"You keep saying that." Wisely, too - Dean's never lived well under high expectations, lived worse in recent years than ever before, but the way Castiel says that, that Dean's enough, that Dean is more - it's just what he needs to feel that he might not fuck it up.

Reaching out, Dean doesn't know where to touch him, so he settles for brushing his fingertips against that pocket square. "You look good, too." Dean swallows carefully. "Are we set?"