SPN FIC - Puppy Love
This is for kittyfaelis , a new friend, who's rocketing through the Hope Verse stories at warp speed. Also for anyone who's in need of a little schmoop. Thompson Lake, after Lizzie's gone off to college and left her dad alone and feelin' blue.
CHARACTERS: Dean and Morgan (OFC)
GENRE: Gen
RATING: PG, for language
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 500 words (told in 5 drabbles)
PUPPY LOVE
By Carol Davis
Dean's sprawled on the couch in the den, not really watching one of those crap-awful movies they insist on making out of Stephen King stories, when he hears the noise: a soft clickety-click, getting progressively louder, closer. Shifting himself around so he can look down the hall is a serious pain in the butt, because come on, it's Sunday, his day off, but he does it, because…
Well. Dad trained him not to ignore things. That clickety-click is a noise that doesn't belong.
So he looks.
There's a dog standing in the doorway.
And the freakin' thing grins at him.
~~~~~
"Morgan!" he calls out.
They don't allow dogs in the Lodge, because of the peeing situation. And the shedding. And the barking. And complaints from people who claim they're allergic.
He and the dog face each other off, Dean still on the couch, the dog still in the doorway. The damn thing's still grinning, like it knows a really awesome joke.
He kind of has the feeling that the joke's gonna be on him. "Morgan!" he yells again, because nobody's answered him.
It's kinda cute. The dog. Little and fluffy and white.
This joke is so gonna be on him.
~~~~~
He ends up having to carry the dog upstairs, because downstairs is as deserted as a ghost-town saloon. After a ridiculous amount of searching he finds Morgan in one of the guest rooms, changing out a switchplate.
Which…what?
"There's a dog," he says.
Morgan glances at him and shrugs like, okay, whatever, then returns to messing with the switchplate.
"Dog?" he repeats.
"That's Emma," she says.
Her level of disinterest is starting to piss him off. "Who owns this thing?" he scowls.
The dog squirms in his arms, as if being called a thing bothers it.
"You do," Morgan says.
~~~~~
"What?" he squeaks.
"It's yours. She's yours," Morgan amends.
"I don't - it's - what the hell."
Finally, Morgan gets up off the floor, screwdriver in hand, and comes close enough to scratch the dog under the chin. Damn thing's very content now, all snuggled down in Dean's arms. And the weird thing is, having it there feels kind of…right.
"From your daughter," Morgan says. "She thought you might need somebody to talk to."
"This -"
He was going to say stupid little girly dog, but for crying out loud, he can't. Because it might hurt the dog's feelings.
"Emma?" he sighs.
~~~~~
They don't have any dog food - which, come on, nobody thought this through? - so he sits on the kitchen floor and feeds her bits of chicken left over from dinner, microwaved just enough to take the chill off. She eats it out of his hand, her soft little tongue lapping against his palm.
She's cute, he has to admit.
Which is more than he can say about certain people in his life.
When he looks up, Morgan's standing in the doorway, arms folded, smiling. "Okay, then?" she asks.
He thinks about it. But not for long.
"Yeah," he says. "Okay."
* * * * *
CHARACTERS: Dean and Morgan (OFC)
GENRE: Gen
RATING: PG, for language
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 500 words (told in 5 drabbles)
PUPPY LOVE
By Carol Davis
Dean's sprawled on the couch in the den, not really watching one of those crap-awful movies they insist on making out of Stephen King stories, when he hears the noise: a soft clickety-click, getting progressively louder, closer. Shifting himself around so he can look down the hall is a serious pain in the butt, because come on, it's Sunday, his day off, but he does it, because…
Well. Dad trained him not to ignore things. That clickety-click is a noise that doesn't belong.
So he looks.
There's a dog standing in the doorway.
And the freakin' thing grins at him.
~~~~~
"Morgan!" he calls out.
They don't allow dogs in the Lodge, because of the peeing situation. And the shedding. And the barking. And complaints from people who claim they're allergic.
He and the dog face each other off, Dean still on the couch, the dog still in the doorway. The damn thing's still grinning, like it knows a really awesome joke.
He kind of has the feeling that the joke's gonna be on him. "Morgan!" he yells again, because nobody's answered him.
It's kinda cute. The dog. Little and fluffy and white.
This joke is so gonna be on him.
~~~~~
He ends up having to carry the dog upstairs, because downstairs is as deserted as a ghost-town saloon. After a ridiculous amount of searching he finds Morgan in one of the guest rooms, changing out a switchplate.
Which…what?
"There's a dog," he says.
Morgan glances at him and shrugs like, okay, whatever, then returns to messing with the switchplate.
"Dog?" he repeats.
"That's Emma," she says.
Her level of disinterest is starting to piss him off. "Who owns this thing?" he scowls.
The dog squirms in his arms, as if being called a thing bothers it.
"You do," Morgan says.
~~~~~
"What?" he squeaks.
"It's yours. She's yours," Morgan amends.
"I don't - it's - what the hell."
Finally, Morgan gets up off the floor, screwdriver in hand, and comes close enough to scratch the dog under the chin. Damn thing's very content now, all snuggled down in Dean's arms. And the weird thing is, having it there feels kind of…right.
"From your daughter," Morgan says. "She thought you might need somebody to talk to."
"This -"
He was going to say stupid little girly dog, but for crying out loud, he can't. Because it might hurt the dog's feelings.
"Emma?" he sighs.
~~~~~
They don't have any dog food - which, come on, nobody thought this through? - so he sits on the kitchen floor and feeds her bits of chicken left over from dinner, microwaved just enough to take the chill off. She eats it out of his hand, her soft little tongue lapping against his palm.
She's cute, he has to admit.
Which is more than he can say about certain people in his life.
When he looks up, Morgan's standing in the doorway, arms folded, smiling. "Okay, then?" she asks.
He thinks about it. But not for long.
"Yeah," he says. "Okay."
* * * * *