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Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Dean frowned, even as his breath was starting to get somewhere near normal again. "Presents?" he asked, confused, and then the knut tumbled down the slot and alighted in his brain, shock slowly spreading across his face. "Shit it's my birthday," he said, pushing up into a sitting position. It was perhaps a little quicker than he should have sat up, but he honestly couldn't believe he'd managed to forget his birthday. He took several more careful breaths and turned properly to Seamus, duvet slipping to his waist as his hands fell uselessly to his sides in shock.

He winced at the way Seamus was tugging on his hair. "No. No. Unless you want to leave," he said hastily. "Sorry. I. Well, you know, dream, and then I realised and I really didn't intend to..." His rather stiff words trailed off. He couldn't lie and say 'I didn't intend to feel you up' because that was exactly what he'd been doing in his head, and, well any other combination of words he could think of were either too telling or a complete lie. He sucked in a breath and shook his head. "Just. Sorry," he said. He chewed at his lip, hands coming to wring in his lap where his gaze was fixed, not wanting to look at Seamus for more than a few seconds.