Now Dean was yelling at him. Don Juan didn't even process the words, just shrunk back into himself and waited him out. Somewhere in the very back of his mind he knew that the surge of sullenness that had seized him probably had more to do with the withdrawal than it did with Dean, but that didn't matter much. He was incapable of dispelling it; he just continued to sink into misery. Dean was angry with him, and punishing him. He had no patience left for him. There was no hope for their future. Hudson probably wanted him to hurry up and get clear-headed again so that he could get the fuck out.

"Fine," he said when Hudson stopped, then turned back towards the bed and buried his head beneath the pillow.

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