#big!sam

Sorry for the delay. Things are still pretty shitty but I’ve been working on this a little bit when I can to get it out there. ^^ The next voting will be up until I give a warning about closing it, just so I can leave it open until I’m ready to write again. Remember you can reply, message, or drop a vote off in the askbox. Wherever you’re comfortable! Thanks for all your participation and patience with this so far.

Continued from here and here. (I’ll get a master post up soon.)

--

He was almost there, almost to safety and freedom when the seat shook underneath him, knocking him off his feet and face-planting in the old leather. Sam had set his right foot down in the wheel well, sending off an earthquake of vibrations through the car and unknowingly sabotaging his brother’s escape. Dean tried to scramble to his feet but the massive shadow passing over him and into the space beyond froze his limbs in absolute terror. It was only for a moment but it was enough to seal his fate.

Course denim crushed him into the seat of the car and Dean felt all the air rush out of him as he was pinned by the unbelievable weight of Sam’s ass. He tried to struggle, mind racing--I’m going to die, I’m going to die under my brother’s ass, I’m going to die--and his lungs were taking short, sharp gasps of air that only made him more lightheaded and more panicked as he waited for his body to finally give out. The barely muffled bang of the car door being pulled shut and the deep growl of the Impala’s engine turning over and rumbling to life immediately after jerked Dean out of his hysteria.

He wasn’t dead.

While before he’d thought that Sam’s ass was just crushing down and down on him, now he found that everything had settled and left him with a small pocket of space. Whether it was from a dip in the seat or his body was more durable than he thought, Dean didn’t know, but he was grateful all the same. He tensed when Sam shifted above him, his butt cheeks flexing and pushing down on Dean a little more as he put the car into drive and navigated out of the bunker’s garage. Every minute muscle twitch that Sam probably didn’t even realize he was making was almost unbearable for Dean. He had no warning before his face would be shoved down into the seat, cutting off his breath if he didn’t get his head turned in time.

After a few minutes of attempting to get himself comfortable, Dean realized that he could move around. He couldn’t make a lot of progress all at once, but if he timed it right and stayed focused, he could wriggle around and hopefully get out from under his oblivious brother before this good luck ran out. He didn’t need to be at ground zero for one of Sam’s dreaded gas attacks, after all.

It was slow going, but after millimeter by millimeter of crawling his way out, Dean pulled himself forward into open air. It wasn’t until then that he realized how sweaty he’d gotten, trapped in the hotbox made by his brother’s body heat. His hair was plastered to his forehead and the cooler air burned his throat as he gulped it in. With one last grunt of determination, Dean grabbed the leather seating with both hands and pulled himself out from under Sam’s ass the rest of the way. He was exhausted and aching, but he forced himself to roll onto his back and figure out just where he’d crawled out.

--

Where is Dean?

Between Sam’s legs.

At Sam’s side.

--

Sam’s footsteps were loud and getting louder as he walked over to the Impala and before Dean knew it, his brother--his overwhelmingly large brother--came into view through the window. Dean only saw Sam’s face for a second before it disappeared over the top of the car. Sam was standing so close that his body threw a shadow across where Dean was sitting and it sent goosebumps rising up all over his arms.

“This is so fucked up,” Dean whispered to himself, staring up and up and up with wide eyes. Even if it was his brother, some instinct deep inside him urged him to be quiet, to run, to hide.

He watched as Sam’s hands came up, pulling the side of his jacket open and reaching in to pull out his phone. As he started tapping at the screen Dean’s heart thudded in sudden hope. His phone! He smacked at his pockets desperately before he remembered and let out of a groan of despair. His phone was across the garage on his work table, and he’d set it to silent so Sam and Cas wouldn’t distract him by texting him stupid shit from the other side of the bunker.

Above him, Sam let out a heavy breath. “Ookay. ‘Going to post office, books are in. Taking Impala. Picking up dinner on the way home.’ That should do it.”

Dean barely had time to register the words before Sam was tucking away his phone and opening the car door. The metal made a deep creaking noise that just minutes ago had been music to Dean’s ears, and now it made him wince. A long, long, long jean-clad leg plowed inside and Dean rolled to his feet as the rest of his brother followed. He frantically ran to the far side of the bench seat as Sam’s ass seemed to chase him down.

--

All right, readers! Tell me what happens next.

