Nail Polish

ironwoman359:

Some fluff, because I need some fluff in my life. Inspired by @kenmarlenn’s post about eyeliner. (tagging people I think would like, feel free to ignore)  @mayor-damien-protection-squad , @ego-protection-squad , @colonel-william-protection-army

Celine used to love doing her nails. When she was younger, she liked doing each nail in a different colored pastel, and as she grew older she gravitated towards blacks, grays, and metallics. It helped calm her down when she was feeling stressed, to sit by a window and transform her fingers into works of art.

Damien had never understood it. But she had dragged him into many a shop in their younger days, comparing colors and asking him what he thought. If she was having a particularly bad day, he would sit across the table from her and let her do his nails. There was no talking. Celine would bend over his hands in concentration, making sure each stroke was perfect, and he would sit with a report or book, keeping as still as possible.

“Perfect,” she would say when she was finished, and Damien would always look up at his hands, smile, and say

“They look great, Celine.”

Years later, too many years to count, Celine was having a particularly bad day. Too be fair, there were few good days anymore, but some days were especially rough. And this day was one of the worst.

It took some fighting, but Damien got Dark to let him take the driver’s seat for the afternoon. Celine didn’t pay attention to what he was doing…until he marched right into the cosmetics store at the mall. She slowly looked up at the dozens of colors, and her eyes went wide, her red aura growing a little brighter. Damien stepped back and gestured to her. 
“Go ahead,” he said quietly. 
She smiled at him, and started perusing the colors. 
Dark squirmed uncomfortably under the questioning gaze of the other customers, but Damien kept him at bay with a single glare. She eventually picked out a handful bottles, and they left the store, ignoring the fearful glances shot their way. 

Once home, Celine began to painstakingly paint their nails. It wasn’t as neat as she was used to, even with total control, Darkiplier’s body was bulky and shaky. But she kept at it, diligently covering each nail. Finally, she finished and held up Darkiplier’s hands out in front of him.
“Perfect,” Celine said, a hint of sadness in her voice. 
Damien looked at the colors she chose, and felt a swell of emotion in his chest. All of the nails were black, except for the pointer finger on each hand, which had been painstakingly painted into three horizontal stripes. Red on top, blue on bottom, with pink in the middle. Damien smiled sadly, and Darkiplier’s face twisted into a small smile to match. 
“They look great, Celine,” He said softly. 

*BONUS*

For the next several weeks, the other egos stole sideways glances at Darkiplier’s nails, but after seeing the look on his face, no one commented on them. Except for one person. 
One day, Wilford noticed them, and pointed excitedly at the index fingers. 
“PINK! That’s my favorite color, Dark!” 
They couldn’t be sure, but the others thought a smile played at the corner of Darkiplier’s lips as he replied,
“I know, Wilford. I know.”