Kaalee Appreciation Day means FICCAGE!!!!
Today, as some of you have heard, is International Kaalee Appreciation Day which means that we all get to shower kaalee with love and adoration. So, here goes... kaalee is one of the most genuine people I know, she's smart, funny and caring. She's also very accepting and loving (notice a theme?).
I randomly clicked on one of her stories while bored at work and it was a gorgeous Deamus story. From there, I clicked on another and another and another. I commented on all of them with what I appreciated and then found her lj, and discovered a few more. Basically, to sum up, I stalked everything she'd written. From there, it was easypeasy to get to know her and her huge capacity to give and give and give. So, it's nice to give back on Kaalee Appreciation Day with a little something. It took us a week but my very good friend ficlette and I wrote a little something in honor of today.
Title: A Series of Most Fortunate Events
Authors: ficlette and wook77
Pairing: Duh. DEAN/SEAMUS!!!!
Rating: R
Wordcount: 4000 on the nose
Warnings: none
Summary: Their life is a series of most fortunate events, even if it doesn't feel that way at the time.
A/N: ficlette and I hope that you enjoy this series of drabbles for you.
I.
Seamus comes to a complete halt, just watching Dean kissing Ginny. His hands cup her cheek, the contrast between them - Dean's tall to Ginny's short, Dean's dark to Ginny's light, Dean's angles to Ginny's curves - is breathtakingly beautiful. For a moment, Seamus wishes he had even a modicum of Dean's talent with a quill. He'd paint this moment if just to be able to have a physical reminder of Dean looking so joyous and satisfied. But he doesn't have the talent for that so he catalogues it in his head to tell Dean about it when they're old and grey.
II.
Dean doesn't remember the first time they'd done it, doesn't recall a moment when he'd opened his eyes upon waking and felt surprise at seeing Seamus snoring gently beside him. It's not every night. Not close to every night but it's often enough that the sharing of his bed is probably more comfort than any soft blanket or feather pillow. Dean wakes this once early, too early, with the sun just dawning and spreading a dulled light in through the window closest to his bed. Dean watches as the shadows stretch out over Seamus's face and smiles when they fade.
III.
The first time it happens, Seamus flushes and sneaks out of the bed. The second time, he ignores the hand and mess by crawling into his own bed. The third time, Seamus can no longer ignore that it's Dean's hand on his cock when he wakes from the dream. Dean's still sleeping. He can't see the flush and he sure as shite won't be knowing that Seamus dreams of his long fingers. Seamus tries to protest that they're growing up now and that it isn't proper for them to share like that but Dean looks so hurt that Seamus relents.
IV.
His relationship with Ginny is rocky and Seamus is distant so Dean tries to tell himself that change is good. A breath of fresh air when surrounded only by stale dungeon walls. He repeats it in his head but can't quite believe it, not when he spends all his time with Ginny arguing and all his time with Seamus trying to make actual eye contact. He isn't too surprised when Ginny wants out, but he wishes he didn't wake in the night to Seamus tiptoeing back to his own bed. For some reason the second cuts deeper than the first.
V.
Seamus stops sleeping when he's in Dean's bed. He waits for that hand to slide down his body and into his pants so he can absorb the entire experience. Lying awake until it comes, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, he revels in the feel of Dean's hand sliding down his chest, over the ridge of his hip and then teasing at the edge of his pants. He shouldn't be enjoying this but he still slides into Dean's bed and bites his lip to keep the cries back. He wonders what Dean dreams about when he's doing this but he never asks.
VI.
It's been a few days since Ginny broke up with Dean, and he thinks that even a Seer wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at her. She's the princess of Gryffindor again, never a frown on her face unless she's doing a Snape impersonation or talking about the Slytherins with Harry or Ron. Dean drags his feet when he walks and doesn't sleep well at night but it's not Ginny moving on that has him tossing and turning. He wants to get rid of whatever's come between him and Seamus - he wants his best mate and just plain wants.
VII.
Seamus can tell that Deans not dealing well with the loss of his relationship with Ginny but there's this thing between them that he can't be telling. Dean would be appalled if he knew how much Seamus enjoys the touching so Seamus keeps his mouth shut and the distance between them grows. When Dean starts having problems sleeping, Seamus starts to touch him back, small circles rubbed on his back or a comforting hand on his chest. Sleeping together becomes an almost nightly occurrence and, if anyone were to remark on it, Seamus vows he'll beat them raw and bloody.
VIII.
There's a particular tale Dean can remember from his younger years that keeps coming to the forefront of his mind as their sixth year at Hogwarts reaches an end. He recalls King Midas and his touch that turned everything to gold, and wonders if maybe being around all this magic has done something similar to him. Only everything he touches goes wrong: Seamus is awkward around him and the newly-coupled Ginny and Harry are awkward around him and Neville is… well, Neville's always been awkward. But, Dean thinks, he's been sleeping through the night. Things must be looking up.
IX.
