If he wasn't so annoyed, he might have laughed. It wasn't funny though, it was aggravating, that Don Juan thought he had the grounds to be mad at him. He'd been here every other time Don Juan hadn't shown up, or disappeared for a week at a time with nothing but silly little notes that explained absolutely nothing. Dean had been patient, he could see the effort sometimes and then sometimes he just wondered if Dempsey was putting on a front around him, like the time the potions had fallen on the floor and they didn't talk about it. Just because he hid the drugs from Dean, didn't meant they weren't still the problem.

"Fine," Dean felt prickly about leaving his own house at the moment, the one he paid for with the job that Don Juan sneered at every chance he got, but if Dempsey wanted to do it this way, fine. Dean had always wanted it to feel like theirs, but Don Juan was gone more often than not anyway, so what was the point?

He strode over to the chair where he tossed his jacket earlier and threw his arms through the sleeves, veering back towards the floo.