Strange-Eyed Constellation, Post 8
Title: Strange-Eyed Constellation
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter R; language only
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."
Previous Posts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Four days later they went to another Green Knights match, this time with Fred, Ron and Harry as well. Seamus had traded a Sunday shift so he could go out with them since this match was on a Thursday. They were playing the Cannons which, of course, put Ron in a conflicted position, but he stayed grousing at Harry's side, and cheering for his long-suffering team despite their location in the stands. They'd chosen to sit in their usual pairings, with Fred on the end. Dean seemed to have become closer to Harry since the two of them had begun spending time together more often; it lightened Seamus' general outlook to know that Dean wasn't spending nearly as much time just hanging around their flat.
He and Dean hadn't really talked about their unexpected shag with Fred, and Seamus wasn't sure quite what to think about that. For his part, Seamus kept hearing Fred's words, both of not thinking things were impossible, if unlikely, but also his comment about the fact that he and Dean were prone to jealousy. Fred had owled a Howler of thanks for them coming over and having enjoyed their company. Dean had said that was a polite, but unnecessary gesture.
"He's a mate. Since when did all our friends get so hung up on social niceties?" he'd said, once Fred's voice had stopped.
"Dunno," Seamus had replied. "I don't think it's annoying, though."
"Guess not." Dean had seemed overly thoughtful and kind of touchy, so Seamus had given him some space as they'd continued on through their usual routines.
Here at the match, Seamus was flanked with Fred to his left and Dean to the right, and he'd been equally affectionate through the game. Granted, he'd focussed mostly on the playing. The Cannons put on an impressive show, but the Green Knights continued their winning streak and ended up thrashing Ron's team by the end.
"I need a drink," Ron moaned after the roaring cheers for the Glaswegian team had died down and they'd put on their coats to leave the relatively new stadium.
"Poor baby," Harry said consolingly, patting him on the back. "I'll take care of your first round."
"The Badger's a pretty decent pub," Fred suggested, putting his hands in the pockets of his distinctive dragon skin coat. "Ten galleons says I'll wipe their snooker table with your fine Irish arse," he went on to Seamus, challenge glinting in his eyes.
"Ye're on, Weasley," Seamus shot back, smirking. "With pleasure. I'll enjoy giving those Galleons a new home."
"Did you two use the Apparition point or fly?" Harry asked Dean, whom he guided in front of him. Dean's stick made its usual clacking sound as he made his way to the stairs, Seamus still exchanging mock barbs with Fred.
"Neither. We're on Seth."
"Can I come see your bike?" Ron asked, pulling down his collar and glancing back at Seamus.
A look of surprise flitted across his features and his eyebrows rose in question. Seamus had draped his arm behind Fred's waist, fingers holding on to a belt loop. He'd not thought a thing about the gesture until Ron's expression caught him off-guard.
"'Course!" Seamus replied, letting loose of Fred's denims and rubbing his hands together. "He's a fun ride. I should take you on him sometime."
He walked as quickly as he could through the crowd to get to Dean's side even though Harry was steering him with the same respectful distance that Seamus did. His stomach churned slightly, as though he'd eaten some leftovers that had proven to be a bit off. He wasn't ashamed of his time at Fred's flat- bugger Ron for giving him a weird look at playing around with Fred anyway, he decided, a sliver of animosity burning irritatingly into him.
It was once they'd arrived as a group to the special parking area Seamus had secured given Dean's condition that he was bowled over by his own forgetfulness: Only Dean and Fred knew that he and Fred been together, more than friends, at all. As he showed off the motorbike, gushing about it without really thinking about what he was saying, the seriousness of his fanciful ideas of giving his heart to both men at once made his gut clench. He was rebellious enough to tell the world and anyone who didn't approve to fuck off, but he'd really never considered that his own friends might not understand. Ron probably thought Seamus was being a prick by flirting with Fred. He didn't have a clue that for a time in the past they'd had passionate, caring sex every night and consoled each other in ways that had profoundly affected Seamus at the time- and on some level, had never gone away.
"Hey Dean, would you mind if I took a spin with Seamus?" Ron asked.
"No, that's fine," Dean said, shrugging. "Harry, do you mind side-along Apparating with me? I'm pretty sure I know where it is, but I could get in rather a bind if I end up in the wrong place."
"Happy to." Harry's warm smile and rub on Dean's arm revealed that he must have felt flattered to be asked.
"I'll follow you two and the throngs at that Apparation gate," Fred said, pointing to a nearby queue. Witches and wizards were quickly vanishing off to their myriad destinations with ceaseless crack!ing sounds that reminded Seamus of fireworks.
"We won't be doing any sightseeing or anything," Seamus reassured him as their group got ready to split up before reconvening. He moved the few steps to give Dean a hug and rose on the balls of his feet to brush a kiss against his cheek. "See you in just a little bit," he said more quietly into Dean's ear above the din of the crowd around them. "You don't mind?"
"No. Harry says he wants to talk to me about those photos he took, anyway. Just be careful."
"I always am, love."
