Cas had wounded him before in so many ways; black eyes and broken bones, bruised spirits and the ache at the back of the throat when there were words that needed to be said so badly that they couldn't possibly be given voice.
But nothing, nothing had hurt quite so much or so deeply as Cas clearing his throat, looking down at his hands, and saying, very slowly, "I'm…I'm flattered, Dean. I am. But…"
Before Cas could continue, Dean had gathered his pride around him like armor and walked away, shoulders stiff, betraying nothing.
They didn't talk about it again.