chasingtides (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chasingtides) wrote2009-05-17 11:21 am
chasingtides) wrote2009-05-17 11:21 am
Fic: Man's Best Friend
Title: Man's Best Friend
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chasingtides
Beta:callie_828
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2, 871
Summary: After a hunt, Sam and Dean are found by a puppy. Dean never thought such a tiny furball could ruin his plans.
Notes:pez_gurl gave me the prompt: Sam/Dean, puppy. SS Deanbottoms helped with cheerleading and a key plot point. This is the puppy in question. The fic takes place either in an alternate, cheerful season four or an amazing cheerful season five.
Dean watched Sam's ass as he walked out of the graveyard. He figured they could head back to the motel and have a nice... relaxing evening before hitting the road in the morning. The motel clerk might have leered at him unnervingly when he asked for a king, but it'd be worth it to be able to share a bed with Sam and not deal with the awkward question of who would be going back to the other cold bed after sex.
(Well, Dean assumed it was awkward. Generally Sam crawled back to his own bed after Dean rolled over and knocked him off his. Dean figured it'd be nice to actually be able to share and maybe Sam would like it if his feet didn't hang off the end of the bed.)
"Are you coming?" Sam asked impatiently, waiting by the Impala.
Dean grinned, tossed the lighter fluid into the trunk and tucked the matches into his pocket. "Hold your horses, Sammy-boy. We'll be there soon enough."
Dean turned up Led Zeppelin IV and cruised easily down Main Street. The little New England town had lent itself to a spectacularly easy hunt. The graveyard was a tidy, out-of-the-way place, hidden from the road, and they'd easily salted and burned the body while the rest of the world was working on their commute home. The only downside was that the nearest motel was two towns over, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care, not with Sam in the passenger seat, the sun on the road and a big bed waiting for them.
They dragged through the tail-end of the mid-state rush hour traffic, heading further into the hills. Plant wailed from the Impala's speakers and the trees and farms slid by fairly quickly. Dean pulled the Impala into her parking space in front of their room as the sun finished setting behind the low mountains.
Dean went to the trunk and pulled out his duffel - the one with his clothes, his knives, the lube, and the condoms. He looked up around the edge of the Impala's trunk and saw that Sam was already standing by the motel room door, clearly waiting for his brother. Dean just grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up, causing Sam to roll his eyes.
Just as he was getting to the door, though, reaching for the room key in his pocket, Dean was intercepted by a puppy. It trotted from around the edge of the Impala and planted itself right in front of Dean, barking loudly. Dean looked at it for a moment and then stepped around it. The dog followed him, darting between his legs and stepping all over his boots.
"Looks like you've got a little friend," Sam said, grinning.
When the puppy wedged itself against the door and watched Dean with big blue eyes, Dean bent down to push him aside. "Go home, buddy."
The puppy didn't move; it just made a whimpering noise and nosed Dean's hand.
“Go home,” Dean said more firmly, pointing in the direction from which the dog came. “Go home.”
The puppy looked at him balefully and barked once.
Dean moved to pick up the dog with his left hand, intending to just put him on the ground away from the door, but the puppy latched onto his arm. It made a little noise that was something between a whimper and a growl and tried to climb up Dean’s arm. It skidded a bit on the worn leather jacket and clearly didn’t have full control over its oversized paws, but it made a valiant effort.
Dean frowned at the puppy attached to his arm, but it just looked up at him with those same big blue eyes. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes at Sam. “Looks like we’ve got a friend for now. Let’s stow the stuff and then I’ll talk to the guy at the office about the puppy.”
He unlocked the motel room door and dumped the duffel bag on the king sized bed. The puppy whimpered a bit and slid on the sleeve of his jacket, biting into it just above his elbow.
“God damn it!” Dean swore, grabbing the puppy with his right hand. “You had better not have ruined my fucking jacket.” He flexed his left arm tentatively. “Or my arm.”
“He’s just a puppy,” Sam scolded as the puppy whimpered pathetically at Dean. “It’s not like he knows better.” Sam examined Dean’s arm, running a hand along Dean’s back. “Your jacket is fine.”
Dean kissed Sam, pressing their lips roughly together. Sam’s arm tightened around Dean and he moaned softly when Dean slid his tongue into his brother’s mouth. Just as they were getting into it, though, the puppy barked loudly.