He waited until Harry, Dean and Fred had Disapparated before turning back to his motorcycle and handing Ron the helmet Dean usually wore. Ron fastened the strap under his chin as Seamus situated himself on the seat, looking off to the horizon where the sun was setting in a swath of bloody sky. He patted the seat behind him as Ron shook his head slightly.
"Don't like the helmet," he admitted. "It's heavier than I expected."
"Too bad. It's a requirement. Get on and hold tight," Seamus said with a supportive smile. A few moments later, Ron was ensconced behind him and Seamus turned the key, the engine roaring to life. "You ready?" he shouted over his shoulder, feeling Ron's nod as his helmet bumped the back of Seamus' with a dull thump. "When we get to any bends in the road, lean with me, not against, all right?"
"I'll try!" Ron yelled, interlacing his fingers over Seamus' abdomen.
Seamus kicked up the kickstand with the heel of his boot, walked his feet forward until they picked up speed and cruised away from the stadium. They eased into the Muggle world on a motorway a couple of miles distant. When they were nearly at the pub, Seamus stopped at a traffic light, feeling the idling motor like a deep thrumming in his marrow.
"What d'you think?" he asked loudly, leaning back and tilting his head to get the words back to Ron.
"It's great! I bet Dean loves it, all the wind and being out in the open."
"Yeah. He was always a much better flyer than I was, and I reckon he likes riding with me much more on Seth than trying to fly behind me on me broom."
At that moment the light changed, Seamus engaged the throttle and took off from the intersection. Soon they were at the Belligerent Badger. Ron enthusiastically began chatting Fred's ear off about his ride while Seamus joined the group at a booth where Harry and Dean were engrossed in conversation. After a time Fred raised his eyebrows, nodding his head toward the snooker table where a couple were already playing.
"We should stake our claim on the table," he said, taking a swig from his pint.
"Too right," Seamus agreed. "Ron? You want to come watch me destroy yer brother's pride?"
"In a bit," Ron said, taking a healthy swallow of his Bitter Banshee. "Gotta drown my sorrows for another Cannons loss first, then I'll be over."
Seamus raised his glass in salute before ambling over to the snooker table, Fred at his side. "Thanks for your note," he said, discreetly taking hold of Fred's hand and running his thumb along the palm. "Didn't need to thank us. We had a great time."
"I did, too." Fred's smile was a slow burn, earthy and smouldering like the peat fires lit in the hearth from Seamus' childhood. "Any chance we can do some of that again?"
"I hope so." Seamus squeezed Fred's hand before letting it loose with a rueful look. "I'm all for it 'o course, but Dean's not said anything. We don't exactly sit around and chin-wag like birds over tea, but I reckon we ought to have a talk. Because I'm not going to do anything to hurt him. But bloody hell, seeing both of you, wanting both of you "
Seamus' words vanished into his remembrance of pale and dark limbs; of Dean's gingerscent and Fred's juniper; of glistening skin pulled tight, bobbing up from russet and black wiry whorls.
"Yeah. I've been thinking about it a lot myself." Fred took another pull on his drink, standing close but not noticeably so. "Why don't you two come back to the flat tonight? I've got to open the shop in the morning, so it wouldn't be that late of a night "
Seamus pondered the logistics, Dean's lack of commentary about the first time they'd all been together, and Ron's funny look.
"I'd really like to," he said earnestly, "but I should talk to Dean first. He was already more keen on you after you took him flying, but he can get a bit possessive. I love him, truly I do. Just can't help it that you've stayed under my skin as well," he went on, catching a knowing smirk that had settled on Fred's lips. "What about you, anyway? You're keen enough; do you want to be in this all together or are you just in this for now as long as it lasts? Oh- ta."
The couple had finished their game, handing their cue sticks to Fred and him. He let Fred set up the balls while he went and bought a second round, bringing Fred a Guinness and a firewhiskey for himself, putting them on a nearby table. Fred pensively rubbed chalk on the end of his cue stick, his expression a perplexing mixture of self-assurance and uncertainty. He leaned over the table, aiming carefully. Seamus watched the expected trajectory of the balls, cracking and ricocheting against the bumpers and each other in an intricate dance.
"I lost half of myself," Fred said simply, moving around the table to aim at another cluster after his first successful shot. "You helped me keep from totally falling apart, or becoming a suicidal fuckup. I don't really know why I felt I had to give that up - you up - I just did."
His gaze honed in on the white ball, and from over his shoulder, Seamus could perceive his intended shot as clearly as though it was his to make. He'd never been good at chess, but the strategy for snooker came easily, though he'd certainly perfected it with hours and hours of practise.
"I feel like I've been given a second chance with you. I'll take it for as long as it's offered, but I'm not going to be held responsible for some huge drama between you and Dean."
There was another series of clacking sounds as his shot hit its target.
"You mean a lot to me," Fred continued, "but I left you before and I don't expect anything from you, not right now. Shagging you both was unexpected, but I could easily get used to it. Am I going to profess undying love to either of you and suggest matching handfasting bands? Not likely."
