a/n: basically i just had this thought of castiel catsitting my cat (her name is Butters, and yes, she's featured in this fic) and it made my brain go all mushy bc i just love him so much. anyway.
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Watching a cat shouldn’t be too hard, for all intents and purposes. Watching your cat, earning your favor, well that would just be a bonus. Unfortunately, Castiel doesn’t understand cats that much.
“Okay, that should be about it,” you said, hands on your hips as you looked at the angel next to you. He was carefully analyzing all the different things you laid out on the counter: toys, food, meds, etc. “Any questions?”
“She eats baby food? Not cat food?” Castiel clarified, pointing to the turkey Gerbers still in its twelve-pack on the counter.
“Well, she’s a baby, and it’s better for her stomach,” you chuckled.
“I thought she was a grown cat,” Castiel says, confused. He looks over at said cat, a stocky cream-colored Persian you referred to as Butters. To him, she seemed to be full-grown.
“Every cat is just a little baby, even when they’re grown,” you give Butters a scratch behind her ears, and she lets out a meep sound reminiscent of what you dub ‘a sad trumpet.’ Castiel still looks confused. “Never mind….will you be okay? It’s just for two days while I finish this case.”
“I will be sufficient,” Castiel almost puffs out his chest at this.
"Great! You're the best, Cas," you pat his arm, grabbing your duffel bag and leaving out the front door. Castiel stands still briefly before looking at the fluffy creature beside him. Wide yellow eyes peer up at him, blinking. He looks back at the detailed paper you wrote, ensuring he got everything. He wanted to make sure he did his best.
It was around night that Castiel started to worry. He had entertained Butters for a sufficient time, then sat with her on the couch while she watched a movie. (You said that she liked Finding Nemo, so Castiel put it on. He found the movie to be strangely sad). It was her dinner time, and Castiel had put out a scoop of baby food as required, except that it had been hours, and she wasn't eating it. She was sitting on the couch, letting out gentle purrs and seeming fine. Still, Castiel was concerned. He decided to call Dean for answers.
"I think something is wrong with the cat," Cas said into the phone. "It won't eat its dinner. It's just sleeping."
"I'm sure it's fine," Dean sighed, obviously not wanting to be a part of this conversation.
"If there's something wrong with the cat--"
"Cats are weird. They don't always follow set schedules," Dean groaned, feeling agitated. He took a second before responding. "Is it fine otherwise?"
"...Yes."
"Then the cat is fine," Dean replied. "Call me when something actually useful pops up."
Dean hung up, and Castiel looked back towards the cat. It had woken up, blinking its eyes at the angel. It let out another meep, tucking its paws underneath it. Castiel gave it a pat on the head.
"Your food is over there," Cas pointed towards the food bowl. Butters just meeped again. "I just told you where your food was." Another meep. "I don't understand."
Butters, eventually exasperated, got up and jumped off the couch, walking over to Cas. She rubbed against his pant legs, walking back and forth and making more noises. Castiel gave her a few pets, showing a small smile when she responded happily to his ministrations. She rolled over, showing her belly, and Castiel gave it a few hesitant strokes. Eventually, Butters grew tired and walked over to her food bowl. The angel let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
You came home after two days, finding your cat and your angel sitting on the couch watching Luca on the TV. Both of them looked equally enraptured.
“You survived,” you smiled, earning Castiel's attention. He turned towards you with soft blue eyes, and your heart skipped a beat.
“It meows a lot,” Castiel stated, looking toward the feline companion beside him. She let out a meep in response.
“She has lots of opinions,” you chuckle, walking over and giving a big squish to your cat. She purrs happily, even letting you boop her nose. Cas looks at you both fondly. Without really sparing a second thought, you leaned over, kissing Castiel’s cheek and enjoying when a red flush coated his face. “You’re the best, Castiel.”
Cas sat there for a minute, even after you’d gone to the kitchen for some water, even after he couldn’t feel your lips on his cheek anymore. All he could think was that if catsitting meant getting a kiss, he’d have to catsit for you more often.
Not my usual Pervert Shit but I need you all to know that I'm catsitting this weekend and am typing this slowly, silently, and in a pitch black room, with one hand balancing the phone, because this very frail, elderly, blind cat has fallen asleep in the crook of my arm.
