May 21st excerpt:
Jacob sat at the bottom of the pocket for a long while, letting his food settle and trying not to think about the fact that he was stowed in a pocket. If he closed his eyes, it almost felt like a hammock. A hammock with a huge heart pounding not far away and a sway lent to it by huge lungs filling with air, but a hammock nonetheless. The sensations filled him with unease. Jacob wondered how he’d ever get used to this.
May 20th excerpt:
Before Jacob could react, his leg was snagged between two fingers so Dean could peer at the tiny boots. “Where did you manage to get boots your size?” he asked curiously, squinting down at them and realizing he could even see miniscule treads on the bottom.
Jacob, dazed by being picked up so quickly, propped himself up on his elbows and tried to pull his leg free of Dean’s grip. The human had a fascinated look on his face, which was of course very close now that Dean had decided to act on his curiosity. Jacob hadn’t even had time to sputter out a protest before his leg was snared in gigantic fingers.
It felt so ridiculously small compared to Dean’s hands. He could try to scoot himself backwards on Dean’s hand, or maybe even sit himself up more. But it was difficult to have any effect, and Jacob began to wonder if his extra strength was even there at all for a moment.
May 19th excerpt:
A piece of shredded lettuce as long as his arm landed within an inch of Jacob when Dean took a particularly large bite, and Jacob flinched, coming right out of his thoughts. He shot a flat look upwards as an automatic reaction, but quickly returned to focusing on his food. At least nothing had actually landed on him.
When he’d wolfed down a decent portion of the food Dean gave him, Jacob set the remainder aside and picked up the bottle cap again. Giving it one more try, he found that it had settled enough for him to drink it without the carbonation posing a problem.
May 18th excerpt:
He couldn’t help but notice he’d have to walk closer to Dean to get to that food. Jacob inched forward, watching his footing on the denim and trying not to think about it. It shouldn’t matter; he was clearly already in reach, standing on the man’s leg. It just made that broad chest rise steeper in front of him, and it put him below Dean’s arm as he worked on his own lunch.
May 17th excerpt:
Jacob swayed in time with the car’s turn, gripping the pocket with white knuckled hands. He pursed his lips, doing his best to keep his mind off the huge stomach so nearby that occasionally voiced its hunger. He knew logically that he wasn’t in much danger from that, at least, but all the same it was unnerving to be so close to the sound when he knew he’d fit in Dean’s mouth. As the rumbling car pulled around the corner, Jacob took a slow breath.
May 16th excerpt:
The humming, and eventually, the singing along, seemed so strange to Jacob. It was a casual reminder that for Dean, driving around like this was no huge deal at all. He could pick up and leave to wherever he wanted at any time. Jacob remembered enjoying road trips. In fact, he’d been on one when he was cursed by that witch and condemned to live at the size of a finger.
Jacob frowned as the sound of Dean’s singing along rumbled out of the chest he sat next to. It practically drowned out the sound of the radio, despite being somewhat quiet by Dean’s standards. Without even thinking about it, Jacob jabbed an elbow into Dean’s chest in disapproval of his rendition.
He immediately regretted it. Jacob had seen Dean smirk at him being defiant before, when the human found him punching the vase to be very entertaining. But he’d also had the vase slammed back down around him when he tried to escape, nearly taking his hands off in the process. There was no way to know how Dean would react.
May 14th excerpt:
The creak of a car door opening, so familiar in his not-so-distant memory, made Jacob freeze. He clung desperately to the weave of the fabric around him as Dean’s body shifted and angled with the motions of getting into a car. Jacob had never imagined he’d learn what that felt like to pocket change. He flinched at the sound of the door slamming closed again, and the silence afterwards closed in around him.
“D-Dean, please,” Jacob blurted, trying again to stand in the pocket now that only Dean’s breathing and heartbeat disturbed it. He was mostly successful, by clinging to the fabric and twining his fingers between the threads.
May 13th excerpt:
The chest pocket on his jacket provided the answer. Dean flipped open the flap of the pocket and judged the size of the fabric enclosure compared to the person in his hand. If anything, Jacob was small enough to fit with room to spare. Perfect.
Dean gave a sigh as he lowered a struggling Jacob into the pocket. “It’ll be safer in here. That way no one else will see you.” His fingers released the kid, dropping him the last inch down. Just to be safe, Dean buttoned the pocket up. He didn’t want to risk the kid trying to jump down from so high up. If he didn’t notice a foolhardy stunt like that in time, he could get seriously injured or hurt.
“Milk for growing bones!” the bartender announced, dropping two cups off at the tiny bar for the young Sam and Oscar where they stood.
“What’s your story, kid?” called the smaller Dean from his spot. He patted the seat next to him. “C’mon! Join us!”
Oscar looked up from his hands, where he was counting out how many people were at the bar now. Realizing that the Dean over there– a Dean at his scale!– was talking to him, he perked up in surprise. “O-okay,” he answered, glancing to his Sam curiously.
There sure were a lot of Sams and Deans to keep track of.
He started towards the bar and finally noticed the biggest person there was watching him. His head tilted back to meet Jacob’s curious but gentle gaze. Even from up on the bar, he was huge.
