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"You found Bobby's vinyls, huh?" Dean approaches Cas, who turns to stare at him in what looks like confusion.
Looking back down at the record in his hand, Cas says, "Vinyls?"
Dean opens his mouth to try and explain, but decides to show him instead. Approaching the turntable behind Bobby's desk, he inserts the record (Elvis, he can dig Elvis) and soon music scratches its way through the air.
Dean feels Cas' warmth pressed along his back, soft breath on the nape if his neck (and it never stops the twinge in his chest, that that's Dean's fault, that Cas is human or something similar) but for once makes no comment on personal space. Elvis is playing and he's with an angel he-he.
So Dean turns around and takes his hand and meets his eyes; and for once doesn't flinch back from what he wants. The apocalypse is nigh and maybe he's gonna lose Sam maybe Cas and Bobby are the only things he'll have left. Maybe for once he's gonna take what he wants and keep it close, closer than he's ever let anything before.
Cas stares at him in what could possibly be hope, but also resignation; resignation that Dean's going to pull away, hide away from Cas, from this thing they have, always had, between them. And Dean hates himself for a second, a fierce moment in which he curses himself for whatever he'd done to put that look of uncertainty on Castiel's face. But he instead takes Cas's hand, put his own on the angel's neck.
Dean pulls Cas close as the smooth strains of Elvis croons into the air, and the angel lets himself be pulled. Soft and yielding and comfortable against his chest, Cas' breath gently warming the skin above his pulse. Slowly, gradually, they begin swaying in time with each beat, breathing in each other's scent and being filled with something Dean is still too much of a coward to name.
Dean is 31 years old but when it comes to emotions he's suddenly 4 and watching his mother burn on the ceiling. Dean closes his eyes against the barrage of memories and pulls at Cas, tugs him tighter into the curve and heat of his body. And Cas goes, because Dean's found that, wherever he went, Cas always followed. That hurt to think about more than it should, Dean thinks.
Soon, Dean realises that Cas is mouthing into his neck, little words he can't understand. Cas (because the angel still reads his mind, sometimes, Dean knows that) shifts in his arms, and it feels to him like a "no". Dean relaxes and puts all thoughts out of his mind, content to lean on Cas' strength and hold on with everything he has.
Temple to temple and nose to nose in the eve of the apocalypse, Dean finds happiness in the arms of an angel sent to guard him. Dean is there, Cas is there, Sam and Bobby are sleeping. Everything feels like it'll be just fine.
In the cool breeze of 2 AM, it feels like maybe they're just ordinary people who can afford to be in love.
Cas exhales sharply into his neck but doesn't pull away. Dean smiles. Before the world ended, he wanted to remember what it felt to be brave.
Cas touches his lips to Dean's neck and it feels like the three words too dangerous to say.