This story is for the contest going on over at @brothersapart. Fans of gt and/or supernatural should give that blog a look, because there’s some quality writing of both over there. The contest has already attracted some really awesome entries, too! I’m adding mine into the fray.
The story is a slight AU of the Brothers Apart series. It takes place the night before Sam is cursed and shrunk by the witch.
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He didn’t have time to go for the razor in his jacket before the hand was upon him. Walt felt the fingers coil partway around him and then hesitate. He looked away from them to see that the boy’s eyes were turning towards him as he leaned over the side of the bed.
When he caught sight of Walt, something he probably had not expected to grab when he went absently for his dropped pen, a quiet gasp sounded up above. The pair was frozen for a second, staring at each other in surprise as a cartoon’s theme song started up on the forgotten TV.
Then, the fingers closed all the way around Walt’s struggling form and he found himself soaring into the air, lying on his back on a net of fingers with his arms pinned to his side. There was a whirl of motion as the boy lifted him up in front of his face, and then looked right past Walt at his sleeping brother. Before Walt could read the expression on the young boy’s face, he rolled over with Walt still in hand and almost dove off the other side of the bed. Walt hunched over in the kid’s secure grip and tried not to be sick.
He only opened his eyes again when he was sure the motion had stopped. The boy had huddled himself on the floor, placing his bed between himself and his sleeping brother to hide what he’d found. Walt was almost grateful for the consideration, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Big, curious hazel eyes peered down at him, very nearly hidden by messy brown bangs that hung over his forehead. The kid’s lips were parted slightly in awe and he looked over Walt’s few inches curiously, while Walt continued to squirm and try to at least free one of his arms.
“My name’s Sam,” the boy introduced himself. “What’s yours? What are you?” Sam’s hazel eyes were wide and hopeful as he stared at Walt, but no answer came. Walt was too busy trying to squirm free to waste time on idle conversation with a huge kid that had captured him and could keep him if he wanted to.
That quickly changed when Sam’s other hand appeared, and his index finger extended and brushed at the side of Walt’s face, making him flinch back and try to lean away from the curious contact like he’d been burned. “Don’t do that! Put me down now!”
Sam froze, and blinked at Walt, before peeking over the edge of the bed as if Walt’s outburst might have woken his brother up. Then the boy huddled down even further, staring at Walt. “I-I’m sorry, did I hurtcha? I didn’t mean to!” Sam whispered.
Writerly Things 