h . duke (morningrush) wrote in valesco, @ 2015-12-20 17:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | dylan duke, hudson duke |
WHO: Dylan Duke and Hudson Duke
WHAT: Dinner talks!
WHERE: Dylan's house
WHEN: This weekend!
“There you are,” Dylan commented, finding his brother on his own in the kitchen. He almost felt guilty for not telling Hudson that his ‘small gathering’ mostly consisted of the other two Duke brothers. Though he was certain some excuse would have been made if the Hufflepuff knew that it was going to just be his brothers and a few other ministry workers.
He grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack, studying the label for a moment before turning his attention back to Hudson. The night was going fairly well, as far as Dylan was concerned. There was only one near argument over dinner, but he managed to defuse the situation before anything that would be regretted could be said.
“So,” he started, leaning back against the counter, putting the bottle down for a moment. It was quieter here in the kitchen and there was no need to rush back out to the other room. Maybe he could pull more information out of his brother one on one. At dinner, Jackson took over the conversation whenever Colin wasn’t talking about his latest project, or when the the talk about his new job lulled. “What’s new with you?”
Hudson’s gaze followed the bottle, having been eyeing it since he’d hidden away into the kitchen nearly twenty minutes ago. He had not had a single drop of alcohol since Arista’s party, but he was feeling as if uncorking a wine bottle might be his saving grace for the rest of the night. He sat, hunched on the stool as Dylan moved about, and he shrugged. Nothing he had going on right now would be more interesting than what his brothers had to talk about, so…
“Just work stuff,” he said, almost pushing himself to spin on the stool but jerking to a halt. Hudson picked at his fingers, his discomfort at having to sit still for so long evident.
“Your job sounds really interesting,” he said, putting a hand out toward his brother. If there was one thing Hudson could do expertly, it was to keep a conversation going and off the topic of himself. “What are some of your new responsibilities?”
Dylan frowned slightly at Hudson’s vague answer. Why did it always have to be like pulling teeth to get anything out of him? How was he expected to know anything about what he did if he never volunteered any information? Though he supposed there wasn’t much more to know about his job than what he got from what he heard of Hudson’s show in the mornings.
“Hopefully,” Dylan said diplomatically, allowing the subject to be temporarily changed. A small smile even formed because how could he not smile at the mention of his promotion. As far as his new responsibilities, well there weren’t many. Dylan had been doing most of the work for the old wizard who just retired for months. Now, he finally had the title to go along with it. He knew better than to actually say that, even if it was just his baby brother. “Mostly more of the same. Now, I’m responsible for overseeing all of the department's work, and not just my own. Lots of meetings with the other Junior Ministers and the head of the whole department. Those should be fun, some seem to be under the impression I am moving up too fast.”
He played it off as a joke, though it was a thought that he couldn’t seem to shake. His first meeting was Monday and if anyone were to walk into his study right now---, well hosting this party had been the first break he had taken since the announcement of his promotion. After the mess that the Department of Magical Games and Sports had made, there were no room for errors. There were chances now that he could actually meet with the Minister and he had to be prepared. For anything.
Dylan didn’t know how long he had been picking at the label on the wine bottle before he caught himself. Nervous was not a trait that he allowed anyone to see. Pulling his hand back, he turned to retrieve some glasses out of the cabinet. “But enough about me, what’s this I hear about Sykes pushing you into a pool?”
Hudson’s entire face went pink, and this time he did spin himself away from Dylan, dropping his elbows onto the island he was resting against. He should have poured himself that wine when he had the chance.
“That was three months ago,” he muttered, thinking that finally Arista and he were finally able to hang out without much worry about the mags going wild. Their time together in Morocco had been a blast, and he hoped they could go back to normal. Though, whatever was going on with Griffiths could potentially cause a fake media feud....but Hudson was okay with whatever Arista was okay with and...he’d rather not talk about it. “It’s over, we’re fine.”
He didn’t know what bothered him more: thinking about the trouble he’d put Arista through, or the fact that his brother hadn’t bothered to find out the facts until now. Hudson felt...little guilt over it, but Dylan, or any of his brothers weren’t exactly the people he reached out to. What good would it have done at the time?
Dylan’s face screwed up in confusion. It hadn’t been three months, had it? Looking down to his watch it dawned on him that it was December, which he knew but--- he had meant to send an owl a while ago. How did it always seem like whenever he surfaced from his mountain of paperwork, months seemed to have gone by? It certainly didn’t help much that Hudson never seemed to volunteer any information.
Dylan hadn’t even been aware him and Arista were dating until he heard they had broken up.
“Right,” he groused, pulling the cork from the bottle. Why did Hudson have to make everything so difficult? Dylan was more than aware that sometimes he and Jackson tended to have their own little club, what else could be expected given the how much older Colin was and how much younger Hudson was. But that didn’t mean he didn’t at least try to make an effort as far as Hudson was concerned. Seven words, that’s all he got when he asked after how things were for his little brother.
