A strange stillness hung over the motel room. Dean Winchester wasn’t sprawled across the bed in his usual brash, cocky manner. Instead, he sat perched delicately, almost primly, his fingers brushing against the long, drooping ears that had sprouted from his head. A fluffy tail extended from the base of his spine, twitching every so often with a little hop. The result of last night’s hunt—a witch’s curse—had left Dean half-rabbit. Across the room, Sam sat hunched over his laptop, scouring the internet for a way to break the spell, when Dean’s voice pulled his attention upward.

“Sammy… I’m kinda hungry. I want veggies… like carrots or something…”

Dean’s tone was soft, almost whiny, as he wiggled those droopy ears. Sam blinked, wide-eyed, staring at his brother as if he’d just spoken in tongues. Vegetables Dean The same Dean who’d spent years arguing that potatoes didn’t count as vegetables, that a cow might eat grass but steak was still meat, and who’d stubbornly refused Sam’s every attempt to get him to eat something green Sam couldn’t help but think—though he’d never say it aloud—that he almost owed the curse a thank-you. If only Dean could always be like this, it’d make life easier. But for Dean, the guy who’d rather starve than touch a salad, to crave carrots The curse wasn’t just skin-deep—it was sinking its claws into his instincts, too.

“Dean, you don’t even eat vegetables normally,” Sam said, half-skeptical, half-exasperated. “What happened to your burgers”

Dean pulled his knees up on the bed, fixing Sam with a look that could’ve been ripped straight from Sam’s own playbook—those pleading, puppy-dog eyes. “Nah… I’m a rabbit now, see I want carrots… Please, Sammy.”

The innocence in his expression was disarming. Sam muttered under his breath, “Seriously… it’s the curse,” and reluctantly stood up.

“Fine. I’ll go get some. Cas, keep an eye on him.”

“Understood,” Castiel replied with his usual gravelly calm.

Sam grabbed his jacket and stepped out of the motel, his demeanor screaming annoyance. But deep down, unspoken, a tiny thought bubbled up: *Dean begging for vegetables… it’s hilarious, but kinda cute.* He slid into the Impala’s driver’s seat and headed for the nearest market, stocking up on pesticide-free carrots, lettuce—anything that fit the bill. The passenger seat, usually his spot, was now occupied by a paper bag stuffed with greens. He could almost hear Dean griping, *“Don’t let those dirt-smelling things ride in my Baby”* complete with that signature mix of irritation and sass.

---

Sam returned to the motel, arms laden with a bag overflowing with carrots and lettuce. “Dean, here’s your precious carrots,” he announced, swinging the door open.

He froze. His brain short-circuited at the sight before him. Dean was plastered against Castiel on the bed, those rabbit ears—matching the sandy hue of his hair—flickering as he murmured, “Cas… feels good…” in a syrupy, needy voice. Castiel, cradling Dean in the folds of his trench coat, ran gentle fingers over Dean’s head, stroking those droopy ears. Every time Dean’s fluffy tail brushed against Castiel’s thigh, or Castiel’s fingertips traced the curve of an ear, a soft, “Kuu… kuu…” slipped from Dean’s throat—sweet little noises that sounded far too intimate for Sam’s liking.

Blood roared in Sam’s ears, a hot flush of something—anger jealousy—threatening to boil over. What the hell was he looking at What were they *doing* His rational mind had checked out, leaving nothing but raw emotion in its wake.

“Dean You sent me out shopping so you could cozy up with Cas”

“S-Sam…” Dean stammered, startled.

Sam slammed the bag of vegetables onto the table, not bothering to hide the jealousy and fury churning in his chest as he glared daggers at the pair. Castiel opened his mouth, likely to calm him down, but one look at Sam’s face told him it’d only make things worse. He stayed silent, opting to let the storm blow over.

“I went out of my way to buy you carrots, and you’re over here flirting with an angel…” Sam growled, his voice tight with indignation.

