Re: Dean and Seamus
Seamus grinned around his mouthful of cookie, then swallowed. "Look at you," he said. "Going all gooey and sentimental in your old age." Okay, so he was actually technically older than Dean, but Dean was taller so Seamus figured that balanced it out somehow. (A thought which possibly only made sense in his head, and then only because of the drinks.) "As long as I'm there. Honestly." His tone made it quite obvious that he was always going to be there.
"Oi. None of that. I've done my share of crying on your shoulder." Seamus wasn't quite as prone to tears as Dean had been since the battle, but that didn't mean there hadn't been nights - and early mornings - and even afternoons. He grinned up. "It's always very dignified crying. We should wear top hats."
He let Dean pull away from him and watched, snorting with laughter at Dean's impression of himself. "Careful," he said, reaching out a hand as if to catch his flailing best mate. Though, given the height difference and Seamus's own unsteadiness it would probably have resulted in both of them going down. "I saw people doing, like, drumming but with paint..." Seamus's words failed him somewhat as he tried to describe what he meant, and did his own drumming mime before realising that without the paint he was just demonstrating drumming. "But there wasn't space."
He caught sight of the tattoo on his still outstretched arm and turned it, presenting it to Dean. "Your birthday is officially over." The flames that had engulfed the phoenix all day were gone.