Being told to go home prickled the skin on the back of his neck. So much for Hudson's claim earlier that if he was too high he'd get tucked in — apparently instead he was getting kicked to the curb. And he wasn't even high, properly — buzzed, at best. The pleasant tinglng that had been all over his skin had ground down to something more like static; a layer of invisible wool all over.

"We haven't even properly had it once," he contended, petulant. "Your rules don't make any sense. I can drink whatever I like and you'll fuck me to next Tuesday, but two hits on a joint and the whole day's ruined?" Two was perhaps a bit of an understatement, but he didn't remember how much he'd actually had and it suited his illustration better to round down. Besides, the number of times he'd inhaled really wasn't the point — the point was that he was not that high. Was this still about making informed choices, or was this disconnected? Because if so, it was also a little offensive that Hudson apparently thought the slightest whiff of anything other than tobacco was going to render him entirely senseless when it came to matters of consent. He was an adult; he knew what he was getting himself into, and he knew his own limits when it came to these things.

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Dean was too agitated for the cigarette in his hand now and he moved to snuff it out in the nearest ashtray. "That's bullshit," they'd had a conversation; Dean did not in fact take him to bed if he was beyond buzzed; two hits of whatever it was would not leave him with red eyes and a combative nature, either.

"And you don't have to understand them, you just have to fucking respect them, but you don't, and you obviously don't respect me if you cannot just follow one simple boundary." One request, one simple thing that he asked for, especially when they were going to do what they'd planned tonight. Dean had obeyed every single thing that had been laid out before him, in and out of the bedroom. It felt like a one-way street sometimes and he was growing tired of it.

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Don Juan let out a dramatic huff of air. He was frustrated, mainly because what Hudson said seemed so entirely contrary to reality that he thought Hudson must be saying it at least partially to antagonize him. Of course he respected Hudson. He cared about Hudson more than he cared about himself, in most respects and most of the time. Hudson knew it, because it was obvious; Don Juan followed him like a dog any time they were together.

"I do have to understand if you want me to follow them," he argued. "I didn't set out tonight to piss you off, alright? I didn't have much and I thought it'd be fine. I can't just guess where all these — arbitrary lines in the sand are." He shrugged, agitated. "Or I can, but you can't treat me like this if I guess wrong. I mean, come on, " he continued, his posture shifting to sulky. "It's supposed to be my birthday and you don't even want me here?"

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Dean cracked his knuckles as an outlet for the pent up energy. Dempsey never apparently set out to do anything. No forward thinking, no rhyme or reason, no apparent understanding of consequences, no concept of repeating the same mistakes. "What line are you talking about? Do we have different definitions of the word "sober"?" Dean raked a frustrated had over his forehead and up into his hair.

"How is it a guess when I told you what would happen? Nothing should be a surprise here. I'm allowed to be annoyed and pissed that you thought that was okay when you know it isn't to me." Come over high, no sex. It really was not that difficult. Dean might have even looked past it if it was going to be a normal night, but it wasn't, and Dempsey knew that a clear had was something Dean was not going to bend on.

"We've got a shitty track record for birthdays, might as well keep going." His had been a disaster, tonight was shaping up to be no better and it wasn't even actually Dempsey's birthday because Dean hadn't been invited to that, so whatever.

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   Don Juan Dempsey

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Apparently so, he thought sarcastically, but he didn't have time to respond before Hudson had changed the subject. Maybe not entirely changed it, but slid it sideways a bit. Don Juan didn't like thinking about Hudson's last birthday; he certainly didn't talk about it. Part of his push to try Hudson's kink with a fresh start had been that he wanted to expunge the first encounter from memory; for it to become a non-issue. It felt a little like a betrayal that Hudson was bringing it back up now, after Don Juan had done so much to put it firmly behind them.

"It wasn't my fault your birthday went to hell," he snapped, full of venom (because really he thought that it was).

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"No, it's not. I fucked it up because I broke my own rules, and it still eats at me, for fuck's sake Dempsey." He'd been in a fog of annoyance and pissed off just like he was now. No communication, just trying to will his way into getting what he wanted and it hadn't worked, obviously. It could have very well made things exponentially worse or ended them if they hadn't been able to somehow right themselves. "I don't know what else to say or do to get you to understand that. If you really cannot or do not understand, I'm at a loss." He held his hands up in surrender, tone miserable.