Does Dean make it safely to the other side of the car?

eventually Sam talks to dean and tells him that if he's so worried but doesn' want to over mother the guy, he'll go instead. he brings an olive branch of a sandwich and his laptop, hoping to out-wait him into talking if he goes the way of the silent treatment. he wont out talk him like Dean did, but he plans on waiting outside the city for a while. he knocks and enters carefully as always. noting no light is on in the one raised home. A gentle finger taps at the door twice. "castiel? you

home?" there's no reply other than a soft rustle and a questioning sound. "it's sam. We're worried about you and Dean wants to apologize for forcing you to come on the hunt. a long sigh sounds from the nearby tiny window as they open. Castiel looks bedraggled and tired. "he didnt force me, I agreed to come." he wraps his arms around himself and rubbed his arms like he was cold. "I just, trying to get over it." "no one expects you to get over something like that, it was scary, I know."

Castiel grimaces, and nods. "Tell Dean its okay. I don't blame him for what happened. he saved me from the owl." "but are you okay?" Castiel shrugs, not looking at Sam. "I've been sleeping." Sam frowns but says nothing abut the fact that its only six at night, does that mean he was sleeping all day? "well, we're here for you. if you need anything you know how to call us." Castiel shrugs again. "do you want me to stay here?" Sam wonders. Castiel pauses, and shrugs once more. "I don't mind."

Castiel finally looks up and makes eye contact, grateful. Sam gets comfortable and works on finding another case while Castiel relocates to the porch and works on a long overdue addition to his wardrobe. "what's that?" Sam leans over and shadows Castiel's work. he squints at the cloth and thread in his hand. "A coat." he offers the hunter a small smile. "I've been going out so much that I need one." "Glad to hear it." happy that castiel wasnt spurned from leaving the bunker forever, the two

Basically it had Sam and Dean under some sort of strange bunker curse where they had to share height. Like if one grew, one shrank but it had to stay within the area of their combined heights. One could be over twelve feet tall and the other could be a couple of inches, and they had reeeeally bad control over it at first. Sam would want to reach the top shelf in the bunker’s library and suddenly he’d be growing, and meanwhile Dean’s asleep in bed with Cas and shrinks down without realizing it, oh noes. Or Dean would go on a cleaning kick because he can lift shit when he’s huge but leaves Sam stranded on the couch.

Maaaaaaaan, you don’t even know. Sam’s already huge but having him as a giant is seriously a major weakness for me. I don’t have anything written or the time to write a proper little thing, but I do have a ton of ideas.

Dean not liking that he’s being left behind while Sam leaves the bunker to work on a case, grabbing onto his brother’s belt loop and clinging the whole way to the car. He loses his grip when Sam gets to the car and falls onto the seat a split second before Sam plops his ass right down on top of him. It’s going to be a long, traumatizing car ride, especially once Dean hears his brother going through a drive-thru and ordering breakfast burritos.

Or when Cas shrinks but manages to use his last burst of power to fly to where the Winchesters are. He safely lands on the table where Dean is filling shotgun shells with salt but gets knocked off when a stray shell rolls into him. The hard wood of the cheap motel chair breaks his fall and before he can get up Sam is pulling the chair out and taking a seat. For the rest of the evening Sam shifts and squirms, blaming his discomfort on the crappy seat when it’s actually the small, unyielding body of their angel friend being mercilessly pummeled by Sam’s ass.

Sam cautiously pushed open the door of his room, glancing around the dark interior before stepping in. It closed behind him with a click as he padded over to the light switch, trying to soften his footsteps as he went.

“Dean?” he called out as he snapped on the light, peering around every corner he could see. “You here?”

When no answer came, he carried his bags over to the table, piling them on the surface. He started to go through them, pulling out his lunch and a white container from the local quickee shop.

“Y’know, you need to work on your sneaking skills,” came a teasing voice from down on the ground.

Surprised, Sam pulled his feet off the floor, searching for the small figure. Dean was standing down next to the leg of the bed.

“I’m not trying to sneak around in my own room!” Sam shot back, watching wide-eyed as his tiny big brother darted out into the open, heading for the table. Watching Dean toss his small hook at the table, catching it on the edge of one of the bags Sam had placed there moments ago, was mesmerizing. He was so small, but he didn’t seem to have an issue getting around at all.

