Cas was, once again, gone by the time Dean managed to wake up.
Granted, he didn't wake up until about an hour after Cas' class was supposed to start - and, judging by the note Cas left on the bedside table, about thirty minutes after he'd left - but it was still unusual and set him a tad off-kilter.
Which was the sole reason he decided to give Samantha some milk, leave the house early, and head to the pet store.
He wasn't out-of-whack enough to forgo his weekly visit to the coffee shop, though; as much as he usually preferred making his own, Charlie Bradbury of the Half-Brewed Drink (no, he would never let her live down naming her café after Harry Potter. He'd also never admit that it was kinda endearing.) would never shut up if he missed a week… even for the sake of a cow.
He regretted it, though, the second he walked through the door and she practically shrieked a ridiculously exuberant "Dean!" from across the room.
This sure ain't gonna be easy… get in and get out and it'll be fine. "Hey, Charlie."
She already had his mug ready - despite years of trying to get her to explain the cryptic combination of the blue and green plaid interior and "I know" in Star Wars font on the outside, she'd never actually yielded an explanation for it - and set it on the counter with a grin. "It's gonna be cold. You're actually late, Dean. Thought you weren't gonna make it."
He grinned, offering a mock bow. "Be a fool to miss it, your Highness."
She was grinning by the time he looked back up, but the usual bantering smirk was tempered by something Dean did not want to see there (at least, not that particular day): mischief. "You're glowing, Mr. Winchester." (She never used his last name unless he was in trouble.) "What have I missed?"
"Nothin' much, Char." Settling onto a stool near her barista nook was made easy by familiarity. "How's the café?"
She squinted at him, but nodded her head. "Good."
Contrary to her warning, the coffee was still quite warm by the time he actually picked it up and tried to drink it, so he set it back down - certainly not internally bemoaning the fact that she was scarily perceptive and he was stuck there long enough she'd probably find a way to weasel secrets from him with unfortunate precision - and added a very conversational, "Oh?"
She shook her head. "I think I asked first."
"I answered!" (Dean Winchester doesn't get defensive.)
She levelled a patented Charlie Bradbury glare at him. (He didn't gulp. At all. The coffee was just… surprisingly scalding.) "Truthfully?"
He nodded (still not at all defensive). "Course!"
She hummed with a little too much skepticism for things to be going well. "I'll ask again: what have I missed?"
Well, at least that was decently vague. "Classes are going decently we-"
One of Charlie's many, many infuriating (and not at all endearing) quirks was her absolute willingness to interrupt anything she pleased. "I don't mean classes, Dean. What have I missed with you."
Before he answered, Dean had to emphasize for himself that three things were completely, totally, without exception true. One: he was not at all nervous. Two: Charlie would absolutely not ever, ever see through him. Three: he did not feel at all guilty about lying to her. At all. Those three things settled - and completely and totally true - he took another sip of coffee and: "I said. Not much."
She didn't seem fully convinced - that damn squint had returned in full force - but she moved on- "And how's your boyfriend?" …moved on to teasing him mercilessly (and without any basis in fact).
Which was why Dean definitely didn't spit his drink out. "He's my roommate, Charlie." (He was also not still coughing out his lungs in an effort to clear out his airways.)
She grinned - and why did she look like a cat that got into cream with how self-satisfied she was (not that he was worried or anything) - with something a little more of a smirk than a smile. "Then how did you know who I meant, Dean?" (Dean did not fumble and stutter for a response.) "Roommates to lovers and let me guess…" She paused, mouth twisting into contemplation he could only deem rascally, hands lifting into a two-handed approximation of Vanna White. "There was only. One. Bed. "
"The house has two rooms." One of them just happens to be taken up by a freaking cow… but she didn't need to get dragged into that shit… literally. "A-and two beds."
"I didn't ask about the house, Dean."
"Who'd be using the other bed, then, smartass?" (That time, Dean did gulp down his coffee; the sooner he could get out of there, the better. Besides, it was better than incessantly and irrationally thinking don't guess cow, don't guess cow on repeat.)
"Bunnies."
"Bu- How'd you get bunnies?"
Another proud smirk and… when would Dean learn to keep his mouth shut. Apparently, never. "Dust bunnies. The other bed isn't being used."
Dean shook his head and hid his changing the conversation by drinking more from his coffee and muttering out a vaguely affectionate, "What is it with you and anthropomorphizing shit?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's a common phrase, Dean. Spend less time with your lover and you'd see them."
"Charlie." (Dean wasn't blushing).
"Dean." (Charlie wasn't smirking at Dean because Dean wasn't blushing.)
"You're making shit up that sure as shit ain't there." (The flare of something in Dean's stomach wasn't disappointment. He wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't disappointment because that would make no sense.)
She drummed her hands against the bar, pushing off of it lightly and rocking back on her heels. "Grouch. Don't have a cow, Dean-" (Dean didn't choke on his drink, but Charlie still set her hand overtop it and forced it down to the table.) "Okay, that's it. What's going on?"
"Uh…" (Dean didn't chuckle nervously.)
Charlie groaned. "Please. I've been working for hours and I'm bored. Give me details."
As if Dean would ever actually be able to hide anything from Charlie, much less an animal, much less a baby cow. He really didn't have a choice. "Alright, fine, but… just don't… tell anyone." He paused, then amended, "Except Cas. You can talk about it with him."
"Like I would ever betray your confidence, Dean. No matter how much I think you should tell Cas some things, I've never told him anything."
Dean very pointedly ignored her completely nonsensical comment (except for a minor glare that he couldn't really forego, now, could he). "He… has a cow."
She blinked. Twice. "He has a cow. Like… In his possession?"
"He…" Damn, it sounded so ridiculous. "He cownapped it." He took a swig of coffee (and might possibly have wished it was actually alcohol). "A few days ago."
"Damn. I mean, I know he's…" She fumbled around for a word before settling on "Cas" with wide eyes and a complicated mixture of syncopated nods. "But cownapping a cow? That's crazy."
"Hey, now, that's not quite fai-"
"I'm not saying it's bad… Cas is Cas. But you're pretty defensive of your roommate." Did… did she just waggle her eyebrows? He glared at her, and she had the sense to change topics. "Can I see it, please?"
"I dunno, Char, that's a bit risk-"
She didn't even wait for him to finish speaking. "I'll close early."
Dean shrugged. "If Cas is fine with it… Alright. But she's his cow, so…" He shrugged; she nodded. (Thank goodness for silent communication.) "I'm running by the pet store for supplies if you wanna help. After class."
Charlie grinned. "Absolutely. Anything for your shared custody cow." And was that a wink?
Another swallow of coffee and the cup - one day, he'd convince her to tell him what it meant - was empty. "We don't have shared custody, Charlie."
"You're calling the cow she. And you're going to the pet store."
"And?"
She snorted and shook her head. "Sounds like shared custody to me."
"My dad's getting complaints about noise." Was she convinced? "We need chew toys to shut her up." She wasn't. "That's it."
"How the hell have you two hidden a cow from that man? He can smell fear." A minute of contemplative silence passed and then, "Do they make cow chew toys?"
Dean shrugged. "We'll find out?"
Charlie nodded, and the look in her eyes was still very worrying. "Looking forward to it."
Dean did not gulp.
