why have i never read anything about sam and cas out for research or something, while dean fakes a headache just to get out of the nerd-work, and on their way home they pass a humane society shelter, and with a glance, sam pulls over.
(“just to look,” he swears, and cas nods gravely.)
except of course cas walks inside and he’s overwhelmed by all the wide liquid eyes begging silently for help, all the stray dogs and cats, or abandoned by owners – maybe distraught, or maybe uncaring – who couldn’t handle the costs or the commitment, and under the pretense of greeting them, with a scritch under the chin he heals their cancers and disease and pain, soothes their terrors until they’d wag a tentative tail, or rumble a purr into a strange hand.
sam’s already got his eye on a huge, stoic german shepherd who’d never got a visit, but even before he reaches the dog there’s a couple approaching the cage, bending down with outstretched palms, and the dog snuffles into them before offering a lick and a wide, doggy grin.
but sam finds cas arguing with a vet and a black cat in the hallway, because even cas’ angelic powers can’t override the visceral fear of an animal alone who senses what’s happening. they don’t have the time to come up with documents to adopt, so cas just looks around, gathers the cat into his trench coat, and gives the vet a look, as the cat finally begins to calm, pressed against cas’ chest.
(sam gives the vet a glare that’s equal parts intimidation and commisseration before they duck out the door.)
dean wanders into the kitchen to find sam and cas crosslegged on the floor, the cat belly-up in bliss as they carefully scritch his proferred belly and feed him an occasionally treat.
they both look up, clearly trying for some damage control.
“dean,” sam says, lifting his hands placatingly.
“they were dying,” cas says, staring at dean. “now they’re not.”
“th-they?” dean echoes blankly. “how many?”
“all of them. but only this one’s ours.”
dean looks between sam and cas’ hopeful, stubborn eyes, and finally drops to the floor beside cas.
“if he bites me i’m kicking him out,” he warns unconvincingly. the cat opens its eyes halfway, blinks twice at dean, then twists himself around like a landlocked fish until he can swipe a dry tongue at dean’s wrist.
dean flushes, scrambling up and ignoring the smirks of sam and cas and the adoring gaze of the cat. “yeah, well,” he mumbles, turning on his heel, “you guys decide on a name.”