Without spoiling too much, this prompt kinda reflects on a conversation Krystal and I sometimes have. Loki sees Stephen's gray hairs and knows Stephen is only growing older. It scares him that the doctor won't be around forever.

He was getting older.

That, Loki knew. And quite possibly, Stephen did too. But to admit it was something neither of them could bring themselves to say.

These words were left unspoken under the dim light of their kitchen. Sitting at a table made for two, they ate in silence. This usually occurred when neither god nor sorcerer dared to say their thoughts aloud.

During their meal, the god couldn't stop looking up from his plate to eye his husband's head. More specifically, where the black hair met the gray.

He remembered a time when he would fuss and fume once he found out Stephen refused to dye his hair any longer. Much to the god's disapproval, the sorcerer had stopped years ago when he told Loki it was natural for men "his age" to wear their hair proudly. Grays and all.

Loki hated to admit it, but Stephen wasn't as young as he used to be. And that clearly showed physically.

Loki began to squint harder at the man across from the table. And it was once Stephen felt his piercing gaze, looked up and caught his eye, the god shamefully brought his head back down.

He knew Stephen knew why he was looking so hard at him. They wouldn't talk about it out loud of course. 13 years of marriage and yet there were still unspoken truths between them.

Sleeping together made it quite difficult as well. Due to the trauma of the adventures he's endured over the years as Sorcerer Supreme, Stephen could not alone simply will himself to sleep. Every night, Loki would quietly watch his lover place a sleeping spell on himself. It would be good enough to last an hour or two before any type of nightmare occurred, and forced the poor doctor awake, screaming into the night.

So, as soon as Stephen's beautiful gray eyes were covered over by his lids, Loki's green ones found new interest in the strands of gray in his lover's hair. The fading hair stood out amongst the darkness of their bedroom. And as Stephen's faint snores escaped from his lips like a gentle breeze, Loki drew closer to the sleeping man.

He wished he could admire how handsomely the silver kissed his lover's temples, but his worry increased as he started to count each and every separate strand. He found that there were at least a hundred more gray hairs than the previous night.

It was foolish of him to try and admit to himself that the gray only came from stress. It was common to humans at least, as he previously discovered, but now as his husband's temples were colored with an array of gray and white, he should realize now that it had to be the force of old age.

He stopped his counting and rolled over to lay on his back.

It was then Loki knew he would have to live with the imminent truth. Stephen wouldn't be around for as long as he hoped. He was just a mortal. A fantastic, amazing mortal that made this period of Loki's life more exciting. In his lifespan, their love might be temporary, but he was going to remember Stephen forever.