Chapter Text
Brrrrrrrrroooowwwrrr!
Sam looked up from his current research and smiled. “The planes are flying low today,” he said to himself.
Rrrrreeooowwww!
Sam smiled bigger and shook his head, his source of amusement preferable to the dry vampire lore in front of him.
Landing gear squealed as it lowered, the whining of the dropped flaps sounded not unlike a childlike sigh.
OOooOOOooOOoo—Eeeerrrrt!
Sam laughed right along with the miniature aircraft, as it came to a bouncy landing on the nearby couch. Little Cas rolled onto his back in a fit of laughter, turning his red face towards Dean to shout, “Again!”
Beside him, the hunter lay supine on the rug, his socked feet dangling over his own head, having just delivered Cas through his fourth airplane ride.
“Sammy, isn’t it time to refuel yet?” Dean was hopeful.
Sam glanced at his watch, announcing, “Lunch time—for planes, trains, and automobiles.”
“Awww, Sam,” the little angel whined as he sat up, clearly not ready to stop flying the friendly skies.
Sam rose from his chair, as his older brother clambered to his feet, graceful as a drunken elephant. “C’mon, Nugget.” Dean lifted up the pouting toddler under the arms, and then swung him around in a big, fun circle, erasing the little scowl and bringing back the preferred giggles.
Dean parked the boy on his hip, following his younger brother to the kitchen. “Let’s go see what Sam’s got to eat that isn’t covered in roots and leaves,” Dean told Cas, bouncing him as he went to preserve his light mood.
“Har-har—I can hear you, you know, Dean,” Sam said to his brother, as Dean followed him into the stainless steel room, Cas in tow. “And for your information, it is a salad—but it has cheese and fruit and your choice of three kinds of dressing.” Finishing the menu, Sam set his jaw, challenging Dean to complain.
As he sat Cas on the counter, Dean leaned against its edge, beside round, pink knees. “See, Nugget—what did I tell ya? Roots and leaves.”
The bitch in Sam’s face could have peeled the temporary skin from a shape-shifter.
“I like cheese and fruit,” Cas chimed in and saved the day. Smugly satisfied, Sam offered, “You’re welcome to cook a burger, if you like, De—“ Dean broke in, “I like—” Used to Dean’s snarky mouth, Sam continued, “—but the burger's frozen and I can’t remember when we bought those rolls.”
“How about salad now, Dean and then burgers for dinner?” Cas’s blue eyes implored, right through his sweeping lashes (not fair) and once again Sam marveled at their little one’s knack for diplomacy.
Completely slayed by the eyelash dragon, the older hunter planted a kiss on his charge’s forehead. “You got it, buddy. I’ll take the burger out now.”
Cas had a healthy appetite for one so tiny, but that didn’t mean he was teeming with table manners. Sam and Dean often had difficulty keeping the child seated during a meal. The second-hand highchair Sam brought home had proved a total bust, as Cas attempted the Triple-Lindy far too many times for the brothers’ comfort.
Not being a finger food, salad found its way into Cas by the forkful, as the young angel occasionally performed a drive-by past Sam, making buzzing noises—not unlike Dean’s airplane impression.
Zzzzrrrrrrrrzzzzz! (chomp, munch-munch)
“Hey, Buzz—how ‘bout you taxi over here and take a drink,” Dean offered. Despite Cas’ routine pattern, Dean still attempted to slow down the toddler, hearing his father’s voice warning him not to run with his mouth full. Cas obeyed his friend, taking a long pull off his sippy cup and plunking the plastic back on the table. As he swiped his sleeve across his chin, Cas gave Dean an exaggerated “Aaaahh,” Sticking out his tongue for inspection. “Good job, Nugget. Sam made some fruity dessert, so try to keep your flight plan local.”
Beaming at the praise, Cas was quickly off again, buzzing and singing another blast from the boys’ pasts. “Iiiiii’m bringin’ home a baby bumble bee—won’t my brothers be so proud of me?” Dean looked up at his brother only to find him already staring back, a forkful of greens and fruit frozen above his plate.
Dean mouthed the word “brothers?” at his own, the question stuck fast the folds of his brow.
Sam frowned, shrugged, and swung his head indifferently. Just then, Cas came zooming up to him, mouth open like a baby bird, which Sam filled with his loaded fork.
As he watched Cas skip away, chewing and humming happily, Dean said, “Well, he’s not our son.”
“And try as you might to treat him the same, Dean—Cas isn’t exactly the friend we knew.”
“…won’t my brothers be so proud of me,” came floating, in kid tune from the hall way. Dean cocked his head, hearing the lyric repeated. “Hey, Nugget, come here a sec!”
Cas came running at Dean’s call—he always had.
The small aircraft got scooped up to come in for a landing on the man’s lap. “Where’d you learn that bumble bee song, buddy?” Dean asked him, casually as the hunter could manage. Sam placed down his fork, waiting for Cas’ answer.
“Uuummm, a cartoon, I guess, Dean.”
Dean smirked, “Yeah, that’s a classic—about a wimpy vulture, right?”
Cas’ little head nodded as he continued, “His family brings home farm animals but all he gets is a little bumble bee. What’s for dessert, Sam?”
“I made ambrosia, just for you, Little Man.”
Cas clapped in appreciation, blowing Sam a thank you kiss. “Food of the gods! And it’s got marshmallows!”
Dean thought it sounded pretty cool but pressed his charge once more. “So that song, did you change the words on purpose, Cas, or because you forgot them?”
Cas fixed Dean with a patronizing look, as he said. “Dean, I know every translation of the Holy Bible, including the original parchment scrolls.” Dean opened his mouth to reassure his friend he held every confidence in his intelligence, but a flattened little palm stayed his comment. “I can draw you a detailed map of this world with no references and name every supernatural entity both modern and long-extinct.”
Dean and Sam waited patiently to see where the fancy vocab lesson was going. Their amazing charge looked from one hunter to the other. The weight of Cas’ sigh reflected his many immortal years in his previous form. Pudgy fingers gripped Dean’s stubble, guiding him to look Cas in his engaging blue eyes. “Don’t you think I know who my brothers are?” said Cas, eyes unwavering.
Finally, Dean broke the stare to wrap his arms around the tiny angel, gathering him up like the precious thing he was. “And don’t you know you never need to wonder if we’re proud?”
At Dean’s declaration, Sam lifted his bottle of spring water. “Hear, hear—brothers.”