You’ve convinced your husband to shave his beard. You were sitting on the bathroom counter in his oversized hoodie.

He stood between your legs, sleeves rolled up to his forearm, watch still on

“You’re staring” He mutters “I’m observing” You correct, tho your fingers were already curling into the fabric of his shoulder to steady yourself

“Same thing” He says with a smirk as you carefully apply the shaving cream along his jaw, your fingers brushing his skin

He leaned in instinctively, as if he liked the touch more then he would like to admit. When you picked up the razor, he gently puts his hands on your hips, steadying you

“Careful” He muttered “I like this face”

You rolled your eyes “You’re so dramatic” A small streak of shaving cream ended up on your cheek “Did you just-“ Before you could say anything else he leaned in, face brushing yours, his cheek brushing yours

You looked down shyly, stunned by his gesture. He chuckled as he watched you, gently wiping the cream off your cheek with his thumb

“My hoodie” He said, side eyeing the hoodie on you “My husband” You said as you looked at him

That smile crawled up his lips. The kind that made you nervous for no reason “Say that again”