February 21st, 1895 - Dean’s House

Almost a month since his world had flipped upside down and Dean still wasn’t sure he’d managed to right himself enough. It wasn’t inherently bad, in fact in more ways than one, it was great. Don Juan was sober and staying that way, they had been able to establish and maintain a good rhythm between them, despite some outside Dean was struggling with on his own. Things with Hanna were patched up, everything was out in the open and Dean was slowly figuring out a good routine in which he could spend time with each of them.

That was all going well. That aspect of his life was going absolutely splendidly.

And yet he still had this weird, pent up energy he couldn’t quite rid himself of. He knew what was causing it, but he didn’t know how to put a name to the feeling it was other than just some level of rage. Dean wasn’t a violent person at the core, he knew that about himself. He was very much a lover and not a fighter, but he found himself in the ring again anyway, getting his ass handed to him by Buchanan.

That part of London wasn’t exactly known for its clean streets and safety and that was exactly what had drawn Dean back in. He hadn’t been in years, not since ‘88 when he’d spent most of the year in the bottle, trying to numb whatever feelings he had and then spent some of the time alleviating his frustrations on someone else’s face. He had some feelings to numb and some pent up aggression to get out that he had no other outlet for. He had two people in his life who needed him to be at his most gentle right now and while he was perfectly happy to do that, he wanted to, but he still felt the current under his skin and needed a way to let it go. The problem was that the underlying shift in the nature of his relationship with Don Juan was because of something so far beyond Dean’s control that he hadn’t even been able to really comprehend what to blame until just recently.

He also couldn’t pull together coherent thoughts about the rumors of Don Juan’s daughter that Dean hadn’t known existed until he’d heard something in the ministry break room this morning. Between that and the fact that he couldn’t realign the jaw of whoever had traumatized Don Juan, the only solution he could come up with was to take it all out in a fight instead. Everything was a little easier when he had to stop thinking and just rely on instincts to get by.

The rounds hadn’t gone all that well, but he’d landed enough punches to feel better, so the fight had done the trick. Unfortunately, Sage was tied up with an actual emergency and he was shit out of luck until the morning when she ended her shift. He looked a veritable mess with a split lip, a forming black eye and of course the open cuts on his knuckles. Dean also suspected he’d tweaked something in his wrist which would probably be the most annoying part of trying to sleep this off.

He’d made it home and mercifully nobody was around, so he stripped off his jacket and bloodstained shirt and went to wash up. There wasn’t much to be done but clean everything out and wrap up his hands for the night so he didn’t bleed all over the sheets. That was of course until he stepped out of the bathroom to find Don Juan coming up the stairs.

---

Don Juan Dempsey

The following 1 user Likes Dean Hudson's post:1 user Likes Dean Hudson's post
   Don Juan Dempsey

---

Throughout his adult life he had never had trouble falling asleep — which was to say that when he had, he'd always had something convenient to reach for to drown out whatever was keeping him up. He'd never had to sit with his thoughts if he would have preferred not to, and so he'd never had to learn the skill of quieting his own mind. He was having difficulty with it tonight. He'd been trying to fall asleep for an hour and a half, and finally he'd given it up and decided to head to Hudson's instead. He expected Hudson would already be in bed, but even if he provided nothing in terms of company it would be a comfort just to curl into bed next to him while he waited out his wandering mind.

He hadn't bothered to dress properly; he'd had a suitable excuse at every moment prior to the floo itself, and he'd had plenty of time to check and make sure no one was watching when he left. He knew Hudson didn't have company tonight so he walked up the stairs without reservation. He grinned at the hint of the light in the hallway — but when he actually saw Hudson his face fell in horror.

"What happened?" he asked, hushed as though speaking too loud might be enough to hurt him. He rushed to Hudson with an arm extended but pulled his hand back rather than touching him, in case that might make it worse.

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

Ah fuck. There was no getting around it this time. Without Sage's magic touch to make everything invisible, he probably looked as bad as he felt and he could tell by the concern on Don Juan's face that was probably the case. Dean didn't think he looked that bad, but he hadn't turned on too many lights and could only see a shadow of the bruises that were coming.

"I'm okay, I promise." He held up his hands, as if in surrender, but was glad that Don Juan didn't come crashing into him. Then he remembered they were bandaged up, loosely, just to keep him from bleeding on anything and realize that probably made it worse. Merlin, he really didn't want to explain this.

It was late and he would have assumed that if Don Juan was going to be here, he would have come earlier, so maybe he could push the attention from him, even if it was highly unlikely. "Are you alright?" He asked, trying to pivot anyway.

---

  

---

"Dean," he said, incredulous. He had bandages on his hands and a cut across his lip and he was going to ask if Don Juan was alright? It was sweet that he cared and all, but Merlin's beard, he had to also care about himself. Don Juan chewed his lower lip, not attempting to hide his anxiety over this. One of Hudson's cheeks looked swollen, and maybe bruising, though it was hard to tell in this light. This wasn't the sort of damage that came from slipping on an icy road or even falling down the stairs. Someone had hit him. Had he been mugged? Maybe Don Juan should have been relieved that he was back at all. His stomach flipped.

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

He'd had to give it a shot. "It looks worse than it is, my own fault for not being quicker." Getting knocked around was almost as good as landing a few punches to rid himself of the displaced energy. It was gone now, exhaustion and a dull ache across his body left in the wake, which was far preferable to Dean. He might get some sleep now, once he talked Don Juan off the ledge.

