Happy springsmut, vanseedee! Author:wook77 Recipient:vanseedee Title: Quick and Simple (except for the part where it's not) Rating: Hard R Pairing(s): Dean/Seamus Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: When a mission goes horribly awry, Seamus is forced to deal with the consequences of his too-loud mouth, his brashness and his inability to not love Dean Thomas. Warnings: none Word Count: ~8000 Author's Notes: Many thanks to my betas, T, J, M. Also dedicated to C for cheerleading and general awesomeness. vanseedee, it wasn't intentional but, surprisingly enough (and for the first time I've ever done it), I think I included all of your requests and kinks. I hope you enjoy! Finally, many thanks to midnitemarauder for running this fest yet again. You are made of win.
It's supposed to be a routine mission. Portkey in, find the arseholes they've been sent here for and then get back out. Simple and quick. Hell, they'd have enough time to catch a Quidditch match, watch Krum catch the Snitch and be back in time for the Kestrals' match on Monday.
But this is Seamus's story and, as such, it's not nearly as quick and easy as it's ever supposed to be.
~Friday~
Dean ducks behind a stack of boxes, bumping into Seamus, sending him off-kilter enough that he wobbles out of his crouch and exposes his shoulder. The Cruciatus Curse hits him and he can't breathe, his nerves alight with agony and fire as he tries to remember his training, remember how to deal with the excruciating pain and keep from biting his tongue right off. Dean's hands on his arms and chest burn like ice, pinpoints of even more intense pain as he's yanked back behind the stack of boxes.
When the curse finally finishes, Seamus pants and can't quite move. His muscles feel like jelly. "Thanks," he finally breathes out, not moving his lips.
"Stay there, we'll get out of this yet," Dean responds before poking his head out to hurl a hex towards their attackers.
"Hold 'em for a mo' and I'll be right back into it." Seamus starts to sit but Dean pushes him back to the ground.
"I said stay down!"
"And I said I'd be right back into it." Seamus makes to sit up again but Dean pushes him down again. "Fuck's sake, Thomas! Let me up to finish these fuckers off!"
"You're injured. Stay down!" Seamus grabs Dean's hand and pushes it away, sitting up into the crouch once more.
"Fuck you, you ain't me mam!" Inspired to rashness because of Dean's overprotectiveness, Seamus pushes into a run and draws their attackers' attention away from Dean. Multi-coloured spells shoot his way and he can only hope that Dean and his sudden smothering instincts are firing at the attackers and not worrying over Seamus. Out of breath and with his already-strained muscles protesting the movement, Seamus dives behind another stack of boxes in the warehouse.
"Seamus! You better still be alive, you arse!" Dean yells from behind him.
Seamus pants for a moment and then yells back, "Still alive. Did you get any of them?"
"No, you?"
"How many of you fucking bastards are there?" Seamus shouts. He can hear scuffs against the floor as their attackers move – it had better be their attackers or Seamus is going to fucking well kill Dean if he gets himself killed trying to follow.
"Do either of you ever shut up?"
Seamus turns, slow and steady, to find a black-robed figure directly behind him. He raises his hands. Heart pounding in his ears, he weighs his options. He could try to get a curse off but… he could drop his wand and hope for the best but… he could rush the man but… maybe he could sweep his leg out and trip the arse but…
Before he can decide what to do, the man's hit by a bright light and falls to the ground, Stupefied.
"You need a keeper, Finnigan," Dean says as he slinks out from his hiding spot.
Seamus has just enough time to look back at Dean before Dean is engulfed in red and collapses. "Dean?" he says as he scrambles towards Dean. "Dean? Come on, not funny, mate. Wake up."
When a flare of sickly green barely misses him, he leaps back once more. He'd forgotten about the multiple people in the warehouse, forgotten everything but the fact that Dean's lying just right there and he's stuck just right here with a big, open space between them. As he crouches – and his knees are starting to ache with all the crouching and hiding – he watches Dean's chest to see if there's any sort of movement at all.
~Monday~
"This has got to be the easiest mission anyone has ever received in the history of the Aurors, mate," Seamus says as he flops back onto the wide bed. "This hotel is posh, would you look at that?"
He pauses to gesture towards the pool and Jacuzzi down the hallway. There's also the pub in the entrance and the full-scale restaurant. Add in the view of Bucharest, the lush beds, the Egyptian cotton sheets, the Jacuzzi tub and the expansive room and Seamus is in heaven. His flat isn't even close to the size of this room.
After floating between the Wizarding World and the Muggle one, he much prefers Muggle hotels. They're much less likely to have some sort of thing swimming about in the pool, for one thing. "It's got everything you could possibly ask for. I knew it was a good thing to be mates with the head of the department."
"We're here for a mission, Seamus," Dean says as he takes his bag and settles it on the rack. Methodically unpacking, he sets his clothes in the bureau provided. Seamus doesn't quite understand the need. They'll leave Bucharest in a couple of days. Until then, his belongings can stay in the bag currently tossed at the foot of his bed. It's still a joy to watch Dean move about the room, especially when he bends over to pull the bottom drawer out and then to place his trousers in it. He's got a fine arse and Seamus would have to be blind not to notice it. Anyone would notice it, dammit, Seamus is just ahead of the curve what with the way that he's been noticing Dean's arse for years.
