Tag: g/t

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Dean actually does pretty good when he first encounters smols, so it would have gone worse than it did, but not as bad as it could. As seen in Walt’s and Jacob’s first encounters with Dean in various AUs, he’s likely to grab, disarm and then trap, likely in a vase (while Jacob would grab a coffee pot), but he’s also very methodical. He won’t hurt Sam purposely, and will keep him trapped while he figures things out. Chances are, the brothers will figure each other out long before Dean calls Bobby up for advice, and if they didn’t, Bobby would scold Dean and tell him to let the little guy go. 

Idjit.

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December 31st excerpt:

The humans weren’t kept waiting long. At the back of the shelf, beyond where any of the books would reach unless they were shoved back all the way, Dean’s little shadow slipped from the corner. The crack he came from was expertly concealed to be hidden from view if one of the books in front was removed.

With the books gone, Dean had never felt so exposed leaving his own front door.

The tension in the air was so thick in the main room of the flat that even Dean picked up on it. He stepped up to the edge of the fabric John had gathered, his eyebrows going up as he saw it was all the same color. It didn’t take him long to piece together the fact that John had shredded a shirt for them to use, brushing a hand over a freshly-frayed edge.

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December 30th excerpt:

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, doing his best not to cause too large of a breeze for his passengers, John looked to Sherlock. “Lead the way, then,” he muttered.

Sherlock stood and walked from the kitchen to the main room and John, holding his breath, lifted his hands from the table and followed. He stepped slowly and carefully to keep the ride as smooth as possible.

He felt like a bus. A giant, inefficiently shaped bus.

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December 27th excerpt:

Moira stood and took a few steps towards the strangers on the table. Her family didn’t entertain guests very often, but she knew how to offer hospitality. And maybe she could help reassure them, considering the way Sherlock and John could loom. Sherlock especially with that focused look in his eyes.

Moira spared him one last glance before opening up her bag, a smaller version of Sam’s. “Is anyone hungry?” she asked in a small voice. “I don’t have much, but my mother made some cakes,” she offered shyly, pulling one out and unwrapping it from the fabric coiled around it.

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December 26th excerpt:

The detective frowned when he caught sight of the line leading from the opened cage to the floor, and the little shadow of what must have been Dean dashing from it.

Ignoring everything else, Sherlock closed the distance between himself and Dean easily, slamming down a hand like a barrier in front of him and scooping him up to eye level.

“What do you think you’re doing??” he demanded, more confused than anything else. Sherlock was not fond of the feeling.

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December 25th excerpt:

The detective groped blindly at a lock of some kind, and he focused on that. It was a combination lock, one he couldn’t simply pick open and would take far too long to figure out the code for.

“Dean,” he rumbled, eyes darting around the room. It was a wide space, nothing jumped out at him in the shapes he could make out, nothing important, anyway. “I need something to break this off.”

Dean scanned the room, all of his focus concentrated on the task. “Okay, there’s a box in the corner. It’s full of old tools, some wrenches, a pretty hefty hammer–” hefty being so big that Sam and Dean together would never budge it, “–and a drill that looks like it hasn’t been used since I lived in America. Turn right, about three steps. Watch out for the table, don’t want to go knocking that copy of Harry Potter onto the floor.”

“You’re improving,” Sherlock commented as he followed Dean’s directions. Whether it was the stress of the situation or the urgency, it certainly seemed like Dean was showing off at this point. Not that Sherlock was complaining.

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December 24th excerpt:

“Hang on,” Sherlock warned Dean, giving him a second to brace himself before jumping up to catch the lowest rung of the escape stairs and drag them down to ground level.

“Holy–!”

Dean’s cry of surprise went unheeded in the swift motion as Sherlock jumped and snagged the ladder. The sensation of freefall was unwelcome for the smaller man, his fear of flying hitting him all at once when he felt himself become airborne as Sherlock dropped back down.

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December 23rd excerpt:

John reached toward Dean and tapped the counter with his knuckle, just outside of reach of the smaller man’s reach.

Contrary to John’s hopes, the light rap against the countertop did not yield the desired results. After living over a decade in the walls, Dean was used to the feeling of vibrations or booming voices in his sleep, though normally sound was more muffled.

Dean shifted in place, rolling on his side with a brief “Quit it, Sammy,” thrown over his shoulder before settling back down.

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December 22nd excerpt:

“Sit still and get better,” Moira snipped at him, quickly making the cup and scooping water into it. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by pushing it.”

“Thanks, mom,” Dean said tartly. “Who’s the oldest here again?”

“That’d be me,” John pointed out, easily drawing attention to himself. He was steadily learning how to control his voice around the smaller folk, especially at close proximity. However, John supposed he couldn’t prevent himself from being an overwhelming presence to them even at his quietest.

With a shrug, John went on. “And as a doctor, I have to agree with Moira. You need rest. And eat up, you’re gonna have to replenish your iron and vitamins to get your strength back.”

Dean gave John a flat glare. “You two,” he griped, pointing first at Moira then at John, “are not supposed to be on the same side!”