Stan was stirred by tremors echoing up from the floor, through the nightstand and the drawer inside it. He gave a quiet moan, making a move to sit up.
He froze. The shirt that Sam set up wasn't there. And when he opened his eyes, there wasn't one single ray of light. The drawer was shut.
And the vibrations were getting stronger. Like footsteps.
Stan's entire world was tossed to one side as the drawer was opened sharply and light flooded in. He didn't have time to blink away the spots forming in his vision before a hand cast a shadow over him and swept him into its unyielding grasp.
Gasping for air with his limbs pinned at odd angles, his every blood vessel ran icy. Piercing blue eyes bore right into his soul, flanked by a wave of brown hair and a feral smirk.
"Hey, morsel," growled Nicholas, grip tightening around Stan's body. "Miss me?"
Nicholas' fist burst into flames, consuming Stan wholly, the witch's maniacal laughter echoing in his ears as he was reduced to dust.
Stan sat bolt upright with a strangled gasp, forehead beading with sweat despite the numbing cold across his chest. As his shaky, panicked breaths evened out, he remembered where he was, who he was with. In the drawer of a motel nightstand, guarded by two hunters who promised to help him. So far, he saw no reason to believe they would go back on that.
It was hours later, in the dead of night. Stan could tell by the state of his ice pack, lacking the distinct lump the ice cube had left and spreading condensation in the form of a cold, damp spot on Dean's shirt as well as Stan's where the pack had been leaning. Rather than try to fall back to sleep in the cold and wet, Stan pushed himself up to a shaky crouch and wandered to a different spot. He easily made himself another blanket out of the folds, curling up in the comforting warmth.
Concentrating on breathing as deeply as he could helped Stan fall asleep again.
The next time he woke up, Sam and Dean were already out of bed and starting on their morning routine based on the trembles he could feel through the bottom of the drawer. Stan sat up sluggishly, stretching his little arms wide to wake himself up.
Here Stan paused, unsure of what to do. He hadn't been given any further instructions, so he settled for peeking out of the drawer and seeing what the hunters were up to.
Neither brother realized the smallest guest in the room had awoken, continuing on with their ablutions. Dean tossed Sam the keys to the Impala, fixing him with a scowl. "Don't forget the bacon this time!" he insisted.
Rolling his eyes, Sam ducked out of the room. After waking, they'd discussed the plan for the day. With Stan asleep and in desperate need of rest, they couldn't both leave the room to grab food, which meant an inevitable argument about who would get to go.
Normally Dean was all for some extra time to himself, but after Sam's last abortive attempt that ended in a meatless breakfast, he was far less keen.
A game of rock-paper-scissors sealed Dean's fate, his breakfast teetering on the whims of Sam and whatever food joint he found in the area.
With the room to himself and the third occupant awake and unnoticed, Dean chose to start on his morning workout routine. Wearing sweats and a close-fitting tee that displayed his arms as he worked, he slowly began to stretch.
For his part, Stan was used to going unnoticed at the best of times. Granted, his stealth was usually aided by a spell, but that was beside the point. He often had to observe humans from a distance, in brief spurts as he found a way into their walls, just to make sure they weren't heading his way. Now he could simply sit back and watch what these particular humans were like when they thought they were alone.
Stan's brow lifted in time with Dean's arms as the man seemed to stretch into the sky. And yet he didn't feel afraid, like he would if Dean was closer or was looking at him. With the distance taking away some of the natural intimidation that came with Dean's size, Stan could almost allow himself to think of him as similar to himself, stretching out the kinks in his arms and back before starting his day.
That thought was quickly dismissed. He could never be the equal of someone as great in strength and size as Sam or Dean, and comparing them to himself put them at an unfairly low standard.
But Stan supposed there was nothing wrong with sitting back and enjoying the view while things were quiet.
Dean worked slowly through his stretches, patient when it came to keeping in shape. In a job like theirs, where his or Sam's life could depend on how fit they were, it was important to never skip out on anything. They never knew when a hunt was going to end up with them running for their lives, or going head to head with a werewolf, who had much greater natural strength than a human.
It wasn't until he finished his stretches and was contemplating what he should do next, sit ups, push ups or find a way to do chin ups in the room, that he spotted Stan's tiny shock of red hair peeking out of the drawer.
Instead of immediately going over to the drawer to check on their tiny, vulnerable victim, Dean picked up the water bottle from the table, unscrewing the top for a drink while he cooled down. "I see Sleeping Beauty decided to join us in the land of the waking," he joked, a glimmer in his eye. Sam's words from before he left the room came to him, reminding him to back off and give Stan some space to recover.
