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Jeremy had somehow managed to never notice it before.
It made sense why— Jean typically parted his hair to the right, and had done so ever since it grew long enough to sweep to a side. It was a fresh change, just today that the man had gotten his hair trimmed and made the decision that he preferred the way his curls lay when swept left instead of right.
And right there, nestled in the inky black above Jean's right temple, was a previously hidden treasure. A sprawling streak of silver, so stark against the sea of rich, dark curls it threaded into and around, like moonlight streaming through a canopy of shadowed leaves.
Jeremy was staring. He knew he was staring, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop himself as his eyes traced every pale thread and caught even more of them dispersed along Jean's scalp, peppered in the night sky like shooting stars, like the trail of a firework before it burst.
"Do you not like the haircut?" Jean eventually asked, his voice softened by a hesitancy that made Jeremy's heart shatter.
"What? No! I love it for you, it's gray!" He stupidly blurted out, cringing as Jean's eyes widened at the slip. He hurriedly followed up with a correction, unable to stop himself from rambling on and likely making it worse, "GREAT, I meant great! It looks great, it... It's really good."
Jean shot him a withering glare, shutting up any further attempts to smooth over the slip. His expression softened, almost mournful as he reached up towards the thickest chunk of silver and gently twisted a ringlet around his finger to coax it into view. "I was told it is likely from stress… It will not go away or get better," he offered as explanation, leaving a thousand bitter truths unsaid in the silence that followed.
Jeremy didn't need to hear them again to understand, nor did he have to furiously point out the injustice of how wrong it was to drive a man to greying before he was even old enough to buy himself a drink. He would swallow his rage for Jean, no matter how violently it flared— his partner had been burned enough.
"You look good, Jean," Jeremy said instead, the words low and steady despite how rapidly it made his pulse thrum to admit. It might have been crossing a line, but Jeremy couldn't stand to see the waver of hurt behind a stony gaze, and if he could not offer righteous fury or sympathy then he might as well fork up the truth. "The grey… It looks nice on you."
This stunned Jean, freezing him in place and shifting his expression to something entirely unreadable beyond shock. "I am barely twenty and already I look to be approaching retirement," he pointed out, as if arguing Jeremy's assessment.
And ever the idiot, Jeremy let his first rebuttal slip free unfiltered. "No, you look like a silver fox."
This had Jean taken aback, offended by the sentiment. "Do not call me this."
Jeremy hedged his bets on Jean having never heard the term before, matching the current scowl to the one that always cropped up with mention of foxes. "Oh, Jean, no, it's a compliment—"
"There is no flattering way to be compared to such a beast," Jean insisted, which at least relieved Jeremy of his worry on the cause for taking offense, "I am no fox, silver or otherwise."
Of course it was then that Cat and Laila reentered the apartment, and any hopes Jeremy had of the two girls missing out on the conversation was dashed when Cat's sharp laugh rang out.
"HAH! Did Jeremy call you that?" She asked, with a lilt that said she already knew the answer and planned on making him regret it. Of course, Jean nodded, still looking as offended as ever, and she launched into her explanation with only a passing smirk towards Jeremy, "oh, babe, it's nothing to do with actual foxes. A silver fox is just what you call a sexy guy with grey hair and major DILF energy."
"Dilf…" Jean repeated, his eyes widening before his brow furrowed in a what Jeremy knew was a faux concentration, an attempt to look as if he was searching his mind for a translation, when the reality was that he had no idea.
"We don't need to get into that," Laila said, apparently taking pity on one or both of them as she swooped in to cover Cat's all-too-thrilled grin and silenced what was sure to have been a disastrous follow up. She then proceeded to undo the damage control and damn Jeremy entirely by summing it up as, "if Jeremy called you a silver fox, then he's saying you look hot, Jean."
This only made Jean's brow crinkle further, and Jeremy was forced to hold back a gasp of delight as the ruffling of thick eyebrows revealed a few silver hairs normally buried within. He just managed to coach his gape into a bright smile when Jean turned to him and asked, "this is true?"
Jeremy's jaw worked silently as he dug for any words that could make up an appropriate answer, but Jean saved him with a quickly added addendum.
"That you like the grey, I mean. Better than the all black?" Jean clarified, and the pink tinge to his ears could have been Jeremy's panic-addled imagination or the sudden heat of the room or anything else, really.
Jeremy nodded, clearing his throat in the hope that his voice wouldn't crack on the lump that had built, "both are good, really. The grey just has… A special charm to it. I don't know, I think it suits you."
