Best Mates to Dates
Dean walked into the dormitory, exhausted from the battle. He heard whimpering from the corner and drew his wand, paranoia from living on the edge for so long rearing its head. He lowered it, though, when he saw the small irish boy huddled up.
His heart started pounding like mad.
"Shay." muttered carefully.
"Shay, I'm back. We're here. It's okay."
"What's wrong mate?" Dean continued, crouching down. He took Seamus's hands into his own and looked him straight in the eyes.
"Who hurt you?"
"I messed you, Dean." Seamus finally whispered. "I was worried and scared. I was afraid we would die, and I would't be able to tell you how much I care."
The irish accent Dean had grown to love made him lightheaded, like it always had.
Dean sucked in a breath, a tingly warmth invading his chest. "Me too, Shay, me too. I thought about you every day. I never wanted to leave you, we were best mates. I had to go though."
"I know." Seamus sighed. "I know you 'ad to go, and I am so 'appy you are alive."
"I just kept remembering you and your posters, 'ow much you love football, and I," Seamus said, scooting closer to Dean. "I didn't want to live without dat. Without you."
Wiping away tears, Dean confessed, "I love you so much Seamus, I do. Can I kiss you? Just this one time?"
"You can kiss me forever." replies Seamus breathlessly.