If Dean was the small one, he’d still be in charge. Sam grew up looking up to his older brother, and having him tiny wouldn’t change that a bit. It would be a lot like in Brothers Unexpected, where Sam gets adopted by Jacob’s family. Sam is much smaller than Jacob, but as the oldest, is also trusted to watch out for the kid and Jacob learns fast to listen to him (sweet tol teddy).
Not sure if we’ll ever get to writing a Brothers Together switchup, but it is a lot of fun to think about the Weechesters no matter who’s what size.
I got cling a couple times for Oscar, one by himself and another with another character that I will work on next. For now, have a cute little story that’s pretty much canon for Food and Monsters Oscar as well as Brothers Together Oscar and any au where he grows up in the Knight’s Inn motel.
Reading time: ~5 minutes
Oscar rarely had to improvise his hiding places like this. Normally, he made sure he took as few risks as he could, to avoid situations where he needed to. He trusted certain hiding places in the room every time: under the dresser, behind the nightstand, and, in a pinch, under a bed.
Just inside the cuff of a discarded sweater on the floor? He hated it.
His heart pounded as the floor shook. The human that stumbled around, occasionally grumbling with a headache, had come in the night before very drunk, and now he was paying for it. Oscar didn’t know what it felt like to be drunk or hungover, but from what he’d seen of the kinds of people that stayed in his motel, he wasn’t interested in finding out.
Usually they stayed asleep for much longer. Oscar had crept into the room in the dark well after the human flopped onto their bed, hoping to capitalize on the food spilled on the floor when they came in. They had never noticed that their takeout box didn’t land on the table when they put it down.
Of course, he couldn’t predict that they’d lurch off of the bed towards the bathroom. Oscar was lucky that the sweater was there while he stuffed his bag full of vegetables and pieces torn from a piece of soft bread.
He had to wait it out while the human figured out what they wanted to do, all from within the thick sleeve of the knit sweater. He counted their steps in the earthquakes and sighed. At least they weren’t cognizant enough to turn on the lights. He was out of sight.
The human knocked something over in the bathroom while they were in there. Oscar sighed heavily. Shampoo bottles, maybe an away kit or something like it, clattered to the floor. Then, following that, the ground shook all the way out into the motel room as the human dropped down to their knees to scrabble at the fallen items. In the dark.
This was an easier one. Oscar shimmied back out from his hiding place, peeking out across the floor just to be sure. He could see in the dark better than any drunk human could with the lights on.
With a huff, Oscar pulled himself the rest of the way out of the sleeve. He was glad no one had seen his startled dive.
Tufts of green fuzz from the sweater stuck to him. Oscar brushed them off and jogged towards the dresser. The human was muttering to themselves about how tough it was to find things in the dark. So far, they hadn’t thought to turn the light on and help their search along. Oscar let himself smile as he ducked out of sight and approached his wallpaper entrance to get into the walls.
He was halfway home before he noticed it. A tuft of green fuzz, the size of his head, clung to his shoulder. The static kept it there, but it was so light that he hadn’t noticed it. Oscar frowned and reached over to grab it. The static cling changed to his hand instead.
“Hey,” he muttered, shaking his hand vigorously. The fuzz moved to the back of his hand instead, resolutely sticking to him. Oscar huffed and stared at it as though it were a mischievous mouse pup. “Getoff.”
He grabbed the thing in his other hand and held it out in front of him, as far as his little arms could reach. When he let it go, it drifted downwards, but only for a second before veering back towards him. Oscar was startled, and he fell backwards in the dust.
The fuzz clung to his chest now.
Oscar pushed himself back up with a frown, and brushed the dust from his pants. The fuzz still clung to him. Static was powerful for someone so small. Trying to brush the thing down to the ground only got it stuck to his hand again, and shaking it off sent it drifting back to his side.
“You’re trouble,” he accused it in a hushed voice. Then, since it insisted on clinging to him despite all his efforts, Oscar continued on his way home.
Oscar didn’t have anyone to admit it to, but he wouldn’t be ashamed to say he liked when the decorations changed in the motel’s main office. There was hardly room for anything in there among the papers and the coffee machine and the outdated, clunky computer, but somehow the elderly woman in charge found places to mark the season.
