Autumn, 1893 — Dean's House

For the first time in years, Don Juan's desk at home was stacked with invitations. His reception in society had qualitatively changed after the aborted duel and had never fully recovered, but now his brother was hosting something every three days, it seemed like. Don Juan was not just cordially invited, his presence (and sobriety, and good behavior) was expected. He found the whole thing terribly exhausting. He had actually looked up the election day this go around — usually whether he remembered to vote was very hit or miss — so that he could think ahead fondly to the time when all of this would stop. He left the invitations unopened now, mostly, and relied on his mother finding him and dragging him to the particularly important ones. He was sure he was not missed at any of the others he hadn't managed to attend. No one really wanted him there, anyway; Oz just wanted a prop to sit in the corners of the room to indicate that he had a loving and supportive family, or whatever.

Tonight he'd heard Lycoris and Shallott talking about getting ready for something, but his mother hadn't yet accosted him to ensure he was getting properly dressed. Before she could find him, he slipped through the floo to Hudson's, and was dismayed to find that he was also getting ready. By the look of the invitation on his dresser, he was heading to precisely the same event Don Juan had been avoiding.

"Counter-offer," Don Juan threw out as he sat down on the edge of Hudson's bed. "Instead of getting dressed up to go out, you stay here and we get dressed down."

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Dean Hudson

  

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Election years always seemed like more work. Dean had been fresh into his post in Magical Cooperation when Ross had been elected and now, he felt the pressure more acutely. Maybe it was because he had good experience now, was good at his job, took it seriously. Maybe it was because Don Juan's brother was running and things felt weirdly personal. He didn't know, but he did know he had far less free time than he would like and he was starting to feel a little burned out.

Even now, as he dressed in a suit for the night's event, he was wishing he could maybe just stay home and... go to bed to sleep. Get some actual, restorative rest without letting the stress wake him up constantly. Still, he wanted to be taken seriously in the department and he had some decent foreign connections that were going to be there tonight, so he was going to put on his best social face and do what was expected of him. He would settle in once he was there.

"Impossible, I'm afraid." Because as good as it sounded, Dean couldn't go skipping the event and he couldn't give Don Juan any wiggle room to try and persuade him to. "My Italian is needed tonight."

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"Other people know Italian," he countered. "I've got a task for which your tongue is uniquely suited." He knew he wouldn't actually be able to convince Hudson to skip it if he had work obligations, but he felt inclined to register his disapproval anyway. When he'd thought Hudson was only going because Oz (or perhaps Oz's staff, he had a whole bustling team these days) had sent him an invitation along with half of the country, he'd held out some hope. Hudson took work too seriously to blow it off for essentially nothing, though.

He leaned up towards the bedside table and retrieved one of his cigarettes, with an exaggerated sigh. "If you're going to go that means I'll have to go. I'm not sitting around here while you're out, and if I go home they'll drag me along," he complained. Hudson being at the event as well might have been a silver lining, but not if he was working. He'd spend all night talking to people Don Juan had no interest in, in languages that Don Juan could only occasionally follow snippets of. The most he could hope for were a few opportunities for their eyes to meet across the room. Hardly worth the discomfort of the rest of the night.

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Dean shook his head, chuckling as he buttoned up the last of his shirt buttons and started in on his tie. I was comments like that in which Dean knew he was losing it, because it was so very tempting. He could visualize quite well, just what it was Don Juan had in mind and it was a far better option than heading to the event, but Dean persisted anyway.

"Yes, but I'm the best at it." He reasoned, leaving off his jacket for the time being. While used to it, Dean liked to wear them for as little time as possible. As much as he didn't mind getting dressed up and fancy, he would prefer nothing at all any day of the week. "Lucky for you, my tongue does not get tired all that easily." He added as he cast a look over his shoulder. There was always later, after the social and work obligations had been satisfied, to sneak back for a more alluring sort of satisfaction.

Still, he might indulge in a little appetizer to get through the night. Dean crossed the room passed Don Juan a sly grin. "You will survive, I promise." He chuckled as he leaned in and pressed his lips against the other man's neck.

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"You're the best at my thing, too," he protested as Dean checked his appearance in the mirror, but again, he'd already given up this particular battle. All he was going to win for his efforts was a kiss. It wasn't nothing, and he was sure to savor it, but if that was all he could do, he ought to get home and start getting himself dressed, too. After this cigarette. He didn't particularly care if he was a little haphazard when he was pulled out the door to the event. No one else would comment on it either, he suspected, except maybe Christabel. She seemed to be taking this campaign even more seriously than Oz did, and she had altogether too much energy these days. Since her husband had died — she could stand to get laid, and he thought she probably knew it.

"I'm going to find someone to flirt with to make you jealous," he threatened idly. A woman, because he wanted to be obnoxiously obvious about it and hope that Oz thought twice about making him a required attendee at the next event. Not a married woman, because he was never obvious with married women any more. He'd learned his lesson from Elfrieda Yaxley. "You know I won't get away afterwards? My whole family's going, I'll have to go home with them. And then Chris will talk all night about — politics. Blegh," he said, sticking out his tongue as though the very word made him want to wretch.

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"I know," Dean chuckled again as he moved past, in search of his cufflinks. Plucking them off the bedside table, he fit them into his shirtsleeves, listening to Don Juan's plan for the evening. Jealousy wasn't something Dean had ever found time for, but he appreciated the effort anyway. "Lackluster at best, Princess." He mused. "You'll still be thinking about my tongue anyway." He pulled the second sleeve down and fit the cufflink in, fastening it easily.

