Teen dean w/ kiddo sam brothers together fanart!
I like to think Dean wouldn’t stab the smol kid’s fingers, but if Jacob’s grabby enough and Dean’s high strung enough, there’s a good chance it ends up with a tiny teenager trying to calm down a crying kiddo who has a papercut on his finger.
Since the title was guessed a bit ago, the sneak peek for M&Ms and Lucky Charms has arrived!
Before Sam could try thinking of another method, the door barged open. Jumping slightly in place, he curled his hands protectively around the tiny balled-up kid he’d found, and saw Dean sauntering back in.
“Got some grub,” Dean said, walking past Sam and tossing a package of bread on the table, followed by peanut butter and jelly from his jacket pockets. Last, he pulled out some peanut M&Ms from his back pocket and grinned proudly. “Even remembered the chocolate.”
Sam didn’t react to the food, just watching Dean over his shoulder, still sitting on the ground facing the dresser from catching the tiny kid and wondering how he was going to break this one for Dean.
Naturally, this immediately alerted Dean to the fact that something was off in Sam-land, and he narrowed his eyes at Sam.
“What? No grabbing for the M&Ms?” Dean asked suspiciously. “Whatcha doing down there, anyway?” He stepped closer to Sam, his eyes falling on the cupped hands. “What did you find?” he demanded, squatting down next to Sam. “You know what Dad says about keeping pets!” He went to grab for Sam’s wrist.
Oscar, in all the excitement of being swept off the floor, had forgotten about the other human. How he could forget about the second tenant in the room, he didn’t know. He hadn’t even considered him when thinking about running out in the open for that candy. There was a chance that he’d have been caught by the other kid instead.
The older human was loud. Oscar squeezed his eyes shut as he came nearer, and wished he could curl up into an even tinier ball so he might go unnoticed.
It was no use. He was trapped in the younger human’s hands anyway.
He peeked one eye open to chance a look past his arms, and sucked in a gasp. Another hand, bigger than the ones that held him, was fast approaching. It could snatch him up even faster, and this human might grab him too hard.
He yelped, kicking out to push as far as he could into the curve of his current captor’s fingers. More tears burst out of his eyes and his head hurt from all the pressure, but Oscar couldn’t help it. He waved his hands in front of himself weakly, as if they’d be some defense, and then the moment was over and he was curled up again in his ball of fear.
The cry of fear from in Sam’s hands galvanized him into action, and he squirmed away from Dean’s reaching hand. “No!” he cried out, protesting his older brother’s grab. He twisted out of reach, keeping his hands shut tight around the kid. “You’ll hurt him! I promised!”
There was a moment of silence, and Sam looked over his shoulder to see Dean frozen. “Sam,” Dean said slowly, his eyebrows pinching in concern. “What do you have in your hands?”
May 2nd excerpt:
Before he could try thinking of another method, the door barged open. Sam jumped slightly in place, curling his hands protectively around the tiny balled-up kid he’d found, and saw Dean sauntering back in.
If we take your two guesses we can splice together the title of the next fic in Brothers Unexpected! A Place for Oz (which happens to be Dean’s pocket more often than not XD), continues on the adventure for the smolest kiddo with his irascible giant and his even-more irascible father!
Suddenly all of Oscar’s questions for Dean were far from his mind. The current situation held his focus.
He was in a car.
All his life, creeping through the dark vents and spaces between motel room walls, Oscar had never imagined what it’d be like. He could actually feel the motion, faint vibrations as the car hurtled along far faster than he could fathom. Even the turns didn’t slow down enough for him to keep up. The sounds and the feelings rattled his miniscule body and Oscar was stuck between fascinated and scared.
He kept a corner of his cloth pinched in his fingers, rubbing the worn threads with a thumb. Oscar was very good at staying hidden, and if Dean didn’t know he was there, he might not even notice the tiny weight in his pocket. No one looking at the teen would see more than a fold in the fabric. Oscar took a slow breath in, and then let it all out in a huff. He was safe, and he just needed to remind his nerves of the fact.
After some time curled up in his blanket with little change from the outside of the pocket, he shifted at last. Curiosity crept in and nagged at him. This was the first time he’d really left home, and he was missing it. That thought enabled him to let go of his blanket and push it to the corner of the pocket while he grasped at the flannel weave instead.
