The Cat in the Hat, Sam/Dean, R, Crack
Title: The Cat in the Hat
Word count: ~5,330
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rated: R, I think, just to be on the safe side
Beta: fledge
About: Dean hates witches. This is what happens when they hate him back.
Notes: I was chatting to fledge last night, and for some reason this seemed like a good idea, even though I didn't have time, and I am supposed to be writing my big bang. She is a wicked enabler, and I would stop talking to her, but she gives me these ideas!
It had been weeks. Sam was really not sure how it had happened, but Dean had gotten on the bad side of a very powerful witch. It was fine for Dean, but he really hadn’t signed up to take care of a human cat. A large, powerful six foot cat.
He’d been forced to go on a case on his own, and he wanted nothing more than to settle down and decompress, but there was Dean, on the map table, in the only patch of sunlight to be seen anywhere in the bunker, snoozing happily.
Sam dropped to his knees to kiss Dean, who stretched himself luxuriously, arching his spine and quivering as he rolled over. Then he snaked an arm around Sam's neck and applied his lips to his brother's, uttering a purr of content as Sam opened his lips and sucked his tongue inside his mouth to caress it with his own.
Reaching out, he let his hands speak to his naked lover. He felt Dean's supple skin shift with each touch. Deciding he wanted to elicit a response that was a bit heartier, he began to rub at the base of the nude man's tailbone. On cue, the luscious ass began to switch back and forth. Sam sneakily gave a pinch to the secret spot and found himself swiftly sprawled on the floor wearing 180lbs of agitated Dean. The dark head butted his own several times before all attention was focused on giving his pointy nose a tongue bath.
Sam let out a high pitched squeaking laugh and struggled to get free, so Dean flipped him over and bit him on the back of the neck, holding him down until he became still. Once Sam submitted, Dean lost interest. He rolled off Sam, fixing him with a petulant gaze.
Disappointed, Sam raised himself up on one elbow, looking to where his wayward love was now smoothing back his hair.
"What's wrong, dude? You seem a little upset." Dean appeared to ignore the question, continuing to run his hands over his own flesh and pausing occasionally to lick or tug with sharp white teeth at something that was visible only to him. Sam waited… and waited.
"Dean?" There was still no visible or audible reaction to his voice. Sighing, Sam moved the couple of paces that brought him level with Dean, and took the elegantly shaped hands in his. Dean raised huge, widely spaced green eyes to fix them unblinkingly on Sam. "What's wrong?"
"Hungry." Dean finally spoke, and Sam frowned.
"What do you mean? Didn't you eat today?" Dean had stood, and was now stalking sinuously towards Sam’s newly acquired fish tank. A single fish swam around it in a dispirited fashion.
"No food." Dean watched the small fish with a single-minded concentration that made Sam feel a little uneasy.
"But there's a whole bunch of tuna, man. You made me buy it last week. We must have twenty cans. I bought it just for you." Sam could hear the whine in his own voice. He hated tuna, and Dean had nagged and nagged until he'd gotten his way.
"Don't like it." As Sam looked on, Dean had lifted the lid of the tank and was now fishing… That's what it looked like anyway.
"Come on, Dean." Sam was insistent, trying to draw Dean away from the fish. Poor Moe, and just where had Larry and Curly gone? "Come on, love, let's go eat."
At last Dean gave in, and as Sam started for the kitchen, Dean seemed to sense where he was going to put his feet. Somehow, every time he put one down, Dean's foot was there first. Halfway to the kitchen Sam gave a despairing yell as he fell flat onto his behind.
Totally oblivious, Dean hopped up on the kitchen counter, sitting and swinging his legs. He lifted his right arm and stared with fixed intensity at the nail on his little finger, then began to bite at it, seeming to try and tear the very nail out by its roots.
Just as Sam was getting to his feet, he was rocked back on his heels by a gentle shove. After tearing out the offending part of the nail, Dean quickly lost interest so he had headed back to rub against Sam. It was a loving, but premeditated gesture. When Dean was hungry he was never deterred for long. He nipped Sam's earlobe as he continued rubbing back and forth.
"Alright! I get it!" flew out of an exasperated Sam.
"I'm hungry. Do something. Now," Dean persisted.
"What about all this tuna? Why don't you want it?" Sam tried so hard to please Dean.
Disdainful green eyes met his. A pert nose went up in the air. That was all the answer he was going to get.
Sam sighed, taking down a can of tuna from the cupboard anyway and opening it up. As he placed a dish and a spoon into Dean's hand, he reflected mentally that his brother was probably going to be difficult tonight. He was right. Disdaining the offering of tuna, Dean jumped down to twine his body around Sam's.
"Out?" He purred into Sam's ear, and snuggled into him as he attempted to dispose of the tin that had held the tuna, getting in the way as Sam tried his best not to cut himself.
"You wanna go out for dinner, baby? Sure. Go get dressed, and we'll go out wherever you like." Dean smiled beatifically, and turned, trotting out of the kitchen and leaving Sam to clean up the tuna.
When Sam went through to the map room to see whether Dean was ready, he found the love of his life sitting in the doorway to the bunker, watching the birds that were flying to and from the wires overhead, and chattering his teeth at them. He was still naked, but on his head he wore a baseball cap that Sam hadn't seen since Bobby had passed away.
Peering at Dean, Sam wondered just what he could do to get the wayward man organized. "Come on, put on some clothes if you want to go out to eat." Dean stood, ducked his head and butted Sam gently on the shoulder, and stalked off into the bedroom.
Sam followed - his one desire to get out of his Fed suit and into something casual. Dean had opened the underwear drawer, and was batting at something he'd found. Tossing it over his head, he took a leap after it and landed on the bed, effectively covering it with his body. Sam sighed. Dean was playing with the socks again. This was a bad sign.
Dean continued lying triumphantly on the vanquished sock, which caused a slight problem for Sam. Dean had chosen a sock from his last matching pair, and since he wanted to change clothes, he needed that sock. Not a different sock, no, Dean would not play so deliberately with something Sam did not immediately need, he had to pick *that* sock.
How to get his sock back? Sam smiled at Dean, moving casually back to the kitchen. He turned on the electric can opener, and Voila! His beautiful-nude-baseball-capped-baby appeared magically by his side. Sam made a mad dash into the bedroom, hoping to retrieve the sock but it was no longer on the bed.
