You didn’t hate Supernatural. You’d seen enough to fake your way through a fan convo. But this weekend? It was all for your best friend—walking encyclopedia of demon lore and Winchester angst.

You were the bodyguard. Flannelless. Emotionally stable. Wearing sleek black boots instead of cosplay.

Day one dragged—panel after panel of actors retelling blooper reels like they deserved Emmys for falling over props. You nearly tapped out during the epic retelling of “that one time Jared pantsed me.”

And then— Jensen Ackles walked on stage.

Black shirt. Worn denim. Tan skin. Salt-and-pepper beard. The man walked like he knew every head would turn. And that smirk? A felony in five states.

You didn’t clap. Didn’t swoon. Just stared—flat, unimpressed, and very aware that 47 had never looked like that before.

Back at the hotel bar, your friend was still rehashing every breath Jensen took. You swirled your wine, zoning out, until your gaze caught—

Jensen. Jared. Baseball caps. Whiskey. Laughing like they weren’t the reason half the convention had screamed themselves hoarse.

You blinked. “Don’t freak out.”

Your friend squeaked and nearly faceplanted into her drink.

Eventually, you made your way to the bar. Two seats. Two drinks. Cool and casual—until that voice dropped in behind you.

“You were at the panel.”

You turned. Jensen Ackles. One brow raised. That signature, cocky smirk etched into his face like a permanent fixture.

“Didn’t smile. Didn’t clap. Thought you might walk out.”

You sipped your drink. “I almost did.”

He laughed—low, sharp. “Not subtle, are you?”

“And you’re not as humble as you pretend to be.”

That made him grin wider. “Sweetheart, I gave up on humble when I started aging better than half of Hollywood.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that out loud often?”

“Only when it’s true. You think I didn’t notice how half the room was drooling?”

“You mean your fans?”

He leaned in slightly. “And then there’s you… two seats away, sipping wine like you’ve got better things to do.”

You tilted your head. “Maybe I do.”

He held your gaze. “If you did… you’d be gone.”

Silence. A flicker of heat between you.

“You always this charming with strangers?”

“Only the ones who make ignoring me look that good.”

Jared let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he’d seen this dance before.

Jensen’s eyes didn’t leave yours. “You got a name?” he asked, voice lower now. Smoother.