Drabble A Day: April 9th
Title: Catharsis, part 3
Disclaimer: None you know are belong to us.
Warnings: animal transformation; unbeta'ed
Characters: Dean, Castiel (sort of); Sam
Rating: G
Wordcount: ~490
Spoilers: none that I know of.
A/N: Continued from yesterday and the day before that. *hee*
It's like lying on Magic Fingers, with added warmth. Even the sound is almost a perfect match. It feels downright amazing, the pulsations permeating his muscles and going through bones, leaving him loose and relaxed and really not in the mood to wake up and rise.
The nirvana's disturbed by Sam's antics; he throws some half-assed remark and leaves and Dean honestly couldn't care less.
It's easy to slip back into sleep, the soft murmur and the warmth working its miracle.
His brains don't completely turn off, though: Wait... you're on your belly.
Somehow he works up the strength to turn over, and the warm vibration leaves his skin. He's drifting deeper into slumber when something touches his stomach.
So much for sleep.
The cat stares at him with bright blue eyes, head cocked, from between his legs when his brains next catch up after his mad scramble. It meows. It sounds disturbingly much like "Dean".
There's a cat in his bed, and no Sam, and before Dean can completely freak out, he remembers the night before, the cat who was way too fond of him. And who Dean could've sworn to have heard talk.
"What the hell are you still doing here?" he asks it now, listening to his heart slowing down. The cat doesn't flinch from his touch as he reaches to scratch it behind its ear; on the contrary, it leans against his palm, purring. Again.
Sam's not in the room because he went to get breakfast. Not because he got himself turned into a cat.
The cat's fur feels good against his skin, the vibrations spreading over his hand like holding a miniature motor. It's relaxing.
What isn't is the pressure on his bladder.
Reluctantly, he gets out of the bed and into the bathroom.
The cat follows him.
"Dude, privacy?" he asks; the cat just cocks its head and looks at him like it's never going to blink. As gently as he can, he lifts it by its scruff and draws the door between them.
Cats aren't supposed to scratch and whine at you when locked out, are they? That's what dogs do, right?
Not apparently just dogs.
"Dean!" the cat meows, sounding forlorn, and that is just plain weird. That first time, last night, he could've chalked it up to not being all that awake. Now it's just making him think they'd better take the feline to Bobby or something.
Soon as Dean's had some coffee. And found his clothes.
Icon used because of the cat.