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Eddie can’t stop staring at them.
Buck has started giving him concerned looks, but he can’t stop staring.
He doesn’t know what it is about them. It’s not weird. Buck can do whatever he wants with his body. Eddie isn’t some big proponent of gender roles or anything, but he just can’t figure out why he’s feeling so strange about it.
Buck was babysitting Jee-Yun yesterday. Little girls like to play dress up and paint nails. It’s for a completely innocent reason, why Buck’s nails are painted a sparkling pink.
He still just can’t stop staring at them.
Buck talks with his hands too, which makes it even harder to ignore. Every time he’s able to direct his attention somewhere else, Buck throws up a hand or gestures to something in the air and Eddie’s eyes land right back onto his short, glittery, hot pink nails.
“—I was like, why does it matter if he buys a different brand of peanut butter? It’s just peanut butter, but apparently—“
They’re not quite bubblegum colored, more like Barbie pink.
“—Maddie only buys Skippy, so when Jee sees a different colored jar she gets suspicious—“
But it’s not like a manufactured kind of pink. It feels more floral.
“—and she won’t eat her sandwiches. So then Maddie had to make an emergency trip to the store—“
Buck’s nails are painted pink. Eddie didn’t know it was allowed for people like them to paint their nails pink. Or paint their nails at all.
“—which is why she’s pissed at… Chimney… Eddie?”
Eddie didn’t know. He didn’t know. But Buck did it. Buck’s nails are pink and the walls didn’t cave in and the Earth is still spinning and he’s still the same Buck, except his nails are pink.
“Eddie, is something wrong?”
He snaps his head up to look Buck in the eyes where he finds confusion and some concern. He glances self consciously at his fingers, then holds his hand out across his dining table.
“Jee did them,” Buck explains, “Is it… Is that okay?”
“What? Yeah, yeah of course…” Eddie feels like he doesn’t sound quite like himself.
“Do you not like them?”
“No, no it’s not that, they’re…” He can’t help but to return right back to staring. “Pretty.”
“Thanks,” Buck says awkwardly, like he can still sense something is up, but hasn’t figured it out yet, “I think so too.”
He holds them up, admiring them, turning his hands so the glitter catches in the light of the loft. Eddie can’t breathe.
He sniffs and brings the beer that’s been sweating on the table for who knows how long to his lips. He doesn’t taste anything.
“Eddie.” Buck leaned closer at some point. “Do you want me to paint your nails?”
Eddie’s sinuses start to sting. He nods his head, dragging his gaze back to meet Buck’s.
“Can you?”
“Yeah,” Buck says breathily, a big smile growing across his cheeks. “Of course.”
“Okay.” Eddie can’t help but give him a smile to match. His heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest and his lungs feel like they’re not getting enough air, but a small part of him also feels really, really excited.
“I can steal some polish from Maddie next time I’m over there,” Buck offers, “And then we can do it when I come over on Saturday. Does that sound good?”
“Sounds good,” Eddie says softly, “Thanks, Buck.”
“Anything,” he basically whispers, “You know that.”
–
Eddie’s hands are shaking when Saturday rolls around.
“Alright, so I didn’t get very many colors because I didn’t want Maddie to notice and ask questions because I didn’t know if you wanted it to become like a thing,” Buck explains in one breath, “And I couldn’t get the color I have on because it’s Jee’s favorite and she makes someone repaint her nails like every other day, but I got a few good options I think.”
He places them one by one on Eddie’s dinner table, lining them up as he presents them.
“This one is called ballet slippers, it’s a really light pink, almost like nude, so if you didn’t want to go too crazy or noticeable at first you can do this one.”
A light pink bottle with ‘essie’ written up the side is set in front of him.
“This one is ripple reflect. I thought blue would be more… masculine? I don’t know, not that you have to choose a masculine one, but you like blue, so.”
Buck puts a light blue bottle next to the first.
“And then, this one is bordeaux. It’s darker, but I thought— well, red looks really— it looks good on you. Yeah.”
