InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Admit nothing, deny everything"

Seamus Finnigan (openbottle) wrote in finnigans_rpg,
@ 2015-05-05 14:30:00

Entry tags:

character: dean thomas, character: dominic chambers, character: seamus finnigan

Assistance arrives
Who: Seamus, Dean, Dominic
What: Seamus is not feeling well...
Where: Finnigan's, Seamus's flat
When: Tuesday 5th May, Lunchtimeish?
Rating: SFW for now

For the first hour after he'd opened, Seamus had managed a sort of grim gritted-teeth smile as he greeted the few regulars who came in this early, usually looking for early lunch or late breakfast. As more and more painful minutes had dragged on, though, even that had become impossible and Seamus now looked as miserable as he felt. Pain flared and stabbed at his abdomen so badly that his gaze kept being drawn back to the floo fire, wondering whether he should just shut down and go to St Mungo's. Maybe he had appendicitis or some other massive internal injury. He stayed put, telling himself it wasn't likely, that the lack of sleep of the last few nights was making it impossible to think clearly.

"Are you alright, lad?" one of his customers asked. Seamus jumped. He hadn't seen the man coming, but he quickly strived to put the smile back on his face.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Bit of a headache." He didn't even have the energy left to make some joke about drinking his own wares. Though the customer protested, Seamus insisted on refilling his glass - free of charge - and then sent him back to his chess board.

Seamus had known he would crash. He always did after his almost-manic attempts to keep everything together through Victis Honor day. Usually, he came down with a nasty cold immediately afterwards, too stressed and tired for his immune system to fight it. Other years, he'd just wanted to sleep for days. He'd really though it would hold off until after his chess match against Ron on Thursday, but apparently he'd been way off the mark.

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openbottle
2015-06-02 04:21 pm UTC (link)

Reluctantly, Seamus forced his limbs to move in something approximating a co-ordinated manner. He managed to pull himself to his feet, albeit making a few unhappy noises as he did so. As comfortable as he'd felt before, it was obvious some of his joints and muscles had been less than pleased with their extended nap on the couch. He waited until he was upright before answering. "Still a bit sick," he admitted. "It doesn't hurt anymore - thank Merlin for Adrian." At this stage, the sickness could well be hunger, though the idea of food wasn't hugely appealing. He'd eat anyway, because he knew it was what he should do, and Dean would fuss otherwise, but he wasn't dying to get food into him.

"You didn't even try," he said, but his voice was as weak as the joke. "Okay, okay. I pee, you make soup. Sounds like a plan. And then I -" Seamus hesitated, torn. What he wanted to say was 'And then I can go sleep in a bed'. On the other hand, he couldn't make Dominic cover his whole shift, could he? If he was able to stand without pain, he should get back to work? He wasn't certain about it, his brain still far from sharp. He squirmed slightly, remembering why he was standing in the first place. "Pee first, then planning," he said decidedly as he headed for the bathroom.

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artistdean
2015-06-02 07:23 pm UTC (link)

Seamus looked kind of like Dean felt after a week of insomnia and a nap on the studio sofa, so not that great and like he was moving through treacle. "Well I'm going to take pain free as a massive bonus," he said, smiling slightly.

The indecision and decidedly urgent nature of Seamus' 'need to pee' squirming had Dean rolling his eyes. "Works for me," he said, putting his book down properly and moving over to the kitchen, wand coming out to speed up bringing the broth back to the boil before he dumped in the noodles. "I changed your sheets if you want to sleep some more after you've eaten," he called through the door. The sofa wasn't terrible to sleep on but Seamus' bed was honestly far more comfortable and not exactly far away.

He leaned against the counter while he waited for Seamus to reappear, debating the merits of making himself even more tea. He'd already had a second cup while Seamus was asleep, this time with milk from the kitchens. Given that he was planning to have some soup himself it might not be the best plan ever.

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openbottle
2015-06-05 03:38 pm UTC (link)

Seamus returned some time later, looking a little less like death warmed up. As well as taking care of his bladder, he'd splashed cold water on his face in the hopes it would wake him up a little, and brushed his teeth - unable to remember if he'd done it that morning or not. As a result he felt a little, though only a little, more human. "Paddy's arse, I'm still so tired," he complained as he headed towards the soup-smell, and Dean.

He'd heard the comment about his sheets, and that combined with Dean making him soup resulted in a flicker of a smile. "You might be an angel," he remarked. "Don't see any wings, though. Where're you hiding them?" He rubbed a hand over his eyes and propped himself against the counter. That he felt well enough to tease and invent curses was probably a good sign, but it all felt dim and distant compared to the heaviness in his head and the hollow sick feeling in his stomach. "How long until it's ready?" he asked, more out of duty than interest.

