He brushed against Sam’s arm when he was shifting in place under the green canopy. With a mumble, Sam rolled a little closer, his arm landing over Jacob’s small body. Jacob flinched in surprise from the sudden appearance of an arm longer than his body. It was only a moment before Sam shifted again, pulling the small hunter closer by instinct as soon as the shivers that wracked his body were noticed even in the depths of sleep.
Sam buried his head next to Jacob under the blankets, effectively pinning him to his chest the way one would a teddy bear at night. His grip was gentle, keeping away from the sore and bruised ribs that the tiny hunter was nursing. Sam gave a brief mumble of contentment before he fully drifted into sleep again.
He brushed against Sam’s arm when he was shifting in place under the green canopy. With a mumble, Sam rolled a little closer, his arm landing over Jacob’s small body. Jacob flinched in surprise from the sudden appearance of an arm longer than his body. It was only a moment before Sam shifted again, pulling the small hunter closer by instinct as soon as the shivers that wracked his body were noticed even in the depths of sleep.
Sam buried his head next to Jacob under the blankets, effectively pinning him to his chest the way one would a teddy bear at night. His grip was gentle, keeping away from the sore and bruised ribs that the tiny hunter was nursing. Sam gave a brief mumble of contentment before he fully drifted into sleep again.
“Dean,” Sam interrupted gently. The changing channels froze. “Jacob picked Star Wars.”
Dean glanced over at them in surprise, a flush rising to his face in embarrassment. “He did?” His eyes flicked back to the television, switching back to the movie. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, clearly upset.
Jacob chuckled sheepishly, once again reminded that just communicating with Dean had become an obstacle. His tiny lungs would need to work hard to produce enough sound for the huge hunter to actually register.
“Really, Dean?” Sam asked, gesturing at the boots that were up on the covers.
“What are you, my mother?” Dean griped. When Sam’s bitchface didn’t relent, he rolled his eyes with a glare of his own sent Sam’s way.
“Fine,” he said snippily, giving in. Jacob smirked at the back-and-forth, enjoying the normalcy to be found in the banter. He was even tempted to play devil’s advocate and point out that it wasn’t like Dean’s boots could get the old motel room covers any dirtier.
Dean pulled off the boots, one after the other, and lightly tossed them towards his duffel lying next to the dresser the television was on. “Okay, new rule. Sam doesn’t get to pick the movie,” he announced with a smirk sent in Sam’s direction.
Sam rolled his eyes, nudging Jacob good-naturedly with an elbow. “I could give Bowman a piggyback if I tried,” he snarked back gamely, knowing his own strength. “So unless you’ve been putting on some weight that you’ve been hiding, I’ll be fine.”
With a quick grab, Sam nabbed the back of Jacob’s hoodie. It took one smooth motion to pull him out, dangling him like a kitten held by the back of its neck. Jacob’s feet were only over open air for a few seconds before he was lowered to the tabletop next to his aluminum foil cup, hitting the ground with a light thump that was inaudible to Dean.
Dean arched an eyebrow at Jacob. “You must really like french fries,” he drawled lazily, smirking at the sight of the bedraggled hunter standing down there.
Dean laughed at his attempt. “I don’t know, half-pint. You might have some hidden strength in there that you’re saving for a special occasion. Meanwhile…” Dean folded all of his fingers but one into a fist, holding out his index finger to Jacob in a gesture that was far more considerate of his size. The end of the fingertip hovered about an inch away from the minuscule hunter. “Maybe you’ll have a better shot at the top like this.”
“That’s more like it,” Jacob quipped. This time he didn’t hesitate to walk closer to Dean’s hand. The fact that it was as huge as it was still caused a lingering nervousness in the back of his mind.
He held out his hand for the comparison offered, staring now at the fingertip in front of him. From the tip to the first knuckle was almost Jacob’s body length. Jacob thought he might as well be looking through a microscope. He could see Dean’s fingerprints in stark detail. In fact, Jacob’s own fingers would probably fit between them.
Sam held up a hand next to Jacob, marveling at the size of his own fingers compared to the other hunter. “I guess so,” he said in agreement. “Guess this means I’ll be safe hanging out on the alarm clocks in the room.” Curious, he held his hand close to Jacob, wanting to see the difference in scale between their hands.
Dean came back over with a plate stacked with a burger, french fries, apple sticks and the salad, watching with fascination as Sam held out his hand. Considering that Sam’s hand would barely cover the tip of Dean’s own fingertip– and that was only if he stretched his fingers out as far as they’d go– it was nothing short of amazing to see it eclipse someone else’s hand, a hand that was so small Dean couldn’t make out the fingers from where he was standing.
Bowman smirked, taking a second drink of his beer before speaking his mind. “Yeah, we gotta get Jacob back to normal before being the tallest goes straight to Dean’s head.”
Jacob snickered at that, but almost immediately after came a loud, incessant BEEP from the microwave across the room. He couldn’t help a minor flinch from the noise and his free hand almost instinctively went to cover his ear. Everything seemed so loud at this size. Even the simple rustling of fabric as Dean shifted was sharply noticeable.
Dean stood to go get the food just as a second BEEP went off behind him. “Y’know,” he jabbed back, “being tall never went to my head in the first place, small fry.” He left them for a moment to grab his food.
Bowman fluttered up in front of the hunter to pass him on the way to his spot above the radio, the tip of a wing just barely brushing the front of the thick jacket Dean always wore. Best to do that before Dean was moving the Impala, as he knew the human would gripe at him for being a distraction.
He sat down on the dashboard with a huff, only twitching a little as the the Impala roared to life again. “It was cold in there,” he complained, quite glad to have left the strangely fake bright lights of that store. What little light had leaked into his pocket hiding place had fallen on his wings and provided none of the warmth it promised.
Brothers Apart 