Tag: gianttiny

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August 19th excerpt:

Sam grinned confidently upwards at his brother. “Don’t worry,” he chirped as he bit into a miniature sandwich he’d cobbled together. He’d even managed to get small pieces of tomato and a bit of lettuce on it to serve as his own toppings. “I was watching it the entire time. I can take him on if he tries to grab your food.”

Jacob grinned, still amused by the banter. “He’s totally right. I wouldn’t wanna fight Sam.”

Dean couldn’t stop a laugh at that. He reached down with the hand that wasn’t holding the sandwich and gently ruffled Sam’s hair, leaving the bangs haphazardly covering his eyes. “I knew I kept you around for something, shorty,” he said fondly.

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August 18th excerpt:

Dean put his foil-wrapped sandwich down next to the small picnic that was set up for Sam and Bowman. “Make sure no ants go after that for me,” he said as he let it go. “And no sneaking any bites, hear me?”

“Sure, Dean. Whatever you say, Dean,” Sam said in the fakest, most syrupy-sweet voice he could muster. He hid a grin underneath his bangs as he stared down at the wrapper his food was on, knowing exactly how his tone would be taken.

Dean scoffed at the sarcastic tone from his brother. “At this rate I might have to find someone else to ride shotgun in the car.”

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Sam would be so peeved. What bad luck.

In BA, Dean would arch an eyebrow at his little brother, make a quip to him about how clumsy he is or how his popcorn has a bit of surprise seasoning added to it, getting a bitchface in return, then he’d detatch Sam from the popcorn. He’d be more amused than anything, but wouldn’t joke around with Sam in his mouth. Since he’s been small for so long, Sam has an innate fear of being eaten, and Dean tries to avoid setting off those instincts (most of the time; there was that one time Sam got stuck in a cup of beer). Dean’s behaved himself since then.

On the other hand, Sam also hasn’t had such bad luck with food. Dean in BL isn’t so lucky, and did take a swan dive into a bowl of popcorn while watching a movie!

“Sorry, guys, I’m sorry,” Jacob answered, looking back at them. He moved his arm out from behind his head and settled his hand near them as added security. “Dean’s … in the popcorn, I gotta get him out,” he explained, a grin plastered on his face. It almost ached not to let his laughter out, but he didn’t want to send them tumbling as much as Dean had just done.

He reached up with his other hand, over to the popcorn bowl where Dean made valiant efforts to avoid falling further in. Before he could sink into the popcorn and become even more irate, Jacob’s fingers dove in after him and closed around his tiny waist. In no time at all, he fished the tiny, flailing hunter out of the popcorn.

Jacob was still grinning once Dean was free. “Didja find a good piece?”

Dean sent Jacob his most intimidating glare. Dangling from two thick fingers, with a kernel of popcorn still clutched to his chest, the effect was ruined. Dean gave a kick with his right leg, jostling a piece of popcorn that insisted on clinging to his jeans free. Despite the fact that the fingers sealed around his waist could snap him in half if Jacob misjudged his strength, Dean wasn’t afraid at all.

He was aggravated.

“At least my piece has more butter on it!” Dean snipped in annoyance, shifting the popcorn kernel to one arm so he could begrudgingly try and fix the spike in his hair. The combination of warm grease and butter flavoring was doing him no good, and his hair was matted to his head.

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August 17th excerpt:

Logan paused, waiting for Dean to notice that he’d escaped the enclosure. Hearing no bellows of surprise, the shrunken hunter crept towards the edge of Dean’s lap, peering over the side into the grass. Overhead, he heard Bowman say excitedly, “I see him, he’s coming this way!” Logan scowled, thinking that the last thing he wanted was to see that damn kid at this new scale. Using the edge of Dean’s pocket as an initial handhold, Logan slipped over the side to climb down before anyone noticed. At least Jacob might offer a distraction.

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August 15th excerpt:

Logan pushed himself up to his hands and knees gingerly, ignoring Sam for the time being. His focus was on the hand underneath him, with leathery skin thicker than should be possible. Logan fit easily on the palm of Dean’s hand and there would be room for more of him, easily.

He was small. He was small.

And he was trapped on a giant hand.

Logan finally turned his shocked gaze to the face like a billboard. Dean’s intensity, focused on him so keenly, dropped ice into the reduced human’s stomach. He scowled, though there was a hint of desperation in the expression, and tried to push himself to a stand. It didn’t work, and he instead pitched to the side. He could feel Dean’s pulse thumping along under the callused skin.

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August 14th excerpt:

Dean’s grin grew as a thought came to him. “Need a hand with that, Sammy?”

