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bldreamer · 5 years ago

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LOOK | MorkSun

Dark Blue Kiss : MorkSun

Summary: Five times Sun is surprised by Mork’s appearance. One time they surprise each other. Genre: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. 5+1. Warnings: Tiny mention of power tools and stitches(?)

A/N: I miss MorkSun. @kdramama thank you darling x

When Sun notices Mork sitting on the couch by the window of the cafe, he has to do a double take. He’s still in his uniform, brow creased in deep concentration, pen in his mouth as he chews on the cap. The coffee table is covered in textbooks and his calculator is resting on his thigh as he jams his index finger mercilessly into the buttons.

It’s not the first time Sun has watched him do his homework in the cafe. So that’s not the thing that surprises him.

Sun smiles, holding his pad and pencil for extra smugness.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” he asks in his perfect customer friendly tone.

Mork mumbles something Sun thinks sounds like a combination of ‘No’, and ‘Go away’. But he can’t help himself to tease a little more. He’s enjoying the view far too much to leave so soon.

“You can’t sit here if you don’t order anything, I’m afraid.” He taps his pencil, pressing it to the paper. “So, what can I get for you?”

Mork pulls the pen out of his mouth and looks up through his thick lashes. Sun can actually pinpoint the exact second where his glare falters and he realises Sun isn’t going anywhere unless he plays along for a moment or two.

“Iced tea, and a restraining order,” Mork grumbles.

“Restraining order?”

“Mh,” Mork hums, “There’s an annoying barista harassing me.”

Sun grins. “I bet he’s handsome though.”

“And he’s really humble about it.” Mork turns back to his papers, pushing his glasses back to his brow. “His personality needs work, if you ask me,” he mutters, jotting something down.

Sun pouts. “You’re so cold,” he says.

“Was there something you wanted, P’?” Mork asks, distracted. “Or do you just enjoy bugging me even on my day off?”

Sun chews on his bottom lip, feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he says, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Surprise.” Mork pushes them up his nose again, as if on instinct because Sun has brought them up.

Sun won’t say this aloud, he values his life. But the glasses are undeniably cute. Slim black frames, soft round lenses, and a silver bridge curved across Mork’s nose making him look equal parts adorable and sexy.

“Don’t get used to it,” Mork tells him plainly.

“Oh?”

“I get my new contacts in a week.”

That means Sun gets to see Mork wearing them for the next five or six days at least. He isn’t disappointed in the slightest. Specifically at the thought of tugging Mork into bed and taking them off for him before they kiss.

“What happened to the old ones?” Sun asks out of curiosity.

“They were making my eyes itch,” Mork comments, clicking his calculator and turning his nose up, apparently unhappy with the answer it gives him.

Now that Sun looks past his lenses and the blue glare they’re giving off, he can see Mork’s eyes are a little red and irritated. He wonders if the AC is making his eyes dry and he needs to turn it down or change the filter. He makes a note to do both before morning.

“I like the glasses,” Sun mentions discreetly. “They make you look distinguished.”

Mork looks up past the reflective lenses. “Distinguished?” he asks slowly, like he knows what Sun is getting at but he’s still curious.

“Like a sexy librarian,” Sun tells him.

Mork sniggers. “Pervert.” There’s a faint pink glow that blossoms from his cheeks and Sun can’t help but grin at the sight. “Hurry up with my order or I’m going to Boss Cafe to study.”

“Yes sir, coming right up sir.” Sun jots something down on his pad. “One iced tea, coming your way,” he assures with mock urgency, tearing off the paper and putting it down on the coffee table.

He walks away back to the kitchen to make Mork’s drink. He looks up from behind the counter to see the boy reading his note.

-Stay over tonight and I’ll show you how I feel about sexy librarians.

He doesn’t miss the smile that spreads across Mork’s face as he tucks the note into his top pocket, going back to his homework.

Mork starts growing his hair out some time around monsoon season.

