September 1998

Dean loved going to quidditch matches with Seamus, but he sometimes regretted it. They were sitting in the stands of a particularly exciting game. It was the Kestrels versus the Magpies, and naturally Dean and Seamus were sporting bright green for the Kestrels, Seamus' favorite Irish team. Seamus had even painted a letter 'K' on each cheek. Dean had politely declined from painting his face. He preferred to paint canvases, not faces. But he had not objected to painting Seamus' face for him.

The game had already begun, and both teams were playing their hearts out. The score was still tight, and as always, it was going to ultimately be down to the seekers to make the game interesting. There had been a couple of feints to trick the other team's seekers, but no actual hunt had started for it. One of the Magpie chasers was particularly tricky, and zoomed so fast past the stands that Dean and Seamus stood in that it knocked Seamus over. He got back to his feet, leaned over the rail a bit, and hollered some curses that could have melted his mother's ears. The chaser threw the quaffle straight for the right hand goal. "GET IT! GO ON. IT'S RIGHT THERE. IT'S A BIG DAMN BALL. CATCH IT!" Seamus yelled excitedly at his team. Luckily for him (and Dean's ears) the keeper got there in time to catch the quaffle and hand it to his chaser. Seamus cheered, but it was far less harsh on the ears than his screams of anger.

Dean was not as expressive in quidditch games. He was excited of course, and whistled and cheered right along seamus, but a good decibel lower. The Kestrels were blurs of green, flying exceptionally fast on their brand new Firebolt 3s. The Magpies on their old Nimbus 2000s had a hard time keeping up with them. But the team was incredibly adaptable, and despite the speed difference the two teams were squarely matched. The chasers weaved around the beaters, tossing the quaffle back and forth, and got it past the weak keeper. But it would seem the Magpies did this intentionally, as the next time the Kestrels got the quaffle the beaters practically slaughtered them. They rode their tales and beat the bludger from one chaser to the next, even able to knock the quaffle from one's hands for a chaser below to catch. Their strategy seemed to match the speed of the Kestrels. The entire time, Seamus was shouting incoherently. He had a butterbeer and a firewhiskey during the break in the middle of the game, and his cussing only got worse. On top of that, his accent had thickened and he had started using his old Irish slang he rarely used.

But Dean couldn't really blame him for his excitement. This was his favorite team, and Dean reacted in just the same way when he was watching a West Ham game. No man was totally sane when he was watching his favorite team play his favorite game. Dean felt a bit guilty for not being as enthused, as he could see the look of mild disappointment in Seamus' eyes when he would turn to see how Dean had reacted to a play. He could tell that his lack of big reactions was dampening Seamus' mood. So he drank his firewhiskey he hadn't finished, chugging it down quickly. He made himself more excited. He genuinely wanted the Kestrels to win, but more for Seamus' benefit than his own. He loved quidditch, truly, but Seamus knew that the Kestrels were no his favorite quidditch team. That title belonged to the Puddlemere United. He had been so intrigued by the sport when he started school, and he had been a big fan of Oliver Wood and had been loyal to him when he joined the professional leagues.

The Kestrels seeker suddenly bulleted down toward the pitch. Despite the fact that he had done this earlier in the game as a feint, Dean and Seamus were still immediately on their toes. "Ye think he seen it?" Seamus said, his proper English gone with the alcohol. "Or d'ye think he's feintin'?"

"Look! I saw it! A lil bit of gold." Dean said, pointing in the general direction of where he had spotted the snitch that the seeker was looking out for.

"If he catches it they win!" Seamus said after glancing at the scoreboard.

"GO! GET IT!" Dean shouted excitedly, actually finding himself genuinely pumped. Seamus had glanced at him and grinned, happy to see that Dean was so into it now. He took Dean's hand in his, holding it tight as the two cheered. The Magpie seeker had take notice of course, and tried to beat the Kestrel seeker to the snitch. But the Firebolt 3 was far too fast, and the Kestrel seeker grabbed at the snitch. The stands erupted in cheers, so loud that Dean couldn't even hear his own screaming, nor Seamus' hollering. Seamus let go of Dean's hand and launched at him in a heavy hug. Dean laughed and held him close.

Then, suddenly, Seamus had pulled back and kissed Dean's lips, standing on his tip toes. Dean was taken by surprise. Despite having dated for a few weeks now, they still had not had their first kiss. He hadn't wanted to push it, so even though he had wanted to kiss him before he had stopped himself. He assumed that when Seamus was comfortable with it, he would tell him. But here Dean was, with his boyfriend's lips against his. He kept his arms tight around Seamus and pulled him a bit closer, kissing back with more bravery than he actually felt. The kiss that had started as a wild exultation of joy on Seamus' part turned into something else. The world around them slowly muted, despite how raucous the crowd was. They failed to notice that after several minutes the crowd had started to disperse. The people at the end of their row had to walk past them, some of them whooping for them. But they still did not notice.

It was when the last person heading out of their row tripped over Seamus' foot, making his fall back to his heels, that they finally snapped out of it. The woman who had tripped over them quietly apologized before heading for the stand exit. Seamus looked up at Dean, his cheeks flushed bright red. Was it from the alcohol, embarrassment, or delight? Was it all three?

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait no more." Seamus admitted.

Dean laughed a little, his smile ridiculously cute in Seamus' eyes, "Don't apologize. I would have sooner, but I didn't want you to feel rushed."

"Your bloody crazy. Don't you know? I've wanted to kiss you for years." Seamus admitted.

Dean tilted his head in confusion, "What? You failed to mention that before?"

"Did I? I thought I had." Seamus said, finally noticing how the stadium was emptying. He took Dean's hand in his and guided them toward the exit.

"No, you definitely didn't mention this. When did you first…?"

"Fifth year, in the DA." Seamus said frankly, easily able to remember the moment. "When we would practice together. It was the look of pure joy on your face when I cast my first corporeal patronus that I realized that I didn't want you as just a friend. But — I knew that you didn't feel the same. So I didn't say anything." Seamus explained as they headed down the stairs quickly. They stepped out of the stadium toward the Apparition points. Seamus headed for the nearest one but Dean stood still, gently tugging on Seamus' hand to stop him. "What's wrong?" He asked curiously, turning back to Dean. Dean leaned down to kiss him once more. This one was far more gentle, less passionate, but no less enjoyable. "Nothing at all. Just wanted one more kiss."

A/N: I apologize that this one is so short. I'll be totally honest, I am horrible at writing sports sequences (90% of muggle sports are not my cup of tea) so I struggled a bit with the Quidditch scene! Also, I wasn't sure whether or not to capitalize the Quidditch terms - so if it bothers you, forgive me. And yes, this one was called "first" and this did not mean the first time they were intimate. If you, my dutiful reader who has bothered to read this, wants said M rated chapter, let me know and I will make it a separate one-shot outside of this particular listing.