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Strange-Eyed Constellation, Post 4
Title: Strange-Eyed Constellation
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter definitely NC-17
Summary: War can make strange bedfellows; peacetime allows kindred spirits to join together. Seamus discovers both, and in being true to the baffling desires of his heart, believes that love needn't come exclusively in pairs.
A/N: my thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
auntee_mame for the written beta; exceeding gratitude to wolfiekins and callumjames for letting me read aloud and giving me insightful feedback while I write this; also for their enthusiasm over what's certainly a rare trio. The title comes from Thomas Hardy's poem "Drummer Hodge."
Chapter Notes: Fred at last has arrived in the story. :)
Previous Posts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Seamus was well into his third cup of tea, working on the Prophet's crossword when Dean walked slowly into the dining room, rubbing a spot on his upper shoulder.
"What's a seven-letter word for extreme anger? Starts with V?" he asked before noticing the preoccupied expression on Dean's face.
"Vitriol," he answered shortly, feeling his way around the chairs into the kitchen. He poured himself some tea into the cup Seamus had put on the counter for him.
"You all right?"
Dean's brow furrowed, then he seemed to sink in on himself, deflated.
"S'pose."
He brought his tea to the table and sat down, banging his knee against one of the table legs and swearing.
"What's wrong?" Seamus was a little worried; they'd not spoken of Dean's meltdown from a few days ago, but the memory of his rasping cries and the depth of his obvious distress was not one Seamus would forget anytime soon.
Dean blew on his tea before taking a couple of sips. "You were talking in your sleep. Moaning, more like."
"What were you doing to me in me dreams, I wonder?" Seamus said saucily.
"I wasn't doing anything. Fred was."
Seamus' humour sank stone-like into a heavy, awkward pit of his stomach.
"Beg pardon?" Seamus almost never remembered his dreams, not that he minded. Apparently his upcoming visit to Wheezes was weighing on him more than he'd realised.
"You were moaning his name, Shay. I got up— spent some time on the couch. I know it doesn't mean anything, but I felt left out. It's nothing."
"It's not nothing if it made you get up and leave me," Seamus said, his mouth twisting down to the side. "'Course, you're right— it doesn't mean anything. Just a dream. Sorry it made you feel out of sorts, especially since I don't remember it! You know you're the only one I want to be with."
"I know." A hint of a smile drifted across Dean's features as his long fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the side of his teacup. "Just being an insecure git. Hey, are we still on for our picnic?"
"Too right," Seamus enthused, waving his wand so that the teapot came drifting over to the table. "I'll pick you up from Auralibris. What're yer hours today, again?"
"Ten to one."
"Perfect. I don't think it'll be too hot, either. Just right for a nosh and a nap, out in nature."
"Sounds good. Pour me some more tea, will you?"
Seamus did, gladly, relieved that Dean seemed content to slide back into their usual routine. He puttered around while Dean showered and dressed. Guilt goaded him into writing a belated thank you note to Ron and Harry, and he snagged Dean for his signature before he took the Floo network to Auralibris. Seamus got cleaned up as well, but then became drawn in by a new wizarding soap opera on the telly that had an absolutely gorgeous Quidditch player as one of the lead characters. Before he knew it, it was noon and he found himself scrambling to get his picnic things together. It wasn't as though this activity was usual or common for them; Seamus had wanted something different to do since the weather was mild, and he knew that Dean often felt cooped up. He couldn't imagine how he'd feel if Dean went so stir-crazy that he snapped and simply went out and managed to get injured or Merlin knew what else, especially if Seamus didn't know where in Hades Dean had gone.
Creativity in their days was something Seamus actively worked on, both inside and outside of their respective bedrooms. To that end, he put a new tube of lubricant in the bottom of the hamper. They'd pleasured each other in a variety of ways, but Seamus had yet to know how Dean felt buried inside of him. The topic had come up; Dean just hadn't come around and said that he was ready for that yet. Seamus believed that Dean was, though, having been the grateful recipient as Dean had grown more and more comfortable and enthusiastic in their physical joinings.
The hopeful thought of Dean pushing into him while basking under the sun, his hands and knees on a blanket spread out over soft ground… Seamus had to press his palm on his growing arousal, shifting it in his shorts with a shake of his head. Distracted, he made a few sandwiches, tossed in some crisps and several butterbeers, napkins, some strawberries, and chocolate biscuits that he'd picked up the last time he'd gone to Simply Divine.
"You're going to have to go running or some rubbish if ye keep eatin' like you do," Seamus grumbled to himself. In truth, he didn't mind his soft belly that much. Dean didn't take issue with it, but Seamus acknowledged to himself that he shouldn't be quite as lazy, and he could stand to get some kind of exercise.
"More sex!" he said into the empty air, which didn't contradict him.
Eventually he got their foodstuffs and other sundries packed up and cast a shrinking spell on the hamper. Once at his motorbike, he strapped it on to the back of Seth, undid the special locking charm he'd put on it that he'd actually purchased from a special branch at Gringott's, and eased into his seat. The bike purred contentedly as he drove to the small centre. Dean was just finishing up, recording a fourth take of the end of a chapter when Seamus arrived. The receptionist filled him in and handed him an ear trumpet with the appropriate frequency so he could hear Dean through the aural wards. Dean was a bit of a celebrity, as he was the only blind person who chose to record books for them. He always downplayed it, but Seamus could tell that he took more than a nominal sense of personal satisfaction in what he did. Seamus had noticed that his best friend had become more introverted since the hexes he took in the War had rendered him blind, but Dean didn't often sink into despair. Seamus had every intention of keeping him physically occupied to the best of his abilities, or until his arse was too sore to sit on. Somehow he didn't think they'd ever get into that level of rough play, but they'd really not explored all that much erotic terrain.
He'd been surprised before, with Fred. Fred hadn't been punishing, but their sex hadn't exactly been tender and flowery. A physical memory of Fred kneeling behind him, using his hard cock to hit against Seamus' spread arse brushed over him like a hot breath, and goosebumps sprouted along his skin with a shiver. He came to himself, realising Dean was packing up the Braille book and his satchel. Seamus shook his head to rid himself of the remembrance, when another unbidden thought rose up. This time it was a flash of himself on hands and knees, Dean's cock sliding in and out of his mouth while Fred thrust into him again and again from behind.
"What the fuck?" he whispered in surprise, not understanding why his mind didn't seem to think it was more than enough to be in love with Dean. They'd not even shagged properly yet, and his traitorous imagination was planting him in the middle of a threesome with an ex he wasn't speaking to and this incredible man he profoundly desired. It took every bit of his self-control not to mould his body to Dean's right there in the lobby of the recording centre, but he knew Dean would be terribly uncomfortable at such a blatant affectionate display. He managed to keep his hands and lips to himself until they'd set up for their picnic, at an out of the way park with plenty of hedgerows.
With Dean's help, Seamus set up Disillusioned wards around their picnic site. Dean had ventured to ask why Seamus thought such security was necessary and Seamus kissed him deeply.
"Didn't think you'd want to be ogled in the altogether, later," he said in a way that caused a wide grin to leap onto Dean's lips.
Just then, Dean grimaced and wiped at his face. "Cobweb," he muttered.
"Ah, nature," Seamus quipped.
Dean rolled his eyes. They ate their lunch in a comfortable quiet, enjoying the sunshine as it came and went, the high clouds frolicking in the cobalt sky. A ladybird flew on to Seamus' knee while he sat cross-legged. He picked it up to play with, watching as it hurriedly scampered along his wrist and down his hand.
"What're you doing?" Dean asked, apparently noticing Seamus' mostly-still posture. He patted down around Seamus' leg to find the edge of the hamper before rooting through it for the chocolate biscuits Seamus had told him were there.
