steve harrington imagines

matching manicures

"Now, Daddy?" Phoebe's small voice asks as she pads into the kitchen where Steve is finishing cleaning up from lunch. She'd asked earlier if he would paint her nails, and he'd told her he would as soon as he was done cleaning. She was not one to forget and had asked a few times, wanting to make sure Steve didn't forget either.

Smiling, Steve scoops her up into his arms, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "Yeah, we can paint your nails now, sweetheart. Thanks for being so patient. Let's go to the table."

He's gentle as he holds her to his chest with one arm, carrying her across the kitchen to set her at the table. She's got her tiny hands wrapped tightly around a bottle of nail polish, and even though he can probably guess, he asks, "What color did you choose, Bee?"

"Lellow!" she says excitedly, holding up the bottle of bright yellow polish for him to see.

"Wow," Steve nods thoughtfully as he places her in a chair, "That's a great choice!" Even though she's still learning her colors, Steve knows that she knows bees are yellow. And if her mommy and daddy call her Bee, it's good enough for her.

Phoebe smiles proudly, absolutely beside herself that her daddy approves of her color choice. She's still small enough that she can barely see over the table when she's sitting in a chair, but Steve is quick to grab her booster seat. Finally tall enough, she leans forward, and presses her palms flat against their wooden table, ready for her nails to be painted. Usually, she's full of movement and action, but she calms significantly when Steve is painting her nails.

It had started one night while you were out, with Phoebe practically begging Steve to paint her nails. Not one to say no to his daughter, he gave in. Since then, she'd made a habit of asking him to do her nails. Steve had no problem with doing it, of course, he loved spending time with his daughter whenever he could.

"Ready, sweetheart?" Steve asks as he untwists the top of the nail polish. Phoebe nods quickly, trying her best not to wiggle in her seat.

With a delicate touch, Steve places a small dot of polish on her pinky nail. Her hands are still so small, and Steve doesn't want to make a mess, so he moves very carefully. He leans forward to get a better look at what he's doing, some of his longer strands of hair falling into his face, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration.

Phoebe's watching him diligently, tongue poking out of the side of her mouth when his does. After a moment, she leans forward, pressing her hands into the table so she can kiss his forehead, the way Steve's done to her (and you) more times than he can count. Steve can't stop the smile that breaks out on his face as he glances up from her nails, "Oh, that was very nice, sweetheart, thank you!"

"Kiss?" she asks, small lips pursed, looking up at him with the same pleading eyes he often used on you.

Steve pauses, laughing a little as he dips the brush back into the polish, "You wanna kiss, too? Ah, I see how it is."

"Yes! Kiss!"

"You stinker!" Steve teases, shaking his head in mock disbelief, "You're only giving Daddy kisses so you can get kisses, huh?" Still, he can't help but give in, leaning in so he can give her a kiss back.

She absolutely beams at him, and Steve is certain that he melts into a puddle right then and there. Her smile is his favorite thing in the world — it's an exact replica of yours — especially when it's because of him. He can never get enough. Puckering her lips again, she asks, "More?"

"One more," Steve agrees, "and then Daddy has to finish your nails, okay?"

"Otay!" she agrees in her tiny voice. It's not a bad deal, so she takes it, leaning up again to press a sloppy kiss to Steve's mouth.

Laughing again, Steve tries to be discreet as he pushes his cheek into the fabric of his shirt at the shoulder, wiping off the baby slobber she'd managed to leave behind. Luckily, she doesn't notice, and Steve gets back to work, nearly done with one hand. When he's done, he lifts her hand and gently blows on the polish to get it to dry a bit faster, causing her to giggle, "What do you think, sweetheart? Good so far?"

Phoebe nods, "Good!"

"Alright, next one!"

By the time Steve's nearly done, you've found them at the table, "What's goin' on here?"

Your daughter giggles almost guiltily, ducking her head to avoid your gaze, like you might be mad, "Daddy paint my nails."

"Ohhh, so Daddy does it once and now you only want him to do it?"

She's a daddy's girl, there's no doubt about that. You want to be mad, but you can't mind. Not when you see them together. The way he dotes on her, and the way she's absolutely enamored by everything he does. So you're not surprised when she nods, "Daddy does good!"

You gasp, placing a hand on your chest, "Does he do a better job painting your nails than Mommy?"

Steve's listening quietly, though you can see the beginnings of a smirk tugging at his lips as he finishes painting her nails.

Phoebe glances up, looking at Steve before over at you. She's mulling over her answer, like she knows it might be a trick question. But then, after a moment, she nods again.

Steve bursts out laughs, grinning at Phoebe as he leans forward to press another kiss to her forehead, "You're daddy's girl, huh?" He twists the cap back onto the nail polish, and grabs Phoebe's hands, blowing on her nails again. "All done! What do you think, Bee?"

She studies them for a second and then smiles, "Good!"

"Maybe Daddy should paint Mommy's nails, too? You and Mommy can have matching nails."

She loves this idea and nods quickly, "Yes! I match wif Mommy!"

The idea doesn't sound too bad to you, either, so you scoop your little girl up and place her in your lap as you take her spot. As much as she might be a daddy's girl, she loves you just as much, and snuggles into your chest. Reaching out, Steve grabs your hands and pulls them up, pressing a soft kiss to each of them before getting back to work painting your nails.

"Maybe I should open a salon," Steve mutters, though you know he'd happily paint your nails every day if you or Phoebe asked.

"You could call it Harrington's Hair and Spa," you giggle, nuzzling your nose into Phoebe's hair, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

Steve groans, having heard enough puns about hair in his life, "Oh, that's awful. Truly."

Before you can reply, though, Phoebe speaks up, "Daddy next?"

"You think we should paint Daddy's nails next?" you ask, bouncing your knees slightly to make her laugh.

"Mhm!"

Conceding easily, if only to see his daughter smile, Steve nods, "Sure, you girls can paint my nails next."