I feel like I need critique on this one. Also feel free to correct any historical errors I might've made!

Disclaimer!: All your cross-dressers and archdukes are belong to Scott.

Just a Little Off the Ends, Thanks

An involuntary shiver passes through her as cold metal grazes her skin. Or perhaps the cause is the warm brush of his fingertips against her nape. She forces herself not to think about it. Unceremoniously, Alek flicks the pale clippings from Deryn's collar and carries on trimming her hair.

"Newkirk did this, you said?"

"Aye. He's a dope."

"With no sense of what a straight line looks like, it would seem."

She grunts in agreement. "In retrospect, I probably should've asked you first. But you were busy."

Alek nods, now evening out the choppy mess at the base of her skull. "Just as long as you don't do it yourself. I wouldn't want you accidentally spearing yourself through the head."

She sticks her tongue out at him in the mirror, though feels a squick giddy at the prospect of him caring whether or not she gruesomely injures herself. He grins back, amused at having gotten a rise from her.

They talk easily as he evens out the rest of her sandy hair—nothing too heavy, just idle chatter. The rare change of pace is greatly welcomed. It's relaxing.

He asks her about her day, and she tells him of the message lizards she sent relentlessly after poor sodding Monkey Luddite Newkirk as payment for the botched haircut. Her boisterous laughter over the recap startles him, but he smiles, deciding he'll be more than happy to get used to it.

He tells her about a problem with the starboard engine that he'd managed to locate and repair all by himself, and, dull as it is, she listens anyway, content just to hear the sound of his voice.

His fingers graze her cheek as he checks to make sure the sides are of equal length. She feels the blood rush to her face and sends out a quick prayer that his convenient obliviousness kicks in. That's just what she needs—to be getting all moony on him while he's trying to make her look more masculine, and him noticing.

It takes a second for Deryn to realize he's paused. She meets his eyes in the mirror, but he appears to be far away in his thoughts.

"Are you finished?"

"Hm?" Alek snaps back at attention to actually look at her. "Sorry, I was just… wondering what you'd look like with longer hair." He fingers her trimmed locks pensively.

Her smile is wobbly and automatic, her cheeks freshly reddened. "Like a proper girl," she says as casually as she can while her insides are flopping irrationally about. Love is daft.

"Better you look like this then."

Her eyebrows pinch together. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"A proper girl would've stayed home," he says, teasing. The mockery extends to his own past foolishness. "Stayed in the kitchen and had babies, in no particular order. Only a daft woman would jump into a war."

She plays along. "Then I guess it goes to show that daft women make the best fighters, aye?"

He makes what Deryn's come to recognize as the very closest thing a prince will get to a proper snort. "Women can't fight."

"Oh really?" He's taken their mock banter too far. Deryn pivots in her seat. "Have you never heard of the Amazon warriors? Or the Scots army that marched on Newcastle? Not all lads, y'know! And pray tell, your princeliness, who marched thirteen miles to Versailles, killed all the guards, carried their severed heads on spikes and forced that barmy Antoinette woman and her schlub husband all the way back to Paris!"

He blinks at her, realizing he's rubbed a sore spot. "You say that like you're proud," is what eventually comes out of his mouth. "And, I'm sorry, did you say that barmy Antoinette woman? You do realize she was a Hapsburg, don't you?"

To his relief, she grins widely. "Aye. Like I said, barmy."

After a second he breaks into a warm smile and bends down (albeit not much) to level his face with hers. "Well, I suppose they would have to be a bit mad for one of them to fall for an improper disgrace like you." And before she can argue, he kisses the fight and annoyance and masculinity right out of her.