Chapter Text
Miracle Zepplin Winchester was a goddamn stalker.
All he does every day is sit in the sun on the balcony of Dean’s apartment and watch the people go about their day beneath him. And damn it all if everybody that walks past didn’t call up with a “Hi Doggie!” or toss up a ball (that he dropped on purpose by the way!) for an impromptu game of catch.
Dean should be annoyed, especially with the constant begging to sit on the balcony, scratching at the glass every time Dean had the audacity to close the sliding doors. Even if he’s been told that “it’s raining, Bud. No outside today,” for the 50th time that morning, the dumb dog just didn’t get it.
That mutt was more popular than Dean ever was, but damn it all if he didn’t find it endearing that the world loved his dog as much as he did.
Even when strutting their stuff down the beach in front of their complex, Miracles fluffy fur the same golden shade as the sand between Dean’s toes, the ocean breeze making his ears flap as he dashed down towards the water’s edge chasing a flock of gulls, or while strolling down the boardwalk with the pair wearing matching Hawaiian shirts that his brother Sam had bought him as a gag gift last Christmas (which ended up seriously backfiring because Dean loved them!) Miracle got attention wherever he went, and he soaked up every minute of it.
But there was one person’s attention that surpassed everyone else's. One man in particular that Miracle seemed to favour over all others (and Dean was ashamed to say that it even outweighed him!) A man who caught Miracle’s eye long before he caught Dean’s.
Then.
It was a pleasant evening the first time Dean caught sight of him. The sky was a dusty pink as dusk fell into night, the chill of the metal safety railing around his balcony bled through his t-shirt where his shoulders leaned up against it, feet up as he lounged across the plastic rattan sofa. The reclined position gave him the perfect view of the oven timer that sat on the kitchen island counter – making sure his pasta bake didn’t burn.
He picked at and strummed his guitar (even if it did very little in drowning out the downtown noise) while Miracle slept, curled up at Dean’s feet at the far end of the sofa atop a blanket that he had laid out for him. But the peace was short-lived as something caught his attention. Now wide awake, he was up on all 4 paws and climbing to stand awkwardly over Dean’s sprawled legs, looking dead ahead at the building opposite. Again. At first, Dean ignored it, probably one of those pesky gulls tormenting him, but Miracle sat almost statuesque. Not his usual MO if being tormented by the local wildlife. Until that moment, Dean didn’t even know that Miracle knew how to sit still!
With his interest piqued, Dean asked, “Watch-ya lookin’ at?” – knowing full well his dog would never answer. Regardless, he turned to look over the edge of the railing, following his dog’s line of vision to the apartment directly opposite theirs. Unlike his place, none of the apartments across the way had balconies, nothing more than just a boring grey façade with a few windows, so on the surface, it looked to be a very dull viewing experience; however, his balcony was in perfect alignment with the illuminated kitchen window of the apartment opposite.
Dean had only caught glimpses of the previous tenant of that apartment as she passed by watering the overgrown spider plant in the same window, but she had moved out about 2 months ago and was definitely not a tall, dark-haired, seemingly handsome – and incredibly shirtless – man who was deeply invested in the phone conversation he was having. The device pressed to his ear was just visible as he paced back and forth.
“Spying on the neighbours too now, are we?” Dean huffed a little laugh as he returned his attention to Miracle, who still had laser focus on the man across the way, “Do you have no shame?”
Miracle, of course, didn’t answer, just continued to gawk shamelessly at the man. Dean’s timer eventually pinged, and he awkwardly shuffled his legs out from under the dog and headed inside to switch off the oven. But when the little furry tornado wasn’t tripping him over in a chance to catch any crumbs that spilt onto the floor, his eyes drifted to the balcony again.
By now, it was dark. Miracle’s furry back was brightened by the spill of apartment light from Dean’s kitchen, where he had remained seated and continued to stare at the man across the way. “Come on, boy. Inside,” Dean called, but Miracle didn’t budge. Rolling his eyes and tutting loudly, he left his food abandoned and moved back out onto the balcony.
Miracle barely noticed his arrival, still focused on the window. The man was still there, now with his back to them, head hanging between his shoulders as he ran a hand through his hair. But he eventually moved away and out of sight, the light in the kitchen going dark with his departure.
