Strange-Eyed Constellation, Post 6
Title: Strange-Eyed Constellation
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter light R (language, innuendo, potentially disturbing imagery)
Summary: War can make strange bedfellows; peacetime allows kindred spirits to join together. Seamus discovers both, and in being true to the baffling desires of his heart, believes that love needn't come exclusively in pairs.
A/N: my thanks to auntee_mame for the written beta; exceeding gratitude to wolfiekins and callumjames for letting me read aloud and giving me insightful feedback while I write this; also for their enthusiasm over what's certainly a rare trio. The title comes from Thomas Hardy's poem "Drummer Hodge."
Chapter notes: Seamus' accident is directly inspired by a scene relatively early in the movie A Home at the End of the World (link has music, just so you're warned!)
Previous Posts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Clicks and shuttering whirrs sounded in rapid-fire succession before there would be a pause. Harry wandered about, finding a new angle, asking Dean to move in this manner or that, or affect a different pose, and the clicking began again.
"You really are a natural at this," Harry enthused.
Seamus nodded his head in assent. Though Dean had on a very modern-looking, super dark strip of sunglasses, Seamus could tell he'd rolled his eyes.
"You really think I'll end up with some kind of paycheque after this?" Dean scoffed.
"Yes! I do! Now pretend that this amazingly sexy guy has just walked past with denims so tight you can see his religion, broad shoulders, strong arms "
Dean cocked his head and gave a lopsided smirk. "Harry, I'm not into blokes on the whole. Thought we'd covered this. I'm into Shay."
"And it'd take some imagination to see me looking like that!" Seamus laughed, grateful that a more warm expression had settled onto Dean's features. "Besides, I thought you were going to send these to that clothing bloke, not off to the guys who made Aurors in Love or whatever that porn flick was we watched ages ago."
"I am!" Harry continued his pacing, suggesting Dean drape his towel around his neck, or lounge back, looking off into the distance, even hook his thumb under the racing suit to tug it down past his hip.
A profound gratitude to Harry for being so gung ho about his idea came over Seamus. Dean had been truly reluctant about posing in front of a camera, even if it was one of their friends behind the lens, especially since he'd never be able to see the pictures himself. Harry had been the one to talk Dean into one photo shoot, saying all the kinds of things that Seamus could've said that sounded so different when out of somebody else's mouth.
"Hey Seamus- want to do a little posing with him?"
Seamus fidgeted with his armband. "Don't think so; I'm not fit like he is. It's one thing if it's just a casual picture, and thanks again for that one you took when we first visited."
"No worries." Harry lowered the camera, giving Seamus a wide, commiserative smile. His obvious happiness at Seamus and Dean's relationship nudged Seamus' lingering guilt about how uncharitably he'd thought of Harry and Ron until recently. "Still. I'd like to take a few of the two of you together. You've already got your suit on; just shuck the shirt and shoes."
"Oh, all right. But not many, and then I'm getting into the pool."
"I'll second that," Dean said, starting to dab at his neck until Harry yelled at him to stop.
"You're supposed to be glistening," he said cheekily.
"These photos aren't going anywhere if I'm in them," Seamus said firmly, stepping over and standing next to Dean, uncertain what to do.
"These're candids. Just talk, or snog, or something," Harry said with a shrug, pulling the camera back up to his face.
Seamus leaned in to speak low into Dean's ear. "You really do look fantastic."
"Thanks. There's no way I'll ever make money doing this, though," Dean insisted, turning his face up as though hoping for a kiss.
Seamus obliged with a quick peck on the lips before trailing his fingers down and across Dean's chest. "Wouldn't rule that out, meself," he said, breathing against the sensitive shell of Dean's ear, the effect causing a slight current through his abdominal muscles.
The distinctive crack! of Apparition right at the edge of the wards caused all three of them to turn their heads. When Harry saw it was Fred, he pulled his wand out of his back pocket, made a break in the wards and gestured for him to join them at the pool.
"I'm guessing that wasn't Ron," Dean said, arching up to Seamus' touch like a cat seeking attention.
"Nope. Fred."
Dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, it was obvious Fred was planning to return to Wheezes. He loped across the grass, a wide grin on his face. He slowed down his steps as he got closer to the informal photo shoot, letting out a long, low wolf whistle as he got to Harry's side.
"Damn. Dean, I'd no idea what all you'd been hiding under those various uniforms and loose jeans."
Seamus glanced down at Dean, relieved when a smug grin wandered onto his lips. Dean slid his sunglasses slightly down the bridge of his nose, shifting his hips and pulling one leg up while stretching out the other in a way obviously meant to inflame whoever was watching. It certainly did a number on Seamus, despite the fact that Dean had treated him to a pre-breakfast blowjob that morning.
"Yeah, well, the secret's out." He covered Seamus' hand with his own, splaying it on his chest and looking in the direction of Fred's voice all while Harry's camera continued to snap away. Dean took hold of Seamus' wrist, easing his hand down the slick plateau of his abdomen until the fingers skated over the edge of the low-riding suit.
Embarrassed, Seamus shook out of Dean's grasp. "I'll do lots of things, mate, but I'm not feeling up your bits or anyone else's in front of a camera."
Dean tilted his head up towards Seamus, his expression still aloof and provocative. Seconds later, Dean dropped the façade, resuming his usual easygoing manner. "'Course not. Just taking the piss. Fred, d'you reckon I've broken the camera?"