He poked his head around the corner just in time to see Dean industriously stuffing the sock under the very bottom of the refrigerator, the home of all of his other stolen socks, cufflinks, Chinese chopsticks, a Susan B. Anthony dollar and, apparently, several silver bullets that had been used as hockey pucks when Dean had grown restive in the middle of the night. Sam groaned, and Dean jumped at the sound. His cap flew off as all his hair puffed straight up giving him the distinct look of a dandelion in full bloom.
As Dean began weaving anxiously around the kitchen, Sam began to make soothing noises to his frazzled brother. Dean eyed him warily, snaking out a swift arm and grabbing his errant cap and replacing it atop his slowly descending hair. Sam knew Dean wanted to come to him to be petted, but first the little dance had to be played out. Dean moved forward, then back, he ostentatiously stretched as he pretended to ignore the other man. Finally he moved slowly towards Sam, placing one foot cautiously in front of the other.
When Sam put out a hand to touch him, Dean scampered away in that manner of his that made it clear the game was on. Sam gave chase as Dean easily evaded him, bounding out of the kitchen and into the library. In keeping with his pattern, Dean ended up behind one of the easy chairs, pretending he was hiding. Heading into the bedroom, Sam reappeared with Dean's favorite toy, of all things, a Dixie cup. He had spent a fortune on toys for Dean lately, but the man adored this particular beaten up little Dixie cup. Sam knew his was not to question why.
The cup was thrown into the air, and before it hit the ground, Dean had emerged and was batting it fiercely around the room. Sam joined in, the room ringing with the sounds of merry laughter as the two men engaged in an impromptu game of Dixie cup soccer. As usual, Sam was completely focused on what he was doing so it took him some time to realize he was now playing the game all by himself. Dean had crawled onto the couch to lazily watch Sam do all the work. With this realization, Sam flung himself full length on the floor to rest. Dean poured himself off the couch, walking so close to Sam that his foot landed on the supine man's face.
"Dean!" he yelled. "Why do you have to walk on me when you can so easily walk around me?" Sam never could figure this out, and he never got an answer to his repeated queries.
He turned around just in time to see Dean deftly remove Moe from the fishtank. Scrambling to his feet, he lunged at him. Dean outmaneuvered him with ease and Sam landed flat on his face. By the time he had rolled over, he caught a glimpse of Dean's impish smile as he stuffed Moe under the refrigerator too.
"Enough!" Sam yelled. "Stop that, you fiend!" Dean's face dropped, quickly to be replaced with an unreadably blank expression. He bonelessly unfolded to his full height and stalked out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Sam pounded his head into the floor. Several times. Now he had hurt Dean's feelings by yelling at him, he would have to make it right. He decided a nice meal at the local Biggersons would be just the treat required. He entered the bedroom just in time to catch Dean's response to being yelled at.
He was peeing in Sam's best shoes.
With a sigh he paced forward and seized Dean by the scruff of his neck, pushing him down towards the shoes.
"Dean, that's just too bad of you." Dean was growling deep in his throat as Sam chastised him. "Now what am I going to do with you? Come on, baby, get dressed, please. I'll take you out and we'll go wherever you like." Leaving a cringing, very unsettled Dean to dress himself, he returned to the kitchen where he fumbled under the fridge, retrieving a slightly soggy sock containing a feebly flipping, very dusty fish.
Carefully cradling Moe, and his sock, Sam raced for the fishtank and flung his little charge into the welcoming depths, willing his pet to find a safe haven under one of the shells that littered the floor of the tank. Then turning, he made his way back to the bedroom with his single sock, to try and empty his footwear. Dean had located his jeans and was inserting himself into them, his ass wriggling sinuously as he snugged himself down into the soft, well-washed denim and turned to twitch the moist sock out of Sam's hand. With a sinking heart he saw that Dean was already wearing its twin.
As he watched Dean, hat firmly on his head, concentrating on getting his foot into his last matching sock, his heart seemed to melt, and he felt the sensation that always assailed him when he was with his beloved brother. His insides seemed to warm, melt and trickle down inside until they lay in a liquid pool in his groin. Dean was gorgeous when, as now, he was concentrating on a task and forgot to guard himself from Sam's spying eyes.
Stepping forward to caress his lover's hair, Sam dropped to his knees in front of Dean, and pulled him in for a kiss. Dean raised his head in mild amusement to receive the kiss, and molded himself in against Sam, slithering against him as their lips clung. Then he sat back again, resuming his battle with the sock.
Sam sighed and began to get changed. A few minutes later, as he stood naked, searching through the drawer for a pair of boxers to put on, he felt hands batting at his penis. Looking down he saw that Dean had stalked it on his knees, and was now patting it gently to and fro with his hands, a rapt, inscrutable look on his face.
The very thought was enough to make him harden, and Dean let out a little crow of triumph as he patted the swelling organ. Sam shivered and made haste to put on his clothes.
Dean was not ready to lose his toy, no sooner had Sam pulled up his pants than Dean had the zipper in his teeth, ready to unzip and regain his current obsession. Sam had to leap-frog over Dean to make his way out of the bedroom with his clothing intact, but Dean took the action as more play. He did a stunning spiraling leap through the air, graceful as a ballet dancer, landing right beside Sam. Sharp white teeth gleamed and green eyes snapped fire as he reached out and cupped Sam’s balls, pulling him close to his own body.
"Oh holy shit! You do things to me that no one would ever believe," Sam sighed as he leaned into the ferocious, possessive embrace. Dean began by licking Sam's nose again, then dipped down lower to catch his lips in a passionate kiss. Sam moaned.
The door to the bunker opened, Sam heard footsteps on the stairs and a light, contralto voice calling out 'hello'.
He wasn't entirely sure what happened next, it all moved too fast. One moment he was sinking into a lustful embrace with his wildcat brother, and the next he was alone. Exasperated shouts were coming from the map room.
He came racing around the corner to see Rowena lying full length on the floor with Dean sitting straddling her midsection. He had one hand planted on each side of her head and he was growling. Sam proceeded with caution, this was not the first time this had happened, but it was the first time the witch had interrupted Dean at foreplay. That called for some special attention.
"Hi Sam", Rowena deadpanned. "I knocked, but no one answered."
"We're here," he deadpanned back.
"Yes, I know that now. Could you please ask Dean to let me up? And you owe me for another pair of Anne Klein pantyhose. He bit me on the ankle again."