Miracle’s head turned sharply, left to right, almost as if he was trying to see where he had disappeared to. He even let out a sad little whine as he hopped up and rested his paws on the railing, standing on his hind legs as if trying to get a better look.
“Sorry, bud. It’s a hard life lesson you gotta learn—” Dean said with a little tug on the bandana he wore around his neck and encouraged him to follow inside. “—Not everyone wants to be your friend.”
Now
Dean disregarded the mess of paper and shredded plastic across his kitchen island as he eyed the 8 brightly coloured buttons that Charlie was excited about.
“You know… When you said you were going to teach Miracle to talk, I was thinking more elocution lessons and less game show contestant.” He mused, picking up the nearest one to him (the blue one) and turning the hunk of plastic over in his hand, inspecting it, before returning it to the counter. All 8 of these ‘doggy talk buttons’ were regimented in size, shape and had matching black bases; their only noticeable difference was that each push top was a different colour.
“You know dogs can’t really talk, right?” She smirked as her eyes lifted briefly from the manual pages before her to snatch up the red push button – that was almost the same shade of her fiery copper hair.
Of course Dean knows, just like he also knows that these buttons weren’t necessarily teaching the dog to talk; it was more of a training aid to teach pets how to communicate their needs better. But he couldn’t help but be in awe of the multitude of videos that Charlie had sent him over the past few days of dogs (and cats!) using these buttons and stringing full, albeit disjointed, sentences together. Truthfully, he’d be happy if Miracle just mastered the 1 button, let alone 8 of them.
He pushed the top of the blue push button experimentally and had half expected it to buzz, like he was the aforementioned game show contestant, but the best he got was a solid click-click of the button pushing in and popping back out. “You gotta record your voice first… Here.” Charlie said as she ripped the small plastic battery tab from the red one in her hand and thrust it into his face. “The manual says to start with words he already recognises.”
He stared at the small red button in confusion, not appreciating his personal space being accosted by the plastic buzzer, “uh… like what?”
“I don’t know… but you got 20 seconds of record time to do it in so—” the buzzer beeped as Charlie hit the record button and Dean panicked, blurting out the first word that came to mind.
“Dinner.”
He knew it was a bad idea to speak that word out loud in the presence of small ears that were less than 10 feet away. Sure enough, the small beige head shot up like a whack-a-mole with a questioning little head tilt over the back of Dean’s sofa from where it sat in the centre of the open-plan living space.
“No.” Dean engaged the dog with a stern look, “I wasn’t talking to you. I jus—”
“Dinner.” His voice parroted as Charlie pressed the button to test the recording. He didn’t even have time to complain about how weird it was to hear his own voice echo back through the tiny speaker (or to reprimand Charlie for pushing the damn button) because Miracle had stirred up a mini frenzy. His feet scrabbled, cushions kicked aside, as he leapt up and over the back of the sofa and skidded to a stop beside Dean's socked feet in an excited flurry of tip-tapping paws and happy little whimpers.
“Son of a— No! You just ate breakfast!” Dean scolded.
“You have to give him what he wants! Otherwise, he won’t learn.” Charlie butted in. Dean’s eyes lifted to her right as she pushed the red ‘dinner’ buzzer a second time, “It’s what it says in the manual.” She added with superiority and a knowing smirk while tapping the page of the instruction manual.
He couldn’t help but feel he was the victim of some sort of dog treat scam.
“I’m being extorted from all sides.” He mumbled as he turned to the wall cabinets behind him and pulled the nearest one open. The bottom shelf was lined with the best dog food money could buy (none of that store-bought crap for his boy!), little white trays stacked neatly 5 high and enough to last him the month, but he bypassed those to the shelf above. In amongst the other dog care paraphernalia of brushes, combs, and shampoos sat a glass jar of fancy gourmet treats that better resembled beef jerky than actual beef jerky – and cost about 10 times more.
Maybe his brother was right, this dog did eat better than he did.
“Charlie.” His friend randomly announced, breaking through his thoughts. He closed the cabinet door, treat in hand, and took notice of the sunshine-yellow buzzer she was holding as he levelled her with a questioning raised eyebrow and a smirk.
