He loved when Dean pushed him up against things. It was like the feelings they shared became a physical force and the hesitation burned away. He could have carried on kissing him this way forever, except he'd had to flinch back again and bite his lower lip, and of course Dean had noticed.
"It's nothing," he said with a shake of his head. He could feel that Hudson didn't buy it, so he tried again: "It's fine. Just tender. Just..." He struggled for an explanation that didn't seem either alarming or suspicious. He didn't want to give Dean the impression he was hurt, but he'd almost have preferred that to giving him the (correct) impression that he was keeping secrets, given Dean's letter last week. He shouldn't have let Hudson kiss him like this at all, but now he had and he was stuck without any way to gracefully get himself out.
He huffed. "I didn't want to do this tonight."
Oh, this wasn't what he'd wanted at all. Hudson was pulling back and as soon as there was air between them Don Juan felt like all the uncertainty came rushing back in. Had Hudson taken that to mean he didn't want to sleep with him tonight? As though that was ever possible. He couldn't leave like this, not when they had two weeks between them and the weekend at the Sanditon.
"No, I meant — this wasn't how I wanted to do it," he whined. He rubbed his hands against his trousers briefly but then started to undo the buttons on his shirt. "I wanted to be back here on Thursday and make it this whole romantic thing. It's going to... it doesn't look good yet." He grimaced, then rolled his shirt back off his right shoulder and slid it down his arm. He looked back at Dean helplessly. "I just had it done yesterday."
There was a moment where Dean didn't react and Don Juan thought, despairing, he hates it. Maybe he should have floated the idea past him first. He'd been thinking about it long enough, just hadn't gotten himself together enough to pull the trigger. For a while it had seemed too big a thing for their barely-renewed relationship to hold. Sentimentality he hadn't earned yet. He still wasn't sure he had, but he also wasn't sure at this rate that he ever really would.
When Dean still didn't speak an even worse thought occurred to him: he'd gotten it wrong. The wrong word or the wrong spelling. Impossible, because he'd committed the words to memory long ago and then he'd spent a full day between bouts of withdrawal digging through his room to find Dean's original letters from all those years ago.
But then Dean kissed him, so forcefully that Don Juan couldn't help but let out a muffled but pleased noise of surprise.
"I can stay tonight," he breathed when Dean eventually pulled his lips off his. "I said I couldn't because I couldn't think of an excuse to keep my shirt on."
The suggestion left him light headed... or maybe that was partially the aftermath of a kiss that had lasted three times longer than usual. Paris this weekend. Don Juan had been trying to lure Hudson out to exactly the same thing before his plans had been derailed, but this invitation was about more than just Paris. Hudson had established plans this weekend with family. Inviting Don Juan to join was saying there was space for him here, in Dean's life; Dean was willing to make space for him. Maybe someday that could become more than just a space held — maybe someday he'd finally have that dinner with Dean's sister he'd been promised once. He knew he hadn't earned that sort of thing yet, but he wanted it. He wanted to be part of Hudson's life, not just someone who came by now and then for a romp in the hay.
"Yes," he agreed, giddy. He leaned in towards Dean again to kiss him, though this time briefly. "I'll come to Paris. I'd go anywhere with you."