"Oh, fuck that. You and I both know this is a patsy mission. Harry's given it to us so we can mop this shit up fast and catch a match." Seamus puts his hands behind his head as he squirms into a more comfortable position. "You think Krum's as fast as he used to be? I think he is. He'll catch the Snitch for sure. Bet you ten galleons that he catches the Snitch."
"We're not here to catch a match. We're here to investigate whether Dolohov is holed up around here somewhere."
"Course he is. The old arse went to ground where he's familiar. It's an obvious tactic. We'll look around, find him, send him back with a big bowtie on his head and then catch a match. I'll give you good odds on that bet, mate." Seamus's mouth goes dry as Dean pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his stomach, the clean lines of his abs that Seamus wants to lick and suck and taste. Maybe this mission isn't going to be as easy as he'd thought. He'd underestimated his ability to cope with the fact that they'd be sharing a room, sharing a shower and, Christ, changing in front of one another. Just how the hell is he supposed to hide the fact that every fucking thing about Dean turns him on?
"You're making this too simple."
Too right he is. He'd forgotten how Dean makes his mouth dry and then drool with the way he, oh for fuck's sake, is it really that necessary that Dean has to drop trousers right in front of him?
"What the fuck are you doing?" Seamus bites out as he watches Dean's pants appear – oh God, they're tight and Dean's arse is there, right there, and what would Dean do if he reached out and touched that arse the way he wants, Dean would kill him, he knows that Dean would kill him, but maybe the death would totally be worth the feel of having that arse in his palms and –and then he folds all of his clothes and places them in the drawers.
"Changing. These clothes are manky. You not feeling manky over there?" Dean looks over his shoulder, shifting positions so that his one arse cheek tightens and the well-defined muscles in his leg ripple. Seamus shifts his hands from behind his head to flop one onto his cock in a vain hope that the sudden pain might cause it to stop reacting while the other one goes over his mouth so his teeth can bite into it. Seamus's vain hope doesn't help because Dean's eyes trace the path of his hands, resting on his crotch for a moment before travelling back up to his face.
"No, not really," he croaks, quickly sitting up and opening his bag. "Want to get something to eat or start working?"
"Might as well get to work and eat, if we can. Dolohov supposedly likes that one restaurant. Um, the…" Dean's voice trails off and Seamus looks over to see Dean digging through his bag and thumbing through papers, exposing his arse once again. "Bistro Atheneu."
"Right. Let's get something there and we'll canvass the place."
"You sure you're not going to change?" Dean pulls on clean trousers and a button-up shirt. Seamus can't quite help the way his eyes trace the play of fingers on buttons as Dean hides his body from Seamus's view.
"Don't like what you see?" Seamus waggles his eyebrows before standing and waving a hand at his chest. "I'm perfection walking, mate."
"Yeah, sure you are. I can see it so clearly," Dean says as he rolls his eyes. When Seamus stands up, Dean smacks the back of his head.
"Oi! What was that for?" Seamus holds a hand to the aching spot.
"Just helping to make you a little less perfect so you can walk with us mere mortals." He's out the door before Seamus can respond. When Seamus finally catches up with him, he's almost out of the hotel.
"You're an arsehole."
"Thanks kindly." Dean turns a beaming smile towards him before slinging an arm around Seamus's shoulders. "Coming from you, that's high praise indeed."
Seamus threads his arm around Dean's waist and holds on.
~Friday~
"Dean?" he whispers this time as he thinks about just what he can do to extricate them from this clusterfuck. Dean's the thinker of the pair of them. Dean's the one that comes up with the brilliant plans to bail their arses out of whatever mess Seamus gets them into. Dean's the brains, Seamus the brawn. That's why they work so well together.
There's no response from Dean, and Seamus can't see his chest moving. He thinks back and realises that he hadn't recognised the spell by colour or by incantation. Dammit, trust the dark wizards around these parts to have made up non-English language spells. They should use the Queen's English, goddammit. That way, at least he'd be able to recognise spells and know just what Dean'd been hit with. Fucking Russians using their own fucking language.
It's an irrational curse – of course they'd speak their own language – but it keeps his mind from fixating on the way that Dean is so still, face turned away from Seamus.
Fuck's sake, get it together, Finnigan. You're not eighteen anymore. You're an adult, a well-trained and experienced adult who happens to be an Auror. You're an Auror, not a scared child. Think, you stupid fuck, think, he chastises himself.
His brain's too stuck on DeanohmygodohgodhelpmeDean to be able to formulate a plan. Instead, he stands with a cry and charges the area where the spells had come from, screaming and shouting curses. Their attackers must be either too stunned, too scared, or too amused to react, because he fires off enough hexes that they go down without any sort of fight whatsoever. He's left panting and alone at the end of the mad dash.
