*ominous music playing in the background*
Look!
Tag: dean winchester
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.
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…”
December 7th excerpt:
The placid, darkly amber liquid in the glass called to him. There was enough in there to fill a hot tub at Dean’s scale. Surely one drop wouldn’t be missed, more than enough for him to enjoy another cup of It.
Dean put a hand on the glass to help keep balance as he stood on his tiptoes to reach the rim and the drink calling for him beyond it. When it proved to be taller than he’d estimated from a distance, part of him started working on a solution, wondering if he could get a grip on the rim and pull himself up to fill his foil cup. The effort of holding himself suspended in midair like that didn’t put him off, knowing he had more than enough upper body strength, but the slick rim might prove to be difficult to grip.
Lestrade blinked in disbelief when he realized what Dean was after. Clearly the fella wanted a refill of his own, and planned to get it on his own. Watching his first attempt fail, Lestrade could practically see the wheels turning in Dean’s head and had a fairly good idea of what his next move might be.
December 6th excerpt:
The glass of whiskey was on Lestrade’s half of the table, guarded closely by one of the DI’s hands, but it hadn’t been picked up yet for a sip since being refilled. Dean gave himself at least five minutes before Lestrade remembered it, and started to edge towards that side of the table. Between Sherlock’s rambles and the drink buzzing inside him, Dean had an unnatural level of confidence in his ability to go unseen. The glass was only a little taller than he was, clearly he’d be able to reach the alcohol level inside to fill his cup again.
He’d earned this whiskey, dammit.
By the time he was halfway across the table, Dean had managed to tune both Sherlock and Lestrade completely out in lieu of his mission for a refill.
December 5th excerpt:
Realizing Lestrade had already helped himself to a second glass, Dean sent Sherlock a glare for failing to be a host and providing more whiskey.
With his options narrowed down to either interrupting Sherlock mid-story or securing his own second glass, Dean decided on the latter. Lestrade had that same glazed look that John adopted when Sherlock really got on a bend.
So, what if Dean’s curse turned him into a wolf and sent him to Wellwood? Would he be the pupper protector? Or guard dog?
Aww! He’d be a great guard dog for sure! He’d just be sent away to get his own meals when he needs to hunt. Can’t have him making the kiddos nervous! He loves them too much.
December 4th excerpt:
“I take it you have a few questions before you go,” said Sherlock curtly, setting down the glass he’d finally tracked down.
“I do, yeah…” Lestrade made a move to take the drink Sherlock poured, but the first thing the detective did was tilt the glass so that the drink was within reach for Dean. By the pointed gaze Sherlock was giving him, it was clear to Lestrade that he was being shown exactly who was first priority here. Lestrade couldn’t contest that either, so he sat back and folded his hands on the table in front of him, waiting for Dean to take his drink first.
Sentence appreciation: “Monster gets the gank, hero gets the girl, Sam rolls his eyes.” ❤
( Original post )
A perfect day for Dean. A+. Thanks!
December 3rd excerpt:
Lestrade, admittedly, lost himself in thought as he watched a person he thought he knew fairly well interacting with someone who, by all rights and laws of nature, shouldn’t exist. It was certainly a sight he never thought he’d see, and he couldn’t stop staring at Dean while the little fella’s attention was elsewhere.
Dean seemed American, which was definitely noteworthy, and fairly young. Lestrade couldn’t tell for sure, but he couldn’t be older than his mid-twenties. Everything about him was scaled down perfectly, from his boots to his jeans and jacket.
Curiosity got the better of Lestrade, and without putting much thought to it, he reached forward slowly to place his hand next to Dean, a few inches away. He stood his hand on its side, shifting his gaze between it and the tiny man to see how he measured up next to his palm.
OK so I know this title has been revealed months ago already but I was just thinking about how I’d tried to come up with titles that captured the essence of Dean snatching Jacob away so fast (hence “rapidly taken”) and another popped into my head. “Rude Tol”. That’s you, Dean. You’re the rude tol who stole Jakey from his family. Not cool, dude.
Somehow, Dean always ends up being the rude tol XD He tries his best, I promise!
He’s just an absolutely paranoid hunter at the same time.
Brothers Apart 