Dean pulled away from Sam. “I’ll get this little guy out to the office and then I’ll be right back and we can finish this, ‘kay?”
Sam just smiled at him and began unpacking the salt and chalk from his bag.
The puppy wriggled in Dean’s arms as he walked over to the motel office. Dean shifted him in his arms, wondering if it was uncomfortable or if it was just trying to climb up his jacket again. The office looked pretty deserted when he arrived, the crappy black and white television behind the desk playing the local news. He rang the bell on the desk and put the puppy down next to it.
“Yeah?” The guy looked like he might have been a little stoned. “Oh, dude, I figured it was just you and your boyfriend; you didn’t say anything about a puppy?” He bent down to rub the puppy behind the ears, which it seemed to appreciate. “Hey, little guy, how you doing? You like the road trip your daddy brought you on?”
Dean coughed a little uncomfortably.
“Oh, you want to know where to buy some dog food for him?” the clerk asked, looking up at Dean. “The store up the street - the one with the gas station and pizza shop, can’t miss it - carries feed. They should have something for a puppy.”
“He’s not yours?” Dean asked.
The dog barked at Dean and licked his hand.
“Dude, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who brought him in here.”
Dean frowned. “Yeah, he found us out there. I’m bringing him back to you.”
The puppy jumped and tried to climb up Dean’s jacket again, but kept sliding down.
“Oh, no, I can’t have a dog,” the clerk said, clearly not understanding Dean. “My girl’s allergic. Besides, he’s yours; wouldn’t want to take him away from you and your boyfriend.”
“Me and my,” Dean began.
“Bye-bye little guy,” the clerk told the puppy, waving to him. “I hope you like your road trip with your daddies!”
Dean stomped back to the motel room, holding the puppy roughly under one arm. He opened the door and unceremoniously dropped the puppy on the chair by the bathroom. He slung his jacket around the back of the other chair.
“You brought it back?” Sam asked.
Dean flopped onto the bed by Sam and began taking off his shirt. “Clerk thought it was mine. Told me where to buy dog food.”
“That’s great,” Sam said, without any enthusiasm. He turned to face Dean, his tight gray undershirt straining against his biceps. “But it’s not our puppy. Someone could be looking for it.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Dean asked. “I say we just put him outside. He’ll wander home.”
Sam frowned, clearly not a fan of this plan. “What if he got hit by a truck or something?”
The puppy, perched on the edge of the chair and watching them, yipped his agreement.
“Fine, whatever.” Dean got up from the bed and went to check if the dog had any identification. It was wearing a blue nylon collar, but there weren’t any tags. The puppy just watched Dean silently, which unnerved him. “Well, he belongs to somebody, but that somebody sure as hell isn’t you or me.”
“Maybe he belongs to someone else staying here?” Sam asked, reaching for his plaid shirt.
“Why are you getting dressed?” Dean asked, not caring if his voice was more than a little plaintive.
“Oh, come on,” Sam said as he buttoned up the shirt. “There are only, like, two other cars here. We can find his owners and then we’ll come back here.”
Dean sighed and glared at the puppy. He had been looking forward to an easy hunt, some hot sex, and maybe some take-out pizza. It had been weeks since the angels had bothered them and not even Bobby could find any particularly crazy hunts lately. He just wanted to relax.
“Come on, buddy, we’re going to go find your owners,” Sam said, crouching in front of the puppy. The puppy stared at him for a long moment, but as soon as Sam reached out to pick it up, the dog darted off the chair, past Sam, and jumped up onto the bed next to Dean.
Dean scowled at the puppy. “Go on, go to Sam.” He tried to push the puppy off the bed, toward Sam, but the dog wasn’t having any of it. It just whined at Dean and tried to climb up his bare arm. Dean swore when he felt the puppy’s little claws on his skin and swatted the puppy away.
“Just grab it,” Sam said, buttoning up his shirt. “It looks like it likes you better.”
Grabbing the puppy around the ribcage and supporting the back legs with his other arm, Dean got up with a sigh. They’d damn well better find the owners, Dean thought. Stepping out of the room, he went two doors down, their nearest neighbors, and waited for Sam to knock on the door.
Sam put on his best innocent Boy Scout face when a surly looking bald man opened the door. The man reeked of Bud and cheap cigarettes and looked like it had been maybe a couple days since he’d shaved and possibly bathed. The dog whined in Dean’s arms.
