"What?" You say, and it's aggressive, because he's staring, and you don't think you're comfortable with that any more. You don't even know who he is any more, and he has no right to look at you like that.
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but …" he trails off. You don't soften your eyes. "You're beautiful." And he looks down, almost bashful, and now you're the one staring. Because you didn't think you'd ever hear him say that again.
He peeks up at you, eyelashes fanning dark against his cheek. "Sorry, Dean, I-" he says. You kiss him.