Prompt – Check It Out

Briana prompted:

Maybe something from the brother’s together universe? I feel like there must be so many good moments during their childhood that we haven’t seen yet!

This combined with another prompt gave me the idea to write a scene  from the perspective of smol Dean/big Sam and also from the perspective of tol Dean/smol Sam! That way I get some practice in on the differences between Brothers Saved and Brothers Together, and we all get some cutes.

So here we have teenager Dean, who snitched Bobby’s whiskey from where it was hidden in the house, and now they’re going to share!

(You can find the other half of the prompt here)


“Check it out.”

Sam lazily stretched to work out the kinks in his back from laying flat on the desk for so long while he did homework. Not his homework, naturally, as he hadn’t been able to go to school for a few good years now. He was helping with Dean’s, to try and keep in practice so he didn’t lose his touch for the day he was able to return to class.

Not that he held out much hope that his curse would be lifted after so long like this. 

Dean was standing in the doorway of their shared room, and when Sam spotted what he had in his hand with a shit-eating grin, he straightened in place. 

“Is that what I think it is?”

“You bet!” Dean proclaimed. He glanced over his shoulder and closed the door to the room, bouncing onto the bed next to the desk Sam was using. “Bobby and dad are going to be out all night, I figured we could take a break from classwork.”

“Dean, you know they’re going to figure out it was you,” Sam scolded, but the look he sent the flask of whiskey was longing. He hadn’t snuck a drink in years, not since their dad’s hunter friend, Fred, had given them some. 

“Chill, we’ll be fine,” Dean assured Sam. He twisted the cap off. “They’ll never know the difference, we just have to put it back where it came from and that’s that.”

Pouring out a tiny amount into the cap, Dean judge that to be more than enough for his younger brother. Neither of them was of drinking age, but that didn’t much matter when they were sneaking around behind their dad’s back.

“Give it a shot,” Dean said, sliding the cap over to Sam. 

Sam tentatively reached out to pull the cap closer, peering uncertainly into the strong-smelling liquid. He wrinkled his nose, then picked up the cap to take a sip. 

And sputtered, spitting out the drop. “You like this stuff?!”

Dean smirked as he took a swig from the flask, partially wishing he was the small one this time, just so he could have more whiskey than was in the small container. “You bet, short stuff,” he said teasingly, able to swallow the bitter drink without flinching.

Sam sighed, sending the bottle cap a disconsolate look. Why couldn’t Bobby have left the beer unattended? At least Sam had that before, and knew he could drink it without a problem.

Taking a deep breath to build himself up to it, Sam scooped up a drop of whiskey in his hand, and determinedly drank it. Again, he nearly spit it out, but forced himself to swallow, the drink leaving a burning trail down his throat.

“Got it,” Sam rasped, having a hard time talking after such a sharp drink.

Dean took pity on him and nudged over a second bottle cap that had been sitting across the desk with Sam’s possessions. It was the cap that held his water from lunch, and Sam quickly grasped it to suck in a drink to cool his throat. 

“Maybe it’s stronger because you’re smaller?” Dean mused out loud, taking another drink from the flask.

“No… I can do this,” Sam said, determined. He wasn’t about to miss out on the one chance they got to drink!

Prompt – Is That What I Think It Is?

jayadawnyvonne-art prompted:

What about a short of tiny drunk dean with big sam?

This combined with another prompt gave me the idea to write a scene like this out from the perspective of smol Dean/big Sam and also from the perspective of tol Dean/smol Sam! That way I get some practice in on the differences between Brothers Saved and Brothers Together, and we all get some cutes.

So here we have kiddo Sam, who found Bobby’s whiskey hidden in the house, and now they’re going to share!

(You can find the other half of the prompt here)


“Check it out.”

Dean looked up from where he had been fiddling with a bent paperclip to hide his boredom. He found the motion strangely relaxing, and when he eventually wore the metal down it would separate into two separate pieces.

There was a small pile of metal rods next to Dean to show how long he’d been sitting there playing around. It was a good way to entertain himself while Sam did homework.

Dean hadn’t even noticed that his younger– but much larger– brother had run out of the room for a bathroom trip, and now the kid was standing there with a small metal flask in his hand. His eyebrows climbed his forehead.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah!” Sam grinned broadly, puffing his chest out proudly. “I found this stuck between a cookbook and a book on Latin in the kitchen, and figured we can sneak it back out there before dad and Bobby get home, they’ll never know!”

