Chapter 1: Exotic Pets
Castiel was hiding something.
Dean had been watching the dark-haired angel ever since the last time he brought up his longing for a cat. Castiel had been reading some book he found that showed him all of the different cat breeds, that longing look in his bright blue eyes. He seemed to understand that Dean's allergies would preclude the acquisition of a feline, but his determination was undeterred.
"Cas, have you ever even spent time with a cat? How do you know you would even like one?"
The angel shrugged, poking his scrambled eggs around his plate with a fork. He didn't need to eat, but he had become so accustomed to the act that he always joined the hunters for meals when he could. "I know I can't have a cat. I understand that you would become ill if we obtained a feline companion, Dean," he replied sullenly. He pushed away from the table and stalked toward the library, his signature trench coat billowing behind him.
"Cas?"
Dean shook his head and returned to his breakfast, waving his head dismissively at their companion. "Let him go read his cat book again, Sam."
The younger brother stood from the table and collected his plate and Castiel's abandoned eggs. He never fed the angel much, since he was prone to leave his meals unfinished and Sam hated to waste food. "Your allergies aside, Dean, that boy needs a pet."
Those words rang in Dean's head again over the next few weeks as Castiel came home from a routine trip to the nearest supermarket with a bright light in his too-blue eyes and a new spring in his step. The hunters surreptitiously checked his bedroom, but the angel had not obtained a cat, so they left him alone. When Castiel unexpectedly asked for a tv in his bedroom, the hunters found one for him, even helping him with his own cable hookup so he could watch his animal shows. For a while, the television cats seemed to keep him happy, and Dean forgot about his odd behavior.
For a few days, the brothers were gone on a hunt in Oklahoma, leaving Castiel alone in the bunker. He pulled out his cat breeds book and slipped a flyer free, staring at the picture of a spotted cat on the front, framed by a snake, a spiny lizard, two colorful birds, and something labeled a sugar glider. Castiel was not familiar with all of his father's creations, but it looked cute enough. Reading the address on the flyer, he headed for his truck.
The city on the flyer was not far away, only a few hours' drive, and he reached the fairgrounds before noon. Thankfully, the brothers had left on the first day of the exotic animal and bird show, otherwise Castiel would have had to fabricate an excuse to be gone for the whole day.
He entered the large, well-lit exposition center lobby, moving to stand in queue with the dozen or so humans ahead of him. Dean and Sam had taught him that people usually had to stand in lines before entering fun places and that he was not allowed to "cut" in front of them. When he reached the front of the line, a bright little woman with short blonde hair asked him how he would like to pay. Having learned from his past solo trips and his time as a human, he was very bad at remembering to carry cash and often counted it incorrectly, so Dean had given him one of the credit cards he had obtained through less-than-legal means. He handed the dark blue card to the blonde woman who swiped it and handed him a little yellow ticket. Following the other people, Castiel entered through the double doors to his left, handing over his ticket and receiving a bird-shaped stamp on the back of his hand in return.
The building was filled with a cacophony of noises that Castiel had never encountered before, his bright blue eyes scanning the room in wonder. There were so many animals and so many tables covered in colorful animal toys and food. He was standing next to a table displaying dozens of stands made from wood and white pipes held together with ropes and tinkling with bells of all sizes. The tags said that they were made for birds, so Castiel walked deeper into the cavernous hall, headed for the cats he could clearly hear a few tables down.
There was a small crowd around the cages holding the spotted kittens, but one of the women behind the cloth-covered table noticed the blue-eyed man leaning forward and watching the animals eagerly. "Do you want to hold one?"
Castiel nodded enthusiastically as the woman passed him a tiny white kitten covered in dark grey rosettes that immediately sunk its tiny claws into the angel's shirt. He held it close, smiling as it rubbed against his scruffy chin. "What kind of cat is this? I did not see it in my book."
"These are Bengals," the woman answered helpfully, tucking a card into the pocket of Castiel's trench coat while his hands were occupied. "We have a number of colors available, including silver like this boy, snow, and marble, as well as some of the newer colors like blue, cinnamon, and red. We had some black kittens at the last fair but we don't have any at the moment."
"He's so beautiful," Castiel murmured, his brows furrowing sadly. "My . . . friend is allergic to cats so I do not think I can have one. I do not want him to become sick."
The woman smiled sympathetically. "My husband is allergic, too, so I visit these guys at my parents' house whenever I can."
