October, 1893 — Hudson's House, Bartonburg

Don Juan had come in through the floo already apologetic. He'd promised Dean he'd be over tonight, and technically he still was — it was before midnight, wasn't it? Certainly still before dawn, so still tonight by at least some definitions. He'd meant to be over earlier — usually when he and Dean had plans he tried to get here early enough for dinner, though that wasn't always possible. He'd been a little drunk at the event tonight, though (as he typically was when they were campaign events; he had no tolerance for them) so it had been easy to lose track of time. Just before he'd been about to leave someone had offered to sell him hallucinogens, and he didn't want to pass it up — but after the incident where he'd accidentally dumped party potions all over Dean's floor he'd known better than to show up with them in his pockets. So he'd been delayed by the time it took to arrange the deal, and delayed while he followed the fellow out to go fetch them from his house, and delayed while he lingered to share a drink and a cigarette with him (it seemed bad business to buy drugs and leave immediately; proper decorum generally necessitated sticking around to try the wares together, so really a drink and a cigarette was the least he could get away with), and finally delayed while he went home and stashed them in his room. By the time he'd negotiated his way through Christabel and gone through the floo to Hudson's, he didn't even know what time it was any more. Regardless, he expected Hudson to be cross.

Hudson wasn't waiting up for him and tapping his toe, though. Don Juan slipped off his shoes and jacket and headed upstairs towards the bedroom, glancing at the doors as he went to see if any of the other lights were on. He thought Hudson must have gone to bed already, so he was unbuttoning his shirt and preparing to crawl into the sheets next to him... but when he opened the door he found the bed still made, and no sign of Hudson.

Don Juan circled through the house again, thinking he must have missed something. Even when he'd done the second circuit of the house he still wasn't sure he believed it: Hudson wasn't here. They'd had plans tonight, and Hudson wasn't at home. Don Juan went through the house again, in disbelief. He looked for signs of where he might have gone, hoping to see some clothes hastily pulled from the wardrobe or something — some indication that there been an emergency he'd had to leave for in a hurry. He saw nothing of note, and eventually he decided he ought to leave. He certainly wasn't going to sit here like a kicked puppy all night waiting for Hudson to come back.

He headed back to the parlor, buttoning every other button on his shirt. He was only going home and getting undressed again, so why bother doing them all up? He'd only gotten halfway up when the floo lit up green and there he was. Hudson, returned.

"I was just leaving," he said, irritated and not bothering to hide it.

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MJ made this <3

Dean should have known better. He'd eaten dinner and kept glancing at the clock. It felt ridiculous, Don Juan would show up when he could. By the time the first reasonable hour had passed, Dean had given up on work. As the second hour ticked on, he'd had a glass of whiskey and settled onto the sofa with a book. As the third hour started, he had given up. He'd turned down plans with some friends for the ministry for this and taken a ration of shit for being too tired. He'd taken it gracefully, hoping like hell he'd be real tired by the time the night was over, but appeared that wasn't going to be the case.

So he'd gotten redressed, figuring he'd be late to the discarded plans, but not late enough that he couldn't enjoy some of the night. He wasn't going to wait around if Don Juan couldn't be bothered to show up. Historically he'd already done it too many times, waiting at the house just to be disappointed and head to be alone. His patience was wearing thin and he felt slightly humiliated by it. Don Juan just expected him to sit at home and wait and Dean couldn't play the jilted housewife any more.

It was late by the time he stumbled into the floo, more whiskey consumed than was wise, but there'd been a bottle of twelve year out for his consumption, who was he to say no to that? The last thing he expected to see was Don Juan on the other side, looking disgruntled and like he was the one who was put out. "Surprised you bothered to show." Dean retorted, too drunk to bite his tongue. It was hard to hide the hurt and disappointment when he was as far gone as he was and frankly he was too irritated to try. It was disappointment after disappointment again, days apart and they'd finally connected only for Dempsey to show up hours late.

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Don Juan pulled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, defensive. "We had plans," he pointed out, as though Hudson had forgotten, though it was clear from his response that he hadn't. They'd had plans and he had been here. By the looks of it Hudson had been out for a while. He'd given up on Don Juan early tonight, then. It wasn't as though he'd promised Hudson he'd be here by five, or anything. He'd told him he'd had an event to attend, and would come when he could... though admittedly he had implied he'd get out of it as soon as possible, and after he'd started drinking he'd spent much longer there than intended.

The other side of the coin, he supposed, was that he hadn't bothered to ask what Hudson's plans were for the night, if he had any. So they'd both gone somewhere else tonight, but now they were both here. Maybe he was being unreasonable. Maybe this was fine. But maybe not, because there was an edge in Hudson's tone when he said he was surprised.