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He had said it because he was angry and thoughtlessly looking to provoke a fight; when Hudson agreed with him Don Juan stalled out, momentarily unsure how to feel. He was still tense, still defensive, but briefly stopped in his tracks. Hudson looked — tired. Don Juan's shoulders gradually sank; tension oozed out of him like water from a cracked vase.

"Hey," he said after a beat, softer. "I like you. I'm sorry."

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Some of the fight had ebbed from his body and that was almost as frustrating as the rest of it. He hated that Dempsey could just cute his way into stopping an argument. Dean's shoulders slumped, he wanted to still be mad, but he'd lost the energy. Now he just felt resigned and disappointed and feeling like they really did have a shitty track record for birthdays. "I like you too, and that's why it matters." He sighed out finally. It mattered more that he didn't fuck it up again.

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   Don Juan Dempsey

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The confirmation that Hudson was still fond of him was greatly mollifying. Don Juan had entirely lost the desire to argue. He wanted Hudson to touch him and was ready to make any concession necessary to make that happen. He still didn't think there was much of a qualitative difference between having two drinks and having two drinks and a touch of something else, but it wasn't a point he was desperate to argue. He liked Hudson more than he liked being high, anyway; if it mattered that much he could just stop.

"So I already ruined our plans for tonight," he acknowledged. No amount of talking was going to undo the hits he'd had, and Hudson had made it clear he wasn't interested in waiting around while it wore off. "But tonight's the night we've got. Let me stay."

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   Dean Hudson

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Bringing up the fact that this was their night to celebrate almost brought everything rushing back, but Dean pushed it all back down as best he could. He wanted to be over it for tonight. He could perseverate about that another time. "Yeah," he sighed again. "I'd like that." What the night was going to look like now, was a bit of a mystery, but he would rather have Dempsey's company than sit her and stew in his own frustration.

Dean closed the gap between them slowly, gathering Dempsey into his arms to plant a slow burn of a kiss on his lips. He needed an outlet for the energy he still couldn't place and while he couldn't break the rules right now, whatever it was Dempsey had smoked had to wear off sometime, right?

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   Don Juan Dempsey

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This was exactly what he'd wanted. He'd gotten riled up before — hearing Hudson make comments like Go home, Dempsey had stoked that particular fire quickly — but there was no real anger beneath it. He'd started out the night looking forward to spending time with Hudson. He still wanted to spend time with Hudson, even if the agenda had to change. He returned the kiss and wrapped his arms around Hudson's shoulders, letting himself melt into the other man.

"Pick another day for the stuff you planned," he said. "I'll cancel something."

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Things were far easier when they got wrapped up in each other like this. The more they talked, the less things seemed to make sense. This made sense. At least this made sense.

As he leaned back, he pressed his forehead to Dempsey's and Dean shook his head. "No, no more, it only causes problems." Expectations led to disappointment and it never seemed to quite work out. They'd had limited success with it and it should probably stay at that. Dean had a brief struggle with asking about the actual birthday plans, but wound up leaving it alone. He really didn't want to be responsible for ruining that night too.

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Don Juan frowned, unable to keep the disappointment off his face when Hudson said no more. The actual act wasn't something he would miss — it was enjoyable, but not dramatically moreso than normal sex. He liked feeling as though he was doing something unique and special with Hudson, though; something Hudson liked and didn't do with just anyone. They'd really only started getting any kind of momentum with it, and now Don Juan had apparently killed the pursuit entirely, with twenty minutes of cannabis.

He sighed. "Okay," he said, not in much of a position to argue. "Sorry."

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What Dean wanted to say was something his father had drilled into his head as a child; the best apology is a change in behavior. Now didn't seem the time though. "It's alright," it wasn't, but Dean didn't know what else to say. Once Dempsey left, tomorrow, or the next day, whenever, Dean would clean out the drawers with and send it all to someone he knew would appreciate it. If it wasn't around, it couldn't be a problem anymore.

"Let's take a bath." Dean suggested. He wanted to relax for a little while, let whatever it was Dempsey had smoked wear off and get rid of the smell at the same time. Then maybe they could slip back into his room and start over. "Tub is huge." Dean had it put in specifically because he liked a good soak, but it was big enough for two.

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Now that sounded like exactly what they needed. A change of scenery, a change of activity, a break from the groveling that Don Juan was no doubt going to engage in if they stayed here and kept talking about this.

"That sounds nice," he agreed. "Do you have any wine?"

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