Chapter Text
Dean was a happy cat.
He also was super special, he knew. Orange, the plush kind, slightly-too-round specimen, the kind that wobbled when he walked and left a faint dust of hair wherever he went. His fur shimmered gold in the sunlight, and his tail flicked with the lazy confidence of someone who knew every inch of his territory.
Even when Sam, his human, had an annoying habit of weighing him every few weeks and muttering things like “portion control” whenever giving Dean his meal, he was happy and Sam was tolerable.
He filled the food bowl, let Dean nap on his laptop, and had a girlfriend named Eileen who had a kinda funny voice, but smelled like lavender and always scratched under Dean’s chin just right. Also, she was a veterinarian, and Sam met her when he took Dean to be fixed.
Sad day. Very, very sad day for Dean. But, he got extra treats out of it for five days…
Then Sam put him on diet food. Again.
Piugh.
Worst food ever.
But, the good side was that he knew every inch of the building. Which stairs creaked, which hallway carpets were the warmest, and which neighbors were suckers for his cute green eyes and desperate, underfed yowl.
Mrs. Jody upstairs? A saint. Gave him apple pie every Sunday.
Benny in 5B? A legend. Shared bits of hamburger while watching tv, calling Dean “brother” like they were war veterans or something. And when his girlfriend visit? God above, Andrea's nails were heaven.
So, yeah, Dean was living the dream.
He was happy. His human, hard to admit, but was nice to him. And Dean protected Sam from cockroaches. So yeah, a good relationship.
And then he smelled it.
It was a Tuesday. Dean was grooming himself in the hallway, one hind leg stretched high in the air, ass at full display when it hit him, a scent so new, so crisp and out-of-place it made him freeze mid-lick. His tongue stuck out, forgotten. He sniffed again.
Clean.
Cool.
Dean didn’t know what “designer cologne” was, he had heard Sammy talk about it, but he was pretty sure this was the cat version of it.
The scent floated down the hall of the fifth floor like silk. Dean’s ears perked. His tail straightened. He waddled a few steps forward, nose twitching. The smell was coming from the door across the hall — Eileen’s place.
But she lived alone?
The sound of soft footsteps came from behind the door. Then, the gentle jingle of a bell. Dean crouched low, eyes wide.
The door opened.
And there he was.
White fur, smooth as satin and so, so fluffy. Eyes like still water. A long, elegant tail that moved with the precision of a metronome. The other cat didn’t even look at Dean — he stepped outside with all the poise of a prince descending a staircase, nose high, paws silent on the floor.
Dean’s mouth opened slightly.
What… was that?
The newcomer turned slowly. Their eyes met.
Dean puffed up instantly, like instinct demanded he look 10% more impressive than usual. He straightened his back, puffed up his chest, and let out a soft meow. Not a desperate one. Not a hiss — too rude. Just a tiny sound. A greeting.
The blue-eyed cat blinked once. Slowly.
Then turned and walked away.
Dean stood frozen in place.
He had been dismissed.
And that, obviously, meant only one thing.
He was in love.