Dean should have known better. He'd eaten dinner and kept glancing at the clock. It felt ridiculous, Don Juan would show up when he could. By the time the first reasonable hour had passed, Dean had given up on work. As the second hour ticked on, he'd had a glass of whiskey and settled onto the sofa with a book. As the third hour started, he had given up. He'd turned down plans with some friends for the ministry for this and taken a ration of shit for being too tired. He'd taken it gracefully, hoping like hell he'd be real tired by the time the night was over, but appeared that wasn't going to be the case.

So he'd gotten redressed, figuring he'd be late to the discarded plans, but not late enough that he couldn't enjoy some of the night. He wasn't going to wait around if Don Juan couldn't be bothered to show up. Historically he'd already done it too many times, waiting at the house just to be disappointed and head to be alone. His patience was wearing thin and he felt slightly humiliated by it. Don Juan just expected him to sit at home and wait and Dean couldn't play the jilted housewife any more.

It was late by the time he stumbled into the floo, more whiskey consumed than was wise, but there'd been a bottle of twelve year out for his consumption, who was he to say no to that? The last thing he expected to see was Don Juan on the other side, looking disgruntled and like he was the one who was put out. "Surprised you bothered to show." Dean retorted, too drunk to bite his tongue. It was hard to hide the hurt and disappointment when he was as far gone as he was and frankly he was too irritated to try. It was disappointment after disappointment again, days apart and they'd finally connected only for Dempsey to show up hours late.