Dean sighed. As usual, the big-bad du jour was still roaming around, and to top it off, Cas just dropped in yesterday, to tell them that the angels had started bickering again. "Sam!" he called out, hoping the healthnut wasn't on his creepy morning run. His brother came shuffling in, bleary eyed and... "Whoa! Dude!" Dean recoiled, slightly, pulling his arm up in a defensive reflex. Sam yawned and rubbed his eyes. "What?" Dean relaxed again and smirked. "Bad night?" Sam pulled a bitchface #7 (I'm grouchy/aching/emotional and not in the mood for your BS, Dean,) and plonked his butt on a chair. "Pretty much, yeah. Jerk. Why do you ask?" Dean smirked his famous Swoonworthy Halfsmile, which can have a woman swoon from across a bar or street. "Nothing, just that your hair looks like it's had a fun night at the town, and found a firecracker to mate with."
He grinned at the appalled face Sam made, and for good meassure, he added: "Bitch." The bitchface changed from #7 into #5 (I hate you so much right now.) and Sam ran both his hands through his locks, which, in obedience to Natural Law #12.548. (Sometimes we just dick with stuff to annoy the world) flowed from his fingers back into Sam's usual, flawless, do. Dean's upperlip twitched in annoyance. "Coffee, princess? I don't have any fancy-schmancy double vanilla whatchamacallit, but I can give you three scoops of sugar." Sam grumbled something, and Dean turned back from the coffeemaker. "What was that, Billyboy?" Sam's bitchface #5 returned with gusto, and he nearly growled: "I said black. No sugar, no milk." Dean mouthed a quiet 'Yikes' as he poured the drink. "Here, bro. Feel better." he sincerely offered as he slid his little brother the mug. Sam grumbled something, which Dean interpreted as being Grouchy Samsquatchian for 'Thanks'.
After three black coffees, and a much needed bathroom break, Sam was marginally more human, and the brothers sat at the table in companionable silence. When they heard footsteps in the hallway to the bedrooms, Dean sat up. "Morning, sunshine." he greeted a stoïc looking Cas. "Good morning, Dean, Sam. I hope your sleep was restful." Dean flashed a grin at Sam, who just rolled his eyes. "About as good as it gets, what with your little announcement last night." Dean answered, pouring another mug of coffee, adding five scoops of sugar and a healthy shot of cream. "I am sorry to cause you more distress, but I thought you should be made aware of the... situation Upstairs." Cas said, in that sad, broken little voice he has when he feels guilty. Sam cleared his throat, after shooting Dean a swift bitchface #3 (SERIOUSLY?!). "That's ok, Cas. Dean is just... being Dean about it. It's fine. We can work this out." Cas took the mug Dean offered him. "I did not tell you to ask for your help. I thought you needed to know, because last time the factions spilled over to Earth and wreaked havoc amongst the humans."
With a sigh, Dean leaned against the counter. "We know, Cas. We know you just wanted to warn us, but you should know better by now. We can't let your asshat siblings just go on having a bitchfight. It hurts innocent people, and it hurts you. We can't have that. You're family, we care about you." Sam nodded and when Cas turned his blue eyes on him, he smiled and simply stated: "What he said." Cas nipped his coffee whilst ducking his head, but the brothers saw the grateful smile and happy blush. "Thank you, both. You have no idea how it ... makes... me.. me..." Cas clutched at his throat, his blue eyes wide with shock. He tried again. "Makes.. me.. meeee. MEOW!" Startled, the Winchesters saw how Cas seemed to shrink, his hair crawling down his neck, the blue in his eyes sliding outward, covering the sclera like a rapidly expanding, blue oilslick. Dean was the first to move, dipping his hand in the heap of clothes that lay on the chair that previously held their angel friend. He withdrew and both men gasped. In his hand, so tiny it almost disappeared behind the Hunter's tanned fingers, a cute, black kitten mewled desperately.