When the Death Eaters come, it's completely unexpected. Seamus hears Neville yelling and he rolls out of Dean's bed, searching for trousers. He doesn't know what to think or do or say. Instead, he shakes Dean and hisses, "Get up, Dean!" He's more afraid than he's wanting to admit. He covers it up with false bravado while his wand hand shakes as he races down the stairs with Neville. First one out the portrait, he waits for Dean to join him before he goes any further. He's braver with Dean by his side, a fact that doesn't escape his notice.
X.
Dean stumbles out of the portrait hole, feeling his heart hammering against his chest. A chorus of screams and yelling voices ring throughout the otherwise quiet castle. Seamus is waiting for him and Dean has never seen that look in his eyes before, the sight of it makes him want to drag him back up the stairs and keep him safe behind the curtains of his four-poster. On their way they run into a group of terrified Third-Years, crying as they explain why they're out of bed. Seamus and Dean exchange glances and lead the group to safety.
XI.
He's ashamed that he didn't do more when Hogwarts was attacked. It's one of the reasons he fights with his mam so voraciously and loudly in the Entrance Hall. He couldn't help the Headmaster but he could be there to pay his respects. His mam finally acquiesces and Seamus sits next to Dean at the funeral. Biting the inside of his lip to keep from crying as Fawkes starts singing, Seamus reaches out and clenches Dean's hand. Clinging to it like it's a lifeline, it's also a small bit of comforting familiarity in the midst of the unknown and chaos.
XII.
The two of them stay close while walking in Diagon Alley, each carrying a few bags. They're almost finished with the list of supplies they need to get, and Seamus tells Dean there's only one more shop they need to visit. It's eerily quiet here now that the war's started, most people being too afraid to go to the stores usually bustling with customers. It's not too dangerous to be there, but not exactly safe either. As they near the shop a sudden telltale crack of Apparation sounds behind them, followed by a yelled "Relashio!" There's pain, and then nothing.
XIII.
Seamus doesn't think about the battle that had sprung up around them in Diagon Alley because it means remembering the awkward angle of Dean's body and the panic that had engulfed him. Instead, he concentrates on Dean lying in a bed at St. Mungo's while the mediwitches work on him. He refuses to leave the room as they're applying salve to Dean's burnt back. Once they leave, he sits next to Dean, gripping his hand and whispering, "Don't you dare die on me. I still need to tell you how much I need your hands on me again like before."
XIV.
The first few days Dean is under, he is only vaguely aware of Seamus being beside him. His mind always wants to wake when Seamus starts talking, but often he can't fully do it and just catches bits and phrases while staring at the inside of his closed eyelids. Eventually he can focus on all of what Seamus has to say, though all the while he keep his eyes closed and his breathing steady. It becomes increasingly difficult, however, what with Seamus going each time into more detail of what used to happen while sharing Dean's bed back at Hogwarts.
XV.
"It was your hands, mate, these long fingers." Seamus picks up the hand in question and laces his fingers with Dean's before setting their entwined hands down onto the bed again. "The way they'd drift down my body and then wrap around my prick. I was so embarrassed, ye ken? But then I couldn't stop wanting it so…" Seamus couldn't continue for the moment as he focused on how Dean's status hasn't changed for days. The mediwitches don't tell him anything and he just wants Dean to awaken.
"Wake up, please, wake up soon. 'M going crazy here without you."
XVI.
Dean wakes when the sunlight is bright in the room, and for once he opens his eyes. It takes a minute to adjust to the intensity of the room, only another moment to focus on Seamus's bowed head beside him. Dean's finally gotten what he thinks is the whole story out of Seamus, just by sitting and listening when Seamus thinks he's asleep. At first he was embarrassed hearing about what his wandering hands would do, but now he thinks that even his subconscious knew how much he needed his best mate.
"Seamus." Dean's voice sounds raspy, but he grins.
XVII.
Today's relief is even greater than what he felt when Dean finally woke. They're walking out the lobby of St. Mungo's and that's something that Seamus had been so afraid would never happen. Dean might laugh off his injuries but he hadn't seen the burns and broken bones first-hand. Seamus wants to reach out and touch Dean but after his confessions to Dean while he'd been sleeping, Seamus isn't at all ready for the real thing. For now, he'll be content with having Dean laughing about some inconsequential thing while they walk together. He'll confess, for real, later. Much later.
XVIII.
Dean can't even get himself a glass of water without Seamus rushing ahead of him, telling him to sit, that he needs his rest if he wants to get any better. Dean's quick to remind him that a head injury doesn't mean he's completely incapable of doing things for himself, but Seamus will have none of it. That Seamus is always there is both a blessing and a curse, since that means he's never not there. It's only normal that Dean can think of nothing but Seamus's guilty whispered words, and the way his fingers felt tracing over Dean's own.
XIX.
The hurt takes over when Dean starts yelling at him. It's not like Dean saw himself - crumpled, bloody and burnt - and if Seamus offers to get him a cuppa, it's because he wants Dean healed completely. He can't stop staring, either. The small scars from the burns trace lines up and down Dean's arms. The temptation to trace them with his own hands is so great that he starts chewing his fingernails to keep it inside. He knows that he's making things worse between them but he can't stop. Something's going to break; Seamus fears it's going to be himself.