Sam almost seemed to consider as he kept the arm twisted back. Logan’s demands to be set free were completely ignored by the deceptively small and vulnerable-seeming hunter, who, on the same scale, was more powerful. “If you insist. I mean, he might be able to free himself. Eventually. If he doesn’t tire himself out first.”

Dean stretched out a hand through the grasses that loomed overhead, flattening it against the ground. There was a dangerous glint in his eye and two fingers twitched impatiently, beckoning Sam forward. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

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No worries about spoilers over here! In fact, out of all three of the curse victims we have in our AUs (Dean, Sam and Jacob), Jacob is the slowest.

Compared to the brothers, he has the least experience. He also tends to be more deliberate in his actions, and is the least likely to jump into things without thinking (or looking). He won’t be breaking any of Sam’s records for a long, long time.

Here’s an excerpt with our smol Jacob trying to keep up with his adopted brother Sammy!

When Sam darted towards the table, Jacob was quick to follow. As he ran he took his grappling rope from where he’d propped it on his shoulder and got a solid grip around the hook so it didn’t bounce against him as he ran. He felt his pulse pounding in his hands. The open air yawned above them, but Jacob managed not to gape around at everything as he ran.

Focus. Focus was key.

He stumbled to a stop at the base of the table. Staring straight up, Jacob uncoiled the twine in his hands. He knew without looking that Sam was doing the same with his own grappling line, a fishhook and some clear, sturdy fishing line. Jacob reared back, ready to throw his hook straight into the air, following the example Sam and Walt had set time and time again. At least this was something Jacob had figured out how to do fairly quickly; ever since shrinking, he’d found he was a lot stronger than he’d expect, and throwing something like a small hook up to the table was easy for him.

Of course, getting the hook that high was only half the battle. While Sam’s grappling hook caught on the edge of the table, Jacob’s bounced off it and fell back down. “Fuckdammit,” he swore, gathering up the twine to try again.

Sam was already well ahead of him. Thankfully, the hook caught on the second throw, and Jacob could begin his cautious climb upwards. He was more careful, less sure of himself, so he took more time to squirrel his way up to the table. Jacob always kept his focus on the rope in front of him, praying his grip never wavered.

Sam reached the top of the table in no time, hauling himself over the edge. He did a brief check of how secure the grip of his and Jacob’s hooks were, making sure that Jacob’s wouldn’t slip on him. They’d leave the hooks at the ready for the trip down, or for any emergencies. It was a bad idea to remove their only escape path. Climbing down the legs of the table with nothing more than hands and feet was a dangerous and slow venture, not one to risk if it could be avoided.

He waited by the edge while Jacob made his way to the top, surveying the room from above. Getting such a point of view was rare, and was something that needed to be taken advantage of when possible.

When Jacob reached the top, Sam offered him a hand to help him over the edge. He eyed the immense door at the other end of the room while he did so, narrowing his eyes at the serene sunlight that filtered its way into the room.

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August 13th excerpt:

Finally acknowledging Sam’s presence again, he asked “Where the hell am I? What is going on?”

Sam schooled his face to stay expressionless. “You’re right back at the start,” he pointed out unhelpfully, knowing full well why Logan was asking. He didn’t deign to clear things up. This one was for him to figure out on his own. Nothing the hunter had done had endeared himself to any of them, Sam and Bowman least of all. His knife, tossed away like a piece of scrap metal.

No, none of them would make things easy after all that.

Sam kicked a pebble that was stuck in the soil. “I think you’ll figure things out for yourself, soon enough,” he stated gamely.

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August 12th excerpt:

Logan sat up, pushing on the dry ground with sore hands. A large tree branch completely void of leaves lay nearby. The grass was thicker around him than it was in his immediate vicinity. He couldn’t even see past ten feet or so into the dark green shadows in one direction.

He looked in another direction and stumbled to his feet almost immediately. “You?!” he blurted, squinting at the man sitting crosslegged nearby, calmly paying no mind to the strange scenery around them both. Something nagged the back of Logan’s mind and told him to worry a lot, but his surprise pushed that voice back.

It looked like he was staring at a full-sized version of the tiny person-thing he’d recently been able to shove in a pocket.

“Yeah, me,” Sam responded.

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August 11th excerpt:

The prisoner finally looked to Dean, the only one who he had a mite of respect for, if only because of his fighting skill. He still regarded the other hunter like he was garbage in the gutter. “I see the little vermin have you both good and trained,” he spat.

Dean coolly arched an eyebrow at Logan. “Trained?” He glanced down at Sam, sitting calmly on a shoulder, then back at Logan. “He can’t be talking about me, can he?”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “He wouldn’t say that if he ever saw the socks you leave in the sink,” he complained loudly, not showing any of the pain that he still felt in his arm. “I mean, really. Who leaves socks in the sink, of all places?”