"I should just give you Charlie’s magical credit card. Don't you think it would be easier on your wardrobe and my wallet to call first?"
"I tried to call, Sam, but your mailbox is full."
"Damn. Dean's been messing with my phone again!"
Dean had become increasingly hostile during this exchange, his plans for Sam had been interrupted, and he detested any change in plans that was not of his own doing. He began to sniff Rowena's breath, then swiftly, skillfully shifted so that he was still straddling her, but now he was facing away from her. His ass was plopped down onto her jaw, effectively stopping all conversation. Satisfied with his maneuver, Dean began to industriously lick his right hand and then repeatedly wipe it over his face.
Sam couldn't help it. It was just too funny. He began to giggle at Rowena's predicament. Dean looked up at him and gave him several long, slow, loving eye blinks. Rowena kicked her feet a bit and Dean leaned down to bite her other ankle. Her shriek was muffled by Dean's bottom.
"You know, Rowena, I'd almost gotten Dean out the door to go to dinner when you showed up." Sam was going to milk this moment for all it was worth. "Now, I'm never going to get him on track again. I'm going to have to order out." He continued in a musing tone, "Of course, the last time I did get him outside he chased a squirrel up a tree and I had to call the fire department to help get him down, so maybe you did do me a favor." He was so enjoying drawing this out.
"You'll excuse me for a minute, won't you? I need to grab my cell phone and call in our order." Rowena's sigh was muffled.
Dean had looked up avidly at that last statement and he called after Sam, "Anchovies! Want the anchovies!"
"Yes, Dean, I would never forget your anchovies. Now you play with Rowena and let me make this call." Under his breath Sam mumbled, "I just hope that they send a different delivery boy, Dean has become insanely jealous of the current one".
Sam put his phone back on the table, but when it appeared that Dean was watching him do so with great interest, he picked it up again and placed it into his back pocket.
"He dialed Australia the last time I left it where he could play with it," Sam explained as Dean's face fell. Rowena moaned in response.
Sam knew it was time to rescue his guest. Dean was holding her down for an unusually long time, much longer than on her previous visits. He walked towards the petite woman who was pinned to the floor by his aggravated lover.
"Dean, time to let the poor woman up. C'mon, man, she won't feel welcome."
Dean bared his teeth in response. Frustrated, Sam made a move to grab Dean by the shoulder. A strong, long hand raked out, tearing Sam's t-shirt front into shreds. A low growling sound accompanied the action. Sam knew it was a warning shot, Dean was capable of scratching hunks out of him. He had the scars to prove it.
"Damn, another t-shirt bites the dust", he muttered as he surveyed the damage. At least he wasn't bleeding. Yet. This was not shaping up too well.
Rowena let out another little moan and Sam knew he'd have to tackle the problem head on.
He hunkered down to get on Dean's eye level. He was met with a fierce green glare and this time Dean bared his teeth all the way to his fangs. Sam took a chance. He made a grab for the beloved cap and just managed to flip it from Dean's head as the cap slipped from his fingers and rolled under the chair. Dean yowled in outrage, bounding off Rowena to whip his arm under the piece of furniture in search of his property. Sam and Rowena fell into their well-rehearsed pattern as he rapidly helped her to her feet so she could make for the safety of the chairs that surrounded the map table.
Having snared the cap, Dean turned toward Sam, absolutely furious. Sam was well into an angry mood himself. He was ready to do his worst, shut Dean in the bathroom until he mustered some contrition for his bad behavior towards their guest. Just as Sam began to approach him, Dean froze, then began choking.
Sam hated it when this happened, Dean leaned over, gagging and wheezing for air. Terrible sounds were wrenched from him. Sam moved closer to him, all anger now forgotten as he watched his precious beloved heave and shudder in distress. Rowena watched quietly from the couch, she had seen this before. Finally, when it seemed that Dean was about to cough up a kidney, he made one last heave and puked a slimy little black ball onto the carpet. Sam sighed in relief, and Dean looked pale and shaken. It was over. He stroked Dean for a moment, helping calm him from the ordeal.
"Have you been brushing his hair, Sam?" Rowena asked solicitously. "You know he won't do that as often if you help him groom."
"I brush him when I can catch him, Rowena. It's the best I can do," Sam softly replied. Quietness descended on all three of them for the moment, all previous animosities forgotten. Remaining on the floor, Dean now snuggled in Sam's lap, needing some petting and cosseting. Sam was happy to give it. He wanted his beloved to relax. He was far too highly strung tonight.
Understanding the need for routine, Rowena picked up the newspaper that Sam had laid down on the coffee table, turning it to the local news section. Dean, seeing her there, gently headbutted Sam and then squirmed over to her as she relaxed. He hopped up onto the table and sprawled onto the newspaper, gazing up at her from benignly smiling green eyes.
While she tried vainly to dislodge Dean, Sam was busy in the kitchen, and appeared to be ignoring the drama being played out on the map room furniture. As Rowena attempted to extract a piece of the paper, Dean batted at it playfully, and when she exclaimed in annoyance and tried to shove him away, he nuzzled into her hand, purring gently as he managed to con her into scratching behind his ears. Sam finally poked his head around the corner,
"Everything all right, Rowena? He teased.
"Yes, Sam, we're giving the local news the attention it deserves," she responded sweetly. This had become a ritual game between her and Dean, lately, played out the same way every time she came over to visit. She had to admit that Dean was adorable when he was playful, and she enjoyed the game as much as Dean did.
Dean returned to his game of shredding the newspaper over Rowena's lap, and all was quiet for a few minutes, until the buzzer sounded, announcing that there was someone at the door.
Dean lifted his head and made a vague, questioning sound, and Sam grinned at him.
"It's the pizza delivery boy. I'll get it, babe." He rose to his feet and trotted up the stairs to open the door, revealing the teenager beyond it standing, holding an insulated container. Sam stood aside to allow him entry.
As the kid stood beside the map table, unzipping the packaging, Sam went into the bedroom, re-emerging a few moments later with his wallet. As he riffled through the contents, searching for the correct money, he came to stand in front of the delivery boy. Dean gave a yowl of outrage, bounding to insert himself between Sam and the youth. His hair fluffed out and his cap flew off as an expression of utter fury appeared on his face.
