Dean would have been out the door a long time before now, if he didn't feel the same. Putting it in to words was a whole different story. He had softened,, almost to the point of feeling like a sap some of the time. The softness was a contradiction to the front he usually presented, and sometimes it made him feel awkward.
Times like this, alone with the two of them, with emotions running high, he felt out of place. But they kept him grounded. He looked at each of them, and he knew he didn't want to be anywhere else. He'd struggle through the discomfort, and find a way to process it and make it part of who and what he was. He wasn't going to call himself out, and risk losing the both of them because he was a little uncomfortable.
"Yeah," he said with a nod. The words were a lump in his throat. They both knew he had a hard time expressing himself. His dad hadn't raised him to be openly emotional. He'd raised him to be rough, tough, and closed off. Hunt first, drink away everything else. Dean was learning other ways to be, but he needed time to process it all.