FIC, "The One Where Dean Turns Into a Talking Cat," PG-13
Title: The One Where Dean Turns Into a Talking Cat
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crack, humor, gen
Word Count: 1,596 words
Spoilers: None
Summary: “Rub my belly, bitch,” said Dean.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, don’t sue.
Sam looked down at the elegant white Persian-and it, unblinkingly, looked back.
Sam wouldn’t have imagined that Dean, as a cat, would look quite so…well, so prissy.
“Dude, you look like the cat in the Fancy Cat commercials,” said Sam, finally.
“Fuck you, I do not,” said Dean, and licked his shoulder fretfully.
“Want me to put your food in a crystal bowl from now on?” said Sam. “You know, to go with your new look.”
“I will end you,” said Dean, starting in on his paw.
“How?” said Sam. “Is pretty widdle kitty gonna suffocate me with his furry widdle tummy?”
“Seriously, when I change back into my body, you will suffer.”
“Sure,” said Sam. “Just as soon as you stop primping.”
**********************************
“So,” said Sam, bandaging his scratches. “A witch?”
“Pretty sure, yeah,” said Dean.
“You shouldn’t piss people off so much,” said Sam.
“But it’s kind of my specialty,” said Dean.
“Well, no arguments here,” said Sam. “Stuff like this usually fades away after a few days, but I’ll call Bobby just in case.”
**********************************
“Yup. A Persian, right. Big fluffy white one,” said Sam.
“Tell Bobby I’m a cat, not deaf,” said Dean, flattening his ears back. “I can still hear him.”
“I don’t think he’s listening right now,” said Sam. “He’s laughing too hard.”
**********************************
“Uh,” said Dean, lowering his hind leg down from above his head. “Just so you know, this is not what it looks like.”
“My eyes!” said Sam, dropping the groceries. “My eyes!”
**********************************
“I told you I was sorry,” said Sam. “Please get out from under the bed.”
**********************************
“What the fuck is this?” said Dean.
“It’s cat food,” said Sam. “It’s good for you.”
“Gimme your burger,” said Dean.
“No,” said Sam.
“Gimme your burger!” said Dean.
“No!” said Sam.
“I could scratch you,” said Dean.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I could kill you with one hand right now,” said Sam.
“Bitch. Don’t be surprised if you find a nice juicy hairball on your pillow tonight.”
“Dude, did you seriously just threaten me with a hairball?” said Sam.
“I use what’s available to me,” said Dean.
“You’re disgusting,” said Sam. “Eat your cat food.”
**********************************
The catnip was a bad idea.
“Um, Dean? Man, are you okay?” said Sam.
“I’m in a very pretty place now,” said Dean, sprawled out on his back and his voice gone soft and dreamy. “With pink cotton-candy clouds. And rainbows. Can you see the rainbows, Sammy? Can you?”
“You’re freaking me out, dude,” said Sam.
Also, he would blackmail Dean with this forever.
**********************************
“Rub my belly, bitch,” said Dean.
“Dude, I just rubbed it, like, five minutes ago.”
“So?” said Dean. “I like it. Your hand is frickin’ huge, man. It’s like a thermal blanket or something.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Sam.
“Anytime,” said Dean, and rolled over onto his back. Sam sighed and petted his stomach.
“Mmmrrrrrr,” said Dean, putting one delicate little paw on the back of Sam’s hand. “Just like that,” he said as Sam scritch-scratched at the downy-soft fur there, light and warm and steady. “And don’t forget under the chin.”
**********************************
“No,” said Sam. “Absolutely not.”
“C’mon!” said Dean. “I’m naked, man. Naked and furry. It just feels weird.”
“Cats are generally naked, Dean,” said Sam. “Deal with it.”
“But I’m not a cat, I’m a man,” said Dean. “Granted, I’m a temporarily cat-shaped man, but still. You’re not letting me express my individuality here, dude.”
“Okay, first of all? That’s a load of shit,” said Sam. “And secondly? No. I am not buying you a leather jacket, Dean.”
Dean made very sad, very earnest eyes at him.
“I just can’t believe you would devalue my feelings like that, Sammy,” he said. “This is a very stressful time for me, y’know? I thought you’d want to do anything you could to make it more bearable, but I guess I was wrong.”
Ten minutes later Sam was carrying him into a PetSmart and Dean was gloating.
“I knew you would fall for that emo bullshit!” crowed Dean, kneading his paws happily into Sam’s sleeve. “So whipped, dude.”
“Hey, guess what?” said Sam. “Shut the fuck up.”
A woman passing by him turned to glare.
“Meow,” said Dean, as angelic as a kitten, and Sam offered her a short, pained smile of apology.
Sam waited until she was past before saying, “Great. Now someone thinks I’m a verbally abusive pet-owner. Thanks for that, dude.”
