Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Son of a bitch!”

Dean cursed and slapped the side of his cheek as yet another giant mosquito tried to make a tasty meal out of him.

“Yeah, I taste good, don't I, you little bloodsucker! Well, the buffet is closed until further notice. Greedy bastards.”

Still grumbling under his breath, he returned his attentions to the viewfinder of his camera, determined not to be sidetracked by the native pests of the area.

Dean loved his job, really he did, but sometimes he did have to stop and wonder if he'd really thought it through when he decided he wanted to become a wildlife photographer. It was pretty damn cool, all things considered but not nearly as glamorous as he liked to make it sound to Sammy. There were the multiple shots he had to get whenever he left the states, the crazy weather, weird food, language barriers. Mainly, there had been a serious lack of consideration given to exactly how much flying would be required to photograph said wildlife. Oh, he'd been lucky, not to mention crafty and desperate, avoiding flying when he could. Buses, trains, automobiles of questionable integrity, boats. You name it, he'd most likely used it as a form of transportation.

On this latest assignment, his eyes had nearly popped out of his head in excitement when he'd seen he was being sent to the Indonesian island of Java to capture the rare Javan leopards on film.

Gabriel had come skipping in through his office door, the short man whistling a jaunty tune of unknown origin despite the giant lollipop wedged in his cheek even though it was only 8:00 in the morning. Not for the first time, Dean wondered how Gabriel had ever become the assistant editor at National Geographic. Ignorant to these musings, Gabe grinned widely at Dean, who was nursing his second cup of coffee and eyed him back blearily.

“Dean-o! There's my favorite animal paparazzo! Did you get the email I sent with all the juicy details?” At Dean's still slightly stunned nod he continued, jabbering away at the speed of light.

“So, your flight leaves at 6am out of JFK with two connecting flights and one stopover in Asia, so be sure to check out the Busty Asian Beauties up close while you can,” he smirked lustily.

Dean glared reproachfully at him. Jesus. One time. The one fucking time his mail had accidentally been delivered to his office when he had first moved here and his obnoxious boss would have to see the glossy magazine right smack on top of the pile. He still hadn't heard the end of it.

Dean's excitement quickly turn to trepidation. Clearing his throat, he casually tried to ask about the main thing that had stood out to him amongst all of Gabriel's cheery blather.

“D-did you say flight? Exactly how long of a flight are we talking here, Gabe?”

“Yup, you heard me right Bucko. Listen kiddo, I know your hatred of all things airborne but this is a hot ticket and you're the best. And I'm not just saying that because Jo is in Greece covering their ongoing financial crisis.” Gabriel winked at him saucily.

Dean upped the power of his glare from Level 5 to 8. Damn right he was the best! He was Dean fucking Winchester, fear of flying or not.

“ Anywho! It's about a 27 hour flight, Indonesia is on the other side of the world, you know! But this is a once in a lifetime deal, the Javan leopards are critically endangered and there may not be many more chances to photograph them in the wild before long.”

Dean nearly choked as his jaw dropped and he simultaneously tried to swallow the sip of coffee he'd just taken as he processed the horrible thought of being encased in a flying metal deathtrap for over a day, but eventually he sighed wearily.

“Fine, I'll go. But you're paying for the half a pound of fucking Dramamine I'll be needing. And the bottles of Jack Daniels. And I'd better get a helluva Christmas bonus!”

“You got it, sport! Don't worry, you're on my naughty Christmas list, nothing but booze and coal in your stocking this year. Trust me, at the end of this adventure, you'll be thanking me! Call me when you get there!” Gabriel chortled as he swept out of Dean's office as quickly as he'd arrived, no doubt off to happily terrorize the rest of his employees.

Now, here in the Gunung Halimun National Park, he had to admit, despite the mosquitoes and the humidity, it was pretty worth it.

He'd already gotten some awesome raw footage of the lush tropical rainforest and some of its inhabitants. The leopards, however, had remained thus far elusive and he'd yet to see one but he wasn't put off.

His research, which he'd conducted on the flight over, cause, hey, he'd had time to kill, and there was nothing like being prepared, had informed him that Panthera pardus melas was indeed on the Red List (critically endangered) since 2008, with less than 250 mature individuals in an ever decreasing population trend in the wild and exclusively found on the island of Java.

The island boasted two different kinds of leopard; the easily recognizable pale gold or tawny with black rosettes and green eyes and the lesser seen and more rare melanistic leopard, which due to a recessive phenotype resulted in black fur and even darker spots paired with unique silvery-grey eyes. Dean secretly hoped to come across one of these dark, rare beauties, although at the rate he was going he'd be lucky to catch sight of a regular spotted leopard.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. Dean had set up several camera traps within the three mile radius that he was concentrating on, camping out at a different one every day. It had rained off and on for the whole duration of Dean's stay, sometimes gently, other times in a torrent, making him grateful for his dark green rain poncho that he was wearing over a grey henley and one of his more ancient pairs of jeans.

Currently, Dean was crouched eight feet up off the ground in the muddy crotch of a giant wild mango tree, huddled under some camouflaged mosquito netting which, in his humble opinion, was not doing its fucking job. Fifteen feet across from him was his second camera and also his backup, a trusty Canon Shooter 1DX he had securely attached to another mango tree. This area looked to be a small game trail, hopefully populated by the small to medium sized prey that leopards preferred.

He'd chosen this particular area because of the copious amounts of deep claw marks; basically these trees were like big cat scratching posts, but it was also a very obvious way of saying, “Hey! Fuck off! This is my territory, trespassers will mauled, maybe played with a little, before being deliciously eaten!” Additionally there were various animal tracks plus a few paw prints at the bases of the trees and the stench of urine coupled with evidence of feces, which he did not want to think about. Gross.

So far though, he'd seen six wild boars, which had snuffled about suspiciously right underneath the camera for ten minutes before shuffling off to parts unknown; after the pigs he saw three mouse-deer and a gibbon. Which, okay, was not too shabby and he'd made sure to not only capture them on video but also in still shots with his brand spankin' new Nikon D4s, which had been a birthday present from Sam and was perfect for the shadowed, sun-dappled forest he found himself in.

Glancing down at his watch to see that it was nearly 8:30pm and almost fully dark, Dean yawned, he'd been up since 5am to check his camera traps and get himself situated in his hiding spot, not to mention he was still plagued by jet lag even though he'd been here three days. Over his quiet, absentminded humming of “Ramble On,” Dean's stomach began growling like the leopards he had yet to see and it was decided that it was definitely time for some grub, plus he had to piss like a racehorse.

Dean observed in relief that the rain was definitely starting to taper off. Tucking his Nikon back into its protective pouch and checking that it was safely strapped across his chest, Dean slowly started to sit up when he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his right eye. Barely daring to breathe, Dean turned in increments til he was facing completely to his right and watched in delighted amazement as a distinctly cat-like silhouette slunk out of the shadows.

Sliding his Nikon back out of his bag, he flipped it on before gradually bringing it up to eye level, adjusting the auto-focus and low-light settings to bring the creature into perfect clarity. What Dean saw made his breath hitch in his throat and his pointer finger go all trigger happy as he snapped shot after shot before switching to the video function.

Dean had never seen a leopard in real life before and now he eagerly took in the large head, delicately cupped ears, powerful neck and shoulders, short yet shapely and very muscular limbs and long graceful tail. In the dimming twilight the leopard appeared purely black but Dean knew that in the sunlight he'd be able to pick the darker, intricate rosettes that decorated its thick fur and were as personalized to each leopard as fingerprints were to a human. He watched silently as the leopard prowled purposefully closer, seemed to glide and sway to a tune only it could hear.

Shit. It was coming right up to his tree. Fuck. Fuck.

Despite knowing better, Dean desperately hoped that if he didn't move he couldn't be seen, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the big cat below him as if mesmerized. The leopard came to a stop at the base of Dean's tree, tipping it's head to the side and taking in deep breaths. Dean smiled a little when the cat's tongue poked out a bit as if tasting the air, thinking how it reminded him of Sammy concentrating on his homework when he was a kid, before quickly sobering up in the realization that the cat must be scenting him. Dean thanked whatever gods were possibly listening that he'd forgone aftershave or cologne and hadn't showered in two days. Hopefully, all the cat would smell was rain, leaves, mud and god-knows-what-else-other crap he was presently covered in.

To Dean's dismay, the leopard suddenly reared up, bracing its solid front paws against the tree, sniffing in earnest before huffing a loud breath out through its nose. Filming all the while, Dean watched as the leopard rubbed first one side of its face, then the other, thoroughly along the bark.

Dean was so close to the big cat he could smell the rich earthy, musky odor of the animal and hear the deep, rumbling purr rolling up from the leopard's compact, thickly muscled chest. Dean's eyes widened as the leopard unsheathed its claws, stretching up to apply fresh scratches into the bark, as it gazed up into the tree where Dean hunkered down even lower while still trying to keep the camera at an angle to catch all the action.

Finally, after several minutes of interminable staring, the leopard slunk back down, but its gaze was still pinned up into the shadowy recesses of the tree where Dean hid. Dean was like, 90% sure that even if the leopard could smell some lingering trace of him, it couldn't see him, but that didn't make him feel better. Hidden or not, he had the uncanny notion that the leopard knew he was there regardless. Rubbing its husky cheek against the bark once more as if making a promise and looking strangely satisfied, the leopard smoothly circled away from Dean's tree, glancing back once more before stealthily sliding out of Dean's range of vision and into the darkness which had truly fallen now.

Chapter Text

Dean waited a good twenty minutes before he deemed it safe to climb down from his perch. It wasn't like he was scared. Definitely not. What was that saying? About discretion being the better part of valor? Better safe than sorry? It was that. Yeah...that. Nevertheless, Dean was perhaps more quiet gathering up his gear than absolutely necessary, and if, as he hiked back to his makeshift campsite, he happened to glance over his shoulder every other minute, well, no one needed to know about it other than him.

When Dean reached his camp for the evening he made sure to carefully scout around for any fresh wildlife tracks. It wouldn't be a smart idea to try to spend the night next to the local watering hole, where predators and prey items alike would be likely to congregate. Yeah, he'd probably get some awesome footage but he wasn't really in the mood to listen to something get violently, juicily eaten two feet away from him. And then wonder if he was next on the menu for dessert. He had no wish to end up as Dean à la mode. Damn mosquitoes had already had a field day with him. He sighed tiredly, doing a much needed full-body stretch and relishing in all the satisfyingly loud cracks and pops that resulted.

Gabriel had obtained a pass for Dean to stay for thirty-one days on the preserve, allowing him free access to hike and observe through non-invasive means the animals that called the park home. However, since even though he was a guest, campfires were still prohibited so Dean had chosen to camp next to one of the many hot springs (for warmth and food boiling reasons, not cause he totally wanted to soak in Mother Nature's jacuzzi) that branched out from the Solo River, (Dean had inwardly grinned cockily at this, he was totally Han Solo) whose source was the Lawu volcano, classified as a still alive and kicking active volcano. The island of Java boasted thirty-eight volcanoes, that at one time or another had all been active. That didn't bother Dean at all. Nope.

His stopover had parked him at the Dubai International Airport for three and a half hours, during the course of which he was way too queasy to even think of looking around for any prospective Busty Asian Beauties as Gabriel had suggested. He'd been white-knuckling it since he'd made the mistake of looking down and seeing that they were gliding over the Atlantic, somewhere in there the plane had hit a shitload of turbulence so Dean had made good use of the Dramamine and Jack while he hummed Metallica nonstop for the next two hours to calm himself.

When Dean had landed in Jakarta, pale-faced and shaky in the green beans, he had then been subjected to a two hour bus ride which had taken him to Sukabumi, the nearest city to the Gunung preserve which took up roughly 154 square miles of the province of West Java. Dean's guide had told him if he did not wish to travel to Sukabumi during his stay to get supplies, he could always hike to the Kesepuhan community, a group of 5,300 people who lived peacefully within the preserve along the southern side. Their main village was Ciptagelar, and Dean was assured that they carried the necessities he needed and that the locals were friendly, even understanding and speaking some English.

Dean had to admit, the food here was pretty spectacular, although of course nothing could beat a good ol' fashioned burger and fries but comparing the two was like apples and oranges. The cuisine here was spicy and rich, bursting with vibrant flavors that made his tastebuds very happy campers. His first night in Sukabumi, his guide had taken him to a local eatery for dinner and he'd tried the roasted fish, (a little weird but not bad) sweet rice wrapped in banana leaves, (he did not eat the leaves, who was he, Sam?) fish balls in a spicy sauce, (tastier than their name would imply) fried tempeh and tofu (way better than he'd have guessed, though upon pain of death he'd never tell Sam he ate tofu, Dean had a reputation to uphold after all!) and chicken satay in creamy peanut sauce, which was Dean's favorite by far. Followed by mango ice cream with some kind of thin, crunchy, nutty cookie (good but not pie). For foreign grub, it was a pleasant surprise, since Dean kinda considered himself a meat and potatoes man.

For his extended stay though, he'd tried to find the American equivalents to what he would normally have if he'd been on assignment stateside for a month long hike through the wilderness; these included various dried fruits such as mango, papaya and dates, mixed nuts and chicken and beef jerky. Dean had managed to smuggle along a substantial arsenal of trail mix,(with peanut M&Ms, hell yeah) protein and granola bars plus some candy bars. Dean idly wondered if Gabriel's obsession with sweets was rubbing off on him. At least he wasn't munching on suckers yet. In addition to his food staples, Dean had brought a limited amount of bottled water as well, but not much since it was pretty damn heavy to lug around on top of the rest of all his gear. There were freshwater springs woven throughout the forest that he could refill his bottles with after boiling it and going through the proper cleansing process, for which he'd packed a small filtration kit. Dean planned to slowly move through the interior, wending his way to the southern side of the preserve over the course of the week to the small village of Ciptagelar to restock his supplies.

After walking for a half an hour, Dean reached the area he'd scouted out earlier in the day for his latest camp spot. The hot spring Dean was calling home for the evening had several shallow, cave-like hollows carved out beside it and it was in one of these that Dean decided to pitch his tent after carefully checking for any critters. Dean had no intention of sharing his bed with the wild things. He got his sturdy one-man pup tent set up in less than five minutes with minimal effort, there wasn't much to it, after all, and stowed his gear inside before crawling in after it.

He had a quick meal of dried goods, all the while wishing for a succulent steak or some onion rings, before packing everything away into air-tight, sealed containers and cleaning up any trash accumulated. The park officials had heavily impressed upon him how imperative it was to leave as little a trace of his presence as possible and Dean was nothing if not professional enough to do his job properly, dammit.

Dean laid back for awhile with the tent flap open so he could gaze up at the stars, which seemed to be the brightest he'd ever seen them, and so close it felt as though the sky was two inches from his nose. Not that he'd ever voice it aloud, but it was lonely out here and not for the first time, did the thought of having a partner in all of this, someone to have his back, tickle his brain, his job in general was a solo mission and he often missed Sam and his few other friends at the magazine. With that in mind, Dean remembered that he'd promised to check in with Sam and Gabriel every other day or so. He dug out his satellite phone from his gear, dialing up Sam's number first then waiting for what felt like forever for it to finally ring through and be picked up.

“Dean! Is that you?” Sam practically hollered. Reception on satellite phones was always kinda dicey.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean answered to Sam's crackly greeting.

“How's it going over there?” Sam inquired, sounding tinny and far away.

“Not bad. I finally had a leopard sighting tonight, one of the black ones, came right up to my tree. Thought he was gonna have me for dinner. Caught it all on film,” Dean relayed all this with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Do me a favor and try not get yourself eaten, okay? And make sure you're drinking plenty of water, Dean. Hydration is important.” Sam mother-henned from halfway across the world.

“Yeah, whatever. Bitch.” Dean snorted.

“Jerk,” Sam sniped back.

“So how's lawyering? How's Jess?” Dean's subtle subject change was not missed by Sam, who graciously let it slide.

“Both are good, it's pretty busy here. So, when are you back in the states again?”

“Another three weeks or so, depending on the quality and amount of footage I get, or whatever makes Gabriel happy,” Dean laughed ruefully.

“Still can't believe that he not only made you fly ten thousand miles, but that you survived it and didn't kill him!” Sam cackled.

“Yeah, well, I'll deal with him when I get home,” Dean groused. “Besides, I'm awesome! You really think that a little ten thousand mile flight is gonna take me out Sammy? You should know better by now.” Dean could perfectly see Sam's bitchface from half a world away.

“Yeah, yeah Dean, I know, you're awesome.”

“I can hear your eyes rolling from here, Sammy.”

They chatted for a bit longer before hanging up, with Dean promising to call again in a couple days. Dean then dialed Gabriel's cell only to reach his voicemail, (the little squirt was probably out gate-crashing cocktail parties or something equally crazy) so he left a detailed message of his progress, including the leopard sighting. He also vowed to extract bodily harm on Gabriel's person for the fact that to get home he'd have to fly another twenty-seven hours. Dean switched off the phone after that, stowing it away with his gear before checking his watch, it was only 9:30pm.

Deciding that it was early enough for what he had in mind, Dean started to strip down, but thoughts of the leopard or other wild animals sneaking up on him when he was butt ass naked made him keep his boxer briefs on and he walked a few feet down to the edge of the hot spring, dipping in his toes gingerly before wading in fully.

The spring was varying temperatures all throughout due to pockets of heating vents so Dean picked his way warily around til he found a spot that was just this side of painfully hot but good and sank down into the naturally heated water with a soft sigh of gratification. It smelt slightly of sulfur but it felt too amazing as the boiling water washed away the grime of the past two days for him to care that he was probably gonna end up reeking like smelly dog farts. He'd rinse off at the next freshwater spring he found. Ha! He'd love to see that leopard try to smell him now, he chuckled tiredly to himself as he imagined the leopard wrinkling its nose in disgust.

“Oh, fuck yeah. This is almost as good as those Magic Fingers,” he groaned aloud, before feeling slightly silly that he was talking to himself. Whatever. No one was around to hear him, now were they? Dean started humming “Traveling Riverside Blues,” slapping his hands on the water in time to the beats of the song.

Sinking down lower, Dean let the water soak his sore muscles til he was completely relaxed. After about twenty minutes he hauled himself out of the spring, haphazardly toweling off before pulling on dry underwear, a mostly clean old Stanford t-shirt of Sam's and some sweats. He crawled into his tent after doing a quick check that everything was put away properly. Dean wormed his way into his sleeping bag, grumping about the limited space of the tent as he tried to find a comfortable spot where nothing was digging into his back. It was almost too damn muggy out for a sleeping bag, but he'd take the padding even if it meant being overly warm. Dean laid awake for awhile before remembering that he'd packed his mp3 player, reaching over, he scrounged around til he located it and his earbuds, stuffing them in his ears.

Dean was just starting to drift off when he thought he heard a noise outside. Surprised, he shot up and yanked the earbuds out of his ears, holding still to listen intently. For a few moments Dean heard nothing except the gentle sounds of the spring flowing, insect noises and the soughing of wind and trees whispering overhead.

Then, just as he was easing back down, a piercing sort of yowl broke the stillness, reminding Dean of the sound made when you cut a wooden plank with a buzz saw.

God, what the hell was that? Dean tried to think of what animal might emit that particular racket but came up empty. Sure as shit hadn't sounded like a leopard, so hopefully he was off the menu tonight. He waited as patiently as he could for a few minutes more to see if the commotion happened again and just when he was beginning to nod off, the same disquieting call came again, this time disturbingly close by.

Heart hammering in his chest, Dean edged the zipper on the tent door down a couple inches, peering out uneasily. There was only a sliver of moon and the brightness of the stars to light his gaze, but he saw nothing. Dean stared out into the darkness for awhile longer, eyes widened in an attempt to catch even the slightest of movements, but was met with only a mostly silent sea of darkness.

Eventually, he zipped the tent back up and settled down, still listening for that odd caterwauling to occur once more, but after a half hour, things were still peaceful, or as peaceful as you could get in the middle of a tropical rainforest. At least he hadn't heard anything brutally murdered yet, so that was a plus in Dean's book. Huffing out a loud breath, he turned on his side and crammed the earbuds back in and cued up some Metallica. Dean gradually fell asleep to the growling tones of James Hetfield and the opening bars of “Enter Sandman.”

The next morning, he was up with birds as they sleepily warbled their 'good mornings.' Breakfast was some dried fruit and nuts along with a protein bar that tasted suspiciously of sawdust and cardboard, but to appease Sam and also wash the taste out of his mouth, Dean guzzled a bottle of water as well. God, what he wouldn't give for a greasy spoon diner breakfast right now, complete with eggs, bacon, pancakes and fresh coffee and orange juice. Mmmm...he was making himself hungry even though he'd just eaten.

Grinning wryly to himself, he shucked the clothes he'd slept in, stuffing them into his duffel, pulling on the jeans he'd worn yesterday and a brown henley, layering the green rain poncho on top of it, since you never could tell when the heavens were gonna open up and drench your ass around here. Eager to be off setting up his camera traps and hopefully garnering another sighting of the leopard, Dean packed efficiently, breaking down his camp in ten minutes. Hefting his gear up onto his back, checking and adjusting the straps and making sure that his Nikon was at the ready, he turned around to make a quick sweep of his campsite.

Squinting in the pale morning light, he moved closer to where he'd had his tent set up. The jutting of the rock wall he'd had the tent butted up against made it so it was almost a blind corner, and there, slightly kitty-corner of where he'd slept all night was a rather large, nearly imperceptible concave depression in the ground. Kneeling down, Dean looked closer, scrutinizing the marks in the damp ground, almost not believing his eyes. Paw prints. Quite a few in fact. It appeared that he'd had an overnight guest.

Chapter Text

Dean yawned tiredly, pausing on his march towards this evenings camp spot, clasping his hands together and raising his arms over his head to stretch his cramping muscles. All this hiking, sleeping on the ground, (God did he ever miss his memory foam) and spending hours scrunched up in a tree watching the wildlife was doing his back no favors. He was definitely looking forward to soaking in the hot springs tonight.

It had been six days since the morning he'd gotten up and found evidence that a leopard (his leopard, he had taken to thinking) had spent at least part of the night at his campsite. Over this span of time, certain patterns had developed. Every morning there was a neat, lightly scraped out spot a few feet away from Dean's tent, presumably his leopard's bed. Around the perimeter of the campsite were usually paw prints, as though the leopard had taken it upon himself to do a security check of sorts before coming to curl up near Dean.

Additionally, there was the “gift” he woke up to each morning, of some kind of small, dead prey, a couple times it was an animal that looked like an overgrown gopher with exceptionally large front teeth. But his leopard obviously believed in variety because there was a brightly colored bird which Dean thought might be a crested macaw one morning and another time there was a very large snake, a species of cobra to be exact; Dean thanked God no one was around (mainly Sammy and Gabe) because that particular “gift” had made him scream like a pre-teen fangirl at a Bieber concert.

Yesterday's present had been what Dean identified as a bleeding toad and this morning Dean had received a striped rabbit. Dean absently wondered what fresh surprise would grace him tomorrow, and was grudgingly impressed at the regularity and varied assortment of his leopard's hunting abilities.

And while Dean knew that the thought counted more than the gift, what exactly was he supposed to do with a cobra (except take plenty of pictures with which to scare the crap out of Sam later) or a toad? It wasn't like he could really eat any of these offerings, although he was relatively sure that was what his leopard intended. He hadn't the first clue on how to prepare some of the animals for eating purposes and was prohibited from building a fire to sufficiently cook them over, and there was no fucking way he was going to eat any of it raw.

Dean guessed he could probably rig some kind of set up to boil the critters, but that didn't really appeal to his stomach either. It seemed his leopard's tastes were a bit too exotic compared to his own. Not to say that Dean hadn't chowed down on his fair share of weird delicacies throughout his travels, but he was never happier than when he had some thick, juicy burger in his hands or a slice of piping hot pizza and a cold beer. Dean also wasn't a fan of having to gut and skin and possibly remove poison sacs from his meal before he got to actually eat it.

In the end, Dean used the small collapsible shovel he'd brought to dig shallow graves for each item of prey that was brought to his doorstep (tent-step?) every morning, feeling slightly ungrateful and sad that his leopard's hard work was for naught. Burying the animals seemed fitting as he recalled from his brief research on the plane that leopards oftentimes would leave their kill on the ground, loosely covered by leaves and dirt if there were no other predators around; otherwise they usually dragged their prey up into the trees to feast upon at their leisure.

Hopefully, best case scenario, his leopard would think that Dean was just saving all these snacks for later, at the worst, his leopard would be haughtily offended (as only cats can be) and make a snack out of Dean instead to punish him for wasting perfectly good food. Dean guessed he could have left the dead critters out for other scavengers, but that felt indescribably wrong; his leopard had left the gifts for Dean, not the next scrounger who happened along. Strangely, Dean felt oddly touched and flattered that the leopard went to such great lengths to try to feed him, and that in and of itself was a curiosity and begged the biggest question of all, Why?

Dean didn't know all that much about the behaviors of big cats, the only ones he'd photographed previously were lions, in Kenya, which had been a fascinating and terrifying experience, almost as bad as the flight he'd had to endure to get there (incidentally, that had been the last time Gabriel had been able to coax him aboard a plane before this latest journey to Java). He couldn't imagine those wild cats bringing him a gift every morning, they were likely to make a gift out of him.

The lions had obviously been majestic, but fierce and violent. So Dean was pretty sure this was not typical big cat behavior, in fact it rather reminded him of the cat Sammy had adopted in college, alongside of a gangly, sweet German shepherd puppy, both rescues. That stupid cat had loved Sam, and so had the dog for that matter, but he remembered that every time he'd visited Sam, each morning as he'd gone to the front door to retrieve the newspaper (which really should have been the dog's job) there had been gifts of small dead mice, shrews or birds, courtesy of the cat.

When Dean showed Sam the slaughterfields that his front porch had become, Sam had merely swished his too-long hair and chuckled in his moose-like way, explaining that that was the cat's way of showing affection and proving his prowess as a hunter. Dean retorted that maybe the cat was just a ruthless serial killer and the dead bodies that littered the walkway were proof that the cat's bloodlust was getting out of control and that perhaps Sam was next. An eyeroll of epic proportions and a patented bitchface had been the only reply Dean had received.

Dean inwardly scoffed to himself as he hiked along. But who had ever heard of a domesticated jungle cat that gave gifts of dead prey to random humans? It was far more likely that Dean was just taking it all out of context. Maybe the leopard left the carcasses every morning to remind Dean that at any time he could be next if the leopard decided he'd had enough of Dean encroaching on his territory.

Hmm...on the other hand, that seemed a bit too much like mafia scare tactics to be the case. And it WAS the leopard's territory; Dean had found (and smelled) traces where the leopard had sprayed and urinated around the small campsites Dean made each night. One morning, he'd spent twenty minutes at the hot spring scrubbing off cat pee from the side of his tent, which now bore the combined faint smells of cat piss and rotten eggs. Gross. Dean had every intention of burning this tent and buying a new one when he returned home.

But even dismissing the gifts, the cat bed dug out every night, the scent-marking and the paw prints everywhere, it was the heavy gaze that seemed to rest upon him all day that disconcerted and preoccupied him the most. Dean felt eyes upon him at all hours of the day, not of the birds or small creatures scurrying in the undergrowth, rather more of a specialized variety, it was undeniably his leopard. At times, if he was lucky and listening in earnest, he could just barely make out the sound of soft footfalls, or the light crunch of paws on the forest floor, although as soon as the leopard realized Dean had stilled, it too immediately went radio silent, patiently waiting til Dean picked up the pace again as he hiked to his next destination. It was sort of cute and inexplicably reassuring how the leopard followed him to each campsite, unwilling to have Dean out of its sight. Or creepy. It could definitely be classified as creepy too.

And even though the attention made him mildly self-conscious at first, it didn't feel malevolent, like a predator stalking prey, more like maybe a very aloof bodyguard of sorts. So gradually Dean figured, if his leopard wanted to watch, why not give him a show?

Which was an odd thought to have about his cat shadow; Dean couldn't imagine having the same theory towards a human stalker, some fucker that wanted to kill him and make a Dean-suit of of him. He was like, 95% sure the cat had no such prerogatives.

Regardless, Dean found himself humming and singing his favorite songs in the evenings, doing extravagant renditions, complete with air guitars and drum solos performed with tree branches. He was especially proud of his performance of “Eye of the Tiger,” though he changed “tiger” to leopard out of respect for his friend. He considered leaving out pieces of jerky or other treats for the leopard but worried about introducing human food into the cat's diet and thus making it ill so he refrained, not wishing to harm the animal.

Dean got into the habit of chattering intermittently about Sam and Gabe, or just random facts about himself and his life. On several evenings, when he wasn't too tired after his soak in the hot springs, he brought out his plastic, battery operated Coleman lantern and a battered copy of one of the several Vonnegut books he'd stashed in the bottom of his duffel. Last night he'd quietly read aloud a few chapters of Slaughterhouse-Five and he could have sworn he heard throaty purring emanating from nearby, but when he dared poke his head out of the tent, he'd seen nothing. Dean wasn't fooled though. He could feel the cat's presence. The silence was a listening one, as though the leopard drank in his every word with ears attuned to Dean's voice.

And that was another thing. What was with the whole Invisible Man routine? The damn cat was like a freaking ghost. Dean hadn't actually seen the leopard in the fur (so to speak) since that evening when the cat had practically climbed up the tree Dean had been hidden in. He'd caught site of the tail-end of the leopard's tail one morning after he broke camp as it disappeared out the corner of a rocky outcropping but when he'd dashed forward, there was no sign of the elusive creature.

Frustration mounting, Dean vowed to double his efforts to catch a glimpse of his leopard. Dean would lure him out if he had to. Somehow. Too bad he didn't have pie. Or a burger. He'd bet the cat would come out for a juicy burger. Dean knew he himself for damn sure would.

In his obsession to observe his leopard, the two sightings he'd had of other, non-melanistic leopards had been rather anti-climactic; he was thrilled with the footage he'd collected of a small, tawny, young male leopard as it climbed gracefully down from a tree it had been napping in and disappeared like mist into the jungle.

He knew Gabe would love the still shots and video he'd obtained of a mature female leopard with a gorgeous golden-orange coat and striking green eyes strolling along with the limp carcass of what looked like a barking deer clenched securely between her jaws, head and haunches dangling out of either side of her mouth. Dean had continued rolling film as she came to a stop beside the thick trunk of a mangrove tree and effortlessly scaled it, dragging her prize up along with her as she vanished into the uppermost branches to enjoy her meal and rest up.

Dean was proud of both of these sightings, but it just didn't give him the same satisfaction he knew he'd feel if it was his leopard. Dean didn't feel the same kinship with those other leopards as he did with the illusory black specter that haunted his nights and days.

Pushing all of his questions, musings and (probably crazy) fantasies from his mind, Dean reached his designated campsite for the night, finding comfort in the routine he'd fallen into of setting up his tent, cobbling together some sort of meal from what provisions he had left, then stripping down to his boxers (Dean still wasn't ballsy enough to go full-frontal for his audience of one) for a well-deserved soak in the hot springs and impromptu concert for his leopard. Tonight he had done a rousing delivery of both “Smoke on the Water,” and “Ramble On.”

By his calculations, he'd most likely reach the main little village of Ciptagelar in about two days if he stayed on his southerly course. Dean planned to stock up on all the essentials and maybe see if he couldn't wrangle in a few new items as well since he was about damn fed up with dried fruit and protein bars. He'd give Sammy and Gabe a call too, fill them in all his progress.

As Dean bedded down for the night, he made sure to collect his lantern and dog-eared copy of Slaughterhouse-Five before he put everything away and got as comfortable as possible with rocks poking into his back and ass.

“Hey kitty,” Dean called softly, feeling only mildly embarrassed that he was cat-calling the leopard. “You ready to hear more about the misadventures of Billy Pilgrim?”

Dean supposed a book about a disoriented, fatalistic and ill-trained American soldier who refused to fight was an odd choice to read aloud to a jungle cat who may or may not be listening, but this was his favorite of Vonnegut's works (besides Cat's Cradle) and he liked the idea of sharing something that meant so much to him with his leopard.

Dean read only a chapter before he started feeling too drowsy to keep going. Reluctantly, he closed the book after he'd lost his place for the second time.

“Sorry Puss-in-Boots,” Dean half-yawned, half-whispered into the darkness, where he could faintly hear low purring. “I'll read you more tomorrow night if you want,” Dean promised.

Dean sleepily switched off the lantern and carefully tucked it and the book away into his gear, before pulling out his mp3 player, scrolling til he found “What Is and What Should Never Be,” setting it to repeat and plugging in his earbuds. Dean wiggled around a bit more, trying to find that elusive comfy spot, before giving up and relaxing onto his back.

“Nighty-night Kitty,” Dean murmured. “Sure wish you'd let me see you. I won't hurt you, promise. It'd just be nice to thank you in person for all the presents you've left me.” Dean chuckled softly.

Not surprisingly, silence greeted him, but he was pretty sure his leopard could hear him. And it was inordinately comforting to know that someone was listening, even if it was a wild jungle cat. Made him feel marginally less lonely in all this solitude.

Dean hummed along contentedly to Jimmy Page and his Zeppelin lullaby and drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~*~

The next morning dawned much the same as the ones preceding it, cool grey light tinged with gold filtering down through the canopy, birds trilling soothingly overhead. As per usual, Dean was presented this morning with practically the whole meaty haunch of what looked like another barking deer (his leopard was clearly stepping up his game), and this time he felt really guilty, since he actually genuinely liked venison, but had no way to store or properly cook it.

Dean buried this latest offering as he had done the others, pausing to call out a “thank you” to the leopard who he assumed was close by.

Dean quickly fell into his usual routine; going about his morning ablutions, gobbling granola bars and bottled water for breakfast. He threw on a (kinda) fresh change of clothes, before efficiently and swiftly breaking down his camp and preparing to head out for the day.

With his pack secured and filming equipment all primed and ready, he paused to do his usual sweep. The usual scraped out cat bed and paw prints everywhere met his eyes and Dean smiled indulgently.

“See you around, kitty!” Dean affirmed with renewed determination. Turning on his heel, Dean sauntered off in the direction of where he planned to set up his next camera trap, surreptitiously perking his ears for any sign of his cat. Yet, discouragingly, he heard nothing.

Dean trekked nearly a mile with not even a twig snapping to signify his cat's whereabouts. Beginning to feel somewhat disheartened and mildly bereft, having grown so used to his leopard's constant, though invisible company, Dean tried in vain to ignore it as he crested the hill that lead up to a small, enclosed but sunny glade he'd plotted out yesterday. The glade was situated nearly on top of another hot spring and boasted lots of large flat rocks. Dean had deemed it a decent enough stake out spot to maybe catch another leopard, perhaps lounging in the warmth of the springs and sun-baked rocks or maybe catching some hapless prey unawares.

But as Dean circled around the extensive arrangement of rocks, he stopped short in shock. Because there, right in front of him, was his leopard. And he was even more glorious a sight to behold in the full light of day than he had been in the dimness of twilight.

Dean had been wrong. His leopard wasn't black at all. No, he was a sort of burnt chocolate shade, with darker rosettes painted along his sleek sides, almost as if they were silk-screened on. The leopard was splayed out languorously, almost as if on display, with the sunlight limning him from every angle in a golden halo. But what truly took Dean's breath away and held him frozen, were his cat's eyes.

Not silvery or grey like he had read.

Nope.

Blue. Fucking heart-stoppingly blue.

They reminded him of an article they had done once in the National Geographic about reflection nebulae, which were clouds of interstellar diamond dust that reflected the light of nearby stars. The leopard's eyes gave him the same feeling of out-of-this-world-ness, timeless and enthralling.

Dean vaguely wondered if he was still standing, prompting him to tear his gaze from the leopard, only to see that he'd sunk down to his knees. It didn't even occur to Dean to flip on his camera or capture this moment in time. It was too important. Besides, Dean doubted he'd ever forget something as amazing as this.

His cat just kept staring at him inscrutably, as if weighing Dean's soul or something. Dean snorted a little at that thought, which seemed to spur the leopard into action. In the blink of an eye, the big cat was on its feet and moving towards Dean, who, for maybe a split second entertained the idea of running for the hills before suppressing the inclination.

"Holy shit...!" Dean breathed (or may have squeaked).

This was the moment of truth. Either he'd be devoured, or...or...fuck. He wasn't sure what might happen, and it was this curiosity that had him pinned in place.

The phrase “Curiosity killed the cat,” swam hazily through his mind, (well it might kill the human this time) as the cat glided closer to him in long, sinuous strides. Halting a paltry few feet from him, the leopard placed its front paws together, squaring its shoulders, sitting almost primly in front of him, and seeming to regard Dean in a somewhat shy, bordering on nervous manner, as if the leopard was being measured up by Dean.

However, the leopard had nothing to fear. Dean broke out of his trance when the leopard huffed impatiently through his noise, squinting his blue eyes at Dean and tilting his head to the side. Dean felt a grin spread across his face as he beamed at his friend. Dean suddenly remembered the rest of the phrase that people seldom thought to tack on.

“Curiosity killed the cat...but satisfaction brought him back.” Well, Dean was nothing if not pretty damn satisfied right now.

Dean settled down further, crossing his legs Indian-style and smiled up at his leopard.

“Hi, Kitty.”

Chapter Text

“Hi, Kitty.”

Castiel looked down slightly into the palm-green eyes of his mate, who was gazing up at him with such a radiant smile on his face that he felt unreservedly humbled and thought, 'Finally. There you are. It's really you.'

In that moment, it seemed to Castiel as if every second of his life had been building, often slowly, then suddenly rushing, but always steadily burgeoning and converging, one thing leading to another, til it all culminated into this perfect point in time, in which Cas felt as though he lived an eternity. This was the way you were supposed to feel and there was no mistaking it for anything else. Relief flooded through Cas at the rightness of it all, of everything coming together; he could almost hear the pieces of his heart clicking into place, interlocking seamlessly, forming a wondrous whole.

~*~*~*~

Ten Days Earlier

~*~*~*~

Castiel had never been atypical alpha, not by any standards, leopard or human. Cas was a solitary creature, as their kind often were. He did not have his own leap, which usually consisted of a leopardess and her litter of cubs, even though since he had reached maturity a few years previously he had bred with two different females, producing a single offspring with one.

Most of the leopards of Cas' prowl were promiscuous, as was their nature, often breeding with fellow shifters and even other non-shifter humans, but very rarely actually ever mating with one partner permanently and few of them ever expressed interest in doing so. To Cas, breeding was merely a biological imperative, he'd never felt that inexplicable draw towards another creature, that desperate alpha urge to scent and mate, be it human or leopard. He'd spent the majority of his ruts by himself, disinterested in seeking out a willing warm body.

This was not to say that Cas had not entertained the idea of finding a mate; only that the occasion had yet to present itself. Cas was still quite young, by human and leopard measurements. He was five in leopard years, which averaged out to roughly twenty-five years old in his human form. But sometimes, in the long hours of the night, when Cas was hunting, he dreamed of having someone to come home to, to hunt for, to play with and protect. Someone to splash about with in the springs, to groom and take extravagantly lengthy naps with during the lazy, sultry afternoons.

As reclusive as his kind were, it didn't mean that Cas was immune to loneliness, on the contrary, there were times when he felt it with such a piercing yearning that the only thing that made him feel better was racing through the jungle as fast as he could, scaling the tallest trees, only to dive headfirst out of the uppermost branches. Feeling the wind on his face and the weightlessness of his body as he soared through the air served as a distraction, a taste of freedom that he savored, even if it didn't necessarily alleviate his longing.