Not even bothering to check on any of them, he goes back to Dean and slides in next to him. "Dean? Wake up, mate. Come on, we gotta get out of here."
His fingers fumble at Dean's throat and wrist, searching for a pulse. It's in his wrist, thready and weak, that he finds it. With a quick thanks sent off to whatever deity or guardian angel that's helping them out, he presses a kiss against Dean's pulse. "Oh thank god, Dean, thank god. Now if you'd just wake up, it'd all be better."
He's too stressed to cry so he's dry-eyed and still pressing his lips to Dean's wrist when he suddenly slumps over Dean's body.
~Tuesday~
"All right, since the pub didn't work out, where else we supposed to check?" Seamus asks as he watches a pack of kids kicking a football about.
"There's a few places in the Wizarding district." Dean opens the folder of paperwork and picks a couple of likely spots. "This one? It's on their version of Knockturn Alley. Carries Dark family heirlooms and stuff. Supposedly has illicit potions sold out the back."
"Yeah? Sounds as likely as any other. We want to go in direct or sneak in?"
"Both?"
"Do I get to be the prat again?"
"Course. You're better at it, what with all that experience." Seamus cuffs Dean on the head only to be tackled by Dean in response. Giving as good as he gets, they roll about on the grass, finally ending up with Dean back on top. "I'm better at this."
"Arseface. Course you're better at pinning me down and having your way with me," Seamus says back with a cheeky grin. Dean's face twists all weird and odd at his words. There's something in the air, like Dean maybe saw the way that Seamus had got so hard at seeing him naked. Seamus curses in his head only to be interrupted when the momentary awkwardness slides away and Dean grins at him.
"You love it."
"That I do, mate, that I do." Seamus can't resist lunging up and pressing his lips against Dean's quickly. He expects Dean to draw back or hit him. What he doesn't expect is for Dean to press back slightly before pulling away and rubbing his fingers across his lips. "Mate?"
"Fucker," Dean says without any sort of heat. "Come on, we should get changed and check it out."
Dean stands and offers a hand down to Seamus. He takes it, letting himself be pulled up and he can't resist kissing Dean's chin. "You love it."
"Yeah, sure," Dean says as he stares at Seamus and shifts his fingers to touch his chin.
"You all right?"
"Yeah, fine."
"Didn't know a little kiss would send you off into another world. I'll have to remember that in the future." Seamus tries to tease. He's worried if, maybe, he's pushed the limits here and Dean's pissed or trying to think of how to tell him to knock it off.
"Come on, let's go do our jobs." Dean shakes himself and then slings his arm around Seamus once more. Seamus gives Dean's waist a squeeze and then leads the way back to their hotel to change.
~Saturday~
His head's pounding when he wakes. His back itches and there's a lump in his bed. The hotel's supposed to be posh, dammit, what the hell is up with the lumpy mattress?
"Shay?" Dean calls out and Seamus opens his eyes to see nothing. There isn't a thing to see as he's completely in the dark. Obviously it's the middle of the night and Dean has no place to wake him. Dean knows he's a jerk if he doesn't get enough sleep.
"Mrwar, bed," he mutters and tries to roll to his side. He slaps up against a box and opens his eyes again. "Why's it dark?"
"Probably because we're in a cave or tunnel or something." Dean's voice is droll and does more to wake Seamus up than any of the other stimuli.
"Why're we in a cave? What's wrong with the hotel? Did I get trolleyed and pass out?"
"We got captured, you berk."
"Captured?" he asks dumbly, and then the memories of the attack in the warehouse come back in bright, technicolour detail. Right. Dean had been hurt and… he struggles to keep his tone from showing the outright panic he'd felt. "You all right? You weren't really breathing back there."
"Didn't wake up until about an hour ago. Whatever they hit me with was nasty. You all right?"
"Headache. Christ, can't believe we got captured." Seamus sits up slowly, gingerly. His head is throbbing, a pounding that's dousing every other sound that he might need to hear.
"Yeah, well, we know what Dolohov is capable of." There's a hint of accusation in Dean's voice. It doesn't take years of friendship for that to be obvious.
"You blaming me?" Seamus asks, crossing his arms defiantly in the dark.
"Isn't anyone's fault but Dolohov's," Dean finally says at length. The pause tells Seamus that, yes, Dean's blaming him. Who can blame him? He hadn't taken the mission seriously and the fact that they'd been surprised in the warehouse only went to show just how poorly he'd planned. They're in the dark and captured because of Seamus. Nothing else to it.
"Sorry," he apologises. Pushing up to crawl across the floor, Seamus heads towards where Dean's voice is coming from.
"It's fine."
"Isn't," he responds. "Keep talking to me, I'm trying to find you."
"It's fine, Seamus."
"Why don't you ever get mad at me?" Seamus asks as he keeps heading towards Dean's voice. "Why don't you ever yell at me when I deserve it? Face it, this is my fault. You're allowed to yell at me."
"What will that solve? It's not going to get us out of here any faster. I know what you're like. I should've planned around it."
