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In a place with no sun and no grass to dig ones claws in, Dean had met Castiel.
The pit had been dark, smelt of blood, two-legs and shit. The air had been filled with the constant yowls and cries of Cat’s both different and alike to Dean. Other lions, tigers like Castiel- forced into breeding pens. Luckily Dean had been too young to take part in the actual breeding, at least at first.
Castiel had not been so lucky.
The only respite Dean had had was Castiel’s cage beside his own. Close enough that the white tiger could reach out and offer comfort which before him, Dean could never remember having received before.
But the pit had been torn up, taken over and Dean, Castiel and the few surviving cats, plagued with disease and malnutrition released. Freedom had never been so sweet, nor the sun so bright.
Things were so much happier now, here in open country. Dean had watched how much more relaxed Castiel was here. Far more energetic than Dean, Castiel explored the new open country with the curiosity of a cub, jumping about and stalking stationary objects before pouncing and running back. Being brought to open country Dean had been at first confused, nervous- and it had shown in the way he’d sat in his metal box for hours, tiptoeing out of the opening in his cage- poking his head out, only to run out of the box so quickly that he smacked into Castiel’s side, throwing them both to the ground, tail over head.
Luckily Castiel was a good sport and had simply begun wrestling with Dean to help lessen the lion’s embarrassment from the two-legs that watched over them.
That first day out of the pit, out of Hell, had been profound. Dean had been able to touch and brush against Castiel fully for the first time. Had been able to interact and talk to the other cat without the threat of punishment or iron bars between them.
Castiel, as it turned out, had such soft fur. Up close, unmarred by the lines of a cage, Castiel’s eyes were black rimmed with long eyelashes that seemed to glow in the daylight. His thin lips, surrounded by sparse fur were curled into a smile, just for Dean- so familiar yet so foreign, looking precious and right now visible in the light.
Dean’s heart beat felt heavy just looking at him.
And when the white tiger had licked at Dean’s nose, tongue brushing over his lips, Dean thought that Castiel had a very lovely way of saying hello. It sent his heart soaring.
Yes. Dean felt as though he could learn to like this country.
oOo
When Dean had awoke from a sleep he could not remember falling into to Castiel’s absence in their first few days out of the pit the lion was near inconsolable. He’d hurried up and down the far side of his new enclosure, unable to go anywhere- go to Castiel.
Dean roared for his cage-mate, battering himself against the metal fencing. Small whimpers began to escape as he realised Castiel was really gone.
For the first three hours Dean was heartbroken. In the hours that followed Dean started to see red. Ripping and screaming in anguish out to the air, setting the whole reserve on edge.
The air was thick with panic, cloying and sour. Dean stalked the last few places Castiel’s scent rested, mourning the loss of his cage-mate. It was as though Castiel had disappeared from right under Dean’s nose- the two of them had never been without each other, not since they’d been caged beside one another in the pit.
The panicked yowling of Castiel somewhere deeper in the reserve- a different cage, had Dean abandoning his search and jumping up against the walls, front claws digging through the mesh. He'd swore to protect the white tiger, any man who threatened him would find themselves getting a personal introduction to Dean’s teeth.
Castiel was still on the reserve, and that meant somehow Dean had to go to him.
Castiel’s cry’s of loss and Dean’s roars of frustration continued on for three days. Dean’s roar in particular was almost deafening. It took the two-legs far too long to realise that for hours and hours each day Dean and Castiel were calling out for each other.
When Castiel was (finally) returned, the first thing Dean did was attempt to drag the smaller, but older tiger away by the scruff of his neck, away from the two-legs and the big metal box they’d shoved Castiel inside. He pushed Castiel so far to the back of their country that the tiger had growled and snapped at him, giving Dean’s neck (mostly his mane, which was becoming patchy and dry) a warning bite.
Dean did step back after that and in a thoughtlessly submissive gesture dropped to the ground on his stomach. He crawled forward until he could tuck himself against Castiel’s side and murmured apologies and gratitude into the tiger’s fur.
