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softestseraph · 7 years

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Kitten [castiel]

This is my submission for @casbabydontgoineedyou‘s 1K challenge. Congrats on the accomplishment Katie, and I hope you enjoy :)

Prompt: #16 - “If cops show up, I don’t know you.”

Warnings: language(like, 3 words), adorable kittens and angels… thievery? weird condoms and mentions of sex, but very brief

A/N: Look, this was supposed to be a cute, funny little fic involving shenanigans at the store, but at some point i got really mushy, and at another point my jedi-cat compelled me to include him in the fic. It’s kind of a mess, but so is my life. Enjoy anyway :)

Word Count: 2,219

You shuffle into the kitchen, the sight of your half naked boyfriend leaning over a cereal bowl greeting you. Your eyebrows furrow. “Where’s the boys?” You ask Castiel, peeking around the corner into the hall. “They never skip breakfast.” You turn to the fridge and grab some milk while you wait for an answer. When silence greets you, you turn around to see why the ex-seraph is being so quiet, only to catch him sitting with a spoon halfway to his mouth, eyes fixed on your ass. “Cas,” you coo sarcastically, drawing his name out with a smirk spreading across your lips. Your blue-eyed lover snaps from his daze, shoving the spoon into his mouth as his cheeks flush and he avoids eye contact. You chuckle, amused by Castiel’s embarrassment. Despite being together nearly two years–both of which were filled to the brim with sex of all kinds–he still acts like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar sometimes.

“They’re in Iowa hunting a tulpa,” Castiel mumbles from around his mouthful of food. You hum in reply, occupied with fixing yourself breakfast. “Dean said they’ll be back in three days.”

You sit by Castiel, reflecting his happy smile when you place your feet in his lap and grab one of his hands. “Well, what do you wanna do?” You ask. “We’ve got three days of free time…” you trail off suggestively, wiggling your eyebrows and sending Cas an exaggerated wink.

To your surprise, Castiel ignores the innuendo (and suggestion). Instead he pulls out a crumbled piece of paper from the pocket of his sweatpants–the ones that hang just right, so you can always see those glorious hipbones and his cute tummy freckles. “We can go grocery shopping. Sam left a list.” You blink once, twice, thrice. Grocery shopping? Castiel chooses to go grocery shopping, over lazing about? Over sex?

“Okay, sure,” You say after a second-too-long of silence. “We’ll go in an hour,” you add, standing up. Castiel beams and you melt. Fuck him with his perfect face and his fucking amazing self. He nods enthusiastically and shoves the last spoonful of Cheerios in his mouth, grabbing your dishes and rushing to the sink. You thank him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind where he stands at the sink, and press a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m going to go shower, join me when you’re done,” you say before turning to leave. Castiel mumbles something in reply, but through the food it’s barely understandable.

You point towards the carts and Castiel dashes off, pulling a basket from the stack. After the two of you showered together–without sex, because shower sex is a tricky maneuver that takes longer than half an hour to pull off–you’d dressed and driven to the nearest convenience store. “Okay,” you start as Castiel appears back at your side. His eyes are roving over the store, finding pleasure in the brightly colored little Easter decorations scattered about. As a human, he’s found more time to just enjoy life and all it’s tiny little joys. Especially when he’s around you. He enjoys the way your eyelashes rest so delicately on your cheeks when you sleep, the way your hair flutters with every move you make, the gentle blush that glows on your face when you’re embarrassed, the way you gaze at him as if he is the most amazing thing you’ve ever stumbled upon. As an angel, Castiel hadn’t truly known love, he’d never felt it, nor been shown it. It was as foreign as freedom. He was told that his ‘family’ loved him, told that he had freedom, but it was all a facade. Until the Winchesters, he’d never really known freedom, and until you, he’d never really known love.

“Babe?” You repeat, waving a hand in Castiel’s face. He blinks, pulling his mind away from his thoughts and focusing on you. “You okay?” You ask, lips quirked and a small laugh escaping. “Get lost in La-La Land?”