The idea of true mates had died out years earlier, even as the number of leopards dropped increasingly. Thousands of years in the past, Cas' shifter ancestors had migrated from Southeast Asia, crossing the land bridge that surpassed Sumatra and Borneo, dispersing to parts unknown, with a few prowls of leopards making their home on Java due to the diversity of ecosystems and wildlife, plus the sheer landmass which provided substantial territory for many leopards. But with shifters like himself steadily nearing the brink of extinction, Cas harbored no such hope that he would be lucky enough to find a suitable mate, let alone a true mate.

So, Cas went about his life, hunting, napping, and occasionally socializing with other leopards of his prowl when their paths crossed. Cas preferred his fur to his skin, simply for the superior mobility, strength, vision and hearing he enjoyed when in his leopard form. Periodically, his friend, littermate and fellow alpha, Balthazar, would coax him out, into his skin, to go visit the small village of Ciptagelar, (ostensibly to exercise Cas' people skills, but also to mingle with the ladies) a human commune within the confines of the preserve on the southern side where not only humans lived, but some shifters chose it as their fixed residence as well; electing to try to make a life as a human instead of a leopard.

On one of these forays, Cas met and made good friends with Anna, a shifter who'd chosen to live amongst humans. She taught him, among other things, the fine arts of basket weaving and beekeeping, which he had adored. Anna and Balthazar had often taken Cas out to sample the local nightlife; an experience he enjoyed, but was always happy to return to his usual quietude.

It was the day after their most recent adventure, and Cas was indolently sunning himself, (nursing a slight hangover) rousing drowsily every now and then to lick at a patch of fur, when the distinctive, rasping call of Balthazar reached his ears. He sounded excited. Wary, yet mildly interested, Cas rose to his paws, trotting off to investigate. He found Balthazar pacing eagerly where the edges of his territory overlapped with Castiel's.

“Cassie! Guess what!” Balthazar playfully pounced on Cas, who regarded him dryly. Cas often felt Balthazar was a bit of a drama queen.

“Hello to you too, Balthazar,” Cas grunted, wiggling to extricate himself out from underneath Balthazar's bulk. Shifters had the ability to communicate telepathically over short distances or face to face when in leopard form. Which was handy, seeing as Cas' mouth was currently full of fur anyways.

“There's a photo-journalist for National Geographic arriving from the states today! Oooh maybe I'll end up on the cover yet! This could be my big break, perhaps I'll go join Siegfried and Roy's act, what do you think?” Balthazar gushed as Cas finally freed himself from his hold.

“I don't know who they are, but I do think you're undergoing delusions of grandeur as you're often prone to doing,” Cas deadpanned, trying to shake his rumpled fur back into some semblance of order. Ever since Balthazar had ventured into the larger provinces of Java and discovered the internet, (as well as something called “strip clubs,” which Cas adamantly refused to be dragged along to) which even though it was a relatively new form of communication media, was a growing one nonetheless, and he was always regaling Cas with tales of celebrity gossip, random trivia and pop culture references, not to mention the latest popular sexual positions, in his effort to educate Cas in the ways of the world outside their island. Cas, for his part, found it all anywhere from vaguely intriguing, baffling and sometimes, due to Balthazar's graphic descriptions, downright disgusting.

“Oh c'mon, Cassie! Let's go stake him out! Ahem...I mean, inspect...for security purposes. You know, make sure he's not a threat and all that. And if we happen to get caught on camera and have an impromptu photo shoot and become wildly famous, well, I'd call that just plain serendipitous.”

“I'd call you an idiot, but I have better things to do,” Cas replied with an insolent flick of his tail. Sarcasm was one of the few skills that Balthazar had tried to impart to Cas that had actually rubbed off on him. Cas had discovered that he had quite the dry, caustic sense of humor and found it superbly useful and applied it liberally to his everyday life but explicitly when dealing with his brother. Cas often suspected he made Balthazar rue teaching him this on a regular basis.

“Besides, it seems imprudent to get too close to a strange human; he could be like those poachers that pretended to be civilians on safari last year, but actually came here to kill us. Better to just steer clear of him,” Cas concluded firmly.

“Awww Cassie! That was one time! And we dealt with them accordingly, 'twas a piece of cake. It's highly unlikely that a single human armed with only photography gear is here to murder us in cold blood. See, this is why you'll never meet anyone, you're too suspicious,” Balthazar grouched.

“We'll see. Go off and spy but don't come crying to me when you're caught and made into an area rug,” Cas scolded darkly.

“Not to worry, Cas. I'm a master of stealth. They don't call me the Pink Panther for nothing!” Balthazar swiped smugly at Cas' tail.

“You know I don't understand that reference. And you're the only one that calls yourself that. My moniker of 'idiot' seems much more appropriate,” Cas asserted, batting Balthazar's paw away from his tail and cuffing him smartly upside the head.

“Ah, always such a charmer! Well, so long, Cassie, I'll report back later,” Balthazar promised, as he ducked away from further swats and bounded off into the jungle.

“Can't wait,” Cas grumbled, as he turned away, intent on resuming his nap.

~*~*~*~

For the next couple of days, it rained intermittently, to his chagrin and Cas mostly forgot about the advent of the photographer, whose presence had yet to make itself known in Cas' territory so far. He didn't worry too much about his brother, aware that even though he could come off as quite foolhardy and brash, Balthazar was more than capable of defending himself.

However, it was on the evening of the third day, as Cas was roaming the edges of his territory, that he caught the scent of something unknown that deliciously tickled his senses. He picked out leather, cinnamon, apples, that fresh scent right after it rains, and the heady, heavy scent of sunshine all rolled up into a spicy bouquet that almost made him want to sneeze it was so good.

Interest piqued but determined to be cautious all the same, Cas swiftly followed his nose, speeding on featherlight paws over the forest floor, til he reached a grove of mango trees where the heavenly scent was thickest. Twilight was descending, but Cas made sure to stick to the shadows, venturing forwards sneakily, coming to a standstill at a particularly large mango tree. That intoxicating scent seemed to emanate from this tree, but peering closer, Cas could still see nothing. But thanks to his ultra-sensitive hearing, he could clearly detect the frantic thundering of another heartbeat. An unmistakably human heartbeat. Cas took in deep lungfuls, greedily inhaling til he felt slightly scent-drunk, going as far as opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out a bit to thoroughly taste all the flavors and nuances of the human's essence.

It dawned on him that this must be the photo-journalist that Balthazar had been so enthused about. Was it possible that this individual could be his mate? His true mate even? This person (it smelled male, but Cas couldn't be absolutely sure without visual confirmation) smelled better than anything else Cas had ever come across in his life, just positively mouthwatering. With this affirmation, Cas reared up, placing his paws on the broad trunk, scoring fresh, decisive claw marks into the bark and copiously rubbing the scent glands on either side of his neck assiduously as well, purring earnestly and gazing possessively up into the darkened hollows of the tree as he did so. There would be no doubt, to this human (that he now considered his) or any other living entities in the surrounding area that whoever was in this tree was now Cas' prospective mate.

Satisfied, he sank back down to the ground, caressing the trunk with his cheek in fond farewell as he sauntered off, glancing back once in hopes of catching sight of his hidden mate. But despite his impeccable vision, there was no discernible movement, so Cas moved on. Skirting around a copse of giant ceiba trees, Cas agilely ascended into one of the taller ones, noiselessly climbing til he was at an acceptable vantage point. There, he straddled a sturdy limb and settled in to wait out his target.

Twenty minutes (but what felt more like an hour) passed in relative silence. And then, craning his ears, Cas picked up the sound of something scrabbling around. He waited a bit longer, and presently was rewarded with the first glimpse of his human as he came tramping down the game path, periodically glancing behind him for some reason.

Squinting intensely, Cas could see that it was indeed a male, he smelled unmated, but puzzlingly Cas could not detect the scent of a secondary gender, whether the man was an alpha, omega or beta. He certainly had all the usual characteristics of an alpha; tall, broad shouldered and noticeably muscled, with short, light brown hair. But the man also had a strong jaw, full, pouty lips, a straight nose and large eyes that could easily be taken for the innate beauty that was indicative of an omega. It went without saying that the man was too magnificent a specimen to be a beta. That meant he must be a normal, full-blood human.

At this point, it was immaterial to Cas what his human presented as. Mate was mate and Cas found him handsome, beautiful even, in an oddly arresting mix of feminine and masculine features that were extremely appealing. His superior vision notwithstanding, Cas was still unable to discern the exact color of his human's eyes from this distance, though they looked green; he'd have to get closer. The man had strapped to his back a sizable, bulky pack, bulging with unfamiliar gear that Cas was eager to explore. Across the man's chest was some kind of device that Cas surmised must be the tool of his human's trade, most likely a camera.

Impatient to learn more, Cas abandoned his perch once the man was a safe distance ahead, foregoing the last ten feet or so of branches and trunk to leap nimbly to the ground in his haste. Slinking along as quickly as he dared, Cas trailed his human til the man came to one of the many hot springs in Cas' neck of the woods. Darting behind some low-lying shrubs, Cas shinnied up a near angelim pedra tree, crouching down behind the glossy leaves on a high branch, resting his head on his paws to observe his human through the foliage.

It seemed that the man had decided to make his camp here for the night. Cas watched, fascinated, as first his human scouted around the small radius of his camp, (for what, Cas wasn't quite sure, but he assumed predators such as himself) then went about setting up a strange contraption that Cas guessed must be for shelter. Cas eyed it critically; it looked terribly flimsy in his opinion. Next, the man hauled all his gear into the shelter before pulling out several clear containers, Cas realized, as his human pried the lids off, that these contained some kind of sustenance. Curiously, Cas scented the air, keen to learn what his mate liked to eat; hmm...it smelled like...nuts, maybe some dried fruit and meat; the tang of preservatives was too strong to specifically identify the items definitively.

Cas snorted delicately to rid his nose of the unpleasant chemical odor. Well, that wouldn't do. Cas huffed loftily; no mate of his would eat dried food. Cas was nothing if not a prolific hunter; he would make it his priority to provide plenty of fresh meat for his human. How the man expected to survive out here in the wild with nothing but scraps, Cas could not fathom. Clearly, his mate needed looking after and Cas' chest puffed up proudly in anticipation of dazzling his human with his hunting abilities.

Before long, the man packed up the remnants of his (distasteful) meal, stowing it in his gear neatly with a precision that pleased Cas; the few humans that had visited in the past had made their presence known, carelessly crashing through the forest and hacking away with machetes. The amount of litter they had left in their wake had angered Cas to such an extent, that, at night, while they slumbered on ignorantly, he shifted into his human form to clean up all traces of their waste, growling murderously under his breath the whole time. Cas was glad to see that his human was respectful and saw the importance of tidying up after himself.

When the man had completed that task, he stretched out in the shelter, relaxing on his back and staring up into the night sky. Cas surveyed him avidly, idly wondering what his human was thinking about that had put such a melancholy look on his perfect face. Cas' alpha instincts were begging him to go comfort his mate, to nuzzle into his throat and soothe his mate with his scent, but the rational, human side of Cas' brain told him that if he tried to approach the man in the dark, in the middle of the jungle, he was likely to receive an adverse reaction. Reluctantly, Cas stayed put.

After awhile, the man sat up, digging purposefully through his pack, extracting a yellow apparatus; his human fiddled with it for a moment, then started punching in the buttons in a long, complicated sequence. The man then held the gadget up to his ear, listening to it. Oh. That must be a phone. There were a few in the commune; Anna had tried to instruct him on their usage but he had grown frustrated with the tiny buttons. She had prevented him from throwing it across the room in the nick of time. Cas had no use for such contrivances.

Suddenly, a thought brought Cas up short; phones were for communicating with other humans, so who was his mate calling from all the way in the jungle? What if his human already had a mate and that was who he was contacting? A pit of dread opened up in Cas' stomach as he strained his ears to pick up the conversation. Cas heard static, then ringing before--

“Dean! Is that you?” Blared a male voice on the other end. Dean? Oh. Ohhhh. Dean must be his human's name. Hmm...Dean. He rolled the name around experimentally on his mental tongue. He liked it. He would have to shift into his skin later and practice saying it aloud.

“Hey Sammy,” his mate...no, Dean answered, warmth in his tone. Cas liked the rough cadence of Dean's voice, even though he sounded tired. But “Sammy”? Who was this “Sammy” man? Was he Dean's mate? Well, even so, Cas wasn't giving up that easily. He'd fight this Sammy if he had to, (he was not above finding this interloper and ripping his throat out!) he'd prove undeniably to Dean and anyone else that he was the best prospective mate for Dean. Dean was his. Cas had to muffle a jealous growl into his paws to avoid alerting Dean prematurely to his presence.

“How's it going over there?” Sammy asked.

“Not bad. I finally had a leopard sighting tonight, one of the black ones, came right up to my tree. Thought he was gonna have me for dinner. Caught it all on film,” Dean answered with a chuckle. Cas started at this. Dean had been filming him the whole time?

“Do me a favor and try not get yourself eaten, okay? And make sure you're drinking plenty of water, Dean. Hydration is important,” Sammy ordered. Humph. This Sammy person sounded bossy and protective. Cas didn't like it. He was more than capable of taking care of his mate. Additionally, Cas was starting to resent the implication that he had designs on making a meal out of Dean. As if he would harm his human. Ridiculous.

After this exchange, there was some name-calling that seemed affectionate, references to other people named “Jess” and “Gabriel”, before Cas heard Dean say he would be staying for only another three weeks or so. Cas' heart sank. Dean was leaving? Oh, of course. That made sense. This was not his home. Well, Cas would just have to convince Dean to stay with him.

There was more amiable banter; it seemed that Dean disliked flying. Flying? Was Dean a shifter after all? One with wings, maybe? Dean would look gorgeous with wing--Oh, wait...he must mean in a plane; Balthazar had told him about those, humans used them to transport each other all over the world. Cas tuned in and out, more preoccupied with planning on how he would court and woo Dean; Cas was confident that he could persuade Dean that he was Cas' true mate.

After a few minutes, Dean ended the call with Sammy before jabbing the buttons on the phone some more; Cas didn't think he had reached a live person with this call because after listening to a short missive by someone who identified himself as “Gabriel,” the phone beeped and Dean spoke into it precisely, without inflection, leaving a brief message before hanging up and shutting off the phone entirely and putting it away. Cas wondered momentarily if this Gabriel person was another possible mate, but Cas didn't think so; the warmth that had colored his tone during the conversation with Sammy had been missing in his message to Gabriel. In fact, Dean had promised bodily harm to this man for making him go flying; Cas felt reassured that Dean seemed to dislike the man, it just meant one less person to distract Dean from Cas. He wanted his mate's attention all to himself.

Meanwhile, Cas was distracted by thoughts of what kill would be more impressive to Dean, maybe a Banteng cow or a Javan rhinoceros? But Cas didn't think were any of them living on Java anymore, although Balthazar had observed some on the nearby island of Sumatra once. Cas did not like the idea of leaving Dean or his territory for so long, not to mention the fact that rhinos were difficult to kill and in the event of his success he would then have to transport the carcass quite a distance back to present it to Dean. And while Cas was supernaturally strong, able to lift, pull or drag burdens that were twelve times his body weight, he grudgingly admitted that it might be too arduous of a task even for him. Cas was unwilling to except help; he had to do this unaccompanied. He had to prove single-handedly to Dean that he was well-suited to the task of provider and protector.

Fine. It would have to be some kind of smaller prey item then, but definitely something exotic, and...colorful, maybe? But also something nourishing that would make a hearty meal for his mate; perhaps one of the larger species of rats, they were filling. Or maybe a Bird of Paradise or a cassowary? They were lovely and tasty. There were several kinds of deer too, Cas knew from prolonged exposure how good they were to eat. Reptiles also made a wholesome meal. Cas resolved to go hunting at his earliest convenience.

Cas' musings were cut short by an influx of movement. Dean had emerged from his shelter and was...taking off his clothes? Bashful, yet intrigued at this development, Cas watched intently as the man undressed down to a pair of navy undershorts, he hesitated, before opting to leave them on but Cas was still treated to the glorious sight of acres of golden skin and rippling muscles.

Transfixed (practically drooling), Cas stared openly as Dean padded barefoot down to the hot springs, testing the water with a toe before wading in fully, moving around til he found a satisfactory spot. Cas longed to edge closer for a better view, but didn't dare show himself yet. He'd wait til Dean retired for the night and then descend to explore.

His human submerged himself in the water, sighing softly, then laughing to himself about something. A few moments later he groaned aloud, saying, “Oh, fuck yeah. This is almost as good as those Magic Fingers.” Cas tilted his head to the side in confusion, squinting at his human. What were these mysterious Magic Fingers? He'd have to ask Balthazar, thanks to whom he already knew that “fuck” was a slang term that humans used in any number of contexts.

Cas' ears perked up as his human began humming and lowly singing an unfamiliar tune, slapping his hands on the water to accentuate certain parts of the song. It was silly but endearing behavior, and Cas found himself equal parts relaxed by his mate's spirited humming and amused by his strange antics. It was an unfamiliar but very welcome sensation, to say the least.

Cas found himself wondering what Dean might do next and within minutes he got his answer. Dean clambered out of the water, drying off with a large piece of cloth before stripping off his dripping underwear, wringing them out to dry. It was lucky that Dean's back was turned to him or else Cas (too stunned to look away) worried he might have expired from heart failure (as he nearly did when Dean bent over to pull on a fresh pair of shorts, sweet little pink hole winking at him; he nearly fell out of his tree as it was) at the delectable vision of Dean's tight, round rump. Cas knew without a doubt, that if he'd been in his skin, he would be sporting a full-body blush in addition to a sizable erection. Even so, he felt his body reacting, he was inordinately hot in his fur, it felt too constricting and his breath was coming in little, stuttery gasps, as he tried to regain control over his alpha instincts, (and his rapidly swelling cock) which were raging at him to leap down there and claimmatebreedminemineminenownownow.

Cas had never experienced this degree of want so strongly. Yes, he'd gone thru his ruts and bred two different females through their heats but those had been more of a biological impulse. This was something else entirely. Those situations were nothing like this aching, gnawing, yearning, yawning pit of hunger and desire, mixed with the compulsion to take possession of something that he knew, inherently, down to the very fibers of his soul, was his, and his alone.

When Dean covered up the rest of his skin with a set of soft looking shirt and pants, Cas didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. At any rate it allowed Cas to calm down and get ahold of himself. Then his human disappeared into the small confines of his shelter, shielding him from further scrutiny. Cas could hear him moving around for a few minutes, before he stilled, Cas assumed he was bedding down for the night. It was quiet for awhile, then there was a little more scrabbling around, like he was looking for something and then a hush fell once more.

Dean's breath was evening out and Cas was climbing stealthily down from his perch when a familiar, husky yowl shattered the peace. Cas heard the abrupt scramble of movement from Dean's shelter and darted forward behind the rocky outcropping adjacent to the small, cloth structure, ducking down just in case Dean decided to investigate the noise. But he didn't appear, instead he sounded like he was holding his breath, listening maybe; Cas stayed hunkered down as he painstakingly inched backwards; when he was far enough away, he answered Balthazar; for it was him, checking in as an all's well signal for the evening before he ventured afield to hunt. Cas replied in kind, once, as was customary, affirming that all was indeed well, which prompted a flurry of rustling from Dean before Cas saw his startled face peering out from behind the opaque fabric, gazing wide-eyed into the darkness. Finally he withdrew and with minimal fuss settled back down; his breathing equalized once more, graduating to gentle snores. From then on, silence blessedly reigned amongst the usual soft night murmurings.

Cas rose and stretched luxuriously, then padded forward, sniffing everything meticulously as he went, drinking in Dean's scent, unadulterated. He paced out a perimeter around the campsite, alternating between spraying and urinating as he went, to ward away any other creatures from his mate. Satisfied with his handiwork, Cas circled back to Dean's shelter again, marking around it as well.

In his nosing around, he discovered Dean's undershorts, which must have fallen from where he'd laid them out on some low-lying bushes. Glancing around, Cas scooped them up in his jaws, and sloped off around the rocky outcropping by Dean's shelter; pausing, he extending his claws into the give of the damp ground, and working quickly, steadily scraped out a good-sized shallow dish for himself. Tamping it down with his paws, he flopped down into it tiredly, making sure he was carefully hidden out of sight of Dean's shelter, yet close enough to keep a vigilant eye out for any intruders.

Spacing his paws apart a bit, he spat the undershorts out between them, bending his neck to nuzzle his face in them. He detected his own scent and the sulfuric stench of the hot springs (which he wrinkled his nose at) but mainly Dean. Cas gathered the material close and curled his paws into his chest, rubbing his muzzle into the heady scent of his mate elatedly. He had already decided that nothing on this earth smelled as good as Dean. He let it relax him, which in turn made him realize how bone-tired he was; it seemed inconceivable that he'd only become aware of Dean and the probability that he was Cas' mate a few hours previously; it felt like a lifetime. But it was good. He felt...content...and maybe happy? Yes. Happy.

Cas yawned widely, sharp incisors glinting in the bright starlight. He should really be out hunting for Dean right now. And himself, come to think of it, he was ravenous, couldn't remember when he'd last eaten. Cas would have to start taking better care of himself now that he had a mate to look after, who would be relying on him.

He yawned again, jaw cracking loudly this time. Hmmm. He was hungry, but sleep was closer and the more pressing of his needs right now. Maybe just a short catnap. Then he'd rise before first light and bring back some fresh meat for himself and Dean, which would be just the beginning of many fine courting gifts.

Mind made up, Cas wiggled, getting as cozy as possible, cuddling his face into Dean's shorts, using them for a pillow on top of his paws. He wrapped his tail around his body, more for comfort than warmth, and let his mate's scent and the mellow hum of Dean's breathing carry him off into a restful slumber.

~*~*~*~

Cas awoke with a grunt, disoriented and wondering what woke him. He wasn't used to sleeping that deeply nor on the ground, he preferred the den he had constructed in the hollow of a giant ceiba tree. Cas stared around blearily, before it hit him that the noise that had woken him so rudely was the sound of Dean waking up as well. Startled, Cas realized to his dismay that he had greatly overslept. He sprung up, shaking himself to wake up a little more. Unsure of why, but going with it, he leaned down and collected Dean's shorts in his jaws; if he couldn't have his mate right now, he at the very least wanted a token of his to put in his den.

Cas trotted off, wanting to be on his way, excited to hunt for his mate and show him what a catch he was. Cas was still feeling undecided and timid about appearing to Dean in his skin. Cas was confident in his fur, knew his leopard was nothing to sniff at, his abilities and prowess were nearly unmatched. He felt superior and powerful in his fur and that was what he wanted Dean to see first, not the painfully awkward and shy young man he was in his skin. If he had any chance of successfully wooing Dean, it would be as leopard, not a human.

Chapter Text

After Cas left Dean's campsite, he headed off to check the boundaries of his territory, renewing his scent and claw marks on various trees and shrubs as he went along. Now that he had a prospective mate, it was ever more important to distinctly map out and maintain the parameters of his turf, declaring loud and clear to “KEEP OUT!” Subtlety was very much not Cas' strong suit. He made a brief stop at his tree to stash his stolen contraband (Dean's shorts) before continuing on.

Cas' nap during the night and the excitement of the hours that had preceded it had thrown him off his normal schedule; usually, if in leopard form, as he often was, he spent the nights hunting and exploring and the days were for napping, grooming, boundary renewal and general laziness. So it felt mildly perplexing to be readying himself to hunt, when on any other day he'd be scouting out a nice warm rock to lounge on and engage in a three hour long napping/cleaning session.

Consequently, after sleeping for part of the night, Cas was feeling an uncomfortable mixture of lethargic and hyper-energetic, which was making his senses and bones buzz, while his head still felt muzzy and hazy, not unlike the aftereffects of a night spent out with Balthazar and Anna.

Cas shook his head determinedly; he had things to do today, and they would get accomplished regardless of anything else. He finished restoring any weak spots in his territory lines, then circled around til he came to one of his favorite and most well-populated hunting zones. In his leopard form he was quite opportunistic; Cas maintained a pretty broad diet like most of his kind, and he would eat anything from dung-beetles to donkeys, depending on what was available.

Cas wasn't too keen on hunting in the daylight for various reasons, but his hunger left him little choice; he had nothing left over from previous kills, although habitually he would hunt enough to keep a small stockpile of meat in his tree. On this particular day, Cas was lucky enough to almost immediately happen upon half a dozen wild pigs, Cas being upwind worked in his favor, as he pounced on two of them successively, delivering a powerful, paralyzing bite to the back of the neck of each, severing the spinal cord cleanly. Gratified that he was off to such a positive start, he gathered the pair of pigs up securely in his jaws; Cas was quite ravenous now, could hardly wait to eat and thus made good time, jogging along til he finally reached the massive ceiba tree where he made his den when in leopard form.

Easily, Cas gracefully sailed up to one of the lower branches (which was still at least seven feet up) daintily rail-walking along, deftly dodging many of the thick, hanging vines that draped his tree, following the branch to the side of the trunk before starting to climb up the side of the tree, bypassing the branches til he got about thirty-five feet up; at this point he backtracked slightly, crawling down into the hollowed out core of the tree, which housed his den.

With his razor sharp claws Cas had gouged out a deep bowl near the heart of the tree, utilizing the dexterity of his human form (fingers and thumbs were extremely useful!) to pull out the excess bark, branches and leaf debris that had accumulated, thus leaving a cleared out spot roughly twelve feet in diameter and nearly eight feet deep.

It was a cozy little hidey-hole, filled with soft grasses and baby palm fronds in one corner for napping. A few feet over, there was a shallow indentation where Cas kept any novel items he found while out exploring; there was an iridescent blue-green and golden covert feather, probably from an elegant sunbird. Then a few assorted rocks and seashells he'd acquired, his most prized piece being the cracked half of a geode, the inside of which was filled with delicately glittering aquamarine and emerald clusters of crystals. Next, was a thin volume of poetry that his cousin Inias and his mate, Hester, had given him on his last birthday. He wasn't in his human form enough to have read it completely, but he did like what he had read so far and treasured it all the same. A small pocketknife carved with the likeness of a tiger in its ivory handle (Balthazar's idea of a joke) lay next to the book, another birthday gift, this time from his brother.

There were also a couple carved wooden figurines (a leopard and a wolf) and few handmade bracelets of wood and glass beads that Anna had gifted to him in return for a small water buffalo he had presented her with. This could have been perceived as courting, but both Cas and Anna knew they coexisted better as friends. She was too set on living life in her human form while he was just as stubborn about spending the majority of his time in his leopard form; they were still good friends though, and he occasionally brought her and several others of the village gifts of meat. Cas and Balthazar maintained a small shelter in the village, with the other shifters, but Cas rarely stayed there, preferring the sanctity and solitude of his jungle rather than close quarters with a lot of other people.

His den was dry on rainy days and shady on sweltering ones and most of all, difficult to get to, even for other leopards and Cas loved it. He liked being up high, able to survey his domain, to oversee all without being observed in return. It was a good storage chamber as well, cool and dry; he carried most of his kills back here, often hunting several times in one night to build up his reserves of meat so he didn't have to hunt every single day unless he had a hankering for something special.

Cas did a quick scan as he entered his den, ascertaining that no intruders had found their way inside before flopping down and heartily tearing into the still-warm meat of the freshly killed pigs. This was what his mate needed, some fresh meat, he thought briefly, as he sank his jaws into a hindquarter, ripping it free with a sharp jerk of his head and crunching down to the bone. Less than half an hour later, he had mostly eaten the entirety of the carcasses, leaving only a meaty haunch and a fleshy rib cage as snacks for later, covering them with dry grass and leaves to keep away pests. Cas lay back idly for a few minutes, conscientiously cleaning the blood from his muzzle and whiskers and licking the points of his claws til they shone once more.

Still rather tired from hunting and his sleep patterns being thrown off-kilter, he debated on whether or not to go directly back out and track his mate down or to rest a spell. His leopard side wanted to find his mate immediately and stalk him lovingly for the rest of the day; his human side, while eager to see Dean again and learn all he could about him, eventually grudgingly acquiesced on the issue of sleep and its importance. He would take a short nap, then track Dean down. Cas still felt too strange hunting during the day, so instead he decided he'd wait til nightfall to hunt something tasty and present it to Dean in the morning for his breakfast.

Cas could feel his blood settling pleasantly in his belly to digest his meal and felt a rush of sleepiness overcome him; thus persuaded, he strolled over to the little bed of grass and palm fronds, sinking down to curl up with his tail brushing his nose. Yet after a few moments, he remembered something and rolled agilely to his paws. Coiling his muscles, he shot straight up, landing neatly on the lip of his den, crawling out and then downwards to a small crevice in the trunk, where he had stashed Dean's undershorts earlier. Gingerly, so they wouldn't tear, he caught the edge of them in his teeth and pulled them loose, then he made his way back up and into his den. Dropping the shorts on his makeshift bed, Cas curled up around them, rubbing his face in the material. The scent had faded somewhat and smelled a bit more like Cas than Dean now, but his mate's scent was still discernible, and Cas reveled in the thought of his entire den smelling like Dean. Maybe he'd snag another article of clothing tonight that had a fresher dose of Dean's scent on it. Hopefully, Dean would neither notice nor mind his dwindling supply of clothing. Cas would steal all of Dean's clothing if it meant he'd wander around the forest with only some shorts on.

Made content by the scent of his mate and a warm, full belly, Cas blissfully slept.

~*~*~*~

Awakening refreshed three hours later, Cas stretched sumptuously, arching his back and wiggling all his toes. He felt good...rested...and he really wanted to go see Dean...right now. Rising, he shook the leaves and grass from his coat, reminding himself that a serious grooming session was in order later, (he wanted to look his best for his mate!) and made his way up and then out of his tree, pausing by it to apply fresh urine to the trunk. Loping off, he set out to where Dean had camped last night, planning on following his trail out from there.

Cas ran along at a brisk pace, relishing the squishy feel of the forest floor under his paws and the taut sensation of all his muscles working together in harmony; it was times like this, that Cas would wonder why ones such as Anna would choose to be human when there was this option instead.

More swiftly than he'd anticipated, he found Dean's campsite from last night and proceeded to sniff around, picking up trace amounts of his mate's scent; it was all a few hours old; Dean had not been here since he'd left this morning. Tail swishing in impatience and nose to the ground, he set off, Dean's scent firmly in his nostrils. Cas pursued the scent-trail for an hour or so, sometimes meandering around where Dean must have stopped to take pictures, then streaking ahead when his scent grew stronger. Cas tracked Dean to the foot of a tall stand of walking palm trees, where the man was hiding amongst the stilt-like roots, photographing, from the sound of it, a troop of silvery gibbons.

If he hadn't known Dean was there from his scent, Cas might not have seen him initially; he was well shielded by the tree roots and blended in seamlessly with his dark green poncho. Cas felt a swell of pride for his mate and his clever camouflaging techniques. He lifted his head, breathing in the pleasing scent of his mate and the gamier stench of the gibbons.

Cas licked his chops. He could do with a snack, and it would be an excellent opportunity to show off his hunting skills in full view of his mate. Cas edged forward and then paused. He was seized by an abrupt surge of nerves, a wave of shyness breaking over him. What if Dean didn't like him? What if he scared Dean and he ran off? Maybe it was better to lurk in the shadows a bit longer, observe Dean closely, really learn about him, his likes and dislikes, truly find out what sort of man he was before Cas revealed himself. Cas had the upper hand right now, perhaps it was more prudent to keep it that way for the time being.

Cas argued with himself that he wasn't scared, merely cautious, but he still felt cowardly, which annoyed him; in his leopard form he was fearless, but Dean's humanity was affecting his own, making him doubt his leopard's confidence and fall prey to his human weaknesses of insecurity, timidity and self-conscious anxiety.

So, Cas lowered himself down, belly-first, tucking in his paws and just watched Dean. When the man finally moved from his hiding spot, Cas remained perfectly still, waiting until Dean moved farther along, before cruising stealthily in pursuit after him. Dean staked out three more places, photographing a small flock of black-winged lorys in a grove of coconuts trees; they were small, loud, colorful birds with red, blue and black plumage, similar to parrots.

They seemed to knowingly preen and flit about for Dean's camera. Cas wanted to leap into the midst of them and maybe snap a few up in his jaws. The rational, human side of his brain said he was jealous of the birds for monopolizing Dean's attention. The leopard side of his brain and his belly argued that he was simply hungry and the birds were easy targets.

Nevertheless, Cas was glad when Dean eventually moved on, coming upon a mother porcupine and her two babies, known as porcupettes, with soft downy coats already interspersed with hardened quills. They looked like a tasty snack as well, but again, Cas restrained himself.

When Dean moved on, Cas went to follow but was momentarily distracted by the fractious chittering of a striped ground squirrel overhead in a nearby tree. Giving in to his hunger and acting on instinct, Cas was up the tree like lightning, bearing down on the squirrel with jaws of death; snapping its neck and devouring it in about three huge bites.

Hunger briefly sated, Cas descended, licking his chops once more before sauntering off in the direction Dean had disappeared. Cas found him hidden again, this time in a copse of kapok trees, filming a group of seven Javan lutungs. The golden monkeys ascended higher into the canopy only a few minutes after Cas' arrival.

Cas became aware that his continued presence was most likely foiling Dean's attempts to photograph the various animals because they could all sense Cas, and since as a leopard he was the main predator at the top of the food chain, they exercised self-preservation and moved along accordingly. He felt mildly guilty that he was diverting Dean's progress but there wasn't much he could do about it.

The evening twilight had already dimmed much of the light when Dean started to make signs of packing up. Cas sat patiently, lingering out of sight until Dean start hiking south, presumably towards his next campsite. Cas padded after him faithfully, enjoying the view from behind. Dean trekked along for a mile, halting at another hot spring and following the same routine as last night: setting up his shelter, stowing his gear, eating some of the distasteful dried food and then stripping down to relax in the hot springs before wading back out and redressing in the same soft looking shirt and pants from the previous evening. Dean was a creature of habit it seemed, and Cas approved of this as he was the same; perhaps they had more in common than he thought.

There were no phone calls to strange people tonight, for which Cas was grateful; he didn't really like Dean talking to other people.

Cas too, kept up the same routine, shinnying up the closest tree available, to gaze to his heart's content at his mate. Trying not to drool excessively or fall out of his tree when Dean unveiled all that lovely golden skin was a trial, but he managed. Cas liked how Dean had a penchant for humming and singing all sorts of songs, which Cas tried to keep track of, with the idea that he'd have Balthazar help him identify them so Cas could learn them for himself.

Dean crawled partway into his shelter after his dip in the hot springs and lay staring up at the sky as he had done the previous evening and again Cas longed to know his thoughts. A traitorous voice in his brain whispered that he could find out readily if he was daring enough to shift into his skin and expose his presence to Dean, but anxiety flooded him at the idea and he pushed it down with a low growl of anger.

Cas felt frustrated that he hadn't made more headway with Dean, but was unsure of the proper channels that were traditionally taken when courting a human. Cas had only ever bred with other leopards and he'd never courted anyone. Maybe he was going about this all wrong. Perhaps human methods of courtship were vastly different? Cas resolved to travel to the commune soon to consult Anna or perhaps Inias and Hester, who were both shifters as well, but lived comfortably as humans. Cas was determined to win Dean over and claim him for himself; it had only been a day but already Cas could not bear the thought of Dean leaving or being with someone else. Dean was his and Cas was Dean's, he'd find a way to make it work.

Minutes passed and Dean eventually shimmied all the way into the shelter, sealing up the cloth door behind him. Cas waited a brief interval, then glided down from his perch, surging forward to sniff out every inch of the campsite, giddily drinking in Dean's scent. To Cas' disappointment there were no articles of clothing, underwear or otherwise, for him to pilfer this evening; Dean must have taken his damp shorts into the shelter with him. Cas wondered if he was aware the pair of underwear from the night before were missing and that Cas was the culprit.

Cas stalked the perimeter of the campsite as he'd done last night, spraying and urinating as he went, before scratching out another little bed for himself by Dean's shelter. Satisfied that all was well, he curled up in it, eyes wide and alert, listening for the soft, even breaths of his human. Cas was sure he might doze a bit, but he'd depart in the early hours of morning, hunt something nice and big for himself and also bring back fresh meat for Dean's breakfast; perhaps the gift of a kill would open the way for him with Dean. Until then though, he'd remain awake, watching over his mate all through the night.

Chapter Text

Cas did indeed doze briefly, but when the moon was still yet high in the sky, he forced himself up, reluctant to leave Dean yet also intent on hunting for his mate and himself. Stretching up, he placed his paws on the trunk of a tree at the edge of Dean's campsite, digging his claws in to sharpen them to a fine point, with the added benefit of leaving his mark. Dropping back down, Cas circled the campsite, checking that his scent spots were all relatively fresh before loping off into the darkness.

Cas couldn't establish what he was in the mood for and so decided to just meander purposefully and see what crossed his path. He was at the farthest northeast boundary before his territory turned into Balthazar's, when he came upon a passel of buru babirusas, a type of long-haired wild pig that Cas hadn't had the pleasure of feasting on in some time; the meat was lean, flavorful and quite the delicacy among humans and leopards alike.

Cas immediately deviated into attack mode; head low, legs bent, belly nearly touching the ground, he glided forward til he was less than ten feet away from the pigs, who were busily snuffling through the undergrowth. Upwind, Cas waited on high alert, tail twitching slightly at the end. The pigs drifted closer, unaware of the midnight predator; one of the largest pigs in the group moseyed within range and Cas struck. Surging forwards, he delivered a debilitating bite to the back of the neck, then got the pig's throat in his jaws, jerking his head to the side, snapping the pig's neck effectively, even as it was slowly strangling in Cas' death grip; it barely had time to squeal, which threw the remaining pigs into a frenzied rush as they vacated the area, leaving behind their fallen comrade.

Victoriously, Cas dragged the pig off to his den, where he proceeded to heartily devour it, saving only the hindquarters as a snack for later. With his hunger mollified for now, Cas set out once more to hunt for his mate, yet this time he was not so lucky. Prowling around with increasing anxiety, til grey light starting filtering through the canopy, Cas realized he was running out of time and started to make his way back to Dean's camp; fortunately, on his way there, he spotted a large tree rat moving lazily overhead.

Knowing that it was this or nothing, Cas sprang into motion; barreling up the tree in a blur. The rat, sensing his end was near, took evasive action and fled, but Cas was faster (supernaturally so) and managed to corner the rat at the tip of a branch. It was either face Cas' sharp teeth and claws or risk a sixty foot drop to the ground. The rat squeaked in terror and jumped, but Cas was not deterred, and leapt out of the tree after the rodent, catching it midair with claws and fangs and crushed its skull between his mighty jaws, before landing solidly on the ground below.

Heart pounding with adrenaline and relief, Cas hurriedly trotted off to his human triumphantly with the rat clenched firmly in his maw. It was a nice, fat rat and would make a tasty breakfast for his mate. He silently snuck back into the campsite, strolling right up to Dean's shelter, laying the tree rat neatly and reverently at the opening. Cas crept off and climbed back up into the tree he had watched Dean from last night; he was waiting on tenterhooks to see what his human thought of his gift.

Presently, the sounds of Dean stirring slowly reached Cas' ears, and he straightened up, watching with bated breath. If Cas had envisioned Dean grinning happily and scooping up his prize with the intent to eat it for breakfast, then he was sorely disappointed at the reality of what Dean's true reaction was. For a few moments, the man just stared dumbly and somewhat disgustedly down at the rodent, as if wondering how it had gotten there and what on earth he was expected to do with it. Cas watched questioningly as Dean shook his head and closed the opening behind him; Cas heard unintelligible grumbling from inside the shelter. Was Dean unhappy with the kill Cas had brought him? If so, why?

