xp_logs | Kevin, Jean-Paul and Jean

The guys accidentally fall asleep together, but this time they aren't graced with the luck they've had in the past.

It had only happened a handful of times and somewhere in his sleep-heavy mind Kevin knew he should be making an exit to his own suite. They'd ended up in Jean-Paul's suite and then in his bedroom. The pair had passed out there together. Kevin knew Jean-Paul would normally try to stay awake if Kevin fell asleep but he was sound asleep when Kevin stirred. Grabbing his boxers on the way to the bathroom, he thought maybe he should wake himself up more so one of them was awake. It'd freak out Jean-Paul less and it'd be safer for both of them. Cold water, that would help right? Maybe coffee. It was a ridiculous hour of the morning for coffee, but Kevin could sleep later.

Sleeping and sleeping well were two entirely different things. Jean-Paul was asleep, but he was also motionless in the bed. It was possible this was, in part, because his subconscious mind understood how distressed he would be when he woke up and realised he'd allowed himself to lapse again.

The dream shifted and he was no longer quite so still. It was difficult to remain motionless when you were bound and your every instinct screamed that you needed to fight.

After making his stop at the bathroom Kevin headed off to Jean-Paul's kitchen. There was coffee in there somewhere and the Southerner knew without it he wouldn't manage to stay awake. He'd get the coffee started, figure out where he left his sketch pad and then head back into the bedroom. Sleep was nice but they either had to be as careful as possible or as far from each other as possible when it happened. Kevin chose closeness because the novelty of being able to feel his boyfriend's skin against his own had yet to wear off.

The beginning sounds of percolating coffee drowned out anything that could have been coming from the bedroom. It wasn't until he was at the door, sketch pad in hand, that he realized something might be wrong.

Hands trapped near his sides, Jean-Paul struggled. He'd somehow become tangled in the sheets, the Egyptian cotton wrapping ever more tightly around him. He couldn't breathe. He was trying not to panic, but he couldn't breathe and he could hear Shrine somewhere behind him, laughing. Always laughing.

There were quiet sounds coming from Jean-Paul. They sounded pained in a way. They sounded like struggle. The Quebecois was clearly struggling against the sheets he was wrapped up in. He'd been fine when Kevin had gotten up but now the bedding was twisted around him and Kevin could see him trying to fight his way free. The sketch pad dropped and Kevin went rushing to his boyfriend's side in an attempt to wake him before the nightmare got too bad and went too far.

Jean-Paul heard steps approaching, listened to the laughter as it got louder, and stopped trying to fight. He curled up, hands fisting where they were bound, and tried to make himself as small as possible.

If they couldn't see him, they couldn't hurt him.

But they hurt him anyway.

They always did.

Kevin was at the edge of the bed, hand outstretched toward the sleeping man, when it happened. One moment he was on his feet about to try shaking Jean-Paul awake and the next his feet were off the ground and he was flying through the air. It was pure force, pressure moving him with unseen hands. There was a moment of Kevin dimly thinking this wasn't how he imagined it feeling, but the next second his back hit the wall.

The crack was audible and deafening to Kevin's own ears. He swore he could hear the pain or maybe he could feel the sound but either way the pain came at once. Time seemed to stop with him suspended against the wall being pressed hard into it until he felt the drywall give a little behind his shoulders. And then he fell.

The pain intensified with the impact but it only seemed to get worse when Kevin attempted to draw in a breath. All the air had been knocked out of him and apparently his body wanted nothing to do with replacing it because this was a level of pain he'd never experienced.

It wasn't the sound of impact that jarred Jean-Paul from the dream so much as the sound of cracking bone. A snap. It was loud and it was foreign in a way, alien to the dreams. Shrine hadn't broken him physically.

A moment later and he was struggling in truth, one of the sheets ripping as he fought his way free of it. "Mon ostie de saint-sacrament de câlice de crisse," he muttered, finally freeing himself and scrambling over the bed to where Kevin had fallen. Flakes of drywall were scattered on the floor and in the Southerner's hair. Jean-Paul's hands hovered as he said, voice strained, "Kevin?"

Kevin was trying to push himself up from the floor. While he made no sound the strain was apparent in his expression. "Yeah?" His voice came out quieter than usual and strained. He was trying to keep the pain out of it because Kevin knew what knowing how hurt he was would do to Jean-Paul. He wasn't stupid enough to think he'd be able to keep that a secret forever, but he'd have liked to mitigate making the current situation worse than he knew it already was. After all, Jean-Paul's biggest fear about their relationship had just come true, hadn't it?