You were gone, he said and licked Castiel’s cheek. Pressing his muzzle against white striped fur.
I came back. Castiel licked Dean in turn, cleaning the lions face with wide swipes of his broad pink tongue. I think they know better now.
He cast an indifferent look over to the two-legs by the fence of their country. Dean followed his cage-mate’s gaze and swallowed the growl that rose in this throat.
The two-legs were watching, a small group of them having gathered. Dean wanted to stalk up to them and demand what the hell they had been thinking, keeping Cas from him for so long. Possibly eat them, or bring them back for Castiel to eat:the tiger always liked to play with his food.
Dean leant into Castiel’s gentle touch and echoed his purr against the tigers shoulder, his head beneath Castiel’s chin. Stupid two-legs.
Yes. Castiel said and laid down, prompting Dean to follow, their sides pressed together, reminding each other that they were nearby, after so many nights and days without. But I think they’re learning.
Reunited, the two of them soon got lost in each other and ignored the group of two-legs that, steadily growing, had gathered to watch them.
oOo
The attention after that started to become annoying.
The two-legs were more present than they had been at the pit, but in most cases they brought food which Dean could admit with a disgruntlement that surprised him, was ridiculously tasty.
In their first few weeks at open-country Dean, used to minimal rations and even scarcer water, had eaten himself to sickness more times than he cared to count. The first few times Castiel took pity on him, and stayed with him consoling, rubbing against Dean’s aching stomach with his cheek in an attempt to sooth him.
After the fourth time Dean indulged to the point of discomfort, wolfing down his meal like a wild dog, Castiel had stared at Dean and shook his head. He was sitting on his hind legs, white fur, cleaner than it had been in the pit, bright in the afternoon sun. His stripes were less black than the other tigers and more of a washed out grey, his eyes were white chips of ice, that were warmer than anything Dean had ever known. Castiel was the kindest animal Dean knew. And the prettiest. You brought this upon yourself.
Well at least he had been.
Caaaasssss-
No pity.
Dean groaned and rolled on to his side, burying his face in the grass. At the sound of muffled squealing he lifted his head, and was met with the sight of several two-legs staring at him.
The fur along Dean’s spine stood on end and his groan of discomfort grew into a growl of annoyance.
Castiel dropped down onto his belly and lay against Dean’s side. His tale flicked behind him in contentment.
Leave them alone. They are not doing anything.
They’re doing something. Dean said, making a face. The two-legs chittered animatedly amongst themselves, their gestures and squawks in Dean and Castiel’s direction leaving little doubt to their interests.
Castiel ignored him, and the two-legs, and instead closed his eyes his breaths petering out into an even pattern- mimicking sleep.
Castiel rarely slept during the day, so Dean knew his cage-mate was faking.
Dean rolled over to face him and buried his nose in the thick white fur at Castiel’s neck. He breathed in a satisfying lungful. Castiel smelled wonderful. It was better than any of the other cat’s Dean had met. Better than any of the females offered to him and he was sure (he hoped) he smelt better than any of the females Castiel had been with.
Castiel was sweet in his submission, offering his neck for Dean to nibble. Dean purred in his throat an inescapable rumble and rubbed himself along the tiger’s side, spreading his scent on the other animal. Castiel tasted even better than he smelled, and something warm in Dean’s chest sunk low into his gut as Castiel’s eyes glazed over from the attention. He bit gently at Castiel’s ears, rising up and scooting closer.
Something shifted behind Castiel’s eyes. He smiled brighter than Dean had ever seen him and lifted his chin up to Dean, licking across his lips.
Dean almost fell over from Castiel’s quite unmistakable gesture, only pulled out of his sudden stupor by Castiel’s tail arching up and twining with his own.
It was a silent invitation, one Dean accepted with gusto-his bellyache nothing but a distant memory in light of Castiel’s undivided attention.
Needless to say Castiel was very good at getting Dean to forget about their audience, who only grew more enraptured the closer and closer Dean and Castiel got.
oOo
Dean wanted to be Mates, real and proper and true Mates, with Castiel but only if Castiel wanted to.