"I just think that a pet would make the bunker more home-like."
The woman, to her credit, didn't even tilt her head curiously at the word "bunker", though she did accept the kitten Castiel passed back to her. "Your friend that you live with, is he allergic to other animals?"
"I-I don't think so. He hasn't mentioned anything other than cats."
"Well my husband got a parrot, and we both love her."
Castiel tilted his head curiously. "I have never owned a parrot. What are they like?"
"Like toddlers on crack with can-openers!" The woman giggled at the explanation, indicating that she was making a joke. The angel narrowed stared at her silently until she smiled and explained herself, having learned that he did not need to tell people when he did not understand their references since they would eventually elaborate. "They're super adorable, but they are very stubborn and they have the most amazing ability to get into anything. They can chew through things that would surprise you, and they are much smarter than most other animals we keep as pets. Our parrot likes to chew on the rubber mouthpieces on water bottles, the buttons on remotes, and computer cables. She also will do anything to get to food or the place she thinks we are hiding food. We had to stop drinking canned sodas because she would try to climb on them to drink from them and always knocked them over. She also repeats some interesting things, but overall she's a sweet little fluff ball."
Castiel was admittedly intrigued. "Where can I find these parrots?"
"Over in the back corner, past the snake breeders." She leaned forward, the kitten still tucked safely against her chest and pointed helpfully. "Talk to the breeders and they can tell you what kind of parrots would be best for your lifestyle."
"Thank you," the angel replied, heading off deeper into the building.
He found the parrot tables easily enough, after a row of tables with the tiny but surprisingly loud finches, and the first woman he reached seemed to have six different types of birds available. He decided that she would be the best person to help educate him. "Excuse me, I am interested in obtaining a parrot. The lady with the Bengal cats said that you can help me."
"Sure I can," the middle-aged redheaded woman replied, her southern drawl incredibly strong. Judging from the information on the card that she handed Castiel, she was from Texas. "I breed six type of parrots: Scarlet Macaws, Umbrella Cockatoos, Congo African Greys, Caiques, Indian Ringnecks, and Quakers." She pointed at each collection of clear boxes as she spoke, explaining that the enclosure kept the little ones warm in the chill of the large building. Castiel touched the side of a box and found that it was, indeed, warm, probably from the red lights over each box. "How much experience do you have with birds?"
"I have never owned an animal," he replied, tilting his head at the huge nearly-naked babies cuddled with the larger red-feathered macaws that she had pointed at. "Why do those ones not have the same feathers?" Their huge heads and pale beaks rested awkwardly on their backs while their more feathered companions picked carefully at their red feathers.
"They're younger. I don't sell unweaned babies unless you're very experienced, so you would be better off with babies that are already six months old or so. Macaws, Cockatoos, and Greys are a bit more work and tend to have more emotional problems for inexperienced owners, but Caiques, Ringnecks, and Quakers would be options for you."
She gestured toward the cages holding older versions of each of those three birds, reaching for a small blue fluffy bird with a grey chest first and handing it to Castiel. He marveled as the small bird gripped his finger with its small feet and tiny claws, fluffing its feathers up and turning dark grey eyes in his direction. "This is a female Quaker parrot. Green is the normal color, but these blues are the most common mutation. They can learn to speak and tend to be very intelligent, figuring their way out of cages and into places they aren't supposed to be."
Castiel touched one finger to the bird's head and watched in wonder as she fluffed her feathers up even more, leaning into the finger as the angel began to caress her. Castiel's smallest wing feathers were soft, but nothing in comparison to the tiny creature sitting on his finger. She leaned her head down and began to nibble on the edge of his sleeve, making a gruff brrrh, brrrh, brrht noise. The woman carefully lifted the young Quaker and placed her back on the perch with her green siblings, handing Castiel a grey Ringneck in her place. The bird was mostly a light grey color with a greenish tint on its wing feathers and head, darker grey primary feathers, a dark orange beak, and a faint black line under its chin and around its neck. Its intense eyes were ringed with a thin line of bright orange skin and they were bright white with black pupils.
