SPN: I Can Has Cheezburger?
Fandom: Supernatural
Main characters: Sam, Dean
Referenced characters: None
Pairings: None
Contains: Humour
Rating: G
Summary: Sam gets turned into a small kitten with bushy fur. For someone on comment_fic.
Dean looks down at Sam.
Sam has a sort of squashed looking face, long whiskers, a long bushy tail and sort of gingery striped long fur all over. Dean is absolutely positive he's going to have some kind of allergy to it. Sam is making these noises, Sam is meowing and clawing at the carpet... Sam has been turned into a goddamn kitten.
"This means I'm going to have to do all the research, doesn't it?" Dean says, steadily.
"Meow," Sam says, looking up at Dean with big green eyes, swishing his tail pointedly.
"Don't try and be endearing. I don't like cats."
"Meow."
"I don't speak cat, either. This isn't going to be in the journal, is it?"
Sam rubs his face up against Dean's ankle. "Meow."
"...I hate my life."
---
Dean doesn't even know where to begin with this. He would try the internet, but Sam still hasn't managed to get rid of those weird popups that have plagued it ever since he last used it to look for porn, and while Dean has heard of the wonders of google, he doesn't trust anything that convenient. In his experience, convenient gets you killed, and he doesn't care whether that's really applicable to the internet or not, or that convenient is fine with him when it comes to things like porn.
Besides, the minute he got the laptop out to try using it, Sam sprang up on his lap and started pawing at the keyboard. Unproductively.
"I'm pretty sure you're not going to find anything by typing 'fghsiifn dgbdjbhbe'," Dean says, helpfully.
Sam claws at his leg in response.
---
Seven hours later, they're climbing the walls. Well, Sam is actually climbing the curtains, but Dean figures that's pretty much close enough.
"They never mention things like the library being closed for renovation when they have this kind of thing on tv," Dean says, though he's not sure who he's saying it to. Sam is far too occupied losing his grip and tumbling back down the curtain.
---
Sam ventures out of the motel room carefully. First one paw, testing it, and then his head, and then the front half of him, and then his hindquarters, and then finally his tail. The motel room had been too warm to keep all the windows closed, so Dean had left that one a little open. He'd measured Sam roughly and left a gap he thought was impossible to get out of.
Sam rumbles a little purr in satisfaction. Dean was always so stupid.
He crosses the carpark quickly, not liking all the smells -- pausing for a moment beside the Impala, caught by a sudden small thought that it might be... But no, it smells like Dean, and Dean was no fun. Sam runs on.
---
Two hours later, Dean finds him again. He picks him up by the scruff of the neck, as if he doesn't really want to touch him, and barely winces at Sam's attempt at a deafening yowl.
"I hope you're too young to be a father, in cat time," Dean says, wrinkling his nose. "Because I am not going to help you pay child support for a litter of kittens."
Sam tries to claw him again, unsuccessfully.
---
Two hours after that, the motel room is far too warm and Dean is asleep on his bed, wearing only his boxers, sprawled out almost like a starfish. Sam jumps up on the bed and looks at him almost contemptuously, sniffing at the air and swishing his tail. He ventures a little closer and Dean makes no sound, just breathes, quiet and steady. He's fast asleep.
Sam felt kind of lonely, under the bed. Kind of forgotten.
Not that he wanted the party-pooper's company, but apparently that was the only company he could get. The motel didn't even have the courtesy to have mice to chase. Not like outside.
A few moments later, Sam slowly pads closer across the bed and settles down against Dean's side, curling himself up in a tight ball. Dean murmurs in his sleep as Sam's fur tickles him, but doesn't wake.
Sam closes his eyes, too. Just for a minute. Just until something more interesting happens.
---
There's a loud 'pop' when Sam turns back into a human, one that has to wake even Dean up, despite his deep sleep. It's kind of like the sound it makes when something small and plastic turns the right way in again all of a sudden, after being bent out of shape, but it's louder. He wakes up instantly, and finds himself sat on Dean's chest. Stark naked, and sat on his brother's chest.
Dean wheezes. "Get the fuck off. And whoa, fuck, get some clothes on."
"Sorry!" Sam says, almost falling off, managing to grab onto the bed and steady himself. Dean yelps when Sam almost knees him in the crotch, but he's got everything under control, really.
Dean looks up at him, squinting a little. "I think you still have whiskers."
Sam reaches up to feel his face quickly. Dean just smirks. Sam lowers his hand and glares. "Asshole."
"You're the one causing all the trouble," Dean says, very deliberately looking round the room at the ripped up carpet, a chewed rug, a half-pulled-down curtain, a hairball.
"Let's go and kill whoever did this to me," Sam says, after a moment.
