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Michael was running late. Usually he’d show up at seven with two coffees from the crashdown- as if Alex didn’t have his own coffee machine in the cabin- before they met Kyle at the bunker.
Today, it was already eight thirty by the time Alex heard his truck pull up.
“Morning.” Michael said as he set the two cups of coffee down. Then he fished something else out of his pocket. The grin on his face when he placed it on the table made Alex nervous.
"What's that?" Alex asked, scooting forward. It looked like a pencil, except-
"Oh, I think you know what it is." Michael said, looking way too proud of himself.
He was right too. Alex knew exactly what it was. "Eyeliner? I don't think it'd suit you Guerin."
"Yeah, but it looked great on you."
Alex tried to ignore the tone in Michael’s voice. They were already going to be late meeting with Kyle. "I'm not seventeen anymore."
"So?"
"So it's not really my style now."
Michael grabbed a piece of toast off Alex’s plate. "And what is your style?"
Alex shrugged, looking back at the pencil sitting between them. For the past ten years his "style" had been military fatigues. After that, he'd just tossed on the first thing he found at the store.
It had been a long time since he thought about what he wanted to wear. It had been a long time since he thought about what he wanted.
"I'm a little out of practice." He said after a moment.
Immediately Michael lit up. He brought his chair around until they were sitting knee to knee, “Let me do it.”
Alex felt himself caught between the urge to scoot away and the urge to lean closer. "I already lost a leg Geurin, I'm not looking to lose an eye too."
Michael rolled his eyes. "My right hand's still steady. Come on, no one else is going to see it."
When Alex didn’t protest Michael cupped his face with his broken hand.
It was moments like this Alex was still getting used to. Michael scooting closer to him, looking soft and peaceful. No immediate fear of war or alien serial killers or asshole dads.
Just the fear of Michael taking his eye out.
"Hold still." Michael said as he studied Alex’s face.
"I am holding still."
After a moment Michael frowned and let go of the pencil. It stayed in place, hovering in the air.
That was another thing Alex was still getting used to. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Trust me." Michael said winking at him, which didn’t exactly make Alex feel any more reassured, but he figured it was already too late to go back.
He remembered the first time he wore eyeliner. it was Liz’s fourteenth birthday and Liz -upset that Rosa had bailed on her party- decided to steal some of her makeup. Maria made a comment about how cool Brendon Urie looked in guyliner and next thing Alex knew Liz was drawing on his face.
And now it was Michael sitting across from him, concentrating on his face like he was trying to defuse a bomb.
After what felt like an hour Michael sat back with a smug look on his face.
"Not bad for my first time putting on makeup." Michael said.
"That's not exactly reassuring."
Michael just shrugged. "See for yourself."
Alex turned in his chair and faced the mirror hanging by the door.
"Well? What do you think?" Michael asked.
"I think I'm too old to be wearing eyeliner." He said, but he didn't turn around yet. Instead he stood up and stepped closer to his reflection.
Thirteen some years ago Liz had leaned back with a huge grin on her face, Maria laughing behind her.
"Oh my god." Maria managed after finally taking a breath. “You look like you’re in a band.”
“Really?” Alex all but leapt to his feet, looking around for a mirror. When he saw one above Liz's dresser he rushed over.
His first thought was his father would kill him if he ever came home looking like that. His second thought was he didn't care. He felt giddy.
With his black shirt and his messy hair he could almost imagine himself on a stage somewhere playing guitar. Somewhere far away from Roswell.
It was the first time he actually like how he looked.
Now he was twenty seven and he had no idea how to feel about the face looking back at him.
"Alex?"
He didn't notice Michael walk up behind him.
"Brings back memories." He said. And if he was better at opening up, he would have said he was a different person back then, someone who knew who he was, someone who was lost in the war.
But he didn't need to say it because Michael seemed to understand anyways. He had been a different person back then too.
"Kyle’s waiting for us at the bunker." Alex said finally and Michael sighed, obviously hoping for more of a reaction from him.
"I picked up some makeup remover too," Michael said, but Alex just gathered his stuff.
"That's alright. I want to see how long it takes Kyle to notice." And maybe the smile on Michael's face made him melt a little bit. "Thanks."
“Hey, no problem.” Michael wrapped his arms around his waist. “Besides, I did it for entirely selfish reasons.”
Alex leaned into Michael as he slid a hand under his shirt. Well, if they were going to be late anyways...