SPN Fanfic: Adaptation
Title: Adaptation
Rating: GEN, PG
Word Count: 700
Warnings: Crack AU - Effanineffible verse
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Icon-Meme Fic #2 - Everyone has their ways of adapting to unusual circumstances.
A/N: Takes place a month or two after this and a while before this.
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Adaptation
by CaffieneKitty
-
Sam sat on the bed wearing nothing but a towel and an epic bitchface. "This sucks."
Dean finished salting the windows. "Yeah, well, until we can figure out which of the rituals in Dad's journal is the one that suppresses your little problem, we're stuck with it."
"What do you mean, 'we' Dean?" Sam crossed his arms. "I don't see you turning into anything."
"Yeah, but I gotta deal with your fuzzy butt all night, don't I?"
"...I don't- I don't remember what happens when I change." Sam eyed Dean suspiciously. "You aren't lying to me, are you? I don't turn into something dangerous, do I?"
Dean snorted. "No! Hell no. You've seen the pictures."
"You could have taken those to cover your story. It's not-" Sam waved a hand around, "-not like it's something hard to find."
"I didn't. It's inconvenient, and a pain in the ass, but you aren't dangerous." The exact opposite, really. He looked around the room again to make sure everything was secure. Locked and salted.
Sam huffed.
"You good to go?" Dean glanced at the clock. It was almost moonrise.
Sam grimaced. "I've eaten, I've used the john, and I've showered."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Seems like a lot of fuss."
"I don't want to eat anything weird while I'm changed, I don't want to use that...thing" Sam pointed at the box in the corner, "and I do not ever want to feel the need to lick myself."
Dean nodded in consideration. "Fair enough."
Sam shifted on the bed, adjusting his towel. "How does this even work? I'm six foot four. When I- when it happens, I'm not. Am I really dense?"
Dean smirked.
"Shut up. I mean, when I change, is all of me just-" he brought his hands together, "-compressed down into the new shape? Is that form heavy enough to contain all of my mass?"
"Nope." Dean shook his head. "Normal weight for a-"
"Don't say it."
Dean rolled his eyes. "For what you turn into."
"It's against the laws of physics," Sam grumped.
"And your point is? It's magic, Sam. A curse. Physics don't apply."
Sam glared at the box in the corner of the room again.
"One night a month, Sammy. It could be worse."
"How?"
"You might change any time you got stressed out. You could be a were-wolf, or a were-bear. Or a were-shark. That would suck."
"Were-sharks are only in Hawaii and Australia, Dean."
Dean shrugged. "Still, it'd suck. You'd have to stay in the bathtub from moonrise to moonset."
Sam glanced over at the clock between the beds. "Hey! It's two minutes past moonrise!"
Dean lifted the edge of the hotel room curtain to see the full moon peeking out from behind the local mountain range.
"Maybe it's over! Maybe-" Sam's voice cut off with a slight 'shoof' noise as air rushed in to take up the space he'd been taking up.
Dean lifted the hotel towel off the ginger kitten now sitting on the bed. "Nope. Not over." The kitten blinked and batted at the towel. Dean rubbed the fur between his brother's ears making Sam purr, a tiny fluttering rumble.
It was nerve-wracking for Dean, having his brother turn into something so tiny and non-threatening. Last month had been a nightmare. Every noise that passed the hotel room had set Dean on alert.
When Sam had first been cursed, back when Sam was nine, it was different. He spent what seemed like ages as a ginger tabby kitten while Dad researched the felinthropy suppression ritual they had been unable to find so far. Back then, Dad had been there to guard. Now that it was just Dean and Sam, having a brother that purred and weighed less than some of their weapons was frightening. But the room was secure and Sam was indoors and safe.
Not that Sam's problem didn't also have it's cool side. Dean turned and rummaged deep in his bag, keeping an eye on Sam, who was peering over the edge of the bed down at the floor.
"Sammy! Here Sammy." Dean made squeaky noises and dangled a feathery green mouse on a rubber string in front of Sam's nose.
Sam crouched low and wiggled his tail before pouncing on the mouse, rolling over and over on the bed, kicking the toy with his feet, half-growling, half-purring.
Dean grinned. "Yeah, it's probably a good thing you don't remember anything about being a kitten."
