Dean had trouble finding Cas in the bunker that afternoon. When he finally did, the random bowl of milk on the floor of the kitchen—which he'd tripped over only because he had other things on his mind—was quickly explained. The angel sat still as a rock, a little grey kitten snuggled into his arm. He wore a smile that practically radiated outwards.
Dean sneezed. "Cas, what are you doing?"
"It was hungry," he sat softly, his attention still devoted to the fuzzball.
"That thing can't stay here." Dean's voice switched to quietly-demanding mode.
But Cas looked up, his gentle blue eyes pleading.
He sneezed again. Oddly enough, he found himself relenting—just for a couple days until they found the little thing a home. It was dependent on them now, that was all. Dean saw Cas' smile return and decided to get some more milk.