Jean considered this for a long moment, searching Jeremy's face intently for something, but it was Cat who broke the silence as she slung her arm around Jean's shoulder. "See? Even Jeremy thinks it's cute! You could say it has a certain je ne sais quoi!" She joked, waving her hand with the words as if it could save her butchered pronunciation.
"Your use of could implies there is a decision," Jean huffed, leveling her with a glare that had long ago lost any malice, "do not make the wrong one."
Cat knew, of course, that the threat held no weight, and to prove it she planted a kiss to Jean's temple and ruffled a hand through his hair, "no promises, abuelito."
The little scrunch of Jean's nose in response was downright adorable, and Jeremy felt the need to assure the man again that there was nothing at all wrong with his appearance. Beyond the part where it drew Jeremy's attention far too often. "I'm serious, Jean," he reiterated, catching his partner's attention instantly when his voice dropped down to a serious tone, one that was typically reserved for heavier conversations than hair, "I think it looks good. I wouldn't lie to you about that."
Laila tugged her girlfriend free from Jean, trading over a plastic shopping bag to fill the Frenchman's hands instead, "well, you can kiss it goodbye for now, I got the hair dye you wanted. We can—"
"Unnecessary," Jean interrupted, pushing the bag back into Laila's grasp, "I will not be needing it."
"Are you sure?" Laila checked, but she didn't seem at all surprised when she pressed, and seemed to divulge the next bit of information more for Jeremy than as a reminder to Jean, if the way her eyes flicked between the two of them meant anything, "this morning you were very adamant about covering it up, even after Cat and I said it looked good."
Jean nodded firmly, just the once, and Jeremy's heart did not flutter at the way it made a few curlicues bounce, "I am sure. I will keep the grey, for now."
A sharp bump at Jeremy's ribs drew his lingering stare away again, towards Laila's knowing look.
"You couldn't have come over and talked him up half an hour ago?" She teased, "now what are we gonna do with black hair dye?"
Cat snatched the bag with urgency as she locked on to Jeremy, eyes lit with an excitement that could only spell diaster for him and his freshly touched-up roots, "we could give Jeremy his RACCOON STRIPES!"
Jeremy balked at the suggestion, covering his hair protectively as he backed away from mischievously wriggling fingers reaching towards him. He was forced to pull up the hood of his sweater, pulling the strings tight to hide his perfectly toned bleach blonde. "Are you crazy? Do you want me to get disowned?!" He yelped, dodging an attempt at an honest to God tackle from Catalina, his former friend. She had reached government name territory.
"What are raccoon stripes?" Jean asked, the genuine curiosity of it enough to distract Jeremy from his evasive maneuvers.
A fatal misstep, as Cat caught him in a hug, crushing his waist as she lifted him right off the ground and ignored his yelp of protest. His chest fell against her shoulder, and he scrambled to get a hold on her as his feet were raised far out of reach of the floor. Even a playful slap to her butt was in vain, only resulting in more laughter as he dangled in the grip. He knew Jean and Laila were talking, but he couldn't make out the words amidst his own struggle.
It was Jean's face Jeremy was finally met with when his hood was pulled back, grey eyes bright with amusement as they flicked between his sorry state and something on Laila's phone. Jeremy had a sinking feeling that his soon to be ex best friend had pulled up example photos.
"Jeremy wanted these SO BADLY, but his mother shut it down fast," Laila explained, pointing to something on the screen, "frosted tips was him settling, and then he went full blond instead."
Jeremy bemoaned his situation, ducking his head down so that Jean might not see the growing heat on his face at being exposed, "I just think the stripes are cute! But I'm on too thin ice already…"
His attempt at hiding was ruined by Jean's fingers grasping his chin, lifting his face up for further inspection. It was highly demeaning, to be tossed over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes and then have his face cradled by an unfairly attractive man, and Jeremy was sure his face was looking beyond sunburnt.
"It could be cute," Jean decided, parroting back the word Jeremy himself had used and then mercifully dropping his chin so that Jeremy could hide the hearts in his eyes in the back of Cat's shirt.
"It could also be awful," Cat chimed in, excitement not having wavered at all, "I still think the frosted tips would have been best, but, I'll work with the canvas given to me. Besides, we can always bleach it back, right?
"Do you know how hard it is to get black hair dye out?" Jeremy whined, but any fight left in him spiraled down the drain as the echo of Jean saying cute kept bouncing around his skull. It could be cute. By extension, Jeremy could be cute. He feared there were very few things he wouldn't subject himself to if it resulted in Jean calling him cute.
Jean dismissed this last protest with something resembling a laugh, as if at a joke Jeremy had told that the rest of them seemed to miss, "it can be done."