Since I am in the middle of writing this monster of an angst fic, I thought I'd take a break with a bit of harmless humor and fluff to make the pain go away. Plus, I just adore the idea of human!Cas being so entertained by the stuff humans make. Enjoy!

Dean wondered when his life had come to this: breaking into a Bed, Bath, and Beyond to deal with the ghost of the recently departed housewife who was haunting it. According to witnesses, she was giving home décor advice from the section where they sold art and could be seen shaking her head at people buying the wrong types of hair brushes. When had his life come to this?

But here they were, all three of them, Team Free Will: the smart one who had almost shut the gates of hell, the recently human angel who understood exactly zero of Dean's awesome references, and Dean himself, all breaking in to a Bed, Bath, and Beyond at three in the morning.

"Remind me why we're here again," Dean grunted, putting his shoulder into pushing the door open the rest of the way.

"I think that the housewife must have left a bit of herself in here," Sam said, not sounding at all patient. "Otherwise burning her body would have worked. Plus, why else would she be haunting this place?"

"The great deals?" Dean grinned and Sam glared at him, full bitchface activation mode. Dean rolled his eyes and turned on his flashlight before walking into the darkened store.

"Cas, you still with us?" Dean didn't glance back so he didn't see the former angel's mess of black hair nodding. "Cas?"

"Yes, I am here," Cas said, gravel voice rumbling through the large room.

"Where we headed, Sammy?" Dean asked, turning to shoot his flashlight directly into the taller Winchester's eyes. Sam pushed him away with a grunt and rubbed his eyes.

"Well, dick, if you would like to cast your mind back to our interview with the store owner which was only five hours ago you would recall that the woman cut her hand in the kitchen stuff before she died." Sam pushed his way around his brother, who was sporting a shit-eating grin even after Sam's attempt at chewing him out. Dean turned his smile back to Cas and shrugged before following Sam.

They worked their way through the store quietly, but it was taking a long time. They had no idea where they were supposed to be looking for the kitchen stuff and the flashlights could only illuminate so much of the huge store at a time. Dean turned around to look at Cas when they passed the wall of hair dryers only to find him mysteriously missing from sight. Dean smacked Sam's shoulder and gestured at the empty place where Cas should be, worry clouding over his features. Both brothers worked their way back, casting their flashlights back and forth. A quick move of Dean's eyebrow sent Sam off in the opposite direction, still hunched. Dean's flashlight finally caught sight of another beam a section over, in the midst of piles of towels.

"Cas, what the hell?" Dean tried to stay quiet. But the angel was just staring at a shelf in confusion. "Where the fuck did you go?"

"Here," Castiel said, as if it was obvious.

"Yeah, I know you came here," Dean said, rolling his shoulders in annoyance, "but why?" Sam came up behind him but didn't say anything, just as curious as Dean.

"Dean," Castiel said, his eyes still locked on the shelf, "I don't understand the purpose of this item." Dean, through an amount of effort that deserved a medal, managed to not roll his eyes. He leaned around to see what Castiel's flashlight was trained on and saw what looked like a box with two rubber balls on the front. But the balls weren't flat. They were covered in little plastic spikes, not dangerous spikes, really only bumps. They were blue and green and Dean was more than baffled.

"I don't know what they are, Cas!" Dean exclaimed. He got a shove from Sam to keep his voice down. "The fucking suburban soccer moms use them, not me."

"They are… interesting," Castiel said, rolling the word around in his mouth thickly. He finally looked away from the box. "Are we still looking for the blood of the woman who is haunting this store?"

"Yes, we were doing that," Dean ground out. "You going to stay behind me this time?" Castiel nodded, but didn't look apologetic. He still looked mildly confused.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dean reached past Cas and grabbed the box roughly off of the shelf, "ok, they are for the laundry. They make shit soft. Happy?" He threw the box back onto the shelf and turned around, "now let's hunt a fucking ghost, shall we?" Cas didn't say anything, just fell in line behind the brothers.

"I think the kitchen stuff is in the back corner," Sam said, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder. They moved forward without another word, all three shooting their lights into different sections as they passed them. Cas looked at the huge supply of bedding with interest before Dean pulled him away, grunting.