Stan fought the urge to duck down behind the face of the drawer when Dean saw him and addressed him, more embarrassed that he'd been caught staring than afraid this time. It was mesmerizing, watching muscles larger than he would ever be flex and contract in Dean's arms, back muscles rippling like waves as he worked. Stan was hard-pressed to tear his eyes away when he had no immediate cause to fear the strength in those muscles.
"Good m-morning," Stan replied as heat rose in his neck. He hoped that his size and Dean's distance would hide his blush, flustered to realize that he'd been thinking of the human as handsome. Now that he wasn't hovering and Stan had space to see all of him at once, he had to admit that he, and Sam now that he thought of it, were objectively good-looking.
Not that it was his place to think such things, nor would he ever imagine pursuing anything beyond being their pet for the time being, but… it was a comforting thought that, out of all of humanity, Stan happened to be caught by humans that were nice to look at.
Dean grinned, glad to hear Stan's tiny voice pipe up so willingly from the other side of the room. Though he had to concentrate to pick out the kid's words from the ambient sound, it was there.
"Sammy's out gettin' us some breakfast," Dean said, his gruff nature betraying his voice. He tended towards the blunt side of things, and was doing his best to tone it down for the kid. "Feel up to joinin' me or did you want to sleep in some more?" He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers to show what he meant. Giving Stan a ride to the table would only take a few seconds.
"Oh, ah, yes, thank you!" Stan called, managing to pull himself to his feet on the uneven and unstable surface of Dean's shirt. He fussed at his hair to coax it back into place (only half-succeeding) and straightened his clothes in an attempt to look presentable for the human. As much as he could without a nicer change of clothes or some kind of comb.
Stan was used to being carried around, it was why he hadn't yet offered any protest to the brothers' handling of him. Their hands were far more gentle and considerate of him than Nicholas' ever were, so he felt he had no reason whatsoever to complain.
With Stan's permission, Dean crossed the room to the open nightstand drawer, leaning against the bed while he hunched over. "There we go," he said to himself as he slipped a hand in the drawer, carefully getting his hand under Stan to scoop him out.
Dean remained mindful of the injuries he remembered seeing the day before, careful to put no pressure of any sort on Stan as he was lifted up into the light.
"Sam'll be back in no time," Dean informed Stan brusquely. "Probably takin' his time for coffee. I was just warming up for the day." He smirked, knowing Stan had caught sight of him stretching. "Did you want to exercise with me?"
Stan blinked up at Dean's question, unaccustomed to being asked what he wanted to do. When he was with humans, nothing was in his control, and it wasn't his place to want for anything the bigger folk had.
Then again, Dean was offering, and Stan couldn't help but notice the skinniness in his own limbs compared to Dean's. Proportionally speaking, of course. If exercise made Dean look like that, then maybe Stan ought to give it a shot.
"If you want me to," Stan replied, tugging the sleeves of his shirt up to his knobbly little elbows in an absent attempt to emulate Dean's look.
Dean held out his hand to the table to let Stan off. "If you're up for it," he said gamely. "The important thing is, you are not to push yourself. If you feel any pain, especially while you're healing, stop what you're doing and try another exercise. You could end up injuring yourself more if you keep going, and we don't want that."
Sam would have his hide if he got Stan more injured in any of his harebrained plans, but Dean had seen Stan's body type all too clearly the night before. Some basic exercises combined with the good food they had on the way would do wonders for the kid. This would help him start on the road to recovery for his body. The bruises would vanish on their own, this would help build up strength and endurance.
Stepping back from the table, Dean shook out his arms. "We'll start small," he said with a quirk in his lips for the 'small' joke. "If you want to do any of the more advanced techniques, you'll need to be flexible, and these will help."
Dean sat down on the floor, keeping his legs apart at a steep angle for a hamstring stretch. "Go slow, and once you feel your body growing tense, stop," he advised, stretching out his arms so he could grab his foot. "Everyone has different limits, and I've been doing this most my life."
Stan kept close to the edge of the table to see everything Dean was doing on the floor. He had no problems with the height of what was the equivalent of a sheer cliff before him, but what did feel strange was looking down at a human for once. Unnatural, even. Thankfully, Dean was big enough to at least be eye level with Stan while sitting down, and that kept him grounded.
Once he had an idea of what he needed to do, Stan sat down and copied Dean's motions, reaching towards one leg. He couldn't make it quite as far as the human, the muscles in his legs quite tight from all the work they had to do the day before. Breathing deeply, Stan held the stretch, glancing over at Dean every now and then and adjusting his own form in tiny ways trying to match him.
