Archive of Our Own ^beta

Phoenix stares for a long time at his wet nails. The polish kind of feels heavy, purple lacquer flooding his cuticles and staining the skin on his fingertips.

He ponders for a moment as he watches the fluid shine brilliantly, replaying the earlier exchange that had lead to this;

“I have court tomorrow,”
"The Judge's eyes aren't that good, Nick."
“How will I get it off?”
"Acetone. Now, are we going with purple orrrr... this other purple?"
“P-Purple? Isn’t purple a bit… krass?!”

Maya hums soothingly, working diligently now on his other hand. Her technique seems to have improved some by the 6th finger, and the picture becomes clearer with more progress that she’s made in her meticulous efforts. He now knows why the Feys wear purple. His olive skin looks great against violet. Truth be told it no longer seems as krass as it did in the bottle.

Phoenix stares at his wet nails agonisingly.

A bead of sweat crawls down his brow and he shrugs a shoulder up to his forehead awkwardly to itch it, earning a hiss from Maya.

“Nick I said sit still.” She tuts, grabbing a cotton swab to mop up the mishap on Phoenix’s knuckle.

“I was!” He sighs. “Any more still and you’re painting the nails of a dead man.”

He looks away from the manicure, focusing on nothing in particular with a huff.

“As if I’m not already a dead man going to court tomorrow with purple nails.”

Maya leans back, pleased with her work, only half concerned with Phoenix’s sad quips. “It comes off with acetone like nothing, there’s no need for the drama. Besides, you look good with it. Really.”

Phoenix’s gaze returns back to his nails and he can’t lie. They look good.

It’s not a situation he’s completely repulsed to find himself in by any means. A familiar, yet nondescript curiosity bubbled up in him at Maya’s suggestion of the activity. It was that same lingering curiosity he’d had watching Dahlia cap her french tips in clear varnish, or even watching Mia distractedly filling her nails with an emery board between paperwork.

Phoenix contemplates hopefully for a moment if he perhaps simply has a weird affinity for hands. But an uncomfortable question hangs in the air, and he’s staring between the gaps of his spread fingers on the coffee table as though the answers were waiting in the wood grain under his palms.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Maya asks softly, brows knitted in a way Phoenix can almost bet mirrors his own expression.

He chews his lip, resisting the habit of running a hand through his hair.

“Its nice.” He says kind of dumbly.

Maya’s furrowed brows relax to make room for mild confusion.

“Well.. yeah? But like, are you lying to make me feel better? Cause I don’t actually care if you don’t like them Nick, hones-”

“What? No! I uh- It does look good Maya. Really. It looks great.”

The acolyte’s cheeks puff up.

“Then why are you acting so.. tightly wound?”

Phoenix chews his lip again.

“It’s just. It feels good. I guess.”

Maya’s brows unknit once more and her expression from where Phoenix is sat, seems to soften.

Phoenix opens his mouth again, noticing it feels drier.

“It’s something I always appreciated you know? Like the colours. Not just on nails but like. Everything? Hair ties and jewellery. Lipstick. It’s nice.”

Maya looks away, lost in thought as she rests her elbows on her knees, and her chin in her hands.

“Gee Nick, that’s not that big a deal. I suppose red and blue must get real boring after a while.” A glint flits in her eyes and she leans forward ever so. “But the good news is incorporating colour into your aesthetic is right up my alley! As of you mentioning it. Probably right up Pearls’ alley too! Next time she’s down I tell ya what, we'll go shopping and give you a total rebrand!” Maya was nodding with an enthusiasm that only made Phoenix's wallet feel lighter and head feel uneasy.

“H-hold it. There’s nothing wrong with red and blue! And besides that’s..” He swallows the lump in his throat and tries to be brave, Phoenix silently considering that if anyone would be able to have this discussion with him, it’d be Maya. He sighs through his nose. “That’s not quite what was bothering me. If you’d hear me out.”

Maya’s gaze pauses a beat on Phoenix’s face, before she’s slowly sitting up straighter, putting her hands in her lap in a way that suddenly makes her look a lot more like Mia. It’s a rare sight but it’s something Phoenix had definitely seen before; Maya her slipping into a strange, almost maternal role that he witnessed her typically employ around young Pearl. It was endearing, albeit strange being on the receiving end at 24, when Maya was still only barely out of teenagehood.

“What’s up?”

Phoenix’s eyes dart away.

“I dunno. It’s kind of been on my mind for a while you know. Years even. This concept that maybe I’m not.. or my brain isn't.. super in tune with my body? Uh. Like a wrong identity sort of thing.” He stumbles out. Phoenix is drowning under the butchering of his own words but Maya hasn't seemed to notice.