It was a bit of a disappointment that this would be it for the evening, but there wasn't much Dean could do about it. They both had to go and the perk of living by himself (for the most part) was that he didn't have to follow his family around. "I'm sure it's important to your brother that you're there, and after." If his own brother was doing something this big, Dean would be as supportive as he could.

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"Oh, I don't intend to be there after," he returned glibly. "But I'm sure they'll be blocking the floo with their congress." Not literally, but Don Juan wasn't quite blase enough to say Dean's floo address in front of half his siblings at half past one in the morning. They might not suspect he was going out to sleep in Hudson's bed, but they certainly wouldn't imagine he was getting up to anything wholesome. He didn't want his family to assume that Hudson was... into any of the various types of trouble Don Juan often was in the middle of the night. He wanted them to like him, and vice versa. There had been no additional invite-Hudson-to-dinner nights since they'd started seeing each other again — things had always felt just a little too fragile and new for that — but the sentiment that had sparked the initial invitation was still there.

He moved to tap his cigarette against the edge of an ash tray. "I'll distract myself with someone else's tongue," he bantered, still chewing on the earlier remark. He would be thinking about Hudson all night, if he was there. That was always how it was when they were at the same events. "You're not irreplaceable, you know. And if I make a scene, I won't have to go to these anymore."

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Dean passed Don Juan a look that clearly said, I don't believe you. Besides, Dean wasn't the jealous type. Monogamy was boring and they'd always been pretty good about respecting the boundaries around other partners. "I hope you have fun, but you probably shouldn't be causing a ruckus at your brother's event and you probably ought to be there afterwards too." This was just something they were going to have to get through. The election would be over soon and pending if Ozymandias was elected, things might get even stricter. Dean had to wonder what that would mean for Don Juan in the long run. Dean wasn't about to actually tell him what to do, but he should think more seriously about it.

After checking his pocket watch, Dean cast Don Juan another look. "You should probably be getting ready yourself." the last thing he needed was a quick splash of cologne and he'd be ready.

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No, of course Dean didn't believe him. You're not irreplaceable was a bald-faced lie, and they both knew it. Don Juan gave a shrug in return as if it say well, you can't blame me for trying. It was just banter, anyway. The best case scenario might have been if it inspired Hudson to come give him another kiss, maybe coupled with a remark about leaving him with something to remember through the night... but now Hudson was on to talking about the event again, so that plan seemed dead in the water. Probably shouldn't cause a ruckus, probably should stick around and pretend he cared afterwards, probably should start getting ready. Don Juan took another drag of the cigarette. "Tell me more things I should probably do," he said dryly. "You've got quite a list started."

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"Somebody's cranky," Dean mused, trying not to take it personally. "Just suggestions," he shrugged. He had to wonder what was making Don Juan so petulant at the moment, they just had to suck it up and deal with the responsibility. Not something Don Juan was used to, Dean knew, but something he might have to start getting the hang of.

"It's not like we really have a choice." Dean would have had to go no matter whose event it was, he'd attended most of them. His department came to the forefront at times like this and he needed to be present and useful. He didn't mind as much as Don Juan seemed to.

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Don Juan didn't like the word cranky any more than he liked the laundry-list of how he ought to be behaving; both felt infantilizing to him, as though he was a surly Hogwarts student who needed to be managed and directed rather than an adult. But that was how Dean had always seen him, anyway — still not someone who could be trusted to be alone, not someone who was capable of making any good choices without direct oversight.

"Sure," he said, tone clipped. He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and got to his feet. "Better get to it, then."

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"Listen," Dean managed to contain the roll of his eyes and the huff of mild exasperation. "I don't really want to go either, but we have to. I'm exhausted, it's been nonstop at work lately." Again, not something Don Juan ever had to worry about. Dean would love nothing more than to skip this altogether and have a night in just lounging around, but he didn't have any more of a choice than Don Juan did. There was no luxury of parental money for Dean, he had to make his own to keep the house and the lifestyle he currently led; the very one Don Juan seemed to enjoy just as much as Dean did when he was around. That's how real life worked for somebody like Dean.

"It's only for a little while." He said as he grabbed his jacket from the bed, bringing him back into Don Juan's space. "Would be nice to have something better to look forward to later." He raised an eyebrow playfully, hoping to ease the tension.

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Now Dean wanted to waggle his eyebrows at him? Don Juan huffed. "Well, I'd love to," he said. "But I really should spend all night listening to Christabel soliloquize about the campaign." Dean would accuse him of being petty, he was sure, but so what? He was feeling petty. He'd come here looking for an excuse to do something fun with his evening, and he wasn't going to get it, fine. But he could have just said no without starting in on the lecture.

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If Don Juan was going to be petulant there wasn't much Dean could do about it. He wasn't even exactly sure why he'd shown up before the event to begin with, but if it was just to complain, he was sorely out of luck. "Guess I should be doing the flirting tonight then, if I'll need different company." Dean shrugged. He wasn't exactly in the mood to play this game and he wouldn't be bringing anyone else home tonight. He was tired and socializing his way through the evening would just drain him even further. "I'm sure your brother would appreciate it." Honestly, Dean had no idea, but the Dempseys had been good to him when he'd visited, so he wasn't going to actively work against them on something important. Don Juan could do what he wanted; he usually did anyway.

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Don Juan was too exasperated to be interested in Dean's bait about taking someone else home (not that he minded, but ordinarily he would've taken the opportunity to remind Hudson of all the numerous ways in which no one would ever measure up to him in bed). They were busy talking about what Oz wanted out of the night, apparently, because for some reason that mattered to Hudson.

"Yeah, sure," he said with a diffident shrug. "See you around." Tonight, though if Don Juan had anything to say about it he'd be drunk before the waitstaff had finished taking everyone's coats.

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