December, 1887 — Dempsey Estate, Galway

It hadn't snowed yet that year, but there was a blanket of snow on the patio when Don Juan opened the door and ushered Hudson out. "Ozymandias' cloud," he explained with a dismissive gesture, as though this phrase was sufficient to explain anything. Oz had conjured up a storm cloud earlier that year for some reason — something to do with one of his inventions, though Don Juan hadn't followed it any closer than that. He gathered that it hadn't gone exactly to plan, because Oz was annoyed every time the cloud drifted by, and it was still persistently circling the estate months later, producing ridiculous weather on its whim. Don Juan closed the door behind Hudson, then trudged through the snow. It might not have fallen naturally but it also didn't seem to be dissipating; the air was cold enough for it, just the precipitation was absent. This was the worst of both worlds, he thought; snow falling on Hudson's hair and getting caught in his eyelashes would have been romantic, while a few inches of it on the ground was tedious. Maybe the cloud would creep up on them again while they were outside and deign to drop a few more snowflakes.

He was dying to ask Hudson what he'd thought of his family, but was cognizant that he ought to wait until they were properly out of earshot of the house to do so. Probably Hudson had met most of them already, maybe all of them, at a society event or another — but he had never met them at home, in their element, and never in the context of it being Don Juan's family. Don Juan had been anxious about it all night, despite the act that inviting Hudson to dinner had been his idea. He wanted Hudson to meet them, and he wanted them all to meet Hudson, even if they didn't know what made him consequential compared to any of Don Juan's other friends and acquaintances. Obviously, he'd never be able to tell any of them. But Hudson had already started to slip into his speech more and more often, he had noticed — for months now he'd been catching himself saying things like oh, when Hudson and I — or Hudson said... He wanted them to have at least a rough idea of who Hudson was. Ideally, he wanted them to like Hudson, and vice versa, but given his family's antics he wondered if that had been too much to hope for. Oz had spent the entire evening sniping at his new wife, who had matched him barb for barb; he didn't know that either of them had looked away from each other long enough to even notice the extra body at the table. Porphyria was maudlin, obviously; Shallot was on another world entirely, making comments that seemed entirely incongruous to the conversation when she did chime in. Lycoris had been at least vaguely normal, and Don Juan had felt briefly grateful to her for it — but then he'd wondered if she was maybe looking at Dean Hudson a little too cheerfully, and if she always batted her eyelashes that much, and he felt unreasonably betrayed by the idea that his sister might think Hudson cute.

"Watch your step here, looks like ice," he said, of the bottom of the stairs. Oz's cloud again, probably; a spot of rain that had frozen before it had time to sink through the cobblestones of the garden path, if he had to guess. "Want a cigarette?"

He didn't know if his mother would approve of his smoking in her garden. He'd have to vanish the stub after he was done, and do his best not to catch any of her plants on fire in the meantime.

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What's this? A DeanJuan thread that isn't marked M? Can it last? LET'S FIND OUT.

  

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MJ made this <3

Being asked to have a meal with the entire Dempsey clan felt wholly overwhelming on principal; in practice it was that and more, but in a weirdly satisfying way. Seeing Don Juan amongst the rest of his family helped to round out the picture a little better; it certainly helped explain some of the eccentricities. Mostly it made Dean think his own family was boring by comparison. The whole thing has been chaotic, so many different personalities to parse out and decide how to, or if he could even charm them. Dean didn't quite have the same thirst for their approval as Dempsey, but it would be nice if they didn't hate him, even if all he was to be was Dempsey's "friend."

He followed the conversations as naturally as he could, realized he didn't read nearly as much as everyone around him and had to give up on lieu of listening and adding whatever he could to be discussion. It seemed to have gone alright, so far. Following Dempsey out into the garden was a good breather, would give him a few moments to gather his thoughts for the next round. At the question of a cigarette, Dean leaned over and fished the pack from the inside of Dempsey's jacket himself. He'd been looking for an excuse for a while to get close, but obviously had to be on his best behavior today. He'd grown accustomed to having these, second to his own, adapting to the flavor enough; he'd rather get it secondhand from Dempsey's tongue, but this would have to do. He held the pack out after stealing a cigarette and leaned back on the nearest available surface (some sort of stone wall), feeling some of the built up tension leaving his shoulders.

"That's an experience, he offered with a chuckle, but didn't want to give too much away just yet.

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Hudson reached right into his jacket for the cigarettes. Don Juan wished he'd thought of it first; he was jealous that Hudson had found an excuse to brush his knuckles against his ribs. He'd been dying to touch him all night. He took the cigarettes back when Hudson offered and put one between his lips. He switched the cigarette case for a muggle-style silver lighter and moved to light Dean's cigarette for him first. It wasn't contact, but it was proximity, and there was an intimate edge to it; it would have to do for now. They were still within the pools of light cast by the long windows of the house — still far too close for anything risky.

