You stand outside Dean’s room. You were about to knock and check in on him, but as you press your ear to the door, you hear it: soft, high-pitched coos and giggles. Curiosity piqued, you crack the door open just enough to peek inside.

There, sprawled out on the floor, is Dean. His voice is nothing like the gruff tone he uses when talking to people: it’s light, almost childlike, as he speaks to the tiny kitten in his lap. “Who’s a good boy, huh? You are, yes you are,” Dean says, ruffling the kitten’s fur, and the kitten purrs in response, batting at his hand playfully. “Yeah… you’re gonna be tough just like your old man huh?”

Your eyebrows raise. This was the same guy who’d been adamant about how “gross” cats were, how they smelled, and how they’d never be as loyal or cool as a dog. Little rats is what he called them. Yet here he is, completely enamored with the little guy, making baby sounds you didn’t even know he could make. You lean against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I thought cats were gross?” you tease, leaning in the doorway.

Dean jumps, but when he sees it’s just you, he quickly covers it up with his usual gruff attitude. “Hey, I never said I liked the little rat,” he grumbles, though the kitten is still playing in his lap, purring contentedly.

“Right,” you say, stepping into the room with a raised eyebrow. “So you just happen to be talking to him like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you?”

Dean gives a shrug, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “He’s… not that bad. Could use a little more muscle though. Had to show him the ropes.” You cross your arms, watching the two of them. Dean never would’ve admitted it, but you could see it now: the soft spot he had for that tiny kitten. The kitten had won him over.

“The ropes of what? Snuggling?” You smirk. Poking again with a shit eating grin.

“Shut up, this doesn’t make me a cat person,” he says, but it’s clear that any argument left in him has already been lost.