"Ladybird landed on me. 'm watching it run around. Want it?"
"Sure."
Seamus made a dome of his hand, cupping it over the red and black insect as he rested his arm against Dean's. He nudged at the ladybird and it traversed the small space until it was scurrying on Dean's skin. Dean focused his attentions off in the distance, a look of concentration on his face as the little bug wandered up his arm, flying off after a few moments.
"Describe where we are, will you?" Dean asked. He shuffled their things, patting around until he'd made sure he'd cleared a space to sprawl. He lay down on his back, his hands pillowed behind his head.
Seamus did his best, glancing about at the trees and shrubs, eventually ending his brief monologue by saying, "But the most gorgeous scenery by far is this really hot guy lying next to me." He slid down until he was on his side, allowing his fingers to trace along Dean's cheekbone and up to the short naps of his dreadlocks.
"You're full of it," Dean said fondly.
"Want to be full of you."
Dean turned his head with a chuckle. "I'd no idea you were this randy, this often."
"You inspire me," Seamus said, shrugging and wriggling until he had a leg thrown over Dean's thigh. He sowed open-mouthed kisses along Dean's jaw, leaving wet blooms in his wake. "I want you in me, want you to fuck me," he breathed into the ebony shell of Dean's ear.
"What? Here?" Dean's voice was incredulous. "Out in a park??"
"Yeah! I had a reason for setting up those wards. Now, Dean, right here, this afternoon. Don't you want to? You know how it all works," he murmured, easing a hand through the enticing gap of Dean's waistband and the plaid boxers underneath.
Dean made an appreciative rumbling noise as Seamus' fingers slid across the slight bulge of his hardening cock before slipping them in the fly of his cotton boxers. They curled around the papery skin; Seamus breathed against Dean's neck as he rocked insistently against his hip.
"C'mere, Shay." The words slid across Dean's lips before he pressed them against Seamus' mouth in a scorching kiss. He pulled Seamus on top of him and Seamus intertwined their fingers, his tongue and Dean's circling in each other's mouths. Seamus rolled his groin into Dean's, making needy whimpers as their covered erections stiffened and rubbed together.
"Clothes off, me love," Seamus said as he pulled back, breathing heavily. Dean pulled his shirt over his head and unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts while Seamus did the same. He shoved their hamper and bottles out of the way, quickly brushing crumbs off of the blanket and then realising that he needed the lube out of the picnic basket. When he turned around, he saw the faintest shadow of anxiety on Dean's face. Seamus had seen that expression before, but had been relieved when he'd pieced together that it was because they weren't touching. Dean was vulnerable now even in the most familiar of situations, much less when naked and aroused and unsure where Seamus was.
He crawled over to Dean, running his hands along Dean's legs, relishing the feeling of short, tight hairs under his fingers. Seamus felt a bit nervous, as though he'd not gone through the mechanics of this act dozens of times. But this was Dean. Blood pulsed in his hard cock like fire, tendrils of smoky desire reaching every bit of his skin where they touched.
"I think you should be behind me, this first time," he said before nibbling on the hard nipples standing sentry on Dean's chest.
Dean nodded, his hands skirting all over Seamus' body, his need for continuous contact evident. Seamus wandlessly cast an inner cleansing charm on himself, desire inflaming in his groin when he saw Dean nervously bite down on his lower lip. He pulled Dean up so that they faced one another on their knees, moaning when Dean took their pricks in hand and pulled gently.
"Want you so much," Dean said, his voice husky. "You'll let me know if I'm not doing something right?"
Seamus huffed a laugh, swaying his hips and holding onto a rounded arsecheek. "Ye'll be just fine."
The next few moments were surreal; the buzz of bees busy at work around some nearby poppies and the sussurative whispers of leaves played by the breeze were the only sounds aside from their own breathing. Seamus got on hands and knees, his back arching under Dean's hand where he braced himself, the slick sound of Dean coating his cock making Seamus' own cock twitch. Then Seamus felt the blunt head at his entrance, felt it press in slightly before sliding down his cleft as Dean let out a frustrated noise.
"'Salright," Seamus quickly reassured him. "Go again."
Dean did, more forcefully this time as Seamus pushed back against him. Dean slid past the tight ring, letting out a low, keening groan as he pressed fully into Seamus' tight channel. The burning fullness took Seamus by surprise; it had been a while, but he'd figured his body would relax as it always had.
"Fuck, Shay." The awe in Dean's tone drizzled over Seamus and he rocked a bit, the discomfort morphing into heady pleasure as he got used to the feel of Dean being buried in him.
"You feel amazing," Seamus choked out. "Move, gods, move."
"I'm not hurting—"
"No. Just do what feels good."
"You're so hot… I… oh fuck," Dean whimpered, pulling backward and pushing back in, much too timidly for Seamus' taste.
"Fuck me, Dean," Seamus rasped. "Claim me."
It didn't take long for Dean to find a rhythm, his hips snapping as he grunted, driving into Seamus' arse. Seamus pressed against the ground, his head hanging down, his nerves hot, dancing sparks centred where their bodies met. The universe spiralled in him; the squelching sound of Dean's cock was sinful as it filled him again and again. He couldn't control the broken sounds that poured out of his mouth, ratcheting up when Dean reached around him to take his bouncing prick in hand.
"Ach! Dean, fuckyesohnnnnnnrrrrrh," he babbled inarticulately, feeling the tension quickly rush past the breaking point as his release poured out of him with a wail. Dean let go of Seamus' shaft and resumed his relentless pace until he suddenly stilled, holding Seamus' hips with a grip so tight Seamus thought he'd bruise. Dean strained against him, the bristling of hair from his hanging bollocks tickling the back of Seamus' thighs. Seamus found he was holding his breath until Dean's fingers eased their hold. He drew soft arcs from the base of Seamus' spine on his back with his thumbs, as though tracing feathers of imaginary wings. He let out a ragged sigh, easing his body away so that he pulled out from Seamus, some of the warm fluid sliding down Seamus' legs.
Seamus slumped down on the blanket in a boneless heap, clenching his arse and wincing a bit at the twinge of soreness. "Wanna lie down?" he asked and Dean nodded, rubbing his shoulder against his cheek before Seamus reached up for him. The air was warm and a cloud drifted past the sun so that they were bathed in light. Seamus nestled his head against Dean's chest, wanting to ask how he felt but also wanting Dean to say something first. Dean's fingers continued to meander on Seamus' back until he rested his palm on the back side of Seamus' hip.
"So. When do we get to do that again?" Dean asked, a sly smile gliding onto his lips.
Seamus snorted, angling his head so he could kiss Dean on the side of his neck. "How does tonight after work sound?"
"Too long of a wait."
A profound gratitude wound through Seamus. "Too bad. But I'll make it up to ye."
They lay in a peaceful quiet until the stickiness from their sex got to Seamus. He asked Dean to clean them up, as his tergeo spells were more thorough than his own. When he felt himself drifting off, he forced himself up, discovering that Dean had half fallen asleep as well. Together they packed up their picnic, Seamus waiting to cast a shrinking spell on the hamper until Dean had folded up the blanket and handed it to him. The wards were dismantled and they walked the quarter mile or so to where Seamus had parked Seth, talking about the book Dean had been recording. Just before Seamus pulled up the kickstand to drive out of the small car park, Dean leaned forward, bumping their helmets.
"You felt amazing," he said, his voice muffled by the visor. "Thank you."
Seamus reached down to squeeze Dean's knee. "So'd you. It'll only get better."
"That was pretty bloody brilliant, but I trust you."
"Smart lad. Now hold on."