Dean shoved the remains of the staples off his lap and jumped to his feet. “Pass some this way,” he urged, kicking his staples into a pile.

Twisting the cap off, Sam judged the size of the flask compared to Dean. “Think this’ll be enough?” he asked as he poured a drop into the cap and held it out.

“Perfect,” Dean said, looking into the cap as he took it from Sam. He knew it was hard for his younger but much larger brother to judge the amount of food and drink when they were sharing, which was how he ended up with a bucketful of whiskey. 

There was no way Dean would be finishing it, but he’d give it a good try.

Once Sam was sure that Dean was set, he took a sip from the flask. Then gagged. “You like this stuff?” he sputtered.

With a grin, Dean hefted up the cap and took a big gulp from it. He wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. “You bet, gigantor!” he called up teasingly. “Good thing I’m the one with the bigger serving!”

Sam rolled his eyes, looking away from Dean for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking at the flask. It took every ounce of strength in him to take another sip, and swallow it without spitting it out.

The burning warmth of the whiskey settled pleasantly in his middle. Once he got past the bitter taste, it wasn’t a bad drink.

He just had to get used to it.

Clothes shopping

@wolfie180g prompted:

Sam giving dean advice while clothes shopping because he’d been stuck at the motel watching a channel devoted entirely to fashion the whole day he was home sick.


“Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

Dean hesitated with his hand halfway towards the shirt he’d chosen– one that looked comfortable, and was cheap enough that it wouldn’t dip far into his savings.

“Yeah?” Dean said suspiciously, wishing he could tilt his head to catch sight of Sam, currently hidden in the edge of his collar.

Outside, the snow was coming down strong. They had meant to be back to the motel before the storm hit, but it had blown up while trying to pack up the supplies they needed to stock up on.

When they found that almost everyone had left, leaving the mall and surrounding stores with only a few die hard customers and the exhausted cashiers to keep an eye on them, it had looked to be the perfect time to get in a little shopping without the ever-present concern that Sam would be spotted.

“You could at least buy something with style one of these days,” Sam said dryly as he judged the outfit Dean was looking at.

Hey,” Dean complained. To anyone else in the store, it would appear that he was arguing with himself there, no phone in sight. “I’ll have you know that my outfits are perfectly acceptable.”

“Sure, for shopping at the Army Navy surplus store,” Sam sassed. “Trust me, you could use something with a little more flair for your interviews.”

“Since when are you an expert on fashion?” Dean complained as he wandered over to another rack to browse.

“Since you left me at the motel that day with the shopping network on! All I watched all day was the outfits they were selling!”

Dean smirked. “Next time, remind me to leave it on the beef jerky channel.”

Sam jabbed him in the neck. “Next time, I’m using your credit card. I’m sure Bobby will appreciate getting some packages for you.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

In Brothers Apart (where all my questions seem to come from), I was wondering how Sam might feel about and react to rain since he hasn’t really been in it since he was cursed?

Lol! He’s probably been in it a few times in Dean’s pocket at the very least, in between cases!

If he’s in a pocket, he’d be very grumpy, because a soggy pocket is a lost more confining and claustrophobic. Dean probably had to get a waterlogged Sam to the car/motel room before it got too bad. Poor kid looks like a drowned rat.

If he’s out in the open, which happens more rarely, he’d be fascinated at the size of the droplets, but definitely prefers watching them from the safety of an overhang, like the place he used to watch the parking lot from at Trails West. He’s seen a few storms from there, but knows to get back in if the wind starts to pick up.

(BA is first and fave!)

I haven’t posted it on DA or the other sites yet, because I’m an airhead and forgot, but there IS a short prompt about the Brothers Together pair and an encounter with rain!

An Afternoon Rainstorm

I’ll post it to the other sites when I have more energy. Why is the energy gone.

Quiet As a Mouse

neonthewrite:

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1)  This prompt came in ages ago and I’m 99% sure it was actually meant for @nightmares06, but I hoarded it anyway.

2)  It’s a really cute idea and also the thing I wrote did not end up exactly like this (since most borrowers probably don’t pray) but I think it fits pretty well.

3)  My failed sneak peek guessing game was referring to this story. Surprise. It was Cas all along.