Sam took one look at his beloved, who was now standing, puffed out as far as he could go, with every hair erect, making a growling noise. Sam blanched, and the kid thrust the pizza box at Dean, and then fled, leaving his pizza-protector behind in his haste. Dean, pleased with himself, settled down on the floor to open the box and start on the pizza within as Sam rushed after the delivery boy, money and the styrofoam container in his hand.
"Dean, you really are getting to be a nuisance. Maybe Sam should take you and get you fixed. That would keep you out of fights." Dean peeped up at her from beneath the replaced cap, a benevolent expression on his face as he industriously picked all the anchovies off the pizza and made a production out of allowing them to slither into his mouth between moist lips. By the time Sam returned and closed the door the anchovies were history, and Dean had turned his attention to the olives, picking them off the topping and dropping them onto the floor.
Sam reached down to choose a piece of pizza, and Dean watched him narrowly, and then held out his hand to remove it from Sam's grasp as he was about to take his first bite. Sam held out the box to Rowena, who chose a piece, and sat nibbling it daintily, then he picked another slice from the box.
Dean dropped his half-eaten slice and grabbed the one that Sam had taken, cramming half of it into his mouth.
"Dean, no!" Sam was getting a little antsy by this time, and he picked up the remains of his newspaper, rolling it up and brandishing it ostentatiously. Dean hissed.
He began to back away, unerringly fitting himself into a shadowy corner of the room. He left just enough of his face showing so Sam could see he was the recipient of a very evil glare.
No amount of coaxing from Sam could bring him back to the meal.
Rowena lifted her hand in the air, and casually said, "I wonder who might want this last anchovy?" She wiggled the fragrant morsel as she spoke.
Dean's bright eyes fastened on the tasty treat. He began to saunter casually over to her side and plopped down at her feet. He allowed her to hand feed him the delicacy. She ran her hand over his capped head and down his back as his butt lifted automatically in the air. She had been approved. Dean sat by her side for the rest of the meal as she hand fed him the choicest pieces of the pizza. He steadfastly ignored Sam, who was actually enjoying being able to have a peaceful meal for once.
When they were all finished, Rowena and Sam stood to begin clearing away the debris. Dean, now satiated, rolled over onto his back and began to lick himself clean of the meal. He was swirling his talented tongue over and around his face as part of the process.
The witch stopped. Looking at him curiously, she followed Sam's gaze to his purring brother as he continued his thorough cleansing.
"You know Sam, he can do amazing things with his tongue," she commented nonchalantly.
Sam whipped his head around, and graced the witch with a brilliant smile. "In your wildest dreams you can't imagine what he can do with that tongue, Rowena!" he crowed.
She stood her ground, looking up at the beaming hunter, "Sam, you may not know this, but I’ve been around a wee bit, and I have some pretty wild dreams, too!" They both broke into raucous laughter.
Hearing them, Dean stood and ambled into the kitchen. He hated missing out on anything good. Sam followed, wrapped his arms around him, peppering his damp nose with kisses. "We were just admiring you, my gorgeous sweet thing". Dean snuggled into the caress, leaning his chin on Sam's shoulder as he gave long slow blinks of contentment to Rowena.
As they continued cleaning up, Dean lost interest in the two of them. He was full, happy and ready for mischief. He spotted an errant olive that had been missed in the cleanup. Immediately he crouched down on all fours, lifting his ass in the air and swaying it rhythmically back and forth, in preparation for pouncing on his prey.
Rowena was just turning to leave the kitchen when Sam gently stopped her. "What is it Sam? Are you afraid that the olive will send out a distress signal and then we'll have an overnight olive invasion if Dean doesn't kill it first?" she was grinning at him as she said this.
"No," he spoke softly. "I was afraid you would disturb Dean, and that would ruin one of the most beautiful views in the world." Sam pointed at the lusciously swaying ass as he spoke. "I'm having a moment here, show some respect".
Rowena sighed.
Coiled as he was, Dean literally sprang from his crouched position to do battle with the olive. Not content to merely capture it, he began to bat it rapidly around the room. The olive was ricocheting around the room at an ever-increasing speed.
Beckoning Sam back into the kitchen and hopefully out of earshot of the rapidly bounding Dean, she murmured in a low tone. “I came over to tell you I’ve found a spell that will revert him to fully human. We’ll need to get him settled first though, and you’ll need to find these for me.” She handed him a list.
Glancing through it, Sam nodded. There was nothing out of the ordinary there, except for… “The bones of a black cat? I’m not sure we have such a thing. I’ll have to go and look in the store room. Not sure how we’ll get him settled, either.” He indicated his brother, who was still bounding vigorously around.
“Och, not to worry. I took the liberty of fetching some catnip with me,” she said. “Go find me those bones, and I’ll tame the savage beast.”
Some time later, Sam returned with the ingredients to her spell, unsure if he would be able to deal with much more excitement that day. He found Rowena nose deep in a grimoire, while Dean was happily curled up on the map table, surrounded by crumbs of catnip, Bobby’s cap still on his head.
“Are we ready to set him right again?” she asked as he placed his haul beside her. Oh, and would you fetch me a glass of water?”
Sam rushed off to do her bidding and as he returned, found that she had anointed the sleeping Dean with a salve that was beginning to turn green and luminous as it gave off sparks. As he watched, she began to intone a group of words over and over again. By the seventh time, Sam thought that he could probably say them with her. A misty light surrounded Dean, glowing and shimmering, and on the final pronouncement of the mystical mumbo jumbo, there was a very loud hissing sound and they both heard the yowl of an infuriated tom cat before Dean stirred, sat up and mumbled, “What the hell? I’m cold.”
“Well there you are, Sammy boy,” said Rowena, daintily sipping at her water. “Next time don’t let him get into any arguments with witches, even if they start it. That took a lot out of me.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Sam said as he walked her up the stairs to the door.
“Och, ye’ll think of a way, I’m sure,” she said, patting his cheek as she disappeared from view.
Sam remained staring at the space where she'd been for a moment, thinking that her words had been more than a little ominous. A yelled, "Sammy?" from downstairs brought him back to himself, and he went down to tend to his brother. His hopefully fully human brother.
"Hey, Dean?" Dean was no longer on the table, and was pulling on a flannel shirt as Sam reached him.
"Sammy, what's going on? Was that Rowena?" asked Dean. "And why did you decide to tear up the Esbon Sentinel and throw the pieces around like confetti?"
"Dean," said Sam, heading into the library to check for any olives that might still be on the floor. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He paused for a moment to gaze at his fish tank. "Let's just say I'm glad you're home."