“No, I was here,” Castiel replies, head adorably cocked in confusion. “I can no longer fly, remember?” He continues. Worry etches into the lines of his face and he rests a palm on your forehead, checking for a fever. “Are you sick, [Y/N]?”

You laugh and brush his hand away. “No, honey, it’s an expression.” At Castiel’s dubious look, you insists, “I’m fine, Cas, really.” You press a quick kiss to his lips as if to prove the point and draw his attention to the list. “Looks like we need paper towels.” You look up at Castiel, batting your eyelashes dramatically and holding an arm out. “Shall we, my love?”

Castiel, instead of hooking your arm with his, wraps his hand around yours and says, “Only if you’re sure you’re okay.” You nod, resting your head on his arm for a second before intertwining your fingers with his and leading Castiel toward the proper aisle. The two of you make your way down the fairly small list. Beer, bread, beef, pie, kale, chili… Castiel asks questions at every moment, his curiosity never waning, if you pass a stand of apples, he spews some random fact about apples, or if he spots a peculiar chip flavor, he places it in the cart. You answer his questions patiently, used to the newly-human-Castiel’s nature, and show interest in the randoms facts he’s collected from eons of life. When he places random items in the basket you wait until he’s distracted by something new and place it back on the shelf. In many ways, it’s akin to taking a child shopping.

You’re just about ready to check out, but you need to grab some more tampons real quick. You sigh upon seeing the rows of various boxes of tampons and pads, knowing that it is going to be a tedious search to find your specific brand and type. While you survey the options, Castiel wanders down the aisle a bit to where the sex accessories are. When you notice the silence, you turn to look for your blue-eyed boyfriend, only to see him standing by the condoms and lube. Uh oh. You walk over, trying to seem nonchalant to the couple other patrons perusing the self-care shelves. That all goes in the gutter when Castiel asks, loudly, I might add, “[Y/N], I don’t understand this. What is the necessity of size-enhancing, ribbed condoms?” He draws the attention of the nearby shoppers, and you rush over.

“Cas. put those back, please,” you beg, glancing around the two of you. “They’re just for added sensations when people have sex, it’s nothing.” You carefully pull the box from his hands, putting it back where it belongs.

“Would you like added sensations?” Castiel asks innocently, eyes flicking from a box of glow-in-the-dark condoms to your face. His query is, yet again, rather loud, drawing the attention of a mother and her teenage daughter picking out pads. The woman shoots you a glare, and the girl simply looks on in curiosity.

“No, Cas, normal condoms are fine,” you say, grabbing Castiel’s arm and pulling him away. “Let’s go, yeah?” You pose it as a question, but it’s really a demand. “We’re done in this aisle.” When you get away from that situation, you stop. “Okay, we just need to check out, and we’re done,” you announce, searching for the shortest line.

“This one,” Castiel says, pointing to a line that’s moving quickly. The two of you join the queue. Ten minutes later and you’re leaving the store, each of you carrying two bags. Your gaze is fixed on your gorgeous 1966 Chevelle when Castiel gets sidetracked. You come to a stop and turn around to see the once-seraph practically pressing his face against the glass of a pet-store window. You take the couple steps to join him and peek through the glass. Inside you see a single tuxedo kitten sitting there staring up at you. His wide green eyes and patch of white on his chin portray an expression of jaw-dropped awe, and the tip of his bushy tail flicks around excitedly. “Can we go in?” Castiel asks after a minute. You nod, completely entranced by the kitten and follow Castiel in. Both of you round the entrance and approach the little pen the kitty sits in. He meows when you get close, standing up on his stubby little legs and putting his paws on the wall, peering up at you. As if by Jedi mind power–something that cats seem to innately have–you and Castiel are impelled to crouch down and reach in to pet him. He purrs loudly as you run your fingers through his thick fur, Castiel scratching at his chin.

