Dean Winchester is Saved. (perditionfree) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-09-09 17:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, castiel, dean winchester |
Who: Dean & Castiel Winchester
What: Cat boy? [kryptonite plot]
When: Monday 9/9
Where: Casa de Winchester
Rating: Low - Adorable and slightly catty.
Status: Complete
Some days were harder than others when it came to Castiel's patience and attentiveness to his job. It was a weird thing to realize after having been so devoted to not much else for the last decade. Mondays were the hardest, seeming to last forever and ever, only his lunch break spacing out the day. Even his favorite view of the world didn't always help.
Luckily though, he'd somehow managed through the day and was well pleased to go home, knowing Dean would be there since he was done with his job at the garage, between his project with Scud the Mechanic starting up. Maybe Castiel would get lucky, and his husband would have made dinner. Then maybe they could just lay on the couch and Cas could catch some Pokemon, or pretend he wasn't sleeping and drooling on Dean's shoulder. That sounded Heavenly. And he'd know, wouldn't he?
"Dean," Castiel was learning the subtle influences of dramatics, making himself sound just as sleepy as he really was as he entered the house. "You home?" He wouldn't know, since he'd been booted out of the garage since the appearance of Baby and parking on the road wasn't very telling.
“You can’t laugh,” came a voice from up the stairs, one belonging to a very obviously put out Dean Winchester. He was still hiding around the corner where Cas couldn’t see him. What? It was pretty easy to figure out when someone who stuck to a schedule as rigidly as Cas did was going to come home. Like damn clockwork, that guy.
Of course he was like clockwork. Routine was the most important thing he could think of that wasn't Dean.
"Why would I laugh?" Puzzled, Castiel cocked his head to the side, even though Dean wasn't in the room to see it. He settled his keys down, put his briefcase in its spot and hung his coat before standing at the bottom of the stairs. "What did you do?"
“Promise, Cas,” Dean said roughly from up the stairs. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his tail and the rest of his clothes, so he’d at least put on his boxer briefs backwards so there was a place for that to go. Cas would’ve killed him if he ruined clothes.
"Dean." Cas had gone all squinty and serious, all while deciding that he had absolutely no patience for continued confusion and started heading up the stairs. "Why would I laugh at you? I promise." He was strangely concerned over the state of the upstairs, for all the way Dean was acting.
Dean came sullenly down the stairs, unable to stop his damn tail from swishing in annoyance behind him and his over-large ears pressed against his head. “I was mowing the lawn and there was a rock and now I’m a cat,” he said sullenly.
Cas paused on the bottom stair and just blinked at his husband for an excessive amount of time. More accurately, he stared at those over-sized ears and the twitchy tail and couldn't help but think it was the strangest and most adorable thing he'd ever seen in his life.
Which was sort of a worrying thought, since it should have just been only strange.
"And now you're a cat," he repeated, blankly.
“Look, I don’t get it either, but I’m a friggen cat and I don’t like it.” Which Dean supposed was probably the most cat-like thing anyone could say. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this thing?” He gestured to his tail, but wouldn’t grab it. He didn’t like touching it. It felt weird. Maybe it’d be okay if Cas did, but that was different.
"Dean." Cas said, still unable to stop looking at that twitchy tail (the urge to grab it was rising, nearly to the point of being distracting). "I know I promised, but… I." Okay, it was probably obvious since there was even a smile there to be pulling at his lips. He kind of wanted to laugh.
“Stop it,” Dean warned lowly, so low that there was an actual growl in his throat and his teeth were definitely sharper than normal.
Cas buckled down, although it clearly look like it took him some effort, the smile wiping clean from his face, but not completely from his eyes.
"Sorry." He didn't sound all that sorry though, not yet. Later he might worry about it. He couldn't have his husband being a cat permanently, it just wasn't right. But right now… well. It was adorable. "Can I--?"
Dean came the rest of the way down the stairs. “Yeah go on.”
Tentatively, Cas reached out and stroked Dean's hair before moving toward those oversized cat ears and running his fingers gently over them. "This is the strangest thing," he said, as if Dean weren't completely aware.
Oh, it was definitely different when Cas did it. Dean closed his eyes and felt them rising and shifting into that touch. Fuck. He was purring. Goddamnit.
The cute just kept on coming. Cas bit his lower lip, did not point out that purring was happening and scratched behind one of those ears wonderingly.
"Perhaps," he said, looking down toward the tail and then reaching out for that next because he couldn't stop himself. "We should do research on that rock…?"
The tail twitched away. Dean couldn’t even stop it. “I don’t want you touching it. I put it in a bag and nobody else touches it. Don’t want you to end up some kind of mongoose or something.”
Cas nearly pouted at the way the tail flicked away, felt strangely more resolute about wanting to touch it. "I don't need to touch it in order to look at it," he said, always the one to point out simple logic.
“Just looks kinda like quartz.” Yeah, a bit more glowy, but not too much. It was a rock. What did Cas want from him? “Don’t wanna let you near it anyway.” He leaned in and rubbed his head against Cas’ shoulder.
