Thoroughly Enjoyable

Dean realized he was dreaming about two

Dean saw his Irish roommate sitting on the bed he knew was his own. Seamus was breaking up another of the chocolate eggs he had been sent for Easter by his parents. To Dean’s discomfort he saw it was a Dove’s Chocolate Egg, the kind he claimed was "the best chocolate known to man." The kind he had almost driven Dean insane with less then a week ago as they sat in the Common Room.

Dean watched Seamus carefully break the egg into quarters, then eighths, and then even smaller pieces.

"Seamus," Dean heard his voice ask, the first sound that had come into his dream. "What are you doing?"

The blond young man looked up from his careful work and smiled a cheek-splitting grin. "Enjoying my chocolate," he answered, then went back to his work.

"Do you always enjoy things so," Dean heard his voice pause, then continue. "So, vigorously?"

"Of course." The smile Seamus gave him this time could easily be described by any number of words, so the fact that the only one Dean could come up with was ‘seductive’ worried him quite a bit. "What ever I do," Seamus continued, "I try to make sure it’s thoroughly enjoyable."

Suddenly the scene around Dean changed. He now found himself lying on his back in his bed. He could feel his sheets against his back, so he knew he wasn’t wearing a shirt, but he didn’t look down, because Seamus was there, holding all his attention. The Irish boy was slowly selecting pieces of chocolate and laying them onto Dean’s exposed chest. He placed each piece very carefully into it’s selected spot, making sure it would stay before moving on to the next chocolate.

"Seamus, what are you doing?" Dean heard his voice ask again.

Seamus’ smile this time really could not be described as anything other than seductive, a fact that didn’t reassure Dean at all. "I’m enjoying my chocolate," Seamus answered.

Again the scene changed, this time almost as though Dean had closed his eyes for a second. Nothing had changed, but now he was offered a copy of the vision that had driven him to distraction the other night. Seamus was sitting above him, arching his neck and Dean knew he was slowly allowing a piece of chocolate to melt in his mouth and drop down his throat.

"Seamus," Dean recognized his voice, although the husky tone in it was unfamiliar to him. "What are you doing?"

"Enjoying my chocolate," Seamus answered, not bothering to open his eyes, clearly wrapped up in the taste of the sweet candy.

Then slowly Seamus’ eyes opened and he looked at his friend. The blue eyes seemed even brighter than usual to Dean, but he only had a few seconds to consider them as Seamus slowly dropped his gaze down to Dean’s chest and leaned over, his mouth opening.

"Seamus, what are you doing?" Dean heard himself ask a final time.

"I’m enjoying my chocolate," Seamus answered, not sounding at all annoyed by the repetitive questioning. Then his lips touched Dean’s skin and his tongue lapped up another piece of candy and . . .

Dean shot up in bed, fully awake and gasping.

He slowly regained control of his breath and looked around his dark dorm room. He could just make out the four other beds in the room that held his four roommates.

"Fuck," he whispered, then dropped his head back into his pillow. "Fuuuck," he repeated.

***

Three days passed and Dean was very glad not to be visited by any other dreams like that. He already knew he wanted to reconsider his relationship with his best friend, but such a strong reminder from his subconscious didn’t help him work up the nerve to talk to Seamus.

It was the weekend and Dean had been wandering around the castle thinking when he realized it was probably time for lunch. He made his way down to the Great Hall and discovered most of his housemates had already finished and gone back to their day's activities. A few students remained in the hall: late arrivals, slow eaters, and Seamus, who seemed to be acting out some sort of strange ritual. The Irish boy fussed with something on the plate in front of him, then slowly and solemnly raised his knife above his head. He held it there for a second, then let it thud down into whatever it was he had been messing with before. Once it had completed it’s journey down he would move what ever it was he had cut off the plate, and then pick something else up and fuss with it in the same manner.

As Dean reached the table he saw what his friend was doing: beheading a trio of chocolate bunnies. He had two others lined up to suffer the same fate, and was even going to the lengths of tying a strip of napkin around their eyes as a blindfold.

"Seamus," Dean said as he sat down. "What are you doing?"

"Enjoying my chocolate," Seamus answered without looking up.

This unconscious repetition from Dean’s dream caught him totally off guard. His eyes widened and his breath quickened, but he got himself back under control and leaned over, tapping the other boy on the shoulder, getting him to look up. "And that’s enjoyable, is it?" he asked, gesturing to the bizarre and slightly macabre scene before them.

"I don’t want the bunnies to suffer," Seamus answered with a smile. "I make sure their deaths are quick and painless this way. Why? Something wrong?"

Dean took a breath and blew it out, then shook his head at his strange friend. "Nope, not at all."