That comment makes Eddie flush as a deep red bottle joins the lineup. It immediately catches his eye, and not just because of what Buck said about the color red. It’s pretty. And elegant. It feels right. It feels like him.
“Let’s do that one,” he says, pointing to the red one. Bordeaux.
“Cool,” Buck smiles casually, grabbing the bottle and giving it a solid shake. He smooths a paper towel between them and angles his chair closer to Eddie, practically interlocking their knees. “Ready?” He holds out a hand, palm up.
Eddie takes a deep breath and hesitantly gives Buck his right hand.
He grabs four of Eddie’s fingers at first and runs his thumb along the knuckles in a soothing gesture. Then, with his other hand, pulls the lid off the bottle and wipes the brush against the side. He slides his grip down to just Eddie’s pinky finger, gives him one moment, a second to hesitate, to take it all back and say never mind, but Eddie doesn’t take it.
Then, he’s painting the first stroke of bordeaux red onto Eddie’s nail.
There’s a barely there cold feeling he picks up from the skin under his nail. Buck only has to take two strokes to cover his entire pinky. He pulls back after, looking up at Eddie.
“Good?”
The red stands out clearly against his skin. His nail is kind of a weird shape at the end and Buck accidentally got some polish on one small spot of his cuticle, but he thinks it’s perfect.
“It’s great.”
Buck smiles a warm, closed mouth smile and takes Eddie’s hand again.
This time, he doesn’t stop. He paints one nail, then continues on to the next one. His tongue starts to poke out of the side of his mouth in concentration and he leans in so closely that Eddie can feel his breath on his fingers.
Just as Buck is finishing the first thumb, Eddie hears the distinct sound of Christopher’s bedroom door creaking open and his son’s footsteps down the hallway.
He wasn’t planning on hiding this from him. It would be kind of impossible once it’s done with. Still, his hands start to shake again. Buck stops what he’s doing and holds Eddie’s painted hand steady, looking at him with supportive blue eyes.
“Hey,” Christopher says in his half hearted teenagery way.
“Hi Chris, what’s up?” Buck replies, directing all of his attention to the kid.
“Just getting a snack,” he shrugs, then takes in what they’re doing, looks intently at Eddie’s nails and finally says, “Looks nice, Dad.”
Eddie gives him a crooked smile, unable to respond in any other way at the moment.
“I can do yours next if you want,” Buck offers, perking up like a puppy.
“No thanks.” At that, Christopher leaves them to rummage around in the kitchen.
“You raised a good kid,” Buck says softly, tracing the tip of his finger along Eddie’s.
“I did, didn’t I?”
Eddie’s nails are painted red. Christopher saw. The world didn’t implode.
He flattens his hand onto the table to let the polish dry and drops the other into Buck’s waiting palm. They fall into another comfortable silence as Buck continues painting, breath ghosting along Eddie’s fingers, his touch gentle.
His eyelashes are almost blond in this light.
Christopher passes by again on his way back to his room. He doesn’t even flinch at the sight of them.
Buck finishes on his opposite pinky from the one he started, taking two short strokes of the brush.
“There we go.” He breaks the silence. “Just gotta let them dry for a few minutes.”
Eddie holds his hands out in front of himself, splaying his fingers out. Each of his nails are a smooth, deep bordeaux red. Just as promised. It sends a small shock of thrill down Eddie’s spine. These are his hands.
“Do you like it?” Buck asks timidly.
He looks so sincere. Like his life depends on Eddie’s response. And for a moment, he has to stop and take in Buck’s face and think about how wonderfully lucky he is to have a friend like Buck. One who would do this for him, no questions asked.
“They’re perfect,” Eddie tells him. Buck lights up at the praise. Before he can let himself think too hard about it, Eddie acts. He leans forward into Buck’s space, conscious of his wet fingernails, and places a soft kiss onto his cheek. “I love them. Thank you.”
Buck freezes, then relaxes into his chair, a minute blush making its way onto his skin. “You’re welcome.” He twists the cap back onto the bottle of polish.
Eddie looks back down at his nails and thinks, of course it’s allowed.