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Seamus Finnigan (openbottle) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Seamus frowned, opening his mouth to say something before he realised why Dean didn't already know. Shit. His dismayed expression was obvious, and his faltering attempt to lie about as subtle as a Blast-Ended Skrewt. "Uh. No, just, not flying but I - you know -" Lying to Dean was like trying to lie to himself: practically impossible. It wasn't even that he could be scary like Susan, he just knew Seamus far too well to fall for it. He watched Dean out of the corner of his eye and then nodded, as if that settled the matter. He knew it hadn't, but the pink blush spreading across his face was hard to distinguish from the flush of exertion.

The mood seemed to flop as Dean did, which Seamus obviously had to do something about. He lowered himself more carefully to his elbows, pillowing his cheek against Dean's stomach and turning his head to look up at him. "Well, it doesn't always," Seamus said pragmatically. "Sometimes you just need to paint, or spend time with me." He wished the latter was enough right now, but it obviously wasn't. It was getting darker and Seamus could hear the familiar tone of mums calling their wayward children home for dinner. His stomach grumbled a little as he thought of it. "We can go again, if you want. Two out of three?"