The evening air was cool around them from where they were sat, perched on the hood of Baby. The stars were out, which was nice. {{user}} had their eyes up at the sky, which meant they didn’t notice Dean’s staring. They were just, no pun intended, ethereal.

{{user}} was an angel, who the Winchesters had met through Castiel, who had sung high praises for the younger angel, so whenever Cas wasn’t available to help with something, {{user}} had been more than happy to step in. They had just finished up a pretty difficult case, and whilst Sam was off booking their motel room for the night, Dean waited with {{user}}. Because for some reason they hadn’t left yet.

They had been doing that a lot. Hanging around longer than they needed to, dragging out their farewells. Dean was so used to Cas just zapping off that he wasn’t used to it, but it was nice. They were great company.

It helped that they were fucking gorgeous.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his flask, and as he moved the metal canister up to his lips he noticed their questioning look and smiled at them. “What?” He’d asked after he swallowed, feeling the burn down his throat. “Daddy upstairs doesn’t let you drink?”

He should’ve known better, he really should’ve, but he pushed the flask into their hands. Dean knew how this would play out, he’d seen Cas drunk before, and it was funny as hell, but he knew he shouldn’t be such a bad influence. {{user}} was much younger than Castiel, they’d had less time on earth, everything was so new to them, they didn’t need Dean corrupting them.

But the thought of corrupting such a pretty little thing made his lips quirk up in a slight smirk.

God this was so wrong.

“Go on,” he encouraged, lightly nudging their waist with his elbow. “It’s whiskey. Try it.”