Sometimes we kiss // A Deamus Oneshot

Sometimes we kiss...

Dean is confused. Very confused. Just yesterday, he kissed Seamus. Now, he was sitting next to him in the common room, not knowing what to do.

Do they...kiss again?

Dean shook his head and looked back to Seamus, who was on a couch to his right. He was rather cute when he was studying, but he didn't do so often, which meant it was a gift when you did see it. Or, at least that's what Dean thought.

Dean had thought he was going to be okay with being gay when he realized it. Now, however, he was having tiny panic attacks whenever he looked at Seamus.

Dean was confused, at best.

• • •

Seamus glanced over the books he had spread around him. There were four circling him, but he wasn't paying attention to one of them. He was thinking back to all the times him and Dean had -- rather happily -- kissed each other, and the awkward tension it had brought with it. The good came with the bad, Seamus supposed, but this was a bit too much bad for his taste.

His gaze drifted to Dean. Of course.

Seamus examined all the small details he could see. This was his favorite thing to do, despite touching Dean. Okay, maybe Dean was his favorite thing. Just...in general. He could see a small concentration line in Dean's forehead. He was staring at his drawing pad, rolling a bit of charcoal in between his thumb and his index finger.

Seamus tore his eyes away. No need to stare. Well, not right now anyway.

He shut the books that surrounded him, one by one, stacking them as he went. It wasn't a neat, clean stack, but, then again, this was Seamus. He took the stack of books and sat them by his bag, to be taken back to the library tomorrow. He looked up again, at Dean. He was looking at him and smiled softly when they locked eyes. Seamus looked away frantically, just need a distraction. Needing it desperately.

All he needed was a distraction, he could worry about it later.

That's usually how it went. Then, in a day or so, they would kiss again, and it would happen all over again.

• • •

Seamus was curled up in Dean's bed, next to Dean. He was crying, but no longer sobbing. He'd had one of his many nightmares, about the war. Eighth-year wasn't as good of an idea as it seemed, because these hallways held very terrible memories.

Dean was rubbing his back gently, his hand circling in the space between his shoulder blades.

"If you want," Dean hushed, his voice still soothing, "you can sleep in my bed."

Seamus felt his face flush a deep, heated red but nodded slowly. Anything to get these bloody nightmares to go away. That's not the only reason he wanted to sleep in Dean's bed, but we won't talk about that.

Dean eased them both back, up against the pillows. He slid down, under the covers, Seamus still in his arms. He wasn't about to let him go. Dean pulled up the covers, just slightly covering up Seamus' face. He gently ran his fingers through that sandy hair he loved so much, smiling apologetically at Seamus. His poor firecracker wasn't feeling well.

Without a second thought, Dean kissed him. Softly. Sweetly. Gingerly.

When he pulled back, he and Seamus both were blushing madly. He wiped under the smaller boy's eyes, trying to dry them.

Seamus shuffled a little closer, and Dean turned, now on his back. Seamus put his head on the other boy's chest and was wrapped in a small embrace as he was lulled to sleep by Dean's heartbeat.

• • •

When Seamus woke, Dean was awake.

He was rubbing his back, gingerly and carefully. Seamus sat up, and Dean followed, so they were both up against the headboard of the four-poster. Seamus leaned into Dean, nestling his head into the crook of his neck.

"You feeling better?" Dean asked, in a hushed tone. Maybe it was early.

Seamus nodded, recalling last nights turn of events. Hm. Maybe...

"That's good...D'you wanna get breakfast or no? I don't mind."

Seamus shook his head and whispered against Dean's neck, "No, I wanna stay here..."

Dean smiled, softly. Maybe.

Dean kept rubbing Seamus' back gently until he decided he wanted to draw. Seamus had fallen back asleep, the cute bastard. Dean grabbed his sketch pad, a charcoal stick. He looked at Seamus, feeling inspired. He drew quickly, sketching out every little detail he could.

• • •

As if on cue, moments after Dean was done drawing, Seamus awoke. He yawned quietly and rather adorably in Dean's opinion. He had been resting on Dean's left and was now right next to him, examining the drawing with sleepy eyes. He smiled, his face a light shade of pink.

He reached for the drawing pad's corner, turning slightly to face him so he could see it better. It was, indeed, a picture of him. A sleeping Seamus. He'd seen a few other pictures of himself around, but they were usually rough sketches that had been discarded. This one, however, was fully finished, with every detail intact.

Dean was blushing deeply and looking anywhere but Seamus, trying to hide said blush. Seamus looked at him, his smile wide, and kissed his cheek. Poor Dean was too flustered to do anything. He couldn't move. He could barely breathe. Seamus got up, off the bed.

"So, how's about some food?" Seamus asked, changing the subject completely.

Dean nodded solemnly and began to get up as well.

• • •

Dean lied on his back, his hands folded on his stomach. He was confused, deadly confused. He...liked Seamus, a lot. But, he wasn't sure what to do. They acted like...whatevers most of the time...so...would there be a difference? Would he just..ask and move on with their lives? Not much would change. Oh to hell with it all.

• • •

Seamus gathered his courage, rushing to the eighth year dorms, only one thing on his mind. He opened the door, to see Dean on his bed, some parchment in his lap, he was writing with a quill. Dammit, when Dean was focused you had to wait until he was finished for him to even acknowledge you. And here Seamus was, trying to admit his feelings. God this was so...So cheesy and stupid.

Seamus took a deep breath, sitting next to Dean, on his left. He peered at the parchment. Potions homework. Sounds fun.

Seamus looked back to Dean, "Hey, um. Could we...talk?"

Shit, I did it. Shit. No going back now, I suppose.

Dean looked up for a brief moment, and nodded, going back to his homework.

"I mean like..." Seamus searched for the correct wording, "actual talking."

Deans eyebrows furrowed, but he put his parchment with the rest of his books. He fiddled with his quill nervously, what was about to happen...?

Seamus cleared his throat, his whole body slouching, "Well..uhm. Oh bloody hell, I like you, like a lot. A lot. And I don't know what you want, but I really hate this whole 'relationship-but-not' thing. And I just hope you feel the same way and I'm sorry this is so awkward--"

He was interrupted by Dean's lips hitting his. It was gentle and sweet. He melted into Dean and was satisfied with his results. That was..a yes? Yes. A yes.

••••

So, sometimes they kissed.

Sometimes they didn't.

But, that didn't change things.

Sometimes they were lovers,

But they were always friends.