Dec 8, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, Battle of Evermore Title: Battle of Evermore Fandom: Supernatural Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Tracker, Sam Rating/Warnings: Teen Disclaimer:here Prompt:this picture Summary: Castiel wasn’t sure he would ever understand some human practices, but he had to admit that some of the least likely were actually enjoyable. A/N: Title taken from this Led Zeppelin song.
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Dean had been correct, Castiel had to admit, that caring for a dog was a responsibility that was sometimes inconvenient. Standing and shivering in the cold while the puppy tries to figure out the first snow it has ever encountered when it should just pee or poop or whatever it needed to do so they could go back inside … that was definitely one of those times.
Something cold and wet hit the back of Castiel’s head, and he whipped around, sliding his blade from the sheath in his sleeve and holding it at the ready as Tracker yelped and ran, pulling the leash taut as he tried to reach their attacker.
Dean was just grinning.
With a flick of his wrist, Castiel returned his blade to its sheath. Tracker was still pulling at the leash, so Castiel leaned down and unfastened. The puppy ran to Dean and jumped back and forth in front of him.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Castiel grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it at Dean. Unfortunately, it just sort of blew about in the wind. Some of it did land on Dean’s face, making him sputter and then laugh.
“Nah, man. You’ve got to really pack it together.” Dean bent to scoop up a double handful of snow and pressed it together, shifting the compressed snow from hand to hand until it roughly the shape of a ball.
Castiel did the same.
“Now try.”
He did. Dean ducked and the ball of snow landed somewhere behind him. Tracker bounded over to investigate, whining in confusion when he could not distinguish the ball that had just flown over his head from the stuff it had landed in.
Dean’s next volley caught Castiel on the shoulder.
“What is the purpose of this exercise?”
“Fun, man!” Dean was already packing more snow together between his hands.
Castiel wasn’t sure how this was meant to be fun, but he would go along with it for Dean’s sake.
Castiel’s next shot caught Dean’s arm while Dean’s next shot caught Castiel in the chest. He might not see the point of this game, but Castiel recognized a call to war when he felt it melting into his clothing.
Balls of snow flew back and forth, Tracker barking and jumping after them. He even caught one, once, but he did not seem pleased when he bit right through it, leaving no more ball to play with.
“Guys, what the hell’s taking so long out there?” Sam yelled from the bunker door. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
Castiel looked at Dean, There was a glint in his eye that Castiel had observed on many a hunt, generally when their monstrous or demonic prey made a fatal mistake. With a slight nod, Castiel shifted his position, and when Dean threw his ball of snow, Castiel followed suit.
Sam, Castiel had to admit, had decent reflexes. He managed to close the door before the snow missiles reached him, and they exploded harmlessly on the barrier. However, seconds later, the door swung back open, and Sam ran up the stairs and towards them.
“Oh, it is so on!” Sam yelled.
Several minutes later, both Dean and Sam were covered in snow, a situation both seemed to find hilariously funny. Castiel had mostly managed to avoid being hit, other than that one time Sam had caught him off guard that he would prefer not to remember.
“C’mon,” Sam said. “It’s getting dark. Let’s get in there and have dinner before it burns, if it hasn’t already.”
“Yeah, okay. Give us a minute,” Dean said.
Tracker started to follow Sam back to the door, then seemed to realize the others were not coming and trotted back over to them.
“So,” Dean said. “Fun?”
“That was … invigorating,” Castiel admitted. “Considering that’s what you said about last night, I’m going to take that as a yes.” Dean smirked.
“The two experiences were very different.”
“I should hope so.” Dean grabbed hold of Castiel’s coat and pulled him closer.
Castiel saw no reason to resist. His instinct was proven to be correct when Dean brought their lips together in a rough but somehow tender kiss.
The kiss was also brief, interrupted as it was by a bundle of canine energy wriggling between them and bouncing on their feet. Castiel sighed in disappointment.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” Dean said. “The dog was your idea.”
With another sigh, Castiel re-attached the leash and headed for the entrance to the bunker.
He did love this puppy, but Dean did have a point. Seriously inconvenient.