“You brought it on yourself, assmunch,” said Dean, twitching his whiskers at him in a little cat-laugh. “Now onward to the jackets, human servant!”
“I have to get you a collar first,” said Sam.
“What the fuck?” said Dean. “I’m not wearing a collar.”
“What if you get lost?” said Sam. “You have to have one.”
“No way,” said Dean.
“No collar, no jacket,” said Sam.
“Oh, you bitch!”
“I mean it, Dean,” said Sam. “It’s for your own good.”
“Fine,” said Dean. “I’ll wear one. But it better have spikes or something.”
None of the collars, as it turned out, had spikes, though there was a studded dog one that Sam had to talk Dean out of.
“But I like it!” said Dean.
“Dean,” said Sam. “You need a breakaway collar. Cats are statistically more likely to get their collars caught on something, which can cause strangulation-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but this one looks better,” said Dean.
“Here, how about this one?” said Sam. “Look, it’s got the Harley Davidson logo. You like Harley Davidson, right? Very macho.”
“Hmm,” said Dean.
“It has flames,” said Sam.
“Why didn’t you mention that before?” said Dean. “I’ll take it.”
Sam groaned.
“Dude, what the fuck?” said Dean ten minutes later, when it was apparent that no cat clothing was to be found. “There’s, like, a bazillion dog things here but nothing for cats. That’s discrimination, damn it! I’m being oppressed!”
“Dean,” said Sam, “you’re a cat. I’m pretty sure no one here is trying to oppress you. Also, keep your voice down.”
“Et tu, Sammy?” said Dean.
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” said Dean sadly. “Anyway, now I’m gonna have to wear some punk-ass Chihuahua outfit or something, which officially sucks monkey-butt.”
“Eloquent as always, Dean,” said Sam. “Besides, I don’t see what the big deal is. Even if the jacket was meant for a dog, nobody will know that once you’re wearing it.”
“It’s just the principal of the thing!” said Dean.
“Why don’t you just skip the jacket, then?” said Sam.
“Hell no!” said Dean. “That’s letting them win.”
“Who?” said Sam.
“Them,” said Dean. “The people oppressing me!”
“So buying a jacket from them is your way of fighting back.”
“Basically, yeah,” said Dean.
“Oh,” said Sam. “Of course.”
They spent twenty minutes picking out a jacket for Dean to wear, and by the end of it Sam’s patience was worn thin and he was pretty sure the store’s employees thought he was some kind of fashion-forward crazy cat guy or something.
“For God’s sake, just pick one!” said Sam.
He didn’t even care which, at that point. Everything so far had been rejected by Dean for being too big, too small, too gay, way too gay, too ugly, too something, and Sam was just ready to go.
“Okay, okay, geez,” said Dean. “Hold your horses!”
He scrutinized his options.
“I waaaant…that one.”
“This one?” said Sam, picking up the little garment from its peg. It was the first one Dean had tried on.
“Yeah. It’ll do,” said Dean.
Sam felt a twitch start up somewhere in his right eyelid.
Dean made Sam put the jacket on him right then and there and hold him up to a mirror so he could better admire himself.
“Even as a cat, I’m awesome,” said Dean.
“Sure,” said Sam. “You’re awesome.”
Sam didn’t have the heart to tell him the jacket was pink. And made of pleather.
Before they left the store, Sam remembered one more thing they still needed.
“You know, we should probably get you a harness-leash,” said Sam.
“What?” said Dean. “No!”
“Well it’s either that or I keep carrying you around everywhere, and you’ve already started complaining about that…”
“Dude, that’s bullshit,” said Dean. “I went along with the collar and the ID tag, but I am not wearing a leash. That’s degrading, man.”
“What else do you suggest, then?” said Sam. “’Cause I’m not really seeing a lot of options here, Dean.”
“Shit, I don’t know,” said Dean. “Maybe they have animal strollers or something?”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Sam.
“Just ask them,” said Dean, pulling a fantastic cat!bitchface at him.
“Fine,” said Sam. “But I’m telling you, there’s no such thing.”
There was, in fact, such a thing.
“Oh yes, our pet strollers are in aisle three,” said the girl restocking the chew toys.
“Huh,” said Sam.
“What does losing taste like, Sammy?” whispered Dean. “Is it bitter enough for ya?”
“Shut it, ball-licker,” said Sam.
“That was once,” hissed Dean just as the girl said, “Excuse me?”
“Oh-oh, not you,” said Sam. “I meant-I was talking to my cat!”
“I see,” said the girl, clipped. “Well, then. Have a nice day.”
Sam took it for the dismissal it was.
“Dude,” said Sam, and Dean snickered.
When Sam put Dean into the stroller, Dean purred and kneaded his paws into the pastel pillow.
“Sweet,” he said.
“Congratulations,” said Sam. “You’re now the gayest cat in the city.”
