Brushing past Dean brings with it similar waves of emotion, each cresting against the rocky shore of Blake's mind. He feels the tidal tug when he recognizes the bone-deep exhaustion: The sensation of running his fingertip against the short hairs behind Dean's ear creeps in and his hands twitch, resisting the urge to cup gently at the other man's face. Instead, he closes the door for Dean and touches his elbow, gesturing for the nearest seat that might accommodate them.
"Are you—?" As he sits, Blake finds hesitation plaguing him again. He can tell how hard Dean's been going since they'd all found their way back from... whatever that was, but in the absence of other options and despite days of trying, he tells himself a few minutes isn't too much to ask.
"I-I wanted to see if you were okay," he says, and with it comes a ridiculous squeak, as if one second of extremely delayed puberty has just caught up to him. It registers little more than a tighter knit of Blake's eyebrows — he already can't look Dean in the eye for more than a second and damn if he won't find himself laying in the dark reliving that horror for a time to come. "You're not, but I mean—" Not suicidal is what he's getting at.
He's worried. He would have been before, but now that things have been raveled and unraveled and raveled again, the knot in Blake's stomach won't abide by the distance they'd easily navigated while living out some... fantasy together. The urge to fall into old habits and pretend like nothing has changed is only lessened by the fact that Blake knows well some people don't appreciate manipulation. Hell, Blake normally doesn't either. It's pure selfishness that's allowed him to consider this situation differently. Or maybe it's all those years of wisdom screaming you'd be stupid to let a good person go.
"Are you?" Will you be? Will we be?
The intensity with which he asks is more an indicator of his understanding and willingness to help. He doubts Dean feels all that willing to unburden, but considering all the secrets they share — up to and including Blake's alternate identity — he isn't a bad choice for this. Dean will (hopefully) know that regardless of how he chooses to respond.
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"Are you—?" As he sits, Blake finds hesitation plaguing him again. He can tell how hard Dean's been going since they'd all found their way back from... whatever that was, but in the absence of other options and despite days of trying, he tells himself a few minutes isn't too much to ask.
"I-I wanted to see if you were okay," he says, and with it comes a ridiculous squeak, as if one second of extremely delayed puberty has just caught up to him. It registers little more than a tighter knit of Blake's eyebrows — he already can't look Dean in the eye for more than a second and damn if he won't find himself laying in the dark reliving that horror for a time to come. "You're not, but I mean—" Not suicidal is what he's getting at.
He's worried. He would have been before, but now that things have been raveled and unraveled and raveled again, the knot in Blake's stomach won't abide by the distance they'd easily navigated while living out some... fantasy together. The urge to fall into old habits and pretend like nothing has changed is only lessened by the fact that Blake knows well some people don't appreciate manipulation. Hell, Blake normally doesn't either. It's pure selfishness that's allowed him to consider this situation differently. Or maybe it's all those years of wisdom screaming you'd be stupid to let a good person go.
"Are you?" Will you be? Will we be?
The intensity with which he asks is more an indicator of his understanding and willingness to help. He doubts Dean feels all that willing to unburden, but considering all the secrets they share — up to and including Blake's alternate identity — he isn't a bad choice for this. Dean will (hopefully) know that regardless of how he chooses to respond.