Summer, 1888 — Excalibur

This was the first time in weeks that Don Juan had made eye contact with Hudson. He kept seeing him everywhere, of course, but typically as soon as he recognized him he hurriedly glanced away. He'd keep furtively looking back at him throughout whatever event they happened to be at, but never for more than half a second. He suspected Hudson was doing the same, but they never happened to look at each other at the same moment.

Seeing Hudson here was unexpected, though. Don Juan had a membership, as both of his brothers had; Hudson did not. It was Don Juan's territory, to the extent that either of them had territory. Don Juan was ostensibly playing cards, but since he'd caught sight of Hudson he'd been looking at him more often and longer than he looked at his hand, trying to deduce who he'd come in with and what he was doing here. Of course one of those looks had lasted too long, and Hudson caught him looking.

Don Juan smirked. He didn't know why; it was just the expression that popped onto his face. Better than crumbling, he supposed. He was glad he happened to be sober — that had almost never been the case for the weeks after Hudson had left him, but now it had been over a month and things had leveled out — some. He was sober during the daytimes now, anyway. Usually.

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MJ made this <3

It was hypocritical of him, he knew, to go on a months-long bender in which he was mostly drunk if he wasn't at work. Dean wasn't stupid enough to jeopardize his job, but he'd never been heartbroken before and he wasn't coping as well as he would have liked to be. He knew where the line was between drunk and too drunk. It wasn't a line he often crossed, hell he rarely went past a good buzz, but lately it just wasn't enough to dull the ache in his chest; he'd rather have it in his head.

The invitation to Excalibur had been unexpected; a co-worker had heard him talking about whiskey and said the club had an extensive collection. The shitty part was, Dean knew he ought not to go there, as there was a high chance he'd run into Dempsey. Dean had been more selective about his socializing, in hopes that he wouldn't cross paths with his former lover, but it wasn't as easy as he would have liked. Fortunately he had a month in France coming up, pending the strange Fog situation. That would hopefully put and end to this moping. Still, it would be rude to decline the invite so he was hoping to get in and get out.

The man had been right, the collection was extensive and he had two different twelve years and was half in the bag by the time a third was poured. It was a good buzz, more than he usually allowed in public, but he had already spotted Dempsey at least twice and he kept an eye on the clock, counting down until he could leave. He felt like he was trespassing and opening up old wounds and it was decidedly an unwelcome feeling.

In catching Dempsey's eye again, the smirk that followed caught him off guard. He hated the reaction in his chest, and so all he could do was throw back the rest of his whiskey and excuse himself from his company to find the powder room.

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Hudson fled. It wasn't even subtle. He killed his drink too fast and stood up immediately. Don Juan thought he might have even seen him stumble as he headed towards the hall. He was a bit surprised by that. Hudson had come here, knowing seeing Don Juan was an inevitability. And Hudson was the one who had left him.

He glanced down at his hand. He kept his posture casual, holding the cards in one hand while his other arm was thrown carelessly over the back of the chair, but his thoughts followed Dean down the hall. Had he fled because he'd felt guilty? It had that look, hadn't it? Like he'd been caught somewhere he shouldn't be, or doing something he shouldn't be doing.

Don Juan considered while the bets made their way around the circle. When it was his turn he folded, despite having a decent pair, and excused himself from the table. Hudson was the only one in the retirement room when Don Juan found him there a moment later.

"You come to check up on me?" he asked without preamble. In his considerations at the poker table he had landed on this as the most likely scenario: Hudson was here to spy on him, see whether he'd drank himself to death yet, and was embarrassed to have been caught at it. (Don Juan had not worked out how he felt about this yet, presuming it was true).

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MJ made this <3

Dean was too drunk for this. It had been a stupid idea to come. He'd known the possibilities and deep down, he wondered if that might have been part of the reason why he'd accepted. Ugh.

