A/N: The first of many drabbles in this series. Some may be cute, or angsty, or smutty. Long, short, medium, whatever. Destiel is my OTP forever.

Summary: Cas is sent back to the hotel when he was caught afoul a bad-tempered spirit. He then takes his first bubble bath.

Bubbles

Castiel, for the first time, was enjoying the delights of a bubble bath.
Needless to say, he adored the bubbles and the sweet perfumes they gave off, and how relaxed his vessel's muscles got after sitting in the warm water.

The hotel they were staying at was nice, considering the man with three poltergeists in his house was paying them around the clock to just get the spirits gone.

Whilst attempting to exorcise one of the bad-tempered spirits, Castiel somehow managed to get in between a china cabinet and a wall.
He'd gotten glass in places he didn't even know he had.

Dean sent him back to the hotel.

The bathroom door flying open shook Cas out of his brooding.

"I am so fucking TIRED of MOTHERFUCKING POLTERGEISTS." Dean raged, stomping over to the medicine cabinet in search of bandages. He bled from various cuts and scrapes, none of which looked too terrible, but Dean had always been…what did the mortals say?

"SON OF A WHORE." When Dean didn't find what he needed, he slammed the cabinet door, cursing when the mirror cracked.

Oh, yes.

Dean was a drama queen.

Castiel sank into the bubbles, wishing to go unseen.
Of course, that didn't happen.

Dean spun on his heel, emerald eyes flashing. "Cas, did you use all of the Band-Aids?"

Shaking his head, Castiel scooped up foam in his hands and lifted it up for Dean to see. "Bubbles." He explained.

"Fuckin' bubbles, goddamn Band-Aid stealing Angel." Dean grumbled, beginning to shed his clothing.

Cas smiled. "Are you going to come into the bubbles with me, Dean?"

He didn't pretend to understand their relationship, and what this unconditional love thing was. He'd spoken to Gabriel, and the way his brother explained it sort of made sense.

"Well, Father made us perfect, so, like, whatever we do obviously is in the right, right? We wouldn't be perfect otherwise. You love Dean like I love Sammy. It's not wrong if we're perfect, is it?"

So Cas didn't argue when Dean slipped into the large bathtub with him, leaning back into his chest and sighing. He just washed off the blood and kissed the nape of the hunter's neck, humming contentedly.

….

It felt really good to relax like this.

Dean didn't get to do it often, especially with Cas.

He didn't even know how he got away with fucking and loving an angel, or why the big guy in the sky hadn't sent his ass back to Hell for blasphemy or some shit.

It was hard not to be worried in times like these.

Cas took soap in his palm and massaged Dean's scalp gently with it, making him groan.
All that fucking angel did was laugh, and continue melting him into a pile of Dean-goo.

Not that he was complaining.
Or that he'd ever admit to adoring another man's touch.

Dean Winchester, lady killer, would never have homosexual tendencies for a dark-haired, blue-eyed, rough-voice angel.

Except that he did.

Cas seemed to read his mind, dipping Dean's head back onto his shoulder to suck gently at his throat. "You are very pretty, Dean." He murmured between soft kisses, rubbing slow circles just under the hunter's hipbones.

Dean sighed and blinked sleepily, nodding off in Cas' arms. "Thanks, Feathers." He slurred, nuzzling under the other man's jawbone.

Cas hummed and rest his head back against the wall. "These bubbles make me sleepy too, Dee." He mumbled against Dean's ear. "They are very intoxicating."

Dean laughed softly, fingers tracing mindless patterns on his angel's forearm.

Before he knew it, he was gone.

…..

They woke an hour later, in semi-lukewarm water, a few bubbles, with a half-naked Sam that seemed to be having difficulty stitching up his eyebrow in the broken mirror. "You guys suck." He grumbled, biting his lip in concentration. "You get warm baths, and cuddle time, and sleep. I exorcised three poltergeists by myself."

Dean felt Cas laughing softly against the back of his neck, and gave a shit-eating grin.

"No bubbles for you, Sammy."