"Put some clothes on first," Dean says, mildly, closing his eyes again.
Main characters: Sam, Dean
Referenced characters: None
Pairings: None
Contains: Humour
Rating: G
Summary: Sam gets turned into a small kitten with bushy fur. For someone on comment_fic.
Dean looks down at Sam.
Sam has a sort of squashed looking face, long whiskers, a long bushy tail and sort of gingery striped long fur all over. Dean is absolutely positive he's going to have some kind of allergy to it. Sam is making these noises, Sam is meowing and clawing at the carpet... Sam has been turned into a goddamn kitten.
"This means I'm going to have to do all the research, doesn't it?" Dean says, steadily.
"Meow," Sam says, looking up at Dean with big green eyes, swishing his tail pointedly.
"Don't try and be endearing. I don't like cats."
"Meow."
"I don't speak cat, either. This isn't going to be in the journal, is it?"
Sam rubs his face up against Dean's ankle. "Meow."
"...I hate my life."
---
Dean doesn't even know where to begin with this. He would try the internet, but Sam still hasn't managed to get rid of those weird popups that have plagued it ever since he last used it to look for porn, and while Dean has heard of the wonders of google, he doesn't trust anything that convenient. In his experience, convenient gets you killed, and he doesn't care whether that's really applicable to the internet or not, or that convenient is fine with him when it comes to things like porn.
Besides, the minute he got the laptop out to try using it, Sam sprang up on his lap and started pawing at the keyboard. Unproductively.
"I'm pretty sure you're not going to find anything by typing 'fghsiifn dgbdjbhbe'," Dean says, helpfully.
Sam claws at his leg in response.
---
Seven hours later, they're climbing the walls. Well, Sam is actually climbing the curtains, but Dean figures that's pretty much close enough.
"They never mention things like the library being closed for renovation when they have this kind of thing on tv," Dean says, though he's not sure who he's saying it to. Sam is far too occupied losing his grip and tumbling back down the curtain.
---
Sam ventures out of the motel room carefully. First one paw, testing it, and then his head, and then the front half of him, and then his hindquarters, and then finally his tail. The motel room had been too warm to keep all the windows closed, so Dean had left that one a little open. He'd measured Sam roughly and left a gap he thought was impossible to get out of.
Sam rumbles a little purr in satisfaction. Dean was always so stupid.
He crosses the carpark quickly, not liking all the smells -- pausing for a moment beside the Impala, caught by a sudden small thought that it might be... But no, it smells like Dean, and Dean was no fun. Sam runs on.
---
Two hours later, Dean finds him again. He picks him up by the scruff of the neck, as if he doesn't really want to touch him, and barely winces at Sam's attempt at a deafening yowl.
"I hope you're too young to be a father, in cat time," Dean says, wrinkling his nose. "Because I am not going to help you pay child support for a litter of kittens."
Sam tries to claw him again, unsuccessfully.
---
Two hours after that, the motel room is far too warm and Dean is asleep on his bed, wearing only his boxers, sprawled out almost like a starfish. Sam jumps up on the bed and looks at him almost contemptuously, sniffing at the air and swishing his tail. He ventures a little closer and Dean makes no sound, just breathes, quiet and steady. He's fast asleep.
Sam felt kind of lonely, under the bed. Kind of forgotten.
Not that he wanted the party-pooper's company, but apparently that was the only company he could get. The motel didn't even have the courtesy to have mice to chase. Not like outside.
A few moments later, Sam slowly pads closer across the bed and settles down against Dean's side, curling himself up in a tight ball. Dean murmurs in his sleep as Sam's fur tickles him, but doesn't wake.
Sam closes his eyes, too. Just for a minute. Just until something more interesting happens.
---
There's a loud 'pop' when Sam turns back into a human, one that has to wake even Dean up, despite his deep sleep. It's kind of like the sound it makes when something small and plastic turns the right way in again all of a sudden, after being bent out of shape, but it's louder. He wakes up instantly, and finds himself sat on Dean's chest. Stark naked, and sat on his brother's chest.
Dean wheezes. "Get the fuck off. And whoa, fuck, get some clothes on."
"Sorry!" Sam says, almost falling off, managing to grab onto the bed and steady himself. Dean yelps when Sam almost knees him in the crotch, but he's got everything under control, really.
Dean looks up at him, squinting a little. "I think you still have whiskers."
Sam reaches up to feel his face quickly. Dean just smirks. Sam lowers his hand and glares. "Asshole."
"You're the one causing all the trouble," Dean says, very deliberately looking round the room at the ripped up carpet, a chewed rug, a half-pulled-down curtain, a hairball.
"Let's go and kill whoever did this to me," Sam says, after a moment.
"Put some clothes on first," Dean says, mildly, closing his eyes again.