"Dean Jr.? Now you've gone and wrecked it all, Finnigan. What'll I call my kid when I end up shackled to some poor confused girl who wonders why her son levitates shite all the time," he teased. "Besides, Seamus Jr. looks just like you. Right down to the straw head and confused look."
He leaned back as they settled into the chairs, smirking at the pout. "Just the ones with eyes," he answered, lifting his chin in a faux-cocky expression that faded quickly, since Dean didn't actually have enough of a swelled head to keep it up. "You're just trying to run out on her now because she's got that mole and mustache. . ."
Dean laughed. "I feel bad for whatever bird you marry, mate. She'll probably kick your skinny arse in within a week. Remind me to tell my mum you said that next time you're over - she'll blister your ears for you."
Dean was oblivious to the reason for Seamus' vacant look, but he noticed the stare. They hadn't even gotten drinks yet, bit early for him to be drifting off. If he started that way, he might end up table dancing later. "You still with me?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows questioningly.
He gave a less-than-eloquent snort. "Yeah, because we end up swimming in girls every year." He'd dated Ginny, it was true, and it wasn't like neither of them had interest otherwise. But it wasn't elbows deep in anything. Dean didn't exactly plan on spending the year doing nothing but worry either - but he wasn't sure anyone would be in much of a place for snogging. Then again, maybe everyone would be looking to distract themselves, too.