Dean swore under his breath in French. All this time and Dempsey thought that he'd been unwelcome at the time. As if that had ever been a problem. For fuck's sake.

Closing the gap between them, Dean was barely holding onto his normal restraint. He wasn't sure if he want to punch Dempsey or kiss him senseless. The equally passionate responses were not something he was used to. Fuck Dempsey for turning him into this indecisive mess. He lowered his voice, face a mere inches from the other man's. "You were high out of your mind," which Dean supposed begged the question; how much of the night had been forgotten in the interim? "I don't take anyone to my bed that is not in the right headspace to consent fully." Especially those he cared about on some level. The line couldn't be blurred like that. Dean refused to fuck around and find out. He had always been careful, never got too drunk himself, never fooled around with things he didn't know the effects of and he would not be responsible for anyone who had either.