The Pout

Seamus pouted. Seamus pouted a lot. He pouted when dinner was late. He pouted when McGonagall assigned a particularly hard essay. He really pouted whenever Dean didn't pay attention to him. Seamus pouted - it was just one of those things.

Dean had no idea why he was pouting now. He was pretty certain it wasn't anything he had done - Seamus had a tendency to let him know, at length and at volume, when he had fallen behind on one of his 'boyfriendly duties,' and there weren't any assignments coming due, so that couldn't be it. The rest of the Gryffindors were neither paying him no attention (heaven forbid someone not pay attention to Seamus Finnigan) nor were they paying him too much attention (he'd thrown a fit two months ago when he became convinced that little Natalie MacDonald had a crush on him because 'she kept staring at me!') He wasn't fighting with any of the Slytherins, hadn't run into Dean's Ex (why Seamus always referred to him in capitals Dean had never known) or any of the other Hufflepuffs recently, and had even convinced Terry Boot to help him out with some research, successfully placing all of the Ravenclaws in his good graces. Dean was almost ready to actually ask the other boy what was wrong, a prospect that held for him no small amount of terror.

It wasn't that he was afraid of Seamus - far from it, the Irish boy was half a foot shorter than him and was, in his own words, 'loath to damage' his 'only source of regular sex'. The problem was simply that, in the right mood, Seamus could very easily become upset that Dean didn't already know what the problem was. And then he'd pout some more. And the pouting drove Dean nuts, which was at least half of the reason Seamus did it so often.

At least things hadn't gotten to the flouncing stage yet. As far as Dean was concerned the flouncing stage was pure, inescapable doom and the only thing to be done was to duck and cover. Just like with an atomic bomb, it didn't actually help but it made him feel better.

Dean looked up as he heard Seamus come storming into the Common Room, muttering under his breath and pouting like nobody's business. Storming was several degrees below flouncing, but Dean was still wary as the other boy made his way across the room towards him and dropped into a chair.

"What's the matter?" he asked, trying for a concerned, caring boyfriend tone.

"Nothing." Seamus dropped his head into his hands as he said this, the pout intensifying.

"Seriously Shame, what's wrong?" Dean moved his books off the couch, clearing a space where Seamus could join him, but the other boy stayed put.

Seamus sighed, and then said, "Nothing," again.

Dean was at an impasse. Asking a third time would either get him an answer or it would get him yelled at. If he didn't want to talk about it Dean would be in trouble for 'not trusting me!' but not asking when he did want to talk would give Seamus all sorts of 'you don't really care!' material. It wasn't a decision he felt like making, so he went for option number three - surprise.

Standing up he moved closer to Seamus' chair and knelt down. "Well then, can I kiss you?"

"What?" Seamus asked, looking up.

"Can I kiss you? You see, you're adorable and you're mine and I want to."

The pout dissolved away to be replaced by one of Seamus' dazzling smiles. "Love you," he said.

"Love you too." Dean leaned forward and kissed him, inwardly sighing in relief. Life as Seamus' boyfriend certainly was trying sometimes, but Dean knew he wouldn't give it up for the world.