XX.
It's not wit's end, not yet. But Dean thinks he's pretty close as Seamus is smothering him and won't stop staring and Dean's head is filled with those damned stories. He wishes, not for the first time, that he'd been awake for what Seamus spoke of. He imagines Seamus's face, the flush almost invisible in the dark behind Dean's closed curtains. When Seamus comes back with a pair of pyjamas for Dean, it's at the worst possible moment. Dean's mind is full of madness and when he pulls Seamus into a sudden kiss, it's like a burst of utter clarity.
XXI.
Seamus has his arms full of laundry when Dean kisses him. He freezes and drops every last piece of clothing while lips ravage his. The first brush of tongue has him shuddering before he wraps his arms around Dean's waist and kisses back. This is nothing like Lavender or Parvati. This is so much more that he wonders if he'll ever be able to kiss anyone else after the heat and rightness of this kiss. His hands roam from waist to neck and then delve into hair as he clenches as much as possible. He doesn't want this to end.
XXII.
The hands in Dean's hair are all the invitation he needs to take this to the next level. He wants Seamus, has wanted him for God knows how long and doesn't think that he could stop now if he tried. Dean pushes Seamus towards the wall, stepping carelessly over the clothes that Seamus had dropped moments earlier, and pins Seamus with his body. He cups Seamus's chin in his hands as he kisses him, feeling the blood pooling below his waist as his body quickly responds. Pulling back just barely, Dean's breath pants heavily into Seamus's mouth. "I heard you."
XXIII.
Seamus tilts his head back as Dean grips his chin. When Dean speaks, Seamus pauses. Heard what? What could Dean have heard? "Heard what?" Seamus mutters back before gripping Dean's shirt and yanking it out of his trousers. Then it's all smooth skin and free reign as he digs his fingers in as he rubs his hands up Dean's back. He's not sure what Dean heard but he doesn't much care when Dean's hands are on him as well. Heartrate increasing as Dean continues to do magical things to him, Seamus thrusts his hips forward, desperate for contact and friction.
XXIV.
The burr of Seamus's trousers coming slowly undone somehow becomes an erotic noise as Dean teases along the edge of Seamus's pants. Seamus is moving his hips back and forth and Dean feels mere seconds away from plunging his hand further below. He latches his mouth just under where the ear meets jaw and creates a mark with his teeth. It's like he's commemorating what the two of them are doing this very moment, in case either or both of them need a reminder afterwards.
"In the hospital," he whispers into Seamus's ear. "I heard what you were telling me."
XXV.
Seamus bares his neck as Dean bites down. It's when Dean speaks that he freezes. Dean had heard his confession about those sleepless nights? "You… you did?" He's not sure what to say or if he even needs to say anything. After all, it's not like he hasn't already spilled all his secret wants and wishes.
"That why you're touching me? Cause of some stupid shite that I said in the hospital? Don't want it because of that." Seamus pushes half-heartedly at Dean's chest. He wants to hide in shame but he doesn't want Dean to stop touching him either.
XXVI.
"No," Dean says insistently. He grabs both of Seamus's hands and holds them against the wall, lining their bodies up again. It's maddening, their closeness, yet Dean can't get enough.
"I want it, Seamus. I want to be awake for it this time." He releases his grip and trails his fingers down Seamus's arm, sure now of what he wants to do since he's said it aloud. With his right hand he teases the path of hair that leads below the fabric as he playfully nips Seamus's ear with his front teeth. He needs Seamus wanting and willing, after all.
XXVII.
"But why?" He asks and he means it even as he thrusts his hips as Dean teases. He wants it, Christ Jesus but he wants it. That wanting isn't enough though he can't help moaning as hands sink below pants. Dean's wrapped around him from the tight grip at his wrists to the firm one on his cock. He's going to come if Dean moves so he wrestles one hand free and tries to undo those trousers with one hand. "Fucking kiss me, then." It's a demand but when Dean's kissing him, he can't think further than now and this.
XXVIII.
Seamus's fumbling at Dean's trousers finally pays off and Dean hardly keeps his eyes from rolling back when he finally feels Seamus's hand on him. His nerves sing with pleasure and he's all too happy to grant Seamus his request, thinks he could go for days without ever tiring of it. Greedily he licks across Seamus's reddened lips and then slips his tongue inside - he can't decide if he likes the feeling of Seamus on his tongue or in his hand better. It occurs to him that it doesn't much matter as the pace of his strokes steadily climbs.
XXIX.
Dean hasn't answered and Seamus needs to know. He also needs Dean to keep touching and stroking and kissing. Then again, he needs to keep touching Dean as well, wrapping his hand around Dean and drawing it up slowly and tightly. All those nights, Seamus hadn't been brave enough to try this. He isn't sure of anything, hasn't had any cock in his hand but his own, but he tries the same rhythm he likes. It's so much better when Dean's awake. It doesn't take long for Seamus to come, not with Dean filling all his senses and overwhelming him.
XXX.