The worst part was he needed to sober up a little before he excused himself for the evening. (So he could go home and drink himself to sleep.) When the door to the room opened, Dean had hoped it might be the colleague he'd arrived with, but no, it couldn't be that easy. If he were more sober, he might have had more of an attitude about the assumption, but instead he simply found it funny.

"No," he snorted. Merlin he should have stayed home tonight. He hadn't surfaced from the split enough to do this yet. "I was invited by a colleague to try the whiskey." There was no point in lying. "Was rude to say no." Whether Dempsey believed him or not was up to him, but Dean couldn't be assed to try and come up with some excuse. "I'll be leaving soon." As soon as he was able to handle the floo without winding up in the wrong house.

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Don Juan pursed his lips. Hudson was laughing at him, and he didn't understand why. He said he was here for whiskey rather than Don Juan, and Don Juan wasn't sure he believed him... though it was clear he had been into the whiskey while he was here. As Don Juan watched he saw Hudson sway ever so slightly on his feet. The doorman wouldn't have let him in like that, even at Excalibur. Not this early in the evening, and not when he wasn't a member and therefore couldn't be renting a room.

If Hudson had come here to spy on him, Don Juan thought, what would he have expected to find? Don Juan high, probably; for basically any of the six weeks following their break that was exactly what he would have found, provided he was able to find Don Juan at all. He wasn't high now, though; would Hudson have been relieved at this, or disappointed? Would it have hurt to think that Don Juan had done alone what he was incapable of doing with Dean? Would he have regretted kicking him out that day? Would he consider taking him back?

It didn't matter. Don Juan was sober now, not sober generally. He knew if Hudson did take him back, it would still end up the same.

But why was Hudson drunk before dinnertime, and why was he drunk here? Don Juan furrowed his brows and frowned pensively at Hudson, wondering if a moment of silent consideration would cause an explanation to come spilling out of him.

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MJ made this <3

Why the fuck was Dempsey just standing there staring at him. Not saying anything. He was way too drunk for this. He was far less articulate, far less level-headed and more prone to making bad decisions. It's why he never got this sloppy, but lately it had been the only thing he could think of that dispelled the ache long enough to feel normal.

"I'm not going to sober up any time soon, so you just standing there staring at me is pointless." He cast a look at Dempsey almost helplessly. Of all the ways he thought he'd encounter Dempsey again, Dean hadn't had this in mind. He wanted to be composed and appropriately abashed, apologetic, not three sheets to the wind on more whiskey than was wise. He'd had a lot, it took so much for him to get this gone these days. Maybe he could just walk it off, make up some excuse to leave early. High Street was a bit of a walk to his place, but he could probably manage it without getting picked up by the Constabulary.

Yeah, that was the plan, as soon as Dempsey left.

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Not going to sober up any time soon. Was that an exact quote of something Don Juan had said to Dean at some point over the last year? Hudson's posture was definitely familiar: vaguely hostile, with a desperation beneath it. Embarrassed — or was Don Juan projecting too much there? Hudson didn't want him to keep looking, but for another moment after he said it Don Juan couldn't help himself. It wasn't a novelty for someone to be drunk; most of his friends were drunk most of the time he spent with them. He'd even seen Hudson drunk often enough before, if they were staying in for the night — not regularly, but it had happened. What was new was their relative positioning. In every past interaction that he could recall, Don Juan had been the more intoxicated of the two of them, the one more in need of looking after. Hudson had always been strong, stable, dependable. The sort of person you could lean on. He had his own gravity. Now he swayed on his feet.

Was the change in him Don Juan's fault, or was it egotistical to think so?

He considered him another moment, then nodded. "Take your time," he said, like a peace offering: I won't intrude again, even though it was his club and Hudson was the one intruding here. He turned to leave the room and headed out to the bar, gestured for the barkeeper. "Send a strong cup of coffee to Mr. Hudson in the retiring room, please."