Five minutes later, Dean emerged fully dressed with what Cas recognized as a shovel, (Anna had a larger version of this tool for her garden) still with an expression of consternation on his face. He glanced around, as if searching for the bearer of the gift, prompting Cas to crouch lower in his tree. Dean nudged the rat with his boot dispassionately, then picked it up gingerly by its tail. Marching over to an outcropping of jagged rocks by the hot spring, Dean dropped the rat to the ground and started digging a shallow hole with the small shovel by the rocks. When the hole was sufficiently deep, Dean stopped, prodded the rat into what Cas now realized was its grave and filled all the dirt back in on top of it.

Greatly puzzled, Cas tipped his head to the side, blue eyes narrowed. Why was Dean burying the kill? Why wasn't he eating it as Cas intended? Was he saving it for later, like Cas often did with small kills when he was too far out to go back to his den right away? Confused and a little hurt by his mate's behavior, Cas rested his head on his paws dejectedly. Why hadn't Dean been happy to see the gift of fresh meat? Didn't he realize what it was? Cas observed through sad eyes as Dean went about his morning routines, eating his repellant dried food (why??) and breaking down his camp. Dean didn't seem upset by the gift Cas had left him, just bewildered and mildly repulsed; he was cheerily whistling right now, as he checked around for anything he might have left behind.

What was Cas doing wrong? He made up his mind to pay a visit to Balthazar but especially Anna, Inias, Hester, and a few other shifters, hoping that between his experienced older brother and his human counterparts he may be able to cobble together a more effective course of action when it came to courting Dean. Perhaps a combination of leopard and human courting rituals would work better.

~*~*~*~

Cas encountered Balthazar playfully stalking some ear-spot squirrels only a little ways beyond his own territory. Cas slunk up, careful not to disturb Balthazar's in-progress hunt, but the other leopard turned away nonchalantly when he scented Cas.

“Cassie! What's got your tail in a twist on this fine morning?” Balthazar chirped.

“Nothing,” Cas grumbled darkly.

“Oh really? Good thing you've no interest in show-biz little brother, because I am finding your acting talents rather wanting right now!” Balthazar grinned wolfishly at him. “Now c'mon, tell me what's bothering you. Run into our intrepid photographer yet?”

“Yes, actually,” Cas growled, not liking Balthazar's use of 'our;' Dean was his.

“Oooh Cas! Is that a possessive growl I hear? He's wandered into your territory after all, hey? Want me to help you chase him out? Show off for the cameras a bit?” Balthazar offered excitedly.

“NO!” Cas' growl deepened into an almost roar. The mere idea of anyone else getting close to Dean or harming him in any way made Cas' alpha instincts run wild and his vision burn red with anger and fear. He wanted to go find Dean immediately, drag him off to his den and curl up around him protectively.

“Whoa, whoa, Castiel! Calm down! What's going on?” Balthazar flattened his ears and drew back slightly, trying to placate Cas.

Huffing loudly through his nose, Cas tried to take deep breaths and regain control of himself.

“I...I think he's my mate,” Cas stammered out.

“What?! Mate? Who? D'you mean the photographer? Cassie, are you serious?”

“Yes! Well, I'm pretty certain. Which is why you have to help me Balthazar! I'm trying to court Dean, but I don't seem to be doing it correctly,” Cas rumbled miserably.

“Awww Cas!” Balthazar guffawed, rolling to the ground in paroxysms of what Cas could only guess were laughter.

“What is so funny?!” Cas hissed, offended that Balthazar seemed to be amused at his expense. This was important!

“Cassie, darling, I'm not laughing at you! Really, I'm not, okay, maybe just a little. It just figures that you'd fall for some human, when you're so dead-set on swanning about in your fur all the time. He is all home-grown human, isn't he?”

“Yes, as far as I can tell, either that or he's unpresented. And I do not 'swan' about! I merely prefer my fur,” Cas grumped.

“Oh, Cas, I'm not making fun of you, I don't care if you want to be in your fur all day, I just wish sometimes you'd give your skin a chance, too. Maybe your human will help you with that.” Balthazar said kindly, bumping Cas with his shoulder heartily. “And, yes, of course I'll help you, anything to get my little brother laid! Come on, let's go,” he said giddily as Cas swatted him upside the head. Balthazar scampered off before Cas could swipe at him again.

Dutifully, Cas followed after him.

“Where are we going?” Cas called.

“To consult with the experts!” Balthazar hollered gleefully over his shoulder.

~*~*~*~

The 'experts' turned out to be Anna and Inias, as they were the only ones who weren't busy or out doing other activities. When they reached their shelter, Cas reluctantly followed Balthazar's lead and shifted into his skin, wincing at the pops and cracks as his fur and claws retracted, his bones shrank in some areas and grew in others. He hadn't been in his skin for several days and suspected that if he shifted back and forth more often it might become a more seamless, less painful operation. Perhaps Balthazar had a point.

Standing up a bit unsteadily at first, Cas looked down at his human self, flexing his fingers, angling his head from side to side and rolling his shoulders. All his senses were less heightened in his skin, yet another reason he chose his fur over his human form. He missed his compact leopard form,with its coiled muscles and lithe grace. It felt strange to be in his skin, as it perpetually did. Usually, just as he was becoming acclimated to it, then it was time to thankfully shift back to his fur; he never stayed human long enough for it to feel like home; his panther always called to him after too long and he always answered readily.

Balthazar handed him a pair of sweatpants from a cupboard, pulling on a pair as well. Cas tugged them on a tad clumsily, still adjusting to only two legs and the novelty of thumbs. It also felt rather uncomfortable to have his genitals so exposed, just hanging free, right out in the open; the sweatpants did not offer much support and he knew Balthazar was unlikely to have any extra pairs of underwear around since he despised them, opting instead to “go commando.” Whatever that meant.

They walked down the well-kept dirt path to another small shelter, where Anna greeted them cordially, stepping back from her loom to embrace them both, offering Cas her congratulations when Balthazar merrily announced that Cas had found his mate in the visiting photographer.

“Why don't you look happier about all this, Cas?” Anna softly questioned, hands cupping his shoulders and pale grey-green eyes peering concernedly into his face.

“Because, Cassie here, is having a little trouble with the language of loooove!” Balthazar crowed before Cas could formulate a response. Cas glared daggers at him.

“My mate—Dean...is human. I have never courted a human and it seems that the methods are different,” Cas gritted out. “I tried bringing Dean fresh meat this morning, but he just seemed confused. Perhaps I should have gotten him something better.”

“I'm sure whatever you brought him was delicious, but humans do show their affection differently than we do as leopards, that's true,” Anna soothed. “It might not be a bad idea to try this courtship from a human angle, since that is what Dean is,” she suggested. “Have you talked to him while in your skin?”

“No...” Cas glowered at this; logically, he knew Anna was probably right, but just the idea of trying to communicate with Dean in his human form made his skin crawl with nerves, he could feel his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth already. What would he say? “Hello, you are my mate for life, would you like to go kill something for lunch?” Cas scoffed. Dean would either think him crazy or be totally uninterested. Cas did not see how his human form would appeal to Dean, other than the fact that it meant that Cas was human too, at least partly. His leopard form was much more majestic and impressive, in Cas' humble opinion. More capable and better for hunting and protecting too.

Cas' internal debate was interrupted by the arrival of Inias, who had been drawn by the noise of Balthazar's boisterous antics. He too, hailed the newcomers pleasantly, and offered his congratulations as well, when Anna filled him in on his cousin's situation. Inias was a kind, gentle soul, and his happiness was genuine when he hugged Cas. He pulled Cas aside, a little ways from Anna and Balthazar.

“You know, when Hester and I first got together, we decided to court as humans. We went on dates and picnics, I brought her flowers and the occasional fresh piece of meat,” Inias confided, winking at Cas conspiratorially. “You'll be fine, Cas. If this human is truly your mate, then it will all work out, follow your instincts and trust your heart...hmmm...or maybe it's the other way around,” Inias chuckled, bumping Cas' shoulder with his own. Cas smiled back shyly. He hoped Inias was right.

“Where are Hester and Hannah today?” Cas questioned as they joined back up with Anna and Balthazar. Hannah, who was of the same litter as Cas and Balthazar and also shared the same dark fur and blue eyes as Cas, did not call the island her permanent home, and often traveled far afield.

“Hester is out with Amelia and Claire on a day trip to Sukabumi and Hannah, I believe, is over on Sumatra, doing god-knows-what,” Inias answered with a wry smile.

Cas smiled at the mention of Claire and Amelia. Amelia was the first leopardess he had ever bred with and Claire was the product of that union. Cas did not see her as much as he would like, female leopards tended to stay within close range of their mothers even after they matured and Claire was not quite three in leopard years, which amounted to roughly 13 or 14 when in her human form.

Periodically, Claire would roam cautiously into his territory, as if unsure of how she might be received. Cas was never unhappy to see her and in his awkward way tried to make her feel welcome, inviting her along to hunt or watch the bees. Last time she had visited, she had allowed Cas to groom her for a little while before they napped in a nice, hot patch of afternoon sunlight. This had quietly pleased Cas' inner alpha, liking that Claire trusted him enough to engage in these familial activities.

Claire had mostly taken after Amelia in both her leopard and human forms. As a human, she had Amelia's blonde hair, but Cas' crystal blue eyes, maybe a shade or two lighter. In her leopard form, she had pale golden fur, with soft brown rosettes and the same blue eyes as she had in her skin.

Cas enjoyed her company; Claire was smart, sarcastic and feisty, but Cas best preferred to hang out with her while in leopard form where he felt he had an advantage. When they were in their skins, Cas knew he came across as dorky and awkward; Claire had brazenly told him so before, seeming to enjoy teasing an embarrassed blush out of him.

Cas wondered what Dean would think of the fact that Cas had a child, being so young himself. Of course, Claire was self-sufficient and spent most of her time with Amelia, but Cas was still her father.

The four of them chatted for awhile longer, but Cas was primarily quiet, too busy mulling over how to interact in a favorable way with Dean. He wasn't quite sold on the idea of trying to court Dean as a human, stubbornly feeling that he could win him over and learn more about him while safely in leopard form. Cas resolved to keep bringing Dean gifts of fresh meat; something had to appeal to Dean's palate; Cas would just have to be patient.

“...how does that sound, Cas?” asked Anna.

“Hmmm? What? I'm sorry, Anna, I didn't catch that,” Cas said apologetically, tuning back in to the conversation.

“Ahhh, miles away, weren't you, Cassie! Ah, young love!” Balthazar teased.

“I said, once you get things figured out with Dean, you should bring him around so we can all meet him and share a meal together,” Anna repeated, smiling at Cas.

“Oh...um...yes, maybe. That might be nice, thank you, Anna,” Cas replied hesitantly, but returned Anna's smile, knowing her offer was extended in affection. Cas was not at all ready to share Dean or have him be meeting his friends and family. Cas hadn't even formally met Dean himself, for goodness sake! Speaking of which, Cas was starting to feel antsy in his skin and anxious to get back to his human. Hugging Anna and Inias in farewell, he made his excuses but they both just smiled knowingly, and shooed him off.

“Let us know how things go,” Anna called after him.

Cas turned to wave at them and was surprised to find Balthazar ambling along behind him. He had thought his brother would stay with Anna and Inias, surely they were better company than him. Balthazar caught his eye and grinned ferally at Cas.

“Thought I'd tag along as your wingman, Cassie, what do you say?”

“Even if you had wings, I say no thank you!” growled Cas. He did not want another alpha in his territory, with his mate, brother or not. Nor did he need an audience to his interactions with Dean; if he made any more mistakes, he was not in the mood to have them cackled at by Balthazar. He'd much rather be humiliated in relative private.

“Aww Cas, are you sure?” Balthazar wheedled.

“Very,” Cas retorted firmly.

“Well Cassie, I'm always a call away, should you find yourself in need of assistance,” Balthazar assured him with a wink.

“That's very comforting,” Cas snorted with a grimace. “Thank you, though,” he added a little more seriously, knowing that for the most part, Balthazar meant well (usually...he hoped) and that if something did happen, his brother could be counted on to provide support.

Cas paused a moment and allowed Balthazar to give him a brief hug before he shifted back into his leopard form, shaking his fur out and relishing in the feel of the dirt under his paws once more. His brother had shifted back to his leopard form as well, with tawny golden fur, light brown rosettes and pale blue eyes, which accurately echoed his human coloring.

Trotting off into the jungle, Cas didn't get far before he heard Balthazar's raspy yowl, his way of saying, 'goodbye for now', which Cas returned in kind before continuing on his way at a brisk jaunt, eager to get back to Dean.

Chapter Text

The next few days fell into a pattern, some parts of which Cas thoroughly enjoyed, and other parts that were driving him crazy. Cas doggedly persevered in bringing Dean some kind of fresh meat every morning, obstinately hopeful that Dean would come around eventually, and realize that Cas was trying to take care of him.

Cas spent most of his nights guarding Dean, scent-marking around everything before curling up near his human. He usually left a few hours before dawn, hunting for himself and Dean. During the day, Cas would try to squeeze in a nap where he could, but trailed Dean around at a distance for the majority of the day, unwilling to let his mate out of his sight. The lack of sleep was starting to wear at Cas, who was accustomed to napping leisurely throughout the daylight hours then rising, bright-eyed and ravenous to hunt and explore after dark.

Since the failure of the tree-rat, Cas went for something a bit more colorful next, hoping it might entice his mate into eating. Thus, Cas deposited a brilliantly feathered Bird of Paradise at the opening of Dean's shelter the next morning, hoping for better results this time. The bird wasn't too mangled; the impact of being crushed into the ground underneath the weight of Cas' paws as he dove headfirst out of a tree and caught it mid-flight having killed it more than Cas' claws.

Cas had been shyly proud of this kill, fervently wishing that this gift would catch Dean's eye. Climbing up in a tree to wait, as was his habit now, Cas engaged in some light grooming til Dean woke a bit later.

But yet again, this gift was also met with a less than thrilled response, although, Dean did examine the bird's beautiful plumage closely, even snapping a few pictures, murmuring to himself that it looked like a crested macaw. Dean was wrong, of course, and Cas thought enthusiastically of all he could teach his human about the various species of animals on the island.

Cas watched as once more, a shallow hole was dug and the bird was dropped in and neatly buried. Dean did look regretful, but Cas wasn't quite sure why. Maybe he felt bad about wasting the food? Well. He should! Cas was not hunting for his own amusement here!

Fine. Trial and error. Clearly, he'd have to try something else...maybe a reptile or amphibian? There were some freshwater crocodiles nearby in Borneo, but Cas did not necessarily fancy attempting to catch one, they were vicious and wily. He wasn't giving up yet though, Dean was worth it.

It wasn't all bad however. As the days passed, at some point Cas realized that Dean knew Cas was shadowing him...and he didn't seem to mind his silent specter. In fact, he seemed to be...showing off? Cas knew certain species of birds, like peacocks and other creatures often “peacocked” to lure in prospective mates, but he had not been aware that humans utilized this practice too.

Although, when he thought about it, he supposed that Balthazar was ostentatiously demonstrative when chasing after his male or female of the week, whether in his skin or his fur. Grudgingly, Cas also admitted that his need to prove his hunting prowess to Dean could be considered boastful, but that was common behavior when courting! But what need would Dean have to be exhibiting the same kind of display? Did he regard Cas as a possible mate? Had Cas' less than smooth attempts to court Dean proven fruitful after all?

It was hard to say. Perhaps Dean was merely lonely, out in the wild, by himself, and just needed to hear the sound of a human voice. Or maybe he was naturally given to being a braggart, which Cas did not necessarily see as a bad thing, if you were good at something, why not flaunt it?

Cas could not say when exactly Dean had picked up on his presence, but not too long after that, in addition to his soft humming and occasional whistling and singing, Dean started talking aloud. To Cas. About everything. And Cas loved it.

Well, it did take him a little while to realize that when Dean said “kitty,” he was indeed referring to Cas, who had huffed disdainfully at this. “Kitty.” Humph. He was not some pet! What, like some domesticated lap animal? He was a mighty and fearsome hunter! And occasionally, he was human. “Kitty.” Bah. Could a mere house cat hunt and take down a five hundred pound animal and then drag it up a tree? Cas thought not. Cas growled lowly, unsheathing his claws to sharpen them deeply against the bark of a poor ceiba tree nearby.

Cas remained disgruntled, until he concluded that while Cas knew Dean's name, Dean did not actually know that Cas had a name, let alone what it was, so Cas came to perceive the nickname of “Kitty” however inaccurate, to be given in a fond, if uninformed, manner.

At first, it was just random comments here and there, about the rain or animals that crossed Dean's path, but then it turned personal. It was in this way that Cas found out that “Sammy” was in reality, not Dean's bossy mate, but rather, his beloved younger brother. Dean spoke at length of Sammy's genius, of how he was something called a “lawyer,” (Cas had thought he was saying “liar” at first and wondered why anyone would brag that their relative was a “hot-shot liar”) which Cas vaguely knew had to do with upholding human laws. “Jess,” was apparently Sammy's betrothed and Cas felt a slight weight lifted in the knowledge that he had no real reason to envy Sam, except for maybe the depth of Dean's love and adoration that was made evident in how Dean talked of him.

Dean told of how their mother had died in a horrible fire when they were young, and their father had become grief-stricken, distant and absent, leaving Dean to take care of Sammy. Cas' heart ached at this, and more than ever did he want to be the one to provide and take care of Dean; it seemed as though no one ever had.

Cas had a brief flare-up of jealousy (another tree-rat had met its end during Cas' murderous rampage) when Dean waxed poetic for minutes at a time about “his Baby,” until after listening rather closely to Dean vividly describing how he “rebuilt her engine,” he finally ascertained that “Baby” was in fact, a vehicle.

However, the jealousy did not abate, since Baby was not related to Dean and he always referenced the car as “her,” thus Cas found himself mildly embarrassed that he was resentful of an inanimate object, but it was hard for him to see Dean's obvious love of his brother and his car and know that Cas had no similar claim on Dean's heart. It hurt even more to wonder if he ever would.

Well, not yet, anyways, Cas amended. It was a work in progress. Cas was unabashedly hungry for Dean's attention, and drank in every word, even if some of it was not to his liking. Each morsel of information that Dean seemed to casually toss out was like a piece of the ever-compelling puzzle that Cas was painstakingly compiling. He longed to have a complete picture of Dean. The good and the bad.

On the bright side, after more chatter, Cas confirmed that “Gabriel,” was Dean's boss, who “drove him up a wall” and was responsible for Dean's “flight from hell,” as he so eloquently put it. Cas was not always able to understand some of Dean's slang and idioms, but he felt he was slowly coming to learn “Dean-speak.” And he was quite the apt pupil. It was hard not to be, when the subject was Dean. Even the mundane things took on interest purely because they were Dean-centric.

Dean regaled Cas with tales of something called “pie,” a flaky, delicious, fruit-filled pastry, which was “almost better than sex,” and Cas inwardly rolled his eyes at this. Wonderful. Yet another thing that Dean loved passionately that Cas would have to compete against. Dean had purportedly tried the pie in all 50 states, which he insinuated was quite the accomplishment. Against his will, Cas found himself smiling indulgently, pie did sound quite tasty as Dean described it, not to mention how cute Dean was when he got so excited about something he loved. Cas yearned to put that gleam in his eyes and make those happy dimples appear in Dean's pink cheeks.

He would. He would.

~*~*~*~

Another aspect of Dean's “showing-off” that Cas greatly enjoyed, was whenever Dean would belt out his favorite songs, (which was quite the list!) while doing some sort of strange, complicated pantomime; was Dean pretending to play an invisible instrument? Whatever it was, it tickled Cas that his mate was putting on such a performance for him.

Cas especially liked when Dean sang something called “Eye of the Leopard,” explaining that it was actually “tiger,” but that he was changing it for Cas' benefit. Cas preened inwardly, feeling the lines “Stalks his prey in the night/And he's watching us all with the eye of the leopard,” fit him perfectly. How thoughtful of his mate.

The morning after Cas had brought Dean the Bird of Paradise, earning him a lackluster response, he tried again, this time with the gift of a black spitting cobra, which had not been an easy kill, but he had managed it rather well, he thought, proudly strutting up to Dean's shelter that morning and displaying the snake to the greatest advantage. Hopefully, Dean would realize what a hard won prize this was! It was an excellent specimen, nearly five feet long with lustrous ebony scales.

Cas had traveled out of his territory to the far western side of the island, during the cooler hours of predawn, lying in wait til one had slithered sluggishly by, headed for warmer climes no doubt. Cas had stalked after it silently, until the opportune moment presented itself, then he struck the snake with one of his muscular paws in a killing blow, before biting down heavily right behind the cobra's hood, crushing its' neck, ensuring death. The snake hadn't had a chance to spit any of its' deadly venom at Cas, for which he was duly grateful.

Cas settled in to wait as usual, licking nervously at one of his paws. When Dean stirred a bit later, Cas held his breath in expectation, excited despite himself. But this gift garnered the worst reaction yet! Dean appeared at the opening of his shelter, sleepily rubbing his eyes, yawning wide, before lifting his leg to step over the edge of the shelter, when he looked down blearily and let out an ear-splitting shriek, flailing and falling backwards with an ungainly crash into his shelter, landing rather hard on his rump, judging from the “Oomph!” he let out. Then the screaming began, prompting Cas to bury his head under his paws and his tail as well, for good measure.

“Motherfucking fuck fucker!! What the fuck?!? Why is there a fucking snake out here?! Goddammit cat!! Son of a bitch!” Dean looked furious. Uh oh. There was no question as to whether or not Dean liked this gift. That was definitely a resounding “NO.”

Hmmm...well...that could have gone better, Cas supposed. Clearly, snakes were not high on Dean's list of acceptable edibles. He sighed morosely, hopes dashed.

Surprisingly though, once Dean had recovered from his shock, he yet again brought out his camera and took a few pictures, all the while grinning and chuckling to himself about how “this would sure scare the shit out of Sammy!” Cas wondered why pictures of a dead snake would frighten Sam, unless he was scared of snakes like Dean, maybe? Cas shrugged it off, observing as Dean went about burying this kill as he had done all the others.

Cas was in a foul mood for the rest of the day, going back later and grumpily digging up the snake and eating it himself; why allow perfectly good meat to go waste? Dean was a fool.

~*~*~*~

Over the course of the day, through their roving in a steadily southerly direction, they came upon two other leopards, which made sense since they had left Cas' territory a mile or so back. Dean seemed excited, but not excessively so, for which Cas was secretly pleased, when he first spotted a young leopard Cas knew as Alfie. Dean hovered at a respectable distance, filming all the while.

Presumably word had traveled quickly that Cas had found a mate in the visiting human, and Alfie did not contest Cas' presence in his territory, merely kindly congratulating Cas once Dean had moved out of sight. Alfie often spent time in the village, and was a sweet young man, about a year younger than Cas.

A little while later and they crossed paths with a leopardess this time, by the name of Bela, sauntering along with the fresh kill of a barking deer hanging limply from her jaws, before reaching a large mangrove tree and elegantly ascending it with a certain flair Cas was not certain he possessed.

Dean took copious amounts of pictures of her as well, even after Bela ensconced herself up in her tree. Cas fought down his jealousy, but to no avail; Dean should be taking pictures of Cas. He wrinkled his nose at her unwelcome scent; it was all wrong, too spicy and overbearing, he did not like it, but he especially did not like it around Dean.

Bela was of unknown origin, a foreigner to this island, no one knew the details of her past, and the lady was not telling. Cas had heard that when in human form, Bela was something of a cat burglar, which even Cas found humorous, though he did not approve of her thievery and did not particularly care for Bela, nor did he dare have any dealings with her.

She was attractive, but in a dark, dangerous way that did not really appeal to Cas. But since he was infringing on her territory, he tried to be somewhat deferential, even though he was the alpha here and Bela was a beta.

Bela acknowledged him with a wink and as much of a smirk as she could muster while in leopard form, regarding Cas and farther off in the distance, Dean, speculatively, with her icy green eyes, as if trying to decide who she'd like to devour, or perhaps have her way with, first, Cas couldn't be sure.

“Why hello, Cas, fancy meeting you here. Your boy there is quite a looker, you wouldn't be willing to share him, now would you?” asked Bela, with a wicked, sly grin.

Cas growled threateningly, forgetting to be civil, instead staring stonily up at Bela.

“Never,” was all Cas managed to grit out, blue eyes slitting in rage.

“Mmm...shame, that. I think I'd rather enjoy having some hot, angry sex with that one,” Bela purred insolently, licking her lips lasciviously at Cas, her tail flicking around lazily.

“Do not objectify him!” Cas snarled, ready to zip up into her tree and slice Bela to ribbons, maybe rip her throat out for good measure too. Rationally, he knew Bela was baiting him, but Cas seemed to lose his cool when Dean was at all threatened, or, in this case, propositioned.

“Oh, calm down, alpha! I heard all about your little claim on the human. It'll be interesting to see how that works out... If it works out. I'll be watching!” Bela bared her teeth at Cas in the facsimile of a feral smile, before sinking her fangs into the meaty haunch of the deer laid out in front of her.

“You touch him and I'll eat you alive.” Cas promised with deadly intent, then bared his teeth in return at her, before striding off into the undergrowth, tail lashing wildly from side to side in agitation behind him.

“Oooh can't wait, darling!” Bela sang out brazenly after him.

Cas full-on roared back at her, startling a flock of sunbirds out of their roost.

Resentfully, Cas trailed Dean, catching up with him at a freshwater stream. Gazing from the bushes, Cas knew he would have to unequivocally make his intentions known to Dean, sooner rather than later, as it seemed there were other interested parties now. Cas was grimly certain that he was going to have to take human form more swiftly than he was prepared for.

Bela had truly gotten Cas' ire up and he was irritable for the remainder of the day, or at least until that evening, where the sight of a naked, dripping wet Dean barely managed to pacify him to some extent. Mainly, it aroused him, which, in turn, made him rather testy, since there was not a lot he could do about it yet.

Although, he thought he knew now what Bela meant by her interest in having angry sex with Dean. But Cas grimaced at the wrongness of that. No. Not like that. He did not want to take Dean in anger or against his will.

Dean was not his and he doubted the human would react kindly to being jumped for claiming and/or sexual purposes by a strange man, true mate or not.

So Cas just tried to keep his alpha urges under control, growling (which he seemed to do a lot more of than usual lately) deep in his chest and shredding all the leaves in the vicinity of the branch he was sprawled out on.

Thankfully, Dean next instituted something which quickly became Cas' most favorite thing yet. Querulously, but still as curious as ever at Dean's activities, he watched as the man went about his nighty routine, finally crawling into bed.

Cas listened avidly as Dean rummaged around, before extracting what Cas recognized as a battery operated lantern; many of the people in the village had these to provide light in the evening hours. Switching it on, Dean poked his head out of the shelter and called out hesitantly:

“Hey kitty! You there? You wanna hear a story?” Dean glanced around, waving a ragged looking paperback.

Cas was tempted to roar back in answer, but relented, quietly waiting for Dean to proceed with whatever he had planned. He perked up slightly still, because he did enjoy a good book, though he didn't get to read as much as he would have liked. Turning pages was a difficult task with claws.

He heard Dean clear his throat and then:

“All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really was shot for taking a teapot that wasn't his. Another guy I knew really did threaten to have his personal enemies killed by hired gunmen after the war. And so on. I've changed all their names...”

Cas was already hooked. Mesmerized by the rough-soft cadence of Dean's low voice and fascinated by people, deeds, worlds, and wars he knew nothing of and which were far beyond his ken. Cas rested his head on his paws and just soaked it all in, enraptured by the tale and drunk on Dean's voice and calming scent, feeling it melt and soothe something that had been untamed and restless in him all day, perhaps even much longer than that.

A deep rumbling purred started up in his chest, taking over the bitter growling that had ensued earlier. Dean read for nearly an hour, then stopped and sleepily popped his head out of the shelter, glancing around again.

“Well kitty, what didja think? This is one of my favorite books, it's called 'Slaughterhouse-Five,' Vonnegut’s my favorite author too. Should I read more tomorrow night?”

There was an honest, open look on Dean's handsome face, as if he truly wanted to know Cas' opinion, and for a moment, Cas strongly considered shifting right then and there so he could answer Dean. Never had he wished for his skin like this. Never had he felt that primal urge to shift into his skin, not like he did with his panther; it was an odd feeling, but not wholly unwelcome. It warmed Cas' heart in a way he'd never experienced before to know that Dean wanted to share something he cared so deeply about with Cas, who longed to be able to do the same in return.

He had so many questions, and such an insatiable thirst to know more, know everything about this man was his mate. But fear held him down like a tangible weight, pressing heavily on his heart. He had learned the hard way about trusting strangers. Meg was a prime example, and the those poachers a year ago were another. But was Dean still really a stranger? Cas felt sure he knew more about Dean than he did some of his fellow shifters...and yet...it did not feel like enough...not yet, anyways. Time. He needed time. But it was not on his side.

Dean retired for the night, leaving Cas rather unhappily with his thoughts which plagued him endlessly, even briefly dozing did not dispel them, for then he dreamed of shifting into his skin only to be met with Dean's disgust or absolute disinterest. Cas jerked awake at the cry of a hawk-eagle, and decided to abandon sleep for the time being. Cas rose and checked his scent marks then sullenly stretched his sore muscles before slinking off to work out his temper and unease by killing a few unsuspecting victims.

But it seemed he must have been radiating literal waves of alpha aggression and distress because the other inhabitants of the jungle were clearly avoiding him for safety's sake. Cas could not even remember how long ago it had been since he'd gone a night without catching something while actively hunting. He'd been a juvenile, surely. Incensed, he practically stormed back to his den, growling like a thundercloud the whole way. Once inside, he peevishly gobbled up the leftovers from his last few kills.

Throwing himself down on his bed of grasses and palm leaves, he sulked for a bit longer, until the pearly light of dawn pervaded his den. Still feeling rather capricious, he made his way back to Dean's camp, managing to catch a fire toad en route. Just because Cas was cranky did not mean he was discarding his campaign of bringing his human gifts. Maybe Dean had a taste for toads, he thought darkly.

Cas spat the toad out at the door to Dean's shelter, knowing he was most likely about to receive an encore presentation of the last few mornings, but one would hope, with much less screaming, but who knew, Dean might have an aversion to frogs as well.

Cas went around sniffing at his scent marks perfunctorily, finally circling back to Dean's shelter. Snuffling at the material, he regarded it truculently, the soft sound of Dean's snores somehow grating on his nerves. Petulantly, he raised his leg and urinated all over the side of the shelter. Previously, Cas had always made sure to spray or urinate around the shelter; so he knew he was being petty, but couldn't make himself care right now.

Later, after Dean had examined (with no screaming) and buried the toad and then spent a considerable amount of time attempting to scrub the urine off at the hot spring, Cas did feel ashamed of himself for being childish but obstinately tried to ignore it. Dean had almost caught him as he peered around the corner of the rocks, leaping away and up into a tree so that Dean only caught sight of his tail. That was too close.

The next day followed the same pattern (no urinating on Dean's belongings though Cas was tempted). The only bright spots were Dean singing and reading to him in the evening. He trailed Dean at a distance, not even perking up much when Dean chattered to him; Cas' entire being felt muddled and hazy, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything the man said. Cas' gift of a striped rabbit had been inspected with interest then summarily buried. Again. Dean did look truly regretful but Cas was nevertheless seething with pent-up anger and hurt. Never in his life had he been so discouraged or confused. He was frustrated in every way possible, mentally, emotionally, physically...sexually.

See...this. This was why he shunned his human form. It came part and parcel with too many messy emotions and feelings. When he was in his fur, things were simple, no interactions. He ate, slept and hunted. He didn't have to think. Now all he seemed to do lately was think, it didn't matter what form he took, his thoughts were consumed by Dean.

Unable to shake his bad mood, he left Dean's side, retreating to his den; maybe a nap would refresh him and lift his mood, he had not been getting enough sleep lately, what with all the odd hours he was keeping to be with Dean. Not that he regretted it, but due to his feline nature, (or least part of it) he did love and (sorely miss) the hours of slumber he was accustomed to partaking in before Dean's arrival. Maybe once he and Dean worked everything out they could nap in the sun together.

~*~*~*~

Inside his den, Cas tried to settle down, endeavoring to relax every muscle in his body and just rest. Clear his mind.

Instead, he dreamed. Vividly. Of Dean.

Of kissing and touching...and taking and claiming. All of it in his human form, like Dean. Cas felt his cock fill rapidly; the dream shifted blurrily and he was suddenly bottoming out in Dean, thrusting as hard as he could, fingers digging into Dean's hips, the feel of Dean's hole, slick, tight, hot and so perfect, gripping and clenching around his dick...he could feel his knot swelling, catching...ohhh...it wasn't enough...but it was too much...so good at the same time...

“Ahhh...” Cas awoke with a gasp, dazed and panting and...sticky? He sat up and looked down then realized in shock that he was naked...human. Covered in his own come, cock spent and twitching slightly against his thigh. He brought his hands (his hands!) up to his face, clutching at his hair in panic.

What was going on?! He reached inside himself, yes, his panther was still there and just as confused and frightened as he was. Cas had never spontaneously shifted like this, without conscious knowledge, it was always of his own volition, and certainly not while asleep!

Spooked, he stood up, repeatedly running his hands over his face and through his hair, trying to calm down. It was fine. He was fine. They were fine.

Concentrating, Cas forced himself to shift back to his panther, wincing shakily as the change overtook him. Once complete, he scrambled out of his den. He'd go find Balthazar right now, ask him if this had ever happened to him or if he had ever heard of it occurring to any other shifters.

With his heart galloping as fast as his legs, Cas nearly mowed his brother down when he did find him.

“Cas! What the hell? What's wrong? Are you alright?” Balthazar warily took in Cas' ruffled fur, wild-eyed, frenzied appearance.

“I-I-I don't know what happened! I was asleep...no I was dreaming...about Dean...we were...there was...sex..sexual...God!...but when I woke up I was human! I went to sleep leopard and woke up human!” Cas babbled frantically.

“Whoa, whoa Cassie, calm down, slow down, you're alright, it's okay! You're fine, you're in your fur. Take a couple of deep breaths for me, deep breaths, nice and slow,” Balthazar swiftly shifted into his human form, immediately going to Cas and carefully wrapping one arm around him and petting between his ears soothingly.

Cas leaned against him heavily, closing his eyes, even though he knew that in his leopard form, he greatly outweighed Balthazar, but he took the comfort his brother was offering, too discombobulated to care much if he was slightly crushing him. He shuffled a bit til his muzzle was in the crook of Balthazar's neck and breathed in the familiar scent of his brother, pine...fresh air, something spicy, perhaps the aftershave he used in his human form....

“Shhhh....you're alright,” Balthazar kept petting him and rubbing his hand down Cas' furry back. “You know, this would be a lot easier if we were the same species right now. Any chance of you shifting to your skin, Cassie?”

“I-I don't...don't think I...c-c-can at the moment. What if I can't shift back to my panther?” Cas' breath started coming unevenly again, hyperventilating at the thought of being stuck in one form, especially being trapped in his skin.

“Okay, okay, you're fine! Forget I said anything, stay as you are, it's alright! Dammit, Castiel, breathe!”

Focusing on nothing but his breathing, he fixed his mind on his lungs, on each breath, in, out, in out...In...and... out...He was okay, everything was okay.

A few minutes more and he leaned back from Balthazar, breathing shakily but evenly.

“Alright there, Cassie?” Balthazar tried to smile, but his pale blue eyes were worried.

“Yes...yes. I'm fine,” Cas assured him, trying to pull himself together. “I just...that's..that's never happened before and I was frightened.”

“That's a normal reaction, Cas, I'd be a bit startled too if I went to sleep one thing and woke up as another,” Balthazar agreed.

“So does that mean you've never had this same experience?” Cas questioned in a small voice.

“Well, no, I haven't personally, but I'm sure others have, like Anna or Inias. I think part of your problem might be Dean.”

“What? No! Why would Dean have made this happen?” Cas growled, not liking Balthazar blaming his mate for something even Cas couldn't control.

“Calm down, tiger, not like that! What I mean is, you've made this claim on Dean, but it's in scent and intent only, right? You haven't bitten him or...tied the knot, so to speak? So, maybe this is your body and your alpha's way of telling you that you'd better get a move on! Your panther needs his mate, otherwise, it seems you're becoming unstable. I'm not sure of the mechanics of it all, but it can't be good for your body to constantly be wanting something and not be getting it,” Balthazar finished with a huff, looking at Cas expectantly.

Cas stared back, mulling over what his brother had said. This meant he would have to reveal himself to Dean, either as a leopard or a human, but most probably as a human, and soon. Or this would keep happening...or maybe he'd get to the point where he couldn't shift at all and would be caught in a trap of his own skin. He shuddered at the thought, terror rising in him like a tide, but he pushed it down fiercely, he had to do this. He had to. If he didn't, he would lose Dean. Yes, he was petrified at the thought of Dean rejecting him, but the alternative was worse; he could lose his panther. Lose himself. Then he would truly have nothing without his mate and his panther.

Resolved, he nodded his head at Balthazar.

“Okay,” Cas intoned firmly.

“Okay?” Balthazar raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I'll talk to Dean tomorrow. First thing in the morning.”

“What, no more gifts? Struck out with that cobra, did we?” Balthazar teased.

“How do you know about that?!” Cas hissed.

“Oh darling, the whole island knows about that. Your Dean has quite the set of lungs on him, I'll bet he's a real screamer!” Balthazar said, winking lewdly at Cas.

“Oh hush your face!” Cas grumped, reddening. Good lord...did everyone, including him, have sex on the brain?

“Good boy, Cassie, it'll be alright, you'll see. The worst he can say is no, then I'll eat him up and you'll never see him again, problem solved!” Balthazar tried to joke, smiling at Cas encouragingly.

“You'll do no such thing. If he says no, I'll eat him myself,” Cas said with a grim smile, hiding his nerves and trying to convince himself that Dean would say yes instead.

~*~*~*~

Cas and Balthazar parted ways after awhile, with a last hug, “for luck,” and a big smacking kiss on Cas' nose; the purpose it served, Cas was still a mite unclear on, but he supposed Balthazar was just trying to cheer him up. It worked a little.

Jogging along, he caught up with Dean eventually, who was observing a small herd of serows, which were a species of goat-antelope that were looking rather delectable to Cas right about now. Waiting until Dean packed up for the day, Cas then slid into attack mode, feeling grateful that he still could. Creeping forward, he saw that one member of the herd was limping slightly and thus chose his target, striking mercilessly, he downed the animal, as if with its' death he could reaffirm the life and security of his own panther. Cas ravenously feasted on part of his kill right then and there, only ceasing and dragging his prey off when other, lesser predators approached.

Feeling somewhat sated, and a bit more clearheaded, he stashed the leftover meat in his den then returned to Dean in time to catch a lively performance of a song called, “Ramble On,” by something called a “Led Zeppelin.” All in all, Cas thoroughly enjoyed it.

Cas watched while Dean dried off and put on fresh clothes, his eyes ever glued to the tantalizing miles of bare skin that seemed to taunt him with their apparent untouchability.

Dean got all bedded down before Cas heard him softly call out, “Hey kitty! You ready to hear more about the adventures of Billy Pilgrim?”

