Just a teensy cute fluffy one. With suggested filth at the end :D What can I say? I can't help myself. And I think after the last post, we need something a little lighter and happier (:

"I'm an Angel of the Lord, Dean; I am not adorable!"

Dean is leaning against the door frame, arms folded, legs crossed and the toe of his boot tapping against the wooden floorboards. "Cas, you're wearing an apron," Dean taunts. "And rubber gloves."

Castiel turns to face Dean, squaring him up, the attempted threatening pose effectively destroyed by the cupcake patterned apron and the soapy water dripping from his washing up gloves. He looks like he really wants to yell at Dean, and his face changes to pure frustration and he lets out a strange growling sort of sound then resolves to turn back to the sink and finish the dishes in silence.

Dean cackles as he struts across the room and wraps his arms around Cas' waist, nuzzling his nose in to the crook of the Angel's neck. "A-dor-a-ble." He teases.

Castiel ignores the Hunter's mocking and rinses the last plate and puts it on the rack, then he twists around to level Dean with a furious glare. "Let me go, please, Dean."

Dean simply shakes his head, looking straight back in to the cerulean glower.

In a moment of pure unadulterated fury at Dean's mocking, Castiel scoops up a double handful of water and throws it at Dean.

"Whoa!" Dean wipes the soapy water from his face and runs his hands through his hair, wetting it and styling it in to a slicked back look. It makes Cas laugh. Dean calls him an unpleasant name and launches at him. He grabs the Angel by his apron and pulls him up close. "A." He kisses him. "Dor." Another kiss. "A." Another kiss. "Ble." A final kiss.

"Dean, you look ridiculous."

"And you look like you should be leading a fashion parade." Dean shoots back.

"I wish to finish the dishes in peace." Cas states plainly, using his butt to push Dean away from him, he returns to the dishes and rinses off the last few.

Dean watches with mild amusement from a couple of feet away. "That's my girl."

Cas looks at him. It is enough to say he isn't impressed, and he doesn't understand Dean's insistence upon referring to him and Sam as female. Choosing to ignore the playful human, who is now wrapped around him again, kissing Cas' neck, and making the hairs raise, Cas rinses off the gloves and takes a hold of the fingers of one hand and pulls them off in one quick motion. He removes the other glove in the same fashion, then reaches back to untie the bow in the apron string. Strong, smooth hands stop him, and Dean presses close to Cas, his arousal very much apparent. "No," He whispers. "Keep it on."