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“I feel disgusting,” Adaine says in a raspy whine, flopping back onto the bed as dramatically as she can without making her head spin.
“You’re not disgusting,” Fig gently chides as she picks up the empty bowl from Adaine’s nightstand, left from the soup she had brought Adaine in bed. “You’re just sick.”
“I am, though. I haven’t showered in like… 3 days. That’s gross. I feel gross.”
Fig snorts, reaching out a hand to pat Adaine on the head. “I mean, your hair’s a bit greasy, but you don’t smell too bad.”
Adaine groans. “I hate when my hair’s greasy. It’s a sensory nightmare.”
Fig’s face softens with sympathy, but moments later it’s quickly taken over by an almost excited smirk.
“Hey, I’ll be right back. Stay here” She says, before leaving the room to take the bowl downstairs before Adaine can ask any questions.
Adaine was absolutely not planning on going anywhere anytime soon (she’s way too tired and sick to even think about moving on her own), so she does as she’s told.
Fig returns a few minutes later, an even more excited look on her face that piques Adaine’s curiosity.
“You look like you’re about to—“ Adaine’s sentence is interrupted by a sharp cough that makes Fig wince, “-about to do something that’ll get us in trouble.”
Fig gasps, “Have you no faith in me, Abernant?” She says dramatically, putting on an overly theatrical look of betrayal as she places a scandalized hand on her chest.
Adaine snorts, “I know your track record, Faeth.”
Both girls laugh, and Fig speaks, “I’m not gonna do anything dumb, I have an idea though. Trust me, you’ll like it.” She holds out her hands to Adaine.
Adaine takes Fig’s hands, and is carefully pulled to her feet. Her legs feel shaky, and her first step is more of a stumble, but Fig steadies her. “I got you, babe.”
And so, Adaine is carefully guided by Fig into the bathroom, where Fig has her sit next to the bathtub, just in front of the tap.
“Wh-“ She coughs again, “what are you doing?”
Fig snorts. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m washing your hair.”
Before Adaine can say anything else, Fig firmly tugs on the faucet, and the water comes on, rushing out of the tap.
Normally, the sound of the water is loud, but tolerable for Adaine. But when she’s sick? It feels like every sound is turned up to 100, and the rushing sound of water makes her cringe before she can school her expression to hide her discomfort.
“Oh- shit—“ Fig’s voice is barely audible over the cacophony of noise, and before Adaine knows it, the bathroom lapses into silence as the water is turned off. “Too loud?”
Adaine can’t help the quiet whine that escapes her throat. “It’s- it’s not too bad. I can handle it.”
Fig gives her an unconvinced look, before standing up. “Be right back, again.”
And with that, Fig speeds off again, returning moments later with something in her hands.
She fusses with a small container in her hands, and before Adaine can ask questions, Fig reaches down, and the faint and ever-present ambient noises of Mordred Manor muffle as something is placed into her ears.
It’s her earplugs. The pair she always carries on her.
It takes her a moment to string together the words she wants to say, but eventually she speaks, voice raw, “Fig, you didn’t have to—“
Fig’s finger presses over her mouth, “shh, let me care for you” Her voice is gentle, but firm in a way that leaves absolutely no room for argument.
Adaine shuts her mouth, and Fig turns on the tap once more. The once overpowering sound of the water now muffled and distant, no longer completely overwhelming her.
Carefully, Fig leans Adaine’s head back, and pours a handful of warm water over Adaine’s hair. The feeling is… absolutely incredible. Her eyes flutter shut as a hum sounds from the back of her throat.
Adaine hears the faint sound of Fig giggling as another handful of water is poured over her hair. “That feel good, ‘Daine?”
Too relaxed to respond with words, Adaine makes a small whirring noise to let Fig know it did, in fact, feel good.
The gentle sound of Fig’s muffled giggling once again fills the air. It’s a nice sound. “Good to know.”
Adaine had had her hair washed several times before. Her birth parents were obsessed with making sure her appearance was perfect in every way, and that included her hair.
Except those times, she was getting her hair washed by incredibly exclusive and expensive professionals, who couldn’t give less of a shit and her sensory issues, making it a nightmare every time she was driven to that dreaded salon.
But Fig? Fig wasn’t like that. Fig took extra care to not touch the back of Adaine’s neck when she could help it, and made sure her touch was neither too firm nor too soft. When water dripped down Adaine’s face, instead of telling her to get over it, she wiped it away with her sleeve and gave Adaine a kiss on the forehead.
Instead of wishing it would stop, like she had so many times when getting her hair done, Adaine never wanted this to end.
Unfortunately though, Fig could not wash her hair forever.
After washing the last of the conditioner out of Adaine’s hair, she turned off the tap and stood up, holding her wet hands at her sides as she thought of a game plan.
“Alright,” she says after several seconds of silence, walking off to grab a towel. “Let’s dry your hair.”
Moments later, a towel is draped over her hair.
With some awkward maneuvering, Fig somehow manages to get her hair completely wrapped up without touching the back of Adaine’s neck. How is absolutely beyond her, but Adaine appreciates it nonetheless.
Fig helps her sit up, and leans her against the bathroom wall, before sitting down back next to her. Adaine slips the earplugs out of her ears, now that the thing causing the offending sound is over. Not wanting to put them on the bathroom floor, she sets them in her lap.
After a couple moments of silence, she sighs, then speaks.
“You really didn’t have to—“
“Adaine. If you say I didn’t have to do this I’m going to slap you.”
Adaine quickly shuts her mouth. She knows Fig would never hit her, but she is absolutely not going to risk it.
“Like it or not, babe,” she squeezes Adaine’s arm. “I like caring for you. Me washing your hair on my own volition is not something you should feel guilty about.”
Logically, Adaine knows that. Obviously Fig caring for her on her own free will is not something she should feel guilty for. But there’s still something in the very back of her mind that tells her that she doesn’t deserve this. That she should feel bad for Fig making her care for her like this. She’s not super sick, she could probably wash her own hair with a bit of effort. If she had just—
The feeling of Fig resting her head on Adaine’s shoulder pulls her from her spiraling thoughts.
“Thank you, Fig” is all she says, before resting her head on Fig’s and shutting her eyes.
Maybe she can learn to accept this.