Dean pursed his lips. He did what he would always do. Over the course of the early morning hours, he'd come to terms with the why and the what he wanted out of it. The only thing he could do was lay it all out on the table and hope Dempsey was receptive. He took a sip of his coffee and pondered that. At least Dempsey realized what he'd done, hopefully appreciated it.

Sighing softly, Dean tried to look Dempsey in the eye, thinking he might be going crazy with this, but he'd thought it all through, had practiced what he'd wanted to say. "It scared me," at the root of it, that was what he'd realized after all was said and done. It was jarring and almost too much for him to handle. He had, and would handle it, but he wished he really didn't have to. He fixed Dempsey with a meaningful look. "Don Juan," he started, trying the first name out on his tongue, knowing he'd only used the given name a handful of times, introducing him as a friend at a social event or something along those lines. "I don't know if I can do that again, I hate seeing you like that." He'd said as much last night, but it had fallen into the stupor if the drugs and then into the abyss because he hadn't thought it the time. Now was the time, in the light of day when they were both more cognizant of the importance of the conversation.