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Gueira has absurdly long eyelashes.

Meis makes this discovery with the sun beating down on them and the minutes dragging by. They're out in the middle of the desert, just the two of them. On orders from Lio, they're laying low until Freeze Force cools off with their search, and Meis is bored out of his mind.

He's read every book he has from cover to back then went back and re-read all of his favorite excerpts again. He even spends a good hour trying to convince Gueira to try one of them before discovering that his lone companion would rather nap the day away than read.

A shame because instead of discussing Ray Bradbury metaphors, Meis has to watch Gueira sleep.

He finds that Gueira doesn't mind the sunlight. Gueira likes to splay out on his back in the sun like a cat warming his belly. He cushions his head with his arms and snores as if he doesn't have a care in this world.

It's as Meis passes the dull moments of their self-imposed exile from society that he realizes how long Gueira's eyelashes are. They're long and so thick that Meis vaguely has to wonder if Gueira has the vanity for falsies. Would they be soft if he touched them?

With each breath, they flutter every so slightly on Gueira's cheeks. Slight, minute flutters. Like a butterfly. Or a hummingbird. Meis imagines they'd tickle if he ghosted his fingertip along them. So slight, and so delicate.

It's a marvel to witness on someone who's built his reputation menacing society in a bulking Burnish frame.

Selfishly, Meis decides to keep this marvel for himself.

The guilt settles into him like a heavy stone in his gut.

Gueira is bored, bored out of his mind.

Meis, for what it's worth, had done his best in trying to assuage some of that boredom with an offer of books. But Gueira's eyes had glazed over at the blocks of texts.

He sleeps, but he can only sleep so much.

So he splays out on the ground and tries to spend his time watching stray bits of desert sand fly away in the occasional wind.

It's as the desert wind kicks up a small gust that Gueira's eyes focus on something new. Something that isn't beige dirt.

Meis' long hair flutters a bit with the breeze. The dark strands whip around the slender man as if the gust had breathed new life into them. Meis instinctively reaches up to hold his hair down, not even once glancing from the book he's been reading.

It's then that Gueira notices.

Notices the way Meis always keeps the thick tuft of bangs carefully covered over one side of his face. Always holds his hair from straying too far away from that side of the face. Realizes that Meis even tilts his head ever so slightly forward and to the side as if to obfuscate any curious eyes.

Eyes like his own.

Gueira looks away, guilty at the realization that he's already pried too much. He tries to banish his own curiosity by turning until he's lying facedown in the sand. He's breathing in dirt and feels gravel press into the skin of his forehead.

But at least this way, his eyes can't wander. And he deserves this, doesn't he?

... Later that night, Meis prods him on the shoulder. There are only the stars above them and a sliver of a moon, but Gueira can still see as Meis pulls his bangs to one side.

The skin is smooth and shiny from time. It's long healed over, but the scar doesn't hide the uneven ripple of flesh where his eye should be. Gueira just barely stops himself from reaching out to touch it, but Meis is already moving away.

"The price I paid to escape," Meis states vaguely. He carefully moves his hair back into place.

"It happened a long time ago," Meis adds, as if to soften the shock of it.

But his words do very little to stop the brilliant burst of purple and blue that bursts through the desert sky.

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Meis tries to hide it, but Gueira has been around him enough to catch the signs now.

His nose scrunches up.

Each and every time, without fail. It happens in a flash, there and gone as quickly as Meis registers his distaste.

His nose scrunches up, always, when he's about to eat something he finds unappetizing.

Gueira finds it funny at first. He's even tempted to laugh and tease him about it, but has the foresight not to. He decides to act like he doesn't notice every time Meis scrunches his nose at the sight of some day-old gas station station. That he doesn't see the way Meis truly feels before he slips on a mask of neutrality.

It's a marvel at first, to see a side of Meis that he's sure that even Meis isn't aware of. The slight, petulant frown, and that quick scrunch of his nose. It's perfectly childish. What's sillier is his own fixation on the quirk, but Gueira finds himself looking forward to it at every meal.

It's precious in a way. A tiny moment that Meis steals for himself to express his full displeasure before returning to being the consummate professional. The level-headed one who carries the weight of being the responsible one. The one with his mind on the mission.

So it's with that Gueira hoards this tiny little marvel of Meis' nose.