"Mon Dieu," Jean-Paul breathed, keeping himself calm by force of will alone. "Where does it hurt?" Because it was obvious that something was wrong.

Kevin tried three times to say something but each time he gave up. He'd gotten to his hands and knees but now simply stayed there with his head hanging as he pulled in air through stubborn force of will alone. It cost him something and that showed. "Hurts to breathe."

The breath hissed from Jean-Paul between his teeth and he forced himself to shut away everything in his mind save the knowledge of what he needed to do now. Right this moment, he needed to get Kevin to the medlab.

Faster than anyone else would have been able to manage it, he'd pulled on his boxers and a shirt, then moved back to Kevin and said, voice calm, "You need to stand, mon aime. We must go to the medlab. Please, I will help you if I can, but I do not want to hurt you worse." He offered his arm, kneeling beside the younger man - if Kevin used Jean-Paul to steady himself and for support, he might be able to stand.

"Prob-probably not gonna hurt me worse," Kevin slowly said. Sure, the hurting might get worse, but he didn't think the injury was going to get worse. Really, how much worse could it get?

Kevin reached up to grab onto Jean-Paul's arm and a hiss of pain accompanied the motion. Moving felt harder and more complicated than it usually was. It was entirely possible the Southerner was going to manage to pierce or poke or rupture something that was supposed to stay unpoked in the process. Oh well, right?

By the time Kevin was standing he'd gotten his arm up across Jean-Paul's shoulders because the sheer agony of breathing made him sway on his feet. Looking down at himself he could see his chest and stomach already darkening in one massive bruise. Now would be the time for expletives, he thought.

Things could always get worse. In this situation, they could definitely get a lot worse. But Jean-Paul wasn't going to let himself dwell on that. He waited until Kevin was as steady as he was going to get, then slid his own arm very, very gingerly around the younger man's waist. Reaching over with his free hand, he turned on the bedroom light so he could see properly, not just with the light from the kitchen coming through the door, and muttered, "Slowly, oui? We will go slowly."

Kevin nodded, closing his eyes in an effort to chase back the pain. He wasn't sure why people did it or why it seemed to help, but it did. He trusted Jean-Paul to lead him while he was blind and just tried to focus on breathing, on moving his feet and trying like hell to put all that pain in a box. When he opened his eyes they were already in the hall. Somehow it wasn't the effort of movement or the pain that he focused on when he looked down. "Why're you wearin'....pink? Are you - ow - that kinda gay now?"

Jean-Paul looked down at what he was wearing. "Marde," he muttered, though there was no real venom behind it. "Angelo, he dyed all of my old clothing pink. For a prank. I will be returning the favour. At some point." Some point in the far off future, now. Since he'd successfully managed to hurt Kevin enough that he was already bruising. And that looked like a nasty bruise.

"Angelo," Kevin wheezed, "is slippery. Should...saran wrap him...to Nathan's desk." He paused to fight off a sound of pain. "Ah could get you in. Juliette loves me. Better poker face'n Nathan, too." Juliette was also a little scary every once in a while, but Kevin made a point to bring her coffee or pastries or flowers for her desk. That's right, he was not above bribing her onto his side as much as possible. "Or to a flag pole. Naked. Painted neon red." Kevin hissed as he inhaled. The talking wasn't helping the pain even if it was helping distract him from it a little.

"I will remember," Jean-Paul said. "For when you can help, oui?" Only it probably wouldn't get that far. He probably wouldn't let himself. Not after this.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Jean-Paul continued on, down the corridors to the elevator because he'd be damned if he was going to make Kevin walk down the stairs like this.

"Alright. It's a-a date." A pained little smile spread across Kevin's lips. He was going to get through this. It hurt and something inside him was probably not where it should be but he was going to heal and get better and they'd just be more careful. He'd stay on the couch next time. They wouldn't fall asleep together by accident again. They'd just gotten away with it unscathed each time before but the lesson hit home this time. Hell, the lesson had hammered itself into his chest.

At the elevators Kevin leaned more heavily on Jean-Paul as they waited. The slouching lanced fresh pain up his side but Kevin bit it back and tried to keep it off his face as much as possible. It was worth the pain. The contact was worth it right now. He hated that Jean-Paul was holding him like he was glass even though he understood why.

"Très bien," Jean-Paul answered, waiting for the doors to open before getting Kevin inside and pressing the button that would take them down to the medlab. It wasn't a date. It wouldn't be a date. But again, Jean-Paul wouldn't let himself think about that.

