Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it, and Happy Thursday to the rest of you. Am not nearly as cool as ladyjaida, so I've only made one Christmas present that everyone can share, if they wants it.
Of notable news: started new ficlet, finished part five of the the Hufflepuff thingy and started part six (the final), and started F,L,&L ch. 12 with notes for the next bit! W00T!
And now, Christmas present, so I can sleep.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: not mine, in any way shape or form. Special note of thanks to ashkitty for Brid.
Summary: Seamus doesn't really understand these Muggle traditions, but he is trying, Dean must admit.
Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas
Telling Seamus about Advent, Dean decided afterwards, had been a bad idea. It wasn't that the other man didn't try. God knew Seamus tried and was trying. It was just that he really didn't understand Muggle things, no matter how carefully Dean explained them, nor how often.
***
It was the smell which brought Dean into the kitchen, eyes widening as he took in the pots, pans, and assorted stains.
"Seamus, what is this?"
"Dinner." Seamus smiled brightly.
"Yes, but what is it?"
"Pheasant."
"Pheasant?"
"Yes. In a pear sauce."
"Pheasant? In pear sauce?"
"Yeah... well..."
"They didn't have partridge, right?"
"Er, right."
Sighing, Dean eyed the charred mess on the plate, then glanced around the ruined kitchen. "Seamus, you can't cook."
"Er, well... No, it does rather look that way, doesn't it?"
Dean sighed. "Get me the phone. We'll order in."
***
Of course, Seamus' run ins with Muggle culture could be funny. His first encounter with the London Underground had been hilarious in retrospect. Dean rather suspected that it would be a long while before this was funny though.
***
"Seamus, why are there a pair of turtles swimming in the toilet?"
"We've not got a bath, only the shower."
"Yes, but why are they there at all?"
"Um... Happy Christmas?"
Dean breathed in deeply and refrained from hitting Seamus. "Right. Right. Go get them out of the toilet Seamus. I'll find a bowl, or something. And so you know, turtledoves are birds."
***
Seamus had learned from the partridge/pheasant debacle, at least. Rather than cooking anything himself Seamus had just picked up some fried chicken from the deli round the corner. Three whole birds was rather a lot of food for two men, but it would keep in the fridge just fine Dean decided.
The lull, unfortunately, got Dean to lower his guard.
***
Dean started at the ringing of the phone, almost falling out of bed. Who the hell is calling at six in the morning? "Hello?"
"Dean?"
"Brid?"
"Hi Dean." Maniliabrid Morgan, a friend of theirs from before the war, sounded apologetic and confused.
"Why are you calling? What's up?"
"Nothing. I mean, I'm calling because Seamus told me to. Do you guys need me for something?"
"He what?"
"He told me to call you."
"Why on earth would he... hold on. Brid. Bird. Christ." Dean shot a dirty look at the prone form of his exhausted lover. "I got it. Brid, did he tell you to call again?"
"Yeah, three times. Dean, what's going on?"
"Never mind. I'll tell you about it later. You'll think it's funny. Don't call back. For the love of God, don't call back."
"Go back to sleep Dean. I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah." Dropping the phone back onto its cradle Dean slumped back into his pillows. If he had more energy he'd yell at Seamus. It would just have to wait.
***
On the whole, the five rings hadn't been that bad. It was a bit silly, Dean thought, given that they both only wore one piece of jewelry and he'd be damned if he was taking off that ring to put on some other one, let alone five others. But in the grand scheme of things it hadn't been that bad, and the six-egg omelet had been kind of burnt and really huge, but he'd made Seamus eat half of it and the blond had apologized for thinking that breakfast cereal was supposed to go in omelets.
The swans were a different matter.
***
"Seamus."
"Yes Dean?" He knew he was in trouble this time. Dean could see it in his eyes.
"Explain about the pond."
"It was for the swans."
"We'll get to the swans later. For now, explain about the pond."
"I figured it would look nice on the lawn and nobody would object..."
"Seamus, we haven't got a lawn. We live in a walk up. What we've got is a small, communal bit of earth. And when I say small, I mean miniscule, right?"
"Well... I figured if it didn't go over well I could just get rid of it."
"You do remember all of our neighbors are Muggles, right?"
"Er, yes... Well, about that... I figured..."
"Seamus, if you're about to say something involving memory charms I'm not sleeping with you for a month."
"Right," Seamus said, and shut his mouth.
Dean sighed. "And the swans?"
