Author's Note:

This is a one-shot companion to my fic Lessons In Rehabilitation, suggested by theconsultingtardisbananaangel and heartily seconded by about a dozen other people. Enjoy!

"...I'm just saying, Cas, you didn't have to football tackle me out of the way. I did have my knife." Dean slid the motel key into the lock, jiggling it until it accepted that it was indeed his room.

"I apologize for knocking you over," Castiel replied, "but I did feel that the danger was too much to simply allow you to stand there."

Dean rolled his eyes, and was about to respond when he caught sight of their room. "...the hell?" He muttered, walking in a few steps and stopping, dumbstruck.

"I do not remember our room looking like this when we left," Castiel commented with mild surprise. "There was much less pink."

Distracted, it took Dean a minute to reply. "Yeah, and a hell of a lot less glitter."

The room, which as of four hours ago had been a basic motel room with two queen beds, one unused, now resembled a reject from some Valentine's Day movie set. Every wall was bright fuchsia, with large hearts adorning everything. Even the mirror over the desk was shaped like a heart, and the desk itself was pastel pink with glittery hearts all over it. The television had been replaced by a bright pink sparkly chest that was open to reveal a myriad of sex toys, and where the beds had been there was now a gigantic king size bed draped with pink silk and sparkly pillows.

"What the hell?" Dean said again, still not entirely sure what he was looking at. He wondered what his face looked like. He was guessing somewhere between bewildered and ready to kill.

Castiel inclined his head to the side, as though sensing something, and then sighed, resigned. "I am afraid my brother has been here," he said reluctantly.

His expression immediately transforming to what Sam had once called his "pissed beyond belief" face, Dean clenched and unclenched his fist to relax, then said in a tone of forced calm, "I'm going to kill him," emphasizing each syllable.

Ignoring Dean, Castiel strode over to the open chest of sex toys, the only part of the room that was obviously not a remnant of Barbie's dream house. Holding up was was very obviously a vibrating butt plug, he raised an eyebrow at Dean speculatively.

It took Dean a second to catch up to where Castiel had apparently gone off to, and he shook his head. "No way, dude. We are so not getting it on in a room full of pink glitter."

Seeming to take that as a challenge, Castiel took out the remote from the chest and turned the plug on so Dean could see the vibrations, turning the plug slowly and admiring it before turning it off and setting it to the side, taking note out of the corner of his eye that Dean was growing hard in spite of himself. He turned back to the chest, and pulled out another object, this time a bottle of chocolate flavored lube. How very Gabriel. The next object he pulled out actually surprised Castiel, and he made a soft "Oh!" noise as he pulled it out.

Curious in spite of himself, Dean moved forward to look over Castiel's shoulder. "A feather?" He asked, curious.

"One of mine," Castiel replied. "It is quite old. My wings are darker now." He held up the long dark grey feather, inspecting it. "I suppose he must have saved it one of the times I molted."

Dean gave him a look. "Angels molt?"

"Yes, Dean," Castiel told him patiently. "When we are young, our wings shed their old feathers to develop new ones. New angels have white wings, which transition into different shades as we grow."

"So what color are your wings now?" Dean asked curiously.

"Ebony," Castiel informed him, setting the feather down next the the plug. He glanced back at Dean, only to see the hunter's eyes fixed on the feather, and very obvious bulge in his pants. Castiel raised an eyebrow at him.

Dean caught Castiel glance and shrugged sheepishly. "Okay, maybe if you got rid of some of the glitter?"

Castiel appeared to be glaring at the room for a split second, and when Dean turned to look he found a whole lot of pink, but significantly less glitter. He could deal with the pink. That bed did look really comfy. He peered over Castiel's shoulder into the chest, his eyes widening as he got a good look at the contents.

"Perhaps killing Gabriel can wait until later?" Castiel suggested, looking pointedly between Dean and the chest.

"Later. Yeah. It can wait."