Sam gets back to the bunker, hours after he said he would be home. And while Dean had just been doing research, he’d also been doing it alone, which wasn’t the best of times.
“What the hell, Sammy? You said you’d be home ages ago. Get caught in traffic?” He scoffed, eyes rolling when he leaned back against his chair. “What’s in the box, anyways?”
Sam smirked in reply, sliding a rather large box onto the table.
“Well Dean. I’m really sick of you complaining about not getting any ‘pussy’,” He enunciated, air quotes included. “So I got you a few instead.”
With one hand, Sam pulled open the top of the cardboard and out spilled four young kittens, mewling and skittering across the table.
Dean would’ve been lying if he said that they didn’t make him sneeze five times an hour, and that he didn’t name all of them after comic book heroes. But hey- just couldn’t help it.