Dean enters a party. Not his scene particularly, but it’s a rare night in which he hasn’t been demanded by his father to go hunt something. So why not go see what kids his age are up to these days?

He opens the door, leather jacket on, collar popped up round his neck.

He scans the place and almost considers stealing himself a free drink and leaving. Till he sees someone that catches his eye. Sunglasses on indoors. The only people who wear sunglasses inside are a) douchebags, b) blind, surprise option c) a completely captivating possible companion.

He watches someone offer you an indoor smoke and smiles to himself when he sees you cough yourself silly after one puff. Smooth.

You sip your drink, laughing at jokes amidst the hustle and bustle around you. When your eyes land on leather jacket-boy. The look in your eyes inviting him to approach.

Dean swallows the lumps in his throat as he makes his way over to sunglasses.

Drunken monologues are exchanged between you two—and its not like he’s falling in love but…

He wants you to do him no good. You look like you could.

The look of love, the rush of blood, the “she’s with me”s, the Gallic shrug.

Purples blues and golds surround you two all in a blur. Maybe he should go to parties more often. If it means he gets to see you more often, he certainly wouldn’t mind.

“Wanna get outta here?” He asks finally, a crooked smile on his lips, before the moment’s gone, he’s gotta make the most of it. Take you away with him, from all the noise. You and him and free drinks.