writing it, my brain kept going, "NO STOP IT WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" but my heart was drawing smiley faces all over everything, so I couldn't stop.
OF COURSE CAS WAS DEDICATED TO TAKING CARE OF THE KITTY. He loves all of God's creatures, big or small (kind of like Russell, from Up). Dean was totally in love with that cat, but he's a ~man~ so he won't admit it.
DO YOU THINK CAS COULD LEAVE WINCHESTER FOREVER? I THINK NOT. THEY GROW OLD TOGETHER.
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Which means, you have to draw it now, or face my prolonged sadness.
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MELTS*~*~~*~
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And I definitely do not have a kitten named Castiel running around my house like a maniac. Nope. Definitely not.
*Coughs.* I call him Cas a lot.
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