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[100deaths_a_day]

There is a fic here by NOT ME that sparked off the creative juices. We're going to continue it here, and hope Lampito doesn't mind. And if she does, all she has to do is let us know :3

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[hunter_returns]

"Ow! Jesus! Look, Dean, either you sit still or you're going back in a pocket," he said warningly. "Look, I know you're pissed, but stop freaking biting me. I'm not the one who went charging in and set off the magical trap before we could disarm the damned thing."

Sam sighed. He was talking to a kitten. His brother the kitten.

Sometimes their lives really, really made his head hurt.

[100deaths_a_day]

He gave a loud - or at least, it was trying to be loud - and disgruntled mewl. In the pocket, he could at least try to escape. Decision made quikcly, a small set of teeth found it's way into Sam's hand.

Sorry Sammy, but sometimes, things have to be done.

[hunter_returns]

"All right, fine. Try and wiggle out and I'll button it closed," he threatened, exasperated. Goddamnit little kitten teeth hurt.

Sam deposited his kitten-slash-brother into his pocket and headed back into the motel room. "We need to call Bobby, see if he has any idea how to fix this. Now quit squirming."

[100deaths_a_day]

When he was in the pocket, it was time to put his devious plan into action. As he moved his leg, he caught movement out of the corner of his wide green eyes. He craned his head a little to see if he could see what it was. He couldn't see anything.

Dude, you need to clean out your pockets if things are wiggl-

Dean's thought broke off as he saw it move again as he went to climb out. A thread, that's all it was. But to his new kitten attention span, it was prey. He dived further into Sam's pocket, managing to flip himself so his back legs were hanging out of the top, batting at the thread with his paws and claws.

[hunter_returns]

The heavy thud of Dean hitting the floor had Sam awake in a moment. Again. Goddamnit. Can't even get a solid.. he blinks and peers at the clock. Okay. Six hours of sleep. He's made do with less.

Wait. The hell was Dean doing hitting the floor next to his bed? Bleary eyed, Sam pulls himself up and looks down at his brother. His very human brother.

"Even as a kitten, you're still a jerk."

[100deaths_a_day]

"You started it, bitch." He got himself off of the floor, stretched himself, and snagged pants and clean underwear from his bag on his way into the bathroom.

Ninety percent of the hot water later, he emerges, feeling cleaner and a bit more refreshed.

"And I remember what you said last night. You're not driving my baby." Just in case the grog and hissing didn't give you the picture.

[hunter_returns]

"Oh you suck," he muttered at the closed bathroom door. Usually while one showered, the other packed up so they could hit the road at a decent hour. But Sam was still tired and a little grouchy from the night before. So he stretched back out and dozed, waiting for the water to shut off.

.. it kept going.

Goddamnit. He was going to get a cold shower.

Dick.

"Fine. You drive. 'm sleeping. You kept me up half the night, damnit."

[100deaths_a_day]

He had been smirking as he packed up, waiting for Sam to finish in the shower, and now he was smirking again.

He'd woken this morning feeling like he'd actually got a good night's sleep, despite actually only having slept about two and a half hours. Maybe there was something in not waking up in a cold sweat and terrible memories.

Nothing to do with sharing the bed with the warmth and comfort of Sam like when they were kids; nope.

"Like I said: you started it. And this is your fault in the first place." ...Somehow.