From paper bats and pumpkins on the bulletin boards for Halloween to a Christmas tree barely two times Oscar’s size on the counter next to the worn bell, she did her best to make the place cozy. The motel wasn’t new and shiny like places depicted on the motel’s many mismatched TVs, but she did her best.
Oscar, whose life was monotonous to a fault, loved it.
It had been a long winter. The walls were frigid, especially at night, and Oscar had spent more time out of his little home than he usually dared. He had to lean against the metal air ducts that ran through the motel, just to borrow some warmth at times.
The tiny flowerpots with colorful pipe-cleaner-and-paper flowers stuck in them signalled that the world outside must be thawing. Oscar knew flowers meant Spring, and he couldn’t be more relieved.
The lady who ran the motel had brought in a shoebox that morning, filled with the tiny, cheap crafts. The flowerpots were half Oscar’s height, and the flowers were just taller than he. They brought a splash of color to the drab office of the motel.
They wouldn’t erase the dustiness, or the water damage on some of the ceiling tiles, or the squeaky sounds from the vents creaking, but they cheered the space and one hidden watcher immensely. Oscar lingered by the vent near the floor and watched her bustle around to find places for her little crafts. He didn’t need to stay; he’d already made sure there were no whispers of pest control or remodeling in the motel. And yet, with every flowerpot that found its home in the office, Oscar’s spirits lifted just a little more.
The bell over the door released a weak jingle as someone entered. The manager’s shoes stopped in their tracks, and then with speed that always surprised Oscar, turned to face the newcomer. Oscar glanced across the floor, past the underside of the desk, and recognized the sensible shoes of one of the maids.
“Señora,” the maid greeted. “Room thirteen, I didn’t do it, I swear.” She sounded flustered and Oscar frowned.
The manager, who always looked more severe than she really was, interrupted before the frazzled maid could talk herself out of breath like she sounded like she wanted to. “Marie, what is it?”
“A-a hole in the wall, miss. I went to clean, and it was there already,” the maid answered.
“Oh, dear,” the manager muttered. There was a rustling of paper as she made space to set down her box of decorations and stepped around the desk. Unbeknownst to her, one of the mini flowerpots plummeted to the floor and landed on the carpet with a faint thump that only Oscar heard.
His lips parted as the two humans left the room to assess the damage in one of the rooms (he thought he’d heard someone getting angry in thirteen the other night) and left the office empty. Oscar stared out at that fallen flowerpot, the paper face of the flower angled forlornly towards the ceiling, and chewed his bottom lip.
Several long minutes stretched out with no change, before Oscar finally slipped out of the vent, dropping the inch to the floor in a deft crouch. He might only be a kid, but he was good at staying quiet and moving like a shadow in and out of the motel rooms.
He ignored the looming furniture and the cluttered papers that hung partway over the edge of the desk far overhead. Oscar darted out as quickly as he could to where the flowerpot had fallen, his lungs working fast in time with his accelerated heartbeat. He might be good at this, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t primed for danger.
Oscar wasn’t sure why he decided this, but when he reached the quickly-made little craft, he hardly paused to look it over. As soon as he got to it, he walked around to one side and placed his hands on the gritty orange side of the little clay pot to roll it along. The paper flower rustled against the floor as he went.
It was slower going, but Oscar pushed that craft across the floor towards his vent. He’d bring it home, and put it to use. He could take the pipe cleaner and the pot for something, he was sure, and he could keep the paper flower as it was. There wasn’t much in his home to decorate it, nothing but ratty curtains hiding the pantry and his bedroom.
He was less than a foot away from the vent, pushing the cumbersome flowerpot along as quickly as he could, when tremors in the floor sent his heartrate up again. Oscar glanced over his shoulder for only an instant before hurrying around the flowerpot and dashing back towards the vent.
He made it into the safe darkness just as that bell jingled again. Oscar whirled around to make sure no one was rushing towards the wall where he hid, his eyes wide.
His abandoned flowerpot still lay on the floor where he left it. Out away from the desk, it would be easier to spot, but the shoes that walked into view across the room didn’t belong to anyone familiar. They strode along and then the harsh ring of the call bell filled the room several times, echoing around weirdly. A guest.