4)  Long-ish read, about 2k words. Couldn’t find a good place to split it up. 

¯_(ツ)_/¯


“Quiet as a mouse.”

One of Oscar’s favorite phrases, the words became something of a mantra for him when he went out looking for supplies. He had long since forgotten where he learned it. So many people came and went every day, and so many of them left the TV on full volume. Any one of them could have taught him about it.

As far as Oscar was concerned, “quiet as a mouse” was the ultimate goal. He’d learned a lot from his furry neighbors within the walls. The motel offered a haven, but only so long as no humans knew they were there.

Oscar had known the comings and goings of the mice for years. He’d taken a trick or two from them. His steps were as silent as theirs were, so his cloth-wrapped feet could carry him undetected through even the dustiest of passages.

These skills kept him hidden day in and day out checking rooms. Even occupied rooms never noticed his passing by. Humans often wouldn’t even imagine someone like Oscar (or even just a mouse) would be around.

He told himself this over and over, and still he was afraid now.

Out in a room, hanging from the back of the nightstand, Oscar was frozen. The crumbs stuffed into his cloth bag were heavier than ever on his shoulder, and his hands gripped the lamp cord with white knuckles.

The room was supposed to be empty.

Keep reading

Best Plan Yet (Brothers Saved)

A special request from @gt-kindii!

They wanted a short story based on this picture, and I hope I did it justice!

AU:

Brothers Saved

Timeline: Sam is 10, Dean is 14; a month after Dean’s curse.

Word Count: 724

Warnings: None

Commissions are open!


“It’s so hot!

Sam looked up from where he was bent over a book, avidly reading his assigned summer lessons (only assigned because he’d asked the teacher for work to do over the summer). A slight smirk hit his face when he saw where Dean was, sprawled out on the most shadowed area of the table in an attempt to soak up what he could of the cool surface, avoiding the sun like he lived all his life in a cave.

“It’s summer,” Sam pointed out helpfully, nudging Dean in the side with a pencil. “In South Dakota.”

Dean groaned, comically loud as he tried to squirm away from the intruding eraser. “Doesn’t mean Bobby can’t invest in some air conditioning for once in his life!” he complained, pushing himself up so he was sitting. It made it easier to bat at the pencil.

Sam grinned, both for the complaints and for Dean’s relatively mellow reaction to the poke. Just a few weeks ago, his older brother, shrank by a curse to under four inches tall, had bolted from him, unable to cope with the sheer size of everything around him. Now, things were strained, especially between Dean and John, but between the brothers life was settling back down to normal.

“We’ve never had AC here before,” he reminded Dean. “And just last night you were complaining about how cold it was!”

Dean huffed in aggravation. “It was cold last night!” he insisted mulishly. “But now it’s so hot I can barely breathe in here.” He kicked out both legs, spreading himself out on the table again.

Sam frowned as Dean started ignoring him once more. As strange as it was to hear his cursed brother complain about the heat instead of a chill when there was none, Sam could understand it. Dean’s curse had hit while he was wearing his regular jeans and outfit. He didn’t have any shorts to strip down into. He could walk around in boxers, but being so vulnerable like that chafed at Dean. Small was bad enough, he would refuse to make himself more vulnerable.

“Be right back,” Sam said distractedly, pushing himself up from the table.

Dean was nearly a puddle on the table again, barely raising his hand off the surface to attempt a wave before flopping it back down. Sam smiled fondly at that, then left the room. He had a plan.


Ten minutes and three closet raids later, Sam was finally able to call his plan a success.

It wasn’t exactly what Dean was pining after, but considering that Sam, a ten-year-old kid with no current access to transportation or an adult, had to come up with it, he’d need to deal.

“Here we are!” Sam declared, plunking down a fan a few inches away from Dean and then setting up a second, larger fan for himself. He gathered up work and put that on the counter out of the way, and went searching for an outlet.

Dean sat up in a hurry at all the earthquakes, staring wide-eyed at what Sam had come up with. A small grin snuck its way onto his face.

“Where did you find those?” he asked, scrambling to his feet to look over the small fan that was nearly his size.

Sam’s head popped into view from the floor. “Bobby’s got all kinds of stuff like that hidden away in his cupboards,” he told Dean smugly. “Did you think I just sat around all day when you were playing around with the cars outside?”

Dean shook his head, bemused. “Figured you just read all day,” he responded.