“Hi, sir,” Sam said with his plastic smile firmly in place. “We were just wondering if this was your dog. We just got in and he’s so friendly…”
The balding man scowled at them. “I don’t got a dog.”
Sam blinked. “Well, if he’s not yours.”
“I said, I don’t got no dog,” the man repeated, firmly and loudly. He slammed the door in Sam’s face.
“That work for you, Sammy?” Dean asked, not caring how bitchy he sounded.
Sam sighed. “There’s only one other car here. It can’t hurt.”
Dean scowled foully at Sam’s back as he followed him across the parking lot. It wasn’t even a good car in front of 114. It was just a busted up old Volkswagen with dirty tires. As they got closer to the door of 114, the passionate moans got louder and more obvious.
“You really want to do this?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. The dog pawed at Dean’s arm, but didn’t claw him at all.
Sam sighed and knocked on the door.
“What the hell you want?” a male voice yelled from within the room.
“Just got some questions for you,” Sam replied in his most official, we’re-officers-of-the-law-ma’am voice.
“You cops?” the voice asked.
“Look, we’ve just got some questions, buddy,” Dean called through the door. “Just give us a second.”
The door creaked open and revealed a young man with tousled hair and a bed sheet wrapped around his waist. “What do you want?”
“Is that your dog?” Sam asked, pointing at the puppy in Dean’s arms.
The man blinked at Sam for a second and then looked briefly at the puppy. “No, that’s not my dog,” he said like it was obvious.
“Maybe it’s your girlfriend’s?” Sam asked hopefully.
The man turned to look back into the room. “Cliff, you got a dog you didn’t tell me about?”
“Stop fucking around and get back to bed,” a very male voice yelled from within the room.
Dean stared down at the puppy’s face when the man closed the door. “What the hell are we going to do with it?”
“Well, we can feed it and walk it,” Sam said.
“What the fuck? We’re not getting a puppy,” Dean exclaimed. “I do not want a dog! It’s going to rip up the Impala and piss on her and do God knows what to our weapons!”
Sam rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to keep it. But it’s,” he looked at his watch, “after seven on a Friday. There’s no way a shelter is going to be open.”
Dean frowned at the dog. “Can’t we just… let it go? It was doing fine before it got here.”
“Dean,” Sam scolded, making his way across the parking lot. “It’s just a puppy.” The dog whined its agreement.
Dean followed Sam into their motel room and put the puppy back on the chair. He turned to see Sam grabbing his old canvas coat. “What are you doing?”
“I can go get some puppy food for it,” Sam said. “I bet you wouldn’t know the first thing about dog food.”
“Yeah, and you would?” Dean snapped.
Something closed in Sam’s face. “Jess and I fostered some puppies back in California.”
Dean felt the sudden pain of knowing he hurt Sam. He crossed the room and reached out to grip Sam’s shoulder, kissing him chastely on the lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Sam kissed him back, his lips as rough as the road. “It’s okay. I never told you.”
“Just… be quick,” Dean told him. “I had plans for tonight.”
Sam grinned, not quite laughed, and plucked the Impala’s keys from the table. “I’m sure you did.”
With the growl of the Impala in his ears, Dean sat on the bed and stared at the puppy, who just stared back at him.
“So, do you do tricks?”
The puppy whined at him and jumped to the other chair at the crummy plastic table.
“That’s not a trick,” Dean told him. “Just… let me know if you need to piss or something.”
The puppy just stared at Dean, as serious as the grave.
Dean sighed and grabbed the remote. Watching crappy reality TV would be better, at least, than staring at a stupid dog until Sam came back. He never even noticed he was falling asleep until he was jostled awake by Sam pounding on the door.
He stumbled off the bed and opened the door, being careful not to disturb the salt line. “What -”
“We’ve got a problem,” Sam said, stating the obvious, as he dragged a very drunk Jimmy Novak into the room.
“Dean,” Jimmy slurred. “Never thought I’d see you here.”
Sam dumped Jimmy onto the chair where Dean had put the puppy earlier. “Where’s the dog?”
“The dog?” Dean asked, staring at Jimmy. “Oh, the dog! He was just here…” He spun around looking for the puppy.