“What?” Charlie asked with a shrug. “I want my boy to know who his favourite auntie is.” And as if to hammer the point home further, she pressed the buzzer top to hear the device parrot her name while she gave Miracle a scratch behind the ear.
Dean rolled his eyes affectionately as he handed the treat to Miracle, and as soon as it was secured between his teeth, the little guy made a beeline for the sliding doors, pawing at the glass frantically to be let out. “Alright! Alright! Keep your fur on.” He grumbled as he stalked his way over.
“Awwww – Are you gonna share your snack with your boyfriend, Mir?!” Charlie cooed lovingly.
“Do not encourage him—” Dean complained as he slid open the door and Miracle darted out into the morning sun. “—He’s a damn creeper for spying on the neighbours!”
“Oh, come on! It's adorable!” Charlie continued as she stared fondly out the door after the dog. Her chin rested in the cup of her palm, elbows on the kitchen island. “Just look at him!”
As per usual, Miracle had taken up the same old spot on the sofa, the one that was in the direct eyeline of the apartment across the way. His neighbour, thankfully, was nowhere in sight. “He’s just watching. Dogs watch stuff.”
“He’s not just watching, he’s staring… with big cartoon heart eyes!” Charlie corrected and Dean shook his head, refusing to engage in her madness. “Your dog is in love, Dean. Like, actual, pining, waiting-for-his-lover-to-return-from-war love.”
Seemingly happy (or unhappy) that the neighbour wasn’t there, Miracle settled on the seat, giving his usual three spins before flopping down to eat his snack. “Have you even talked to the guy yet?”
“No. Why would I?” Dean brushed off as he reached for the green buzzer and pulled out the little plastic battery compartment tab since Charlie had given up on doing so.
“Uh… maybe because you’re curious to see what all the fuss is about?”
“Not interested.” Dean batted back immediately. Dragging the paper manual closer to him like it was the most fascinating piece of literature he had ever laid his eyes on (and making a point to not engage with this topic, again).
“Oh, come on! Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Dean didn’t even look up as he shrugged casually, flipping the page over with a sudden interest in learning German via the instructions on the back. “Probably got tired of all your terrible ideas and skipped town.” He batted back and smirked to himself as he heard Charlie scoff with indignation and muttered “Rude” under her breath.
He knew where this line of conversation was heading as it seemed to be as regular as Miracles' stalking schedule, and he was doing his utmost not to feed Charlie's wild notions. She’d got it into her head weeks back that Miracles' obsession was some sign from the universe, that the man across the street was his soulmate – or some bull – and Miracle was just simply trying to tell him so. Dean may have mentioned that he also likes to stare at the birds and the garbage men on trash day, so he’d be taking his ‘divine intervention’ viewing habits with a pinch of salt. But that wasn’t enough to satisfy his friend.
“You two could have the best ‘how did you two meet’ story in the history of the world!”
“Not everything is a gay romance novel, Charlie.”
Of course, Dean wasn’t blind; he could see the man was insanely good-looking and obviously took care of himself, and sue him if he let his gaze linger a little longer than deemed appropriate when he stood at the window! (Shirtless… again). It wasn’t Dean’s fault the guy was allergic to t-shirts or whatever; it was his home, if he wanted to strut around the place in his birthday suit, who was he to stop him?
“Well, well… speak of the devil,” Charlie spoke with a low, teasing tone that piqued Dean’s interest, his gaze lifting automatically to the sliding door. Sure enough, there he was. Fully dressed in a smart button-up dress shirt and his phone propped up against the window as he talked animatedly on what appeared to be some FaceTime call. “So, he does own a shirt.” Charlie noted, “I was starting to wonder…”
Dean snorted a laugh as he turned his attention back to the pamphlet and added, “You’re watching him now, too? Didn’t realise he was your type.”
“Oh, you absolutely know I don’t swing that way!” Charlie responded by picking up one of the little plastic battery compartment tabs and throwing it (albeit poorly) in his direction, and Dean watched it land sadly right in his eyeline. “And!... unlike you, Mister, I’m not going to stand in the way of true love—” The bar stool scraped across the tiled floor as Charlie hopped down, “—I’m going to embrace it.”