"Not at all." He walked the few steps over and squatted on the side of the chair opposite Seamus, winking at him before returning his focus to Dean. "You're not exactly my type, but if I saw a picture of you posed like you were a minute ago, I'd probably tear it out of whatever magazine I saw it in to take home."
"Seriously, Dean," Harry said, placing the camera on a tripod and adjusting the lens, "I know this might all be a bit much since you don't really think of yourself as queer or whatever. But if you wanted to give it some thought, I can guarantee that if you'd consider posing for Un-Robed, you'd make loads of blokes very, very happy."
"Bloody hell," Seamus moaned. "We've only been together a few weeks and you're already asking him to be in the buff for your porn mag-"
"It's male erotica!" Harry interjected, setting a timer on the camera and walking over with a sheepish grin on his face. "And we're taking a group shot. Smile at the camera."
"My arse," Seamus grumbled.
"I'll smile at that," Dean quipped before the shutter clicked.
"Yeah! So why've ye not asked me to be in your mag?" Seamus asked jokingly.
Harry gave him a piercing look as Fred stood up, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder and tapping a few times with his thumb.
"Didn't think you'd want to, honestly."
"Well, you're right. And I'm no beanpole, not got nice muscles like Fred, here "
His voice trailed off as Fred made a show of beginning to roll up a shirt sleeve, making "come hither" looks at Harry and batting his eyelashes. Harry snorted, starting to dismantle the various hovering screens and putting the different parts to the camera in its carrying case.
"I need to get back to Wheezes, but I couldn't dare resist this. Glad I didn't," Fred said, reaching down to give Dean's shoulder a squeeze before putting his hands in his pockets. "Are you two busy tonight? Thought it might be fun to go to this club I've been to a few times, up in Edinburgh. You and Ron, too, if you'd like," he went on as both Harry and Seamus shook their heads.
"It's Saturday. I'm working," Seamus said regretfully. "And I'm training this new bloke that Old Man Winthrop's brought on. How's about next week? I could ask off. What do you think, Dean? You could go without me."
"No offence, but I'd rather not," he said, swinging his legs around the chair and standing up, his height made all the more noticeable given the present company. He gave the funky sunglasses to Seamus and shaded his closed eyes until Seamus found his usual sunglasses and handed them over. With a small sigh of relief, Dean turned toward Fred. "It's not you, Fred. I trust you and all, but I'd just like to have Shay around if I'm going to a new place, especially if there'll be loads of people. I don't get uptight about not being able to see when he's around."
"Ron has some St. Mungo's thingy we have to attend, otherwise I'd say yes," Harry said, closing the clasps on his camera case. "But I'll ask Ron about next week, if the offer still stands."
Seamus was having a hard time keeping the doubtless silly grin off of his face at Dean's comments. That Dean was so outspoken and seemingly comfortable in relying on him, made Seamus feel inordinately proud. In many ways he wanted nothing more than to slide his arm behind Dean's back and simply never, ever let go. The ease of it all was a buoyancy in his spirit, much like how he felt after four or five carefully-timed shots of Bitter Banshee. And yet, he felt a pang at the disappointment Fred obviously felt.
"Why don't you come over for brunch on Sunday?" Seamus suggested, spinning a ring with his family's crest on his finger. "Is that okay with you?" he belatedly asked Dean, who just snickered.
"Bit late to ask. 'Course. Love to have you over," Dean said. His stomach chose that moment to make a loud growling noise and he grimaced.
"If it's the same to you, I'd rather have you two come over to my flat. It could stand to have some new energy in it, if you know what I'm saying."
Seamus nodded slowly. "Sounds good. Are you on the Floo network?"
"Yep. The flat's called The Cleansweep. George's idea," he said, his smile rueful. "It's not public, but I'll open it for you. Eleven, then?"
Dean leaned over and picked his towel off of the chaise, tossing it over his shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks, Fred. I'll make a quiche. Seamus might help."
"Hey, I'm more than a human oven timer!" Seamus said indignantly, swatting Dean's arse.
"I'll just take my equipment inside, then I say let's get in the pool," Harry said, the camera case in one hand and the other items gliding in front of him in a neat convoy. "Sure you can't stay, Fred?"
"No, I've asked a lot of Zap over the last few months. It won't kill me to work and earn my keep. Another time, though."
Fred walked around the chair to give Seamus a hug and brisk kiss on the mouth. He moved over to Dean, opening his arms before rethinking the decision and reaching out to place his fingers gently around Dean's wrist. "I'd hug you goodbye, but that oil would do a number on my shirt," he said, squeezing Dean's arm.
"You can have two tomorrow," Dean said, turning his arm so he could intertwine their fingers for a moment. "Though I've been told that you might as well be holding on to a telephone pole as me."
"A what?"
"Muggle thing," Seamus explained. "He's full of shite. Look, we'll see you tomorrow. You'd best be hungry."
"No worries. Enjoy your Saturday. Hope the training goes well," Fred said, letting loose of Dean's hand and cupping his hands around his mouth to yell toward the house. "Oi! Harry! Will you drop the wards so I can go?"
"Sure!" Harry's voice sounded a few seconds later.
Seamus could feel the release of magic, like a sudden stillness after a breeze. Fred scanned the area, said goodbye again, and Disapparated. Another creaking noise sounded from Dean's stomach and he grinned sheepishly.
"Guess I'm hungry." He reached out a hand in a gesture Seamus well knew meant he needed to feel Seamus' proximity. Seamus interlaced their fingers, rising onto the balls of his feet to kiss the side of Dean's jaw.
