Dean left. He is a grown man, and you don't have any power against him to ask or refuse whatever he would spend the whole afternoon doing. Without a say, Dean relegated to you the whole work of research, knowing it would tire you enough to stop you from waiting up for him.

He is overwhelmed by you because this whole thing of being a walking flirt- yet evading anything too formal isn't obviously working to evade what's happening, it's purely consuming the energy he has to hunt.

It's making Dean grow tired of himself, and he can't let you know too much - it's nothing against you, on the other side. He does this to everyone - He can't let you grow tired of him as well, despite how much this is weighing on him, he needs everything he has progressed on to stay the same, to keep going if he can help it, world doesn't revolve around him.

Taking a chance on one of his various skills, he unlocked the motel door and stepped in quietly. Seeing the lights out caught him perfectly well. That meant you were asleep and by your own means. He wasn't tired, not at all. His mind was proactive, running in caffeine, the most he could do with you asleep, and that had to do with hunting was to clean and keep maintenance of his guns - no matter how much he has already rubbed a cloth on them -

He sat down on a corner of the barely distinguished room, choosing to stick with the pearl-like color of the moon instead of turning on a light. Its weak rays of light framed Dean in a set of dim lines. Every time he ran the clothe around his gun, the own gleam of the metal made it look like a shiny blast of a pale marble, rolling down the trace of his fingers.