A/N: This isn't mine.

House: Ravenclaw (HOH)

Category: Drabble

Prompt: Breakfast

W/C: 598

Standing in the small kitchen, Seamus Finnigan had entirely no idea what to do. When the idea struck him, he'd been so proud of his thoughtfulness that he'd quickly extricated himself from bed, smiled down at Dean, and climbed down the stairs to begin. But of course, he didn't actually know what to make.

He was quite certain that Dean would be surprised and pleased to have breakfast in bed, but precisely what Dean would like to eat for breakfast was a mystery to him. The easy choice was eggs—he knew they were in the fridge and he knew how to cook them—but would Dean prefer scrambled? Over-easy? Over-medium? Hard-boiled? Poached? No, eggs were too hard.

Deciding that everyone loved French Toast, Seamus thought i would be a better choice. However, he quickly realized that everyone loved homemade French Toast the way they grew up with it. Some people preferred cinnamon, others nutmeg; some people preferred syrup, others powdered sugar. French Toast was out then.

He didn't even want to start the "waffles versus pancakes" debate, and ruled them out just as quickly. Unfortunately, this limited his options down to fresh fruit or yogurt, neither of which exactly said "I love you and I'm glad we stayed the night together."

We stayed the night together, Seamus smiled to himself. He couldn't get it out of his head that Dean really truly cared for him as well. Of course, he had had no idea that breakfast would be the hardest part of staying the night for the first time. It didn't help that Dean still preferred some of the Muggle utilities he'd grown up with, and many of the devices adorning the counters were things Seamus had never even seen before, let alone knew how to work.

Simple then, he thought. It'll have to be simple.

Which brought him to where he was, standing in the middle of a strange kitchen in the dark in his underwear. Traffic rushed softly outside, and the only sounds other than his own panic was the early-morning din of people entering the London streets and beginning their day. But what was the best way to begin his and Dean's?

Finally, dejected, he climbed back up the stairs to Dean's room. It seemed best to just wait for them to both be awake and to make the decision together. Shuffling and sighing, Seamus made his way down the hall and pushed the door open gently. Dean, however, was not alone.

Piled on top of the bed were what seemed to be bagels, muffins, plates of eggs, hashbrowns, toast, omlettes, and several different cups of coffees and teas from different shops around London. Dean stood beside the cornucopia, fully dressed and fidgeting nervously.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like to eat," he mumbled awkwardly. "So when you got up for the bathroom, I- I uh-"

"You got breakfast," Seamus breathed, a wide smile creeping across his face. "You apparated all over town and got breakfast for us."

Dean grinned sheepishly and nodded.

"I think," Seamus said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Dean down beside him, "that breakfast is my favorite meal of the day."

"Really? Why's that?"

"You remember at Hogwarts when we'd go down for breakfast and there was everything imaginable to eat just magicked in front of us each morning?"

Dean nodded.

"This is a bit like that."

"Well," Dean admonished, "I'm no house-elf."

Seamus held up a bag of pastries, labeled in bold letters with the shop's name and logo. "That's right," he said. "This is even better."