It's a beautiful thing, watching Seamus. Dean doesn't take his eyes off Seamus's face, just wraps his hand around Seamus's when he feels the grip slacken. He's almost over the edge anyways; it only takes a moment and Dean leans forward to kiss Seamus as he's coming too. His moan is lost inside Seamus's mouth. Their mouths break apart after long minutes and Dean looks at Seamus - his lips, his neck, the rise and fall of his chest - with hooded eyes. Still catching his breath, he speaks through smiling lips. "This is probably something we should talk about."
XXXI.
Seamus just watches Dean - the play of muscle and the contorting face - while he squeezes their hands tighter together. When Dean says about talking, Seamus realises that it's time for reality to intrude and so he asks his question again, "Why this? Why now?" He's leery of the answer, doesn't really want to hear anything about the confession leading Dean to it. He wants to know why him and why now with him, not that he's pushed Dean into this. That's not a good enough reason for changing the dynamics between them and Seamus knows that he can't go back.
XXXII.
Dean thinks back to how the two of them were at school, with Seamus as Dean's friend of firsts. He remembers first meeting Seamus, first being partners in class, the first time they stayed awake all through the night and the first time Seamus referred to Dean as his best mate. It had always been Seamus with him then, he can't imagine it any other way now.
"It's sort of always been this, hasn't it?" Dean frowns slightly, as he's trying to explain to Seamus what barely makes sense even in his own mind. "Just feels like it fits."
XXXIII.
"Can't say I remember you kissing me before." At least he hasn't forced anything as Dean's calm acceptance of everything changing assuages his fear. The reality of them talking while their cocks hang out and come dries makes him laugh. It's nervous and high pitched but he can't stop. The laughter bubbles out until the stress evaporates. There's no breath to explain the laughter and he flails about looking for his wand to clean up their mess. He leans his forehead against Dean's collarbone as he laughs. There's nowhere else he'd rather be than pinned between the wall and Dean.
XXXIV.
They would look better painted green. Dean knows this like he knows that dishes go in the cupboard and that socks go in the drawers and that two plus two equals four. It's just how it's supposed to be, and Dean's not going to back down that easily.
"They should be green, Seamus." It's already a picture in his head, and what a fantastic picture it makes. The morning light streaming in through the eastern windows, birds chirping as dawn slowly illuminates the green finish on the walls…
Dean looks around in a full circle, nodding his head. "Definitely green."
XXXV.
"Blue." Seamus glares at Dean's back. A crisp pale blue colour that would set off Dean's skin and the wood of their floors is exactly what the walls need. It's been almost three years since that frantic kiss against the wall and he still can't get enough of Dean though he's much more familiar with how to get his own way. It's been long enough that they're steadily sure. He grins as he walks up behind Dean and presses his hand over Dean's heart, feeling the rhythmic thumpthumpthump. His cheek rests against Dean's back and he says once more, "Blue."
XXXVI.
Damn the man. Dean thinks if he were stronger against this sort of attack, he'd be able to resist Seamus when they get to disagreeing over something. The only problem would be that he'd have to tell Seamus 'no', and he's never been good at denying Seamus anything.
"But Seamus," he says and he's almost whining, "green would be much better. More cheerful, and it'd match the sofa." He traces Seamus's hand with light touches and then intertwines their fingers, hoping to maybe coax Seamus into agreeing by distracting him. It's worth a shot, having always worked for Seamus.
XXXVII.
"You mean that sofa that's older than either of us?" Seamus tightens his hand under Dean's as they talk about the paint. He knows he's getting close to getting his own way when Dean starts that whining tone and his grin spreads further as he rubs his cheek across Dean's back. There isn't much chance of him ever tiring of having Dean around him, in him, by him. This moving in together thing's harder than he's considered, though. There's furniture to be placed and paint to be chosen. He's braced for the arguments when the chores need dividing. "Blue, please?"
XXXVIII.
Defeat is a familiar taste on Dean's tongue. He sighs heavily and can almost hear Seamus's grin for all he can't see it. This is probably the outcome he should have seen coming, but that green did look excellent in his mind's eye.
"Fine," Dean says. He sounds exasperated, but he's been floating on a cloud ever since they decided to take the step of moving in together. His fingers still tightly grasp Seamus's. Nothing so silly as paint colour would make him let go of what he has there. Besides, he tells himself, blue might not be so terrible.
XXXIX.
"So we can have blue? Brilliant," he exclaims as he wraps his arm around Dean's waist. He's not nervous about the future - other than the chores - because he loves Dean more than he loves almost anything. Like blue. It's nice to know that he can get Dean to do what he wants every once in awhile but even he knows that green would look better with that sofa and end-tables. He might not have Dean's eye for colour but it's not like Dean constantly harping on about tone and depth wouldn't eventually rub off on him. "But I wanted green."
XL.
It started as just a quick sketch of the two of them, but the more Dean works on the drawing the more he likes it. It's a picture of Seamus and Dean kissing, with Dean's hand on Seamus's face. The contrast between them is stunning, as are the similarities. The sketch is true to life - both of them are drawn looking happier than they've ever been and it's no stretch. Seamus urges him to finish it completely. A physical reminder, he calls it, and the two of them pick the best spot for it on the newly-painted green wall.