His leather coat had fallen to the floor and shook with a little growl. The coat twitched again and then shook, as though the puppy had jumped. The right sleeve wriggled and whined and wriggled again.
“Your coat?” Sam asked.
Dean shrugged and watched as the puppy wriggled out of the sleeve.
“Hey,” Jimmy said, his voice thick with alcohol, “it’s Castiel!”
Dean stared at him. “That your puppy? You named him after the angel?”
“No,” Jimmy told him with all of the gravity of a man three sheets to the wind. “It is the angel.”
The puppy blinked up at Jimmy and then, with a running jump, leapt onto his lap. Jimmy stared down at it blearily, clearly unhappy to have the puppy on his lap but unwilling, even drunk, to say anything. The puppy whined and rolled, pressing its body against Jimmy’s hand.
Dean winced at the light and when he opened his eyes again, it was clear that Castiel was back in possession of Jimmy’s body and that Castiel was not drunk. He stared at the brother, his face as carefully blank as ever. The puppy whined and licked Castiel’s hand.
“So…uh, a puppy?” Dean asked.
“It was necessary.” Castiel stood up, holding the puppy awkwardly in his hands. “I…. Thank you for taking care of that form.”
“No problem,” Sam said hesitantly. “There’s still a bag of puppy chow in the Impala…”
“That is not required,” Castiel said and walked out of the room.
Dean blinked at the door, scarcely able to believe what had just happened. “Did he just -”
“Possess a dog?”
“Yeah,” Dean said weakly. “That.”
“I think so.”
Dean shook his head. Angels were dicks alright, but damn if they weren’t confusing as all fuck, too. He turned to see that Sam had already taken off his shirt and was working on his pants. “What are you doing?”
Sam grinned at him. “I thought you had plans for tonight. And now that we don’t have an angel in the room…”
“Oh, I like how you think,” Dean told him, grabbing his brother and kissing him.
Author:
chasingtidesBeta:
callie_828Rating: PG
Word Count: 2, 871
Summary: After a hunt, Sam and Dean are found by a puppy. Dean never thought such a tiny furball could ruin his plans.
Notes:
pez_gurl gave me the prompt: Sam/Dean, puppy. SS Deanbottoms helped with cheerleading and a key plot point. This is the puppy in question. The fic takes place either in an alternate, cheerful season four or an amazing cheerful season five.
Dean watched Sam's ass as he walked out of the graveyard. He figured they could head back to the motel and have a nice... relaxing evening before hitting the road in the morning. The motel clerk might have leered at him unnervingly when he asked for a king, but it'd be worth it to be able to share a bed with Sam and not deal with the awkward question of who would be going back to the other cold bed after sex.
(Well, Dean assumed it was awkward. Generally Sam crawled back to his own bed after Dean rolled over and knocked him off his. Dean figured it'd be nice to actually be able to share and maybe Sam would like it if his feet didn't hang off the end of the bed.)
"Are you coming?" Sam asked impatiently, waiting by the Impala.
Dean grinned, tossed the lighter fluid into the trunk and tucked the matches into his pocket. "Hold your horses, Sammy-boy. We'll be there soon enough."
Dean turned up Led Zeppelin IV and cruised easily down Main Street. The little New England town had lent itself to a spectacularly easy hunt. The graveyard was a tidy, out-of-the-way place, hidden from the road, and they'd easily salted and burned the body while the rest of the world was working on their commute home. The only downside was that the nearest motel was two towns over, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care, not with Sam in the passenger seat, the sun on the road and a big bed waiting for them.
They dragged through the tail-end of the mid-state rush hour traffic, heading further into the hills. Plant wailed from the Impala's speakers and the trees and farms slid by fairly quickly. Dean pulled the Impala into her parking space in front of their room as the sun finished setting behind the low mountains.
Dean went to the trunk and pulled out his duffel - the one with his clothes, his knives, the lube, and the condoms. He looked up around the edge of the Impala's trunk and saw that Sam was already standing by the motel room door, clearly waiting for his brother. Dean just grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up, causing Sam to roll his eyes.
Just as he was getting to the door, though, reaching for the room key in his pocket, Dean was intercepted by a puppy. It trotted from around the edge of the Impala and planted itself right in front of Dean, barking loudly. Dean looked at it for a moment and then stepped around it. The dog followed him, darting between his legs and stepping all over his boots.