Cas purred loudly, hoping that would be answer enough, that he did indeed want Dean to read to him. It must have been, because after some lantern shuffling and the ruffling of pages, Dean's roughly pleasing tones filled the air, immediately soothing Cas' soul like a balm. He let Dean's voice lull him, til he was as sleepy as Dean sounded when he put the book up for the night. Half awake, Cas thought Dean called him “Puss in Boots,” but that was silly. Cas yawned widely, his mate was silly, Cas didn't wear boots. But he smiled at Dean's promise to read more to him tomorrow.

Cas roused a little when Dean switched off the lantern, but it was his next statement that woke Cas up as effectively as a bucket of ice water.

“Nighty-night Kitty,” Dean murmured. “Sure wish you'd let me see you. I won't hurt you, promise. It'd just be nice to thank you in person for all the presents you've left me.”

Cas nearly overbalanced and fell out of the tree from straightening up so fast. Stunned, he stared disbelievingly at the human. Dean wanted to see him? It was one thing for Dean to sing and talk to him, even reading to him, but here, his mate, Dean, was requesting Cas' presence. Asking to see him. He sounded rather plaintive too, as if he didn't belief Cas would grant his wish.

Cas sat stock-still and wide awake long after the sweet lullaby Dean had been humming faded out as he fell asleep, the same five words echoing on an endless loop in his head.

'I won't hurt you, promise.'

Cas wanted to believe in Dean. And so he did.

~*~*~*~

Cas managed to sleep for a couple hours before heading out one last time to hunt for Dean. In short order, he stalked and killed a good-sized barking deer, eating some of it himself but portioning aside a large juicy haunch for Dean.

Cas felt like pure electricity was running through him from nervousness alone, (he worried he might vomit up that deer) but he valiantly tried to quell his emotions. He watched as Dean discovered the deer leg, and yet again, Cas saw genuine disappointment and regret on the man's face as he buried this meal as well.

Cas went to leave in accordance with the plan he had come up with in the wee hours of the morning and thus was mildly taken aback when Dean called out, “Thank you!” Cas nodded his head in acknowledgment, though he knew Dean couldn't see him and hurried on his way.

Flustered but determined, Cas had decided to circle around Dean, getting far enough ahead of him that Dean would have no choice but to practically stumble upon Cas. Rushing forward, Cas reached the rock formation he had picked out which was generously bathed in glorious, golden sunshine. The area was totally deserted as Cas had anticipated and he hurried up to arrange himself to the best of his ability. Laid out like this, there was absolutely no way for Dean to avoid seeing him. Cas felt his entire body clenching like a fist, emotions running the gamut from excited to terrified but steadied himself, he could do this, he had to.

Cas waited, on edge, for his human to crest the slight hill and come around the corner. He was ready, he could do this.

That is, up until the moment Dean came into view, then every fiber of Cas' being was screaming at him to run, that fight or flight instinct kicking in. Cas tensed, frozen, his panther and human halves warring, rendering him mute and helpless. He couldn't seem to to will himself to shift to his human form, but he could stay exactly where he was and allow Dean to see his panther. So he did, Dean's assurance running through his head.

'I won't hurt you, promise.'

And Cas could pinpoint down to the second when Dean saw him. The man's jaw dropped, as he edged inexorably closer, as if there were a thread connected from Cas to Dean and Cas was gradually reeling it in. For his part, Dean seemed to be allowing himself to be pulled forward, as if in a trance, finally stopping about twenty feet away and just staring at Cas. Almost like he was unaware, the man slowly sank to his knees, awe and wonder painted across his face.

Cas noticed that Dean was too transfixed to even reach for the camera hung around his neck. Cas gazed back too, unable to believe he was actually doing this. For some reason, at that moment, Dean snorted, in what sounded like incredulity, and that seemed to finally break the spell on Cas, propelling him onward, to his mate. The closer he crept, the larger Dean's eyes (which were every shade of green imaginable!) seemed to get, as he focused unblinkingly on Cas.

Cas stopped only when he was about five feet away from Dean, sitting back on his haunches, placing his front paws neatly together in front of himself, squared his shoulders, (reminded himself to breathe) and regarded Dean shyly, finally face to face for the first time.

Cas trembled with nerves (what if /what if /what if) but stayed in place, his whole body seeming to thrum with his amplified heartbeat as Cas suddenly remembered to breathe, and huffed out a deep breath through his nose, which seemed to shake Dean from his daze. Cas held his breath again as he waited for Dean's reaction.

He didn't wait long. Dean's adoring smile was like the sun coming out after a year of of never-ending rain. Breathtaking and blinding and Cas would gladly go blind if it meant he got to see it just this once. Cas squinted his eyes against the brightness of Dean's grin (and the sun shining right in both of their faces) and tilted his head to the side in contentment. Everything seemed to fall together perfectly in that instant as he was entranced by the closeness of his mate and Cas thought, 'Finally. There you are. It's really you.'

Almost as if he had heard Cas' thought, Dean sat down completely and beamed up at him with an expression of pure happiness that was all for Cas and said:

“Hi, Kitty.”

~*~*~*~

Chapter Text

Dean's cheeks ached from grinning so much. It was hard to believe any of this was actually happening. He could hear his cat purring, deep and throaty, and they were still just staring at each other.

Moving carefully, he shrugged off his backpack and extra gear, settling down with his legs out in front of him.

With his heart pounding crazily, Dean reached his hand out uncertainly, palm facing out, fingers spread and slightly trembling, waiting for permission. His cat eyed him inscrutably for a moment, before edging closer, coming within range til Dean's fingertips brushed the velvety side of the cat's cheek. Dean let go the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding with a whoosh, as his cat pressed its cheek further into his palm, purring growing louder. Dean gently petted the side of his cat's cheek, still dazed with absolute wonderment that this wild creature was in his personal space and allowing him such intimate access.

This was definitely not the norm for a jungle cat, was it? Couldn't be, right? Of course, maybe this was all some very, very vivid hallucination...brought on by...uhhh...magic...mushrooms, maybe? Funny, but he didn't recall eating any magical fungi lately, not since that one time in Mexico a few years back...huh...so this could...actually be real?

Due to his brain going off on a tangent as he tried to reconcile the situation, Dean's fingers had slowed in their petting, but he was brought abruptly back to the here and now, by his cat headbutting his hand in a clear demand for more ear-scratching and attention. Dean nearly giggled, a little giddy, and resumed petting and scratching between his cat's ears with both hands, cupping his cat's face and really digging in. Oh, this was real, alright. He didn't think his mind was quite capable of dreaming up something this unbelievable.

“Hi kitty,” he murmured. “It's okay, m'right here, you have my full attention.” Was it Dean's imagination or did the purring seem to kick up a notch at that? He let his hands wander down a little further, reveling in the soft fur, feeling the corded muscles in his cat's neck and shoulders. He got a low groan out of his cat for that, and felt the leopard inch even closer, before leaning in and stretching til his face was practically buried in the hollow between Dean's throat and shoulder.

Dean immediately froze, fear spiking through him. Oh god. Had his cat lulled him into a false sense of security only so it could rip his jugular out now?! But his fear was unfounded, for his cat merely snuffled a little, rubbing his satiny nose and the undersides of his muzzle against Dean's pulse point. He could feel the scrape of his cat's whiskers against his stubble and the accompanying purr was reminiscent of his Baby's engine. Was his cat...marking him? Huh. Guess so. Well, that made sense. Since he'd managed to mark pretty much everything else of Dean's he could get his paws on. Did that mean his cat owned him now?

Dean's chuckle at this thought was cut off as his brain fizzled and short circuited at the feeling of his cat's warm, rough, sandpapery...tongue...against the sensitive skin of his throat. Oh shit. He was gonna get eaten after all.

Dean waited, sure he was going to feel the razor sharp bite of teeth tearing through his skin like tissue paper at any moment. But nothing happened. His cat merely seemed to be...tasting him. Uh oh. Was his cat trying to decide if he was tasty enough to just gobble up or what?!

Dean tensed, but again, was proven wrong. It never actually occurred to him to try to get away; maybe deep down, he didn't truly believe his cat would ever really hurt him. His cat had had plenty of opportunities, like while Dean was sleeping, to make an easy meal out of him, yet, he hadn't; so it didn't really make sense for him to try to now.

His cat drew back a bit to stare at him...knowingly, as if aware of Dean's panicky thought process, before moving back in to nuzzle at his throat and resume licking him...which...tickled...it was a weird feeling that sent a flush of heat through Dean's entire body, making him shiver minutely before pulling away, and gently pushing his cat back.

The leopard obligingly moved back an inch or two, but was still startlingly close, (nearly nose to nose) staring at him questioningly and Dean was struck by the intelligent gleam in his cat's fathomless blue eyes. Intrigued and a little unnerved by how...human...his cat's gaze was. God, he must be losing his fucking mind. It was just a wild jungle cat, right?! A very friendly, smart, beautiful...tame...wild jungle cat. Yeah, that made so much fucking sense. Dean snorted.

“Okay, okay, I know, I taste good, but enough with the licking,” Dean laughed nervously, continuing to gently scratch his cat's ears and chin. The leopard edged even closer, angling its' body, before settling on top of Dean with its' paws across his lap, head resting on top of its' paws.

“Sure, yeah, make yourself right at home there, Kitty!” said Dean a little sarcastically, pondering the fact that it seemed that cats in general, wild or domesticated, thought that anything and everything, be it a human or a basket of laundry, was theirs to use as a bed, or really, however they saw fit. In reality, Dean was just trying to distract himself from the fact that he had an actual, apex predator using him as comfy kitty bed.

“So. Kitty. We gonna talk about what's been going on the last few days, or what?” Dean asked, all the while smoothing his hands down the length of his cat's back, marveling at feel of all that coiled muscle underneath the sleek pelt. His cat, meanwhile, was side-eyeing him in what Dean recognized as...a mildly nervous manner? What did his cat have to be nervous about, hmmm?

“Uh-huh, you're busted, Cat. I know you've been following me around during the day, sleeping at my campsite at night...spraying and peeing on everything, including my tent!”

His cat seemed to cringe guiltily at all that, dropping its' gaze and lowering its' muzzle to rest between its' paws on Dean's thigh and Dean grinned.

“Aww, it's alright Puss, it was nice to have the company, after I realized you weren't going to eat me,” Dean teased. His cat turned his head slightly to the left and yep, Dean was definitely getting a distinctly dirty look from those slitted, crystal blue eyes.

“Oh calm your furry shorts, Cat! I'm just messing with you,” Dean placated, increasing the pressure as he started massaging his fingers into the back of his cat's neck and shoulders. His cat let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a happy sigh, a growl and a purr, before relaxing bonelessly further into Dean's lap, its' head lolling over the side of Dean's thigh.

“Ooof...wow kitty, you..are...a heavy Chevy,” Dean wheezed a bit, amazed at how his cat had gone from feeling like a solid, pleasant weight on his lap to the equivalent of a ton of bricks. One bright blue eye popped open and glared dangerously up at him. Uh oh. He could feel just the tip of his cat's claws digging into the side of his leg, as the cat's glare heated up.

“Heh heh, kitty, I wasn't saying you're fat! Muscle, I know it's all muscle, right? And..and muscle weighs more than fat!” Dean squeaked. His cat seemed somewhat mollified at this and retracted his claws, but the glare remained.

“That's right,” Dean continued, “You're my big strong cat, huh? Bringing me dead stuff all the time, showing off, huh?” Well, that was the wrong thing to say. The claws reappeared, dug in deeper than before, the purring morphed into a pissed off sounding growl and the glare turned into an ice blue laser beam, burning through Dean. Oh sweet Jesus...those claws were a little too close for comfort to Dean's dick.

Then it got worse. Faster than Dean could track, his cat reared up, toppling him over backwards into the dirt, effectively pinning him down with a heavy paw on each shoulder. Dean felt his heart stutter to a halt for a one second..two..three...before kicking back up, beating in triple time as his cat stood over him, tail flicking from side to side agitatedly, staring down at him. Shit had just gotten terrifyingly real in 0.3 seconds.

Was this it? Was this how he was gonna die? Granted, fuck yeah, it was a pretty cool death, on par with a shark attack, but still, Dean wasn't quite ready to go out just yet.

Instead, he kept staring up at his cat, even though he could swear he read somewhere that you weren't supposed to stare directly into a cat's eyes, it made them uncomfortable or was like issuing a challenge or some shit like that, but dammit, for the life of him (literally) he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. Maybe he really was going crazy but it was almost like his cat was asking him a question and demanding an answer, right fucking now, as they locked eyes. Dean tried to think past the fear that was clouding his brain and figure out why his cat appeared so pissed...he rewound the conversation back in his head...uh oh...a light bulb went on in Dean's brain, shedding an alarming light on why his cat was so...worked up.

“You're not mad 'cos I buried all the gifts you brought me are you?” Dean hazarded a guess. Bingo! His cat's growl intensified and the pressure on his shoulders grew til he could feel his shoulder blades digging into the dirt. Dean let out an undignified yelp at this, but tried his damnedest not to wiggle and just keep calm, it wasn't like he could really get away at this point anyways.

Dean was practically nose to nose with his cat again, could feel his warm breath fanning over his face, could feel his whiskers tickling his forehead and cheeks. His cat's fucking blue eyes were so close that Dean was nearly going cross-eyed, but there was nowhere else to look and he didn't dare close his eyes now. Anxiously, Dean attempted to clear his throat, which was suddenly dryer than the fucking Sahara. He was about to apologize to a fucking jungle cat and beg for his life, he'd better make it good.

“Uhm, look Kitty, it's not that I didn't like the gifts, they were awesome, even that fuckin' cobra,” Dean let out another squeak as his cat's eyes narrowed severely. Heh. It would seem the snake was a sore spot for his cat as well.

“And I do totally appreciate all the work and trouble you must have gone to in order to bring me all that shit, I bet you're a freakin' awesome hunter, huh? Well, I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings by not eating it, okay? You were trying to keep me well-fed, huh? I hate to break it to ya, but humans don't really eat shit like that, at least I don't and definitely not raw. If it makes you feel any better, I really wanted to eat that deer leg you brought me this morning, but I'm not allowed to start fires to cook food, okay? So that's why I haven't been eating what you bring me, not 'cos I was trying to insult you or something, okay dude?” Dean held his breath, waiting for his cat's verdict.

The leopard continued to inspect him for a long minute, doing that soul-searching shit from earlier, and Dean did his best to keep his face as calm and honest as possible, though he was sure his eyes were bugging out and that his cat could probably see right through him anyways. Dean's brain kept throwing out random thoughts at him,(most likely to divert him from his impending death) like how his cat's eyes reminded him of a scuba expedition he'd gone on and how the sun had looked from underwater, like glowing, blue lightning; his cat had that same raw power and magnetism in his eyes, drawing Dean in.

After an interminable amount of time, his cat finally broke their gaze, eyes widening, then closing in a slow blink, opening back up to only half mast, as if abruptly sleepy. Dean was not fooled and stayed still, even as his cat pulled back, removing its' paws from Dean shoulders. The leopard scooted away and sat back on its' haunches again, regarding Dean warily.

Dean scooched back too, til his shoulders bumped against rough stone, and he used the rock wall behind him to lever himself up into a sitting position. He took a few deep breaths, feeling his heartbeat level out as he did so, letting his chin drop to his chest.

This whole situation was so fucking insane. What was he doing out here, talking to a jungle cat, having non-verbal (on the cat's side, anyways!) conversations like it could actually understand him. But again, the depth of emotion and intelligence in his cat's eyes floored him, this couldn't be your run-of-the-mill, average, wild leopard, could it? Maybe there was something special, something different about these Javan leopards. Maybe it was why poachers and others targeted them, why their numbers were dropping so critically low.

Dean lifted his head to find his cat peeking out at him from under heavy-lidded eyes, looking rather...repentant? Dean smiled tentatively and held his hand out again, beckoning his cat closer. The leopard prowled forward eagerly, pausing to sniff the tips of Dean's fingers, before ducking its' head under Dean's palm, inviting more petting. Dean complied readily, combing his fingers through his cat's fur comfortingly. His cat stretched out beside him, a long, hot line of heat all against his side, luxuriating in the attention, gravelly purring starting up once more.

“I really am sorry, kitty. Don't be mad, okay?” From the look in his cat's eyes, Dean had the feeling that he was forgiven, if somewhat grudgingly. His cat rose up and crowded in close again, snuffling against his neck, and for an instant, Dean had the strangest urge to tip his head to the side and bare his neck to his cat, but then it passed, and he shrugged it off as one of the many fucking weird-ass things that had happened today already. Dean felt his cat's tongue on his neck again, and giggling (as manfully as possible) at the odd sensation, gently pushed his cat back a bit, rubbing his chin and cheek against his shoulder trying to rid himself of cat spit.

“Guess no one ever taught you about personal space, huh? Are you always this...friendly? Hmm, kitty? Or is it just me, huh? Is that why you brought me all those gifts? You like me or something? You do know I am a human, right?” Dean was merely kidding, just random silly talk, knowing his cat couldn't answer back, but suddenly his cat tensed up. And where a moment ago and pretty much the entire time since they'd met face to face his cat had been so keen on eye contact, now he averted his gaze, turning his head away.

“Hey, hey, its okay! I was just joking, dude! Hey, c'mon, look at me here,” Dean cajoled, but his cat steadfastly refused, so Dean caught hold of the leopard's head, deliberately turning it til he and Dean were eye to eye once more. Spreading his fingers, Dean smoothed his thumbs over the incredibly silky fur just beneath his cat's eyes, rubbing soothing circles as his cat watched him through wide eyes that didn't disguise the increasingly recognizable human emotions of worry and...fear? What could his cat possibly be worried and frightened about?

Confused and feeling like his mind was whirling in about a hundred different directions all at once, Dean applied himself to petting his cat til he seemed to relax once more, resting his head on Dean's lap contentedly and Dean resolved to just shut his goddamn cakehole for the time being, since it seemed like every time he opened his trap he managed to say something to set his cat off.

Although, the mere idea of that was laughable, for his cat to be upset, meant he had to actually understand what the fuck Dean was even saying...and yet...maybe he did? His cat's reactions couldn't have been simple coincidence, he clearly was behaving as though he understood every word Dean said and had thoughts and opinions about all of it. But that was impossible, right?

All Dean was sure of, was that something was going on here, and he was gonna figure it out. Maybe it was some hoo-doo voo doo witch thing, maybe his cat had been human once and got cursed or some weird shit like that, like Beauty and the Beast or some Disney bullshit. The natives still put stock in a lot of that old fairytale,witchcraft talk in these third world countries. Dean snorted aloud. Fuck, Sammy would have a field day with all this if he knew what Dean was thinking. His cat glanced up at him curiously at this outburst, but Dean just smiled reassuringly.

“It's okay kitty, I'm just thinking some crazy shit here, that's all. You can't by chance, talk, and tell me what the fuck is going on here, can you?” Dean asked hopefully, but his cat only stared at him imperceptibly before lowering it's head back down to Dean's lap with a loud huff.

“Guess that's a no, huh? That's okay. We'll figure it all out,” Dean promised, bringing both his arms up to curl around his cat, stroking and caressing til his cat was purring like a blissful tank, with one paw stretched across his lap, curving around Dean's hip. Dean let himself relax too, about 98% sure he wasn't about to be eaten in the near future, at least not by his cat at any rate.

Dean sighed and shook his head, slumping back against the rock wall, savoring the warmth of the sunshine on his face and the strangely reassuring weight of his cat sprawled in his lap. Un-fucking-believable. What a fucking crazy day.

Chapter Text

“Mmmm...” Dean groaned softly as he awoke. He didn't remember falling asleep, and couldn't work out where he was immediately. Several sensations hit him all at once. Firstly, not only did he seriously have to pee, but something was pressing uncomfortably on his bladder. Secondly, while he felt pleasantly warm, disturbingly, he also could not feel his legs. Dean twitched his limbs faintly but something was securely pinning him down. Cracking one eye open, Dean saw that the cause of his sudden paralysis was 250-odd pounds of wild jungle cat draped all over the top of him. Oh. Right.

The events of the morning came flooding into his brain with astonishing clarity as he peered downwards only to be met with the sharp blue gaze of said wild jungle cat. His cat's intelligent stare caught him just as off-guard as the first time, and he blinked a few times, wondering how long his cat had been watching him sleep. Creeper.

Dean was reminded of the third thing he'd noticed as it hit him again, simultaneously, on the nose and in the eye. Raindrops. Dammit, was it friggin' raining again?! Glancing up, he saw that the brilliant sunlight that had been bathing them earlier had vanished behind a dense layer of gray, low-hanging fog and clouds. Dean groaned again and threw his arm over his eyes, yawning widely, before attempting to sit up.

But his cat was having none of it. In fact, through the course of Dean's wiggling, his cat seemed to grow even heavier until it felt like he possessed the density of a dying sun. The increased pressure on Dean's bladder made him grunt in discomfort. Fuck, he was gonna pop like an overly full water balloon if he didn't get up and go, like, now.

“Ughhh...kitty! C'mon, let me up, I gotta pee!” Dean begged, bucking up a little beneath his cat. But his cat blithely ignored him, choosing to nose at the arm Dean had flung over his face until he removed it, then rubbed his nose against Dean's stubbly chin, licking it a little before resting his head back on Dean's chest contentedly, blue eyes firmly fastened on him and purring all the while.

“Fine, Cat! You really want me to pee all over you? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that's a thing you wouldn't enjoy. Huh? Or maybe you would, since you seem to like peeing on my stuff, what if the tables were turned, hmm? What then?” Dean ground out, becoming aggravated with the desperate need to relieve himself.

Apparently, his cat did not appreciate Dean's insinuations or his sass, because he rose up like a dark tidal wave, looming over Dean, paws pressing heavily into Dean's shoulders with just a hint of claws and Dean was struck with a sense of déjà vu; his cat sure was a dominant little fucker.

“Oh what? Every time I say something you don't like you're gonna go all alpha-male-wild-jungle-cat on me, huh kitty? Show me who's in charge?” Dean taunted, pushing at his cat's solid chest to no avail.

“Yeah, well you'd better get used to it,” Dean snarked. The leopard stared down at him haughtily for a few seconds, before gracefully walking off of Dean, stepping over him nonchalantly, managing to trail the end of his tail against Dean's cheek, smacking it playfully, as though they had not just had their little standoff. Dean sat up, stretching a bit before rising to his feet to wander into the bushes a few paces away to take a leak, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath at his cat all the while.

Feeling worlds better, he returned a couple minutes later to find his cat openly nosing Dean's backpack, diligently rubbing his face all over it, as he seemed to like to do to all of Dean's belongings. Typical behavior these days; Dean rolled his eyes indulgently, it wasn't like he could stop him.

Dean checked his watch; it was 1:18 in the afternoon and he was feeling lethargic and unmotivated. He was tired but didn't want to nap anymore, he'd never sleep tonight if he did. Dean felt strangely off-kilter; a lot had happened this morning, and he wasn't sure how to move forward in this new situation. He glanced over at his cat, who was now sitting off to the side, daintily licking at a paw placidly; Dean snorted; he supposed his cat felt he had sufficiently scent-marked all of his stuff for the time being and could now move on to more important things. Dean felt a few more drops of rain splash against his arm; the weather couldn't seem to decide if it was going to actually start raining or just continue spitting on him intermittently.

“Well, kitty, what do you feel like doing, huh?” Dean asked. His cat looked up at him immediately, pausing in his grooming, ears swiveling forward, blue eyes locking with Dean's interestedly before abandoning his cleaning to cross swiftly over to Dean, coming to a stop right in front of him. Dean held his out hand, still unable to truly believe that this untamed creature was allowing such close contact. Each time it happened, he was secretly (or maybe not so secretly, from the keen glint in his cat's cool blue eyes) awed all over again.

His cat obligingly sniffed briefly at his fingers before ducking his large head under Dean's hand, encouraging Dean to stroke his plush fur and scratch his ears. Just then, Dean's stomach decided to startle both of them by growling loudly enough to rival the leopard's own impressive growl. If Dean didn't know better he'd say his cat was staring up at him now with the world's biggest smirk.

“Oh don't even look at me in that tone! I know, you're thinking I should've eaten that deer leg you brought me this morning, right?” Dean smirked back ruefully. His cat gazed at him shrewdly, then gently butted his face into Dean's belly, as if to say, 'Well, duh,' before turning away, rubbing against Dean's legs as he went and flicking his tail against Dean's shins, glancing back once as he prowled off into the undergrowth; Dean took this as his cue that he was supposed to follow his cat into the jungle. Yeah, he liked adventure as much as the next guy...so...sure, why the fuck not? Let the wild jungle cat give you the grand tour. Good plan.

Rain was still lightly pitter-pattering overhead, so Dean dug his green poncho out and pulled it on, just in case the weather suddenly decided to get serious and drop a fucking monsoon's worth of water on him. Shouldering up his pack, he sauntered after his cat at a measured pace, trusting that his cat knew where he was going and wasn't about to lead him off a cliff or something for fun. The leopard led him southeast for about a mile, veering off from the more southerly direction Dean had mostly been heading in order to reach the village of Ciptagelar. Dean tried to keep track of the way they went so he could correct his course and orient himself later after this little nature walk with his cat. Dean kept his cameras at the ready and managed to snap off a few shots here and there of interesting birds and cool tree configurations so he felt like he was getting a little work in too.

They finally came to a glade that was populated with medium tall trees whose bark was nearly black with thick, glossy leaves that held dull-looking fruits that were about the size of apples and were a deep purple color. Dean attempted to jump up and snag one, but even the lowest branches were just out of his reach. Again, he received a superbly smug look from his cat, who then easily scaled the tree, plucking several of the fruits in his mouth before leaping back down to Dean and spitting them out at his feet, staring up at Dean with a definite air of self-satisfaction, nudging the fruit forward in offering with his nose.

Dean picked one up, examining it closely. It didn't really look like any fruit he could just buy at the supermarket back home in the States; it had three thick tab-like leaves growing out from the stem that was as big around as one of his fingers and the rind seemed fairly dense, not easily peel-able like an orange or a banana. Huh. This was an edible piece of fruit, right? Mildly perplexed, he glanced down at his cat for guidance. His cat seemed to understand Dean's puzzled look and stepped forward. Placing one large paw on top of the other fruit still on the ground, the leopard exerted light pressure until the outer rind easily cracked open. Purplish, inky juice immediately leaked out and his cat batted the split fruit til it lumpily rolled into the side of Dean's boot.

“Ahh, so that's how you do it, huh kitty? Thanks,” Dean smiled gratefully at his cat, which seemed to only heighten the cat's air of pleased self-satisfaction.

Shrugging off his bulky pack and plopping himself down on the ground, Dean set aside the unopened piece of fruit in favor of the one his cat had broken apart for him. Squeezing it between his hands a bit more, it fully split open into two large halves, revealing more reddish-purple juice that was sticky like sap and was, frankly, making a mess everywhere. Inside the rind though, the fruit itself was white and arranged in fleshy sections just like an orange. Peeling off the rest of the thick rind, he then gently pulled apart the segments; eyes flashing up to his cat, who was watching avidly, he wiggled his eyebrows in playful anticipation, before popping a piece into his mouth. Expecting the fruit to taste like an orange because it vaguely resembled one, Dean experienced a pleasant surprise when instead the flavors of strawberry, peach and...(was that vanilla ice cream?) burst across his tastebuds in a rich, delicious, refreshing cascade.

“Mmm! Damn, that's good!” Dean mumbled appreciatively through a mouthful. His cat puffed his chest out proudly as if he had grown the fruit himself and edged closer to Dean before sprawling out gracefully next to him, a warm line of heat accompanied by a decidedly happy, rumbling purr.

Dean gobbled down another hunk of the sweet, juicy fruit hungrily, trying to lick up the liquid that kept dribbling down his fingers and wrists. In his peripheral he caught sight of movement and glanced over to see his cat side-eying him intently, nostrils flaring and tongue poking out a bit as if tasting the air.

“Here, kitty, want some?” Dean grinned, waggling a piece of the pale fruit a few inches away from his cat's nose enticingly, 'cause, hey, sharing is caring, right?

The leopard glared up at him imperiously, before deigning to lean forward and sniff gingerly at Dean's offering, but instead of taking the fruit or even turning his nose up at it, his cat surprised him (although at this point, he really shouldn't have been surprised at all) with rough strokes of his tongue, swiping up the droplets of juice with long licks, all the while gazing inscrutably up at Dean while he did so. His cat's tongue felt like if velvet and sandpaper had made a baby, all rough-soft n' slightly scratchy and again, Dean felt that same flush of heat from earlier flood through him, accompanied by a full-bodied shiver and goosebumps breaking out along his arms that wasn't altogether unpleasant. He couldn't stop his brain from thinking about where else that long tongue might feel good; Dean shook himself, trying to laugh off the sensation, chalking it up to the fact that he hadn't been laid in months, and that doing so was at the top of his list once he returned home.

“Tastes pretty good, huh kitty?” Dean blushed immediately as he realized how not-so-innocently that comment could be taken. But what the fuck was he thinking? This whole situation was so fucking insane. This wasn't a human he was dealing with here. As smart as he could tell his cat was, he doubted that the wild creature was familiar with sexual innuendos, it was just Dean with his mind in the gutter. God, what was wrong with him? A little hand-licking and he was off imagining all sorts of dirty stuff about a jungle cat that was way more likely to make a tasty snack out of him rather than to initiate any of the (probably illegal) things that were flitting through Dean's depraved mind.

Dean wasn't quite sure what expression was on his face but from the stare his cat was directing at him, he was pretty sure he didn't want to know and fervently prayed to any God listening that his cat wasn't clever enough to guess Dean's not-so-chaste thoughts. The leopard nudged his hand a bit and with one last swipe of his tongue against Dean's thumb, plucked the fruit dangling from his fingers and gulped it down.

Dean found himself mildly mesmerized by the display of his cat's glistening fangs and candy-pink tongue. Okay. Enough of this. Dean checked his watch; nearly four in the afternoon; it was time he started heading back and scouting out a place to camp for the night. He ate the last remaining slices of fruit, deciding to save the other one for breakfast, packing it away carefully in his gear.

Looking down at himself, he grimaced, it looked as though he had gone full-on Hannibal and gutted someone with his bare hands. Lovely. Levering himself up carefully, trying not to touch his clothing, he crawled over to some shrubs and cleaned his hands off as best as he could for the time being. Better, but he was going to have to find some fresh water soon to really do the trick.

The rain had tapered off again and along with the sun inching its way back out from behind the clouds, the mugginess was also setting back in, making Dean feel sticky underneath all his layers. He decided to shed his poncho for now, cramming it into the back pocket of his pack.

He glanced over at his cat, who was vigorously chewing at a spot on his hind leg; Dean whistled a little and his cat's head shot up, ears perking up at the high-pitched noise, Dean whistled a few more notes and his cat eagerly strode forward to where Dean was crouched down, getting ready to heft his pack to his shoulders. His cat rubbed his cheek against Dean's arm and shoulder cheerfully; Dean repeated the notes and cat butted his face into Dean's bicep, as if to say, “Yes? What?” Dean chuckled, rubbing his fingers between his cat's ears affectionately.

“Hey kitty, d'you think you could grab me some more of that fruit?” Dean put on his best puppy dog eyes and waited. His cat eyed him with that same little smirk before wheeling around and ascending the nearest tree with a mighty leap that rustled the leaves of the tree loudly.

“Show-off!” Dean called out, moving forward and craning his head up to see where his cat was. In answer, a branch shook overhead and Dean glanced up with a squawk just in time to avoid being walloped in the face with the several pieces of fruit that rained down unexpectedly. Whipping his rain poncho back out of his pack quickly, Dean was able to maneuver it like a makeshift net and catch the four pieces of fruit without any falling to the ground. His cat dropped out of the tree like a stone, shaking his fur off with a full-body shiver of the small sticks and leaves that stuck to his coat, before strutting proudly up to Dean.

“Good work, kitty! Ya nearly beaned me in the head, but job well done. You're pretty pleased with yourself there, aren't'cha?” Dean smiled lopsidedly as his cat puffed his chest out again, purring all the while, contentment rolling off him in near tangible waves. Dean bent down to store the fruit his cat had just knocked down with the other piece, along with his rain poncho before zipping his pack closed securely.

“C'mon, let's head back, I want to find a good spot to camp out before it gets too dark,” Dean said, standing and shrugging his pack into place. His cat trotted forward a few steps, looking back at Dean expectantly over his shoulder.

“Alright kitty, lead the way!” Dean grinned as his cat disappeared into the undergrowth with a flick of his long, dark tail. Dean followed complacently, whistling merrily.

Chapter Text

Dean ambled along contentedly, trusting his cat to lead them back the way they'd come. And wasn't that funny. Sam would be the first to say that Dean had trust issues and never, freaking ever would Dean agree out loud. Trust issues were for girls (and Sam), not grown men (like Dean). But oddly enough, he did trust his cat, maybe not implicitly, but more than he trusted most humans, even the ones he'd known for a few years, which was...unlike him. Hmmm.

Perhaps it was the fact that he knew without a doubt that this wild animal could easily kill him without so much as batting an eyelash, yet hadn't, that allowed him to let his guard down so quickly. But even that didn't quite jive with Dean's worldview. What? So, hey you didn't kill me as soon as we met, so let's be friends and I trust you with my life now? Liking someone based on them not killing you was probably unhealthy. Wasn't that in the 'How to Tell You Are a Victim of Abuse 101: A User's Guide'? Dean snorted at his own idiocy, thanking all that was good and holy that Sam was not here to combine his most epic eye-rolling with one of his more condescending bitchfaces that clearly said, 'Oh my god Dean, you are the biggest dumbass on earth, how are we related?!'

Dean glanced up, taking stock of his surroundings and realized that they were back at where they'd met up this morning. Shit. Was it only this morning that all of this had happened? Sure, he and his cat had been playing hide and seek, or cat and human if you will, for days, but it was only a few short hours ago that they had finally made contact, yet it felt much longer.

There was a foundation here...a friendship. And, like it or not, there was trust here; Dean had read to the leopard and told him things that only Sam knew, shared his favorite music; he didn't just do that with anybody. And in return, his cat had come out of hiding.

Maybe the comfort came from the fact that his cat was an animal, incapable of judging or viewing things in a human context. Wasn't that why people supposedly liked dogs better than cats? All that loyalty and unconditional affection? Cats were all like, “Fuck you, where's my food, feed me now, don't touch me, I hate you, you are now my pillow, pet me now or I will eviscerate you.” And sure, maybe his cat was a tad moody, but there was something in the way he looked at Dean, a spark...or shit...something...he didn't have a name for yet.

Dean paused by the rocky outcropping where he'd first seen his cat, laid out in the sun, almost as if on display, waiting for Dean. He had been waiting, Dean was sure of it, his cat had chosen to reveal himself to Dean, it wasn't accidental. As he'd told Sammy once, accidents didn't just happen accidentally; he winced thinking of Sam's mocking little brother grin, but stubbornly stuck to his guns; he trusted his gut instinct.

Still, Dean couldn't help but wonder, why? What had tipped the scales in his favor and made his cat decide to show himself? However, flashing back over the events of the day, Dean found himself to be more interested in his interactions with his cat than the actual reason for them. Yeah, he couldn't deny that this was a surreal and totally unbelievable situation; how many people could say they had shared the same experience? Dean was willing to bet that none ever had and liked the idea immensely. Fuck, it made him feel special. And that was a main part of why he'd pursued this field of work in the first place. To capture once in a lifetime moments, to feel that intrinsic connection to something alien and far greater than himself. And this situation was nothing, if not that.

Of course, if anyone ever asked him why he did this job, oh he had a cocky reply all ready, about how awesome it was take pictures of cool shit, travel all over the world (in anything but a goddamn plane), eat weird food and bang hot people on every continent. Dean had never really gotten close enough to anyone (other than Sam) to actually reveal that there was more to him than sarcasm and and a devil-may-care attitude.

His thought process was interrupted by the sight of his cat doubling back and strolling towards him with a puzzled look on his face, silently asking, “What's the holdup?”

See?! That right there! What was that shit? How did he suddenly know what his cat was thinking just by looking at his face? Was he a cat whisperer now? The only person he could read that well, with any kind of regularity, was Sam, and that was thanks to years of living out of one anothers pockets. It wasn't like his cat was human, with eyebrows and non-verbal cues and all that other shit that well-adjusted, socialized humans used to decipher each other.

Yet Dean was swiftly learning that there was more than one way to communicate and somehow he and his cat shared a sense of one another and as cheesy as that sounded to Dean, he kinda liked it; the sense of belonging and understanding being one that he only had in common with his brother. There was a language here; body language: tail flicking, tensing or relaxing of muscles and let's not forget those oh-so-expressive eyes and Dean was tuned in, slowly learning to speak Wild Jungle Cat-ese.

His cat circled around him questioningly, bumping his head against the back of Dean's knees in a “Let's go already!” kind of manner. The leopard glanced up at Dean before rubbing his cheek reassuringly against Dean's thigh as if to say, “Come on, I know where I'm going better than you do!”

“Yeah, okay kitty, I'm coming,” Dean chuckled as he followed obediently after his cat.

Dean noticed that his cat was keeping a southerly veer to their course and wondered if it was possible that the leopard had figured out that Dean was heading to the commune. He supposed at this point he shouldn't really rule anything out, but he was pretty sure he'd mentioned Ciptagelar, at least in passing, to his cat. But there he went again! He was attributing human level intelligence to this wild animal, which seemed implausible, yet every time his cat gazed at him, he could see that perceptively keen glint, as if his cat knew what he was thinking better than Dean did. And Dean wasn't quite certain how he felt about that.

The leopard led them about a mile past the rocky outcropping of their earlier rendezvous, down a twisty, winding little track that could barely be called that since it kept decreasing in size until Dean was just sort of blindly pushing his way past thick swathes of vegetation. And while the leopard seemed to just slink effortlessly through the undergrowth like smoke, leaving no wake behind him, Dean found himself wishing he had a damn machete, or at least another human to help him blaze a trail through all the low-hanging branches and vines that kept bitch-slapping him mercilessly in the face.

Just as Dean was about to throw in the towel, he pushed aside one last large, leafy branch and almost fell into the sudden open space. Glancing around, he gaped in amazement at the sight before him. They were at the foot of a series of miniature waterfalls that must've spanned about one hundred and fifty feet across.

Stair-stepped shelves of jagged volcanic rock started from a height of about fifty feet and gradually descended, some of the little waterfalls being only two feet tall, eventually culminating in a deep pool of unbelievably gorgeous aquamarine-tinted water. Dean was mildly surprised he hadn't heard the rushing of water as they had gotten closer, but the denseness of the undergrowth clearly worked as a helluva sound-proofer.

Walking closer, Dean saw that the cause of the astounding color was the lush green moss that covered most of the rocks above and below the surface of the lagoon. Crouching down and dipping his hand in, he found the water to be slightly warm, but fresh enough as he licked one of his fingers. Oh, he was definitely taking a bath tonight. As much as Dean loved the hot springs and their jacuzzi-like abilities, he was also sick of smelling like a wet dog that had eaten bad eggs and couldn't stop farting. Dean grinned as he imagined the grossed out face Sam would've made at that analogy. If anything, he was sure his cat would appreciate it if he didn't reek of sulfur; which reminded him, where was his cat?

Turning back to head up the way he came, Dean spotted his cat off to the side, observing him intently with an anticipatory air from a slightly elevated, flat plateau of smooth rock. It seemed almost as if his cat was awaiting Dean's stamp of approval.

“There you are! Hey kitty, this is a pretty cool place!” Dean praised, moving to stand in front of his cat, who was reclined upon his rock as though it were a throne and thanks to the height of the rocks, was also just about at chest-level with Dean presently.

