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Dean can’t even remember what movie they were watching when the subject of slow dancing came up. Something on cable from the 80s he’d never heard of. Something with a slow dancing scene. The guy had the girl close enough to kiss, and they were looking deeply into each other’s eyes all a-twinkle. The guy’s hand pressed to the girl’s lower back as he led. But really, what’s leading when you’re just kind of swaying back and forth?
They were watching the movie down in the Dean cave, the recliners traded in for a couch so they could cozy up together. Dean had his arm around Cas, nestled in warm and snuggly, just where Dean wanted him.
Then Cas glanced up at him and said, “We never dance like that.”
And Dean broke into a sweat.
“We never dance at all,” Dean said.
That wasn’t entirely technically true. Jack had taught them a few dances he’d learned from TikTok and Dean had video of Cas attempting them which was only fair because Cas had video of Dean wearing Spock ears and reciting some monologue from a Star Trek episode so that was just mutually assured destruction. There was also the time the subject of dancing came up and Dean came home to find Cas flailing in the kitchen to “Just Can’t Get Enough.” But that time Dean didn’t take video. He just dropped his groceries and joined in the flailing, helpless with affection.
But this was very different.
“You…you want to dance like that?” Dean said, pointing at the screen. “I mean, well, guys don’t really dance with each other like that.” He could practically feel Cas rolling his eyes as if they were his own.
“I’m an angel, Dean. Not an idiot.”
“I know that,” Dean murmured, flushing.
Cas sighed and shifted in Dean’s arms, turning to wrap his arms around him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s not important.”
And that only made Dean feel worse. Because Cas had come back from the Empty and then turned down helping rule heaven with Jack to slum it with Dean down on Earth as a kind of half-human half-angel self-made mutt, to wear second-hand clothes and live in a windowless bunker and deal with Dean’s bullshit. And somehow, for all that, Cas continually considered himself blessed beyond all reason just because Dean had finally had the balls to say, “I love you too.”
Cas deserved to slow dance with Dean if he really wanted to.
And anyway, Dean was probably the weirdo for how the thought made him feel unaccountably shy, all his old hang-ups coming back like a roar in his ears, even though they’d been having sex for months.
Cas didn’t bring up the dancing thing again, because even though he bickered with Dean to death about what kind of food Miracle should eat and left Dean snarky voicemails about how he’d watered the plants incorrectly and even though Dean had to break apart two out of hand bar fights between Cas vs. the homophobes of Lebanon only for Cas to get pissy about it, Cas was exceedingly gentle with him about a lot of things. He didn’t make a big deal of it the way Sam sometimes did either, like everything had to be endlessly discussed.
Dean hardly knew what to do with Cas’s quiet tenderness and when it overwhelmed him, he laid down on the bed and hugged Cas’s lap. He buried his face in Cas’s belly and let his hair be stroked, convinced that he wasn’t doing anything this generous for Cas’s sake, that he didn’t have nearly enough to give back, as big and ferocious as his love for Cas was in his chest. It wasn’t fair at all. Dean was getting away with murder in this relationship.
That’s what Dean was thinking of one evening when Sam wasn’t home and it was just the two of them. It took a few trips up the narrow spiral staircase to the roof of the bunker to set things up. He even changed clothes into a nicer pair of dark jeans and a button-up that was not plaid.
The sun was just about to set when he went to the kitchen, where he found Cas working on a crossword puzzle. He was wearing an old grey t-shirt with a howling wolf on it, a threadbare black hoodie, and jeans ragged and dirty at the cuffs.
“Hey, uh, can you come up to the roof for a minute?” Dean suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands.
Cas frowned up at him. “What’s on the roof?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“Humor me.”
“Humoring you always means I’m going to be irritated.”
Dean threw up his hands. “Aw for fuck’s sake, Cas, when aren’t you irritated? Will ya just come up to the goddamn roof for a minute?”
“Are you going to throw me off of it?” Cas said, smirking as he finally got to his feet.
“Well, I’m considering it now.”
So Cas followed Dean up two flights of stairs and then to the narrow corridor and the twisty spiral stairs to the roof access hatch he’d left open. He climbed up to the roof and bent down to the hatch, taking Cas’s hand to help him up like a gentleman.
There was a lot of junk in the storerooms, so much Dean could hardly tell what it had ever been used for. But one thing he found was a white metal archway in pieces. So he dragged it up to the roof and assembled it and then draped some weird gold and white gauzy type fabrics he’d found around it and viola: DECOR. He’d found some white Christmas lights at the dollar store too and duct taped them artfully to the smokestacks facing the arch. He dragged up a cafe table two, two chairs, a bottle of champagne, and two wineglasses. But the most important factor was the boombox he had at the ready with a couple of choice cassettes.
Cas squinted, looking around in confusion. “What…is this?”
