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Growth

Summary:

One evening, Francis faces his mirror.

Notes:

I haven't written anything fictional in over a decade and I'm quite nervous, because this fandom is so insanely talented. But if you don't even try, you'll never know and I do like knowing.
So this is my first try after a long time and I hope you enjoy it.
Tips and constructive criticism are always welcome.

Work Text:

The lines didn't tell a happy story. His misery had carved itself into his face over the years. He had frowned entirely too much in his life.

And although he would consider himself a happier man now, his mirror reminded him constantly of other times.

"Perhaps you could try a beard?" a familiar voice whispered very close to his ear.

"Hm?" Thomas knew him altogether too well these days.

"I've always wondered how you would look like with a full beard. Why don't you try it?"

"Ah, Thomas," Francis almost sighed, "I always thought it more of a nuisance. It catches the food, it would just freeze over. It'll be too much work to keep it looking proper," he paused. "And by now it'll be completely white. At worst I'll look like Father Christmas."

Old, with other words. Too old. Especially next to still youthful Thomas, whose chin was resting on his shoulder now.

"Well, since we're not in the Arctic anymore it won't freeze and I could help keeping it neat? Come to think of it, I'd really like to do that. You know, like I used to?" Thomas was obviously more determined than Francis thought.

"Thomas," Francis exhaled heavily, "we agreed long ago that you wouldn't have to do that ever again."

"It's been years, Francis. I'd like to," his knuckles caressed Francis' slightly uneven jaw, "it would make me happy."

Thomas draped his arms around Francis' torso and pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek.

"I could grow one as well," Thomas breathed against his ear, "I'm sure, it'll be very grey these days. And you could help me keeping it neat."

"Well, if you put it that way." Francis admitted defeat. A man could only take so much. He felt Thomas' smile against his face.

"Good. So, no shaving for at least a fortnight then."

"Yeah, for all the good that'll do."

"Hush now. It'll be fine. We will look very dashing in about two weeks."

"If you say so."

"I know so. Partly because you always look pretty dashing to me."

Francis snorted.

"You know you do," Thomas whispered before he started to nibble gently at Francis' earlobe.

This would be a long night. Francis' eyes happily fluttered shut.