A/N: This one actually wrote itself pretty nicely, if I do say so myself. Apparently I'm a fan of making Seamus' mother horrifically homophobic when I write fics (I don't know why, I guess it bring on more angst), but I always try to imply that Dean's family is perfectly okay with both of them no matter what.
Class: Flying
Task 1 – Keeper: A Keeper is an important member of a Quidditch team. There is only one Keeper in a team. A Keeper keeps the other team from scoring goals by manning the goal-posts or Hoops. Write about keeping someone from making a bad decision.
Bonus Prompts: N/A
CW: Implied history of verbal abuse, bad depression coping mechanisms
Word Count: 1,886
The bottles beside his head rang out loudly, quickly lifting Seamus from his sleep as though someone had shot a spell into his ear. The light was blindingly bright and he groaned audibly as the sudden violent change in environment made everything hurt. Or… just his head, really.
"Shay." said Dean, far too loudly.
"Mmmf…" He mumbled, attempting to wave an arm but only succeeding in running his hand into more bottles.
"Come on love," The taller man placed his hands underneath Seamus' armpits and pulled him upward.
Seamus barely had time to process the fact that he was being carried bridal style before he was being placed gently onto a soft surface - their bed - and covered with a blanket. Dean muttered something about "gonna clean up the rest", then disappeared from the line of Seamus' blurry sight.
For a few minutes the room remained silent except for his slow breathing. He didn't really remember last night much at all - oh, yes, of course. Right.
The evening had started with one little beer. Dean was on evening shift at the shop, which left Seamus with a lot of free time and no one to vent to. Of course, he thought the night would go smoothly, no hiccups, no issues, no emotional distress of any sort.
Until the note from his mother came through the window tied to the leg of an irritated sorrel owl.
From there, it was all bottles and no thought. Without Dean to provide comfort in any form, Seamus resorted to the only form of treatment he knew.
"Shay, are you awake?" Dean's voice cut through Seamus' musings.
"Hey," Seamus said quietly. The bed dipped as Dean came to face him vertically on the soft surface of their duvet.
"Hey," Dean said, cupping his boyfriend's chin in one hand. "Can I ask what happened that made you raid our liquor cabinet so thoroughly?"
"Mother." grunted the Irishman, not wanting to get into much detail with the rager of a headache that currently lived in his temples.
"Oh," Was the soft reply, "What was it this time?"
When Seamus didn't reply and instead closed his eyes again despite the beautiful sight of Dean's face being so close, there was no more prodding to be done. He knew he'd be incredibly grateful to Dean for relocating them both after waking up from the nap he was about to embark upon.
A couple of hours later, and the lamp lights didn't burn Seamus' eyeballs nearly as much as they had. He gazed softly at the face of his sleeping boyfriend who was still positioned across from him. Watching Dean sleep was something of a luxury, something Seamus didn't do a lot but when he got the option he took it. The lack of concern that was often etched into the other man's face from caring so much faded away in sleep.
"Seamus?" Dean spoke as his eyes gradually opened a few minutes later.
"Mmm." He replied, taking Dean's face one hand and leaning in for a soft good morning type of kiss, one that lasted a little shorter than Seamus liked.
"You're going to tell me what happened fully now, right?"
"I think we should stay in bed for the rest of the mornin', then maybe I'll tell you something much later this afternoon."
"Shay, I'd bet pretty much anything that you've still got yourself a bit of a headache and while I wouldn't mind staying here and satisfying your needs right now, I think we both know it's important you tell me now before you let it go completely." said Dean.
Seamus didn't mention that he wasn't going to let it go at all, in fact, and that his revenge plot had been crafted in his drunken state the night before.
"My mother…" He started. "She wrote a letter to inform me that she doesn't want to see me again if you're going to be with me."
"She saw you last week!" Dean said, but he wasn't actually shocked. Seamus knew he wouldn't be.
"You know she yelled at me for an hour." said Seamus.
The breakdown he'd suffered last night was a long time coming, in retrospect. Following the war everyone had grown used to having a variety of mental health issues, but Seamus liked to ignore his own if Dean would let him. Dean rarely let him.
"Maybe she'll come around." Dean offered, only so Seamus could feel some small amount of comfort.
"Doubtful." Seamus said with a shrug. Inside he burned.
"I'm going to make us breakfast, and then we're going to go on a walk. I think you need fresh air this morning more than anything."
"But I - I have things to do," For a moment he forgot he wasn't going to tell Dean that he already had plans.
"Love, I don't want to discourage you from pursuing your interests, but I think we both know you don't function well after a night like last night." Dean said.
