"Brava, you don't show up here, but then you don't show up at all for days at a time and I'm left wondering if you're dead in a ditch somewhere or avoiding me, or too high to even know where you are." It really wasn't any different. He just kept it away from the house, which really wasn't anything Dean needed around, but for fuck's sake, it wasn't any better than the last time he'd asked Don Juan to cut back. Dean wasn't an idiot, out of sight, out of mind did not apply here.

He'd known it too, somewhere in the back of his head, that Don Juan being late tonight was not just because of his brother's campaign event. Maybe that was why Dean had decided to go out in the end. If Don Juan had wanted, and he usually did, he could have skipped out as soon as possible. Instead he'd gotten drunk and then bought drugs and no doubt hid them somewhere and Dean was just supposed to be alright with this? "I don't pretend it's not happening," Dean exploded now, taking a step back as his hands curled into fists at his side. "I sit here and I worry and then when you finally show up at least alive, I can breathe again. But to pretend it's not happening is stupid, you and I both know that." Sure, it wasn't obvious, but the cloak and dagger bullshit shouldn't even be necessary. Dean just didn't want to start an argument every week when he was inevitably disappointed by a choice that Don Juan made. And it would be every week, if not every other day.

"You want credit? What the fuck do I get? What do I get out of this? I've been here, patient and trying to give you the benefit of the doubt and all I get is a cycle of being disappointed and you trying to make up for mistakes with little notes or grand gestures or a cute face. Real relationships do not work like this." He knew their situation wasn't normal, but it could be a hell of a lot better than this.