“How do you mean?” Maya asks gently, although somewhat lamely. Right. You’re not making sense Wright.

“I. Like I said I dunno. Stuff like.. I dunno, I find myself thinking about things like growing my hair out. Skirts. N-Not in a weird way I promise, more like.. A-aesthetically?” His voice is running thin and Maya’s face is running red. But her gaze is steady and aside from the telltale rush of blood to her cheeks she’s held her own.

She rest’s her hand on her chin as if considering witness testimony.

“I.. kind of get that though? Pearls might relate more on this front but, yeah. I think about indulging in more of the flowery stuff every now and again. I guess cause Kurain doesn’t exactly encourage makeup or mini skirts to the average Kurainese teenage girl, you know. You’d think otherwise right? Being a matriarchal society and all.” Phoenix’s throat is still dry but his shoulders are a little less tense. “Yeah. It’s not so often that a guy is given opportunities to experience the.. erm. Flowery stuff.” Maya hums quiet acknowledgement.

“So am I right to assume what you’re telling me is you… want to be a cross dresser? Are a cross dresser?”

Phoenix finds his shoulders stiffening once again. He thinks for a moment. The evidence seems to point to it.

It… It makes sense, doesn’t it?

“I’m not sure.” comes out.

Maya seems to be deep in thought, considering Phoenix’s words.“Well. I think… that’s okay.”

“Huh?” Phoenix gawks.

Maya shrugs.

“I think it’s all okay. Like. Not knowing. Or having only little clues about what it all means. It’s okay, Nick.”

It's a radical concept to him, but floodgates of unreleased tension are suddenly leaving Phoenix's muscles again and he breathes out a sigh. It’s only a little relief but relief in any amount is welcomed. He smiles gently towards Maya. It feels good even just vocalising that he doesn’t know what these feelings he has are. And the liberation Maya offers in her compassionate lack of judgement sows a small seed of encouragement.

“Yeah. You’re right. I just, kind of wished I had some answers about it.” Phoenix quietly sighs once more, slumping a little on the couch.

Maya hums more acknowledgement. “Do you think maybe it’s more of a.. like a gender thing then?” Phoenix considers. In his silence Maya elaborates. “Like. Is being a guy maybe the wrong fit?”

Phoenix considers Maya's suggestion longer. It feels like they’re close but it’s still not quite right. But how is he to know anyway? All he knows is he’s still so unsure, even about being unsure now. How are you meant to know that you’ve stumbled upon the epiphany that quashes the doubts you’re having about your identity? Does it click? Do you have to break it in like new boots? These half baked thoughts swim around in his head as he stares longer at his painted nails.

“Maybe. I think you’re onto something with that. But..”

He shifts his posture to sit more upright and meet Maya’s gaze.

“That’s where I’m getting stuck. Like, dresses look nice. Chapstick and perfume are all really.. interesting. Interesting on their own, interesting on other people, maybe interesting on me. But I like having rough hands. And I like having cropped hair. My suit, even. I like my suit.”

Maya’s nods at him listing off the intricacies of his identity crisis.

“See I kind of get that too. I mean I’m no tomboy but- It’s a side I’ve always wanted to pursue more! Like, Prosecutor Von Karma makes herself so tall and loud in such a male dominated office, it’s no wonder she has the whip. Not that whipping people is justified or anything! But.. her brute strength. Persistence. Short hair. Those are nice traits. You don’t see those traits associated with ladies much. At least not in magazines and… ah sorry Nick I’m rambling… I’m not so sure if our scenarios are all that similar.”

“No I get it. Totally. Like you see these attributes you want on the other side of the coin.” Phoenix smiles a small smile, tucking away the new knowledge of Maya's affections for Prosecutor Von Karma.

“Yeah.” Maya smiles an equally small, but gentle smile. “So. I think it’s okay. To want those other attributes. And maybe be on the fence about where you sit on the uh... I'm not sure what they call it these days. The dude-to-lady spectrum maybe? I should trademark that!”

Phoenix is at ease, and he laughs at Maya's casual breakthrough. But it's not in jest or mockery; nothing she's said is untrue to him.
It's not like a Psychelock's snapped open before his eyes, or a roadmap has finally unfolded before him. It's more of a gentle okay from someone he loves, almost as if Maya has granted him permission to simply be, and exist with the vague, yet, specific experience that is, and always has been, his internal identity as a person. A krass set of purple nails glint in the agency's fluorescent lighting, and a quiet smile tugs at Phoenix's mouth.

“Yeah.” He looks at his painted nails once more, fondly, no longer somewhat threatened.