Dean had half of the puzzle figured out, now he had to figure out if there was another half to put together, or if he was shit out of luck. It felt like maybe he was being unrealistic, greedy, selfish, in trying to keep two things going at once, especially since his relationship with Don Juan had so much history. Dempsey had said he was alright with Dean continuing things with Hanna, but Dean didn't even know if she even wanted to. He'd really screwed up last week and she would be well within her rights to tell him to piss off.

She had agreed to come tonight and Dean had steeled himself for a tough conversation. Dean wasn't making any assumptions; he wasn't even sure how he would answer any questions. He'd seen the nightstand drawer open after he'd come home later that night and he had no idea if it was Don Juan or Hanna or both of them who had been in it. If he had to guess, it was probably Don Juan looking for his cigarettes, but they hadn't been there. They were now, but Dean couldn't be sure who had opened the drawer first. If she'd seen the notes he kept in there, well he had a lot to answer for, he was sure.

He had her favorite wine breathing on the side table, he'd already had a glass of whiskey and he had poured a second without touching it. Maybe he ought to switch to wine himself. Maybe he ought to have done something more, but he didn't know what. Dean didn't have time to think further on that idea as the floo lit up green and Hanna stepped out. He smiled uncertainly, taking a step toward her before stopping himself. Instead he pushed his sleeves back up his forearms for something to do with his hands and said, "I'm glad you came."