Dean held his position for several seconds longer, letting the muscles stretch out as he kept still. Then, he hauled himself up from the floor, intending on checking up on Stan where he was working diligently at the stretch on the table.
Before he got there, he dropped back to his knees, hating how big he felt near Stan. He wasn't about to forget the terrified looks he'd received after his playful tease the night before.
"Good," Dean said, looking over Stan's form. "Now reach for the other leg and repeat."
Stan nodded, taking deeper, slower breaths with Dean so close. He was trying his best to not be afraid of the human, after everything he and Sam had done and continued to do for him. The least Stan could do was do what they asked, behave, and not show his fear when clearly it made them upset.
Following Dean's instruction, Stan stretched his arm out toward his other leg, adjusting his posture minutely as he leaned over. Without Dean's visual, he could only hope he was doing it right.
Dean leaned over, briefly touching a finger against Stan's foot to see how he had it stretched out. Once again, he found himself humming as he did so, finding it helped focus him enough to handle a guy who was smaller than a finger.
After checking the placement of Stan's arms and legs, never applying any pressure to the kid, Dean nodded sharply. "Dude, I think you're a natural at it," he commended. "Just hold that position, count to ten, then switch to the other leg. You should do each exercise a few times before switching to the next, but never push yourself so hard it hurts, especially when you're starting out."
Stan's lips twitched in and out of a smile at the praise, unaccustomed to holding such a light expression for long. He gave another nod and a polite "Thank you" before switching legs again.
He'd seen plenty of Dean's gentle touch the night before, when the much, much larger man checked Stan's thin, frail body for injuries. He was never rough, careful with each and every movement as he adjusted Stan's stance in the slightest.
Perhaps he and Dean simply got off on the wrong foot before, he thought. It was a tense situation for everyone involved, and Stan did belong to the witch he and Sam were hunting at the time.
"Tingles, doesn't it?" Stan muttered before he could think of keeping the comment to himself. He'd never done anything like this, and the sensation of the muscles in his legs stretching out was foreign to him. It didn't hurt yet, but his hamstrings sure felt funny.
"You could probably use some water," Dean mused with a frown, worrying that Stan might be dehydrated from his time with the witch.
Sitting on the closest chair, Dean grabbed the bottle he'd used earlier, dragging it over to unscrew the cap. Until they either figured out a better method for Stan to drink with or found a way to get him normal, this was their only way to give him a drink. It just looked like the kid was drinking out of a tub every time.
"Rule number one of exercise," Dean instructed, pushing the cap over to Stan with a finger. "Drink a lot, especially if you're feeling light headed. We can go through a few more stretches today if you're up to it, but this is the kind of thing you want to build up slowly. It doesn't happen all at once."
After his second round of ten-counts, Stan relaxed his legs to sit cross-legged as he pulled the cap over. He gratefully dunked his hands under, cupping them to sip the cool, crisp water.
It constantly surprised him, how nice Sam and Dean were to him. Everything they'd offered him so far, from the food to the bed they came up with for him, was much more thoughtful and pleasant than anything he'd experienced with the witch. He'd always thought hunters would be vile and vicious creatures who would see him as something different and dispose of him right away.
And yet here were Sam and Dean, proving Nicholas wrong well after he was dead at their hands.
Stan took a few more sips per Dean's instruction, running his dripping hands down his face and through his hair, then looked up at the human. "I'm ready if you want to keep going," Stan informed him, hoping that didn't sound too forward or rude. He could never tell with humans, especially strange ones like these hunters.
"Sounds like a plan to me," Dean said with a grin, glad to see Stan getting into the workout. With an attitude like that, maybe the little guy would get over his ordeal swiftly, bouncing back from his traumas.
Getting set up on the floor again, Dean met Stan's gaze. "This one's called the butterfly stretch, but don't let the name fool you," he said, taking position. "And the farther in your feet are, the more intense the stretch gets…"
They went on that way for a good half hour. Dean kept a close eye on Stan to make sure he wasn't pushing any limits and just not saying anything, and also making sure they both stayed hydrated. It was a surreal scene; to see a person who stood less than four inches tall mirroring the motions that a full-sized hunter, a normally very gruff one, made.
This was what Sam found himself walking in on, shouldering into the room with his hands full. He had a tray of three drinks, the aroma of hot coffee rising from two of them and the other a bright orange color, and a bag balanced on his arm as he put the room key in his back pocket.
Sam arched an eyebrow, surprised to find Dean and Stan both in the same position. "Breakfast," he said, bemused.
"Awesome," Dean said, clambering to his feet and making a gimme motion for the bag.
A/N:
This is up there as one of my favorite bonding moments. Dean is doing his best!
Next: February 9th, 2022 at 9PM est
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