June 9th excerpt:
Jacob was frozen, stuck once again between fear and confusion by the man’s actions. He could hardly lean away from the fingertip against half his face, though he did what he could. Of all things that could have happened, this was the least expected. He could have been enclosed in a tighter fist, or shoved into a pocket to be trapped and out of sight and earshot. Instead, he was simply shushed.
June 8th excerpt:
The brothers only remained up for a few more minutes. Dean did a quick check of Sam’s temperature and made sure no new injuries had cropped up during the harsh night.
Once he declared Sam as fit as he could in the dark (and Sam grew tired of Dean’s mothering), they pushed the napkin with the remains of the food to the side, both took one last drink of water to help re-hydrate after the harsh day, and then curled into the folds of the handkerchief.
June 7th excerpt:
“Dean…” Sam said under his breath, nudging his brother in the arm. “Dean!”
Groaning, Dean tried shifting away, taking part of the handkerchief with him. “Go to sleep, Sammy,” he mumbled tiredly.
June 6th excerpt:
Only one thing left to do, and that was move the boys. Here John was especially attentive, eyes locked on Sam and Dean to see if he was jostling them. He slowly nudged them across the surface of the desk and into the palm of his hand. Then he cupped his free hand under them and walked as smoothly as humanly possible. He didn’t dare wake them.
June 5th excerpt:
Stan paused and looked back at Dean, trying to ignore the pang in his stomach when he saw how small the fella looked on his counter. “You don’t have any food allergies, do you?”
Dean shook his head. “No,” he said truthfully. “Just… cats.” He flushed red, hoping Stan didn’t mind the extra information.
June 4th excerpt:
“So, er, what’s your name?” Stan asked, reluctant to call him by a name on a tank. “I’m Stan.”
“Oh, um,” Dean hadn’t expected this question from Stan. His name– most of his name– was on the side of the cage he was in when they first met. Stan could use it, he could decide to change it, and instead he was asking Dean.
Maybe he just wanted to hear Dean say it?
With an internal shrug of what can you do? Dean tilted his head back to meet Stan’s gaze. “Dean Win– Dean Wire.”
Artwork by @wolfie180g!
@torchmlp guessed it, so we all get to read it! #lald is short for Live and Let Die, a saying that Stan Baker will hold in his heart after how his life changes because of two hunters and their intrusion on his life!
Just when Stan was about to fall asleep, a fingertip brushed against the tiny flame of hair. Stan was instantly alert, propping himself up on an elbow to look up at Nicholas expectantly to see what he wanted.
“Do you love me, Stan?” Nicholas asked, leaning down so his eyes were closer to Stan’s level.
“Yessir,” Stan answered without hesitation.
“And are you happy with me?”
“Yessir.”
The witch would ask these questions every once in a while, like a test of Stan’s loyalty. Of course Stan was loyal to Nicholas. It didn’t matter if the witch was volatile, if any little thing could set him off and provoke him to punish Stan in one way or another.
He was all Stan had in the world.
June 3rd excerpt:
The bottle wobbled under his foot and Dean caught the edge of the box and clung to it, taking a second to find his footing. His knees shook and he put all his effort into the hold he had on the box, standing straight.
Even standing on the bottle, the edge of the box was high compared to him, but Dean knew he could clear it.
Taking a deep breath to prepare, Dean pushed off with both feet, swinging his legs over the edge in one smooth, athletic motion. He twisted in midair, getting his feet beneath him when he landed safely on the other side. All that disrupted his triumphant move was a grimace of pain from his bruises, stiffly putting a hand on his back to straighten in place.
June 2nd excerpt:
Stan chewed his lower lip, the little guy’s evident fear eating at him. He never wanted to scare Dean, if that was even his real name. He tried offering a small smile in the hopes of reassuring the borrower.
“Let’s getcha out of there,” Stan murmured.
June 1st excerpt:
For some reason, Stan was drawn to the kitchen toward the front of the house. There was a granite island there that was set higher up than the dinner table, seemingly an ideal place for Stan to get acquainted with the person he’d be essentially forcing to live with him.
He set the box almost reverently down on the counter, and he tried his best not to jostle it as he opened it up and tentatively peered inside.
“So, ah. Hi,” Stan greeted lamely.
Brothers Apart 