Though She Be But Little, She Is Fierce
- (AR story, RNed) Crowley, 2014. SupernaturalFics-Oneshots
Hello! I was wondering if you could do one where the reader gets turned into a 3 year old on a hunt and gets super attached to Dean. He has to do everything with her and for her cause she freaks out when Sam or Cas try to help her but Dean gets extremely upset realizing he missed out on his chance of telling her he loved her. When the reader gets turned back Dean takes his chance and finally admits his feelings for her. Super cute and fluffy.
What a neat prompt! I only now realize I should have added in way, way more fluff, but I got a bit preoccupied with trying to capture what a 3 year old can be like.
Sam sneezed loudly, and you reached over the back of the couch to rub his back soothingly. "Hey. Want me to get you some of that soup Dean made?"
The younger Winchester looked up at you gratefully and nodded. "Dat'd be gate."
Across the room, Dean shot the two of you a glance, his expression odd. "And a sandwich for me, cupcake." You halted mid-step and leveled a poisonous glare at him, making him laugh. "Kidding."
"You'd better be, unless you want a PB&J with the crusts cut off and a sippy cup full of milk," you retorted with a smile, heading into the kitchen. Behind you, Sam sneezed again and flopped back onto the couch with a groan.
After making sure Sam was comfortably settled with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle, you stepped outside to check the weather.
You'd barely gone past the door when your foot knocked against something. You looked down at the rectangular object, brow furrowed. "Guys?" You picked up the box, noting that it felt oddly light, and went back inside to the living room.
"This was by the door." You held up the cardboard box, careful not to shake it in case it held anything fragile or important. "I don't think Amazon delivers to non-addresses."
"Dey don't," Sam murmured, pulling out a pocketknife and slicing through the messy layers of duct tape that sealed the box.
"Maybe you should ask Cas to do an 'angel scan' or something on it before - " you started, and then a blinding flash of blue light knocked you to the floor.
The last thing you heard before you passed out was Dean shouting your name, his voice scared.
Dean gently prodded your shoulder. "Y/N? Hey."
You blinked and flailed your arms halfheartedly, trying to dislodge the excess fabric of the adult-sized tshirt that swathed your tiny frame. "Dean?"
"Yeah, um." He and Sam exchanged worried glances. "Don't panic. You're a mini-you. Kind of."
"I hafta pee," you mumbled, jiggling on the spot.
Sam leaned forward. "Y/N? You duh know you're [your age], dight?"
"Hafta pee," you whined. Dean, working more on instinct than anything else, promptly scooped you up and sprinted for the bathroom.
A few seconds later, he poked his head back out and stared miserably at his little brother. "Sam..."
"I'b cuh Cas."
"Thanks." There was a little splash and a giggle. Dean's head whipped around. "Aw, come on!"
After a stop at the local thrift store for a few day's worth of kid's clothes - during which Sam tried to help you put on your socks and was loudly rejected, leading to his brother helping you get dressed while you told him about the wonders of kittens - a thankfully much more alert Sam was allowed to drive, since you refused to get out of Dean's lap and had in fact thrown yet another screaming fit when Sam tried to pick you up. When the Impala came to a stop, the older man turned slowly to his brother, brows raised.
"The park, Sam? Really?"
"Kish dib tha park."
Dean sighed. "You're enjoying this, little brother. Not cool."
"Paaark!" you yelled happily, smacking your hands on the window. Dean said nothing, but after he let you out of the car, he buffed at the glass with a sleeve until he caught Sam's amused expression.
Within a few minutes, you had started making friends - and then promptly set about alienating them. As the little boy's mother talked animatedly on her phone, Dean attempted to mediate the loud argument that had erupted in the sandbox.
"It's mine!" the kid yelled, little face contorted with toddler-rage. You stuck your tongue out at him, clutching the action figure to your chest.
"Y/N," Dean said firmly, "give the little guy back his, uh," he faltered, but then rallied himself, "Hulk thing."
"It's Drax," the boy supplied, and Dean blinked at him uncomprehendingly.
"Uh. Okay. Give him back his Drix thing."
You glared at them both. "No."
"It's not yours," he explained gently. "I bet you like the colors and it looks really cool, right? But - "
"Nooooo!" you shrieked, and kicked sand at him. Dean shuffled backwards, startled, as both you and the little boy began to scream at each other again.