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artistdean
2015-06-05 07:08 pm UTC (link)

Dean snorted at Seamus' choice of words. He had a feeling that Seamus' stomach ache wasn't likely to return like before. Hunger pangs maybe, but not the crippling pain that had lead to him appealing for help. Not that he was sure, but it was a feeling.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he said suggestively. "We angels are very protective of our wings," he added, brushing imaginary fluff off his shoulder, before breaking into a laugh. He glanced at the soup, now full of broken up noodles. "Couple of minutes probably," he said, pushing off the side and using the balanced spoon to fish out one of the pieces of noodle for trying. He ate it and made a considering face. "Yeah, couple of minutes," he said. He'd already pulled out bowls and spoons so there was nothing left to do until he put the already chopped chives in just before he served.

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openbottle
2015-06-08 03:56 pm UTC (link)

Seamus's smile was more a brief twitch of his lips than anything, but he snorted dutifully as he tried to imagine Dean with fluffy, feathering wings sprouting from his shoulders. "Nah," he said. "You're too much fun to be a real angel." He didn't move from his position, afraid that if he sat on anything as comfortable as the couch he wouldn't be able to resist falling asleep again.

"Anything I can do?" He didn't feel up to much, but nor was it in his nature to just stand around and do nothing while Dean cooked. The only reason Dean managed to get away with providing food as often as he did was because he did the actual cooking of it at home. "At least it's all over for another year," he said, chewing his lip since he didn't have any mint handy. "Bring on the best bit of the year."

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artistdean
2015-06-08 10:28 pm UTC (link)

"Awww, and I would have made such a good angel," Dean said pouting very hard and trying to give Seamus his most winning puppy-dog inspired expression for several long seconds before breaking into a grin. "Glad I'm fun, and I don't much fancy the lack of dick thing anyway," he said, scrunching his face up in distaste.

He looked around fruitlessly for something Seamus could do. "Sorry, bugger all unless you want a cup of tea. I'm basically waiting to dump the chives in twenty seconds before it's done," he said, nodding to the pile of tiny green tubes he'd chopped earlier.

"Yeah, you can say that again. Next year I'll maybe try for a little less depth plumbing at the meeting, or at least taking my potion before," he said sheepishly. He knew that his friends didn't really have any quarrels with taking care of him when his PTSD flared up, but a little prevention would probably have removed the necessity, or at least the urgency of it.

"Best bit of the year?" he asked innocently, knowing full-well that his birthday coming up and was probably what he was referring to. He could play dumb though, when he wanted to.

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openbottle
2015-06-10 12:49 pm UTC (link)

Seamus briefly paused to blink at Dean. "The what?" Seamus's idea of angels came largely from nativity plays when he was a kid. His family had never been particularly church-going, and he'd certainly never been enrolled in Sunday school or anything like that. His face morphed through a serious of uncomfortable expressions as he imagined Dean naked - first without and then with his correct anatomy - and then remembered that imagining your friends naked was weird. "That sounds too tragic to think about," he eventually decided.

Since there was nothing to be done, Seamus tried to relax - which didn't entirely work. "It was a good meeting," he defended. Dean had missed the end of it, obviously, but Seamus was pleased (as pleased as he could be) about how it had turned out. He didn't say anything further, didn't voice the ever-present wish that it could all just be easier somehow.

Too tired for theatrics, Seamus just shot Dean a dead-pan glare. "One of the best, anyway. Joint top with Christmas and your birthday and New Year and St Patrick's day."

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artistdean
2015-06-10 10:33 pm UTC (link)

Dean shrugged because he only knew half the story. "Apparently it's a thing, at least in this film, Dogma, Jess was telling me about. One of her friends at Uni is obsessed with it, and she was trying to explain. Says I probably shouldn't watch it though," he said. At the time of trying to explain Jess had also been sleep deprived and/or hungover and rambling. Dean hadn't followed that much but a few points had stuck out. "Also according to that film God is female and likes poking people on the nose. It's apparently a bit odd."

"Yeah, I'm sure it was. They usually are. I just went a bit... you know, didn't take my potion and got a bit emotional," he said. He hadn't been embarrassed as such by his actions, well not much, but he might have been a little less overwrought about it if he'd taken his potion or stuck to a script.

He couldn't help but chuckle at Seamus' list of favourite dates. He knew they were the sorts of ones his tattoo was spelled to change on. "It should be good. You'll have to work out what we're doing. You know you're better at party planning or whatever than me." Well, it was more that Dean didn't necessarily go to parties that often, but Seamus also had experience for all the things he did for the pub.

Looking at the soup and then his watch he dumped the pile of chives in and stirred it around a couple of times before turning off the heat and ladling it into two bowls. "If you want bread too I'll go grab some from the kitchen," he said, sticking spoons in the bowls and pointing back to the sofa. "Go sit I'll bring this over," he said.