"It was harder to get away than I thought it'd be," he said, tone placating. "Campaign shit, you know? It's almost over." Almost over, so maybe they could just go to bed and pretend it would never happen again.

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MJ made this <3

"Yeah, well, I wait for almost three hours after when you usually show up." So Don Juan was allowed to be late, but he wasn't allowed to give up early? That seemed wildly unfair. Dean was tired of being the flexible one all of the time, of being the only one who seemed to care that an agreement had weight to it, on both sides, even if it always felt lopsided.

He scoffed at the excuse. Always some excuse. Sometimes no excuse at all and he was still supposed to excuse the behavior, to ignore it and hope it went differently next time. Fuck that. "Sure, campaign shit." The same campaign that Don Juan complained about all of the time, that had him showing up to start an argument when he didn't get the sympathy he wanted and then left again moments later. He was acting like a petulant child and then expected to be treated like an adult and it set Dean's teeth on edge.

The ritual of starting to shed his clothes as soon as he came home had started, jacket tossed on the nearby chair, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt, gradually loosening the layers as he tried to ignore the clawing feeling in his chest. "I declined plans to stay in, but didn't see the point in waiting around by myself." He'd waited for a reasonable amount of time, he had, whether Dempsey wanted to see that or not.

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"Well, I didn't know you had plans," he huffed, as though this would have changed anything. He still would have had to go tonight, and he likely still would have gotten distracted the same way. And partly he still felt this was Hudson's fault; if he'd wanted him to be early because he was canceling other plans, why hadn't he said anything about it? If he'd asked for a specific time and Don Juan had agreed to it and he was showing up hours late maybe he would have had a credible claim to the anger, but none of that had happened.

Hudson was peeling off layers, though, and even in spite of his irritation Don Juan felt a rush of longing. It was fine, really, whatever — he'd been late and Hudson had gone out but they were both here now, so what was the problem? This was one of the very rare occasions in which they both had transgressions to be swept under the rug; falling into bed to avoid them should have been that much easier.

"Anyway," he said lamely; the transition between argument and physicality was always awkward, no matter how many times they rehearsed it. "Lucky I caught you then?"

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MJ made this <3

Maybe he should have just gone out in the first place. If Don Juan was just showing up now, they would have been around the same time anyway. The shitty part was that he would have much rather stayed in and he thought that much was obvious. "We had plans, I changed mine when you didn't show." He snapped back. Maybe they shouldn't have bothered on a night Dean knew Don Juan had another obligation, but he'd said he wanted to get out early and Dean had believe. Maybe that had been the next mistake in a long line of mistakes.

"I don't think so, I'm tired." Dean wasn't in the mood for this to hang over him. Well, it was going to hang over him, but he would prefer to stew in solitude over it than pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. He thought he'd earn the right to be bitter about this instead of sweeping it under the rug, into the pile that was becoming an obvious problem. "I have to go to Mae's tomorrow," not until the afternoon and not for anything terribly important, but it was a good enough excuse.

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"Come on," he protested. It was probably a relic of the argument that had been stirring and which he was trying to avoid having that his tone sounded more cranky than coaxing when he said it. But tired was a bullshit excuse, at least said in that tone. Dean could have said he was tired and reached for Don Juan and he would have rushed to his side, entirely content to curl up next to him to sleep for the night... but when Dean said he was tired now it didn't sound like an invitation, it sounded like a rejection. "We could just sleep," he pointed out (though truth be told if Dean agreed to this Don Juan would probably eventually end up needling for more — he was still a bit drunk).

"Are you cross with me?" he asked, knowing of course that the answer was yes, and banking on the idea that Hudson would be keen enough not to fight that he would lie and say no.

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MJ made this <3

Of course Don Juan couldn't just take no for the answer that it was. That tone went right through him and it had him straightening his back, despite the fatigue in his shoulders. They never just slept, and Dean truly wasn't in the mood. He was a little angry and frustrated and a whole host of other things he'd tried to keep pushed down lately so that he didn't just explode.

"I'm frustrated and humiliated and I don't want to deal with it tonight." He was too drunk and too tired, but too wound up at the same time. He needed some time to sort his head without being bullied into doing whatever it was Don Juan wanted. "And I'd rather simmer in solitude about it." Maybe he'd shoot another glass of whiskey and it would knock him out and really could deal with it tomorrow. He'd have to deal with it sometime, despite their efforts not to.

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Well, if he'd been expecting Dean to pretend he wasn't upset, it seemed he'd miscalculated. Don Juan felt a flush of irritation that Hudson hadn't gone along with it; that they were having to talk about it at all when neither of them wanted to spend their time doing this. As though Hudson was personally depriving them both of them enjoyment they could have had if they'd agreed to put this aside and just kiss.

