Lestrade's brow lifted slightly, following Sherlock's gaze. He recognized the meandering steps, he'd seen it many times over in much larger individuals. "Doesn't drink much, does he?" Lestrade inferred with a glance at Sherlock.
"No," the detective answered tersely, keeping a sharp eye on his small friend.
Reaching the bit of table that stretched past Sherlock, Dean paused to briefly survey the room beyond before turning back, not acknowledging the two humans watching him intently. With their eyes so far over his head, he might not have even noticed the attention.
Something new caught Dean's attention, and he began to wander again. Sherlock's hands tended to scoop him up and throw off his balance, but now he could see a different hand relaxing on the table, apart from the detective. Lestrade, where he had his arm casually resting on the table, didn't send any warning alerts to Dean's instincts, and he set off in a new direction, his curiosity, so long repressed after Sherlock's attempted examination back when they'd first met along with many warnings against the doctor and the detective in the flat, came flooding back.
This hand wasn't attached to any of those warnings, and in his confident, rather drunken haze at the moment, Dean figured that meant it was safe to check out. His regular bowlegged walk was pronounced, ambling over to Lestrade's side of the table and never once looking up.
Dean might have been confident in his assessment of the new hand, but he didn't want to take any unnecessary chances. Once he came close, he slowed down, watching for any sudden moves. When it didn't spring up to grab him like Sherlock's, he kicked the tip of Lestrade's index finger to test his assessment. If this was a trap, surely that would set it off and leave Dean time to dodge.
The fingers twitched slightly in surprise as Lestrade stared in shock and confusion at Dean. The kick wasn't out of aggression, and it was far from painful. What struck Lestrade was that Dean seemed curious in this action, cautiously intrigued, testing out the man's hand in case it was dangerous.
Lestrade looked to Sherlock, who was intently watching the exchange between Dean and the Detective Inspector. He seemed just as confused by Dean's behavior, but he was also willing to let it go on as long as Lestrade posed no threat. Clearly he was just as curious as Dean.
Resigning himself to play along with whatever was going on, Lestrade let his fingers relax back to where they were on the table. He had to admit to wondering just what Dean was up to with his hand, especially after the kid freaked out when he thought he was going to be grabbed.
When his hesitant test went off without a hitch, Dean dropped to his knees, fascinated at the first close-up look he was getting with a fingernail.
This wasn't exactly something he'd ever brought up to Sherlock or John before, especially after everything that had happened, but Dean wondered about the differences between himself and humans more than anyone else. Probably more than even Sherlock, whatever the detective might think. Dean had spent half his life this size, but never had the chance to look at what could have been.
Leaning over the fingernail, Dean looked closely at all the small ridges, and where the nail met the skin in the quick. He touched the hard surface of the nail itself with a finger, finding it nearly as thick as his pinky when he inspected the edges. Making a fist, Dean knocked against the top, cocking his head at how solid it was.
Wondering just how small his hand was in comparison, Dean spread his hand out on top of the nail, rueing the way it didn't reach to the edges no matter how he stretched.
Lestrade's eyes were wide as he watched Dean examine his fingernail. Seeing the little fellow touch a finger that the humans could barely see to it, and feeling the tiniest pressure from the taps of Dean's miniscule knuckles, was way beyond anything the DI expected out of this meeting.
The fascination was contagious, especially when Dean compared his own hand to Lestrade's nail, doing his best to match it in size. Even if he came up short, the sight stole Lestrade's breath. He could hardly look away, hardly blink as he stared at the tiny fingers against his fingernail, trying to see Dean's own microscopic nails.
He eventually gave up, deciding to not strain his eyes, and he turned his awed expression to see what Dean thought and what he might do next.
Dean only spent another moment with his hand spread out, wondering if he should use two hands to cover the fingernail. In the end he decided that was pointless; he'd wanted to cover it with one hand to prove he could, all that would do was prove he needed both hands for just a fingernail.
Maybe Sam. That kid's hands could cover Dean's up with room to spare.
Changing his attention, Dean dropped to his stomach next to Lestrade's finger, his legs stretched out behind him and his arms braced against the ground. This time he stared at the whorls of the fingerprint he could see that weren't pressed against the table. He prodded a finger between the creases, marveling that he was that small. His fingers could fit between a fingerprint. Pausing, Dean stared at his own hand to see just how fine those lines were, frowning as he tried to imagine being able to fit a finger into the creases of his own fingerprint like that. Microscopic, almost.
Lestrade couldn't contain a smirk when Dean went flat against the table, lifting his brow knowingly at Sherlock. The detective in question was known to assume a similar position when he was on a case, and apparently it had rubbed off on his small companion. Sherlock looked utterly flummoxed by this development, hardly tearing his eyes away from Dean to acknowledge Lestrade's silent snark.
The DI looked back at Dean, too intrigued by the notion that Dean was examining him. Lestrade sucked in a small gasp when he saw such tiny digits tracing his fingerprint, and Dean comparing it to his own. It was all he could do to keep still, as though the spell would break if he moved or otherwise disturbed Dean's investigation.