"Guess we should eat, then," he replied, tugging Dean toward the small table that had his guiding stick. Dean relaxed once he could swing the thin pole in front of him, loosening his hold on Seamus' hand.
"Think I'll ask Harry to go with me to the shops," Dean mused as they got around the pool to the chairs they'd set up when they'd first arrived.
"I can get what you need," Seamus offered. "You're going to make ham and spinach quiche, yeah? I've got to go by the bottle shop anyway," he said half under his breath.
"Thanks Shay, but I want to go. You're around me all the time- you could use a break, I reckon," Dean said as he spread out his towel, his long fingers patting down the area around him.
Inexplicably, hot anger burst through Seamus like dragon's breath. He was livid at the life Dean had to live, that his one great joy had been taken from him, and that Dean had to bloody spend his life with his hands out, reaching to make sure he didn't run into something. It wasn't fair, and he had to swallow hard to keep down the bitter bile that had suddenly risen in his throat.
"I'd never want a break from you," Seamus said peevishly, though he wasn't upset at Dean. "You're me best mate. And all sorts of other things. You'd probably want to get away from me!"
"You're gone most evenings. I get enough time alone," Dean said, easing his lanky frame into the chair with a contented sigh. "Can't believe the summer's nearly over. It's been the most relaxing one I've had in years."
Seamus scooted his lounge chair closer to Dean's, hearing Harry puttering around and humming to himself through the open kitchen windows. He lay on his side, sending out his hand to trace along the soft skin of the underside of Dean's arm down to his palm. He brought Dean's hand up to kiss at whatever messages were hidden in the cross-hatches and lines there.
"It's been pretty brilliant," Seamus agreed, pressing Dean's open palm against his cheek. It seemed like an age since the days before he and Dean had jumped into this realm of both friends and lovers, though it really hadn't been but a few weeks. Being such close friends since they'd been eleven had loads to do with it, of course. The thought of them spending more time with Fred, and him being more like his old self, fanned the coals of irrepressible right in Seamus. He didn't know exactly how it would work, especially since Dean was only just beginning to trust that Fred wouldn't hurt him, but somehow Seamus knew.
"I'll go check up on Harry and get us a couple of ales, okay?" he asked, releasing Dean's hand with another wet kiss to the palm.
"Sounds good. You know where to find me."
"I do. Ye're really fucking gorgeous," Seamus said throatily, rubbing his fingers into the springy naps of Dean's hair as he got up and went toward the sliding glass doors. A few purposeful steps from the house, his ankle twinged and he stumbled.
"SHITE!" he yelled as he flung out his hands, crashing into the door with his full weight as the glass shattered underneath him. He fell to the floor, eyes clenched shut. The loud ringing crash dissolved into a brittle twinkling as he slowly moved his arms.
"Shay?!" Dean's panicked cry finally registered as Seamus gingerly considered trying to sit up. He began to speak, wanting to apologise to Harry for being so bloody clumsy as to fall into his doors, to tell Dean he was just fine. Too woozy to get out the words, he raised his hand, seeing blood running in scarlet ribbons down his forearms. Harry was poised over him, his green eyes enormous, a sing-song sound coming from his lips and his fingers at Seamus' neck. He realised Harry was chanting the counter-spell to a Sectumsempra before his eyes rolled back into his head and he slipped into unconsciousness.
* * * * *
Seamus' eyes snapped open. The ragged knife-edge of acute and sudden wakefulness let him know he'd been Reennervated, but with it came no instant understanding of where he was. His left hand was held by soft, caressing fingers: Dean. He turned his head to see him, sitting in a chair by his bed, and the sterile white walls behind him.
"You know, Seamus, I'm really all for us spending more time together," Ron's voice sounded to his right, and Seamus gingerly turned his head back in that direction, squeezing Dean's hand. "But I'd much rather keep it over at our place, not here in hospital, if it's all the same to you."
Ron stood in full Healer garb, his wand now tucked into a pocket and an amused expression on his face. "How do you feel?"
Seamus took a quick survey of himself and honestly felt fine. He ransacked his memories to figure out why he was in St. Mungo's at all, the recollection of falling full on into the sliding door rushing at him with such clarity that he winced.
"Like I usually do," he said, his voice a bit rough from disuse.
"Gods, Shay," Dean murmured, the words soaked with distress.
"I'm fine," Seamus said more insistently, pulling his hand up so he could clasp Dean's onto his chest. "Sorry about your door. And for bleeding everywhere."
"Seamus. Don't worry about the stupid door," Harry said, standing at Ron's side and placing a hand on the bedrail. "I'm just glad that you're in good spirits and feel okay."
"What even happened? I don't know why I passed out; all I did was cut my arms." He looked down, turning his arm where he remembered seeing the red streams, and saw that whomever had done the suturing spells had done an excellent job.
"No, you did more than that," Harry said quietly.
"Yeah, good thing that Harry thought as quickly as he did," Ron said. "Countering it as though you'd been hit with that curse. Brilliant." He gave a hasty but admiring look to his bondmate before looking back at Seamus. "You managed to get a shard in your neck that sliced your jugular. You would've bled to death and pretty damn fast, too."
"Oh." A chill frissoned down Seamus' spine. No wonder Harry had looked so panicked when he'd crouched over him. The irony of nearly dying due to a wonky ankle was too much for him to keep to himself. "Seems as though I was better off during the War; it's this peacetime stuff that'll be the death 'o me!"
"Not funny," Dean growled, scooting closer to the bed.
"What happened to your sense of humour?"