The management spotting him would be bad, but a guest would be worse. Guests could raise more hell than anyone, and the apparent hole in the wall in room thirteen was proof.
Oscar sighed, then turned away from the room. It wouldn’t do to linger on the flowerpot. He’d missed his chance at it, but at least he’d be able to see the nice springtime decorations if he came to spy on the office again.
Originally prompted from this post. This is another update on what Oscar’s up to in the Brothers Together AU. In this short, he’s about 18 years old.
Oscar was almost ready to doze off, but he forced himself to stay alert. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down in such a precarious spot. Even now, the shadows on the nearest wall shifted and moved with the humans in the room, humans that were only steps away from his hiding place at the most.
He stood behind the TV, feeling the constant buzz of electricity while someone on the other side of it reported the weather for the afternoon. Dust piled up there, on the surface of the dresser where no one usually bothered to look. It gave Oscar a better view of the table nearby, but it wasn’t as safe.
He usually waited down on the floor, underneath the dresser. In all of the motel rooms, under the dresser was the safest place. He was out of sight, and even the maids never had occasion to look down there.
Today, though, was special. Even the humans kept it marked on all of their calendars.
Oscar didn’t understand what it meant or why they celebrated it, but Thanksgiving came without fail every late fall, and he’d learned to capitalize on it as much as he could. With winter looming close and snow on the ground outside already, he needed to stock up on as much food as he could. Thanksgiving and the holiday close on its heels, Christmas, were the best opportunities for Oscar to gather supplies for the cold months.
They meant food and lots of it.
Food like the arrangement sitting barely a foot away from him, a salad tray crammed onto what little space the TV left on the dresser. Cheese, crackers, cucumbers, and carrots were within view just from there, and he could have sworn he saw tomatoes.
Fresh things were a rarity in the Knight’s Inn. Oscar would have to eat them quicker if he managed to snag some, but they would be worth it. He could store almost everything but the cheese to make it last.
Of course, he couldn’t make it out there just yet. There was a pair of humans across the room, watching the weather report absently. They had yet to return the lid to the food tray after sampling from it, but they hadn’t left the food unattended either. If Oscar tried for it now, he’d be in their line of sight.
A shudder ran down his spine. Oscar had only ever been caught once, and he couldn’t afford to risk letting it happen again. Next time, he might not find himself in the grasp of the one friendly human he’d ever meet.
Dean Winchester was long gone. Oscar hadn’t seen him or his younger brother Sam in ten years. Back then, they’d been torn away from him before he had a chance to even try to follow. They were unique, and he’d let them slip away by sleeping in one morning.
He was grateful for one thing. Oscar had made it to eighteen years of age, and he still had a spark of hope in his heart. Ten years hadn’t quite erased them from his memory, and when he found himself in need of cheering up, he could imagine Sam wandering into the walls to visit him in his house. Talking to him while he worked on his sewing, or coaxing him out into the open to visit Dean.
They were his only friends in the whole world. Oscar couldn’t remember what they sounded like, and their faces had become hazier in his memory every year, but they were still there. They’d always be there.
The bed creaked somewhere beyond the TV and Oscar flinched. He almost missed one human voice asking “You almost ready to go?” as one of the humans stood up.
A sleepy mumble was the only reply, and Oscar took a moment to calm his startled heart while there was a rustle of bedcovers and another creak. From the look of the shadows on the wall, one human had stood. The other had flopped over on the bed entirely, too comfortable to go.
There was a heavy sigh, a voice tinged with annoyance that sounded so much scarier from a giant human. “Fine, a few more minutes, but once I get out of the bathroom we’re going. Your aunt hasn’t seen you since last year.”
Oscar waited for a reply, but none came. The human that spoke walked across the room, his shadow stalking along the wall. When the bathroom door clicked shut, Oscar took his cue.
He edged towards the side of the TV hastily. One surreptitious glance around it showed that another human had indeed buried themselves in the covers on the bed, an ornery stand against going anywhere for Thanksgiving. Why they’d want to avoid such a feast was beyond him, but Oscar didn’t question it. Instead, he darted out into the open.
Leaving a hiding place always came with a burst of adrenaline that threatened to steal his balance away. Oscar had to fight to keep focused, and he did by fixing his eyes on the food arrayed in front of him. He’d waited for the day all year.
