kinkfest | And They All Lived Happily Ever After (Supernatural, Sam/Dean)

Title: And They All Lived Happily Ever After
Author: Emerald Embers
Rating: PG12
Warnings: Bad language and sexual references
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Wordcount: 1599
Prompt: November 9th - Supernatural: Sam/Dean; wing fic - "This would be easier if we weren't ten freaking inches tall!"

Dean wasn't sure exactly how this had happened, though he knew full well the fairies were to blame, but he was fairly certain Sam was angry with him on account of their current situation.

Fairly certain because while he couldn't be sure, it'd be pretty typical if shedding red fairy dust meant "I'm angry".

He'd tried not to pay much attention to his own wings because Sam noticed early on that their concentration spans, even by Dean's standards, had pretty much dropped to toddler levels. And after an exhausting afternoon of tugging books out of Sam's rucksack and heaving them open, they had to concede defeat and admit they needed Bobby's help; books were heavy when you didn't have a full foot's height to your name. Bitches to read, too.

So they had a mission; part one was completed, AKA Operation Call Bobby, even if that had been a pain in the ass because getting out Sam's mobile phone wasn't exactly easy - Dean had thought for a moment he was going to accidentally smother himself in Sam's jacket pocket. Thank God for small mercies, the rest of their clothes had shrunk with them. Moreover, apparently their voices weren't as big to others' ears as their own, because Bobby seemed to think they'd been taking helium. And crack.

Finally though they'd succeeded in persuading Bobby that they weren't insane and, courtesy of Sam being an over exaggerating dick, that it was Dean's fault for pissing the fairies off in the first place. Operation Meet Bobby was a go.

Problem was, when you're less than a fifth of your usual size, a five mile walk looks a lot more like twenty-five. And screw learning to use the wings - he might be coarse and crude at times but he had some dignity left; dignity he could just about salvage, barely, if he paid no attention to the pink spangly things on his back or the fact they actually tinkled like a damn bell with each step.

Sam got away with green, the dick. In fact, between the green wings and red dust he looked very festive. "Dean. Say sorry or I'll kick your ass as soon as I'm tall enough."

Dean looked up at the little girl sniveling and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry I flipped you off. Can you smuggle us onto the next bus?"

The girl seemed to consider them both and Dean crossed his fingers that Sam's puppy-dog eyes could have the same effect at this height as they did normally.

After another moment's thought, Dean sighed and kicked himself before adding, "Please?"

"Alright. But you have to promise you'll try and get my puppy back!"

"I promise," Dean replied before Sam could say anything and guilt trip over the lying later, even if he did get a whisper in of "We are the worst people ever," before they were roughly manhandled into the girl's backpack.

Sam might have complained about the security of booking themselves into a town motel instead of one in the ass end of nowhere, but at this moment in time? The relief couldn't have been more palpable when they finally were dropped off at the bus stop, not close enough to see the motel but close enough to see the radio mast next to it; although, admittedly, the relief was also in part because Sam had kindly noted, "if she leans back she's going to crush us".

Even so, the relief couldn't last that long - yes, Bobby's truck was parked on the motel front, but they still had to get in. The motel entrance was geared to open under weight pressure - yeah, like that was going to work at this size - which meant getting to the damn window instead.

Yeah. Which meant learning to use the wings.

"This would be easier if we weren't both ten freaking inches tall!" Dean growled before frowning in concentration as he tried to get the wings to move relatively steadily; triggering them was easy enough but uneven as Hell and kind of ticklish.

"Ten if you're lucky," Sam snapped back, getting some lift but smacking straight into the wall with it. Good job he didn't have the weight to do himself any real damage, even if Dean did notice some nasty scratches he'd have to help disinfect later.

Another valiant effort later and Dean had lift of his own, and fuck, if he'd hated flying on planes? This was a hundred times worse. A thousand. A million. "If I puke you'd better dodge fast!" He yelled down before flapping faster - and God, that just felt wrong - and aiming for the window, praying they'd got the maths right otherwise some poor sucker was about to get the fright of their life at a mini-person smashing into the glass.