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MJ made this <3

Thank Merlin. Relief flooded his chest and Dean blew out a steadying breath. He waited a full minute, counting backwards from sixty in French under his breath before he made his escape.

He made it down the hall without stumbling too badly. He asked the clerk at the coatroom to extend his apologies to the gent Dean had arrived with, citing something urgent he had to take care of (it was the best he could do in his current state and he would have time to figure out something more coherent between now and Monday when he went back to work). While he waited for his coat, he saw back into the crowded bar and caught sight of Dempsey again. Fuck. Was this ever going to get any easier?

With his jacket back, Dean swung it on, only narrowly catching the sleeve and trying not to look like the intoxicated idiot he was. He left a generous tip for the clerk for delivering the message and took off toward the door.

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Don Juan was lingering at the bar while they made the coffee, perhaps ostensibly to order a drink of his own once it was finished but in reality to ensure it arrived. His intuition that it might not turned out to be correct. As the staff member stepped out from behind the bar holding the steaming mug, a glance over his shoulder revealed Hudson struggling with his coat in the entryway.

Idiot, Don Juan thought with a sigh, not without some lingering affection. He headed towards the club's front door without further ado; he didn't need to settle up like Hudson did, since he was a member, and he'd decided to forego his overcoat since the day was warm enough. He reached the door just in time to catch the backswing and held it open while Hudson stumbled through. He followed him out wordlessly, but offered Hudson a tight smile: well, what did you expect?

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MJ made this <3

Dean smelled him before he saw him; he would never forget the scent of Dempsey's cologne, but fuck if it wasn't sending his head into overdrive right now.

"I know the way home." He managed. It wasn't so far that he considered this a bad idea. The walk would do him some good. Help to clear his head. And that sure as fuck wasn't going to happen if Dempsey insisted on coming with him. On the one hand it was endearing, on the other it was irritating. They didn't do this anymore; watch out for one another. They weren't supposed to care. Dean wasn't drunk enough to think that was the case, that Dempsey didn't care, but he wanted it to be. It would make things easier. The worst part is that he was only doing what Dean would do if the roles were reversed (as they had been historically).

Still, he was embarrassed and too drunk to be reasonable right about now. "I can manage." Even if he was barely walking in a straight line.

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Hudson said he could manage; Don Juan knew better than to argue. He hadn't been expecting Dean to accept actual help, anyway. This was the thought process behind leaving the room but ordering coffee, or holding the door but saying nothing. Making things easier in a way that was nonconfrontational, deniable.

"I'm just walking this way," he lied, putting his hands in his pockets. He turned his eyes to the street rather than looking at Hudson, but didn't start walking yet. "I won't lecture you," he offered. They didn't even have to talk. Don Juan already had plenty to think about, just from what he'd seen so far today. He didn't need an explanation; he just needed to make sure Hudson did, in fact, make it home in one piece.

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MJ made this <3

If Dempsey wasn't going to put him out of his misery, Dean was going to combust. For fuck's sake. He was winded and it wasn't because he was trying to do this as quickly as possible. He was doing an admirable job of walking in a straight line, keeping the stumbling to a minimum. The swaying was unavoidable; he had a lot to him to maneuver, but he was consciously aware to keep a good distance between them.

Not getting a lecture was a small mercy. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, and it was taking more willpower than he was willing to admit to keep his trap shut. Now wasn't the time or place to dredge up everything that had happened. Dean thought the ship sailed, the window for a reconciliation was closed, even if he thought about it more than was reasonable. In every moment of weakness he had to remind himself of why he'd done it in the first place and while Dempsey was perfectly sober at the moment, he'd caught glimpses at other social events (when he was holding his liquor better) where that wasn't the case. Dean had to remind himself of what had happened that night everything fell apart and then he had another glass of something strong to will the thoughts away.

The silence was maddening, but Dean still didn't know what to say. This internal struggle was murder and he couldn't help the little huff that he exhaled at the thoughts running rampant through his head.