Word count: ~5,330
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rated: R, I think, just to be on the safe side
Beta: fledge
About: Dean hates witches. This is what happens when they hate him back.
Notes: I was chatting to fledge last night, and for some reason this seemed like a good idea, even though I didn't have time, and I am supposed to be writing my big bang. She is a wicked enabler, and I would stop talking to her, but she gives me these ideas!
It had been weeks. Sam was really not sure how it had happened, but Dean had gotten on the bad side of a very powerful witch. It was fine for Dean, but he really hadn’t signed up to take care of a human cat. A large, powerful six foot cat.
He’d been forced to go on a case on his own, and he wanted nothing more than to settle down and decompress, but there was Dean, on the map table, in the only patch of sunlight to be seen anywhere in the bunker, snoozing happily.
Sam dropped to his knees to kiss Dean, who stretched himself luxuriously, arching his spine and quivering as he rolled over. Then he snaked an arm around Sam's neck and applied his lips to his brother's, uttering a purr of content as Sam opened his lips and sucked his tongue inside his mouth to caress it with his own.
Reaching out, he let his hands speak to his naked lover. He felt Dean's supple skin shift with each touch. Deciding he wanted to elicit a response that was a bit heartier, he began to rub at the base of the nude man's tailbone. On cue, the luscious ass began to switch back and forth. Sam sneakily gave a pinch to the secret spot and found himself swiftly sprawled on the floor wearing 180lbs of agitated Dean. The dark head butted his own several times before all attention was focused on giving his pointy nose a tongue bath.
Sam let out a high pitched squeaking laugh and struggled to get free, so Dean flipped him over and bit him on the back of the neck, holding him down until he became still. Once Sam submitted, Dean lost interest. He rolled off Sam, fixing him with a petulant gaze.
Disappointed, Sam raised himself up on one elbow, looking to where his wayward love was now smoothing back his hair.
"What's wrong, dude? You seem a little upset." Dean appeared to ignore the question, continuing to run his hands over his own flesh and pausing occasionally to lick or tug with sharp white teeth at something that was visible only to him. Sam waited… and waited.
"Dean?" There was still no visible or audible reaction to his voice. Sighing, Sam moved the couple of paces that brought him level with Dean, and took the elegantly shaped hands in his. Dean raised huge, widely spaced green eyes to fix them unblinkingly on Sam. "What's wrong?"
"Hungry." Dean finally spoke, and Sam frowned.
"What do you mean? Didn't you eat today?" Dean had stood, and was now stalking sinuously towards Sam’s newly acquired fish tank. A single fish swam around it in a dispirited fashion.
"No food." Dean watched the small fish with a single-minded concentration that made Sam feel a little uneasy.
"But there's a whole bunch of tuna, man. You made me buy it last week. We must have twenty cans. I bought it just for you." Sam could hear the whine in his own voice. He hated tuna, and Dean had nagged and nagged until he'd gotten his way.
"Don't like it." As Sam looked on, Dean had lifted the lid of the tank and was now fishing… That's what it looked like anyway.
"Come on, Dean." Sam was insistent, trying to draw Dean away from the fish. Poor Moe, and just where had Larry and Curly gone? "Come on, love, let's go eat."
At last Dean gave in, and as Sam started for the kitchen, Dean seemed to sense where he was going to put his feet. Somehow, every time he put one down, Dean's foot was there first. Halfway to the kitchen Sam gave a despairing yell as he fell flat onto his behind.
Totally oblivious, Dean hopped up on the kitchen counter, sitting and swinging his legs. He lifted his right arm and stared with fixed intensity at the nail on his little finger, then began to bite at it, seeming to try and tear the very nail out by its roots.
Just as Sam was getting to his feet, he was rocked back on his heels by a gentle shove. After tearing out the offending part of the nail, Dean quickly lost interest so he had headed back to rub against Sam. It was a loving, but premeditated gesture. When Dean was hungry he was never deterred for long. He nipped Sam's earlobe as he continued rubbing back and forth.
"Alright! I get it!" flew out of an exasperated Sam.
"I'm hungry. Do something. Now," Dean persisted.
"What about all this tuna? Why don't you want it?" Sam tried so hard to please Dean.
Disdainful green eyes met his. A pert nose went up in the air. That was all the answer he was going to get.
Sam sighed, taking down a can of tuna from the cupboard anyway and opening it up. As he placed a dish and a spoon into Dean's hand, he reflected mentally that his brother was probably going to be difficult tonight. He was right. Disdaining the offering of tuna, Dean jumped down to twine his body around Sam's.
"Out?" He purred into Sam's ear, and snuggled into him as he attempted to dispose of the tin that had held the tuna, getting in the way as Sam tried his best not to cut himself.
"You wanna go out for dinner, baby? Sure. Go get dressed, and we'll go out wherever you like." Dean smiled beatifically, and turned, trotting out of the kitchen and leaving Sam to clean up the tuna.
When Sam went through to the map room to see whether Dean was ready, he found the love of his life sitting in the doorway to the bunker, watching the birds that were flying to and from the wires overhead, and chattering his teeth at them. He was still naked, but on his head he wore a baseball cap that Sam hadn't seen since Bobby had passed away.
Peering at Dean, Sam wondered just what he could do to get the wayward man organized. "Come on, put on some clothes if you want to go out to eat." Dean stood, ducked his head and butted Sam gently on the shoulder, and stalked off into the bedroom.
Sam followed - his one desire to get out of his Fed suit and into something casual. Dean had opened the underwear drawer, and was batting at something he'd found. Tossing it over his head, he took a leap after it and landed on the bed, effectively covering it with his body. Sam sighed. Dean was playing with the socks again. This was a bad sign.
Dean continued lying triumphantly on the vanquished sock, which caused a slight problem for Sam. Dean had chosen a sock from his last matching pair, and since he wanted to change clothes, he needed that sock. Not a different sock, no, Dean would not play so deliberately with something Sam did not immediately need, he had to pick *that* sock.
How to get his sock back? Sam smiled at Dean, moving casually back to the kitchen. He turned on the electric can opener, and Voila! His beautiful-nude-baseball-capped-baby appeared magically by his side. Sam made a mad dash into the bedroom, hoping to retrieve the sock but it was no longer on the bed.
