Work in Progress: Chapter Three
Work in Progress
Chapter One/Chapter Two/Chapter Three/Chapter Four/Chapter Five/Chapter Six
Chapter Three : Confession
Summary: The morning after the final battle, Dean risks everything
(Takes place the day after Longing, in my Dean/Seamus universe.)
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Seamus? Dean, Seamus
Word count: 1126
The next day, Seamus didn’t seem to treat Dean any differently, so Dean assumed that Seamus hadn’t really heard him, or if he had, hadn’t taken him seriously. Naturally he was relieved, but a bit disappointed, too. He was going to have to work up the nerve all over again, or forget about it, which he wasn’t quite willing to do.
Over breakfast, he got an answer (of sorts) when hangover stories were traded by people who found them preferable to discussing the more depressing aspects of the day before.
When Dean joined in and teased Seamus about his singing voice, Seamus countered with the fact that Dean had confessed his undying love. Dean was struck dumb momentarily. That he’d heard and almost understood and was now joking about it…
He laughed along, joining in with the rest of the stories, but it bothered him. It became clear to Dean that there wasn’t much more he could do at the school, and that it was well past time that he returned to his (probably panicked) family, so he went back up to the dorm, taking one last look around. Apparently, Seamus had noticed his increasingly melancholy mood, because he was there within moments, asking, “All right, then, mate?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Just taking one more look around.”
“But you just got here!” Seamus exclaimed.
“No, Seamus, I’ve gotta go home,” Dean said heavily.
“But why?”
“I’m coming back next year. No way I’d pass my NEWTs, so what’s the point of finishing up this year? I’ll come back next year, and I’ll wager I won’t be the only one. Besides, my family needs to know what happened.”
“But-” Seamus seemed to deflate, and Dean found himself clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“Really wish we could have spent the last year together, mate. Never imagined missing it-but we’ll still hang out together sometimes, I promise.” He refused to bring up the plans they’d made over the years, of a flat of their own, of new jobs and endless weekends of boozing and shagging myriads of fit, faceless birds. What was he going to do, lie, and say it all would wait a year?
Dean, now grown quite used to leaving places with very little fuss, grabbed his bag off the floor and got ready to go downstairs and out the front gate.
Seamus’ unexpectedly fierce hug changed Dean's mind.
He dropped his bag, resting his chin on top of his friend’s head, closing his eyes as he held onto the moment. The next words came out with very little effort. “I meant it.”
Seamus stiffened in his arms, and Dean pulled away, wanting to look anywhere but at Seamus’ familiar, beloved face. Of course, he didn’t have much choice in the matter.
“Meant what?” Seamus asked quietly, though Dean suspected he already knew the answer. Seamus was doing his best to avoid his eyes, wasn’t he?
“What I said last night,” Dean replied with a sigh, turning and walking toward the window. It was easier to talk with his back turned, and the familiar view gave him courage. “Declaring my undying love for you and all that shite. You joked about it this morning, but I was dead serious.”
He felt tension gathering in the back of his neck as the silence stretched out, so much so that by the time Seamus spoke, he nearly jumped in reaction.
“You know I love you, too, man-I said as much. You’re my best mate, like a-”
Dean spun around angrily. “Not like a brother. In every way, Seamus. You might as well know, because when it comes down to it, and you’ve faced your worst fears, hypocrisy becomes impossible to swallow. I’m done lying to myself. I’m fucking sick of hiding. Sick of feeling ashamed.”
“But-”
“But what, Seamus? The ideal moment for you to throw yourself on me and kiss me passed a few minutes ago. Not that I ever really expected it, mind you.”
He strode across the room in a few long steps, picking up his bag again.
Seamus sputtered, “But Dean…you can’t be a…a…I mean, you like girls. I like girls. We've liked some of the same girls. What the hell are you trying to pull, man?”