Before he could say anything further, Dean kissed him gently once more and stood up, leaving his side of the bed with only the warm imprint of his body for Seamus to mutter protests at. He listened to the footsteps leaving their room and entering the flat's kitchen. Dean hadn't put a shirt on yet, which was encouraging for the other activities Seamus actually wanted to get into. He didn't want to think.
He did want to Apparate to his mother's and demand she take back her words.
When he finally left the warmth of the bed, Dean had already made up eggs and bacon. Seamus stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching the man plate the food while softly whistling, bathed in the golden rays of sun that fell through the wide windows. It was a calming sight after the chaos of the past 12 hours.
"Still singing that showtune?" He smiled as he entered the kitchen, sitting down at the table and propping his head on his hand.
"I personally thought it was the best song in the whole show."
They'd gone to see a Muggle production of Beauty and the Beast roughly a week ago for the hell of it (and it was rather well done for lack of magical abilities on the animated objects being present) and Dean had practically memorized the entire soundtrack. Seamus didn't quite have the ear or patience for music, but he could still respect anything that made Dean happy enough to repeatedly whistle whatever it was.
"Shay," Dean said as he set the plates down and sat down with them, "At least tell me you're going to restock our liquor cabinet in time for the party tomorrow night."
"I suppose I can." He said. They were hosting a birthday celebration for Luna at the flat tomorrow, and most of their closest friends enjoyed drinking themselves into near oblivion.
"You're going to make the run to the store?" Dean raised an eyebrow.
"Well of course! Couldn't be bothered conjuring up some magical brew, eh?"
It was careless talk. Mindless. No thinking required, which Seamus was grateful for despite the thoughts that bounced around his mind as he continued to plan out the script he wanted to say to his mother.
They continued on like that for the rest of breakfast. No further mentions of his drinking adventure were brought up, the boundaries Dean respected were still very much present even if Seamus knew his boyfriend was incredibly worried about him.
When he was preparing to take a shower, he gave Dean a quick peck on the lips and said: "I'll be back soon", before leaving the kitchen and definitely not thinking about the look Dean had given him at the seemingly odd choice of words.
He was going to Apparate from the bathroom. Seamus took an incredibly quick shower and prepared himself, attempting to look as put-together as was possible with the remnants of a headache pounding his forehead in. With one deep breath, he closed his eyes and pictured the little house he'd grown up in - the place he'd once called home.
Seamus landed in a field near the house where he'd played as a child with the neighborhood kids. He looked around to see he was utterly alone, no one could be seen for miles. The little houses in the valley below him stood out against the bright green of the vegetation, each one the perfect example of rural suburbia. (If rural suburbia was a thing, this was it.)
He picked his way through the field, all the while thinking about the multiple ways he could hurt his mother the way she'd wounded him. What could one say to a woman who didn't want to know that you still existed?
No matter what, he was determined to get her to see his side of things. It was definitely a childish reaction - yet Seamus could think of nothing more satisfying than telling her off for once in his life instead of taking the abuse.
He was almost to the front yard when a hand grabbed his arm.
"Shay." That voice made him whip around to see Dean standing in front of him, eyes wide.
"I…" He said, trying to think of some logical explanation for any of this. Instead all he could do was finally let himself fall into Dean's open arms and cry.
"You can't do this to yourself," Dean murmured. The feeling of Disapparating caught in Seamus' lungs. He looked up to find they were back in their own kitchen.
"I have to tell her…"
"You don't have to tell her shit, love. Nothing you can say will feel good enough."
Somewhere in the back of Seamus' anger ridden mind, he knew Dean was right. The rage that had driven him to even think of exacting revenge simmered low in his stomach. Whatever rage he'd felt was gone.
His actions had been stupid and childish and he hiccuped all of these words into Dean's chest as he sobbed.
Dean replied with gentle demands that he was none of these things.
"I thought," He choked out, "I thought she would understand if I finally struck back."
"You've already struck back by sticking with me."
A feeling of warmth bloomed in Seamus' chest at the words. Dean was the constant Seamus relied on at all times. This terrible rip in his relationship with his family, with his mother, only served to help that constant steadiness that Dean represented.
"Someone's gotta be the glue here," He said, a little breathlessly as the sobs finally slowed down. "Can't get away from you even if I wanted to."
"You'd never." said Dean. It sounded like he was smiling.
"You're right." He looked up at Dean through the remaining tears. "Now how's about we go to the store so I can fix my mistake. I think I finished off the Red Eel that Neville loves so much."
"He'll be rightly pissed off if you did." Dean replied, his eyes warm despite his teasing tone.
"I think I had a decent excuse."
The pain faded back into their domestic bliss to be saved another day. Seamus wasn't keen on letting himself sink into sadness for too long, after all. Not when he had Dean to sink into instead.