This time, Dean bit his tongue. The first thought that bubbled up was nasty and as angry as he was right now, he didn't want to say anything he didn't mean or would regret later when things cooled down.

He dragged his hands over his face again; he wanted to stay mad about this, but really he was just hurt and disappointed. It made him feel like he didn't matter, like he was an afterthought that would always be there waiting around like a lovestruck fool. Dean hated feeling like a fool.

"I need some time to myself." He reiterated. He needed to think and he couldn't do that with Don Juan here trying to soothe his ruffled feathers, trying to make up for his latest fuck up. Dean was allowed to be mad about this and to deal with it how he wanted to, for once.