"It already has," Dean said firmly. It was true too, the first year after the war had been pretty horrific all around. Between Seamus spending weeks in hospital while Dean held himself together by sheer stubbornness, and the fallout when Seamus got out and Dean's control broke. Those early months had been a total mess of not-yet-fully-working treatments and being triggered far too often. They had all come a long way since then. "Yeah, it will," he said, ignoring the clench in his heart at the thought of him and Seamus friends in their old age. Friends and nothing more. He could make it enough.
Trying and failing to scoop up a piece of noodle Dean smiled down into his dish at the compliment. He looked up at Seamus' sentence trailed off, looking expectant. By the time Seamus was done with his half-baked explanations Dean had basically no clue about what he was getting at, but he was amused. "I will admit I am very poncey, but I have shit all idea what you're going on about," he said, shuffling his calf slightly further from the poking toes. "I think it's a compliment though, so I'll take it!" He grinned ridiculously at Seamus and applied himself to his soup.