Aw, I know just how you feel! Dean is so hard to write tiny because he’s so hard to get right tiny. His protective big brother streak is such an integral part of him, it’s not going to up and vanish just because of some curse, no matter that his brother is now obnoxiously big.
Conclusion coming today!
January 12th excerpt:
John stiffened when Dean started climbing on him. That was a new one, and he couldn’t help but stare for a moment while Dean ran across his thigh, seemingly intent on getting up on his own.
January 10th excerpt:
Sherlock leaned in as Dean moved away, shifting to his knees and propping a hand on the dirty floor for stability. He was trying to emulate Dean’s line of sight as closely as he could, and puzzle out just what his small companion thought he saw down there.
A small amount of odd discoloration in the dirt along the wall had just caught his eye as Dean looked over his shoulder in annoyance. “Do you have to hover?” he griped up at Sherlock, jerking his head at his shadowed path.
Sherlock’s brow furrowed, looking more than a little offended by the complaint. While he could see he was casting a shadow over Dean, the detective gave a small huff as he pushed himself to his feet. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he side-stepped out of the way of the light, letting it wash over Dean and his goal, and leaned a shoulder against the nearby wall. He gave a flat look and a shrug, as if to say That enough space for you?
January 9th excerpt:
Dean jabbed Sherlock in the neck. “Give me a hand,” he asked, hoping to avoid the trial of climbing down a human.
Sherlock blinked at the tiny pokes from the man on his shoulder, promptly lifting a hand for Dean to climb onto. Stan’s brow lifted a fraction as he watched the strange pair with unveiled curiosity. The action was so simple, yet it reminded Stan of just how small Dean Winchester actually was. Nearly all of Sherlock’s fingers outsized him, and somehow he could walk onto that hand seemingly without trepidation. Stan had to admire the amount of bravery that must take, entrusting someone so large with your fate.
“Where to?” Sherlock muttered, feeling rather like a taxi. A human taxi for a very small man. His eyes darted around the room, trying to follow Dean’s gaze in case he found something important.
January 8th excerpt:
“As far as I’m concerned, I’m the normal one in the car. It’s you two that are the giants. And I think I’m adorable.”
Stan had to laugh at that, light and friendly. He wasn’t ridiculing Dean’s perspective, but basking in the relaxed banter going on between them. Once he was assured Dean did exist, his next concern was how he would be to work with. He imagined someone so small would find human beings monstrously large.
Despite being outright called a giant by Dean, Stan didn’t feel like a monster at all.
January 5th excerpt:
“Dean! ” Sherlock called, cutting off John’s comment as he took long strides toward the kitchen. It was the most likely place they’d find the tiny man. Sherlock had no doubt the Winchesters’ food supply had been greatly depleted that night and would need to be refilled.
Biting back a cringe at the volume of Sherlock’s voice, John heaved a weary sigh as he followed his flatmate.
The silence in the kitchen shattered, Dean burst out from behind the glassware on the countertop, looking more frazzled than normal. His duffel was discernibly thicker than before, and a biscuit hung out of his other arm. Clearly, he had been busy in the time since they’d seen him last.
“What?! ” Dean hissed. “And, what the hell?! How do you possibly always know where I am? It’s ruining my mystique!”
I did some calculations to figure out how much smol Sam and smol Dean weigh, just cause.
November 20th excerpt:
Long fingers that outsized Dean closed in around the young man, sealing him off from Sam. It happened too fast for him to react, and then he felt the thick, leathery skin bump against his back, sweeping him up into a light, casual grasp that left Dean’s stomach somewhere behind him. The world moved around him fast enough for his vertigo to hit with a vengeance, making his face start to turn green.
There isn’t a full AU for it, but there was a prompt way back a year ago that I wrote for Dean (It was called Cursed Dean at the time). I probably won’t be able to find the time to do anything more with it, but there’s the possibility of a collaborative AU with neon where Sam is the tall one and Dean is the small one.
Dean’s hand went to his amulet, the memory of his younger brother, big hazel eyes staring hopefully at him as he opened the gift coming back as clear as day. He would never risk taking it off, afraid of losing it to an errant gust of air, or slipping into a crack to vanish forever.
After all, that same brother was now a towering giant, wherever he might be. If he found Dean, he would simply catch his older brother and drop him into a cage. Maybe worse, depending on the way their dad had trained him. Dean would cling to those memories like a lifeboat, knowing he’d never see Sam again.
Sammy…
Those memories would never leave him, but here and now he needed to stay sharp. He came up to the end of the vent, suspended up in the air almost six feet. The design of the motel had never made sense to him, but who was he to question it?
No one would listen to a man that stood under four inches tall.
Dean leaned against the grate, staring out into the immense motel room.
The vertigo hit him, as it always did, but this was more important than his fears or the thought of getting teased because he was afraid of heights. Those eyes, seen so briefly in the room earlier, haunted him. Soft, familiar hazels that forced his mind into the past, to a time before he’d been cursed. So many years ago now… soon he would have lived over half his life under this infernal curse.
At the table below, the man that had checked in earlier was sitting with a dusty old book. One huge hand turned the page with a loud crinkle, smoothing it carefully down. Fluffy brown hair was scattered messily about, in clear need of a good brush. Dean’s hand went to his own hair instinctively, trying to fix his spiky style. Cutting it himself didn’t make it easy, but he persevered.
While Dean was distracted, he accidentally leaned too much of his weight on the grate. With a loud, echoing Creak! the air vent slid shut, sending him to his knees without warning. He slammed into the metal ground with a loud (to his ears) thump.
He froze.
For a long, heart-stopping moment, there was nothing but silence.
Then, it came. The most terrifying sound he could have heard.
A shifting of fabric in the motel room outside indicated the human standing. “Hello?” rumbled a curious voice from outside, making Dean shiver once with worry. The human was tall enough to see into the vent while standing if he wanted to, and if he realized what was hiding from him in there…
Dean didn’t move, simply trying to wait it out. The human would just assume he heard the motel settling, just like anyone else. No reason to check the vent, no way to see Dean in there.
No such luck.
There was a creak from the vent again. The human was moving it. He needed to get out of there, now. If he got caught by such a huge human, the largest he’d ever seen, there would be no hope of escape.
Dean went to run, and fell flat on his back. His satchel! When the grate had closed it had snagged the strap, effectively trapping the small human.
Original Ask || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7
Rumsfeld certainly had a time seeking out Sam and Dean while they were busy hiding in the walls… Dean finally had to give in and give him scritches in the end.
From The Road Not Taken.
Artwork by the wonderful @homeiswheretheheartsare!
Brothers Apart 