Title: Manageable Consequences
Prompt: Written for effingeden on livejournal: Any; Any; "I can't explain and I won't even try.
Bobby has been known to entertain all sorts of unusual guests at the Salvage Yard-angels, demons, humans, psychics, witches, large animals, and on one very memorable occasion a pregnant redhead with a monster truck and a dead ex.
Singer Salvage is a very exciting place.
Today was a slow day. The ongoing feud over the Belgian chocolate in the kitchen between the archangel Gabriel and the crossroads demon Crowley . . . was a biweekly occurrence. So long as they put the kitchen back to rights when they were done trying to kill each other, Bobby was content to let the pair go at it without interference.
Unfortunately, there is no Winchester alive or dead that knows the meaning of "Shut up and take cover." This generally is a cause of concern for Bobby, but to be honest, the consequences were nowhere near as bad as they could have been.
Bobby even considers asking the archangel to leave the boys this way once Gabriel works up the courage to return (both demon and angel took off in opposite entrances when Bobby appeared to investigate the sudden silence-Crowley with the chocolate). The boys are much more manageable with four legs and a tail.
Dean disagrees, locking small teeth around the ankle of Bobby's boot. Sam sits back on his butt and howls mournfully at the ceiling.
Bobby represses a smile out of sheer determination and scoops up a fuzzy-bellied Dean in one hand to deposit in a convenient mixing-bowl. The golden retriever puppy attempts to upset the economy-sized mixing bowl by running up the rounded sides. When it doesn't work, Dean chose to do the next best thing and took a nap.
Sam would not be placated so easily. The smaller darker puppy wants to play, and Bobby pitches a shoe down the hall for the chocolate lab to chase. It's Sam's own shoe and bigger than the puppy, but that doesn't stop a bullheaded Winchester dog from dragging it a few inches at a time. Bobby caves and throws it again.
After two days, Bobby gives up and makes a run to town for proper dog food, two collars, and a leash. Dean sleeps curled at the foot of Bobby's bed, while Sam likes to sleep half-in and half-out of the shoe that has seen much better days than the last two.
Bobby's never had it so easy. The boys can't backtalk, or get over the improvised fencing that Bobby uses to confine them to approved rooms/sections of yard. Sam and Dean haven't risked life and limb in sixty-four hours. They're not collecting any damsels in distress or endangered children for Bobby to deal with. They're even housebroken despite their relative size and age, for which Bobby considers himself most fortunate.
They make an abysmal alarm system, he considers later. Despite alerting Bobby to the presence of a chicken, a squirrel, the Impala, each other, and Bobby's desk chair-neither makes a peep when Castiel appears in the living room and scoops Sam into his lap. Dean rolls over, begging for a belly rub, and the angel obliges.
"I have missed something?"
Bobby snorted. "I can't explain and I won't even try."
Castiel nods agreeably, and the quiet reigns.