He skidded to a halt at the edge of the sampler tray and immediately grabbed an entire cracker from the top of the pile. He knew the routine; they never missed stuff like this. His other hand was already dragging a baby carrot closer before he set his bag down to start loading it up.
He had a spare bag that he used for days like this. It was larger than his usual cloth sling, but not as easy to carry. He had more room to stuff the cracker and carrot inside, and then stand up for a small piece of cheese to go along with it. Oscar worked fast, never taking more than one of any kind of food on the tray from what he could reach. He even managed to tug free a few small sprouts from a tuft of broccoli.
Next, he threw the flap over the top of his hoard of food and hoisted it up. His cloth shoes scrambled against the dusty dresser top as he turned and darted back to his hiding place in time for the bathroom door to swing open once more. He’d made it.
Oscar grinned and imagined showing off his haul to his friends. Sharing Thanksgiving with someone would be nice for once, but Oscar only had his memories to join him at his table once again. Despite the loneliness that stretched out behind him and on forever in front of him, he was grateful at least for that.
Sam threw out his arms, but he was too late to catch his balance after the table shook.
John and Bobby didn’t notice, too caught up in their argument about chasing down the witch again, and the tiny ten year old tipped backwards from the table, his footing lost.
The freefall only lasted seconds.
Dean shouted in surprise, the powerful sound echoing around Sam’s delicate ears. The teenager launched himself, hitting the ground and sliding under Sam’s falling body to catch him between two gentle hands.
Sam hit the plush ground with an uff, and he rolled to his stomach, briefly freezing up as the hands closed around him.
This only lasted the moments it took Dean to stand back up, cradling his little brother like he was the most precious gem in the world and glaring at Bobby and John, who’d stopped their argument the moment Dean had thrown himself into the air.
“We’re going out,” Dean announced angrily, stalking from the room with his little brother and ignoring the protests behind him.
They would bicker forever about the results to that one, since perspective is such a bitch to figure out in that type of scenario. Good thing BA Sam already has solid proof he’s the tallest, and BT Dean went through all the trouble of figuring out a scale for his little brother so one day he’s going to measure Sam and discover his ‘little’ bro has inched his way up to taller than Dean.
The other Sams could use a way to strut their height compared to their older brothers.
Family Ties will be wrapping up 10/23, so it’s time for another vote! And this time, things will get crazy.
A.
Like a Moth to Flame
B. Sam of Wellwood
C. First Hunt
D. The Water’s Fine
E. Bothering Bowman
–To vote, send in an ask. Anonymous voting is allowed, but remember if any votes are spammed, anonymous asks won’t be counted. Voting will also be enabled on deviantart shortly.
The poll closes Friday, October 21st at 6pm est to give us time to prepare the story for posting. Be sure to get your vote in before then! Once it’s over, no votes will be accepted.
The only way to find out for sure which storyline each story is from is to vote it in and see!
–Special note: Brothers Consulted, the horror story and the giant Jacob story are not a part of this poll. All will come in time.
I’ve thought about this myself! I can’t imagine trying to write Oscar as a human at any point, but it’s too fun to think about what superpower it would give him anyway.
I ended up with pyrokinetics! Oscar would be able to create little flames and control them to a degree. Can you imagine him discovering that? One second he’s got a tiny fireball in his hand and he doesn’t know what to do with it. Looking around at Sam and Dean like halp!
It might have gotten eaten (*shakes fist at tumblr*), though if it was sent in as a prompt it might not have been answered because I’m so buried under life I don’t have the energy for prompts unless I’m hella inspired.
We definitely have more ideas for BT, like the Oscar shorts that come out from time to time. He’s not been forgotten! For myself, I’m not sure if I’ll be doing anything more with the young bros in BT (though there’s lots planned with the young bros in BU), but there will be stories from their adulthood.
Sam would try and hide nightmares like that from Dean as much as he could. He won’t want his older brother to feel bad just because he’s so big. A good nightmare deterrent will be spending the night sleeping in a pocket, very warm and safe, though Dean won’t willingly let him the first time, thinking of all the things that could go wrong (like him rolling over), and he’ll probably wake up one morning with Sam all curled up in there after a nightmare.
Brothers Apart 