Archive of Our Own

"Spinner," Toga called, flicking her free hand at the woman next to her. "Use your wizard powers to make Magne's nails dry faster so the dust doesn't ruin them."

"I'm not that old!" he roared back.

Magne smirked before muttering under her breath. "Interesting that that's the part your chose to deny..."

Toga cackled. As her hand shook with laugher, she bounced the brush against her knuckle. Baby pink paint flooded her cuticle.

You groaned reaching for a bamboo stick to scoop out the extra paint. "Toga! Seriously!"

"So~rry..." she apologized without a hint of remorse before pointing at Magne. "It's her fault."

Magne casually threw up her hands. "I won't deny that."

You could head Spinner's teeth grinding across the room. He glared at the warehouse door. "When the hell is everyone getting back?!" he demanded, checking his wristwatch. "They were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago!"

"Find some chill. I'm sure they'll be back soon," you called, twisting the cap back on the bottle. Blindly groping across the selections beside you frowned. "Hey, Spinner, can you pass me the one that says: 'top coat'?"

"Make Magne do it!"

Magne waved her fingers at him. "My hands are wet."

Stuffing his fists into his pants pocket, Spinner spat out a irritated noise before stalking over to your group. Red eyes searched the small cluster of options resting on the wobbly cardboard box you'd turned into a makeshift table. Plucking the one labeled "Seche Vite" from the group, he twisted off the black cap and sneezed. Eyes watering, he thrust the bottle at you. "That stuff stinks!"

You nodded, blotting the brush off on the bottle's neck. "Yeah, but it's the best one."

"Beauty knows no pain," Magne explained with a shrug.

Shoving his nose into the the crook of his arm, Spinner flopped onto the nearest crate. He narrowed his eyes, watching as you fanned Toga's fingers wide. Each delicate stroke of the slippery gloss spilled across the curve of her nail. The tip of your tongue darted out of the corner of your mouth as you leaned to one side. As the edge of your pointer shifted down the length of her middle finger, Toga bit her lip to fight the giggle.

Your lashes drifted low as a gentle smile split your lips. "Good girl," you praised.

Spinner's adam's apple bobbed. He shifted in his seat with a grimace.

Catty yellow eyes curled with naughty glee. "Do Spinner's next."

"Mhmm," you hummed, pinching your lip between your teeth. "Give me one second."

Above your head, Toga flashed him a snitty grin. "What color do you want?"

Spinner glared at her. "Unlike some people, I have better things to do than get a manicure."

"Bullshit," Magne declared, grabbing the darkest color you had. She wagged it at him. "This one."

"Daddy-and-I-don't-talk black?" Toga sneered. "Dabi will be jealous."

Magne hummed, inspecting the thick fluid with renewed interest. "You think?"

"Please," you groaned, blowing away a stray hair from Toga's pinky. "Anyone with that many piercings is obviously mad at their dad." You nodded to the girl above you. "All done. Give it fifteen before you touch things."

"Hooray!" Toga bounced off the box, sticking her tongue out. "You're next Spinner."

Rolling triceps tensed like the strain of the world was crushing his shoulders. "I—" Spinner swallowed. "I'm fine."

You rolled your eyes and patted the perch before you. "Come on."

With all the speed of a turtle, Spinner slunk over and took his place in front of you.

Without hesitation, you gabbed his hand, lifting it up to inspect his nails. Perfectly almond shaped and clean, you admired their smooth, ghost grey color. "Oh my gosh, Spinner. You have super pretty nails!"

"Huh?" Blood rushed to his face, staining his green skin an irrational shade of pastel pink. [1] "Oh... I never thought about it."

Your grinned. "These are going to look awesome. Makes me wish I had a matte top coat." You sighed wistfully. "Oh well, glossy finish will make them look like midnight water. It'll still be cool. I promise."

"Um..." He scratched his cheek. "I guess I'm in your hands then."

"Kay!" You reached to the pot of skin oil, dabbing the tiny brush over his dry skin. "Ugh. I'm super jealous of your deep nail beds! I barely need to to push these back."

As you worked the cuticle back with gentle strokes, Spinner's spine snapped straight as a steel rod. Your thumb slipped across his sweaty palm, resting on the bumpy edge between the scattered scales. He gritted his teeth, looking away from you.

Laying his hand back on his knee, you leaned over, the edge of your chest brushing him as you grabbed the rubbing alcohol. A sharp inhale rattled through Spinner's beak. By the time you had his fingers back in your grasp, his purple hair stood on end. He closed his eyes, focusing on the cold swipe of the cotton pad against his heated skin.

"Are you okay?"

He squinted down at you only to have his lungs cease tight. Below soft lashes, curious eyes stared up into his. Oh man... The sight of you holding his hand as you sat nestled between his knees—

"Fine," Spinner squeaked, fanning himself with stale air. "J-just a little warm."

You cocked your head, examining the bare skin just above his arm wraps. You squeezed his hand. "Hey... can I ask you a personal question?"

"W—" He cleared his throat. "What is your question?"

"Do you get goosebumps?"

He blinked before shaking his head. "Um... No. I don't have hair anywhere but my head so—"

All at once, your eyes drifted down to the seam of his pants. Time stopped. His pulse throbbed in his ears. Were you really looking at his—?

Your gaze dashed back to his as you fixed him with a nonchalant smile. "Oh, I see. That makes sense then."

The edges of Spinner's vision sparkled grey as his life flashed before his eyes. While you unscrewed the cap, he scrunched his eyes shut.

'Naked Moonfish. Think of naked Moonfish!' he commanded himself.

While the tiny brush caressed his nail with sticky basecoat, his blood simmered. Despite his best efforts, it was impossible to imagine the cannibalistic villain sans leather bondage gear. Instead, easy images of you body, barely covered in black mesh, shoved themselves to the forefront of his mind. The swell of your chest filled his imagination, begging his thoughts to turn to pebbled peaks just below the filmy, flimsy fabric.

"Do you want to ask me anything?"

He jolted at the sound of your voice. "What?!"

"In return for my question. Did you want to ask me anything?"

'Do you prefer leather or lace?' his brain screamed.

"I..." He gulped. "Can't think of anything right now."

'Well, anything aside from you on my mattress.'

Unable to hear the silent addition to his answer, you carried on with your work. For two long, hard minutes, your hands danced from one finger to the next, working their way across his body until his pants were too tight to breath. Finally, he gasped for air as you set aside the clear bottle. As you strained to grab the black, he barely caught your next words.

"Might want to think of something, or I'll just keep asking you things instead."

He forced a laugh. "What? Are we playing a game now?"

You smirked at his hand, laying the first thick stripe of color. "Do you want me to play with you, pretty boy?"

Thud.

Half an hour later, when the rest of the league returned to the warehouse, they found three things: