Time slips away, Sam on his laptop, Dean and Castiel enjoying music. Sam glances at the small Dean, feeling something wrong. He pressed his lips together slightly. It wouldn't hurt to check. He types a few words into the search bar, and within a few minutes his suspicions were confirmed.
"um, guys?" it takes a few moments for Dean and Cas to wake up from their music enhanced daydreams, but a few seconds later they were all curious ears.
"I think, our previous theory was wrong." Sam admits. He hears a low buzz from his brother.
"What theory?" Castiel asks, re-stating Dean's question. Sam rubs the back of his neck, feeling slightly abashed.
"Remember how were talking about the obelisk, and how Dean's bigger than what it says because he's bigger than people a long time ago?"
Castiel nods.
"Yeah. Well that's not true." Another buzz.
"What are you talking about?" Castiel demands. Sam turns his laptop around. "I did a little researching and found that when this was made, the average man was 5 foot six. Not that much smaller than Dean. So it doesn't make sense that he would be so much bigger."
"Hmm." Castiel pondered. Dean made his way to the screen, eating up the words, then made his way to Sam.
"So does this mean the spell is wearing off the thing?" Sam shrugged.
"Maybe."
"I guess we'll know when it wears off," Castiel checked his phone "in about an hour, give or take some time." Apparently it was already one in the afternoon. Two hours had flown away.
"Are you hungry Dean?" still a little stomach. Not for much longer though. Castiel enjoyed taking care of Dean, what little he could. Usually the hunter abhorred accepting any kind of help. Even from his brother. Even from his friends. But Castiel was determined to do what he could while he still can. He had no doubt that Dean would hide himself away once he grew back to his regular height. If he grew back to his regular height. No. He will.
He has to.
Dean turned his head up to his brother and cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Do we have any oranges left?" Castiel blinks. Surely he didn't hear what he thought he heard. Sam nods, thoughtful.
"We should have at least one left, I'll get it. Cas you want something from the kitchen?" it takes Castiel a few moments to respond.
"A banana. Please." Sam nods and pulls his chair out, disappearing from sight with a few steps.
"Since when does the mighty Dean Winchester eat fruit that's not in a pie?" he goaded his small friend. Dean looked across the wide expanse of the table to his blurry wall of a friend. He silently jogged back to Castiel. Not even bothering to try and yell to him from this distance.
Once Castiel understood his objective, his right hand turned over, palm up. When Dean arrived, he clambered into the hand. Castiel wondered how fast Dean got used to the idea of being held in a hand.
Dean motions for him to be picked up. Castiel complies.
"Since I found out that my throat hurts because of yelling and something in the orange soothes it." Castiel drums the fingers of his other hand on the table.
"Any plans for when you get taller than me?"
"Hell yeah. Using a bathroom and shower! Make myself a thick sandwich and finish watching the doctor sexy dvd Sam got me." Castiel can't help but smile at how excited Dean sounds to do these things. It's not often that he gets excited over simple things. The last time it happened was when he walked in on Dean marathoning the Lord Of The Rings movies. Castiel had walked in on the last hour. Dean had been yelling at the screen most of the time.
"Being tiny is lame. Can't do anything by myself. It sucks ass."
"Sam told me that you tried to eat an entire slice of pie. Was that so bad?"
Oh yeah, the pie. Dean had momentarily forgotten about the giant pie. The giant, delicious, warm apple pie, that was great.
"That was great. That may have been the only upside to this thing. The giant food. Hmm."
In lumbered Sam, two fruits in one hand, and his other enclosed around something. He places the fruit on to the table and opens his closed fist, picking up something tiny.
"Don't want to forget your shoes." He brings the two fingers pinching the shoes to his little-big brother, who gratefully grasps his shoes as soon as the fingers are close enough. Instead of sitting across from Castiel like before, he takes the seat next to him. Sam cuts up the orange as Dean laces up his boots. He didn't think about his boots not growing back with him. Would they? It's not something he wants to waste a pair of good shoes figuring out.
