"There are plenty of fish in the sea, but you're the only fish for me."
Part Three: In which Seamus is found to be Dean's fairy/ferocious, fire-breathing dragon-man of doom, and Neville's timing is awful.
Disclaimer: CharactersNot mine. Etc.
The kiss was long. And wet. And serious.
Seamus was enthralled by the contrast of Dean's dark skin against his cursed pale white skin. There was just something so…right about it. Not to mention how good Dean felt against him. And that indescribable little tilty-head-thing Dean was doing.
Unfortunately, he needed to breathe.
"So, um, wow…" Seamus stuttered, coming up for air. He tried to speak again, but choked on his words.
"Amazing," laughed Dean.
"What's amazing?"
"I've actually rendered the irrepressible, garrulous Seamus speechless."
Seamus lobbed a pillow at Dean's head. "Yeah, well, don't tell anyone. I don't want anyone knowing that I've gone soft."
Dean grinned evilly. "I promise not to tell, on one condition."
"What's that?"
"We try this kissing thing again sometime without alcohol."
Seamus stretched, cat-like, and leaned back against the headboard. "Dean, my good friend, d'ya know what I always say?"
"I know thousands of things you 'always say,' as you never stop talking."
"Ahem," said Seamus, ignoring this remark. "I always say that there's no better time than the present for practicing kissing."
"I've never heard you say that."
"Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything."
He nestled up against Dean and lightly kissed his neck.
"Wait, Seamus," said Dean, extracting the Irish boy from his body with some difficulty. "I mean…do you want to actually do something about this?"
"You mean like…kiss you some more? Then yes."
Dean pushed Seamus off the bed. "You know what I mean. I mean…well…"
Seamus laughed, sprawling out comfortably on the floor and resting his head on his folded arms. "Yeah, I know what you mean, and it's lucky I do as apparently you don't. And the answer is yes, I do want to do something about 'this.' But later, because right now, I'd rather be doing something else."
Dean rolled off the bed, narrowly missing the shattered glass from the bottle of mead, and leaned over Seamus, supporting himself on his elbows.
"So you don't care what others think?"
"Well, I can't pretend I'm not worried that others are going to be talking about us."
"Seamus, there always going to be talking about us. Or you, at least. Ever since you set Goyle on fire in potions—"
Seamus quickly covered Dean's mouth with his hand, looking nervously around him to make sure that there wasn't an eavesdropper in the room that he might have missed. "Shh, Dean, they never proved it was me!"
Dean laughed and nuzzled Seamus. "Who'd have thought that you would turn out to be the fairy for me?"
"Can we use a manlier term?" asked Seamus, grimacing. "I kind of prefer that I turned out to be your 'ferocious, fire-breathing dragon-man of doom.''"
Dean laughed again and leaned down to kiss Seamus.
It was precisely at this moment that Neville chose to bang into the dormitory. He stopped and cocked his head, his large eyes big and round in his even rounder face, puzzled by the sight before him.
He stared openly at Dean and Seamus.
Seamus stared at Dean.
Dean stared at Seamus.
They both stared at Neville.
Neville got tired of staring.
"What are you two doing?" He finally asked.
It looked as though it was promising to be another staring match. The silence settled over them, and Dean was all to aware of how compromising his position was. Seamus decided to speak up.
"…Wrestling" he offered.
"Wrestling?" asked Neville.
"Wrestling?" asked Dean.
"Wrestling," confirmed Seamus.
Neville laughed. "Well why didn't you say so? Don't mind me, I just need to get another quill." He bustled over to his trunk and rummaged around for awhile before emerging with a large quill. Whistling cheerfully, he left the room, the door banging behind him.
"WRESTLING?" asked Dean quizzically, shaking with supressed mirth.
Seamus smiled smugly. "Would you rather I have told him that I was about to unbutton your shirt slowly, tantalizingly, then peel it off your sticky body, throw it aside, and then trail my tongue along—"
"Well then, laddy-me-love," said Dean, interrupting. "In that case why don't you stop talking and start wrestling?"
My lovely people, thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed it.