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Don Juan fell into a steady rhythm next to Hudson. True to his word, he didn't say anything, even when Dean swayed left far enough that his shoulder nearly brushed into Don Juan's and he had to halt his progress briefly and wait for him to veer back onto course. He kept his hands in his pockets and his head forward, though he watched Hudson from the corner of his eye. The question he kept turning over in his mind was one of intention, and sequencing. The facts: Hudson had come to his club, seen him there, and was stumbling drunk. The questions: prior to arriving at the club had Hudson been hoping to see Don Juan? Dreading it? Was it possible that seeing Don Juan at the card table had caught him by surprise? And then the second question: how much had Hudson had to drink before he first noticed Don Juan, and how much after? How much of the alcohol in his blood at the moment was, in a roundabout way, Don Juan's fault?

The cobblestones grew uneven. Hudson's foot caught, and he stumbled. Don Juan stepped in close, grabbed his arm. He held his breath, though he couldn't have said why — maybe just something about being close to Hudson again. He smelled of whiskey, covering his usual cologne.

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MJ made this <3

Damn it all. This was going about as spectacularly as it could. He'd had to bite his tongue to prevent things, regrets, apologies from spilling from his lips even as he tripped on the cobblestones. The hand around his arm had his breath hitching. Memories flooded his brain, unbidden and vivid and he had to refocus on the street before him, blinking away the pictures in his head. Just two more streets, he could do this. Then he could go drown himself in a bottle of whiskey and embarrassment.

Heat flooded his cheeks. "Thanks," he mumbled as he straightened up, trying to ignore the unfamiliar smell of cigarette smoke (not the vanilla he was used to?) wafting from Dempsey's direction. His thoughts were going a mile a minute; why wouldn't Dempsey just let him stumble his way home in peace? What was that smirk that had sent Dean careening off course? Why had their next meeting had to go like this, him making a fool out of himself like a blubbering idiot?

Dean tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling too warm for the night air, even though his jacket remained unbuttoned for a lack of the dexterity.

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He waited until Dean moved away from him before he took a step back (selfish, perhaps; he couldn't decide). He nodded in response to Hudson's thanks and turned his eyes back towards the road, picking up exactly as they'd left off. Hudson swaying as he walked, Don Juan watching from the corner of his eye. The silence stretched out. Don Juan left his hands in his pockets; he felt like having them anywhere else would be breaking his promise not to lecture Hudson; a silent reproof of keeping himself ready to catch Dean should the need arise.

They turned down Hudson's street. Don Juan hadn't often been to the front door. He couldn't tell if anything had changed about the house since the last time he'd left it; from the street it was just another anonymous Bartonburg townhouse, exactly like the surrounding ones.

He stopped shy of the door. This was where his thin lie, that he had just been walking this direction and not following Hudson, would have to fold.

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MJ made this <3

At least he could keep falling flat on his face off the checklist for tonight. He'd stumbled for sure, might have gone down if Dempsey hadn't caught him, but at least if he'd been by himself he could have licked his wounds in peace. Now he was going to go simmer in a bottle of whiskey and contemplate his life choices.

Dean fumbled for the keys in his pocket, thankfully they hadn't fallen out in his swaying. It took him a moment to register that Dempsey had stopped farther back. Probably for the better. If he were a stronger man he might have invited Dempsey in for a drink to thank him, but that was a dangerous slope and Dean knew he could slide far too easily. As it was, his dreams tonight were going to unbearable, as they often were when he overindulged.

Slipping the key into the door with more skill than he ought to have possessed, Dean heard the satisfying click. "Ah, thanks." He said as he turned back to Dempsey, his free hand scratching at the back of his head. "I appreciate it." He managed a lopsided smile. They didn't have to do this anymore, but Dean dared to hope it meant that something. What, he couldn't quite discern and he was too dizzy now to put much thought into it; he was sure he would have plenty of time in the sober light of tomorrow.

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