He was almost a hundred percent certain that Castiel would be amendable to the idea. Dean though unfamiliar with some of the wilder aspects of being a lion, considered himself a good Mate, a strong Mate. He defended Castiel against the two-legs that came anywhere near their country. He even allowed for the tiger to win at play sometimes, reigning in his strength and body mass and allowing Castiel to pin him to the ground.
After all their relationship as it stood would change very little.
Dean knew, had first hand experience that Castiel had lain with females before yet hadn’t mated, not truly , surly it was different with Dean. Surly their… trysts had meant something.
The problem with it all really was the two-legs.
It didn’t help that every time Dean wanted to ask a barrage of two-legs would watch them with such rapt attention that Dean was beginning to feel pressured. Under surveillance, as though his every move (and mistake and blunder) was under observation.\
It was almost as though every single two-leg was growing more animated (and more colourfully dressed) than the last.
They’d even added a rainbow ball to his and Castiel’s country- which Castiel absolutely and childishly loved and played with often while Dean napped.
It put him on edge and made him moody. Aggressive toward the more present two-legs who tended to their country and brought food.
Dean thought the two-legs were acting weird. Invasive. They didn’t even leave when Dean and Castiel mated- if fact they even seemed more interested then? It made Dean uncomfortable and at times, reluctant to be intimate with his cage-mate, despite any stirring arousal between them.
Castiel had said it was performance anxiety. He never seemed overly bothered by the two-legs constant presence in their lives. In fact Dean suspected he enjoyed it, more than he probably should have.
Dean argued that he never intended to put on a performance, and snapped at Castiel when the tiger said he was sulking.
If only he and Castiel could a moment of privacy…
There was no mistaking that Dean and Castiel were extremely close, intimacies aside Dean enjoyed spending time with Castiel. He wanted Castiel to feel safe and loved and very much wanted Castiel to be all of that with him.
He'd even put up with the two-legs and their weird behaviour if he could just get the chance to make Castiel happy.
oOo
The two-legs put Dean to sleep again.
When he woke up there was a pain between his legs that had him limping, and as it turned out the two-legs had taken something very important and stitched up between Dean's hind quarters as though there was nothing there in the first place. The area was painful and tender to touch. Castiel refused to mate with Dean in such a state which Dean- quietly- was glad for, feeling very sorry for himself, and violated in a way that even after he had healed, it had taken a few extra weeks for Dean to feel any semblance of comfort rolling onto his back with Castiel around.
In that time the two-legs barely had his attention, as they watched over and attended to him from a safe distance of course. Dean was embarrassed, disorientated and confused. And for those first few days sitting was acutely uncomfortable- though Dean tried not to let on.
Castiel was almost as aggressive as Dean as he explained the two-legs had taken him for almost a day, only to return him while they placed Castiel in a fenced off part of country. Castiel had swiped at three two-legs trying to get to Dean. And been so difficult they'd put him to sleep, not as long a time as Dean mind, but enough for Castiel to wake up groggy, with Dean gone from their country leaving only his scent behind. Castiel said he spent the remainder of Dean's absence snarling and pacing the length of the fencing. Being a particular ass to anyone who came by and refusing to eat for several hours.
It warmed Dean to think Castiel was worried for him so. The two kept close for the rest of the day, napping and sunbathing, never not touching for as long as they could avoid it.
After many days, when Dean’s mane thinned and eventually fell out, Castiel comforted him with mournful licks and nibbled to the backs of his ears.
You are still beautiful. Castiel told him between sweet kisses. He obviously enjoyed the way Dean reacted under his attentions, squirming and panting while he lay on his back, wriggling in the brought upon bliss.
Dean appreciated the sentiment, but hid his face beneath one giant paw. Though his despair wilted quickly under the constant barrage of Castiel cuddling, rubbing, biting and licking him. Assuring his cage-mate that even without his mane, he was still a very handsome and imposing male lion. Despite missing some of the important attributes Dean felt defined one so.