"Looks like you've got a little friend," Sam said, grinning.
When the puppy wedged itself against the door and watched Dean with big blue eyes, Dean bent down to push him aside. "Go home, buddy."
The puppy didn't move; it just made a whimpering noise and nosed Dean's hand.
“Go home,” Dean said more firmly, pointing in the direction from which the dog came. “Go home.”
The puppy looked at him balefully and barked once.
Dean moved to pick up the dog with his left hand, intending to just put him on the ground away from the door, but the puppy latched onto his arm. It made a little noise that was something between a whimper and a growl and tried to climb up Dean’s arm. It skidded a bit on the worn leather jacket and clearly didn’t have full control over its oversized paws, but it made a valiant effort.
Dean frowned at the puppy attached to his arm, but it just looked up at him with those same big blue eyes. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes at Sam. “Looks like we’ve got a friend for now. Let’s stow the stuff and then I’ll talk to the guy at the office about the puppy.”
He unlocked the motel room door and dumped the duffel bag on the king sized bed. The puppy whimpered a bit and slid on the sleeve of his jacket, biting into it just above his elbow.
“God damn it!” Dean swore, grabbing the puppy with his right hand. “You had better not have ruined my fucking jacket.” He flexed his left arm tentatively. “Or my arm.”
“He’s just a puppy,” Sam scolded as the puppy whimpered pathetically at Dean. “It’s not like he knows better.” Sam examined Dean’s arm, running a hand along Dean’s back. “Your jacket is fine.”
Dean kissed Sam, pressing their lips roughly together. Sam’s arm tightened around Dean and he moaned softly when Dean slid his tongue into his brother’s mouth. Just as they were getting into it, though, the puppy barked loudly.
Dean pulled away from Sam. “I’ll get this little guy out to the office and then I’ll be right back and we can finish this, ‘kay?”
Sam just smiled at him and began unpacking the salt and chalk from his bag.
The puppy wriggled in Dean’s arms as he walked over to the motel office. Dean shifted him in his arms, wondering if it was uncomfortable or if it was just trying to climb up his jacket again. The office looked pretty deserted when he arrived, the crappy black and white television behind the desk playing the local news. He rang the bell on the desk and put the puppy down next to it.
“Yeah?” The guy looked like he might have been a little stoned. “Oh, dude, I figured it was just you and your boyfriend; you didn’t say anything about a puppy?” He bent down to rub the puppy behind the ears, which it seemed to appreciate. “Hey, little guy, how you doing? You like the road trip your daddy brought you on?”
Dean coughed a little uncomfortably.
“Oh, you want to know where to buy some dog food for him?” the clerk asked, looking up at Dean. “The store up the street - the one with the gas station and pizza shop, can’t miss it - carries feed. They should have something for a puppy.”
“He’s not yours?” Dean asked.
The dog barked at Dean and licked his hand.
“Dude, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who brought him in here.”
Dean frowned. “Yeah, he found us out there. I’m bringing him back to you.”
The puppy jumped and tried to climb up Dean’s jacket again, but kept sliding down.
“Oh, no, I can’t have a dog,” the clerk said, clearly not understanding Dean. “My girl’s allergic. Besides, he’s yours; wouldn’t want to take him away from you and your boyfriend.”
“Me and my,” Dean began.
“Bye-bye little guy,” the clerk told the puppy, waving to him. “I hope you like your road trip with your daddies!”
Dean stomped back to the motel room, holding the puppy roughly under one arm. He opened the door and unceremoniously dropped the puppy on the chair by the bathroom. He slung his jacket around the back of the other chair.
“You brought it back?” Sam asked.
Dean flopped onto the bed by Sam and began taking off his shirt. “Clerk thought it was mine. Told me where to buy dog food.”
“That’s great,” Sam said, without any enthusiasm. He turned to face Dean, his tight gray undershirt straining against his biceps. “But it’s not our puppy. Someone could be looking for it.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Dean asked. “I say we just put him outside. He’ll wander home.”
Sam frowned, clearly not a fan of this plan. “What if he got hit by a truck or something?”
The puppy, perched on the edge of the chair and watching them, yipped his agreement.
