The bunker was quieter than usual. Too quiet.

Dean noticed it first the second he, Sam, and Gabriel stepped through the war room doors.

“No yelling,” Dean muttered suspiciously. “No explosions. No cursed object trying to eat somebody. I don’t trust it.”

Sam dropped his duffel near the table. “Maybe for once things are norma—”

A smooth British laugh echoed from the library.

Gabriel immediately stopped walking.

Dean winced. “Aw, hell.”

Your laugh followed a second later, softer, amused, and Gabriel’s jaw tightened instantly.

The three of them rounded the corner into the library and found you sitting on the edge of the table flipping through lore books while Arthur Ketch leaned casually against a bookshelf beside you, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened like he’d stepped out of some spy movie.

“You know,” Ketch said smoothly, handing you a mug of coffee, “if hunting ever becomes tedious, you’d make an excellent Woman of Letters.”

You snorted. “Pretty sure your organization tried to kill me twice.”

“Water under the bridge.”

“Is attempted murder really water under the bridge?”

“For us? Absolutely.”

You laughed again and Gabriel’s eye twitched.

The archangel slowly lowered the bag of food onto the table with terrifying calm. “Wow,” he said flatly. “This is cute.”

You looked up instantly, your expression brightening. “Hey, you’re back.”

Gabriel ignored that entirely, staring at Ketch.

Ketch, unfortunately, smiled wider.

“Gabriel,” he greeted pleasantly. “Lovely to see you.”

“Is it?” Gabriel asked. “Because every time I see you near my girlfriend, I suddenly understand why smiting exists.”

Dean immediately backed away. “Ohhh, this is gonna be good.”

You slid off the table. “Gabriel—”

“No, no, sweetheart, I’m calm.” Gabriel pointed at Ketch without looking away from him. “See? Calm face.”

“You look homicidal.”

“Same thing.”

Ketch crossed his arms, entirely unbothered. “You know, jealousy is terribly unattractive.”

“And flirting with my girlfriend in my home is a great way to lose kneecap privileges.”

Dean nearly choked trying not to laugh.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Arthur was helping me translate a spell.”

Gabriel scoffed dramatically. “Oh, sure. And the coffee? The leaning? The whole ‘British guy with tension and expensive cologne’ act? Totally innocent.”

Ketch looked smug. “It works rather well, doesn’t it?”

Gabriel vanished from beside Sam and reappeared directly between you and Ketch in a burst of golden light.

“Okay,” Gabriel said, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “counteroffer. She already has a charming, handsome, incredibly powerful bad decision-maker. Applications are closed.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Bad decision-maker?”

“Baby, I once faked my own death because commitment sounded stressful.”

“Fair.”

Dean tossed a burger onto the table. “Honestly, Ketch, you’ve got a death wish. Flirting with her while angel Casanova over here exists?”

Gabriel pointed finger guns at Dean. “Thank you.”

Ketch tilted his head slightly at you. “You could certainly do worse.”

Gabriel gasped dramatically like he’d been stabbed.

“She HAS done worse,” Dean said immediately. “Remember college?”

“Dean!” you snapped.

Sam looked horrified. “Please don’t bring up college.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “…What happened in college?”

“Nothing,” all three of you answered instantly.

“That was way too fast.”

Ketch smirked behind his coffee cup.

Gabriel noticed.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” he asked.

“A little.”

The archangel grinned suddenly — the dangerous kind of grin that made demons pray.

“Well then.”

With a snap of his fingers, Ketch’s tailored suit transformed into an obnoxiously bright pink tracksuit complete with glittering rhinestones across the back that read JUICY.

Dean hit the table laughing.

Sam physically turned away.

Ketch looked down at himself in absolute horror. “You insolent little—”

Gabriel smirked triumphantly, pulling you closer against his side. “Keep flirting, James Bond. Next time it’s crocs and a matching visor.”