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Castiel didn’t make a habit to watch his neighbor rake leaves.
Okay, that was a lie.
If he was being completely honest, Castiel did it way too often. It almost became habit after the first day—he had been sitting on his back porch, tapping his pen anxiously against the pad of paper, the words just not coming to mind, when the sight of his neighbor raking leaves caught his eye. Their yards were only separated by a chain-link fence, installed by the neighbor in question the week before he brought home a yellow Labrador Retriever that he could frequently be heard yelling what Castiel presumed was its name (Zeppelin). Cas, meanwhile, had never met the neighbor in question, though his sister had, once, when she was walking up the drive to visit. Anna had barely made it through the front door before she was bemoaning her jealousy over him having a neighbor “hotter than any male specimen I have ever seen”. Castiel had just taken her word for it.
So it was then, that first day, that he had happened to look up and saw the man peacefully raking leaves while his dog lounged lazily in the shade. Castiel wasn’t much of a fan of most humans—people tended to make him feel uneasy and cornered—but his neighbor moved with such rhythmic, calm movements that Cas had found himself slightly-creepily captivated. It was just oddly domestic and comforting, and Castiel ended up accidentally taken to finding himself on the porch at the same time of day in the fall season, waiting to see his neighbor appear to tidy up the leaves from the large oak in his backyard.
It wasn’t just that Castiel was lonely (even though he was). It wasn’t even that Anna was right and his neighbor was astoundingly good-looking (even though he was). There was just something transfixing about watching someone maintain order of something in their life, even if it was their lawn. Castiel’s life was constantly falling down around his ears; he was filled with a constant dread that he wasn’t good enough, and that he was destined for failure in the writings that he did, and it was nice to see someone doing work and enjoying the moment to themselves and having the time to think.
Maybe Castiel envied him. He wasn’t sure.
All he knew was that he had made it his oddest habit to find himself writing on the porch every fall evening around six thirty until it was too cold or there wasn’t enough light, watching the way his neighbor’s back moved with his labor, envying the way this man could move through even thirty minutes of his life where nothing troubling could find him. Castiel would bundle up with whatever sweater it took as long as he could sit in the dissipating light and watch a man have the peace of mind that Castiel always felt he deserved, but still could never achieve.
Castiel had never even met the man.
He’d moved into this house five years ago, when he was twenty-four. It was a better house than he could really afford, but he managed to buy it cheap from his step-brother, who’d just wanted to be done with the property so he could move his growing family into something more accommodating for their size. Castiel had immediately jumped at the opportunity, and Uriel had practically thrown the keys into his hands he was so eager to rid of it. Castiel could never understand why—sure, problems arose, just as they would with most any old house, but they were fixable. The bottom stair squeaked obnoxiously and the bathroom door sometimes jammed shut, but it was Castiel’s home, and he enjoyed living in the little Kansas suburb more than he thought he would, even if it was just him all alone in a three-bedroom house with nothing other than his three lazy indoor cats to keep him company.
His neighbor moved in about a year after him. He had this black old muscle car that he kept in the garage when it got into the snowy season and took meticulous care of. Castiel believed that he had moved into his parent’s home, as he saw the previous owners come by rather often around the holidays, but Castiel had only met the mother figure once when he had first moved in and she had brought him a peach pie with a bright smile. He had never gotten a good look at his neighbor, only passing glances and long stares at his back (Castiel tended to look down nervously if he saw the man’s gaze ever shift to him, terrified of being caught looking even when it was in a perfectly normal social situation), but, of the short glances that Castiel had allowed himself, he was able to deduce that his neighbor was a very attractive man. It pained Castiel to think that the man might be just as lonely as he was.
If a man that good-looking couldn’t get a significant other at the drop of a hat, where was the hope for slobs like Castiel?
Castiel, for once, was entirely focused on his notebook for the first time in a few days when he found himself sitting with his legs tucked underneath of him on his cushioned chair on the back porch, even the sounds of his neighbor’s raking lost in the haze of his swirl of thoughts. It was the most creative he had been in weeks, and the idea that he could be climbing out of his slump was invigorating. Castiel scribbled a few more ideas down before they were entirely lost, writing sideways in the margins when thoughts came to him after the fact, and he was so immersed in what he was doing that he didn’t realize his neighbor’s change of pattern until the change made itself well known.
