The Morning Routine
((RasputinxJames fic. Just fluff and immaturity. c: ))
James was out of control.
That was all Rasputin could think as he rolled over in bed, groaning as the light of the "5:00 am" on his high-tech alarm clock shone into his drooping, exhausted eyes. It was unfortunate that he hated the morning so much, and that James himself was a morning person. His spouse was up before the sun every day, and it drove the man out of his mind.
"I hope you know that I despise you and your energy," he grumbled, his face buried in his pillow, as James stepped into the shower. He hadn't bothered to close the door; neither of them really cared about privacy in the shower anymore.
"I hope you know that two o' clock in the afternoon is not an acceptable time to wake up on weekdays," the smugness in his tone made Rasputin want to grind his teeth with frustration. He was more bossy than Grigorii, and that was saying something. "I want a divorce," he called, his head pounding. A minor hangover. Hangovers happened almost every morning, although they were much less intense now that James was here to make sure he didn't get carried away with his drinking.
"We aren't married, you lazy ass." there was an audible smile in his tone. He was used to this behavior. The only answer to come out of Ras' mouth was unintelligible gibberish and a sigh as his eyelids fell and he drifted back into sleep.
It felt as if no time had passed when Rasputin felt the soft brush of lips on his own, rousing him from his doze with a smile. His eyes fluttered open, but he didn't manage to get out a greeting before a piece of buttered toast was forced unceremoniously into his open mouth, causing him to choke and splutter and fall off the bed as James blithely trilled, "no sleeping in, time to get up," and walked out the door.
The fucking prick.
Why the HELL did Rasputin even love this guy?
Quickly chewing and swallowing, Ras sprang out the door after him, grabbing him from behind and shoving the toast in his face. The two grappled for a moment, James elbowing him in the stomach and Ras ruffling his hair. "DAMN it, Ras, now I have to comb it again! Some people actually have to go to work, you know!" and the man was back in the bathroom, this time with the door shut.
Because of their bout of wrestling, Rasputin now had plenty of energy, and he bounded down the stairs. When he reached the bottom he snatched the remote for the stereo off of the stair's banister, turning on one of James' Michael Jackson CDs. He quickly flipped through the tracks until he got to the song "Bad."
"Perfect," he mumbled as he moonwalked backwards through the door to the dining room. Grigorii was waiting there, standing in front of the table, which was set with plates of eggs and bacon (the toast was probably on the floor upstairs), with bowls of fruit on the side. James' plate was empty, as he had already eaten.
Rasputin hardly had enough time to finish one egg before James was back downstairs. The man paused at the bottom, confused for a second by the music, but he rolled his eyes and smirked when Ras came dancing through the door, doing a smooth Michael Jackson-esque spin when he reached him. A mischievous look on his face, he moved very close and murmured seductively, "how about you stay home and we can mess your hair up again," the corners of his lips curled upward. "It would be a lot more fun than clockmaking. Wouldn't you rather have fun with your cute boyfriend than labor over clocks all day?"
He could see James' pupils dilate very slightly, but then he lifted his hand to Ras' face and pushed him away. "No, I have to work. You stay here and continue with whatever you've been doing in the workshop this past week, I'm sure your client is getting very impatient."
Unfortunately, he was correct. The client had in fact called just the night before to ask when it would be done.
Before Ras could stop him, James was out the door and down to the driveway, fiddling with his keys. Desperately, he followed after him, rambling on, "Come on, I can take you out dancing! You can lead this time! We can watch your favorite movie? I'll order us a steak dinner!" until the slimmer, more cultured man reached up and pecked him on the lips to shut him up, their fingers intertwining.
"No, I'm going to work." his voice was soft, but stern. He had a small smile. "Have fun with your tools." He tried to walk away, but Rasputin's prosthetic metal hand (which James was still unaware of) gripped him tightly, not letting him go. "Rasputin, I have to go, I'm going to be late!" Turning with an irritated look on his face, he stopped when he caught a look of his captor's face. Ras could make very persuasive puppy-dog eyes when he really wanted something.
"Just one more kiss?" he pleaded quietly.
James sighed. "Is this really going to be a daily thing?" He pursed his lips, and then groaned. "Fine, just one more, and then I really have to go, I'm--"
He never got to finish his sentence, though, as Ras had yanked him back, catching him and kissing him passionately. He tensed up for a second, surprised, even though he had been warned. Then he relaxed, and pressed closely against his best friend and lover, his heart beating rapidly. Among Rasputin's bubble of happy feelings and emotions, one single thought flitted through his head.
Yes. This would definitely be a daily thing.