[Summary] Seamus/Lavender [Magician!AU] "You're mad," he said, receiving only an eye roll in response. "Is it going to affect the act?"

A/N - This is written for Ash (Fire The Canon). Congrats on winning Chapter 6 of the Acrostic-y challenge! You did a really great job :)

Sorry this took so long, and about the characterisations. I don't think I've written these two before, but this is what happens when you misread musician.

"Why are you always so scruffy?" she snapped, adjusting his bowtie for perhaps the tenth time that evening.

"Stop it," he said, making a half-hearted attempt at pushing her hands away. "It doesn't matter how I look when I'm not on stage."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you expect your costume to magically fix itself as soon as you got on stage?" she said, straightening his collar. "Magic isn't real, Seamus."

"You'll have us out of a job with talk like that," he said, grinning down at her. He could see the stage manager glaring at them from the corner of his eye, gesturing towards the stage. "Shall we, m'lady?" he asked with an exaggerated bow, before turning with a flourish of his cape and striding into the bright lights to the applause of the crowd.

.oOo.

"That was an amazing show!" Lavender said, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Even if there was that one slight mishap," she muttered, expression darkening briefly before the excited grin was back in place. "You were great!"

"I can't take all the credit." He grinned, and, impossibly, her face brightened. "The audience was fantastic; best we've ever had." Her smile dimmed slightly, but she nodded along.

"Yeah, they were great," she agreed. "Anyway," she said, changing the topic. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"We're going down to the pub for a couple drinks," he said.

"We?" she asked, smile brightening once more.

"Yeah, me and Dean."

"Oh." Her smile dropped completely from her face, and her entire demeanour changed. "Well, wouldn't want to keep him waiting," she said, gesturing over to the makeup artist, storming away before he could get in another word.

.oOo.

"You're an idiot," was all Dean would say when he recounted the tale later that night.

.oOo.

"Apparently I'm an idiot," he said by way of greeting, falling into the chair next to Lavender.

"You really are." She didn't look at him, instead keeping her attention riveted to the plain wall in front of her.

"Any idea why?" he asked after a short pause.

"Unbelievable," she snapped, once again storming off.

.oOo.

"You're mad," he said, receiving only an eye roll in response. "Is it going to affect the act?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "I'm a professional." She handed him a rabbit. "Be careful with this one. I doubt the pet shop will sell us another."

"What's its name?" he asked, ignoring her last comment.

"He doesn't have one," she answered, still lacking her usual bubbly demeanour.

"You always name the rabbits."

"I name them, they die."

"Alright," he said after a pause, adjusting his hold on the squirming creature and getting into position.

"Be careful," she repeated with a warning glare.

.oOo.

"After some thought," he began, "I have decided that I am an idiot."

"Go on," she said, petting the rabbit. Its fur was perhaps a little patchy but, otherwise, the creature remained unharmed. He took a deep breath.

"The audience was great, but you were better," he said. "Always are."

"Oh?" was her only response.

"Yeah, and I don't tell you enough-" He paused at her glare, before amending his words. "Or at all, really, but I couldn't do this without you."

"Because the pet shop wouldn't serve you if I wasn't there?" she asked.

"Exactly! Wait- no. I could do the show without a rabbit. Probably go a bit smoother, too. What I mean is…" he trailed off, struggling to find the right words, before abruptly changing tactics. "Do you want to go to the pub after the show?"

"With you?" she asked. He nodded in response. "And Dean?"

"No, just us. Like a date."

"Like a date?"

"An actual date."

"To the pub?" she asked, scrunching her nose in distaste. She seemed to think about it for a moment, before nodding.

"You'll take me to a nice restaurant. Pick me up tomorrow at eight thirty."

"Why don't we just do something tonight? We're both already here." The glare she sent him said more than words could. "Tomorrow, half eight. Got it."

"Bring flowers."