Seamus ignored the frowns on the face of a nearby Muggle couple pushing a pram, gunning the engine for good measure, and sped off.
* * * * *
The breakfast that Seamus wished he'd hadn't eaten roiled in his gut, making him queasy. He held his hand to his stomach as he strode through Diagon Alley, greatly relieved that he'd not seen anyone he knew. A clock mounted high on the back of the Leaky Cauldron tolled two and Seamus slowed his pace. It was ridiculous, how he felt. Hell, he'd gone into fucking battles feeling better than he did now, and all he was going to do was walk into Wheezes. Maybe Zap would be there, and he'd just ask him to let Fred know he'd stopped by. Zapateous Zonko, son of the late joke-shop owner, had begun helping out the twins even before the War, and now with George gone, Seamus was certain that he played an integral role in keeping the shop going.
There was something about the familiar storefronts and noises that put him slightly more at ease; he didn't come here all that often anymore, and seeing the still-intact shops he'd gone to since he was a young boy calmed his frayed nerves. Taking a hand out of his trousers pocket, he pulled open the door to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, glancing at the lurid cacophony in the display window. Business seemed to be going well since they'd — he'd — reopened. Good for him. It had been so packed when he and Dean had made their brief visit that Seamus hadn't really paid any attention to the actual content in the store, but it seemed as stuffed to the rafters as it ever had been. Dipping his hand into a corral with pygmy puffs, he stroked one as he looked over at the counter. No one was at the till, but he soon saw Zap chatting with a group of boys near a showcase of gibberish jellies.
Zap looked over at him, a pleasant expression on his face. Seamus wasn't surprised that he didn't recognise him; he'd not frequented the shop much before the War and only the once afterwards, along with dozens of other people.
"Can I help you find something?" he asked from across the room.
"Just wondering if Fred's in today. We went to school together."
"I'll see if he's around." Zap moved away from the cluster of boys toward a back arch above which read Here There Be Mayhem: Weasleys Only. He tilted his head, gave Seamus an evaluating look, and then motioned Seamus toward him. Once Seamus was at the doorway, Zap said in a hushed voice, "Today's not the best day."
Seamus wracked his mind. "It's Thursday?" he offered before his brain came up with the actual date and his stomach resumed its churning. "Oh, of course. Fuck. Oh, sorry," he apologised as Zap's eyebrows shot up at the profanity. "George."
Zapateous nodded. "He's been pretty down anyway. If you're somebody who could make him feel better…"
"I helped him out some, yeah, during the War," Seamus acknowledged in a strong voice, standing a bit straighter.
"Seamus?" Fred's voice sounded from inside the combination stockroom, office and lab. "'s that you?"
Seamus' stomachache inexplicably vanished, and instead he felt as though a band had been clamped around his heart. Fred's voice was disbelief and sorrow; Seamus had no doubt he'd been drinking.
"Yeah. Can I come back?"
"Please."
Zap patted him on the shoulder, turning to go and take care of a customer waiting not-so-patiently at the till. Once through the archway, Seamus looked around the brightly lit room, finding Fred at last among the almost-toppling piles of products and ledgers. He was back in a corner, slumped at a desk. His elbow rested on the untidy surface, his pointer and index fingers placed against his temple. Seamus couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath at seeing him again, this close, in his obviously disconsolate state. His hair was practically shorn; only a couple of inches of distinctive red stood up from his scalp. Seamus was at his side in a moment, half sitting on his lap and enfolding him in a hug. His fingers held tightly behind Fred's skull and he rocked him in silence, rubbing his face imperceptibly against Fred's neck.
Fred didn't cry or sniffle, but he grasped around Seamus' back like a drowning man to a raft. After a time Fred pressed his face against Seamus' jaw, his lips grazing Seamus' cheek before he seemed to catch himself and leaned his chin on Seamus' shoulder instead.
"Why didn't you owl?" Seamus asked.
"Because I was an arsehole."
Baffled, Seamus tried to reconcile his question about Fred's distress today and the answer he'd received. With a jolt, he realised Fred thought he was talking about their break up months ago. Fred was apologising— sort of. Or at least admitting to his definitive part in it.
"I meant today," Seamus clarified, rubbing at the base of Fred's spine before his discomfort with the ambiguity of his own feelings overtook him, and he scooted back to sit on the desktop.
"Drink?" Fred gestured at the bottle of scotch.
"Yeah."
Seamus poured himself most of a tumbler and had a hefty swallow. He had to work later, but he didn't mind some of the comforting alcohol in his veins right now. "Are you like this each month? Fuck, Fred, ye should've owled me."
It seemed like lifetimes had passed since Seamus had seen the sullen melancholy that so jarringly moulded to Fred's face. "Figured you'd send them back. You should've. I was a wanker," he said in disgust, finishing Seamus' drink.
"You did act like rather a prick," Seamus agreed, sending out a hand to brush over the silky soft hair, so short Fred looked nearly alien. "Ye shouldn't have been embarrassed of me. I'm a great guy, y'know."
"Wasn't you. Thought I could go it alone, thought you'd want to be with somebody else, a better match."
"A better match?!" Seamus exclaimed. The feelings he'd had of his dignity and affection being stomped on by this man who had said Seamus meant the world to him — he, Seamus, had meant the world to someone he respected and admired and who also loved his body — came flooding back in a dangerous current.
"I would've done bloody anything for you," Seamus went on, leaning in closely, the old bewildered anger crashing through him as he spun his leather armband in irritation.
"I know you would've. I'm sorry. Truly, I am." Fred reached over and took Seamus' busy hand, pulling it into his lap and intertwining their fingers together. The back of Seamus' knuckles were poised on Fred's groin, and while he wasn't aroused, the proximity sent conflicting messages ricocheting through Seamus' mind. He was only comforting Fred, and he'd really not thought about what day it was, but he felt guilty nonetheless. He could only be in such a state if he still had lingering feelings, right? He wished fervently that his life were simpler. Why in bloody hell couldn't he move on, especially when he was passionately involved with Dean? "Dean's who you're with, who treats you like a bloody treasure," he reminded himself when Fred's next words threw him into turmoil.
"Seamus, would you take me back?"
Seamus gaped, fish-like, as Fred continued to caress his fingers and the back of his hand.
"No, that was a stupid question," Fred said, his voice leaden. "Of course you're over me. I didn't even firecall, owl, nothing. But you did come to the re-opening. You and Dean. Thanks for that."
"I'm…" Seamus started, his mind a whirlwind and his heart flummoxed. "I'm with Dean now. Boyfriends, like." He knew Dean would absolutely kill him if he'd heard that, but under the circumstances, Seamus was proud of himself for getting out fully-formed sentences at all.
"Dean?" Fred's brow knit and he looked up, now idly stroking at Seamus' armband, nudging his fingers underneath it. "Didn't think he was queer."
"He's not. Well, he is, if it's me," Seamus said, wondering why his arm hadn't moved away from Fred's pitiful ministrations. "It's really good. He's brilliant. He loves me," he said with emphasis, hoping that would snap Fred out of his nonverbal pleading that was putting Seamus on edge.
"I never said it, but I did, too."
Seamus decided he'd had enough. "You had a miserable way of showing it," he seethed, yanking his arm away and pouring himself another helping of scotch. "I don't know what you're on about here, but it stops, now. You know I'm sorry about George. You knew that months ago. You're too late, Fred," he said less savagely, the venom having poured quickly out of him. "I'm with Dean. He makes me happy. I'm really bloody special to him and he tells me so."
Seamus felt vindicated at being able to say such words, but any triumph turned to dust on his tongue. Fred didn't cry, his lips didn't tremble. His expression was one of someone utterly beaten, as though the last shred of joviality and wicked fire that had burned in him had been doused, the ashes scattered to the wind.
