Title: Motivation Of The Fuzzy Kind
Author: PlatinumRoseLady
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean were created by Kripke, who is a genius. Sabbath was created by Angelustatt, who is also a genius. I bow to both of you.
Drabble Challenge Word: "Sheet"
Word Count: 453 words. Yeah, it's over. What can I say? I LIVE to rebel…
Players: Go to Enkidu07's page, and you'll find all the usual suspects. Resistance is futile – you will be drabbleized.
Spoiler Alert: None.
Author's Notes: For this to make any sense, you need to read Angelustatt's utterly incredible Sabbathverse fics. Which you should be doing ANYWAY, since they rock harder than the front row at a Def Leppard concert. I must say a deep and heartfelt thanks to Angelustatt, for being so graceful as to let me borrow her OC, who is possibly the only being more cuddleable than Sam and Dean. You rock, girl!
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He felt a nudge against his foot, and Dean's voice calling to him from what seemed like far away.
"C'mon, Sam. Get up."
Sam groaned and pulled the sheet up over his head. "F've mre mins, Dn…" he slurred.
"You HAD 'five more minutes' ten minutes ago, Gigantor. Move your ass."
"No. Go 'way." So what if he sounded a little petulant? He was TIRED, dammit.
"Okay…" Dean sighed, a sound chock full of false regret. "We didn't wanna do this, but you've left us no choice."
Somewhere in the middle of his sleep-fogged brain, Sam registered the words "we" and "us" with some confusion. Who was here with them, other than…
The bedclothes were ripped away, and a very wiggly, very furry body leapt onto Sam's chest. He let out with a startled cry before dissolving into peals of laughter, thanks to the German Sheppard puppy that seemed bound and determined to lick every inch of his face.
"Sabbath! C'mon, kn-knock it off, y-you goofy dog! Th-that tickles! Nonono-hahahha! Pl-lease, D-Dean! C-Call him –ACK!- o-off!" Sam rolled back and forth, trying to escape the playful pup, but to no avail. Dean had given Sabbath a task – wake Sam up – and he was determined to do a good job.
And if "wake Sam up" somehow morphed into "get Sam hysterically giggling and covered with puppy slobber", Dean and Sabbath were both okay with that. The dog knew that Sam's laughter was a rare and precious thing, something to treasure when the days got bleak.
When Sabbath turned and saw the amused grin on Dean's face, he wagged his tail with joy. If Dean was happy, the pup was over the moon.
Dean lightly slapped the side of his leg. "Sabbath, c'mere ya little furball. I think he's had enough." With a graceful bound, Sabbath leapt from the bed to land at Dean's boots. He knelt down and began to gently rub the pup's stomach. "Good dog," Dean said, the affection for this loving, slightly hyper, totally loyal ball of energy shining through those two simple words. He grinned up at his brother, who had finally risen from the bed and was wiping at his face, still chuckling. "Um, Sam, you okay?"
"Y-yeah. I'm fine." One of two short burst of laughter signaled his younger brother was calming down. "It just felt so nice to laugh like that." He sat down on the floor and reached out to give Sabbath some more scritches. "Thanks a lot, boy. You're the best alarm clock we've ever had."
Sabbath licked Sam's hand, tail going a mile a minute, and barked with contentment. Let tomorrow be dark.
Right now his pack was happy.
Right now life was good.