When he was finished looking at his hand compared to the fingerprint, Dean pushed himself to his hands and knees, glancing from side to side. Alongside Lestrade's index finger, Dean was also close to his thumb at the same time, but he only gave it a passing glance to see if it was shorter than him. Impossible to tell, curled like that.
Besides, he'd found something more interesting. Dean lowered his head, looking underneath Lestrade's outstretched hand. The way it settled on the table left the palm arched to form a small cave underneath, and it looked just big enough for Dean to fit. His eyes, doing much better, adjusted quickly to the darkness while he was looking to see the strange new perspective, and the last thing on his mind was any possible danger that could come from putting himself in an unknown hand like that. Drunken confidence had replaced his normal wariness, and he could barely hang onto the thought that the hand was attached to anyone else at the moment. For all he could tell, it wasn't, and his curiosity wouldn't stop nagging at him now that he had the opportunity fall into his lap to safely check out a human's hand up close and personal without it moving on him or possibly trying to grab him.
Flattening against the table again, Dean scooched right under Lestrade's palm, vanishing from sight. Leather jacket and all.
Lestrade had to bite back an astonished chuckle as Dean disappeared under his hand. It was the last thing he ever expected Dean to do, and Lestrade was hardly prepared for the strange sensation. There was an entire person there, someone who was previously terrified of finding himself surrounded by fingers his size, and someone whose tiny hairs Lestrade could feel brushing against his palm as he shifted.
Stunned, Lestrade was caught between keeping perfectly still and trying to peer under his own hand to see what the little fella was up to. He could understand Dean's curiosity with regard to things like fingernails and prints, but the purpose of turning Lestrade's hand into a tent eluded both humans. Even Sherlock was aghast, staring with wide eyes and a deep frown. Unlike Lestrade, he found more confusion in Dean's actions than entertainment.
Dean was not entertained by his impulsive decision, nor did it confuse him in the slightest. In his drunken haze, he had a plan of his own, though even he would be unable to make any sense of it in the morning.
Flipping onto his back, Dean stared up at the palm that arched over his head, laying with his legs stretched out in the small space. While Lestrade and Sherlock were looking down and trying to figure out what he was doing, he briefly compared the lines on the palm next to his own, then his face darkened in annoyance.
"This lifeline's longer than me!" Dean's voice rang out from under Lestrade's palm, aimed at Sherlock.
Lestrade arched his brow, glancing at Sherlock as soon as they both realized who Dean was speaking to. Addressing Sherlock as though Lestrade wasn't there. They exchanged a look before their gazes dropped to the obvious culprit for Dean's unusual behavior that neither had considered until then. The little tin cup Dean had abandoned with the rest of his things.
It occurred to the humans that Dean had been filling that thing up to the brim, and while it might only amount to a drop to either of them, in relation to Dean it was a rather large cup. Much larger than the one Lestrade had been drinking out of, and his hadn't even been filled up all the way like Dean's had. Put that together with Dean's evident lack of tolerance, and Dean's actions suddenly made sense. He was simply too far gone to remember that anyone besides Sherlock was around.
"That's a surprise?" Sherlock snarked at Dean after a moment, prodding inquisitively at the small cup with a gentle fingertip. He wanted a good look at it, and wouldn't get a very good approximation of its capacity if he squashed it.
Lestrade regarded his own drink thoughtfully, then lifted the hand around it to consider his palm. He now knew someone who could fit there, and claimed his lifeline was longer than he was tall. He flexed and curled his fingers, watching the subtle movements of the muscles in his palm and the way they affected the deeper lines in his skin.
Not something Lestrade ever expected to focus on, but with Dean all but in his grasp there was little else to think about.
Dean rolled over, running into Lestrade's pinky when he went too far. "Well it's not like you ever sit still long enough for me to look!" he called out, partially infuriated.
The rest of him was feeling hazy, and after moving so fast, he had to stop and let the world stop spinning.
Rubbing his brow, Dean scowled at the air. "One'a these days I'll get you back for always moving so fast!" he threatened, pushing up on his hands and knees. The way in he'd used previously was forgotten in lieu of the cracks he could see between the long fingers, and Dean army-crawled his way out only to squish between two fingers.
Free at last, he unsteadily got to his feet, concentrating very hard on not tumbling head over heels and giving Sherlock something else to poke at.
That was when he remembered the fingers he was standing next to, and immediately went over to Lestrade's index finger, wrapping two hands around to try and hoist it over his head. "What about this? Who's taller?" Dean called, determined to find something he was taller than.
A/N:
TW: Alcohol and drinking will be involved with the rest of the story, including drunken behavior.
Dean might have had a few too many already.
Next: November 16th, 2022 at 9PM
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Adding in this author's note for all my followers here, and will keep it on all chapters going forward:
If the worst happens and fanfiction shuts down, you can find all my stories on both archive of our own and deviantart, posted under the nightmares06 account. You can also find our story tumblr, which contains a ton of information and answers that are only posted on that site, along with artwork for the stories and future plans we have. That can be found under the brothersapart tumblr account. I can't put links in chapters, but googling "Brothersapart tumblr" should bring it right up!