"You deserve that," he said dully.
"Yeah, I do," Seamus agreed as his compassion flared back to life. No matter how much of a prick Fred had been, there was something clever and compelling about him that had burrowed under Seamus' skin, for good, apparently. "So do you. You'll find someone." He drank the alcohol, recognising that he needed to stop since he had work in an hour and a half.
Fred made a contemptuous noise.
"Look." Seamus' exasperation began to resurrect itself. "If ye thought I was so fantastic, why'd you not keep up after the War? At all? I'm not sorry that Dean and I are together— wouldn't trade it for the world." An uncomfortable acknowledgement of that being only 99.999% of the truth twinged in his chest. "Still. Why'd you stay so distant?"
Fred snorted derisively, beginning to pour himself some more scotch when Seamus placed his hand on top of Fred's. "Think ye've had enough. For now," Seamus suggested.
"Guess so. Why, eh? I guess I wasn't ready to need you. Or anybody. Didn't want to. So I acted like a bastard."
"Stop beating on yourself. It's getting old."
Fred leaned his head, his face impassive. Seamus had been shocked at first at the level of emotional anguish and rage that Fred had showed him in those first few days after George's death, and how calculated and ruthless he'd become. War changed people, however. Nobody escaped unscathed. Fred's push and pull of being enigmatic and yet seeming still to want Seamus so much was distracting; that Seamus had apparently dreamed about Fred and had that inexplicable thought of the three of them together only made him feel as though he was betraying Dean. That thought caused a frisson of hot shame to sear through him, even though he'd not done anything. He cared deeply for Fred, in spite of himself, but that wasn't necessarily troublesome.
"You're right," Fred said at last, laying his head down uninvited onto Seamus' lap. "I know you're taken, don't remind me," he muttered before Seamus could open his mouth in protest. "I'm not doing anything to break you up. You're comforting, and it's been a shitty day. I'm so glad you came by. I'd like to go out with you sometime, y'know, have a few drinks, just be blokes having a good time," he said into the curve of Seamus' denim-clad thigh.
Like a moth to flame, Seamus found himself rubbing his fingers through the near-barren terrain of Fred's hair. He did want to make Fred feel better, just not in ways that involved them being naked. That really was out of the question, no matter what his faithless cock thought of the idea.
"You and Dean, of course."
Seamus squinched up his face, thinking about how poorly that would go over. "Don't think he's that fond of you, after your treatment 'o me."
Fred rolled his shoulders slightly. "Am I allowed to do better, now? Will you at least give me a chance to be your mate?"
Stilling his fingers against the pale furrow where a hex had grazed Fred's scalp, Seamus gave in. Life had been pretty good to him, all things considered. Fred-as-martyr made the world seem unstable, and Seamus could do without that. "Yeah, I s'pose that's all right. Why don't you get upstairs to your flat and have a lie-down. If ye'd like, come by the Dove later tonight; I'll be working."
Raising his head, Fred gave him a look of gratitude. "Really? That'd be okay?"
"Yeah. I'll shout you a round." Seamus quickly went through how much time had passed since he'd demanded to be partnered with Fred those last few agonizing months of the War. "Fourteen months?"
"Yes."
Seamus felt pity wash through him. "Tell me you're not like this on the 23rd of every month, are you?"
Fred shook his head, sitting back in his chair. He stretched out his hands and fingers, the palms pressed together and knuckles popping. "No. Not sure why it hit me so hard today, it just did. But you showed up," he said, a tiny glimmer in his eyes before it left as fleetingly as it had appeared.
"Ach, that I did. And now I've got to run a couple of errands before work. Take care of yerself, hear?" He eased off of the desk, rubbing a bit awkwardly at Fred's shoulder.
"I will."
As he made his way back out to the bustling cobblestone way of Diagon Alley, he turned to acknowledge Zap in a passing goodbye. The reedy young man raised his eyebrows in question.
"He'll be all right," Seamus said loud enough to be heard as he pushed open the door.
"Thanks!"
Seamus waved in response. As he roamed through the Apothecary, looking for a phial of tea tree oil, he found his thoughts wandering back to the brief but intense time he'd spent as Fred's lover. Maybe if he could pinpoint what it was about him that he found so compelling, he could then let go of it absolutely. His niggling fantasy aside, people just didn't go off into the sunset with two companions, they were in pairs. Or solo. He picked up a small jar of aloe-infused salve and sniffed at it, but placed it back on the shelf. It was ridiculous for him to be buying a gift of massage oil for Dean while thinking about Fred, but his bollocky mind wouldn't get out of its rut of wondering how to help Fred recover. Why did he suddenly think it was his responsibility to try and resurrect the passionate, irreverent, rebellious and defiantly unique man he'd fallen for without a backward glance? Especially now that he was so contentedly intertwined with Dean, the most secure and integral relationship he'd ever had, aside from the one with his mam. Another phial caught his eye, the tawny colour reminding him of Dean's amber eyes before he'd become blind. He took out the stopper and a loamy, cedar scent drifted up to him. With a satisfied sigh, he closed it and took it up to the clerk. He could already imagine how surprised and hopefully appreciative Dean would be, especially after Seamus got his hands on him. He'd give Dean a proper rub-down, for sure, at least until it segued into more erotic activities. Of that Seamus had no doubt.
Back at their flat, he distracted himself with decadence, enjoying both some dark chocolate and an all-too-quick thumbing through of the newest issue of Un-Robed! before he had to rush off to work. He left an innocuous Howler for Dean, saying he hoped he'd had a good day, that things had gone fine at Wheezes, and that he had a present for him when he got home. As he threw in the Floo powder, he wondered if he should've left the gift, but then decided his instinct of having Dean unwrap it with Seamus there was the right one. There was a faint pang in his chest at not having seen Dean since the early morning, but then he told himself he was a bloody sap and to stop mooning like a girl.
..:~TBC~:..
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter definitely NC-17
Summary: War can make strange bedfellows; peacetime allows kindred spirits to join together. Seamus discovers both, and in being true to the baffling desires of his heart, believes that love needn't come exclusively in pairs.
A/N: my thanks to
auntee_mame for the written beta; exceeding gratitude to wolfiekins and callumjames for letting me read aloud and giving me insightful feedback while I write this; also for their enthusiasm over what's certainly a rare trio. The title comes from Thomas Hardy's poem "Drummer Hodge." Chapter Notes: Fred at last has arrived in the story. :)
Previous Posts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Seamus was well into his third cup of tea, working on the Prophet's crossword when Dean walked slowly into the dining room, rubbing a spot on his upper shoulder.
"What's a seven-letter word for extreme anger? Starts with V?" he asked before noticing the preoccupied expression on Dean's face.
"Vitriol," he answered shortly, feeling his way around the chairs into the kitchen. He poured himself some tea into the cup Seamus had put on the counter for him.
"You all right?"
Dean's brow furrowed, then he seemed to sink in on himself, deflated.
"S'pose."
He brought his tea to the table and sat down, banging his knee against one of the table legs and swearing.
"What's wrong?" Seamus was a little worried; they'd not spoken of Dean's meltdown from a few days ago, but the memory of his rasping cries and the depth of his obvious distress was not one Seamus would forget anytime soon.
Dean blew on his tea before taking a couple of sips. "You were talking in your sleep. Moaning, more like."
"What were you doing to me in me dreams, I wonder?" Seamus said saucily.
"I wasn't doing anything. Fred was."
Seamus' humour sank stone-like into a heavy, awkward pit of his stomach.
"Beg pardon?" Seamus almost never remembered his dreams, not that he minded. Apparently his upcoming visit to Wheezes was weighing on him more than he'd realised.
