Dean hasn't shaved at all, but he doesn't have a ridiculous beard, thank god. It's fuzzy, just a little, but only barely so. The nice thing about this, he supposes, is he can pick what he wants, and it takes barely a thought. When Cas' thumb strokes there, he pauses, and he's clean-shaven, just like that. It's weird, but kind of welcome that everything is that easy, now.

He isn't sure what he's expecting, though; Cas to give him more bad news, to admit to something awful, to brace him for more things he doesn't want to think about. He's not sure, really, but what comes out of his mouth, well, that's unexpected entirely.

Swallowing hard, Dean drops his hands to his sides, not quite looking at him. "Cas, don't. It was-- you know long ago that was."