- - -
(that's it for this one, back to the drabble meme)
Rating: GEN, PG
Word Count: 700
Warnings: Crack AU - Effanineffible verse
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Icon-Meme Fic #2 - Everyone has their ways of adapting to unusual circumstances.
A/N: Takes place a month or two after this and a while before this.
-
Adaptation
by CaffieneKitty
-
Sam sat on the bed wearing nothing but a towel and an epic bitchface. "This sucks."
Dean finished salting the windows. "Yeah, well, until we can figure out which of the rituals in Dad's journal is the one that suppresses your little problem, we're stuck with it."
"What do you mean, 'we' Dean?" Sam crossed his arms. "I don't see you turning into anything."
"Yeah, but I gotta deal with your fuzzy butt all night, don't I?"
"...I don't- I don't remember what happens when I change." Sam eyed Dean suspiciously. "You aren't lying to me, are you? I don't turn into something dangerous, do I?"
Dean snorted. "No! Hell no. You've seen the pictures."
"You could have taken those to cover your story. It's not-" Sam waved a hand around, "-not like it's something hard to find."
"I didn't. It's inconvenient, and a pain in the ass, but you aren't dangerous." The exact opposite, really. He looked around the room again to make sure everything was secure. Locked and salted.
Sam huffed.
"You good to go?" Dean glanced at the clock. It was almost moonrise.
Sam grimaced. "I've eaten, I've used the john, and I've showered."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Seems like a lot of fuss."
"I don't want to eat anything weird while I'm changed, I don't want to use that...thing" Sam pointed at the box in the corner, "and I do not ever want to feel the need to lick myself."
Dean nodded in consideration. "Fair enough."
Sam shifted on the bed, adjusting his towel. "How does this even work? I'm six foot four. When I- when it happens, I'm not. Am I really dense?"
Dean smirked.
"Shut up. I mean, when I change, is all of me just-" he brought his hands together, "-compressed down into the new shape? Is that form heavy enough to contain all of my mass?"
"Nope." Dean shook his head. "Normal weight for a-"
"Don't say it."
Dean rolled his eyes. "For what you turn into."
"It's against the laws of physics," Sam grumped.
"And your point is? It's magic, Sam. A curse. Physics don't apply."
Sam glared at the box in the corner of the room again.
"One night a month, Sammy. It could be worse."
"How?"
"You might change any time you got stressed out. You could be a were-wolf, or a were-bear. Or a were-shark. That would suck."
"Were-sharks are only in Hawaii and Australia, Dean."
Dean shrugged. "Still, it'd suck. You'd have to stay in the bathtub from moonrise to moonset."
Sam glanced over at the clock between the beds. "Hey! It's two minutes past moonrise!"
Dean lifted the edge of the hotel room curtain to see the full moon peeking out from behind the local mountain range.
"Maybe it's over! Maybe-" Sam's voice cut off with a slight 'shoof' noise as air rushed in to take up the space he'd been taking up.
Dean lifted the hotel towel off the ginger kitten now sitting on the bed. "Nope. Not over." The kitten blinked and batted at the towel. Dean rubbed the fur between his brother's ears making Sam purr, a tiny fluttering rumble.
It was nerve-wracking for Dean, having his brother turn into something so tiny and non-threatening. Last month had been a nightmare. Every noise that passed the hotel room had set Dean on alert.
When Sam had first been cursed, back when Sam was nine, it was different. He spent what seemed like ages as a ginger tabby kitten while Dad researched the felinthropy suppression ritual they had been unable to find so far. Back then, Dad had been there to guard. Now that it was just Dean and Sam, having a brother that purred and weighed less than some of their weapons was frightening. But the room was secure and Sam was indoors and safe.
Not that Sam's problem didn't also have it's cool side. Dean turned and rummaged deep in his bag, keeping an eye on Sam, who was peering over the edge of the bed down at the floor.
"Sammy! Here Sammy." Dean made squeaky noises and dangled a feathery green mouse on a rubber string in front of Sam's nose.
Sam crouched low and wiggled his tail before pouncing on the mouse, rolling over and over on the bed, kicking the toy with his feet, half-growling, half-purring.
Dean grinned. "Yeah, it's probably a good thing you don't remember anything about being a kitten."
- - -
(that's it for this one, back to the drabble meme)