“Kitt,” Truck called, shuffling closer. “Want me to finish up with that?”
Head shaking fiercely back and forth, Kitt grunted, his shoulders and chest rising and falling with the effort. As he reached out towards the sink Truck saw the boy’s hands were shaking, trembling as if he were freezing in a deep, cold snow.
“Son,” he called, concerned because Kitt seemed to be working up to something that was either painful, or scared the shit out of him. “Let me help you.”
“NO!” With his first word of the morning, Kitt exploded, slapping at the lip of the counter where it edged the sinks. “NO!” Knuckles cracking against the hard surface, he emphasized his frustration with deep rhythmic grunting.
Shit, Truck thought, this ain’t good. Without giving himself time to think he reached out and turned off the water, not surprised when Kitt immediately subsided. Holding out his hand, he offered, “Let’s do it together,” shocked and surprised when Kitt’s hand rose to grip his. “We don’t need much water to do this little bit of dishes.” Fingers to the lever, ready to turn the water off again if needed, Truck tipped it slowly, allowing only the smallest of flows out the faucet. “Don’t even need to get our hands wet if we don’t want to.” Stretching his arm out, he moved their clasped hands towards the bowls, shoving first one dish then the other underneath the water, drawing back as the bowls collected water.
Finger and thumb clasped the spoons and Truck let them fall, one at a time, clattering into one of the bowls. “We don’t even have to touch the water.”
“Water okay.” He turned to look at Kitt to see the boy had twisted away, staring out the kitchen window at the creek running alongside the trees across the field. “Water,” Kitt sighed, lifting his other hand to scrub at his forehead. “Running.” A shudder rippled through him and his gaze cut back to the slowly flowing water coming from the faucet. On a long exhale, he breathed out the word. “Bad.”
“Well, we have plenty of water now. We can turn this sucker off anytime,” Truck said, bringing their hands up to tip the faucet off and the tension in Kitt’s hand and arm immediately dissolved, leaving him loose and compliant. “You mind if I help you finish up with the dishes? Would that be okay, Kitt?”
“Yes,” Kitt said, fingers tightening around Truck’s hand again. This time the boy led the way, bringing their hands towards the water-filled bowls fearlessly, fingers dipping into the surface to retrieve the spoons. More carefully he tipped the bowls sideways, relieving them of their burdens, watching with a shiver as the water flowed away down the drain.
“Did I miss breakfast?”
Vanna’s voice came from behind them, startling a happy, “MOM!” from Kitt who turned, still holding Truck’s hand, pulling him around. “SANTA!” Kitt shouted this, then his voice dropped to a whisper as he excitedly hissed, “Secret Santa. Truck.”
Kitt’s arm shot skywards, dragging Truck’s with it as he shouted, “PRESENTS!” Dashing across the kitchen towards his mother, he pulled Truck along in his wake, their hands still clasped tightly together. As he pushed past his mother, he grabbed her hand with his other one, dragging her across the room towards the still-lighted Christmas tree. “PRESENTS!”
Dropping their hands, he grabbed up an old, tattered Santa hat from underneath the tree and turned, lifting it. Rising on his toes, Kitt placed it on top of Truck’s hair, tugging it gently down into place over his ponytail. “Santa,” Kitt whispered, his eyes meeting Truck’s for a second before he looked away. “Vanna Mom’s Santa.”
Legs collapsing under him, Kitt settled to the floor next to the tree, chin tipped up and gaze flickering back and forth between Truck and Vanna. “My Santa.”
Vanna
Jesus, she thought, how did I get to this place on Christmas morning, where my son is washing dishes with the man who chastely slept with me on the couch last night? Chin down, she was smiling at Kitt’s antics as he shifted presents around underneath the tree and hadn’t seen Truck moving closer. “He’s excited.” His voice at her ear surprised her so she twisted her neck, turning towards him, shocked when he brushed his lips across hers. “Mornin’, darlin’.”
Without another word he folded his legs, positioning himself near Kitt, the two male faces looking up at her with similar expectant expressions. Truck added a hand lifted her direction, palm out invitingly. He waited patiently until she wrapped her fingers around his, using the support as she lowered herself to the floor, too.