"Lost it when I heard that sound of breaking glass. Merlin. It was horrible. And I couldn't do a fucking thing to help you," Dean said, the self-derision in his voice enough to make even Seamus' teeth ache at the sound of it.
"That's enough of that," Seamus said sternly. "It was an accident. They happen."
"You managed to lose a fair amount of blood despite Harry's counter-curse, since you'd not been hit by one in the first place. Thankfully there's somebody else around who has both the same type of blood that you do, as well as an ambric signature pretty close to yours. Conveniently, there's no shortage of the latter, the way things have turned out."
Seamus' mind quickly jumped to the people in his particular squadron. It had been genius, really, something Hermione and Mad-Eye of all people had come up with. They'd divided up most militants in the Order by their ambric signatures rather than tactical skills, though there were, of course, some key individuals who had very particular roles to play and fell outside of the ground troops. Everyone had their own skills, but everyone suffered through the results of being hit by various curses, hexes and whatever other diabolical Dark Magic the Death Eaters could throw their way. The idea was that with similar ambric signatures, magical healing could be done much more effectively, leading to fewer people too weak or wounded to get back into battle. Seamus hadn't even known that there were different blood types.
"Thanks, Dean," he said, running his thumb over the bony knuckles.
"Wasn't me. Fred did it. You've got an infusion of some of his blood in you."
"Really?" Seamus looked at Dean, who was nodding, looking both morose and a bit queasy. "Sounds unnatural."
"It's not the most orthodox healing, and we do have neutral blood that we usually use. But you'd lost a lot, and Dean was adamant that we do whatever would help you the most and be the quickest."
"Wish it could've been mine," Dean said, obviously sulking.
"Don't be like that," Seamus begged. "C'mon, let's just get me a clean bill of health, then we'll go home and I'll let you take good care of me. Okay?"
"You underwent some serious trauma, breaking through the glass like you did, even though you've recovered exceptionally well. I don't know that I want you leaving quite yet," Ron said, Harry nodding his head in agreement.
Seamus frowned, feeling the furrows above his eyebrows. "I'm not doing anybody any good here. Where is Fred, anyway?"
"He said he needed to get back to Wheezes, but that he expected his payment in the form of us still coming over tomorrow." Dean sounded as though he approved of the sentiment, which was reassuring.
With the subtlety of a waltzing hippogriff, Seamus realised he should be at work. "Fuck! Malcolm! He's probably wondering where in Hades I am!"
"No, Dean firecalled him. Don't worry," Harry said, gesturing for Seamus to lie back down.
"He said he'll see you Monday, and not to do anything bloody stupid like that again," Dean went on, a more easygoing smile settling on his lips.
"That's Old Man Winthrop for you. Thanks so much." Seamus looked beseechingly at Ron. "Please? Just do an auralic and let me get back to the flat. What time is it, anyway?"
"Six. We kept you out for a while during the transfusion. Easier on the body that way." Ron tapped the knuckles of his second and third fingers on the back of his hand, evaluating Seamus until at last he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Fine. Don't make me regret this."
"I won't."
Dean grudgingly let go of Seamus' hand and allowed Ron to do an in-depth auralic scan. A couple of times he made disapproving noises, but at last the faint tugging around Seamus' body stopped and Ron put his wand back in his pocket.
"All right. Hyacinth will come by in the next half hour with your dismissal paperwork. Harry, looks as though we'll be going to that dinner after all."
Harry appeared to be as enthusiastic about it as he would being asked to suck on lemons. "Good," he said unconvincingly.
"It's decent food," Ron said, placating him.
"As long as they have wine."
"No doubt."
"Thanks, Ron," Seamus said, feeling his whole body relax now that he knew he wouldn't be stuck in hospital overnight. He'd never liked St. Mungo's, and he didn't care that he did, in fact, now feel rather puny. He'd be just fine tomorrow. He and Dean could listen to a match, or listen to one of the new books in that series Harry had turned them on to, and Dean would rub at his sore arms. He'd make a firewhiskey sour or two, they'd have a good snog, and go to bed.
"Yeah. Thanks for everything," Dean echoed as Ron and Harry exited the room. He stood up and leaned over, his wide hands making sure he knew exactly where Seamus was before placing a deep, hungry kiss on Seamus' mouth.
"Mmmmmm," Seamus hummed appreciatively, closing his eyes and enjoying the warm, stale tea flavour of Dean's breath. The tea at St. Mungo's was horrible, but there wasn't much else to choose from.
"Scared me to death, Shay," Dean said quietly as he sat down again. "All I could think was what if that had happened at our place?"
"You would've gotten help. Don't be ridiculous," Seamus grumbled. "Just because you can't see doesn't mean you've lost your mind."
Dean sat, mute, and Seamus began to wonder if he'd really hurt his feelings, though that hadn't been his intent.
"You're right. It's just hard, because I couldn't see you. In my imagination, well, it was pretty awful. I got a few cuts myself for my trouble before Harry got most of the glass out of the way."
"Oh Dean." Seamus shook his head.
"Do you really feel okay? Because as trivial as it may seem, I'd like to get those few ingredients. I don't want to think about, well, what might have happened." The pulse at Dean's temple caught Seamus' eye, as well as the tension in his jaw when he clenched it for a moment.
"That's fine. Stop worrying and just hold me hand."
Seamus let his eyes close, resting while he waited for Ron's assistant to arrive. He drifted through the minutes, feeling the feathery pulse of Dean's thumb against his skin and marvelling at the thought of Fred's blood coursing through his veins.
