Reiner used to be able to put him to sleep. And maybe Jean doesn't want that relief from him, will never want anything from him again. But he can still offer. Decision made, Reiner slides his arm under the blanket and forward, forward until he feels a different fabric at his fingertips, and lays them light on Jean's hip. An offer. Jean freezes. Instant stillness like this was the touch of death. Reiner can't breathe. Around them, the concert of snores goes on. Maybe this was a mistake, but so what? Jean was always adept at saying no, and if he has to beat Reiner up again to do so, then so be it. He stays just as still, waiting. Jean lets out an exhale like a sigh, and tilts back. The movement is slow, but Reiner's touch on him so light that his fingers slide forward, along his waistband. Permission. To touch. To give. To help. He presses a little on the fabric as he finds its edge, then slips under. There's hair here that was barely growing in before, muscles he's lost the shape of. But Jean's half- hard in his pants and that's not something Reiner could forget however hard he tried, the feel of his skin, the weight of him. He keeps his eyes focused on the bulge under the blanket, doesn't look at Jean's face. This, like the very first time they did it, isn't supposed to be intimate.