Let Me Hold You For Now

Fucking Buttons

They ended up in what was probably the sketchiest motel in the entire city. The kind of place where people went to meet with prostitutes and shoot up heroin without worrying about cameras and curious onlookers. Luckily, it was also the kind of place where the front clerk didn't bat an eyelash at clearly bogus names or underage patrons as long as they had the cash to put up in advance.

By the time he was able to slip into the room unnoticed, she was propped up against the wall, clutching his knife to her chest even in her sleep.

"Hey." He nudged her cautiously, not trying to get attacked again. "Ray? What the hell are you doing?"

"Hm?" She murmured in her sleep.

Well, at least she didn't pass out on the bed in her soiled clothes. He was looking forward to dry sheets even if they were gross. The bed was haphazardly made and everything was covered in a layer of dust and cigarette residue. There really was no question that the room hadn't been properly cleaned in ages.

"Come on. You need to warm up." He pried the knife out of her ice cold hands.

"In a minute. I'm tired."

He sighed and pulled her up to her feet. She was basically limp in his arms, so he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom himself.

"You tryin' to make extra work for me, Ray? I'm tired too, you know?" He shook his head in disbelief as he set her in the tub and turned on the shower.

That got her stirring.

"Zack!" She whined.

"Hey! You're awake! Clean yourself up before you go passing out on me again."

"Okay," she replied weakly and tried to unbutton her vest with her stiff, shaky fingers. Apparently her frostbitten hands were still a little too numb for fine motor functions. She huffed in frustration and gave up after a few failed attempts. "Can you..."

He gulped nervously. Could he what? Help her undress herself? That was going pretty above and beyond. When she abandoned the buttons and tried to pull it over her head instead, he finally took pity on her. At this rate, he wasn't going to get any hot water for himself. He swatted her hands out of the way and unbuttoned it for her. He tried really hard not to look at what was underneath. She was wearing that white dress shirt. Soaked and see-through, the flimsy garment clung to her body in a way that was nothing short of pornographic.

"Fucking buttons," he muttered under his breath. Okay. He could handle this. He wasn't going to let himself get all worked up over a fucking shirt. So she was naked under there. So what? It's not like she was hiding anything special. Half the population had tits, right? It was no big deal. "Um... These too?" He double checked. He wasn't an expert in trauma, but somehow he got the feeling that she wouldn't be too keen on being touched without her express permission.

"Please."

One button... Two buttons... He got to the third before he gave up and put all that nervous energy into trying to warm her hands back up instead.

"Sorry..." She mumbled in embarrassment.

"Ray, don't make me tell you again." He glared at her. "In case I wasn't clear before, that sure as hell wasn't my first time slogging through a sewer and as much as it sucks, probably won't be the last."

"But you look fine. I don't know why I'm so weak right now."

"You're a hell of a lot more fragile than I am. Most people are."

"You don't hate me?"

"What the hell?" That was probably the dumbest conclusion she could ever come to. She must have been really wiped. He massaged her hands under the warm water, trying to get them working again as he continued sharing his thoughts on the matter. He needed a distraction. "Things are different with you. Some things are harder, some are easier. Mostly they're just different. Why the hell would I hate you for that? Keeps life interesting, looking out for someone besides myself."