Work Text:
After Callum, the lead detective, missed an entire day of work once more, Hudson reluctantly made his way to Callum’s apartment. He didn’t bother knocking; he knew it’d be of no use and instead used his spare key to open the door.
He walked inside, finding the kitchen and bedroom empty. Finally, he made his way into the small bathroom and found Callum in the bathtub.
The water had turned cold after hours of sitting. Callum was asleep, still in his suit. There was a bottle of wine on the floor next to him, half empty.
Hudson sighed, feeling his chest tighten. He walked over; thankful Callum had fallen asleep with his head above the water. “Callum.”
Callum opened his eyes slowly, hungover, and uncomfortable. Slowly, he looked up at Hudson, vision blurry. “Mh..?” He blinked, looking back down into the water. “...Oh.”
“Oh indeed,” Hudson snapped, resting his arms on the edge of the bathtub. “The hell is this? You skip the entire day of work, and I find you here, doing who knows what. You could’ve died, Callum. But I guess you knew that already.”
“Why do you care...” Callum mumbled, sighing and closing his eyes again. “It's a wonderful new way to relax, or so I’ve read.” Callum grumbled, pointing to a half open book on the floor named No Longer Human. at least he was doing something with his life - even if that something was a cowardly attempt at letting his life slip away, another thing to add to a pile of things he didn't have the guts to bring to fruition.
“A suicide attempt is your definition of a way to relax?” Hudson asked, gripping the tub so hard it might shatter. “Get. Up.”
Callum frowned, looking up at Hudson. “A suicide attempt? Now – that's not what this is, you know that. I wouldn’t let you get away from me that easily, Huddy.” Callum tried to deflect, but he saw Hudson was having none of that. He lowered his head slightly, sighing.
Reluctantly, he got out of the tub, his head hammering. “Urgh,” he mumbled along the way, frowning. “Are you gonna watch me change out of this?”
Hudson sighed, leaving the bathroom. He grabbed Callum's pjs from their spot on the floor, throwing them into the bathroom. He sat on the couch, waiting for Callum to drag himself out so they could talk.
His cortisol rose to unheard levels when Callum walked out with the wine bottle in hand, already taking another sip. At least his pjs were on correctly.
“Callum. You just drank yourself to blacking out, put the damn bottle down.” Hodson hissed, walking over.
Callum seemed surprised, taking one more drink before his bottle was snatched. “Hey - “
Hudson held the bottle out of reach, sighing. “That’s enough.” He spoke. Callum stared back at him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Callum laughed. It was quiet and lacked humor. “You know,” he started. “For someone who isn’t my wife, you spend an awful lot of time telling me what I can and can't do.”
Hudson frowned, putting the bottle on the counter, far enough that Callum would have to make an effort to reach it. “Someone has to.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” Callum retorted.
“You never ask anyone for anything.” Hudson said, crossing his arms, clearly not backing down.
Callum’s expression hardened.
Before he could speak, Hudson did. “You missed work. Again.”
“I was sick.” Callum reasoned, glancing away.
“You were drunk.”
“I was sick because I was drunk.” Callum corrected, crossing his arms too.
“That's not better.” Hudson sighed, shaking his head. This was hopeless.
Callum rubbed his hand over his face. His head was still pounding; he looked exhausted enough to fall asleep standing up. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You said that yesterday.” Hudson reminded him.
“I mean it this time.” Callum promised, scratching at his arm. “You always mean it.” Hudson finally said.
That shut him up real fast.
Hudson stared at him for a while. There were dark circles underneath Callum's eyes. His tie was still hanging crooked around his neck yesterday. There was a faint red mark where he’d slept against the edge of the tub.
Hudson hated looking at him. He hated that he still loved him. Mostly, he hated that loving him didn’t seem to be enough to make Callum want to stay.
“You can’t keep doing this.” Hudson said, his heart heavy. When Callum asked what he meant, Hudson gestured around the room. “This.”
“I drink. I gamble. I miss work sometimes.” Callum said, tensing.
“I know.” Hudson responded.
Callum looked at him, eyes suddenly sharp. “So, what’s really your problem?”
Hudson stared back. “My problem is that you keep finding new ways to disappear while standing directly in front of me.”
Callum looked away. For once, he didn’t have an answer. His gaze landed on the small wooden cross hanging from the wall beside the kitchen doorway. He stared at it for a long moment. Then, quietly, “god doesn’t like people like me.”
Hudson's expression changed into something unreadable. “Don’t. Don't do that.”
“it's true,” Callum argued.
“You don’t know that.” Hudson sighed.
“I do.” Callum's voice cracked slightly, and he immediately swallowed it down. “I know what the bible says.”
“You know what you think it says.”
Callum gave a bitter laugh. “That’s convenient.”
Hudson stepped closer. “You drink ‘till you can’t stand. You throw money away at a card table. You lie to everyone. You sit in a bathtub for hours and tell me you’re fine. But apparently, the worst thing you’ve ever done is falling in love with someone.”
Callum went still. Hudson regretted his words immediately, seeing Callum look like he got hit by a car. “Don’t.” Callum whispered.
Hudson's anger faltered. “Callum.”
“Don’t.” He turned away, tense and heart heavy. “I don’t want to talk about that, Hudson.”
“Then what do you want to talk about?” Hudson questioned; his voice exasperated.
“Nothing.” Callum mumbled. He reached for the counter, his hand stopping just short of the wine bottle.
Hudson noticed. Callum noticed Hudson noticed. They didn’t speak.
Hudson moved the bottle farther away.