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better with age He was getting old. His hair had lost its luster and was no longer raven black. But then again, it hadn't been black for a long time; stress and Lance and worry had turned him gray before he hit forty. Fortunately for him gray hair became him, particularly when he gave in and cut his hair into some semblance of neatness. Age suited him in some respects, making his seriousness seem less out of place when coming from a face etched by experience. He was getting old. He couldn't run as far or as fast as he used to. He couldn't hit as hard or scale a mountain. He hadn't quite gone to fat, yet, but he wasn't as fit and trim as he used to be. There was a little more fat around his middle than he liked, and Lance - the skinny bastard that he was - took a great deal of pleasure in poking his growing belly and making the Pilsbury Doughboy noises. He was...weathered, now. Years of care and sun and wind and weather had left their mark upon his face. He looked ten years older than he felt, and he felt twenty years older than he really was. He was getting old. He had lived a long full life, and yes, there were regrets. Little regrets, like eating shrimp tonight. And big things, like not having a child (though he never said this aloud). But he never regretted leaving the G.G, and he never--never--regretted staying with Lance. Especially now, when he could look down at Lance's sleeping face and listen to the slow, steady, comforting beat of his lover's heart. They hadn't married, had never actively done anything to let the world--or even themselves--know that they were in love. There had never been an anniversary or gifts on Valentine's day or even any reference to the other as anything else than Keith or Lance--never 'my boyfriend' or 'my husband'. Just Keith and Lance and sometimes less flattering names. And sometimes Lance didn't sleep in Keith's bed, and sometimes Keith didn't come home but here it was sixty years and the bulk of that time they had lived and worked and they had always silently loved each other. He was getting old. It was harder and harder to get up in the morning and his heart wasn't as strong as it used to be. But that was all right because Lance was getting older too and he was just as gray and as tired and as much in love now as he had been sixty years ago when Keith had smiled at him from across the library and an introduction became a date became a lifetime together. They were old. But they were happy. |