He might have always been in the same place, but some nights it was farther away than others. Tonight, for instance — there was a lot of distance to cover between them tonight. Some nights it was easy, but it seemed like less and less frequently. More and more often lately it was an uphill battle just to feel like he'd made a connection.

That wasn't entirely fair. Dean wouldn't be so distant if he'd been upholding his end of the bargain. The poorly defined, never revisited, never articulated bargain. He was supposed to be better. He still didn't know what that meant, in terms of practical steps to take. He'd thought it was some progress that he'd kept his drug habit soundly out of Dean's life — certainly an improvement over the last time they'd been together — but Dean still assumed he was at risk of overdosing every time he was out of sight, so what had it gotten him? Nothing much.

But he was trying. He was. "Next Friday," he agreed with relief, recognizing the olive branch for what it was. "Let's do something nice."

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