Holiday Drabbly Bits! Merry Christmas to KAALEE!
Title: Socks For Dean
Author: katmarajade
Holiday present for: kaalee
Pairing: Dean/Neville
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 577
Prompt: warm socks, misunderstandings, bare feet (*grins* I know you said only one, but they fit so well together that I had to use all 3!)
Dean has always had cold feet. Winter, summer, day, night, doesn't matter. They're always cold. Neville is all too familiar with this, as those cold feet inevitably wind up tucked underneath him on the sofa or wedged between his legs in bed. Neville always grouses good-naturedly and Dean always grins at him, grins with those freakishly perfect teeth of his. Dean's grins should be illegal. Neville can't believe how dirty Dean can make a simple smile look. It's amazing how all his naughty thoughts and mischievous plans and dirty jokes can be expressed in just one of those grins; it's also amazing how they still, even after six years as friends and dorm mates at school and another four years of sleeping together, can make Neville blush. He's pretty sure that Dean's aware of this and that Dean continues to make his smiles naughtier and sexier and dirtier with every passing week just to keep Neville blushing like an ickle firstie.
It's Dean's perpetually cold feet that inspire Neville to take up knitting. He's still good friends with Ginny, and one day while over for tea, he asks her mum to teach him how to knit. He's absolute pants at it, but he manages (after a dozen completely bollixed attempts and six weeks of efforts) to create two vaguely foot shaped socks.
He has to explain what they are to Dean, who pokes at them curiously and gives him a blank look. Neville babbles, as he's wont to do, explaining that it's a way to keep Dean's feet warm in bed.
Dean frowns at that and asks suddenly, a wounded look on his usually cheerful face, "Does it bother you when I stick my cold feet by you?" The kicked-Crup look on Dean's face makes Neville's heart flop anxiously.
"No!" Neville exclaims, flustered. "It's fine! I just thought maybe it bothered you and that you'd want the option in case I wasn't here or something."
"Are you planning on going somewhere?" Dean asks, eyes narrowed and a strange expression playing over his features.
"No! Nowhere! I am going nowhere. I'm staying right here," Neville babbles frantically. "No going of any kind. You can tie me right here."
"Really?" Dean raises his eyebrow and smirks. "Neville, I didn't know you were into that kind of thing." Dean's dirty grin is back in full force. Neville blushes fiercely, but sighs in relief, because it means that Dean isn't actually upset.
"Well, you ought to just bin them, anyway. I'm demonstrably never going to be an expert knitter and should have just bought you socks instead, stupid." Neville mumbles and grabs the box off of Dean's lap. He stares morosely at the contents. One of the socks probably wouldn't even fit one of Ginny's tiny little feet, much less one of Dean's huge ones. The other is about the right size for Hagrid.
Dean snatches back Neville's mismatched attempts at craftsmanship and sticks out his tongue at Neville's objections.
Marching over to the fireplace, Dean uses a sticking charm to fasten the (truly ugly) socks to the mantel. He steps back and nods approvingly at his handiwork.
"See? Perfect Christmas decorations-just like that Christmas-y poem, you know, the one with St. Nick and the dancing sugarplum fantasies. The socks belong right here. And my feet…" Dean flops back onto the sofa and shoves his bare feet under Neville's thighs. "My feet belong right here."
Neville can't help but agree.
Author: katmarajade
Holiday present for: kaalee
Pairing: Dean/Neville
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 577
Prompt: warm socks, misunderstandings, bare feet (*grins* I know you said only one, but they fit so well together that I had to use all 3!)
Dean has always had cold feet. Winter, summer, day, night, doesn't matter. They're always cold. Neville is all too familiar with this, as those cold feet inevitably wind up tucked underneath him on the sofa or wedged between his legs in bed. Neville always grouses good-naturedly and Dean always grins at him, grins with those freakishly perfect teeth of his. Dean's grins should be illegal. Neville can't believe how dirty Dean can make a simple smile look. It's amazing how all his naughty thoughts and mischievous plans and dirty jokes can be expressed in just one of those grins; it's also amazing how they still, even after six years as friends and dorm mates at school and another four years of sleeping together, can make Neville blush. He's pretty sure that Dean's aware of this and that Dean continues to make his smiles naughtier and sexier and dirtier with every passing week just to keep Neville blushing like an ickle firstie.
It's Dean's perpetually cold feet that inspire Neville to take up knitting. He's still good friends with Ginny, and one day while over for tea, he asks her mum to teach him how to knit. He's absolute pants at it, but he manages (after a dozen completely bollixed attempts and six weeks of efforts) to create two vaguely foot shaped socks.
He has to explain what they are to Dean, who pokes at them curiously and gives him a blank look. Neville babbles, as he's wont to do, explaining that it's a way to keep Dean's feet warm in bed.
Dean frowns at that and asks suddenly, a wounded look on his usually cheerful face, "Does it bother you when I stick my cold feet by you?" The kicked-Crup look on Dean's face makes Neville's heart flop anxiously.
"No!" Neville exclaims, flustered. "It's fine! I just thought maybe it bothered you and that you'd want the option in case I wasn't here or something."
"Are you planning on going somewhere?" Dean asks, eyes narrowed and a strange expression playing over his features.
"No! Nowhere! I am going nowhere. I'm staying right here," Neville babbles frantically. "No going of any kind. You can tie me right here."
"Really?" Dean raises his eyebrow and smirks. "Neville, I didn't know you were into that kind of thing." Dean's dirty grin is back in full force. Neville blushes fiercely, but sighs in relief, because it means that Dean isn't actually upset.
"Well, you ought to just bin them, anyway. I'm demonstrably never going to be an expert knitter and should have just bought you socks instead, stupid." Neville mumbles and grabs the box off of Dean's lap. He stares morosely at the contents. One of the socks probably wouldn't even fit one of Ginny's tiny little feet, much less one of Dean's huge ones. The other is about the right size for Hagrid.
Dean snatches back Neville's mismatched attempts at craftsmanship and sticks out his tongue at Neville's objections.
Marching over to the fireplace, Dean uses a sticking charm to fasten the (truly ugly) socks to the mantel. He steps back and nods approvingly at his handiwork.
"See? Perfect Christmas decorations-just like that Christmas-y poem, you know, the one with St. Nick and the dancing sugarplum fantasies. The socks belong right here. And my feet…" Dean flops back onto the sofa and shoves his bare feet under Neville's thighs. "My feet belong right here."
Neville can't help but agree.