"There are plenty of fish in the sea, but you're the only fish for me."

Part Two: In which Seamus points out that Dean makes little, if any, sense.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Etc.

Over the next couple of days, Dean stayed in his dormitory claiming sickness. Madam Pomfrey was not pleased when he refused to stay in the hospital wing, so she sent him back to his bed for rest after loading him down with multitudes of potions designed to clear up headaches and the like. His dorm-mates were forced to make numerous promises and sign binding contracts about not disturbing him and letting him "rest to regain health." Needless to say, they were not pleased.

The next morning Seamus waited until they had all left before coming over to sit on Dean's four-poster. "You're going to have to face her sometime," he said conversationally.

Dean groaned and avoided Seamus's eyes. "It's not so much her. It's more like…"

"Everyone!" Seamus contributed helpfully.

"I s'pose. But I don't want people wondering why she dumped me. I mean, there's the Harry thing, but we were having trouble before that."

"Well," said Seamus thoughtfully, "whenever I'm faced with a hard problem…" he trailed off and rummaged around in his trunk before producing a bottle of mulled mead.

Dean looked on suspiciously. "How'd you get that? And how have you kept it secret? And WHY did you keep it secret from your best mate, who would certainly enjoy some of that now and then?"

Seamus shrugged. "Dunno, dunno, and dunno. So do you want some or not?"

"Oh, go on and pass it over. You do realize we're probably going to get in trouble, and I'm blaming it entirely on you."

"Good," said Seamus thickly, taking in a large mouthful. "I look forward to it."

As it turned out, neither boy could handle his alcohol all that well. Between long sips they discussed philosophy, Quidditch, and how cool stairways were. It wasn't long before they felt too warm and full to say much of anything, and instead fell into a companionable silence.

"Hey…you?" said Dean, breaking the quiet and poking Seamus in the ribs. "I don't want people getting the wrong idea about me n' Ginny."

"What's the wrong idea?" asked Seamus, squinting somewhere between the ceiling and the window from the comfort of Dean's bed.

"The one that isn't right."

"What's the right idea?"

"That I really, really liked Ginny."

"So tha's right, is it?"

"No."

"So's wrong?"

"I reckon."

"You do realize that you're making little, if any, sense," commented Seamus, pulling himself up onto his elbows and focusing his bleary eyes on Dean's face.

"Well…" Dean hesitated, and, unable to find the words he wanted, gestured wildly in the air.

"Sorry mate, I don't speak stupid."

"Fine. I didn't really like Ginny. I just wanted…to be in a relationship, ok?" Dean sighed heavily and rolled over.

"Then why were you so mad that she dropped you?"

"Well, for one she ruined the relationship thing for me. Two, as I said, people are going to wonder why she didn't like me. And three…well, there is no three. But still."

"You're hiding something," said Seamus to the ceiling.

"No."

"Yes."

"Well, it's not like I secretly like guys and was onlu using Ginny to hide the fact that I may or may not be gay and am in love with someone close to me!"

Seamus looked up at Dean and smirked. "Well, if you had just said that in the beginning, we wouldn' have had to waste a whole bottle of mead."

They glanced guilty at the empty bottle lying between them.

"There's nothing wrong wi' it, of course. I reckon I fancy certain blokes." Seamus glanced at Dean to gauge his reaction.

"Who?" asked Dean, struggling to sit up, but falling back against the pillows.

"Oh, such an' such an' so an' so. You know." He carefully avoided his friend's eyes and began to toss the glass bottle in the air.

"Can I kiss you?" Dean asked unexpectedly.

Seamus faltered, and the bottle shattered on the hard floor, scaring them both. He regarded his friend intently, all traces of a smile gone. "Why?"

Dean stared back just as seriously. "Because, luckily, alcohol seems to make me brave. And I figure if I don't do it while I'm brave, I never will. Because though you're a bit of an idiot, you're still really smart and funny."

Seamus glowered. "You think I'm an idiot?"

"Yeah," said Dean, smiling. "And I think I love you."

The distance between them of six inches seemed to be a thousand miles, and Dean, moving so slow that he ached and so fast that he burned, gently kissed his stunned friend on the lips.