AN: This is my first attempt at a longer Supernatural fic. I plan on three parts total (but we'll see, all I know is that's the minimum). Will be updating on tumblr jhoomwrites first
When Castiel falls - truly and irrevocably - he falls in the same way Anna did. A young boy is born with eyes the most vivid shade of blue you'll ever see, and somewhere a willow tree takes root.
His parents are wonderful, understanding people. They accept him, with all of his youthful quirks that he never quite grows out of.
It takes him nearly two years to start talking. His parents worry, but the doctors assure them this isn't uncommon. Some children wait until they can say everything they want before saying anything at all. So for two years he sits quietly, taking it all in, before he speaks his first words.
He's also a very serious and solemn child, wanting to know everything but only superficially satisfied when he learns something new. He approaches learning not with the eagerness of discovery but with a slight annoyance. Annoyance that he doesn't already know it.
The most striking is how stingy he is with his smiles. He's warm, friendly with eyes that light up in delight at even the most trivial things. But a true smile, a gummy thing that lights up the whole room, is rarely given. Even his parents, whom he adores, have to work for it.
His parents name him Thomas. Later he'll be Tommy and later still Tom. It's a name he'll never like. He doesn't hate it or even dislike it. It just doesn't... fit.
So much of his life doesn't quite fit right. For most of his childhood he feels too small. When he finally breaks 6 feet at 16, he is inexplicably pleased and relieved. He is no longer as awkward and clumsy as he appeared as a small child, the complete opposite of other boys his age when they hit a growth spurt. It's almost as though his body is starting to grow into him. He finds it strange, because he thought it was supposed to be the other way around.
His height was not the only way he felt inadequate growing up. His mother said he had a lovely voice and encouraged him to sing in the school choir. And he did, because he enjoyed singing and to please his lovely mother. Yet it was something he had always been self-conscious about. He always felt his voice was a few octaves too high.
After he reaches a height he finds agreeable, he holds out hope that soon his voice will drop to match this shadowy image of himself he's always had.
The only thing that's ever seemed right was his hair, jet black and somehow perfect.
And his eyes. Of course his eyes.
His hair is a perpetual mess, despite his parents efforts to get him to comb it. But he can't be bothered to style it. His younger sister jokes he's trying to look like Harry or James Potter. He frowns, not because he's annoyed but because he can't help but think he likes the name James. It's still not right, still doesn't fit. But it's closer.
He grows up lonely. There's no reason he should ever feel that word describes him. He has his parents, a younger sister, aunts and uncles and cousins that he sees a few times a year. He's not exactly popular - he's a little strange, and even when they're children, his classmates pick up on it - but his kindness and uniqueness have made him well liked. In no way is he lacking in friends or family, there is no want of companionship.
But in the quiet of his room at night, he feels lonely. There's something missing. Someone. It's like a person-shaped hole inside him, deep in his gut. What's worse is that he doesn't know who he lacks. Doesn't know what to look for or begin to try to find them.
What'sworst is that sometimes he wakes up at night, skin alive and tingling with longing. A longing that hurts like a physical ache. A longing that isn't even his own.
His first kiss is a girl named Elizabeth Sanders. She lives a few doors down. They're seven and playing house. It's so cliche that it's almost embarassing when he's old enough to realize it.
His first girlfriend is Molly McLean from across town. They're in choir together and it just makes sense. But it's middle school, so it should be no surprise it lasts no more than a month.
His first boyfriend is the new boy in town. They first meet at the mom and pop ice cream shop. His eyes dazzle him and he has a confidence in his gait that Thomas can't help but admire. He's flirty, and Thomas stutters his way through a conversation he won't be able to remember later.
When it's over, his sister dramatically rolls her eyes at him.
"What?" he asks and knows his cheeks are burning impressively.
"Really?" Rolling her eyes again, she licks to keep her ice cream from dripping onto her hand. She must understand his confusion because she finally elaborates. "That guy isso your type it's pathetic."
"My type?"
Incredulous, she raises her eyebrows at him. "Dirty blond with green eyes?" He continues to stare at her blankly. "Likeevery single person you haveever dated or crushed on. Like, ever. I like, don't even need to exaggerate to make that a true statement."
He opens his mouth to argue, but when he thinks about it, it's completely true. Every pair of eyes he's ever felt himself get lost in all have one thing in common.
They date for the summer, and although they get along well and the chemistry is good, the longer it goes on the more it feels like it's lacking. His eyes just aren't the right shade of green. Their kisses just don't give him butterflies the way they should. His laugh doesn't light up his day, and his smile isn't something he chases.
Regrettably, he ends it the week before school starts back up.
It's another part of his life that just doesn'tfit.
Thomas is 16, almost 17, and beginning to look into colleges and narrow down possible majors. His interests are eclectic at best. He loves watching the stars in the night sky - could do it for hours. The names of constellations come easily to him.
But he loves plants, has a small garden tucked away in the back corner of his parents' yard. Each year he takes care choosing what to grow, though always planting flowers he knows all attract bees. He likes to just sit in the garden, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying knowing he created this small piece of heaven.
And there's his love - and aptitude - for languages. He studies each and every one his high school offers, sometimes grabs a "Learn Such-and-Such-Language in 30 Days!" book just to pass the time.
Perhaps most surprising of all is his love of food. He appreciates everything from a basic burger to the caviar his parents let him try at that fancy restaurant for his birthday. It all tastes amazing and he loves it all. He and his father cook together on weekends. They try a new recipe each week, a father-son bonding activity they started when he was ten and that they've kept up. They do occasionally go back to old dishes, trying to perfect them.
There is one in particular, actually, that Thomas insists they try again and again. It's just a simple apple pie. He's not even particularly fond of pie and why apple pie especially would tickle his fancy, well, he just can't explain it. But it's important to him that he gets it right. By the time he's learned how to drive, he's confident it's one of the bestin the state. He's tempted to enter it in a baking contest just to prove it.
Which of these things he wants to pursue beyond high school is still an area of debate. These are hobbies, really, more than things he sees as future career paths. It's not until he's 17 and a few weeks from graduation that his true calling finds him...