Pranks and jokes were typical hunter fashion. Facing death every day was impossible without a healthy dose of humor and cynicism. Your recent guilty pleasure, however, has been Cass. The angel was so clueless, it was honestly entertaining. Fucking with him had become a bit of a pastime for you and Dean, and poor Cass’s reactions were always priceless.

The latest hunt was a run of the mill salt and burn that you concluded by yourself. Hey, you even managed to score a little dough by convincing the poor victims that you were a psychic, or an exorcist, or something. As you turn your key in the bunker door, aching to take a shower and chill, the urge to pester someone resurfaces. The first person you see is the angel, and a mischievous line jumps into your head all too easily—

“Hey, Cas! Are those your wings, or are you just excited to see me?”

Silence. A slight scoff from nearby tells you that Sam clued into your joke, and Dean clearly tries to hold back laughter from his seat on the couch. Poor Cass, who had been interrupted in the middle of his research, pauses in surprise. If his eyebrows were any more scrunched, you think a blood vessel would burst.