His fringe is the only thing that’s different at first. It gets too long to lay over his forehead and Mork flicks it out of his eyes about a thousand times an hour until it's long enough to tuck behind his ears.

There’s an awkward stage where Mork grumbles about cutting it until Sun finds a new niche in threading his fingers through the long strands and brushing his thumb over the hairs at the nape of Mork’s neck in the quiet moments when they’re alone.

When it almost touches Mork’s jawline and starts to curl at the ends, Sun jokes he’ll have to start wearing a hairnet when he’s working.

The next morning Sun comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist to see Mork in front of the mirror, attempting to pull the front half of his hair into pineapple looking sprout at the top of his head.

It’s ridiculously fluffy and Sun hadn’t expected it to be so wavy when he started growing it out. It makes Mork look like a completely different person than the arrogant troublemaker he used to be. His rough and jagged edges softened into something warm and content.

Rain has taken to calling his best friend Mushroom Head and Sun often watches fondly as his boyfriend puts Rain into an unforgiving headlock and drags him around the cafe. It’s the only act of violence Sun permits under his roof.

“Need some help?” Sun dares to ask, despite being on the receiving end of a glare in the reflexion of the mirror.

“This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Sun echos, taking the hair tie from him without prompt.

“You told me I’d look good with long hair.”

Sun frowns. “I did?” he questions, racking his brain for that particular memory.

“You were drunk,” Mork says.

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

Sun manipulates him so he can reach the top of his head. Raking his fingers through Mork’s long hair and gathering the front section into his hand.

“You said I’d be as fluffy on the outside like I am on the inside.”

“That sounds like me,” Sun agrees. Drunk him anyway.

He twists the hair tie and makes a small if slightly messy looped knot on the top of Mork’s head. He steps back to admire his masterpiece, smiling at the cute hairstyle and Mork’s grumpy face below.

“You look adorable,” he beams, proud of himself.

“I look stupid,” Mork complains, not even looking in the mirror. “I’m going to the barbers on my lunch break.”

Sun wonders if the sounds of his shattering heart reach Mork’s ears. If they do, he doesn’t seem to care.

“Mork,” he cries, reaching for his hand.

“Shut your face, I owe Rain 500฿.”

“You guys had a bet going?”

Mork nods, disgruntled. “He bet me I couldn’t last six months looking like a mushroom.”

“Then wait until it’s been six months,” Sun tries to persuade but the expression on Mork’s face tells him he’s not backing down.

“It’s almost summer. I’m going to suffocate under all this mess.”

It’s probably true, Sun hadn’t realised Mork could have so much hair.

Sun pouts, Mork’s hand cupped in his own.

“Don’t cut your hair. Please,” he moans. “Please, pretty please, Mork.”

Mork shoves him away with his elbow, like Sun’s whining is the most annoying sound on planet Earth -it probably is- and says, “Give it a rest,” reaching for the doorknob.

Mork keeps the topknot in even after Rain outwardly cackles in his face and Sun follows him around for the entire morning sulking. He switches between pleading aloud and throwing him sad puppy eyes whenever their eyes meet but to no avail.

Sun is thoroughly heartbroken when Mork unties his apron and grabs his wallet and bike keys from behind the counter just after one in the afternoon.

Almost an hour later he comes back with decidedly less hair and less curls than he’d had that morning. It's a shade or two darker without the sun lightened ends. Neat at the back and longer on the top, catching on his eyelashes and Sun carefully pushes the fringe from his eyes.

It’s still just as fluffy.

“How does it look?” There’s a hesitance to Mork’s words, a nervousness about the way he holds himself.

Despite being in a state of mourning, Sun can’t help the smile that spreads across his entire face. He doesn’t deny Mork looks breathtaking. He twists his boyfriend around, hands on his hips so he can tie the apron around at his back.

“You have a tan line on the back of your neck,” Sun tells him with a small chuckle, brushing his fingers over the pale skin at his nape as he ties a knot in the neck of the apron “You look very handsome, boyfriend,” he whispers into his ear.