Seamus was about to interrupt, but Fred's look bade him to hold his tongue so he could finish. Fred leaned on his cue stick, some rogue grey hairs catching the overhead lamplight.
"Life can be pretty fucking tragic, but I've not given up on it. Things don't have to be all neat and orderly for me; I care for you, I loved fucking you, and I admit it- if I thought you'd say yes, I'd ask you to stay in my bed every night. Dean's a part of you, though, and I think he's a good bloke. I don't know him that well, but that wouldn't stop me from shagging him. I'd like to be in your lives, but you've both got to do the inviting."
He repositioned himself over the table and steadied his hand for his third shot while Seamus took a couple of deep swallows of his firewhiskey. His mind was filled with turbulent images flung around like wind-tossed leaves. He barely noticed how off Fred's shot was, he was so caught up in the ground Fred had covered in his unexpected and plain spoken monologue.
"That was dungtastic," Fred muttered derisively, his expression shuttered in a way it hadn't been before. Seamus turned about to see Ron walking up to the table.
"Must've been the light, but you were looking bloody philosophical there, Fred!" Ron declared, shaking his head in disbelief. "What on earth are you two talking about?"
"Nothing that concerns you," Fred said, not quite rudely. "Seamus, your go."
Seamus tried to concentrate, but between the firewhiskey and the buzzing around of Fred's blunt honesty, his game wasn't what it should've been. They played another couple of rounds before he begged off, handing Fred his ten galleons and forcing them into his denims pocket when he refused to take them. He left Ron and Fred to their own game and settled back at Dean's side. A current of tenderness coursed through him, manifesting itself in small touches and subtle caresses. Dean seemed thirsty enough for them, wordlessly absorbing the affection and occasionally sliding his hand down to rest on Seamus' thigh or keeping their upper arms touching.
Dean stifled a yawn. Seamus had just started on his fourth - or was it fifth? - firewhiskey, but decided the evening had probably gone on long enough. Perhaps in direct correlation to the languorous trickle of mostly-innocent touches, he wanted to go home, get rid of their clothes and have Dean make love to him, slow and steady. Nothing flash, just his legs wide over Dean's shoulders, Dean leaning over him so Seamus was nearly bent in half, Dean's cock filling him up, hot breath and tongue flooding his mouth like sultry summer rain.
"Want to go home?" Seamus asked, draping his arm behind Dean's back.
"Yeah. Is my drink nearly finished?" he asked, swirling around a couple of inches of ale.
"Very nearly." Seamus finished his, the fiery liquid a mellow heat dulled by the prior glasses.
Fred and Ron scooted away from the edge of the table where they'd rejoined the group, so Dean and Seamus could get out without much of a struggle. Harry placed the handle of Dean's guide stick in his hand, saying he and Ron would be leaving soon themselves, as the rest of the group bid their good-byes. Seamus' ears rang with blessed quiet once they were outside; he liked the Badger, though its loud music and conversation always made his head throb. The pub where he worked tended to be much easier on the ears though it was just as busy. He waited until Dean was securely planted behind him, arms wrapped tightly about his waist before edging Seth out from the kerb and toward home.
After parking the motorbike, they walked around the footpath. Dean's distinctive tapping echoed in the otherwise quiet evening as they passed under the intrusive halo of a street light. A muted, pitiful sound came from near the front door of the flat block as they approached.
"Kipper! Kipper?" Dean called, his voice heavy with concern.
"Who's Kipper?" Seamus asked. "That flea-ridden cat that's always lurking about?"
"Yes! Find him, Seamus! He sounds awful. Fuck, I wish I could get him myself. Usually he comes straight to me " his voice trailed off as another pathetic, low mewl drifted from under the stairs.
"Why Kipper?" Seamus reached his hands gingerly into the murky dark, hoping to Merlin that he got out of this experience without his forearms full of scratches.
"Because he kips out here. He's homeless."
There was a subdued growl as Seamus touched fur.
"Here- guide me to him. He's used to me," Dean insisted, feeling along the handrail and crouching next to Seamus. "C'mere Kipper. Come on, you silly bugger. I'll take care of you. Shay and I'll take you to the vet."
"To the what?"
"The vet! Oh, there y'go, oh Kip. C'mere, it's all right."
The grotty cat, with matted fur and a malevolent look in its eerie grey eyes, or so Seamus thought, came limping out from the stairs to hobble under Dean's outstretched fingers and then into his arms. Dean continued to pet and soothe the creature, who was obviously still in distress. He murmured reassuring, quiet words nonstop until he focussed his attentions on Seamus.
"We've got to Apparate to the vet."
"I don't bloody well know where that is!" Seamus exclaimed before he noticed a couple wandering down the other side of the street and he lowered his voice. "I've never had a pet. You know that."
"The only one I know of's Muggle. They'll ask too many questions." Dean was positively fretting, worry etching deep lines on his forehead.
"Let's get him up to our flat, and I'll firecall Ron'n'Harry," Seamus suggested, taking Dean's elbow and tugging him towards the stairs. "If they've gone home, that is."