He poked his head around the corner just in time to see Dean industriously stuffing the sock under the very bottom of the refrigerator, the home of all of his other stolen socks, cufflinks, Chinese chopsticks, a Susan B. Anthony dollar and, apparently, several silver bullets that had been used as hockey pucks when Dean had grown restive in the middle of the night. Sam groaned, and Dean jumped at the sound. His cap flew off as all his hair puffed straight up giving him the distinct look of a dandelion in full bloom.
As Dean began weaving anxiously around the kitchen, Sam began to make soothing noises to his frazzled brother. Dean eyed him warily, snaking out a swift arm and grabbing his errant cap and replacing it atop his slowly descending hair. Sam knew Dean wanted to come to him to be petted, but first the little dance had to be played out. Dean moved forward, then back, he ostentatiously stretched as he pretended to ignore the other man. Finally he moved slowly towards Sam, placing one foot cautiously in front of the other.
When Sam put out a hand to touch him, Dean scampered away in that manner of his that made it clear the game was on. Sam gave chase as Dean easily evaded him, bounding out of the kitchen and into the library. In keeping with his pattern, Dean ended up behind one of the easy chairs, pretending he was hiding. Heading into the bedroom, Sam reappeared with Dean's favorite toy, of all things, a Dixie cup. He had spent a fortune on toys for Dean lately, but the man adored this particular beaten up little Dixie cup. Sam knew his was not to question why.
The cup was thrown into the air, and before it hit the ground, Dean had emerged and was batting it fiercely around the room. Sam joined in, the room ringing with the sounds of merry laughter as the two men engaged in an impromptu game of Dixie cup soccer. As usual, Sam was completely focused on what he was doing so it took him some time to realize he was now playing the game all by himself. Dean had crawled onto the couch to lazily watch Sam do all the work. With this realization, Sam flung himself full length on the floor to rest. Dean poured himself off the couch, walking so close to Sam that his foot landed on the supine man's face.
"Dean!" he yelled. "Why do you have to walk on me when you can so easily walk around me?" Sam never could figure this out, and he never got an answer to his repeated queries.
He turned around just in time to see Dean deftly remove Moe from the fishtank. Scrambling to his feet, he lunged at him. Dean outmaneuvered him with ease and Sam landed flat on his face. By the time he had rolled over, he caught a glimpse of Dean's impish smile as he stuffed Moe under the refrigerator too.
"Enough!" Sam yelled. "Stop that, you fiend!" Dean's face dropped, quickly to be replaced with an unreadably blank expression. He bonelessly unfolded to his full height and stalked out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Sam pounded his head into the floor. Several times. Now he had hurt Dean's feelings by yelling at him, he would have to make it right. He decided a nice meal at the local Biggersons would be just the treat required. He entered the bedroom just in time to catch Dean's response to being yelled at.
He was peeing in Sam's best shoes.
With a sigh he paced forward and seized Dean by the scruff of his neck, pushing him down towards the shoes.
"Dean, that's just too bad of you." Dean was growling deep in his throat as Sam chastised him. "Now what am I going to do with you? Come on, baby, get dressed, please. I'll take you out and we'll go wherever you like." Leaving a cringing, very unsettled Dean to dress himself, he returned to the kitchen where he fumbled under the fridge, retrieving a slightly soggy sock containing a feebly flipping, very dusty fish.
Carefully cradling Moe, and his sock, Sam raced for the fishtank and flung his little charge into the welcoming depths, willing his pet to find a safe haven under one of the shells that littered the floor of the tank. Then turning, he made his way back to the bedroom with his single sock, to try and empty his footwear. Dean had located his jeans and was inserting himself into them, his ass wriggling sinuously as he snugged himself down into the soft, well-washed denim and turned to twitch the moist sock out of Sam's hand. With a sinking heart he saw that Dean was already wearing its twin.
As he watched Dean, hat firmly on his head, concentrating on getting his foot into his last matching sock, his heart seemed to melt, and he felt the sensation that always assailed him when he was with his beloved brother. His insides seemed to warm, melt and trickle down inside until they lay in a liquid pool in his groin. Dean was gorgeous when, as now, he was concentrating on a task and forgot to guard himself from Sam's spying eyes.
Stepping forward to caress his lover's hair, Sam dropped to his knees in front of Dean, and pulled him in for a kiss. Dean raised his head in mild amusement to receive the kiss, and molded himself in against Sam, slithering against him as their lips clung. Then he sat back again, resuming his battle with the sock.
Sam sighed and began to get changed. A few minutes later, as he stood naked, searching through the drawer for a pair of boxers to put on, he felt hands batting at his penis. Looking down he saw that Dean had stalked it on his knees, and was now patting it gently to and fro with his hands, a rapt, inscrutable look on his face.
The very thought was enough to make him harden, and Dean let out a little crow of triumph as he patted the swelling organ. Sam shivered and made haste to put on his clothes.
Dean was not ready to lose his toy, no sooner had Sam pulled up his pants than Dean had the zipper in his teeth, ready to unzip and regain his current obsession. Sam had to leap-frog over Dean to make his way out of the bedroom with his clothing intact, but Dean took the action as more play. He did a stunning spiraling leap through the air, graceful as a ballet dancer, landing right beside Sam. Sharp white teeth gleamed and green eyes snapped fire as he reached out and cupped Sam’s balls, pulling him close to his own body.
"Oh holy shit! You do things to me that no one would ever believe," Sam sighed as he leaned into the ferocious, possessive embrace. Dean began by licking Sam's nose again, then dipped down lower to catch his lips in a passionate kiss. Sam moaned.
The door to the bunker opened, Sam heard footsteps on the stairs and a light, contralto voice calling out 'hello'.
He wasn't entirely sure what happened next, it all moved too fast. One moment he was sinking into a lustful embrace with his wildcat brother, and the next he was alone. Exasperated shouts were coming from the map room.
He came racing around the corner to see Rowena lying full length on the floor with Dean sitting straddling her midsection. He had one hand planted on each side of her head and he was growling. Sam proceeded with caution, this was not the first time this had happened, but it was the first time the witch had interrupted Dean at foreplay. That called for some special attention.
"Hi Sam", Rowena deadpanned. "I knocked, but no one answered."
"We're here," he deadpanned back.
"Yes, I know that now. Could you please ask Dean to let me up? And you owe me for another pair of Anne Klein pantyhose. He bit me on the ankle again."
"I should just give you Charlie’s magical credit card. Don't you think it would be easier on your wardrobe and my wallet to call first?"