It was only a moment before Dean managed to scramble to the top, sauntering with a casual bow-legged walk across the wooden surface. Boots barely the size of Sam’s fingertip scuffed against the grain. “What if there was someone in here waiting for you?” Dean pointed out as he stopped, putting his hands casually in the back pockets of his jeans.

Sam had to hold back the questions he had shaking around in his head. Where did Dean get his clothes from? How’d he survive? Did he live nearby?

And the hardest question of all, one that Sam had no right to ask.

Would Dean consider leaving the motel?

For now, he simply picked up the white container. “If there’s anyone in here, I figure you’d warn me,” he stated dryly.

Dean frowned, then nodded sharply. Sam smirked. They both remembered the old days where Dean had always watched out for him. It didn’t seem like anything had changed there.

Dean took a step towards the box, then warily eyed the huge hands around it. “What’s that?” he asked.

A flicker of hurt hit Sam at the clear suspicion and distrust, but considering just a day ago he’d grabbed Dean in a fist, he couldn’t blame his brother for it. Hopefully he’d be able to get past that roadblock.

Sam mentally shrugged it off as he opened the container. “I figured I owe you… for yesterday and… leaving you here, all that time ago.” He sighed, shoulders slumping down at the memories. “I can’t really make up for that,” he mumbled, “but I figured I could at least start.”

A light touch on his hand drew his attention away from the past. Dean was standing there, right next to the hands he was so wary around. “Sammy, that wasn’t your fault,” he said in a gruff voice that was deeper than he’d ever expected from someone so small. “We can’t change the past. You were never to blame in any of this.”

Sam blew his hair out of his eyes with a sigh. “Right.” He did his best to believe what Dean had said…

But still.

If he’d never left, Dean wouldn’t be afraid of him. His big brother wouldn’t be leery just standing near his hands. He could have taken care of his big brother the way family was supposed to.

Sam unfolded his hands from the box. “I hope your favorite’s still pie,” he said, letting himself smile again. “I know you used to love apple.”

Dean’s eyes were huge at the sight. A fresh slice of apple pie sat there, bigger than he was. “Holy shit…” he breathed. He took a step towards it, then hesitated. He craned his neck over his shoulder. “You got this… for me?” he asked in disbelief.

Sam’s grin covered his face. “Who else?” he asked back. “It’s all yours. I even have my own snack right over here.” He pulled out a wrap, taking off the aluminum foil to reveal his sandwich. “Take your time.”

he's on a table. Sam leans over and squints a bit, looking him over. "are you alright?" "I-" here he pauses. he has no idea how he got here. the last thing he remembers is sweeping the furnace room and then, nothing. weren't the brothers coming home two days later? "I dont know." he drops his gaze to his legs. Is he on a towel? "Cas, what happened?" Dean's usually loud voice was soft and strained. Castiel followed his arm to see that it was Dean's hand propping him up. "I was sweeping, and

then, I dont remember." Dean leans in. "we found you passed out in the furnace room! when was the last time you are or drank anything?" he demanded to know. "uhh." when was the last time he ate? didnt he have something in the morning? Dean picks his head up and looks at his brother. some silent exchange goes on because Sam gets up and moves quickly out of the war room. "Cas, if you fainted or something the day after we talked, then you've been unconscious for at least 36 hours."

Castiel contemplates that for a moment when Sam comes rushing back in with a plate and a shotglass. "here.eat." the food is placed in front of him. Castiel has no idea what these round, cake-like things are but he's famished and eagerly chows down. after a minute or so Dean tells him to drink, bringing the glass of blue liquid closer. "medicine?" no Cas, its gatorade. good for dehydration." Castiel tries to get up but his

legs refuse to let him stand. "I gotcha." Dean hand supports his weight as he drinks the blue stuff. its not that tasty but he drinks what he can. after half the thing dean calls a pancake is done, Castiel feels like dropping off into a "food coma" a phrase he leaned from the brothers, but they need to make sure that hes alright, so they lean in close and shine a light in his face along with a magnifying glass to check his eyes. Castiel checks his head for bumps, and no, nothing's broken.

"you're bunking with me tonight buddy, no crying, but first you should probably clean up. back to your place?" Castiel nods and Dean carefully gathers him close and they head off. Dean waits outside as Castiel relives himself (and he's also relived that he didnt while he was passed out) and changes his dirty clothes. he barely manages to stay on his feet while exiting his home. Dean's hand is there, catching him before he can fall. "we were really worried about you." he says on the way.

(It didn’t! Boooo.)