Dean's phone rang about thirty seconds after he'd finished mucking out Samantha's room - it wasn't his room, not anymore, and he wasn't sure it would ever be again… or if he ever wanted it to be again after what he'd just cleaned out of it - and about five seconds before he'd had the opportunity to wash his hands. (Dean Winchester did not have germaphobic tendencies… but he still let it ring as he ran the tap to scalding and scrubbed off every trace of cow shit from his hands.)
Then, about two seconds before it went to voicemail, he answered it. "Yeah?"
"Dean."
"Oh, hey, Dad, what's u-"
"You haven't called."
"Oh, shit, you're right… Totally forgot…" He paused, too distracted by a telltale clump of shit - literally - hanging onto his shoe to maintain any coherent conversation. Jesus, how can such a little thing shit so much? He kicked off the shoes (and may or may not have made a mental note to burn them later) before remembering the phone in his hand. "Just, uh… had a lot of…" He was not still obsessing over the cow shit he was pretty sure he could still feel on his hands; his skin was crawling for a different reason. "...unfortunate work to do. For school."
There was a snort from the other end of the phone, mirthless in a way that made his skin crawl for entirely different reasons. "What, you've been so busy you couldn't call to check in?"
"Yeah, you're right. Sorry for losing trac- Sorry." No answer. "Was there anything specifi-"
"Not especially."
Another pause, awkward and drawn out. "Cas said you'd stopped by-" (He might have continued if he hadn't heard an unfortunately-timed-but-thankfully-quiet moo from Samantha.)
Luckily, both the moo and his awkward half sentence went unnoticed. "I can't check up on my son now?"
"O-okay-" Another moo, a little louder, but still quiet enough. "Things have been pretty uneventfu-" Yet another, louder, too loud.
"What the hell was that, Dean?" He was halfway through opening his mouth to make up an excuse (any excuse) when he was interrupted with, "Is that damn Andrew kid over again?"
"Uh… Andrew…" The name was… familiar. Something told Dean he should have remembered it - hell, he'd stored it in his head for a reason, even if he couldn't remember what that reason was - but he couldn't place it. He sounded it again, trying to jog something, anyth- "Oh. Andrew." Something told him that he couldn't just say oh, yeah, the fake boyfriend of my roommate because we're hiding a cow in our house which left him in the awkward position of inventing an Andrew, and his dad was wait-
His dad was, apparently, not waiting. "Yes, Dean, Andrew. Get him out. The neighbors have been complaining about… noises all through the night. I swear, when do you kids sleep-"
It would be great if his dad cut himself off, interrupting himself with a subject change or something equally innocuous.
It would be great if Samantha hadn't chosen that exact moment to moo, the loudest and most obvious one yet.
It was not great that the first didn't happen, and the second did.
And John Winchester was not happy about it. "Now , Dean. Copy?"
"Uh…" (Dean Winchester did not stutter. Ever, but especially not on the phone with his father.) "Wilco, just… gimme a second. I'm gonna put down the pho-"
"No." There was no room for negotiation there. Even if there were, it disappeared with his subsequent, "I wanna make sure you do it. Keep the phone on."
"Right. Okay." (As he walked through the house towards his (read: Samantha's) bedroom, he was not inwardly panicking. If he was, it was because his father was on the phone and they had a frigging cow in the bedroom. It certainly wasn't because he now had to find a way to stage an on-the-spot rendition of him evicting a guy Cas was supposed to be screwing. Of course not.)
The one good side of all of it was that at least Cas was already in Samantha's room - was he actually mooing at her to get her to stop talking? Dammit, Cas, that's not gonna work. - and it would be easy to attempt communication.
On the other hand, the actual communication part was almost certainly not going to go well. (And no, pseudo-sign language, mouthing, and whisper-shouting did not qualify as good communication, no matter what Cas thought. Especially not when Cas was trying to moo at a frigging cow a few seconds beforehand.)
Dean was of the firm opinion that it should not have taken almost five minutes of awkward silent back-and-forth - how the hell Cas got act like a cow from shut up the damn cow was a mystery, but at least he got pretend to be Andrew pretty quickly - but it wasn't so long his dad was interrupting to ask questions yet, so it'd do.
Dean held the phone up to the door and knocked his fist against the wood, hoping it'd carry over into the speaker. "Cas?"
"Yes?" He was practically shouting, too stiff and a little awkward, but it was so clearly Cas that Dean doubted his dad would even notice.
"Hey, man… A-Andrew's gotta go." (Dean did not stutter. Again. Or for the first time. Either way, it didn't happen.) "Dad's been getting noise complaints."
When Dean had imagined "Andrew" - not that he had, of course. Not beyond their little pantomime for his dad, at least. - he had not imagined the slow, drawn out, high-pitched voice Cas trotted (unhelpful, brain, shut up) out. "Uh… well… okay. Uh… bye… Cas. Dean."
Dean was still standing against the wall at the threshold to his room, and he let his head fall back, thumping against the plaster because not convincing, Cas, Dad better buy it because, if he doesn't, we're dead, and I really gotta teach you to lie, man before calling out a, probably equally unconvincing and louder-than-necessary, "Night."
Cas' follow-up "Goodnight, Andrew!" of chipper smiles did not prompt Dean to thump his head against the wall again. It didn't happen. It was because he was stressed about the phone call, of course. Anyway, he had no reason to be jealou- Wait, more than that, who even brought up jealousy? (And even if he were jealous - which he wasn't - it wouldn't be of a fictional person. That would be ridiculous. And anyway, he wasn't jealous.)
