December 2003

Dean and Seamus sat cross legged, facing each other on opposite ends of the sofa. Both were quickly flipping through various magazines and large books. They were on the hunt for a recipe.

It was the winter holidays, and Christmas was fast approaching. Now that Dean and Seamus owned a lovely little house together, they both desperately wanted to have a holiday gathering. Their apartment had been far too small to have guests, but now they lived in a humble abode in the farm country of Essex. It was far enough away from muggles and was under the same charm most wizard homes had to trick muggles into thinking nothing was there. A muggle might have stood at the end of their property, looked in, and seen nothing but some old boots lying around or a pile of old bricks. But when a wizard appeared they would see a small cottage surrounded by fields. A small, presently unused, barn stood toward the back of their property. Underneath a layer of snow was a garden plot just behind their home where they were planning on growing some veg and fruit in the spring and summer.

The home was nothing fancy, they hadn't needed anything fancy after all. The front door opened into a tiny foyer with a set of stairs that lead up to the upstairs bedrooms (which were currently a guest room, an office, and an art studio). To the right was their living room where they were sprawled over recipes. Just behind the couch they sat in was the dining room. They had bought a massive dining table, with room for twelve seats. In closed room just off the dining room was their kitchen, with brand new pots and pans. They had used Dean's family's old pans in their apartment, and it was about time that they bought themselves brand new kitchen supplies. It had made them both feel incredibly old and mature to be buying themselves things like a blender and a stand mixer. They had told themselves they needed all of it because now that they had the space to have their friends over. And that was precisely what they were going to do for the holidays. They were going to spend Christmas Eve at with Dean's family, Christmas Eve night with Seamus' family. But Christmas day they had agreed to have their friends come over.

"So, here's a question," Seamus said as he flipped through the magazine in his lap, "Sprouts or no sprouts?"

"No goddamn sprouts." Dean said, making it clear it was not up for debate. Seamus smiled to himself. He hated sprouts too, and was glad they were in agreement on it. "I don't really want to follow a traditional meal, I guess. Aside from turkey. That part is fine. But the rest — I don't know, I would kind of enjoy improvising it."

"Anything you've got in mind?" Seamus asked curiously, bookmarking a recipe he liked.

Dean passed him the cookbook he had, tapping the page, "It's not terribly glamorous, but I think this could work. And maybe this?" He pointed to the opposite page.

Seamus gestured toward his page in the magazine, "I like all of those. But promise me we can stick with this one other tradition?"

Dean grinned, "Of course."

Dean reached for the onion and took out the chopping knife. Seamus quietly pointed his wand at the onion and muttered a spell under his breath. Dean looked up at him, "What was that for? Is this going to explode now?"

"No, it just stops it from making you cry."

Dean laughed in surprise, "Magic!"

Seamus chuckled softly. Even after years and years of being in the wizarding world, Dean was still amazed by the wonders of magic from time to time.

Dean sliced away at the onion, the carrots, and the celery while Seamus cubed the potatoes. The kitchen was small, and the two repeatedly ran into each other as they scurried about the kitchen preparing their Christmas dinner. It was nine in the morning, and Seamus was only functioning thanks two two large mugs of black coffee. Seamus slipped the potatoes into the oven, putting a pan of crostini in just below. Dean was working right alongside the oven, in the midst of stuffing the turkey with his chopped vegetables and seasonings. Seamus stood beside him and laughed, "Never thought I'd see you fist a turkey." He teased jovially. Dean's eyes darted over at him, his hand indeed shoved inside of the turkey, "Would you rather be fisting the turkey?"

"Can't say I would."

"Then shut it, ye git." Dean teased him.

Seamus stood on his toes and kissed Dean's cheek, "Shush, you love me."

"I do, but that doesn't make you less of a git." Dean said, trying to suppress a laugh.

Seamus left him alone long enough to get the crostini out of the oven, as it cooked rather quickly, and started prepping them with the tomato topping. Dean finished up the turkey and turned toward the sink to wash off the butter and onion stench on his hands. He turned to Seamus as he dried his hands on a towel, "Are the potatoes nearly done."

Seamus glanced at the timer by the stove, "Just another ten minutes. Be patient." He said, knowing that Dean was impatient to get the turkey into the fire.

Dean walked over to Seamus, who was hunched over and finishing off the last of the little bits of bread. Dean quietly rested a hand on Seamus' hip. The man's face flushed bright red and he stood up straight quickly. "What're you up to?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder at Dean with a brow raised.

Dean kissed sweetly along his neck and whispered, "Passing time is all."

Seamus plopped the crostini on a small platter and pulled away from Dean long enough to put them on the dining room table.

"What, do I need mistletoe?" Dean said, pouting a bit.

He didn't say anything, at first. He just walked back toward Dean, sitting up on the ledge of the counter where his food had been a minute ago. "No, no mistletoe." Seamus said politely, taking Dean's hands in his and pulling him close. The counter helped give him enough leverage that he didn't have to crick his neck just to kiss his boyfriend. He wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, kissing him sweetly. The timer dinged shortly thereafter, and it took a lot of convincing for Seamus to take the food out. He didn't want to pull away, he never did. He could have spent the rest of his life with his arms around Dean. But today was not one of those remarkable lazy days where they could spend all their time snogging, it was Christmas and they were expecting their friends in a few hours.

Dean put the bird in the oven, Seamus set the table. The whole debacle seemed to have so little to do with the meal itself. It was an opportunity to relentlessly flirt, steal kisses, and make inappropriate jokes. They both agreed they had to make meals together more often.

After ages of half-working, half-flirting, the table was ready. The kitchen was an absolute disaster. Dean, yet again, was grateful for the convenience of magic and cast a scourgify spell just as the first knock came at the door. "Would you get that, dear?" Seamus asked, as he was a bit preoccupied with setting the Christmas pudding aflame.

Dean felt a thrill down his spine at the pet name. It wasn't as if it was the first time Seamus had called him by a name like "dear" or "sweetheart", but it felt particularly meaningful now. They were a real couple. They had their own house, their own meals they made together, their pet names for one another. And to top it all off, Dean thought as he opened the door, the best friends we could ever ask for.

"Gang's all here, eh?" Dean said with a wide smile as he saw his friends piled on his doorstep, eagerly awaiting a Christmas dinner with them.

A/N: This one was a bit of a struggle for me, so it might change later. Also, I apologize for cultural inaccuracies, as I am not British (damn).