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“What do you mean, you don't know how to dance?”
Cas shifted nervously, not able to even remember how the topic got brought up in the first place. He glanced up at an incredulous Dean, whom was closing his door (they had walked from the living room into his bedroom after watching that crappy comedy-romance). “I have an idea on how to slow dance; I have been watching humanity for millennium. I just have not had anybody to practice dancing with. Nor have I found it of such significance.”
Dean thought for a moment. He suggested, a little hesitantly, “I could teach you. Though I'd have to teach the girl's role, since I've never slow danced with a guy.” The brunette shrugs. “If you want to.”
Cas pretended to think for a minute to avoid looking desperate, but he oh so wanted to learn, especially if the teacher was going to be his best friend that he had an unexpected crush on. “I believe now that I am in high school and there will be school dances that learning will be helpful...” Cas says carefully, congratulating himself for the good excuse. Dean grinned.
“Okay-- but let me put on some slow music. It'll make it easier.” Dean says hurriedly, turning around to face the opposite way of Cas. Was Dean... blushing? Dean plugs his phone into a sound system on the side of his bed, and typed a few things on it. The song played softly from the speakers, just loud enough for Dean and Cas to keep the steady rhythm.
“Come 'ere,” Dean muttered as he turned around to face Cas. The black-haired man moved to stand before his best friend, and Dean instructed in a deadpan voice, “Wrap your arms around my neck-- no, Cas, both of your arms... d-don't strangle me! Uh, um...”
“Dean, I believe I need assistance, I'm having trouble understanding exactly...” He trailed off, really just nervous because of the close proximity. Dean laughed as he took both of his friend's wrists, adjusting them to lay on the sides of the base of his neck. Cas didn't fight him, just stayed limp and still. Dean grinned down at Castiel (only about an inch to 2 inches shorter than himself), and reluctantly placed his hand on his waist, just above his hips. The shorter man tensed slightly, but let himself relax against Dean's touch.
“Follow my lead,” Dean mumbled under his breath, moving slowly to the rhythm. Cas tripped over Dean's feet a few times (ouch, Cas, take off your shoes), but he soon seemed to get the hang of it. The two didn't seem to notice how close they were getting to each other, Dean slowly pulling him closer, until they were practically flush against each other. Cas could feel Dean's barely hitched breathe against his cheek.
“Dean,” Cas breathed, scared to talk too loudly and end up messing up their near-perfect rhythm. “Are my dancing abilities... satisfactory?” Castiel swore his heart was beating loud enough for Dean to hear it, and when he flashed Cas his genuine smile, Cas' heart felt like it skipped an entire beat (though, as an angel, breathing and beating hearts were not required, just a habit inherited by the vessel).
“I think you might be better than me,” Dean murmured back, his hands sliding from the safe zone (just above the waist) down to Cas' hips. “... want to test that theory?”