What he was was busy on the phone. "He's gone. Sorry 'bout the calls."
"He better stay gone, Dean."
Shit. "But Cas-'
A shifting sound came over the phone, and Dean knew enough about his father to be unsurprised that he was shaking his head despite being on a phone call. "I don't care whose he is. He better stay gone."
"Yes, s-" No. She did not just moo. He'd made that up because Cas was in there keeping her quiet and she couldn't have moo'd because that would be the worst possible timing and it just couldn't have happened.
Except it had. "Dean."
"Y-"
"I just told you to get rid of him."
"He's goi-"
"What about get rid of him isn't penetrating your thick skull, Dean?"
It wasn't really a question, but Dean answered it anyway. "Yeah, he's going, he's going." He didn't hesitate to gesture rather harshly towards Cas to shut the damn cow up, Cas because he didn't really have a choice. (Dean Winchester doesn't apologize… but he could do it later, if he did.) "It's dealt with."
Cas mouthed something, but Dean couldn't possibly have read it right; no way did Cas think that then, of all times was the right time to say something like if we got her chew toys, this wouldn't happen! in a whisper shout. He must have misread it. (Right?) Either way, he mouthed back a dammit, Cas, shut up and hoped he'd leave it there.
He did. John Winchester didn't. "Good. If I get another complaint, I'm gonna tan both your damn hides, you got that?"
And then Cas had the audacity to snort out a laugh and Dean was getting very, very close to running his head into the wall because Cas was laughing when they were only saved from serious trouble by a literal smidgeon of luck… but he didn't. Instead, he merely said, "Yessir."
And then John ended the call with a chime, and there was nothing from the other end of the phone, and Dean could finally relax, tossing the phone onto his desk with a clatter and rubbing a hand over his eyes. At least they had some time to think logically and plan and strategize an-
Cas snorted again, eventually bursting out into laughter. "He said tan your hide."
Dean stared at Cas. (He was not gawping.) Cas stared back. (He was still laughing.) Dean shook his head (not at all affectionately). "Not the time, Cas."
Cas sent back an equally unimpressed stare. "We have a cow, Dean."
"Yes, I know that, Cas-"
"He said tan our hide, Dean."
"Yes, Cas, I got that-"
"It was funny."
"Cas, we have a cow. In our house. And he's getting noise complaints despite us not exactly living in a jam-packed neighborhood." Cas blinked. "This is a problem."
"She just has big lungs, Dean. And a big heart. Of course she's a little loud." He paused, that familiar beatific grin taking over. "She cares, Dean."
"I don't care about the damn cow, Cas." (He didn't. He didn't.) "I care about the fact that my dad just called and we got lucky that he bought a lame-ass, unbelievable excuse."
"Dean." Cas shook his head. "I know you care about Samantha. I saw the milk."
"W-I don't know what you mean. It's just milk." (Dean was not defensive… maybe, maybe he made sure the milk was as close to natural as he could get it, but it's just because he didn't want to deal with a sick cow. Or a dead cow. Either of them. He. Did. Not. Care.)
"...And is it really so unbelievable that I'd date Andrew?"
(Dean did not stutter because where the hell did that come fro- Oh.) "N-no, Cas, like…" (He was not distracted. Nor was he still stuttering.) "She was mooing. That's not what sex sounds like." He paused (mind not flashing anywhere). "Mostly."
"For cows it does."
"You're not a cow, Cas. Andrew isn't a cow. It shouldn't sound like… cow sex."
"Says who? Andrew can be a cow if he wants to be a cow."
"Andrew doesn't exi-" He sighed and dropped it. "Says my dad's no-animal policy, Cas."
"No animals, no happiness."
Dean considered responding but… this is going nowhere. "Cas, we have to… keep her quiet. Somehow."
"She's a cow, Dean." Dean blinked. "Cows don't do quiet."
"Which is why we have to shut her up, Cas."
"Well…" Dean did not like the satisfied grin on his face. "If she had chew toys…"
Okay, apparently Dean hadn't misread Cas' earlier whisper shout. Of course… he also didn't have a rebuttal. He rested his head against the wall. "Fine." Cas grinned. "I'll pick some up after school tomorrow, okay?"
Cas shook his head hastily, frowning in seconds. "No, I want to accompany you." Another moo sounded from the other room. Dean winched; Cas grinned. "Samantha does too!"
And- and- Nope, Dean couldn't deal with both Cas and a cow, not right now, so he stood and walked towards the kitchen. "Shit, gotta get her something to eat." Thankfully, it only took a few seconds to pour out some milk - yes, it was natural, but that meant nothing - into a bowl and set it on the painfully-newspaper-covered floor. (Dean did not have a flashback to cleaning up the shit - literally - from his bedroom.) "Look, Cas, one of us has to stay here and watch her."
Cas was… Was he pouting? "Samantha's adult enough to take care of herself, Dean."
"No." Dean shook his head. "She's mooing now and we're both home." Cas opened his mouth to say something, but Dean couldn't deal with that, so, "Look, I got this, okay?"
Cas let out a… was that a hmph? "Fine."
Dean nodded. "Great." He turned, looking at the phone he'd discarded on the desk, and couldn't help a slight flare of nerves… but it'd be fine. They'd handle it.
