The Winchesters are… weird, Kevin decides.
He’s grateful they took him in- sure- but sometimes, Kevin sees something so odd he doesn’t know what to do with it.
After the first few weeks, he spots them, shrouded in the blue-light of the bathroom. Sam’s bent down so his head is resting in Dean’s palm and the elder is brushing his teeth. Dean’s got a determined expression on his face and Sam is so unquestioningly docile Kevin knows it’s not the first time by far. Kevin watches, just outside the glow, as Dean wipes Sam’s chin clean with a rag, slaps his cheek, and turns to brush his own over the sink.
A few days after that, he’ll see it again. Dean’s sat beside Sam at the kitchen table, who’s tucked his feet up on the chair to curl around a book. Dean’s huffing at Sam’s distracted state- ignoring a plate of partially-cut pancakes sat in front of him. He’ll raise a defeatist brow before picking up the fork himself, spearing the food, and feeding it directly into Sam’s mouth. Aside from a brief bitch-face, Sam doesn’t protest, only opens his mouth for another.
After Kevin dies, and he’s stuck as a ghostly wanderer, they don’t get any better.
He keeps trying to get their attention, but flickering lights and leaky faucets don’t matter much when they’re a tangled-up mess of limbs- no idea where one starts or the other ends- flush on the Impala’s backseat as it sits, stationary, in the garage. Dean’s practicing tying braids in Sam’s hair, as the younger dozes off on his chest, and Kevin… gives up for the day.