Sam found an outlet, pulling out a plug for one of the lamps and taking over both sides with the fans. The one next to Dean sputtered to life, creating a cool breeze that ruffled his hair.

He barely noticed Sam returning to turn on his own fan, too busy positioning himself blissfully in front of the cool air. This new size might suck at times, but at least his little brother was just as reliable as he’d always been before.

“This is your best plan yet,” Dean said, stretching his arms up to get as much air as possible.

A Little Change (1/?)

neonthewrite:

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Oh my God yes. I’ve mused briefly about this before, but not for very long each time. Getting a prompt for it really made me want to try it. So try I did.

This is not the end of this little crack story.


The Fire Spirit didn’t often turn His focus on a sprite other than His own children. He and His siblings watched the sprites they lovingly made, answering their Prayers when they could. Even as the fire sprites all over the world asked for magic from the Lord of Change, and even as He answered, He couldn’t help but look in on one of His sister’s children.

A wood sprite had befriended a human. It wasn’t the strangest happening, but it always amused. Most of the Spirits couldn’t resist checking in on the pair from time to time.

This time, as the human trudged through the woods with the sprite flitting to and fro among the leaves that the Earth Spirit had designed him to match, the Fire Spirit had an idea. A sudden notion of mischief ran through His core. If He could smile, He would.

My sister will forgive me, little one, He thought as he reached out from the place where the Spirits lived. I hope you will, too. Nothing wrong with a little change.

Keep reading

I do have a few in mind, but I don’t know if I’m going to use them in the stories yet and haven’t written them out, so I won’t be able to post anything!

Also, you prompted a very depressing idea for one of the AUs, since I had sads on my mind this week while listening to Lindsey Stirling’s Shatter Me, so people can blame you when I break their hearts 😛 

Actually, this is an idea we’ve had floating about since last winter, and I think now’s a good time to reveal the AU! We’ve got a plot planned out (and many, many cutes because it starts off with Weechesters and kiddo Oz), and just gotta get ourselves moving on it!

Even if the brothers aren’t cursed, this still occurs in a Brothers Apart AU, with the lore and characters we all know and love.

Brothers United– By chance, Sam and Dean go to Knights Inn instead of Trails West, and find themselves pushed into a world they never dreamed existed within their own.


He had to admit, these guests were unusual. Two younger humans, one of them a teenager, called the room their temporary home. Oscar hadn’t heard an adult in there since they checked in. For some reason, the two boys were on their own. It was kind of like Oscar, in a small way. They had their routines and they left the room during the days like most humans did. They didn’t have to mutter absently to themselves like Oscar, since they had each other to bicker with.

That wasn’t the difference that emboldened him to sneak into their room, though. Unlike Oscar, these strange young humans had food.

His entrance to this particular room came through a vent low in the wall. He had already waited a long time, watching for a chance. It had come when the older boy, a loud and confident type, had announced he was going to get them some dinner. Oscar wished absently that he could have given his own order just like the younger human kid, but it was imperative that they never know he was there.

If they found out he existed, they could capture him. They could hurt him or keep him trapped, a punishment for sneaking around and trespassing in their room. It never would matter that he was born in the motel. To a human, he was a pest invading on their space.

Despite the worry, he couldn’t ignore what he’d spotted under the table from a different vent. After the older boy took off, leaving the younger one sitting at the table, Oscar had hopped out of the vent and scurried under the dresser. From there, he had a straight shot to the dropped crumbs under the table, leftover from a bag of trail mix. He never even had to put himself in sight of the human, though he was as silent as ever as soon as he emerged from the other side of the dresser.

The human’s foot tapped against the floor absently, and high above him the underside of the table echoed with the scratching of a pencil. Oscar swallowed drily and steeled his nerves. The human was busy. He couldn’t see him and he wouldn’t hear him walking on the carpet fibers. This wasn’t even the first time he’d snuck under the table like this.

The vibration in the floor from the tapping foot was a drumbeat for his nerves. Oscar snatched up a discarded piece of granola, easily half the size of his head. Some days, that was enough for his one meal of the day.

This time, as he stuffed the food into his bag, he had a chance to grab more. A raisin, smaller than most, caught his eye near one of the table legs. He snapped that up, too, and it disappeared into his cloth bag.