She turned with flair and sauntered straight for the balcony while Dean watched her every move like a hawk. Miracle, to his credit, was far too busy with his early morning snack to even notice the object of his affections had miraculously appeared. That was until Charlie's big mouth. “Miracle! Look who it is!!” Like his switch had been flipped to activate Miracle shot to his feet, two paws on the balcony railings as he stared across the alleyway into the window of the opposite building. His beige duster tail swept through the air with a frantic, happy flick.
But Dean was the furthest from ecstatic as that creeping embarrassment rose in a sluggish heat up his neck. “Charlie!” he hissed, abandoning the pamphlet, buttons and his kitchen to hurry to the balcony to shut her up. He would tackle her to the ground if he had to!
It was bad enough that his dog didn’t understand subtlety, but it didn’t need to be announced to the whole damn town! It was honestly a marvel his neighbour hadn’t noticed anything, or at least he never gave the impression that he was aware, and Dean was totally happy to live in that ignorant bliss.
“Keep your voice down, will-ya!” He hushed as he flicked a worried glance in the building direction and was relieved to see the man was none the wiser to his audience of three. “You're gonna give the poor guy a complex!”
Charlie rolled her eyes playfully as she flopped down on the seat next to the dog, but as she turned on her seat, one leg drew up onto the olive couch cushions and dug around in her pockets to pull out her phone, and Dean became instantly suspicious once again. It started innocently enough; Charlie's camera roll was full of just as many pictures of Miracle as Dean’s was. But when she turned suddenly, twisting her body a full 90 degrees to point the camera towards his neighbour's window, Dean’s suspicion bloomed into full alarm. Yep, she was recording.
“Observe: the loyal beast fixates on his beloved across the concrete savannah—” Charlie crooned in possibly the worst impression of a raspy British accent Dean had ever had the misfortune to hear, “—He waits. He yearns. Hoping for more than just the cordial glance.”
“Okay, David Attenborough, very funny. Now put the damn phone away!” Dean interrupted her monologue with a panicked hiss.
“But I’m documenting the greatest love story ever told!” Charlie answered unabashedly as she swung the camera to concentrate on him, her eyes focused on the screen in her hands as she smiled devilishly. “So, how does it feel to be stuck in a rom-com with your dog and the guy next door?”
Dean remained stoic as he glared grumpily down the lens at her. “I hate you.”
“You're no fun!” Charlie batted back teasingly as she turned her attention back to Miracle. Dean sat the furthest away from the camera as he watched her coo and scratch at Miracle’s ears while rambling some nonsensical babble at him, but Dean is certain he heard the phrases “do you love him, Mir?” and “Is he your boyfriend? Amongst all the gibberish baby talk.
After what felt like an eternity, Charlie lowered her phone and typed frantically at the screen, uttering three little words that sent freezing panic through Dean’s entire core. “I’m posting this.”
“Charlie, no—”
“Too late!” she beamed at him triumphantly, turning the phone to present him a dumb TikTok video. The volume on Charlie's phone was turned down, but there was his dog clear as day, front and centre, looking out longingly at the apartment across the way. Then a swing of the camera brought focus on the neighbouring apartment, then to him, then back to his dog. But what annoyed Dean the most was the title of the stupid video. Now, not just the entire town knew about his problem, but the whole freakin’ world too!
“Modern-day Romeo and Juliet (but with my buddy's dog and a guy who doesn’t know he’s in a love story)”
“You better not have tagged me in that,” Dean grumbled as he crossed his arms and slumped further into the seat to glare at her some more, knowing full well the whole thing would have been forgotten about by the afternoon.
It’s a damn good thing he loved her.
…::::::…
It had only been two days, but Dean was pleasantly surprised at how quickly Miracle was picking up his new talk buttons. He was fairly certain it was a fluke the first few attempts, but once he realised the different buttons corresponded to prizes, he was mashing each one with his paws, his nose and even his butt – when he accidentally sat on one – just to see what rewards he would get out of them.
