Chapter Text
Castiel had never really had an interest in dancing. Most of the music he heard in Heaven wasn’t exactly conducive to it and he didn’t spend much time on Earth; at least, not that he remembered thanks to Naomi’s reprogramming. So, when he found a home burned CD that had belonged to Charlie under the fridge in the bunker, he didn’t foresee himself being affected by whatever music was on it. He had been very very wrong.
Purely out of curiosity he went into his room, popped the CD into his laptop (Sam had insisted he needed one of his own), and hit play. What came out of his laptop’s meager speakers was a type of music he’d never heard before. He would later learn it was called electric dance-pop. Without meaning to, his upper body began moving, albeit clumsily, to the beat. His eyebrows went up when he realized the music had actually moved him enough to, well, move. He’d never experienced anything like it before and he liked it…a lot. It just made him feel so good. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to enjoying outside of hanging out with Sam, Jack, or Dean.
He quickly became addicted to the fast beat and decided he wanted to learn to dance to it properly. It was then that his secret obsession began….
Dean stared in confusion at the pair of knee-length denim shorts that somehow found their way into the laundry he was preparing to wash. He knew they sure as Hell weren’t his. He took them to the library to ask his brother.
“Hey, Sam? These yours?” he asked as he walked into the room where Sam was currently drowning his sorrows in research.
Sam looked up at the pair of shorts his brother was holding. “No. Maybe one of the…” his expression became downcast and his voice, quiet, “…the others left them here,” he said in reference to their apocalypse friends who had died at Michael’s hands.
Dean frowned. “Maybe.” He put the shorts aside and resumed folding the clothes only to find yet another piece of mystery clothing. His eyeballs bulged as he stared at the black mesh t-shirt in his hand.
Sam happened to look up at that moment and his expression mirrored Dean’s. “Whoa.” He stood and walked over to his brother. “That is one serious dirty dancing shirt right there.”
“Yeah. What the Hell?” Dean said with a quiet, baffled tone.
Cas had just finished his secret activities and went to put his clothes in his hamper when he suddenly froze. Quiet terror gripped him as he realized he’d left his outfit from two nights ago in the dryer.
The entire walk to the laundry room Cas thought of excuses as to why he had clothes of that type. His heart sank when he opened the dryer and his clothes weren’t there. Damn it. He went to the library and saw his shorts and shirt folded on one of the tables.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean said warmly.
Cas swallowed. “Hello, Dean.”
Dean noticed Cas was looking at the odd clothes he’d found. “Crazy duds, huh? Sam figures one of the apocalypse world people owned ‘em.”
Cas nearly sighed with relief. He didn’t need to come up with an excuse after all. He smiled slightly. “Yeah. Crazy.”
Cas waited until the brothers went on a supply run to turn on his music. He changed out of his usual attire into a pair of denim cut-offs and a navy-blue tank top that hugged his muscles perfectly.
His chosen song, which was very loud because, as an angel, he didn’t have to worry about his hearing, was full of electronic voice warps, beat drops, and suggestive lyrics. He couldn’t get enough of it.
He swayed his hips to the beat. He knew his movements were very unangelic but they made him feel good. He just hoped Dean would never find out that he wished he could dance like this for him.