"This is a male Ringneck, though I do have some females here. He was an unexpected grey, but the color isn't very clean. Mostly the Ringnecks are green, blue, or yellow like the Quakers. They are very good talkers for their size, and when they get excited their pupils narrow and all you can see is that white." The bird looked up at Castiel and clucked, his eyes turning white just as the woman had mentioned. He reached to touch the bird's head, very gently rubbing his soft feathers as he opened his wings slightly. "They're a little more excitable than Quakers, but their voices are absolutely adorable. His beak will get darker orange as he grows and the ring will get a bit thicker with a pale white or yellow secondary ring around the back." She pointed to a picture near the Ringneck cage showing a full-grown green male, a prominent black line of feathers encircling his neck with a faint second line of pink feathers around the back.
She took the Ringneck away, clearly enjoying the chance to teach this quiet man about her birds. The third bird she handed him was noticeably larger than the other two, with much larger black feet in relation to his body size and a short, stumpy tail. His head was mostly orange with a black cap, his chest was white, his legs were orange, and his wings were green. He turned one eye toward Castiel, the red whirling before he lowered his black beak to the angel's hand and started rubbing vigorously against it. "That's called surfing. Caiques are known for it, but Quakers will do it to. He's most likely to do it against soft fabrics, but you have to be careful because they tend to start chewing whatever they were surfing on after a minute or so. Caiques also like to lay on their back and play with their feet, which is pretty unusual for parrots. They act more like puppies than birds, and they whistle and trill but they never learn words. They also like to jump around when they are excited."
"I like them all," Castiel murmured, watching as the Caique grabbed the finger he offered with one foot, holding on and staring at the angel. "How do I care for a bird?"
"Well, you'll want to get a cage, some bedding, some perches, some toys, and some food. I would recommend training them to water bottles as quickly as possible since birds like to dip their food in their water and try to bathe in it. Some birds like little snuggle tunnels or sacks to sleep in and some don't. For food, these guys were all weaned onto a pellet diet with fruits, veggies, and nuts as needed, though you'll have to experiment to see what yours likes. Seed-based diets are very bad for parrots and don't reflect what they would eat in the wild, though you can give them some millet—dry or sprouted—from time to time."
"Where do I obtain these items?" He put the Caique back onto his perch, a tiny smile tugging at the side of his mouth as the chunky bird hopped back toward him insistently.
"Over there in the center of the room you'll find the cages, to the left you'll see toys and the various types of bedding, and further back on the right will be perches and sleepy sacks. Did you get one of the flyers for the expo?"
He nodded and pulled it out of his pocket, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles before holding it out to the woman. The Caique standing on the table next to him reached up to grab a bite as the paper passed over him.
"Ok, here look. There's a coupon from the company that sells the cages. They sell food, too, as well as treats like dried fruit and nuts. That guy who sells toys, he makes them all himself, and I know he's running a special today where you get a free toy for every two that you buy. All three of these birds take the same type of cage, basically, and you want to find one with a spring-based latch to make it harder for them to escape. If you tell me which bird you want, I'll get you a booklet that outlines the supplies you need to buy today to get you started."
Castiel nodded eagerly and looked down at the three young birds he had held. Which one should he choose?
Castiel was definitely hiding something.
Sam and Dean had come home from their hunt, exhausted and starving, to find that their resident angel had prepared them food. Well, prepared was the wrong word; he had ordered them a large variety of Chinese dishes in those tinfoil cartons, sesame chicken sitting beside beef lo mein, egg drop soup, and steamed dumplings. The grateful hunters tore into the food, decimating the meal while Cas watched happily. He took an egg roll, some soup, and some chicken fried rice for himself and joined them at the table.
"Cas, not that I'm complaining," Dean began between bites of his chicken, "but you never get food for us. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Dean," Cas replied, narrowing his eyes as the chopsticks he was trying to learn how to use. Sam had insisted that Chinese and Japanese food had to be eaten with the proper utensils, so he was trying his best. "Uh, I did want to ask for a new card, though. I ran out of money on the last one you gave me."
Sam, who tracked their ill-gotten finances more closely than Dean, tilted his head at the dark-haired angel. "Cas, how did you max out that card so fast? I thought Dean just gave you that one a few weeks ago."
"Yes, but you also told me to 'make myself at home' in my bedroom, so I purchased some things that I could not find in storage here." That was actually the truth, since the mattresses in the store room were old and uncomfortable, the sheets that the boys had not already used were threadbare, and there was a distinct lack of extra tables and shelving in the bunker. Dean, accepting that explanation and happy that his friend was finally "nesting", reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, glancing through the credit cards before finding one that he hadn't remembered using yet. It was from some bank in New England.
