Seamus didn't really like chocolate, actually. It was too sweet and rich and it melted too quickly and got all over his hands.
Dean loved it, though. Which was strange, really, because Dean didn’t generally care for sweets. Only chocolate. Seamus liked most sweets except for chocolate.
Except chocolate was beginning to grow on him, he thought. Dean would invariably give him a bit whenever he had it, which was probably far too often, and Seamus couldn't turn it down because it would be rude, so he was getting used to it.
Dean liked milk chocolate, rich and creamy and so sweet it nearly gave Seamus a toothache. He even liked white chocolate, which was the one thing Seamus would turn down when Dean offered it to him. Seamus had discovered, when Dean's gran had sent him a care package with an overabundance of chocolate, that he liked the dark, bitter kind. Or liked it better, at least. It still melted too fast, but it wasn't so sickeningly sweet and rich. Dean didn't really like it, so he gave almost all of it to Seamus.
Sometime around the end of sixth year Seamus was struck with how fascinating watching Dean eat chocolate really was. It wasn't the most pleasant of revelations, really, and he tried to push it from his mind. Only every time for the rest of the year when Dean would eat chocolate Seamus couldn't look away. It was frustrating. And then, of course, Seamus realized that he'd actually been watching Dean do more than eat chocolate. It made sense, really. Why would he only want to watch his mate do that one thing? But it was still even more unsettling to catch himself every time Dean took a sip of pumpkin juice or bit his lip when he was trying not to laugh at something or scratched that one spot behind his left ear because he was concentrating so hard. It was definitely getting out of hand. Seamus was incredibly glad that the term was almost over. He hoped he'd got over this... whatever it was and come back next term and have everything be fine and back to normal and then he wouldn't have to worry about why he couldn't tear his eyes away when Dean put on his sodding tie in the mornings. Or why it was even more entrancing when he took it off again in the evenings.
He didn't get over it, though. That was the worst bit. And when Dean invited him to stay at his for the week before term started Seamus didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
About two days in it was clear that laughter was entirely the wrong reaction. He was never going to make it through seventh year. It was terrible. It wasn't that he hadn't had the occassional inappropriate reaction by the end of last term, it was that now the littlest thing could cause it. The way Dean held his sodding pencil as he sketched made Seamus notice his fingers, a bit on the short side, actually, and then think about how those fingers might wrap around his cock and then Seamus would be shifting in his seat to try and hide the fact that not only could he not look away from Dean, but just looking at his mate could have him almost achingly hard. And he just couldn't look away. It would have been bad enough if it had been a few moments of embarrassment a day, just a few glimpses of his friend, but it wasn't. It was constant and left him on edge and waiting for nightfall.
Not that nighttime was much better. One room, one open window, one Dean in pyjamas who refused to sleep under the covers because it was too hot. Seamus wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that they both stuck to full pyjamas for the week. Tops and trousers. Probably a blessing, really, though there were times when Seamus thought he might have given anything to see just a few inches more of Dean's skin. Dark and, from the little strip that always showed when his top rode up in his sleep, smooth and soft and how was it that he could look even more tempting at night?
So Seamus found a schedule for his visit. He woke up, wanked in the shower before turning the water as cold as it would go in the vain hope that it would help for the remainder of the day, suffer through the day with Dean and love every deliciously painful moment, and sneak in another wank before bed.
It couldn't last, there was no way. Couldn't last a week, let alone a year.
It was on August 30th that it happened. Dean had gotten chocolate the day before. Ostensibly to take with him to school, but of course there was no way it'd make it. At least, not all of it. And Dean seemed completely determined to eat as much as possible before they left. They were certainly making a dent and Seamus, of course, had the dark chocolate foisted on him. It was nice chocolate, as well. Some Continental brand he couldn't pronounce with 70% cocoa. Dark and strong and a bit bitter and possibly the best chocolate he'd ever had. And then he had another revelation. Dean had the melting problem, too, though he'd never seemed to mind, and the milk chocolate he was eating was, Seamus noticed, just the slightest bit lighter than his skin. Seamus gestured with the hand that was holding a section of the chocolate he was eating and froze for a moment. Dean's skin was the exact color of the chocolate. Dean seemed oblivious to his falter and continued talking as Seamus popped the rest of the chocolate he was holding into his mouth and tried to think about nothing at all.
Of course, that never works the way it's meant. Then the other boy finished his chocolate, as well, and licked a bit of the melted chocolate from his fingers before looking expectantly at Seamus and Seamus realized he was meant to have some sort of reply and that he hadn't actually been paying attention for awhile, now. It wasn't the best moment, really; the bed seemed to be covered in wrappers and Dean was completely oblivious and Seamus had no fucking clue what he was doing, but he leant in and one hand pulled Dean forward by the nape of the neck and he kissed him, short and awkward.
As he pulled back and dropped his hand and flushed and started stammering out an apology Seamus wondered, in a detached way, at how strangely time moved sometimes. It had taken maybe half a minute, really, and now he was back sitting exactly as he had been but he'd changed everything in the blink of an eye. It had felt much longer. He couldn't look at Dean, so he looked at a nail-hole left in the wall and realized that he knew what picture had hung there and Merlin, he was still talking, wasn't he? How long had he been talking? And what on earth was he saying? Not that anything he said could really make a huge difference, at this point, but...
The problem with not being able to look at Dean was having no warning at all when his hand grasped Seamus's hair so he could pull Seamus forward, now, and kiss him back. It was short and awkward and their noses bumped together and Dean had quite the hold on his hair, actually, but it was everything Seamus had never thought he'd have and he'd had those few moments of certainty that he was losing Dean completely and he loved this. Their third kiss was far better and part of Seamus felt like maybe they should try to figure this out but the rest of him quickly decided that there would be time for talking later, when there was time for breathing, and not to worry about it.
There was a mess of wrappers and chocolate bars on the floor and Dean's fingers wrapped around him was even more amazing than he'd thought and they way Dean said his name as he came gave him shivers.
Seamus decided he really, really liked chocolate.
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