"Okay!" Sam said briskly, jogging up from where he'd been observing. "Who wan' ice cream?"
You immediately launched yourself at Dean, all smiles. "Ice cream!"
"Dude, you can't give a kid sugar in the middle of the day!"
Dean faltered, evidently trying to remember exactly why. "Uh. Doesn't it make them sick?"
"I 'unno, mun. Did it eber make me sick?"
"Pretty much everything made you puke at that age," Dean grumbled. You tugged insistently on his sleeve. "What?"
"Dere's a lib'ahy down deh stree'," Sam offered helpfully. The older man sighed, but seemed relieved about the lack of sugar-fueled tantrums in his immediate future.
"And ice cream!" you added, taking hold of Dean's hand and pulling him off down the street.
After ice cream had been obtained and devoured, Sam walked ahead. It took the two of you the better part of an hour to walk to the library, on account of how every fallen leaf had to be inspected and everything had to be commented about. By the time you walked - or in your case, hopped - up the front steps, Dean's hair was sticking out every which way from being ruffled in aggravation every ten minutes and he was muttering under his breath about "Just should have taken the car."
You beelined toward the colorfully decorated children's section immediately, wandering the aisles as Dean tried to keep up. "Hey, Y/N, stay close, okay?"
"This one!" You pointed up at a red book on one shelf, around the height of Dean's chest.
"Okay, hang on."
You pushed your lip out stubbornly. "I wanna get it!"
"You'd fall and crack your head open," Dean quipped absently, reaching for the book. The second his fingers touched the cover, you burst into tears and threw yourself onto the floor, sobbing like your heart was broken.
Dean stood frozen, green eyes wide and panicked. "Uh, um," he stammered, looking around anxiously at the disapproving glares of the other library patrons, "Uhh, Y/N, c'mon, it's not the end of the world, is it?"
When the only reaction this produced was your wails increasing in volume, he frantically jammed the book back onto the shelf, then lifted you into his arms and pointed to it desperately. "Hey, look! There it is! You wanna get it?"
You grabbed the book roughly off the shelf, still crying, and smacked him in the face with it.
"Oh-kay!" He pulled the book from your grasp and hastily left the area, shushing you the entire time. It took around twenty minutes of walking around and making various soothing noises to get you to finally calm down, during which Sam walked by on his circuits to and from the reference desk and left with a bigger grin on his face every time.
Finally, Dean set you back down and held up the book. "You still want to read this?"
He exhaled hard through his nose, but nodded. "Pick something else out, then. Something from the bottom shelf."
"You get it!"
"Fine. Just pick one."
"Dean." As you trotted off, Dean turned to see Castiel standing behind him.
"Cas, thank god. That," he pointed at you, "is Y/N."
Castiel's eyes widened. "Well," he said carefully, "That is...surprising."
Dean waited a moment. When no further commentary was forthcoming, he sighed. "Okay. Any solutions? Please tell me you can reverse-Zoltar this crap."
"I would need to perform an examination to try to find the cause."
"Dude, she's like three."
The angel gave him a distinctly appalled look. "I appreciate your concern for Y/N's safety, but I am offended by your conclusion."
"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
Oblivious to their conversation, you ran up behind him and shoved a small book into his hand. "This one!"
He held it up to read the title. "How To Train Your Dragon. Y'know, dragons are actually really - " he caught the angel's amused look and cleared his throat. "Right. Listen, this is Cas. You remember Cas?" You nodded. "Okay, well he needs to take a look at you real quick."
Your face screwed up in preparation for another fit, and Dean said hastily, "For me, okay?"
Sullenly, you permitted Castiel to crouch down and place a hand on your forehead. He stared intently at you for a moment, then got to his feet.
"Well?" Dean demanded, as you hugged his leg and glowered at Castiel.
"I can't determine the cause."
"Is it...is this permanent?"
Blue eyes regarded him sadly. "It might be." Dean's soft exhale has more than a tinge of pain in it, and his friend touched his shoulder gently. "I am aware that you had feelings for her before her change. I am truly sorry - "
"Cas, don't. Just...thanks."
The angel inclined his head, though his expression didn't change. "Of course." And then he was gone, a soft flutter of wings the only indication that he had even been there at all.
