#kitten!cas

When Dean got ready to get up and go to bed, he couldn’t help but watch Cas for a moment. He looked back at his new owner with those big innocent eyes, and Dean carefully reached out to pet him. His kitten ducked his head first, but then pushed up against Dean’s palm and shut his eyes. A warm feeling spread through Dean’s chest, and he though that maybe Castiel and he could become great friends.

***

It took some time for Cas to adjust to his new living space, and for most of the first few days, he followed Dean closely behind. He slept at the end of Dean’s bed, his head resting on top of the covers on Dean’s legs. He was thankful for great amounts of fish throughout the day, and for the fact that Dean wasn’t pushy. Dean didn’t ask Cas to come lie with him on the couch, or on his lap, if Cas didn’t want to. They spent a few weeks just living like that, Castiel timid but kind, and Dean just happy with the company.

Cas started getting fidgety after that. It had become their thing; silent company, and not too much touching. Now, when Dean absently scratched behind his ears, Cas wanted to lean further in and crawl underneath Dean’s arm, he wanted to push his nose against the stubbled skin on Dean’s jaw, and he wanted to sleep under the covers and close to his owner instead of on top of them.

He had no idea how to initiate contact like that, having lived in the animal shelter until Dean came to get him. The mere thought of trying to get closer to Dean and Dean subtly pushing him away because he didn’t want Cas any closer--maybe he even regretted taking Castiel in at all--made Cas feel nauseous.

Apparently he became even more closed off when he thought about it, because Dean would look at him with that small, comforting smile, and ask him what was wrong every time. Castiel hid his face and pretended to be too sleepy to have a conversation every time.

A few days later, Dean woke up and decided he had had enough of his cat’s sulking, and was determined to find out what it was that made him so grumpy. He started the day with making coffee and eggs and toast for himself, Cas padding behind him out of the bedroom. He was probably surprised when he wasn’t woken up by a pat on hi s back and a scratch behind his ears, but he waited patiently for his fish for breakfast, anyway. Dean put the small plate in front of him with a quick “There you go, buddy,” and Cas tried not to pout.

Castiel didn’t understand, and when Dean didn’t pat the couch beside him as an invitation for Cas to join him, the poor kitten shut down completely. Dean watched him carefully, noticing the shift in his mood. He would almost say Cas looked on the verge of crying, and honestly, it made him feel like a huge dick. He was definitely not touching Cas too much.

After watching his kitten mope around and feeling guilty for an hour, Dean gave up the not-touching thing. In fact, he decided to do the complete opposite.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Cas?”

Castiel finally looked up from his spot at the kitchen table, one of his small hands scratching at his ear and his eyes as big and piercing blue as ever, looking across the room at his owner. He looked surprise that Dean even sill remembered he had a pet. Dean felt even guiltier.

“Do you wanna, um...” Dean nodded helplessly at empty spot beside him, and shyly looked up at Cas again. He didn’t get why all of this had to be so damn awkward and uncomfortable. Why couldn’t Cas just tell him what was wrong so he could help him and get over with it?

Hesitantly, Cas got up from his chair and padded over to the couch. He stood there in front of Dean, still wearing adorable pajamas and striped socks, his head slightly tilted in an uncertain what do you want me to do?

“Just come and sit with me. I don’t get what’s wrong. I thought maybe I treated you too much as a stuffed animal and not like you’re my best friend, but you are my best friend, I just really like sitting with you and maybe even, you know, cuddling if--” Dean stopped himself mid-sentence. Trying to explain things to Cas was the worst idea ever. Why did he think rambling about a thing like that was going to help? Castiel wasn’t someone who liked cuddling. Okay, so maybe he didn’t like no touching at all either, but Dean was sure he would start to get annoyed by Dean if Dean would ask for more.

Somewhere during the stream of worried thoughts flooding Dean’s mind, Castiel had sat himself on the couch, legs folded beneath him, and started shifting closer and closer to his owner, until their thighs were pressed together. Dean sheepishly looked down at Cas, before he realized what he was trying to do, and then, Dean carefully put his arm around Cas’ small shoulders and pulled him in close.

***

Dean found out he didn’t have to have talks with Castiel whenever something was off. He could just look at Cas and read his face, and Castiel would press his fingertips against Dean’s wrist, or his jaw, or his chest, and it was like he was telling Dean entire stories with a single touch. They could have conversations like that for hours, and it mostly involved Cas sprawled out on top of Dean, his chin resting on his chest, his feet rubbing against Dean’s naked calves. He kept his tail still and not on Dean's stomach, because Dean had accidentally kicked him off the bed in a laughing fit twice before already.

Sundays became their favorite days, because they could lie in bed practically the entire day (Cas slept under the covers, tightly pressed against Dean, now) and Dean only had to get up to get sandwiches and tuna. Sometimes Cas would fall asleep during the day and he would rub his face with loose fists, one of his most cat-like habits, and it was the cutest thing Dean had ever seen.