Title: Into the Mouth of Charybdis
Author:
wook77Recipient:
loony4lupinRating: R
Warnings:
Wordcount: ~4150
Disclaimer: Not mine. Written for fun not profit. All recognisable aspects belong to JKR and related entities.
Summary: Seamus feels like he's trapped between Scylla and Charybdis, between the devil and the deep blue sea. It's all Dean's fault and Seamus has just the list to prove it. (Dean/Seamus)
Author's Notes: Originally written for
loony4lupin at
hpvalensmut. Many thanks to my betas,
yodels and
janicechess. All remaining mistakes are my own. Tea-leaf reading information from
this website.
Seamus feels like a bit of a girl, like maybe he turned into Lavender or Parvati while he wasn't looking. It's not something he experiences all the time; in fact, it only happens around Dean. There has to be a reason for it, some sort of explanation for why he feels like he's been sucked into a vortex of emotions and sensations, why it feels like there's a whirlpool around him and he's stuck somewhere in the middle. It can't be from spell damage. The Carrows might've beaten the shit out of him but they didn't do anything that would make fairies dance in his gut every time he sees Dean.
The entire situation puzzles Seamus. Since lists have always helped him figure things out, he writes one, keeping it with him and updating it as things change.
It's the way Dean says my name.
It's a small thing that never fails to make his gut flutter and his heart sigh. It's run-of-the-mill, occurs a hundred times a day, but he can't quite help his reaction when Dean breathes out Seamus's name, drawing out the sound of the 'a'. There's no one else that says it that same way.
Names have meaning. His mam always whispered about the fairies and how they'll steal the soul of anyone whose name they know. It's why Seamus has always been careful not to let slip the way he prefers his name said to anyone.
But the way Dean says his name, he's afraid that the fairies will be able to steal his soul anyway, because the sound owns him, heart and soul. That's why, while Dean is visiting him over the summer after the Battle of Hogwarts, Seamus presses his fingers against Dean's lips and shushes him every time he starts to say "Seamus". You can never tell where and when the fairies might be listening; he'd much rather remain mortal and here with Dean.
Dean looks confused by the press of fingers on his lips but Seamus knows that the explanation will only make him seem barmy. Considering that they're in this weird, awkward stage where neither really knows what to say or how to react to one another, well, Seamus would much rather seem sane. Seamus has decided to blame this awkwardness on the war and Voldemort. After all, if they hadn't spent the past year either communicating in code or not communicating at all, things wouldn't be weird. There wouldn't be awkward pauses in their conversations. There wouldn't be this thing between them.
If not for the missing year, Seamus wouldn't get hard over the way that Dean says his name because he would have heard it every day and so it would just be familiar. He wouldn't ever have noticed the way that Dean's lips purse on the 'm' and he certainly wouldn't wank to thoughts of Dean saying his name over and over again.
When Dean asks him why he's being shushed - the breath and movement of his lips making Seamus's fingers vibrate and tingle - Seamus shakes his head. "Have to be careful, is all."
"Careful of what?"
"Guess I'm just used to being careful now, used to talking in code with you," Seamus admits quietly. Dean reaches up and pulls Seamus's hand away, giving it a squeeze before dropping both their hands to rest on his thigh.
"You think we'll ever go back to normal?" Dean asks. Seamus doesn't know how to answer. What's normal, anyway? The way they were before? Seamus isn't at all sure that he wants to go back to that. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, it's more important that he realise that there's this thing between them. This thing isn't just friendship because Seamus sure as shit never got hard when they talked before. It's not the same as what Seamus had with Lavender or Parvati, either. Whatever it is, it makes him feel like he did when he kissed Neville, only a thousand times stronger. Saying that Dean and Neville make him feel the same is sort of like saying that the moon and the sun shine the same amount of light.
"I think we're going to have to figure out what's normal now," Seamus finally answers.
"Yeah. Maybe this'll be normal from here on out, Seamus," Dean says and Seamus gives their entwined hands a squeeze while that familiar thrill races up and down his spine and butterflies dance in his stomach. Fuck the fairies and their quest for his soul. He'll just tell them to piss off if they ever try it.