"What'm I like?" Seamus is slightly hurt by the words and the tone, the way that Dean says it so resignedly, like he's completely irresponsible and a detriment to their safety. True, in this case, but not always.
"You're impetuous and irresponsible. Always have been. Always will be." Dean's still so resigned and Seamus's gut twists even more.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
"I'm sorry," he whispers again. He keeps crawling and then bumps his head into Dean's chest. At least, he hopes it's Dean's chest.
"I'm supposed to take Kerry to a concert on Tuesday." Dean says as he reaches a hand out and touches Seamus.
"Fancy concert? Or a good one?" Knowing Dean's sister, it'd be a fancy one.
"Fancy. Kerry's boyfriend is playing with an orchestra and everything. I promised her I'd be there." Seamus grabs Dean's hand and entwines their fingers. It's an intimate gesture but Seamus doesn't much care. He wants to give Dean comfort right now, wants to try to atone for his fuck-up.
"You going to dress up in a tux and everything?"
"Was supposed to pick it up on Monday morning." Seamus gives Dean's fingers a squeeze as he manoeuvres to sit directly beside Dean, pressing his shoulder tight against Dean's.
"We'll get out by then, get you your penguin suit and everything." Seamus wouldn't mind seeing Dean in a tux.
"Yeah? How you think we're going to work that?"
"I'll think of something." He tries to sound confident.
"Great, I'll look forward to it."
~Wednesday~
Their daytime visit hadn't shown them anything that the reports hadn't already told them. It's a dingy shop, filled with random Dark materials that wouldn't really violate any of the international treaties or statutes. There are a few questionable materials but not anything that set off any warnings for either Seamus or Dean. The fact that the proprietor is overly friendly to both of them, however, does send off warnings. Enough so that they return under Disillusionment charms along with the cover of darkness.
This return visit does break several international treaties and statutes but, as far as Seamus is concerned, it's well-justified. They can gloss over it in their report if they aren't caught which, again as far as Seamus is concerned, isn't going to happen.
They test the door for any sort of alarms or wards. When nothing pops for either of them, they ease the door open and slip inside, running another series of tests for alarms and traps. A few items have alarms so they steer clear. They're after the record of sales, to see if the proprietors were stupid enough to record Dolohov's name.
Seamus looks near the register first, banging on the desk and checking for hollow walls. Dean takes a more studious approach, going for the office and checking for any records of Dolohov. He has to have accomplices but damned if they can find any sort of name for any of them, either.
"Think I've got something," Seamus whispers. Even that echoes around the room.
"Yeah?" Dean hurries out of the office, not noticing the red light that flashes twice as he passes.
"Yeah, take a look at this," Seamus says as he turns and shows the book he's found hidden behind a mummified hand on a shelf. "Dolohov was just here yesterday."
"Really?" Dean sounds excited and crowds Seamus's space to peer over his shoulder. "That's brilliant news! We know he's been here and now we can watch and see if he comes back. You find any record of how often he visits?"
"Saw his name about a month ago. I'm sure as shit not sticking around for a month to see him show up here again." Seamus barely resists leaning back against Dean to feel him along the entire length of his body. Instead, he concentrates on the book and points to Dolohov's name for the second entry. "See?"
Dean leans even closer, pressing against Seamus and damned if his cock doesn't react while his breathing and heart rate speed up. Just like that, the scent of Dean wraps around him even in the musty, smelly shop, and he's hard as a rock. Dean's breath puffs against his ear, stirring his short hair and making him shiver. If he turns his head just slightly, Dean's lips will be against his skin. He could risk it. It'd be worth it so he does, letting his head shift so that Dean's lips press right beside his earlobe.
"Yeah, I see," Dean breathes out and his lips drift across Seamus's skin. Seamus shivers again.
He can't resist turning his face and brushing their lips together as he whispers, "You think we should head out?"
"Yeah, let's go," Dean says back though, he makes no move to shift away from Seamus. He can't move away from Dean, not when they're so close and he's breathing the same air, surrounded by Dean.
Dean shakes his head and then steps back, leaving Seamus alone in the sudden cold of the room. "Come on, before we get caught."
They head out and both neglect to notice the ripple of movement in the corner.
~Saturday~
"Going to miss the match," Seamus remarks when the silence gets to be too much.
"Good thing I never took you up on that bet, then, yeah? You would've had to pay up regardless." Seamus rests his head on Dean's shoulder while trying to ignore the fact that he has to piss.
"Gotta piss," he mutters. "Wish I had my wand so I could at least see where the fuck we are."
"I'd like my wand so we could get the hell out of here."
"There's that, too." Seamus gives Dean's hand another squeeze, his other hand grabbing hold of Dean's forearm. "Then we could have fresh air and I could piss."
A screeching noise breaks the silence, a trickle of light accompanying the sound. They both scramble to their feet and Seamus pushes in front of Dean, doing his best to protect Dean from whatever's coming.
"Isn't this touching?" A black-robed man stands backlit in the doorway.
"Dolohov?" Seamus demands as he fights Dean's body from surging forward.
