The phone in Dean's pocket buzzed as he lifted his head out from under the hood and wiped the thirty-year-old dirt and oil from his hands. It was a text from Sam reminding him that this Saturday was Ellen's birthday and they were all going to meet at Bobby's house for a family party. The text was an unwelcome reminder that he still hadn't told anyone in his family about Cas except for Sam.

For the last couple of weeks, he and Castiel had been spending as much time together as their schedules would allow. Dean worked mornings and Castiel usually scheduled classes until about seven in the evening so Dean would go home after work, get cleaned up, and show up at Castiel's to enjoy a late dinner and evening together. They had spent almost every night (except Fridays as those were still reserved for Sam) in each other's beds and couldn't get enough of touching one another. Dean loved every minute of the time he spent with Cas and until that text, he was able to avoid the idea of telling Bobby about his relationship.

He knew he needed to tell Bobby and Ellen but he didn't know how. He was afraid of how his family would react to the idea of him dating a man. Every time he tried to think of a way to talk to Bobby, the memory of his father would come to mind. The anger, the disappointment, and the disgust on his father's face were seared into his brain and he was terrified of seeing that look from his surrogate father.

The situation had him working distracted, which is never good, especially since he was elbow deep in the engine of a '78 Chevelle that was absolutely refusing to cooperate, its bolts rusted together through the years. He gave one final angry shove at the stuck wrench and the rusted bolt finally squealed its objection as it budged from its spot, but the wrench slipped and his hand lurched forward and slammed against the sharp edge of the engine block, leaving a gash along the back of his wrist and a swelling bruise.

Dean let out a litany of curses as he sat in his office bandaging his wrist, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to do any more work today. Defeated, he grabbed his keys and told Victor that he was taking the rest of the day off.

When he pulled into the dance studio, Castiel was still with a student so he hung back by the door to watch the end of the lesson. He recognized some of the movements from this dance. It looked like the one that he had watched Castiel dance with Pamela that first time they met. He stood in the doorway and leaned one shoulder against it crossing his arms and legs and took in Castiel's graceful moves. Damn, he loved watching that man dance! It was all power and passion and it was hot as hell.

When the lesson ended, Castiel spotted Dean and gave him a warm smile and told him that he would be right with him. Dean ambled over to check out the rack with all of the studio's music on it while he waited for his boyfriend to escort out his student and lock up the studio. Castiel shut and locked the doors and dimmed the lights before walking up behind Dean and snaking his arms around his middle as he placed a gentle kiss on the back of Dean's neck. Dean was finally able to let out the breath it felt like he had been holding all day. He gave Castiel an appreciative hum and smiled for the first time that day.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean turned around and greeted the man properly by pulling his face forward with both hands and losing himself in the kiss. He took Castiel's mouth greedily, tongue darting forward to taste all of him. He slid one hand down Castiel's back, pulling the dancer's body closer to his so there wasn't a breath between them while he snaked his other hand up to thread in the short hairs at the base of Castiel's neck. This was what he needed, to drown himself in the touch and taste and smell of his lover.

Dean knew Castiel could feel his urgency as he responded to every one of Dean's physical pleas for more. Castiel gave him everything that he needed and more. He nudged Dean backward until his back hit the mirrored wall and he slid his knee between Dean's legs, pushing their bodies further together. Soon, Dean was able to lose all thoughts of wrecked cars, dead fathers, and conversations he wasn't ready for and was able to think of nothing, feel nothing but Castiel. This is what it felt like to be kissed senseless.

Eventually, Castiel broke the kiss and Dean's head lulled back against the mirror as he looked into those blue eyes through heavy lids. Castiel caressed his cheek and brought their foreheads together and whispered, "Dean, what is it?"

"Just a bad day, Cas. It's better now, though."

"Is everything alright?"

"Cut my hand and… just… stress I guess."

Castiel's eyes and hand drifted down to the Dean's bandaged wrist, "Oh, are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine, it's just a cut. I just… just a lot on my mind." Dean looked away, unable to meet Castiel's eyes.

"Come on, let's have some dinner and see if I can't take your mind off of it," Castiel said suggestively, drawing a small smile from Dean. He took Dean's hand in his own and led him up the stairs to his apartment, where they began moving around the kitchen together preparing supper.