..:~TBC~:..
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter light R (language, innuendo, potentially disturbing imagery)
Summary: War can make strange bedfellows; peacetime allows kindred spirits to join together. Seamus discovers both, and in being true to the baffling desires of his heart, believes that love needn't come exclusively in pairs.
A/N: my thanks to auntee_mame for the written beta; exceeding gratitude to wolfiekins and callumjames for letting me read aloud and giving me insightful feedback while I write this; also for their enthusiasm over what's certainly a rare trio. The title comes from Thomas Hardy's poem "Drummer Hodge."
Chapter notes: Seamus' accident is directly inspired by a scene relatively early in the movie A Home at the End of the World (link has music, just so you're warned!)
Previous Posts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Clicks and shuttering whirrs sounded in rapid-fire succession before there would be a pause. Harry wandered about, finding a new angle, asking Dean to move in this manner or that, or affect a different pose, and the clicking began again.
"You really are a natural at this," Harry enthused.
Seamus nodded his head in assent. Though Dean had on a very modern-looking, super dark strip of sunglasses, Seamus could tell he'd rolled his eyes.
"You really think I'll end up with some kind of paycheque after this?" Dean scoffed.
"Yes! I do! Now pretend that this amazingly sexy guy has just walked past with denims so tight you can see his religion, broad shoulders, strong arms "
Dean cocked his head and gave a lopsided smirk. "Harry, I'm not into blokes on the whole. Thought we'd covered this. I'm into Shay."
"And it'd take some imagination to see me looking like that!" Seamus laughed, grateful that a more warm expression had settled onto Dean's features. "Besides, I thought you were going to send these to that clothing bloke, not off to the guys who made Aurors in Love or whatever that porn flick was we watched ages ago."
"I am!" Harry continued his pacing, suggesting Dean drape his towel around his neck, or lounge back, looking off into the distance, even hook his thumb under the racing suit to tug it down past his hip.
A profound gratitude to Harry for being so gung ho about his idea came over Seamus. Dean had been truly reluctant about posing in front of a camera, even if it was one of their friends behind the lens, especially since he'd never be able to see the pictures himself. Harry had been the one to talk Dean into one photo shoot, saying all the kinds of things that Seamus could've said that sounded so different when out of somebody else's mouth.
"Hey Seamus- want to do a little posing with him?"
Seamus fidgeted with his armband. "Don't think so; I'm not fit like he is. It's one thing if it's just a casual picture, and thanks again for that one you took when we first visited."
"No worries." Harry lowered the camera, giving Seamus a wide, commiserative smile. His obvious happiness at Seamus and Dean's relationship nudged Seamus' lingering guilt about how uncharitably he'd thought of Harry and Ron until recently. "Still. I'd like to take a few of the two of you together. You've already got your suit on; just shuck the shirt and shoes."
"Oh, all right. But not many, and then I'm getting into the pool."
"I'll second that," Dean said, starting to dab at his neck until Harry yelled at him to stop.
"You're supposed to be glistening," he said cheekily.
"These photos aren't going anywhere if I'm in them," Seamus said firmly, stepping over and standing next to Dean, uncertain what to do.
"These're candids. Just talk, or snog, or something," Harry said with a shrug, pulling the camera back up to his face.
Seamus leaned in to speak low into Dean's ear. "You really do look fantastic."
"Thanks. There's no way I'll ever make money doing this, though," Dean insisted, turning his face up as though hoping for a kiss.
Seamus obliged with a quick peck on the lips before trailing his fingers down and across Dean's chest. "Wouldn't rule that out, meself," he said, breathing against the sensitive shell of Dean's ear, the effect causing a slight current through his abdominal muscles.
The distinctive crack! of Apparition right at the edge of the wards caused all three of them to turn their heads. When Harry saw it was Fred, he pulled his wand out of his back pocket, made a break in the wards and gestured for him to join them at the pool.
"I'm guessing that wasn't Ron," Dean said, arching up to Seamus' touch like a cat seeking attention.
"Nope. Fred."
Dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, it was obvious Fred was planning to return to Wheezes. He loped across the grass, a wide grin on his face. He slowed down his steps as he got closer to the informal photo shoot, letting out a long, low wolf whistle as he got to Harry's side.
"Damn. Dean, I'd no idea what all you'd been hiding under those various uniforms and loose jeans."
Seamus glanced down at Dean, relieved when a smug grin wandered onto his lips. Dean slid his sunglasses slightly down the bridge of his nose, shifting his hips and pulling one leg up while stretching out the other in a way obviously meant to inflame whoever was watching. It certainly did a number on Seamus, despite the fact that Dean had treated him to a pre-breakfast blowjob that morning.
"Yeah, well, the secret's out." He covered Seamus' hand with his own, splaying it on his chest and looking in the direction of Fred's voice all while Harry's camera continued to snap away. Dean took hold of Seamus' wrist, easing his hand down the slick plateau of his abdomen until the fingers skated over the edge of the low-riding suit.
Embarrassed, Seamus shook out of Dean's grasp. "I'll do lots of things, mate, but I'm not feeling up your bits or anyone else's in front of a camera."
Dean tilted his head up towards Seamus, his expression still aloof and provocative. Seconds later, Dean dropped the façade, resuming his usual easygoing manner. "'Course not. Just taking the piss. Fred, d'you reckon I've broken the camera?"
"Not at all." He walked the few steps over and squatted on the side of the chair opposite Seamus, winking at him before returning his focus to Dean. "You're not exactly my type, but if I saw a picture of you posed like you were a minute ago, I'd probably tear it out of whatever magazine I saw it in to take home."
