Notes: First venture into present tense, hoping it goes well. Seamus/Dean drabble.
Thanks: Lys, for loffing this so much and for her Mad French Skillz.
All Eyes On Me
It seems to Seamus that no matter where he goes, people always stare at him. He does not know why, and when Dean or Ron or Lavender mentions it, he'll quip about his good looks and magnetic personality, but he really doesn't know. It might run in the family, he thinks, but he's never heard of people ogling his brothers and sisters, has he? But that's okay. Usually, Seamus is not concerned about what other people think.
He is in the Great Hall right now, eating breakfast, and people are staring. There's a gaggle of Hufflepuff girls looking, chewing, and looking again; a pair of studious-looking Ravenclaws - but don't all Ravenclaws look studious? - and even a few Slytherins. Seamus has probably also caputed the eyes of several of his own housemates, but he finds this only vaguely concerning. They have every right to stare, he figures, after his musical play-by-play reenactment of their Quidditch victory last night. He is not quite sure what possessed him to do that, and is positive that he would stare too, if he were not him.
Dean is staring at Seamus, too, but that's okay, because Dean is drawing. Dean is always drawing. Seamus loves it when Dean draws, and especially likes watching him; he thinks it is a magic in its own how his Best Friend can make things appear with just a line here and a flick there and a scratch over there. Dean does not get to draw Seamus a lot, because Seamus always wants to sit behind him and watch, but right now Seamus is more hungry than he is curious and Dean is taking advantage of that.
Sometimes, Seamus thinks he is in love with Dean. He's not sure though, because he doesn't know what it is to be in love with someone. He asked Parvati and Padma Patil once and they just giggled at him. Seamus hates it when girls giggle and he started to walk away, but Parvati called after him that it was when you would be sad if their Cosmetics Charm went horribly awry and they ended up looking like a French Poodle with a bad haircut. Seamus is not sure this is quite right. Later, he asked Hermione, because Hermione is smart and she knows Everything.
"Les champagions qui sont belle aiment l'annanas," she told him. Seamus asked what she meant and she just looked at him like he was stupid. Seamus does not like feeling stupid, so he let the subject drop.
So Seamus does not know if he is in love with Dean, but he does know that he would be very sad if Dean looked like a French Poodle, because Seamus thinks French Poodles are ugly even without bad haircuts, and Dean is beautiful with his coffee-coloured skin and chocolate eyes and slender hands. Seamus thinks Dean's best feature is his hands, especially when they're drawing, and Dean is most beautiful when he's drawing.
Seamus also knows he should learn French if he ever wants to understand Hermione, because Hermione thinks French is romantic and has been speaking nothing but the language for several weeks now. Seamus vaguely wonders why this is and if it has any connection to the time last week when he found her left shoe in the corner of the dorm room.
But at the moment Seamus does not particularly care about Hermione's Love Life; even though she is his Friend, it's really none of his business unless it wakes him up at night, he reflects.
At the moment, what is important is that Dean's curly black hair has suddenly appears from under the table and Dean is claiming the seat next to him. A Second Year girl he doesn't know squeaks indignantly, but Seamus doesn't really care because Dean is showing him his drawings and nothing is as important as Dean's drawings, except maybe Dean himself.
"You should really let me draw you more often, Seamus," Dean is saying, smoothing the drawing with his long, charcoal-smudged fingers. It is a gorgeous portrayal, Seamus realizes, watching his drawing-self stare into space and chew thoughtfully on the end of a fork. Of course, Dean's drawings don't move like Wizards photographs do, but Dean can make it seem like they do.
It is perfect, and Seamus tells him so.
Dean chuckles and Seamus isn't sure why, but he is happy because he likes it when Dean laughs. Dean's laugh is throaty and deep and pure and it makes Seamus think of a warm fire and a cozy blanket and maybe even two steaming mugs of hot cocoa with marshmallows. A friendly gesture lets Dean tuck a lock of Seamus's hair behind his ear but those beautiful fingers linger on Seamus's cheek and Seamus has to resist the urge to nuzzle them.
Seamus brushes a hand over the drawing, his own, shorter fingers hovering a milimeter above the parchment's surface, because Dean doesn't like it when people touch his drawings. He can almost feel his own skin beneath his fingertips. Seamus always thinks that Dean's drawings of him are the best and wonders if this is a coincidence or if Dean actually puts more thought into drawing Seamus than usual. He hopes it is the latter, because then maybe Dean could be in love with him, too, if he really is in love with Dean.
"I like to watch you draw," Seamus tells him, that Irish accent rolling warmly off his tongue.
Dean stares at him. Seamus realizes that he does not mind Dean staring at him even when he's not drawing, but if someone else were drawing him it might really bother him. Seamus finds this new thought quite interesting and stores it in his brains and hopes he does not forget it. Seamus is prone to forgetting things, especially when they're important. Seamus does not know if this is important, but figures that if he forgets it then at least he will know it was.
Seamus says, "I can't watch you draw if you're drawing me," and Dean nods and asks him if it would be all right, then, if Dean drew him when he didn't know he was being drawn. Seamus figures that this is all right, because he likes being drawn almost as much as he likes watching Dean draw. Dean smiles at him and hands him the sketchbook, which he has folded closed. Seamus sees that this is not Dean's usual sketchbook; this one has a green cover, not a red one, and as Seamus flips through it Dean watches him apprehensively.
This book is filled with Seamus. There's Seamus reading, curled up in an oversized armchair with the fluff falling out at the corners, and Seamus and Ron playing chess, and Seamus is losing but that's all right because everyone looses to Ron, and Seamus sleeping, clutching his blankets and his face is so peaceful, and Seamus looks at himself and feels like the essence of his life is in this book and that maybe he's not real, maybe he's living in that book, on those parchment sheets, because they looks so alive and real, and how could something this real be just lines and dots and shades--
Dean squeezes his hand and Seamus blinks, snapping joltingly out of his epiphany. He looks up at Dean and can feel a pressure behind his eyes, but it doesn't hurt and can feel a pressure in his chest - no, his heart - but that doesn't hurt either. Dean looks back at him and smiles that smile that always makes Seamus want to melt and then Seamus is wrapped up in Dean's arms and it's the best hug Seamus has ever has.
"I like drawing you best, Seamus," Dean says.
Seamus can feel people staring, can feel their eyes on his back and his face, but he hugs Dean back and considers maybe even kissing him because it doesn't matter what people see, he thinks, it's what they feel and that's all.
Notes: Please reviews, I'm a hopeless feedback whore. Comments and constructive criticism are my crack.
Translation for the French Impaired: "The mushrooms who are beautiful love pineapples."
Shameless plugs: My ficblog, Something Worth Writing
As much as I love people who review here, I love them a million times over i they also leave comments over there.
Also, my Lyssie's ficblog, Something Worth Reading
Because she rocks my fox and is an awesome writer.