om_main | Jean-Paul and Simon, Sunday Morning

Simon checks in on Jean-Paul Sunday morning, attempting to control his emotions in front of his boyfriend.

Jean-Paul was regretting that he'd managed to urge Jeanne-Marie to go have a coffee. Without her there to distract him, the painkillers Moira had given him kept trying to drag him back into sleep, and that was the last thing he wanted right now. The sight of Simon pushing through his privacy curtain was there twice as welcome as it would have normally been.

"Hey." He tried to sit up, but gave it up at the first tug of stitches. "How is she?"

"Still sleeping," Simon murmured as he moved to the side of the bed, on hand brushing over Jean-Paul's. It was both a gesture of comfort, and briefly informing himself as to how Jean-Paul was holding up. "Moira thought it was best she sleep through most of the activity around here."

Jean-Paul's right side was still stitched-together hamburger, but there were enough narcotics in his system that he seemed only intellectually aware of the fact. Still, the hand that squeezed Simon's was cooler than usual.

"And you?"

Simon glanced down at himself briefly, as if to remind Jean-Paul that he wasn't the one who had been held captive or injured. He was tired, though. He'd been using his scanning almost non-stop since the first guard had been dropped to the ground, and he'd already taken a few headache meds. He'd also had to change clothes. He wouldn't leave the infirmary, and Moira didn't want him walking around with bloody clothes on, so he was currently in a pair of dark blue scrubs. He probably was sporting some great big dark circles under his eyes too; he hadn't slept.

Then again, he was kind of a pro at that, lately. So, he just smiled tightly and squeezed Jean-Paul's hand. "Worried. Obviously." About both Jean-Paul and River. "But trying to stay busy."

"Sounds about right." Jean-Paul's eyes were dulled by the drugs, but he seemed to know where he was, at least. "What do you think about the new stray?"

Simon's gaze flicked toward the curtain, even though he knew that the other boy, Jack, was somewhere else in the house. It wasn't like he could hear them. "He seems genuine enough, but I only had time for a quick scan. You were the one that picked him up."

Jean-Paul snorted a quiet, unsteady laugh down his nose. "I punched him. I do not think he is mine."

Simon lifted a brow and grabbed a nearby chair, bringing it closer for him to sit. "You punched him?"

Jean-Paul nodded firmly. "Yep. He had just shot Laura. And...annnd the way he did it made me think he did not know she can heal.

Simon's lips twitched a little at the drugged lilt to his boyfriend's voice. It was hard not to think it was something he would want to remember in the future. "So therefore, you punched him, even though you knew that Laura would regenerate. Because obviously, he deserved to understand that the behavior was unacceptable?"

"It was very unacceptable intent, oui. Besides, what if he started getting ideas as to the rest of us?"

"I suppose I can follow that logic," Simon agreed, still wishing he had a smile left in him. Between Jean-Paul's injuries and River's psychosis, he felt drained of all emotion. Still, he was glad that Jean-Paul was in good spirits. "Josh will wake up once he's rested. Then we'll get you healed up."

"That would...be a very good thing." Jean-Paul swallowed and looked up at Simon. "How bad is it? Not this, but...River."

Simon's expression hitched. "I don't...this isn't the best place..."

And probably not the best time; Simon looked as if he were running on fumes. Jean-Paul reached for that false smile again. The drugs made it easier, kept his feelings at a remove. "Yeah. OK, you're right. Sorry. You know me. I'm protective of Tams."

"Listen," Simon sighed. "They're putting a room together for her, away from the other kids. She's...she's not good. I may go stay with her in there for a few days, if she wants me there."

"She will." If she wanted anyone, it would be Simon. "And you should go to her." Not that there was any doubt that Simon would. Jean-Paul had had nightmares before, and he wasn't sure he wanted Simon around for these.

"I will," Simon didn't let go of his hand, though. "I'll text you, okay? I want to know how you're healing."

He didn't want to admit that when he had seen Jean-Paul like that, bleeding out and shredded, he had almost lost it. It had only been the presence of the others and the knowledge that Josh was there that had kept Simon in one coherent piece. He still wasn't quite sure he'd come to terms with any of it. He felt numb inside.

Lifting his injured arm was more effort than Jean-Paul wanted to contemplate. With slow, graceless movements, he shifted Simon's hold to his left hand, then raised his arm just enough to kiss his boyfriend's knuckles.

"I'll be OK, love."

Simon hitched a small nod at that, then paused and leaned in, catching Jean-Paul's mouth in a kiss that was perhaps a bit more forceful than he'd first intended, but with no less meaning attached to it.

Jean-Paul's response was slow, almost dreamlike, but when Simon pulled back, his weak smile had a more genuine note to it.

"I might need more of that later."

Simon smiled back at him, even though it was a little tight at the corners of his mouth. "You and me both."