“Oh. My. God,” you whisper, utterly in love with this sweetheart of a cat. “Fuck, babe, I don’t think I can resist him,” you add. Castiel hums in agreement, both of you absorbed in petting the little creature. “I want him. Cas, can we have him? Please?” You plead, turning your gaze to Castiel. He looks at you wide eyed and shrugs. “Shit, wait, no. We don’t have the cash, and I didn’t bring any cards.” You frown.

“Perhaps we can come back,” Castiel says, disappointment lacing his tone as he casts his eyes back to the kitten. “Or maybe there is another way,” he adds after a bit, piercing blue eyes sending you a look. You squint, catching his gist, mind whirring.

Scanning the store for customers and employees, you turn to Castiel. “Grab him and go,” you hiss, pulling the grocery bags from his grip and standing. Castiel jumps into action immediately, carefully wrapping his hands around the tiny kitten and clutching him to his chest. You stand, moving for the entrance. Castiel follows closely, and the two of you dash out the door just as an employee catches you and shouts in annoyance. “Go, go!” You take off in a sprint.

The employee apparently grabbed his manager and coworkers, because now there are three prepubescent boys and a middle aged man on your tail. They yell at you to, “Come back with that cat!” You only run faster, panting. This was so a bad idea. Dammit, what the hell were you thinking? You glance over to Castiel, face painted with affliction. The middle-aged manager stops running, instead pulling out a phone. He dials something and brings it to his ear. Fuck.

“If cops show up, I don’t know you,” you grumble to Castiel, casting a furtive glance over your shoulder. Castiel rolls his impossibly-blue eyes in reply, shooting you a dubious glare. You put your hands up in surrender. “Look, babe, I didn’t get us into this situation,” you defend yourself. “You’re the one that said we needed to go grocery shopping.” You pick up your pace, the sleek cherry red of your car becoming clearer.

Castiel scoffs, fixing you with an incredulous look, despite the fact that the two of you are currently sprinting away from a pet store. “You’re the one who told me to grab him and go,” Castiel rebuts, looking down into his arms where the all tuxedo cat sits, unfazed, blinking up at the sky in wonder.

“But you gave me the idea in the first place!” You insist, the humor of the situation not lost on you. An ex-angel and a hunter sprinting away from a pet store with groceries and a stolen kitten in tow must be quite the image. “Shit, my keys are in my pocket,” you wheeze. Castiel immediately reaches over and pulls them out. He fumbles with them, trying to figure out how to work the fancy new fob you’d gotten. “Hurry, hurry.” You’re close to your destination now. Castiel unlocks the doors. You swing the driver door open, clambering in and haphazardly throwing the groceries in the backseat. You start the engine and Castiel climbs in just as you begin pulling away. You peel out of the parking lot right in time for the pet-store workers to reach your previous parking spot. It’s quiet for a minute while you put some distance between the two of you and the store. “Fuck,” you laugh out, gaze darting to Castiel. He beams widely at you, teeth glinting and eyes squinting as he laughs freely. That’s another thing about being human, he’s laughed more in the past month than he had in the previous eons of existence.

You pull over into a parking lot when you feel you’re in the safe, and throw the car in park. “We now own a cat,” you say, reaching over to pet the fluffy ball of purring love that Castiel holds in his lap.

“Yes, we do,” Castiel confirms. He smiles happily down at the cat before fixing you with an affectionate look. “We’re parents.” You laugh and nod, leaning across to peck his pink lips. He reciprocates before pulling away and fixing you with a serious expression. “We should name him Jack.” At your inquiring look he continues, “Dean introduced me to the Pirates of the Caribbean.” Castiel blushes lightly and you snicker, thinking of the scene where Jack Sparrow–sorry, Captain Jack Sparrow–ran across the beach, feeling as if your experience was very similar.

“Jack, I like that,” you say, rubbing Jack’s ears. “Now, time to go shopping for cat things.”

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