Things on the side of the walk weren’t an unusual sight at all, especially in John’s part of town. There was always a little rubbish someone missed, toys or other belongings some kid might have dropped earlier in the day that got swept aside.
So when John noticed a small figure huddled against the wall, his gaze downturned thanks to the precipitation, he passed right by it with hardly a question.
A few steps away was a crossing, which had just turned in the direction that John wasn’t heading, so he shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh and waited patiently for the light.
Boredom struck quickly, and curiosity brought his attention sliding back the way he’d come, to that strange figure in the snow. He didn’t understand why until he thought about it; whatever it was, was small enough to be a toy. But a fallen toy wouldn’t manipulate itself in such a position.
Curiosity won out, and with a glance back at the traffic lights, John meandered his way back to check out what was over there.
Frowning thoughtfully, John crouched down for a better look. He wasn’t around children often, but he’d never seen toys quite like these.
It seemed to be two figures, clinging to each other in the snow. Too lifelike to be simple playthings, and he couldn’t see any telltale joint mechanisms to allow for movement. Perhaps it was some kind of subtle art piece, a political statement maybe.
They looked an awful lot like kids.
John couldn’t quite tell. After a moment of thought, he took one hand out of his pocket and reached out to brush a bit of the thin layer of snow off this supposed street art.
Dean heard the footsteps returning after the most recent giant passed by. They shook the ground under him, how could he miss such rumbles?
Darting one glance towards the shadow he could see moving along the walkway, Dean pulled Sam closer, his arm protectively curled around his little brother’s body to keep him close. Whatever happened, he couldn’t afford to be split apart from Sam. After months in captivity, they’d escaped together, and had each other to rely on in a completely alien world from where they’d grown up. Dean refused to let Sam slip away from him after coming so far.
With the shadow rapidly approaching, it was for the best that Sam was out cold. There was even less of a chance that anyone would realize they were alive if they didn’t move, and the younger kid had less self-control than Dean.
The footsteps slowed and came to a stop about a foot away, and Dean saw the massive shape crouch down, looming over them both as the stranger leaned in to see them better. Shoes bigger than both brothers together crunched against the snow.
Dean stared up at the giant. Keen blue eyes looked them both over, vaguely interested and strangely piercing at the same time. He willed himself to keep still, trying so hard to avoid notice, but deep in his heart knew it was too late. Whoever this stranger was, he’d found them. If they were lucky, he’d pass them up as two broken toys on the street. If not… Dean hated to think of Sam back in that cage again.
His words from before, said to reassure Sam, were coming back to bite him as a hand reached for them.
(Artwork by @soluscheese! <3)
The kid waiting outside the door stepped in hesitantly, his green eyes darting from side to side. “Dad?” he called hesitantly. Two small figures, standing on his hand, looked around with him, one eager and one nervous.
The man in the room, now standing behind the bar calmly cleaning a glass, smiled. “No dads here, I’m afraid,” he said, meaning it in more than one way. “But food’s on the house, and the quarters for the arcade are endless.
"How ‘bout you come in… stay awhile and rest.”
And with that, the Lounge was in business.
Sam arched his eyebrows at what Dean was carrying. He could only see two drinks and the two burgers, nothing else. It wasn’t until Dean sat down, across from younger Dean, that Sam realized there was more cupped in his hand.
Dean held out his hand to Sam. Three different trays were cupped between the wrinkles in his skin, by some miracle all standing upright. Sam hurried to take them, realizing Dean had no way of placing stuff down while his hands were full.
Peeking under the first bowl, Sam announced “Mac and cheese and fluff,” vaguely surprised that the strange obsession from his childhood existed in a bar, nevermind that it was sized for them, tiny noodles perfectly made and all. “Peanut butter and jelly,” he placed Oscar’s sandwich in front of him, ruffling the mousy hair. “And a salad.” He grinned his thanks at Dean, staring at the tiny leaves and smaller tomatoes.
“Plus two burgers made right,” Dean said, with his hand freed finally able to hand off younger Dean’s food.
The teenager scowled at the soda. “What? You’re the only one that gets whiskey?”
Dean ticked a finger at him. “You got a few more years before that, champ,” he said dryly, picking up his whiskey on the rocks. “You’ll live.”
Sam grinned, picking up the beer Dean had gotten him. “Perfect.”
Oscar’s eyes brightened as he picked up his very own peanut butter and jelly sandwich, made with bread perfectly sized for him. He’d never minded when Dean had to squash it down, but he’d never imagined having bread like a human.
