"It's nothing like this," Dean admits, amused, though he makes it sound like a good thing. Actually, the sun factors a lot into the memories he does have of when Lawrence was his hometown, but he has more recent memories and he knows the Midwest well enough. And, perhaps surprisingly, actually takes some time to describe it. "This area's pretty much like this year-round, give or take a couple ten degrees. Always hot, anyway. Kansas gets winter, and summer, and everything in between, and it's landlocked - pretty much flat, with a shitton of grass everywhere. And nothing like quite this many people in most of it."

Of course, Dean sticks to the back roads and the podunk towns mostly, but he knows enough about Kansas City, about Wichita. He's opening his mouth to say something else when Felix's hand closes on his wrist, and Dean reacts to that before he even hears the words.

He grins, catches Felix's hand in his instead of his wrist, and goes along willingly. Dean's missed him, unapologetically.

"I love it when you take charge like that," he teases. Then he catches up and his grin falters, though in the next moment he remembers talking about this before and that strikes any real protest, he's still who he is. He still complains, and he still follows. "Wait, I didn't agree to raw fish. If that's the kind of decision making you're doing, I'm calling for a recount."