Once he gets his shoes on, Dean makes his way off of Castiel's hand, and waits for his food. His arms go out as soon as Sam cuts the smaller piece. As small as Sam can cut it, its still half of Dean's diminished size. But it doesn't look like Dean cares because both Sam and Castiel try to watch him eat the citrus fruit without looking like they are watching
Goddamn, it's adorable.
Sam knows it's the unnatural effect of something that should be normal sized being tiny. He's seen it happen with videos mice eating a tiny taco. Castiel doesn't understand why he and Sam share the same smile over Dean's head as he bites into a small segment of fruit.
It's adorable, but why is a tiny Dean affecting them?
Dean can FEEL two pairs of eyes on him. He raises the bird skywards over his head without even looking up. That earns him a deep, reverberating laugh from his brother. Paying attention to the food in his hands, Dean can smell the banana that Cas peels.
From the bottom up. They'll work on that later.
Sam and Cas talk over his head about something. Dean doesn't pay attention. Even though they try to talk softly their words are still loud and rumbling. If he's not paying attention it sounds a little like thunder. Sam eats the remainder of the orange, because there'd 99.9% of it left. Dean watches Sam pass a section to Castiel, offering. Castiel takes it, but instead of eating it he just, looks at it and tilts his head, confused. He watches Sam bite into his own piece and after a quiet "oh." He mimics the younger Winchesters movements.
Sometimes its easy to forget that Cas isn't a regular person. He doesn't know some things, like how to do laundry, that tin foil doesn't go in the microwave, that you have to go into dressing rooms to try on clothes, or how to eat an orange slice.
He's been picking up stuff fast, but Dean doesn't mind teaching him.
Sam piles the peels in a stack, and takes Castiel's peels when he's done with it.
"I'll be back with a napkin for you, don't worry." Dean was going to wipe his hands off on his shirt. He'd be able to take a shower soon. He checked his watch.
It was 1:30.
Half an hour or more till the magic moment when he'd be regular sized. Oh god, Dean can't wait to be big again. First thing he's gonna do is hug Sam and pick up that Sasquatch off the ground. Then Cas gets a hug and a lift-off. THEN the shower. Maybe work out after. Or something. Listen to music, bus he just spent a few hours today doing that. Watch a show? He's been doing that the past few days.
He's gonna go for a walk. Yeah. That sounds nice. Not a run or a jog, heaven forbid he turn into a health nut like Sam. Running was completely unnecessary unless you were running away from something.
For a guy that's in such good shape, Dean hates exercise. If he wasn't trained to be a hunter, he'd probably be overweight. He knows this for a fact. Not that there's anything wrong with a few extra pounds, but he can't get the jump on a werewolf with those few extra pounds, can he?
Dean's so lost in thought that when two giant fingers emerge from the sky inches away from his face he nearly jumps out of his skin. His hand automatically goes to his back for a gun that isn't there.
"Jeezus fuck." He sighed, calming down and accepting the shred of wet napkin that the fingers offer him.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." Sam apologizes.
"And I didn't mean to put green kool-aid in your conditioner." Dean grumbles, wiping the satisfying yet surprisingly sticky juice from his hands and face.
Dean wonders if they can hear him at all when he's talking in a normal voice and not yelling. He's not even gonna ask when he's this size. He'll be big soon enough.
1:36
Dean has suddenly come to the realization that being small isn't all scary stuff. There's a few cool things he could do. If he can convince one of the giants near him.
1:44
"Basically, you wrap some floss around me, I can go into the vents and check out how safe this place is."
"No Dean."
1:51
"There's some time left, I can ride my record player!"
"You really want to risk ruining one of your records?"
"…"
1:55
"What if-"
"One more insane suggestion out of you and I will wrap you in the handkerchief like a burrito."
"hmph."
1:57
Cue tiny, (adorable) impatient pacing. Sam's trying to read but between his pacing brother and Latin ghosts, he's read the last paragraph three times without absorbing it so he watches his brother pace instead. Castiel is doing something on his phone, possibly taking pictures. Speaking of which.
