Word count: 500.
Description: Dan and Phil getting settled down for a night of coffee and nail painting.
Warnings: none.
I swear sometimes I write something and forget it exists exactly two minutes later. Here is a product of such forgetfulness.
***
Phil's POV
"What colour are you thinking of doing them?" I asked quietly, pushing open the door to our room with my sock covered foot as my hands were occupied with two steaming cups of coffee, freshly made. I was met with a silence from my other half, him instead concentrating on pulling out boxes from the bottom of his wardrobe. I placed them both on the bedside table and sat cross legged next to them on the bed in wait for Dan to come back. "Dan?"
"Yeah? Sorry, didn't realise you'd come in." He replied, sitting back on his feet to acknowledge me with a nod. Then he crawled forward once more and began pulling boxes forward again.
"Colour. What colour are you going to paint them?" I asked again. He stopped rummaging for a second, pushing back on the floor to stand up with a little shoebox in his hands. He didn't answer me but began making his way over instead.
"Whichever colour out of these you want." He finally replied after getting comfortable opposite me on his bed. He opened up the shoebox to present the assortment of bottles to me. A large portion were black with the odd glittery one or pastel shade thrown in. I surveyed the limited choice and ran my fingers over the messily placed bottles, feeling the lumps of labels and writing that stood out. It was Dan who broke the silence, covering my hand in the box with his own. I tilted my head up to look at him and he grinned at me in praise for doing so. "They're your nails, after all."
"I guess I'll go for black, seems like the obvious choice." I said after a moment of consideration. He nodded in reply and moved the box away, pulling out a random black bottle of nail polish and unscrewing it carefully to prevent the colour from dripping out everywhere.
He shifted around again, swinging his legs down to the ground so he could put the bottle in between his knees. He took my right hand first and gently placed it down on his lap so he could get to my nails. I scooted forward to make it easier on him and picked up my coffee with my left hand, awkwardly gripping the handle tighter to prevent it from slipping because of the unfamiliar hand.
"You good?" He asked quietly, setting the mood for the night with a few words. I took a couple of sips and nodded, placing the coffee back down carefully.
"I'm good."
***
Abrupt ending? That's me!
Wow I'm almost at 100K reads? That's kinda crazy. I'm working on a oneshot to celebrate but it might take a while. Hint: it has a sad Philly.

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