And relishes the day when they risk eating in at a local diner. It's a quiet one, out on the freeway outside of Promepolis. It's there, as the waitress sets down warm apple pie with a massive dollop of whipped cream, that Gueira realizes one other thing about Meis.

The way his teeth dig into his bottom lip when he sees something delectable.

It doesn't take a fool to notice what Gueira likes. In fact, Gueira will likely be the one to tell you.

Therefore, it doesn't take long before Meis learns how much of a sweet-tooth Gueira has. He hears Gueira declare enough times how much he craves something sweet, something chocolate-y, to know that his companion often prefers the sugary to the savory.

Armed with such knowledge, Meis takes a detour on his way back from scouting the city. It's a risky move with their faces plastered all over Promepolis, but it's a risk Meis deems worthy.

He returns to their desert hideout long after the sun has settled. They share their quiet (disgusting) meal together under the stars. Their conversation is a little stilted tonight, and the reason why is obvious.

Gueira still looks away, mouth twisted in a frown. He's guilty. Has been ever since he let out a massive burst of flames into the dark desert night. Meis hadn't been surprised when he had. The jagged scar where his eye should be usually elicited such strong reactions that he had long learned to keep it hidden.

Meis doesn't blame Gueira for the way he reacted, he's touched really, but it doesn't change the fact that they've had to run since then. The chances of anyone seeing that brief, brilliant display of Gueira's compassion are low, but they still move their camp anyway. It isn't worth the danger of Freeze Force.

"Sorry," Gueira grumbles again, the fiftieth time he's apologized since exposing their hideout.

"It happens," Meis reassures and decides to mend Gueira's guilt then and there.

He pulls out the risky indulgence from a plastic bag and displays them for Gueira to see: graham crackers, chocolate bars, and plush, white marshmallows.

Meis smiles as soon as he sees Gueira's face break out into a grin, all guilt banished by the sight.

They huddle closer together to hide their light of their flames. Meis has Gueira hold out a delicate stack of chocolate and graham crackers while he guides a delicate fireball on his fingertip. He holds it there until chocolate melts onto Gueira's fingers and the marshmallow is perfectly toasted.

It's messy and sticky, but Meis can't imagine anything more perfect as he watches Gueira lap up the gooey sweetness on his fingers.

They share a smile under the stars as Gueira presses a sugary stack into his hands, insistent that Meis indulge in the same.

Meis bites his lip watching Gueira burn sweet chaos.

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Gueira can't stop thinking about Meis' lips.

Specifically, he can't stop thinking about the way Meis bit his bottom lip while Gueira toasted marshmallows for him.

His belly is full, and he can still taste the perfect combination of chocolate and burnt sugar on his lips.

But all he can think about is the way Meis had looked at him, not with a scrunch of his nose, but with a bite of his lower lip.

As Gueira tries to fall asleep, all he can think about is licking the sweet sugary mess from Meis' lips.

Meis can't stop thinking about Gueira's lips.

Gueira is far from a clean eater so letting him go feral on s'mores is a surefire mess.

The marshmallow especially. At a certain point in the night, Gueira had abandoned the graham crackers and chocolate completely in favor of giddily toasting marshmallows in his hand. Watching the gooey mess get all over Gueira's lips had been... hard, to say the least.

The image refuses to leave, and Meis can't help himself as he chews on his bottom lip. He tries to blame the sugar for his restlessness, but knows that it isn't the true cause for his sleeplessness.

All he can think about Gueira. About whether he still has melted marshmallow still glued to his lips and wonders what it would be like to nibble that away.

Meis groans, feeling the midnight minutes drag on. Morning will never come at this rate with sleep an evasive beast.

Restless, and needing to distract himself, he decides to turn over. Perhaps it's a little creepy, but Meis thinks that maybe he can fall asleep to the sight of Gueira's long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

Meis jolts when he meets Gueira's eyes. They share a guilty look, both caught with similar ambitions.

Gueira is the first to look away, but only a moment to brace himself. He lifts his head, already wincing as if anticipating the worst as he forces out, "Hey, would you--"

And stops as Meis' lips crash into his own.

Gueira kills his words as he melts into the kiss, feeling somehow victorious in knowing now, for sure, that Meis only bites his lip when he sees something appetizing.

Meis gets a grip of Gueira's hair and holds him there, tasting a reward so sweet, so worth the risk.

They kiss under the night sky, sharing the taste of toasted marshmallow and chocolate.