Dean flinches but settles beneath that hand, turns slowly into it as his eyes slot open. They're swollen to slits, green peeking out through skin as red and puffy as the rest of him, not quite focused when Dean nods. He remembers praise, had hated it at first, then came to crave it, and now feels no different.

Not hanging in his chains but floating, Dean makes a sound, lips cracking as one corner pulls up into an exhausted smile.