"Look up."

"I am looking up. Where am I sup--ow! You fucking poked me in the fucking eye!"

"Because you're not looking up."

"I am so. I'm getting a fucking migraine from looking up. If I look anymore up my eyes are going to flip over!"

Beck paused, pencil poised at Daryl's eyelid, and gave a bark of surprised laughter. "That would be pretty interesting, actually," he quipped, gliding the eyeliner smoothly beneath Daryl's dark lashes. The singer snorted in response, less than amused. Beck used the tip of the pencil to smudge the eyeliner, then sat back to appraise his work. "Okay. You can look down now."

Daryl lowered his eyes, lids falling half-closed, and glanced up at Beck through obscenely long lashes. "Well?"

Beck's voice stuck in his throat and he coughed a few times to mask his sudden speechlessness. "You need mascara," he informed Daryl gruffly when he could speak again, reaching into the make-up bag that Larry's girlfriend had left behind. He unscrewed the cap from the bottle and Daryl lifted a sculpted eyebrow as the brush pulled free with a wet glomp. "I can't believe chicks wear all this shit every day," he marveled, eyeing the brush nervously as it approached his face.

"Yeah. Weird." Beck muttered the words distantly, attention narrowly focused on the tiny black mascara brush and Daryl's eyes. He rolled the bristles across a fan of lashes and cursed as they clumped, wishing for the first time that he'd watched women do this a little more closely. He wiped some of the mascara off on the rim of the bottle and tried again, moving with infinite delicacy. After a few more attempts he got the hang of it, gently, if clumsily applying the viscous stuff. He screwed the cap back on and threw the make-up into its bag, settling back once more to survey his work. "There."

Daryl's eyes fell softly closed, then opened a moment later, sharp hazel searching Beck's face curiously. The guitarist was suddenly aware of how close their bodies were; Daryl propped up languidly on the counter, Beck poised between his legs, one hand resting casually on his knee. "So?" Daryl asked, head tilting inquisitively, like a cat studying a bird. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," Beck answered softly, without embarrassment. Daryl watched him quietly as he leaned forward, touching his lips lightly to the singer's. His mouth was soft, pliant, intriguingly unfamiliar; Daryl let himself sink cautiously into that subtle warmth, lips brushing with careful impact. His mouth parted slightly in surprise, and Beck mirrored the motion, tilting his head a little so their mouths fit more snugly together and he could slide his tongue past Daryl's teeth. The kiss was almost painstakingly tentative, a slow exploration that was curiously sweet. Beck felt his mouth begin to tingle and thought about moving his hand up Daryl's thigh, when the door opened and Larry walked in on them.

"Hey guys, have you...oh. Um. Sorry." A faint blush rose in his cheeks as he gazed wide-eyed back at the two men staring at him. "Lisa left her make-up and I was wondering..." Beck wordlessly pointed to the small bag open on the counter, and Larry's blush doubled in intensity. "Oh, great. Thanks. Um...bye, I guess." He stammered the parting words as he backed rapidly out the door, breathing a sigh of relief as he left his band mates behind him.

Beck turned his attention away from the door to find Daryl studying him. "Poor Larry," he said, just to break the silence.

Daryl made an 'mmm' noise in the back of his throat in response, gazing intently at Beck without really seeming to hear him. The look in his eyes was sending little shivers down Beck's spine, but it was also sort of freaking him out, so he offered tentatively--"You should wear make-up more often."

"Okay," Daryl agreed simply, smiling as Beck blinked hard in disbelief. "But only if you put it on me. I'd probably stab myself in the eye with the stuff."

Beck laughed, a little giddy, and felt brave enough to slide his hand a few more inches up Daryl's thigh. "Not a problem," Beck replied glibly, thumb running unnoticed along the seam of Daryl's jeans. "Only, maybe we should buy some, instead of stealing Lisa's."

"And lock the door," Daryl added with a sly grin, and Beck laughed happily, in total agreement.