A/N: Just a cute little fic for Dean and Seamus. I've always pictured Seamus as a firefighter, just because he's seen so many that he's used to it.
If You Dare Challenge - #987 (Burning Clothes)
Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #596 (Apprehended)
Build A Zoo Challenge - Ostriches (Dean Thomas)
Character Diversity Boot Camp - #36 (toe), Dean Thomas
Your Favorite House Boot Camp - #10 (interest), Gryffindor
Fanfiction Writing Month: October [817]
365 Prompts Challenge - #164 (Wand)
200 Different Pairings - #107 (Dean/Seamus)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Dean was doing his best to make dinner Monday night when everything went haywire. It had been the first day since he and Seamus moved in together, and Dean had promised to make Seamus something special. He'd gotten a whole chicken from the store and was going to put it in this stew... thing, but it didn't work out as planned.
He didn't know how to thaw the chicken. He'd seen his mum breaking up frozen things when he was little, so he tried dropping the chicken on the counter multiple times to thaw it. Unfortunately, on about the third round, the chicken slipped and hit the floor. Dean did not get out of the way in time, and his right foot got smashed in the process. Dean then continued to swear and hop around in circles, clutching his wounded toes, and trying to pick up the chicken at the same time. Still hopping, he scooped up the chicken and held it over the sink. With his elbow he nudged on the water, trying to wash away any grime or bacteria that might have come from it being on the floor.
He then plopped it in its tray and shoved it into the oven, sick of trying to deal with it. However, as he held the oven door open, he realized too late that he was holding on to the burning hot section of the metal. He screamed and jumped, landing on his bad foot, screaming, "Merlin's... saggy... left... ball... sack... ugh..." He was hopping back and forth, back and forth, when—
The door swung open. "Dean?" called out Seamus, from his place before him. Dean squeezed his eyes shut. His hands hurt like bloody– "Dean, what—Dean, your...er...your soup's on fire."
Because Dean's boyfriend was a man who had seen more fires than all of their friends combined, he was relatively calm about the whole matter.
Dean, however, was on a different track. "Merlin's bloody balls!" he cried, his eyes flying open, and he tried to pick up his wand from his pocket without touching it with the burned sections of his palm. "Agua—aguamen—aguamenti!" As Dean had stammered throughout the entire incantation, water only trickled out of the front. "Bloody hell!" he shouted angrily. He got too close to the soup, and the sleeve of his shirt caught on fire.
"Dean! Dean, stop!" ordered Seamus, watching the soup as the flames roared a little bit higher. "I've got it." He removed his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the burning soup. "Aguamenti!" Water shot out from his wand as if from a fire hydrant, and he apprehended the whole fire out in one go. Then, he put out the fire on Dean's shirt with another quick water charm. He then turned off the stove, and the oven as well, where the chicken was turning an odd color.
Now that the intensity of the entire situation was over, Dean slumped into the couch, clutching his burning hands and trying not to move his toe, which he thought to be broken. He muttered, "Sorry, Seamus."
Seamus came forth and sat next to Dean. "You've got nothin' to be sorry for. Lemme see your hands."
Dean, still wincing from the pain, realized it was probably in his best interest to listen to Seamus, as he'd had the most burns of anyone he knew, so he revealed his burns to his boyfriend. He hissed as Seamus touched him. "They hurt like bloody hell," he growled.
"I know," he said, pulling a tube of burn-healing paste out of his pocket. "I've had many of them.
"Ovens are evil, I'm telling you," he says. "It nearly killed me."
"Oh, Dean, don't be melodramatic. It barely grazed you."
"Ow!"
"Sorry. This one looks like second degree—" Dean bites his lip, trying to be strong. "Sorry, Dean. It'll go away as soon as I—" He smeared the paste over the wounds and they closed slightly. "We'll have to put more on later tonight. You might have scars from this."
Seamus was a firefighter, and he knew a thing or two about fires. He had scars covering most of his body where skin had been melted away. There were many sections that, when Dean touched them, Seamus could not feel a thing. "Well," said Dean, after thanking his boyfriend for wrapping his hands. "I guess there's one good thing that came out of this."
"What's that?"
Dean gave a weak smile. "I match you, now." He raised his hands so that they met his. Seamus frowned, and then punched Dean's arm. "Ow! What was that for?"
"Dean, you idiot, it's not something to be proud of! Those bloody things hurt!"
"Sorry." He gave Seamus an apologetic kiss, which was reciprocated.
When Seamus released his mouth, he said, "Just no more playing with fire, a'right? That's my job."
Dean smiled. "Got it."
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