She hated to care.  She hated getting attached.  She hated being worried.  Especially considering her type was the ones that she didn’t know if they would end up in her bed, a prison cell, or the morgue on any given day.

It had been a quiet week without Dude.  Going days at a time without reaching out to one another was expected; what they had wasn’t anything serious.  They weren’t all up each other’s asses all the time and they seemed to like it that way.  They pretty much only saw one another when one or both needed their fix, which was why he was on her mind last night.  After a rough day, she could really go for some rough play.  Much to her disappointment, Dude hadn’t picked up his calls.  His voicemail was full.  He hadn’t answered his texts.  It pissed her off, but she wasn’t super concerned in that moment.  He wasn’t the type to keep his phone on him, and it had been pretty late when she reached out.  After waiting around for an hour, she sighed and settled for one of the ol’ reliables she had in her toy drawer.

That was yesterday.  About twenty-four hours had passed since then of radio silence.  No callbacks, no return texts, no showing up unannounced with a box of condoms and case of cold ones.  A day without response wasn’t unusual, per say, but for some reason, she had a bad feeling.  She expected him to ignore her for days at a time if they argued or pissed each other off.  She could go about two weeks without him if she had kicked him and told him to come back with some sense, but nothing like that happened lately.   In fact, he was… pleasant last time they were together.  She couldn’t even call it a booty call because they didn’t fuck for once.  He brought over some take-out and they spent the night on the couch together watching public access.  They almost passed for normal that night.  Thinking back, that scared her.  This was getting dangerously close to something that meant something…  Something that was a little deeper than meaningless sex.  And that’s why she was pacing the stockroom, chewing the skin off her lip as none of her calls got through.

The remainder of her shift was grueling.  Did he get locked up again?  Was he just sick of her?  Had he overdosed… or worse?  Periodically, she’d try again.  She even went as far as to try calling from the store phone.  Still nothing.  When her midnight shift manager finally strolled in, she couldn’t wrap up quick enough.  She left some of her nightly administrative tasks for her next shift.  She was probably overreacting, but she just needed a little piece of mind.

Her truck made it across Paradise in record time and pulled up beside his Daifukyu.  His car was here... which didn't say much because it barely ran half the time.  Champ wandered over to greet her when she stepped out and she gave the sleepy dog’s head a quick rub before going to check his bowls.  He had food and water, which was a better sign than the car.  With an exhale, she stepped up onto the cinder block steps, knocked on the door, and waited.

She heard something inside.  Faint.  Constant.  Didn't sound like him, maybe a radio or a TV.  No movement though.  No indication that she had been heard, so she knocked harder this time.

“Hey!  Open the fuck up, Dude,” she called out, pounding her fist against the door.  She beat it a little too hard and the thing just… opened.  Oops.  In her defense, he'd probably kicked this thing in a few times and wrecked the latch.  She stood there on the step, hesitant just to walk in, but if he were awake, he would’ve yelled at her for knocking the door open, right?  With that, she got over herself and stepped inside.

The only light inside was the blueish glow of the TV set.  It was dim, but enough for her to spot him sitting on the couch.

“Dude?”

He looked in her direction… Well, kind of.  In actuality, his head just tilted a bit, but that was enough for her to breathe a sigh of relief.  Her chunky boots stumbled through the clutter on the floor to make her way over to him.

“You in there?” she asked, leaning in to get a better look.  She should have cut the light on, but she wasn’t exactly thinking straight tonight.

Dude could turn his attention near her, but that was about it.  His eyes were unfocused, rolling back even as she talked and snapped her fingers at him.  His chin and shirt were soaked from drooling all over himself… and that smell.  She hesitantly touched his jeans to confirm that he’d pissed himself too.

“Christ…” she sighed, rubbing her face with the other hand.  He’d be fine, she just needed to keep an eye on him.  If she was watching him, she wasn’t going to do it with him smelling like piss all night.  She leaned down, putting her arms under his armpits.  “Alright.  Up.  Let’s get you clean.”

For a scrawny bitch, Dude was surprisingly heavy when she tried to help him up.  He eventually got on his feet, but he was dead weight against her.  She had to drag him across the trailer, through the mess of junk, and into the cramped bathroom.  She sat him on the toilet when she got in and kept a grip on his arm to keep him steady as she messed with the faucet.  He swayed in place while she waited for the water to heat up.

“Do you even have a hot water heater?” she rhetorically complained.  He did... It just wasn't very good.  Knowing it was going to take a minute for the water to run warm, she turned her focus back to him.  Shades were pulled off his face first.  She folded them and placed them by the sink.  Next, she wrestled his shirt off.  He kept slumping forward against her and closing his eyes like he enjoyed her cushion.  It made it difficult as hell to strip him down, but she couldn't help but find it endearing.  Impossible to make herself stay angry, she rubbed his head.  “You could be cute if you weren’t such a fucking menace…”

With him still propped against her, she stretched her arm out to stick her hand back under the faucet.  The water was finally a decent temperature, so she plugged the drain.  Incoherent mumbles began as she reached for his belt.  There was hardly any volume to his slurred gibberish, so she shushed him.  Fighting with his jeans was more of a hassle than his shirt, but she eventually got him nude.

“Alright.  Stand back up.  We’re going to get you in the water.”

There was no point in her announcing this since she still had to do all the work.  She hoisted him to his feet and guided him to a sitting position in the tub.  As often as she had seen him naked, he was barely recognizable.  He wasn’t supposed to be limp and helpless, silently clinging to her as she moved him around like he was just a rag doll.  He was supposed to be a stubborn, sardonic pain in her ass.  She shook her head; the introspection could be saved for later.

A washrag that she found hung over the edge of the tub was dunked into the water, then rung out and lathered with what remained of a bar of soap.  With a light grip on his hair, she held his head back so she could start with his face.  His jaw was still slack and eyes were still googly, but there were traces of peace present as he leaned into the damp cloth brushing across his skin.  His droopy eyelids fluttered shut when she worked her way to his ears and neck.  She continued lower, down to his back and chest that were littered with freckles, old scars, and a few fresh bruises.  His stupid, reckless ass was always covered in bruises.  Who knew where they came from?

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?”  She shook her head and gently washed over a bruise that was old enough to have yellowed.  There was a twitch of his shoulders that she swore was a shrug.  Regardless of if it was or if she just imagined it, she smiled to herself now at the thought that he might be conscious.  “Just hope you know I’m not going to let you forget this.  Even if you don’t remember, I’ll fill you in.  You're not living it down as long as I'm around, babe.”

She dipped the rag in the bath again and twisted the excess water out, ready to continue like she’d ever help this get this man truly get clean.  Oh, she hated this.  She hated spending the night taking care of a grown man who was lucky to be alive.  She hated washing him like he was a child.  She hated that she was going to stay up all night to make sure he was okay after working her night shift.  Worst of all, she hated to know that pretty soon she was going to have to face that there was a reason that she did it all anyway.