“Oh jealousy,” said Dean, and waved one tiny white paw at him dismissively.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crack, humor, gen
Word Count: 1,596 words
Spoilers: None
Summary: “Rub my belly, bitch,” said Dean.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, don’t sue.
Sam looked down at the elegant white Persian-and it, unblinkingly, looked back.
Sam wouldn’t have imagined that Dean, as a cat, would look quite so…well, so prissy.
“Dude, you look like the cat in the Fancy Cat commercials,” said Sam, finally.
“Fuck you, I do not,” said Dean, and licked his shoulder fretfully.
“Want me to put your food in a crystal bowl from now on?” said Sam. “You know, to go with your new look.”
“I will end you,” said Dean, starting in on his paw.
“How?” said Sam. “Is pretty widdle kitty gonna suffocate me with his furry widdle tummy?”
“Seriously, when I change back into my body, you will suffer.”
“Sure,” said Sam. “Just as soon as you stop primping.”
**********************************
“So,” said Sam, bandaging his scratches. “A witch?”
“Pretty sure, yeah,” said Dean.
“You shouldn’t piss people off so much,” said Sam.
“But it’s kind of my specialty,” said Dean.
“Well, no arguments here,” said Sam. “Stuff like this usually fades away after a few days, but I’ll call Bobby just in case.”
**********************************
“Yup. A Persian, right. Big fluffy white one,” said Sam.
“Tell Bobby I’m a cat, not deaf,” said Dean, flattening his ears back. “I can still hear him.”
“I don’t think he’s listening right now,” said Sam. “He’s laughing too hard.”
**********************************
“Uh,” said Dean, lowering his hind leg down from above his head. “Just so you know, this is not what it looks like.”
“My eyes!” said Sam, dropping the groceries. “My eyes!”
**********************************
“I told you I was sorry,” said Sam. “Please get out from under the bed.”
**********************************
“What the fuck is this?” said Dean.
“It’s cat food,” said Sam. “It’s good for you.”
“Gimme your burger,” said Dean.
“No,” said Sam.
“Gimme your burger!” said Dean.
“No!” said Sam.
“I could scratch you,” said Dean.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I could kill you with one hand right now,” said Sam.
“Bitch. Don’t be surprised if you find a nice juicy hairball on your pillow tonight.”
“Dude, did you seriously just threaten me with a hairball?” said Sam.
“I use what’s available to me,” said Dean.
“You’re disgusting,” said Sam. “Eat your cat food.”
**********************************
The catnip was a bad idea.
“Um, Dean? Man, are you okay?” said Sam.
“I’m in a very pretty place now,” said Dean, sprawled out on his back and his voice gone soft and dreamy. “With pink cotton-candy clouds. And rainbows. Can you see the rainbows, Sammy? Can you?”
“You’re freaking me out, dude,” said Sam.
Also, he would blackmail Dean with this forever.
**********************************
“Rub my belly, bitch,” said Dean.
“Dude, I just rubbed it, like, five minutes ago.”
“So?” said Dean. “I like it. Your hand is frickin’ huge, man. It’s like a thermal blanket or something.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Sam.
“Anytime,” said Dean, and rolled over onto his back. Sam sighed and petted his stomach.
“Mmmrrrrrr,” said Dean, putting one delicate little paw on the back of Sam’s hand. “Just like that,” he said as Sam scritch-scratched at the downy-soft fur there, light and warm and steady. “And don’t forget under the chin.”
**********************************
“No,” said Sam. “Absolutely not.”
“C’mon!” said Dean. “I’m naked, man. Naked and furry. It just feels weird.”
“Cats are generally naked, Dean,” said Sam. “Deal with it.”
“But I’m not a cat, I’m a man,” said Dean. “Granted, I’m a temporarily cat-shaped man, but still. You’re not letting me express my individuality here, dude.”
“Okay, first of all? That’s a load of shit,” said Sam. “And secondly? No. I am not buying you a leather jacket, Dean.”
Dean made very sad, very earnest eyes at him.
“I just can’t believe you would devalue my feelings like that, Sammy,” he said. “This is a very stressful time for me, y’know? I thought you’d want to do anything you could to make it more bearable, but I guess I was wrong.”
Ten minutes later Sam was carrying him into a PetSmart and Dean was gloating.
“I knew you would fall for that emo bullshit!” crowed Dean, kneading his paws happily into Sam’s sleeve. “So whipped, dude.”
“Hey, guess what?” said Sam. “Shut the fuck up.”
A woman passing by him turned to glare.
“Meow,” said Dean, as angelic as a kitten, and Sam offered her a short, pained smile of apology.
Sam waited until she was past before saying, “Great. Now someone thinks I’m a verbally abusive pet-owner. Thanks for that, dude.”
“You brought it on yourself, assmunch,” said Dean, twitching his whiskers at him in a little cat-laugh. “Now onward to the jackets, human servant!”
