There's something on the bed, Sam can feel it. Small and quick, it mounts a stealth attack on his blanket covered foot before darting away. Blinking sleep out of his eyes he gives the foot a quick shake, hoping that whatever it is will take a hike rather than risk getting booted off the bed. Instead it's back almost immediately, clinging to the end of Sam's leg with everything it's got.
"Ow!" Sam clicks the switch on the bedside lamp, ready to fling the book of transmogrification spells on the bedside table at whatever has invaded his sleeping area. Wide green eyes stare at him from the vicinity of his toes, pupils narrowing to slits in the suddenly bright light. Sam sighs as he thumps his head back onto his pillow, wondering how he could have forgotten the night's activities. An undead voodoo priest and a spell that had been meant for him are all in a day's work, but his brother being transformed into a tiny orange ball of attitude is really, really new. Cats in general are an unknown entity to Sam but Dean's got a cardboard litter pan and a saucer of milk on the floor- all he needs to know for the short time the spell will be in effect, Sam is sure.
"Get off my foot, Dean," he says, giving the appendage in question a shake. Dean rears back and strikes at the moving blanket before launching himself forward to sink small, needle sharp fangs into Sam's big toe. "God damn it, cut it out!" Sam jerks his foot wildly around under the covers, Dean pouncing and batting with tiny paws as he bounds after it. Finally, Sam zigs when he should have zagged and Dean's right there; attaching himself to Sam's foot with four clawed feet and a small but effective mouthful of teeth buried, albeit not deeply, in his brother's flesh.
One deep breath, then another whistle between Sam's clenched teeth. Normally Dean would get a firm kick in whatever body part was closest for screwing around with Sam while he was sleeping, but since he'd probably weigh in at two pounds soaking wet right now, Sam resists the urge. Slowly, he leans forward, and Dean's ears twitch back and forth as his adorably puffed up tail lashes. Dean's tiny body almost totally disappears as Sam's hand closes over it, holding the squirming kitten-Dean in place as his free hand carefully untangles Dean's claws. Sam rubs his thumb over Dean's soft cheek and is rewarded with a high pitched purr as Dean releases his toe and hunkers down on his brother's palm as Sam lifts it in front of his face.
"Look," Sam says in a stern tone. "I've got to get some sleep, so cut out the sneak attacks, okay? Why don't you go chase your tail or something? Over there." Sam gestures to the other side of the bed and Dean blinks, yawning, before his eyes sharpen. Slowly, he reaches out a paw to pat gently at Sam's nose before bringing his other front foot over so he's half balanced on Sam's palm and half on the top of his nostrils. Sam closes his eyes and doesn't shake his head. "Dean, you're going to…" Fall, he's about to say, but Dean loses his balance and tumbles into Sam's lap before his brother can get the last word out.
Dean's up and aggrievedly licking his side before Sam can even start to panic about whether he'd broken any delicate kitten bones in the fall. The clock reads four a.m., barely six hours since the curse turned Dean into a tiny cat, with roughly forty-two still to go. Sam settles back down, sure that trying to get any rest will be futile. Dean yawns again and pads onto Sam's chest, flopping down with a tiny "meep" and closing his eyes. Within minutes, they're both fast asleep.