The bunker was dead silent as Dean padded into the kitchen, yawning behind one hand and scratching at the stubble on his cheek with the other. The little light on the coffee machine was still lit and the liquid within the pot warm. A mug with the words "I'm Awesome" printed in bold squiggly black lettering sat waiting beside the sugar and creamer. Dean eyed it with a wane smirk and began fixing himself a cup of coffee.
As he did so, he noticed how loud the clinking of the spoon was against the rim of the mug, how sharply the packet of sugar crackled as he ripped it open, and especially how the chair scraped against the floor as he sat down at the table. Dean glanced around the kitchen then leaned back in an attempt to peer around the doorways. A curious pout scrunched up his mouth and his brows furrowed ever so slightly. He sipped at his coffee, eyes fixated on the entryway to the kitchen.
A few minutes passed by and Dean's befuddlement rose with each passing second; surely Sam was awake by now. And if not his brother, then Cas was bound to make his way into the kitchen to talk with Dean. After all, he didn't require sleep and was usually more than eager to discuss silly things with the hunter. But when no one showed, Dean found himself restless for someone's company. Anyone's. Tapping his fingers against the sides of his mug, he quickly came to a decision and downed the remainder of the coffee.
As he swallowed down the lukewarm liquid, Dean grimaced as the aftertaste hit him hard. Gross. Licking his lips, he hurriedly put the mug in the sink and went back down the hallway. First, Dean went to Sam's room. The bed was rumpled and showed obvious signs of having been slept in, but there was no occupant within its probably cold sheets. Frowning, Dean shut the door behind him and went to Castiel's bedroom. At the door, he hesitated; the last time he'd been in there, the two hadn't been on the best of terms.
Humbly, Dean lightly knocked on the smooth wood. He waited with his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation, his chest tight as he held his breath. When there was no immediate answer, Dean slumped and tried calling out to the angel. Nothing. Not even a rustle of movement. Annoyed by this point, he turned the knob and opened the door. As suspected, there wasn't a single shred of evidence that Cas had been there at all.
"Dammit. Where the hell are they?" Dean mumbled to himself. Grumbling under his breath, he walked down the hallway, passed the kitchen, and went almost too anxiously to the library. Once again, Dean called out to Cas, then to Sam. No response from either of them. He was about to start panicking- his heart was already pounding too fast and sweat was beading on his forehead and back- when a flash of bright yellow color caught his attention.
Honing in on the scrap of notebook paper, Dean made a beeline for the table. He was slightly too eager for, in the process of reaching for the obvious message, his arm knocked over a lamp. Cursing, Dean fumblingly grabbed the poor fixture and straightened it. Its shade was crooked pathetically and, note clutched in hand, Dean guiltily adjusted it. Once the lamp was situated, the note was finally opened.
Dean,
Sorry we couldn't be here to say good morning. Jody called and needed backup. I wanted to wake you, but Sam insisted that I let you sleep. You did look peaceful. I'm not sure how long we'll be gone, so I wanted to write you a note to let you know our whereabouts. Oh and Jody says hello. I hope you slept well and I look forward to hearing about what you dreamed about. Strangeness not intended.
Be back soon,
Cas
Dean reread the letter twice- thrice- more times; well, that explained why those two weren't in their rooms. His ears burned as he realized that Cas had been watching him sleep. Again. He really needed to stop doing that. Dean folded the note and tucked it in the waistband of his boxers. His Led Zepplin t-shirt barely covered the white Batman symbol adorned shorts as Dean straightened up. He sucked at his teeth in a sassy, offended manner and rhythmically drummed his fingertips against the tabletop. Now what?
Sam undoubtedly took Baby and there was no way in hell Dean was riding in any car other than his Impala. He'd read all the books in their library, his laptop was in the backseat of the Impala where he'd left it on their last hunt, and Dean was wide awake, putting going back to sleep out of the equation. There was nothing for him to do. He was going to die of boredom. Rolling his eyes, Dean stomped all the way back into his bedroom.
