Work Text:
Dean knows Cas’ music taste is weird as fuck. He also knows the guy will be the first one to admit it. Too many conversations have started with “okay, Dean, I know this is strange but I need you to listen to this and tell me where you feel it” and ended with Dean sitting on the edge of the bed only connected to Cas by the cord of aging earbuds and Cas’ fingers pressing against Dean’s ribcage and murmuring softly about the differences between them. Cas always explains in great detail where he feels a song: this one sits deep in my lungs, this one makes my knees ache, this one makes my fingers want to play piano. It’s just a weird Cas thing and Dean is used to it. It’s actually kind of cute how wide Cas’ eyes will go when he hears a new song in public and asks Dean if he has a pen so he can scribble the lyrics down on his arm.
So Dean is used to Cas’ weird music. He’s used to Cas playing his weird music while Dean makes dinner. Sometimes he’ll bob his head along with the beat subconsciously and Cas will look up from whatever obscure article about a dying species of coral he’s reading and say “I knew you liked this one.” And very, very rarely, Dean will consciously admit, at least to himself, that Cas has some good jams.
It’s as he’s closing the oven door on the chicken pot pie that he realizes he’s never heard the song playing before, which is odd, considering Cas’ usual habits. It’s something upbeat with a female singer, but he can’t understand many of the words. He catches ‘we are anything’ and ‘peas in a pod’ before he gives up and just calls across the room.
“Hey, babe?”
Cas hums in response.
“Is this a new song?”
That gets Cas to look up from his laptop, looking ridiculous with his glasses perched on the very end of his nose. “Yes,” he says slowly. “Do you like it?”
Dean shrugs. “It’s okay.”
Cas shakes his head vehemently and sets his laptop to the side so he can stand up. “You’re not feeling it right. Listen to the lyrics.”
Dean tries, he really does, but it’s hard to concentrate when Cas is staring right into his eyes and his palm is resting right below Dean’s elbow and this singer is really fucking hard to understand. He shrugs again, “Sorry, man, I’m not getting much.”
Cas scrunches up his nose, the same face he makes when he encounters a particularly stubborn spider he’s trying to ‘rescue’ by taking outside, and cups Dean’s face with his hands. “She says ‘now I’m taking your love, from above, you’re here and you’re never gonna leave me’ and you have to feel it.” He moves his hands, one pressing against Dean’s chest and the other grabbing Dean’s hand and holding it over his own chest. “See, I feel it right here.”
Dean doesn’t know why his voice is caught in his throat. “In your heart?”
Cas nods seriously. “Of course. And you should feel it there too, because it’s also where I feel when you speak.”
And Dean does feel it, feels it pour into his heart, fill it so full it might burst. The song fades out in the background he’s staring into Cas’ eyes like a lovestruck idiot. Which, he realizes with a start, he basically is.
Knowing Cas, he’s got the song on repeat and, sure enough, it starts up again.
“We should dance.” Cas says it quietly, over the guitar line, right before the lyrics start.
Dean doesn’t know what possesses him to agree with a nod, maybe it’s the tightness in his chest that makes him afraid his voice will squeak if he opens his mouth. It’s like there’s a balloon in his chest, filled with hope and something he doesn’t want to put a name to.
It’s not dancing, really. It’s more Cas bouncing up and down and holding Dean’s hands so Dean is forced to bounce with him, until he takes charge. He may not remember much from high school, but he does remember enough about formal dancing to spin Cas under his arm and back, holding him against his chest for long enough to press a kiss to his cheek which gets Cas laughing.
Dean can see Cas mouthing along with the lyrics as he spins him back out and they return to Cas’ little bounce step until they attempt the dishrag but only succeed in hitting Dean in the face with Cas’ elbow. Cas is suddenly in Dean’s face checking for injury and Dean just pulls him in close and keeps with the beat as best he can. He can feel Cas laughing into his shoulder, he can feel it vibrating through his entire body and it’s fucking awesome.
The spin in circles, still almost jumping along to the beat, trying to avoid tripping over the edge of the rug. It’s really inevitable that they fall, with one of them caught by a giggle fit and the other navigating for two so closely joined they could be one body with eight uncoordinated limbs. There’s an oof as the air is knocked from his lungs as his back hits the bed, joined by a second one as Cas falls on top of him.
Cas props himself up with his elbows and starts running the pads of his thumbs over Dean’s cheekbones, doing his weird soul-staring thing.
“What’s up, man?” He asks, skimming his hands down Cas’ sides but trying not to go down too far, because while he definitely believes there are good times for ass-fondling, this is not one of them.
A soft smile flits across Cas’ face and Dean almost can’t handle the way he looks at him, like he’s something precious and rare. “I love you, Dean Winchester.”
Dean lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah?” The balloon expanding under his ribs has burst, filling his entire body with the feeling he was afraid to name, that love, spreading all down his spine and through the very tips of his fingers. “Well, good, ‘cause I love you, too.”
Cas smiles then, a big, toothy, ridiculous smile, that stays on his face even as he flops down to rest against Dean’s side and drum his fingers against his old t-shirt.
The song fades out and starts again in the background and Dean knows it’s going to get real irritating real soon, but he can’t bring himself to care, especially as he realizes Cas is tracing cartoon hearts against his chest.