The men chatted casually about their days as Castiel prepared the salmon glaze while Dean cut up the fresh green beans. Dean peeked over Castiel's shoulder and reached around him to dip a finger into the viscous honey concoction, sucking the sweetness off his finger, humming in appreciation. Castiel grinned and took Dean's hand into his own, bringing the man's still wet finger to his own mouth and sucking while making wicked sounds.

"Cas, you're going to have to stop that now or I'm going to end up defiling your kitchen," Dean quipped.

Castiel chuckled and gave Dean his hand back along with a fake pout. Dean shook his head and thought about how nice this was with Castiel. This sort of domesticity that they had created was comfortable and sweet and sexy and everything that he wanted… almost.

His life was still separated into silos. There was his family – Sam, Bobby, Ellen and Jo. And then there was Cas. How great would it be to bridge that gap and bring Cas into his family? He wondered what it would be like to have Cas sitting next to him at a family Thanksgiving dinner, knees touching under the table, or curled up together under a blanket on Bobby's couch drinking spiked eggnog and opening presents Christmas eve. But would Bobby ever accept Cas that way? Would he think less of Dean? He knew he wasn't ready to face that yet.

The sound of the oven door shutting drew him out of this thoughts and he turned to see Castiel grab a drink from the refrigerator and perch on one of the stools at the kitchen's small island to wait for their food to cook. Dean joined him, pulling his stool close enough that he could enclose Cas' legs with his own, and listen to him talk about his work - he was starting up a new youth dance class that he was excited about – and he was able to get lost in the timbre of Castiel's voice and get away from the turmoil in his own head for a little while.

After dinner, Dean headed into the living room to put on some music then sunk down on the soft couch, slinging his arm over the back, creating a space for Castiel to lean next to him. But Castiel walked into the room with a smile on his face and two small plates in his hands. Pie! Damn, Cas was awesome!

The two men ate their deserts until Castiel dipped his fingers into the sweet apple filling and sucked it off slowly, looking at Dean with a provocative smirk. When Dean barely reacted, however, Castiel gave him one of those patented squinty stares and tilted his head to the side like that would help him see into Dean's head better. He had been learning Dean's body language, and could tell that he was still wallowing in his anxiety. He put down his plate and stood up, pulling Dean up to meet him and dragging the man to the bedroom.

He knew when Dean got like this he needed to be taken apart, pulled out of his head, and swept up so that he could release some of the tension he had been carrying around. He pushed Dean down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs and attacked mouth, tasting the tart sweetness of the pie on the man's tongue.

Dean needed this. He needed the feeling of letting go and letting Cas take control. He could forget for a while all of the stress and anxiety he felt and let Cas work him, take him, build him up so that he could crash over the peak of pleasure and release everything on the way back down. Cas' strong arms moved him, lifted his legs and worked him open, maneuvering and steering his body at will to bring him to the edge of ecstasy. And when Cas entered him and rocked their bodies together over and over, Dean let go and let himself fall into the white wave of pleasure until all of his thoughts melted away as he focused only on the love in the blue eyes above him.

Castiel awoke to the ragged screams of the man next to him, causing a chill to run through him and make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Heart pounding in his ears, he looked over at Dean. He was sweating and his eyes were franticly darting around beneath their lids as his arms twitched and fought against the phantoms in his dream.

"Dean," Castiel leaned over and shook his lover gently on the shoulder, "wake up, Dean."

Dean inhaled a huge breath as his eyes flew open and landed on Castiel. When they did, Castiel could see the realization that it was just a dream paint across Dean's face as the tight, strained muscles began to soften and his eyes drifted shut again. Dean brought his arm up and laid it across his eyes, "Sorry, Cas. Didn't mean to wake you," Dean croaked out in a sleepy slur.

"Dean, I don't care that you woke me up. I just worry about these dreams. This one seemed more difficult than most." Castiel laid his head back down onto his side so he was facing Dean, with his arm still draped across the man's chest, pulling him close by the shoulder, trying to share his warmth and draw his partner into the safety of his arms.

Dean drew in a heavy breath, letting it out slowly, trying to calm his frayed nerves. He finally turned his head and met Castiel's eyes, who could see the pain and need there that he would do anything to alleviate. He gently rubbed his knuckles over Dean's cheek before moving a few sweaty strands of hair that were stuck to his forehead. Dean's eyes fluttered shut as he soaked up everything from the loving touches, pulling them inside with everything he could to fill the aching hole in his heart.

