Mildly A/U.

Cas has lost almost all of his angel mojo.

Dean was on his way back to Bobby's when Cas called.

"What's up, Cas?"

"Dean, I have a request."

Dean sighed, figuring the not-quite-angel-anymore would be asking for chocolate chips, or bacon, or something else that they didn't have at Bobby's and would require him turning around despite his close proximity to home. "Shoot."

"Would you return home immediately?"

Dean's heart rate spiked as he turned down Bobby's street. "Why? What's wrong? Is it demons? Bobby has –"

Cas sounded distracted but not distressed as he answered. "No, Dean. It's not – hold on."

The sound of rattling, followed by a brief rustling, filled his ear. There was a sudden crash, an uncharacteristic curse from Cas, and then the line went dead. Dean echoed Cas' sentiment and sped up.

Fifty-eight seconds later, the Impala roared into the drive and screeched to a halt. It took Dean twenty-two seconds to retrieve his shotgun from the trunk, and nine seconds after that, Dean was in the kitchen, shotgun on his shoulder, ready to fire. Instead, Dean laughed. Hard.

He laughed until his abs hurt, until his eyes were wet, and until he couldn't catch a proper breath.

"I'm glad you find this amusing."

Cas' tone and expression indicated that he clearly didn't.

"Aww, Cas…" Dean flashed him a cheeky grin. "Is this what heaven is like with the clouds?"

Cas' lips pressed together into a thin line, but the edges were just barely tipped up and Dean could see a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

"I find it soothing," he answered finally, voice just as deadpan.

Dean lost it again, setting his gun on the counter and grabbing the edge for support as he doubled over, heaving in laughter that might have been mistaken for mania in any other situation. But just as the hunter managed to catch his breath again, the front door swung open.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam called as he and Bobby made their way towards the kitchen. "We brought you some p – "

Sam froze in the doorway, his vocal cords dying halfway through the sentence.

"What's the – "

Bobby froze next to Sam in the doorway. They both carried brown paper grocery bags, but neither made a move to set them down. Instead, everyone remained silent for several moments as the new arrivals surveyed the scene.

Bubbles were everywhere. They spread across the kitchen floor, clung to Cas' clothes and untidy hair, as if he'd slipped in the mess, and they had even managed to reach the kitchen table and countertops. Cas was still exactly where Dean had found him: standing in the middle, a very un-amused look on his face. The dishwasher let out a gurgle, popped a couple times, and then more bubbles oozed from under the machine.

Bobby opened his mouth to say something, or maybe he was slightly in shock, but Cas' spoke first regardless.

"Dishwashers are very aggravating devices."

Sam laughed. Dean joined him. Bobby muttered something about idjit angels and then pointed towards the basement where the mops were kept.