The doors slid open again and the Quebecois helped Kevin out of the elevator, into the hall, then to the medlab.

"Hate the smell of medlab," Kevin complained very quietly. He hoped Dr. Voght wasn't the one on tonight. She'd yell at them for risky behavior and sheer stupidity before she even looked at Kevin or gave him something for the pain just out of spite. Hammering lessons home or something like that. He wondered if he could play the pity card on her. She'd probably see right through it.

Jean had taken over for Amelia for the night. The woman looked like she needed some time away and Jean was eager be there. It felt almost like a second home. She was flipping through a couple of medical journals based on genetics and quickly put them down when she sensed Kevin and Jean-Paul's presence, just before they came through the doors.

Glancing Kevin over a moment, her attention turned to Jean-Paul quizzically.

"Do I want to know?" she said, then nodded toward one of the beds, moving to help them if need be.

"Have a seat, let's take a look."

"Angelo's evil," Kevin offered by way of explanation for the pink. Obviously the most important part here was that Jean-Paul had turned into that kind of gay overnight. Pink was not the color of dignified gay men.

With those thoughts helping to distract him and Jean-Paul helping him move Kevin scooted onto the bed slowly. "There was a nightmare," he started to explain in a pained voice. "Then there was a wall." The wince was mostly kept at bay but a little of the expression leaked through.

Jean-Paul felt there were a few bits of information that Jean might need, and so he said, tone carefully measured, "A concussive blast, this is what Doctor McCoy calls them. One of them threw Kevin into a sheet rock wall. He is having trouble breathing and, you can see, he is in much pain."

Jean nodded slightly as she helped him up on the bed. "The bruising around your abdomen doesn't look like a good sign. I'll need to run a few tests. Could be a pulmonary contusion," she said.

"Either way, looks like you're going to be spending quite a bit of time in my company," she said, offering him a soft smile.

"I'm going to go grab some equipment. If you'll lie down on your stomach it will make the breathing a little better."

Kevin looked down at the bed with trepidation. Pulling in a deep breath, a small wrinkling around his eyes betrayed how much it hurt. "On my stomach?" Talking wasn't helping the pain and he had nothing to distract him from it now. Kevin nodded and began to move to lay down as she said. "Is there English for that contusion thing?"

Jean crossed the room, opening one of the storage closets next to the rows of beds.

"Yes. I know it's going to hurt but at this point pretty much everything's going to hurt. But if you lie down, carefully, on the affected area it does help. At least in this case," she said, pulling out a cart.

"A pulmonary contusion is usually caused by blunt force trauma, in this case a concussive blast. It damages your capillaries, causing blood and fluid to pool in the lung tissue where you received the trauma. This can cause interference with your breathing. But in order to determine if this is truly the case, we will have to do an ultrasound and draw some blood. In that order," she said.

"Thought ultrasounds were for pregnant women? Ah swear, Ah don't have a fetus in my ribcage." He was pretty sure ultrasounds weren't painful by nature, but right now everything was painful. Most of the fight had been taken out of him by getting down to the medlab and holding back the sounds and expressions the pain wanted to cause. Kevin kept telling himself that if he didn't think the word "agony" then it couldn't get bad enough to warrant the word. Right?

"Hush," Jean-Paul said, helping Kevin when he could. It all looked painful. Every shift of muscle and bone - he'd caused this. It was his fault.

Jean smiled softly. The plug unraveled itself from the cart and snaked it's way over toward one of the plug-ins near by as she pulled out the ultrasound lubricant.

"Generally, yes," she said, pulling the cart closer to Kevin's bed.

"But it's also good for letting us see things that normally aren't cause for joy," she said. Her eyes trailed up to Jean-Paul a moment before she turned on the ultrasound machine. The guilt was etched across his face like a mask.

"Once we determine the exact diagnosis I can give you something for the pain," she said to Kevin.

"However, until then, I need you to roll over for a couple of minutes. This will cause more problems with your breathing so I will try to keep it brief. Then we can dope you up."

"Don't worry, doc, Ah'll manage it." The promise of being doped up was attractive, though. Kevin moved gingerly, trying to be as stiff as possible while he flipped himself over. Deep breaths both caused more pain and helped steel himself against it. Once he was settled on his back Kevin reached out for Jean-Paul. Kevin didn't need someone to hold his hand because of how much it hurt; he was worried about the other man.