Strange to be looking up at Bobby for once, even if the older hunter tried to lighten the meeting with an obviously rehearsed line about John not living to see his boys grow up to be fairies.

Biting back a very uncomfortable half-truth there, Dean tapped his feet impatiently, waiting for Bobby to open the window because he really, really didn't want to accidentally find out how high two storeys up looked to a ten-inch tall dude's eyes, even if he was kind of curious as to how Sam's flying attempts were going. "Guess you're lucky no one around here said they don't believe in fairies, huh?" Bobby announced as he opened the window before his eyes widened and he dived forward, shoving one arm out.

"Thanks, Bobby!" Sam shouted back as he was brought inside too, the dingy room looking pretty close to paradise as such places often did after a rough day.

"Draft caught ya?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Sam replied, looking sheepish, and Dean had the very peculiar and wholly unfamiliar desire to punch the wind for threatening his brother. "So, uh, what do we have to do?"

Bobby raised a hand before opening up his usual box of tricks and -

Oh, oh the bastard - "Don't you -" - flash - "Dare!"

Sam didn't exactly pose for the camera, rolling his eyes and sighing, but he was a little more gracious about the whole deal.

"That'll about do it," Bobby said before folding his arms. "Fairy lore's simple, guys. Just get to sleep in your own beds, you'll wake up normal."

Oh, that did it. "We could have slept out there and been fine?"

"Sure, as long as nothing ate ya," Bobby replied, watching Dean rage for a good few seconds before interrupting, "Of course you wouldn't be fine! Your own beds. Golden rule, fairies can't touch you in your own beds, same for their magic. Pixies are different, but those little assholes have worse tricks than shape-shifting to pull."

"Thought fairies were a UK-only thing anyway," Dean huffed before sliding off the desk by the window, enjoying the slide down the table leg perhaps more than was healthy. Then again, he'd never really minded the idea of being a fireman if he had to consider a non-hunting career. Saving people, getting rid of bad things, it was one of the closest sane professions to his own.

"Y'think fruit and veg are the only things that people bring with them when they travel?"

Bobby rolled his eyes at Dean's attempts to climb the bedspread, offering a hand out for a quick undignified lift. "Sam, you need help?"

"No thanks, Bobby," Sam replied, using his extra inch of height to help himself up his own bedspread.

"Well, good. See you boys later, some of us have work to do."

"Gotcha. Thanks, Bobby."

They'd had far rougher deals than the order to sleep off a curse in the past, but it didn't change the fact that four in the afternoon was a sucky time to nap. Without being the Impala, anyway, because that broke all laws of time. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I spy -"

"No you don't," Sam cut across, face muffled by the pillow.

"Okay then, twenty questions?"

"No."

Dean huffed before sitting up given the wings meant lying facing the ceiling or, Hell, even on his side was pretty much impossible to do comfortably. "Well, then what? I'm bored, I'm not tired, and I can't leave this damn bed. This sucks."

"You're the one who pissed the fairies off in the first place, Dean. Deal with it."

Dean gave it a few seconds thought before flopping back down on his stomach again. "I'm bored."

"And five, apparently. Distract yourself, dude." Dean figured he might as well obey, sliding both hands under the covers - "And don't jerk off! I can hear you, save it for the shower."

"You are the prissiest brother ever."

"We share a room, Dean! You might as well be doing it in my bed. And don't get any ideas!"

"Didn't hear you complaining back in Utah -"

"Dean."

Great. He'd had a miserable morning, a miserable afternoon, what was shaping up to be a miserable evening -

"Maybe when we're full size again. Okay? Like this it's just... creepy."

- and potentially a happy ending. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, I know. You can make up for it by torching the circle tonight."

Dean folded his arms to rest his head on, smirked to himself. Sure, Sam was a pain in the ass, but he was still pretty bearable when it came down to it most of the time.

Still bored, though. And if he was quiet about giving himself a helping hand...

"Dean!"

Eh. Couldn't have everything.

For now.

The End