"You were moaning his name, Shay. I got up— spent some time on the couch. I know it doesn't mean anything, but I felt left out. It's nothing."
"It's not nothing if it made you get up and leave me," Seamus said, his mouth twisting down to the side. "'Course, you're right— it doesn't mean anything. Just a dream. Sorry it made you feel out of sorts, especially since I don't remember it! You know you're the only one I want to be with."
"I know." A hint of a smile drifted across Dean's features as his long fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the side of his teacup. "Just being an insecure git. Hey, are we still on for our picnic?"
"Too right," Seamus enthused, waving his wand so that the teapot came drifting over to the table. "I'll pick you up from Auralibris. What're yer hours today, again?"
"Ten to one."
"Perfect. I don't think it'll be too hot, either. Just right for a nosh and a nap, out in nature."
"Sounds good. Pour me some more tea, will you?"
Seamus did, gladly, relieved that Dean seemed content to slide back into their usual routine. He puttered around while Dean showered and dressed. Guilt goaded him into writing a belated thank you note to Ron and Harry, and he snagged Dean for his signature before he took the Floo network to Auralibris. Seamus got cleaned up as well, but then became drawn in by a new wizarding soap opera on the telly that had an absolutely gorgeous Quidditch player as one of the lead characters. Before he knew it, it was noon and he found himself scrambling to get his picnic things together. It wasn't as though this activity was usual or common for them; Seamus had wanted something different to do since the weather was mild, and he knew that Dean often felt cooped up. He couldn't imagine how he'd feel if Dean went so stir-crazy that he snapped and simply went out and managed to get injured or Merlin knew what else, especially if Seamus didn't know where in Hades Dean had gone.
Creativity in their days was something Seamus actively worked on, both inside and outside of their respective bedrooms. To that end, he put a new tube of lubricant in the bottom of the hamper. They'd pleasured each other in a variety of ways, but Seamus had yet to know how Dean felt buried inside of him. The topic had come up; Dean just hadn't come around and said that he was ready for that yet. Seamus believed that Dean was, though, having been the grateful recipient as Dean had grown more and more comfortable and enthusiastic in their physical joinings.
The hopeful thought of Dean pushing into him while basking under the sun, his hands and knees on a blanket spread out over soft ground… Seamus had to press his palm on his growing arousal, shifting it in his shorts with a shake of his head. Distracted, he made a few sandwiches, tossed in some crisps and several butterbeers, napkins, some strawberries, and chocolate biscuits that he'd picked up the last time he'd gone to Simply Divine.
"You're going to have to go running or some rubbish if ye keep eatin' like you do," Seamus grumbled to himself. In truth, he didn't mind his soft belly that much. Dean didn't take issue with it, but Seamus acknowledged to himself that he shouldn't be quite as lazy, and he could stand to get some kind of exercise.
"More sex!" he said into the empty air, which didn't contradict him.
Eventually he got their foodstuffs and other sundries packed up and cast a shrinking spell on the hamper. Once at his motorbike, he strapped it on to the back of Seth, undid the special locking charm he'd put on it that he'd actually purchased from a special branch at Gringott's, and eased into his seat. The bike purred contentedly as he drove to the small centre. Dean was just finishing up, recording a fourth take of the end of a chapter when Seamus arrived. The receptionist filled him in and handed him an ear trumpet with the appropriate frequency so he could hear Dean through the aural wards. Dean was a bit of a celebrity, as he was the only blind person who chose to record books for them. He always downplayed it, but Seamus could tell that he took more than a nominal sense of personal satisfaction in what he did. Seamus had noticed that his best friend had become more introverted since the hexes he took in the War had rendered him blind, but Dean didn't often sink into despair. Seamus had every intention of keeping him physically occupied to the best of his abilities, or until his arse was too sore to sit on. Somehow he didn't think they'd ever get into that level of rough play, but they'd really not explored all that much erotic terrain.
He'd been surprised before, with Fred. Fred hadn't been punishing, but their sex hadn't exactly been tender and flowery. A physical memory of Fred kneeling behind him, using his hard cock to hit against Seamus' spread arse brushed over him like a hot breath, and goosebumps sprouted along his skin with a shiver. He came to himself, realising Dean was packing up the Braille book and his satchel. Seamus shook his head to rid himself of the remembrance, when another unbidden thought rose up. This time it was a flash of himself on hands and knees, Dean's cock sliding in and out of his mouth while Fred thrust into him again and again from behind.
"What the fuck?" he whispered in surprise, not understanding why his mind didn't seem to think it was more than enough to be in love with Dean. They'd not even shagged properly yet, and his traitorous imagination was planting him in the middle of a threesome with an ex he wasn't speaking to and this incredible man he profoundly desired. It took every bit of his self-control not to mould his body to Dean's right there in the lobby of the recording centre, but he knew Dean would be terribly uncomfortable at such a blatant affectionate display. He managed to keep his hands and lips to himself until they'd set up for their picnic, at an out of the way park with plenty of hedgerows.
With Dean's help, Seamus set up Disillusioned wards around their picnic site. Dean had ventured to ask why Seamus thought such security was necessary and Seamus kissed him deeply.
"Didn't think you'd want to be ogled in the altogether, later," he said in a way that caused a wide grin to leap onto Dean's lips.
Just then, Dean grimaced and wiped at his face. "Cobweb," he muttered.
"Ah, nature," Seamus quipped.
Dean rolled his eyes. They ate their lunch in a comfortable quiet, enjoying the sunshine as it came and went, the high clouds frolicking in the cobalt sky. A ladybird flew on to Seamus' knee while he sat cross-legged. He picked it up to play with, watching as it hurriedly scampered along his wrist and down his hand.
"What're you doing?" Dean asked, apparently noticing Seamus' mostly-still posture. He patted down around Seamus' leg to find the edge of the hamper before rooting through it for the chocolate biscuits Seamus had told him were there.
"Ladybird landed on me. 'm watching it run around. Want it?"
"Sure."
Seamus made a dome of his hand, cupping it over the red and black insect as he rested his arm against Dean's. He nudged at the ladybird and it traversed the small space until it was scurrying on Dean's skin. Dean focused his attentions off in the distance, a look of concentration on his face as the little bug wandered up his arm, flying off after a few moments.
"Describe where we are, will you?" Dean asked. He shuffled their things, patting around until he'd made sure he'd cleared a space to sprawl. He lay down on his back, his hands pillowed behind his head.
Seamus did his best, glancing about at the trees and shrubs, eventually ending his brief monologue by saying, "But the most gorgeous scenery by far is this really hot guy lying next to me." He slid down until he was on his side, allowing his fingers to trace along Dean's cheekbone and up to the short naps of his dreadlocks.
"You're full of it," Dean said fondly.
"Want to be full of you."
Dean turned his head with a chuckle. "I'd no idea you were this randy, this often."
"You inspire me," Seamus said, shrugging and wriggling until he had a leg thrown over Dean's thigh. He sowed open-mouthed kisses along Dean's jaw, leaving wet blooms in his wake. "I want you in me, want you to fuck me," he breathed into the ebony shell of Dean's ear.
"What? Here?" Dean's voice was incredulous. "Out in a park??"
"Yeah! I had a reason for setting up those wards. Now, Dean, right here, this afternoon. Don't you want to? You know how it all works," he murmured, easing a hand through the enticing gap of Dean's waistband and the plaid boxers underneath.
Dean made an appreciative rumbling noise as Seamus' fingers slid across the slight bulge of his hardening cock before slipping them in the fly of his cotton boxers. They curled around the papery skin; Seamus breathed against Dean's neck as he rocked insistently against his hip.
