He bobs his head to the side, a gesture of agreement. She is the only woman around who does a lot of the things that she does. She's the only woman that Dean has ever had a friendship (and just a friendship) with. He lets her take the bottle easily, a little surprised she wants it, but this conversation certainly seems to warrant it.

There's no reason to talk about their dead parents. They can't change the fact that they're dead, and talking about it just hurts, or at least it hurts Dean. He assumes it hurts Kara as well. One day, he'll tell her about Mary and John, mostly because he thinks she should probably know if they're going to have a kid together. He'll ask about her parents, invite her to tell him about them if she wants, but he won't push her. John is one hundred percent the reason he started this; it's still part of the reason he does this, but now it's more because the world needs this, and he can do this. He can leave the world a better place than he found it; he can save people. He has to hunt.

He takes a smaller sip of the whiskey when she hands it back, leaving it loose in his hand so she can take it again if she wants, turning a little more to face Kara, one foot drawn up into the seat, the other lazing toward her side of the car. "I think I'd make a half decent dad," he says. "Yeah. I'd like to be Dad." He rubs at the back of his neck, scrubbing a hand over his hair, too short to really mess up. Yeah, they'll probably have to explain their different relationship to a kid, but Dean thinks it's worth to for a child to know he (or she) has two parents who love him, who love each other, even if it's not in the way that other kids' parents love each other.

His brow furrows a little. "That okay? Besides, kid will already have a dorky uncle. I think that fills the uncle quota."