inspired by the playoff beard. guys i’m a little bit obsessed with it
cw: mention of razors
Ukko didn’t like beards. He always claimed he couldn’t grow one. It was too much upkeep, a hygiene issue. So when the Sabres made it to the playoffs, he was less than satisfied to hear the team would be growing out their beards.
You’d grown up around men with beards your entire life. It was a culture thing where you came from; the bigger the beard, the higher the respect. Dating baby-faced Ukko was a big change, but it was nice. No beard hair in the sink, no oils and balms cluttering the counter in the bathroom, and no beard rash.
One night after a late game, the two of you were getting ready for bed. Ukko heads to the bathroom. After a while, you walk in, brushing your teeth and carrying on with your nightly routine. Ukko stares at himself in the mirror, rubbing his jaw exasperatedly. You glance up at his reflection as you’re bent over the sink.
“I hate this thing.”
You spit, wiping your mouth and straightening up to look at him properly. “You look handsome.”
He just rolls his eyes. He was handsome to you no matter what. That wasn’t the issue.
“What’s the matter, Upie?”
He turns and meets your gaze, a whiny lilt in his voice, “It itches…”
“Once it grows out a little more, it’ll stop itching, honey.”
Then he’s turning back to the mirror, pulling at the skin on his jaw and around his neck. From the looks of it, he hadn’t bothered to trim or edge it up in the slightest. It was creeping down his neck like ivy, unkept and scraggly. He definitely needed some help. You could tell that was eating at him too. He wasn’t confident with it. He didn’t feel like himself
You gently run your thumb over the stubble, inspecting it with him. “This is why it itches… you haven’t groomed it.”
Another whine. He was like a baby throwing a tantrum. The thought of growing the beard was taxing enough, now he had to tend to it?
“Do you need help?”
He nods, holding out his razor like a peace offering. His bottom lip is jutted out in a pitiful display of desperation as he silently begs for your expertise.
You hop up on the counter, positioning him between your knees. The supplies lay ready next to you. A bowl of water, his razors (a traditional and an electric), shaving cream, and a bit of skin oil you kept for moisturizing.
His face didn’t need much help, just a bit of shaping up along his upper cheeks and a bit of trimming on the mustache.
Your fingers thread through his hair, gently gripping along the nape of his neck and tilting his head back. His throat was bared along with the underside of his jaw.
You began to map out your lines with the electric razor, carefully carving away at the hair along his under chin. He leans forward against the counter between your legs, his hands resting lazily on your waist.
The easy part was over when you finished the lines and clicked off the razor. You switch, opting for the traditional razor now. You dip it in the bowl of water, wetting it. Your touch is gentle as you carefully swipe away at the stubble. Each bob of his Adam's apple makes you pause, cautious to not knick him.
Ukko breathes out a soft laugh as he glances down at you. Your tongue is out, working against your bottom lip in focus.
You tilt his head forward again, now looking straight at him to ensure everything is even. He grins at you, that goofy, crooked grin.
“What?” you laugh.
He just shakes his head, still smiling, “You just look really cute when you’re all focused.”
You roll your eyes, lathering a bit of oil between your fingers and massaging it along his throat. “I was trying not to cut you.”
He hums in acknowledgment, his eyes on yours as his hands on your waist begin to gently rub circles along your skin. “You did wonderfully.”
“How do you know? Haven’t even looked in the mirror yet.”
His gaze leaves yours for a second to look at his reflection in the mirror behind you. He tilts his head to the sides, flexing his jaw. Then he’s looking at you again. “You did wonderfully,” he echoes.
Your hands are still on his throat even after you massaged the oil in, just holding him. They drift up, holding his face just behind his jaw and against his ears. “You look very handsome,” you echo back.
He smirks, pecking a quick kiss against your lips before scooping you up and carrying you off to the bedroom, “Now you can kiss my neck without getting carpet burns…”
I only started closely following the Canes in a band wagon r2 playoffs, so i cannot wait to see these guys clean shaven and as with the Habs and avs try to relearn who these guys are with the equivalent of Clark Kent taking off his glasses and I no longer am able to identify them 😂