"Okay. Just get the doors, right?"
They made their way upstairs, Dean trying to keep the cat's mewing to a minimum, but any jostling made him cry out. Inside the flat, Seamus cast a couple of hasty Lumos' and stood next to Dean to get a look at Kipper under the light.
"I think he got in a fight," Dean said, smoothing his fingers at a joint until the cat made a sound that was half-growl, half-yelp and snapped its sharp teeth at him. "Think that's blood, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Looks like he got into a bit of a donnybrook. That or he got hit by a car. Bloody Muggles'll run you over as sure as look at ye."
"Can you get him some milk? No, firecall first so we know where to go, then we can get him something to drink."
"I think moving him around isn't a good idea," Seamus said over his shoulder, striding to the fireplace and casting an Incendio so flames leapt up. He stuck his head into the heat, hoping that Ron and Harry had their connection open.
"Ron? Harry?" he called, leaning forward. "You there? We've got a bit of an emergency. 'S not us, don't worry."
There was silence, then distant footfalls before Harry's bony ankles with their distinctive showering of silky black hair stood in Seamus' line of vision. Seconds later Harry was crouched at his grate, looking worried.
"What's going on?" he asked, rubbing a ratty shirt sleeve on his glasses.
"The cat that hangs around the flat block that Dean keeps feeding got into a fight or something. Neither of us knows where a vet is, a proper one. Do you?"
"There's one at Trafalgar Square. Go to the old police box at the southeastern corner, tap on the window with green paint with your wand and a Disillusioned door will show up. They'll let you in."
"Are they open now?" Seamus knew St. Mungo's was always open, but he was quite clueless about animal emergencies.
"Yeah, there's a vet there all the time as I understand it. You or Dean owl me tomorrow about the cat, okay?"
"Will do. Thanks, Harry."
"Don't mention it. G'night."
Seamus sat back on his heels and put out the fire. "We've got to go to some police box at Trafalgar Square. I don't want to have to hide Seth or find a place to park, not at this time of night."
"It's not even midnight!" Dean said incredulously.
"Yeah, but Apparating's faster, anyway. Isn't there an Apparition gateway on that side of London?"
"Yes. It's at Pall Mall, near a statue of some George or another. I can still see that one pretty well in my mind's eye." He continued to pet the cat tenderly on the head; it still made pained mewing sounds and had shut its eyes.
"I'll get a towel or something for it," Seamus said. "I'd rather side-along, if it's okay with you."
"All right, but hurry up and let's go."
After rooting through a small stack of towels, Seamus found a fairly old and threadbare one and he hurried back into the kitchen to drape it on Kipper.
"I've put up a silencing spell, so let's just go from here," Dean said, seeming more anxious now that they knew where to go.
"Thanks." Seamus raised up to place a kiss on Dean's cheek. "You ready?"
Dean nodded as Seamus held him as close as he dared without smashing the cat against Dean's chest. Closing his eyes, he visualised the hedge near the corner, narrowed his intentions to include just their bodies and destination, and felt the familiar compressing strength of Apparition.
Getting into the vet's proved easy enough, and soon they were sitting in two chairs side by side, waiting as the cat was administered two specific healing draughts and a modified potion of skele-grow for her broken left hind leg and hip.
"We'll keep her at our place," Dean stated, drumming his fingers against his shin, draped cross-legged across his knee.
"It's an outdoor cat, Dean!" Seamus protested, not at all excited about the prospect of a litter box to be cleaned, stinky cat food to be served twice a day, and the fact that her running underfoot could cause Dean to fall and hurt himself.
"I've no doubt she'll get used to being indoors. She can go out on the porch while we're at home, if she wants." He kept emphasising her newly-discovered gender, the repetition grating on Seamus for reasons he couldn't really explain. Perhaps the 60 galleon fee had something to do with it.
"I'll be the one to clean the bloody litter box," Seamus grumbled, feeling cross and uncertain why he was so out of joint about things. He'd had a great time at the pub, though Fred had spread out rather a lot to think about and he'd not done so. All he'd really wanted was to get home and have familiar but never boring sex with Dean.
"I can do it. I'll be fine with a scraper and bag, and we can put it in the laundry room. C'mon Shay- she's quite sweet, y'know. She'll love you if you just give her a chance."
Dean's comments were so heartfelt Seamus felt his resistance chip away. The idea of a half-wild feline with very sharp claws wandering around their flat didn't exactly fill him with domestic rapture. However, the thought of Dean lounging on the couch, listening to one of his books, Kipper curled up at his feet or on his chest made a cosy feeling slide peacefully over him like putting on well-worn boots.
"You're probably right."
Dean smiled. After feeling at Seamus' crossed arms, he tugged at the left so that Seamus let them loose, and slid his hand into Seamus'.
"Think I could talk you into a quick shag once we're home?" Seamus asked, giving Dean's hand a small squeeze.
"I'll treat you to more than that," Dean promised. Seamus stretched out his legs, contentment beating a vibrant tattoo in his chest.