"Seriously, Dean," Harry said, placing the camera on a tripod and adjusting the lens, "I know this might all be a bit much since you don't really think of yourself as queer or whatever. But if you wanted to give it some thought, I can guarantee that if you'd consider posing for Un-Robed, you'd make loads of blokes very, very happy."
"Bloody hell," Seamus moaned. "We've only been together a few weeks and you're already asking him to be in the buff for your porn mag-"
"It's male erotica!" Harry interjected, setting a timer on the camera and walking over with a sheepish grin on his face. "And we're taking a group shot. Smile at the camera."
"My arse," Seamus grumbled.
"I'll smile at that," Dean quipped before the shutter clicked.
"Yeah! So why've ye not asked me to be in your mag?" Seamus asked jokingly.
Harry gave him a piercing look as Fred stood up, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder and tapping a few times with his thumb.
"Didn't think you'd want to, honestly."
"Well, you're right. And I'm no beanpole, not got nice muscles like Fred, here "
His voice trailed off as Fred made a show of beginning to roll up a shirt sleeve, making "come hither" looks at Harry and batting his eyelashes. Harry snorted, starting to dismantle the various hovering screens and putting the different parts to the camera in its carrying case.
"I need to get back to Wheezes, but I couldn't dare resist this. Glad I didn't," Fred said, reaching down to give Dean's shoulder a squeeze before putting his hands in his pockets. "Are you two busy tonight? Thought it might be fun to go to this club I've been to a few times, up in Edinburgh. You and Ron, too, if you'd like," he went on as both Harry and Seamus shook their heads.
"It's Saturday. I'm working," Seamus said regretfully. "And I'm training this new bloke that Old Man Winthrop's brought on. How's about next week? I could ask off. What do you think, Dean? You could go without me."
"No offence, but I'd rather not," he said, swinging his legs around the chair and standing up, his height made all the more noticeable given the present company. He gave the funky sunglasses to Seamus and shaded his closed eyes until Seamus found his usual sunglasses and handed them over. With a small sigh of relief, Dean turned toward Fred. "It's not you, Fred. I trust you and all, but I'd just like to have Shay around if I'm going to a new place, especially if there'll be loads of people. I don't get uptight about not being able to see when he's around."
"Ron has some St. Mungo's thingy we have to attend, otherwise I'd say yes," Harry said, closing the clasps on his camera case. "But I'll ask Ron about next week, if the offer still stands."
Seamus was having a hard time keeping the doubtless silly grin off of his face at Dean's comments. That Dean was so outspoken and seemingly comfortable in relying on him, made Seamus feel inordinately proud. In many ways he wanted nothing more than to slide his arm behind Dean's back and simply never, ever let go. The ease of it all was a buoyancy in his spirit, much like how he felt after four or five carefully-timed shots of Bitter Banshee. And yet, he felt a pang at the disappointment Fred obviously felt.
"Why don't you come over for brunch on Sunday?" Seamus suggested, spinning a ring with his family's crest on his finger. "Is that okay with you?" he belatedly asked Dean, who just snickered.
"Bit late to ask. 'Course. Love to have you over," Dean said. His stomach chose that moment to make a loud growling noise and he grimaced.
"If it's the same to you, I'd rather have you two come over to my flat. It could stand to have some new energy in it, if you know what I'm saying."
Seamus nodded slowly. "Sounds good. Are you on the Floo network?"
"Yep. The flat's called The Cleansweep. George's idea," he said, his smile rueful. "It's not public, but I'll open it for you. Eleven, then?"
Dean leaned over and picked his towel off of the chaise, tossing it over his shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks, Fred. I'll make a quiche. Seamus might help."
"Hey, I'm more than a human oven timer!" Seamus said indignantly, swatting Dean's arse.
"I'll just take my equipment inside, then I say let's get in the pool," Harry said, the camera case in one hand and the other items gliding in front of him in a neat convoy. "Sure you can't stay, Fred?"
"No, I've asked a lot of Zap over the last few months. It won't kill me to work and earn my keep. Another time, though."
Fred walked around the chair to give Seamus a hug and brisk kiss on the mouth. He moved over to Dean, opening his arms before rethinking the decision and reaching out to place his fingers gently around Dean's wrist. "I'd hug you goodbye, but that oil would do a number on my shirt," he said, squeezing Dean's arm.
"You can have two tomorrow," Dean said, turning his arm so he could intertwine their fingers for a moment. "Though I've been told that you might as well be holding on to a telephone pole as me."
"A what?"
"Muggle thing," Seamus explained. "He's full of shite. Look, we'll see you tomorrow. You'd best be hungry."
"No worries. Enjoy your Saturday. Hope the training goes well," Fred said, letting loose of Dean's hand and cupping his hands around his mouth to yell toward the house. "Oi! Harry! Will you drop the wards so I can go?"
"Sure!" Harry's voice sounded a few seconds later.
Seamus could feel the release of magic, like a sudden stillness after a breeze. Fred scanned the area, said goodbye again, and Disapparated. Another creaking noise sounded from Dean's stomach and he grinned sheepishly.
"Guess I'm hungry." He reached out a hand in a gesture Seamus well knew meant he needed to feel Seamus' proximity. Seamus interlaced their fingers, rising onto the balls of his feet to kiss the side of Dean's jaw.
