Dean could feel the tension rolling off Dempsey and now he was second-guessing himself. He'd been questioning himself for days after the letter exchange, unsure as to what he was possibly angling for here, but still it was hard to stop. At least he was sober this time. At least he had his head on straighter than he had in months.

Maybe that was what made the thoughts running rampant in his head worse.

He had vague flashbacks of that night when he'd been plastered and wondering when it was Dempsey had switched from the vanilla cigarettes and if it was his fault. The scent that had clung to every memory Dean had of the other man was laced with vanilla and now it seemed strange that these were different. "I like a lot of things I'm not supposed to." He said as he accepted the cigarette, taking caution in that their fingers didn't touch and that he gave Dempsey a little bit of breathing room.