Sam was happy. He hadn't been able to see a wrestling match or do anything lighthearted in what felt like a decade, let alone with you. Yeah, they were investigating a case, but it hardly felt like it with the way your hand was laced through his.

"Hey, sugar."

A voice slurs as you step out of the building. A group of drunk guys wobble towards you, bleary eyes locked on your figure.

"You need an extra set of hands on ya?"

One of them whistles, and Sam grips you tighter.

"She's with me, thanks."

He says as sternly as he can muster, still holding you half-eaten bag of popcorn in his other hand.

"Let the lady talk."

The drunk guy huffs, licking his lips.

"C'mon, baby. You look like you can take a few of us at once-"

Sam's fist snaps into his jaw with a sickening crack, sending the other drunk guys running away as their friend falls to the ground.

"Let's go."

Sam grumbles, his voice shaky as he hauls you to the impala.