sunday morning moments

anonymous asked:

I would love to see a fluff about Yuri shaving Victor. Idk, but I find that kind of thing so cute! Thanks again. ♡

It’s a Sunday morning ritual. It has been for almost a year now. Sometimes they have to forgo it if they’re travelling, but mostly every weekend they indulge in a lazy morning, taking their time to get up, making sure that they spend the extra hours being dedicated to each other and nothing else.

Neither are sure how it first started, really. Maybe it was on one of those morning’s they’d decided to do everything for each other: wash each other’s bodies, fix each other’s hair, feed each other breakfast. But now it’s become habit that, morning shower or not, Yuuri shaves Victor. 

It had started off innocently enough. Yuuri straddling him and using his electric razor to clear the fine dusting of stubble Victor had accumulated over the past day. It’s intimate, but something that any couple might do for each other.

Now, though, it’s changed into something more. A few months ago, Yuuri had brought out a straight razor instead of Victor’s usual electric shaver. He hadn’t asked, hadn’t explained, just offered. 

As terrifying as it might have been - a single blade so close to Victor’s neck - he’s always trusted Yuuri, and he’d agreed with almost no hesitation.

The first session had been quiet. Just Yuuri concentrated on cleanly shaving Victor. His sweeps weren’t perfect, but he hadn’t nicked Victor at all, just left him with soft skin. 

They hadn’t discussed it and had gone back to the electric razor the next week. But the week after, Yuuri had given him the choice - electric or straight razor. Victor had chosen the blade. 

It’s beyond intimate now, this ritual of theirs, but still something they only indulge in once a week.

It always starts off the same, Yuuri sitting a naked Victor down on the edge of the tub, pulling the brush, soap, and blade out from under the sink. He doesn’t need to turn the overhead lights on - the morning sun is streaming in through the window at the perfect angle.

He heats a washcloth under the hot water of the tap, pressing it to Victor’s face once he’s pleased with the temperature. It’s quiet as they wait, letting the warm wet weight of the washcloth soften the stubble Victor has. 

When he’s satisfied, Yuuri sets the blade ontop of the washcloth beside Victor as he wets the brush, swirling it over the soap to make a lather, the edges of the brush lightly tapping against the ceramic bowl the soap sits in. Victor’s eyes flutter closed as Yuuri slowly brushes the foam across his jaw in long swipes, gathering more lather as needed. The bristles of the brush are soft, but sometimes catch against his stubble. 

He only blinks his eyes open when Yuuri turns to wash out the brush in the sink. He receives a soft smile when he turns back around and their eyes meet.

Victor quietly tips his head back to bare his throat to Yuuri when he picks up the razor and washcloth. Yuuri steps in between his legs, one hand keeping Victor’s head steady, the other carefully holding the blade. The first sweep is long and easy. Yuuri wipes the excess soap from the blade on the washcloth drapped over his arm. 

“My dad taught me this,” he admits for the first time this Sunday. “Back when I was a teenager.”

It takes a few more sure swipes of the blade before he continues.

“When he did, I wasn’t sure what the point was. There were easier ways, and I certainly wasn’t growing enough of a beard at fifteen to warrant a full shave.”

Victor hums in the back of his throat to show he’s listening. He doesn’t speak though as Yuuri’s swiping along his jaw. 

“I practiced anyway,” he admits. “Because I thought maybe it would be a useful skill. My father told me that if I could master this, then any other shave would be easy.”

He has a fond look in his eyes as he tilts Victor’s face to the side to slide the blade up his neck. 

“I thought it was ridiculous. And after I’d learned how to do it, I just stuck to disposable razors because they were easier.”

“Seems a shame,” Victor murmurs as Yuuri cleans the blade on the washcloth.

“I suppose.” Yuuri agrees as he continues. He works his way slowly across Victor’s face, fingers and blade moving together in a loving motion. Every action for to Victor, and Victor alone.

Victor shows his own trust, his own love for Yuuri in the way he moves pliantly with each tilt of his head. Never flinching when Yuuri comes close with the razor.

It’s almost erotic, this reverence, this attention that Yuuri gives him on those late Sunday mornings. A moment just for the two of them. 

“Even though I always thought it was a little archaic,” Yuuri says as he swipes at any moustache hairs Victor might have, “I’m glad I learned it.”

“Mmnn,” Victor agrees.

“Because now I can share it with you,” Yuuri breathes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s heart wrenching to see how soft Yuuri is in this light, smiling, eyes intent on Victor, adoration showing completely on his face. Devotion. That’s what this ritual is. A promise of every Sunday from here until forever.

When Yuuri’s finished and has turned to wash the blade before he cleans Victor’s face, Victor stands, waiting until Yuuri’s turned around again before he catches him in a kiss. 

The leftover shaving cream smears across both their faces. Yuuri’s stubble scratches across Victor’s soft skin. He feels contentment. 

“Maybe one day you can teach me too,” He says before pulling him into another kiss.

Sunday Mornings

It was moments like this that Sam craved. Lazy sunday mornings in the bunker, lounging in nothing but boxers and a ratty old t-shirt. Gabriel softly tracing circles on the nape of his neck as he read the Weekly World News. Sam shifted closer to Gabriel, reading over his shoulder. One article in particular caught his attention.

“Do you believe in alternate universes?” he asked softly.

Gabriel immediately smirked, “Hellz yeah. Visited a few myself.”


“Hmhm” Gabriel raised his gaze from the paper to meet Sam’s impressed gaze, quirking an eyebrow. “I’ve even met some of your alternate identities.”

