Everyone you met thought you were the most adorable, bubbly little thing that they'd ever seen. And they were right. Dean thought you were so cute that sometimes, he couldn't even stand to look at you. You were just the sweetest person, rotting his teeth with all of your sheer hope for the world, for the love it held.

Dean liked to be the pessimist to your optimist. One of these times, he thought that he'd break through that warm, gooey barrier you had and see something other than your excitable joy, but he'd yet to succeed.

Honestly, his lack of succession could equate more to failure, especially now, when you were in one of your little moods. The mood in mention was what he liked to call the love bug. Where every person you looked at you wanted to find their happily ever after, right then and there. Forget if they had a spouse! Forget if your pairings were completely incompatible. When you got hit with the love bug, you didn't care about things being perfect, you just wanted to see love in action.

"That guy's gonna cheat on her with his secretary in three months, tops," Dean says monotonously, lifting his coffee cup to his mouth and sipping, lips pressed into a thin line. "You just caused more heartache than anything, little love."

Not that you were listening. You were already on the prowl for the next person to infect with your cheery love spells. Dean didn't want to admit that most of his irritation stemmed from the fact that you weren't sparing him an ounce of attention. What, did you think he was unworthy of a little love in his life? Was that it?

"C'mon. Enough of this." He nudges your untouched drink closer to you across the table in a poor attempt to get your attention on him. "All your happiness is giving me a damn aneurysm."