"Say cheese!" one flash later, Dean was a pissed off munchkin.
"No pictures! I don't want to remember this!"
"I'm pretty sure I do." He checked the picture. Dean was close enough to his book that a corner had gotten in to the picture. It was good enough for size comparison.
"And now I have leverage." Castiel tilts his head in all too familiar confusion.
"How can a picture of small Dean be used as leverage?"
"I can give it to Charlie." Sam reply's, more than a little proud of himself. Dean takes a step back, suddenly fearful.
"You wouldn't."
"You know I would." Dean drops to a sit and folds his legs Indian style.
"Can't give the tiny guy a break, can you?" he joked. A big finger invades his bubble and prods his side.
"Not tiny for much longer." Dean stays quiet. For the last day, the paper megaphone was forgotten and so Dean has to yell to be heard. His throat feels sore and tender. He had strep throat when he was a teenager. It felt something like this from what he can recall.
He hoped he doesn't have strep now.
Time passes slowly but quietly. Dean knows both Sam and Castiel are taking pictures of him but he ignores it. The pacing keeps his blood pumping enough that he stays warm. Well, warm enough. Soon he won't need the heating pads. Though maybe he'll take one for his bed.
He paces across Europe, Asia, and Russia. What continent does Russia belong to anyway? It's not particularly important to know, he's just curious.
"Its 2:05." Sam announces quietly. Three pairs of eyes look Dean over. He's still tiny.
2:10
2:23
2:45
3:16
Dean's been camped out on the heating pad, trying not to fall asleep for at least a half an hour now. He refuses to use anyone's hand because what if he grows big and hurts somebody? But his eyes are growing heavy and not even the thought of eating a giant bacon cheeseburger (which he totally should have done, preservatives be damned.) is able to keep him awake.
Both Sam and Castiel look tense. Cas glances at Dean every few seconds, like he thinks that Dean might run off and disappear if he didn't keep an eye on him. Sam's almost tearing the paper out of the book when he turns the page. Dean would be on edge too, if he wasn't so damn sleepy.
He's about to lose the fight to sleep when he feels…tingly. He opens his eyes to realize that he's glowing. And getting brighter! A bright light emanates from his skin, turning him into a toy-sized source of light.
"GUYS! SHUT YOUR EYES!" his yell makes them both look up in surprise to see Dean glowing like a firefly and growing brighter by the second. All eyes are shut when he gets too bright, so no one sees him grow almost instantly in all the light. Also, no one knows to move away, so Sam gets hit with a boot that wasn't there a moment ago. The light around Dean dims as fast as it came and by the time they open their eyes, Dean is sprawled on the table. One leg on Sam's arm, the other in the air off the table.
Its disorienting for a few moments, so Dean can be excused when he tries to get up and manages to flail and fall face first onto the hard, unforgiving marble floor.
"Ow." Pushing himself to his feet a pair of hands belonging to Castiel help him up. He's bigger than Cas again! He wraps his arms around his friend in a tight hug, lifting him off the ground for a second. Castiel slowly fits his arms around Dean, letting out a short surprised sound when his feet no longer touch the floor.
Dan's grin is nearly splitting his face when he turns around to face his brother, who gets the same treatment. (even if it is a little harder to lift the sasquatch, Dean still manages it)
"It's been great hangin around with you two, but I need a shower." Without running (he didn't run away!) he quickly made his way out of the war room before anyone could protest.
Holy shit! It was glorious to be by himself! A hot shower felt awesome, especially with the great water pressure the bunker has. He derived pleasure from throwing out the bottle cap on the counter of the sink. By the time he escaped the steam filled bathroom (a hallelujah for plumbing! A double hallelujah for the fact that he was big enough to use it!) Sam and Cas were nowhere nearby.
Not that he wanted them anywhere nearby for the next while.
Once he was in his room with clean clothes, he pulled his phone out of his pants. It had about 20% battery left. When he plugged it in to its charger, the screen lit up, showing a text.
"Out shopping with Cas." Dean texted back.