“Surveying your domain, huh kitty?” Dean teased, as he used both hands to scratch his cat's ears. A rumbling purr was kick-started up and his cat preened proudly under Dean's attention. Leaning his head heavily into Dean's fingers so that he had no choice but to keep scratching, his cat rolled onto his back, soaking up the late afternoon rays of sunshine.

Dean chuckled at his cat's theatrics, really digging his nails in as he scrubbed his fingers through his cat's short, silky fur, down the side of his neck and under his chin, which, if possible, increased the purring to a dull roar and again Dean was reminded of the sound of his Baby's engine. His cat gazed up at him with a decidedly feline smile of commendation from his upside-down position until Dean went to pull back with a last fond pat to his cat's cheek. A grumpy whine issued from deep within his cat's throat and the leopard flopped over onto his belly, extending a paw, trying to gently snag Dean's t-shirt in his claws to reel him back in for more petting.

“Aww c'mon kitty, let's go set up camp, huh? I'll give you a good rubdown again later tonight,” Dean cajoled, dancing out of reach and heading towards his pack.

Despite his grumbling, the leopard gracefully leapt to the ground from his perch and sprinted over to Dean's gear, eagerly nosing at it, waiting for Dean to dismantle everything so he could thoroughly investigate. His cat was so insistent to be up in Dean's personal space and oversee the proceedings that Dean kept having to affably elbow him aside, to which the leopard responded by headbutting him in the shoulder and trying to shove his face further into Dean's pack.

Predictably, his cat proved to be more of a hindrance than a help when it came to setting up his tent, with the leopard trying to crawl inside before the shelter was completely set up, but eventually Dean got it assembled.

“Fat lot of help you were, cat!” Dean griped good-naturedly at the leopard, who ignored him in favor of creeping into the tent to sniff around and probably mark everything in sight.

After a few minutes his cat finally backed out of the tent; Dean assumed he had sniffed and marked everything to his heart's content. The leopard sidled up to him and rubbed its cheek against Dean's thigh before sauntering off to scent-mark a perimeter around Dean's chosen little campsite. He watched as the leopard lifted its leg against a medium-sized tree with large, pinkish-white flowers that reminded Dean of pom-poms; he smirked to himself, too bad there were no sexy cheerleaders around.

His cat moved on and w alking closer, Dean noticed that the tree was fruit-bearing, with big, double-fist-sized shiny green spheres that looked almost like someone had tried to carve them into a box shape, due to distinct square-like diagonals jutting out from the cross section of the fruit. Huh, well those were weird looking. Reaching forward Dean plucked one off an over-hanging branch to inspect more closely.

“Hey kitty, what are--” Dean tumbled over backwards as a black blur barreled into him.

The leopard swiftly batted the apparently offending piece of fruit out of Dean's loose grasp, swatting it further into the bushes before turning around to growl at Dean.

“What the hell, cat?! Is it the forbidden fruit or something?” Dean glared as he righted himself, dusting off the dirt and leaves that clung to him. God, he needed a bath so bad.

His cat just stared at him as if he were the slowest member of the herd.

Dean racked his brain, trying to think why his cat would've knocked the fruit away from him...maybe it was poisonous?

“Is that it?” Dean mused aloud. “Was it poisonous?”

His cat grumbled softly in his throat before padding up to Dean and gently butting his muzzle against Dean's knee, looking up at him with an almost fond expression, like, “Oh human, what am I going to do with you?”

Dean took this as confirmation that he was right.

“S'not like I was gonna eat it. I was just curious, wanted a closer look. You didn't have to tackle me, ya know,” Dean groused, pouting slightly.

The leopard pinned him with a thoroughly unimpressed gaze and Dean sighed, kneeling back down in the dirt til he was eye-to-eye with his cat.

“Thanks kitty,” Dean said contritely, throwing an arm around the leopard's muscular neck and shoulders as his cat proceeded to take advantage of Dean's position and rubbed his velvety cheek against Dean's stubbly one, nosing in the hollows of Dean's neck, (Dean could swear that there was some possible tongue action going on again) tickling him until Dean pushed him away with a friendly shove, trying not to giggle (in a totally manly fashion, of course!) at the prickly sensation.

Standing up, he dusted himself off, again . Geez. Bath time could not come fucking soon enough. He'd have a quick bite to eat and then he was going to scrub himself til he squeaked. Maybe even try to wash a few of his clothes too while he was at it.

“Alright, kitty, it's dinnertime,” Dean called over his shoulder as he ambled over to his tent.

Glancing back, he saw that his cat had gone eerily still, ears perked straight up, stance low and crouched down, tail twitching, head tilted up and nostrils flaring.

Uh oh. Dean was pretty sure his cat had just scented his own dinner. Sparing Dean a quick look, his cat squinted at him in a way that Dean had the sneaking suspicion meant, “Try not to do anything stupid while I'm gone.”

Dean frowned back, sticking his tongue out childishly. He wasn't a baby, he could take care of himself just fine, thank you very much!

Dean had the distinct impression his cat rolled his eyes in return, but brushed it off as a hallucination due to hunger. Cats didn't roll their eyes. That was a human thing. Yup. Totally.

Without a sound, his cat darted off noiselessly into the undergrowth, vanishing before Dean's eyes.

Whelpp. Looked like he was on his own for dinner.

Rubbing his chest absently, which was slightly twinging and heaving a long-suffering sigh, Dean rummaged around in his pack til he unearthed his plastic food containers. At least he had some fresh fruit to go along with the last bit of beef jerky and power bars. Better than nothing, but still, he was dying to get to Ciptagelar and get more supplies, maybe even a little fresh meat.

As per Sam's instructions, Dean dutifully guzzled a bottle of water, mainly to get the taste of the power bars out of his mouth. Grabbing one of the fruits his cat had gifted him from earlier, he gently cracked it open for his dessert. This time he was prepared for the sticky juice that dripped out immediately and angled the fruit away from himself while peeling apart the sections and slurping them up greedily. Damn, he could not get enough of that taste!

Dean wondered if he could get away with sneaking a few back in his luggage for Sam and maybe even Gabriel if he was in a generous mood. Smacking his lips, he finished the last bite of fruit, savoring the flavors of peach, strawberry and vanilla ice cream rolling across his tongue. It wasn't pie, but then, beggars couldn't really be choosers right now. Sucking his fingers into his mouth, one by one, and as he hadn't had the guts to do in front of his cat earlier, he licked them clean.

Neatly repacking up his remaining leftover food, which wasn't much, he tossed the containers back into his tent before walking down to the water's edge to try to clean the rest of the sticky juice off his hands.

Hunkering down, he scooped a little sand into his palm, using it to try to scrub off the worst of the stickiness. Dean lifted his head, gazing about distractedly, his mind on his cat and what he was up to. Killing, probably, Dean grinned to himself. His cat was badass, alright.

Dean sighed again, loudly, and wondered exactly when he had turned into a teenage girl. He missed his cat, who had been gone barely half an hour. Pathetic. Maybe it was being stuck out here all alone with no other humans to talk to besides those he called on the satellite phone; it was lonely, as much of his life was. Some company, even of the furry, feline persuasion, was more welcome than Dean had even realized. Shaking his head, Dean stood up, drying his hands on his shirt as best he could. Not even two weeks out in the jungle and he was already turning into a lonely sap, (or maybe he'd always been one) grateful for the company of a wild animal.

Looking around for any sign of his cat and finding none, Dean decided he may as well bathe now while his cat was off murdering. And now it was time for the nightly internal debate: to be naked or not to be naked? And again, Dean chose to keep his boxer-briefs on, still feeling the invisible gaze of hidden eyes. Sure, his cat wasn't around right now, but who knew what else was?

It wasn't really like Dean to be body-shy, but for some reason, the idea of being butt-ass naked in front of his cat made him feel...weird. There was just too much alert awareness behind that intense, sometimes heated, gaze. If his cat had been human, Dean imagined it was the kind of look he was given right before he got laid. And that, well, that was just too disturbing to consider seeing as the look was coming from a wild jungle cat.

Dean speedily stripped off the faded Metallica tee he was wearing along with his filthy jeans and muddy boots, leaving on his underwear. The warm air felt good against his skin. Rooting through his bag, he gathered several dirty pairs of jeans, a handful of smelly t-shirts and henleys, some socks and underwear (that he was going to burn once he was home) and a big bar of organic hippie soap that Sam had given him before he left and headed back down to the waterline.

Finding a nice, deep spot that was out of the current, he submerged his clothing, wetting it thoroughly before rubbing the soap between his hands to generate some suds and coating the clothing with it, agitating it as much as he could. Dean intermittently whistled and hummed 'Black Dog' while he worked, using a piece of pumice he had found floating in the water to further scrub the soap into his clothes.

Satisfied, Dean rinsed everything until the water ran clean and then wrung out each item til they barely dripped. Piling all his laundry on a still sun-warmed rock, he dug around in his pack til he located some thin nylon rope, which he then strung up between a couple of trees that were only ten feet apart or so, fashioning for himself a makeshift clothesline. Dean quickly draped his clothes over the line, trying to evenly space it all so it would dry properly. Grabbing his boots, he used some grass and leaves to wipe the worst of the mud off of them before setting them next to the opening of his tent.

With his laundry finished, he rested a moment, again surveying the area for his cat, who was still MIA. Dean checked his watch, it was close to 7pm. Where was his cat? Surely he'd caught something by now, right? What if something bad had happened though, what if—he caught himself. God, he was worse than a teenage girl on a Friday night waiting for a cute guy to text. Shrugging off his worries, he assured himself that his cat was a badass killing-machine and was probably totally capable of taking care of himself and did not need Dean's worry or his help.

Resolutely, he grabbed the bar of hippie soap, a towel and a pair of flip flops, which he set on a rock that was close to the waterline and waded in, dunking himself once the water was waist-high without preamble. Lathering up the soap, Dean scrubbed his short nails through his hair, working it in, groaning a little at how good it felt to get clean. He made short work of cleaning the rest of his body, dunking himself again and again until when he rubbed his fingers across his skin it literally squeaked.

Refreshed, Dean floated peacefully on his back for awhile, relaxing and taking in the scenery around him. There were colorful birds flying throughout and overhead and the sounds of jungle life all about. The water depth didn't seem to go deeper than about five feet or so, but it was still nice to soak himself in the mild water and just luxuriate. The water was quite clear and periodically he could see the shadows of fish flashing their silver bellies as they flitted past.

Only when he was in danger of turning into a giant prune did Dean finally drag his waterlogged ass out and up onto dry land. By then, the night had finally begun to set in, mellowing out the temperature and there was a chill in the air that made Dean dry off quickly and hurry into sweats and his last clean t-shirt, wishing he could light a fire or that he had a certain feline space heater of a companion to curl up next to.

Feeling bored and antsy...and slightly worried about his cat, (who had been gone two hours and seventeen minutes, not that Dean was counting or anything) Dean crawled inside his tent and flopped down on his sleeping bag, leaving the fabric door-flap open.

Snagging his tattered copy of Slaughterhouse-Five and his mp3 player, he tried to distract himself. But it was no good. It didn't feel right to be reading the book without his cat nearby, listening in and the music, which usually calmed him, seemed to rub his nerves the wrong way now, upping his restless, fidgety factor to an uncomfortable pins and needles vibe.

Ugh. This was ridiculous. He and his cat had only just today spent time in each others company. Before this, he been on his own for days and had been perfectly fine . A little lonely maybe, but fine. Fan-freaking-tastic. Now, after spending a few hours in his cat's presence, he suddenly couldn't stand to be away from him for a couple measly hours? What was wrong with him?

Pushing the book and mp3 player aside, he sat up. His chest suddenly felt funny; that strange twinge from earlier was back. It didn't hurt, but it felt oddly...tight? There was a distinct pulling sensation, almost like he was drawing something to himself or perhaps being reeled in to something but before he could explore the feeling further, his ears picked up the gentle thunder of paws drumming along the jungle floor, prompting him to jump up and scramble out of the tent, looking around eagerly; without knowing exactly how he knew, he was sure that the incoming predator was his cat.

Sure enough, within a few seconds, his cat appeared out of the gloom and undergrowth, looking a bit tired, but overall, victorious and very pleased with himself. In his strong jaws he drug by the neck what looked like a cross between a water buffalo and a deer, which must've weighed at least 250lbs, if not more, with a shiny, dark hide and short, pointy horns.

The animal thrashed weakly in his cat's grip and the leopard let out a muffled growl before jerking his head up and to the side, swiftly and effectively snapping his prey's neck with a loud crack that made Dean flinch. The large creature went abruptly limp in the leopard's hold and the cat continued onwards as if nothing had happened, bypassing Dean, who was staring, in equal parts shock and awe.

The leopard came to a stop in front of a large ceiba tree at the edge of Dean's campsite, close to the lagoon. Laying down the carcass at the base of the giant tree, the leopard then strolled directly over to Dean, who valiantly tried not shrink back in fear, which was rapidly washing over him in healthy doses as he was reminded, yet again, how vicious and brutal his cat could truly be.

“Hey kitty, that's quite a haul, huh? I mean, look what the cat dragged in!” Dean chuckled nervously as his cat's affronted look.

“Oh, c'mon! What? You walked right into that joke, I mean, literally, cat!” Dean smiled winningly at the leopard, who eyed him back balefully before edging closer and putting his head under Dean's hand, demanding some petting, to which Dean readily complied, scritching his fingers through his cat's ever silky fur.

Throaty purring commenced immediately and Dean relaxed considerably, grinning at the leopard's blissed out face and decided that he could get away with a little friendly ribbing.

“I'm on to you though, dude. You totally drug that water buffalo-deer thing still half-alive back here just to show off, didn't ya? Huh? Yeah, you're kind of an exhibitionist, arent'cha? Although, if I was as badass as you are, I'd flaunt it too,” Dean comforted as he rubbed the underside of his cat's chin, but the leopard was having none of it, and jerked his head back slightly to glare at Dean imperiously, as if he couldn't believe Dean would accuse him, a mighty hunter beyond reproach, of such amateur behavior. However, the imperceptible twinkle in the cat's eye told a different story, leading Dean to believe that he was absolutely right, which made him grin even more.

The leopard turned away then and loped off to his well-deserved dinner and showing off a just little more cat swagger, easily grasped the animal's neck back in his jaws before effortlessly scaling the ceiba tree, toting his prey along with him and once again, disappearing from Dean's view into green foliage.

Chapter Text

Mmm.

Cas was so warm. And his mate smelled so good. He propped himself up on his elbows and fervently rubbed his face into the crook of his mate's neck, breathing in deeply, where the delicious scent of cinnamon, apples, leather, fresh rainfall and spicy, heady sunshine emanated the most strongly from. It was absolutely intoxicating, he couldn't get enough and like a man dying of thirst stumbling onto an oasis, he gorged himself greedily on it. His panther (Panther?) purred blissfully, alpha instincts immeasurably satisfied by the contact. This was what he had been craving.

He licked a curving stripe up the hollow of his mate's throat, reveling in the fact that the taste was even better than the scent, with the sharp tang of salt and musk providing an additional, delectable layer. He inhaled another stimulating sip of that sinfully exquisite scent, licked one more stripe and followed it with a nip this time, as his mate let out a soft moan beneath him. He could feel his mate's growing erection poking insistently into his abdomen, which caused him to groan and roll his hips downwards in response, meeting his mate's heated arousal.

Panting, Cas ground his hips down again. Mmm. There were too many clothes in the way. (Clothes?) He wanted skin on skin contact. Now. (Wait, skin?) Feverishly, he pushed, shoved and ripped at the material til it yielded warm flesh. Mmm, yes. He sighed contentedly, burying his face back in his mate's throat, licking and nipping and sucking every inch of skin he could reach, digging his fingers (fingers...?) in with bruising force as he continued to meet the thrusts of his mate against him.

A hot, plush mouth was sucking kisses along his collarbone. Hands were smoothing their way down his sides, traveling lower, strong fingers were gripping handfuls of his ass, muscular thighs were wrapping around his waist, pulling him in as closely as possible, bucking and whimpering, hips fitting together like magnets, slotting his cock slickly alongside his mate's, the friction mind-numbingly perfect.

A low voice was breathlessly moaning wordless noises against his shoulder, the vibrations of which were infusing his skin (skin...no..no..no..) with bursts of electricity. Cas could feel his knot beginning to swell, fire looping down his spine, coiling up in his gut like a cobra, ready to strike; he had never experienced pleasure quite so strongly nor as satisfyingly before.

Encouraged by the pleased noises and movements of his mate, he sped up, rutting more frantically as he sucked a dark mark in the tender flesh just below his mate's ear; his panther urged him to bite, to mark, to claim, but...he knew he shouldn't, not yet, he just couldn't seem to remember why. He breathed in deep lungfuls of his mate's potent scent, which was so strong he could taste apples, cinnamon and sunshine on the back of his tongue and throat.

However, internal alarms were going off faintly, far away, in the back of Cas' mind, which he was steadfastly ignoring, this felt too good, and he had waited too long to have this with Dean. Dean, his mate. Dean...whom he had only appeared to in his panther form, and had yet to even speak one word to.

This wasn't real. Was it?

This was just another dream, like that other one (wait...) and what were dreams, except a dry run for reality? A way of getting what you wanted, how you wanted it, no strings attached and a lovely memory as a keepsake. There were a million ways to go. Even if in actuality, this never truly happened, he could revisit this version whenever he liked.

The faint internal alarms were now wailing klaxons. But that other dream...he hadn't...he wasn't...when he'd woken up...skin...skin...skin! (Oh shit...)

Cas struggled to think, to remember why this was bad, past the waves of pleasure that were quickly, inexorably sweeping him to the edge, ready to hurl him into the cosmos, but it was too late, his concentration was shattered as he came with a choked cry, knot popping, come gushing from him in thick spurts, painting both his and his mate's stomachs and chests, starbursts exploding behind his closed eyelids.

Afterglow disappearing in an instant, growling lowly, he jerked into complete wakefulness, eyes snapping open to the sound of a punched out gasp beneath him and the feel of teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder, which prompted another, smaller orgasm and milked another load of come out of him. Grunting at the unexpected pleasure-pain, Cas jolted back from the clench of his mate's teeth, panic infusing him. Oh no!

Dazed, aftershocks still shivering through him as he finished coming, Cas looked down and the sight that met his eyes was immediately burned into his retinas, beautiful and horrifying. A sweaty, flushed, panting Dean, head thrown back, riding out the throes of his own orgasm, having yet to open his eyes; had he been asleep this whole time too?

With a strangled sob, Cas tore away from the vise-like grip of Dean's thighs, not even having to spare a glance at himself to know unquestionably that he'd reverted to his skin yet again. His panther was growling heatedly and protesting leaving their mate behind, but Cas was terrified, desperate to flee the scene for the time being, he couldn't be caught like this. Couldn't meet Dean for the first time in his skin, like this. Scrambling for purchase, he staggered and thrashed his way out of the shelter, nearly tearing open the cloth door as he fumbled with the zipper in his haste to escape. Flailing, he managed to get free and bolted off into the jungle towards the safety of his den.

~*~*~*~

Dean awoke slowly, the sound of something large crashing through the underbrush bringing him to full alertness, he sat up a bit, propping himself up by his elbows, trying to shake the lingering sense of disorientation. Hazy wisps of sleep still clung to him...that dream, wow. He hadn't had a really sexy wet dream like that since he was a teenager. He felt...good...sated.

He licked his lips and swallowed reflexively, tasting a tint of coppery salt on his lips and teeth. Huh. Dean touched his fingertips to his mouth and pulled them away to see smears of blood. What the fuck?! He sat up quickly and looked down to his lap to see that his t-shirt was rucked up practically to his armpits and that his boxers were nowhere to be seen; his sleeping bag was flung aside and all tangled up around his knees. Oh. Whoa. Looked like he'd gotten kinda...rowdy. His chest, stomach and pubes were drenched in come...holy shit...that was a lot of jizz...wet dream indeed! Ugh...gross...obviously he needed to clean the pipes out more often. Goddamn.

He must've come so hard it made him bite through his lip. He certainly felt like he'd come pretty hard, there was an all-over feeling of laxness in his limbs and looseness to his spine that he only got after an especially good orgasm. He was almost tempted to go back to sleep for another hour or two but the spunk drying on his skin was too nasty to ignore.

He found his boxers wadded up in a ball at the bottom of his sleeping bag where he must have kicked them off and used them to mop up the worst of the mess. Jesus fuck, he was all sweaty too, he'd need to at least rinse off before he headed out this morning.

Dean shivered, goosebumps breaking out over his skin as he looked around for the draft. Pearly gray light was filtering in through the tent door-flap, which was hanging open haphazardly, zipper all askew. Huh. He was pretty damn sure he'd zipped it closed after he and his cat had settled down for—Oh! Well, duh. Dean looked around the small space. He was all alone. Obviously his cat had gotten out of the tent somehow and Dean wouldn't put it past him to have figured out how the zipper worked.

Maybe that was the loud noise that had roused him from his dream? But usually the leopard was so stealthy and silent on his paws. His cat was probably out hunting himself some breakfast and Dean guiltily hoped his cat wouldn't bring him anything; he hated to have to disappoint the hunter by not eating the gifts he seemed so determined to bring to Dean.

Dean figured that by the time he got washed up and all packed that his cat would be back and ready to head out; he wanted to reach the commune by noon or so if possible. So he set about breaking down camp, took a quick dip in the lagoon (the cold water waking his happy ass up faster than coffee) and having a quick, unsatisfactory breakfast of bottled water, power bars and the last of the dried fruit, opting to save his last two yummy-fruit-thingys for later. Man, he needed to find out what those things were called if he was gonna get more before he went home.

By the time he was hefting his pack onto his back and checking to make sure he'd left nothing behind it was nearly 8am and there was no sign of his cat, which bummed him out more than he was willing to admit. Stalling, but not willing to call it that, he spent ten minutes taking some more footage and stills of the lagoon and waterfalls, until he had captured the beauty of the spot from every angle.

Due to all the rain, most mornings there was a low-lying layer of fog, that looked like it belonged in some D-list horror movie and this morning was no exception. Dean took a few shots of how the fog seemed to creep along the ground. Realizing that he was just dragging his feet now and resigning himself to the fact that his cat would catch up to him when he damn well felt like it, he started hiking.

Sighing dejectedly and feeling slightly forlorn but not wanting to dwell on it, Dean extracted his mp3 player and earbuds from his pack and plugged in some good tunes to cheer himself up. “Ramble On” was first up and managed to make his lips twitch up into a little smile and eventually when the playlist he'd picked shuffled onto Bob Seger's “Night Moves,” he grinned widely and started singing along.

“I was a little too tall, could've used a few pounds,
Tight pants points hardly renown.
She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes
And points all her own sitting way up high.
Way up firm and high...

Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy,

Out in the back seat of my 60' Chevy.

Workin' on mysteries without any clues
Workin' on our night moves...”

When he and Sam had still lived together, anytime either of them caught the other doing 'the walk of shame,' they'd start singing this song at the top of their lungs; Sam always choosing to change the lyric of “out in the back seat of my 60' Chevy,” to “out in the back seat of my brother's 67' Chevy,” in honor and homage to Baby. Which was totally fitting since the backseat of the Impala had been the location of many a sexy times for both brothers at one time or another (but, of course, y'know, separately).

Dean tried to remember the last time he'd had sex in the back of the Impala. Was it when he was in Springfield, Ohio photographing those two different endangered species of bats late last year? Yeah, a cute, perky blonde barfly named...Layla? Shayla? Starla? Ehhh whatever...they'd downed a few rounds of purple nurples and she'd been hot, ready and willing and they'd had some wild sex in Baby's backseat, rough and fast. Hell yeah, that'd been fun, but he still didn't think he'd come as hard as he had this morning. Shit. Definitely an awesome way to begin his day.

And last night had been...nice, too, in an undefinable sense, or rather, he knew exactly what he'd liked about it but couldn't quite admit it to himself. Mostly because he felt it was both crazy and pathetic; it was something he almost felt ashamed of wanting so badly, yet confused by the creature that was inspiring the desire.

~*~*~*~

After his cat had vanished up into the trees to eat his dinner, Dean puttered about, trying not to listen to the noises of his cat devouring his kill with what sounded similar to piranha-like ferocity. Half an hour later, his cat came slinking down, looking supremely pleased and stuffed, like the cat that had gotten the proverbial canary..or cream. Whatever. Dean was relieved to see that his cat had also meticulously cleaned his muzzle of any traces of blood and...meaty bits...teeth and claws glimmering dully in the weak light of the lanterns Dean had switched on when the sun had set.

His cat went down to the water's edge and lapped delicately at the water. Yup, now Dean probably would have preferred a nice frosty beer to wash down all that tasty buffalo-deer meat but water was what was handy.

The leopard had glided up to him gracefully, rubbing his cheek against Dean's thigh, ducking his head under Dean's hand to demand some petting.

“All full, huh kitty? Feel better?” Dean asked as he scratched behind his cat's ears. The leopard licked his chops heartily and yawned widely in response, which Dean took as a resounding 'Hell yeah!'

Already changed into his pajamas, Dean turned around and headed to his tent, his cat strolling along behind him as if they had planned this all along. Stooping a tad, he climbed in, his cat waiting politely (for once!) til Dean was all comfy in his sleeping bag before deftly clambering inside as well, laying down, stretched out alongside Dean, with his head resting on his paws, gazing up at Dean expectantly, as if to ask what they were going to do next.

Reaching up, Dean zipped the tent door-flap shut before leaning over to rummage through his pack for his copy of Slaughterhouse-Five, pulling it out triumphantly and grinning cheekily at his cat.

“Storytime, kitty?” He asked, already like 98% sure of the response.

Loud purring rumbled up immediately, as his cat curled up closer to him, lifting his head to rub his face against the book before resting it on Dean's chest, all his attention trained on Dean, waiting for him to begin. So, definitely a yes there.

Thumbing through the yellowed pages, Dean found the one he'd folded over the corner of in lieu of having a book marker to save his place, cleared his throat and started reading.

“The dog, who had sounded so ferocious in the winter distances, was a female German shepherd. She was shivering. Her tail was between her legs. She had been borrowed that morning from a farmer. She had never been to war before. She had no idea what game was being played. Her name was Princess...”

Dean read on quietly, in low, soothing tones, chuckling inwardly as his cat insidiously scooted closer and closer (like Dean wouldn't notice him if he did it all sneaky-like) until eventually he was practically draped over Dean like a large, furry, vibrating blanket, head resting on Dean's chest, right over his heart, paws curled lightly around Dean's shoulders. With his left hand Dean cupped his cat's head, fingers rhythmically massaging between and behind his cat's ears. With his right, he held the book loosely splayed open as he read aloud.

When the leopard's eyes started shutting in slow, languorous blinks, Dean knew it was time to put up the book and turn out the light for the night. He was pretty tired himself, it had been an long, intense day. Stretching, Dean sat up slightly, or as much as he could with almost the full length of his cat spread overtop of him; his cat was totally unconcerned, not bothering to move.

Leaning to the side, he tucked the book into his pack and switched off the lantern and laid down, squirming a little to get back into his comfy spot. As if waiting for Dean to relax and get comfortable, as soon as he stilled, his cat snuggled in, pressing his face into the warm hollow of Dean's neck and shoulder, letting out a content sigh that turned into an almost indiscernible purr.

In a far corner of Dean's mind, he was still caught up in disbelief that this was actually happening, but he wouldn't give it up or trade it for anything. Breathing out a pretty damn content sigh of his own, he casually moved his arms up until they wrapped around his cat fully.

The gesture vaguely reminded Dean of being fifteen again and on his first real date with a cute brunette girl named Robin, sitting in the darkened movie theater, sharing a tub of buttered popcorn, fingers brushing every time they both reached for a handful. The way he'd held his breath as he'd nonchalantly sat back and tried to suavely put his arm around her shoulders, smiling giddily when she not only allowed it but even nestled into his embrace.

What a strange thing to remember right now. This was as far from a friggin' date as he could be. Deciding that if he thought about all of this any longer he might blow his own mind, Dean firmly pushed it away until later (read: the sixteenth of never) and hugged his cat closer, which got him some throaty purring and neck licking (which he'd never admit he kinda liked). Reveling in the warmth and softness of his cat, he hummed absentmindedly, quietly singing into his cat's ear, which was right against his mouth.

“And if I say to you tomorrow. Take my hand, child, come with me.
It's to a castle I will take you, where what's to be, they say will be.

Catch the wind, see us spin, sail away, leave today, way up high in the sky.

But the wind won't blow, you really shouldn't go, it only goes to show,
That you will be mine, by takin' our time.

And if you say to me tomorrow, oh what fun it all would be.
Then what's to stop us, pretty baby, but what is and what should never be.

So if you wake up with the sunrise, and all your dreams are still as new,
And if happiness is what you need so bad, girl, the answer lies with you.”

Dean hummed the chorus again as his cat went boneless against him and turned into a puddle of melted, happy cat butter. Dean continued to run his hands along his cat's back and shoulders in long, slow strokes, enjoying the feel of his cat's purr vibrating underneath his skin. Without really noticing, he kept rubbing the velvety cup of his cat's ear over his cheek and the side of his mouth, loving the way the silky hairs dragged across his stubble.

Another thought occurred to him, even though he wasn't supposed to be thinking; Dean didn't consider himself to be all that tactile of a person, he was affectionate to people he was close to, like Sammy, but as a rule he wasn't normally that handsy. Dean's motto was, “No chick-flick moments!” However, he couldn't seem to stop touching and petting his cat, not that the leopard seemed to mind at all, on the contrary, he seemed to crave Dean's affection, which, oddly, (secretly) Dean really kinda loved. It was nice to feel needed.

And maybe that was part of what made him feel so pathetic; that hunger to feel needed, wanted, useful. Sam was all grown up and a big boy now, (bigger than Dean, the damn Sasquatch!) totally capable of looking after himself. He didn't need Dean anymore like he once had. Dean's calling, his passion, whether he knew it or not, was usefulness, action, taking care of whatever or whoever needed taking care of.

Dean missed that simple domesticity of their childhood, where they'd only really had each other, but it had still managed to be a home if they were together, either in the Impala or in whatever rundown place Dad had found for them. That's what family was. Home could be anywhere and was wherever you were together with the people you loved.

When he had gotten older, it was nice to get out on his own now and then, explore the world, live a little bit of his life for himself. But he had always been drawn back, to home, to Sam. But now Sam had made a new home, with Jess and even though Dean knew he was welcome anytime, it just wasn't the same. The dynamic had changed. Mom had been dead for years, (a wound that had never fully healed) then Dad had died and now Sam was well on his way to having the complete and total package of the apple pie life.

And while that was all Dean had ever wanted for Sam, he was self-aware enough to know that he wanted something for himself too, maybe not exactly what Sammy had, but something, someone, to call his own, to come home to. The problem was that this job sent him out alone in the wild for long stretches of time, far too often, which brought him to the crazy part of this whole deal.

He must be really hard up for company if attention from a friggin' jungle cat was ringing his bell for him now. Dean thought he'd learned his lesson about getting easily attached years ago, but apparently it hadn't quite stuck, no matter how hard his father had tried to hammer it into his thick skull, because here he was, after barely a week, feeling...something...he was almost scared to say what, for a creature that wasn't even human. Dean smirked a little bitterly to himself. John Winchester would be rolling over in his grave.

Disquieting trains of thought were not conducive to sleep and Dean was tired, didn't want to think anymore, he just seemed to be like a dog chasing his tail anyways, so instead, he focused on his cat's deep, easy breathing, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against Dean's chest and the gentle resonance of his content purr, letting it all lull him to sleep, like his very own personal lullaby.

Memories started to drift lazily through his mind, like clouds sailing across the sky on a clear summer day. Scraps of thought and random recalls flashed by like a reel of film breaking.

Barreling down an open, empty highway, really letting Baby stretch her legs after he'd rebuilt her engine, Sam smirking at him in the passenger seat, asking if he wanted to be alone with the car. Dean grinning back, saying, “Aww Baby, he doesn't understand us!”

That 4^th of July when he and Sammy had set off all those fireworks and Sam, who'd still been a little shrimp back then, was so ecstatic he had buried his face in Dean's chest and hugged him so hard Dean had felt his ribs shift in protest as he hugged Sam back for all he was worth.

His mom, wearing a blue and white sundress, blonde hair cascading around her shoulders, humming along to Creedence Clearwater on the radio in the kitchen as she cut the crusts off his PB&J, sunlight pouring in through the windows, Dean happily swinging his little feet that didn't quite touch the floor yet, munching his sandwich and slurping his milk. The warmth and security of her all-encompassing embrace, pulling away only to say with a sparkle in her eye, “How about some pie?”

His eleventh birthday, they'd stayed with Bobby a couple months. John had given him a Seecamp LWS .32 automatic, a small, neat gun that fit into his hands and had taken him out back for target practice, ruffling his hair and telling him he was a natural when Dean nailed four out of the five beer cans set up along the old rickety fence.

But Bobby had really known what he wanted; he handed over the slightly battered, oversized Polaroid Land camera like it was nothing, but the keen gleam in his eye as he had watched Dean light up with joy, was knowing and proud. Sammy chipped in to buy film, with Bobby's help, of course, and they'd spent the rest of the day running around the salvage yard taking pictures of whatever caught their eye.

Dean still had that old camera, wrapped up in ratty t-shirt in a shoebox at the back of his closet. It was damn near impossible to find film for it anymore, but Dean couldn't bear to throw it away, that old camera had started him on his career path, had helped bring him here.

Here.

Here, halfway across the world, to lush green rainforests and blue-eyed leopards. Mmm. Beautiful blue eyes.

The dream shifted, memories cycled out and Dean found himself starring in the beginning of one of his favorite pornos. Awww yeah, that was more like it!

He leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms out along the tops of the cushions on either side of him as a curvy brunette with blue eyes, short, dark hair and dressed all in crimson like a naughty, sexy version of the devil sauntered out onto the raised stage that Dean sat in front of, swaying lasciviously to “Cherry Pie.”

Alo-ha cowboy!

The woman danced right up to him, leaning down to caress his face and run her hands over his chest. He smiled appreciatively and blinked and suddenly there was a curly haired blonde dressed as a sexy angel, complete with white fuzzy wings and halo, (and not much else!) undulating alongside the slinky devil-girl.

“Heh, now that's what I call peace on earth,” Dean grinned salaciously as the two women petted each other, kissing teasingly before turning to Dean and crowding onto his lap. Just like the song, Dean was sure his grin was ten miles wide as his eyes slipped shut, the feel of two sets of hands pushing aside his clothes bringing him to hardness rapidly.

Things got jumbled a little then, shifting once more, and then it was down to just one set of hands, but oh, it was more than enough.

Hot, sweet breath spilled over his neck, running a shiver through him, a burning tongue of fire licked stripes along his throat, nipping and laving along his jugular, causing him to moan loudly, canting his hips upwards to meet the ones that were all at once grinding back down against his erection.

Those large, warm (masculine?) hands were moving frantically over him, pushing up his shirt, shoving down his boxers and blankets...were they in bed now?

Mmm...Dean could care less, it wasn't important; what was important, was getting naked, right now.

He couldn't seem to open his eyes or form intelligent sentences, the soft mouth that kept licking and nipping at his throat and sucking at that tender spot right under his ear, combined with that sinuous, slow roll of hips against his was quickly rendering him mildly brain dead, lost in ecstasy.

Strong fingers were firmly gripping his flanks and he raised his arms up to return the favor, smoothing his hands over rippling sinew, down to a pert, muscular ass that he just could not resist grabbing handfuls of and squeezing tightly, pressing down while he arched up, wrapping his legs around a slim waist to draw them impossibly closer, chest to chest. He could feel his dick leaking all over his stomach and groaned at the feeling of another cock, slick and hot with precome, slotting in right alongside his own, creating the perfect combo of heat and friction, so fucking good. (Oh definitely masculine alright!)

Through the haze of sensation, Dean managed to lift his head a bit and lean forward to mouth along collarbones that he really wanted to bite into. Instead he sucked the sweaty flesh into his mouth, sucking bruises where he could reach. God, it tasted good, like rain and salt, like a tropical storm, fresh and sweet. He moaned wordlessly, wanting more and as it happened in dreams sometimes, he got what he wanted, the body pressed to his started rocking against him faster, increasing the friction, grinding down dirtily and those plush lips returned, sucking hard at that sweet spot right under his ear. Dean turned his head to the side, baring the column of his neck, wishing that lush mouth would nip a little more sharply, really bite down, mark him up...

Huh...that was weird, Dean thought vaguely. He didn't usually like to bite or be bitten, but the urge to do so now was...strong.

Necessary. He needed to, wanted to, it was...strangely imperative, some instinct was screaming at him, to claim, to take what was rightfully his. He craved that rain-storm-salt-sweet flavor, wanted to taste it on the back of his tongue, drink it down.

But before he could act on that hunger, the body crushed against his, tightened up, muscles going taut, a loud, lusty moan reverberated through the contact point where that hot mouth was buried in his throat. The cock rubbing frenziedly against his suddenly seized up, spurting out scorching, thick ribbons of come on his stomach and chest.

With one last hard thrust, Dean toppled over the edge too, gasping as his orgasm hit him like a freight train, punching the air out of his lungs in a humid gust, adding his own come to the load already smeared between their bellies; he wanted to scream but hadn't enough air to do so and instead sank his teeth into the shoulder pressed close to his mouth.

Overloaded by the sensation of what must be blood rushing over his tongue, coppery, salty-sweet, the taste burning into his tastebuds before the flesh was ripped out of his grasp with a low groan. Dean felt his whole body lock up, threw his head back, thighs tightening around the lithe body between them; his eyelids fluttered, wanting to open, to see; he imagined blue eyes and dark hair, but then the moment was gone, limbs were tangling, all that warmth abruptly jerked away, (no no no no MINE!) tumbling, thrashing, a draft of unpleasantly cold air, crashing in the undergrowth, chaos slowly dulling into silence.

His consciousness drifted towards wakefulness, inches from the surface, dazed and confused, (been dazed and confused for so long it's not true) the whole thing fading away at the edges already, a steamy fantasy steadily dissipating, slipping through his fingers, like sand, like water...blue water...blue eyes...

Dean awoke, disoriented, the sound of something in the distance moving loudly through the underbrush pushing away the last of the dream, only the satisfaction of satiation, residual heat and laxity in his limbs left behind as nebulous reminders. Yet also leaving a smile on his face...and blood in his mouth.

~*~*~*~

By the time it was 11am, Dean had been hiking for three hours without seeing hide nor hair of his cat and despite his best efforts, he was truly starting to worry, no matter how often he told himself that it was completely unnecessary. But he couldn't ignore the sick feeling in his stomach or the pressure that kept winding tighter, twinging in his chest with every step.

He hiked on for another half mile, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for any sign of his cat, but felt his heart start to sink down to his toes as he realized he was getting close to the commune; he could hear the distant sounds of civilization and people, not too far off now.

As he reached the crest of a small bluff, he saw the tops of what looked like small wooden houses and the telltale sign of campfire smoke threading its way up out of the trees. Dean knew the closer he got to the commune, the less likely he was to see his cat now, no way the leopard, who for all his friendliness towards Dean, was still a wild, untamed creature, would be bold enough to come so near an area populated by humans that could possibly cause him harm. And Dean wouldn't want him to either. His guts twisted at the thought of anything bad happening to his cat.

Dean wasn't planning on staying very long at the commune; he wanted to stock up on food and water, explore a bit and resume his journey through the interior with the remaining time he had left on his special pass inside the preserve. Hopefully, once he got out into the jungle again, away from other humans, his cat would come back to him.

Sighing in resignation, Dean headed downhill, only glancing up when he got to the bottom, but as he did so, he noticed a shape moving apart from the low layer of fog along the ground, twenty or thirty yards out. Squinting, he gasped when the blurry silhouette resolved into a recognizable figure.