"This one should hold you for a while. I think it has a couple thousand on it."
"Thank you, Dean." Cas slipped the card into his trench coat pocket and returned to his meal.
A few days later, Cas went to the supermarket and bought a large variety of fruits and veggies. Sam watched him with a raised eyebrow as he struggled to find room for everything in the large fridge. For once, it was fairly well-stocked. "Cas, you don't eat fruits or veggies. Actually, I'm pretty sure you think ketchup is a fruit."
"Dean says that ketchup is a fruit, and it tastes better than tomatoes," Cas retorted, pushing a pack of beer deeper into the fridge in the hope of making space for his broccoli. "I am trying new things to see if I can find some produce that I do enjoy."
Sam shook his head and left the kitchen, wondering what had gotten into the angel.
That night, Cas filled his plate with samples: green grapes, slices from three different types of apple, an orange, raspberries, a few chunks of watermelon (thankfully he had bought it pre-sliced and Sam didn't have to worry about cleaning up the inevitable aftermath of Cas cutting a watermelon), strawberries, blueberries, a banana, a peach, and a pear. He walked past the hunters on the couch in front of their new television, tilting his head at the popcorn in the bowl between them. "Gonna join us, Cas?"
"No, I have research to do." He did reach down and grab a handful of popcorn, adding it to his plate before heading for his room.
Dean turned to Sam at the angel's casual dismissal, unused to Cas not being interested in movie night. "He said he wants to try some new fruits and see what he likes," Sam explained. "I guess he thinks that he has to try them in private?"
Dean rolled his eyes at the explanation and reached for his beer, his other hand heading for the popcorn. "Whatever, start the movie."
Cas emerged a few hours later with the remains from his experiment. He had apparently liked the pink apple the best, the green apple somewhat, and the red not at all. The orange was gone, leaving just the rind, as were all of the berries and watermelon. The grapes had been eaten, as well, but the banana, peach, and pear were barely touched. He told the boys that his experiment was a success but he would probably stick to apples, oranges, and grapes since they were the least messy. Sam, happy that someone else in the bunker would finally be eating fruit, did not complain.
Cas tried the same experiment with vegetables a couple of nights later. Sam encouraged him to try some ranch to dip them in, but he said that he would prefer to eat them raw. He claimed to like celery, carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower and consumed only those for the next week. Usually he would eat with them at the table and save some for his room later, where he would retreat and watch his animal shows. Dean noticed that the angel was spending less time with them in the main room of the bunker, but every time he passed Cas's closed room door he could hear some nature show or another playing, most often with birds. As long as Cas was done with the cat thing, Dean figured there was no harm.
Cas followed the hunters through the supermarket on a rare "family" shopping trip. He enjoyed these peaceful excursions with the brothers, picking up various foods as they passed them and reading through the list of ingredients that he barely understood. The more ingredients the package had, the more Dean seemed to want it, but Sam tried to gear his brother toward more organic or fresh foods instead. Predictably, this frustrated the shorter hunter and he guided the trio toward the candy aisle.
Sam watched with an expression on his face that Cas had come to know as his my-brother-is-going-to-eat-himself-to-death bitchface while he helped Dean choose something incredibly sugary and unhealthy for later. He found a small red bag of Skittles and tilted his head as he noticed similar bags that were colored blue, purple, or green with images of tiny round candies on the front. He had never had these before, usually sticking with chocolate or Dean's cakes and pies. He reached over and tugged on Dean's sleeve, his expression curious as he pointed at the bag of Skittles. "Why are there so many types?"
Dean shrugged as he found a bag of mixed bite-sized chocolates. "People like the different flavors. Each color in each bag tastes different, so people can get the ones they want."
"Which one is your favorite?"
"I don't know, but it doesn't really matter. You should figure out which one is your favorite. Get one of each bag and try all of the flavors." Dean grabbed a red, purple, blue, and green bag and dropped them in the cart, finding a darker blue bag and adding that, as well. He also tossed his candy choice in and grinned at Sam.
When they finally got back to the bunker, Cas went to the cabinet and found a pack of disposable red shot glasses, sitting at the kitchen table and opening each bag of skittles one at a time, sorting the candies by color and putting each color in its own shot glass. As soon as all twenty-five types of skittles were sorted, the hunters watched in amusement as the angel managed to stack the half-full plastic cups into five manageable towers and carried them off to his room. "You should be proud of him, Sam; he's going about this in the most scientific way possible."