“Fine, whatever.” Dean got up from the bed and went to check if the dog had any identification. It was wearing a blue nylon collar, but there weren’t any tags. The puppy just watched Dean silently, which unnerved him. “Well, he belongs to somebody, but that somebody sure as hell isn’t you or me.”
“Maybe he belongs to someone else staying here?” Sam asked, reaching for his plaid shirt.
“Why are you getting dressed?” Dean asked, not caring if his voice was more than a little plaintive.
“Oh, come on,” Sam said as he buttoned up the shirt. “There are only, like, two other cars here. We can find his owners and then we’ll come back here.”
Dean sighed and glared at the puppy. He had been looking forward to an easy hunt, some hot sex, and maybe some take-out pizza. It had been weeks since the angels had bothered them and not even Bobby could find any particularly crazy hunts lately. He just wanted to relax.
“Come on, buddy, we’re going to go find your owners,” Sam said, crouching in front of the puppy. The puppy stared at him for a long moment, but as soon as Sam reached out to pick it up, the dog darted off the chair, past Sam, and jumped up onto the bed next to Dean.
Dean scowled at the puppy. “Go on, go to Sam.” He tried to push the puppy off the bed, toward Sam, but the dog wasn’t having any of it. It just whined at Dean and tried to climb up his bare arm. Dean swore when he felt the puppy’s little claws on his skin and swatted the puppy away.
“Just grab it,” Sam said, buttoning up his shirt. “It looks like it likes you better.”
Grabbing the puppy around the ribcage and supporting the back legs with his other arm, Dean got up with a sigh. They’d damn well better find the owners, Dean thought. Stepping out of the room, he went two doors down, their nearest neighbors, and waited for Sam to knock on the door.
Sam put on his best innocent Boy Scout face when a surly looking bald man opened the door. The man reeked of Bud and cheap cigarettes and looked like it had been maybe a couple days since he’d shaved and possibly bathed. The dog whined in Dean’s arms.
“Hi, sir,” Sam said with his plastic smile firmly in place. “We were just wondering if this was your dog. We just got in and he’s so friendly…”
The balding man scowled at them. “I don’t got a dog.”
Sam blinked. “Well, if he’s not yours.”
“I said, I don’t got no dog,” the man repeated, firmly and loudly. He slammed the door in Sam’s face.
“That work for you, Sammy?” Dean asked, not caring how bitchy he sounded.
Sam sighed. “There’s only one other car here. It can’t hurt.”
Dean scowled foully at Sam’s back as he followed him across the parking lot. It wasn’t even a good car in front of 114. It was just a busted up old Volkswagen with dirty tires. As they got closer to the door of 114, the passionate moans got louder and more obvious.
“You really want to do this?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. The dog pawed at Dean’s arm, but didn’t claw him at all.
Sam sighed and knocked on the door.
“What the hell you want?” a male voice yelled from within the room.
“Just got some questions for you,” Sam replied in his most official, we’re-officers-of-the-law-ma’am voice.
“You cops?” the voice asked.
“Look, we’ve just got some questions, buddy,” Dean called through the door. “Just give us a second.”
The door creaked open and revealed a young man with tousled hair and a bed sheet wrapped around his waist. “What do you want?”
“Is that your dog?” Sam asked, pointing at the puppy in Dean’s arms.
The man blinked at Sam for a second and then looked briefly at the puppy. “No, that’s not my dog,” he said like it was obvious.
“Maybe it’s your girlfriend’s?” Sam asked hopefully.
The man turned to look back into the room. “Cliff, you got a dog you didn’t tell me about?”
“Stop fucking around and get back to bed,” a very male voice yelled from within the room.
Dean stared down at the puppy’s face when the man closed the door. “What the hell are we going to do with it?”
“Well, we can feed it and walk it,” Sam said.
“What the fuck? We’re not getting a puppy,” Dean exclaimed. “I do not want a dog! It’s going to rip up the Impala and piss on her and do God knows what to our weapons!”
Sam rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to keep it. But it’s,” he looked at his watch, “after seven on a Friday. There’s no way a shelter is going to be open.”
Dean frowned at the dog. “Can’t we just… let it go? It was doing fine before it got here.”
“Dean,” Sam scolded, making his way across the parking lot. “It’s just a puppy.” The dog whined its agreement.
Dean followed Sam into their motel room and put the puppy back on the chair. He turned to see Sam grabbing his old canvas coat. “What are you doing?”