A second later, his hopes were dashed as he saw that while it was indeed a leopard, it was not his cat.

It was a small, pale golden leopard, with light brown rosettes, maybe a female, most likely a juvenile. The animal didn't seem afraid of him, but Dean stilled immediately, no sudden movements. Just because he had made friends with one leopard didn't mean that the rest were going to be so chummy and refrain from making a Dean-burger out of him.

Cautiously, the leopard approached him in a roundabout way, sticking close to the undergrowth, darting glances at him as it circled nearer. Dean slowly dropped into a crouch, not wanting to intimidate or challenge the animal by his height. The leopard abruptly stopped when it was fifteen feet away, body going rock steady, turned away from Dean, ears perking straight up, swiveling, as its attention was diverted by something Dean couldn't see. The leopard canted its head up, pink nose wiggling, sniffing the air for a few moments, before its stance swiftly relaxed.

Puzzled, Dean did a quick survey of his surroundings and just as he turned his head, he caught of glimpse of his cat behind him, trotting up soundlessly, bypassing Dean, hurrying straight up to the smaller golden leopard. His cat immediately scented the other leopard and licked its cheek before rubbing his body full-length against the other leopard in what looked like a warm welcome. The smaller leopard bared its neck to his cat, who nuzzled it briefly and allowed the other leopard to scent him as well.

The knots in Dean's chest and stomach that had loosened momentarily at the arrival of his cat seemed to wind up into a tighter snarl at the familiarity his cat displayed towards this unknown leopard. There was a feral voice growling at the back of his mind that no one but him should be touching his mate like that.

Dean fervently nodded at the sentiment. Wait, what? Mate? Dean shook his head, swallowing hard against the burn of jealousy that seemed to have lodged at the base of his throat. What the hell was going on? What was wrong with him? But before the fear that was starting to root in his mind had a chance to burst into a bloom of full-blown panic, he was distracted by the sight of his cat striding right up to him with the other leopard in tow.

Dean barely held back the growl that had suddenly sprung up in his throat as the unknown leopard drew closer, which caused both leopard's eyes to widen in what looked like surprise on his cat's face and wariness on the other leopard. As if sensing Dean's discomfort, his cat instantly crowded into Dean's personal space, rubbing his furry cheek against Dean's in a manner that was somehow immensely reassuring.

Dean felt all his muscles, which had felt so constricted, promptly ease up and he drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of rain-storm-salt-sweetness that was captivatingly familiar, like a memory of a dream, something that he knew intimately, he just couldn't remember time or place.

Feeling much calmer, Dean disengaged from his cat a little, only to notice the other leopard's gaze flitting back and forth between him and his cat with the same look of alert awareness that he had seen on his cat's face with increasing regularity.

Catching Dean studying her, for as she had scooted closer, he was able to identify that she was indeed a young female, she stared back piercingly as if scrutinizing him. Dean matched her gaze, some instinct telling him that it was crucial that he meet her challenge and win this staring contest.

In doing so, Dean observed that she had nearly the same crystalline blue eyes as his cat, maybe a shade or two lighter. His brow furrowed in consternation, was she related to his cat? Or were blue eyes merely a shared characteristic among Javan leopards?

Finally the leopardess lowered her gaze a bit and turned aside to headbutt at his cat's shoulder and Dean smirked a bit, (Dean: 1, other leopard: Zip) sensing he had passed some kind of test. His cat returned the gesture playfully, seeming almost giddy with nervousness, which appeared to ebb away after a few seconds and his cat straightened back up seriously, stepping forward into Dean's space again, carefully rubbing the side of his face on both sides of Dean's neck and face deliberately, finishing with a light lick right underneath Dean's ear, obviously marking him. And instead of feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable, a strange mixture of relief, pride and pleasure swooped warmly through Dean's body, bringing a smile to his face, which his cat seemed both satisfied and gratified at.

As though some significant act had been performed, his cat nudged his face against Dean's shoulder once more before whipping around and scampering off without a backwards glance, as though he knew undoubtedly that Dean would follow. The leopardess eyeballed Dean expectantly before vanishing in the same direction as his cat with a swish of her tail.

Well. That was that.

Dean obediently picked up his pace and trailed speedily after the two leopards. Fifteen minutes at a near-jog down an evidently well-kept path brought him to a low rock retaining wall, bolstered up by thick shrubs and stubby palm trees. Further back and up a gentle slope there were, rather incongruously, what looked like tall, skinny evergreens planted in a large circle and within that were about two dozen or more small huts with long, thatched A-frame roofs. The huts surrounded a large, lush hump of land that rose up into a medium-sized hill.

Within walking distance of where Dean stood, admittedly gaping a little since he hadn't expected such a sophisticated set up, were two large buildings that were obviously a supply station and visitor's center; colorful signs in both the native tongue and English proclaimed this to be Ciptagelar.

A dozen SUV's and trucks were parked in the dirt lot out front and there was a steady stream of bustling activity that caught Dean off guard; he had imagined a small, quiet, sleepy little village, so this was plenty to take in. But the buzz of adventure swiftly filtered in at the prospect of fresh meat and showers, new people to meet plus endless vistas that were already catching his artistic eye.

The fog had finally lifted and the sky was a beautiful jewel-toned cerulean, reminding him of his cat's eyes, and a spike of pained sadness lanced through him; as long as he was at the commune here he probably wouldn't get to see his cat at all. Dean missed him already.

Pushing that thought away, he squared his shoulders and was trying to recall a few helpful phrases in Javanese and praying that he'd run into some natives that spoke English when he was distracted by the sight of two people walking directly up to him. The shorter of the two was a teenage girl, probably 14 or 15, with striking, sharp blue eyes and long blonde hair that sported braids, feathers and shiny beads. She was clad in a plain gray t-shirt and oddly enough, skinny jeans paired with black Chucks.

“Hi, I'm Claire and this is Cas,” the girl offered, jerking her head at her companion and smirking openly at Dean's gawping, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Hey Claire, Cas, I'm Dean,” he smiled back weakly, tipping his chin in reply as his gaze shifted to acknowledge the man standing next to her and his breath caught even as his heart stuttered in his chest.

Shit. He was fucking gorgeous.

He had a shock of dark, messy hair that made him look as though he'd just been fucked in a wind tunnel and wore only a pair of black sweatpants that rode low on clearly defined hipbones that Dean ached to bite and suck bruises onto. He was a vision of compact, lithe muscle but what really struck Dean were the man's eyes, if he'd thought Claire's were striking, they had nothing on Cas', which were an otherworldly shade of azure and intense to the tenth power.

Currently they were locked on Dean with a startling depth of emotion, mainly what Dean read as apprehension and barely contained excitement. The primal urge to ease and comfort this man swept through Dean like a blaze of wildfire and so he smiled encouragingly at him as he held out his hand to shake in greeting.

The man's smile was small but genuine and more in his eyes than his obscenely pink, plush mouth that Dean was trying valiantly not to fixate on. He clasped Dean's hand in his own with elegant, strong fingers, but didn't really shake, instead he was just holding Dean's hand, which should have been weird but on the contrary felt like two interlocking puzzle pieces snapping neatly into place.

Dean didn't think it was his imagination that was conjuring up the electric current he could swear he felt running up his arm and sending fucking charged jolts to his heart from their point of contact; the man, Cas, glanced down at their joined hands in wonderment, before looking back up to Dean, his smile brightening considerably even as Claire's eyes flashed back and forth between the two of them with a poorly hidden grin.

“Hello, Dean.”

Chapter Text

Cas didn't remember how he had ended up back in his den. Once he had untangled himself from Dean, he'd just bolted, mindlessly, like the animal he sometimes was, going on instinct, allowing his panther to guide him back to safety. He finally came back to himself somewhat to find that he was curled up in a little ball in the corner of his den, naked, shivering and human. Again.

This was turning into an unfortunate habit of his.

What the hell had happened?

Cas almost couldn't quite bear to process the situation yet. Part of him, the alpha, panther part mainly, was very satisfied, if a tad peeved that they'd had to leave their mate behind, just as things were getting good. But Cas' human side, the seat of rationality and home-base of awkwardness, wanted to crawl into a hole and die over how wrong and embarrassing that whole experience had been. No matter how good it had felt.

The fact remained: he had practically violated Dean in his sleep. And Dean had kind of violated him back. So...mutual violation? He wasn't sure. He knew they'd both been aroused and both come, but there was the tiny detail where neither of them had been totally awake, aware and able to give consent. And the other little detail where Cas was a shapeshifter and Dean only knew him as a wild leopard and they'd never spoken a word to each other, (well, Dean talked to Cas plenty) much less met while cognizant and collectively human.

Fuck. He was starting to understand the context in which Balthazar and Dean sometimes used that word. And it was appropriate right fucking now. Days of hanging around Dean and listening to him talk were clearly rubbing off on him.

Dammit. Cas tugged at his hair in desperation, his breathing shallow and erratic. This was not the way it was supposed to go. He had to fix this mess somehow!

First though, he knew he needed to calm down and get ahold of himself. He took a few deep breaths, in and out, trying to regulate his heart rate and breathe evenly instead of hyperventilating. He felt so disoriented and tired; his head and left shoulder both throbbed in tandem with his heartbeat.

He had to take stock of the situation.

Yes. He could do this.

He tried to go back over the events of the last twenty-four hours or so of his one-on-one interactions with Dean and wrangle them into some sort of order. Alright. As far as he knew, Dean had been effectively unconscious during their little...encounter and had not actually seen Cas. Okay. Good. That was good. It also meant he absolutely could not put off finally meeting Dean in his skin, not even for one more day, it had to be today.

Time was running out. Dean was many things, but Cas did not consider stupid to be one of them, no matter how self-deprecatingly Dean liked to refer to himself. Dean would put two and two together in due time and realize Cas' true nature and Cas was determined to tell him the truth himself, in person, before that happened. This whole thing would be difficult enough as it was without adding Dean being angry because he felt Cas had lied to him.

He'd already seen that considering, curious glint in Dean's evergreen gaze whenever Cas did something that registered as just a little too smart, too human. He could almost see Dean's clever mind working to figure out what it all meant. The only thing Cas had in his favor was denial. That wonderful human ability to deny facts even when squarely faced with them. The refusal to believe that the simplest explanation was the correct one. Cas saw it every time Dean brushed it off, scoffing loudly about jungle madness, disregarding what his mind told him was the answer. That might buy him a little time, enough that Cas could quickly form a plan and put it in action.

Cas wasn't overly familiar with denial; in the wild, in his fur, there was no need for it. Life in the jungle was primal, immediate, cut and dry. Eat or be eaten. Sleep, hunt, find shelter, occasionally copulate. Simple.

But Cas could also hear Balthazar's voice in his head telling him he was a hypocrite because he preferred to deny his humanity more often than not and wasn't that a form of denial as well?

Fine. So maybe a little...what was it that Balthazar said sometimes? Ahh yes...maybe a little bit of “show and tell” was in order. Though Cas was relatively sure Balthazar's version of show and tell included a lot more nudity than Cas was comfortable revealing to Dean in their first meeting, although, now that he thought about it, he'd sort of already done that, bypassing plain nudity and jumping right into enthusiastic rutting, not that Dean had been aware (or seemed to mind), but Cas knew. So this seemed to be the only solution. Cas hadn't been brave enough initially to shift to his skin when he'd allowed Dean to see him for the first time and things had spiraled out of control from there.

Things had started out so well, too. That look of pure happiness when Dean had first seen him. Cas had basked in it so contentedly; the warm feeling of everything falling into place effortlessly. Cas had been hesitant at first when Dean stretched out his hand in offering towards him, but the moment they touched, it was like Dean's hand had been molded especially to cup his cheek. He watched the play of emotions wash across his mate's face; awe mixed in with a healthy dose of fear, disbelief and giddy joy. Cas couldn't deny he felt about the same.

From the moment he had seen Dean come around the corner and they had finally come face to face in that sunny clearing, Cas felt as though his entire world, small though it was, had been turned upside-down. Did everyone experience this when they met their mate or was he just special? There was no denying that Dean was for sure his mate, that had become clear the closer in proximity they got and each passing minute spent in each others company seemed to affirm the belief, at least on Cas' side. Since Dean was not a shifter, Cas couldn't communicate with him telepathically as he did with other shifters. But that hadn't stopped them; even in person, Dean still talked to him as he had before Cas had shown himself and seemed to be able to understand Cas' wordless replies with surprising accuracy.

Dean had been remarkably respectful, very mindful in that, as far as he knew, Cas was a wild animal and should be treated accordingly. Cas loved the awe on Dean's face every time Cas approached him and allowed Dean to pet him. Cas had never been much for petting and cuddling, outside of times of duress or copulation, but it seemed to make a difference when the person smelled, looked and tasted as perfect as Dean. Cas couldn't seem to get enough of the feel of Dean's hands on him, the soothing, wondering way his hands explored Cas and then the way it had felt the first time he really got to scent Dean.

Mmmm. Getting to bury his face in that warm hollow between Dean's neck and shoulder, marking him thoroughly, rubbing his muzzle against the fluttering pulse that told him that Dean was scared but trusted him. Blending their scents together in a way that made his alpha instincts purr in approval, which was only heightened when he was unable to restrain himself and licked Dean's throat. He couldn't get quite as clear a read on how Dean was feeling just from his scent like he would be able to with another shifter but the fact that Dean was his mate made him easier to read than just any random human.

Cas had been mildly embarrassed at his forwardness, especially when Dean called him on it, what with the licking and practically crawling right into Dean's lap, but Cas could tell, even as rusty as his “people skills” were (as Balthazar referred to them) that Dean didn't really mind and was only kidding. And besides, Cas felt that he was entitled, he had waited so long for this moment and after all, this was his mate! Who could blame him for wanting to get as close as possible? It had been nearly torture to keep his distance, only watching from afar, biding his time.

But then when Dean had ignorantly teased Cas, first about Cas' stalker tendencies, not to mention the spraying and peeing on Dean's belongings, he had taken umbrage; as alpha, it was his right to protect and lay claim to his mate, (though he did feel moderately guilty for purposely urinating on Dean's things) but he did try to acknowledge the fact that Dean knew nothing of this and instead only treated his mate to a dirty look at his mocking.

And then again, when Dean complained of Cas' heaviness, he merely warned him with a sharp prick of his claws and another heated glare, at which Dean backtracked, though Cas secretly thought it was funny and was at least secure enough in his fur to not truly mind being teased about his weight, he knew he was all muscle, knew Dean was just teasing him, but it was entertaining and good to keep his mate on his toes.

Cas was aware from all the time he had spent observing Dean that the man liked to joke a lot, but Dean struck a nerve when he went on to badger Cas about his failed courting attempts,(though Dean was unaware that's what they were) he hadn't been able to control his alpha instincts that raged, angry and hurt that his efforts to prove his worthiness had been rejected by his mate, however unknowingly.

The shame and foolishness he had felt at Dean's jibe (“Showing off, huh?”) burned through him; maybe his family had been right and Cas was too stubborn to admit that his methods of courting weren't working in this situation.

With his paws digging heavily into his mate's shoulders (but not hard enough to truly hurt him) he had stared down into Dean's vibrant green eyes (which Cas was already enamored of) and willed him to understand why he was so upset and amazingly, it seemed to work. Dean stared right back like he couldn't bear to tear his gaze away and luckily, Cas wasn't one of those alphas who wanted his mate to avoid eye contact, it wasn't a challenge of dominance to him, but rather a further window of communication, and with Dean, he felt he needed all the conversational advantages he could get.

And when Dean had explained himself, Cas, despite feeling even more foolish at not realizing that while he himself enjoyed most of his food raw, even when in his skin, understood that Dean was more inclined to cook all his food and since fires were prohibited within the preserve he hadn't been purposely spurning Cas' advances.

He also found himself grudgingly mollified at Dean's apology and recognition of all Cas' hard work and even preened a little bit at Dean calling him “a freakin' awesome hunter,” which, in Dean-speak, he was pretty sure was a high compliment. As disheartening as the last few days had been, his alpha had needed to be soothed by the petting and reassurances of his mate, reminding him that all hope was not lost, that Dean was at least somewhat receptive to Cas' overtures, even if the man wasn't quite aware that's what they were.

He had worried for a moment that his temper had ruined everything between them when Dean had scooted back after Cas let him up, moving away until he bumped against the rocks behind him, but relaxed when after a few moments Dean smiled tentatively at him and held out his hand again, beckoning Cas closer; he complied, cuddling right up to Dean, delighting in the welcoming sensation of his mate's fingers combing through his fur.

But his heart had sunk again when once more Dean's ribbing struck a little too close to home (“Are you always this...friendly? Hmm, kitty? Or is it just me, huh? Is that why you brought me all those gifts? You like me or something? You do know I am a human, right?”) and Cas couldn't keep from tensing up, dropping his gaze from Dean's face, feeling stupid for ever thinking this absurd plan would work. Of course Dean only thought of Cas' efforts to woo him as a joke. There was too much that Dean didn't know. It only made Cas realize what a deep chasm lay between the two of them, each from different worlds, with various barriers holding them back, language, culture, species. How would they ever bridge the gap? And while Cas knew that he too, was partly human, he didn't feel like one of them; he'd been going native (as Balthazar liked to say) for so long it felt natural. His animal instincts were much sharper, more honed than his humanity, but he reasoned, that much like muscles grown weak from disuse, his human nature could be strengthened by exercising it rigorously.

He had allowed Dean to rub calming circles into his fur, easing away some of his misery and at the faint hint of worry permeating Dean's scent, had tried to get control of himself so as to not further concern his mate. But though Dean had apologized for his teasing, Cas was relieved when he eventually opted to stay quiet; (as much as he loved Dean's voice) he really didn't need to be reminded right now of all the ways he and Dean were dissimilar.

Dean seemed to sense Cas' upset and kept up his calming rhythm of full-body petting that Cas was reveling in, but after a few minutes Cas realized he wasn't the only one thinking deep thoughts when Dean snorted and asked him if he could tell him what was going on.

Well, good. His mate was proving that he was much smarter than he liked to let on (though Cas had never doubted that) and Cas was cheered up a little when Dean assured him, “We'll figure it all out,” before curling his arms around Cas possessively. He loved the sensation of being wrapped up in Dean's strong arms, the feeling of being wanted, even if Dean didn't know who or what he truly was. His alpha purred at the attention, grumbling only a little bit, his instincts dictating that, as the alpha, it was his arms that should be encasing Dean securely, but it all felt so good that Cas thought he wouldn't mind a little role-reversal from time to time.

Cas had only dozed lightly while Dean slept, content to stay on the watch, mostly alert, listening to their heartbeats and breaths syncing up and savoring the warmth and closeness of his mate. He could at least have this, for now.

When Dean awoke from his nap a couple hours later, he caught Cas watching him as he slept, but didn't seem to mind too much, more concerned with his pressing need to urinate, but Cas selfishly didn't want to relinquish their newfound proximity just yet and settled in more comfortably, licking Dean's chin and relishing the taste of his mate on his tongue, basking in his presence.

He enjoyed Dean's sass and fire and even played into it, loving that even though Dean was intimidated by him, he wasn't afraid to stand up to him either, which spoke to a level of trust Cas was thrilled to see they shared. After a mild show of faux dominance, Cas let him up to go take care of his business.

While he was gone, Cas stretched, inspected and marked Dean's backpack, barely restraining himself from rolling all over it so that they would smell like each other, which again, Dean didn't seem to mind, only rolling his eyes fondly, which Cas took as a definite good sign.

Just as Cas was wondering where they would go from here, he was given the answer by Dean's ferociously growling belly. Here was another chance to provide for his mate properly and this time he would not fail, he knew exactly where to go. While Dean had been napping, he'd taken to heart what he had said about not being accustomed to eating raw animal meat and the forbiddance of fires within the preserve and thus tried to think of other things that he might bring Dean as gifts and then it hit him, (he was annoyed he hadn't thought of it earlier) there was plenty of fresh, delicious, ready-to-eat fruit all over the island!

Admittedly, fruit had not been at the top of his list for a courting gift, a fresh kill was traditionally more worthy, better proof that an alpha was a reliable hunter, able to steadfastly provide and protect. Fruit required no work or skill to acquire, could be obtained by anyone and while delicious, was not enough sustenance to keep a predator going. Cas had even heard Dean say that warriors (which he obviously considered himself) needed meat, not “rabbit food,” during a rant about how Sam was always trying to feed him too many fruits and vegetables. But then again, Dean classified pie as a part of the fruit group; Cas wasn't sure, but he didn't think that was quite correct, but who cared when pie made Dean so happy?

Anyhow, be that as it may, he might as well try, because really, what did he have to lose at this point? At least fruit was easy to eat. He had to start showing Dean somehow that he was a desirable mate; hopefully this would be his salvation.

Accordingly, he set off after rubbing against Dean's legs, flicking his tail at him in a wordless prompt and it elated his alpha to see how easily Dean took the cue to follow him. Dean obediently trailed after him, snapping off a few pictures here and there and Cas wondered if Dean was photographing him. If he was, Cas wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. On one hand, he was glad that since they'd finally met Dean hadn't been immediately shoving a camera in his face, yet on the other hand, he didn't think he'd mind if Dean took his picture, since Dean was his mate. And he couldn't deny the mild jealousy he felt at the idea of Dean taking pictures of other wildlife and shifters.

When they finally reached their destination of the small grove of wild mangosteen trees that Cas had had in mind, he watched smugly in fond amusement as Dean attempted to jump high enough to knock a piece of fruit down for himself. Cas decided to graciously help him out, even though he was wholeheartedly enjoying the man's antics. Cas knew he was showing off, but couldn't seem to contain himself as he effortlessly sailed up into the tree, returning to the ground after a few seconds with a branch that had several fruits dangling off it, depositing it at Dean's feet, knowing his satisfaction at providing for his mate was rolling off him in a nearly tangible wave of alpha pride.

If Dean noticed, he didn't seem to mind, even looking to Cas for further assistance on how to dismantle the fruit, which Cas was all too happy to demonstrate. His alpha instincts purred loudly at his mate's thanks and then he waited with bated breath to see what Dean though of this latest offering. At Dean's enthusiastic approval, Cas' alpha roared exultantly; it may have just been a little thing and it wasn't like the fruit was a fresh kill, but it was the first time Dean had accepted one of Cas' courting gifts favorably.

Cas couldn't quite say why he had licked Dean's hand so sensuously when offered a piece of fruit, but he was pleasantly surprised at the blush that rose up in Dean's throat and face and the delicate curls of arousal he scented on his mate. That was definitely interesting, though he wasn't quite sure what to make of the heat in Dean's eyes and yet again he wondered what the man could possibly be thinking but Cas hoped Dean would be just as easily stimulated by Cas when in his skin.

He was more than happy to honor Dean's request for more fruit, after all, it was another chance to show off and he couldn't afford to pass those up, not to mention the opportunity to rile up his mate, which Dean good-naturedly took in stride before announcing his wish to find a spot to make camp for the night before it got dark.

Immediately, Cas thought of one of his favorite haunts which wasn't too far from their current location and was the same direction Dean was heading anyway in order to reach Ciptagelar. Pacing forward purposefully he set out, Dean following him trustingly, to his delight. They made good time, though Dean seemed lost in thought, content to let Cas lead the way without question, causing Cas' alpha to puff up in exhilaration at the confidence and responsibility Dean was placing in him.

Cas was forced once to stop and double back when Dean paused by the rocky outcropping they had met at this morning, (was it only this morning that they had first met face-to-face?) puzzled as to why Dean had become waylaid. His mate had a look of consternation and deep concentration on his face; perhaps Dean didn't think Cas knew where he was going? Or maybe he didn't think Cas could pick a satisfactory place to camp for the night? Well, he had nothing to worry about, Cas was going to take good care of him.

Seeking to console Dean and assure him of Cas' sense of direction, he rubbed his muzzle on the back of Dean's knees and against his thigh, urging him forward, relieved when Dean chuckled and acquiesced, trailing after Cas once more.

A mile or so further and Cas could tell Dean was becoming frustrated at having to hack a path through the overgrown vegetation and again, he wished he was in his skin so he could just speak up and encourage Dean to keep going, since they were quite close to their destination. He slunk out into the clearing, edging over to his favorite sunning spot atop a large flat plateau, flopping down silently to observe as Dean burst through the last barrier of branches, ever watching for his mate's approval. The look of amazed wonderment on Dean's face as he gazed around and moved deeper into the area to explore was confirmation enough to Cas that his mate sanctioned his choice of camping spot and filled Cas with the warmth of gratification, his panther purring happily at the scent of content mate rolling off Dean in waves that Cas could smell, even at a distance.

After a few moments, Dean turned around, clearly searching for him, and Cas tried to look aloof, as though he hadn't been wholly focused on Dean's reaction to one of Cas' favorite little hideaways. Dean made a beeline for him and once more Cas couldn't stop himself from preening at the praise Dean showered him with, rejoicing in the warm glow that his mate's enjoyment of a place close to his heart brought him. Cas was so glad to be able to give back, to share something special with Dean in the same fashion that Dean had introduced Cas to his beloved music and books.

He reveled in Dean's attentions as his mate scratched his ears and under his chin, leaning heavily into Dean's strong fingers, unable to keep the happy grin to himself, tongue practically lolling out of his mouth at how good it felt to have his mate's hands on him.

To his mild embarrassment, the noise he made when Dean ceased his ministrations was decidedly whiny, and Cas couldn't help but stretch his paws out to snag his claws lightly in Dean's shirt, hungry for more affection. Dean's smile was sweet as he proposed that they get camp set up, promising to give Cas “a good rubdown” later in the evening.

Excited to finally get to investigate all of Dean's belongings, he sprinted over to where Dean was dismantling his pack. Cas knew he was being more of a hindrance than a help, but his curiosity was too strong to ignore and it felt so invigorating to rub his scent on everything and on Dean himself, to be so close to his mate's warmth and intoxicating scent; besides, Dean didn't seem to mind at all, periodically nudging Cas back, and chuckling when Cas headbutted his shoulder playfully. Cas' alpha was happily flopped down on its back, rolling around in ecstasy at the proximity and scent of his cheerful mate. Cas himself had never felt this serene and jubilant and he was quickly becoming addicted both to the feeling and the person who inspired it.

After Dean had mostly gotten everything all set up, with no help from Cas at all, as he laughingly reminded him, Cas sauntered off to scent-mark the surrounding areas, warning other predators to keep away from Cas and his mate. Preoccupied with his task, Cas didn't immediately notice how close Dean was getting to a nearby fish poison tree til the man had already plucked a low-hanging fruit, bringing it close to his face. Terrified, Cas darted forward, colliding solidly with Dean, knocking him flat and batting away the deadly piece of fruit far out of the grasp of his precious mate.

Whipping around, he growled at Dean, alpha instincts kicking into overdrive, as he fought down his terror and panic; even a slight taste of the fruit could have made Dean deathly ill or even killed him. Cas was also angry with himself for not remembering that the trees were in this area and consequently, not paying better attention to his mate's safety.

Dean was glaring at him as he stood back up, dusting himself off, unaware of his brush with peril. At Dean's loud questioning of whether or not the fruit was forbidden, Cas just stared at him in frustration, willing his mate to understand the danger. Of course the fruit was forbidden, but not for whatever reason he was thinking, rather because of its poisonous qualities, which Dean quickly came to realize and Cas grumbled in relief, padding up to his mate and rubbing his muzzle against Dean's knee, feeling relieved and fond at the same time, then slightly annoyed, yet charmed at Dean's pouting over being tackled to the ground by Cas. It didn't escape Cas' notice that if he'd been in his skin he could have just used his voice and easily warned Dean away from the fruit, not to mention explained why it was so undesirable. Shifting to his skin would solve quite a few problems actually, which only increased his vexation with himself over his own reticence regarding the situation.

Nonetheless, Cas couldn't resist taking advantage of Dean's position when he leaned down to offer his thanks in the form of a hug, caressing Dean's whiskered cheek with his own velvety one, tongue flitting out to lick up the light sheen of sweat he found in the hollows of his mate's throat and neck, exulting in the pleased little giggle he teased from Dean before he was gently pushed back. He could definitely get used to this and as good as things were like this, how much better would they be when Cas was in his skin, able to touch Dean with his hands and mouth and tongue?

Cas' reverie was broken when simultaneously, as Dean crossed over to his tent to get some food, Cas caught the scent of a small herd of lowland anoas close by and was suddenly reminded that he hadn't eaten since before dawn this morning and was immediately, ravenously hungry.

He glanced at his mate speculatively, torn between the instinct to hunt but worried for his mate's safety; what if predators came or Dean found more poisonous fruit? Grudgingly, Cas realized that trust had to run both ways, and gave Dean a look that he hoped relayed the sentiment to not get in any trouble while he was gone, only to receive the adorable image of Dean frowning grumpily and sticking his tongue out in return. Cas rolled his eyes at the display, but it went a little ways towards reassuring him that his mate would survive in his absence, Dean was a grown man after all, but still, the jungle was a wild place and Cas resolved to make this a quick hunt, eager to find sustenance and rejoin his mate.

Diving back seamlessly into the undergrowth, he stalked the herd for a quarter mile, finally locating them at a well-traveled watering hole and proceeded to corner a young, male juvenile that had an injured back leg. Cas wasted no time in pouncing, but for reasons, didn't quite deliver the usual quick death, instead choosing to stun the animal into submission with a vicious, but not killing, bite to the jugular, copious loss of blood weakening it enough so that the struggling was minimal as Cas drug it back the way he came, heading home to his mate.

It was worth it purely for the look on Dean's face when he returned, a mix of shock, mild horror, pride and awe chased themselves over his countenance. It wasn't until Dean flinched when Cas finally snapped the anoa's neck that he noticed he could also scent how nervous Dean was even from a distance and Cas realized that Dean was anxious and possibly even afraid of him. Apparently, his little display hadn't had quite the desired affect; he had wanted to impress Dean, not terrify him.

Seeking to rectify his mistake as speedily as possible, he deposited his kill at the base of a nearby ceiba tree and made his way over to his mate. It saddened him when he caught Dean shrinking back slightly from him, as if vividly reminded that Cas was indeed a wild animal. Wild though he might be, he would never hurt his mate and the need to make this clear to Dean was all-encompassing.

Dean covered up his nerves with silly jokes as usual and Cas approached him apprehensively, unsure of his welcome, but was more relieved than he liked to admit when Dean grinned and eagerly reached for him, the petting relaxing both of them immeasurably. Cas knew things were alright when Dean started teasing him about being an “exhibitionist” and calling him “a badass,” which was high praise if Dean's tone was any indication. Cas glared mildly at him to save face over being caught showing off yet again, but secretly was thrilled at Dean's obvious admiration and acceptance.

Feigning huffiness, he forced himself to eventually draw away from Dean's captivating caresses, collected his kill and retired up into the trees to enjoy his well-deserved meal and give himself a much needed grooming session, conscientiously cleaning away all traces of blood and gore so as not to offend or alarm Dean. Descending from the tree after his short respite, he had a quick drink of water before gliding over to where Dean was obviously (but trying so hard to look as though he wasn't) waiting for him and again, warmth blossomed in Cas over the fact that he had someone waiting on him now, and it was a wonderful feeling indeed. Dean was clad in his pajamas and Cas took a moment to rub his cheek against Dean's thigh and indulge in some ear scritching as Dean asked how his dinner was before following Dean into his tent as though it was a routine they'd had down pat for years.

Once they were settled, with Dean ensconced inside his sleeping bag and Cas molded up against his side, Dean proclaimed that it was, “story time!” and Cas rumblingly purred his approval, leaning up to smudge his cheek against the paperback book, adding his scent to Dean's which permeated the book from long years of use. He laid his head back down on Dean's chest, wiggling a little to be as close as possible to his mate. And thus Cas was swept away with the lilt of Dean's velvety rough voice, the urge to melt into his mate carrying him closer in small increments, like a gentle tide til he was draped overtop of Dean completely, paws wrapped around the man's shoulders, Dean's heartbeat thrumming through Cas melodically and Dean's hand cradling his head, fingers hypnotically massaging behind Cas' ears, soothing him into a trance-like state. Cas had never been happier, and it barely registered when Dean sat up slightly to put the book away and turn out the lantern.

When he laid back down, Cas buried his face once more into the cozy hollow of Dean's neck and shoulder, his contentment increasing when Dean wrapped his arms around Cas in a firm hug. Cas couldn't help but return the affection and licked at his mate's throat, wondering how he'd ever lived without all this before. His heart was replete when Dean started lowly singing directly into his ear, rubbing his plush lips against the delicate shell of Cas' ear and stroking his hands up and down Cas' back and shoulders. He had thought Dean's voice was lovely while reading and belting out his favorite songs but it was absolutely enchanting to hear him whisper-singing as though communing directly with Cas' soul and so he melted entirely into a boneless puddle of happy panther and drifted to sleep on the soft lullaby sung to him by his mate.

As pleasantly as he had floated into slumber was equivalent to how violently he was wrenched awake, panicked and horrified to find himself in his skin, his panther growling, wanting to claim and bite and Dean writhing in the throes of passion beneath him even as Castiel found his own release. It was, suffice it to say, a rude awakening. But it was also an important wake-up call. The day before had lulled Cas into a false sense of security, allowing him to think he had time to ease Dean into the situation, but now there was a definite time-frame Cas was forced to adhere to.

Cas had once prided himself on his self-control, but lately, ever since Dean came on the scene, his emotions were all over the place and his alpha, whether in his skin or fur, seemed unusually close to the surface, dictating his behavior more than ever before, completely overshadowing his rationality and humanity at times. Cas found this disturbing somewhat, but then again, his reactions were hard to predict seeing as he'd never been faced with the possibility of a mate and as things progressed, it seemed all the more likely that Dean was not only just a highly compatible mate but conceivably, his truemate. Which were such a rare occurrence that it was difficult to know how to proceed or what to expect, seeing as such an event, while uncommon but not unheard of, was thus, not well-documented. In fact, Cas didn't know any other shifters that had found their truemates.

Oh, plenty of them found mates and ended up mated, but it was a gradual thing like with Inias and Hester or oftentimes the product of a frenzied heat or rut and the claiming happened in the heat of the moment. When Cas had shared heats with Amelia and Meg there had been no lasting mating impulse beyond whatever immediate biological urge he had felt to breed with heat-crazed females. Even after the coupling with Amelia had produced Claire, neither of them had felt inclined to mate, preferring instead to remain friends. And with Meg, the level of animosity they had shared for one another had translated more accurately into what Balthazar had termed as “hate sex” than anything else and definitely not a compatible mating, which Cas was immeasurably grateful for once he got to know Meg a bit better; she wasn't to be trusted and had, in fact, been the one to lead the poachers into shifter territory the year before, endangering everyone.

Outside of those brief endeavors Castiel certainly had never let someone he hardly knew get that near to him, but there was something about Dean, beyond the mate scent that had first drawn him.

Castiel had kept his distance from those poachers who had come last year, had never felt the urge to get closer to them, they had been intruders, encroaching on his territory, a threat. One that he had dealt with accordingly too. They had meant him and his kind ill-will, tried to capture them for nefarious purposes. But Dean...he knew with bone-deep certainty that just as he would never do anything to hurt Dean, that accordingly, Dean would not harm him. Cas couldn't stay away from him and he didn't want to Dean to leave. He wanted Dean to stay with him forever. That's what mates, truemates, meant; forever. Tied and bound beyond this life and into the next.

Perhaps Balthazar was right. It would explain a lot, his unstable moods and his apparent inability to control his panther, thus causing his unprompted shifts back and forth between his fur and skin. His body was yearning, begging for its mate and who was he to deny it? It would appear that he and Dean both were in denial, self-denial in Cas' case. Well, Cas could rectify that. At least on his end, anyways. And now that Cas had gotten a taste of Dean, he was ravenous for more. Cas closed his eyes, remembering the scent and taste of Dean's skin.

Taste. Taste. And the scent...mmm...Cinnamon, apples, leather, fresh rainfall and spicy, heady sunshine, sweat..blood...wait...had there? There had been blood. Dean's blood? No...

Cas' eyes snapped open, as the throbbing in his left shoulder suddenly intensified. Gasping, he glanced down and twisted his neck to see a scabbed over but definite bite mark in the meat of his shoulder. There was dried blood smeared all around the wound; it was relatively shallow, not quite a mating bite but thanks to his shifter abilities it looked like it was already starting to heal, though Cas had a feeling it would leave a scar no matter what. Cas licked his fingers and tried to clean away some of the blood, hissing as his fingers brushed against the tender flesh.

Cas shivered. It was practically a mating bite. Dazedly, he recalled Dean biting him while in the throes of his orgasm. So that had been real. Terror and hope washed through him as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts into some semblance of order.

If Dean had ingested even a few drops of Cas' blood...well. It meant Cas had even less time than he had first assumed. Dean might end up doing a little “show-and-tell” of his own if Cas didn't reach him to explain things in time. Unsure of how quickly shifter blood reacted in a full-blown human, Cas was spurred into action. Concentrating, he shifted back into his fur; speed was key right now and the panther had it in spades, eager to be reunited with its mate. It was amazing to Cas that even after what was probably only an hour or so, how much he missed Dean's presence already, craving his mate like a drug.

Climbing down from his den, he sped through the jungle on silent paws, making it to Dean's campsite in the lagoon in record time only to find it vacated, Dean apparently having already cleared out. Cas tracked him down a mile away by his scent and the sound of his singing, keeping hidden in the undergrowth but assuring himself that his mate was safe. Dean was still heading in a southerly direction, obviously making for Ciptagelar and Cas was determined to meet him there, in his skin this time.

Resolved, he set out swiftly, making a wide loop around Dean, thus bypassing him undetected and reaching Ciptagelar first, at least an hour or so ahead of Dean.

Singlemindedly heading for his cabin, he barely noticed Balthazar and Claire bickering playfully about something as he breezed by them, too focused on finding some clothes and making himself presentable before Dean arrived. No doubt catching wind of the scent of his excitement and anxiety, they trailed him to the door of the little hut he sometimes shared with Balthazar, watching in surprise and slight bewilderment as Cas shifted from his fur to his skin with no preamble.

“Ewww! Daaaad!” Claire complained as Cas, naked as a jaybird, started rummaging through the cupboards looking for suitable clothing.

Balthazar chuckled as he held his hands up over Claire's eyes as a makeshift blindfold, all the while eyeing Cas shrewdly.

“So Cassie, big day hmm?”

Cas merely grunted, ignoring his brother's sly look and arched eyebrow, pulling out a pair of well-worn black sweats and yanking them on haphazardly. Rifling through another drawer he attempted to locate a clean shirt of some sort.

“So does all this whirling about like a dervish mean that you talked to Dean yesterday and that he is now on his way here?” inquired Balthazar.

“Who's Dean?” Claire piped up, batting Balthazar's hands away from her face now as she saw Cas was more or less clothed.

“Your dad's truemate,” Balthazar supplied, even as Cas finally grumbled, “We didn't exactly talk.”

“Wait, what?! Who?” Claire squawked, blue eyes wide.

“Oooh! Straight to the main event then, eh Cassie?” Balthazar grinned salaciously.

“No! Well...” Cas trailed off uncomfortably.

“Oh my god, do you mean that photojournalist guy?” Claire questioned.

“Yes.” Cas answered.

“Yes, you had had sex?!” Balthazar exclaimed.

Exasperated, Cas let loose a growl and avoided their questions in favor of a larger problem. “Why don't we have any shirts?”

“Because when you look this good,” Balthazar gestured back and forth between his and Castiel's lean physiques, “why cover it up darling?”