"Charmed," comes the sardonic response.
Seamus wants to say something back but it would all come out as a cliché. He hates that in the movies so there's no way that he'll say something predictable like "you're going to get it" or "just wait until we're out of here" or "you can't keep us here". Leaning in to Dean, he whispers, "Play along," before forcing a grin and marching forward, holding out a hand, "Pleased to meet you."
"I'm certain." Dolohov doesn't take his hand. "Manners? From someone of your blood?"
"Considering me da was out of the picture most of my life, just like the Muggle he was, manners are to be expected." Seamus keeps his hand extended, playing along and, he's certain, completely baffling Dean.
"I see. Perhaps this is why your friend has yet to acknowledge my presence?"
"Raised by Muggles," he says with a shrug.
"Oi! Stop talking about my parents like that!"
Seamus bites his lip as Dolohov raises his wand and Crucios Dean.
"Manners. It's all about manners." Dolohov releases Dean from the spell and turns his attention back to Seamus. "You, on the other hand, may possess a certain level of manners but you're still delving into business not your own."
"That's my job." The pain hits without any warning. When he's released from the curse, he decides he's really getting tired of being Crucio'd. A blast of red covers his vision and he turns his head to see Dean suffering through it as well. "Knock it off. For fuck's sake, knock it off."
"Begging? How charming." Dolohov releases Dean and addresses Seamus once more. "Just what would you be willing to sacrifice to have me stop?"
"Anything," he answers without hesitation.
"Anything?" Dolohov repeats before laughing. "Anything, he says."
"And I mean what I say."
"I'll have to ponder just what I want from your 'anything'." Dolohov turns and walks away, shutting the door behind him and leaving them scattered in the dark.
~Thursday~
Dean steps out of the bathroom with a towel slung low around his waist, drawing Seamus's eye to that knot while his brain prays for it to slip, just a little bit more. When Dean takes a step, his thigh peeks out of the slit and Seamus can't help staring at it, waiting for it to reveal itself one more time. A moan echoes in the sudden stillness of the room and he realises that it's from him. Flushing, he scrambles for some sort of explanation because, as he looks up, he sees Dean staring at him. "Hungry. You about ready?"
"Um, yeah, um, sure, just let me get dressed." From the stuttering and stumbling, Seamus knows that Dean didn't buy his explanation. Turning to the window, Seamus does his best not to look at Dean as he turns his back on Seamus, drops the towel and reveals his arse. His bare arse. His bare fucking arse. Seamus bites his hand, keeping the moan inside this time as he watches Dean out the corner of his eye. "Ready?"
"Yeah, just got to put on some trainers or something. You want to investigate that farmhouse now or leave it for tonight?"
"Thought you were hungry?"
Seamus isn't sure how to respond to this. All he knows is that there isn't any way in hell that Dean wants to hear that Seamus's hunger isn't for food.
"Sooner we finish this investigation up, the sooner we can get on with catching that match. You can still get some fair odds, you want to." Seamus resists thinking about the way that Dean's shirt clings to his body in the same way he's been able to do it for too long, by thinking about the time he'd been running from the Carrows and caught McGonagall in the midst of her beauty regimen. The sight of McGonagall in her nightgown covered in facial cream is normally more than sufficient to suppress the urges to think of Dean in any other way than 'mate'.
"Would you stop obsessing over this match?"
"Mate. Let me explain, and I'll use small words since you're being so stupid. We're here," he pauses to gesture grandly, "right near Vrasta, to catch Krum playing. Normally we're way over there," he pauses once more and gestures towards England, "but we have a chance, while not even taking any vacation time, to see Krum play. Here."
"We’re here," Dean mimics Seamus’s gesture, "because a Death Eater that’s been on the run for three years has finally appeared here." Dean repeats Seamus’s gesture again. "Whereas over there." Dean repeats the gesture once more. Seamus smacks Dean.
"I get it already. Dolohov is serious. Doesn't mean we can't have fun, though," Seamus says with a huff. "Farmhouse, Wizarding district or food? You pick, oh great and devoted Auror."
"Farmhouse and then food?"
"There's a plan. I knew I kept you around for something. Knew it couldn't be your personality or the way you're a rubbish friend." He winks as he says it and then takes off at a run, avoiding Dean's grasping hands and ducking through the crowd of people outside the hotel. He hears Dean right behind him, footsteps pounding dangerously close, as they run through the streets. He manages to stay just ahead of Dean until he can duck in an alley to catch his breath. With barely enough time to lean against the wall, he finds himself pressed between Dean and the wall.
"Am a fantastic friend. You're a rubbish partner." Dean's right in his face, and if Seamus turns his head slightly, he can nip at Dean's lower lip, suck it into his mouth and taste Dean like he hasn't ever tasted him before. The mood tightens and it's all his fault. There's no way that Dean can be ignorant of the way that Seamus's cock is hard.
"Absolutely rubbish," he whispers. "For both."
Dean pulls back abruptly and swipes his hand over his lips. "Come on, don't want you to starve."
