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Tweak says, "Use your spell checker!"

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
2015-06-23 03:13 pm UTC (link)

Seamus bit his lip slightly as he looked down into his soup, a movement from his spoon sending the noodles spinning. Days in a row that feel 'okay' wasn't what he wanted for his friends. He wanted days that felt great, brilliant, amazing. That 'okay' was the best they could hope to maintain was frankly depressing. His shoulders hunched as he lifted the bowl closer to his mouth so he wouldn't spill. "Speak for yourself," he answered when he'd finished another few spoonfuls. His tone was flat, his usual good humour seeming miles away. "You'll always be handsome. But me?" He reached a hand up to his curls. "Once I start going grey, that'll be it for me."

He managed a small smile when Dean finally clicked to what he was going on about, but it didn't do much to banish the general malaise. "See?" he said. "I knew you'd know, really. The word doesn't matter. Not if you know what I mean."

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artistdean
2015-06-24 08:57 pm UTC (link)

The flash of Seamus' hand moving to brush at his own hair swept Dean out of his little art haze. At least he hadn't been very far gone and he'd still actually heard everything that Seamus had said. He ran his mind back over it and frowned at Seamus, not quite sure what had flattened his tone. He didn't think it was actually the ageing thing, although he could be wrong. Still. He very much had a different opinion on that topic and he shook his head. "Nah, you'll still be gorgeous," he said, slightly teasing and far more honest than he was letting on. "And, besides if you hate the hair you can always buzz it off." Dean though it would be a crying shame, especially given how much Seamus was like a cat when someone ran their hands through his hair, but that was by the by.

"Good thing too, because I doubt I'm gonna remember it," he said, nudging Seamus. He frowned at the lack of grin. "What's eating you?" he asked. Usually that sort of thing would win him a bigger smile. "I mean, unless it's just your stomach, for which I suggest finishing your soup and going to bed." He winked. "Did I say something, because you know me. I talk a lot of bollocks."

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openbottle
2015-07-01 09:26 am UTC (link)

"Blasphemy," Seamus said - more because it seemed to be the easy, obvious thing to say than because he could (right now) summon any particularly strong feelings about keeping his hair. He'd always had curls, never experimented with going short enough to lose them, and didn't particularly want to. "What'd mam call me? Prickly?" He gave his curls a quick tug then returned his hands (and his attention) to his soup.

He shrugged. "That you do," he agreed, with another small smile. "It's just..." He trailed off with a gesture. He could easily have said it was his stomach. Dean would probably have petted him and helped him to bed and Seamus could have curled up and been asleep within an hour. But he couldn't just lie. Not to Dean. "I want more out of life than 'okay'." And Seamus got to have more, most of the time. Yes, he still had struggles but he also had his pub, his way of giving back. "For you, for Susan and Dennis and Ginny and... everyone. I know we can't be feckin' spectacular all the time but -" His pain and exhaustion weren't helping, were making it hard to remember that they ever got to spectacular.

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artistdean
2015-07-01 11:04 pm UTC (link)

Dean snorted in response and applied himself to his soup so he wouldn't just sit and play with Seamus' hair. After he'd swallowed he shrugged slightly. "You should keep them really, not just because of the Curly thing, you look good like that and I'm not sure..." he trailed off examining Seamus closer to imagine him with short hair. Not that he really needed to. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't look as good," he said.

"You could have disagreed," he protested, but it was a quiet mutter, more of a grumble than anything. He waited when Seamus trailed off, not wanting to prompt further. Then Seamus explains and something swims uncomfortably in his stomach. "Oh, oh, man when I said okay I didn't just mean okay," he said. Then he realised that that was probably really unhelpful as encouragement. "I mean, like, there are days and days when the most I think about my PTSD is remembering to take my potions which looking back at the start is amazing. And I get to paint for a living, and even if sometimes my budget gets a bit tight it's something I never thought I'd get to really make a living from, and shit I have excellent friends, and basically what I'm trying to say is okay was just a convenient word. Sure it's not all perfect all the time and there are things I'd change sometimes, and my brain can be shitty to me at others, but all in all I'm doing pretty damn well." He finished on a triumphant note and then looked at Seamus' bowl. "And now we're done with our little moment, you need to go sleep. Well, finish the last of that and sleep," he said. He wasn't sure if he was going to stay yet, but he probably would. He could hang out and read, sketch a bit maybe. Or just leave a note and go help Dominic out in the bar.