“Ughh...you two are so gross,” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “Some of us prefer to be civilized, we're not all animals here!” Claire winked smugly, primly smoothing a hand down the leg of her skinny jeans.

Balthazar rolled his eyes back at her, slapping a hand to his chest dramatically in mock-offense but cut off whatever reply he'd been about to make when he noticed how frenzied Cas looked, now leaning in to peer at his reflection critically in the little mirror that was affixed to the wall over a small, freestanding sink. Balthazar watched worriedly as Cas hurriedly splashed water on his face and raked his hands through his hair, trying in vain to tame the unruly mass into something a bit more conservative. But when the finger-combing turned into just plain distressed hair-pulling, he set a hand firmly on Cas' shoulder and guided him gently to sit down on the lone, bare mattress in the corner, Claire plopping down on Cas' other side.

“Alright Cassie, spit it out, what happened?”

Cas took a deep breath, relaxing a little as he breathed in their comforting scents; Claire clasped her small hand with his and Balthazar rubbed soothing circles into his shoulder.

For Claire's benefit, he started at the beginning, from when he had first scented Dean in that mango tree, days ago, briefly detailing his mostly failed efforts at courting, leaving out the parts about the cobra incident and embarrassing wet dream, since he didn't think it of import to share with his daughter and Balthazar already knew about it. He told how he'd finally mustered up the courage to show himself to Dean, (in his fur, anyways) and brought him to his favorite lagoon after Dean had accepted the gift of fruit, which Claire “Awww-ed” at and even Balthazar smiled indulgently. But when he got to the events that had happened this morning, he tried to tread carefully for Claire's sake, besides, right now, to Cas, the accidental sleep sex part wasn't nearly as significant as the almost-mating bite and Dean ingesting Cas' blood. First things first, Cas would deal with the fallout of the more immediate, time sensitive issue before he addressed the secondary one.

“Looks like he did more than bite you Cassie! You've got a few new rosettes on you as well,” Balthazar smirked even as Claire giggled and wrinkled her nose, equal parts excited and grossed out.

“What? Where?!” Cas leapt up and planted himself in front of the little mirror, contorting a bit until he saw the purple marks blooming along his collarbones and the column of his throat. His panther immediately crowed in delight, and Cas couldn't help the flush that spread from his chest to his hairline, feeling rather proud and smug over the obvious marks of Dean's claim. He idly wondered if he'd left similar marks on Dean. He supposed he'd find out soon enough.

“Cas!”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, what is it Bal?” Cas looked up from where he'd unconsciously been petting the bruises and daydreaming about all the ways he could mark Dean up, only to see Balthazar and Claire gazing at him expectantly.

“I said, are you sure he swallowed some of your blood?” Balthazar's light, knowing smirk was tempered by the seriousness of his tone.

Cas thought for a moment, trying to parse out the events of the dream-that-was not-a-dream, before answering hesitantly, “It was a rather deep bite, not quite a mating bite, but there was enough blood that I don't know how he could have avoided swallowing at least a little of it. Even if he didn't, I still need to tell him the truth.”

“Yes, a fine idea, one I advocated from the start,” said Balthazar, smiling winningly at Cas, who leveled a black glare upon him while rubbing gently at the bite, which by now had healed into a smooth, slightly shiny, pale pinkish-white, nearly perfect circle of teeth marks. It was fairly indiscernible but Cas felt attuned to it, could feel his blood throbbing wildly underneath it like a trapped bird, as though it was another pulse point or like his heart had relocated, migrating up into his shoulder. In reality, it was the beginning of his mating bond with Dean, which was mainly why he was not only convinced that Dean had ingested some of his blood, but also that Dean was his truemate; he had never, nor could he even imagine feeling like this about anyone else, though he preferred to keep these conclusions to himself.

Cas tuned back into the conversation only to hear Claire asking curiously, “How much of our blood does a normal human have to drink before they turn into a shifter?”

“Hmm...you know, I'm not really sure, that's never actually been done before. I've heard stories about it, but none of them first-hand, mostly just old legends about the creation of our kind and so on. Its not like werewolves, where a single bite can turn a human. One old tale I was told likened the turning process closer to that of vampires, where the blood does have to be consumed but unlike vampires, the amount is dependent upon how compatible the shifter and the human are, the higher the level of compatibility, the smaller the dose of blood required and vice-versa.”

Cas and Claire were both listening avidly and Cas opened his mouth but Claire loudly beat him to voicing the question that immediately presented, “But how do you find that out?!”

“Oh heavens you two! I don't bloody know! There's not exactly a recipe for it. I mean, I am brilliant and all that, but I'm not a walking encyclopedia! I dunno, Cassie here seems to be well on his way to experimenting with that issue as we speak and if all else fails, you could just do what the kids these days always do and Google it,” Balthazar replied exasperatedly, elbowing Claire in the side with an insufferable grin. She squirmed away as he touched upon a ticklish spot but it didn't keep her from dramatically rolling her eyes at him and jumping to her feet.

“Well, in that case, I wanna get a closer look at this guy, seeing as he's gonna be my step-dad or whatever!” With that, Claire bounced her eyebrows challengingly at Balthazar and Cas, grinned teasingly and sped off.

“Claire, wait--!” Cas protested as he shot up from the bed. He was starting to feel panic set in all over again, along with his protective instincts and strangely enough, a minor tinge of jealousy. He didn't think he was quite ready to share Dean with his family yet; he wanted to keep their first meeting (at least as humans) private. There was still the shadow of fear in the back of his mind that Dean would reject him once he knew the truth.

“Ahh, she'll be fine. She won't do anything to give you away, Cassie. She's a smart kid, takes after me, I think!” Balthazar assured with a mischievous smirk, patting Cas on the shoulder consolingly. “Still, though, you may want to keep an eye on her, seeing as how she does take after me means she's a bit of an imp!”

At this admonishment, Cas huffed nervously and raced out the door after his wayward daughter, Balthazar cackling merrily behind him.

“Don't help or anything!” Cas called out over his shoulder in annoyance, which only prompted louder laughter from his equally wayward, idiot brother. He continued on, hurrying down the neatly kept path that led down from the clusters of cabins to the village common areas. Towards the bottom, he spied a messy pile of clothes that he recognized as Claire's, dumped on the front porch of the cabin she shared with her mother, Amelia.

Stripping off his sweatpants and throwing them next to Claire's garments he shifted quickly into his fur and trotted down the path until he reached the edge of the commune and ducked into the jungle, picking up Claire's scent almost immediately. Easily following her delicate, as of yet unpresented scent, he quickly tracked her to a quarter mile out from the commune.

The early morning fog hadn't completely burned off yet and there was still a low layer creeping through the undergrowth. Cas' sharp shifter senses allowed him to scent Dean before he actually saw him and he could smell the acridness of his mate's anxiety and wariness. Feeling his own anxiety ratchet up in response, he picked up his pace, slinking forward til he caught Claire's scent once more and could see both his daughter and Dean.

His mate was crouched down, silent and still, like he was trying to make himself look smaller, non-threatening. Cas could tell by Claire's scent that she wasn't at all afraid and was having a good time playfully intimidating Dean. His alpha instincts bristled up protectively, no one would threaten his mate! And even though, rationally, Cas knew that Claire wasn't a threat, he still didn't like the pungent smell of Dean's distress. It was plain to see that Dean was unharmed, merely nervous at the appearance of a leopard that wasn't Cas coming into such close quarters with him.

Staying low to the ground, Cas circled around the two, til he came up behind Dean; Claire, who was fifteen feet away or so from Dean, suddenly stopped and froze, scenting the air heavily before relaxing as she recognized Cas' scent.

“Dad! I know you're there, I can smell you! Come on out already,” Claire called out telepathically through their mind link, amusement lacing her sarcastic tone.

Mildly annoyed, he stalked towards his impertinent offspring, brushing past his mate as he did so, catching a quick glimpse of Dean's startled face.

“You and Balthazar are like two troublesome peas in a pod,” Cas complained as he scented Claire, licking her cheek and rubbing alongside her.

“Aww c'mon Dad! Don't go all protective alpha on me! I didn't do anything to him. Everything's fine, see?” Claire whined, even as she bared her neck for Cas sniff at. “Besides, you can't blame me for wanting to check this guy out, remember the poachers last year?”

“Yes, I do. Dean is nothing like them.” Cas reassured, though still displeased at her antics.

“Yeah, I know, he's actually cute and he smells really good!” Claire snickered, making kissing noises at him. “Like sexy apple pie!”

“Claire--” Cas cut off, embarrassed, but he was interrupted by the sound of low-level growling (well below the hearing range of a normal human), even as he was hit by a wave of Dean's scent, which was positively boiling with fear...panic...and jealousy? Was Dean feeling threatened and jealous of Claire? The little amount of blood that Dean had consumed must've worked even faster than he'd anticipated, which only bolstered his belief that Dean was indeed his truemate.

“Dad, is he growling?! Why is he growling?” Claire's hushed tone betrayed her mild unease.

Concerned and somewhat surprised at his mate's display of possessiveness, he darted up to Dean, with Claire hot on his heels; by the look of consternation that flitted through Dean's eyes Cas was almost certain that Dean wasn't aware that he was snarling like he was, or of the reason why. The scent of his mate's discomfort was especially triggering to Cas' alpha instincts and he hastened to crowd into Dean's personal space, nuzzling his mate's cheek as soothingly as he could.

He felt Dean curve inwards to his touch and take in a deep breath and realized that whether Dean knew it or not, he was scenting Cas and drawing comfort from the primal action. As his mate relaxed, so did Cas, feeling the tension lessen in both of them. Claire, too, calmed and when Dean leaned back a bit from Cas, she engaged him in a staring contest which Dean aggressively returned, gazing back at her challengingly until Claire finally conceded defeat, breaking it off with a little snort, as satisfaction emanated strongly from Dean.

“I like him, Dad. He's feisty, unlike you!” Claire teased, with a twinkle in her eyes, flicking her tail and headbutting Cas giddily on the shoulder.

“Oh yeah? He passed your test, hmm?” Cas huffed, feeling a bit giddy himself, mostly from nerves but also from winning Claire's approval.

Dean's distress had minimized with his proximity to Cas, but was still present to a degree, so for Dean's sake and Cas' own peace of mind, he pushed back into Dean's space once more, rubbing his cheek on both sides of his mate's face, privately amazed at how quickly and immeasurably it seemed to calm Dean. Cas proceeded to thoroughly mark him, finishing off with a decisive lick right under Dean's left ear. Edging back so he could see Dean's face, Cas was greatly pleased to behold Dean smiling contentedly, his scent changing to a sweet, mellow amalgam of his base tones of cinnamon, apples, that aroma of fresh rain falling on dry soil, and heady sunshine threaded through with complimentary notes of relief, pride and happiness. Cas could also see a few of same the reddish-purple marks that matched his own, peeking out from above the collar of Dean's t-shirt, leftover from the...errr...heated incident this morning and grinned exultantly to himself.

More than satisfied, Cas stepped back, nudging at Dean's shoulder fondly as he did so, glancing at Claire briefly to see her trying to wrinkle her nose and stifle a giggle at the same time.

“What?” Cas demanded, suddenly feeling flustered that his daughter had seen him having such an intimate moment with his mate.

“Geez Dad! Why don't you just pee on his pant leg already?!” Claire sniggered.

Tamping down his embarrassment, he rolled his eyes and tried to project an air of maturity before dashing off into the undergrowth, confident that both Dean and Claire would follow after him, calling out behind him, “You'll understand when--”

“When I'm older, yeah, yeah, I know,” Claire retorted flippantly as she caught up to him and then accelerated past him, racing off towards the commune.

Cas humphed grumpily and picked up his speed. Children.

Claire was standing in front of her cabin, back in her skin and already redressed, tapping her foot impatiently when Cas trotted up to her.

“C'mon Dad! Hurry up! He'll be here any minute!” Claire exclaimed excitedly, tossing Cas' sweatpants to him.

“What about a shirt or shoes?” Cas questioned agitatedly, ducking around the side of the cabin to shift into his skin and yank on the pants.

“Balthazar was right, you look fine like this, plus it's hot out, plenty of people are shirtless,” Claire informed him, fiddling with the braids and feathers in her blonde hair restlessly.

“I can't believe I'm entrusting my fashion sense to the pair of you,” Cas grumbled, trying to cover up his nerves with surliness.

Claire saw through him, however and merely stuck her tongue out and rolled her eyes at him. “It'll be fine, Dad, you'll see.”

Claire surged ahead of him, chanting, “C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! I can smell him from here!” Cas could scent Dean too, and his apprehension and elation at finally getting to meet Dean in his skin went skyhigh.

As far ahead as she was, he could tell when Claire spotted Dean, she abruptly slowed down and assumed an air of cool sophistication, as only girls who are thirteen going on fourteen can do. Cas followed a bit more sedately, trying to get a handle on his slightly panicked breathing and jittery nerves.

This was it.

Before he could even blink, let alone think of anything to say, Dean was right smack in front of them, smelling wonderful as usual and eyeing everything around him with fascination and curiosity and Claire was striding right up to him purposefully.

“Hi, I'm Claire and this is Cas,” Claire proclaimed with no prelude and Cas was inordinately grateful that she was taking the lead, since he was nearly beside himself with the strain of the situation.

Dean, returned her greeting and introduced himself as well, smiling shyly at Claire before switching his gaze to Cas.

And everything seemed to just stop.

It was like yesterday morning when they'd met by the rocks, a truly profound moment, where everything fell perfectly into place. He could feel Dean's gaze roaming all over him, like a physical touch, taking him in completely. Cas felt self-conscious and feverish in a way he never did while in his fur, his nerves going haywire, timidly wondering what Dean thought of him, (God, he should have put on a shirt, Dean probably thought he was a shirtless weirdo!) yet once again, as had occurred the day before, his concerns were effortlessly allayed when Dean beamed at him beatifically and drew in close, holding his hand out to shake. Cas smiled back timorously and clasped Dean's hand somewhat awkwardly at first but immediately relaxed when he felt the shockwave of energy that traveled back and forth through their fingers as soon as they touched, their newly formed mating bond resulting in a pleasurable feedback loop of rightness. He glanced down at their entwined hands and his nerves finally melted as a sense of home and mates permeated him entirely. He could tell Dean felt something too by the way he was also staring at their joined hands and smiling in bewildered amazement.

Cas forgot (as Dean seemed to also) that he was supposed to actually shake Dean's hand as part of the greeting and just stood there essentially holding hands with his mate, the two of them smiling delightedly at each other while Claire peered back and forth between them, her earlier composure totally eschewed in favor of an ecstatic grin that threatened to split her cheeks.

“Dad! Say something! You're just standing there smiling like a doof!” Cas heard Claire's enthusiastic voice in his head through their mind-link and eventually remembered that saying 'hello' back was part of a standard introduction and opened his mouth to finally say the words he'd wanted to say out loud since yesterday morning, truly, since the first time he laid eyes on his mate:

“Hello, Dean.”

Chapter Text

Dean's heart was already beating a million miles an hour, but at hearing the whiskey-soaked, gravelly smoke tones of the man in front of him, it kicked even harder into overdrive, like an unbroken bronco, at the way his name sounded rolling off those plush pink lips. Not to mention the other, more southern areas of his body that suddenly perked up in interest as well. Dean found himself sorely tempted to grip the hand still in his grasp even harder and tug this man, Cas, in until he was flush against Dean and find out what that delectable looking mouth tasted like.

Dean ached to rub their stubble together and feel it catch with a delicious burn, wanted to kiss his way down the corded muscles in the man's neck, mouthing along til he found the exact perfect spot where his scent was the strongest and sink his teeth into that golden throat, indelibly making his claim for all to see. Dean swore he saw red when he noticed some purple bruising along his neck and collarbone already, like bite marks or hickies and he seethed with anger at the thought of someone else marking up what was his.

He wanted to run his hands all over as much of that smooth, bronzed skin as he could reach, ached to flick at his dusky pink nipples with his tongue, kiss that cute little brown freckle above the guy's right nipple and rip off those stupid sweatpants so he could suck marks all over those razor sharp hipbones and keep going until everyone knew who this man belonged to. (Dean, obviously, dammit!)

The ferocity of this feeling, this urge, faintly, distantly surprised him; he'd been attracted to strangers plenty of times before, that was nothing new, but this current of electricity that kept leap-frogging back and forth between them in a feedback loop of...rightness, was an all-encompassing, imperative need, a living thing with claws that kept instilling him with a sense of entitlement and propriety, growling in low, feral whispers, assuring him that he had every right to grab this man and claim him as his mate.

That same weird tightness in his chest from before was twinging at him again, pulling at him, and he noticed that Cas seemed to be swaying in towards him too, as if they were being reeled in together, to each other, by an invisible thread. Shaking his head slightly at the wildness of his thoughts and feeling more than a little uneasy and freaked the fuck out at the whole situation, Dean nervously cleared his throat and stepped back a pace or two, reestablishing some personal space and disentangling his hand from the blue-eyed stranger's...Cas.

Once more, he felt that odd urge to soothe rise up in him as he watched the smile dim from those pretty blue eyes, replaced by confusion, dismay and apprehension as the distance between them grew, but his discomfort at the whole situation kept him from moving closer even though his body and that eerie, feral whisper both screamed at him to do so.

Surely, he was overreacting, reading way too much into the situation? Right?!

God, why did he feel so fucking disoriented? His brain felt fried and he was already regretting moving back and letting go of Cas' hand. Sweet Jesus, he was fucking losing it, wasn't he? Something else was niggling at his brain too, there was a bigger picture here and pieces of the puzzle were buzzing around like bees, begging to be fit into place, but there was an irrational sort of fear that kept Dean from doing so, a truth he wasn't quite ready to confront.

It just seemed like one more weird thing to pile on top of the already huge pile of fucking weird shit that had happened since he'd come here; never had he felt more like a stranger in a strange land. There was a voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Sam that kept telling him that he was in over his head here and he needed to find out what was going on, preferably sooner rather than later. And that same feral growl kept whispering too, that he already knew what was going on, if only he'd stop denying it; something unstoppable had been set in motion, and Dean could fight it every step of the way or he could embrace it, enjoy it even.

Dean shook his head a little, hoping to shake free of the weird shit swirling through his mind while he was at it, trying to latch on to a more normal train of thought. What he needed was some real, hot food, some damn meat, like that deer haunch his cat had brought him the other day would be awesome. And a nice, if not hot, then at least warm, shower that didn't smell like rotten eggs would also totally rock. And getting laid wouldn't hurt either, he thought ruefully. Or maybe just a decent night's sleep all cuddled up with his cat would make him feel better, but at that thought, Dean felt a pang of longing and sadness shoot through him. He made up his mind then and there to not stay too long at the commune. He'd stock up on supplies and necessities, enjoy a few creature comforts and then head back out there to rejoin his cat.

He awkwardly cleared his throat again and plastered on a smile, glancing between Claire and Cas, who were staring back at him intently, Cas especially. Unsure who he should address, he forged ahead anyways. “So if you two are the welcome wagon, any chance you could point me in the direction of some fresh food and a hot shower?”

Before either of them could answer however, a slightly scruffy man about the same size and height as Cas, except with sandy blond hair and stubble to match, sauntered up, grinning widely and with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, edged himself right between Claire and Cas, slinging his arm around Cas' shoulder in much too familiar a fashion for Dean's liking.

Unlike Cas, this guy had on faded blue jeans, tribal looking bracelets and necklaces similar to Claire's, but minus the feathers and beads. He wore a gray t-shirt with a deep V-neck that reminded Dean strongly of Sam and his penchant for wearing similar shirts to showcase what Dean called his “man cleavage,” which always earned him a supreme bitchface.

Dean prided himself on being able to sniff out a douchebag from a mile away and this guy was definitely a stinker in his book, if you were going by looks and insufferable smirkiness alone, that is.

As if sensing his immediate dislike, the man smirked cheerily at him, tightening his grip on Cas and ruffling Claire's hair, which got him twin glares from the two and prompted a glare from Dean as well.

Who was this smug little dick?!

“Well, hello children! What have we here?” The man seemed oblivious to the scowl Dean could feel spreading over his face, let alone the low-level growl he could also feel crawling up his throat, begging to burst forth. The vehemence of his own reaction scared Dean and he shook himself once more before trying for a smile that more likely came across as a grimace and held out his hand to shake in greeting as he had to Cas earlier.

“Hey, man, I'm Dean, I'm here--”

“From the glamorous United States of America to take pictures of all of us, making us wildly famous! We've known you were coming here for quite some time. Oh, yes, yes I know, I've heard all about you! I'm Balthazar and I'm ready for my close-up!” The man cut in, all the while smirking gleefully and shaking Dean's hand with aplomb even though he kept one arm wrapped around Cas' shoulders.

“Uhh...well, not exactly...” Dean sputtered, a little bewildered and still oddly on edge about the way this dude was draped all over his mate--...God, there was that word again! It kept insidiously sneaking into his brain and insinuating itself into his thought process. What was the matter with him? He didn't even know this man, Cas. They'd literally met only five minutes ago and Dean was acting like...like...well, shit, he didn't even know, but none of this was normal behavior for him!

Something was clearly wrong here and it was seriously starting to freak him out.

Cas, however seemed to be picking up on his discomfort because he elbowed the man, Balthazar, in the ribs to shut him up and shrugged out from under Balthazar's arm around his shoulders, turning to stare at the man with dangerously narrowed eyes.

Dean couldn't deny that 'pissed off' was a good look on the guy, but was glad that that glare wasn't leveled on him.

It looked like they were having one of those silent conversations that only longtime couples or siblings could pull off, and with that observation, Dean felt his heart sink like a stone; the two looked nothing alike, plus they were right up in each others personal space, so that only left one other conclusion. The thought of which sent a flash-fire of scorching hot jealousy through Dean, while also spearing through his heart with longing and hopelessness, even as his rational mind rebelled against his knee-jerk reaction, sprung from instincts that didn't necessarily feel like his own.

A small hand slipped into his and abruptly pulled him from his negative spiral, and Dean looked down in surprise to see Claire grasping his hand with an encouraging smile and a mischievous twinkle in her bright eyes.

“C'mon, let's ditch these two idiots! I'll show you what's good around here,” Claire winked saucily and tugged him in the direction of the buildings he had first seen when he arrived. Dean went along willingly, but not without a backwards glance at Cas and Balthazar, who were still quietly debating something with lots of dirty looks and heated whispers, though Cas' eyes seemed to follow him unerringly as they moved farther away.

Claire noticed, of course, not much seemed to get past her, and she rolled her eyes, urging Dean along. “Don't worry, they'll catch up with us in a few minutes.”

“I'm not worried, I just, uh...I was, uh...nevermind,” Dean trailed off, feeling mildly defensive, unsure of what he was going to say anyways. How could he explain to some teenage girl that he didn't know, that he felt this weird attraction to a dude he'd just met and didn't want to let him out of his sight? She'd probably check him in to the nearest thing that served as a loony bin around here.

Claire saved him from having to think up a better reply, tossing her hair over her shoulder and smirking at him as though she knew something he didn't, which, with the way things had been going lately, was altogether possible, saying only, “Uh huh...I'm sure. Whatever.”

There didn't seem to be a good comeback to that, other than to mockingly repeat what she had said under his breath, barely just refraining from sticking his tongue out at her too for good measure. But someone had to be the adult here.

Pushing aside his grumblings, he finally started noticing his surroundings with interest. Pulled along by Claire, they walked along a wide common area, almost like the main drags that Dean remembered seeing in recreations of Old West towns, with worn down stones paving the way, flanked by neat, open air huts and enclosed buildings on either side which looked to be constructed of an even mix of natural and modern materials, giving them all a very unique appearance.

In front of several of the houses, large tarps were set out, laden with huge bunches of rice, known as 'puchong' as Claire informed him, drying in the sun, waiting to be de-husked.

There were small groups of women and children scattered about, engaged in various activities, weeding the main square and sweeping away debris, tending gardens, weaving baskets; everyone seemed caught up in some form of industry or another. There were a few trees growing in the main square, which was really more of a very long rectangle, and Dean stopped to snap a few candid photos of two little girls and a small boy who were hanging upside down in a cacao tree, surrounded by large green pods, waving merrily at him as he took their pictures. Claire stood by grinning and teasing the children, telling them that if they hung upside down any longer they'd turn into bats and monkeys, which only seemed to further encourage them to keep up their antics.

Moving on, they came upon the largest building that Dean had seen when he first arrived, the one that had brightly adorned signs in several different languages, including English, proclaiming this to be the village of Ciptagelar, that he assumed was a visitor's center of sorts. There were other signs as well, but Dean was unsure of what they said.

A red and yellow banner overhead held writing as well and he jerked his chin up at it in a silent question at Claire, who rolled her eyes and translated, “'Wilujeng Sumping,' means 'Welcome'. Duh.” Dean rolled his eyes back at her and stuck his tongue out at her childishly.

So much for being the adult. Ahh well, Dean had learned over the years that adulthood was overrated anyway.

“So, is this the visitor's center?” He asked her for clarification, pointing at the signs as he paused to snap a picture of them.

“Kind of, I guess, the big sign says 'Kasepuhan Ciptagelar,' which just means, 'Ciptagelar Village,' but it's actually called the Imah Gede, which loosely translates to 'Big House.' It's mainly used as a village communal center and it also doubles as the home of the village chief; his name is Cain. But it is a tradition and custom that it's always open to residents and visitors alike for meals. The communal kitchen is in here and we all take turns making food,” Claire explained succinctly.

Dean got the impression that she had given this little introduction before, seeing how easily she reeled it off.

“There's also guest rooms for those who'd like to stay for a few days,” Claire revealed, side-eyeing Dean expectantly.

“Oh, really? How much does it cost for room and board?” Dean asked, trying to maintain a casual air.

Claire quirked a satisfied little grin at him before answering, “Well, the food is always free, Cain enjoys having visitors, and as for a room, we accept whatever you can pay or trade. There's a supply station where you can stock up on stuff and a bath house, too.”

“Huh, that's a cool set-up. I gotta admit, I didn't expect this place to be so advanced and modern,” Dean said as they came up to the front door of the 'Big House.' Claire smirked proudly and elbowed open the heavy, ornately carved door.

Peeking inside, he saw a large, spacious room where half a dozen women and children sat de-husking rice and sifting rice flour with wooden pestles and pan sieves. A couple of the women were beating the pestles against the ground, creating percussive music that Dean could see helped them to keep a rhythm as they sang songs and pounded the rice into a rough flour. A giant open air oven dominated the middle of the room, men and women alike tending the four fires that kept the ovens hot all day.

“So, why do you guys not charge for food?” Dean leaned down to whisper in Claire's ear, not wanting to make too much noise and distract those hard at work.

“Why are we whispering?” Claire rolled her eyes, giggling at Dean. “It's just the way things work here. Cain practices the ways of the Adat, as do many that live here. According to Adat traditions, rice isn't only a commodity, it is a way of life, a symbol, which is why we aren't allowed to sell our rice grains. We may only give them freely, which, if the traditions are followed, means a bountiful rice crop every year.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully as they continued walking through the village. “So do you guys make other things to sell?”

“Not really,” Claire shook her head, blonde braids swaying. “We're pretty self-sufficient here. We grow rice mainly but everyone has their own vegetable garden. We keep pens of buffalo and goats for meat and milk and cheese, plus we have chickens for eggs. We have men in the village that also like to go hunting and bring back fresh meat every few days. Cain keeps some beehives out back, but he trades and barters most of the honey away and we use the beeswax to make candles to save on how much electricity we use. Cain is really into technology and gadgets though, which he tinkers with and fixes. I'm sure that brings in some money so we can buy whatever we can't grow or trade for ourselves. He even rigged up some of it to make a working radio and a television, we get a few channels, so that's kinda cool!”

“Really? Which channels do you guys get out here?” Dean asked in amazement.

Claire snorted inelegantly. “Some weird public access channels, Animal Planet and this channel that shows old re-runs of 'Friends.'”

Dean doubled up laughing. “Oh my god, I haven't watched 'Friends' in years! Animal Planet is cool, though.”

“Shark Week is awesome and I also like Meerkat Manor and River Monsters. As for Friends, just tell me now, do Ross and Rachel end up together?”

“Aww c'mon, you don't really want me to tell you how it ends, the whole fun of it is to watch it for yourself!”

“Noooo! I can't take the whole 'will they, won't they' crap anymore! I don't even like Ross, he's a doof! I think Rachel should end up with Joey anyways!”

Dean grinned infuriatingly at her. “Well, you'll just have to watch and see what happens, huh?”

Claire rolled her eyes with a huff. “Fiiiiine. Whatever. I don't really care anyhow. It's just a stupid show about old people. Except for Phoebe, she's pretty rad. I've been trying out some of her hairstyles and--”

Folding his arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow, he pinned Claire with a disbelieving look. “Uh huh...I'm sure. Whatever.” He mimicked her words from earlier back at her.

Claire tried to keep a straight face, but when Dean pouted his lips out, trying to do 'Blue Steel,' she burst into giggles and pushed at him to try to get him to stop making the silly face. “Man, you and my dad will get along just fine, you're both major dorks!”

Dean finally dropped the Blue Steel, only mildly insulted that Claire thought he was a dork. “Oh, yeah? And who's your Dad?”

“Uhh...duh...My dad is Cas!” Claire replied, flipping her braids behind her. “Couldn't you tell?”

“Wait, what? So that guy, Balthazar...?” Dean felt a pit of dread open up in his stomach. Was Cas already taken? But, that just couldn't be—the way he'd stared at Dean earlier and..and Dean had been sure...Cas was his!

“Balthazar's my uncle, Dad's brother,” Claire supplied helpfully. “My mom and dad aren't really together anymore, it was kinda a one-time thing anyways. So, my dad's single. I don't really see him that much, he hangs out in the jungle a lot and hunts. I mainly live with my mom.” Claire regarded Dean slyly as she spoke this last bit. She couldn't let on how much she really knew about what was going on here.

“Oh..um...well, that's interesting,” Dean stammered out, relief blazing through his senses. Only two main points really stood out to him. 1.) That douche Balthazar was just Cas' annoying brother. Dean could deal with that, he had an annoying brother himself. And 2.) Cas was single. Thank the gods of rice and rock and roll!

“So, does that mean you're gonna stay for awhile?” Claire probed, trying to get a read on Dean. God, matchmaking was hard!

“Uhh..well...maybe for just a couple days,” Dean answered a bit absently, mind on a certain blue-eyed man.

Claire could work with that. She knew Cas didn't have much time to tell Dean the truth anyways, so this was her best bet; she was determined to get Dean to stick around for awhile so he and Cas could, y'know, bond. “Cool!” she chirped. “You couldn't have had better timing, our lunar ceremony is tomorrow night, everyone is welcome and its a pretty good time, lots of food and music.”

Dean perked up. “Oh yeah? What exactly is the lunar ceremony?”

Claire led Dean up to a large barn. Only a few feet away was a massive satellite dish, rigged to stand upright with ropes and thick poles of bamboo. Amazing! The juxtaposition of such modern trappings right next to the humble abodes that everyone lived in, proved to be a real eye-opener to Dean, as it often did whenever he visited countries outside of the U.S. Technology always found a way.

Claire noticed Dean staring at the satellite dish. “I told you, Cain likes to tinker. Anyways, this is our granary. It stores all the rice from past and current seasons, its our fall back for when we don't harvest as much due to a bad crop or too much rain. Anyways, the lunar ceremony is a sacred ritual that takes place every month, on the full moon. We gather together and Cain and the other village elders pray and sing, begging the gods for a bountiful harvest. They burn sacrificial offerings of rice grains, cassava and tubers for good luck. Afterwards, we eat a bunch of yummy food, listen to music, dance and tell stories, maybe watch a movie or something. Cain really likes to try to keep an even balance of traditional and modern influences around here.”

“I can see that. So, will I get to meet Cain at some point?”

“Oh, yeah, he always likes to meet visitors. I don't know that you'll meet him today, we're all pretty busy getting ready for the ceremony tomorrow, but you'll definitely get to meet him then.” Claire assured him as they began walking back they way they'd come, towards the 'Big House.'

They strolled along in comfortable silence, Dean gazing around in unveiled curiosity, interested in the sights, but also keeping a sharp eye out for Cas. It was weird to think that Claire was his kid, the guy didn't even look old enough to have a daughter Claire's age. But she seemed like a cool kid, and it didn't bother Dean as long as it meant that Cas was single. He tried to block out that low, snarling growl that kept hissing in the back of his mind. Urging him relentlessly to claim, mate, fuck. Cas was his. Ugghh...the voice was getting louder and that tight feeling in his chest was getting worse, making Dean feel achy and sick all over. He tried to tell himself that he just needed to eat something and take a hot shower.

As if she'd read his mind, Claire piped up as they drew up near the Big House. “So the bath house is just the next building over, there's towels and hot water and I can get you a snack before dinner when you're done.”

“Ahhh...awesome!” Dean breathed out gratefully, grinning at Claire. “You don't know how long it's been since I've had a hot shower.”

Claire wrinkled her nose. “I bet I can guess.”

“Hey, you sayin' I stink?” Dean was slightly mortified, and tried to sniff at himself surreptitiously.

“Maybe just a little, like rotten eggs. You been swimming in the hot springs?” Claire teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

Dean felt himself blushing. “No! Well..maybe a few times.”

Claire just laughed at him and gave him a friendly push in the direction of the bath house.

Dean turned back for a moment. “Oh, hey, where am I gonna be staying?”

Claire opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a deep voice that sent shivery tingles down Dean's spine, momentarily hushing the feral growl and loosening up the tightness in his chest. “Dean can bunk with us. I don't believe there are any rooms open at this time, isn't that right, Balthazar?”

Dean whipped around to see Cas standing there with his brother. He hadn't even heard them walk up! “Dude, we gotta get you a bell!”

Claire and Balthazar cracked up at this. Cas looked rather disgruntled, but Dean could see a tiny smile in the corner of his pink, plush mouth.

“We tell him that all the time!” Balthazar cackled, until, not so discreetly, Cas jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow, glaring at him with a raised eyebrow. Inside, Dean turned to putty at the hotness of that look, imagining it directed at him in a different, more sexy scenario. The feral growl purred in approval and Dean felt himself drifting closer to Cas. He was trying not to stare too hard at the man's chiseled chest and sharp hipbones that were clearly visible, his black sweatpants barely clinging to the bubble of his perky ass, but god, it was nearly impossible. Dean shook his head slightly, a bit embarrassed at how shamelessly he was ogling Cas and tried instead to pay attention to the conversation at hand.

“Ahem, yes, I don't believe there are any rooms free, Cassie. And Dean will be staying with just you, I'm afraid, I have my sights set somewhere else tonight, if you know what I mean,” Balthazar proclaimed with a dirty laugh and a lascivious wink, which earned him eye rolls from both Cas and Dean, while Claire mimed gagging.

“TMI!” Claire yelped. “Come over to the Big House when you're done with your shower Dean!” She said before scampering off in the direction of the communal center. Balthazar ambled after her with a sassy salute, leaving Cas and Dean by themselves for the first time.

“Uh, okay, thanks Claire!” Dean called after her retreating back. He glanced awkwardly over at Cas, who was watching Claire go with a fond smile. He shifted his gaze over to Dean after a few moments and Dean suddenly felt nervous, too warm in his skin under the steady blue stare, yet unable to look away.

He scrambled for something to fill the silence, even though it was not an uncomfortable one. “So, uh, are you really sure you don't mind me bunking with you? I was planning on staying for a couple days, if you don't mind.”

Cas smiled warmly at him. “Of course not, Dean. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. I'll be glad for some company other than Balthazar's.”

“Uhh, okay, great, that's great, thank you, Cas, I really appreciate it. Well, uh, I'd better...uh..go..uhh..” Dean trailed off, finding that it was hard to make words into sentences with the way Cas was staring at him in such a heated way. He licked his lips and swallowed some of the excess saliva that had pooled in his mouth, the feral snarling voice telling him he should drag Cas to the bath house with him and fuck his brains out, claiming him as MATE.

Dean gulped as Cas edged closer, seemingly sharing the same thought, his pink lips were parted enticingly and he was breathing as heavily as Dean suddenly seemed to be, almost like he was scenting the air or some shit. Dean shook his head a little, uneasy at all the strange thoughts swirling through his mind. This seemed to break the spell, and Cas drew back, shaking his head a bit too and taking in a deep breath and a couple steps away from Dean. This caused a low growl to rip out of Dean's throat, startling both of them. Dean slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes just as wide as Cas' blue ones, he stared at Cas in shock; what was wrong with him?!

But Cas managed to smile reassuringly at him, as though Dean hadn't done anything strange, which miraculously, made Dean feel calmer. He breathed in deeply, smelling something fresh and sweet, like a tropical storm and felt his chest loosen up again, unaware of when it had gone tight, and even that feral snarl quieted down to a low grumbling.

“Go have your shower, Dean, I'll see you in a little while.” Cas told him softly but with a hint of authority, backing up a few more feet.

Dean felt a whimper rising in his throat and choked it down, obediently turning around to head for the bath house. How was he ever gonna make it through sharing a room with the guy if this was what happened every time he was in his presence?

~*~*~*~

Cas blew out a shaky breath as he watched Dean walk away. It was even more nerve-wracking being around the man while in his skin than it had been when he wore his fur. The heavenly scent of him alone was enough to bring Cas to his knees. Every sense seemed just as heightened as it did when he was in panther form. But still, at the same time, it was wonderful to finally interact with Dean, one human to another.

He was thankful that Dean didn't appear to think him a strange, shirtless weirdo, in fact, his mate seemed as though he was just as attracted to Cas as Cas was to him. He'd felt the primeval weight of Dean's gaze, knew that his animal raged just beneath the surface. His panther preened at the thought of their mate being so jealous, aroused and possessive; his mate's behavior matched his own perfectly.

He'd picked up that low-level growl that Dean'd done his best to hold back when Balthazar came up and acted so touchy-feely. Cas had actually felt bad about how upset Balthazar's presence had made Dean, that wasn't his intention, and he didn't think it had been his brother's either. Balthazar liked to tease, but with Cas' blood flowing through his body, Dean was definitely closer to the Change than they had gauged. He'd have to tell Dean what was going on by tonight, at the very latest tomorrow.

Maybe it was imprudent of him to not let Dean stay with someone else in the village, but he couldn't bear the thought of Dean being away from him now. Even though Cas didn't know how he was going to handle spending a whole night in a small, enclosed room, with Dean sleeping only a few feet away and Dean's scent filling up every nook and cranny, calling out to Cas, to take, claim, mate. It was still worth it to give his alpha the peace of mind and security of having his true-mate nearby.

He could tell how much Dean wanted him too, even if Dean wasn't quite as sure of it yet as Cas was.

Of course, that might change once Cas broke the truth to him, but he hoped with the help of Claire and Balthazar that it might not go too badly. Every second spent out of Dean's sight was a test of his self-control and of his panther's patience, and he had to constantly remind himself to not act too familiar or take any liberties, lest he give himself away. He had waited endlessly it seemed, to reveal himself and oh, how he longed to be at his mate's side each moment of the day! Right now, he was sorely tempted to barge into the bath house and ravish Dean in every way possible, fucking him up against the wall, claiming him for all to see, kissing, licking and biting to his heart's content. The mating-mark-that-wasn't throbbed along the junction of his neck and shoulder, approval flushing through him at the idea of finally getting to have his mate.

Cas shook his head and drew in a deep breath, attempting to rein himself in. He had to tell Dean the truth before anything else sexual happened between them, it was only right that Dean had a choice. That he gave his consent, although, consent and choices had sort of been tossed out the window the moment Dean had bitten him, and like it or not, his body was already undergoing changes that could not be undone. Cas only hoped that Dean would be open-minded and try to understand when Cas explained to him what had happened.

