When given the option, it was always whiskey. Dean pulled out the decanter of one of his nicer ones and poured a healthy measure in two rocks glasses. Perfectly at ease in his own space, he motioned toward the settee on the wall opposite his bed and held out the glass for Dempsey.

Flopping heavily onto the comfortable sofa, Dean got cozy. He couldn't tell if Dempsey was nervous or uncomfortable, but he hoped to exude an aura of his flat being a space for things exactly like this. Because this wasn't unusual for Dean. He was far too secure in who he was to worry about much. Sometimes he balked a little, wondering if anything would get out, but generally, at least with other men, he was less of a concern. Being discreet was paramount and nobody specifically wanted to ruin their reputation. He took Dempsey's agreement to the invitation as confirmation enough that this would be fine.

After taking a sip of the whiskey, Dean sighed, enjoying the way it sat on his tongue. "Ah, that's good." He smirked, angling himself on the sofa toward Dempsey, one ankle crossed across the other, perfectly content.