alisanne

Title: Tattoo Torture
Author:

alisanne
Rating: PG (sorry)
Pairing: Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnigan.
Summary: Tattoos can ruin friendships, but help relationships.
Word Count: 730 (365 x 2)
Warnings: None, alas.
A/N: Written for

hogwarts365/

hogwarts365's prompt # 190: “When asked for the details of an ideal date, I answered, "I want him to take me to a book store, so he can see just how happy I can be.”― Camille Cabujat, Superstitious, Plumpton Pass, and for

hp_may_madness/

hp_may_madness' 2017 fest.
Day Five prompt(s) used: I want you so bad, but you want someone else.
Word Prompts: mandarin crush, muggles, master
Pairing: Dean/Seamus
Kink: stigmatophilia (tattoo/piercing fetish)
Beta(s):

sevfan and

emynn.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

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Tattoo Torture

~

Seamus entered their office limping. Dean immediately sat up. “You okay?” he asked, inspecting him for damage. “Run into trouble on the way in?”

Seamus grinned, easing himself into his chair. “No. Got another tattoo.”

“Oh.” Swallowing hard, Dean looked down at the parchments on his desk. It was bad enough he wanted to shag his best friend and Auror partner, but then Seamus kept getting bloody tattoos. Tattoos that made him even sexier, if possible. “What’d you get this time?” he asked, feigning disinterest.

“Celtic cross.” Seamus shifted in his chair. “Got it on my bum, though. Which, if I’d thought about it, I’d have planned for.”

Dean’s mouth went dry. “Your…bum?” He shook his head as Seamus’ words penetrated. “Wait, what do you mean you’d have planned for it?”

“I’d have waited until tomorrow night since tomorrow’s Friday.” Seamus sighed. “Guess I was being superstitious.”

“Because tomorrow’s the thirteenth?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think wizards had superstitions. Isn’t that just a Muggle belief?”

“Nah, mate. Wizards have phobias, too.” Opening a drawer, Seamus pulled out a can of mandarin crush. “Want some?” he said, popping it open and taking a swig.

Dean shuddered. “Ugh, how can you drink that stuff?”

Seamus grinned. “Easy. It’s delicious.” He licked his lips. “Plus, I need something to take my mind off my aching bum.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean snorted. “You need a new tattoo artist. Couldn't he cast a Healing Charm over it or something?”

“Nah.” Seamus knocked back the last of his drink. “My tattoo artist is pants at those. It’ll have to heal the regular way.”

“Why do you go to him?”

Seamus grinned, rolling up his sleeve. “Look,” he said, pointing at the exquisitely detailed dragon on his forearm. Each scale glistened, even in the dull office light. As Dean looked, the dragon slowly blinked at him before winking, blowing a small flame and, with a yawn, closing his eyes again. “He likes you. He usually slinks off and hides.”

“Wow,” Dean whispered, entranced.

“You’ve seen him before.”

“Yeah, but never up close.” Dean stared. “He’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Seamus sighed. “See? Tom’s a master. See why I don’t care that he can’t heal me?”

“Yes,” Dean agreed. He reached out, hesitating. “May I—?”

“Sure.”

Seamus’ skin was warm, soft. Dean snatched his hand away. “I, um, should do my reports.”

“No,” said Seamus, grabbing Dean’s arm before he could pull away. “Wait.”

Dean’s breath caught. “What?”

“Why do you always do that?” Seamus asked, expression earnest.

“Do what?”

“Pull away from me.” Seamus licked his lips. “You do it a lot. I’ve been noticing it lately.”

Dean looked away. “I don’t—”

“You do.” Seamus’ fingers tightened. “We’re friends, mate. Best friends. And I can tell something’s bothering you, so why won’t you tell me?”

Dean closed his eyes. “I can’t. It’ll…ruin our friendship.”

“Are you mental?” Seamus asked. “Nothing could do that.”  “Not even if I tell you how I really feel about you?” Dean shook his head. “That I’ve been in love with you since fourth year? Merlin, I want you so bad,” he whispered. “But you don’t see me that way.”

Seamus sucked in a breath. “You’re…serious?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, I’m joking. Yes, I’m serious!” He closed his eyes. “But don’t worry. I know you probably want someone else. Someone who’s athletic and knows the difference between a Plumpton Pass and a Porksoff Ploy. Someone like—”

“You,” Seamus said.

“What?” Eyes popping open, Dean stared at him.

Seamus smiled crookedly. “I fancy you, you idiot. Have done for a while, only I couldn’t tell if you were interested.”

Dean gaped at him. “But you never said.”

“You never said!” Seamus leaned in. “Why do you think I keep getting tattoos? I’ve seen how you ogle them.”

“Bloody hell. You mean all this time we could’ve been—”

“Yep.”

“We’re idiots,” Dean groaned.

Seamus grinned. “Well, in our defence, we’re blokes. So, do you really want to do reports, or should we skive off?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “And do what?”

“See my new tattoo.” Seamus winked. “Maybe you can help soothe my aching arse.”

Laughing, Dean stood, pulling Seamus to his feet. “I’m not sure my plans for your arse will be soothing, but I bet I can take your mind off the tattoo.”

Seamus’ eyes gleamed with promise. “Brilliant.”

~