A/N: This started out as something cute and fluffy, then wiggled around when I wasn't looking and got all depressing. Not sure about the end. Feel free to let me know how it turns out.

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Dean is for life: not just for Christmas.

Seamus is thinking of getting the slogan printed on badges and forcing them on unsuspecting passers-by. His suffering should be spread around as much as possible. Hermione'd probably help.

Dean looks like a puppy, all sweet and warm and temporary. Dean lies. Smiling, puppy-face on every corner, steps dogged (ha!) by bouncing footfalls.

Dean is the bane of his existence.

And Seamus tells Dean so. Watches as his face hardens into something unrecognisable; cold not-Dean. Seamus was expecting him to cower, kicked puppy screaming from behind his eyes. Seamus has never liked animals.

Seamus is alone. Suddenly, horribly alone. In panic, his voice cracks as Dean's name fights its way out of his throat. That's why Dean doesn't turn around: he couldn't hear the words. Really.

* * * * *

Seamus loves Dean (Ohgodohgodohgodohgod)

Seamus is thinking of getting the slogan printed on badges and forcing them on unsuspecting passers-by. His suffering should be spread around as much as possible. Hermione'd probably help.

Dean still looks like a puppy, all sweet and warm and someone else's. Kissing Dean would be like dark chocolate, Seamus thinks, sharp and addictive.

Dean is his constant, and if he could, Seamus would pin him down with kisses.

And Seamus tells Dean so. Watches as Dean's face smoothes into its familiar smiling mould. And Seamus finds he is wrong. Kissing Dean is warmth and light and volatile energy. Cats paws churn his insides to slush, and Dean looks like a tiger as he smiles.