"What were you dreaming about?" Castiel whispered.

"Don't remember," Dean said but Castiel could tell that it wasn't the truth.

"I want to help."

Dean sighed, "You can't help, Cas. It's my shit to deal with. I just… I can't talk to you about it."

"Why?"

How could Dean explain the dark things inside of him, how broken he was? What would Cas think of him if he knew the truth, if he could see the images that haunted Dean at night? He couldn't lose Cas. He needed this man, and couldn't risk seeing the disappointment in his eyes if he knew what Dean had done, was responsible for. "I just can't, OK? Can you just leave it?"

"No, Dean. This is hurting you and I just want to understand why."

Dean's fear and anger got the better of him as he spat, "I don't know, Cas, probably the same reason why you don't fly anymore!"

Castiel withdrew his hand from the back of Dean's neck where he had been swirling his fingers through the short hair there and Dean immediately felt empty at the loss of the touch. Dean closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the wounded look on Cas' face. He didn't want to do this, not now. So he opened his eyes and turned on his side to face Cas and took his hand, "Shit, Cas, ignore me. I'm just tired and on edge. Can we just not talk about this now? Not tonight?"

Castiel nodded and threaded his fingers with Dean's.

"Come here," Dean whispered and pulled Cas to his chest so that he could bury his nose in the top of Cas' hair and feel his warm breath on his own neck as they wound arms and legs around one another. Neither man spoke again as they drifted back into sleep.

Castiel awoke curled in Dean's arms with his back to Dean's chest, listening to the soft, steady rhythm of Dean's breathing. He had only slept a few hours and was feeling anxious and restless after Dean's nightmare. He needed to move, to do something with the nervous energy buzzing through his limbs so he gently extricated himself from the tangle of limbs and pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. After a quick stop in the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth, he headed, like he always did at times like these, to his dance floor.

He needed to move, to stretch, to feel the pull of his muscles and the warm ache through them that would work the stagnancy from his body. A good workout always cleared the cobwebs from his mind and helped him think better and last night had given him a lot to think about. Castiel only turned on the small lamp on low, providing him with a soft dim light to dance by, and hit play on the stereo, turning the volume down low enough to not disturb Dean. He didn't really care what music was playing, he wasn't listening anyway. But the music floated around him and encouraged his body to start moving.

The song was Aerosmith's Dream On and the initial simplicity of the solo guitar riff moved Castiel's limbs, stretched the coiled muscles. When Steven Tyler's soulful voice began to sing, the raw emotion of the lyrics began to register and Castiel let the song carry his body and his mind.

Every time I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face getting clearer, the past is gone
It went by like dusk to dawn, Isn't that the way?
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay

As the drums and guitar built to a crescendo, Castiel was lost to the music, spinning a passionate story with his body. He leapt and spun and reached until his heart felt like it was in synch with the pounding rhythm of the bass.

Sing with me sing for the year
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear
Sing with me, just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord'll take you away

The dance felt fantastic and when the song ended, Castiel sat down on the wooden chair and leaned his head back, closing his eyes to relax and just feel the blood pumping through his veins from the workout and relish in the endorphins as he felt his heartbeat returning to normal. His head felt clearer, and his mind wondered back to Dean. Something was really bothering him and he had been reluctant to talk about his PTSD and said it was for the same reason that Castiel hadn't flown in years. Maybe Dean was right, maybe both of them were stuck because they hadn't taken the steps necessary to fully heal from the past. He realized that as long as he didn't fly, he was neglecting an important part of who he was.

Lost in his thoughts, Castiel didn't hear Dean until a sleep-scratchy voice rumbled right next to his ear, "Hey, Cas."

Castiel gasped at the unexpected presence and his eyes shot open. There, standing in front of him, leaning over with his hand on the back of the chair was Dean. Castiel smiled up at the man who had the most adorable bed head and was rubbing the sleep out of one eye with the heel of his hand.

"Missed you, woke up and you were gone."

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. I thought dancing would help me clear my thoughts so that I could rest."

Dean settled onto Castiel's lap, straddling his legs and lazily resting his forehead on the dancer's shoulder, nuzzling a few sleepy kisses into his neck. "Does it work?"

