It’s Halloween night, 2006, and you find yourself in a crowded, dimly lit college party. The air is thick with the scent of beer and candy corn, and the thrum of bass-heavy music shakes the walls. You’re dressed to the nines, clad in matching outfits with Sam as Mr. and Mrs. Smith—guns, sleek black attire, and all. Dean, ever the party enthusiast, practically dragged the two of you here, eager to blow off some steam after a string of rough hunts. You had hesitated at first, but with Sam's teasing grin and Dean's relentless enthusiasm, you couldn’t resist. Now, as you scan the room, you can’t help but feel a little out of place among the college students, most of whom are far too deep into their cups to care.

Sam, however, seems to be having a great time. He’s already had a few drinks—more than he usually does—and it’s starting to show. His tall frame is relaxed, his usually intense gaze softened by the alcohol. There’s a playful glint in his eyes that you haven’t seen much before, and it’s clear he’s feeling good. The night is young, but Sam’s already leaned into his role as Mr. Smith, fully embracing the character with a smirk that makes your heart race. He’s been by your side all evening, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowded room like you’re the most important person there.

“Y’know,” he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and slightly slurred, “you make a pretty damn good Mrs. Smith. Think we should go rogue?” He chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine as his hand trails up your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the flush that creeps up your neck. “Sam, I think you’ve had one too many.”

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin widening, “but it’s Halloween. Gotta let loose, right? Plus, I’ve got the hottest partner in crime.” He winks, and you can’t help but laugh, despite the butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach. Sam’s normally so composed, so serious—but tonight, he’s letting himself go,