It's the way Dean touches me.
After the battle, the dynamics between them changed. There's more awkwardness, sure, but there's also a deeper intimacy and an almost overpowering need threaded through everything they do. Seamus isn't ashamed to admit that he clings to Dean any chance he can. Neville teases that it's like Seamus is Dean's shorter shadow and Seamus tosses him a rather rude gesture that his mam would box his ears for.
When they get back to Hogwarts to finish off their seventh year, it's even worse. Seamus nudges Dean with his shoulder, walks so their hips bump against each other while their arms brush. He tries for subtle but knows he fails. It's all he can do to keep it to a touch on the back of Dean's hand or a light brush against his arm or a friendly clap on the shoulder. All he really wants is to caress Dean's cheek, slide his hand into his hair, and cup the back of Dean's head before pulling him down until they touch lip to lip.
He can't help it: he has to reassure himself that Dean's all right, that they're both all right, that they're all right. That need for reassurance manifests in following Dean around but it also manifests in constantly touching Dean because Seamus can't quite believe that they're together again, that there won't be some fucking gobshite jumping out of the shadows and casting Crucio at him just for knowing a Muggleborn.
It's not like Dean doesn't touch him back. He does. There's the way that Dean rests an arm across his shoulders, squeezing his arm as they walk to the Great Hall. There's the way, when they're studying late at night, that Dean leans in so that their foreheads brush and their mouths are inches away from one another. Dean pets his hair as if Seamus were a dog; the slow strokes send frissons down Seamus's spine.
One day, though, the touching stops. Seamus feels bereft but figures that Dean is healing faster than him, and no longer needs to reassure himself that they're back together. Seamus is healing too, though apparently he's a lot slower. But they're both healing -- that's the important part. At least, Seamus had thought they were both healing but it's rather obvious that Dean doesn't think so when he corners Seamus in the dorm, shutting the door so they're locked in there together. He turns around looking upset.
"You have to stop it, Seamus," Dean says and Seamus boggles at him. He hasn't a clue what Dean's on about.
"What've I done now?" Seamus tries not to focus on Dean's lips or the way that his tie is just slightly askew. His hands itch to straighten it, to use it as a way to pull Dean down so they can kiss.
"You're always touching me and won't let me out of your sight. You have to stop it; you're acting like a bird mooning about. People notice, you know. They're all talking about it and it's not nice," Dean says.
"Who gives a fuck what anyone says? You asking me to back off because people are talking or because you want me to?" Seamus crosses his arms over his chest to keep from doing something he'll regret, although whether it's hitting Dean or holding on for dear life, he isn't at all certain.
"I'm asking you to back off because…" Dean's voice trails off. He throws his hands up in the air. "I'm just asking you, is all."
"Bullshit," Seamus says bluntly. He stalks across the room and pokes Dean in the chest. "You want me to stop, you tell me why."
When Seamus pokes Dean in the chest again, Dean grabs his hand and turns them both around so that Seamus's back hits the door with such force that he's sure he'll bruise. With barely enough time to absorb the blow, Seamus finds himself trapped between the door and Dean. It feels like he's trapped between Scylla and Charybdis on a rocking boat that's being sucked into danger. Dean's face is right there and his hands are fisted in Seamus's robes and… and it'd take a stronger man than Seamus to resist the temptation of Dean's snarling face. It's just too bad that Dean pulls back and is across the room before Seamus can move.
"Just stop," Dean whispers.
"I can't." Seamus can't resist. He walks over and grabs on to Dean's arm. "I really can't."
Dean looks down at Seamus and then rests his hand on top of his. "All right."
"You sure?" There's something in Dean's gaze that makes those fairies in Seamus's stomach dance a jig and his blood race down to his cock.
"Yeah. What do they know anyway? Bunch of gossiping hags."
"Too right." Seamus punches Dean in the shoulder and then Dean punches him back. Seamus feels like the boat's barely escaped danger and damn if he doesn't regret that narrow escape.
It's the way Dean kisses me.
Seamus becomes obsessed with Dean's lips. He watches the way his lips curl around the fork when he eats, sucking it in for a moment before it slowly emerges again. Seamus gets hard at every meal, every sodding meal. It's embarrassing. He stays behind longer and longer because it takes longer and longer to get his cock to listen to him and behave itself.