"I'd like to say I don't know what's gotten into them tonight, but that was all pretty standard Dempsey behavior," he said, shaking his head. "Oz used to be better behaved, but he's lost all of his dignity since getting married." Oz had always been something of a prat, at least to Don Juan — in the familiar, half-fond ways that older brothers were usually prats — but he also liked to charm people, or he had in the past. He was usually dazzling women with stories from abroad and cultural references and anything else he could throw together, and trying to make any of the men in the room acknowledge that he was smart and witty. Now he only bickered with his wife.

"I think they must have great sex," he said with a shrug. "There's no other way to explain it. They've only ever argued forever and then suddenly they got engaged. I think they shagged at a garden party accidentally and got engaged and then the sex was too good to call it off." That, or they were too stubborn. That might be true of Oz; Don Juan didn't know his new sister-in-law well enough to make a judgement on that front. But ultimately he didn't want to spend all night talking about his brother's marriage — he wanted Hudson's thoughts on his family, and he wanted candid ones. They'd have to clear the eavesdrop-zone around the house first.

"You up for a walk?" he asked, gesturing towards the dark garden beyond. "Unless you're afraid of the dark." There were lights they could turn on as they went, but Don Juan would rather have avoided it. If they were in the dark, there was less chance anyone in an upstairs window at the house would glance out and observe them — more freedom to let their hands wander.

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MJ made this <3

Dean leaned in for probably a few seconds longer than was necessary to light the cigarette, but he was taking any opportunity he could get to be just a little closer. It was funny how he'd started to gravitate toward Dempsey even in the most innocent at ways; at parties, around the house, just to be in the same space, even if more often than not, there wasn't anything to be done about it. "I thoroughly enjoyed the poem quiz, your sister's ideas of translations are very... eccentric." He didn't know what other word to use. It was the only thing he could think of to encompass everything that had happened so far tonight. Dean hadn't thought Don Juan was all that outrageous (unless talking about dead authors) but to see them all together was like watching some sort of show.

He had to chuckle at Dempsey's appraisal of his brother and new sister-in-law. They were quite passionate verbally, it no doubt translated to the bedroom. Things like that were hard to contain. "I bet it's spirited." He agreed after a drag of his cigarette. "Never been scared of the dark." Dean affirmed. The nighttime was when all of the fun happened, so there was really nothing to be afraid of.

Letting Dempsey lead the way, Dean fell into step beside him easily, looking out over the dark gardens in the little light they had from the house. He was content with the companionable silence, but knew Dempsey was practically vibrating with questions. "I think they're charming." Dean did, truly. Wildly different than his own family, who could be stuffy and a little drab, especially compared to this. "It's nice your parents support everyone's endeavors without question." There really hadn't been much of a discussion for him or his elder brother; it was a job at the ministry of some kind and that was that. There was no lack of love in his family, but they were far more traditional in their affection and closeness than this. It was neither bad nor good, just different.

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Don Juan laughed. "What a kind thing to lie," he said, in response to Dean saying he found them charming. This was a deflection; secretly he was thrilled by the idea that Hudson had actually liked them, ridiculous behavior at dinner and all. For all his squabbles with his siblings he was terribly fond of them. It would have been difficult to swallow if Hudson had called them silly or ostentatious or absurd, even if he knew in fact they were all of those things. He wanted Hudson to like them as much as he did, though he couldn't have explained why it mattered. It wasn't as though he'd ever be bringing Dean Hudson 'round on Christmas Day to join in the family celebrations, or anything like that.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, growing more pensive at Hudson's last remark. "So long as they're the right sort of endeavors," he commented. There were certainly things he didn't tell his parents, and wouldn't, for fear of their disapproval; he suspected the rest of his siblings had some things, too. It may be that hardly any of the Dempseys were on the conventional path approved by society, but there actually wasn't a terrible degree of diversity amongst them. Porphyria the poet, Christabel the mystery writer, Lottie penning fantasy novels, Lycoris with her paintings. Oz and Endymion weren't poets, but they had the sort of careers that seemed fitting of romantic heroes in epic stories; inventor, cursebreaker. Don Juan wasn't sure what his parents' reaction would have been if one of their children had shown up wanting to be a patent clerk for a career. Bewilderment, probably. There was a great deal of pressure on them all to be Romantic. Don Juan often felt he was the one falling farthest from the mark on that front.

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MJ made this <3

Dean hunkered down into his scarf as they meandered. "I mean it," he laughed, but quieted a little at the thoughtful look on Dempsey's face. He took another drag of the cigarette to give them both a minute. He wasn't exactly sure what it was Dempsey meant by that, but let him have the moment to elaborate. When he didn't Dean cast a look over at him, eyebrow raised.