"target has a sale." Not like he saw the stuff or the store even.
"thx"
Dean no longer wanted the walk. He probably paced a mile or two on the table waiting for time to pass. Right now, he was exhausted. A nap wouldn't be so bad, would it? The last two hours were spent pacing and fending off the nap his body so desperately wanted. Without thinking he picked up the covers of his bed, lay down, and curled up beneath them, glad that he was wearing sweatpants.
He closed his eyes.
And opened them.
Something was missing.
What the hell was missing?!
Nothing in his room, and nothing was ever on his bed but the sheets, blanket and pillows, which were there.
So why did it feel like there should be something there?
It took five minutes of tired tossing and turning to realize what wasn't there.
Warmth.
Dean had spent the past few days sleeping with a source of heat. Body heat and the heating pads.
He missed it.
Grumbling, he snatched the heating pad off of Sam's night table. Unplugging one of the lamps in his own room to plug it in. What now warms a portion of his torso used to be like a football field. Lying on his stomach has the not-so-big heating pad warming up his abdomen and a little of his chest. It feels artificial. It's not good enough. He wants body heat. But, he couldn't have that.
But the absence of it makes him feel, hollow. He wants someone here with him. He throws his arm over someone that isn't there, frustrated when his arm hits the sheets. He brings it back and tucks it under his forehead. He wants someone there to keep him safe. Apart from the first hour or so of being tiny, Sam and Cas were always looking out for him, making sure he was secure and unharmed.(even though some things happened, but Dean places no blame on anyone but himself for those things) He was in the best hands, literally! Most of the time, and it made him feel loved. Made him feel safe.
Hadn't felt like that in a long while.
It's not even sex he's craving but the comfort of another body.
But it doent work like that.
S'not like he can just ask Ca-somebody to just sleep with him. He's not a toddler with a nightmare.
But he wants somebody.
No, he doesn't want somebody.
He wants Cas. He wants Castiel with him, to stay with him, to sleep with him, to do other things with him, because Dean Winchester is a selfish bastard who craves selfishly and can't have the thing he craves.
But Cas keeps leaving! He keeps on going out to who knows where for who knows how long only to come back to him beaten and bloody. It scares the crap out of Dean every time he comes back beaten. He also comes a bit more knowledgeable about the world, and with stories of the people he met, some more kind than others. Like the hippie in Texas who taught him how to smoke weed and knit. Or the store owner who brought him a sandwich every day for lunch.
Goddamn it! Why did he have these feelings that can't be reciprocated?!
Why does he love Cas?
Why does he love the thing he can't have?
Not like there's anything he can do about it now.
Sighing, he closes his eyes for the well needed nap.
Dean wakes up after an unknown amount of time, hearing footsteps going past his room. Sitting up, he determines that it's Castiel. The angel-turned-man walks lightly and quickly, unless it's early morning. In which case he stomps until consuming coffee, in that ridiculous huge green polka-dot mug of his.
Exiting his room, his bare feet tread lightly over the cold floor. His neck is stiff and doesn't want to bend. All of that looking up at people for three days hurts a body.
He pauses outside of Castiel's room, the door wide open. Cas is busy cutting off tags off of shirts, socks and...what's that? Dean leans a little closer into the doorway, trying to get a batter look at what now resides next to the pillow on Cas's bed. The wood of the doorway creaks, and Castiel looks up, eyes pinning Dean's feet to the floor.
"Hello Dean."
"Hey Cas." He rasps. He coughs and clears his throat. It feels better than before but still not 100%.
"Sam took me shopping." He gestured to the clothes laid out on the bed.
"I see. What's that?" he points to the yellow and black thing at the head of the bed.
"It's a pillow pet." Castiel goes back to cutting the tag off the sleeve of the shirt in his hands. Dean leans on the doorway, crossing his arms because he has no idea what to do with his hands.
Cal looks up from the shirt and scissors on his hands and squints at him.
"You can come in if you want." He offers.