***

Dean managed to put the odd incident out of his mind for the rest of the day, but the next day he was presented by yet another scene to test his sanity as far as his friend was concerned. The Irish boy was talking with Ginny Weasley in the common room.

"What do you mean you’ve never tried any Muggle candies?" Seamus exclaimed.

"Well, they weren’t really anything we had access to as kids," the redhead answered.

"Really!" Seamus sounded kind of saddened for his friend. "Here, you’ve got to," and he started delving through his bag. Finally he came up with one of the decapitated bunny heads. Ginny raised her eyebrow but he just laughed. "Don’t worry about how it looks," he said. "Here, close your eyes and open your mouth." Ginny looked skeptical. "Come on, it’s chocolate! How can you distrust chocolate?

Finally the younger girl complied, leaning forward. Seamus grinned and popped the candy into her mouth. "Enjoy my chocolate!" he announced, as though it was some sort of magical incantation.

Dean, watching the two of them flirting, couldn’t help but wince at this last line. He knew he really needed to figure out where he stood with Seamus, but decided today wasn’t the day for it.

***

The week passed, and the students went to classes, and did their homework and detentions, but Dean drifted through it aware of very little. One of the few things he was aware of was his roommate, who seemed to have decided it was a crime not to get rid of all his Easter candy by the end of the month and kept springing on people with his new phrase, ‘Enjoy my chocolate!’ Dean honestly thought he might be as likely to kill the exuberant Irishman as to talk to him.

Finally the week came to an end and everyone was hanging out in the Common Room. Dean shook his head as he watched his friend eat bunny after egg after bunny. That much sugar, Dean knew, was not going to equal a quiet night for any of them.

Slowly, the other students got tired, or wandered off to talk in less noisy rooms, and the two of them were left alone with the dying fire. Dean looked at the clock hanging on the wall and realized it was almost midnight.

Dean gave a yawn, stretching out. He was starting to think about going up to bed himself, but knew Seamus was going to be up a while yet and was trying to decide if now would be a good time to talk to his friend.

Suddenly the small blond came bouncing across the room and thudded into the chair next to Dean. "It’s too hot in here," he said, although it came out as more of a whine.

"Come on, it's not that hot, the fire’s dying down." Dean answered. "You’re just worked up."

"No," Seamus answered. "I’m hot!" The smaller boy proceeded to peel off his T-shirt, having already dispensed with his robes.

Dean blinked at his roommate, trying to keep his breathing steady as he saw Seamus’ skin glistening in the low firelight. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," a litany started to run through his head. "Just get your act together Thomas," he told himself. "Just talk to him!"

Seamus, not noticing anything, launched himself out of his chair and bounded across the room. He hopped up on one of the chairs and then started to make his way back to Dean, traveling on the top of the furniture. "What’s wrong?" he asked when he finally made it back. He looked at his friend, who, belying he’s previous statement about the temperature of the room, was becoming very flushed. When Dean didn’t answer the very hyper boy started to hop from one chair to another and back. Every fourth jump he would look at Dean and repeat himself. "What’s wrong? What’s wrong?"

"Stop it," Dean finally whispered.

"What?" Seamus said. He’d been on the farther chair and hadn’t heard Dean’s quiet command.

"Stop it Seamus," he repeated himself when Seamus bounced back to him.

"Stop what?" the Irish boy asked, bouncing in place.

"STOP!" Dean finally exclaimed, pulling him down from the chair. "You and your damned chocolate!"

Seamus looked up at his angry friend, and Dean could see the light from the dying fire reflecting off of his hair and out of the bright blue eyes. "What’s wrong Dean?" Seamus asked sincerely. Then he gave a little gasp. "Haven’t I offered you any of my chocolate?"

The only answer Dean could make to this was an inarticulate "Argh!" He scowled at his friend, then lunged at him. He hands locked onto the smaller boy’s cheeks as his lips locked onto Seamus’. Seamus seemed startled by this sudden onslaught, then leaned forward, pulling Dean closer to him and deepening the kiss. The taller boy pressed down, sliding his tongue into the lips that had opened so invitingly to him, and slowly worked out all of the frustration that had been building up for the past week and a half.

Finally the two parted, gasping lightly for breath. Dean suddenly chuckled. "You know," he said lightly. "You taste of chocolate."

Seamus snorted. "I ought to," he replied. "I’ve certainly eaten enough of it."

Dean smiled at his friend then leaned forward, wanting another taste, but Seamus’ quiet words stopped him. "I think," the Irish boy started, his eyes locked onto his friend’s. "I am going," and now Seamus leaned forward, stopping only a hair’s breadth away from completing the kiss. "To thoroughly enjoy this." Seamus leaned forward, closing his eyes and kissing Dean again, completely obliterating any desire the taller boy might have had to consider Seamus’ words.