"Guess we should eat, then," he replied, tugging Dean toward the small table that had his guiding stick. Dean relaxed once he could swing the thin pole in front of him, loosening his hold on Seamus' hand.
"Think I'll ask Harry to go with me to the shops," Dean mused as they got around the pool to the chairs they'd set up when they'd first arrived.
"I can get what you need," Seamus offered. "You're going to make ham and spinach quiche, yeah? I've got to go by the bottle shop anyway," he said half under his breath.
"Thanks Shay, but I want to go. You're around me all the time- you could use a break, I reckon," Dean said as he spread out his towel, his long fingers patting down the area around him.
Inexplicably, hot anger burst through Seamus like dragon's breath. He was livid at the life Dean had to live, that his one great joy had been taken from him, and that Dean had to bloody spend his life with his hands out, reaching to make sure he didn't run into something. It wasn't fair, and he had to swallow hard to keep down the bitter bile that had suddenly risen in his throat.
"I'd never want a break from you," Seamus said peevishly, though he wasn't upset at Dean. "You're me best mate. And all sorts of other things. You'd probably want to get away from me!"
"You're gone most evenings. I get enough time alone," Dean said, easing his lanky frame into the chair with a contented sigh. "Can't believe the summer's nearly over. It's been the most relaxing one I've had in years."
Seamus scooted his lounge chair closer to Dean's, hearing Harry puttering around and humming to himself through the open kitchen windows. He lay on his side, sending out his hand to trace along the soft skin of the underside of Dean's arm down to his palm. He brought Dean's hand up to kiss at whatever messages were hidden in the cross-hatches and lines there.
"It's been pretty brilliant," Seamus agreed, pressing Dean's open palm against his cheek. It seemed like an age since the days before he and Dean had jumped into this realm of both friends and lovers, though it really hadn't been but a few weeks. Being such close friends since they'd been eleven had loads to do with it, of course. The thought of them spending more time with Fred, and him being more like his old self, fanned the coals of irrepressible right in Seamus. He didn't know exactly how it would work, especially since Dean was only just beginning to trust that Fred wouldn't hurt him, but somehow Seamus knew.
"I'll go check up on Harry and get us a couple of ales, okay?" he asked, releasing Dean's hand with another wet kiss to the palm.
"Sounds good. You know where to find me."
"I do. Ye're really fucking gorgeous," Seamus said throatily, rubbing his fingers into the springy naps of Dean's hair as he got up and went toward the sliding glass doors. A few purposeful steps from the house, his ankle twinged and he stumbled.
"SHITE!" he yelled as he flung out his hands, crashing into the door with his full weight as the glass shattered underneath him. He fell to the floor, eyes clenched shut. The loud ringing crash dissolved into a brittle twinkling as he slowly moved his arms.
"Shay?!" Dean's panicked cry finally registered as Seamus gingerly considered trying to sit up. He began to speak, wanting to apologise to Harry for being so bloody clumsy as to fall into his doors, to tell Dean he was just fine. Too woozy to get out the words, he raised his hand, seeing blood running in scarlet ribbons down his forearms. Harry was poised over him, his green eyes enormous, a sing-song sound coming from his lips and his fingers at Seamus' neck. He realised Harry was chanting the counter-spell to a Sectumsempra before his eyes rolled back into his head and he slipped into unconsciousness.
* * * * *
Seamus' eyes snapped open. The ragged knife-edge of acute and sudden wakefulness let him know he'd been Reennervated, but with it came no instant understanding of where he was. His left hand was held by soft, caressing fingers: Dean. He turned his head to see him, sitting in a chair by his bed, and the sterile white walls behind him.
"You know, Seamus, I'm really all for us spending more time together," Ron's voice sounded to his right, and Seamus gingerly turned his head back in that direction, squeezing Dean's hand. "But I'd much rather keep it over at our place, not here in hospital, if it's all the same to you."
Ron stood in full Healer garb, his wand now tucked into a pocket and an amused expression on his face. "How do you feel?"
Seamus took a quick survey of himself and honestly felt fine. He ransacked his memories to figure out why he was in St. Mungo's at all, the recollection of falling full on into the sliding door rushing at him with such clarity that he winced.
"Like I usually do," he said, his voice a bit rough from disuse.
"Gods, Shay," Dean murmured, the words soaked with distress.
"I'm fine," Seamus said more insistently, pulling his hand up so he could clasp Dean's onto his chest. "Sorry about your door. And for bleeding everywhere."
"Seamus. Don't worry about the stupid door," Harry said, standing at Ron's side and placing a hand on the bedrail. "I'm just glad that you're in good spirits and feel okay."
"What even happened? I don't know why I passed out; all I did was cut my arms." He looked down, turning his arm where he remembered seeing the red streams, and saw that whomever had done the suturing spells had done an excellent job.
"No, you did more than that," Harry said quietly.
"Yeah, good thing that Harry thought as quickly as he did," Ron said. "Countering it as though you'd been hit with that curse. Brilliant." He gave a hasty but admiring look to his bondmate before looking back at Seamus. "You managed to get a shard in your neck that sliced your jugular. You would've bled to death and pretty damn fast, too."
"Oh." A chill frissoned down Seamus' spine. No wonder Harry had looked so panicked when he'd crouched over him. The irony of nearly dying due to a wonky ankle was too much for him to keep to himself. "Seems as though I was better off during the War; it's this peacetime stuff that'll be the death 'o me!"
"Not funny," Dean growled, scooting closer to the bed.
"What happened to your sense of humour?"