“I can go get some puppy food for it,” Sam said. “I bet you wouldn’t know the first thing about dog food.”
“Yeah, and you would?” Dean snapped.
Something closed in Sam’s face. “Jess and I fostered some puppies back in California.”
Dean felt the sudden pain of knowing he hurt Sam. He crossed the room and reached out to grip Sam’s shoulder, kissing him chastely on the lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Sam kissed him back, his lips as rough as the road. “It’s okay. I never told you.”
“Just… be quick,” Dean told him. “I had plans for tonight.”
Sam grinned, not quite laughed, and plucked the Impala’s keys from the table. “I’m sure you did.”
With the growl of the Impala in his ears, Dean sat on the bed and stared at the puppy, who just stared back at him.
“So, do you do tricks?”
The puppy whined at him and jumped to the other chair at the crummy plastic table.
“That’s not a trick,” Dean told him. “Just… let me know if you need to piss or something.”
The puppy just stared at Dean, as serious as the grave.
Dean sighed and grabbed the remote. Watching crappy reality TV would be better, at least, than staring at a stupid dog until Sam came back. He never even noticed he was falling asleep until he was jostled awake by Sam pounding on the door.
He stumbled off the bed and opened the door, being careful not to disturb the salt line. “What -”
“We’ve got a problem,” Sam said, stating the obvious, as he dragged a very drunk Jimmy Novak into the room.
“Dean,” Jimmy slurred. “Never thought I’d see you here.”
Sam dumped Jimmy onto the chair where Dean had put the puppy earlier. “Where’s the dog?”
“The dog?” Dean asked, staring at Jimmy. “Oh, the dog! He was just here…” He spun around looking for the puppy.
His leather coat had fallen to the floor and shook with a little growl. The coat twitched again and then shook, as though the puppy had jumped. The right sleeve wriggled and whined and wriggled again.
“Your coat?” Sam asked.
Dean shrugged and watched as the puppy wriggled out of the sleeve.
“Hey,” Jimmy said, his voice thick with alcohol, “it’s Castiel!”
Dean stared at him. “That your puppy? You named him after the angel?”
“No,” Jimmy told him with all of the gravity of a man three sheets to the wind. “It is the angel.”
The puppy blinked up at Jimmy and then, with a running jump, leapt onto his lap. Jimmy stared down at it blearily, clearly unhappy to have the puppy on his lap but unwilling, even drunk, to say anything. The puppy whined and rolled, pressing its body against Jimmy’s hand.
Dean winced at the light and when he opened his eyes again, it was clear that Castiel was back in possession of Jimmy’s body and that Castiel was not drunk. He stared at the brother, his face as carefully blank as ever. The puppy whined and licked Castiel’s hand.
“So…uh, a puppy?” Dean asked.
“It was necessary.” Castiel stood up, holding the puppy awkwardly in his hands. “I…. Thank you for taking care of that form.”
“No problem,” Sam said hesitantly. “There’s still a bag of puppy chow in the Impala…”
“That is not required,” Castiel said and walked out of the room.
Dean blinked at the door, scarcely able to believe what had just happened. “Did he just -”
“Possess a dog?”
“Yeah,” Dean said weakly. “That.”
“I think so.”
Dean shook his head. Angels were dicks alright, but damn if they weren’t confusing as all fuck, too. He turned to see that Sam had already taken off his shirt and was working on his pants. “What are you doing?”
Sam grinned at him. “I thought you had plans for tonight. And now that we don’t have an angel in the room…”
“Oh, I like how you think,” Dean told him, grabbing his brother and kissing him.
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Ok, I'm gonna go write the scene immediately following the ending in my head. *grin*
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CASTIEL LIKES DEAN BETTER THAN SAM. THIS IS NOT NEWS TO ANYONE.
PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY.
\O/
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Just cause I've been yelling it all weekend doesn't mean I'm gonna stop now. ;D
This was so adorable as to be unaddressable with mere words. I want to hug this fic. XD
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This is even more adorable that I thought it was gonna be. So many kudos to you.
And I love how Castiel is all I WAS A DOG BUT I'M CERTAINLY NOT TELLING YOU WHY. And the adorableness of Dean/Sam <3
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But now I need to know why Cas was possessing a dog, lol! :-)
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TOO adorable omg
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*falls over howling*