Cas washes his hands at the kitchen sink for maybe the twentieth or thirtieth time in the past couple of hours. It’s all he knows to do when he’s nervous–clean stuff, wash his hands, keep himself as busy as possible.
He’s called every babysitter and back-up babysitter he knows, even going so far as to call his church and ask for phone numbers of some of the children’s ministry volunteers he knows Claire loves.
And now it’s almost 8 p.m. and there’s still no babysitter and Cas’ date might be texting seriously it’s fine and don’t worry about it, not like I made a reservation or anything but it is totally not fine and Cas is definitely going to worry about it and continue to text his date over and over again about how sorry he is and how he’s trying his best to find a last-minute babysitter until finally his phone’s ringing.
“Hello?” Cas answers frantically without even looking to see which of the many babysitters called him back.
“Heya, Cas. I’m going to come pick you and the kid up in 10 minutes, all right?”
“Oh. Uh–Dean. Hello. That’s really not–”
“Aw c’mon, I love kids. And Claire likes me, right? It’ll be fun.”
Cas almost points out that Claire growling in Dean’s direction whenever he’s doing yard work when she gets home from school is a very good sign that she does not like him. Instead, he says, “It’s almost past her bedtime, Dean. Can we just resche–”
“It’s a Friday night! She can stay up a little later, right? I’m on my way.”