We love you, kaalee!
As always, we'd love to hear what you thought
I randomly clicked on one of her stories while bored at work and it was a gorgeous Deamus story. From there, I clicked on another and another and another. I commented on all of them with what I appreciated and then found her lj, and discovered a few more. Basically, to sum up, I stalked everything she'd written. From there, it was easypeasy to get to know her and her huge capacity to give and give and give. So, it's nice to give back on Kaalee Appreciation Day with a little something. It took us a week but my very good friend ficlette and I wrote a little something in honor of today.
Title: A Series of Most Fortunate Events
Authors: ficlette and wook77
Pairing: Duh. DEAN/SEAMUS!!!!
Rating: R
Wordcount: 4000 on the nose
Warnings: none
Summary: Their life is a series of most fortunate events, even if it doesn't feel that way at the time.
A/N: ficlette and I hope that you enjoy this series of drabbles for you.
I.
Seamus comes to a complete halt, just watching Dean kissing Ginny. His hands cup her cheek, the contrast between them - Dean's tall to Ginny's short, Dean's dark to Ginny's light, Dean's angles to Ginny's curves - is breathtakingly beautiful. For a moment, Seamus wishes he had even a modicum of Dean's talent with a quill. He'd paint this moment if just to be able to have a physical reminder of Dean looking so joyous and satisfied. But he doesn't have the talent for that so he catalogues it in his head to tell Dean about it when they're old and grey.
II.
Dean doesn't remember the first time they'd done it, doesn't recall a moment when he'd opened his eyes upon waking and felt surprise at seeing Seamus snoring gently beside him. It's not every night. Not close to every night but it's often enough that the sharing of his bed is probably more comfort than any soft blanket or feather pillow. Dean wakes this once early, too early, with the sun just dawning and spreading a dulled light in through the window closest to his bed. Dean watches as the shadows stretch out over Seamus's face and smiles when they fade.
III.
The first time it happens, Seamus flushes and sneaks out of the bed. The second time, he ignores the hand and mess by crawling into his own bed. The third time, Seamus can no longer ignore that it's Dean's hand on his cock when he wakes from the dream. Dean's still sleeping. He can't see the flush and he sure as shite won't be knowing that Seamus dreams of his long fingers. Seamus tries to protest that they're growing up now and that it isn't proper for them to share like that but Dean looks so hurt that Seamus relents.
IV.
His relationship with Ginny is rocky and Seamus is distant so Dean tries to tell himself that change is good. A breath of fresh air when surrounded only by stale dungeon walls. He repeats it in his head but can't quite believe it, not when he spends all his time with Ginny arguing and all his time with Seamus trying to make actual eye contact. He isn't too surprised when Ginny wants out, but he wishes he didn't wake in the night to Seamus tiptoeing back to his own bed. For some reason the second cuts deeper than the first.
V.
Seamus stops sleeping when he's in Dean's bed. He waits for that hand to slide down his body and into his pants so he can absorb the entire experience. Lying awake until it comes, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, he revels in the feel of Dean's hand sliding down his chest, over the ridge of his hip and then teasing at the edge of his pants. He shouldn't be enjoying this but he still slides into Dean's bed and bites his lip to keep the cries back. He wonders what Dean dreams about when he's doing this but he never asks.
VI.
It's been a few days since Ginny broke up with Dean, and he thinks that even a Seer wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at her. She's the princess of Gryffindor again, never a frown on her face unless she's doing a Snape impersonation or talking about the Slytherins with Harry or Ron. Dean drags his feet when he walks and doesn't sleep well at night but it's not Ginny moving on that has him tossing and turning. He wants to get rid of whatever's come between him and Seamus - he wants his best mate and just plain wants.
VII.
Seamus can tell that Deans not dealing well with the loss of his relationship with Ginny but there's this thing between them that he can't be telling. Dean would be appalled if he knew how much Seamus enjoys the touching so Seamus keeps his mouth shut and the distance between them grows. When Dean starts having problems sleeping, Seamus starts to touch him back, small circles rubbed on his back or a comforting hand on his chest. Sleeping together becomes an almost nightly occurrence and, if anyone were to remark on it, Seamus vows he'll beat them raw and bloody.
VIII.
There's a particular tale Dean can remember from his younger years that keeps coming to the forefront of his mind as their sixth year at Hogwarts reaches an end. He recalls King Midas and his touch that turned everything to gold, and wonders if maybe being around all this magic has done something similar to him. Only everything he touches goes wrong: Seamus is awkward around him and the newly-coupled Ginny and Harry are awkward around him and Neville is… well, Neville's always been awkward. But, Dean thinks, he's been sleeping through the night. Things must be looking up.
IX.
When the Death Eaters come, it's completely unexpected. Seamus hears Neville yelling and he rolls out of Dean's bed, searching for trousers. He doesn't know what to think or do or say. Instead, he shakes Dean and hisses, "Get up, Dean!" He's more afraid than he's wanting to admit. He covers it up with false bravado while his wand hand shakes as he races down the stairs with Neville. First one out the portrait, he waits for Dean to join him before he goes any further. He's braver with Dean by his side, a fact that doesn't escape his notice.