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openbottle
2015-06-15 10:43 am UTC (link)

"Oh," Seamus said, his face still crumpled in confusion about the whole topic. "I've never heard of it." Not that this was exactly surprising. Most of Seamus's experience with films came via either Dean, Justin or Susan so his knowledge wasn't exactly extensive. He shrugged. "It doesn't sound like you're missing much." Though he liked the action films he had seen, his instinct was to immediately look down on anything Dean couldn't watch.

As Dean continued to talk about the meeting, Seamus made his way over from the counter to wrap his arms around Dean, his chin propped on Dean's shoulder. He didn't say anything for a moment, just savoured the fact that Dean was still around to be hugged, still there to look after Seamus when he was poorly. As badly as Dean's year on the run had affected him - it could have gone much worse. "That's what meetings are for," he said. "So our emotions don't spill out all willy-nilly in front of people who don't get it." Well, that was part of the reason, anyway.

He pulled back, eyes a bit misty, and forced a smile. He was still feeling a bit... all over the place. Whether it was tiredness or pain or just residual feelings from Victis Honor that he hadn't deal with properly. "I'll come up with something," he agreed. He didn't expect Dean to plan his birthday, just to show up and have a good time. "Back to Spain for a weekend away from everything?" It wasn't a serious suggestion, but the idea did appeal. Much as Seamus loved to be the centre of attention on his birthday, right now it was more tempting to isolate. He knew the feeling would pass before long.

On Dean's instructions, he moved back to the sofa, arranging himself in a position he could actually eat in without risking tipping soup over either himself, Dean or the couch. "I think noodles are enough."

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artistdean
2015-06-15 09:36 pm UTC (link)

"Eh, I hadn't either," he said with a shrug. He still didn't understand the appeal either. "Not like I'm going to risk it," he said. If Jess had already warned him off he wasn't going to bother. She was a little less dedicated to ensuring his comfort than his friends were, at least by way of films and television.

When Seamus came up and wrapped arms around him a slight tightness in his frame relaxed. It had been brought about by talking about the meeting. He hung onto Seamus and breathed deeply, relaxing into it. And this was why he couldn't risk their friendship on his feelings. He never felt quite like this with anyone else, not this relaxed, not this comfortable. "Doesn't always make it easy," he mumbled. As they drew apart a little, not yet letting go Dean smiled faintly. "No matter how much therapy I have the whole big breakdown thing is never really easy in the aftermath." He was still being quiet, it wasn't all that far past after all.

The idea of going to Spain again hit Dean sort of like a brick wall. As much as he wanted exactly that sort of thing with Seamus he also knew how they'd ended up sharing a bed all week. Apart from that little incident of him sleeping in a strange bed upsetting his sleeping pattern it was honestly one of the most relaxing times he'd had in a good while. "Not the worst idea," he said, voice catching slightly. He sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. "But I think something with everyone is a better plan. You've got plenty of time to think of something though."

Dean nodded in acknowledgement that Seamus couldn't see and brought the bowls over, sliding into the space next to Seamus after handing over one of the bowls. "This shouldn't irritate your stomach even if you're feeling a bit off."

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openbottle
2015-06-17 05:18 pm UTC (link)

"It'll get better," Seamus said - more hopeful than certain. It was what he personally clung to when it all got to be too much for him. The war was over, and though they were still suffering the after-effects at least they weren't adding more trauma on top of it anymore. Mostly. "In a few years it'll all be a decade ago. Then two, then three. And one day we'll be old and grey and wrinkly and we'll have been safe for longer than we were in danger." And that had to fix it, right? Seamus wouldn't still be having nightmares when he was in his 70s. Or maybe he'd have new nightmares where Dean died of old age and left Seamus to carry on alone... It didn't bear thinking about and Seamus tugged his shirt down and draped his arm across his stomach.

Dean brought the bowls over and Seamus took his with his free hand, cradling it against his chest while he fumbled with the spoon. "You're too good to me," he said, smiling at Dean as he squeezed himself into the space beside Seamus. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite pin down the reference. "What's that science-y thing about..." But the words wouldn't come and the soup smelled pretty good. Seamus dipped his spoon into it, blowing carefully across the surface before bringing it to his lips and sipping. The warmth was good, even before he could really taste anything. "I was going to say something incredibly intelligent about you being like... my shadow or negative space or something," he informed Dean before taking another spoonful. "But I can't think. Maybe it's not even science. Maybe it's art and I picked it up from some poncey artist that I know." He nudged his toes against Dean's calf to hammer home who this statement was referring to.

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artistdean
2015-06-18 12:13 am UTC (link)

"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.

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