"I got in the ring tonight instead of just watching. Totally voluntary." This had been brought up before and last time there hadn't been visible evidence so he hadn't admitted to it yet then. Dean hadn't planned on confessing at all. Don Juan didn't need this added to his plate, not when it was something Dean was on his own, to himself, to battle with his own demons.

---

  

---

This explanation didn't take the worry off his face, but he supposed there was nothing to do but accept it. This was a thing some people did — not usually people in Don Juan's situation in life, not usually people with money — and if it was something Hudson wanted to do he couldn't stop him. At least this was something with limits — he didn't have to worry that Dean might have died tonight. Probably.

"Go sit down," he directed. "I'll get some aloe for your lip." And his hands, presumably, if they were bandage-wrapped for a reason. Aloe was the sort of thing most people had lying about medicine cabinets, if they had any sort of first aid at all, but if he didn't find any here Don Juan wouldn't hesitate to floo back to Galway to retrieve some. He wasn't going to let Hudson just go to sleep like that.

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

"Don't have any," he might still have some of the salve for the bruises, but whatever it was he got patched up with did the trick, so he hadn't bothered to invest in anything else. "I'm fine, really." The concern was endearing, but it brought up the guilt all over again. He almost admitted that he usually got fixed before coming home, but he wasn't exactly sure he wanted Don Juan to know this wasn't the first time.

"Let's just go to bed." He urged, hoping that might be the end of it. "I'm exhausted." Which had been the goal in the end.

---

  

---

"I'm not going to sleep now," Don Juan said with a shake of his head. If he'd been too lost in his thoughts to sleep before, this was only going to be a hundred times worse. He still hadn't worked up the courage to even touch Dean, looking the way he did. How was he supposed to crawl into bed next to him?

"You can lay down," he offered. "I'll go get something." Aloe, bruise balm, maybe a pain potion...

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

He stepped forward, gently taking Don Juan by the shoulders, ignoring the protest in his hands. "I'm getting patched up in the morning by a mediwitch, it's alright, just need to sleep it off for a little while." He tried to put as much assurance as possible into his voice. "It's been way worse and I'm still here." As much as he'd like to keep this to himself, if he was going to put Don Juan at ease, he was going to have to fess up a little bit. He hoped he could keep it to the bare minimum.

---

  

---

Don Juan's expression when Hudson stopped him had something in common with a kicked puppy. He really wasn't going to sleep if he was just laying there worrying about Hudson, and he was going to worry no matter how much Hudson said it was fine. But he had planned for this, apparently; he'd been worse before.

"You do this a lot?" Don Juan asked, unable to keep the alarm entirely out of his voice.

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

"I used to," years ago. It was the only reason he knew what sort of relief it would give him. Dean dropped his hands and slid one down Don Juan's arm to tug him gently toward the bedroom. He was sloppier back then, typically drunk and the only thing he had cared about was numbing the the pain with a different kind.

"I'm better at it now, believe it or not." It probably didn't look like it, because he was still up against people who could best him with one hand tied behind their backs, but he held his own most of the time. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and bent slowly to untie his shoes, toeing them off in relief.

---

  

---

"That's... good," he allowed. If Dean was going to do this, which apparently he was, Don Juan would prefer he was better at it. Coming home like this had to be the exception, not the rule. He watched Hudson sit on the bed, noticing every way his body language was off and aching with anxiety. Hudson bent for his shoes and Don Juan swooped in to intercept him, kneeling at the side of the bed and working off the laces.

"Let me take care of you," he insisted. "Or I'm going to lose my mind."

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

Dean relented and let Don Juan take over. "Stop fretting, I'm fine." The irony of how the roles were currently reversed was not lost on Dean, but he was trying to downplay everything for a reason. He hated being in Don Juan's position. "I can stop if this bothers you." He'd figure out something else. He hadn't intended for it to be a problem, hadn't intended for anything to come to light, but he'd messed up and now he would have to try and find something that would soothe the build up of energy he kept feeling.

---

  

---

"It doesn't bother me," he said, too quick for anyone to mistake it for the truth. Obviously he didn't like the idea of someone violently attacking the love of his life, but he didn't want to add this to the very long list of things Dean wanted to do but was willing to forego for his sake. Hudson might do it and might never complain about it, but how long could a list like that really be before a relationship buckled under the weight of it?

"Do these hurt?" he asked, gently wrapping his hand around the arch of Hudson's foot after setting his shoe down.

---

  

---

MJ made this <3

The rebuttal was far too quick and Dean sighed heavily. Crossing that off his list was going to be worse in the long run, but he wouldn't chance a repeat of this. "No," he laughed. Probably the only thing that didn't. The laugh hurt though and he winced, which in retrospect was the worst thing he could have done.

It was still better than how he'd felt earlier. Dean could handle the physical pain, that ebbed eventually, but this slow torture in his head was going to drive him insane eventually.

He leaned down trying to catch Don Juan's eye. "Last time, promise."

---

  

---

Hudson winced and Don Juan tensed, and it took a second for him to unwind again. Even so, he sighed at Hudson's words. Don Juan hadn't asked for him to stop, and he didn't want him to if it was going to be something that came up later — something he could feel guilty about and Dean could resent him for. Merlin knew they'd had their share of festering issues in the past. Don Juan wasn't eager to start collecting them again.

He worked Hudson's sock off and started to massage one foot. He was achingly gentle at first because he didn't entirely trust Hudson's assessment that it didn't hurt, but when Hudson didn't flinch away he gradually built up pressure. For a few moments he just focused on that and said nothing, letting Hudson relax above him.

"Don't promise me things like that," he said eventually. "You don't have to bend your whole life around me."

---

  

---

MJ made this <3