"C'mere, Shay." The words slid across Dean's lips before he pressed them against Seamus' mouth in a scorching kiss. He pulled Seamus on top of him and Seamus intertwined their fingers, his tongue and Dean's circling in each other's mouths. Seamus rolled his groin into Dean's, making needy whimpers as their covered erections stiffened and rubbed together.
"Clothes off, me love," Seamus said as he pulled back, breathing heavily. Dean pulled his shirt over his head and unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts while Seamus did the same. He shoved their hamper and bottles out of the way, quickly brushing crumbs off of the blanket and then realising that he needed the lube out of the picnic basket. When he turned around, he saw the faintest shadow of anxiety on Dean's face. Seamus had seen that expression before, but had been relieved when he'd pieced together that it was because they weren't touching. Dean was vulnerable now even in the most familiar of situations, much less when naked and aroused and unsure where Seamus was.
He crawled over to Dean, running his hands along Dean's legs, relishing the feeling of short, tight hairs under his fingers. Seamus felt a bit nervous, as though he'd not gone through the mechanics of this act dozens of times. But this was Dean. Blood pulsed in his hard cock like fire, tendrils of smoky desire reaching every bit of his skin where they touched.
"I think you should be behind me, this first time," he said before nibbling on the hard nipples standing sentry on Dean's chest.
Dean nodded, his hands skirting all over Seamus' body, his need for continuous contact evident. Seamus wandlessly cast an inner cleansing charm on himself, desire inflaming in his groin when he saw Dean nervously bite down on his lower lip. He pulled Dean up so that they faced one another on their knees, moaning when Dean took their pricks in hand and pulled gently.
"Want you so much," Dean said, his voice husky. "You'll let me know if I'm not doing something right?"
Seamus huffed a laugh, swaying his hips and holding onto a rounded arsecheek. "Ye'll be just fine."
The next few moments were surreal; the buzz of bees busy at work around some nearby poppies and the sussurative whispers of leaves played by the breeze were the only sounds aside from their own breathing. Seamus got on hands and knees, his back arching under Dean's hand where he braced himself, the slick sound of Dean coating his cock making Seamus' own cock twitch. Then Seamus felt the blunt head at his entrance, felt it press in slightly before sliding down his cleft as Dean let out a frustrated noise.
"'Salright," Seamus quickly reassured him. "Go again."
Dean did, more forcefully this time as Seamus pushed back against him. Dean slid past the tight ring, letting out a low, keening groan as he pressed fully into Seamus' tight channel. The burning fullness took Seamus by surprise; it had been a while, but he'd figured his body would relax as it always had.
"Fuck, Shay." The awe in Dean's tone drizzled over Seamus and he rocked a bit, the discomfort morphing into heady pleasure as he got used to the feel of Dean being buried in him.
"You feel amazing," Seamus choked out. "Move, gods, move."
"I'm not hurting—"
"No. Just do what feels good."
"You're so hot… I… oh fuck," Dean whimpered, pulling backward and pushing back in, much too timidly for Seamus' taste.
"Fuck me, Dean," Seamus rasped. "Claim me."
It didn't take long for Dean to find a rhythm, his hips snapping as he grunted, driving into Seamus' arse. Seamus pressed against the ground, his head hanging down, his nerves hot, dancing sparks centred where their bodies met. The universe spiralled in him; the squelching sound of Dean's cock was sinful as it filled him again and again. He couldn't control the broken sounds that poured out of his mouth, ratcheting up when Dean reached around him to take his bouncing prick in hand.
"Ach! Dean, fuckyesohnnnnnnrrrrrh," he babbled inarticulately, feeling the tension quickly rush past the breaking point as his release poured out of him with a wail. Dean let go of Seamus' shaft and resumed his relentless pace until he suddenly stilled, holding Seamus' hips with a grip so tight Seamus thought he'd bruise. Dean strained against him, the bristling of hair from his hanging bollocks tickling the back of Seamus' thighs. Seamus found he was holding his breath until Dean's fingers eased their hold. He drew soft arcs from the base of Seamus' spine on his back with his thumbs, as though tracing feathers of imaginary wings. He let out a ragged sigh, easing his body away so that he pulled out from Seamus, some of the warm fluid sliding down Seamus' legs.
Seamus slumped down on the blanket in a boneless heap, clenching his arse and wincing a bit at the twinge of soreness. "Wanna lie down?" he asked and Dean nodded, rubbing his shoulder against his cheek before Seamus reached up for him. The air was warm and a cloud drifted past the sun so that they were bathed in light. Seamus nestled his head against Dean's chest, wanting to ask how he felt but also wanting Dean to say something first. Dean's fingers continued to meander on Seamus' back until he rested his palm on the back side of Seamus' hip.
"So. When do we get to do that again?" Dean asked, a sly smile gliding onto his lips.
Seamus snorted, angling his head so he could kiss Dean on the side of his neck. "How does tonight after work sound?"
"Too long of a wait."
A profound gratitude wound through Seamus. "Too bad. But I'll make it up to ye."
They lay in a peaceful quiet until the stickiness from their sex got to Seamus. He asked Dean to clean them up, as his tergeo spells were more thorough than his own. When he felt himself drifting off, he forced himself up, discovering that Dean had half fallen asleep as well. Together they packed up their picnic, Seamus waiting to cast a shrinking spell on the hamper until Dean had folded up the blanket and handed it to him. The wards were dismantled and they walked the quarter mile or so to where Seamus had parked Seth, talking about the book Dean had been recording. Just before Seamus pulled up the kickstand to drive out of the small car park, Dean leaned forward, bumping their helmets.
"You felt amazing," he said, his voice muffled by the visor. "Thank you."
Seamus reached down to squeeze Dean's knee. "So'd you. It'll only get better."
"That was pretty bloody brilliant, but I trust you."
"Smart lad. Now hold on."
Seamus ignored the frowns on the face of a nearby Muggle couple pushing a pram, gunning the engine for good measure, and sped off.
* * * * *
The breakfast that Seamus wished he'd hadn't eaten roiled in his gut, making him queasy. He held his hand to his stomach as he strode through Diagon Alley, greatly relieved that he'd not seen anyone he knew. A clock mounted high on the back of the Leaky Cauldron tolled two and Seamus slowed his pace. It was ridiculous, how he felt. Hell, he'd gone into fucking battles feeling better than he did now, and all he was going to do was walk into Wheezes. Maybe Zap would be there, and he'd just ask him to let Fred know he'd stopped by. Zapateous Zonko, son of the late joke-shop owner, had begun helping out the twins even before the War, and now with George gone, Seamus was certain that he played an integral role in keeping the shop going.
There was something about the familiar storefronts and noises that put him slightly more at ease; he didn't come here all that often anymore, and seeing the still-intact shops he'd gone to since he was a young boy calmed his frayed nerves. Taking a hand out of his trousers pocket, he pulled open the door to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, glancing at the lurid cacophony in the display window. Business seemed to be going well since they'd — he'd — reopened. Good for him. It had been so packed when he and Dean had made their brief visit that Seamus hadn't really paid any attention to the actual content in the store, but it seemed as stuffed to the rafters as it ever had been. Dipping his hand into a corral with pygmy puffs, he stroked one as he looked over at the counter. No one was at the till, but he soon saw Zap chatting with a group of boys near a showcase of gibberish jellies.
Zap looked over at him, a pleasant expression on his face. Seamus wasn't surprised that he didn't recognise him; he'd not frequented the shop much before the War and only the once afterwards, along with dozens of other people.
"Can I help you find something?" he asked from across the room.
"Just wondering if Fred's in today. We went to school together."
