Ah fuck. Dean had done it this time. This didn't feel okay. Dean wasn't sure he could talk his way out of this one, which was... something. A first, possibly.

Dempsey wanted to leave and after everything Dean had preached about abiding by boundaries, he couldn't exactly argue. "If that's what you want," Dean managed as they stepped apart. "I'll get your things." They'd played too close to the fire and it turned out it was Dean who'd gotten burned by his own flame. He padded quietly across his room, finding Dempsey's shoes and pants in the hall, bringing those back first and setting them on the bed.

His mind was buzzing with some way to fix this, to salvage the night, a reconciliation, anything. He made his way down the stairs slowly, finding the discarded clothes in the living room. He tossed on his own shirt for good measure, buttoning a few of the bottom buttons. This desperation wasn't something Dean was used to feeling and it left him feeling off kilter and out of control. Which was perhaps how he'd gotten here in the first place. Dempsey had seemed keen to see what Dean had meant, but clearly he hadn't known what he was asking and Dean had stretched the moment out too far in trying to get him to see. As he trotted back up the stairs into his room, he gave Dempsey some space, leaving the clothes on the bed again and taking a step back. "If it counts for anything, I don't want you to go, but I understand if you need to." Maybe a little actual honesty would go further than the rest.

"What that was is just a part of me," not his best either, but it had a time and a place and this was obviously not it. "It does not have to be a part of what's between us." There was something, that could not be denied, otherwise this would not be so damn difficult; Dean thought he could feel it slipping through his fingers again. Dean could be possessive and domineering and a whole host of other things. He could also be responsive and thoughtful and pay attention to his partner's wants and needs if given the chance.