Jason knocked on his mother's bedroom door and paused, hand hovering just a second longer than necessary. He wasn't about to risk another accidental surprise.
"Come in," Elaine called from inside.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit room. A single bedside lamp cast a warm, amber glow across the space. The air smelled faintly of lavender and clean skin—her shower gel, he realized.
Then he saw her.
Elaine lay face down on the bed, a white towel draped across her lower half, covering her buttocks but leaving most of her back and legs exposed. Her arms were folded beneath her head, her damp hair swept to one side. The soft light traced the curve of her spine, the gentle slope of her shoulders, and—Jason swallowed hard—the subtle swell of her breast visible from the side where it pressed against the mattress.
He froze in the doorway, suddenly unable to remember how to move his legs.
Elaine turned her head slightly, catching his eye. "I took off my bra," she said, her voice relaxed, matter-of-fact. "It would've gotten in the way with the massage oil. I hope that's not an issue?"
"No, no," Jason said too quickly, forcing himself to step forward. "That's... that makes sense. Practical."
He approached the bed, grateful she couldn't see the flush spreading across his face. In his hand, he clutched the bottle of massage oil he'd found in the bathroom cabinet. This was just a massage. Nothing more. She was his mother, for Christ's sake.
"Where does it hurt most?" he asked, proud that his voice sounded almost normal.
"Lower back, mainly. But my shoulders are tight too."
Jason uncapped the bottle, squeezing a generous amount of oil into his palm. He hesitated, then moved to her upper back, figuring it was the safest place to start.
When the oil touched her skin, Elaine gasped sharply, her body tensing. "Cold!"
"Sorry," Jason muttered, immediately pulling his hands back. "I should've warmed it first. I wasn't thinking."
"No, you were thinking with the wrong head" he chastised himself.
"It's okay," she said, relaxing again. "Just surprised me."
Jason rubbed his hands together vigorously, warming the oil between his palms. He took a deep breath, then placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to maintain a sense of control that was slipping with every second..
Her skin was soft and warm from the shower. The subtle scent of her shampoo lingered, something floral and familiar. He began to work his thumbs along the tight muscles at the base of her neck, feeling the knots of tension beneath his fingers. The muscles were surprisingly rigid—no wonder she'd been in pain.
"God, that feels good," Elaine sighed, the words half-muffled against her arm. A small shudder passed through her body as his fingers found a particularly tight spot.
Jason focused on the mechanical aspects of the massage—pressure points, muscle groups, the technical movement of his hands. It helped distract him from the uncomfortable awareness of her body beneath his touch. He tried to think of it as a task, like fixing equipment in the bunker or helping Marissa with inventory.
He worked his way down her spine, applying firm pressure with his thumbs on either side of her vertebrae. Her breathing deepened as he hit sensitive areas, each exhale making him increasingly conscious of the intimacy of what they were doing. When his hands reached her mid-back, his fingers accidentally brushed against the side of her breast.
Jason froze for a microsecond, his heart skipping a beat, then continued as if nothing had happened, hoping the momentary hesitation hadn't been noticeable. Elaine didn't seem to notice, her breathing deep and even. He silently thanked whatever gods might be listening and redoubled his focus on the technical aspects of the massage.
As he moved to her lower back, she let out a low moan that sent an electric current straight through him.
"Right there," she murmured. "That's the spot that's been killing me."
Jason focused on the tight muscles of her lower back, kneading with his thumbs in slow, deliberate circles. The tension beneath her skin was real—knotted bands of muscle that had clearly been bothering her for days. Each time she sighed or moaned in relief, he felt a corresponding tightening in his groin that filled him with shame. The physical reaction was involuntary, but the guilt was immediate and crushing. He shifted his stance slightly, adjusting his position to create more distance between them, grateful she couldn't see his face—or anything else.
"Your hands are magic," Elaine mumbled, her voice heavy with relaxation. Her words were slightly slurred, her body surrendering completely to his touch. "Where did you learn to do this? I didn't realize you were so good at massages."
"Nowhere special," he said, moving down to work on her legs. "Just picked it up."
Her calves were smooth and firm beneath his hands. He worked methodically, focusing on the tension in her muscles rather than the softness of her skin or the curve of her calf into her thigh.
As he massaged, Elaine's responses grew quieter, her breathing deeper. After several minutes of working on her legs, Jason realized she hadn't made a sound in some time.
He glanced up. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful in sleep. The tension had melted from her features, leaving her looking younger, unburdened. In this relaxed state, he could see traces of the woman she must have been before the collapse—before the weight of their underground existence had settled into the fine lines around her eyes.
Jason carefully removed his hands. He stood there for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, feeling a complicated mix of relief and something else he couldn't name. A protectiveness, perhaps, or a strange satisfaction at having provided this small comfort. He hadn't seen his mother this at ease in months, her usual vigilance temporarily surrendered to exhaustion. It felt like a small victory amid their daily struggles, though he wasn't entirely sure why it mattered so much to him that she could find peace, even if just for a little while.
"I need to get out of here," he whispered to himself, "before I do something I'll regret."
He quietly backed away from the bed, turned off the lamp, and slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.