Jean-Paul let Kevin catch his hand, holding it while Jean went to work. He kept quiet, though, because what could he really add to the conversation?

Once Kevin was settled, Jean applied a little bit of the gel to Kevin's chest, then gently ran one of the ultrasound probes along his skin, studying the screen silently for those promised couple of minutes. Eventually she wiped off the head of the probe with a cleansing cloth.

"Okay, this next part is going to hurt. A lot. But I need to do it to check for rib fractures," Jean said, a sympathetic look in her eyes.

"Are you ready?"

"That a trick question," Kevin asked more quietly than usual. Despite that his free hand curled into a tight fist. The hand holding Jean-Paul's held onto the other man firmly but did not tighten. After a moment Kevin nodded. "Yeah, Ah'm ready."

Pausing a moment, Jean reached out, pressing firmly against his ribs with a couple of fingers, feeling for any fractures in the bone.

There was a moment of just the usual pain from breathing and, well, existing and then there was a moment of pure, blinding agony. Kevin's jaw clenched hard and the color started to drain from his face but he stubbornly held back making a single sound. Jean-Paul looked like he would melt into the ground from the guilt any minute now, Kevin wasn't going to willingly add to that. Through grit teeth came a quiet, "Ow."

"Sorry, sorry," Jean said as she felt along. This sort of thing, unfortunately, could not go too quickly if she wanted to be precise. Finally she pulled her hand away.

"I'm feeling fractures on both sides of your ribs. Luckily each rib is fractured only in one spot," she said. Not much of a bright side but better than nothing.

Kevin swallowed hard, which didn't help the pain in his chest none. "Luckily?" How was that lucky?

"Multiple fractures of each rib not only take much longer to heal, but there is a chance of puncturing a lung and getting put on a ventilator," she said. She did not mention the more serious possibility of death that came attached to those types of fractures.

"We need to do a couple of blood tests and then we'll be done," she said, moving toward one of the drawers to pull out the proper equipment. The ultrasound machine turned itself off with a click and the plug unplugged itself from the wall, the cord wrapping around one of the cart legs once more.

"The important thing to remember is that this was an accident," she said as she worked, taking a tray of various supplies over to a table next to Kevin's bed.

She looked up to Jean-Paul as she readied Kevin's arm with a tourniquet.

Kevin watched what the doctor was doing as she tied his vein off with the strip of rubber tube around his arm. He didn't get sick much and definitely didn't get injured all that often, so why was he now in the medlab for the second time in the past few months? His luck was going downhill fast. "Do Ah get a button," he asked while he watched Dr. Grey-Summers ready the needle he assumed was going into his arm. "Y'know, like an IV drip with dr-," he cut himself off and chose a better word, "pain meds with a button so when it hurts Ah can dope myself up?" He was very nearly giving Jean puppy dog eyes with that request. Under normal circumstances his puppy dog eyes were considerably persuasive. It was entirely possible the eyes weren't as effective while trying to overcome the serious pain that breathing, talking and any sort of twitching caused.

"Sorry, not at the moment," Jean said as she tapped Kevin's skin lightly, looking for a good vein.

"In addition to a delightful combination of anti-inflammatory and pain medication, I'm going to be giving you what's called a nerve block, which is essentially a local anesthetic, and a dose of a drug called Fentanyl. Basically you'll be high as a kite for a little awhile," she said with a smile.

"Quick," he started and had to stop at the sharp lance of pain through his chest. Too much enthusiasm in the talking, Kevin scolded himself mentally. "Someone get me paint and a canvas. Ah could be inspired. All good artists are drug addicts...right?"

"I think Piotr might argue with you on that one," Jean mused as she started drawing his blood. Once the vial was filled up, she twisted it off from the catheter, then untied the tourniquet and put a cotton ball and bandaid over the area.

"Alright, now comes the fun part," she said with a smile, picking up another syringe and the small bottle of Fentanyl. Expelling the air from the syringe first, she then plunged the needle into the top of the bottle, drawing out a dosage of the drug. From there, she gently slid the needle into his arm and began to press on the syringe, letting the Fentanyl go into his system.

Kevin eyed the syringe warily. There wasn't a lot in it. He'd never needed pain medication before but he was pretty sure he'd need more of it than that. "So're you gonna drug me up and then see what my blood tells you?" He watched the needle slide out of his arm and blinked at it. Then he blinked again and sort of stared off at the ceiling. Maybe a lot of time had gone by and he just hadn't realized it yet but suddenly the pain was just...gone. The pain was gone and Kevin was starting to feel really, really good.

