You were drunk.

Not tipsy, not buzzed, but full-on, slurring, giggling-at-nothing drunk. And Dean Winchester—sarcastic, sexy, and not to mention your ex, Dean Winchester—stood in front of you, looking amused and a little bit concerned.

“You good there, champ?” he asked wryly, one sharp eyebrow raised.

You squint at him, leaning closer like you’re trying to figure out if he’s real. “You know,” you say, your words slow and deliberate, “You are sooo lucky.”

Dean blinks. “Lucky?"

“Lucky I'm drinkin', handsome," you purred. "It's making me a bit more willing to-"

For the first time all night, Dean looks genuinely caught off guard. He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his ears turning pink. “You’re drunk,” he says, but his voice is softer now, almost affectionate.

You grinned, poking a finger at his chest. “And you’re lucky.”

Dean chuckled, catching your hand before you can poke him again. He would never make a move on you like this... but he can find you cute. “All right, lightweight. Let’s get you some water.”