Only You

Wings

Dean Winchester had an unusual hobby. See, he... kind of watched the kid who lived next door.

The Novaks had moved into the 'haunted' house next door when Dean was at the very end of Freshman year, and was about to go into Sophomore, at the very start of the summer holidays. At first, he did it out of curiosity; the Novaks has only just moved in and they had like a million children, who were loud and were always fighting outside where the whole neighbourhood could hear them, often seeming to end up wrestling on the floor in a pile of limbs and nudging elbows and biting (courtesy of Gabriel; the only brother he had met in person, because the Novaks had made him to apologise one day for tampering with the whole neighbourhood's sprinklers so that, instead of water, beer would come out - Dean thought he was kind of a genius).

But, yes. The craziness seemed like a family event to which all the siblings were invited to... all except the youngest, that is.

Dean had a pretty good view from his window, if he looked down he could see straight into the Novak's garden. Where he could see the others arguing about something or other, the youngest Novak would sit on the wooden plank that hung from their tree, which the family used as a swing, it was sturdy enough, despite the thin ropes that attached it to the tree. And he would read his book, peaceful as an angel. As he swung slightly, piercing blue eyes fastened on his book, the laces of his undone black converse would drag across the floor.

Sometimes, one of his brothers would approach him, and try to get him to join in on whatever they were doing at that moment, but Cas (Dean had heard Mr Novak shouting at one of Cas' brothers, Lucifer, for getting 'Castiel' hurt. Turns out Castiel was his name, so Dean called him Cas in his head, less of a mouth full) would always politely decline, and go back to reading.

At first, Dean had thought Cas had some superior complex - you know, being above 'human interaction' or whatever. But the longer he'd watched (it hadn't started as a creepy thing, okay? But that particular night, his dad, John, had grounded him and he had both his phone and his laptop taken away, and Dean was bored), the faster he had come to realise that wasn't the case.

Whenever the fighting would end, Cas would put his book down, stand up and dust his black skinny jeans off, roll up the sleeves of his thin black top, run a pale hand through his messy black hair, and then quietly approach whoever had lost the latest shouting or pushing match - silent as a mouse, he'd offer a helping hand and a patient ear, listening to his siblings ranting, wiping away their tears and tending to their scratches if the play fighting had gotten too rough, and just... being there.

He never told them off. He never took sides. It didn't matter who ended up on the floor; each time, he'd offer the same comfort, bring out the same box of ridiculously coloured plastic band-aids, and play nurse like there was absolutely nothing else he'd rather be doing.

Cas was so far from not caring about his siblings Dean had felt like an idiot for ever having assumed otherwise.

So he'd watched him.

It felt kind of pathetic, but it went on until the end of the summer holidays. He couldn't help himself. Cas fascinated him in ways he couldn't even explain to himself, and even when he had been struggling with what this fascination might mean, trying to deny that maybe his watching didn't have everything to do with curiosity, he found his traitorous eyes straying outside, trying to catch a glimpse of gentle blue eyes and the smallest of smiles.

Then came the end of the summer. Dean and Sam went to a private school which was a ten minute drive away from their house. Dean thought Cas would go to the normal school just across the road from their houses. But fate had another plan.

Dean was in 8th grade when Cas entered high school. Apparently, Mr Novak wanted all of his children to get an exceptional education. So, of course they would end up going to the same school. And ended up in the same class. And the same tutor group. Well, shit.