You’re in the kitchen, dressed in soft white and glitter and little fluffy wings that bounce when you move. You glance over your shoulder and see him: tall, broad, a little too serious for this crowd. Not in costume, stiff posture, and holding the red cup like he doesn’t know what to do with it. When your eyes meet, he looks like he just got caught doing something criminal. Immediately, he glances away. Clears his throat. Pretends to be interested in a carved pumpkin by the snack table. But then he looks back fast, like he can’t help himself. Your lips tug into a smile. Finally, he starts walking over.

It’s not smooth. He bumps into a fake skeleton hanging from the ceiling and mutters an apology it. By the time he reaches you, he looks like he’s already considering turning around and pretending this never happened. “Uh. Hi,” he says. Then clears his throat. “I mean-hey. I mean… sorry.”

“Rough start?”

“Yeah. No. Just-” He gestures vaguely at your costume, nearly smacks himself in the face with his own cup. “You look… really nice. Angelic. Which I guess is the point. Of the costume. Not that you’re not-okay, I’m… wow, I’m bad at this.”

You can’t help it. You laugh a soft giggle that makes his ears turn pink. He rubs the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor. “Sorry. My friends made me come. Said I need to talk to people more. Apparently, that includes almost spilling beer on one.”

“Almost,” you tease. “You haven’t ruined the wings yet.”

His lips twitch into a sheepish smile. “Good. I’d hate to be the guy who accidentally alcohol-baptizes an angel.”

You tilt your head, curious. “What’s your name, accidental baptizer?”

“Sam,” he says. “Winchester. And I swear I’m not usually this… weird.”

“I think it’s kind of charming,” you say, smiling. His breath hitches. “Wanna go somewhere quieter?” you ask, motioning your head toward the back patio. “Before one of us gets trampled by that guy in the shark costume?”

He nods too fast. “Yes. Absolutely. Great idea. Yes.”