Jean chuckled a little at how quiet Kevin got, coupled with the suddenly glazed look in his eyes.

"Pretty much. In the meantime, like I said, you'll be keeping me company for a couple of days so I can watch you for any problems. Consider this home for a little while. Hope you like green jell-O," she said with a smile.

"O-kay." His voice went up on the O and came down several notes on the second syllable. It was clear in his voice that the meds had kicked in should there have been any doubt. "Green Jell-O and me...we're friends. He's my homeboy. Real OG. Don't mess with green Jell-O. He'll throw down." His words were slurring a little and Kevin looked over at Jean with raised eyebrows. "M'Ah supposed to be on my stomach again? Ain't that just gonna crush 'em more?"

It was very hard not to grin at Kevin's reaction, so Jean didn't really fight it.

"Glad he's got your back then," she said, then nodded.

"Yes, you should roll over. It won't do any more harm. It'll help with your breathing."

"Okay doctor lady." Kevin narrowed his eyes at her in an attempt to give Jean a Very Serious Look and wagged a finger at her. "Ah'ma trust you here. Takin' it on faith. Don't you go lettin' me down now." With that he released Jean-Paul's hand and more or less fumbled his way onto his stomach. Kevin settled a little more heavily than he probably ought to have, but the good news was all he could feel was amazing.

Jean laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it," she said as she watched him a moment, then started to put away the rest of the equipment. She needed to take some radiographs soon but that didn't require him to be conscious.

Pulling out a blanket from the closet, she draped it over his legs. The medlab could get cold because the temperature had to be kept regulated for the machinery, and he wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion.

"Get some sleep. I'll be here if you need anything. If I'm not...think really loud."

"Ah can do that," he mumbled, trying to keep his face from burrowing into the pillow. That definitely wouldn't help with his breathing. Then Kevin tried to think loudly, Do I still think with my accent?

Tilting her head, Jean smirked. Yes. It's softer, though.

"Sleep now, doctor's orders," she said, letting a bit of her firm 'teacher voice' creep in. As she headed back toward the storage room for a lead apron for her to wear when operating the Radiography machine, she studied Jean-Paul for a moment.

"Talk to me later? I think we're overdue for a beer or two," she said with a gentle smile before heading back to work.

Jean-Paul glanced up and acknowledged Jean's words, though he didn't agree to anything as he tried very hard to keep the general state of his mind out of his thoughts. After a moment, he looked back toward Kevin and attempted to think of nothing but the sound of air rushing past him as he flew at top speed.

It wasn't a promise if he didn't actually agree.

After the tests are run and the results are in a guilty Jean-Paul sits with a loopy Kevin and decides what to do now.

Jean-Paul had waited through all the tests, the poking and the prodding. He'd listened to the diagnosis and convinced himself that the nausea he felt was merely a passing thing, nothing he needed to trouble himself over. Not for the time being, at least.

He'd known this was a possibility. He'd thought they were being careful. No, he'd thought he was being careful - but he hadn't been. How many times had he fallen asleep? How many times had he risked Kevin's safety?

The Quebecois wasn't accustomed to being irresponsible. At least not on this scale.

Which is how he found himself sitting next to Kevin's bed in the medlab, still wearing the atrocious pink shirt and boxers he'd put on in his suite, contemplating his next move.

Dr. Grey-Summers had given Kevin a fast acting pain reliever. He didn't think it could possibly move that quickly, though. One minute the pain had been there and the next minute whoosh, it was gone! It was like magic. Kevin would say he was giddy on the lack of pain, not the medication. He also would have been wrong.

The doctor told him he had to lay down on his stomach, he reminded himself. Not for the first time he also considered that laying on top of your fractured ribs just didn't seem like the brightest idea ever. But when pretty ladies with needles told Kevin to do something he sure as hell did it. Right after thinking about how pretty they were. That was probably the pain medication speaking.

A hand stretched out while Kevin tried to pull his face out of the pillow. Suffocating was such a bad idea. Accidental suffocation attempts were also great at blinding him so his hand was sort of flailing around blindly. That was okay, though, Kevin couldn't feel anything pain-related while he tried to figure out where his boyfriend was. "Can you still be a cougar if you're a guy?" Kevin didn't even realize the question was said aloud. He'd thought he was just thinking it.

