"Aw. But then you wouldn't know what to do without me, Thomas," Seamus said, wrinkling his nose at the water now staining his shirt. "Are you trying to get me to take my shirt off mate?" Pinching the wet fabric between his forefinger and thumb, he pulled it away from his chest and frowned down at it.
Hit with an idea, he flicked his eyes up at Dean and grinned mischievously. Quickly, he tilted his glass in Dean's direction and jerked it forward. If Dean didn't move quick enough, he ran the risk of getting his front completely splashed.
Seamus didn't know the meaning of when it was time to stop messing around. Not when he hadn't seen his best mate in the world in what seemed like forever. There was a good chance that they were going to have to clean like mad before Mrs. Thomas came home, if Dean let Seamus act like he was five year old.