He paused in the middle of his room, scanning for some source of entertainment. The only thing that could even remotely be considered a diversion from boredom was an old boombox Sam had given him for his birthday. Dean shrugged; it'd have to do. Maybe he'd get some cleaning done. A plan forming in his head, he grabbed the music playing machine and was about to leave when he realized that all his cassettes were in Baby.
"Oh, come on!" Dean complained loudly. And so, the search for music began. First, Dean scrounged about in Sam's room, looking distastefully through all the clutter for at least a CD or something. Surprisingly, he found nothing worth listening to; Dean had discovered a single Vince Vincente tape, which had quickly been thrown away from him as though it'd burned his flesh. Desperately, Dean practically sprinted into Cas' room; there had to be something in here.
Dean was careful not to leave anything misplaced; everything seemed to have its own place and he didn't want to have to explain why he was in the angel's bedroom. He was rifling through the desk when he discovered two items that tugged at his heartstrings. One was the mixtape Dean had made for Cas: Zepp's Top 13 Traxx. The sight of it caused a shy smile to quirk up the hunter's lips; he hadn't actually thought Cas would keep it. He supposed that telling the poor guy that gifts like these were meant to be kept was taking into consideration literally.
Beside the little cassette tape was a plastic case containing a single blank CD. In sloppy yet endearing handwriting, the words "Charlie's Music Suggestions" were scribbled across its white face. An ache splintered Dean's chest; god, he missed her. She always knew how to make Dean feel better. Which was why he snatched the CD and excitedly went back into the kitchen. As he placed the CD into its place in the stereo, Dean formulated his cleaning plan.
The speakers were astonishingly excellent with volume and filled not only the kitchen but also a quarter of the bunker with bright pop music. Now, it wasn't like Dean hated Charlie's taste in music, but it just wasn't his cup of tea. Regardless, he listened and even bopped his head a bit to a few of them. And, as it turned out, listening to the upbeat tunes instead of soothing, soul-banging classic rock proved to make cleaning quite the experience. Not that Dean would ever give up his Zep or Jovi. Never in a million years.
Hours passed without Dean noticing. He carried the boombox with him into each room as he cleaned. Sam's room took the longest, what with all the trash and scattered laundry covering almost every inch of the floor. Dean shook his head as he finally finished mopping his little brother's bedroom floor. It had been hard work and he had seen some things that he wished he hadn't been expose to, but it was done. And damn was it worth it. The whole room seemed to shiny. Squeaky clean.
Dean huffed a bit through his nose, satisfied with his work. All that was left to do now was to clean the entry area of the bunker. With a pep in his step, Dean carried the variety of cleaning equipment- all except for the broom, mop, and dust pan conveniently stored in a bucket- into the space. Dean hadn't even taken a single step into the room before he noticed how gross it was in there. Old pizza boxes lay littered over the globe table, scattered crumpled balls of paper lay around the floor underneath, lore books covered most of the table, and a spilled can of beer sat tipped over by the stairs.
"Can't be bothered to clean up after yourself, eh, Sammy? It's like I'm living with children," Dean grumbled as he narrowly avoided what appeared to be a squished pizza crust wrapped in a napkin. He gingerly cleared a space on the table and set down the supplies. Then he clicked on the stereo. Before he could press play, Dean noticed that he'd skipped a song; after song number 27 had played, Dean had shut it off to change rooms. It was the last one on the bubbly playlist and was smudged in black Sharpie along the bottom arch of the CD.
He could faintly make out what looked like the word "heart", but that was about it for legibility. Dean sighed and clicked on the player. As he started to stuff the pizza boxes into a trash bag, he found himself nervously awaiting the final song. The front area was cleared away within half an hour, thanks to Dean's rapid hands and the power of Clorox. The only thing left to do was sweep. Dean had just wrapped his fingers around the broom handle when a strangely familiar tune began to play.
Dean flushed red and quickly paused the song before the singer could even utter her first note. His index finger lingered on the button as Dean's flashback to the past played out in his mind's eye. It was a long time ago, when Dean was in middle school- well, one of the many middle schools he'd attended. The song had been popular, but not too much so that it played over and over again on the radio. Dean had taken a Walkman from the lost and found and discovered the tape inside.