He mulled over his first bite while eyeing the drinks the others had. Whiskey and soda were definitely out for him, between the alcohol and the fizz.
He couldn’t help the fascinated glances at the other miniature food on the table. He’d never seen a tomato so small, but there were several in older-Sam’s salad. The pasta in young-Sam’s dish was probably too small for the two Deans to see.
“I wish I knew how ta make food that size,” he announced. “I could make my own sandwiches and-and whatever fluff is and everything.”
Younger Sam picked up his fork, the fluff hanging down from it, and laughed. “Maybe we can make some fluff sometime,” he said wistfully, wishing they could go back to Oscar’s motel in the real world and take him along. “I think that’s the same either size.”
He bit down onto it, and had to close his eyes at the unexpected explosion of flavors. It was over two months now since he’d been cursed, and it was delicious. Sam had almost forgotten what it was like having food that was his size.
The two humans were mostly ignored by the kids and Sam, all three of the smaller folk used to having them around while they were eating. Dean leaned back when he finished the last bite of his burger with a sigh of contentment. It wasn’t often that burgers tastes so fresh with ingredients so crisp. He idly wondered what the apple pie would taste like, knowing that naturally this place would have pie.
“So,” Dean said, “you tell us your story, and we’ll tell you ours.”
Younger Dean smiled ruefully. “I think you already know it starts with Sam’s curse, right?” He waited for Dean to nod. “I was lucky enough to spot him when Dad came back–“
While they talked and caught up, the letters on the TV screen slowly switched, brightening around The Road Not Taken while the other names vanished into the nether. The bartender grinned, knowing soon a new group would join them.
His bar would be hopping in no time at all.
The last step was the most important.
“Let the rules be set!”
Over the bar, he passed his hand, and a television set, ahead of its time and with throbbing letters on it appeared. It counted down the time to when the first visitors would appear, welcomed in.
“Let no one enter who would do harm. Let no harm come to those who enter. Those who are welcomed are welcomed by all, despite their differences or similarities.”
He grinned, a smarmy smirk that put Dean’s to shame. “No memories of this place may pass the threshold, and no one will enter knowingly! Yet all will come, and a berth in the storm will be granted!”
Turning to the wall, he gestured grandly. “Let it known that we are now open for business!”
The words on the screen overhead switched to Hershey Kisses and Salt Lines, and there on the wall grew two straight lines, shooting upwards until they dove across the wall at each other, forming a door.
The door opened.
Back at the table, Sam stepped closer to the young children, noting that Oscar was much thinner and frailer than his young self. “Everyone should pick a seat,” he said, gesturing to the round table made for them. “Dean’s going to have the food in a few minutes.”
They all followed his instructions, but Sam found a fingertip brushing at his hair. “So long!” said the younger Dean. “Why don’t ya cut it?”
Sam stepped away from the hand, though he didn’t feel any fear at the newer human. This was Dean, after all, though much younger and without the shadows that hung over the older Winchester.
“I like it,” Sam muttered, brushing his hair back into some semblance of order as he stepped over to the small table. Between two different Deans, he was never going to have a peaceful moment with his hair.
“I like it too!” young Sam announced as Sam sat down next to him, pushing at the napkins their size and picking up the placemats to peer under them.
Oscar swung his legs back and forth on his chair. His toes didn’t even reach the surface of the larger tabletop, but he was used to that. The thread spools he normally used as chairs were too tall for him as well.
“I don’t cut my hair very much either,” he commented, one hand brushing absently at his messy brown hair. It was reminiscent of a dandelion in some places, perpetually uneven and unkempt.
He caught himself staring at how tall the older Sam had ended up. By his reckoning, Sam had to be almost four inches tall. Both Winchesters were towering people, no matter the scale.
Shyness welled up in him and he looked away, instead finding the miniature utensils at each place set on the table. Hesitantly, as if wondering if it would be bad manners, he brushed his fingertips over the tines of his fork.
“Well I think it looks just fine the way it is,” Sam said gently, laying his satchel by the side of the chair and wondering at how odd it felt to sit at a table made for him, and one that have no indication it was made for dolls. The younger version of Dean wasn’t looking at them anymore, and gave no reaction to the statement, instead watching Dean get their food at the bar.
“Grub’s up,” Dean announced as he came back over.
Artwork by @lamthetwickster!