"Yes, actually… Would you like to see?"

"Huh?"

Castiel hesitated a moment, biting his bottom lip before asking, "Will you dance with me, Dean?"

Dean thought for a moment then nodded and placed a quick kiss on Castiel's lips before standing up and offering his hand to help his partner up. Castiel took his hand and stood up, a breath away from Dean when the man asked him, "How about that one you were doing when I came in last night? It was seriously sexy." Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows at him.

Castiel raised his eyebrows, "You want to learn the tango?"

"Sure," Dean shrugged at the surprised look on Castiel's face.

Castiel couldn't help the smile that pulled at his mouth. He loved the tango and Dean was willing to dance this with him. He turned around to walk towards the stereo and change the music to a tango but Dean caught his arm and spun him back around, pulling him in for a kiss, which he smiled into.

Once a slow orchestral tango was playing in the background, Castiel walked up to Dean and told him, "OK, the American tango is easy. I can teach you three basic patterns that everything else is built upon. You start by walking forward on your left. Go left, right, left, side, together. The timing is slow, slow, quick, quick, slow."

Castiel demonstrated and Dean was able to pick up the basic move easily. Within a few minutes, Castiel stepped into Dean's personal space and wrapped his left arm tightly around his partner's shoulder, locking his right hand in Dean's left. "This dance is closer than the others you have learned," he whispered seductively in Dean's ear, "there should barely be any space between us."

As the music played, the men began to move together, circling the small dance floor as one. They laughed when steps were missed and flirted through learning the corté step. When Dean stepped back to pull Castiel into the corté, Castiel would lean in close, arching his back and lining up their bodies from toe to fingertip, a move that was pure aphrodisiac to Dean.

The music was soft and sultry and soon the dancers began to get caught up in the mood of the song and the feel of their lover in their arms. Somewhere along the line Dean stopped counting steps in his head and let his body relax to just react to Castiel. And it was beautiful and fun and intimate and passionate. Castiel threaded his left hand along Dean's neck into his hair and drew their bodies so close that their cheeks were touching and Dean hummed in approval.

Dean was beginning to feel more confident with the steps as the lesson went on and Castiel let him take the lead. He smiled to himself as he led Castiel to the edge of the hardwood but instead of doing a turning step, kept going, leading Castiel backwards until the back of his legs hit the arm of the couch and Dean pushed him gently backwards, laughing as he followed and straddled Castiel's hips. Castiel laughed too, surprised by Dean's actions, but certainly not disappointed.

"Lesson over, Cas," Dean said as he reached his hands under his boyfriend's shirt to explore the man's chest, "that was hot." He leaned forward to trail kisses over the smooth abs.

Castiel chuckled into the kisses and accepted everything Dean had to give, reveling in the touch and the passion that their dance had inspired. He loved the way the movements of dance could speak a language all of their own without needing any words and he had felt so much in every step of their tango. The connection that the dance created as their bodies were moving in perfect rhythm together to the sultry music was beautiful and inspiring to him. And a realization hit him that he needed to do something else for himself and for Dean.

He pushed back on Dean's shoulders, stopping the man's exploration of his torso with his mouth, which pulled the most beautiful pout across Dean's face as he looked down at Castiel and asked, "What gives, Cas?"

"Dean, I think I want to fly again."

Dean smiled, "Really? That's awesome, Cas."

"I'm tired of feeling incomplete and broken."

Dean nodded and looked away, "Yeah, me too…. I'm so fucking tired of reliving shit with my dad and the war in my head when I close my eyes."

"Dean, you know you can talk to me… or Sam or Bobby or a professional. Just please, talk to someone. This is hurting you and I hate it." Castiel wound his hands up Dean's neck and into the hair behind his ears and pulled their foreheads together.

"Yeah… yeah, I know. I just need some time."

"Of course," said Castiel and he brought his lips gently to Dean's in a soft kiss before Dean deepened the kiss and they made love to the melancholy tango playing in the background as the first rays of the morning sunrise peeked in through the windows.

You say you never worry cause you don't need a home
Don't need an address, don't need a phone
And you don't have to worry 'bout bein' alone
Cause you can make your music on a ten cent comb
~Midnight Tango – Steve Miller Band