The door slammed closed behind him and suddenly he was alone. The abrupt absence of thumping music ringing in his ears, he watched fireflies dancing to the crickets' love song and breathed cool garden air with a hint elderflowers and everything was so idyllic it was making him feel sick.
Well, it could also be the cheap whiskey that made him want to throwing up his best friend's wedding cake on one of those precious roses. Seamus Finnigan huffed a soundless "Feck it..." and sat down on the stairs of the patio, trying to ignore the burning in his throat and behind his eyes.
He'd done a feckin' good job as a best man if he might say so. Taking care of things, being all reassuring when Dean got cold feet. He'd even stayed sober until all guests were either positively pissed or went home.
He'd been all supporting and smiling and held the most feckin' glorious best man speech, so now he had the feckin' birth right to get pissed like feckin' Irish man he is.

It's not like Dean would miss him anyway.
Feckin' smitten he was. No eyes for anyone but his new wife. The bloke gets a bird and his best friend doesn't matter anymore. Just 'cause it was cliché doesn't mean it didn't hurt. Seamus took another big gulp from the whiskey bottle in his hand and stubbornly blinked away the prickling in his eyes. The yellow liquid tasted like goblin piss but he was already to drunk to complain.
staring in the summer garden he quickly dismissed the plan to go home. He's an idiot but he's not so suicidal that he would try to apparate home in this state.

There was a quiet sound behind him from the door being opened and closed and staggering steps stumbling over the wooden planks of the patio.
Seamus doesn't need to turn around to know that it's his old school mate, Ron Weasley. If you slept in the same dorm for such a long time you know how the other boys sound and breath and walk in any state between life and death.
"Yanno...at this shpeak now or remain silen' fo'ever bullshi', ya shoulda jus' tol' 'em tha' 'tis a bloody daft idea." Ron sounded equally intoxicated and somehow it felt good to be not the only be the only one, who felt so uncomfortable watching this whole ordeal that they had to burn out the memory with copious amounts of alcohol.
Dean's new wife was a Muggle. He didn't tell her about being the whole him being a wizard and war hero thing. It was like a feckin' train wreck waiting to happen. Just the wedding alone was hazard to the Wizard Secrecy with so many wizards and witches attending. Just one needed to make a suspicious comment or absent-mindedly use their wand and the cover was blown.
It's easy for Dean who'd grown up with being all inconspicuous and shite, but people like Luna or Ron literally ooze magic out of every pore. They never had so much contact to Muggles and none of them had ever been good at beeing inconspicious. Even in the Wizard world Luna was everything but insuspicious.

"Can' do tha'! Dean deserves some feckin' happiness and he likes 'er." grunted Seamus saving his bottle from being knocked over, when Ron ungracefully plopped down next to him. It was almost empty. He let the last drops roll down his throat and threw it under one of the rose bushes while Ron unscrewed a second bottle of some kind of Muggle booze.
It tasted like cough juice and neither of them is prepared for that. They shrugged it of though. They were both too far gone to care how their drink tasted.
An amiable silence settled between them while the bottle wandered back and forth between them. They stared in the darkness and listened to the sound faint sound of one the Muggle bride maids playing karaoke. It sounds like a belching moose.

"How's the thin' wi' 'Mione?" Seamus asked after while and a moment later he wanted to kick himself in the gut for it. The evening was already depressing enough without mentioning about Ron and Hermione's break-up.
"Bloody giant pile of dragonshite 't is." sweared Ron and took a generous sip from the bottle.
" 't was a fuckin' daf' idea from the star'. Only good tha' came wi' the blody marriage were the sprogs." he grumbled, draping one of his lanky arms around Seamus shoulders. Usually he doesn't like this kind of closeness with other men. it makes him feel weird. And small. Ron is a feckin' giant compared to him even more so than Dean and Dean's over a head taller than Seamus.

"Yanno, Shay..." Ron muttered bitterly stumbling over his words and clumsily slapping Seamus shoulder. "A' leas' ya can rant all you want 'bout the bird bein' no' shui'able. Tha' doesn' work when 'tis ya sis'er, yanno..."
There a pause and if Seamus would eat dictionaries for breakfast like Hermione he'd probably call it pregnant. He doesn't though. The thing is, he'd always thought Ron Weasley was as straight as a wand. He was the last guy he'd expected to be a wizard preferring wands over cauldrons.
"Mate..." he grumbled and took a vary big gulp of this bitter Muggle booze to wash down the information and reduce the shock. "feckin' piece 'f drag'nshite." he added and shuttered at the bitter taste and the burn of the alcohol in his throat. "Shoulda feckin' tol' me earlier! Woulda been less lonely, than bein' feckin' miserable all by meself...Yanno...back in school..."

Ron laughed. It sounded hollow and tired and older than they should be allowed to feel at their age.
"Dunno...my family... 'm scared of wha' my Mum'd say...'Moine doesn' know 't ei'er...she thinks it's because of her bein' never at home and not caring for the sprogs or the house or anythin' except work...bloody workaholic she is, but 'tis no' that...'tis tha' she's no' a bloke and no' Harry." he mumbled before setting the bottle at his lips.
"Why'd yeh marry 'er then?" Seamus too the bottle from his friend's hand and took a sip trying not to stare at Ron's face. It was way too late and they were too pissed for this conversation. " Dunno..." Ron shruged and started plucking daisies and blades of grass with his toes. Where did he leave his shoes and socks? "...'m a bloody idjit...at tha' time 't seemed like a good idea."
They both laughed. It's something they could always relate on. Saying and doing stupid things and regretting it the later on is a special talent they share.

"Please, don' tell 'nyone, Shay."
Seamus was so pissed and Ron looked so desperate and scared and feckin' sad. He had really nice freckles and golden-white eyelashes and cute lips (even though not as beautiful as Dean's) and Seamus was really good a doing dumb things when drunk and a moment later hewas snogging the hell out of Ron.
"...'m feckin ...catholic...me Da... woul' ra'er have no son... than a feckin' nancy." he breathed between the kisses and it felt surprisingly good and he kind of lost track of his thoughts after that.

It's feckin' pitiful, but this is the night he had sex with a guy for the first time.
Between Dean's stupid roses, both fumbling and inexperienced, pissed out of their mind and not in love at all. It's feckin' awkward and he had grass stains on his bare knees, but at least they're mates, and Ron was not a total arse about it.