Sam snorted and finished putting away the groceries. "He'll probably never tell us which one he likes the best."
Cas did, indeed, refuse to talk about his Great Skittle Experiment.
A week or so later, Cas joined the brothers for breakfast before they headed out on a hunt. He carefully peeled his orange and ate most of it, setting one section aside for later, making a tiny pile of scrambled eggs near his last piece of orange and a tiny piece of bacon. The boys no longer paid attention when the angel saved food and took it to his room, mostly just amused at the variety of foods he would walk away with. "Cas, we've got a job a couple hours away. You coming?"
"How long will it take?"
Dean shrugged. "Looks pretty simple, ghost or something. Shouldn't take more than a day or two. You in?"
Cas turned his intense blue gaze on the elder hunter, sensing a hint of longing through the intense bond they shared. Dean wanted him to come. "Of course, Dean. I will accompany you." A loud screech sounded from Cas's room and the angel shot to his feet, grabbing his plate of food. "Apparently I left my tv on. Let me go turn it off and I will be ready to go."
The two hunters exchanged a confused look as their friend vanished deeper into the bunker, but he emerged as promised a few minutes later, ready to depart.
The hunt was relatively quick, only taking three days, so they were back at the bunker that third night. Sam and Dean were exhausted, taking longer than usual to gather their bags and depart the Impala, but Cas was full of energy as always and bounded into the bunker ahead of them. Dean could have sworn he heard screeching when the door between the garage and the main building opened, but it was silent when he made it to the library so he ignored it.
Less than an hour later, Sam headed to bed and left Dean stretched out on the couch watching some mindless late-night show, a beer in one hand as he debated forcing himself to his feet and trudging to his room. As he lost the battle and started dozing off, he could have sworn he heard a cat meowing.
Castiel snuck silently into the library, spotting a dark figure stretched out across the largest couch, the tv showing some black-and-white show that he did not recognize. Focused on not waking the hunter, Cas carefully removed the empty beer bottle from his limp hand and placed it on the table, grabbing the remote and turning off the tv. In the silence, Dean grumbled softly and curled up around the small throw pillow that Sam had recently purchased to "brighten up the place" as he had put it. Brows furrowed, Cas noticed the slightest of shivers pass through the hunter's form and he looked around for one of the blankets that he remembered seeing the last time he watched tv in the library. Perhaps Sam had taken them all to be washed. Thinking quickly and having nothing better to offer, Cas slipped out of his trench coat and laid it across the hunter. He smiled as Dean snuggled deeper into the heavy brown fabric, taking a deep breath before settling back into his dreams.
Dean struggled back to consciousness after a night of some incredibly intense dreams filled with bright blue eyes and blue-black feathers. He frowned and looked down as he realized that he was not in his room and he was not covered in one of his blankets. As a matter of fact, it looked like he was covered by Cas's trench coat. The gentle scent of honey and something flowery surrounded him, and he wondered why he had never noticed the angel's scent before.
A snort from the other side of the entertainment area snapped him to full consciousness, Sam's hazel-green eyes taking in the hunter stretched out on the couch with a familiar brown trench coat laid over him. "Something you want to tell me?"
"Shut up," Dean grumbled, pushing himself to his feet and picking up the coat. He glanced at the dark tv and the empty beer bottle placed carefully on the table next to the remote, surprised that he had been so tired that he didn't remember the angel visiting him. "I guess Cas saw me sleeping and wanted to make sure I wasn't cold. You did take all of the blankets."
"You spilled beer on most of them," Sam countered. "We should go see what he looks like without the coat." Sam's eyebrows wiggled suggestively and Dean growled as he tossed the aforementioned article of clothing at his brother. They both watched curiously as a business card fell out of the pocket and fluttered to the floor. Dean leaned down to grab it, anger swirling in his green eyes as he noted the spotted cats on the back and the name of a nearby Bengal breeder on the front. "What the hell is this?"
"When did he meet with a cat breeder?"
Dean's jaw clenched furiously as he stomped off toward the bedroom wing of the bunker. "He better not have brought home a damn cat!"
"Dean, wait!"
Ignoring his brother, Dean slammed open the door to Cas's room, stopping dead at the sight that met his eyes. He wasn't completely sure what he expected to find, but this was not it.
