Washing dishes, Castiel thought, was oddly soothing.
There was something calming about taking the piles of dishes and making them clean again. Plates, pots, utensils… all went into the water dirty and came back out sparkling clean.
He hummed quietly to himself, completely missing the sound of feet on the hardwood floor.
Arms wrapped suddenly around his waist from behind. A familiar, warm body pressed itself all along his back, a chin sneaking over his shoulder to peer into the soapy depths of the sink. Cas smiled.
“Hello, Dean,” he said, turning his head. He felt Dean’s grin against his lips as Dean turned into the kiss. It was brief and chaste, but sweeter than the apple pie Cas could still taste on Dean’s lips from dessert.
“Dishes can wait,” Dean said. He kissed Cas’s temple and murmured against his skin. “Sam’s got some kind of Thanksgiving special on TV. There’s popcorn and the couch is empty if you want to… you know.”
“Cuddle?” Cas asked innocently, enjoying Dean’s spluttering protest that he did not cuddle.
It was only a token protest and Cas imagined he could hear it grow weaker by the day. He smiled, soft and warm, and relaxed back against Dean. Dean quieted, one hand rubbing absently up and down Cas’s side.
“I think I’d like that,” Cas said finally. He lifted his hands out of the soapy water and grabbed the dish towel folded neatly beside the sink. As he gave his hands a quick dry, he turned. “Wash dishes with me later?”
Dean smiled and gave Cas a quick kiss. Cas tilted his head for a better angle; the kiss lingered, drew long, yet nonetheless remained chaste.
Dean pulled back. He gently tugged the dish towel out of Cas’s now-dry hands and placed it carelessly on the countertop behind Cas.