Good job picking up on that! And Stan, indeed, is not completely okay with having a drunk giant around. He’s at least Irish in his background, so drinking itself would come more naturally to him, but it’s not something he’s done as a borrower (very unlike his human counterpart in BC)…
Once the aftershocks subsided, Stan looked up to find Dean almost completely filling his vision, looking at him expectantly as the borrower realized he’d been asked a question.
“Oh, u-uh… I dunno, it was… on,” said Stan between heavy breaths. He wasn’t exactly afraid, more flummoxed than anything. He recognized the smell on Dean’s breath as the gusts wafted toward Stan’s seat. Once in a while the witch would come home in a particularly foul mood with similar smells radiating off him, and those nights were absolutely no fun for Stan; any little thing could set Nicholas off, and there was only one tiny person he could take it all out on.
Sam sniffed. “Didja strike out?” he sassed, shifting his butt away from the reek of alcohol and cheap appetizers.
Rolling his eyes, Dean protested “Of course not! I just had to come back and rescue Stan from this fascinating night of procedural cop shows.” He looked back at Stan, leaning closer than normal in order to focus on the tiny features of the little man. “Really? Procedural cop shows?”
“He picked it himself!” Sam defended.
“There’s like two hundred of them on TV and they’re all the freakin’ same!” Dean complained.
This time, there was no stifling the laugh. Sam wished Dean was around to see the look on Stan’s face.
“No, no, no,” he hurried to reassure Stan, covering his mouth with a hand to muffle the few chuckles that made it through. “It’s a show. It’s make-believe, see?” Sam pressed the button to flip channels, and the screen switched to the news. Then to a movie, then to a soap opera. “See? No one’s stuck in our TV, they’re all just actors paid to be filmed.”
This was so much different than the pictures Sam had showed him on the laptop, the people he saw through the screen were moving and talking like normal people, yet somehow they fit inside the box.
“T-there are people in there!” Stan exclaimed, pointing at the screen as he turned a distressed look toward Sam.
The laptop got placed in front of the covers, and Sam slid Stan into the top of the pillow pile, then sat on the last remaining pillow next to them. “Have at it,” he said, dropping the remote controller next to Stan and pulling the laptop closer.
Stan blinked owlishly at the huge device put in front of him, a little overwhelmed by the sight of it. It was easily twice Stan’s height in length, likely more, and covered in buttons of different shapes, colors, and sizes. Some of the buttons had numbers on them, but he still couldn’t figure out what they were for.
“Um… Sorry, what do I do with this?” He turned sheepishly to Sam, completely lost.
Stan frowned as he approached the laptop screen, coming up just short of the body near the keyboard. More and more he was glad that he’d grown up being told to never be seen by humans. Apparently some of them were highly interested in the idea of tiny people. Given what he’d gone through, some of which he couldn’t even remember it was so awful, the thought disturbed Stan.
Brothers Apart 