Author's Note: So I got the random idea of Dorian straightening his hair, and I decided it would be funny if Klaus had a bit of a panic attack while he was at the hairdresser's (worrying over what Dorian is going to do).

"Ow, damn it, Klaus, you're pulling," complained Dorian as Klaus attempted to get the brush through the mass of golden curls, "can't you be gentler?"

"If you didn't wear your hair in such a foppish manner you wouldn't get so many tangles," replied Klaus irritably.

"As if you're one to talk, you with your ridiculous fringe," said Dorian with a wave of his hand, glaring at his beloved major over his shoulder.

"Curls tangle more easily than straight hair," said Klaus, his tone irritatingly matter-of-fact, "and besides, I like my fringe, it keeps the hair out of my eyes."

He'd never admit it, but he adored his lover's mane of glossy honey colored ringlets, adored tugging them when they made love, adored brushing his fingers through the perfumed tresses when Dorian insisted on cuddling, even adored brushing them out before they went to bed despite all Dorian's complaining.

"Well then maybe I should get rid of the curls," said Dorian sulkily, toying with one, "I'll phone my hairdresser in the morning."

Klaus swallowed. Was Dorian... his Dorian actually planning to cut his glorious golden hair, the hair Klaus loved burying his nose in, playing with, caressing? Would the earl actually do such a thing? It would be foppish to say anything but the idea of Dorian stripped of his leonine mane brought an uncomfortable sense of horror and loss to the stoic German.

"If that's what you want," was all he said though. After all, he couldn't imagine Dorian actually going through with such a thing, the brit loved beauty far too much to callously dispose of his perfect shining tresses in the name of practicality and comfort. After all, this was still Dorian he was talking about.

Still the next morning Dorian left castle Gloria to go to his fashionable hairdresser leaving a deeply worried Klaus pacing the bedroom like a caged panther, fearing the worst. Much later (far later than he was happy about) he finally heard a knock at the door and Dorian's voice. "I got rid of the curls... it's very different... I'm not sure if you'll like it," he said a note of worry in that voice. Klaus was dumbstruck, mortified. The poof had actually done it. He'd actually gone and done it, the bloody idiot, and now he regretted it, and Klaus would have to comfort the shorn fool while he cried over a bad haircut.

"Come in," he said, trying to modulate the emotion in his voice, and the door opened to reveal Dorian dressed in his finest fur trimmed coat, skin tight jeans high heeled boots and his hair, his glorious hair was intact! It was all there, silky and honey colored as ever, gleaming in the early afternoon light. It was however very different indeed, it hung straight down in a burnished golden sheet past the top of his hips, longer than ever now that it was uncurled.

"Well?" said Dorian, flipping the golden waterfall over his shoulder, "do you like it? It's Brazilian straightening, it'll only last a few months, but isn't it magnificent?"

Klaus laughed, and pulled the other man into an enthusiastic kiss.

"You bloody idiot, you had me worried you were going to hack it all off," he said.

Dorian looked appalled. "Don't even suggest such a thing, I would never willfully destroy something so beautiful, that would be deplorable," he obviously aghast, clutching his hair. Klaus couldn't help but laugh again at the Earl's expression.

"Somehow I thought you wouldn't, but that didn't stop me from worrying" he said, running his fingers through t. It was soft as silk, a gilded waterfall, "it will certainly be easier to brush," he added, before pulling Dorian into an enthusiastic (and profoundly relieved) kiss.

"I'd never forgive you if you cut it, it really is too beautiful," murmured the major between nips to the other man's neck.

"Same to you love, even the fringe," said Dorian affectionately, running his fingers through the other man's soft raven locks as he nudged him towards the bed.

Klaus laughed, turning them around so that it was Dorian who ended up on his back, sprawling, legs spread on the vast canopied bed, straightened hair fanned out behind him.

"I love you, you ridiculous fop," said Klaus.

"And I love you, you repressed German," replied Dorian, pulling the major down on top of him by his tie.