..:~TBC~:..
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter R; language only
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."
Previous Posts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Four days later they went to another Green Knights match, this time with Fred, Ron and Harry as well. Seamus had traded a Sunday shift so he could go out with them since this match was on a Thursday. They were playing the Cannons which, of course, put Ron in a conflicted position, but he stayed grousing at Harry's side, and cheering for his long-suffering team despite their location in the stands. They'd chosen to sit in their usual pairings, with Fred on the end. Dean seemed to have become closer to Harry since the two of them had begun spending time together more often; it lightened Seamus' general outlook to know that Dean wasn't spending nearly as much time just hanging around their flat.
He and Dean hadn't really talked about their unexpected shag with Fred, and Seamus wasn't sure quite what to think about that. For his part, Seamus kept hearing Fred's words, both of not thinking things were impossible, if unlikely, but also his comment about the fact that he and Dean were prone to jealousy. Fred had owled a Howler of thanks for them coming over and having enjoyed their company. Dean had said that was a polite, but unnecessary gesture.
"He's a mate. Since when did all our friends get so hung up on social niceties?" he'd said, once Fred's voice had stopped.
"Dunno," Seamus had replied. "I don't think it's annoying, though."
"Guess not." Dean had seemed overly thoughtful and kind of touchy, so Seamus had given him some space as they'd continued on through their usual routines.
Here at the match, Seamus was flanked with Fred to his left and Dean to the right, and he'd been equally affectionate through the game. Granted, he'd focussed mostly on the playing. The Cannons put on an impressive show, but the Green Knights continued their winning streak and ended up thrashing Ron's team by the end.
"I need a drink," Ron moaned after the roaring cheers for the Glaswegian team had died down and they'd put on their coats to leave the relatively new stadium.
"Poor baby," Harry said consolingly, patting him on the back. "I'll take care of your first round."
"The Badger's a pretty decent pub," Fred suggested, putting his hands in the pockets of his distinctive dragon skin coat. "Ten galleons says I'll wipe their snooker table with your fine Irish arse," he went on to Seamus, challenge glinting in his eyes.
"Ye're on, Weasley," Seamus shot back, smirking. "With pleasure. I'll enjoy giving those Galleons a new home."
"Did you two use the Apparition point or fly?" Harry asked Dean, whom he guided in front of him. Dean's stick made its usual clacking sound as he made his way to the stairs, Seamus still exchanging mock barbs with Fred.
"Neither. We're on Seth."
"Can I come see your bike?" Ron asked, pulling down his collar and glancing back at Seamus.
A look of surprise flitted across his features and his eyebrows rose in question. Seamus had draped his arm behind Fred's waist, fingers holding on to a belt loop. He'd not thought a thing about the gesture until Ron's expression caught him off-guard.
"'Course!" Seamus replied, letting loose of Fred's denims and rubbing his hands together. "He's a fun ride. I should take you on him sometime."
He walked as quickly as he could through the crowd to get to Dean's side even though Harry was steering him with the same respectful distance that Seamus did. His stomach churned slightly, as though he'd eaten some leftovers that had proven to be a bit off. He wasn't ashamed of his time at Fred's flat- bugger Ron for giving him a weird look at playing around with Fred anyway, he decided, a sliver of animosity burning irritatingly into him.
It was once they'd arrived as a group to the special parking area Seamus had secured given Dean's condition that he was bowled over by his own forgetfulness: Only Dean and Fred knew that he and Fred been together, more than friends, at all. As he showed off the motorbike, gushing about it without really thinking about what he was saying, the seriousness of his fanciful ideas of giving his heart to both men at once made his gut clench. He was rebellious enough to tell the world and anyone who didn't approve to fuck off, but he'd really never considered that his own friends might not understand. Ron probably thought Seamus was being a prick by flirting with Fred. He didn't have a clue that for a time in the past they'd had passionate, caring sex every night and consoled each other in ways that had profoundly affected Seamus at the time- and on some level, had never gone away.
"Hey Dean, would you mind if I took a spin with Seamus?" Ron asked.
"No, that's fine," Dean said, shrugging. "Harry, do you mind side-along Apparating with me? I'm pretty sure I know where it is, but I could get in rather a bind if I end up in the wrong place."
"Happy to." Harry's warm smile and rub on Dean's arm revealed that he must have felt flattered to be asked.
"I'll follow you two and the throngs at that Apparation gate," Fred said, pointing to a nearby queue. Witches and wizards were quickly vanishing off to their myriad destinations with ceaseless crack!ing sounds that reminded Seamus of fireworks.
"We won't be doing any sightseeing or anything," Seamus reassured him as their group got ready to split up before reconvening. He moved the few steps to give Dean a hug and rose on the balls of his feet to brush a kiss against his cheek. "See you in just a little bit," he said more quietly into Dean's ear above the din of the crowd around them. "You don't mind?"
"No. Harry says he wants to talk to me about those photos he took, anyway. Just be careful."
"I always am, love."
