Oh and! In the spirit of A-Fic-A-Day this is July 4th fic, posted now cuz I won't be around tomorrow... Happy Independence Day dudes! Drink and eat lots but ya know, don't go blowing yourselves up or nothin'...
Rating: PG - Gen - Humor!
Disclaimers: SPN & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: A cat sleeping amongst Dean's underwear.
"What the hell is that?"
"I believe they call them 'cats'."
"Real funny jackass, I wanna know what the frack its doing in my duffel bag."
"Hey, I wasn't the one that left the door open."
Actually he was the one that left the door open to catch some of that cross breeze into their stuffy room. But why argue semantics?
Dean shifted in place unsure of how to proceed.
Sam typed in the next series of code from his self written program that cycled through web-saved passwords. Two more digits and one more letter and the local morgue records were all his. He tipped back his bottled water and wondered exactly when such a victory had become so utterly and remotely exciting.
His brother cleared his throat.
"Get goin'." Dean told the animal firmly.
Sam looked up over the flat monitor screen to watch the ball of fur that had nestled snugly amongst his brother's clothing continue to nap soundly.
"You hear me?" Dean nudged the bag with his boot. "Scram!"
"Maybe it doesn't speak English." Sam suggested idly as he pulled up Google to do a sports search while his laptop worked for him.
"That's it..." Dean mumbled, apparently ready to get down to business. He suddenly paused when the thing took this moment to finally acknowledge him, opening one golden eye in curiosity. Dean pointed down at its face threateningly.
"You know what the old skool church dudes did to your kind pal?"
Sam wondered how much longer Dean was going to attempt to reason with it.
With a toothy yawn, the thing leisurely flipped over to get more comfortable in the small cozy pile of Dean's boxers.
"Aw man, it's getting its stupid fur all over my stuff!"
"Geeze Dean, woulda just pick it up and show it the door already?"
"What if it has rabies?" His brother considered. "Or that bird flu!"
"It doesn't have rabies." Sam sighed. "Probably just some fleas."
"You pick it up."
"Fine!" Sam said, willing to do just about anything at this point if Dean would shut the hell up about some retarded motel crashing cat. He slammed his chair backwards in irritation and stood.
The luxuriously situated little intruder stretched and regarded Sam with interest as he approached.
Dean stood back, vague unease and worry for his belongings creasing his brow.
Sam began to scoop the tiny animal up. "Okay, check out time little guy--MOTHER FUC--"
The small ball of fluff suddenly turned into a spitting whirling writhing cuddly soft owner of countless Ginsu knives. Sam floundered with the hissing squirming ball of doom in his hands, his skin being shredded and slashed as he stumbled towards the door. Ripping the beast from its anchored hooks in his chest, he flung its adorable snarling ass back out into the parking lot wilds from which it came.
He panted against the door after he swung it shut. How the hell could anything be that soft and yet that sharp at the exact same time?
Dean nodded to him, the slight raise of his eyebrow indicating his approval.
"If you ask me, I say those Inquisition guys got a bad rap."
Sam touched his face where a claw had narrowly missed his eye.