"Yeah. Okay." He steps into the room, unsure of what to do. He can help with the clothes. Yeah, he can help with the clothes. Most of the stuff is like hunter garb. Flannels, t-shirts, a few pairs of jeans and two sweatshirts and a sweater. Packets of underwear and socks. Some of it looks new, others show signs of wear. Stuff from a thrift store. A "new" pair of slightly scuffed but still very serviceable sneakers on the floor must be from the thrift store too. A nice white shirt still in its package must be for a monkey suit.
And the pillow pet thing.
Seating himself near Cas Dean leans over to pick it up.
It's a bee toy, but a strip of Velcro on the bottom connects the sides of it, making the corners into legs. Pulling it off makes it unfold in to a yellow and black fuzzy pillow with a head.
The entire idea is actually cute. Not that Dean would admit something like that.
"Cute." Damn his traitorous mouth.
Castiel takes it carefully from his lap to place it in his own. He absentmindedly stroked the soft fur.
"It's not anatomically correct, but it is nice." Cas likes bees. Dean knows that, it's his favorite creature. Dean eyes the stuff on the bed behind him. There's something missing.
"Cas, did you get any pajamas?"
"T-shirts and boxers will suffice."
"It's going to be winter soon, and unless you're in a place with constant heat, that won't keep you warm enough." Because keeping Castiel warm and safe is important. But now Castiel looks distressed.
"It's no big deal, I'll lend you some of my sweatpants and long sleeve tees until the next shopping trip.
"Thank you." Dean nudges his shoulder into his friend's lightly. Small touches. He's allowed that, right? After nearly three days of almost constant touch, Dean misses the contact. Almost like an addict.
"No problem buddy. You'll pick out some after we're done with this."
"Okay."
The next ten minutes are spent in comfortable silence as tags get cut off, wrappers get thrown away and items go into their proper drawers. All of the thrift shop stuff is going into the laundry first before wearing. That's a lesson the Winchesters learned the hard way.
But that's a story for another time.
Dean puts a hand on Cas's shoulder. Grounding himself with small touches.
"Come on. Pick out some of my pj's and then I'll make early dinner." Dean doesn't need more than a second to know that look. Cas is confused.
"Pee jays?" he asked weakly.
"Short for pajamas. Come on." He stands up and walks out of Castiel's room, hearing the shorter man's feet pad gently on the hard floor behind him.
"It won't be an early dinner." He hears behind him.
"hmm?"
"It's almost eight in the evening. It'll be a late dinner if anything." Dean waves his hand in dismissal. He must have slept for a few hours.
"Doesn't matter. Anytime is food time if you're the one making the food."
Dean's room is clean. Always clean. The only untidy thing about it is the sheets thrown off of the bed where he got up a few minutes ago. And the heating pad is still there. Dean hoped Cas doesn't notice it. Dean waves him over to the dresser where he opens a drawer.
"Pick out what you want." Long sleeve tees and soft pants are in this drawer. Its pretty much what he's wearing right now. Soft, comfortable things.
Dean thinks about opening his mouth and stating that his room had better heating than Castiel's room. Or that his mattress is better.
Something, anything to make him stay, and to keep him here.
"I see the heating pad on your bed." Castiel comments nonchalantly, his back to Dean and the bed, still picking out his sleepwear.
"Uh." Dean has no idea how to reply or react to that.
"Are you still cold?" Castiel turns around, holding shirts and pants in his arms, but his face showed a bit of worry.
"A little. I'm just used to the constant heat and now that I'm big….I miss it."
The silence between them is not strained, nor is it entirely comfortable. But it goes on for far too long and Dean needs to fill it. His stomach does it for him with an angry grumble loud enough for Castiel to hear.
"heh. I'm going to the kitchen for dinner. You want?" Castiel shrugs, but follows him silently, clothes still in his arms.
There's bacon in the freezer, and veggies in the fridge. A BLT sounds good.
"Cas, how about a BLT? bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich." Cas nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen table that allowed him to see the kitchen. And Dean.