There had been many songs on that cassette, but Dean loved this one the best. It became his guilty pleasure and he would secretly dance and sing along with all his heart. He never had had the courage to play it around others, especially not his family. Dean had maintained his reputation for loving classic rock and he was going to stick by it. But he hadn't heard this song in so long...
Fearfully glancing up at the door at the top of the stairs, Dean bit his lip. Sam and Cas could walk in at any moment. If they caught Dean doing what he was planning on doing, he would be mortified for life. And Sam would never let him live it down. Still, the temptation was there and every other part of Dean's subconscious was screaming for him to go through with it. He hesitated a moment longer then decided to hell with it. Rewinding the tape to the beginning of the song, Dean took the broom in his hands firmly.
Then he pressed play, bracing himself for the blast to the past. The music began to play again and Dean found himself immediately swaying his hips to the beat. He began to sweep, rocking his hips and slightly moving his feet along with the rhythm. When the singer started singing, it was as though childhood had sprung up from the grave and had taken over. Dean felt a broad grin lit up his face and he enthusiastically sang along.
"I feel the night explode," he crooned, "When we're together." His shoulders shimmied along with the synthesizer. Dean twirled the broom in place, singing the next bit more freely.
"Emotion overload. In the heat of pleasure!"
He slid smoothly to the right, dragging the broom with him. Dean sung into the tip of the handle like it was a microphone.
"Take me I'm yours! Into your arms! Never let me go! Tonight I really need to know!"
Dean let go of the broom and it was like his body knew what to do. The choreography from the music video flowed into Dean's eager limbs and he let loose. His voice was a bit shaky as he danced and sang at the same time, but he was having too much fun to notice.
"Tell it to my heart. Tell me I'm the only one. Is this really love or just a game?"
Dean could feel sweat breaking out all along his body as he transitioned into each dance step. But he couldn't care less. He was in the Zone.
"Tell it to my heart. I can feel my body rock. Every time you call my name!"
Somewhere along the way, Dean abandoned the video's routine and began his own method of dancing to the music. He shook his ass and rose his arms high above his head. A giggle rose in his throat, coating his singing voice with mirth.
"The passion's so complete. It's never ending. As long as I receive the message you're sending!"
Dean gripped onto the railing of the stairs and pretended it was someone to dance on. He was sure his face held a sensual expression; he was getting far too into it. But he didn't want to stop.
"Body to body! Soul to soul! Always feel you near. So say the words I long to hear!"
Dean tore away from the stairs dramatically and somehow managed to gracefully grab the back of a chair and turn around, using it as a crutch as he moved to the beat.
"Tell it to my heart! Tell me I'm the only one! Is this really love or just a game? Tell it to my heart. I can feel my body rock. Every time you call my name!"
Dean shifted from the chair and found himself on top of the table. His socks slid a little too smoothly on the glass surface, but he managed to keep himself up right. He was so busy maintaining his balance that Dean failed to hear the sound of the door opening. The synthesizer blasted its solo and Dean went with it. His hips swayed, his hands curled into loose fists near his head, and the rag he'd stuck into the waistband of his boxers wildly swung from side to side.
"Love, love on the run. Breaking us down, though we keep holding on! I don't want to lose. No, I can't let you go!"
Dean matched the vocalist in her enthusiasm in the note and threw his head back to sing it with her. Without thinking, he leaned down and picked up a can of air freshener for a makeshift mic. He pretended the chairs around the table were audience members.
"Tell it to my heart! Tell me I'm the only one! Is this really love or just a game? Tell it to my heart. I can feel my body rock. Every time you call my name!"
Dean paraded around the table, head thrown back and arms waving. He was so engrossed in his performance that the two figures standing near the top railing went unseen. Dean jumped off the table and grabbed the broom again, this time imaging it as a dance partner.
"Tell it to my heart! Tell me from the stars! Tell it to my heart, heart, heart, heart! Tell it to my heart! Tell me from the stars! Tell it to my heart, heart, heart, heart!"
Dean let the broom spin out of his hand and slide to his knees on the floor. His stomach flexed and curved as he seductively ran his hands down his chest. The music was too loud for the faint snort of laughter to be heard from Dean's position.
