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December 14th excerpt:

Lestrade couldn’t hold in a chuckle anymore, curling his fingers back to be out of reach of Dean’s little punch before relaxing them back down to the table. “Forgot about me, did ya?” he said knowingly, a little too entertained by Dean’s drunken movements and ready to catch him in case his balance gave out on him.

“Did not! ” Dean protested with his fists clenched by his sides. His shoulders bunched up, along with his leather jacket, as he stood there looking like a cat with its hair on end.

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December 13th excerpt:

To say that Lestrade was bemused by all this would be an understatement. Now he was holding up two fingers. Evidently he couldn’t lift his middle finger as high as Dean wanted it independently, so the first one hovered just behind and above Dean. And while Lestrade was far from matching Dean’s level of drunk, his own whiskeys encouraged him to have a little fun.

Lestrade let his index finger curl in to gently settle on Dean’s head, mussing the teeny spike he’d styled it into.

image

Artwork by @mogadeer!

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December 12th excerpt: 

Letting go of that finger, Dean moved over to Lestrade’s middle finger, deciding he would simply continue until he found one that he was taller in comparison to. He couldn’t be shorter than all of them…

Right?

Lifting up this finger just like the first, he looked at Sherlock with slightly unfocused eyes. “How ‘bout now?” he asked, his accent thickened with a distinct slur.

Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically. “That one’s longer than the last.”

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December 11th excerpt:

That was when he remembered the fingers he was standing next to, and immediately went over to Lestrade’s index finger, wrapping two hands around to try and hoist it over his head. “What about this? Who’s taller?” Dean called, determined to find something he was taller than.

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December 10th excerpt:

“This lifeline’s longer than me!” Dean’s voice rang out from under Lestrade’s palm, aimed at Sherlock.

Lestrade arched his brow, glancing at Sherlock as soon as they both realized who Dean was speaking to. Addressing Sherlock as though Lestrade wasn’t there. They exchanged a look before their gazes dropped to the obvious culprit for Dean’s unusual behavior that neither had considered until then. The little tin cup Dean had abandoned with the rest of his things.

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December 9th excerpt:

Leaning over the fingernail, Dean looked closely at all the small ridges, and where the nail met the skin in the quick. He touched the hard surface of the nail itself with a finger, finding it nearly as thick as his pinky when he inspected the edges. Making a fist, Dean knocked against the top, cocking his head at how solid.

Wondering just how small his hand was in comparison, Dean spread his hand out on top of the nail, rueing the way it didn’t reach to the edges no matter how much he stretched.

Is the AU with mini Stan in the collective BAU? Or is it not? I know the bros are both normal sized, but that’s not really what dictates in or out.

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It is a part of the collective BAU series, and because of that ended up with a “Brothers” title. “Brothers Chosen” has its place in the multiverse, and soon enough we’ll let everyone in on what dictates what’s in and what’s not, because having the brothers cursed was only a small part of it really.

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December 8th excerpt:

Lestrade’s brow lifted slightly, following Sherlock’s gaze. He recognized the meandering steps, he’d seen it many times over in much larger individuals. “Doesn’t drink much, does he?” Lestrade inferred with a glance at Sherlock.

“No,” the detective answered tersely, keeping a sharp eye on his small friend.

Thinking of the bitty Stan AU and a previous answer… not only is Dean’s gonna notice pretty quick that Stan is a redhead and Irish… but also he is a smol. Smol redheaded Irishman. Obviously a leprechaun. Yep yep. Lucky for him he wasn’t also wearing all green when Dean grabbed him.

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Yeah, poor Stan when Dean thinks he’s a fae! The lil guy definitely has no hidden pots of gold, and really doesn’t appreciate the Winchesters running their tests on him to see what sort of supernatural creature he is.

Stan barely had time to curl into a ball and fret about what was going to happen to him before gravity shifted around him and the fingers keeping him trapped unfurled, leaving the little guy sprawled on his palm. He scrambled to sit up, freezing again under the gazes of two unknown humans now.

Sam stared as Dean opened his hand, revealing the tiny figure in the center of his palm. “Found ‘im when the witch tossed me,” Dean said, a trace of satisfaction slipping into his voice as he remembered the quick thinking reactions that had lead to the tiny guy’s capture. “Whatcha think he is? Some kind of leprechaun?” Shifting one of the fingers close to Stan, Dean lightly nudged the shock of red hair. “Maybe the witch made a deal with the fae…”