X.
Dean stumbles out of the portrait hole, feeling his heart hammering against his chest. A chorus of screams and yelling voices ring throughout the otherwise quiet castle. Seamus is waiting for him and Dean has never seen that look in his eyes before, the sight of it makes him want to drag him back up the stairs and keep him safe behind the curtains of his four-poster. On their way they run into a group of terrified Third-Years, crying as they explain why they're out of bed. Seamus and Dean exchange glances and lead the group to safety.
XI.
He's ashamed that he didn't do more when Hogwarts was attacked. It's one of the reasons he fights with his mam so voraciously and loudly in the Entrance Hall. He couldn't help the Headmaster but he could be there to pay his respects. His mam finally acquiesces and Seamus sits next to Dean at the funeral. Biting the inside of his lip to keep from crying as Fawkes starts singing, Seamus reaches out and clenches Dean's hand. Clinging to it like it's a lifeline, it's also a small bit of comforting familiarity in the midst of the unknown and chaos.
XII.
The two of them stay close while walking in Diagon Alley, each carrying a few bags. They're almost finished with the list of supplies they need to get, and Seamus tells Dean there's only one more shop they need to visit. It's eerily quiet here now that the war's started, most people being too afraid to go to the stores usually bustling with customers. It's not too dangerous to be there, but not exactly safe either. As they near the shop a sudden telltale crack of Apparation sounds behind them, followed by a yelled "Relashio!" There's pain, and then nothing.
XIII.
Seamus doesn't think about the battle that had sprung up around them in Diagon Alley because it means remembering the awkward angle of Dean's body and the panic that had engulfed him. Instead, he concentrates on Dean lying in a bed at St. Mungo's while the mediwitches work on him. He refuses to leave the room as they're applying salve to Dean's burnt back. Once they leave, he sits next to Dean, gripping his hand and whispering, "Don't you dare die on me. I still need to tell you how much I need your hands on me again like before."
XIV.
The first few days Dean is under, he is only vaguely aware of Seamus being beside him. His mind always wants to wake when Seamus starts talking, but often he can't fully do it and just catches bits and phrases while staring at the inside of his closed eyelids. Eventually he can focus on all of what Seamus has to say, though all the while he keep his eyes closed and his breathing steady. It becomes increasingly difficult, however, what with Seamus going each time into more detail of what used to happen while sharing Dean's bed back at Hogwarts.
XV.
"It was your hands, mate, these long fingers." Seamus picks up the hand in question and laces his fingers with Dean's before setting their entwined hands down onto the bed again. "The way they'd drift down my body and then wrap around my prick. I was so embarrassed, ye ken? But then I couldn't stop wanting it so…" Seamus couldn't continue for the moment as he focused on how Dean's status hasn't changed for days. The mediwitches don't tell him anything and he just wants Dean to awaken.
"Wake up, please, wake up soon. 'M going crazy here without you."
XVI.
Dean wakes when the sunlight is bright in the room, and for once he opens his eyes. It takes a minute to adjust to the intensity of the room, only another moment to focus on Seamus's bowed head beside him. Dean's finally gotten what he thinks is the whole story out of Seamus, just by sitting and listening when Seamus thinks he's asleep. At first he was embarrassed hearing about what his wandering hands would do, but now he thinks that even his subconscious knew how much he needed his best mate.
"Seamus." Dean's voice sounds raspy, but he grins.
XVII.
Today's relief is even greater than what he felt when Dean finally woke. They're walking out the lobby of St. Mungo's and that's something that Seamus had been so afraid would never happen. Dean might laugh off his injuries but he hadn't seen the burns and broken bones first-hand. Seamus wants to reach out and touch Dean but after his confessions to Dean while he'd been sleeping, Seamus isn't at all ready for the real thing. For now, he'll be content with having Dean laughing about some inconsequential thing while they walk together. He'll confess, for real, later. Much later.
XVIII.
Dean can't even get himself a glass of water without Seamus rushing ahead of him, telling him to sit, that he needs his rest if he wants to get any better. Dean's quick to remind him that a head injury doesn't mean he's completely incapable of doing things for himself, but Seamus will have none of it. That Seamus is always there is both a blessing and a curse, since that means he's never not there. It's only normal that Dean can think of nothing but Seamus's guilty whispered words, and the way his fingers felt tracing over Dean's own.
XIX.
The hurt takes over when Dean starts yelling at him. It's not like Dean saw himself - crumpled, bloody and burnt - and if Seamus offers to get him a cuppa, it's because he wants Dean healed completely. He can't stop staring, either. The small scars from the burns trace lines up and down Dean's arms. The temptation to trace them with his own hands is so great that he starts chewing his fingernails to keep it inside. He knows that he's making things worse between them but he can't stop. Something's going to break; Seamus fears it's going to be himself.
XX.