Mork smirks at him when they’re back facing each other, slipping something into Sun’s hand. “500฿ says you can’t pull off a top knot.”

Sun opens the hand as he walks away. It’s the hair tie Mork had had in earlier and he grins, eyes following his neatly trimmed boyfriend across the cafe.

“Oh, you’re on.”

The sight of the bandage around Mork’s hand makes Sun’s stomach drop to the floor. Especially when Rain trails into the cafe behind him with a sullen expression and a split lip.

Sun forces air into his lungs, taking a slow and calculated breath before he does something stupid like start throwing accusations around before he knows the full story. He’s made that mistake one too many times. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like throwing up as his brain leads him to the most obvious places when the two boys shuffle towards him.

“We know what this looks like,” Rain starts and the sound of his voice alone makes Sun jump out of his skin.

“And what does it look like?” Sun asks, his voice more level than he would have thought.

He clenches his jaw, preparing himself for the worst but hoping for something better. A good excuse at least.

“P’Sun, it’s not what you think,” Rain assures. “I promise.”

Mork glares at him, looming large while Rain shrinks under his gaze. A stiffness that falls over the cafe, like time gets stuck and Sun can hear his own blood pumping in his ears.

“It was an accident-”

Mork throws his unbandaged hand at the back of Rain’s head making him yelp.

“Dude, what was that for?” Rain rubs the back of his skull. “I said I was sorry.”

“For the tetanus shot.” Mork wacks him again, gaining another yelp. “And that’s for the stitches.”

Sun puts down the tray he’s holding -it’s starting to wobble- and places his hands on his hips as he waits for the full explanation. Eyebrows raised, looking between both boys.

“I was using a saw in the workshop and this idiot,” Mork growls, “Decided it would be hilarious to jump out behind me. You’re lucky I didn’t slice my whole hand off and make you eat it, asshole.”

Rain’s eyes widen and he shudders, knowing his friend isn’t kidding. Sun is still trying to digest the part about the saw.

“What happened to your face?” he asks instead, working himself up from the smallest injury.

Sun highly doubts Mork punched his best friend, but it’s nice to have confirmation. Even if it sounds like Rain deserved it.

“He jerked his elbow into my face when I jumped him,” Rain complains, poking the cut with his tongue like he’s the terribly injured party in the whole thing.

“Be grateful P’Sun made me promise not to use violence anymore.” Mork clenches his good fist. “Otherwise you’d be scraping yourself off that saw.”

“Mork, darling,” Rain pouts.

Mork raises his hand, looking like he’s about to give Rain another head wack when Rain’s phone starts ringing -they all know who it is- and he skulks off to the side to answer it.

“Manow,” he whines into the phone. “Mork’s scolding me.”

Mork’s nostrils flare, glaring holes in the back of Rain’s skull as he walks away towards the stairs, trailing his backpack along the floor as he goes.

“Come with me,” Sun says, grabbing Mork’s arm and tugging him towards the couch by the window of the cafe.

He makes Mork sit down and gingerly takes his hand in his lap, holding it with the lightest touch, unsure where the injury is specifically under the thick bandages that go from his wrist to the knuckles of his fingers. Stark and white, contrasting with Mork’s tanned skin.

“It’s fine, I went to the clinic on campus,” Mork says, answering the question Sun hasn’t even asked yet.

Sun winces, looking from Mork’s face to the bandages. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s okay. Just a scratch,” Mork shrugs, letting Sun hold his hand without complaint. “The nurse said to keep it dry and change the dressings tomorrow.”

Sun furrows his brow, studying Mork’s face for a moment. He reaches out to feel Mork’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“You look pale,” he says, despite not finding much -or anything- of a fever.

“There was a lot of blood,” Mork comments flippantly like it’s the most throw away thing in the world.

“You said it was fine!” Sun scolds.