The two-legs seemed more interested in the pair than ever which Dean felt a little less angry about than before, but still was uncomfortable. It didn’t help his crippling self-image any especially not with the way the rocks in their hands flashed and made beeping noises, clicking and whirling along with their chattering.
Still, as Dean’s mane became a distance memory and the pain between his legs healed till almost forgotten, the two-legs seemed far less of a threat on the other side of the fence. Dean felt far more energetic, lighter, and took a great amount of joy chasing and tackling Castiel in an act of youthful play, uncharacteristic of a lion his age.
I don’t like them. He bristled one afternoon as a herd of particularly loud two-legs came to gawk and gape at them, led by a two-leg who pinned to their usual uniformed fur a bright obnoxious rainbow something. I don’t like how they watch us, it was almost bad enough being watched before.
Dean didn’t need to explain any further than that. He and Castiel had both been there, in the pit. They didn’t like to dirty their new country with memories of the past. It had been many seasons since they'd escaped that hell and neither had the desire to return even in thought.
Ignore them. Castiel said, dipping his forefront low to drink from the pond on their country. He dismissed Dean’s worry with a flick of his tail. But his ears pressed down flat against his head, as he allowed his thoughts to wander.
Fearing his cage-mate getting lost in his memory of the pit Dean pounced and knocked Castiel right into the creek with a terrific splash. Castiel came up coughing as Dean choked, trying to breath around his own laughter.
It didn’t last long for Castiel straightened up and tackled Dean, roaring with laughter. Dean let out a cub-like yelp before his head was pushed under water. He came back up with a splutter, thick fur plastered flat on his skull and with surprising speed jumped back on Castiel. They rolled, splashed and growled at each other playing long after the two-leg crowd thinned after having smiled and laughed at them- twittering amongst themselves. The two-leg herd radiated joy. Making flashes and clicks with their stone coloured tools.
With water logged fur and dumb smiles, Dean and Castiel dragged themselves back to shore. They crawled back up on top of the ground and collapsed, exhausted, wet and thoroughly clean.
They think we are mates. Castiel said, apropos of nothing, as he cleaned behind his shoulder after having shaken out his fur. The two-legs.
Oh. Dean said and flicked his tail. The one good thing about the loss of his mane was that he dried a lot easier in the afternoon sun.
Male mates seem to be uncommon in their species. Castiel noted, dipping his head to lick at his paw. He didn’t meet Dean’s eyes as he spoke, staring at his paw, though his tongue remained still.
There was beat of silence before Dean spoke, flushing red beneath his fur.
Oh that’s-that’s-
Dean? Castiel looked up, and Dean’s heart gave a violent jump into his throat.
Dean pawed at the ground, his head down, only looking at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. Mmm?
We are mates. Castiel said slowly. He cocked his head, looking up at Dean with big blue bell eyes. Aren’t we?
The vulnerable inflection to Castiel's tone was almost painful to hear.
Of course. Dean turned to rub his head against Castiel’s chest. Castiel hummed a laugh, the black corners of his eyes crinkling. He rested his forehead beneath Dean’s chin and closed his eyes. Dean purred and rubbed his chin against Castiel’s scalp, nuzzling and nosing at him affectionately.
Perhaps then, Castiel offered, his voice rumbling against Dean's throat, two-legs are more perceptive than we thought?
Dean shrugged one shoulder than gave Castiel's cheek one long purposeful lick, causing the white tiger to shiver and press in close to him.
Castiel let out a soft sigh, and that was the last time the topic was spoken of between them for some time.
Over time the tiger and the lion became oblivious to the pictures being taken, to the rainbow paraphernalia that wound its way inside and outside of their cage and to the magazine, then news show fame that helped give the reserve thousands of dollars in donations.
Neither cat was aware of their fame, of their story circulating the globe, they were simply happy and content being with each other.
And that was what mattered in the end.
*This ficlet is inspired by the Big Cat Rescue Reserve's Cameron and Zabu.