"Hey," Sam said, strolling toward the two of you. "Nudding in rebren' section. Sor'y." Without thinking, he reached down to pick you up.
Dean winced as your yells echoed through the library and grabbed you out of his brother's arms. You stopped shrieking immediately and threw your arms around Dean's neck happily. "Yeah, Sam? Don't do that." He held you at arm's length. "Ready to go home?"
You hiccuped twice, rather solemnly, and then threw up on him.
Once the three of you got back to the bunker, Dean settled you on the couch in front of Sam's laptop and picked through Youtube until he found a few episodes of Batman: The Animated Series. "There ya go."
"I'm hungry," you informed him, not taking your eyes away from the screen, where Joker had just clambered onto a Christmas tree.
"Yeah, well, just sit tight. I'll fix something in a minute." He stalked off to change his shirt, muttering to himself. You looked back at the screen.
Apparently the tree was actually a rocket.
When he finally came back, carrying a small bowl of rice with beans and a handful of paper towels, you were engrossed in Heart of Ice.
"Okay." Dean nodded his head at the dining room. "Food. Eat. Come on."
Oddly obedient, you scooted off the couch and pattered into the next room, clambering onto a chair. Once he set the food in front of you, however, your face fell.
"I don't - "
"You don't like it," Dean finished wearily, rubbing at his face with one hand. He pulled up the chair next to you and sat down. "Look, this is..." He frowned, clearly upset. "I'm doing my best here. I was gonna tell you - the older you - something, and now...I can't. So just...please eat. Please."
You thought it over, big [your eye color] eyes fixed on his tired face. And then, sullenly, you reached for your spoon and dug in.
Dean looked relieved beyond measure, though the mess he had to keep cleaning up throughout the entire process didn't cheer him.
Sam cleared his throat softly, and his older brother jerked, startled. They surveyed each other for a while before Sam huffed and shook his head. "You were really going to tell her? After all these months of puppy-dog eyes behind her back?"
"Sammy." There was more than a little warning in Dean's tone. You watched them between bites of rice. The taller man hesitated, then briefly squeezed Dean's shoulder and left.
A rumble of thunder distracted you from brushing your teeth, but Dean sternly persevered. "Okay," he said, when your teeth were more or less cleaner than they were at the start and you'd followed him back into the living room, "naptime."
Your face crumpled immediately and both brothers closed their eyes as if in pain when you started wailing. "I don't wanna!"
"How about I tell you a story, and you see how you feel at the end of it?" Dean said patiently. You threw your shoe at him. Dean caught it before it sailed past his hip, then scooped you up under one arm, pausing to drop the shoe next to its mate on the way to his room.
Once there, he made a sort of nest out of the coverlet with one hand - dodging your flailing fists in the process - and set you down in the middle. You immediately tried to wiggle off the bed and run for the door, but a strong hand snagged the back of your shirt and you were quickly deposited back onto the bed.
"I don't wanna go sleep!"
"Soooo," Dean said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and holding you more or less in place with a hand around your ankle, "once upon a time there was...um. How about a princess? She lived in a sparkly castle and all that crap. Had a pet unicorn." He stopped and thought for a moment. "And she had a fairy godmother who gave her candy." You kicked him sharply on the elbow and he hissed in pain, but stubbornly didn't let go.
"Don't wanna hear about a princess," you whined, setting aside escape for the moment.
Dean blew out a frustrated breath and flopped down onto the bed next to you on his back. "Okay, then there was a girl and her friends. They all lived in space, and one day the crew found a weird alien ship..."
You listened, rapt, until finally he looked over and you were fast asleep, snuggled up to his arm and drooling. He eased up and away, covered you carefully with a corner of blanket, and paused at the doorway to turn off the light.
He stood, silhouetted in a rectangle of soft light, and looked down at you for a long moment before hitting his fist lightly on the doorframe and sauntering down the hall.
His brother's murmur in the negative was all but lost in the sound of the rain outside.
"Okay, who wan' breadfast - DEAN!" Sam's excited shout startled you and you shot up out of bed.
"What!?" You heard pounding feet and then Dean shot into the room. "What's wrong, is she - uh."
Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder and turned him around. "There's a bathrobe over there, Y/N. Welcome back."
