Trusting that Dempsey knew if they were far enough away or not, Dean squeezed their joined hands gently. He didn't often talk about things like this with anyone, but then again, he wasn't as close to anyone as he was to Don Juan. He had friends sure, quite a few, and an even wider array of acquaintances, but none of them were more than surface deep relationships, certainly not deep enough to talk about family and expectations. It was nice, Dean decided, that they could talk about things like this.

"I'll ask next time she invites me over for dinner, I'm sure you'd get along." He was sure Mae wouldn't mind, in fact she would probably love it. However— "She'd really perceptive though, just to warn you." They were close and Mae knew him better than anyone else, save now for Don Juan. If they slipped at all, seemed too chummy or affectionate, she would be asking questions. She was already asking what was making him look so damn happy lately. He'd almost told her many times about his preferences, about Dempsey, having never told anyone else, but he didn't want to risk their relationship for fear of her looking at him differently. It was a strange line to walk, keeping a huge part of himself from his closest sibling, but it had to be done.

At least he had someone who understood now. Dean took the last long drag of his cigarette and snuffed it out on the nearest stone. He felt more relaxed at the moment, despite the chill in the air. He'd been a little anxious about how tonight would go, but apparently all for nothing.