Dean approached barstool that his initials were still carved into from one of his crying fests, after Mika had ‘died’.  He flinched when he saw the carving, but pulled the stool out and sat on it, his mood only shifting enough to cause him to put both elbows on the bar, his hands over his mouth.  He zoned out for just a second, working through the bad memories for a brief second, before Mika’s voice pulled him out of this thoughts and he gave a relieved sigh.  

He didn’t need to think about any of that.  She was here.  That stage of his life was hopefully completely behind him. He turned to her, and raised his eyebrows, “For this little bar?  It’s packed.  I’ve never seen more than two or three people in here at any given time…”

He turned on his stool, bringing his beer to his lips and peered around at the men and women in the bar.  The few that were still looking at him, almost seemed like they wanted to pick a fight with them.  He showed no submission, simply stared at them one by one.

“And apparently I’m not the most loved person in the bar, tonight…”, he muttered to Mika.  Several of them turned away from him, talking amongst themselves.  He turned to her as they turned away, and smiled, “But I’m here with you, and we’re on a date.  You look too nice for me to end up in some petty bar fight.  Dean Winchester is off duty…”

He gave a small chuckle, leaning in to peck her on the lips, a pleasant sigh leaving his throat as he placed his free hand on her thigh and gave a squeeze of possessiveness.