"Dude, focus," Dean said, pulling Cas forward to whisper directly into his ear. The hunter's breath was hot on Castiel's neck and the former angel smiled at the contact, and then adjusted his shoulders, really trying to give the hunt more of his attention. It didn't last very long.

The brothers were passing by some artwork when Dean noticed Castiel's absence again. He pursed his lips and made a cursory glance around the area before deciding 'the damn guy could take care of himself,' and continued scanning the art. According to their interview, the ghost had at least made an appearance here, so they figured they could look around.

The artwork was hideous. Dean found himself wondering what sort of décor advice the ghost had offered, because he would have said to just leave all the stuff in the store. Gaudy pictures of flowers, cartoon artwork of kitchen appliances with faces and happy messages, meaningful quotes, and even a few attempts at what might be considered 'actual' art, but it all failed miserably. Dean resisted the urge to just rip a few of the canvases for good measure, saving husbands everywhere from living with whatever this shit was in their own homes.

"Where's Cas?" Sam asked, coming up behind Dean, who was still trying to turn away from a repulsive print of some sort of rose covered in dew. Dean rolled his eyes.

"No idea," he turned around to face his brother, "ran off again. Let's go to where the bitch actually cut herself." He moved out of the tight aisles of the artwork happened upon Cas entirely by accident, just across the way from where Dean had been looking. His eyes were opened comically wide and he was staring at some sort of mechanical circle, which seemed to be oscillating. The hunter steeled his shoulders and walked up behind Cas.

"Dude," Dean said. Cas turned around to look at him. Cas's blue eyes, so commonly closed in squints of confusion, were wide open and full of wonder.

"Dean, look at this device," he indicated the oscillating circle. Dean moved a step to his left and found that the thing seemed to be blowing air. Like a fan. Much to his dismay, Dean found himself curious.

"The fuck?" he moved forward, closer to the fan.

"I don't understand how this works, Dean," Cas said. He gestured to the boxes that appeared to be housing the machine for house moms everywhere to take home. Dean picked up a box and read it.

"It says that this is a fan," Dean said, screwing up his face more in confusion. "It says this is a bladeless fan." He put the box down and moved forward carefully, like he was sneaking up behind a particularly scary monster. Cas moved closer to, and before Dean could do anything, he stuck his very human hand through the circle that claimed to be a fan. "Cas, wait!" Dean reached forward but stopped short when he saw Cas's hand, unharmed.

"Dean, the fan is truly bladeless," Cas said. He moved his hand back and forth through the fan. "But then how does it work?" He was starting to sound more frustrated than curious now. He removed his hand and tried to pick up the fan, looking at it from multiple angles. It still blew a strong beam of air into his face, a force strong enough to further displace his bedhead-hair.

"OK, this is what we should be here for," Dean said, "because there is no way that thing isn't fucking witchcraft."

"No, I don't think it is magic. I feel that someone might have noticed before now," Cas said, not realizing Dean's joke. In his defense, it hadn't sounded like much of a joke. Dean was too confused by the machine to really put any effort into his tone and delivery.

"Let me see that," Dean said, grabbing the fan from Castiel's hands. Neither one of them noticed the loud crashing sound from somewhere far at the other end of the store.

Sam was going to kill his brother. Where the hell had he gone off to? First Cas, now him? Was the freaky ghost lady putting them through a meat slicer while he wasn't looking? It was bad enough that Dean and Cas seemed to be attached at the hip lately, but them abandoning him on a hunt was just a step too far. But here he was, alone, hunting for whatever was keeping Laura Murphy-Jones hanging around the kitchen supply section of the local Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

He had finally reached the kitchen supplies, thank the almighty drop-out dad, but he had no one to share his victory with so he continued casting his light around with a pinched look on his face that Dean had once said made him look like he was trying to force a duck out his ass. Ah, the lovely language of Dean Winchester. After a minute of searching, he found what he was looking for: a tile with a bit of blood on it near the display set of knives. What the hell had Miss Laura Murphy-Jones been doing with these knives that she had managed to slice her finger open? Wasn't it enough to just look at all of them lined up nicely in their wooden display thingy?

Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife before squatting down, moving a shelf just slightly, and cutting out the bit of floor with blood on it. He had the piece in his hands and was about to burn it when the housewife herself appeared. She was wearing mom jeans and a cotton green top with a flower embroidered on the side, along with a pair of hideous running shoes, and she was charging right at him

"You should wait to buy those until you have a coupon!" She shrieked as she came forward. Sam through his arm out and managed to run his new iron ring in the ghost's stomach before she got any closer and she disappeared. He picked up the fallen bit of floor and set it alight, just in time for the ghost to come barreling back towards him, knocking him into the shelf full of different types of frying pans, before she went up in a blaze. Sam groaned on the floor. Where the hell were his brother and Cas? He pushed himself up off of the floor and dusted off his shoulders. He walked away from the toppled shelf.

"Let the morning crew take care of it," he muttered. At least they didn't have the ghost of good deals past scaring away their customers any more. Now he just had to find who he now deemed the worst two hunters ever. He was walking back towards the area he had last seen Dean, terrible artwork, when he heard noise like box hitting the floor followed by an odd, more moist (shudder) sound.

"Dean, we should find your brother," Sam heard Cas say off to his left. The ex-angel's voice sounded off. Sam couldn't put his finger on the emotion that carried across it.

"He can take care of a damn housewife by himself, he's a big boy," came Dean's response. That was odd, his voice sounded off too. Sam felt his expression twitch into what would be known as the bitchface to end all bitchfaces and turned the corner suddenly, shining his flashlight at his brother and Castiel.

"Oh, my… wha… how the…. FUCK?" Sam's most impressive bitchface to date (he had really been proud) went wasted and unseen as his expression melted into one of pure horror at what lay before him. His brother, his brother, had his arms around Castiel's waist and was kissing the guy with some serious gusto. Or, he was, until Sam got there.

"Hello, Sam," Cas said. He at least had the decency to look awkward, trying to fall back on some form of traditional greeting amongst incredibly untraditional circumstances. Dean tried no such thing.

"You have, like, the world's worst timing," Dean said, not even bothering to unlock his arms from Castiel's waist. His lips were pink and shining from things Sam didn't even want to think about. Although, who was he kidding, he wasn't have any form of coherent thought at the moment. His mind was just one flashing image of Castiel and Dean locked in an embrace he did not ever want to see. It was like one of those amber alert things on TV where it was on every channel no matter what you tried to flip to. And, now that he thought about it, there was even an accompanying alarm blaring along with the image.

"Seriously, Sam?" Dean said, finally releasing Cas. "Hello? Earth to little brother?" Cas rolled his eyes at Dean fondly. It sort of broke Sam from his spell.

"You and, and Cas?" he asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, dumbass, me and Cas," Dean looked at him like he was an idiot. "Now did we get the bitch or what?"

"How can you possibly, I just, ah," Sam shook his head and tried to string a full sentence together. "Since when?"

"A month," Cas answered serenely. "Sam, did you find a way to destroy the ghost?"

"Of course I did, ok?" Sam said. He was getting frustrated that no one seemed to be freaking out as much as him. "A month?!"

"Yes, a month. Are we going to need to get a calendar from one of these sections to explain it?" Dean asked. "If you ganked the bitch, let's split. Come on, Cas," he flicked his wrist at the former angel to move closer, which is exactly what he did, until the two were standing right next to each other. Sam tried to ignore the way Cas's hand brushed Dean and he could swear he saw their pinkies link up. Who was this guy standing in front of him and where the hell was his brother? He settled on an easier question.

"Where the hell did you guys go?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer, "did you seriously just abandon me so you could go make out in the corner like a couple of high school boys?"

"Oh, no," Cas said seriously. "I was distracted by this." He walked away from Dean and led the taller Winchester towards a different display. "We believe it to be magic." Sam was pretty sure he imagined Dean's restrained bark of laughter.

Dean watched from the wide open aisle as his boyfriend (man, he was still getting used to that one) led his brother into the store. He really did try to keep his laughter contained when Cas had said, with such perfectly practiced sincerity, that the thing they were going to see was magic. He smiled to himself as he thought back to the kiss, deep and heavy. Cas had been only somewhat reluctant, which Dean could work with. Grabbing the guy's ass while they were checking out the fan had just been a good idea in all sorts of ways. That was when he heard his brother exclaim from a few displays away.

"How the hell can a fan be bladeless?"

This was sort of a first attempt at writing humor for this fandom, so let me know what you think. Please favorite and review!