“It is.” Mork taps him on the cheek. “You worry too much, P’.”

“You make me worry.” Sun tuts, pursing his lips and he brushes his thumb over the edges of Mork’s bandage. “Don’t do any lifting with this hand, and make Rain clear your tables.”

“No arguments from me,” Mork shrugs.

“Sit down if you feel lightheaded.”

“Anything else?”

“Don’t scare me like this again.”

Mork’s face curls into an all too pleased smirk, “You thought I’d punched someone, huh?”

Sun weighs up his options of telling the truth verses how effective a bold face lie would be.

“You really have so little faith in me?” Mork questions, because apparently Sun took too long to decide his silence is answer enough.

“No,” Sun pouts. “But you can’t blame me.”

Mork huffs a short laugh. “Well, at least you didn’t yell at me before hearing me out.”

“It’s progress?” Sun offers with a weak grimace.

“Sure, P’. Whatever you say.” Mork pushes to stand, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m going to go get changed before my shift.”

“Yell if you need help,” Sun says, and he’s not even being naughty.

“I cut my hand, not had my arm amputated. I think I’ll manage.”

“Tell Rain he’s on toilet duty for the rest of the month for his sheer stupidity.” And for giving him a mild heart attack.

“You’re the boss,” Mork mock salutes him.

Sun sighs, lying back against the couch. Those two idiots are going to be the death of him.

“What’s this?”

Sun holds the pendant around Mork’s neck. It’s hard to see in the dim lamp light as Mork looks down from on top of him, the chain hanging in the air inches from Sun’s face. He knows instantly it’s different than the dog-tag Mork has always worn.

“It was cheap at the market,” Mork mumbles. He leans down, the metal pendant cold as it touches Sun’s skin and they share a chaste kiss.

“Is it what I think it is?” Sun breathes when they pull apart and Mork threads his fingers into Sun’s hair.

“Like I said, it was cheap.”

“It’s a sun,” Sun says.

“I thought it looked cool, don’t read too much into it.”

“You’re wearing my namesake around your neck?” Sun hums, not ready to let it go.

“It was a happy coincidence.”

“Some would call that fate,” Sun muses.

“You’re so cheesy.”

Sun grips the pendant and pulls Mork back down into him. He tastes of the hot chocolate Sun made for him downstairs before they clumsily stumbled up to the bedroom.

“Did you choose it for me?”

“If I say yes will you shut up, P’?”

Mork doesn’t wait for an answer before nuzzling into Sun’s neck, placing soft kisses from his ear down to his collarbone. He doesn’t like leaving bruises. He’s much more tender and gentle than Sun would have ever imagined but he loves it. Adores it. How careful Mork holds him despite the strength in his hands.

“Yes,” Mork admits between kisses. “It’s for you,” he murmurs. “Sap.”

“It suits you,” Sun tells him, bliss swelling from his chest as he trails his hands over Mork’s shoulder blades. “I love you,” he says, breathless and content.

Mork doesn’t return the sentiment in actual words, but the tenderness he gives Sun that night is more than enough.

Sun almost falls over a chair when he sees Mork coming down the stairs.

It’s the cafe’s grand reopening after Sun decided it was a good idea to remodel the whole place after the new year. Luckily he has a boyfriend and a brother, both of whom are good with power tools and a paint roller between them.

Sun had attempted to make himself useful over the last several weeks, but he was quickly demoted from project leader to the mere drinks maker when the two delinquents in his care pointed out that there’s a reason why Sun is a barista and not a carpenter.

Rain whistles behind him, eyes on Mork as well as he approaches, grabbing himself a glass of champagne -the cheap stuff, Sun was poor before the remodel, now he’s bankrupt- on the way.

Sun has so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do to this boy.

“You own a suit?” he manages to squeak out and he’s worried if he grips his own champagne flute any tighter it will shatter.

“I didn’t before today,” Mork shrugs, sipping his alcohol.