"I tried to call, Sam, but your mailbox is full."
"Damn. Dean's been messing with my phone again!"
Dean had become increasingly hostile during this exchange, his plans for Sam had been interrupted, and he detested any change in plans that was not of his own doing. He began to sniff Rowena's breath, then swiftly, skillfully shifted so that he was still straddling her, but now he was facing away from her. His ass was plopped down onto her jaw, effectively stopping all conversation. Satisfied with his maneuver, Dean began to industriously lick his right hand and then repeatedly wipe it over his face.
Sam couldn't help it. It was just too funny. He began to giggle at Rowena's predicament. Dean looked up at him and gave him several long, slow, loving eye blinks. Rowena kicked her feet a bit and Dean leaned down to bite her other ankle. Her shriek was muffled by Dean's bottom.
"You know, Rowena, I'd almost gotten Dean out the door to go to dinner when you showed up." Sam was going to milk this moment for all it was worth. "Now, I'm never going to get him on track again. I'm going to have to order out." He continued in a musing tone, "Of course, the last time I did get him outside he chased a squirrel up a tree and I had to call the fire department to help get him down, so maybe you did do me a favor." He was so enjoying drawing this out.
"You'll excuse me for a minute, won't you? I need to grab my cell phone and call in our order." Rowena's sigh was muffled.
Dean had looked up avidly at that last statement and he called after Sam, "Anchovies! Want the anchovies!"
"Yes, Dean, I would never forget your anchovies. Now you play with Rowena and let me make this call." Under his breath Sam mumbled, "I just hope that they send a different delivery boy, Dean has become insanely jealous of the current one".
Sam put his phone back on the table, but when it appeared that Dean was watching him do so with great interest, he picked it up again and placed it into his back pocket.
"He dialed Australia the last time I left it where he could play with it," Sam explained as Dean's face fell. Rowena moaned in response.
Sam knew it was time to rescue his guest. Dean was holding her down for an unusually long time, much longer than on her previous visits. He walked towards the petite woman who was pinned to the floor by his aggravated lover.
"Dean, time to let the poor woman up. C'mon, man, she won't feel welcome."
Dean bared his teeth in response. Frustrated, Sam made a move to grab Dean by the shoulder. A strong, long hand raked out, tearing Sam's t-shirt front into shreds. A low growling sound accompanied the action. Sam knew it was a warning shot, Dean was capable of scratching hunks out of him. He had the scars to prove it.
"Damn, another t-shirt bites the dust", he muttered as he surveyed the damage. At least he wasn't bleeding. Yet. This was not shaping up too well.
Rowena let out another little moan and Sam knew he'd have to tackle the problem head on.
He hunkered down to get on Dean's eye level. He was met with a fierce green glare and this time Dean bared his teeth all the way to his fangs. Sam took a chance. He made a grab for the beloved cap and just managed to flip it from Dean's head as the cap slipped from his fingers and rolled under the chair. Dean yowled in outrage, bounding off Rowena to whip his arm under the piece of furniture in search of his property. Sam and Rowena fell into their well-rehearsed pattern as he rapidly helped her to her feet so she could make for the safety of the chairs that surrounded the map table.
Having snared the cap, Dean turned toward Sam, absolutely furious. Sam was well into an angry mood himself. He was ready to do his worst, shut Dean in the bathroom until he mustered some contrition for his bad behavior towards their guest. Just as Sam began to approach him, Dean froze, then began choking.
Sam hated it when this happened, Dean leaned over, gagging and wheezing for air. Terrible sounds were wrenched from him. Sam moved closer to him, all anger now forgotten as he watched his precious beloved heave and shudder in distress. Rowena watched quietly from the couch, she had seen this before. Finally, when it seemed that Dean was about to cough up a kidney, he made one last heave and puked a slimy little black ball onto the carpet. Sam sighed in relief, and Dean looked pale and shaken. It was over. He stroked Dean for a moment, helping calm him from the ordeal.
"Have you been brushing his hair, Sam?" Rowena asked solicitously. "You know he won't do that as often if you help him groom."
"I brush him when I can catch him, Rowena. It's the best I can do," Sam softly replied. Quietness descended on all three of them for the moment, all previous animosities forgotten. Remaining on the floor, Dean now snuggled in Sam's lap, needing some petting and cosseting. Sam was happy to give it. He wanted his beloved to relax. He was far too highly strung tonight.
Understanding the need for routine, Rowena picked up the newspaper that Sam had laid down on the coffee table, turning it to the local news section. Dean, seeing her there, gently headbutted Sam and then squirmed over to her as she relaxed. He hopped up onto the table and sprawled onto the newspaper, gazing up at her from benignly smiling green eyes.
While she tried vainly to dislodge Dean, Sam was busy in the kitchen, and appeared to be ignoring the drama being played out on the map room furniture. As Rowena attempted to extract a piece of the paper, Dean batted at it playfully, and when she exclaimed in annoyance and tried to shove him away, he nuzzled into her hand, purring gently as he managed to con her into scratching behind his ears. Sam finally poked his head around the corner,
"Everything all right, Rowena? He teased.
"Yes, Sam, we're giving the local news the attention it deserves," she responded sweetly. This had become a ritual game between her and Dean, lately, played out the same way every time she came over to visit. She had to admit that Dean was adorable when he was playful, and she enjoyed the game as much as Dean did.
Dean returned to his game of shredding the newspaper over Rowena's lap, and all was quiet for a few minutes, until the buzzer sounded, announcing that there was someone at the door.
Dean lifted his head and made a vague, questioning sound, and Sam grinned at him.
"It's the pizza delivery boy. I'll get it, babe." He rose to his feet and trotted up the stairs to open the door, revealing the teenager beyond it standing, holding an insulated container. Sam stood aside to allow him entry.
As the kid stood beside the map table, unzipping the packaging, Sam went into the bedroom, re-emerging a few moments later with his wallet. As he riffled through the contents, searching for the correct money, he came to stand in front of the delivery boy. Dean gave a yowl of outrage, bounding to insert himself between Sam and the youth. His hair fluffed out and his cap flew off as an expression of utter fury appeared on his face.
Sam took one look at his beloved, who was now standing, puffed out as far as he could go, with every hair erect, making a growling noise. Sam blanched, and the kid thrust the pizza box at Dean, and then fled, leaving his pizza-protector behind in his haste. Dean, pleased with himself, settled down on the floor to open the box and start on the pizza within as Sam rushed after the delivery boy, money and the styrofoam container in his hand.