He waited until Harry, Dean and Fred had Disapparated before turning back to his motorcycle and handing Ron the helmet Dean usually wore. Ron fastened the strap under his chin as Seamus situated himself on the seat, looking off to the horizon where the sun was setting in a swath of bloody sky. He patted the seat behind him as Ron shook his head slightly.
"Don't like the helmet," he admitted. "It's heavier than I expected."
"Too bad. It's a requirement. Get on and hold tight," Seamus said with a supportive smile. A few moments later, Ron was ensconced behind him and Seamus turned the key, the engine roaring to life. "You ready?" he shouted over his shoulder, feeling Ron's nod as his helmet bumped the back of Seamus' with a dull thump. "When we get to any bends in the road, lean with me, not against, all right?"
"I'll try!" Ron yelled, interlacing his fingers over Seamus' abdomen.
Seamus kicked up the kickstand with the heel of his boot, walked his feet forward until they picked up speed and cruised away from the stadium. They eased into the Muggle world on a motorway a couple of miles distant. When they were nearly at the pub, Seamus stopped at a traffic light, feeling the idling motor like a deep thrumming in his marrow.
"What d'you think?" he asked loudly, leaning back and tilting his head to get the words back to Ron.
"It's great! I bet Dean loves it, all the wind and being out in the open."
"Yeah. He was always a much better flyer than I was, and I reckon he likes riding with me much more on Seth than trying to fly behind me on me broom."
At that moment the light changed, Seamus engaged the throttle and took off from the intersection. Soon they were at the Belligerent Badger. Ron enthusiastically began chatting Fred's ear off about his ride while Seamus joined the group at a booth where Harry and Dean were engrossed in conversation. After a time Fred raised his eyebrows, nodding his head toward the snooker table where a couple were already playing.
"We should stake our claim on the table," he said, taking a swig from his pint.
"Too right," Seamus agreed. "Ron? You want to come watch me destroy yer brother's pride?"
"In a bit," Ron said, taking a healthy swallow of his Bitter Banshee. "Gotta drown my sorrows for another Cannons loss first, then I'll be over."
Seamus raised his glass in salute before ambling over to the snooker table, Fred at his side. "Thanks for your note," he said, discreetly taking hold of Fred's hand and running his thumb along the palm. "Didn't need to thank us. We had a great time."
"I did, too." Fred's smile was a slow burn, earthy and smouldering like the peat fires lit in the hearth from Seamus' childhood. "Any chance we can do some of that again?"
"I hope so." Seamus squeezed Fred's hand before letting it loose with a rueful look. "I'm all for it 'o course, but Dean's not said anything. We don't exactly sit around and chin-wag like birds over tea, but I reckon we ought to have a talk. Because I'm not going to do anything to hurt him. But bloody hell, seeing both of you, wanting both of you "
Seamus' words vanished into his remembrance of pale and dark limbs; of Dean's gingerscent and Fred's juniper; of glistening skin pulled tight, bobbing up from russet and black wiry whorls.
"Yeah. I've been thinking about it a lot myself." Fred took another pull on his drink, standing close but not noticeably so. "Why don't you two come back to the flat tonight? I've got to open the shop in the morning, so it wouldn't be that late of a night "
Seamus pondered the logistics, Dean's lack of commentary about the first time they'd all been together, and Ron's funny look.
"I'd really like to," he said earnestly, "but I should talk to Dean first. He was already more keen on you after you took him flying, but he can get a bit possessive. I love him, truly I do. Just can't help it that you've stayed under my skin as well," he went on, catching a knowing smirk that had settled on Fred's lips. "What about you, anyway? You're keen enough; do you want to be in this all together or are you just in this for now as long as it lasts? Oh- ta."
The couple had finished their game, handing their cue sticks to Fred and him. He let Fred set up the balls while he went and bought a second round, bringing Fred a Guinness and a firewhiskey for himself, putting them on a nearby table. Fred pensively rubbed chalk on the end of his cue stick, his expression a perplexing mixture of self-assurance and uncertainty. He leaned over the table, aiming carefully. Seamus watched the expected trajectory of the balls, cracking and ricocheting against the bumpers and each other in an intricate dance.
"I lost half of myself," Fred said simply, moving around the table to aim at another cluster after his first successful shot. "You helped me keep from totally falling apart, or becoming a suicidal fuckup. I don't really know why I felt I had to give that up - you up - I just did."
His gaze honed in on the white ball, and from over his shoulder, Seamus could perceive his intended shot as clearly as though it was his to make. He'd never been good at chess, but the strategy for snooker came easily, though he'd certainly perfected it with hours and hours of practise.
"I feel like I've been given a second chance with you. I'll take it for as long as it's offered, but I'm not going to be held responsible for some huge drama between you and Dean."
There was another series of clacking sounds as his shot hit its target.
"You mean a lot to me," Fred continued, "but I left you before and I don't expect anything from you, not right now. Shagging you both was unexpected, but I could easily get used to it. Am I going to profess undying love to either of you and suggest matching handfasting bands? Not likely."