The question caught Jean-Paul by surprise and it took him a moment to parse it, since he wasn't on that wavelength at all. He was still caught up in blaming himself for letting this happen. "Oui?" It was more a question than an answer. "There is another word for it. Or maybe there is not. I do not know." He caught Kevin's hand in his own so it would stop flailing about. All that movement couldn't be good for the broken ribs the younger man had sustained. "Porquoi?"

The response made Kevin's eyes go wide. A conspiratorial whisper answered Jean-Paul. "How did you get inside my head?"

Blinking again, Jean-Paul smiled just the tiniest bit despite himself. "It is, how do you say - a secret."

If it was at all possible Kevin's eyes went wider. "You never told me you had brain magic." A finger from the hand clasped in Jean-Paul's pointed at the older man. "Bad boyfriend! You shoulda told me." He paused, eyes drooping as if he would fall asleep only to shoot open again. "Can you pull a bunny outta my head?"

"Non, aime. That I cannot do." Jean-Paul shook his head, knowing he had been a bad boyfriend. Just not for the reasons Kevin was currently telling him he'd been. He looked from their hands to the younger man's face again. It was clear, what he had to do. And it would be better, in the end. Kevin didn't have his mutation any longer. Jean-Paul had seen, on the mansion's journals, that it was permanent, this disappearing X-gene.

The Southerner could have something like a normal life, so long as Jean-Paul didn't stick around to do things like this.

Kevin frowned, an expression of deep disappointment usually only found on the faces of small children. "That's no fun. What good's your brain magic then?" He tried to tug the other man closer while he yawned but the position and one-handed hold he had on Jean-Paul wasn't really productive for that sort of thing. That didn't stop his attempts at tugging, though.

"It is not so good," Jean-Paul answered. "No good for important things." He wasn't making much sense. He knew that. He didn't think it really mattered, though. Kevin was very, very thoroughly medicated. Resisting the younger man's attempts to pull him closer, since that would have involved him actually getting on the medlab bed, he tried not to look at the expression Kevin was currently wearing.

"S'ok," Kevin mumbled, still tugging away even though each successive tug got weaker. "Ah like you even if you're useless." A small smile crept over and tugged a corner of his mouth upward. "All else fails, your real good eye candy." The joking tone was plainly obvious but underscored by a note of something more serious.

"Nice to look at, oui," Jean-Paul said, still not actually meeting Kevin's eyes. He was only prolonging this, making it more difficult for himself. A clean break, that would be best. He just couldn't make himself do it. Not yet. "I am sorry."

That made Kevin's frown return. "For what? S'not your fault you got faulty brain magic. Maybe doc Grey-Summers," he slurred her name as he tried to say it, "can teach you to use it. Her brain magic's good."

"Maybe..." Jean-Paul nodded. "Maybe. But I think you should sleep, Kevin." It would be easier for him to leave if Kevin was sleeping. Leaning forward finally, he pressed a kiss to Kevin's temple. "You sleep. I will go. And you..." You can have a normal relationship with someone your own age who's far less likely to hurt you. "You will feel better when you wake."

Kevin held onto Jean-Paul's hand tighter at the mention of him leaving. "Are you okay?" He asked it in an almost panicked tone of voice.

"Oui," Jean-Paul answered, the lie coming easily. He'd had years of practice, after all. "Sleep."

"Are you sure? 'Cause...you worry. And Ah don't want you to. Ah'ma be fine. Doc Grey-Summers...she's good people. Good doctor. Ah'll be okay." He moved, numb to any pain that may have caused, and propped himself up on his other arm so he could look at Jean-Paul better. "You get that, right? Ah'ma be fine."

"You must stop moving, Kevin. You need the medicine to do as it is supposed to. So please. Rest."

"Mmkay." He nodded a little to himself and laid back down. Kevin settled, hand still holding onto Jean-Paul's. Through another yawn he asked, "You'll come back when Ah'm 'wake, right?" Kevin's eyes were already drooping again despite him fighting to stay awake longer.

"Mm..." Jean-Paul brushed his nose over Kevin's knuckles. It wasn't a lie if he didn't actually answer. To distract himself, he started a list of things he needed to do - pack. Return his Xavier-issued mobile. Leave a note telling people they could have whatever they wanted from his refrigerator. Take the artwork Kevin had given him. Somehow get all of his clothing to his apartment in the city.

Kevin wanted to kiss him but he was too tired to move anymore. Whatever Dr. Grey-Summers had given him had obviously been potent. It felt important, somehow, to stay awake but he just couldn't any longer. "'Kay," he managed to mumble before his hand relaxed in Jean-Paul's and he fell deeply asleep all at once.