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“I can take care of the dishes, Sabine,” Adrien offered, stacking Marinette’s plate on top of his and reaching out for Tom’s.
“Thank you, dear. Marinette, could you—”
“I’ve got it!” he interjected before she could finish. “Just leave it to me!”
Sabine sat back, an amused smile on her face. “Well, all right. If you insist.”
“I insist,” he replied. Adrien carried the stack of plates over to the kitchen sink and turned the tap on. He hadn’t done this kind of chore back at his father’s house very often, as Gabriel hadn’t wanted to risk damaging Adrien’s skin. So it was almost liberating to roll his sleeves up and plunge his hands into hot, soapy water and scrub away at the dishes without worrying about what it might do.
He held his hands under water, waiting for the first wave of stinging to stop. No matter how hot the water was, it always stung when he first put his hands in. Then the itch would creep up his wrists and forearms, and it would take a concentrated effort not to scratch.
Adrien pulled a plate out of the water to rub the sponge over its smooth surface. Tonight’s dinner was easy to clean up, so he’d be able to escape the kitchen before anyone could notice something was wrong.
“Got one more,” Marinette called. Adrien plunged his hands down into the water so quickly that it sloshed over the edge of the sink and onto the front of his shirt. She jumped back, clutching the plate to her chest, staring at him. He peeked over his shoulder, staring right back at her.
“I, uh…my hand slipped?”
Marinette laughed weakly. “Mine do that all the time. Here you go.” She held the plate out, but he just nodded to the counter to his left.
“Mind setting it over there? I’m still kind of waterlogged.”
“Right. Gotcha.” Marinette fumbled and nearly dropped the plate herself but managed to place it on the counter without further incident. “Need some help?”
“Nah, I’m good. Besides, you’ve still got all those rhinestones to sew on Jagged Stone’s costume for this weekend’s performance, right?”
She groaned. “Why did you have to remind me?” She raised her hand in the air, lowered her head, and slunk out of the room in exaggerated defeat. “Thirty-one down, eighty-six to go!”
He laughed, turning back to the sink. Only an artist as eccentric as Jagged would specify exactly one hundred and seventeen rhinestones on his jacket. No more, no less.
Adrien pulled a clean plate out of the water, passed the sponge across it one more time to make sure, then put it in the other side of the sink to be rinsed. There was something satisfying about washing the dishes. Making things clean with your own hands. Seeing real progress on a small scale. Maybe his life was a mess right now, but he could handle the dishes.
“How’s it going, son?” Tom’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and he shoved his hands back into the dishwater before the big man could see.
“Fine,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m almost done.”
Too late. Tom was already walking over to him, leaning up behind him, turning the tap on to rinse off the dishes he’d already washed. “Here, let me help.”
“No, I’ve got it.” Adrien smiled up at the man. “Really, it’s okay.”
“Nonsense.” Tom rinsed the plates off, then grabbed the dishtowel to gently dry them. “It’ll go even faster if we work together.”
“You don’t have to….”
“But I want to.”
Ordinarily, Adrien was happy to spend time with Tom. Whether it was trying new recipes or video games, it just felt good to connect with an adult so closely. Tom was nothing like Gabriel, and he was trying to teach himself to think of the big man’s gentleness and not his father’s austere coldness.
But this wasn’t a good time. Adrien kept his hands buried in the water as long as he could, hoping if he took long enough Tom would lose interest and walk away.
“If it’s that tough, you can use the scrubber,” Tom offered, reaching for the red brush hanging up behind the sink. “These old plates don’t mind.”
Adrien nodded and pulled his hand out of the water to reach for the brush. His heart sank at Tom’s gasp, and he quickly grabbed the brush and stuck his hand back out of sight. “It’s nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing,” Tom replied. “Let me see.”
He shook his head. “I’m okay, really.”
“That didn’t look okay.”
“It hardly even hurts, it’s okay.” He looked up at Tom, plastering an encouraging smile on his face, but everything fell apart at the look in the man’s eyes. With a defeated sigh, Adrien pulled both of his hands out of the sink and held them up for Tom’s inspection.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tom’s hands were gentle as he held Adrien’s under the faucet, rinsing the soap away with cool water. A blotchy rash spread up Adrien’s wrists and forearms, and sudden change in temperature made them sting and itch all over again.
“I can handle it,” he offered weakly. Tom was carefully holding the backs of his hands as he studied the rash. His face was unreadable—would he be angry over this? Adrien was already taking up so much of their time and space in their home…if he couldn’t even help with daily chores, what good was he? Maybe…maybe Aunt Amelie could send them some rent money from the estate? So he wasn’t a burden?
“This isn’t something you have to handle, Adrien,” Tom said softly. “This isn’t something you did wrong or some way you’ve let us down.”
His hands were big and rough and infinitely gentle. So different from Gabriel’s.
“Is anything else bothering you like this? What about the laundry detergent? Your sheets and clothes okay?”
He shrugged. Everything felt a little rougher and itched a little bit now, but Adrien was sure he’d get used to it. He was just too used to the expensive stuff his dad bought; he just needed to adjust.
“Is everything okay, Tom?”
Sabine was here now. Adrien lowered his head further, not wanting to meet the woman’s eyes. She gave a dismayed gasp when she saw his arms, and he longed to pull away from Tom and hide them away.
“Adrien’s allergic to the detergent,” Tom said.
“Oh, sweetheart, why didn’t you say anything?”
He swallowed. “I didn’t want to be difficult,” he finally whispered.
“No, Adrien, this isn’t being difficult,” Sabine replied. She touched the side of his face and gently turned his head until he was looking at her. “You can’t help it if you’re allergic to something. We just need to buy a different brand next time, that’s all.”
“Laundry detergent, too,” Tom added. Sabine’s lips pressed in a thin line and Adrien wanted to pull away from her.
“Listen to me, Adrien,” Sabine said, pulling his hands away from Tom. “You are never difficult. You are never a burden. You are never a disappointment, not to us. If you need something…if something is hurting you…it is our responsibility and joy to help you. All right?”
He nodded, still not wanting to make eye contact. She tucked her fingers under his chin, smiling softly when he finally looked at her again. “It’s all right, Adrien. I promise. Let us help you, okay?”
He felt so small and pathetic, but he nodded again. Sabine tugged him forward to wrap her arms around him, and Adrien sank into her hug. Tom ruffled a big hand through his hair before resting it against his back.
“I’ll finish the dishes,” Tom offered quietly.
Sabine nodded against Adrien’s shoulder. She pulled away and cupped a hand around his cheek to wipe a tear away with her thumb. “We should have something in the first aide kit to help with this,” she said. “Come on, Adrien. Let’s get you taken care of.”