A/N: This is my own self-inflicted, one word inspired, 30 day fanfic challenge. The words will be listed as chapter titles :)

June 2000

"This is hell," Seamus said with a groan as he lifted a particularly heavy box. "What the bloody hell is in this anyway?" He glanced down at the marker scrawled on it. "Just art supplies?!" He shouted as he headed into the cramped apartment.

Dean was struggling just behind him with a box weighed down by Seamus's massive ceramic dishes. The plates were the size of his head and weighed far too much for a dish. "Don't you start. Your shit's just as heavy." Dean said as he followed into the apartment, wandering into the kitchen and putting the box on the floor. The counters were already crammed with other kitchen supplies in boxes.

"Why can't we just use our magic?" Seamus asked, his hand instinctively patting at the concealed wand in his jacket.

"Because this is London, Shay." Dean reminded him, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Muggles live here, they'll see it and freak out. Do you really want to obliviate this whole building just to make this go faster?" He turned, looking over the half wall of the kitchen to his boyfriend in the living room.

Seamus seemed to think about this for a moment, his hand still resting on his side to feel the wand beneath his clothes. "Yes." He said with a silly smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes but couldn't help but laugh. "C'mon. There's only a few more boxes left." Most of their stuff had already been brought in by Dean's stepdad and his younger sisters and brothers the days before. But they had just a handful of boxes that were left in his father's borrowed truck downstairs. His family had already headed home, but his father had kindly left the truck after Dean had accidentally admitted that neither of them had a car. His father had insisted he keep the car, and Dean had not wanted to explain that they could transport around town via magical means, let alone the underground.

"They bloody well better be the last boxes." Seamus said, heading back out the wide open front door.

Dean followed, reminding Seamus to not take the stairs four at a time, "You'll break your ankle! Do you have any idea how long it takes a broken ankle to heal properly?"

"Itn't as long as it takes to cast a — ?"

"Seamus," Dean interrupted, shaking his head as he trailed down the last few steps of the stairwell toward the large front door toward the street. "Y'know what I meant." He murmured as they walked to the beat up Ford Ranger, an old model. His dad was one of the only people he knew who owned a pickup truck, and Dean was slightly embarrassed to own it. He reached into the truck bed and picked up one large box, labelled as clothing. It wasn't too heavy, so he had Seamus put a smaller, lighter box on top. Seamus picked up the last box in the trunk along with a tall lamp in his other hand. The two struggled through the front door again, and just barely made it up the stairs. They placed their boxes down haphazardly by the front door. Dean slammed the front door of their apartment shut with his foot as Seamus set up the lamp in the corner of the room, just beside the couch that had been set up yesterday. "DONE." Dean called out triumphantly before walking over to said couch and flopping down on it in exhaustion.

"We still got to unpack." Seamus said, looking down at Dean over the arm of the couch.

Dean met his eyes and gave him his goofy smile. "Yeah, but we can do it as we go along. We have what's essential out already."

"Except dishes, the telly," Seamus had fallen in love with television when Dean had introduced him to it, "and the majority of our clothes."

Dean snickered because he just couldn't help himself.

"What? What are you laughing at?" Seamus said, suspicious. Dean was never up to anything good when he laughed like that.

"Who said we need clothes?" Dean's goofy grin morphed into his sly smile. He thought he looked so sultry when he did that, but Seamus just thought he looked ridiculous. But in a cute way. He leaned down to kiss him, but as soon as their lips moved apart again Dean was giggling again. "What are you so damn giddy about?" Seamus said, slightly bemused by his boyfriend's fits of laughter.

"Well, we officially live together. Aren't I allowed to be excited about that?"

Seamus shrugged, "Yeah, I suppose. It took long enough, that's for sure." It had been Seamus' idea to move in together. It had been a rough couple of years after the war ended, but the primary difficulty was trying to find time to be close. At Dean's it was always a struggle with his siblings running around, many of whom would have been first or second years at Hogwarts. But somehow Dean was the only one with magic. And when they were at Seamus', they were constantly in the presence of his overbearing mother. Since the war ended, she'd been incredibly concerned for her son. No matter how often he reminded her that Voldemort was dead (he'd seen the body for Merlin's sake) she was still very anxious that something bad was going to happen to him even after all this time. It had taken some convincing to get out of the house, but once she realized that Dean would never let anything bad happen to Seamus she gave her permission.

"Yeah, but now it'll be all the sweeter to finally live together." Dean reminded him, sitting up on the couch and patting the cushion beside him. Seamus sat down beside him, easily tucking in under Dean's arm as it wrapped around his shoulders. They looked around the room filled with boxes and sighed both with peace and exhaustion. "Yeah, okay, I admit. I don't want to unpack today."

"So what should we do today?" Dean asked.

It was Seamus' turn to smile like an idiot, "I have some ideas." Dean laughed at the smile and eagerly kissed him again. This was all that needed to be done right now. Everything else could wait.