“You look…”

Sun trails his eyes over Mork’s form from head to toe. Mouth salivating. Mork is dressed in a royal blue suit with a pointed black collar, a black shirt, and matching tailored pants. He’s even wearing patent dress shoes and they shouldn’t be sexy but for a boy who wears nothing but faded henleys and Vans sneakers, it’s everything Sun never knew he wanted until now. He wants to rip the jacket from his muscular frame and weave his way into his neatly buttoned shirt.

“P’? P’Sun?” Mork clicks his fingers in front of his face. “You okay?”

Sun blinks, looking at his glass and wondering how much he’s drunk this evening.

“Huh, what?”

“You’re drooling,” Mork says, and Sun reaches for his chin so fast he almost slaps himself in the face.

He is in fact drooling. The corner of his mouth a tiny bit damp from saliva. And he’s supposed to be the dignified one.

“Are you having a stroke?” Mork sniggers.

“Maybe,” Sun admits, fingers reaching out to smooth the slight kink in the shoulder of Mork’s jacket. “You look incredible.”

Mork smiles, “You don’t look so bad yourself, I guess.”

Sun looks down at his own attire. He’s also wearing a suit, but it's grey and boring and he feels a little underdressed as the host now he’s standing beside his boyfriend, adorned in blue that brings out the golden flecks in his eyes and matches with the new blue of the Blue Sky Cafe.

“Do me a favour?”

“Mh?” Mork hums.

Sun leans in closer, his warm breath next to Mork’s ear, the scent of his cologne warm and woody. “Keep the jacket on until I take it off you later,” he whispers.

Mork chuckles, draining the rest of his glass.

Sun suddenly wishes the party was over and he could have his way with his impossibly suave boyfriend.

+1.

It’s late. The moonlight casts a haze over the otherwise dark room, the curtains blowing in the cool breeze from the open window.

Sun is lying on his front facing the wall, arms tucked under the pillow and his cheek smushed into the fabric. He blinks, wondering what woke him from his slumber. It feels like hours have passed but given how black the sky is, it’s probably been less than one.

He feels a faint touch on his left shoulder blade. Warm fingers moving over his skin and the markings there. They swirl with the lightest trace along the intricacies of the lines, so gentle it makes the hairs on Sun’s neck stand on end. The once rigid hands moving with ease and grace, outlining the black markings with beautiful familiarity.

Sun keeps still and lets himself enjoy it for a while longer. Quiet moments like these are precious to him.

“Are you having fun?” Sun asks against his pillow eventually.

“Mh,” Mork hums, unsurprised he’s awake. “I like it.”

Sun turns his head so he’s facing the room and more specifically, the boy beside him in his bed.

“Nong Mork,” he smirks. “Are you flirting?”

Mork tuts. “You wish.”

Sun takes a moment to study his face.

“Everything okay?” he asks, “It’s late.”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing to worry about, old man.”

Sun huffs a quiet laugh, fondness spreading throughout his chest. He turns his body over and rests his head on his hand as his eyes adjust to the dark room and the features of Mork’s face become clear.

“What’s so funny?” Sun asks when he notices the faint smirk across his pink lips.

“Still hard to believe you have a tattoo.”

“Why is that?”

“You’re so vanilla.”

Sun won’t deny he makes every effort to live his life with the safety bars firmly locked in place.

“I wasn’t always,” he says, finding Mork’s hand on the sheets and lacing their fingers together.

Mork snorts. “I can’t picture that either.”

“I was worse than you, trust me.” Sun studies Mork’s fingers. They’re softer than they used to be. “I put my father through hell.”

“So the tattoo was at the height of your teenage rebellion?”

Sun shakes his head, “No, that was just before I opened the cafe actually. I’d got my act together by then but I thought it could bring me good luck.”

“That sounds even harder to believe,” Mork says. “That you would waste money on a stupid superstitious tattoo when you were trying to open a coffee shop.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Sun counters. “I have a coffee shop and I even gained a boyfriend because of it.”