"I'll see if he's around." Zap moved away from the cluster of boys toward a back arch above which read Here There Be Mayhem: Weasleys Only. He tilted his head, gave Seamus an evaluating look, and then motioned Seamus toward him. Once Seamus was at the doorway, Zap said in a hushed voice, "Today's not the best day."
Seamus wracked his mind. "It's Thursday?" he offered before his brain came up with the actual date and his stomach resumed its churning. "Oh, of course. Fuck. Oh, sorry," he apologised as Zap's eyebrows shot up at the profanity. "George."
Zapateous nodded. "He's been pretty down anyway. If you're somebody who could make him feel better…"
"I helped him out some, yeah, during the War," Seamus acknowledged in a strong voice, standing a bit straighter.
"Seamus?" Fred's voice sounded from inside the combination stockroom, office and lab. "'s that you?"
Seamus' stomachache inexplicably vanished, and instead he felt as though a band had been clamped around his heart. Fred's voice was disbelief and sorrow; Seamus had no doubt he'd been drinking.
"Yeah. Can I come back?"
"Please."
Zap patted him on the shoulder, turning to go and take care of a customer waiting not-so-patiently at the till. Once through the archway, Seamus looked around the brightly lit room, finding Fred at last among the almost-toppling piles of products and ledgers. He was back in a corner, slumped at a desk. His elbow rested on the untidy surface, his pointer and index fingers placed against his temple. Seamus couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath at seeing him again, this close, in his obviously disconsolate state. His hair was practically shorn; only a couple of inches of distinctive red stood up from his scalp. Seamus was at his side in a moment, half sitting on his lap and enfolding him in a hug. His fingers held tightly behind Fred's skull and he rocked him in silence, rubbing his face imperceptibly against Fred's neck.
Fred didn't cry or sniffle, but he grasped around Seamus' back like a drowning man to a raft. After a time Fred pressed his face against Seamus' jaw, his lips grazing Seamus' cheek before he seemed to catch himself and leaned his chin on Seamus' shoulder instead.
"Why didn't you owl?" Seamus asked.
"Because I was an arsehole."
Baffled, Seamus tried to reconcile his question about Fred's distress today and the answer he'd received. With a jolt, he realised Fred thought he was talking about their break up months ago. Fred was apologising— sort of. Or at least admitting to his definitive part in it.
"I meant today," Seamus clarified, rubbing at the base of Fred's spine before his discomfort with the ambiguity of his own feelings overtook him, and he scooted back to sit on the desktop.
"Drink?" Fred gestured at the bottle of scotch.
"Yeah."
Seamus poured himself most of a tumbler and had a hefty swallow. He had to work later, but he didn't mind some of the comforting alcohol in his veins right now. "Are you like this each month? Fuck, Fred, ye should've owled me."
It seemed like lifetimes had passed since Seamus had seen the sullen melancholy that so jarringly moulded to Fred's face. "Figured you'd send them back. You should've. I was a wanker," he said in disgust, finishing Seamus' drink.
"You did act like rather a prick," Seamus agreed, sending out a hand to brush over the silky soft hair, so short Fred looked nearly alien. "Ye shouldn't have been embarrassed of me. I'm a great guy, y'know."
"Wasn't you. Thought I could go it alone, thought you'd want to be with somebody else, a better match."
"A better match?!" Seamus exclaimed. The feelings he'd had of his dignity and affection being stomped on by this man who had said Seamus meant the world to him — he, Seamus, had meant the world to someone he respected and admired and who also loved his body — came flooding back in a dangerous current.
"I would've done bloody anything for you," Seamus went on, leaning in closely, the old bewildered anger crashing through him as he spun his leather armband in irritation.
"I know you would've. I'm sorry. Truly, I am." Fred reached over and took Seamus' busy hand, pulling it into his lap and intertwining their fingers together. The back of Seamus' knuckles were poised on Fred's groin, and while he wasn't aroused, the proximity sent conflicting messages ricocheting through Seamus' mind. He was only comforting Fred, and he'd really not thought about what day it was, but he felt guilty nonetheless. He could only be in such a state if he still had lingering feelings, right? He wished fervently that his life were simpler. Why in bloody hell couldn't he move on, especially when he was passionately involved with Dean? "Dean's who you're with, who treats you like a bloody treasure," he reminded himself when Fred's next words threw him into turmoil.
"Seamus, would you take me back?"
Seamus gaped, fish-like, as Fred continued to caress his fingers and the back of his hand.
"No, that was a stupid question," Fred said, his voice leaden. "Of course you're over me. I didn't even firecall, owl, nothing. But you did come to the re-opening. You and Dean. Thanks for that."
"I'm…" Seamus started, his mind a whirlwind and his heart flummoxed. "I'm with Dean now. Boyfriends, like." He knew Dean would absolutely kill him if he'd heard that, but under the circumstances, Seamus was proud of himself for getting out fully-formed sentences at all.
"Dean?" Fred's brow knit and he looked up, now idly stroking at Seamus' armband, nudging his fingers underneath it. "Didn't think he was queer."
"He's not. Well, he is, if it's me," Seamus said, wondering why his arm hadn't moved away from Fred's pitiful ministrations. "It's really good. He's brilliant. He loves me," he said with emphasis, hoping that would snap Fred out of his nonverbal pleading that was putting Seamus on edge.
"I never said it, but I did, too."
Seamus decided he'd had enough. "You had a miserable way of showing it," he seethed, yanking his arm away and pouring himself another helping of scotch. "I don't know what you're on about here, but it stops, now. You know I'm sorry about George. You knew that months ago. You're too late, Fred," he said less savagely, the venom having poured quickly out of him. "I'm with Dean. He makes me happy. I'm really bloody special to him and he tells me so."
Seamus felt vindicated at being able to say such words, but any triumph turned to dust on his tongue. Fred didn't cry, his lips didn't tremble. His expression was one of someone utterly beaten, as though the last shred of joviality and wicked fire that had burned in him had been doused, the ashes scattered to the wind.
"You deserve that," he said dully.
"Yeah, I do," Seamus agreed as his compassion flared back to life. No matter how much of a prick Fred had been, there was something clever and compelling about him that had burrowed under Seamus' skin, for good, apparently. "So do you. You'll find someone." He drank the alcohol, recognising that he needed to stop since he had work in an hour and a half.
Fred made a contemptuous noise.
"Look." Seamus' exasperation began to resurrect itself. "If ye thought I was so fantastic, why'd you not keep up after the War? At all? I'm not sorry that Dean and I are together— wouldn't trade it for the world." An uncomfortable acknowledgement of that being only 99.999% of the truth twinged in his chest. "Still. Why'd you stay so distant?"
Fred snorted derisively, beginning to pour himself some more scotch when Seamus placed his hand on top of Fred's. "Think ye've had enough. For now," Seamus suggested.
"Guess so. Why, eh? I guess I wasn't ready to need you. Or anybody. Didn't want to. So I acted like a bastard."
"Stop beating on yourself. It's getting old."
Fred leaned his head, his face impassive. Seamus had been shocked at first at the level of emotional anguish and rage that Fred had showed him in those first few days after George's death, and how calculated and ruthless he'd become. War changed people, however. Nobody escaped unscathed. Fred's push and pull of being enigmatic and yet seeming still to want Seamus so much was distracting; that Seamus had apparently dreamed about Fred and had that inexplicable thought of the three of them together only made him feel as though he was betraying Dean. That thought caused a frisson of hot shame to sear through him, even though he'd not done anything. He cared deeply for Fred, in spite of himself, but that wasn't necessarily troublesome.