"It's traditional, isn't it? You told me about..."
"Seamus, you've never seen a swan before have you? They're nasty blighters. And they're huge. One of them attacked Mrs Downstairs."
"Sorry?"
"Seamus..." Dean took a deep breath and ran his hands over his shoulders, pressing at the knots he could feel forming. "Seamus, I love you. You're insane. Go get rid of the swans."
"Right."
***
Dean was utterly unsurprised to find the milkmaids in the living room the next morning. "Send them back, Seamus," was all he said.
***
"Ok, this one I can deal with," Dean muttered as he settled into one of the theater seats, leaning back and smiling at Seamus as the music to the ballet began.
"I did good?"
"You did good love."
"Thank Merlin." Seamus' quiet exhalation would normally have been funny, but Dean knew they were both on edge from all of this. He half wished Seamus would give it up, but knew it wouldn't happen. Seamus was far too stubborn for that.
***
Dean stared in horror at the scene on the telly. "Seamus, you didn't... tell me you didn't..."
"It'll wear off in a couple of minutes..."
Dean looked at him, aghast. "Arthur Weasley is going to kill you," he said. His eyes came to rest again on the scene being shot inside the House of Lords. "Turn it off." Dean closed his eyes, unwilling to watch anymore.
***
Dean didn't know if this had been Seamus' original plan or if he'd changed it after the success of the ninth day's show, but spending the eleventh day of Christmas in the concert hall almost made up for the Leaping Lords, as the newspapers were calling it. Almost.
***
"What the hell is this noise?"
"What?"
"What?"
"What?"
"Seamus, what the hell is all this racket!?"
"What?"
Leaning over Dean grabbed Seamus' collar and pulled him close enough to be heard. "The NOISE, Seamus! What is it?"
"Local school drum corps!" Seamus yelled back.
"What?"
"DRUM CORPS!"
Dean stared at him, horrified. "MAKE IT STOP!" he hollered, and Seamus' eyes widened.
With a little nod Seamus moved over to the window and pulled out his wand.
"Seamus, NO!!!" Dean rushed over and grabbed his hand. "MAKE IT STOP THE MUGGLE WAY!"
"Oh, right," Seamus said. Or, at any rate, that's what it looked like he said. Opening the window he picked up a dishrag and waved it about, catching someone
Of notable news: started new ficlet, finished part five of the the Hufflepuff thingy and started part six (the final), and started F,L,&L ch. 12 with notes for the next bit! W00T!
And now, Christmas present, so I can sleep.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: not mine, in any way shape or form. Special note of thanks to ashkitty for Brid.
Summary: Seamus doesn't really understand these Muggle traditions, but he is trying, Dean must admit.
Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas
Telling Seamus about Advent, Dean decided afterwards, had been a bad idea. It wasn't that the other man didn't try. God knew Seamus tried and was trying. It was just that he really didn't understand Muggle things, no matter how carefully Dean explained them, nor how often.
***
It was the smell which brought Dean into the kitchen, eyes widening as he took in the pots, pans, and assorted stains.
"Seamus, what is this?"
"Dinner." Seamus smiled brightly.
"Yes, but what is it?"
"Pheasant."
"Pheasant?"
"Yes. In a pear sauce."
"Pheasant? In pear sauce?"
"Yeah... well..."
"They didn't have partridge, right?"
"Er, right."
Sighing, Dean eyed the charred mess on the plate, then glanced around the ruined kitchen. "Seamus, you can't cook."
"Er, well... No, it does rather look that way, doesn't it?"
Dean sighed. "Get me the phone. We'll order in."
***
Of course, Seamus' run ins with Muggle culture could be funny. His first encounter with the London Underground had been hilarious in retrospect. Dean rather suspected that it would be a long while before this was funny though.
***
"Seamus, why are there a pair of turtles swimming in the toilet?"
"We've not got a bath, only the shower."
"Yes, but why are they there at all?"
"Um... Happy Christmas?"
Dean breathed in deeply and refrained from hitting Seamus. "Right. Right. Go get them out of the toilet Seamus. I'll find a bowl, or something. And so you know, turtledoves are birds."
***
Seamus had learned from the partridge/pheasant debacle, at least. Rather than cooking anything himself Seamus had just picked up some fried chicken from the deli round the corner. Three whole birds was rather a lot of food for two men, but it would keep in the fridge just fine Dean decided.
The lull, unfortunately, got Dean to lower his guard.