“I have to get you a collar first,” said Sam.
“What the fuck?” said Dean. “I’m not wearing a collar.”
“What if you get lost?” said Sam. “You have to have one.”
“No way,” said Dean.
“No collar, no jacket,” said Sam.
“Oh, you bitch!”
“I mean it, Dean,” said Sam. “It’s for your own good.”
“Fine,” said Dean. “I’ll wear one. But it better have spikes or something.”
None of the collars, as it turned out, had spikes, though there was a studded dog one that Sam had to talk Dean out of.
“But I like it!” said Dean.
“Dean,” said Sam. “You need a breakaway collar. Cats are statistically more likely to get their collars caught on something, which can cause strangulation-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but this one looks better,” said Dean.
“Here, how about this one?” said Sam. “Look, it’s got the Harley Davidson logo. You like Harley Davidson, right? Very macho.”
“Hmm,” said Dean.
“It has flames,” said Sam.
“Why didn’t you mention that before?” said Dean. “I’ll take it.”
Sam groaned.
“Dude, what the fuck?” said Dean ten minutes later, when it was apparent that no cat clothing was to be found. “There’s, like, a bazillion dog things here but nothing for cats. That’s discrimination, damn it! I’m being oppressed!”
“Dean,” said Sam, “you’re a cat. I’m pretty sure no one here is trying to oppress you. Also, keep your voice down.”
“Et tu, Sammy?” said Dean.
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” said Dean sadly. “Anyway, now I’m gonna have to wear some punk-ass Chihuahua outfit or something, which officially sucks monkey-butt.”
“Eloquent as always, Dean,” said Sam. “Besides, I don’t see what the big deal is. Even if the jacket was meant for a dog, nobody will know that once you’re wearing it.”
“It’s just the principal of the thing!” said Dean.
“Why don’t you just skip the jacket, then?” said Sam.
“Hell no!” said Dean. “That’s letting them win.”
“Who?” said Sam.
“Them,” said Dean. “The people oppressing me!”
“So buying a jacket from them is your way of fighting back.”
“Basically, yeah,” said Dean.
“Oh,” said Sam. “Of course.”
They spent twenty minutes picking out a jacket for Dean to wear, and by the end of it Sam’s patience was worn thin and he was pretty sure the store’s employees thought he was some kind of fashion-forward crazy cat guy or something.
“For God’s sake, just pick one!” said Sam.
He didn’t even care which, at that point. Everything so far had been rejected by Dean for being too big, too small, too gay, way too gay, too ugly, too something, and Sam was just ready to go.
“Okay, okay, geez,” said Dean. “Hold your horses!”
He scrutinized his options.
“I waaaant…that one.”
“This one?” said Sam, picking up the little garment from its peg. It was the first one Dean had tried on.
“Yeah. It’ll do,” said Dean.
Sam felt a twitch start up somewhere in his right eyelid.
Dean made Sam put the jacket on him right then and there and hold him up to a mirror so he could better admire himself.
“Even as a cat, I’m awesome,” said Dean.
“Sure,” said Sam. “You’re awesome.”
Sam didn’t have the heart to tell him the jacket was pink. And made of pleather.
Before they left the store, Sam remembered one more thing they still needed.
“You know, we should probably get you a harness-leash,” said Sam.
“What?” said Dean. “No!”
“Well it’s either that or I keep carrying you around everywhere, and you’ve already started complaining about that…”
“Dude, that’s bullshit,” said Dean. “I went along with the collar and the ID tag, but I am not wearing a leash. That’s degrading, man.”
“What else do you suggest, then?” said Sam. “’Cause I’m not really seeing a lot of options here, Dean.”
“Shit, I don’t know,” said Dean. “Maybe they have animal strollers or something?”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Sam.
“Just ask them,” said Dean, pulling a fantastic cat!bitchface at him.
“Fine,” said Sam. “But I’m telling you, there’s no such thing.”
There was, in fact, such a thing.
“Oh yes, our pet strollers are in aisle three,” said the girl restocking the chew toys.
“Huh,” said Sam.
“What does losing taste like, Sammy?” whispered Dean. “Is it bitter enough for ya?”
“Shut it, ball-licker,” said Sam.
“That was once,” hissed Dean just as the girl said, “Excuse me?”
“Oh-oh, not you,” said Sam. “I meant-I was talking to my cat!”
“I see,” said the girl, clipped. “Well, then. Have a nice day.”
Sam took it for the dismissal it was.
“Dude,” said Sam, and Dean snickered.
When Sam put Dean into the stroller, Dean purred and kneaded his paws into the pastel pillow.
“Sweet,” he said.
“Congratulations,” said Sam. “You’re now the gayest cat in the city.”
“Oh jealousy,” said Dean, and waved one tiny white paw at him dismissively.
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