Tag: pen

Just saw the AoL snippet, and it made me remember that I had meant to send in an ask about if wee Stan considered the brothers his owners. Guess that answers that!

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It’s a definite misconception between Stan and the Winchesters!

He doesn’t quite see himself the way they want him to…

It took seconds for Stan to grab the clip near the top of the pen and haul it all the way back to Sam, panting a little from the effort as he stepped back to give the human room to take it.

Sam was frozen in his search, not having expected Stan to suddenly shoot off in a different direction while they conversed. Seeing how much effort it took Stan to drag the pen over to him drove into Sam how different they were in size, making him feel obnoxiously oversized all over again.

Dean had an identical look on his face, not knowing how to react.

“S-Stan,” Sam managed to get out, delicately picking up the pen. He’d been looking for one, but– “You can just… tell me where the pen is, okay? You don’t have to go through all that work, I can just grab it.”

The ghost of a proud smile that had found its way to Stan’s features for finally making himself of use melted when he saw Sam’s reaction. Now he was confused all over again, worried that he’d done something wrong.

“But… you wanted it…” Stan trailed off awkwardly, trying to think of a way to fix it. But there was nothing to fix. The pen was fetched, Sam already had it. He didn’t understand why the brothers seemed so averse to his actions, but he resolved to do better next time as soon as he found out.

“That’s… not what I’m saying…” Sam said, his conviction fading at Stan’s reaction. “Just… If I want something, you don’t have to get it for me.” It was so hard to come up with words for what he meant. “I don’t want you straining yourself.”

“You’re not a pet,” Dean interrupted, putting it far blunter than Sam would have done. “You know that… right?”

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February 7th excerpt:

As though a switch clicked in Stan’s brain, he glanced around the table. He remembered seeing a pen tucked behind the plastic-wrapped complementary cups, as though it had been haphazardly tossed there by a previous guest. Before he could think twice, Stan was dashing across the cover of the book between him and his goal.

It took seconds for Stan to grab the clip near the top of the pen and haul it all the way back to Sam, panting a little from the effort as he stepped back to give the human room to take it.

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November 21st excerpt:

Rather than taking the pen and letting Dean carry on, the great pale hand reached out just a little further, knocking the smaller man off his feet and into Sherlock’s palm. Long fingers curled around Dean and the pen, lifting them both up to join him on the couch.

His grip was loose, far from crushing his passengers together, and it loosened even further as Sherlock tucked the hand under his chin, let his other hand fold lazily over it, and went back to thinking.

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November 20th excerpt:

“This better have been worth it,” Dean grumped as he reached the edge of the couch, wandering along as he looked for a place to climb. “Otherwise I’m keeping the pen and taking it apart.”

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November 19th excerpt:

It took five minutes to get to the top of the table, kick the pen angrily off the surface, then drop back down. With Dean at a bare three and eight tenths inches tall, the pen was nearly two times his length. All those times hauling water around paid off as he hoisted it up, and started the long trek to the couch.

“One of these days,” Dean grumbled, “I’ll be the one having you bring me things. One of these days.”

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November 18th excerpt:

Up. Down. Up again. Why does everything require climbing.

Resigned, Dean started his climb down, griping all the way.

“Y’know, I have half a mind to go back and grab one of Sam’s pencil tips,” Dean complained to the open air of the flat. “He’d notice in a second that it was gone, but it would be worth the look on your face when you either have to use a scrap of pencil to write with or get up and get your own damn pen that’s like five feet away.”

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November 16th excerpt:

“Could you pass me a pen?” Sherlock called without opening his eyes. This was not uncommon for him to do, John often claimed that the detective didn’t notice what was going on around him when he was deep in thought. And that was true, and it often left Sherlock speaking to an empty room. However, since meeting the Winchesters, he was always aware of extra hidden presences around, and he considered them on some level at all times. Calling at that volume, Dean could hear him fairly well, unless he was all the way down in Sherlock’s room.

And if he was in Sherlock’s room, Dean was in for strong words about privacy.

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October 9th excerpt:

Dean balanced the huge pen he was holding, pointing it at the words under their boots. Sam steadied him and helped him draw a circle. If the human glanced at this part of the paper, he’d see a clue he missed. Maybe, in their own way, they could help save some people. Just like their father had raised them to do.

After finishing off the circle, Dean let the pen drop. “Right,” he muttered, glancing around the room with a keen eye. “Let’s just see if there’s any crumbs around then head back. We did what we could.”