The “treat” and “outside” buttons seemed to get the most attention at first, spamming those little plastic domes so hard that Dean found the sound of his own voice repeating back to him was grating. The “walk” and “play” buttons were straightforward but mostly needed Dean’s initiation to help Miracle understand them. The “dinner” button was being avoided like the plague until it was necessary. And after Charlie’s departure, Dean removed her button from the training regime temporarily and replaced it with one that asked for “Dad” (which equated to him giving lots of pets and cuddles).
And while 7 buttons were plenty for Miracle to wrap his little doggy brain around, there was one button – the blue one – that had yet to be claimed. Dean spent ages trying to figure out what it could equate to (all his go-to command words had already been accounted for), he decided that he’d need a second opinion and maybe Charlie had some ideas (since this was her idea in the first place) but what he hadn’t been expecting when he picked his phone up was a message from the woman herself: [Holy shit balls! He’s going viral!!]
Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion as he hammered back a quick: [Who?]
Her reply was instant: [Miracle!! The people love him!!] followed by a link to a TikTok video. Against his better judgment, he clicked on the link.
He didn’t think a video of his dog performing his daily stalking ritual with his unassuming neighbour would be anything to write home about, but apparently, 167k people had seen the damn clip. It was a good thing he was sitting down. He was also equally shocked to see the over 5k likes and 200+ comments that accompanied the video – and Dean couldn’t help but deep dive into them.
[OMG! This is the cutest thing ever!!]
[SOMEBODY GET THAT DOG HIS MAN!!]
[We need a part 2 where they finally meet]
[The grumpy guys kinda hot tho]
[But they were roommates!!... I mean neighbours]
But what stuck out to Dean was the number of comments that tagged seemingly another TikTok user, the same handle over and over.
[Yoooo isn’t this you Mr N? @ThursdaysAngel]
[He looks exactly like @ThursdaysAngel]
[@ThursdaysAngel you got a stalker!]
[I swear that’s my English teacher!! @ThursdaysAngel]
[WTF Charlie?!] Dean exited the app and fired back with a message, unsure whether he was furious or just in shock at the whole situation. But true to her form, she replied instantly.
[It gets better!!] The message read with an accompaniment of a second TikTok link.
He stared at that link, finger tapping at the back of his phone case, unsure whether to open it or not. Curiosity got the better of him and he wished immediately it hadn’t.
It was a face he recognised immediately, and he nearly dropped his phone in a panicked fluster. The muss of dark hair, the scratch of 5 o’clock shadow and the bluest eyes he had ever laid witness to. The video was filmed in selfie mode, stretched out at arm’s length, and slightly angled up high as he leaned against what looked like a tall kitchen cabinet and a familiar TikTok staple music overlaying as background noise for his narration.
“I’ve had something recently brought to my attention that I’m a little out of my depth with. And honestly, guys… I need your help.” The video began, and holy hell, what a voice! Deep and gravelly like the man gargled with rocks and malt whisky for breakfast. “I’ve never been lucky in the love department, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in a situation where I have to let someone down who seems to be romantically interested in me… How do I go about it without hurting their feelings?—” he moved through his space, the clear sight of daylight through an open window coming into view behind him “—Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered that they would choose me out of all others, but… Engaging in interspecies relationships is a hard pass for me.”
The camera angle moved, spinning quickly to show the view out of the window. And there, as plain a day, with his chin resting on the railings of Dean’s balcony and looking longingly at the camera was his damn dog. “I didn’t think I’d end up in a slow-burn romantic subplot with a stranger’s dog, but… here we are.”
The man’s hand came into view as he gave Miracle a small wave. The dog instantly perked up. From the video you could just see his ears pricking up in excitement, the tip of that duster tail flicking as it wagged eagerly, and the damn idiot looked like he was actually smiling. His neighbour chuckled a deep rumbling laugh as he muttered. “You're a cutie.”
And then the video looped back around to the beginning. Dean watched it through at least 3 times, trying to get his brain in gear to figure out what he was going to do, but he was frozen on his couch. On the plus side, his neighbour didn’t seem to be mad about it – but the embarrassment was going to eat Dean alive. But what made Dean want to crawl under said couch and hide away was the description of the video.
“To my mysterious little admirer: You have the best ears I’ve ever seen, but let's just be friends. P.S. Please tell your humans I said hi.”
Dean needed to start looking at new apartments to move to. And fast.