It's not wit's end, not yet. But Dean thinks he's pretty close as Seamus is smothering him and won't stop staring and Dean's head is filled with those damned stories. He wishes, not for the first time, that he'd been awake for what Seamus spoke of. He imagines Seamus's face, the flush almost invisible in the dark behind Dean's closed curtains. When Seamus comes back with a pair of pyjamas for Dean, it's at the worst possible moment. Dean's mind is full of madness and when he pulls Seamus into a sudden kiss, it's like a burst of utter clarity.
XXI.
Seamus has his arms full of laundry when Dean kisses him. He freezes and drops every last piece of clothing while lips ravage his. The first brush of tongue has him shuddering before he wraps his arms around Dean's waist and kisses back. This is nothing like Lavender or Parvati. This is so much more that he wonders if he'll ever be able to kiss anyone else after the heat and rightness of this kiss. His hands roam from waist to neck and then delve into hair as he clenches as much as possible. He doesn't want this to end.
XXII.
The hands in Dean's hair are all the invitation he needs to take this to the next level. He wants Seamus, has wanted him for God knows how long and doesn't think that he could stop now if he tried. Dean pushes Seamus towards the wall, stepping carelessly over the clothes that Seamus had dropped moments earlier, and pins Seamus with his body. He cups Seamus's chin in his hands as he kisses him, feeling the blood pooling below his waist as his body quickly responds. Pulling back just barely, Dean's breath pants heavily into Seamus's mouth. "I heard you."
XXIII.
Seamus tilts his head back as Dean grips his chin. When Dean speaks, Seamus pauses. Heard what? What could Dean have heard? "Heard what?" Seamus mutters back before gripping Dean's shirt and yanking it out of his trousers. Then it's all smooth skin and free reign as he digs his fingers in as he rubs his hands up Dean's back. He's not sure what Dean heard but he doesn't much care when Dean's hands are on him as well. Heartrate increasing as Dean continues to do magical things to him, Seamus thrusts his hips forward, desperate for contact and friction.
XXIV.
The burr of Seamus's trousers coming slowly undone somehow becomes an erotic noise as Dean teases along the edge of Seamus's pants. Seamus is moving his hips back and forth and Dean feels mere seconds away from plunging his hand further below. He latches his mouth just under where the ear meets jaw and creates a mark with his teeth. It's like he's commemorating what the two of them are doing this very moment, in case either or both of them need a reminder afterwards.
"In the hospital," he whispers into Seamus's ear. "I heard what you were telling me."
XXV.
Seamus bares his neck as Dean bites down. It's when Dean speaks that he freezes. Dean had heard his confession about those sleepless nights? "You… you did?" He's not sure what to say or if he even needs to say anything. After all, it's not like he hasn't already spilled all his secret wants and wishes.
"That why you're touching me? Cause of some stupid shite that I said in the hospital? Don't want it because of that." Seamus pushes half-heartedly at Dean's chest. He wants to hide in shame but he doesn't want Dean to stop touching him either.
XXVI.
"No," Dean says insistently. He grabs both of Seamus's hands and holds them against the wall, lining their bodies up again. It's maddening, their closeness, yet Dean can't get enough.
"I want it, Seamus. I want to be awake for it this time." He releases his grip and trails his fingers down Seamus's arm, sure now of what he wants to do since he's said it aloud. With his right hand he teases the path of hair that leads below the fabric as he playfully nips Seamus's ear with his front teeth. He needs Seamus wanting and willing, after all.
XXVII.
"But why?" He asks and he means it even as he thrusts his hips as Dean teases. He wants it, Christ Jesus but he wants it. That wanting isn't enough though he can't help moaning as hands sink below pants. Dean's wrapped around him from the tight grip at his wrists to the firm one on his cock. He's going to come if Dean moves so he wrestles one hand free and tries to undo those trousers with one hand. "Fucking kiss me, then." It's a demand but when Dean's kissing him, he can't think further than now and this.
XXVIII.
Seamus's fumbling at Dean's trousers finally pays off and Dean hardly keeps his eyes from rolling back when he finally feels Seamus's hand on him. His nerves sing with pleasure and he's all too happy to grant Seamus his request, thinks he could go for days without ever tiring of it. Greedily he licks across Seamus's reddened lips and then slips his tongue inside - he can't decide if he likes the feeling of Seamus on his tongue or in his hand better. It occurs to him that it doesn't much matter as the pace of his strokes steadily climbs.
XXIX.
Dean hasn't answered and Seamus needs to know. He also needs Dean to keep touching and stroking and kissing. Then again, he needs to keep touching Dean as well, wrapping his hand around Dean and drawing it up slowly and tightly. All those nights, Seamus hadn't been brave enough to try this. He isn't sure of anything, hasn't had any cock in his hand but his own, but he tries the same rhythm he likes. It's so much better when Dean's awake. It doesn't take long for Seamus to come, not with Dean filling all his senses and overwhelming him.
XXX.