Seamus was about to interrupt, but Fred's look bade him to hold his tongue so he could finish. Fred leaned on his cue stick, some rogue grey hairs catching the overhead lamplight.
"Life can be pretty fucking tragic, but I've not given up on it. Things don't have to be all neat and orderly for me; I care for you, I loved fucking you, and I admit it- if I thought you'd say yes, I'd ask you to stay in my bed every night. Dean's a part of you, though, and I think he's a good bloke. I don't know him that well, but that wouldn't stop me from shagging him. I'd like to be in your lives, but you've both got to do the inviting."
He repositioned himself over the table and steadied his hand for his third shot while Seamus took a couple of deep swallows of his firewhiskey. His mind was filled with turbulent images flung around like wind-tossed leaves. He barely noticed how off Fred's shot was, he was so caught up in the ground Fred had covered in his unexpected and plain spoken monologue.
"That was dungtastic," Fred muttered derisively, his expression shuttered in a way it hadn't been before. Seamus turned about to see Ron walking up to the table.
"Must've been the light, but you were looking bloody philosophical there, Fred!" Ron declared, shaking his head in disbelief. "What on earth are you two talking about?"
"Nothing that concerns you," Fred said, not quite rudely. "Seamus, your go."
Seamus tried to concentrate, but between the firewhiskey and the buzzing around of Fred's blunt honesty, his game wasn't what it should've been. They played another couple of rounds before he begged off, handing Fred his ten galleons and forcing them into his denims pocket when he refused to take them. He left Ron and Fred to their own game and settled back at Dean's side. A current of tenderness coursed through him, manifesting itself in small touches and subtle caresses. Dean seemed thirsty enough for them, wordlessly absorbing the affection and occasionally sliding his hand down to rest on Seamus' thigh or keeping their upper arms touching.
Dean stifled a yawn. Seamus had just started on his fourth - or was it fifth? - firewhiskey, but decided the evening had probably gone on long enough. Perhaps in direct correlation to the languorous trickle of mostly-innocent touches, he wanted to go home, get rid of their clothes and have Dean make love to him, slow and steady. Nothing flash, just his legs wide over Dean's shoulders, Dean leaning over him so Seamus was nearly bent in half, Dean's cock filling him up, hot breath and tongue flooding his mouth like sultry summer rain.
"Want to go home?" Seamus asked, draping his arm behind Dean's back.
"Yeah. Is my drink nearly finished?" he asked, swirling around a couple of inches of ale.
"Very nearly." Seamus finished his, the fiery liquid a mellow heat dulled by the prior glasses.
Fred and Ron scooted away from the edge of the table where they'd rejoined the group, so Dean and Seamus could get out without much of a struggle. Harry placed the handle of Dean's guide stick in his hand, saying he and Ron would be leaving soon themselves, as the rest of the group bid their good-byes. Seamus' ears rang with blessed quiet once they were outside; he liked the Badger, though its loud music and conversation always made his head throb. The pub where he worked tended to be much easier on the ears though it was just as busy. He waited until Dean was securely planted behind him, arms wrapped tightly about his waist before edging Seth out from the kerb and toward home.
After parking the motorbike, they walked around the footpath. Dean's distinctive tapping echoed in the otherwise quiet evening as they passed under the intrusive halo of a street light. A muted, pitiful sound came from near the front door of the flat block as they approached.
"Kipper! Kipper?" Dean called, his voice heavy with concern.
"Who's Kipper?" Seamus asked. "That flea-ridden cat that's always lurking about?"
"Yes! Find him, Seamus! He sounds awful. Fuck, I wish I could get him myself. Usually he comes straight to me " his voice trailed off as another pathetic, low mewl drifted from under the stairs.
"Why Kipper?" Seamus reached his hands gingerly into the murky dark, hoping to Merlin that he got out of this experience without his forearms full of scratches.
"Because he kips out here. He's homeless."
There was a subdued growl as Seamus touched fur.
"Here- guide me to him. He's used to me," Dean insisted, feeling along the handrail and crouching next to Seamus. "C'mere Kipper. Come on, you silly bugger. I'll take care of you. Shay and I'll take you to the vet."
"To the what?"
"The vet! Oh, there y'go, oh Kip. C'mere, it's all right."
The grotty cat, with matted fur and a malevolent look in its eerie grey eyes, or so Seamus thought, came limping out from the stairs to hobble under Dean's outstretched fingers and then into his arms. Dean continued to pet and soothe the creature, who was obviously still in distress. He murmured reassuring, quiet words nonstop until he focussed his attentions on Seamus.
"We've got to Apparate to the vet."
"I don't bloody well know where that is!" Seamus exclaimed before he noticed a couple wandering down the other side of the street and he lowered his voice. "I've never had a pet. You know that."
"The only one I know of's Muggle. They'll ask too many questions." Dean was positively fretting, worry etching deep lines on his forehead.
"Let's get him up to our flat, and I'll firecall Ron'n'Harry," Seamus suggested, taking Dean's elbow and tugging him towards the stairs. "If they've gone home, that is."