“I thought the story might consist of more than four words,” he said doing his best to keep his tone level as he poured himself a glass of wine. “Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Hudson was glad he’d turned away from his brother, because his face contorted into one of confused annoyance. Why would he want to talk about one of the most embarrassing nights of his life, that he was just getting over? It was not his fault that his brother hadn’t bothered to reach out when the feelings were fresh and Hudson was more willing to go on about them. His shoulders scrunched, and he wondered how much longer he would have to be here until it would be deemed okay for him to leave.
And...of course, there was always the niggling feeling in the back of his head that maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough, that he could talk more and share with his brothers, but it never...it never helped, it only made him feel like dirt. Why should he do that to himself? Wasn’t that a definition of a crazy person? Doing the same thing over and over, thinking they’d get a different result?
“Yes, that makes me want to share,” Hudson let out in a quiet grumble. Feeling too uncomfortable to wait, and maybe it was his own doing, he slid off the stool. He turned toward Dylan and put his hands together, mouth twisted. “I think I’m going to go, I don’t feel well.”
Dylan forced a breath through his nose, barely making out his brother’s words. The tone had been clear enough to make up for any words he missed though. What else was he supposed to ask about? All he knew was vaguely what Hudson did for a living and this strange piece of news he heard some interns gossiping about. What did the baby duck expect from him?
“Come on, Hudson.” Dylan’s voice dropped, slightly twisted with a strange mix of annoyance and guilt. He was unsure why he was even attempting to stop the Hufflepuff’s departure. If he didn’t want to be here that badly, then perhaps it was past time that he left. Then he could go back out to his brothers who actually cared enough to share what was going on in their lives.
“I don’t have an ulterior motive here,” he said holding his hands up in hopes of appearing disarming. He hadn’t thought that his question would upset him that much. Dylan hadn’t eavesdropped long enough to get the whole story behind why it had happened, just that it had. At most he thought it might have just been a stunt, or an accident. “I honestly just want to know more about you. I didn’t invite you over here just to go on about me without taking time to ask after you.”
“But ‘asking after me’ involves inquiring about one of the most humiliating moments of my life,” Hudson let out quickly, feeling as if he was conducting an interview and unsure why he was even bothering to retort. He put his hands up in confusion, face flushed and feeling like he’d been anticipating this all night. How was his brother attempting to guilt him when the question he’d posed could only have left Hudson feeling shitty and miserable?
He shook his head. Hudson always felt guilty about not being open with his brothers, but he didn’t feel open because it had been years of putting him down, down playing his successes. Colin didn’t even know the name of his radio show, and Hudson doubted that his other brothers did either. The name! He’d been nominated for a Wizarding World Award! The Morning Rush, too! How could he think that there was any sort of point in making conversation? How?
It hurt, and it made Hudson feel stupid for caring at all.
“There might not be another motive,” Hudson said, moving toward the hall where his coat was hung, “but don’t act like you really care, that’s even more insulting.”
“I didn’t know, I thought it was just--” He cut the thought off pressing his lips together. What was the point of arguing? Clearly his brother was going to think the worst of him, no matter what he said. The thought was confirmed when Hudson struck low as he made his way for his coat.
Dylan couldn’t help but gape, moving quickly after his brother when the shock of his words finally wore off. “Is that what you really think?” He demanded stepping in front of Hudson to prevent his escape. ‘Don’t act like you really care.’ Dylan wanted to flick him in the head like he used to when they were young and Hudson got into things that he wasn’t suppose to.
“If I didn’t care, you wouldn’t fucking be here Hudson.” He bit out unable to control how angry and insulted he was feeling. This wasn’t some grand party that everyone knew about and showed up at will. His promotion was a big deal, but he was also completely stressed out about it. He purposefully kept it small because while he wanted to acknowledge the accomplishment, he wasn’t ready to brag about it yet.
“I don’t know if you haven’t noticed, but Mum isn’t here whispering in my ear to be nice to you because it's what I’m supposed to do.” Shaking his head, Dylan stepped away. He should have just stayed in the other room with Colin and Jackson. They told him to just let Hudson be, that if he wanted to be anti-social that was his right. “I care, but sometimes you make it so bloody difficult I wonder why I even make an effort.”
“This isn’t being nice, Dylan,” Hudson shot back, finding it difficult to keep his hands at his sides. He never felt as restrained as he did when he was within the vicinity of his brothers, and he hated it. His face was hot, and he grabbed his cloak and shoved it on roughly. “This is...this is you being annoyed that I’m uncomfortable--!”
Hudson pressed his lips shut, thinking...thinking that these last few months had him being a bit more honest with his feelings than he’d ever been before. There were still some things...but for the most part, he wasn’t trying desperately hard to have people happy with him, or to not be a bother even when he was bothered. And right now, he was feeling particularly so.
“Then don’t make the effort, Dylan,” Hudson said with a sigh, his shoulders sagging. The same old story was going to keep them going in circles. Little brother wasn’t doing what the rest of them thought he should be, and he got the blame.
“If this---” he waved his hand between the two of them, “---is what you call an effort, then..then...I’d rather not hear it.” Hudson frowned, feeling exhausted. He buckled his cloak up and shook his head. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”