"Going to be late to class, mate," Dean says, standing. Seamus watches him rise from behind the table, as inch by inch his body is slowly revealed. He wants to touch every bit of that flesh but he resists. Instead, his palm flattens against his cock and presses. This isn't the time or the place but the pressure doesn't really seem to be doing much. He tries visualizing disgusting images but that doesn't help either.
"You go ahead, I'll be right there. Just want a bit more toast." Seamus reaches out with his other hand and grabs a slice.
"All right, yeah." Dean looks a bit disappointed as he heads towards the doors.
Seamus sits there another two breaths - definitely not thinking about Dean's arse - and then races to join him. It takes until he's halfway to Charms to catch up to Dean and when he does, he bumps into him, sending them both flying. They bounce off the wall and then land in a tangle of limbs in a small alcove. When they finally stop moving, Seamus finds himself lying on top of Dean with Dean's mouth right there in front of him.
He decides to go with the devil instead of the deep blue sea; his mouth darts forward, grabbing Dean's lip between his teeth. He sucks it into his mouth and then they're kissing. They're finally kissing and God above but it feels better than anything Seamus has ever thought or experienced.
The feel of Dean's tongue against his, the way that the warmth of Dean's mouth surrounds his tongue, the way that Dean tastes like toast and strawberry jam, it's all overwhelming. Dean's hands touch his head, his hair, his shoulder and then the kiss stops abruptly.
"Don't do that!"
"Do what?"
"Don't kiss me!" Dean shoves Seamus off of him and then stalks away. Seamus watches him go, rubbing at his upper lip where Dean's stubble rubbed it raw.
It's the way Dean pisses me off like no other.
Seamus can't believe that Dean's hiding from him. Hell, he didn't really think it was possible considering that not only do they have classes together but also they share a dorm room. It's still happening though, so Seamus starts setting alarms to alert him when Dean sneaks in. When they still haven't been tripped a week later but Dean's bed has been obviously rumpled every morning, Seamus becomes even more suspicious.
At his wit's end, Seamus finally decides to hide behind a wardrobe to see how Dean has been getting past his traps. He waits until Saturday when Neville is off visiting Harry and Ron. It's well after midnight when Dean cracks the door open. A few disarming spells take care of the traps. He looks around before skulking over to his bed, barely casting a glance at the bed where Seamus should be. That's his mistake: Seamus Stuns him and he falls flat on his back with a thud.
"Fucking wanker! Sneaking about like a thief just to avoid me!" Seamus crosses the room and sits on Dean's chest. "Wouldn't have fucking believed it if I hadn't seen it with me own eyes, you bloody prat."
Dean doesn't make a noise - of course, he can't - and Seamus pokes his forehead. "You bloody coward. Can't believe I've a coward for a best mate."
Seamus stands and then releases Dean from the spell, turning his back and walking towards his bed. Abruptly, he is pushed forward, though not from a spell. Instead, it's Dean's weight that pins him half on and half off the bed. He can't quite breathe; his face is pressed into the bedding. Dean shoves him further into the bed, a hand on the back of his head.
"You attacked me!"
"Too right I did!" Seamus tries to yell back but it comes out garbled, muffled by the sheets.
"You attacked me!" Dean yells again and, fingers spearing into Seamus's hair, tugs hard, wrenching his head up and away from the bedding. Seamus arches into that hold, trying to alleviate the cramp quickly developing in his neck. He's passive for a second as he gets his bearings and figures out where Dean is. Then he swings both his arms back, hitting Dean in the kidneys. It worked on the Carrows, it worked on Crabbe and Goyle and it works on Dean as he lets go with a flinch.
Seamus doesn't give him time to regroup, instead, he pushes back, forcing Dean off of him. He pins Dean to the ground, leaning over him with his hands tight around Dean's wrists, which are held over his head. "You attacked me too, you bastard coward."
