A drabble
Scott reached out his good hand, hesitated, then touched Conrad's right temple. There was a distinct streak of bright white hair developing, starkly visible against the inkiness of the rest of his hair.
Conrad's own hand covered Scott's to hold it against his face.
"Juliet says it looks distinguished, a little cockeyed, but distinguished," he murmured lightly, his eyes gentle and bright, "it was going to come in someday anyway."
"It looks fantastic," Scott answered, unable to keep hints of sadness from his tone.
Conrad touched his forehead to Scott's.
"Worth the price not to lose you."
