The first thing Marco says as they walk through his door is that they need to get Jean out of his clothes. Jean froze and felt his cheeks heat against his will before Marco continued on. "Those wet things won't do- we need you warmed up." Right, right. Jean was hurt and freezing and this guy was really nice. Of course.

Marco quickly disappeared into his room and came back with some clothes. "Okay here, this pajama shirt is too big for me so it should fit you, and these sweats should be good and.. um- oh right, gimmie a sec-" Marco left again for a moment and Jean took the opportunity to check his surroundings. The apartment was small, but nice. Cozy- warm. It looked lived in, but still neat. Marco returned with a new package of boxers. "And underwear." He muttered, looking a little embarrassed. "Come, the bathroom is here." He practically herded Jean into the bathroom. "Change. Get warm."

Jean looked around the clean little room, putting the clothes down on the counter. He went to lift his shirt up and let out a sharp cry when pain shot through him. "Fuck!"

The doorknob jostled and Marco came barging in immediately. "What is it! Are you okay!" He must've been waiting by the door. The tips of Jean's ears went pink.

"I'm fine. Just.. having difficulties changing." He muttered.

"Oh." Marco breathed. "That's fine, I can help." Jean swallowed.

"I'd appreciate that."

"Alright-uh, here." Marco stepped towards him, taking the hem of Jean's shirt and lifting slowly, trying to pull it off him without causing too much movement of his torso or arms. Jean hissed a little, but it wasn't like the cry of pain from before. Marco's expression turned pained when the shirt came off, the bruises going up and down Jean's sides looked pretty bad. His hand instinctively went to touch his waist and Jean winced. "Sorry." He looked over the rest of Jean and sighed, he looked like he was concentrating really hard on something. "Okay, now your jeans." Marco murmured, his lips turning to a firm line as he quickly started undoing Jean's belt, making Jean squawk and jump back.

"I! I can do that part myself." He sputtered, having another boys' hands that close to his junk would take his brain places it didn't need to go right now. Jean reached down and popped his buttons and undid his fly while Marco watched his hands. Jean didn't know if that was any better for his poor brain. "Okay, um... keep going." He said quietly and Marco nodded, lowering himself a bit to pull Jean's jeans down and helping him step out of them. Marco tilted his head and blinked hard, staring at Jean's boxers as he realized what came next.

"Uhhh." It was the first time he's seen Marco look completely dumbstruck.

"I can do these myself." Jean shyly mumbled, hovering his hands over his boxers.

"Won't it hurt?"

"Yeah but I'll live."

"I can... you don't have to hurt yourself."

"And you don't have to be the first poor soul to see my junk." Jean chuckled before wincing as he realized what he just said. "Uh, just turn around." Marco had a weird look on his face but did as asked. Jean groaned in pain as he bent down to pull off his boxers and he saw Marco visibly stopping himself from turning around. Jean quickly pulled on the new pair with another hiss of pain.

"Are you done yet?" He could hear the frown in Marco's voice.

"All covered, you can turn around again."

"Good." Marco sighed. "Now pants." Marco grabbed his sweatpants and kneeled in front of Jean, letting him step into them and looking up at him as he pulled them up to fit snugly on his hips. Jean shivered; why did this boy have to keep getting into positions that made his brain short circuit?

"Hm, maybe we should leave your shirt off actually." Jean sucked in a breath and cocked a brow. Was this guy- "Need to check out those wounds a little more for sure." Ah. Right.