Notes: No guarantees for more. In fact, this is probably it. I just felt like doing random kitten-related fluff, which means there isn't even a plot.
Enjoy.
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The trouble with the cat was that as soon as you wanted to hate it, as soon as you were ready to kick the damn thing in the face for chewing up your last goddamn pair of decent shoelaces, you couldn't. The cat - hardly more than a kitten - would just stare up at you with wide, ridiculously expressive golden eyes. Like it was the cutest thing in the world and deserved praise just for being awesome enough to spend time with you.
He tried not to let on that he agreed.
"God dammit, Dean! Your kitten just peed on my shoe."
Totally indifferent to the towering beast's rage, the kitten sauntered across the motel room floor as if Sam wasn't glaring daggers at its tiny little body.
"I keep telling you," Dean protested, "it's not my kitten. It's just a small fuzzy thing that just happens to follow me around. That doesn't make it mine."
Contrary as only a cat can be, the kitten decided that now was the perfect time to climb into Dean's duffel bag with the rest of his belongings. The hunter was beginning to think that the cat was sentient, capable of understanding their conversations, and determined to undermine everything he said.
The kitten yawned.
Dean looked across the room to see Sam watching him with an expression that managed to capture 'I told you so' alongside the remaining shoe-related exasperation. "It's not my cat," Dean insisted.
"Whatever. You owe me a new pair of shoes."
.
.
"I think I'm going to call him Lucy-Fur."
"Lucifer?" Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, staring at him across the table. "You want to name your cat after the devil? You want to name that -" Sam pointed out the diner window and back at the car, where said kitten was currently perched in the sun on the dash "- stupidly cute ball of fur after an entity considered by most monotheistic doctrines to be the father of all sin?"
"Lucy. Fur. Like two words, Sam."
"I think you just missed the point I was trying to make here."
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.
Half a day later the newly christened Lucy-Fur threw up on the back seat and Dean considered that solid (or semi-liquid, really) proof that the cat thoroughly deserved its name.