Dean coughed, and his palms broke out into a sweat. “It’s… um. It’s a dance? For you and me?” Cas kept staring at him and the back of Dean’s neck felt too hot. He shut his eyes and sputtered, “Because you wanted to friggin’ slow dance! So I’m throwing you a dance so we can dance slow! And the sun’s setting! It’s romantic and shit, okay?!”
Then Cas looked at him with his big blue angel eyes all full of love and endless appreciation and Dean let out all his breath, clutching his chest. “C’mon, man. You can’t look at me like that on top of everything else. You’ll kill me.”
Cas chuckled, ducking his head. “Well, are we going to dance, then?”
Dean cleared his throat. “Um. Yeah.” He crossed to the boombox and pressed play, and the Stones’ “Wild Horses” started playing.
“Oh. I do like this song,” Cas said.
“Yeah, I know.” Dean wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and took a breath, stepping in close to Cas to rest a hand at his lower back and take Cas’s hand in his, uncertain of how to hold it once he had it. “Um. Okay. Is…wait, is this awkward? I feel awkward.”
Cas smiled and moved both of Dean’s arms around his waist and locked his wrists around Dean’s neck. “There.”
Dean was pretty sure he’d picked this up from the movie.
“Yeah,” Dean murmured, as Mick Jagger crooned and they swayed together. “That’s better. That’s good. I guess I never really slow danced either. Only ever went to a couple school dances and they weren’t at my school and I spent em’ under the bleachers with a girl and a flask.”
The sun was setting and the orange and amber horizon reflected red and gold off Cas’s hair and his gaze was still and bright, fixed on Dean, who brought him in closer. His heart thumped in his chest like it suddenly didn’t know how to sit comfortably in his rib cage. But his heart was always trying to escape his body and go home to Castiel, as if recognizing the one who’d rebuilt it with such care.
“You seem nervous,” Cas said softly. “What the matter?”
“Nothing. Just…” Dean swallowed and brushed his nose along Cas’s cheek, nuzzling. “I just wanted to do something special for you, sweetheart. I never do anything for ya and… God, you do everything for me, and I just…I don’t know how to show you…” He rubbed Cas’s back, always feeling comforted by the solidity of him.
Cas stared up at him, brow furrowed. “What are you talking about, Dean?”
“What?” Dean blinked at him. To him, this was all obvious and factual, the part of their relationship Cas was kind enough not to point out, another facet of his generosity.
“You do so much,” Cas said. “Every day. All day. No, you aren’t perfect. When you get scared or hurt, you get angry. I know that. I knew that. We certainly know I’m not perfect. I don’t want you perfect. But you’re the one who… Dean… You listen to me talk about pre-modern warfare and angelic battle tactics for hours even though I know it bores you to death and sometimes you even remember things about it-”
“Well, some of that shit’s kinda badass,” Dean muttered.
“You take me on drives when I can’t sleep even if you haven’t gotten your four hours. You make me PB&J every time you find a jelly I haven’t tried yet and you remember I don’t like jam-”
“I dunno. You’re right, it’s unsettling.
“And you keep smooth peanut butter even though I know you prefer chunky. And you know I like a cup of mint tea before I go to bed, so you always make me a cup. And you bought special duck food so I could feed the ducks at the park. You put an extra blanket on the bed because I run cold, even though you run hot. And you always remember to water my plants when I visit Claire.” Cas smiled softly at him. “You gave me hand lotion because you noticed my hands get dry in winter.”
“You have really nice hands,” Dean said. “Don’t want em’ getting all chapped.”
“You take care of me,” Cas said, kissing his temple. “You laugh at my jokes and you listen to me and you let me take care of you. And I love taking care of you. And best of all, everyday I wake up, you say ‘morning, sunshine.’”
“I always did that,” Dean said thickly.
“And I always loved it,” Cas said, kissing his mouth.
That’s not fair, Dean thinks. Cas could conceivably win any argument just by kissing Dean.
“It’s just…” Dean rolled his eyes at the catch in his voice. “It’s just, you didn’t know before. You thought I couldn’t love you. I don’t ever want you not knowin’, not ever again.” Dean sniffed. “Even though you won’t ever get it, how much. You think you do, you don’t. I wouldn’t know how to tell you how much I fuckin’ love you, Cas. All I can do is try to show you. Try to make you feel it.”
“Dean, I killed Death for you,” Cas said. “I defied everything I’d ever known. And you didn’t know I loved you and I didn’t know either for a long time. But I always felt it. I felt love coming from you. I just didn’t know what it was.”
“One brain cell between us, I swear,” Dean said. He kissed Cas’s throat and the corner of his jaw. “Just the one.”
“That might be overstating it.” Cas laughed into his neck and they danced as “Wild Horses” turned into “All I Want is You.”
Okay, Dean thought, settling into the embrace and finally relaxing. Maybe we got this, if we’re both on the same track. Maybe Cas and I will be okay.
It felt true.