Castiel saw a flash of moving fabric and looked up, startled, in time to see his neighbor take a running leap into a large pile of leaves, letting out a gleeful yell as he landed into the pile with a crunch. The dog, Zeppelin, watched his owner happily, his tail wagging, bouncing at the edge of the mound. Castiel’s neighbor wriggled his way upright, looking over to grin at the dog.
And it was then that the wind blew, taking a leaf with it that just so happened to catch on the neighbor’s nose and stay there, when Castiel lost his self-control, and he heard himself let out a loud laugh.
The neighbor turned, startled, but Castiel was already dying of horrified embarrassment by the time the man thought to look in his direction. He considered the possibility of dissolving into a purely liquid substance and just seeping into the earth where he could die as the man caught his eye from over the yard, looking more surprised than embarrassed or angry. Castiel wasn’t sure what his expression looked like, but he probably looked like he thought he was about to get his ass kicked because his neighbor suddenly burst into laughter and started walking over, a big genuine grin sliding into place on his lips, and Castiel barely had the chance to think God he’s gorgeous before the gorgeous guy in question was leaning into the fence separating his yard with Castiel’s. Castiel wondered if he was gelatin yet but, once he met the eyes of his neighbor, he was kind of glad that wishes don’t come true.
It’s not often that an entirely hot guy gives the flirty eyes to a potato like him.
“I’m sorry,” Castiel blurted out before the man could try to get a word in, already feeling his cheeks heating up. All of his blood felt like it was in his face. He was sure that he was about to pass out. “I just happened to hear the sound, and then I looked over and—”
“Hey, no worries, man,” his neighbor urged him, smiling easily. His dog had wandered over now, and was sticking its nose into one of the diamonds of the chain-link and was staring at Castiel curiously, appraising him. Castiel had never before felt so intellectually inferior next to a canine.
“Sorry,” Castiel said once more, for good measure.
His neighbor smiled. His teeth were straight, and the lines around his green eyes were endearing. “I’m Dean.”
“Castiel.”
“Nice to finally meet you. We’ve definitely been neighbors long enough.”
“Kept slipping my mind,” Castiel told him, because confessing I didn’t know how to look at you without forgetting the rest of the world exists was not a good way to start a friendship. “Uh, how’s your night?”
A smirk crossed Dean’s face. “Oh, you know, pretty casual. Just having a roll in ze hay.”
Castiel blinked slowly. “That is not hay.”
Dean burst out laughing. Castiel wondered what he had said that was so funny. “You’re kidding? You haven’t seen Young Frankenstein? Oh, man, that’s just not right. It is now my duty as your neighbor and acquaintance of about three minutes to educate you on the films of Mel Brooks. What do you say, Cas? My place, Friday at seven?”
Castiel looked at Dean uneasily, not sure how to interpret the invitation, hoping that his curiosity and nervousness didn’t show on his face. He was sure it didn’t, but it didn’t change his hesitant pause. Dean laughed into the silence, casting Castiel a bright smile. Zeppelin’s tail started to wag.
“To clarify,” Dean called, his eyes dancing mischievously, “I’m asking you on a date.”
Castiel opened his mouth to respond, and he thought of a million and one things he wanted to say. I think you’re beautiful. You could do better than me. You’re the only regular occurrence in my life. I don’t know how I would be able to make you happy. I want to try anyway. He almost wanted to thank Dean for being so kind to him, because it has been so long since another human has genuinely shown interest in him. Castiel wanted to hold Dean’s face in his hands and look this beautiful stranger in the eye and tell him in a whisper, like it was an intimate secret, I watched you rake leaves, and he wanted Dean to look back at him with a smile and reply, I know.
But Castiel did none of those things. He knew there would be a time and a place, if the cards were dealt right for the two of them. So Castiel just thought of the beginning, always his favorite parts of stories, and said, “Okay.”
“Okay,” Dean said, leaning back from the fence and shooting him a devilish grin. “See you then, Cas.”
Dean left him with that grin and a wink, Zeppelin trotting at his heels. It took Castiel a few minutes to remember how to move his limbs again, long after the door shut behind Dean and his dog, long after the sun had dipped below the horizon. Eventually, Castiel remembered how to stand, and he wandered back inside of his home, standing in the middle of the kitchen at a loss for words for a long moment. And then his face broke into a grin, and he allowed himself a celebrative fist-thrust before he fell back into the norm, moving to the stove to start dinner, humming to himself as he went and, if there was a skip to his step, that was for only him to know.
Castiel had a good feeling about Dean and his smile.