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Inspired by this picture and my friend Caroline's comment that she likes to think of this being taken at Harry and Ginny's wedding:
“Have you seen my brown shoes?” Dean calls out. “They’re not here in the hall closet.”
Seamus thinks on it while he struggles with his tie, then yells back, “I think you left them in the bathroom.” He’s tempted to add you lazy bastard, but he’s still so thrilled with the fact that it’s their bathroom now that he just can’t bring himself to do it.
He hears Dean make his way down the hall and into the bathroom and a moment later shout, “Found ‘em! What would I do without you?”
Seamus doesn't answer but he doesn't even try to hold back the smile that he sees in the mirror he’s in front of; still not having any success with the tie he’s been trying to beat into submission for the past ten minutes.
He checks the clock sitting on the dresser—a ridiculous looking gift from Ron when they moved into their flat; covered in blue feathers and puffs a sickly yellow-colored smoke on the hour—and knows they need to head out soon to catch their portkey. “You’d better get a move on or we’ll miss your girl’s wedding,” Seamus calls out.
Dean’s rolling his eyes as he walks into their bedroom, but his soft smile tells Seamus everything he needs to know. “I’m pretty sure Ginny’s always been Harry’s girl,” he says, coming to stand behind Seamus to watch him continue to lose the battle with the blasted tie. “Besides, I’m ready to go. You’re the one who’s still primping.”
They might be in a hurry, but that doesn't stop Seamus from taking a moment to look at Dean. He looks amazing all dressed up. Light jacket in perfect contrast to his dark skin, his pale blue shirt open at the collar, exposing his long, lean neck. Seamus can just make out the edge of the scar he knows is hiding under there; knows every inch of it. Where it begins and where it ends. He’s traced its path over and over again with his eyes, his fingers, his tongue; every twist and bump a reminder of just how close they came to not getting to have this.
He never wants to forget, but he’s also not one to dwell on all that has happened in their past. They’re here now, and that’s what matters. Seamus tilts his head up and Dean leans down with practiced familiarity to kiss him. Their mates like to joke about their height difference, but Seamus just takes the leprechaun and goblin jokes in stride. Dean’s always had a way of making him feel ten feet tall.
When they break apart, Seamus turns his attention back to his tie for one last attempt. “I’m not primping; I just can’t get this bloody thing to go straight.”
Dean lets out a heavy sigh that Seamus sees right through before reaching around and making a perfect knot. “Show-off,” Seamus mutters, but Dean just snorts a laugh and presses a kiss to the back of his head.
“Just because I have no desire to wear a tie doesn't mean I can’t tie one. Come on, we need to go. Harry’ll kill us if we’re late. It’s going to be a mad house with the press. He’s going to need all the friendly faces he can get.”
“They should’ve eloped, the fools.” Seamus replies as he slips on his jacket.
Dean hums in agreement and reaches out to take Seamus’s hand as they head off to meet up with the group they’re portkeying over with. Seamus threads their fingers together and feels Dean run his thumb over the thin silver band on Seamus’s finger. The band he put there himself just a few months ago in a small ceremony next to the ocean with just a few friends and family in attendance. Seamus smiles and holds on a little tighter.
He doesn't envy Harry or his big wedding. He has Dean, and Dean has him. Forever. And that’s all that matters.