Before he could retreat more than a hair, Sam darted forward with his own hands, landing them on top of John’s fingertip. “Agreed!” he echoed his older brother.
John’s finger nearly flinched in tandem with Dean’s much smaller hand, but he managed to breathe and keep it still, taking Dean’s cue for when to shake his finger up and down ever so slightly.
His eyes widened and his jaw nearly dropped when Sam’s tiny hands joined both of Dean’s.
Jacob’s hand reached for the nightstand, ready to switch off the alarm. Then, his mind finally caught up enough to remember I didn’t set an alarm. He ended up diverting his reach before he could bowl Dean over, resting his fingers at the edge of the nightstand instead. He propped himself up enough to send the tiny guy a bewildered look, catching up to why he was on the nightstand and not right next to his head like he’d thought.
“Dude,” he mumbled, giving Dean as much exasperation as he could. “What the shit.”
Before Dean lost his resolve, he stuck his hand out like he’d been shown as a kid to offer the dog his scent, his fingers stretched out as far as they could go in an attempt to make his hand as big as possible. He didn’t know if it was going to make a difference considering his entire body was smaller than a normal person’s hand, but maybe she’d understand and recognize the gesture and consider him like any other human, instead of a treat or toy.
“H-hey girl,” Dean stuttered out. “We’re all friends here, right?”
Oscar tumbled over once, then twice, unable to counter the tilt of Sam’s hand. He landed with a gasp at the bottom of the pocket, and lay still to watch the hand retreat. Once it was gone, Sam’s face replaced the view above.
“Oh no,“ he murmured, squirming around until he could find a sense of balance. The pocket was made of cozy fabric but it swayed with every step. He never could have prepared for anything like it.
Dean dropped a hand next to Stan. “Tired?” he asked with a knowing glint in his eye.
Stan nodded sleepily, giving in to the infectious yawn he’d caught from Dean. He climbed right onto the offered hand with a lot on his mind as he thought back to the conversation that had gone on over his head during the film.
“Are you… gonna tell other hunters about me?” he asked quietly before all the boldness he’d gleaned from the movie could fade.
From within, he could just make out the scene as the box was handed over to the man who had bought his fate on a whim, and he grimaced through the jolt while a new grip settled around his container. Hands much larger and stronger than the girl’s– not that hers weren’t strong enough where it counted, as he knew all-too-well– closed around the box and pulled him closer to the man’s chest, blocking out the light on one side.
Stan’s voice boomed out from above, and Dean’s eyes were wide as he stared up where the human was.
Jacob pushed a shaky hand against the fingertip messing with him, while the other brushed back through his bedraggled hair. His glare was tempered by the worry on his face when he looked up at the guy again. There was nothing familiar about the man, and nothing comforting in the fascinated gleam in those green eyes.
At least if he focused on that billboard-sized, smirking face, he didn’t have to think too hard about how high up he was from the ground. “W-what do you want?!” he demanded, voice still shaky with nerves.
Brothers Apart 