***
Dean started at the ringing of the phone, almost falling out of bed. Who the hell is calling at six in the morning? "Hello?"
"Dean?"
"Brid?"
"Hi Dean." Maniliabrid Morgan, a friend of theirs from before the war, sounded apologetic and confused.
"Why are you calling? What's up?"
"Nothing. I mean, I'm calling because Seamus told me to. Do you guys need me for something?"
"He what?"
"He told me to call you."
"Why on earth would he... hold on. Brid. Bird. Christ." Dean shot a dirty look at the prone form of his exhausted lover. "I got it. Brid, did he tell you to call again?"
"Yeah, three times. Dean, what's going on?"
"Never mind. I'll tell you about it later. You'll think it's funny. Don't call back. For the love of God, don't call back."
"Go back to sleep Dean. I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah." Dropping the phone back onto its cradle Dean slumped back into his pillows. If he had more energy he'd yell at Seamus. It would just have to wait.
***
On the whole, the five rings hadn't been that bad. It was a bit silly, Dean thought, given that they both only wore one piece of jewelry and he'd be damned if he was taking off that ring to put on some other one, let alone five others. But in the grand scheme of things it hadn't been that bad, and the six-egg omelet had been kind of burnt and really huge, but he'd made Seamus eat half of it and the blond had apologized for thinking that breakfast cereal was supposed to go in omelets.
The swans were a different matter.
***
"Seamus."
"Yes Dean?" He knew he was in trouble this time. Dean could see it in his eyes.
"Explain about the pond."
"It was for the swans."
"We'll get to the swans later. For now, explain about the pond."
"I figured it would look nice on the lawn and nobody would object..."
"Seamus, we haven't got a lawn. We live in a walk up. What we've got is a small, communal bit of earth. And when I say small, I mean miniscule, right?"
"Well... I figured if it didn't go over well I could just get rid of it."
"You do remember all of our neighbors are Muggles, right?"
"Er, yes... Well, about that... I figured..."
"Seamus, if you're about to say something involving memory charms I'm not sleeping with you for a month."
"Right," Seamus said, and shut his mouth.
Dean sighed. "And the swans?"
"It's traditional, isn't it? You told me about..."
"Seamus, you've never seen a swan before have you? They're nasty blighters. And they're huge. One of them attacked Mrs Downstairs."
"Sorry?"
"Seamus..." Dean took a deep breath and ran his hands over his shoulders, pressing at the knots he could feel forming. "Seamus, I love you. You're insane. Go get rid of the swans."
"Right."
***
Dean was utterly unsurprised to find the milkmaids in the living room the next morning. "Send them back, Seamus," was all he said.
***
"Ok, this one I can deal with," Dean muttered as he settled into one of the theater seats, leaning back and smiling at Seamus as the music to the ballet began.
"I did good?"
"You did good love."
"Thank Merlin." Seamus' quiet exhalation would normally have been funny, but Dean knew they were both on edge from all of this. He half wished Seamus would give it up, but knew it wouldn't happen. Seamus was far too stubborn for that.
***
Dean stared in horror at the scene on the telly. "Seamus, you didn't... tell me you didn't..."
"It'll wear off in a couple of minutes..."
Dean looked at him, aghast. "Arthur Weasley is going to kill you," he said. His eyes came to rest again on the scene being shot inside the House of Lords. "Turn it off." Dean closed his eyes, unwilling to watch anymore.
***
Dean didn't know if this had been Seamus' original plan or if he'd changed it after the success of the ninth day's show, but spending the eleventh day of Christmas in the concert hall almost made up for the Leaping Lords, as the newspapers were calling it. Almost.
***
"What the hell is this noise?"
"What?"
"What?"
"What?"
"Seamus, what the hell is all this racket!?"
"What?"
Leaning over Dean grabbed Seamus' collar and pulled him close enough to be heard. "The NOISE, Seamus! What is it?"
"Local school drum corps!" Seamus yelled back.
"What?"
"DRUM CORPS!"
Dean stared at him, horrified. "MAKE IT STOP!" he hollered, and Seamus' eyes widened.
With a little nod Seamus moved over to the window and pulled out his wand.
"Seamus, NO!!!" Dean rushed over and grabbed his hand. "MAKE IT STOP THE MUGGLE WAY!"
"Oh, right," Seamus said. Or, at any rate, that's what it looked like he said. Opening the window he picked up a dishrag and waved it about, catching someone