Overwhelmed at that gesture, Cas couldn't help but stroke at Dean's head with both hands this time. The ears were really soft, but blended it oddly well with Dean's hair. "We can't fix it if I don't look at it," said the voice of reason.
“You angel enough to fix it?” he said, rubbing his head into Cas’ hands. Fuck, that felt good. His teeth grazed as gently as possible against Cas’ stubbly jaw.
This was very distracting. Cas closed his eyes, half smiled and continued petting with one hand, before running the other down Dean's side. "No. But there might be -- something. Knowledge." He Knew a lot of things, of course. Maybe he could figure something out.
“Knowledge without solution isn’t gonna help anything,” Dean murmured. Finally, he pulled away and started up the stairs again. “I need you to help me figure out what to do about pants.”
Dean did have a point there, and Cas had to admit it was distracting watching him go up the stairs. He followed. Definitely touched that tail on the way up.
Dean couldn’t stop himself. He turned around quickly, caught Cas’ wrist in his grip and growled, ears pinned back again.
Freezing, Castiel looked up at his husband, licked his own lips and attempted apologetic with only an expression. "Let's… figure out your clothing situation," he suggested.
Dean nodded and let go of his angel’s wrist. There was a problem with that plan, though. A big problem. They got up into the room, and Dean couldn’t help himself. The afternoon sun was hitting just right through the window and he found himself on the bed basking in the warm spot. Resentfully.
Cas had already gone to the dresser, digging through clothing to try and get an idea when he glanced over at his basking, literal catnapping husband.
It was ridiculous, and he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. It was very wrong, this should have been a serious thing.
Dean’s tail twitched behind him. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh,” he murmured. The sunny spot was too comfy for him to bother being really upset about it.
"I know. I'm sorry." Cas returned to his general solemn demeanor as if he'd never been laughing at all. "I think I have some sweatpants from jogging… we could cut them…" He sounded weird about it, but it was probably the only way to deal with this.
“Okay,” Dean said, and the word was practically a purr all on its own.
Cas rolled his eyes, settled himself down on the bed with a pair of black sweatpants (the nicer kind, oddly respectable looking considering what they were), and then shifted through the contents of his night stand until he found a little sewing kit with a pair of scissors. "This affects your mood," he pointed out.
“You should’ve seen earlier when I wanted to take a shower because I’d been outside,” Dean murmured. He hit Cas gently with his tail. Apparently touching him now was okay. Cats, man. Dean was kind of part one right now and still didn’t understand it.
"Oh, Dean," Cas clearly had sympathy over that one, and probably more. He did, after all, prefer everything in his house to be as clean as possible, Dean included.
His hand stroked that tail now though, ignoring his cutting and sewing for a moment. It was remarkably soft.
Dean stretched again and found himself rolling over to look at Cas lazily. He reached out for him to take his hand and put it on his head right where he wanted to be pet. “Put the sewing away and pay attention to me.”
"Oh, Dean," Cas repeated, but found that he couldn't actually reject the idea, and so did exactly as asked. He set his work aside, slipped out of his shoes and crawled on the bed more in order to scratch and pet at Dean's head. It was so weird. But not unlikable.
It wasn’t long at all before Dean found himself kissing Castiel, lulled into so much contentment by those skilled fingers. They were going to end up doing something that might be kinda fucked up, but Dean was okay with it.
Castiel didn't think on that, because that would be wrong, and there should have been nothing wrong ever with the idea of him being intimate with his own husband.
So, remaining ignorant, he kissed back, sighing out his own pleasure even as he settled his thumbs behind Dean's kitty ears, still half rubbing there.
“That feels really, really good,” Dean moaned, shifting closer to Cas to rub against him in his backwards underwear.
Cas' response was an amused huff of air, even as he scooped an arm around Dean's waist, pulling him closer -- nearly on top of him -- and kissed him again.
Dean apparently didn’t want to be pulled anywhere. He growled a little and found himself nipping in the direction of Cas’ hand.
Cas gave a great, long pause over that, fixing his gaze on his husband and looking somewhere between concerned and really concerned. "Did -- are you going to bite me, Dean?"
“I think so,” Dean said, frowning. “Just kinda happened. Think I’m more cat than I look.”
That frown was echoed and Cas squinted his eyes thoughtfully. "This is upsetting, and had better not be permanent." Clearly, he was unsure if he should be further pursuing kissing, or backing off.
Dean rolled off of Cas and stretched out. “You’re telling me,” he grumbled. “Maybe if we nap I’ll trust you?” Hey, it was worth a shot.
Either that or Dean was just being catty and wanted a nap about it. Still, he had a point. "Maybe," he agreed, solemn. It wasn't so funny after nearly being bitten with pointier than normal teeth. "You take the sunny spot." Okay, it was still a little funny.
“Shut up,” he grumbled, curling up against his husband with his back in the sunny spot and his tail twitching contentedly.