He could only hope that Dean wouldn't hate him when this was all over.

Cas had tried hard not to eavesdrop when Claire had been talking to Dean as she showed him around, but he'd managed to hear snippets anyways. As it was, Cas had forgotten all about the lunar ceremony until Claire mentioning it to Dean had reminded him; the fact of which sent a wave of dread through him, because at the height of the full moon, most shifters were closer than usual to their animal. And if someone was on the cusp of the Change for the very first time, as Dean was, the fullness of the moon would only accelerate the process. Which actually explained a lot about Dean's animalistic behavior. He knew he couldn't let Dean out of his sight for any longer than a few minutes at a time, just in case something triggered him and catapulted him into the Change more quickly than anticipated. He had no intention of letting his mate endure all of this on his own. Shifting for the first time could be terrifying and disorienting, even for a born shifter that knew what was coming. How much more so it would be for Dean and Cas vowed to be with him every step of the way, no matter how difficult things might get.

Cas sighed heavily and wrung out his hands, he had to calm down, for Dean's sake. He had the power to calm and soothe Dean with his scent and presence and vice versa, once Dean went completely through the Change, he would have the same abilities. He fidgeted, feeling antsy and restless, longing to slip into the comfort of his fur, but refrained, knowing that if he wanted to speak with his mate, he'd need to stay in his skin. He could help Dean more as a human right now than as his panther. Resigned, he headed towards the Big House to wait for Dean. But first, he made a quick detour back to his cabin to put on a shirt, his shyness getting the better of him no matter how much his alpha preened over the fact that Dean had been practically speechless and unable to take his eyes off of him at all times. If nothing else, it was a sure confidence booster for his human side, which he dearly needed, since he'd always felt awkward and ungainly in his skin.

When he reached the Big House, he found Claire inside, with many others, including her mother, Amelia, who was busily engaged in de-husking a large bunch of rice and didn't even see Cas when he slunk in. Anna and Inias were also there, roasting chickens and what looked like a couple haunches of barking deer on the open spit and chopping up vegetables. Briefly, he wondered where Hannah and Alfie and several others whom he considered friends were, but got distracted when Claire waved to him from across the room and so he went to join her.

“Hey Dad! Wanna help me make a snack for Dean?” Claire asked with a sunny smile.

Cas nodded, grateful for a task to keep his mind off Dean...of Dean all dripping wet in the shower...

Claire nudged him with her elbow, bringing him out of his fantasies and he smiled back at her sheepishly. The thought of providing sustenance for his mate was not only a good diversion from the more carnal slant his mind had veered off on, but an infinitely pleasing one too, and he peered over her shoulder with interest.

“What are you making?”

“Lumpia. It's quick and easy and yummy. You think Dean'll like it?” Claire inquired as she shredded some already cooked chicken breasts.

Cas chuckled, thinking of Dean and his appetite and their many one-sided conversations about food that Cas had been unable to reply to while in his fur, as Dean regaled him with stories of the different foods he'd eaten all over the world.

“As long as it has some meat in it, I'm sure he'll be satisfied.”

Claire smirked at him, but said nothing, instead handing him three eggs and gesturing at the griddle. “Cook those up for me?”

Cas obeyed, cracking the eggs as neatly as he could and spilling their contents onto the scorching hot griddle, using a wooden spatula to messily scramble them, sprinkling a pinch each of rough pink sea salt and white pepper over the eggs before mixing it in.

He and Claire worked peacefully in silence, slicing up carrots, onions and cabbage finely, adding spices and other ingredients.

At length, Cas finally spoke up, asking the question that had been at the tip of his tongue since Claire had grabbed Dean's hand and dragged him off to see the village.

“So...um...what do you think of Dean?”

Claire glanced at him shyly. “I really like him. I still think he's cute and very feisty...but he's nice...and funny...and a total dork, just like you. But...I think he's good for you...you need someone...and he likes you too, y'know? I can totally tell! Anyways, I don't like to think of you all alone out in the jungle, I'm glad you found him. Plus, I think he'll smell a whole lot better after a shower!”

Cas snorted a little at that; to him, Dean always smelled divine. But he also felt a warmth fill his chest; Claire's concern for his well-being was touching, he hadn't known she felt that way about him, worried for him. It made him glad he was getting a chance to spend some time with her and he was pleased too, that she approved of Dean.

He felt a smile spreading over his face, hope welling up within him that this would all work out.

~*~*~*~

Dean moaned loudly as he stood under the shower, probably louder than necessarily while in the semi-publicness of the bath house. But thankfully, no one else was in here right now, so he didn't worry too much. The water wasn't as heated as the hot springs and the pressure was nothing to write home about, but it didn't smell like rotten eggs and that was good enough for Dean.

The temptation to think about Cas and jerk off in here was high, but somehow, felt wrong. Sure it might make him a little more clearheaded, but then he didn't think he'd be able to look the man in the eye. Besides, Dean had a feeling that if he played his cards right, he might get at least a roll in the hay, if the way Cas had been heatedly staring at him was anything to go by. To be sure, last time someone had looked at him like that, Dean had gotten laid.

Just thinking about what might happen later when they were by themselves was enough to make Dean's dick perk up and his chest grow tight, that feral snarl roaring to life. He steadfastly ignored it all though, shampooing and conditioning his hair and scrubbing himself up into a lather all over, before rinsing off and just standing there with his chin tucked into his chest, just enjoying the luxury of hot water beating down on his sore muscles. He didn't want to be rude and use up all the hot water though, so after a couple more minutes, he turned off the shower and toweled off, slipping into some of the clean clothes that he'd washed by the waterfall last night.

Was it only last night? So much had happened since then, which seemed to be a reoccurring theme around here; Dean had never experienced so much, in so short a span of time. Well, Gabriel had said it would be an adventure, not to say that any of his other assignments hadn't been, but none of them had ever been anything like this; he'd definitely gotten way more than he'd bargained for. Dean wouldn't forget his time here for as long as he lived.

Thinking of Gabriel's last words reminded him that he needed to dig out his satellite phone and check in with the man, let him know he'd reached the village safely and update him on his progress. He should probably give Sammy a ring too, let him know he was still alive and uneaten by jungle cats and let Sam harangue him about drinking plenty of water and eating his vegetables.

He spared a thought too for his cat, hoping he was alright and that he hadn't followed Dean to the village where he might be harmed. Again, Dean reminded himself of his promise not to stay here too long, though it would be harder to keep, now that he'd met Cas...

Dean chose his clothing carefully, wanting to look nice, to be noticed by Cas, but not look like he was trying too hard. He hadn't brought any nice clothing with him, there was no point when in the jungle for extended periods of time and Cas and the others around here dressed pretty casually, so the pale, sage green henley and worn-in, velvety soft, washed out blue jeans that fit him like a second skin would have to do for now.

He toweled his hair and left it to air dry before neatly depositing his used towels in the hamper by the door of the bath house. Grabbing his shaving kit, he took a few minutes to give his face a thorough once over, patting on a bit of aftershave when he was finished. Inspecting himself in the mirror, he nodded in approval; this was as good as it was gonna get for now, and if he did say so himself, he didn't look half bad. Hopefully good enough for his ma--...for Cas to sit up and take notice anyhow.

He wasn't sure where Cas' cabin was so he took his things along with him as he made his way to the Big House, setting his gear on the wooden porch by the front door. He paused for a moment outside, taking in all the activity which was visible through the open door, suddenly feeling shy and out of place. Cas and Claire were engaged in making something over by the far side of the oven and as if sensing his presence, Cas abruptly glanced up, as did Claire, both of their gazes zeroing in on Dean, genuine smiles on their faces as they waved him over enthusiastically. He was torn between feeling relieved that Cas had put a shirt on and chagrined that he could no longer ogle that gorgeous, muscled chest.

Dean felt himself unwind a little and smiled back as he stepped inside, making his way across the spacious room towards them. Steam was billowing up and so many delicious cooking smells filled the air and Dean breathed in deep as he used his extra height to peer over Claire's shoulder, trying to figure out what she was making.

“Something smells great!” He praised.

Claire glanced at him out of the corner of her eye with a grin. “Told ya we'd feed ya, didn't I?”

Dean licked his lips in anticipation. “Anything I can do to help?” He chanced a quick, shy glance at Cas, who was already gazing at him with a soft, pleased smile, which Dean eagerly returned, feeling his whole being relax in contentment.

“Nope, not right now, we'll feed you first, then put you to work to help with dinner for tonight,” Claire told him with a wicked smile, very much aware of the heart eyes going on between the two men.

“Sounds good to me,” Dean smirked back, unbothered; he was more than happy to help, otherwise he wouldn't have offered. Besides, his mom, and later Bobby, had brought him up right. It was second nature to offer to help in the kitchen when you were a guest. Besides, Dean was no dummy, helping out in the kitchen meant getting to be the taste tester, snagging extra treats and always getting to lick the spoon and leftover batter out of the bowl if cookies were being made.

For now though, he dragged over a wooden bench so he could observe without being in the way. He tried not to stare too often or too blatantly at Cas, which was a difficult feat, only manageable by the fact of their close proximity, which was helping keep at bay the tightness in Dean's chest and the constant murmuring of that strange, feral voice. He distracted himself too, by bugging Claire.

“So whatcha makin'?” Dean asked, tugging gently on one of Claire's braids.

She swatted at him playfully with her wooden spoon. “Lumpia. Basically, it's a fried spring roll, you can make whatever kind of filling you like to go inside. This has chicken, onions, cabbage, carrots and eggs in it.” She paused as she reached for what looked like chili flakes. “How hot can you handle it?”

“Surprise me,” Dean challenged with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Claire's grin was downright devious as she shook a healthy dose of the chili flakes into the wooden bowl containing the filling mixture. Arching up on her tiptoes, she then grabbed an unmarked container from a shelf overhead and tossed in a hefty pinch or two of some reddish-brown powder in as well, mixing it in thoroughly.

“Careful, Claire, Dean is our guest, we don't want to kill him,” Cas chided her as he rolled out thin rounds of rice dough with a marble rolling pin until they were nearly paper thin.

“Daaaad! I know what I'm doing!” Claire whined. “Besides, if he can't stand the heat, maybe he should get out of the kitchen!” She stuck her tongue out at Dean.

Dean groaned and facepalmed. “You did not just quote a president at me! Where did you even hear that?”

Claire giggled gleefully. “We do have t.v. and the internet here! I know lots of things!”

Dean shuddered to think about what all that statement might entail, and decided he was better off not knowing. He threw a commiserating glance at Cas, who looked about as in over his head as Dean felt, and the two shook their heads in unison as Claire cackled at their discomfort.

With the mixture all ready, Claire took one of the rounds that Cas had prepared and began spooning the filling right in the center of it. Tamping it down a little, she folded two of the sides over the mound of filling, forming a long rectangle, which she then rolled into a thick tube, the ends of the rice dough sticking to itself and neatly sealing the tube up. She worked quickly until she had a whole plateful done and then moved over to where there was a pot of boiling oil waiting.

Using a crudely fashioned, but clearly recognizable frying basket, she set the eggrolls inside and then dunked them in the oil. They began frothing and sizzling immediately and by this time, Dean's mouth was watering and his stomach gurgling with hunger. After a few minutes, Claire fished out the basket and laid the golden brown eggrolls out on a plate of green banana leaves to allow the excess oil to drain off. She batted Dean's fingers away when he tried to snatch one.

“Just give them a minute to cool down.” Claire advised. A few minutes more passed before she finally deemed them ready. “Okay, dig in!”

Eagerly, Dean picked one up, blowing on it a bit and then took a bite. “Mmm!” It was delicious, light and crispy, the filling was savory, with just enough spice to give it some heat without being overpowering.

Cas and Claire both looked inordinately pleased as Dean devoured the eggroll hungrily.

“Here, try it with the sweet chili sauce!” Claire passed him a small clay dish of bright red sauce. Obediently, Dean plucked up a second eggroll and dredged it in the sauce, taking a big bite. The chili sauce added a whole new dimension of sweet n' sour flavor and Dean groaned happily.

Claire giggled at him. “I think he likes it!” She stage whispered to Cas. He smiled back at her, giving a dorky thumbs up, which Dean found adorable. They each took their own eggrolls and dipped them in the sauce as well and for a few minutes there was only the sound of munching as they snacked on the fried treat. Dean ate five of the rolls before Claire reminded him that dinner was only a few hours away and that he should save his appetite. He stared longingly at the remaining eggrolls, but heeded Claire's advice. If dinner was anything like the eggrolls, then he and his stomach were in for a culinary adventure.

Dean patted his belly, sated for now and turned to Claire. “Alright, you fed me, now put me to work. What can I do?”

~*~*~*~

The rest of the afternoon was spent assisting Claire and Cas, though Cas didn't seem to know much more than he did about preparing the traditional dishes that they helped Claire make. When Cas went to a different area of the kitchen to collect ingredients, Claire revealed that he rarely did any cooking and was much better suited to hunting and bringing home meat for them to prepare in a number of different ways. That reminded Dean strongly of his cat bringing him gifts of birds, toads and cobras, and he fervently hoped his cat was okay out there, wherever he was.

He didn't end up having much time to think about his cat, as it was, Claire kept him and Cas quite busy, walking them through making fried tempeh, then Gandul rice, which was a hearty soup stewed with smoked buffalo meat, pandan and banana leaves and rice, plus several other dishes too. The large kitchen was a happy, pleasant atmosphere to work in, the different groups of men and women working shoulder to shoulder together, laughing, singing and chatting in harmony as they made ready copious quantities of food for the evening meal.

Dean felt a contented warmth spread through him, privately amazed at how accepted and at home he felt among these kind people. Of course, it might have also had something to do with how Cas never left his side the whole afternoon, patiently showing Dean how to do things or learning attentively with him as Claire instructed them both. They worked well together, curiously in tune, as though they had spent years around each other, instead of only hours. He often caught Claire smiling fondly at the pair of them and was glad to see she didn't mind how close he and Cas were getting.

By the time the dinner hour arrived, Dean was ravenous once more. All of the dishes that made up the meal were spread out along a wide wooden table and everyone filed through, filling their plates high with stewed chicken and squash in a rich coconut broth, salted duck eggs and buffalo satay, among many other delicacies.

The villagers gathered around the communal fire outside, seating themselves on blankets and cushions. Utensils were available, but many ate with their hands or used pieces of a kind of unleavened flatbread which reminded Dean of naan, to scoop up their food. Dean found himself sandwiched between Claire and Cas and hummed happily as he made his way through his plate. The food was damn good, savory, well-seasoned and hearty and most certainly the best thing he'd eaten in days.

Between bites, he gazed around him, taking in the scene. Across the fire, he spied Balthazar looking pretty cozy with a rather stern-faced blonde woman, who seemed to be suffering his attentions with good grace, though she didn't appear totally unreceptive to his charms. Dean felt a strange sense of relief at seeing Balthazar otherwise occupied; even though he knew that as Cas' brother, the man posed no romantic threat to him when it came to Cas, he still felt better knowing Balthazar would, from the looks of it, be definitely spending the night away, instead of bunking with him and Cas.

Dean caught a few people staring at him curiously, or darting knowing glances between him and Cas, but just chalked it up to the fact that he was an unfamiliar face, a novelty of sorts to these people who didn't get many visitors. He even noticed a few different ones sniffing at the air, but didn't think much of it. It was strange too, how he and Cas seemed to exist in their own little pocket of space, with no one coming up to inspect Dean, newcomer that he was. To be sure, he was grateful not to be subjected to an inquisitive barrage of questions, but all the same, it was a different experience than what he had come to expect when visiting foreign lands.

As the evening wound down, the leftover food was put away, the huge kitchen tidied up and everyone collected around the fire once more, bringing out a variety of instruments, few of which Dean recognized. Singing and dancing started up, and Dean placidly people-watched, getting up to retrieve his camera after awhile to snap photos in the hope of capturing and keeping that sense of belonging and peaceful kinship he felt so strongly here, indeed, that he'd rarely experienced elsewhere. At length, he set his camera down and just basked in the glow of the fire. Dean was tired, it had been a long day; he could barely believe he was almost at the end of his second week here, a thought which saddened him to no end.

Claire had gotten up some time ago to dance around with some other young boys and girls and it was just him and Cas, leaning up against each other, sat back a ways from everyone else. Dean was very aware of Cas at his side, a silent wall of heat; it was a good feeling, a kind of tingling, low-level state of arousal that was comfortable, not filled with urgency, but instead a point of potential energy. The awareness that something could happen, but didn't necessarily have to, because just the possibility of it was satisfying to a bone-deep level. It made Dean feel quiet and content, right down to his soul, which was a situation he'd never really encountered. He wasn't sure quite what to make of it, other than the fact that it was extremely enjoyable and he wished it would go on forever. His entire body felt loose and lax and the growling, feral voice had been pushed to the very back of his mind, he could almost pretend it had never happened.

Cas didn't say much, he too, seemed to be soaking in the glow of their surroundings. Dean was grateful for the warmth of the fire at his front and Cas insulating his side. It was much chillier here, they were higher up than Dean had been while out in the jungle. He recalled Claire mentioning that the village was 1,200 feet above sea level as they had chatted while they worked earlier in the kitchen. Still, Dean shivered a bit, his unprotected side feeling that much colder because of the heat at his front and the side Cas was currently occupying. As close as they were, Cas noticed his shivering immediately and rose to his feet gracefully, disappearing for a few minutes. Dean missed his warmth instantly, his chest constricted and that horrible, feral snarl hissed its displeasure in his ear.

Thankfully, Cas returned speedily, as though he knew his absence was detrimental to Dean. He brought with him several thick wool blankets, and settling back down next to Dean, even closer than before, he unfolded one, draping it across both their shoulders, while the other he spread out over their laps.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said softly, touched at the kindness of a man who was still, essentially, a stranger. It sure didn't feel that way though.

“Of course, Dean, you're welcome.” Cas ducked his head bashfully. He cleared his throat nervously, then said, “Do you have any room left for dessert?”

Dean grinned wolfishly. “Always!” Sure, he'd had a huge helping of fresh, juicy mango with sweet sticky rice, but he wasn't about to turn down whatever Cas wanted to offer him.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Cas instructed.

Dean obeyed, chuckling in anticipation. He heard some rustling, then something large and cool, about the size of a softball, was placed into his waiting palms.

“Okay, you can look now,” came Cas' gravelly voice. Dean shivered again, and not because of the chilly air this time.

He open his eyes and crowed aloud in delight at the sight of a large, dark purple fruit, exactly like the ones his cat had introduced him to. “Oh my god! YES! I love these things! Now, please, for the love of rock n' roll, will you tell me what the hell they are?!”

Cas grinned an adorably gummy smile, one that wrinkled his nose and made little crows feet around the outer edges of his eyes. It was the biggest smile to date that Dean had seen on him and it absolutely melted his heart and he felt an odd sense of pride for being the one to put it on Cas' handsome face.

“It's called a mangosteen. Have you had one before?” Cas asked curiously, with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes that sort of confused Dean. Perhaps it was reflection of the fire?

“Oh, uh, well actually, yeah, my cat-- I mean, uh, I found some...in the jungle...” Dean trailed off a little, feeling bad about lying to Cas, but unsure how much to reveal about the feline friend he'd made and wanting to protect his cat.

However, Cas just stared at him calmly. “ You made the acquaintance of a cat in the jungle?”

Dean stared back at him, weighing his options. Finally, he decided he could trust Cas with the truth. “Yeah, like the third day in, I saw one of the melanistic leopards and I guess he followed me back to camp. From then on, he kinda stalked me as I made my way here. He'd also bring me “gifts” of different dead animals and stuff, it was kinda sweet, even though I couldn't really eat any of it. Anyways, uh, he kept mostly out of sight, but a couple days ago, that's actually the first time I got to see him close up and personal and...uh...we've been hanging out ever since. He led me to this grove where there were all these fruits...” Dean gestured at the mangosteen still cradled in his palm and stopped there, feeling mildly shy and embarrassed about sharing some of the more intimate aspects of his interactions with his cat. Like the bed-sharing, excessive cuddling, long conversations and story-time, things which Dean could barely believe himself, without trying to recount them to another person for fear of sounding crazy.

Cas had leaned in and was gazing intently at him, as though expecting more, but when Dean didn't expound further, he drew back a little, clearing his throat again in a rather nervous fashion.

“Well, um, that's a very interesting experience you've had, just be careful, Dean. Not everything around here is exactly what it seems.”

Dean was mystified. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Cas looked uncomfortable now and hesitated before continuing, as if unsure of how much to tell him. “We have many myths and legends around here...of skin-walkers, shapeshifters...of those that can shift back and forth between skin and fur, human and animal.”

Dean laughed uneasily. “That's what you think I met in the jungle? A were-cat or something?”

“Would that be so terrible or unbelievable?” Cas looked slightly offended now and Dean hastened to backpedal. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the man's feelings by disrespecting his beliefs.

“No! Of course not, man, I just meant, it sounds a little out there, like something from the X-Files, that's all. But, I mean, what do I know, anything's possible, right?”

Cas tilted his head to the side and squinted at him quizzically. “What is...the X-Files?”

Dean cracked up. “The X-Files was this cool t.v. show back in the 90's about a couple of FBI agents who investigated paranormal stuff, crazy shit like aliens, conspiracy theories and monster of the week creepy crawlies. I think there were even a couple of episodes where the agents hunted down people who could turn into animals. You'll have to get Claire to show you a few episodes on YouTube.”

He glanced at Cas for a reaction, but the other man looked upset, horrified even, with a tinge of righteous anger. “They hunted them down...and what, killed them? That's awful! Those people couldn't help what they were, most that can shift are born that way and those that aren't--” Cas trailed off, shaking his head and gazing into the fire, clearly unsettled about something.

Dean tried to comfort him. “Cas, calm down, it's okay, it doesn't matter, it wasn't real, it was just a show. I'm sorry I even mentioned it.” Dean scooted closer to him, but Cas was as stiff as a statue and Dean was unsure of what he could say to ease the tension and make it better.

Silence fell between them once more, only this time it wasn't quite as comfortable as before. The weird thing was, the more Dean thought about it, the more likely of an explanation it seemed. It hadn't escaped his noticed how uncannily, humanly smart his cat was, how expressive and friendly, once he had realized Dean was harmless. The possibility that Dean's cat might be a skinwalker or a werecat or whatever, someone that could turn into a human when it wanted to, actually kinda freaked him out in a big way. If his cat really was a human in a catsuit, what did he want with Dean? What was the endgame there? The whole thing made Dean feel itchy and restless, and he balked at the idea of his cat, who had been nothing but kind and helpful, being human...all duplicitous and sneaky. It threw everything that had happened into a whole new light and in a different context, some of it could be considered to be kinda fucked up. But...on the other hand, Dean didn't get a bad vibe from the panther, just the opposite in fact, he trusted him more than he trusted most people...so where did that leave things?

Anxious to break the ice and smooth things over with Cas, Dean cast about for something, anything, to talk about instead.

“So, uh, which one is the village chief, Cain?” Dean asked, partly out of real interest, but also to change the subject and hopefully lighten the tone of the conversation, which had gone a bit tense and heavy. He was desperate too, to steer his brain away from the dark, disturbing thoughts it insisted on dwelling upon.

Cas gazed knowingly at him, but graciously allowed the topic change, turning to point out a tall, older man, with salt and pepper gray hair that he wore up in a “man-bun” that reminded Dean of Sam. He also had a matching beard and mustache that only served to highlight his icy blue eyes, which twinkled merrily in the firelight. A guitar lay across his lap, but he was no longer playing, instead engaging in a discussion with those around him. As they watched however, a serious looking dark-haired man came up and whispered something into the chief's ear, beckoning him away from the crowd. The two men went off into a secluded corner, talking in low tones and giving off a very somber air indeed.

“I wonder what happened?” Dean mused aloud.

“I'm not sure,” Cas answered uncertainly, “but Ion is one of our perimeter guards, he lets us know when we have visitors, invited or otherwise. He's usually the first to know when something's going on and he reports daily to Cain every morning, so it's a bit odd that he would come here now.”

“Huh, well, I hope everything's okay,” Dean offered, trying to convey more than just concern for the village, but also that all was well between the two of them, too. He didn't want Cas to be distressed or unhappy with him.

Cas turned his head look at him, a small, shy smile upturning his pink lips and rested his hand on Dean's knee and he had the feeling that Cas had forgiven him for anything stupid he'd said earlier. But all Cas said was, “So do I, Dean.”

They sat together quietly for awhile longer, the silence easy once more, Cas' hand still a patch of comforting heat on his knee, until Dean opened his mouth in a huge, jaw-cracking yawn, which caught Cas' attention.

Cas stood, pulling Dean up with him easily in a show of strength that was probably more of a turn on than it should have been. Gathering up the blankets with one hand, he held out the other to Dean. “Come on, we should head to bed, it's getting late and tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.”

Scooping up his camera and the mangosteen Cas had gifted him, Dean took his hand with barely a thought, instead focusing only on how good it felt to hold Cas' hand and how easily their fingers intertwined, as though this was the hundredth rather than the first time they had done this. They stopped by the Big House so Dean could retrieve his pack and then continued along, climbing up several steep sets of stone steps that had Dean feeling extremely grateful that Cas seemed to know exactly where he was going. He'd surely have fallen flat on his face otherwise. But Cas led him effortlessly through the darkness until they came to a halt, rather abruptly, at a little cabin that was, at least to Dean, indistinguishable from any of the others. He followed Cas up the stairs to the small porch and waited while he opened the door and fumbled around inside for the light, which turned out to be a single bare bulb over a freestanding sink with a little mirror affixed to the wall.

Dean pulled out a couple of his camping lanterns and switched them on for some extra light. The main room held two twin-sized beds, one still all neatly made up and looking as though it rarely got used, while the other was a mess of pillows, sheets and blankets all flung about. There were two dressers against one wall, and by each bed, there was a tiny night table. A narrow door that Dean assumed was a closet actually contained a toilet, opposite of a cramped shower stall that had seen better days. Cas waved him over to the undisturbed bed and Dean set his gear down next to it.

Cas politely turned away while Dean got changed for bed, instead busying himself with putting Balthazar's sloppy bed back to rights.

Dean shed his green henley and jeans, pulling on an old grey AC/DC t-shirt and a flannel long-sleeved plaid over that, along with some pajama pants that he hadn't had the need to wear yet, due to the humidity of the jungle. He was wishing now that he had something warmer to wear, but hoped that this, combined with the extra blankets Cas had brought along, would be enough to keep him toasty through the night. He used the toilet and then took a few minutes to wash his face and brush his teeth at the little sink.

When he turned away from the sink, he saw Cas lingering awkwardly at the foot of his bed with the extra blankets. Dean came closer, smiling at Cas as he handed over the blankets.

“Um, I hope this will be enough to keep you warm, the bed is pretty comfortable, I mean, I don't really sleep here much, but when I have, its been nice and um, I hope you like it and if you don't, we can get something else or...” Cas' nervous babbling trailed off and Dean took mercy on him, resting a hand soothingly on his shoulder.

“Cas, hey, it's great, I'm sure I'll be plenty comfortable, after all, anything's gonna feel good to me after sleeping on the ground for the last couple weeks, okay? I'm just grateful you offered me a place to stay, alright?” Dean couldn't help but rub his palm over the smooth expanse of Cas' shoulder and back, reveling in the heat of him through the thin t-shirt he wore. The two of them drifting closer and closer til their heated breaths were mingling in each others faces. Dean let his hand glide over the ball of Cas' shoulder and up his neck til he was cupping his jaw, rubbing his thumb over the rough-soft stubble of Cas' cheek, their gazes locked in the dimness of the room, Cas' eyes seeming preternaturally blue, with a slight glow to them that Dean was sure he was imagining.

He wasn't quite sure who made the first move, perhaps the earth shifted on its axis and the natural sway of gravity pushed them together, but all Dean knew was how right Cas' plush lips felt as they connected with his in a chaste, close-mouthed kiss, breathing in deeply as Cas pressed against him, his hands coming up to grip at Dean's biceps, before he abruptly broke away, breathing harshly.

“Dean...” he whispered, sounding anguished.

Dean didn't let him go far, keeping one hand against his neck and the other sliding down to entwine their fingers together once more. “What's the matter, Cas? Was that okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean--”

“No, no...” Cas interrupted him with a finger to his lips, hushing him. “It was wonderful...I just...” Cas bit his bottom lip, looking torn as he rubbed his thumb over Dean's lower lip, like he wanted nothing more than to keep kissing him, but something was holding him back.

Dean edged forward, curling his hand around the back of Cas' neck and pressing their foreheads together, the urge to hold and comfort one he couldn't deny. “What's wrong, Cas?”

Cas opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, grasping for words. “Dean...I—there's something I have to tell you...before things go any further between us...”

“Talk to me, Cas, what is it?” He tried to keep Cas close, but Dean could already feel him pulling away, stepping out of Dean's space and edging towards the door.

“I...I—um, nothing, I mean, it can wait til the morning...I should, uh, I--I'm just going to check on Claire and..um, make sure she goes to bed soon. I'll be right back.”

Before Dean could even protest, Cas was out the door, leaving Dean alone and bereft, the tightness in his chest immediately returning and the feral growl roaring to the forefront in rage.

~*~*~*~

Cas fairly flew down the steps of the cabin, feeling like a heartless coward, all too aware of how cruel it was to run out on Dean like that, but too terrified to turn back. It had been on the tip of his tongue to spill everything and just tell Dean the whole truth, but at the last second, he'd lost his nerve, once again. Goddamnit! He cursed himself for his gutlessness, knowing that his time was running out. He'd so ardently wanted to keep kissing Dean, to take everything his mate was so eagerly offering him, but it felt too wrong to even share a simple kiss when Dean didn't know the truth, about Cas and more importantly, about himself.

There was a small, nasty voice in a dark corner of his mind that kept whispering horrendous things. Like, maybe once Dean knew what Cas was, and what he himself was quickly changing in to, he might turn against Cas, might try to hunt him down and kill him like on the show Dean had mentioned.

However, Cas' alpha side leapt to Dean's defense, stamping out the negative voice; his mate wouldn't sell him out like that. He may not have spent much time with Dean as a human, but he had been around him for days in his fur and Dean had been nothing but kind, curious and respectful. He'd never raised a hand against Cas, even when he'd been a little aggressive with Dean, displaying an amount of trust that humbled Cas. As for their discussion earlier, when Dean had expressed disbelief in the idea of shapeshifters, Cas shouldn't have been surprised; he'd known it wouldn't be the most palatable idea. Dean was not from here, he didn't understand, instead he brushed it off as fantasy, just a local legend meant to entertain tourists. Most people would have probably had the same reaction, but Cas had seen the uncertain, rather uneasy flicker of doubt in Dean's eyes. His brief silence had spoken volumes, and Cas could practically feel him thinking, putting the puzzle pieces together, wrestling between rationality and the reality of the cold hard facts.

Inwardly, he winced and cursed himself for his clumsy handling of the topic, he'd made it sound ominous and dangerous, even sort of cast suspicion upon his leopard self, but honestly, he hadn't expected to hear about himself through Dean's eyes. He'd only wanted to see Dean's eyes light up at the gift of a mangosteen and be able to finally tell him the name of the fruit; he'd been just as surprised as Dean seemed to be when he slipped up and mentioned Cas' leopard form. The warmth and shyness, the protective tone and the way he knew Dean had omitted much of the details of their interactions touched his heart immeasurably, flooding him with feelings of what he was scared to admit were already love...

He'd allowed Dean to change the subject, aware that Dean needed to come to terms with whatever he'd decided and also needing the distraction himself, from his own conflicted feelings. Now, it was up to Cas to ante up, to show Dean he trusted him as much as Dean had shown he trusted Cas, even if he'd been unaware of who Cas truly was at the time. It was late now, and not the right time for such a life-changing dialogue. First thing in the morning, he'd lay everything out, tell Dean every last detail, answer each question with patience. He'd bite back his fear and trepidation, especially if it meant getting to have Dean at his side, as his true-mate; he was worth it.

But for now, he bowed to his baser instincts, his alpha was longing for its mate, to soothe and comfort, he'd abandoned Dean and that must be rectified. In his skin, Cas didn't feel it would be welcome or right to curl up next to Dean in bed, at least not until the truth was laid bare, but in his fur, as his panther, he was relatively confident he'd be greeted with open arms. And frankly, Cas was just as much in need of the balm that closeness and cuddling with his mate provided as Dean probably was, if for no other reason than to cement his decision in telling Dean the truth.

Resolved in this, Cas shifted into his fur, shivering through the transformation in relief at how good it felt to be on four paws again. Though he had to admit, staying human for so long a stretch hadn't been nearly as bad as he'd feared it might be, but perhaps that was only because of Dean. Whatever the case, Cas promised himself he'd stay only for an hour or so, just enough time to calm his alpha, soothe his mate and gather strength for the difficult conversation that morning would bring.

~*~*~*~

Dean tossed and turned for a long while after Cas left, everything that had happened over the course of the day cycling endlessly through his mind. There had been a lot to take in and he still wasn't sure how he felt about most of it. His chest still felt wound up tight and the feral growl hissed angrily at intervals.

But mainly, his thoughts kept coming back to Cas; Dean was sure it wasn't healthy to be this obsessive and possessive about someone he'd barely known for a day, but he couldn't help himself. Even now, he wondered where Cas was, if he was alright, if he was upset with Dean...maybe he should go look for Cas? He knew that the other man was obviously capable of taking care of himself, but still, Dean loathed the idea of Cas out there, by himself, perhaps upset or distressed...

Despite his anxious inner ramblings, the combination of a warm, comfy bed and the strain of a very long day proved to be too much for him and Dean was just on the edge of falling asleep, when he heard soft footfalls on the wooden porch. They paused for a moment, boards creaking underfoot and then came inside.

Turning over slightly, Dean squinted into the darkness, but couldn't really make anything out. “Cas, is that you?”

He received no answer.

The footsteps padded ever closer...

And then a cold wet something touched the back of his arm and a loud purr reached his ears. A rather unmanly squeak, which Dean would later deny, was surprised out of him.

Barely daring to believe his ears, he swiftly sat up and switched on his lantern. Sure enough, his cat sat there looking like his usual smug, assured self, though Dean detected a hint of nervousness, as if perhaps his cat thought he might not be welcome. Dean was quick to disabuse him of this notion and unable to hold back, he threw his arms around the panther, hugging him tightly. His earlier conversation with Cas about skinwalkers flitted through his thoughts, but he brushed it aside easily, finding he didn't really care; it probably wasn't even true anyways and even if it was, well, he trusted his cat not to hurt him, dammit!

“What are you doing here, Kitty? It's not safe here for you, there are tons of other humans here who probably won't take kindly to a jungle cat roaming around their village!” Dean murmured into his cat's thick, velvety fur.

Blatantly ignoring Dean's warning, the panther only kept purring and nuzzling his face into Dean's neck.

Dean chuckled to himself. Even though he knew it was dangerous, he was still thrilled his cat had followed him here anyways. Besides, his cat was wily and deadly and Dean was pretty damn sure that the panther could sense any danger well before Dean could, and thus hide out of sight safely before any other humans caught wind of him.

He scrubbed at the fur underneath his cat's chin, delighting in the way it kicked up the purring into high gear.

“Hey, kitty, is it story time? Do you want me to read some more of our book, huh?”

The purring amplified even louder at this, which Dean took as a definite YES.

“Okay, c'mon kitty, get under the covers here with me. That way, if anyone comes in, they won't see you. I don't think Cas would mind, I told him all about you...he thinks you're a were-cat...but just to be on the safe side...” Dean held up his blankets and laughed softly at how eagerly his cat crawled underneath the covers and immediately draped himself over the length of Dean's body, forming a nice, lovely long line of heat all along his side and front.

Squirming a little, Dean strained to reach his pack, riffling around under he found his copy of Slaughterhouse-Five.

Wiggling back into place, he drew the covers back up over the both of them, moving his lantern so he could see and paged through the book, stopping at the dog-eared page that was marking where they'd left off last time.

Clearing his throat, he began to read. His cat tucked his head in the hollow beneath Dean's chin and buried his face in Dean's throat, practically radiating contentedness. It warmed Dean to his core to see that his cat seemed to have missed him as much as he'd missed his cat.

He read aloud until he could barely keep his eyes open, the sound of his cat's deep purring and steady breathing lulling him easily into slumber. Sleepily, he folded down the corner of the page and dropped the book on top of his pack, before switching off the lantern. Darkness engulfed the room and Dean was out like a light, arms wrapped protectively around his cat, his last thoughts of Cas, wondering why he hadn't come back yet and hoping he was okay.

It didn't even occur to him that his chest had loosened, the tightness from before entirely eased and the feral snarling voice had morphed into a contented, rumbling purr.

~*~*~*~

Dean drifted just beneath the surface of wakefulness, still clinging to the last strands of a dream that he already couldn't remember...something about blue eyes...mmm...he was so warm and comfortable...he didn't wanna wake up...he breathed in; something smelled amazing...like a tropical rain storm, sweet and fresh, slightly salty with hints of cinnamon and apples...it was a comforting mesh of scents...reminding him weirdly of home...

Drowsily, he registered the density of another body on top of his, under the covers and with a sleepy smile, recalled his cat sneaking in late last night. Eyes still closed and nowhere near truly awake, arms still clasped firmly around his cat as he brushed his fingers through silky fur that felt even softer than usual, rubbing his hand down the back of his cat's head until he unexpectedly touched...skin?!

What the everloving fuck?!

Dean's eyes popped open with a gasp as he loosened his grasp and tried to sit up and find out exactly who the fuck was laying on top of him, if it wasn't his cat. It became instantly obvious though, that while he might have gone to sleep cuddled up with his panther, the situation had clearly changed sometime in the night, seeing as he was now pinned down by by a butt-ass naked dude.

The mystery man, because it definitely was a man, was pressing him down into the mattress with his sleep-heavy weight, his morning wood an undeniable, hard line of heat against Dean's lower thigh, recognizable even through his pajama pants, which had Dean's own dick perking up even more in interest.

The man's face was hidden, buried in Dean's throat, head tucked snugly under Dean's chin, with his hands curled around Dean's shoulders. Exactly in the same pose he remembered his cat falling asleep on him last night. Indeed, the man was lying comfortably between Dean's legs as if he was meant to be there and the more he thought about it, the more he realized this whole scene was redolent with familiarity. A sense of déja vu so strong it would have knocked him flat had he not already been prone on the bed, washed over him like a rogue wave. But before he could figure out why, he was distracted by dark hair tickling at his chin as the man asleep on his chest started to wake up, grumbling softly as he nuzzled his face into Dean's throat and chest.

Dean lay tense and frozen with baited breath as the man sleepily levered himself up onto his elbows, finally lifting his head and then Dean felt his heart stutter as he took in the all too-familiar wide blue eyes, chapped pink lips and dark stubble that adorned the face of the man he was already rather enamored of. Maybe some part of him had known all along, because Dean couldn't say he was one hundred percent surprised to find that it was Cas lying naked on top of him. In fact, quite a few things were slotting neatly into place regarding the ongoing mental puzzle he hadn't been quite aware he was assembling.

Cas, for his part, looked somewhat shocked to find himself in the position he was currently in, but it lasted only seconds, resignation quickly replacing it, along with a bit of trepidation and he eyed Dean nervously, their gazes clashing, blue and green meshing, looking for answers, before Cas cleared his throat, and somehow, Dean could feel how strongly he was silently pleading for understanding and acceptance...

“Hello, Dean,” he whispered.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean murmured back.

~*~*~*~