It was becoming an obsession.
In the past week, Dean hadn't been able to stop thinking about Friday night. Thinking about Seamus so pissed that he was barely able to stand. Thinking about stumbling out of the pub with Seamus leaning against him. Thinking about getting back to their flat and getting Seamus to his bed. Thinking about Seamus pulling him down for a sloppy kiss before he passed out. Thinking about lying awake the entire bloody night thinking about that kiss. The kiss that Seamus didn't seem to remember the next day. The kiss that he hadn't been able to forget.
Since it happened, he felt like he was going crazy. He shouldn't be thinking about kissing a bloke, much less about kissing his best friend. While he had never really considered his sexuality before, he'd only ever dated girls, so he'd always assumed that he wasn't into blokes. If he was suddenly discovering something about himself, he wished it had happened about anyone other than his best mate. Seamus would probably laugh, so he wasn't worried about anger or anything, but there were just a lot of other problems involved with wanking over the bloke you share a flat with and have known for over a decade.
The fact that he was wanking while thinking about Seamus was probably wrong. He hadn't really planned to do it, but the thoughts of that awful kiss had led to thoughts about not so awful kisses and then to Seamus' mouth and where else sloppy lips might feel nice. He might have been able to resist had his mind not wandered in that direction while he was taking a shower. As it was, he hadn't even hesitated as he started to wank.
The fact that it had happened another half dozen times in the days since could be blamed on his total lack of self-control. He was only twenty-one, after all, and a male, so it wasn't like he could stop thinking about sex for very long. Hermione could probably even find him some study or another to back up that claim, if he ever had to defend himself.
The whole thing was making him feel awkward, so he was trying to avoid Seamus, which wasn't easy when they shared a flat and rarely went out alone. In fact, he was positive that Seamus had noticed something was wrong. How could he not? He felt like it had to be obvious that he was wondering what Seamus tasted like when he hadn't been drinking a bottle of firewhisky. Seamus had been staring at him with this confused expression more times than he could count, and that didn't even include the teasing, the questions about whether he was having some girly mood swing or what had him so tense.
When he walked into their flat after work on the Friday after Everything Became Fucked Up, he could smell spice and pumpkin in the air. He wandered into the tiny kitchen and saw Seamus leaning against the cabinet with a mess of dishes behind him. When Seamus saw him, he grinned.
"Pumpkin pie," he said with a nod towards the pie plate that was cooling. "Me da gave us fresh pumpkins, so I tried to use them. That's the second attempt. First one is in the bin. Was bloody disgusting, that."
"You made pie?" Dean ran his hand over his head and stared at Seamus. "You don't cook."
"Course I do. See?" Seamus pointed at the pie. "Couldn't just leave the poor pumpkins to rot. Figured pie would be good. 'sides, you've been acting weird all week, so's only fair that I act weird, too."
"That makes no sense, Shay." Dean shook his head. "I've not been weird."
Seamus snorted. "Have to, mate. Right bloody scary, it is. All quiet and strange."
Dean frowned and watched Seamus' lips move as he kept talking. He really didn't want to hear about how odd he'd been behaving or why that somehow led to Seamus making a pie. Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and kissed Seamus, which shut him up right good. Seamus tasted of apple cider and spice, which was much better than firewhisky. For a minute, he thought Seamus was going to hex him, but then he felt a hand on his bum pulling him closer, and he relaxed as the kiss deepened.
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October 24, 2008