"Never make it stop! Oh take it to the heart! Oh no, no, ah-ah!"
Dean rose onto his knees and used the last of his singing power to belt out the remaining lyrics. His left arm stuck out with his fingers splayed like jazz hands and his tousled bedhead turned to the side with his mouth just barely touching the air freshener cap.
"Tell it to my heart! Tell me I'm the only one! Is this really love or just a game? Tell it to my heart. I can feel my body rock. Every time you call my name!
As the song faded out, Dean found himself out of breath and grinning like an idiot. There was a low whistle of appreciation and the sound of applause from the balcony that caused Dean to spin around. Sam leaned over the railing with a shit-eating grin and his hands clapping slowly. Cas stood to the side of him, looking down at Dean with a slightly confused, but amused expression. Dean wanted to die.
He wanted a black hole to open up and swallow him up right then and there. This had been the one thing he had not wanted to happen. Dean cleared his throat and awkwardly got to his feet. Sam snickered and pushed away from the railing. As he descended the stairs with Cas in tow, he hummed the song. Dean felt like he would implode from utter humiliation.
"Taylor Dayne, of all people. I never thought I'd ever catch you listening to her, bro,"
"Oh, shut up. It's...catchy,"
"I can tell. You were really into that. I've never seen you so worked up over anything. Except maybe your Metallica tapes,"
"Yeah, well, I had a phase when I was younger, okay? Don't act like you haven't had those,"
"Whatever. I'd never be caught dead listening to that crap. You know I'm going to make fun of you for the rest of your life now right?"
Dean scowled as Sam smugly set down a bag of take-out on the table. Cas smiled at Dean and patted him on the arm as he passed. "I rather enjoyed your singing and dancing, Dean. You looked like you were having fun," he said cheerfully. Sam howled with laughter as Castiel's lips turned up into a teasing grin. Dean felt like and probably resembled a hot tamale; Sam's jokes he could deal with, but Cas too? That just wasn't fair.
As the three tucked in for lunch, Dean avoided looking at his family and stared intensely down at his food. He listened as Sam and Cas explained how Jody had hunted down a group of imps and had killed two out of the apparent six creatures. Halfheartedly, Dean chuckled as Sam explained in gory detail the demise of the remaining four monsters. Castiel quipped that he'd managed to find their nest, which Dean gave praise to by sending him a smile.
It was halfway through eating that Dean paused. He stopped mid-chew, realization dawning. 'Gotcha, you dick,' he thought mischievously. Dean finished chewing and swallowed before nonchalantly clearing his throat.
"Hey, Sammy, got a question for ya,"
"What's up?"
"How did you know that was Taylor Dayne?"
Sam flushed pink. Cas looked from him to Dean and back, brows raised.
"I-I, uh, must've heard it on the radio or something,"
"But you said you'd never be caught dead listening to her,"
The room when silent. Now it was Dean's turn to be smug. Sam rolled his eyes and picked at his food. He refused to look at his older brother and everyone knew why. Cas, having no filter, was the first to crack a smile. Sam glowered at him with betrayal written all over his face. Dean leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Guess you can't make fun of me now, bitch,"
"You were still the one dancing and singing along, jerk. I've got that leverage,"
"You can't prove that I did that. No one will believe you. Besides, you tell anyone, I'll let them know that you listen to more of her songs than I do,"
"You wouldn't dare,"
"Try me,"
Cas took a sip of his beer and chuckled. Sam and Dean both looked over with twin expressions of annoyance and puzzlement. The angel stood, adjusted his trench coat, and began to walk away.
"The hell are you laughing at?"
"Yeah, Cas. And where are you going?"
Cas reached the hallway and turned his head in the Winchesters' direction. In horror, the two brothers watched as a playful yet wicked look glinted in his eyes. Instead of speaking, he held up his cellphone. On its screen was- both Sam and Dean jumped up from their seats. Cas immediately fled down the hall as the hunters scrambled after him, screaming down the hall:
"Delete it! Delete the damn video! Hey! Cas!"