"Dean, you really are getting to be a nuisance. Maybe Sam should take you and get you fixed. That would keep you out of fights." Dean peeped up at her from beneath the replaced cap, a benevolent expression on his face as he industriously picked all the anchovies off the pizza and made a production out of allowing them to slither into his mouth between moist lips. By the time Sam returned and closed the door the anchovies were history, and Dean had turned his attention to the olives, picking them off the topping and dropping them onto the floor.
Sam reached down to choose a piece of pizza, and Dean watched him narrowly, and then held out his hand to remove it from Sam's grasp as he was about to take his first bite. Sam held out the box to Rowena, who chose a piece, and sat nibbling it daintily, then he picked another slice from the box.
Dean dropped his half-eaten slice and grabbed the one that Sam had taken, cramming half of it into his mouth.
"Dean, no!" Sam was getting a little antsy by this time, and he picked up the remains of his newspaper, rolling it up and brandishing it ostentatiously. Dean hissed.
He began to back away, unerringly fitting himself into a shadowy corner of the room. He left just enough of his face showing so Sam could see he was the recipient of a very evil glare.
No amount of coaxing from Sam could bring him back to the meal.
Rowena lifted her hand in the air, and casually said, "I wonder who might want this last anchovy?" She wiggled the fragrant morsel as she spoke.
Dean's bright eyes fastened on the tasty treat. He began to saunter casually over to her side and plopped down at her feet. He allowed her to hand feed him the delicacy. She ran her hand over his capped head and down his back as his butt lifted automatically in the air. She had been approved. Dean sat by her side for the rest of the meal as she hand fed him the choicest pieces of the pizza. He steadfastly ignored Sam, who was actually enjoying being able to have a peaceful meal for once.
When they were all finished, Rowena and Sam stood to begin clearing away the debris. Dean, now satiated, rolled over onto his back and began to lick himself clean of the meal. He was swirling his talented tongue over and around his face as part of the process.
The witch stopped. Looking at him curiously, she followed Sam's gaze to his purring brother as he continued his thorough cleansing.
"You know Sam, he can do amazing things with his tongue," she commented nonchalantly.
Sam whipped his head around, and graced the witch with a brilliant smile. "In your wildest dreams you can't imagine what he can do with that tongue, Rowena!" he crowed.
She stood her ground, looking up at the beaming hunter, "Sam, you may not know this, but I’ve been around a wee bit, and I have some pretty wild dreams, too!" They both broke into raucous laughter.
Hearing them, Dean stood and ambled into the kitchen. He hated missing out on anything good. Sam followed, wrapped his arms around him, peppering his damp nose with kisses. "We were just admiring you, my gorgeous sweet thing". Dean snuggled into the caress, leaning his chin on Sam's shoulder as he gave long slow blinks of contentment to Rowena.
As they continued cleaning up, Dean lost interest in the two of them. He was full, happy and ready for mischief. He spotted an errant olive that had been missed in the cleanup. Immediately he crouched down on all fours, lifting his ass in the air and swaying it rhythmically back and forth, in preparation for pouncing on his prey.
Rowena was just turning to leave the kitchen when Sam gently stopped her. "What is it Sam? Are you afraid that the olive will send out a distress signal and then we'll have an overnight olive invasion if Dean doesn't kill it first?" she was grinning at him as she said this.
"No," he spoke softly. "I was afraid you would disturb Dean, and that would ruin one of the most beautiful views in the world." Sam pointed at the lusciously swaying ass as he spoke. "I'm having a moment here, show some respect".
Rowena sighed.
Coiled as he was, Dean literally sprang from his crouched position to do battle with the olive. Not content to merely capture it, he began to bat it rapidly around the room. The olive was ricocheting around the room at an ever-increasing speed.
Beckoning Sam back into the kitchen and hopefully out of earshot of the rapidly bounding Dean, she murmured in a low tone. “I came over to tell you I’ve found a spell that will revert him to fully human. We’ll need to get him settled first though, and you’ll need to find these for me.” She handed him a list.
Glancing through it, Sam nodded. There was nothing out of the ordinary there, except for… “The bones of a black cat? I’m not sure we have such a thing. I’ll have to go and look in the store room. Not sure how we’ll get him settled, either.” He indicated his brother, who was still bounding vigorously around.
“Och, not to worry. I took the liberty of fetching some catnip with me,” she said. “Go find me those bones, and I’ll tame the savage beast.”
Some time later, Sam returned with the ingredients to her spell, unsure if he would be able to deal with much more excitement that day. He found Rowena nose deep in a grimoire, while Dean was happily curled up on the map table, surrounded by crumbs of catnip, Bobby’s cap still on his head.
“Are we ready to set him right again?” she asked as he placed his haul beside her. Oh, and would you fetch me a glass of water?”
Sam rushed off to do her bidding and as he returned, found that she had anointed the sleeping Dean with a salve that was beginning to turn green and luminous as it gave off sparks. As he watched, she began to intone a group of words over and over again. By the seventh time, Sam thought that he could probably say them with her. A misty light surrounded Dean, glowing and shimmering, and on the final pronouncement of the mystical mumbo jumbo, there was a very loud hissing sound and they both heard the yowl of an infuriated tom cat before Dean stirred, sat up and mumbled, “What the hell? I’m cold.”
“Well there you are, Sammy boy,” said Rowena, daintily sipping at her water. “Next time don’t let him get into any arguments with witches, even if they start it. That took a lot out of me.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Sam said as he walked her up the stairs to the door.
“Och, ye’ll think of a way, I’m sure,” she said, patting his cheek as she disappeared from view.
Sam remained staring at the space where she'd been for a moment, thinking that her words had been more than a little ominous. A yelled, "Sammy?" from downstairs brought him back to himself, and he went down to tend to his brother. His hopefully fully human brother.
"Hey, Dean?" Dean was no longer on the table, and was pulling on a flannel shirt as Sam reached him.
"Sammy, what's going on? Was that Rowena?" asked Dean. "And why did you decide to tear up the Esbon Sentinel and throw the pieces around like confetti?"
"Dean," said Sam, heading into the library to check for any olives that might still be on the floor. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He paused for a moment to gaze at his fish tank. "Let's just say I'm glad you're home."