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“Monstews! Monstews!” Dean yells happily, clapping his hands and pointing at the TV where a streaming service menu is displayed. He tugs on his daddy’s sleeve and yells again, “Monstews!”
“Okay, little bee. We can watch Monsters Inc.” Castiel clicks the button to start the movie and settles on the couch next to Dean. He can’t stop himself from smiling as he watches the little one stare in anticipation at the screen, ready to burst with excitement as his favorite movie begins to play.
Dean’s been so good all day. He woke up from his nap little-minded as usual, and surprisingly compliant. There were no tantrums. No pouts. No crying fits. They spent most of the day inside where the air conditioning could keep them cool because it had reached over 100 degrees and Castiel was always so nervous Dean would get overheated or burned. After lunch, they read books, played hide and seek, and colored in Dean’s brand new coloring book his Sammy bought him. While his daddy cooked dinner, Dean built block towers. Every time they got too high and fell down, he’d laugh and laugh and laugh until he was nearly in tears. Castiel had no idea why the boy found it so entertaining, but he didn’t care. He could listen to Dean’s laugh forever.
After dinner, they did arts and crafts. This ended with globs of paint all over the table and a very sticky, very glittery Dean. It took two bathtubs full of soapy water to clean Dean, and some angel mojo to clean the dining room.
Now, Dean is sitting in his ballerina PJs with a bowl of the unicorn lucky charms he missed out on earlier in his lap. On the scary parts of the movie, or the parts that make him anxious because someone is angry or chasing someone or fighting, he fiddles with the built in pink tutu of his PJs with one hand and sucks his thumb with the other.
By the time the movie is over, Castiel’s hope for Dean going to sleep after has disappeared. The little one is wired as he runs around the house with a spatula and a shaker of salt. When Castiel finally gets him to slow down enough to talk, he asks, “What are you doing little bee?”
“Huntin’ monstews,” Dean declares proudly.
“Oh?”
“Dis my gun,” he explains, lifting the spatula. “‘N dis my salt.”
“Oh. Wow. Look at that.” Castiel gets down on a knee, carefully smiling at Dean. This is the first time hunting - or really anything at all involving the past - has come up while Dean was little, and he was nervous about what it would do to the boy.
Dean isn’t concerned though. He just puffs up and assures Castiel, “No worry. I vewy bwave. I gonna be wike Sammy.”
Unable to stop himself, Castiel chuckles softly and nods. He thinks that’s normal, for a kid to pretend to be like their brother or their parent. Sure, most for most kids that means pretending to be a firefighter or a teacher, but hunting qualifies too.
Together, the two of them run around the house for nearly an hour. They shriek from time to time, sometimes throwing a handful of salt at an abandoned corner, or Castiel putting his hand up like he’s pretend smiting someone, or Dean lifting the spatula and making adorable little ‘pow pow’ noises as his lips purse.
When Sam gets home from where he was visiting Charlie across town, he finds the two of them laying in the center of the living room, sprawled out on the rug and breathing heavily. Dean’s eyes are closed but Castiel turns his head to look at Sam when he hears the man enter.
Laughing, Sam asks, “What happened here?”
Castiel opens his mouth, ready to answer, when Dean suddenly gets a surge of energy. The little boy hops up and sprints over to his brother, throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. “Sammy! Sammy! We was fightin’ monstews!”
Before Sam can get too concerned, Castiel gets to his feet and adds, “Pretend monsters.”
“Yeah! Like Sully! And Mike Wa- za - za - zowie - s - so - skieee!”
“Oh, wow!” Sam grins down at his brother and chuckles. “You are super super brave, Dean.”
The little boy slides off his brother and shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. I know.”
“Alright little hunter. You ready for bed?”
“Noooooo!” Dean tells his daddy, shaking his head. “Five more minutes.”
Trying not to roll his eyes, Castiel agrees, “Fine. Five more minutes.”
They’re finally all asleep two hours and twenty-seven minutes later. But who’s counting, right? There were more monsters to hunt!