"'M already starving," he says, and he's not talking about food. He needs to find someone when they get back. There has to be someone that he hasn't dated or fucked yet that will hold his attention.
"Me too," Dean says and the awkwardness only increases.
"Food?" Seamus asks, keeping his back pressed against the wall for now.
"What? Yeah, ok." Turning towards the main street, Seamus takes a moment to get himself back under control and then walks out of the alley.
"Preference?"
"What about right there?" Dean gestures across the street.
"Looks good." Seamus can handle this. He can be normal and friendly and forget about the fact that they're in one another's pockets here like they haven't been for four years. He can do this. He can. Maybe if he repeats it often enough, he'll even believe it.
~Saturday~
It feels like a year's passed since Dolohov left. Seamus still has to piss, the wish turning into a need that consumes him and distracts him from the fact that they're stuck in the dark as the prisoners of one of Voldemort's lackeys. It's an untenable position and one that Seamus landed them both in.
To take his mind off it, he starts a random conversation, "Had a date to see the Kestrals. Guess that's been cancelled. First fucking date I've had in months and a bunch of Death Eaters fuck over my chance to get laid."
"Date?"
Seamus pretends to hear jealousy in that question.
"Yeah."
"With who?"
"You wouldn't know 'em. They're Muggle, from near home." He ignores the fact that he'd never take a Muggle to see a Quidditch match.
"I've been to your house a thousand times. Who?" Dean grabs on to Seamus and shakes him. "Who is it?"
"No one you'd know. Why? You jealous or something? You said you were busy, got that thing with your sister, else I would've taken you."
"Not jealous."
"Oh yeah? Doesn't sound like it to me."
The door swings open abruptly, lighting the room for a brief moment before they're both blindfolded and roughly manhandled out the door. It happens so quickly that Seamus doesn't have a chance to react.
"Dean?" Seamus calls out, only to be hit across the head.
"Shay?" He hears Dean's cry of pain after calling out and his temper flares. Struggling against the person marching him towards whatever Dolohov has planned, he lashes out with his hands and feet.
"Talk to me, Dean," he demands as he breaks free. He hears Dean's voice to the left and rushes towards it, heedless of whatever might be in his way. He's tackled and finds his face ground into the dirt while a knee presses into the base of his spine.
"Shay?" The sound of flesh impacting flesh comes and Seamus continues his struggles.
"Trying to get to you," he bites out as his head is slammed against the ground.
"Stop," the body on top of him demands. The voice sounds familiar and he wonders, for a brief moment, which of the Death Eaters from that final year at Hogwarts was still free, "or I will bind you."
"Fuck off," he says as more dirt coats his tongue.
"Stupefy." He can't move, and he's pissed at himself and his captors. Now there's not a chance to get out of here. His temper, yet again, has put them both in danger.
"Cease struggling." Seamus hears and can only assume that the person is talking to Dean. He's levitated and floats down the hallway, through a doorway and then laid on a table.
"I see you've allowed your Mudblood to show through," Dolohov says from in front of Seamus. His hood is removed and Dolohov appears in Seamus's limited field of view. Seamus wants to say 'fuck you' or something, as they're now completely fucked due to Seamus's show of temper and his overriding need to protect Dean.
"Fuck off," Dean says from just behind and slightly to the right of Seamus..
"Brave show of words. What does your friend, here, have to say about it? Oh, where are my manners?" Dolohov removes the spell and Seamus lunges off the table towards Dolohov.
"I'd say fuck right the fuck off, you murdering sack of shit."
"Temper. It will always be your downfall."
"Fuck you."
"I've decided to collect on your promise."
"Oh yeah?"
"Information on the locations of every Auror, most especially Harry Potter. In exchange, your partner will not be harmed."
"No." Seamus lunges once more and finds himself bound to the table.
"As you might not have understood, I'll repeat myself. In exchange for your partner not being harmed, you will provide me with the locations of every Auror, most especially Harry Potter."
"Don't think it's me with the lack of comprehension skills. No."
"Crucio." Seamus braces but it's Dean that cries out as he's engulfed in the spell.
"Stop!"
"The location of Harry Potter."
"Up your arse."
"Crucio."
Seamus's hands work at his bindings, trying to figure out how to get himself loose. "Stop, please, stop."
"You'll beg for him but not save him? The location."
Seamus allows his struggling to answer for him. His wrists are completely bound but… but yes! The rope tying his left leg to the table is loose enough that he can possibly slip out of it if he twists his ankle just right as he lunges. As Dolohov points his wand to cast again, Seamus pushes and falls to the side, left leg slipping from its bindings and he takes the full impact of the curse.
His nerves explode. He can hear his brain screaming. It's the longest he's ever been exposed to the curse in his life. For a brief moment, he forgets what it's like not to feel pain and then it stops.
"Stupid boy. Your show of bravado was for nothing. What could possibly inspire you to such heights of stupidity?"
Seamus can't think, his brain's still in too much pain, and he answers with the obvious, "I love him."