"Don't want to deal with me tonight," Don Juan returned. His tone was sulky but somewhere in the back of his mind he meant it like a barb.

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MJ made this <3

Sighing heavily, Dean dragged both of his hands across his face. "Not if you're going to try and manipulate me into getting what you want." Dean wouldn't be made to feel like he'd done something wrong tonight. Whether Don Juan agreed or not wasn't his problem. Dean had forgiven every time before this, had stuck around, had waited, disappointed and dejected too many times in the past. Tonight he simply wasn't in the mood to do it again.

"I've stuck around every time before this, but you don't see that because you don't show, so I did something different, expecting the same outcome; I'm tired of being let down." That was only part of it, but it felt like the immediate answer that came to mind. Everything was dangerously close to the surface now. They'd avoided this argument for too long, the cauldron was starting to bubble over, but Dean didn't want to clean it up tonight.

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Twice now Don Juan had pushed towards an argument anticipating that Hudson would cave and back down, like they both usually did, and twice Hudson had called his bluff. Yes, he was cross, and frustrated and humiliated (an adjective Don Juan remembered from their first attempt at a relationship, and not a good sign). Yes, he meant he didn't want to deal with Don Juan tonight. Don Juan was starting to feel panicky — this wasn't how things were supposed to go. Hudson was supposed to sigh and say of course not, it's just... and then Don Juan could cover up whatever followed with kisses, or love notes, or impromptu gifts.

"You're drunk," he pointed out. "And being mean." He'd aimed for a mollifying tone (you're drunk; I won't take this personally) but there were nerves running through his voice. They were getting into uncharted waters here and he'd rather steer back towards the familiar as soon as possible. "Let's talk about it in the morning," he suggested. Let me stay; was, of course, implied.

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MJ made this <3

Mean was he? "You're acting like a child and I'm not in the mood to parent tonight." Dean hadn't signed up to be a parent. He wanted a mature relationship that had hard conversations when things didn't go right, that problem solved and effort came in equally on both sides. He didn't want to constantly clean up messes and worry and try to pacify the upset when he tried to be firm on reasonable boundaries.

Maybe he was drunk and maybe he ought to give more leeway, but he'd already given so much that tonight he didn't want to give or forgive anything else. "So no, I need some time." Historically this went poorly, him saying no, but he said yes so often, it really shouldn't be a problem. He needed a whiskey-induced sleep, a hot bath in the morning alone to ease the hangover and then he would think about it.

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The comparison would have stung if Don Juan thought he really meant it, but this was what Hudson always reached for in an argument. Not these exact words, but this sentiment: Don Juan was a child, a liability, not to be trusted. In need of constant supervision lest he do something damaging. When they'd reconnected last year Don Juan had said he didn't want to be the sort of person who couldn't be trusted to be alone, but he was starting to think this had less to do with him than it had to do with Hudson — that Dean couldn't trust him, and maybe there was nothing he could do about it at this point.

"Oh, I'm glad," he snapped. "Because I don't remember asking you to be my fucking dad."

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MJ made this <3

This time, Dean bit his tongue. The first thought that bubbled up was nasty and as angry as he was right now, he didn't want to say anything he didn't mean or would regret later when things cooled down.

He dragged his hands over his face again; he wanted to stay mad about this, but really he was just hurt and disappointed. It made him feel like he didn't matter, like he was an afterthought that would always be there waiting around like a lovestruck fool. Dean hated feeling like a fool.

"I need some time to myself." He reiterated. He needed to think and he couldn't do that with Don Juan here trying to soothe his ruffled feathers, trying to make up for his latest fuck up. Dean was allowed to be mad about this and to deal with it how he wanted to, for once.

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It was frustrating that Hudson could do something like call him a child and then just announce that he needed time, thereby shutting down the conversation, and now if Don Juan protested it he was being the unreasonable one. It was frustrating that when Don Juan wanted to avoid an argument he was accused of being duplicitive, or of running away to get high, but when Hudson did it he was being the responsible, mature one of the pair. It was another one of those things that made it feel like he'd never break out of this perception Hudson had of their relationship — that no matter what he did between now and then, Hudson might levy the same criticism about his acting like a child in an argument a year from now, three years from now, five years from now.

There was nothing to say except yeah, fine, sure. There was no other acceptable response to a request that was, on its surface, so unobjectionable... but Don Juan was practically vibrating with irritation and he didn't want to just let this go down as yet another occasion where Dean had graciously been the mature one and Don Juan was once again digging himself out of the doghouse. So he didn't say yeah, fine, sure, but what he did say was probably not winning him any points towards being seen as the more mature one. "Fuck off," he said, rolling his eyes.

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MJ made this <3

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.

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