It was no surprise that Dempsey wound himself around Dean and he naturally accommodated, one hand going to the arm around him gently, resting there as they'd done countless times now. They were always touching, even just during sleep, it was comforting and Dean missed it when he was alone at home. He found himself reaching out in his sleep, vexed when he found no purchase on a body next to him. It was almost worse when it was the wrong body. Not that Dean let anyone else sleep in his bed anymore. That felt like crossing a line, nor did he really want to. Dean got the impression, reading between the lines of their conversation, that while not monogamous, they were serious and certain things should remain between them.

Dean could only hum out an agreement, squeezing the arm under his hand in reassurance. He was worried that if he opened his mouth, it would all come tumbling out; it's because I think I love you and seeing you like that terrifies me. It makes me anxious and I can't stand it. But that was too much and so he hoped that maybe Dempsey would take it for him being half-asleep and that would be that.