Dean, oblivious to Sam’s wrath, melted further into Castiel’s touch, eyes half-lidded with contentment. That innocent, needy gaze, the vulnerable tilt of his throat, all directed at Castiel—it lit a spark of mischief in Sam, dark and petty. He couldn’t hold it back.

“Dean Don’t get too full of yourself”

He lunged forward, seizing Dean’s fluffy tail in a vice grip, squeezing it like it was some toy he could crush. Dean yelped, “Hyaah” his body jolting as a shockwave of sensation ripped through him.

“Sammy… stop… ngh” Dean’s protest melted into a shaky moan, his vision flickering as the overwhelming feeling coursed from his tail up his spine. His limbs went slack, and he instinctively clung to Castiel for support.

“Cas… help…” Dean’s voice was a husky, trembling whisper, his droopy ears quivering as he pressed his face into Castiel’s chest, clutching the edge of that trench coat.

“Kuu… Cas… feels good…” The words dripped with a sultry edge, his rabbit instincts fully in the driver’s seat.

Castiel, flustered, murmured, “Dean, what’s wrong” as he brushed a hand over Dean’s head. His fingers grazed those sensitive ears, and Dean let out a needy, “Kuun…” curling tighter against him.

“This… must be the curse,” Castiel said softly, though his resolve wavered at the sight of Dean’s rare, unguarded sweetness. Dean nuzzled closer, arms wrapping around Castiel’s waist as he purred, “Cas… I want… more…” His hips rocked faintly, rubbing against Castiel in a way that was far too suggestive—almost like a stripper working a stage. His lips parted, eyes glassy and molten with desire.

Dean slid his arms around Castiel’s neck, leaning in until his breath ghosted over the angel’s ear. “Cas… I need you… touch me more…” he whispered, voice thick with want as he pressed himself closer. The heat of his body seeped through Castiel’s coat, his ragged exhales sending a shiver down the angel’s spine. It was intoxicating—beautiful and sensual in a way that mocked any hope of resistance, threatening to drag even an angel into the mire of temptation.

“Dean… this isn’t you,” Castiel rasped, his voice heavy with confusion. He shot a desperate glance at Sam. “Sam, what do I do”

Sam, eyes fixed on his laptop, replied coolly, “Why don’t you indulge him You’re the one who spoiled him, Cas.” His tone was a brittle mix of anger and detachment. “Whatever you do with Dean, I’m just here to break the curse.” He had to draw that line—had to convince himself of it—because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure what he’d do to his brother, lost in that angel’s arms. The storm of emotions swirling in his chest—rage, jealousy, bewilderment—was driving him to the edge of sanity.

Castiel looked down at Dean’s pleading, tear-bright eyes, his heart twisting at the pained longing there. “Lustful acts are forbidden for an angel… Dean’s not himself; it’s the curse,” he told himself firmly. But when Dean whimpered, “Cas… please… fill me…” and rolled his hips again, the urge to give in—to satisfy that desperate need—surged within him. He clenched his jaw, resisting, and instead stroked Dean’s ears gently.

“Dean, hold on. Sam will fix this,” he murmured, pulling Dean’s head against his chest. Dean whined, “Kuun… Cas…” his body trembling with unfulfilled desire.

---

Sam finished skimming the lore and leapt to his feet. “The cure’s bay leaves and salt” he declared. He darted to the kitchenette, lit a handful of bay leaves, and sprinkled salt over Dean while chanting the incantation. Smoke swirled around Dean, and in an instant, the ears and tail vanished.

“Ugh… what the…” Dean blinked, human again.

“You’re back, Dean” Sam grinned, relief washing over him. Castiel nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “The curse is lifted.”

Dean rubbed his face, frowning. “What the hell was I doing” His memory was foggy, but a vague sense of embarrassment lingered—something about Castiel’s warmth and Sam’s furious glare echoing in his mind.

Sam dangled a carrot in front of Dean’s face, smirking. “You begged for veggies, remember”

Dean’s cheeks flushed. “I was a rabbit Gross.” Castiel tilted his head, his voice soft. “You were… remarkably charming.”