Mork pushes him on the shoulder. Sun knows if he turned the lamp on he’d see the boys cheeks flushed.

“Did it hurt?”

“I suppose.” He doesn’t remember actually. It wasn’t a pleasant time in his life and he regrets not getting it when he was in a better place. It’s worked out in the long run but it's taken a long time for him to look over his shoulder without his chest aching.

“Did you cry like a big baby?”

Sun chuckles. “It hurt a lot less than when you’re applying antiseptic to my face.”

“Where did you get it done?”

“Some place my friend's brother owns,” Sun says, twisting the silver ring around Mork’s thumb. A gift for the News Years just gone. “Why are so curious all of a sudden?”

Mork shrugs. “Thinking about getting one.”

“Really?” Sun says, surprised.

“I’ve always wanted a tattoo. Just never had the spare cash to pay for it.”

“Where would you get it?”

“I wanted something on my arm for a long time.” Mork traces their entwined hands on the inside of his forearm, just below his elbow. “But I guess it would be better if I got it somewhere hidden.”

“I like that,” Sun tells him with a knowing look. Thinking about being the only one that would have the privilege of seeing it. “But it’s up to you. It’s your body.”

Mork blinks at him, looking like he’s taken aback slightly at Sun’s words.

“Did you expect me to talk you out of it?” Sun guesses with a smirk. “I’d be a bit of a hypocrite don’t you think?”

Mork huffs. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

He has a point.

“Do you have a design in mind?”

“Haven’t thought that far.”

“We could get one together?” Sun grins, waggling his eyebrows.

Mork’s eyes widen and he looks mindly horrified for a second before he narrows his brow and glares. “I’m not getting a couples tattoo with you.”

“It would be cute.”

“It would be over my dead body.”

“Fine,” Sun grumbles, pouting. “Will you tell me? If you decide what you want?” He doesn’t like the idea of Mork slipping off by himself and coming back with a fresh bandage and a sore patch of skin.

“Sure,” Mork says.

Sun looks over at the pile of clothes scattered across his bedroom floor starting at the door.

“Do you know where my t-shirt is? I’m cold,” he pouts, hoping the look is enough to get Mork to reach for it.

The boy just sighs, tilting his head and not falling for it as Sun would have liked. There’s a hint of something he can’t quite put his finger on in Mork’s eyes however. Disappointment, maybe?

Sun raises his eyebrows. “Unless you plan on admiring my stupid superscician a little longer?”

“Shut up.”

Sun bites his lower lip. “You like it that much?”

“So what if I do?” Mork says, rising to the challenge.

“Nong Mork,” Sun teases, squeezing his fingers to clasp the boy's hand a little tighter.

The boy glares, but there’s no heat behind his eyes. “I think I preferred it when you were sleeping.”

“Then let’s sleep,” Sun says, tugging his hand until he begrudgingly lies down. “I love you,” he murmurs when they’re facing each other.

“Mh,” Mork hums in return. “You’re going to wear that phrase out.”

“Maybe I’m saying it enough for the both of us.”

It’s not a dig. He knows how Mork feels, in fact he knows how the boy feels before he knows it himself. It’s just he’s more of an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy and Sun can’t help but admire him for it.

“Night, P’.”

Sun brushes the fallen hair from his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Mork.”

He feels Mork shuffle closer, not touching, because Mork isn’t a cuddler, at least not for longer than five seconds under extreme circumstances. But he’s close enough that Sun can feel the heat of his bare skin and the warm breath from his lips.

Sun wants to lean over and place a kiss on that pink mouth, but Mork looks tired and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment of quiet stillness that settles around them. And so Sun closes his eyes to the boy's soft face and lets himself drift off, knowing by the sounds of the slow breaths, Mork is already ahead of him.

~Fin.

#morksun #sunmork #dark blue kiss #podd suphakorn #Fluke Gawin #PoddFluke #my writing

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