#complacentpunk

          " He's a little grumpy right now, " she warns as she pulls open the door, leaving the curtain standing before the brunet and the room.  " Good luck.  He knows what to do if he needs anybody. "

          " Uh huh. "  He pushes through the curtain with little grace, and lifts a hand with his thumb, index and middle finger extended, flicking his wrist in a little wave.  " Heard from Bertholdt you were being a fucking moron again.  Don't know what I was expecting when he said you hit the emergency room. "

          " Shut up, you fuckwad. "  He grumbles, and shuffles awkwardly in the bed, trying to find the controls.  He should have actually done this when she'd asked if he'd allow company from some boy named Eren Yeager, but he really couldn't be assed at that point.  He's regretting it now, seeing the smug little smirk on the other's face.  Fucking jackass.

          " So, what'd you break?  The tibia? "

          " Why the Hell would I actually pay attention to that shit. "  His fingers brush the buttons, and the bed hums to life, finally scooting the top end of the mattress upwards so he can sit without putting much effort into doing so.  He twists up his lips when he just gets a blank stare from Eren, and glances away.  Like he needs to feel any stupider after breaking his damn leg.

          " Because it's important, care - wise.  Genius. "  He moves to slide the solo chair in the room over toward the bed, stopping short of ramming it right into the medical equipment hosted on Jean's right.  Dropping his weight into it, Eren arches his back outward before slouching into his seat, fixing the mousy - haired teen with another one of his condescending little stares.  " Considering my soccer career entirely depends on my legs -- "

          " Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.  I'm still here, I can ask later. "  He rolls his head back into the pillow, and heaves a tired sigh, half - wondering if he can ask for more pain killers just to knock him out.  Dealing with Eren was more painful than a broken bone, easily.  " ... So what do you want? "

          " ... I dunno.  Nothing. "  He ignores the way Jean's expression turns skeptical, and continues to stare up at the ceiling instead.  Since he doesn't ask again, he doesn't feel the need to answer.  That's just sort of how their relationship works.  He feels a twist in his gut when he jolts upward in surprise to stare at the machine --  " Why's it going off? "

          " Something to do with my pulse.  Just hit the yellow button.  The nurse said it's gonna do that a lot because of the medication.  Some kind of steroidal thing, so it gets my heart going higher than normal.  Moving too much sets it off. "  He rolls his shoulders in a shrug, indifferent.

          Eren hesitates, but leans back in the chair to tap the screen on the monitor after having Jean stare at him blankly for a few minutes through the extremely loud, and horribly obnoxious pinging noise.  His stomach isn't quite settled by the time he drops the chair forward again, and in an extremely intelligent display, he just ... punches himself.  In the solar plexus.  Hard enough that he makes a rather unholy noise in the process.

          And all too suddenly the monitor is going off again as Jean sits up straight and sort of leans over the guard rail on the bed, a look of horror on his face.  He doesn't even bother to consider what an idiot he looks because Eren has kind of fucking lost it --  " Jesus, what are you doing, Eren? "

          " Sorry, " he wheezes through a soft gasp, folding over himself in his chair.  How the Hell can someone even hit themselves this hard, holy Hell.  He definitely should have taken that into consideration.  After a few moments to catch his breath again, he reaches back to tap the monitor again before a nurse came in, then slouches forward with both arms snaking around his abdomen.

          " Sorry? "  His expression is screwed up into something between confusion and repulsion -- mostly at himself for having blatantly freaked out just a moment ago -- and he stares, entirely dumbfounded, at this guy he somehow had decided to called a friend.  " What the Hell are you even sorry for -- God, just.  Stop.  You're gonna rupture your damn spleen, and I'm not sharing a room with anyone.  Not even you. "

          " Rude. "  He scoots the chair closer against the bed, until his knees are knocking metal from the frame supporting it, and eases his upper body over the guard rail, and sighs.  " Can we put this down, or are the nurses gonna bitch? "  But he doesn't wait for the other's response before his hand is searching for the release latch.  It drops and almost smashes against his thighs in the process.

          Jean merely rolls his eyes and eases back into the mattress again, until he feels a weight against his hip.  Judging from the boniness, it's Eren's head.  He doesn't look down to see if he's right; instead, he just closes his eyes, and brings his hand up to rest against it.  Yep.  His head.  He fans his fingers through the brown locks, then curls them in and tugs a little bit.

          " Ow -- ow, ow, Jean ---- "

          " What do you want? "

          " Nothing, you jackass, let go! "  He doesn't squirm too much in fear that he'll just pull harder, but he does reach up with one hand to try and grab at Jean's to get him to loosen his grip.

          " ... Do you ever brush your hair?  Wow. "  He frees his hand entirely, swats Eren's away, then sets it back to his hair, trying to comb out the tangles and knots with his fingers. " It's a rat's nest.  You're a rat's nest.  Eren, how do you live?  I literally do not understand.  It's ridiculous. "

          He hums in agreement.  Honestly, Jean could have asked him to go jump off the fucking Eiffel Tower and his response would have been the same.  Regardless of who it was, people playing with his hair pretty much numbed him to everything else.