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Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"I could, but you know I'm stubborn," he said softly as he shook his head at Seamus' sluggish suggestion. He had been known to grab the odd thing from the pub's stores but almost never anything as basic as milk, and he was far more used to apparating or even walking to the nearest shop. He watched as Seamus covered his stomach back up, flicking his eyes up to his closed eyes. He wished that he could convince Seamus that his scars weren't ugly, but he didn't think it was really time to drag up that argument again. An accidental liquid burn would be so much worse than the signs of his bravery and survival. Even if Seamus didn't see it that way.

Dean's throat constricted for a moment when Seamus leaned into his touch, but then he remembered that his best friend was basically a giant cat with affection, especially related to his hair or head. He couldn't help but watch as Seamus settled himself down though. Usually if he was staying over he didn't get to see that because he was half asleep himself and Seamus was usually attached to his side like a very friendly octopus. "'Course I'm staying, you idiot," he murmured, quirking a smile at him as he moved away.

He paused behind the sofa to remove his boots so he wouldn't disturb Seamus and set about making soup, doing it slower now he was going to let Seamus nap first. He put the solid block of stock into the pan, removing the other ingredients he'd brought with him and set it on a low heat on the back ring of Seamus' hob. As he waited for that to slowly melt he went into Seamus room and stripped his bed, replacing the sheets with clean ones with a little help from some magic to reduce all the need for bending and hefting the mattress around.

By the time that was done the stock was getting towards melted and he set about quietly heating that and making the soup, keeping himself busy in the down time by drinking his tea cleaning around a bit in the kitchen while being quiet.