It's a beautiful thing, watching Seamus. Dean doesn't take his eyes off Seamus's face, just wraps his hand around Seamus's when he feels the grip slacken. He's almost over the edge anyways; it only takes a moment and Dean leans forward to kiss Seamus as he's coming too. His moan is lost inside Seamus's mouth. Their mouths break apart after long minutes and Dean looks at Seamus - his lips, his neck, the rise and fall of his chest - with hooded eyes. Still catching his breath, he speaks through smiling lips. "This is probably something we should talk about."
XXXI.
Seamus just watches Dean - the play of muscle and the contorting face - while he squeezes their hands tighter together. When Dean says about talking, Seamus realises that it's time for reality to intrude and so he asks his question again, "Why this? Why now?" He's leery of the answer, doesn't really want to hear anything about the confession leading Dean to it. He wants to know why him and why now with him, not that he's pushed Dean into this. That's not a good enough reason for changing the dynamics between them and Seamus knows that he can't go back.
XXXII.
Dean thinks back to how the two of them were at school, with Seamus as Dean's friend of firsts. He remembers first meeting Seamus, first being partners in class, the first time they stayed awake all through the night and the first time Seamus referred to Dean as his best mate. It had always been Seamus with him then, he can't imagine it any other way now.
"It's sort of always been this, hasn't it?" Dean frowns slightly, as he's trying to explain to Seamus what barely makes sense even in his own mind. "Just feels like it fits."
XXXIII.
"Can't say I remember you kissing me before." At least he hasn't forced anything as Dean's calm acceptance of everything changing assuages his fear. The reality of them talking while their cocks hang out and come dries makes him laugh. It's nervous and high pitched but he can't stop. The laughter bubbles out until the stress evaporates. There's no breath to explain the laughter and he flails about looking for his wand to clean up their mess. He leans his forehead against Dean's collarbone as he laughs. There's nowhere else he'd rather be than pinned between the wall and Dean.
XXXIV.
They would look better painted green. Dean knows this like he knows that dishes go in the cupboard and that socks go in the drawers and that two plus two equals four. It's just how it's supposed to be, and Dean's not going to back down that easily.
"They should be green, Seamus." It's already a picture in his head, and what a fantastic picture it makes. The morning light streaming in through the eastern windows, birds chirping as dawn slowly illuminates the green finish on the walls…
Dean looks around in a full circle, nodding his head. "Definitely green."
XXXV.
"Blue." Seamus glares at Dean's back. A crisp pale blue colour that would set off Dean's skin and the wood of their floors is exactly what the walls need. It's been almost three years since that frantic kiss against the wall and he still can't get enough of Dean though he's much more familiar with how to get his own way. It's been long enough that they're steadily sure. He grins as he walks up behind Dean and presses his hand over Dean's heart, feeling the rhythmic thumpthumpthump. His cheek rests against Dean's back and he says once more, "Blue."
XXXVI.
Damn the man. Dean thinks if he were stronger against this sort of attack, he'd be able to resist Seamus when they get to disagreeing over something. The only problem would be that he'd have to tell Seamus 'no', and he's never been good at denying Seamus anything.
"But Seamus," he says and he's almost whining, "green would be much better. More cheerful, and it'd match the sofa." He traces Seamus's hand with light touches and then intertwines their fingers, hoping to maybe coax Seamus into agreeing by distracting him. It's worth a shot, having always worked for Seamus.
XXXVII.
"You mean that sofa that's older than either of us?" Seamus tightens his hand under Dean's as they talk about the paint. He knows he's getting close to getting his own way when Dean starts that whining tone and his grin spreads further as he rubs his cheek across Dean's back. There isn't much chance of him ever tiring of having Dean around him, in him, by him. This moving in together thing's harder than he's considered, though. There's furniture to be placed and paint to be chosen. He's braced for the arguments when the chores need dividing. "Blue, please?"
XXXVIII.
Defeat is a familiar taste on Dean's tongue. He sighs heavily and can almost hear Seamus's grin for all he can't see it. This is probably the outcome he should have seen coming, but that green did look excellent in his mind's eye.
"Fine," Dean says. He sounds exasperated, but he's been floating on a cloud ever since they decided to take the step of moving in together. His fingers still tightly grasp Seamus's. Nothing so silly as paint colour would make him let go of what he has there. Besides, he tells himself, blue might not be so terrible.
XXXIX.
"So we can have blue? Brilliant," he exclaims as he wraps his arm around Dean's waist. He's not nervous about the future - other than the chores - because he loves Dean more than he loves almost anything. Like blue. It's nice to know that he can get Dean to do what he wants every once in awhile but even he knows that green would look better with that sofa and end-tables. He might not have Dean's eye for colour but it's not like Dean constantly harping on about tone and depth wouldn't eventually rub off on him. "But I wanted green."
XL.
It started as just a quick sketch of the two of them, but the more Dean works on the drawing the more he likes it. It's a picture of Seamus and Dean kissing, with Dean's hand on Seamus's face. The contrast between them is stunning, as are the similarities. The sketch is true to life - both of them are drawn looking happier than they've ever been and it's no stretch. Seamus urges him to finish it completely. A physical reminder, he calls it, and the two of them pick the best spot for it on the newly-painted green wall.
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