"After you attacked me!" Dean bucks his hips and Seamus goes hard. Instantly, they both freeze in position and Seamus knows that Dean can feel how hard he is. Hell, Seamus knows that Dean knows that Seamus knows that Dean can feel it; it's right there in his face. Cheeks flooding with colour, Seamus stays where he is and prays that a banshee comes singing right about now to foretell his death so he can avoid this entire situation.
That rocking ship sensation overwhelms him again. He can feel himself sliding towards damnation -- it's almost like the whirlpool is swallowing him whole. He kisses Dean hard. It's more teeth than lip, more ire than attraction but Seamus doesn't care because Dean's mouth opens up underneath his. He moans into that mouth before sweeping his tongue into it, tasting Butterbeer and Dean.
It's the taste of Dean that makes him release Dean's hands and cup Dean's face, pressing his cock down against Dean's. He moans at the answering hardness and then again when Dean's hands grip his head once more. This time, the grip is much friendlier but there's still a slight tug on his hair. Seamus's hands leave Dean's face and roam at will. He isn't at all certain where to go first. He wants to suck the skin of Dean's neck, rip open his shirt, feel his chest, taste his nipple. He wonders if Dean's skin would be as salty-spicy as it smells. He wrenches his mouth away from Dean's and uses a hand to press Dean's face to the side so he can nip the soft skin of Dean's earlobe.
"Fuck," Seamus breathes out as he pulls back and looks down at Dean. His eyes are half closed; Seamus wants to take it as an invitation but he can't. More to the point, he won't. Seamus lets go and stands. Dean's eyes fly open and Seamus can't bear to meet that gaze.
Instead, he walks towards the door so he can leave the room though he hasn't a clue where he's running off to. All he knows is that he has to get away from here and that maybe Dean isn't the coward after all. Seamus is the one who's running like a sodding girl.
Seamus is thrown forward just as his hand touches the doorknob. He finds himself trapped between the door and Dean, who is pressing into his back with his palm flat on the door in front of Seamus's face. It takes a moment but then the fact that Dean is hard - really fucking hard - registers. Dean's voice tickles his ear. "You running? Who's the coward now?"
"Sod off," Seamus says back with a hint of fight in his voice. "It ain't running."
"Oh yeah?" Dean sucks in his earlobe and thrusts forward. He seems to be changing moods abruptly, his voice going from taunting to resigned; Seamus can't quite keep up. "You keep pushing and pushing."
"I know I do," Seamus says quietly.
"Why?"
"Don't rightly know; just know that I can't help it." Seamus reaches up a hand to touch the back of Dean's. When Dean doesn't react, Seamus entwines their fingers together. He repeats in a whisper, "I can't help it."
"Neither can I," Dean admits with a whisper as well. Seamus turns and latches on to Dean's neck, sucking in the skin there and tasting the salt of his sweat. "Don't want to help it anymore."
Seamus doesn't know what to say back to that so he doesn't say a word. Instead, his hands open Dean's robes and then his shirt. Dean's chest is exposed; Seamus starts licking his way down it, pausing to swipe a taste of a nipple. Dean makes an incoherent noise and Seamus grins wickedly as his hands rush to undo Dean's trousers.
When Seamus takes Dean's cock into his hand, Dean cries out, bucking into the firm grip. Seamus doesn't feel at all awkward that he's completely dressed in his pajamas while Dean's starkers in front of him though he does wish that Dean might touch him a bit. It's almost like Dean heard his thoughts because he puts a hand on Seamus's hair and then on his chin, tilting his face upwards. Then they're kissing again and it's the most divine feeling. The rocking boat is gone. It's like he's been sucked into Charybdis; everything is swirling colours and feelings and sensations, all centered on Dean. Dean. That's the part that makes this just about the best thing ever because Dean's the one touching his head and kissing him and pushing his bottoms down and touching him. It takes all his willpower to keep from coming with the barest brush of the back of Dean's knuckles against his cock, let alone when his hand comes around and holds on.
The way Dean's touching him makes it seem like Dean's been watching him wank and fuck Christ God it's more than he can handle; he comes all over Dean's grip. He's beyond embarrassed that it took so little but Dean's smiling when Seamus finally braves a glance.
"Trust me?" Dean asks and Seamus nods. "All right then."