He was ready to leave and dive back into the safety of the walls when he spotted it. A splash of color against the drab, faded pattern of the carpet. Oscar’s eyes were wide as he stared at it, and the tremors in the floor fell away for a moment. He’d never, ever seen candy left out before. He knew without a doubt that he was staring at a dropped piece of something more flavorful than he’d ever had in his life.

The only problem was it wasn’t under the table.

He glanced over to the tapping shoe again. The candy was out on the floor, a foot and a half and no farther from the table leg. It was on the side of the table where the human sat in his enormous chair, but so far the other kid hadn’t moved at all.

Did he dare risk it? 


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This AU is full of cutes! We’ve got a full-sized Sammy and Dean, paired up with the smolest of the smols! Thank @justanothergiant for the wonderful work on the commission, they made the story come to life before it even exists!

“Sam, stop feeding him all sugar. Sam?!”

Don’t You Cry (A Brothers Together Short)

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Y’know, that’s not what an apology sounds like.”

There’s always a risk with Oscar prompts that I’ll end up thinking about Brothers Together Oscar. The little sweetie needs to be checked up on from time to time.


Oscar wished humans didn’t come to his motel to have their fights, but he was used to it by now. The loud, sharp sound of voices so much more powerful than his wavered in the stale air within the walls and the air ducts. Raw emotion that could overwhelm him like a tide ensured that he knew exactly where they were just from the sheer volume. Most of the time, it ended with a door slamming.

He sighed as he wandered his route through the motel. In the vents and the walls, under the floorboards and above the ceiling, Oscar had a routine that he kept to every day. Knowing the schedule and when to nab a stray trinket or dropped piece of food was his entire livelihood.

Today was a good day as far as that was concerned. His bag was comfortably heavy with the spoils of his search for food, and there was even a raisin he was looking forward to eating later. He’d also found a half-emptied packet of tissues underneath a dresser. He carried that under one arm, unsure of what he’d even use it for but glad for the find.

It just figured that a lover’s quarrel would erupt while he was on his way home.

Their voices were raised when he was still in the ceiling of the next room, picking his way over pipes and ceiling tiles or balancing on support boards. They crescendoed as he wriggled into an opening in an air duct, one of his shortcuts on the way home. The usual Why would you do this? and That’s not what I mean! reverberated through his cloth-wrapped feet.

He paused while sidling past the vent opening into their room. The ceiling vent gave him a view of the table below, and the foot of one of the beds. From the looks of things, a woman sat there while a man paced back and forth.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” the man thundered, and Oscar flinched. For a moment, he froze as fear of that voice crept over him. He couldn’t help it.

“Don’t talk to me like that! Don’t! You never just listen to me, you never do!” the woman wailed back. Her voice was closer to breaking. The shrillness hurt Oscar’s ears.

“Listen, honey, I’m sorry, I really am, but you’re the one who keeps screwing up!” the man snapped back.

Oscar frowned. Y’know, that’s not what an apology sounds like … While the man continued berating the woman, he could swear she started to sob quietly. The raised voice had finally beaten down her defenses.

Oscar couldn’t blame her.

He realized that he’d lingered too long when the man finally stormed to the door of the motel. Light and air flooded in from outside for a moment, and then the door slammed so hard that Oscar almost lost his footing.

He was left stunned while the woman below wept.

Oscar shifted his feet. He should be going. He never liked being privy to what the humans thought were private conversations. Even if they yelled them for anyone to hear, it wasn’t his argument to weigh in on. It wasn’t even his world.

He crossed the vent at last, but then paused when he heard a forlorn, shaky sigh from below. From the new angle, he could see the woman sitting at the edge of the bed, face buried in her hands. She sniffled, and Oscar sighed. The poor girl had been left on her own. Maybe not for good, like Oscar had, but he knew that isolating feeling. Familiar surroundings became warped and inescapable.

He was going through the motions before he could stop to consider it. The packet of tissues, thanks to being half full, fit through the slats of the vent. The plastic rustled so loudly in his ears, and he heard a gasp below as it emerged on the other side.

Once it was pushed enough through to fall to the table below, Oscar turned and bolted. He couldn’t wait around to see how the woman reacted to the sudden appearance of something to dry her eyes. It was too risky. If she found him, he could be trapped.

But she needed something to dry her eyes more than Oscar did. He had his food from the day, and that was the important part.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind the help.