A/N: Yo guys, here's a quick, fluffy story for you. All mistakes are my own. Reviews are appreciated, harsh criticism accepted, and flames are thrown out the window!

Warnings: Little bit of language, I think? Seriously nothing bad happens in this fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural but if I did tHE CHARACTERS MIGHT ACTUALLY GET A BREAK ONCE IN AWHILE.


Chapter 1: Dean, kittens need milk!

"No, Sam."

Sam stood in the doorway of the crappy hotel room, dripping wet with a storm raging behind him. He peered at Dean with sad, puppy-dog eyes, his long hair hanging damply in his face. He shifted awkwardly, giving Dean a pleading look and said, "Please?"

"Sammy, I said no. Now get your ass in here, you're gonna catch a cold." Sam stepped farther into the room, closing the door behind him and slightly muting the continuing hurricane outside. He then stood there pathetically, dripping water all over the carpet and watching Dean, who was pretending to be busy, digging through one of his bags.

"Dean?" asked Sam, staring daggers into his brother's back. Dean mumbled something that might have been a curse, straightened up, and turned to face his brother.

"What?" he growled roughly. Sam's only reply was to hold up the sodden kitten in his arms. The thing was barely bigger than Sam's enormous hands, with soft, ginger brown fur slicked down by the rain. It peered up with impossibly big eyes at Dean, casting him in a warm, lemon-yellow glow. It was trembling, maybe from cold, maybe from fear, maybe from both; neither brother knew. It opened its small mouth and gave the most pitiful mew that either hunter had ever heard, more of a squeak really. Dean could practically see Sam melt under that scrap of a cat, and he moaned to himself.

"For the last time, Sammy-" started Dean. Sam, however, interrupted his brother quickly.

"Come on, Dean; he's just a little guy. I found him out in the trash and I couldn't just leave him there!"

"Sure you could of," grumbled Dean. Sam shot him a mega bitch-face, clearly disgusted by his brother's antics.

"What! You could of!" Dean said, raising up his hands and trying to defend himself.

"Please, Dean? Can't we just keep him for one night? I can't just throw him back out into the storm," said Sam, finally lowering his arm and slipping the tiny kitten back into the front pocket of his plaid shirt, soaking the fabric. Dean watched as the small creature slipped out of sight; and judging from the bump on his brother's chest, the kitten had curled up and gone to sleep.

He glanced back up into Sam's hopeful eyes. His younger brother had always been a sucker for animals, constantly getting on Dad's bad side by dragging home stray mutts and trying to convince Dean to help him hide lost cats under their beds. That had never gone down well.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face with one hand and said crisply, "Fine, whatever, Sammy." He turned away from the delighted grin on his brother's face, trying to hide his own smile. "But only one night. Tomorrow you take him to the shelter; the hunter's life is no life for some tiny-ass kitten. He'd probably get stepped on, if nothing else."

And that's how Dean found himself out in the pouring rain, barely able to see and getting drenched in the short time he was out of the Impala. Because Sammy had insisted that kittens need milk. And no, Sam could not go back out into the storm, he had a kitten to take care of. And of course Dean could never say no to his younger brother and those ridiculous puppy-dog eyes.

Puppy-dog eyes that worked magic.

Dean ran from the entrance of the store to the Impala, dripping wet in the short amount of time he was exposed to the storm (which made him swear loudly), all the while clutching the carton of milk to his chest.

Because Sammy wanted milk. For his kitten. That Dean was totally gonna get rid of tomorrow. And Sammy was gonna listen to him and get rid of it, because his older brother had said so.

Dammit, Dean knew he was lying to himself.

All in all, he wasn't in the best of moods when he pulled back up to the one-star motel. He parked the Impala, then took a deep breath before again taking on the storm, thinking maybe if he was fast enough, he could avoid the worst of it. However, he was drenched before he had even fully closed the door, and he sprinted up to their room's door and again began swearing loudly above the wind when he realized Sam had locked the door in his absence. After fumbling with the key for a long, wet moment, he managed to get it open and slumped into the room, wondering if he should just whip the carton of milk at Sam's head. However, he paused in the doorway, a grin slowly taking over his face.

Sprawled out on his bed was Sam, half covered by a blanket and still fully clothed. His wet hair was plastered back to the pillow and he was breathing deeply, fast asleep. Curled up on his chest, purring away, was the small brown kitten. It was now dry and insanely fluffy, looking kinda like a dust-ball that had been blown onto his brother and had stuck there. It opened one lemon-coloured eye, searching Dean's gaze. It then again closed its eyes, stretching and kneading its tiny mitts on Sam's t-shirt contentedly.

Dean quietly closed the door and set the milk on the side; Sammy's kitten would probably be hungry tomorrow. He then stripped down and flopped down on his own bed, once again grinning at his younger brother (and the kitten) sleeping, before flicking off the light and rolling over to sleep.


A/N: Inspiration for this came when me and one of my friends were talking about supernatural and I said, "What if Sam brought home a kitten and Dean was like no, but then Sam and the kitten gave him puppy dog eyes so he goes out to get milk for the kitten and comes back to find Sam and the kitten already asleep?" Tell me if you guys want more, I'm always open to suggestions. Oh and sorry about Guardian if any of those readers are reading this. *slinks away guiltily*