“Hey, bud,” Jacob greeted as quietly as he could. His deep voice still startled the absolutely minuscule child. Oz couldn’t be much more than two inches, even smaller than the young Sam walking with him.
“Um. Hi!” Oscar replied, before finally reaching the bar. Scrambling up onto the stool next to the small Dean, he had to grip the edge to keep from spinning around on the stool. As fun as that sounded, he had at least one thing to set straight.
He stared in awe at the Dean his size. Still a much taller man. “I’m Oscar, ” he said, making sure the guy at least knew his actual name before the nickname sank in.
“And he’s shortstop,” regular Dean put in from behind their seats, smirking as his tiny doppelgänger’s annoyed scowl.
“My name is not shortstop!” he snapped up at Dean. “At least my ass ain’t the size of Texas! ”
“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” Dean said dryly, a wry grin across his face as he needled his tiny double.
“Dean, chill,” his Sam sighed, pushing against the hand Dean had draped near the tiny bar.
Once the smaller Dean was sure Dean was done with his shit, and the second Sam sat down next to his young counterpart, waving for his own beer, to the annoyance of the teenager Dean (“Everyone gets a drink but me,” he mumbled in annoyance.), the smaller Dean was able to focus on Oscar.
“Oscar, eh?” he asked, skipping on the nickname after his own trouble escaping his. “You been keeping these two out of trouble?”
The young Sam sitting next to Oscar pulled his cup of milk closer and giggled. “Only Dean gets himself into trouble!”
Oscar grinned and nodded, following along with his Sam and answering Dean at the same time. After watching so many of the others bicker, with other versions of themselves, he was almost surprised to be addressed again. Normally he’d be more frightened in this situation, but for now he was simply nervous, and that was normal for him.
He took a curious sip of his own glass of milk. The first time he ever tried it.
“I showed Sam how ta climb! I showed my Sam, anyway,” he explained, looking to the smaller Dean again and hoping for his approval.
“An’ I showed him how to get in the walls and hide and stuff, since he was new to being our size and he needed a teacher. I never got to be a teacher before. It was real fun, I wish…. I wish I coulda done more.”
The small Dean smiled, as proud as Oscar hoped. “You did exactly what you should.” Oscar beamed with pride of his own.
“See Sam?” the regular Dean nudged his Sam, noticing that the two older Sams were sitting on the outside of the bar, guarding the others. “You coulda gotten by without Walt!”
Sam huffed, pushing Dean’s finger away. “Looks like you did a good job,” he complemented Oscar, ruffling his younger counterpart’s hair. “And there’s always hope for another chance.” After hearing the kid’s story earlier, his heart went out for the youngest and scrawniest there. Oscar would be alone when he left the Lounge, the only one on his own out of everyone there.
“So what about you two?” the regular Dean turned the question around on the pair of tiny Winchesters. “I have got to hear about how you two hooked up with Godzilla over here!”
That Sam smirked. “It all started with this pie we found…”
“Do not insult the pie!” tiny Dean bitched, sweeping his slice protectively off the bar and cradling it close. “That was the best pie I’ve ever had!”
Jacob laughed, keeping it quiet for the small, sensitive ears of the smaller occupants of the bar. The nickname that his own Dean had given him almost sounded strange coming from someone else. It was another Dean, with a story of his own, arriving at the same exact jab at Jacob’s size.
“It was kinda a rough start,” he admitted, watching as little Oscar eyed the slice of pie Dean was defending. Without even having to ask, the kid had his own tiny slice placed in front of him by that ever-amused bartender. It was like he pulled things out of thin air.
“I was between jobs and I stopped at a diner, left a slice of pie in a to go box on the table. Someone couldn’t resist.” He winked at his own Dean, getting their story going while the others listened in.
Above their heads, the television screen rippled until the words Chasing Family were proudly displayed.
Soon, the bartender knew, more would join them.
The fun was only just beginning.
May 11th excerpt:
Melody stooped to pick up what looked like an action figure from in front of the small section of Pokemon toys. She wrapped a hand around it casually, only noting that it was clearly out of place with the bright and colorful Pikachus and Char-whatevers. She hadn’t even bothered to put her purse on the counter yet; she’d spotted it all the way from the front of the store with just a passing glance. Probably Lloyd shirking cleanup for the closing shift again.
She carried it at her side to the front counter, her hand swinging slightly with each step. She tossed her purse on the cluttered shelf below the register with a casual flick of the wrist, and the bag gave a muffled clatter as her belongings banged against each other. Then, pushing a handful of her beaded braids behind her ear, Melody lifted the action figure up to take a look at it.
Her nose immediately wrinkled and her brow pinched in irritation. “God dammit, Lloyd,” she muttered. “How many times I gotta tell him to quit letting people play with the expensive shit?”
This model was clearly more than just an action figure. It was a custom made piece, without a doubt. She couldn’t even see the joints. She gently tilted the little man’s head with a finger and thumb, careful not to strain the delicate work. She brushed along the hem of the tiny jacket and smirked at the itty bitty boots. The little toy even had a very real-looking knife clutched in its hand.
She turned the action figure over to look for its tag, but something else caught her attention. The little messenger bag hanging over its shoulder … “Oh, for fu- really, Lloyd?” There was a mini stuffed in the bag, one of those D&D type toys barely over an inch tall.
Brothers Apart 