Operation Ludendorff: a Leviathan fanfic

Chapter Five

 "You look fine."

"My appearance hardly matters, Dylan. It's this horrid hair dye; it itches."

Alek ran a hand through his newly-dyed hair. Dr. Barlow had told him to dye it because she was worried that with Eddie Malone publishing Alek's picture a while back, the German spy on board, everyone in Germany would be on the lookout.

So the lady boffin had brought a bottle of powdered yellow pigment gathered from a fabricated plant back in London. The pigment was supposed to be dissolved in water then rubbed into the scalp, and the color lasted for forty-eight hours.

That was all fine with Alek, just as long as the blasted hair dye stopped making his head itch!

Deryn laughed and ruffled Alek's blond hair. "At least it's not permanent. And anyways, it suits you."

Alek raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Aye, it makes you look like a bonny lass." Alek rolled his eyes.

For the first time since they got aboard the Atlas, Dr. Barlow had turned a blind eye to their sneaking out during the day. Alek imagined that the lady boffin knew it was useless to keep them both apart, since they would be alone in Germany a few hours from now.

And without the lady boffin breathing down their necks, Deryn had been allowed to spend the rest of their stay on the Swedish ship in Alek's stateroom. That was one thing Alek was glad for, considering that the Admiralty was sending them to help a spy no one was sure could be trusted.

"I wish I'd my hair earlier, then. Perhaps during the New Year's Eve party."

A smirk pulled at the corners of Deryn's mouth. "Count Volger would've speared you twice with your own fencing sabre before you stepped out of your hotel room." She sat up, moving to sit beside him, shoulders touching.

Alek shrugged, "It would be quite the spectacle."

"Aye, and you would've missed my costume."

"Lad in a dress," Bovril chuckled from the floor, the beast curling around Alek's suitcase.

Alek felt his cheeks grow warm. Verdammt.

"Yes, that would have been unfortunate." The image of Deryn in a dress was still fresh in Alek's mind and so was the hour or two alone in the changing rooms with her; so maybe more than just unfortunate. Depressing would have been more appropriate, but Alek didn't say that out loud.

Deryn must've caught the blush on his face, because her smirk blossomed into a bright smile. Alek felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, and it took everything in him to keep the innocent look on his face.

"Is the door locked?"

Her eyes flicked to the door.

"Why? Should it be?"

She rolled her eyes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft, gentle; like the one they'd shared on the Leviathan's topside. Alek's stomach twisted and when he opened his eyes – he never realized he'd closed them – Deryn was smirking down at him, the question still unanswered.

"Yes, it's locked. Can we please continue?"

She let out a laugh and leaned forward again. Her hands immediately went to his hair, where her fingers started pulling on the strands lightly. Alek rested his hands on her waist gingerly, leaning back until his back met the wall beside the bed.

Alek was twelve when his father hired Otto Klopp and the man taught him to pilot. Years of tentative pulling and pushing at saunters taught Alek to sharpen his senses, even during ordinary days. He could taste the apple left on Deryn's lips after their quick breakfast in the middies' mess that morning. Could feel the slight sway of the gondola as it moved through miles of sky; even the soft creaking of boots outside –