"You had options, at least." He reasoned. "I didn't have much of a choice, it was a ministry career or be cut off." It was a good thing his penchant for languages allowed for a good position in the ministry. He didn't love working on legal documents all of the time, or that he was often stuck in long, boring meetings, volleying the information back and forth, but he did love the skill of speaking in different languages, so he could think of worse things. He wasn't built to be an academic, doing long translations either. At least his career let him travel and he was social enough that he was good at schmoozing with foreign diplomats and the like.

Glancing over his shoulder, they had made it far enough away from the house itself, a little around a corner, that he felt comfortable enough to reach out and brush his fingers against Dempsey's just briefly. "And I really do mean it, they're delightful." A little scary in some ways and strong in others, but nothing had put Dean off yet.

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Don Juan's fingertips fluttered in response to Dean's. A little farther from the house and a motion like that could be dangerous; Don Juan was likely to jump his bones given suitable encouragement. Nevermind that his family were all in the house behind him. It was a cold night, they weren't going to trudge through the unnatural snow in the garden to follow him.

"You make the Ministry look sexy," he said playfully, but even while he said it he was still chewing on what Hudson had said. He would have brushed it off as a joke, but he could usual tell when Hudson was joking about things.

"Your parents would really cut you off?" he asked, uneasy. He felt a lot of pressure to live up to his family's expectations, and usually felt he was falling short — but there had never been any suggestion of that.

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MJ made this <3

Casting Dempsey a charming smile over his shoulder, all he could do was shrug. "Wasn't brave enough to find out." He'd been able to use the things he was good at; people and languages, to build a career he enjoyed, it wasn't like it had been a hardship. "Sometimes I get contract work for the bank, not a lot of humans speak Gobbledeegook." It wasn't an easy language and it was often hard to understand the Goblins as they tended to speak quickly and were often sneaky with their words. He was pretty good at it, though. It wasn't full time work, but it did pay well enough to supply him with some savings and extra spending money.

"It's worked out fine." Dean had always liked foreign places and people. It had proven to be profitable, without testing the theory that his parents (more likely his father) would have cut off financial help while he was still getting on his feet. The only reason he'd been able to afford the house was part of an inheritance. It would have been things like that he would have missed out on.

"My family is a little more... stoic, traditional." Dean wasn't exactly sure those were the right words, but close enough. He didn't often talk about them and there would unfortunately be no invitation for Don Juan to their house for a friendly dinner like tonight. "Except Mae, she'll tell you where to go and how to get there, in two languages, with no problems." His younger sister was admirable in maybe respects, but Dean had always envied her ability to make and stick to a decision, the rest be damned. "She got married recently, just up and did it, no approval, nothing." And her new husband was a nice guy, Dean had met him, after the surprise wore off. Mae seemed happy and that was all that mattered there.

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Don Juan had a difficult time imagining Hudson not being brave enough for anything. He felt invincible, from his perspective. Don Juan may have been slightly older but Hudson had always been the one between the pair of them that had seemed more mature, more put together; he'd been living on his own for years, with his own staff, and a career that actually had some modicum of stability. Don Juan had taken these data points as a sign of Hudson's own internal stability — he had never considered that, unlike Don Juan, Dean might not have had many feasible alternatives.

He reached out to take Hudson's free hand, the one he wasn't using to smoke, and twined their fingers together. They were far enough from the house now that he didn't think anyone would be likely to see, especially not in the dusky light; the moon was overhead but not even half full. He didn't comment on Hudson's parents again.

"Your sister sounds fun," he said instead. "Can I meet her?"

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MJ made this <3

Trusting that Dempsey knew if they were far enough away or not, Dean squeezed their joined hands gently. He didn't often talk about things like this with anyone, but then again, he wasn't as close to anyone as he was to Don Juan. He had friends sure, quite a few, and an even wider array of acquaintances, but none of them were more than surface deep relationships, certainly not deep enough to talk about family and expectations. It was nice, Dean decided, that they could talk about things like this.

"I'll ask next time she invites me over for dinner, I'm sure you'd get along." He was sure Mae wouldn't mind, in fact she would probably love it. However— "She'd really perceptive though, just to warn you." They were close and Mae knew him better than anyone else, save now for Don Juan. If they slipped at all, seemed too chummy or affectionate, she would be asking questions. She was already asking what was making him look so damn happy lately. He'd almost told her many times about his preferences, about Dempsey, having never told anyone else, but he didn't want to risk their relationship for fear of her looking at him differently. It was a strange line to walk, keeping a huge part of himself from his closest sibling, but it had to be done.

At least he had someone who understood now. Dean took the last long drag of his cigarette and snuffed it out on the nearest stone. He felt more relaxed at the moment, despite the chill in the air. He'd been a little anxious about how tonight would go, but apparently all for nothing.

