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"Do you like my hair?"
They were on the bed, and it'd be relatively quiet while she read her novel. The question had Lucy's gaze shifting next to her where George sat up, his legs crossed at the ankle.
"What?"
"Do you like my hair?" He repeated, looking interested in her answer. He'd started growing it out where it now laid on his shoulders.
She shrugged, going back to her book. "I don't care."
Lucy made a noise of protest when George swiftly took the book, shutting it and setting it on the nightstand on his side.
"George!"
"Come on, Luce," he said, giving her those puppy dog eyes. "Answer the question."
"It's your hair. Do what you want with it."
"That's not an answer," he grumbled. Lucy rolled her eyes.
"Give me my book back."
He sighed but did as she demanded. "Ye always have opinions about everything else."
"Maybe I just don't care what you do with your own hair," Lucy opened it back up, frowning as she tried to find what page she'd been on.
"You've got to tell me what ye think about it," George said. She groaned. "Come on, I know you've got something to say."
She let out a breath through her nose, sitting up, snapping her book so she could lean over to him. "Fine. You want to know? I keep scissors on me so I can wait for the perfect time to chop it all off."
A tiny smirk crept up George's face, one he was poorly trying to suppress. "I could do without the sarcasm, thanks."
"And I-" She leaned forward again to softly kiss his lips, "could do without the stupid questions."
"It's not stupid, I'd like to know."
Sighing dramatically, she said, "Baby, I love your hair. I don't care what you do with it."
George self-consciously touched the back of it. "You think it looks alright like this?"
Lucy scooted herself into his personal space, resting her forehead against his. "It's more than alright."
He tilted his head to kiss her sweetly. When they parted, she put the back of her hand on his cheek.
"You're a bit warm."
"I know," he pushed some hair off his shoulder. "It's getting a bit hot, the hair is."
"Want me to plait it for you?" Lucy offered.
"No," he frowned a little.
"If you're worried about looking like a girl, it's a little too late for that," she tugged on his hair with a grin.
He jabbed her in the side, and she giggled, squirming away.
"No need to be so cheeky," he mock scolded her.
Lucy looked quite smug there for a moment or two. Then she said, You've got a hair bobble anywhere?"
"Afraid not."
She huffed, reaching back on her own nightstand to grab one. "You're going to need one, can't be using all of mine."
She directed him to turn around, asking for his comb and began to comb out hair.
"Feels good, ay?" She said airily.
"Mmm, yes," George breathed out. "Might have to have you do this more often."
She kissed the back of his head, unable to keep her smile back.
"Why is your hair better than mine, though?" Lucy complained. "It's so smooth and there's barely any tangles."
"Can't help it if mine's perfect, Luv- ow!"
"Oops,' she said nonchalantly.
"That hurt!"
"Shut up and I won't pinch you, then."
Lucy carefully pulled half of his hair together, wrapping it up into a bun and leaving the rest of it down.
"There. How's that?"
She held up a mirror for him to see.
"Really good, thanks," he said sincerely.
"Good, now I can return to my book," Lucy laid back down, only to be swept into George's arms.
"I was thinking of something else, actually."
The book was thrown to the floor, forgotten as a stream of laughter left Lucy whilst she was kissed over and over.