Dean puts the bacon in the cold pan and heats it up on low, a sharp knife makes quick work of a big tomato. Sam has to sacrifice a bag of lettuce for their sandwiches. It would rather be with meat than other veggies Dean informs his friend.
Soon, two sandwiches are being happily consumed by two men. One clearly enjoying it more than the other. Castiel want going to point out the fact that dean was humming happy sounds as he chewed. He wasn't going to make him aware and ashamed of it. He found the little noises endearing.
He's interrupted from his thoughts with a question.
"Sam's out?" castiel nodded, and chewed what was in his mouth before answering.
"He dropped me off with my things. He said he would be back later." Dean sticks out his bottom lip and tilts his head to the side in an understanding look.
"He's been stuck here with me these past few days. Probably at a bar." Dean lifts his shoulder in a half shrug like he doesn't care. Castiel knows he does. Dean always gets a little upset when he can't take care of Sam. He doesn't like to show it either.
The sandwiches are consumed quickly, and dishes are dropped off in the sink with a promise of doing them tomorrow.
Castiel's a little surprised at how Dean's been so close to him the past hour. Dean's been the one in his space, touching and nudging.
This is confusing to say the least.
What Castiel expected was awkwardness and not seeing Dean for at least a day if not more. He knew Dean. But Dean was hanging around him! Initiating contact and offering his clothes. These were leaps and bounds in a direction that Castiel had only hoped for. And was almost the exact opposite of what he was expecting at this time. He considered this while they walked side by side down the long hallways to the bedroom area, clothes in his hands. Dean's room was closer. He paused at his closed door, and turned his head to face Castiel.
"uh." His Adams apple bobbed. His eyes shifted from Castiel's face to the floor.
"Ah, goodnight Cas." He uttered quietly, looking defeated.
"Is something wrong?"
"No." Dean nearly spat. Nothing was wrong. But it could be better.
"Goodnight Cas." He sighed morosely hanging his head. He didn't even look at the other man as he walked into his room and closed the door behind himself. He covered his face with his hands and let out a long moan of despair.
"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." He berated himself. "Why would Cas want to stay with a looser like you?" he dropped face first into his bed, ready to sleep and shut out the world.
In his own room, Castiel changed into his new pajamas. They smelled like Dean.
In a rare moment of self-indulgence, he lifted the collar over his nose and sniffed. Oh, yes. Underneath the fake flower scent, gunpowder, and that scent that was purely Dean. Even though the shirt was clean and smelled like the detergent that Sam liked to use, it still was in Deans room and smelled a little like him. Keeping the shirt over his nose he sat down on his bed. Sam had given him a few books to read. One of them was the Game of Thrones book he and Dean were fond of. The other was the children's book they read the other day.
The cover was a simple yet messy drawing of a man with ears the size of his head, holding young girl in the palm of his hand. He's a little skeptical, but Sam highly recommended the book.
He's quickly immersed in the story of Sophie the orphan, and how she's taken from the orphanage by a giant, the BFG, Big Friendly Giant he called himself. Moving through the story, Castiel finds parallels in his life and the book. He was once a giant compared to humans. He made friends who taught him about humanity. Those friends were threatened by his brethren, and he and his friends defeated the evil who wanted to destroy humanity. And now he was living with his friends.
Sophie and her friend the BFG work on a plan to take out the other nasty giants who gobble up people and run like the wind. When Sophie mentions letting in a government power know about the giants, Castiel scoffs. He's worked with police before. They aren't all that amazing as the child claims they are.
Twenty more pages and his eyes start to droop.
Sleep, while entirely necessary for a heathy human body, was bothersome. Castiel found out that his body only needed 6 to 7 hours of sleep a night to be energetic the next day. Any less and he became sluggish and grumpy.
He didn't want to sleep. He wanted to keep reading. But like a determined yet exhausted toddler, his eyes closed without permission and he slept.
A.N. so even though I posted the story here, Its also on Ao3 under the same name. the Ao3 version is more polished because it easier to correct grammatical mistakes and so on, on that website. Its goes under the same name.