Dean hadn't been able to coax himself into any semblance of sleep and it wasn't long before Dempsey's breathing evened out that he'd crept back out of bed and taken care of the clothes in the tub to resist the urge to have another drink. It wouldn't help, it would probably only make things worse. It wasn't his first sleepless night, but it had to be clear on his face, even after two cups of coffee and a third steeping. He'd nearly sunk into the bath himself at one point, but thought better of it in case Dempsey woke up and couldn't find him.

It was nearing noon when Dempsey surfaced, wearing his robe and looking a little worse for wear. Well, that made two of them with the same underlying reason to blame. "Just shy of noon." Dean had finished the documents he'd been working on last night, read several chapters of his book, made and eaten breakfast and had started to feel that antsy anxiety again. It felt like a strange disconnect and it had been only twelve hours ago.

"How're you feeling?" He asked as he poured the coffee from the French press into two mugs. He'd made double this time, assuming Dempsey would be making his way down at some point and if not, he would have just drank the remnants. Dean leaned against the counter with his coffee in hand, unsure of what to do with himself.