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Don Juan grinned. "I'll be on my best behavior," he joked in an offhand way. An easy parry to make without having really considered what Dean had said. As he thought about it more, though... perceptive. Probably what Dean meant wasn't that he ought to mind his manners or avoid slipping uneaten bites of food into his napkin. Probably he also hadn't meant avoiding physical contact; that went without saying. They'd been together often enough in public that Hudson knew exactly what Don Juan's tolerances and assumptions were about that sort of thing, and vice versa. What he was suggesting was something more than that... perceptive. What sorts of things might she perceive, watching Dean and Don Juan together at dinner? Don Juan watched the ground for a moment as they walked, turning over possibilities in his mind.

"I'm not afraid," he said after a moment. Maybe he couldn't speak to Hudson's sister specifically — he didn't know her, and didn't know how she was likely to react. In the general sense, though, he didn't think he was afraid of someone realizing. He wouldn't have asked Hudson to dinner tonight if he had been.

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MJ made this <3

No, he wouldn't be, Dean decided. Sometimes Dempsey's foolish optimism was refreshing, sometimes Dean wondered just how he'd made it this far in life without getting into more trouble. In this case he would lean toward the former, hoping that Mae wouldn't ever be forward enough to actually ask Dean any questions. He'd always surmised she knew he was different somehow, but had never let on too much. Of course, Mae was one of very few people he felt comfortable enough to let down some walls, so it would make sense she had a more accurate reading on him.

"You two really will get along swimmingly." Dempsey and his sister were similar in a few ways, one of which was their confidence. Dean swayed closer as they walked, bumping his shoulder against Don Juan's gently. They probably couldn't get away with this walk for too much longer, and it was cold, but getting through the next couple of hours would feel painfully slow in anticipation of making up the lost time later.

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Don Juan beamed, having taken this as a compliment. Dean spoke warmly of his sister, so he must have liked her; Don Juan looked forward to liking her, too.

"I'm sorry Porphyria ate up so much of your time with those poems," he commented, thinking back over dinner. He would be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed watching Dean translating live. Every time Porphyria had raised her eyebrow at one of Hudson's word choices but not immediately jumped in to question it had Don Juan practically beaming with pride. (Phyri wouldn't have actually said she liked of anything he said, of course not; the arched eyebrow was as close as she would come to admitting to approval). But having his older sister the poet agreeing with Hudson's word choices had Don Juan buzzing — he's so clever; they're all going to think he's so clever. But as much as he'd enjoyed it, and as good of a sport as Hudson had been about it, it did mean he hadn't had as much interaction with anyone else at the table — unless one counted side-stepping Oz and Miss Pomfrey's catfighting as interaction.

"I think you'd get along with Christabel," he added; Chris seemed interested in the same kinds of things Hudson was, and less inclined to be deliberately shocking than Phyri was, so she might actually deign to talk about some of them. With a wry smile, Don Juan leaned over to brush his shoulder against Hudson's again, mirroring the way Hudson just had. "We'll have to have you back sometime soon."

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MJ made this <3

"It was a good test of my vocabulary." Dean had sifted through a lot of languages in his head to try and come up with what he thought the unfamiliar poems were asking for. He had no idea if he'd done them justice, but nobody had said anything to the contrary so he was taking it for the win that it was. He had to wonder if anybody would even know but it was amusing nevertheless.

Casting another look over his shoulder at the house, Dean chuckled. "We'll probably find out in the longest two hours of my life." He mused, half-looking forward to it and half-dreading it for two very different reasons. The thought of being invited back had him split as well; it would be nice, but it would also be dangerous. He couldn't spend too much time here amongst the rest of the Dempseys, but it was an experience he wouldn't mind repeating.

They turned a corner and were mostly obscured from the house by some sort of large bush, so Dean deigned to lean over and press his lips to Dempsey's jaw, just a little something to hold himself over until later.

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Don Juan had already been smiling at Hudson's remark about the rest of the night, and when he leaned in to kiss his jaw his mirth spilled over into a stream of giggles. "Stop it," he chided, but his free hand had found the front of Hudson's shirt and tugged him closer.

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MJ made this <3

Well, maybe he'd get a larger sample than originally intended, but Dean was not a strong enough man to resist the tug on his shirt either. He secretly enjoyed that little girlish giggle of Don Juan's and getting him to make it was especially satisfying. He rounded in front of Dempsey and slid his free hand around his waist, under his jacket and after untangling their fingers, wound the other one gently into those messy curls he was so fond of. Just a little taste to satisfy the hunger he couldn't fully satiate until later.

"Do you really want me to?" He mumbled, a breathless sort of chuckle, against Dempsey's skin, entirely sure he already knew the answer. He had no intention of actually pausing at the moment, brushing his nose and lips down the column of Don Juan's throat and back up until he was just a breath away from his lips, eyes meeting Dempsey's in the darkness with a quirk of an eyebrow.

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