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"Look at you," Rodney crowed when John returned from his haircut of necessity. "Dr Singh's getting better with the cowlicks." John flipped him the finger. "You look like the poster child for grey hair."
John tugged his shirt off. "You love the grey."
Rodney shrugged. "Of course I do. I expected you to die young. Grey's a victory."
John stepped out of his trousers and then started working on Rodney's. "Singh does a great close shave," he said, mouth on Rodney's neck. "My face, your ass, how about it?"
"Romance is dead," Rodney intoned, and shoved John onto the bed.