Dean sighed, looking fixedly at his worn boots on the floor, his shoulders hunched. He replied in a low, deliberate tone, hardly moving his lips. “It’s not that simple. Yes, I like girls. Yes, I know you like girls. I’m not stupid, you daft git! It took me years to realize that other blokes didn’t feel their heart pounding when they saw their best mate in a crowd. That they didn't think about him from the moment they woke up until they fell asleep. That they didn’t spend their summers drawing endless variations of the same smile, just to be able to see it for a few minutes. It’s you, Shay, everything about you. I can’t help it-it’s just always been that way. I could forget, it, ignore it, find some pretty girl and settle down and probably be really happy. But I’d rather have you.”
Seamus didn’t reply, and when Dean chanced a glance over at him, he seemed horrified. It was tempting to just say; ‘forget I said anything,’ and the words almost did come out of Dean’s lips, but he stopped himself. No matter what, he was glad.
Instead, he sighed, throwing his bag over his shoulder again.
“Dean…”
“What?”
“When you say you want to have me…”
“What?”
“You don’t really mean…”
Dean looked over at Seamus exasperatedly. “Yes, dammit!”
“But…”
“What?”
“I’ve no interest in being buggered.”
Dean laughed then, he couldn’t help it, though he suspected there was a bit of hysteria to it. Maybe it had been a mistake to say anything during such a stressful time. Maybe he should have just forgot it altogether. Because there was no way in hell that Seamus and himself could pick up their previous friendship after this. He’d thought he was aware of the risks, but now that he was faced with them, he wondered if unburdening himself was worth it after all. He shook his head.
“Only you would take every thing I just said and make it about that, Seamus. It’s not that fucking simple.” He straightened his shoulders, walking determinedly to the door. “I’ll write you once I get home. Or better yet, you write to me and we’ll hang out some time or something.
He couldn’t help once last parting shot. “And don’t worry, Finnigan, your arse is perfectly safe from me.”
He’d held his breath as he stepped through the portrait hole and all the way down the corridor, praying that he’d be called back.
The silence was deafening.
Chapter One/Chapter Two/Chapter Three/Chapter Four/Chapter Five/Chapter Six
Chapter Three : Confession
Summary: The morning after the final battle, Dean risks everything
(Takes place the day after Longing, in my Dean/Seamus universe.)
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Seamus? Dean, Seamus
Word count: 1126
The next day, Seamus didn’t seem to treat Dean any differently, so Dean assumed that Seamus hadn’t really heard him, or if he had, hadn’t taken him seriously. Naturally he was relieved, but a bit disappointed, too. He was going to have to work up the nerve all over again, or forget about it, which he wasn’t quite willing to do.
Over breakfast, he got an answer (of sorts) when hangover stories were traded by people who found them preferable to discussing the more depressing aspects of the day before.
When Dean joined in and teased Seamus about his singing voice, Seamus countered with the fact that Dean had confessed his undying love. Dean was struck dumb momentarily. That he’d heard and almost understood and was now joking about it…
He laughed along, joining in with the rest of the stories, but it bothered him. It became clear to Dean that there wasn’t much more he could do at the school, and that it was well past time that he returned to his (probably panicked) family, so he went back up to the dorm, taking one last look around. Apparently, Seamus had noticed his increasingly melancholy mood, because he was there within moments, asking, “All right, then, mate?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Just taking one more look around.”
“But you just got here!” Seamus exclaimed.
“No, Seamus, I’ve gotta go home,” Dean said heavily.
“But why?”
“I’m coming back next year. No way I’d pass my NEWTs, so what’s the point of finishing up this year? I’ll come back next year, and I’ll wager I won’t be the only one. Besides, my family needs to know what happened.”
“But-” Seamus seemed to deflate, and Dean found himself clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“Really wish we could have spent the last year together, mate. Never imagined missing it-but we’ll still hang out together sometimes, I promise.” He refused to bring up the plans they’d made over the years, of a flat of their own, of new jobs and endless weekends of boozing and shagging myriads of fit, faceless birds. What was he going to do, lie, and say it all would wait a year?