"Okay. Just get the doors, right?"
They made their way upstairs, Dean trying to keep the cat's mewing to a minimum, but any jostling made him cry out. Inside the flat, Seamus cast a couple of hasty Lumos' and stood next to Dean to get a look at Kipper under the light.
"I think he got in a fight," Dean said, smoothing his fingers at a joint until the cat made a sound that was half-growl, half-yelp and snapped its sharp teeth at him. "Think that's blood, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Looks like he got into a bit of a donnybrook. That or he got hit by a car. Bloody Muggles'll run you over as sure as look at ye."
"Can you get him some milk? No, firecall first so we know where to go, then we can get him something to drink."
"I think moving him around isn't a good idea," Seamus said over his shoulder, striding to the fireplace and casting an Incendio so flames leapt up. He stuck his head into the heat, hoping that Ron and Harry had their connection open.
"Ron? Harry?" he called, leaning forward. "You there? We've got a bit of an emergency. 'S not us, don't worry."
There was silence, then distant footfalls before Harry's bony ankles with their distinctive showering of silky black hair stood in Seamus' line of vision. Seconds later Harry was crouched at his grate, looking worried.
"What's going on?" he asked, rubbing a ratty shirt sleeve on his glasses.
"The cat that hangs around the flat block that Dean keeps feeding got into a fight or something. Neither of us knows where a vet is, a proper one. Do you?"
"There's one at Trafalgar Square. Go to the old police box at the southeastern corner, tap on the window with green paint with your wand and a Disillusioned door will show up. They'll let you in."
"Are they open now?" Seamus knew St. Mungo's was always open, but he was quite clueless about animal emergencies.
"Yeah, there's a vet there all the time as I understand it. You or Dean owl me tomorrow about the cat, okay?"
"Will do. Thanks, Harry."
"Don't mention it. G'night."
Seamus sat back on his heels and put out the fire. "We've got to go to some police box at Trafalgar Square. I don't want to have to hide Seth or find a place to park, not at this time of night."
"It's not even midnight!" Dean said incredulously.
"Yeah, but Apparating's faster, anyway. Isn't there an Apparition gateway on that side of London?"
"Yes. It's at Pall Mall, near a statue of some George or another. I can still see that one pretty well in my mind's eye." He continued to pet the cat tenderly on the head; it still made pained mewing sounds and had shut its eyes.
"I'll get a towel or something for it," Seamus said. "I'd rather side-along, if it's okay with you."
"All right, but hurry up and let's go."
After rooting through a small stack of towels, Seamus found a fairly old and threadbare one and he hurried back into the kitchen to drape it on Kipper.
"I've put up a silencing spell, so let's just go from here," Dean said, seeming more anxious now that they knew where to go.
"Thanks." Seamus raised up to place a kiss on Dean's cheek. "You ready?"
Dean nodded as Seamus held him as close as he dared without smashing the cat against Dean's chest. Closing his eyes, he visualised the hedge near the corner, narrowed his intentions to include just their bodies and destination, and felt the familiar compressing strength of Apparition.
Getting into the vet's proved easy enough, and soon they were sitting in two chairs side by side, waiting as the cat was administered two specific healing draughts and a modified potion of skele-grow for her broken left hind leg and hip.
"We'll keep her at our place," Dean stated, drumming his fingers against his shin, draped cross-legged across his knee.
"It's an outdoor cat, Dean!" Seamus protested, not at all excited about the prospect of a litter box to be cleaned, stinky cat food to be served twice a day, and the fact that her running underfoot could cause Dean to fall and hurt himself.
"I've no doubt she'll get used to being indoors. She can go out on the porch while we're at home, if she wants." He kept emphasising her newly-discovered gender, the repetition grating on Seamus for reasons he couldn't really explain. Perhaps the 60 galleon fee had something to do with it.
"I'll be the one to clean the bloody litter box," Seamus grumbled, feeling cross and uncertain why he was so out of joint about things. He'd had a great time at the pub, though Fred had spread out rather a lot to think about and he'd not done so. All he'd really wanted was to get home and have familiar but never boring sex with Dean.
"I can do it. I'll be fine with a scraper and bag, and we can put it in the laundry room. C'mon Shay- she's quite sweet, y'know. She'll love you if you just give her a chance."
Dean's comments were so heartfelt Seamus felt his resistance chip away. The idea of a half-wild feline with very sharp claws wandering around their flat didn't exactly fill him with domestic rapture. However, the thought of Dean lounging on the couch, listening to one of his books, Kipper curled up at his feet or on his chest made a cosy feeling slide peacefully over him like putting on well-worn boots.
"You're probably right."
Dean smiled. After feeling at Seamus' crossed arms, he tugged at the left so that Seamus let them loose, and slid his hand into Seamus'.
"Think I could talk you into a quick shag once we're home?" Seamus asked, giving Dean's hand a small squeeze.
"I'll treat you to more than that," Dean promised. Seamus stretched out his legs, contentment beating a vibrant tattoo in his chest.
..:~TBC~:..