"Of course you care for your partner but why would you–"
In for a penny, in for a pound, so Seamus interrupts him. "No, you fucking moron, I love him."
The room stills and Seamus looks up to see how much he's stunned Dolohov.
"Shay?" Dean calls out and Seamus shifts so he can see Dean where he's held between the two men. He can't say anything to the confused query.
"The exercise is over," Dolohov says, his voice sounding off, as he walks over to unbind Seamus. "Let Dean go."
As soon as Seamus is released, he tackles Dolohov and punches him. He's pulled off by Dolohov's lackeys who he'd promptly forgotten about.
"Seamus, calm down," the familiar voice says as he's pulled off of Dolohov. "Come on, mate, calm down."
Mate? What the everlasting fuck? Seamus kicks out to the side and the man slips away from him. He shifts, gripping the other man's arms just so, and flips him over his hip, sending the man flying. Seeing all three lying on the floor, he grabs a wand and then rushes for the door, grabbing Dean on the way.
"Come on, we're getting out of here," he says as he pulls open the door, only to run into Kingsley Shacklebolt.
~Sunday~
Seamus, even a day later, is still beyond pissed at the training exercise. The one he'd been given a pass on but he knows that he'd failed. Miserably. In point of fact, he'd fucked up both the mission and his life. He grabs the few items scattered around the room and loo before tossing them in his bag. Fuck all of 'em, he decides.
When he opens the door, Dean's on the other side, hand raised as if to knock on the door to his own room.
"You going to just ignore me?" Dean demands, invading Seamus's personal space and refusing to allow him to leave the hotel room.
"Was thinking that'd work, yeah."
"How long did you think your idiotic plan would work?" Dean stops Seamus as he attempts to go around Dean once more.
"Was thinking it'd last long enough that we could all forget about what I said." Seamus is beyond mortified at the way that he's having to talk about this now instead of, say, never. Or at the very least, without a few drinks in him.
"Why didn't you say anything before?" Dean's tone is even and unemotional and it sets off Seamus's temper.
"What was I supposed to say? 'Oi, mate, just thought you should know I'm queer for you. What do you say? Want to shove your cock up me arse or maybe I could shove mine up yours? Or how about I just suck your dick? Maybe lick it like a lolly?' Yeah, sure'n that'd go over real fucking well, Thomas." Seamus pauses in the midst of his rant to step back and rake his hands through his hair. Dean stares at him, blank and expressionless. "Want an answer to your question? That right there? That's why I didn't say anything."
"What?"
"That blank look, you know, the one that says that I'm an awful person and you can't stand the sight of me but you haven't a clue how to deal with it."
"Stop putting thoughts into my head, Finnigan." Dean sounds pissed, which is better than blank as far as Seamus is concerned. Not much better, but better all the same.
"If I'm so fucking wrong, why don't you enlighten me? Tell me what's actually behind that blank stare of yours?" Seamus would've continued but Dean's lips on his silence him abruptly. In fact, Dean's lips on his shut his brain down completely.
"You just want my cock or you want my lips, too?" Dean pulls back long enough to ask before pressing against him once more.
Oh fuck, damn, fuck, shit, fuckshitdamn, this is the best thing that has ever happened, he thinks as his brain abruptly wrenches back into gear. His hands spear into Dean's hair as his mouth does its best to devour Dean, absorb him and his flavour. When Dean nips his lower lip, Seamus opens his mouth and licks against the teeth that have taunted him so much and for so long.
The kiss is wet and sloppy, too rushed and needy for any sort of skill. Seamus can taste Dean and coffee and whisky and Dean. It's intoxicating to feel the wiry hair between his fingers while Dean's hands roam over his chest, arms and back. If Dean keeps it up, and please god let him keep it up, Seamus is going to come without even having his cock touched.
They pull back briefly, panting against one another's lips before Seamus lunges to capture Dean's lips again. He's afraid that if they stop this right now, he'll never get it back so, he'll keep what he has and enjoy it for as long as it lasts which, with his luck, will be another couple of minutes, just about the time that Seamus puts his hands on Dean's cock.
"Seamus, we've time, relax," Dean whispers after pulling back again.
"Pinch me," Seamus begs. Dean's too close so Seamus can't see the baffled look on his face but they've been friends long enough that he knows Dean hasn't followed because he's neither said something smart back nor done what Seamus has asked. "Wanna see if 'm dreaming. Pinch me."
Dean reaches around and pushes his hands into Seamus's trousers and pants before pinching Seamus's arse. Hard. Seamus flinches forward, grinding their hard cocks together. "That prove it to you?"
"No, not enough," he says as he rubs his cock against Dean's. "Never enough."
"We've time, I'm here," Dean says against his lips, tightening his grip and stilling Seamus's frantic movements.
"Why now?"
"I didn't know. Just thought it was me." Dean thrusts forward. "Kept wondering and worrying but you never said anything and, well, you're always talking so I figured if you wanted it, you'd tell me."
"How long?" Seamus knows that Dean knows exactly what he means.
