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Seamus Finnigan (openbottle) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"So?" Seamus asked, his brain moving treacle-slow and unable to fathom why this should be a problem worth having. "Stop buying milk. Use th'pub's milk all the time." His eyes flickered almost open when Dean approached to take the mug from his lax fingers. He gave a snort of contempt, then closed his eyes fully. "Can't make it worse. Don' worry." Despite the words, he scowled a little and used one of his newly free hands to tug his t-shirt down.

Then Dean was brushing a hand across Seamus's forehead and Seamus leaned into the touch, forgetting (for a moment) all about his scar and his stomach. He hummed his agreement with Dean's general plan. A nap sounded really good right now. He twisted on the couch until he could lie down on his back once more, his legs hooked over the edge and one hand still protectively over his stomach. Thank Merlin for warming charms, and good friends. Seamus tried to say 'you don't have to stay', but it was only the last word that came out comprehensibly.