You blinking, uncomprehending, until finally the cool wash of air over your skin registered and you looked down to see the ripped remains of child-sized clothes hanging off your body. "What the hell!?" You practically dove across the room for the robe, shedding frayed fabric as you went. "Anyone want to tell me what's going on?"
"You don't remember?" Dean said, his disbelief so acute that he turned around before being given the go-ahead. "Are you kidding?"
You crossed your arms defensively. "Imagine how much it would help if you told me."
His entire frame seemed to vibrate with frustration. "Do I really need to babysit you today, too!?"
You smacked him upside the head, more of a love tap than anything else, and then yelped as he stumbled sideways and bonked his head on the doorframe with a painful crack. The next few minutes involved swearing and profuse apologies.
Sam excused himself to go take a nap, his expression veiled as he looked at you fussing over Dean. As he turned to head down the hall, you could have sworn he was trying to hide a smile.
"Here." You handed Dean a little bundle of ice cubes wrapped in a kitchen towel and stood watching as he held it in place. "I really am sorry about that."
He made a dismissive gesture, indicating acceptance of the apology, and the two of you lapsed into silence.
"You really don't remember," he said after a couple minutes, making it a statement instead of a question. You shook your head. "Not even puking on me?"
You stared at him for a long moment, uncomprehending, and then the memories of the last twenty-four hours suddenly hit you like a brick to the face. "Oh my god. Oh my god."
Dean smirked and shifted the ice pack slightly. "Yep."
Your mouth worked soundlessly for a while and then your legs gave out from under you, dumping you unceremoniously down on the floor.
He lurched forward in his chair. "Hey. You okay?" he asked gently.
You looked up at him, face burning with humiliation, and abruptly burst into tears.
Dean dropped the towel, scattering ice cubes all over the floor in the process, his expression stricken. "No, no, come on. C'mere." You heard quick footsteps and then he was kneeling next to you, pulling you into a tight hug.
"I'm so sorry!" you mumbled thickly in the general direction of his shirt collar.
"You're...okay, you're kind of freaking out about this a lot," Dean said, clearly a little bewildered even though his embrace never slackened. "I mean yeah, it was a freaky situation, but are you alright?"
"No, I mean, yes." You squeezed your eyes shut and counted to ten before blurting, "This is going to sound really juvenile, but I like you, like like-you like you, and now I find out I made your whole day," you waved a hand, searching for words, "crappy. So give me a frickin' second, because I have to go through a few phases of freaking out before I get to the acceptance part."
He was quiet for a moment. "You, uh. You like me?"
In for a penny, in for a pound. You sniffled hard and nodded, lips still trembling. "God, I'm so stupid."
He feigned hurt. "Ow."
"No, not like that! I meant, you know."
"You're not stupid, Y/N." Dean leaned over and felt around on the end table until he could retrieve Sam's box of tissues. He yanked a few out and gently dabbed at your cheeks. "You were a 3 year old, and you did what 3 year olds do, which is pretty much hissy fits every 10 minutes and Linda Blair-ing all over the place." You sniffled again and finally dared to look up. He smiled at you, his expression soft. "Sam was worse, believe me. I'm just outta practice. I really hadn't..." He trailed off, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. Hadn't taken care of a three year old as an adult, you mentally finished for him, and suddenly the sting in your eyes wasn't entirely from embarrassment.
Your lips twitched, and you grabbed a handful of tissues. "Well at least since I've already puked on you, I can do this." And with that, you blew your nose with a loud honk.
Dean burst out laughing, a deep, rich sound that you hadn't heard in months. "Nice."
You shrugged and got up, heading to the bathroom to wash your face. "Clearly I'm a super awesome person."
When you turned around, still in the process of patting your skin dry, Dean was leaning against the doorframe. "Sooo, you were saying how you like-me like me." He batted his eyelashes at you cheekily.
You looked down self-consciously. "Oh hey, that. That thing I said. That entirely true, very embarrassing thing that I can't un-say."
"Well, you've been living with us for a while now, and I am kind of gorgeous. Bound to happen."
"Oh lord." You rolled your eyes and he grinned.
"You are real damn awesome, though," he went on, tipping your face up with a finger under your chin. "So me like-liking you was probably bound to happen."
You swallowed. "Oh."
"How do you feel about that?"
When your answer was to kiss him, slow and deep, you felt him smile happily against your lips.
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