"For forever?" Barking out a laugh, Seamus shows his derision for the sidestepping answer. "I don't know, Seamus, it's been there the whole time. I don't know when it changed from friends to more. Isn't it enough that it did? How long?"
"For forever," Seamus answers back with a cheeky grin. Dean's lips swallow the grin and all thoughts of cheeky responses as they kiss once more. Fumbling at the buttons, Seamus briefly debates doing his damnedest to wrench the buttons apart and just bare Dean's chest but he resists for multiple reasons. The first is that his hands are shaking far too much to try anything like that, while the second is that it's another cliché and he'd rather not try to be a character in a movie. He's done a bang-up job resisting so far.
"If you're thinking that much, I'm not doing this right." Dean's lips brush his ear as he speaks.
"Touch me, then," Seamus responds. When Dean's shirt is finally opened, Seamus pushes the shirt off his shoulders and traps his arms behind his back.
"How'm I supposed to do that now?"
"You're the planner."
Seamus leans forward and licks along Dean's collarbone and then traces down Dean's chest and along his ribs before making his way back up to Dean's nipple. Nipping it lightly, he slides his hands along Dean's ribcage, down his stomach, and tickles at the flesh just above Dean's waistband.
Slowly sliding to his knees, Seamus licks at Dean's stomach and then sucks in flesh at random, leaving marks across his flesh. When he's got Dean's trousers worked open, he tugs both trousers and pants down until they pool over his shoes, binding his ankles together as much as his hands. With Dean trapped in place and unable to do anything about it for the time being, Seamus licks the length of Dean's cock and then sucks just the tip into his mouth, sucking hard and fast.
"Fuck, Seamus, second I get out of this fucking shirt…" Dean's voice trails off impotently.
Now that he's got his mouth on Dean, Seamus doesn't want to talk. He'd much rather do just this, suck Dean's cock and taste all of him. Sliding down the length and back up before sliding further, Seamus holds on to Dean's hips as he tries to fuck Seamus's mouth. Dean growls even as his hips snap forward and thrust further in.
Suddenly, Dean's hands are on his head, fingers pressing in to his scalp as he wrenches back control. He bites out, "Warned you."
Seamus pushes at Dean’s hips, slides off Dean’s cock, and licks his way back up Dean’s chest. He captures Dean's lips once more, sucking in the bottom lip between his teeth and nipping it before repeating the bite with Dean's upper lip. "You going to do something about it other than talk?"
"Like this?" Dean's hand slides between their bodies and teases at the base of Seamus's cock, light, tickling fingers teasing as they travel further back and touch his balls. He moans; he can't help it. Bucking into those fingers, he gasps as he rubs against Dean's leg and Dean shifts so that their cocks rub against each other.
The friction is toomuchnotenough and he keeps thrusting, frotting against Dean as Dean frots against him. He's chafed and he'll feel it in the morning but, right now, the burning only adds to the sensation. Next time, he promises to himself, next time they'll have lube and more touching but for now, with Dean's thumb on his slit, he's too fixated on the feel of Dean's lips on his body and his lips on Dean's body. Dean's taking over every one of his senses and he doesn't much care, can't care because this was just a dream until about fifteen minutes ago.
"God, Dean, I…" He can't think of what he'd been planning to say because Dean's taken them both into his hands, rubbing along their lengths and forcing their cocks together. He drops his head so that it rests on Dean's shoulder and he can look down the length of Dean's body to where their cocks touch. "I…"
"Come, Seamus, please come," Dean begs. When Dean rubs a finger along the head of his cock before raising it to Seamus's lips to taste, Seamus comes, his orgasm rippling through his body unexpectedly. He sucks Dean’s finger into his mouth as he comes, sucks it in so deep that it brushes his throat. Dean follows him into pleasure, their come mixing on both of their bodies.
They're a mess, an absolute mess, but Seamus doesn't care because he'd never thought this was possible.
"Christ," he finally says.
"Just Dean," Dean responds and Seamus shifts his head so he can nip Dean's throat. "Hey!"
"Bloody, fucking wanker." Seamus licks the bite, offering an apology. "This where we turn into girls, rehash the whole thing, confess our feelings and stuff?"
"Thought this might be the spot where I pack up my things, we head home, we shag like rabbits and we plot how we can get revenge on Harry for his little stunt."
"Little? And just Harry? That was Ron that fucking Crucio'd me the first time. We owe Shacklebolt, too."
"But it was Harry that did it to us as Dolohov."
"Yeah, we'll get him first." Seamus runs his finger across the moisture on Dean's stomach. "Your plan's absolute rubbish, though."
"Why's that?"
"Shower first, mate, you're manky."
"So're you."
Seamus looks up to see Dean's cheeky grin and he kisses it quickly before walking into the bathroom. "Point. I'll grab the shower first, then, shall I?"
"Fuck that. My turn."
"We could share." Seamus winks and then asks, ""Shower, shag, shower, pack, home, shag, revenge?"
"Yeah, better plan." As Dean comes up behind him, kissing his ear while pressing his entire length along Seamus's back, he asks, "You mean it?"