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It’s another normal night, or normal as it can be for the boys. They’re in another shitty town with a shitty motel that doesn’t look twice at people. Dean feels like crap. Maybe it was the ghost obsessed with water and flung waves at him. Maybe it was his general lack of self care catching up to him. Maybe it was God punishing him for existing. Who knows. Dean didn’t. All he knows is that he’s alone in the motel while Sammy runs to the store for supplies.
Weeeeeeeeelllllllllllllllllllllll, he’s not completely alone. There is Tiberius, this mighty named cat is approximately two pounds and all Sam’s fault. Sam found this random ass cat near Baby and demanded they take the fur ball in.
Dean is not the kind of guy to just punt the cat outside, he’s not that mean. He ain’t cleaning the litter box though. He has to draw some lines.
The black fur ball is easy enough to slip in their jackets when taking him outside so they don’t have to pay for extra fees at hotels. The cat usually hides in Sam’s bag, only coming out when there’s food or to take a piss.
In the last two months they’ve had the damn cat, Dean has only touched him once, his finger still hurts when he thinks about it. Tiberius is a literal scaredy cat. It took Sam two days to wash the cat and another week before he could freely pet him. Dean tried to pet him after Sammy held him, only to get bit, repeatedly. The fucker latched onto his finger so it took more time (a few more seconds) to get his hand free. Since then, Dean and Tiberius have given the other a wide berth.
Until now. Dean is laid up in bed, trying to find anything decent on TV while his nose is clogged to high heaven and his throat is made of sandpaper. He rescrolls the channels, hoping that somehow, magically, the shows will change into something halfway decent for him to sleep to. He feels a small weight at his feet but out of sight, “Tiberiussssssss?” He halfheartedly calls out. The cat successfully jumps up onto Dean’s legs, crawling up his body is his lanky way. Dean just stares at him, forgetting about the TV.
“Hiiiiiiiiiiiii.” Tiberius bumps his head against Dean’s chin, demanding pets. “Oh now you want pets.” He bumps his head against Dean’s again, harder. “Fine, fine.” Dean concedes, scratching his chin. Tiberius gets comfortable, pawing at Dean’s chest until he lays down, staring at Dean. Dean moves to petting his head as his energy dwindles.
Sam comes home an hour later to find Dean and Tiberius asleep together. He takes a picture on his shitty flip phone, and puts away the groceries, vowing to leave them alone for as long as he can.