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openbottle
2015-07-06 09:07 am UTC (link)

Seamus smiled and nodded. "Thanks." Sometimes, his scar coloured his whole self-image, but other times he was able to remember that he was at least decently attractive while fully-clothed. He knew Dean meant well, reminding him of the latter, but what good did it do, really? No one was going to stick around without sex, and most people (in Seamus's understanding, anyway) were really put off by the scar.

He watched Dean try to explain himself, narrowing his eyes slightly as if he were looking for the lie in Dean's words. When he'd finished, Seamus's mouth twitched upwards into a smile. "Pretty convincing, Thomas," he said - because it had been. And Seamus was still worried - about the bad days, about Susan, Ginny, Dennis, the Battlescars members who didn't speak at meetings - but at least Dean was holding out some reassurance that things were better than Seamus could see right now. "I still wish..." he started, then shook his head. He would always wish for more. He would always want everything to be perfect and sunshine and peace, and it never would. Most of the time he could deal with that, it just overwhelmed him sometimes, particularly this time of year. He finished his soup instead of his sentence, deciding it was the wiser course of action. "Sleep sounds good."

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artistdean
2015-07-06 06:55 pm UTC (link)

Dean took in a deep breath and sighed it out again at Seamus' unfinished sentence. "I know, man, I know," he said, and nudged Seamus slightly. It was the best and worst time of year to rehash the sort of thoughts he was pretty sure were circling Seamus' head. "Glad I convinced you though. This time of year aside I'm doing well," he said and smiled. "C'mon then," he said, taking Seamus bowl back and standing to offer him a hand up. "I'm probably going to stay around. Although I might go see how Dominic's getting on downstairs at some point."

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openbottle
2015-07-07 04:12 pm UTC (link)

Seamus let Dean help him to his feet and leaned against him in a lazy approximation of a hug, more for comfort than actual support. "You're great," he insisted. "I just wish you didn't have to be." He sighed again and moved towards the bed, his fingers wrapped around Dean's wrist to drag him along for the ride. He didn't really need help, but the company was nice.

"You don't have to," he said, pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them before climbing into the bed and under the covers. "Got better things to do than watch me sleep, I'm sure." He covered a conveniently-timed yawn with one hand. He'd probably be out for a while and he wasn't expecting Dean to hang around.

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artistdean
2015-07-07 07:11 pm UTC (link)

"I'm you friend, you're not wishing that away," he admonished, returning the semi-hug. "And friends look after each other when they're sick. Especially when their families can't." He didn't protest at Seamus dragging him along to his room, although he could possibly have done without that particular visual in his mind. It was likely going to be a feature of his dreams now, and frankly his mind hadn't needed the prompting. And Seamus was feeling ill, it really wasn't an association he wanted.

Thankfully Seamus had dropped his wrist in order to strip so Dean could look away without making it obvious. As Seamus crawled into bed he looked around to see if there was anything else he needed and summoned a glass of water. Couldn't hurt to have that on hand, so he set it by the bed just in case. "I'm not being creepy and watching you sleep. I'm going to read or draw and do the washing up, and like I said I can go help Dominic." What he wasn't saying was that he didn't want to leave while Seamus still wasn't at his best. He wouldn't stay the night, but he wanted to be around when Seamus surfaced again for his own peace of mind. To know that he really was better. "Plus the bonus of my job is that I can do legitimate work from pretty much anywhere, or even just say the muse isn't talking to me and do nothing for the day," he said. He'd lowered his voice slightly, hoping Seamus would start to drift off again.

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Complete?

openbottle
2015-07-09 11:15 am UTC (link)

Seamus shook his head, the movement slower and heavier than usual. "I don't want to wish that away, don't be daft." Dean's friendship was one of the best and brightest things in his life, something he'd promised himself years ago that nothing would ever interfere with. He groaned. "Don't tell mam. She'd be over here in a second, trying to get me to the hospital." He knew his mam still worried, ever since the battle, that one day something worse would come of the dark magic that had touched him. Seamus didn't really let himself think about it. "Probably try and get the aurors in too."

Once in bed, Seamus pulled the blankets up to his neck and tugged them close. It wasn't cold, exactly, but nor did he feel particularly warm despite the soup. His eyes drifted closed almost against his will and even when he tried to open them to better follow Dean's murmured words, they wouldn't quite open all the way. "'kay," he mumbled. "Do your work. I can do washing up later, and Dominic can handle things for a bit." He yawned, tucking his head against the duvet to muffle it. "Thanks for..." he trailed off sleepily.

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