empathetic.

          this was… new.  the empath wasn’t ever affectionate, or rather it was typically covered with several layers of sarcasm or abrasive humor.  he tensed at the touch, waiting for an inevitable rush of pain reverbing through his skull, his powers linking the two of them with the skin to skin contact.  but it never came.  this wasn’t a cry for help, of someone needing elliot to lessen their burden.  it was just someone being grateful, showing love.  slowly, slowly elliot wrapped his arms around jean’s waist, tugging the smaller man closer.  with a shaky exhale, he gives a tight squeeze and lets the moment simmer without saying a word.

          ok, so maybe there’d be truth to a claim that jean liked seeing elliot. at least, he thinks he does. the specifics on that matter were still fuzzy. but, jean could confirm that his - albeit frequent - trips to the emergency room were made slightly easier by a familiar face. well, as far as constantly building migraine on top of split eyebrow and possible concussion would allow him to enjoy the visit. this time it wasn’t his fault that he’s sat here with makeshift pad of his hoodie pressed against bleeding temple. 

          lopsided grin is offered to the other as jean leans forward in his seat, closer still to elliot before him. “but then when would i see you, mon chéri?” first language rolls off of his tongue, head tilted as much as building pain would allow. he can feel the other’s worry, doesn’t want him to feel that way too much, but it’s comforting in a sense - he supposes. “if i told you this wasn’t my fault, would you believe me?”

           “ tu pourrais toujours m'acheter un verre. ”  he responds, scrawling jean’s details down inside the clipboard.  turns out, high school french came in more handy than he initially thought.  “ and no, not really. ”  in the nine months that elliot had been an acute care nurse, he had come to learn that trouble tended to follow jean and that the other didn’t necessarily go out of his way to avoid getting into scraps.  he holds the clipboard and a pen out towards jean, needing him to fill in the rest. 

          he would like to say that he was surprised to see jean sitting in the waiting room, but he’s really not.  elliot politely excuses himself from the conversation with his coworkers he’s half listening to, and crosses the floor to the very familiar face staring back at him.  once he stops by jean’s chair he drops down to a crouch, resting his clipboard on his knees.  “ for once, for once, could you keep out of trouble? ”  voice was kept to a gentle whisper, as he scanned the room for any odd glances.  even if this was a regular occurrence, he didn’t want it to seem like one.