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Dean leans against the wall and holds his breath for a long moment. A distant part of his mind tells him that he should probably be angry. But the “no pets” rule seems irrelevant at the moment. Maybe it’s because of the late hour or the lights.
Definitely the lights, he thinks. Something they never had, Sam and him. A real Christmas tree. A real home and people to care about. Spare time to celebrate with no immediate threat hanging over. It’s a damn miracle.
So Dean does nothing else but watch. Even more, he relishes at the sight, stores the little details in his mind for the darker times yet to come. Darker times that always come.
It’s Castiel, of course.
The angel is currently stripped to his white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up and light dancing over his face. He is sitting, legs crossed, under the six feet tall Christmas tree. There is also a kitten on the floor - a homicidal black furball, not bigger than Dean’s palm, obviously too busy with trying to kill a piece of blue ribbon.
“I thought the angel’s supposed to be on top,” Dean comments to make his presence known, though he is fairly certain that Cas has sensed him by now.
“He would if given a chance,” Castiel answers flatly, without even looking at him. It’s a wordplay, a good one for sure and Dean bites his bottom lip at the sudden blush creeping up his neck.
“Yeah, okay…” the man slurs. It’s safer to concentrate on the kitten. “Who’s your friend, Cas?”
The animal seems pretty much occupied with stalking the ribbon wich Castiel nudges with his finger before answering, “Dean, meet Salem.”
“He’s cute,” Dean admits. Kittens do that to you, he thinks. They make you like them immediately, it's how they function.
“She. “ Castiel emphasizes at the word, “She is, indeed.”
“Yeah?” Dean pushes himself off the wall and takes a few careful steps closer. “I thought, because of the name and the blue ribbon…”
“All human stereotypes.” Castiel hums when the animal comes rubbing the top of its head on his palm, “Names and colors had no gender before you gave them.” Sadness bleeds in his voice when he adds, “Like angels.”
“And unlike kittens?” Dean offers instead of an apology.
Castiel nods. “Yes. Though technically Salem is not an actual cat. She’s a familiar.”
“Wait… “ Dean’s throat suddenly feels dry. “You brought a demon into the bunker?”
“It’s a forest spirit.” Cas’ body shifts so he’s between Dean and the creature. “She’s no danger, Dean. She is too young to even understand what she is.”
There is this strange sense of deja-vu. Shoot first and ask questions later. It didn’t play out well the last time. He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t wanna wake up on this thing feeding on my soul, okay?”
“You won’t.” The angel’s eyes are so full of hope that it makes something in Dean’s chest almost hurt with it.
“Fine.” The man huffs. He has lost the argument before it has even started.
The angel relaxes visibly. The kitten seems to feel it too. It rubs its head on Cas’ thigh and then climbs on his knee, sniffing the air. Castiel’s hand goes carefully up to pet the little black creature and Dean can barely resist the urge to do the same.
“So, uh… “ The man clears his throat, “ What’s with the ribbon then? Is it a gift or something?”
"Well, I've read a lot of books about parenting. One of the things they all agree about is that it's good for the child to have a pet."
“And you figured you could give Jack a pet demon?” Dean sits on the floor next to Cas, still eyeing the creature with suspicion. “I’ll let you get away with it this time, but… No more solo decisions about the kid, okay?”
Castiel gives him one of those rare smiles that make Dean’s heart jump in his chest. It’s wide and warm and so real, but it’s like Cas has just a few of them and they are given only on special occasions. Dean finds himself grinning stupidly in return while reaching out, close but still not touching yet. The creature crosses easily the distance between them and sniffs at his fingers.
“She likes you.” Castiel states, clearly amused.
“I probably still smell like roasted chicken,“ Dean laughs, tracing the line between Salem’s ears with one finger. The kitten purrs, happy with the attention.
“So we are keeping her, then?” Castiel prompts carefully.
“Yeah. Okay.” Dean surrenders fully this time. It’s inevitable.
Castiel’s fingers touch the man’s hand, drawing his attention from the kitten back to the angel where it belongs.
“Thank you,” Cas says simply.
It’s too hard for Dean to find his words, so he just nods in return. If a pet demon is what can make Castiel happy then who is Dean Winchester to deny this to him, right?
The Christmas lights keep beaming in the dark of the room at their own hypnotizing patterns. Red. Blue. Green. White. Then repeat. There is an illusion of a halo just above Cas' permanent mess of a hair. Dean watches him helpless, unable to move his eyes from the different colors dancing on his angel's face. It's a rare, fragile moment of peace and the last thing Dean wants is to break it by doing something stupid. Like killing the inches between them and kissing Cas senseless.
Cas' thumb is rubbing absently at his wrist, over his pulse point and he could probably feel Dean's heart rate turning frantic underneath.
It's almost like a dream Dean often has - Cas in nothing but this shirt, sleeves rolled up and loose, navy blue tie. They stare, just as they do now. Though things usually unfold a bit differently in his dreams.
“I, uh… “ Dean clears his dry throat. He means to say that they need to go back to sleep. He really does. “I wanna kiss you,” is what he blurts out instead.
Castiel's tongue darts out to wet his lips. "I know."
Dean pushes gently the kitten out of the way and shifts on his knees. His head buzzes with all the ways he could do this. All the chances he never took. He tilts Cas’ chin up and joins their lips with a quiet hum.
They part a moment later and Dean waits for something - anything - to happen. The End of the world maybe.
But it doesn’t.
So, he cups Cas’ jaw and kisses him again.