Trim

"Your hair is getting long," she said, lightly running her fingers through it. He looked at her through the corner of his eye, cocking an eyebrow.

"So?"

"I can cut it for you," she offered, playing with a long lock right above his ear, "Doesn't it get in your way?" she asked, blowing at his bangs from where they hung low over his eyes. He wrinkled his nose, making a face at her.

"Have you cut hair before?"

"I used to cut my brothers' hair," she shrugged. He was tempted to ask her more about her family, but he knew she wouldn't. She never did.

He sighed. "Fine."

She smiled. "I'll bring some scissors tomorrow."

"Hold still," she ordered, trying to tie the sheet around his neck. He squirmed, trying to pull away as she tugged the fabric too tight, "Do you want to be covered in hair?"

"I'm not wearing a giant bib."

"It's a sheet."

"It's a bib."

She exhaled slowly through her nose, before finally tying the linen in a secure knot. He grumbled, but eventually sat still.

"Close your eyes," she said, and he did as she told, holding his breath a bit as she combed her fingers through his hair gently, before picking up a piece and beginning to cut. All he heard was the squeak of the scissors as she cut his hair. The blades were dull, and tugged, but he kept quiet as she worked, not willing to risk the chance to startle her into snipping of one of his ears.

She moved, and he felt her breath against his face as she picked up his bangs, carefully trimming them away from his eyes. He noticed she was humming under her breath, and he finally spoke up.

"How's it look?"

"Fine," was all she said, "Now hold still."

He closed his mouth and he felt her blow stray hair from his face, before gently dusting off what remained. She pulled away, and he felt her run her fingers through his hair again, an there was an occasional finishing cuts of the scissors.

"It's done," she finally told him, and he opened his eyes. She smiled, and he pulled off the sheet, dropping it on the grass before going to check his reflection in the stream. She followed behind him, glancing over his shoulder as he inspected her work, scratching at his hair and turning his head this way and that.

"The front is so short," he said, looking back at her, "Shorter than it was before I got here."

"I think it looks better on you," she said, and he gave her a skeptical look. She laughed, and leaned down, giving his forehead a quick peck, "I can see your face better."

He flushed, looking away again. He absently picked off stray hairs from his pants, unable to meet her eyes.

"...Thanks."

She giggled, and crouched down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Of course."