Seamus lays his head gently on Dean's chest. It is the day before they part for Christmas holidays and Seamus just wants to make this moment last forever. He is not anticipating the family suppers, the visits to aunts and uncles he hardly knows and definitely not the so-who's-your-girlfriend questions he is sure to hear at least a dozen times. No, what he wants is to stay here, and now, with Dean breathing deeply beneath him, murmuring stories and jokes and sweet something in his ear.
Dean embraces him and their hands intertwine, a beautiful contrast between dark and light. This is perfect; Dean is perfect. The other boys are sleeping and their snores permeate the room but Dean and Seamus don't want to waste this night. Though tomorrow Seamus is going to Ireland and Dean to England, for now they are here; in the four-poster bed that smells of Dean (musk and sweat and a hint of cinnamon). As Dean presses his lips to Seamus' head, they hope to make this moment, free of worry and stress, last a little longer.