That's the only warning Seamus receives before he's crushed between the door and Dean even further.
"Oh Christ," Seamus can't remember what he'd been trying to say, not with Dean pinching his nipple and biting his lip. What Seamus does remember, though, is that he was wanking Dean and so his hand slips between them and touches Dean once more. He wants to make Dean come just as fast as he came. He tries to remember if there was one thing or another that Dean had ever mentioned liking or if he'd seen anything in the shower. In the end, he tries what works for himself: he holds Dean firmly, pulling from root to tip, twisting his wrist at the tip. Dean pushes forward, slamming Seamus's head into the door. This time, he grunts in pain but it doesn't seem to matter because he can feel Dean against so many places.
"Sorry, sorry," Dean pants, bucking once more. A third pull and Dean comes with a cry, spilling over Seamus's fist and onto his stomach. Dean moans and presses his face into the crook of Seamus's neck.
"Like that, do you?" Seamus says with a cocky grin.
"For such a cowardly bastard, you're awfully cocky," Dean says back and Seamus slaps his shoulder.
"Arse."
It's the way Dean constantly surprises me.
When someone's hand darts out of nowhere and pulls him behind a tapestry, Seamus can't help the way his heart races with fear. When another hand covers his mouth, he starts fighting against the hold. He's not going to be taken to the Carrows' office and experience the Cruciatus Curse again. No how. No way.
It's only when Dean's voice -- "Shush, it's just me!" -- breaks through the wall of fear and flashback that he relaxes.
"You fucking arse," Seamus mutters, reaching out and pinching Dean's arm. "Scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry, forgot," Dean whispers before kissing the back of Seamus's head.
"It's all right, you'll just have to make it up to me."
"Oh yeah? How do I do that?"
"Dunno. Up to you, really."
Seamus turns to watch Dean rummage through his rucksack. He pulls out a small rolled-up parchment and hands it to Seamus. With a wink, he leaves Seamus alone in the alcove.
When Seamus unrolls the parchment, he sees a silly drawing of the pair of them on the floor. The Seamus in the drawing pokes the Dean in the forehead before kissing him. It's only after he's watched the drawing three times that he sees Dean's handwriting scribbled in the corner: "Drew this during History of Magic. Thought of you and thought you'd appreciate this."
He wears a sappy grin on his face for the rest of the day. The temptation to hang the sketch is strong but Seamus thinks that maybe Neville isn't quite ready for that sort of artwork in their room.
It's the way Dean says 'I love you'.
They're in the middle of their Divination exam when Seamus notices Dean looking at him. Seamus winks and goes back to his exam. The leaves at the bottom of his teacup look like a glop of sludge or, when Seamus crosses his eyes and squints, maybe a sun. Or a moon. Some sort of circular object.
"Stupid Divination," Seamus mutters under his breath. He looks at the sludge again and closes one eye, hoping that maybe it'll look like something soon. Maybe it could be an oyster? A daisy? After looking around to see if anyone is watching, he gives the cup another swirl and looks again. It's definitely an oyster. With a 'd' hovering near it.
He blinks and when he looks again, the blob is a zebra. He sighs and glances over at Dean to see how he's faring. Dean winks back at him; Seamus shakes his head and looks back at his tea leaves. It's definitely a tea pot at the bottom.
Then, right in front of his eyes, the leaves shift into a mouse. Seamus looks around and catches Dean laughing at him. Seamus tosses him a rude gesture and then goes back to his leaves, which quickly morph back into an oyster. If a mouse means a theft of the heart and an oyster means love then… then…
Seamus freezes, looks back up at Dean and sees that Dean's now completely serious. Dean gestures back towards his teacup and Seamus watches as the tea leaves turn into a 'd' and an 's' with a heart between them. Seamus looks up and smiles. Dean raises his eyebrows questioningly and Seamus nods and touches his heart and then points towards Dean.
They share a grin and go back to their exams. Seamus realizes that he doesn't need that list anymore. He knows why Dean affects him so much, just like he knows that the sky is blue and the grass is green. He's in love with Dean and Dean's in love with him and that's reason enough for anything.
As always, I'd love to hear what you thought.