"That was a stupid decision, Dean."
"Fuck you, John! The hell do you know 'bout getting revenge? You let everybody walk all over you."
"How can you be so blind?! It's not revenge you want; you just want to cause him pain and suffering, just like he did to you."
"FUCK YOU! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING."

Before John could even react Dean's fist collided with his nose. Dean stood staring at him as John backed away. John could feel the droplets of blood pouring out of his nose, but he didn't dare to look away either.

Dean didn't want to back down, but before he could stop himself his feet were walking past John. As he walked by him Dean put extra effort to force his shoulder to bump against John's.

Five minutes it takes for the breathing to slow down.

There was no destination in mind. All the doors looked uninviting and the swimming pool with its majestic waterfall was the least comforting place. The house felt like it was both too big and too small at the same time.

Suffocating yet distant. Exactly how Dean felt at the moment.

"Stupid asshole sayin' shit he doesn't know. The fuck he knows 'bout me?"

There was another question hanging in the air, but it would stay that way. A fleeting question that had too much behind it; what does he know about Seth?

Dean still had no idea where he was going. He wasn't in control of himself, only an observer as his feet walked and his arm reached up to open the door. An uncontrolled shiver followed by hands rubbing the arms they're connected to as legs pushed forward in the cold wind.

Dean saw nothing in front of him except for wide, open land. Taking a deep breath Dean sat down. The air he exhaled breathed out some of the anger inside him, but not all of it.

Out here there was no noise. No ticking of clocks, the somehow quiet static of the radio being changed, the constant beeping of cellphones nagging to be picked up.

Taking another deep breath Dean laid down on the grass. The feeling of the prickly grass against his arms brought him back to this moment. The same moment that contained a frustrated man lying on an itchy patch of grass and staring up at the void of nothingness known as the night sky.

Dean loved it.

Four minutes to see the gentle smile upon his face.

John knew he should have seen this coming. He was supposed to be able to plan and see all the moves taken seconds before they happened, but with Dean it wasn't that simple. No amount of time wrestling each other, conversing, nor time passing while inside one another's embrace would earn him the knowledge of mastering Dean's reactions.

The blood had stopped with the help of toilet paper in the restroom, but the trail it left on the carpet was a permanent sign of how little John knows of Dean. John put his face in both hands and let out a frustrated grunt as he rubbed his face.

"You are your own worst enemy, Ambrose."

That is the only reason he could give to the silent room as to why Dean reacted this way, why he was so blind to what drives his actions, how becoming his own enemy harms the people who care about him.

The house had become too quiet. The tick-tock of the clock was the only sound that punctuated the silence, which only meant that Dean escaped not only him, but the confines that housed the argument. John may never be able to pin-point how Dean will react to words, but at least he could predict where Dean would run to.

Two blankets in hand the path down to the open field was pitch-black save for the light the moon shone. No trees were around to act as shadows of the night. The night sky was not covered with stars. The only company John had were his own that he made with each step he took on the grass.

That was soon to change as he came upon a messy haired figure laying on the grass. Despite all his concerns coming out as frustrated anger John couldn't help by smile as he came closer to the person. Dean was laid out on the grass with goosebumps covered arms behind his head. Unflinching and eyes closed it was as if he had no idea that a blanket was being draped over his whole body.

Underneath Dean opened his eyes. He knew who was there and why this blanket was laid upon him. Just as the blanket was covering him all the feelings he tried to push out were washing over him.

Ever so slowly Dean pulled the blanket away from his face. His mouth was open to say something, but whatever words were going to come out disappeared as the calmest smile greeted him.

Three minutes searching for the right words to say.

"John..."
"Yes, Ambrose."

A hard knot felt like it had formed inside his throat. Dean knew that if his last name was being used then he fucked up. Thoughts of blame swirled around his head. Of course I fucked it all up. I fuckin' punched him in the face.

Regret. Guilt. Denial. Frustration.

There were many emotions coursing through him all at once, but none of them wanted to create a response. Where his mind failed his body picked-up on as he stood up, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but that was it. There was no step two planned after standing up. Staring into John's concerned eyes could have been another step, but it accomplished nothing. Now he couldn't control his body anymore. Hands quickly reached to scratch at his shoulder as he fidgeted from putting more weight on one leg and then the other.

John was patient though. There was no rush to be had as it would accomplish nothing but a quick fix over problems that ran deep. Never moving John stayed as still as he could be.

"John... Look I... DAMN IT!"

Underneath his shirt would show the evidence of his mind not communicating with his mouth as Dean scratched his shoulder raw through the fabric.

Dean's eyes were closed now. The same darkness he was in before John came was where he needed to be. Deep breaths entering and leaving a makeshift void he was creating for himself. Ever so slowly his hand eased itself from attacking his own shoulder. One more breath, just one more, and eyes opened. The imaginary space Dean had created shattered, but outside of it nothing had changed.

John was still there.
John was waiting for him.
John's caring smile had never left.

"John... Sorry."

There was nothing left for him to say or do except hope that he didn't destroy what they have.

Two minutes holding hands so gently.

Looking up to the starless sky John sighed. It was one word. One simple word, yet by itself it meant nothing. A word could be said, but if the right emotion was missing then the definition was lost.

That emotion, however, was present. All John had to do was look at Dean and see it etched all over his body. Hands that never stilled themselves, feet that took turns stepping on the tips of worn out boots. Lips that were neither in the form of a frown or pursed in annoyance.

John brought his gaze down to the ground they were standing on. With the other blanket in hand he unfolded it and carefully laid it out before looking back at Dean.

Eyes finally meeting each other.

Blue eyes filled with remorse. Remorse and guilt for what Dean feels is already lost. This is how John knew Dean's apology was true. Reaching out for Dean's hand it he kept his gaze on Dean as he laced their fighters together.

"I accept your apology."

One minute to feel each other's soft lips.

The moment those words were spoken Dean's let out a breath that his body was holding onto. It was as if in that moment he forgot how to breathe. Everything was okay though. A soft touch was rubbing against the side of Dean's thumb and when he looked down he felt what it was.

It was comfort. A comforting lullaby with no words softly sliding up and down against his hand.

Dean clung to the warm feeling that his hand was holding onto as it pulled him down towards the laid-out blanket. The blanket that had previously been on Dean was no longer needed as both turned to face each other. Slowly the two leaned towards each other.

Lips upon lips, a gentle kiss to end it all.
Hand in hand they stared at the sky with only the moon's soft glow lighting their world.

Infinite times to find different ways to say "I love you."