Dean, now grown quite used to leaving places with very little fuss, grabbed his bag off the floor and got ready to go downstairs and out the front gate.
Seamus’ unexpectedly fierce hug changed Dean's mind.
He dropped his bag, resting his chin on top of his friend’s head, closing his eyes as he held onto the moment. The next words came out with very little effort. “I meant it.”
Seamus stiffened in his arms, and Dean pulled away, wanting to look anywhere but at Seamus’ familiar, beloved face. Of course, he didn’t have much choice in the matter.
“Meant what?” Seamus asked quietly, though Dean suspected he already knew the answer. Seamus was doing his best to avoid his eyes, wasn’t he?
“What I said last night,” Dean replied with a sigh, turning and walking toward the window. It was easier to talk with his back turned, and the familiar view gave him courage. “Declaring my undying love for you and all that shite. You joked about it this morning, but I was dead serious.”
He felt tension gathering in the back of his neck as the silence stretched out, so much so that by the time Seamus spoke, he nearly jumped in reaction.
“You know I love you, too, man-I said as much. You’re my best mate, like a-”
Dean spun around angrily. “Not like a brother. In every way, Seamus. You might as well know, because when it comes down to it, and you’ve faced your worst fears, hypocrisy becomes impossible to swallow. I’m done lying to myself. I’m fucking sick of hiding. Sick of feeling ashamed.”
“But-”
“But what, Seamus? The ideal moment for you to throw yourself on me and kiss me passed a few minutes ago. Not that I ever really expected it, mind you.”
He strode across the room in a few long steps, picking up his bag again.
Seamus sputtered, “But Dean…you can’t be a…a…I mean, you like girls. I like girls. We've liked some of the same girls. What the hell are you trying to pull, man?”
Dean sighed, looking fixedly at his worn boots on the floor, his shoulders hunched. He replied in a low, deliberate tone, hardly moving his lips. “It’s not that simple. Yes, I like girls. Yes, I know you like girls. I’m not stupid, you daft git! It took me years to realize that other blokes didn’t feel their heart pounding when they saw their best mate in a crowd. That they didn't think about him from the moment they woke up until they fell asleep. That they didn’t spend their summers drawing endless variations of the same smile, just to be able to see it for a few minutes. It’s you, Shay, everything about you. I can’t help it-it’s just always been that way. I could forget, it, ignore it, find some pretty girl and settle down and probably be really happy. But I’d rather have you.”
Seamus didn’t reply, and when Dean chanced a glance over at him, he seemed horrified. It was tempting to just say; ‘forget I said anything,’ and the words almost did come out of Dean’s lips, but he stopped himself. No matter what, he was glad.
Instead, he sighed, throwing his bag over his shoulder again.
“Dean…”
“What?”
“When you say you want to have me…”
“What?”
“You don’t really mean…”
Dean looked over at Seamus exasperatedly. “Yes, dammit!”
“But…”
“What?”
“I’ve no interest in being buggered.”
Dean laughed then, he couldn’t help it, though he suspected there was a bit of hysteria to it. Maybe it had been a mistake to say anything during such a stressful time. Maybe he should have just forgot it altogether. Because there was no way in hell that Seamus and himself could pick up their previous friendship after this. He’d thought he was aware of the risks, but now that he was faced with them, he wondered if unburdening himself was worth it after all. He shook his head.
“Only you would take every thing I just said and make it about that, Seamus. It’s not that fucking simple.” He straightened his shoulders, walking determinedly to the door. “I’ll write you once I get home. Or better yet, you write to me and we’ll hang out some time or something.
He couldn’t help once last parting shot. “And don’t worry, Finnigan, your arse is perfectly safe from me.”
He’d held his breath as he stepped through the portrait hole and all the way down the corridor, praying that he’d be called back.
The silence was deafening.