A/N: Ooh, I had such fun writing this. That is all I really have to say. Heh. Cliched, yes, but still so very very cute, aren't they?
MOO: #20
Pairing: Dean/Seamus. Deal with it. (makes face at readers)
Dedication: For Gill, because you'd laugh. Also for Anza for seeing me through the unfortunate Bikini Incident three years ago.
Disclaimer:Chocolate chip, tuna, salmonella is a disease and not a fancy fishie restaurant. Great Mortality, Nelson/Napolean, Hadrian: the Musical and spaghetti sauce are mighty fine. Who reads these things anyway? Besides me, obviously.
Warning: Mild language and...hmm...well, one could probably spot some naughty references but I'm pretty sure they're the kind that can be taken as perfectly innocent if one is so inclined. Other than that, just SLASH. Rock on.
"No. I am not going in the lake with you, and that is final." Dean folded his arms.
"Ooh, come on. You know you want to," encouraged Seamus, splashing him. Dean deftly sidestepped the water and sat on a rock.
"No."
"Pleeease?" Seamus did his puppy eyes.
"No. I don't even have trunks or anything. Speaking of which, neither do you."
"I'm wearing my boxers," stated Seamus primly. "You can too. Come on." Dean shook his head.
"You just want to see me shirtless."
"Yes."
Dean stared at him. "You have no shame. I had meant that as a joke."
Seamus shrugged. "As long as you're wet and half naked, I think it's worth it."
Dean emitted a strangled noise from the back of his throat. "Seamus, that is encouraging me to stay out of the water. You realise this?"
"Reverse psychology or something. Saw it in a cartoon, I did." Seamus looked so proud of himself, Dean hated to spoil the mood. Oh, wait, no he didn't.
"I am not stripping in front of you. Besides, there are things living in the lake. Crawly things. Crawly things that crawl up my trunks--"
"Boxers," Seamus reminded him.
"--and, and…CRAWL. I do not like crawly things. There is also the matter of the giant squid. Love bites are all good and well, but ones the size of house elves on my leg are not fun. Especially if they are from an insane fish."
"Squids are molluscs, aren't they?"
"Same difference!" Dean wailed. "I hate the seashore and I hate the lakeshore and the assorted sand and unpleasantness and the…the nature. Nature is all very well to draw, but I hate going near the stuff," Dean pouted.
"Ooh, come on. There aren't any crawly things in here, and the squid's over there with the first years." Seamus pointed to the far side of the lake, where first years were being dangled above the water.
"Still." Dean maintained.
"Oi, come on! It's boiling out and we've exams tomorrow! What better way to put off studying?"
"I don't like swimming."
Eventually, Seamus was able to persuade Dean to come in. There were no crawly things, Dean was pleased to discover. He was less pleased about Seamus' insistence that they dive off the rock and race back to shore.
However, Seamus' pleading (and the chance to see Seamus in all of his half-naked, bowered, shining wet glory) soon won Dean over.
Seamus went first, leaping high and twisting so that he shot into the water like a knife. He broke the surface, laughing, and shouted at Dean to hurry up.
Dean dove, mimicking Seamus' leap.
Dean startled the squid by smacking into it about five metres down, carried by the momentum of his dive.
Dean swore violently underwater. The curses floated up in perky, happy bubbles. Dean was not feeling particularly happy.
He had lost something, and it was not his dignity. No, that sounds worse than it was.
Something had slipped, and it was not his composure.
Dean shot to the surface, flailing around for his boxers. Boxers which were painfully, literally MIA.
Seamus sat on the rock, cheerfully dangling a pair of blue boxers from one hand.
He grinned impishly.
"Lose something?" he asked innocently. Dean glared, glad the rippling water and Seamus' angle afforded some concealment.
"No, not really. Just what shreds of dignity I had left, my temper, little things like that. They must have run off with your mind. Give my boxers BACK." Dean stuck his hand out, still treading water.
Seamus grinned. "Come and get them."
"What? You--I--you can't--that's stupid!" Dean spluttered. Seamus shrugged, dangling them closer to Dean. He made a grab for them but only got Seamus' wolf-whistle when Dean's torso strained up out of the water.
Dean felt the heat rising in his cheeks as he resumed treading water with everything south of his neck decidedly underwater and out of view. He covered his embarrassment by glaring daggers, maces, morningstars and other assorted pointy weapons at Seamus.
Seamus just laughed and dangled the boxers higher.
"Please, Seamus? Lunch is over, and people will be out again soon!"
Seamus looked thoughtful. "What will you give me?" he asked.
"WHAT?" exclaimed Dean. "That's extortion! That's--that's--completely unfair!"
"Well, if you give me something then I'll let you have your boxers back. Fair trade, right?"
"Seamus…" Dean growled. "Just give them to me."
"What will you trade for them?" Seamus asked.
"What do you want?"
"Ah," Seamus tapped the side of his nose. "Clever. Not agreeing to something before you know what you're agreeing to. Boring, but clever."
"What do you want in exchange for my boxers?" shouted Dean, exasperated.
Seamus pondered this for a moment. Dean could see the question governing his thought process: 'How much can I get him to do'?
Except Dean wasn't sure himself. Seamus was Seamus. You couldn't say no to Seamus. He was too cute.
Did I just--damn. Damn, Dean swore at himself.
"Wait, what?" he asked suddenly. Seamus had said something while he was silently berating himself.
"I said, give me a kiss and you can have your boxers back," Seamus repeated, smirking at Dean's squirming.
"I'm not getting out of the water without my boxers, you prick," insisted Dean.
Seamus shrugged airily. "Fine. Have it your way." He placed the boxers on the rock and slipped into the water himself. He stood on the stone lip jutting out into the lake and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him in closer. Standing on the ledge, the water came up between Seamus' hips and his waist.
The water came uncomfortably close to Dean's hips. Entirely too close, in Dean's personal opinion. (Not close enough in Seamus'.)
Dean braced his hands on Seamus' shoulders and leaned in.
Their mouths locked for a moment, then Seamus was shoved backwards into the water.
He broke the surface, spluttering and indignant. Dean had snatched his boxers off the rock and by then was pulling them up over his hips. He smirked at Seamus, who grinned in a frankly terrifying way and pulled Dean in after him.
At dinner that night, Harry peered across the table at Seamus' neck. There was a rather obvious love bite that only a turtleneck could have covered.
"What's that from?" he asked. "And why is your hair wet?"
Dean coughed and Seamus shrugged.
"Giant squid," they told him.
Reviewshappiness and fuzzy warm feelings. (Not I-just-ate-dryer-lint fuzzy warm feelings, but the I-am-very-happy-thankyouthankyouthankyou fuzzy warm ones. Those.)