"Lost it when I heard that sound of breaking glass. Merlin. It was horrible. And I couldn't do a fucking thing to help you," Dean said, the self-derision in his voice enough to make even Seamus' teeth ache at the sound of it.
"That's enough of that," Seamus said sternly. "It was an accident. They happen."
"You managed to lose a fair amount of blood despite Harry's counter-curse, since you'd not been hit by one in the first place. Thankfully there's somebody else around who has both the same type of blood that you do, as well as an ambric signature pretty close to yours. Conveniently, there's no shortage of the latter, the way things have turned out."
Seamus' mind quickly jumped to the people in his particular squadron. It had been genius, really, something Hermione and Mad-Eye of all people had come up with. They'd divided up most militants in the Order by their ambric signatures rather than tactical skills, though there were, of course, some key individuals who had very particular roles to play and fell outside of the ground troops. Everyone had their own skills, but everyone suffered through the results of being hit by various curses, hexes and whatever other diabolical Dark Magic the Death Eaters could throw their way. The idea was that with similar ambric signatures, magical healing could be done much more effectively, leading to fewer people too weak or wounded to get back into battle. Seamus hadn't even known that there were different blood types.
"Thanks, Dean," he said, running his thumb over the bony knuckles.
"Wasn't me. Fred did it. You've got an infusion of some of his blood in you."
"Really?" Seamus looked at Dean, who was nodding, looking both morose and a bit queasy. "Sounds unnatural."
"It's not the most orthodox healing, and we do have neutral blood that we usually use. But you'd lost a lot, and Dean was adamant that we do whatever would help you the most and be the quickest."
"Wish it could've been mine," Dean said, obviously sulking.
"Don't be like that," Seamus begged. "C'mon, let's just get me a clean bill of health, then we'll go home and I'll let you take good care of me. Okay?"
"You underwent some serious trauma, breaking through the glass like you did, even though you've recovered exceptionally well. I don't know that I want you leaving quite yet," Ron said, Harry nodding his head in agreement.
Seamus frowned, feeling the furrows above his eyebrows. "I'm not doing anybody any good here. Where is Fred, anyway?"
"He said he needed to get back to Wheezes, but that he expected his payment in the form of us still coming over tomorrow." Dean sounded as though he approved of the sentiment, which was reassuring.
With the subtlety of a waltzing hippogriff, Seamus realised he should be at work. "Fuck! Malcolm! He's probably wondering where in Hades I am!"
"No, Dean firecalled him. Don't worry," Harry said, gesturing for Seamus to lie back down.
"He said he'll see you Monday, and not to do anything bloody stupid like that again," Dean went on, a more easygoing smile settling on his lips.
"That's Old Man Winthrop for you. Thanks so much." Seamus looked beseechingly at Ron. "Please? Just do an auralic and let me get back to the flat. What time is it, anyway?"
"Six. We kept you out for a while during the transfusion. Easier on the body that way." Ron tapped the knuckles of his second and third fingers on the back of his hand, evaluating Seamus until at last he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Fine. Don't make me regret this."
"I won't."
Dean grudgingly let go of Seamus' hand and allowed Ron to do an in-depth auralic scan. A couple of times he made disapproving noises, but at last the faint tugging around Seamus' body stopped and Ron put his wand back in his pocket.
"All right. Hyacinth will come by in the next half hour with your dismissal paperwork. Harry, looks as though we'll be going to that dinner after all."
Harry appeared to be as enthusiastic about it as he would being asked to suck on lemons. "Good," he said unconvincingly.
"It's decent food," Ron said, placating him.
"As long as they have wine."
"No doubt."
"Thanks, Ron," Seamus said, feeling his whole body relax now that he knew he wouldn't be stuck in hospital overnight. He'd never liked St. Mungo's, and he didn't care that he did, in fact, now feel rather puny. He'd be just fine tomorrow. He and Dean could listen to a match, or listen to one of the new books in that series Harry had turned them on to, and Dean would rub at his sore arms. He'd make a firewhiskey sour or two, they'd have a good snog, and go to bed.
"Yeah. Thanks for everything," Dean echoed as Ron and Harry exited the room. He stood up and leaned over, his wide hands making sure he knew exactly where Seamus was before placing a deep, hungry kiss on Seamus' mouth.
"Mmmmmm," Seamus hummed appreciatively, closing his eyes and enjoying the warm, stale tea flavour of Dean's breath. The tea at St. Mungo's was horrible, but there wasn't much else to choose from.
"Scared me to death, Shay," Dean said quietly as he sat down again. "All I could think was what if that had happened at our place?"
"You would've gotten help. Don't be ridiculous," Seamus grumbled. "Just because you can't see doesn't mean you've lost your mind."
Dean sat, mute, and Seamus began to wonder if he'd really hurt his feelings, though that hadn't been his intent.
"You're right. It's just hard, because I couldn't see you. In my imagination, well, it was pretty awful. I got a few cuts myself for my trouble before Harry got most of the glass out of the way."
"Oh Dean." Seamus shook his head.
"Do you really feel okay? Because as trivial as it may seem, I'd like to get those few ingredients. I don't want to think about, well, what might have happened." The pulse at Dean's temple caught Seamus' eye, as well as the tension in his jaw when he clenched it for a moment.
"That's fine. Stop worrying and just hold me hand."
Seamus let his eyes close, resting while he waited for Ron's assistant to arrive. He drifted through the minutes, feeling the feathery pulse of Dean's thumb against his skin and marvelling at the thought of Fred's blood coursing through his veins.
..:~TBC~:..