“Is that so?”

Gabriel shrugged, “I was bored. This was when I was “dead”. I had nothing better to do than kick it around in those universes.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “You could’ve come back. You know, to me.”

“Awww Sammich, I didn’t know you felt that way about me back then.” Gabriel stretched up to kiss his nose. The action softened Sam’s bitchface into something of affection, and he pressed his lips against Gabriel’s. The newspaper dropped to the floor as Gabe reached up to run a hand through Sam’s hair, eliciting a small groan from the taller man.

The kiss lasted a little more than a minute, before Gabriel pulled away. “But in all seriousness, I couldn’t come any sooner than I did. Trust me, I’d much rather have been spending my time with you…and that idiot brother of yours.”

“What were they like? The alternate universes?”

“They were alright, in the first few I met people like the Doctor, Sherlock, and Harry Potter.”

“You what!?”

Gabriel pressed a finger to Sam’s lips. “Hush Sammy. Let me finish storytime, no interruptions unless they involve physical contact.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, but sat back waving a hand indicating that he should continue.

“Good. Anyways, everything changed when I met you in one of them. The first time, you spilled coffee on me. Which for one thing: rude. But you helped clean up the mess, and since I was so flustered about seeing your dumb face again, I almost missed your scrawled note with your number on it.”

Sam couldn’t contain his laughter. The happy sound reverberated off the walls.

“Shut up. Stop laughing.” Gabriel said in mock seriousness, struggling not to laugh himself. “Anyways, after that I made it into a game. Every universe I visited, I would always be on the lookout for you, and I’d ask you out. Or sometimes you’d ask me out.”

“Let me get this straight,” Sam’s eyes were still lit up with happy mirth, “you spent the five years years I thought you were dead practicing asking me out. Really Gabe, five years, am I that scary? ”

“First, time is relative. So I am not sure how much time it was for me. Second, please Sammikens, you are an adorable puppy. There’s not a scary bone in your body. Third, as far as I knew, you were straight in this universe. Although that thought soon dissipated, after a huge majority of the alternate yous proved to be interested in me.”

“Did you go out with any of them?”

“Hellz nah. Believe me, I was tempted to, but …” Gabriel’s facial expressions stilled as he gazed off into a corner of the room in thought.

“But what?”

Gabriel turned back to look at Sam, his eyes roving Sam’s face, pausing at his lips before looking him in the eyes. “I wanted it to be real, you know? So, the first time you kissed me in this universe was also the first time I kissed you.”

Sam let out a huff of air, shaking his head in disbelief, glancing up at Gabriel in adoration.

“Stop. Don’t give me those puppy eyes.” Gabriel warned, leaning away from Sam.

“Gabe, that’s incredibly-”

“Sammy I swear if you say it!”

“-romantic of you.”

“Damn it! You just had to say that. Go ahead, why don’t you, rub it in my face. I have a reputation to keep and you just go off and say-”

Sam stopped Gabriel’s rant before he could really get started on it, capturing the offending lips with his own. Gabriel’s hands flailed in the air for a second, before landing on Sam’s shoulders, most likely in the attempt to push him away. But Sam simply deepened the kiss causing Gabriel to let out little sounds of pleasure. So when Sam pushed him gently deeper into the couch, Gabriel let him.

Finally, Sam broke apart, their noses bumping together. Gabriel slowly opened his eyes to meet Sam’s. “I like it when you’re romantic.” Sam admitted, his warm breath brushing softly against Gabriel’s skin.

Gabriel’s eyes lit up, although he tried to hide it. “It’ll be our little secret, yeah?”

Sam smiled, “Yeah, sure thing Gabe.” A smirk crept onto Gabriel face before he tugged Sam back down, initiating another kiss.

And there they lay, another lazy sunday morning, until Dean came stomping through, muttering something about public spaces, and getting a room.

Listening for the sound of sails out on the water; thinking about ways to lose myself. There’s no time left here, or there; there’s no more olden days turning to gold. Watching while the wind sweeps these streets and silent Sunday morning small town moments amount. You never realize how little there is to you, until you strip away all modern distractions. Those things that allow you to ignore your own reality. I recommend it highly.

Sometimes losing can be the best thing that ever happens to you. Ask the guy living on the streets what’s really important. I guarantee he knows. I guess some folks like being brain washed by the world. Sleepwalking their way through a series of superficial routines, day after day, never questioning what’s the point of it all. There is more to life than simply consuming. I know it’s set up that way these days, but you really should fight the addiction to all of the bullshit. Besides, it’s fattening. And it makes you stupid.

I got rid of my internet and my television for several months recently. It wasn’t a choice, I was just fucking broke man. I mean, choosing between eating, and watching my favorite shows on the tube is a no brainier. I have gone without TV before a few times over the years, but for a long while there I had internet as well. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d come to depend on it for entertainment. I have to admit that it was hard going without it at first. I was left with… Just me. And my thoughts as it were. Oh, and my wife too. We just sat and stared at each other for a while, like two junkies needing a fix. Thank god for sex, because we were a sad boring couple for a bit. Luckily I remembered how to read, and started reading books again. I had forgotten just how much I enjoy reading.

So anyway, my point to this, is to disconnect.
Do like purplemonkeysexgod69 does, and go stack rocks in a river for a day. Think your own thoughts on occasion. If that idea scares you, maybe it’s because you’re afraid you’ll find out, that there’s too little left, of you.