"You're right," Fred said at last, laying his head down uninvited onto Seamus' lap. "I know you're taken, don't remind me," he muttered before Seamus could open his mouth in protest. "I'm not doing anything to break you up. You're comforting, and it's been a shitty day. I'm so glad you came by. I'd like to go out with you sometime, y'know, have a few drinks, just be blokes having a good time," he said into the curve of Seamus' denim-clad thigh.
Like a moth to flame, Seamus found himself rubbing his fingers through the near-barren terrain of Fred's hair. He did want to make Fred feel better, just not in ways that involved them being naked. That really was out of the question, no matter what his faithless cock thought of the idea.
"You and Dean, of course."
Seamus squinched up his face, thinking about how poorly that would go over. "Don't think he's that fond of you, after your treatment 'o me."
Fred rolled his shoulders slightly. "Am I allowed to do better, now? Will you at least give me a chance to be your mate?"
Stilling his fingers against the pale furrow where a hex had grazed Fred's scalp, Seamus gave in. Life had been pretty good to him, all things considered. Fred-as-martyr made the world seem unstable, and Seamus could do without that. "Yeah, I s'pose that's all right. Why don't you get upstairs to your flat and have a lie-down. If ye'd like, come by the Dove later tonight; I'll be working."
Raising his head, Fred gave him a look of gratitude. "Really? That'd be okay?"
"Yeah. I'll shout you a round." Seamus quickly went through how much time had passed since he'd demanded to be partnered with Fred those last few agonizing months of the War. "Fourteen months?"
"Yes."
Seamus felt pity wash through him. "Tell me you're not like this on the 23rd of every month, are you?"
Fred shook his head, sitting back in his chair. He stretched out his hands and fingers, the palms pressed together and knuckles popping. "No. Not sure why it hit me so hard today, it just did. But you showed up," he said, a tiny glimmer in his eyes before it left as fleetingly as it had appeared.
"Ach, that I did. And now I've got to run a couple of errands before work. Take care of yerself, hear?" He eased off of the desk, rubbing a bit awkwardly at Fred's shoulder.
"I will."
As he made his way back out to the bustling cobblestone way of Diagon Alley, he turned to acknowledge Zap in a passing goodbye. The reedy young man raised his eyebrows in question.
"He'll be all right," Seamus said loud enough to be heard as he pushed open the door.
"Thanks!"
Seamus waved in response. As he roamed through the Apothecary, looking for a phial of tea tree oil, he found his thoughts wandering back to the brief but intense time he'd spent as Fred's lover. Maybe if he could pinpoint what it was about him that he found so compelling, he could then let go of it absolutely. His niggling fantasy aside, people just didn't go off into the sunset with two companions, they were in pairs. Or solo. He picked up a small jar of aloe-infused salve and sniffed at it, but placed it back on the shelf. It was ridiculous for him to be buying a gift of massage oil for Dean while thinking about Fred, but his bollocky mind wouldn't get out of its rut of wondering how to help Fred recover. Why did he suddenly think it was his responsibility to try and resurrect the passionate, irreverent, rebellious and defiantly unique man he'd fallen for without a backward glance? Especially now that he was so contentedly intertwined with Dean, the most secure and integral relationship he'd ever had, aside from the one with his mam. Another phial caught his eye, the tawny colour reminding him of Dean's amber eyes before he'd become blind. He took out the stopper and a loamy, cedar scent drifted up to him. With a satisfied sigh, he closed it and took it up to the clerk. He could already imagine how surprised and hopefully appreciative Dean would be, especially after Seamus got his hands on him. He'd give Dean a proper rub-down, for sure, at least until it segued into more erotic activities. Of that Seamus had no doubt.
Back at their flat, he distracted himself with decadence, enjoying both some dark chocolate and an all-too-quick thumbing through of the newest issue of Un-Robed! before he had to rush off to work. He left an innocuous Howler for Dean, saying he hoped he'd had a good day, that things had gone fine at Wheezes, and that he had a present for him when he got home. As he threw in the Floo powder, he wondered if he should've left the gift, but then decided his instinct of having Dean unwrap it with Seamus there was the right one. There was a faint pang in his chest at not having seen Dean since the early morning, but then he told himself he was a bloody sap and to stop mooning like a girl.
..:~TBC~:..
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I really liked the way you wrote the scene with Seamus and Dean making love; there's a poignant irony in having that happen outdoors, in broad daylight, when Dean can't see or appreciate the view.
And Fred, obviously conflicted; it's not yet quite clear to me what's going on in his head, despite what he says to Seamus. He seems both aware that Seamus has no reason to go back to him (both as a result of Fred's own actions, and b/c he's now with Dean) and yet there are still hints of that old cockiness and surety that if he just asks, Seamus will come back. Interesting.
*laughing* at lazy Seamus, watching the soaps and eating dark chocolate. Hee. Nice to see his weaknesses.
Listen to your dreams, Seamus... *g*
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I'd not thought about that particular element of irony for Dean; I really do love it when you find things that are subconscious on my part, or that you simply are able to read more depth into it. ;) Sadly, there's no shortage for irony and difficulty for Dean in this story, which I suppose makes Seamus' endeavors all the more poignant.
Fred is a bit of a paradox. Even as the author, I'm not entirely sure what all's going on in his head! This is what I get for having killed off George; Fred's rather enigmatic, even to me.
Seamus is rather an earthy, WYSIWYG kind of guy, y'know? I do adore him, and his telly and his chocolate and lack of exercise and his motorbike. Not that he has any attributes to any other people I know and love in this world. ;)
Seamus can certainly dream big!! Thanks so much for your comments. ♥
p.s. love your icon. *g*
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I really do love it when you find things that are subconscious on my part
Hee! ♥♥♥ You've done that to me many times. Only fair.
And no, I hadn't guessed that Seamus had any attributes that might have been borrowed... ;-)
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i know fred and seamus can cope... let's see how dean goes.
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Thank you so much for coming along on this meandering story.
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I just love how I can happily slip into your narrative. Every moment you write Seamus and Dean together just feels so comfortable. That's the attraction I have to relationships like this one (and H/R and G/L) is the ease of being best mates.
I so enjoyed Seamus' desire to be claimed, and the fulfilling of that desire, too. I liked the bit with the ladybird and
I enjoyed Fred more than I expected. Although I have no doubt he was a righteous prick, 'cause he's Fred, I do believe his earnestness and can understand his grief. It makes me wonder if perhaps Seamus' (and Dean's) perception of him was worse than necessary having looked back at him as an 'evil ex'.
I really like that I'm able to feel for the characters that are hurting and conflicted in this story, but it's not, itself, a depressing story.
(I also regret that each phrase begins with 'I' but I'm too lazy atm to change it :P )
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I'm so pleased that you were okay with Fred joining the story at last. A very astute observation about Seamus and Dean's perception of him; Seamus' is, of course, biased, and thusly Dean's is as well. Plus a fair amount of time has passed; well, over a year, anyway. A lot can happen in that time.
Unlike some of mine, this fic isn't meant to be depressing, though given the content and the background, there will be some parts that hurt to read and show how wounded the characters are. But that leaves the door wide open for healing... ;)
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So intricate and in-depth...so very real, too. I'm very much enjoying this!
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This fic only exists in part due to your encouragement, y'know! ♥
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"So. When do we get to do that again?" Dean asked, a sly smile gliding onto his lips.
Seamus snorted, angling his head so he could kiss Dean on the side of his neck. "How does tonight after work sound?"
"Too long of a wait."A profound gratitude wound through Seamus. "Too bad. But I'll make it up to ye."
LOL
aww seamus comforting fred was so cute. hugging and rocking him. so sad also
funny how shay keeps on saying deann loves him and adores him and he's not saying it back
Fourteen months?"
confused..been dead for 14months?
i feel so bad for fred