Work Text:
When Chung Myung opens his eyes, he is met with the sight of a blurry ceiling, his body spewed out on the wooden floor with heat rushed to his face. The jug of alcohol rolled away to who knows where. The man lazily turns his head sideways, his unruly hair mopping the floor as he sees the golden crown that once held his hair up, rolling on the ground.
The Plum blossom sword moves his body, arching his back with a satisfied groan before returning to generously talking up space on the floor. The sweet taste of the wine still lingering inside his mouth.
Black hairs fell over his red eyes, Chung Myung tried to move them away by shaking his head, yet to no avail. Perhaps the mission was getting to him, to feel this sluggish after a mere five jugs of wine? Laughable. He was the plum blossom sword saint, the one who could empty alcohol collected over a hundred years and still go on to kill a bunch of demonic mites without swaying an inch.
Chung Myung feels the cold wooden board against his cheek, long hair ticking his back as he rolls to his side, then again as he rolls over once more. It was unbecoming for the elder of a great sect like Mount Hua to roll around on the floor after getting drunk, however if Chung Myung had been one to care about such things, he would not have snuck out anyways.
No one here to scrutinize his disarray anyways.
As Chung Myung was rolling over and over, content with feeling his body against the hard but cold floor, a small laugh broke out from somewhere in the room. The drunkard stops, positions himself on his back and tilts his head upwards, face twisted into a scowl, albeit hardly scary.
Leaning against the wall with an emptied cup, Tang Bo’s face is hardly flushed at all, a shocking contrast to Chung Myung’s state. Damn the Tangs and their (somewhat) immunity towards poison.
“What are you laughing about…bastard?”
“haha…Taoist Hyung…Hyung-nim, what are you doing?..hah”
Tang Bo found this situation to be quite funny. After all, how many people in this world would have the chance to see the plum blossom sword saint drunk and in disarray? Not to mention roll around like a child? None! Just looking at this view, exclusive to himself, made the younger man’s heart fill up with felicity.
Chung Myung narrows his eyes. Due to his position, it was difficult to look at Tang Bo without straining his neck. Frustrated, he turned over at once, now laying on his stomach. Without much difficulty, he propped himself with the help of his elbows. His robes, loosed due to his constant movement, had parted just enough for his chest to be revealed.
“Huhhh? You dare laugh? You bastard?” Chung Myung snarls, with his face the same shade as a freshly bloomed plum blossom. His hair was now all over him, making it look like he had just woken up.
It certainly painted a picture that made Tang Bo feel a certain way.
“Ah Hyung-nim! Don’t be angry now!”
Tang Bo cooed , as he slowly made his way to Chung Myung, waddling on his knees .
“Look at you, all messed up. What would your sect leader say if he saw you?”
“He would be glad to know I didn't crack open your head the second you opened your mouth.”
“Haha, you are right.”
Tang bo sat down after reaching Chung Myung, Now that he was closer, a slight blush could be made out on his cheeks. Disgustingly cute.
The older man huffed, so cute, before turning over, head placed on the Tang elder’s lap.
“Hmm”
A lap was much better than the cold but hard floor, Chung Myung huffs in acknowledgment as he parts his eyelids to look at the dumbfounded Tang Bo.
“What?”
“I..Hyung-nim, you are on my lap.”
“?, Yeah?”
“You are laying on my lap , Hyung-nim.”
“I'm drunk, not deaf. ”
Tang Bo shuts up quickly, especially since the look on Chung Myung’s face screamed that he was itching to punch the younger man's face. Had it been like any other day, Tang Bo would have already found himself eating dirt.
Still, Tang Bo finds himself admiring Chung Myung’s features, being so close and all. Curled eyelashes that adorned his red eyes, a sharp nose and defined jawline. His pinked cheeks, due to drinking, somehow made Chung Myung’s overall image so much more softer. And his lips -
“Bo-ya.”
“Yes?”
“Stop looking at me like that, i'll poke your eyes out.”
Tang Bo’s smile twitched. Alas, alcohol doesn't change a man's true colors. The man cladded in green robes can only avert his eyes away in defeat, regret lingering in his heart. It’s okay, someday.
Chung Myung huffs in victory, digging deeper into Tang Bo’s lap.
“H-hyung-nim!”
“Hm?”
The Tang elder has an awkward expression, his face redder than before and Chung Myung thinks that the alcohol is finally affecting him too.
“Uh…well…Your hair! Let me tie it!”
The Tang elder has clearly and thoroughly lost it. But he was a desperate man. He needed his Hyung-nim off of his body before he does something that will have him waking up five days later in the physician’s hall.
“Please!” There is a weird sort of desperation on the green cladded man. Something, like a needle, pricks Chung Myung’s heart.
Reluctantly, Chung Myung sits up, his back hunching and leaning against Tang Bo’s body, grumbling about how the Tang elder should feel glad that he was feeling merciful this evening.
Soon, he feels warm hands gathering his hair.
Tang Bo is, unexpectedly, good at this, annoyingly gentle too. He carefully runs his fingers through the pitch black hair. Tenderly untangling any knots, repeating the process as he combes through the older man’s scalp, as if massaging it.
“Mmm” Chung Myung leans into the touch, warm and soft. How come the simple process of having his hair tied up feel so comforting? It didn't feel anything like all those times Chung Mun did his hair during his boyhood. Had the Tang elder practiced this sort of thing? Does dealing with poison require heavenly hands too?
Chuyng Myung doesn’t voice his thoughts out loud. Too immersed in the warm touch to even consider breaking their comforting silence.
Tang Bo sections the hair three ways as he begins to fold one section over the middle, repeating this process slowly, alternating between the two side sections. How will the Sword Saint act after seeing his hair braided? Chances are, Tang Bo will end up tasting dirt soon after.
The hair begins to thin out as he reaches the end. In his mind, despite the hair being long and smooth, Tang Bo had managed to braid it too quick.
(...he considers letting it go, watching it untangle and twist it together again, again and again until his fingers go numb.)
“Yah, Hurry up.”
“Yes yes, almost done.”
The green-eyed man pulled out a green thread from inside of his sleeves, skillfully tying it into a knot before reluctantly letting it go. Tang Bo leans back slightly, admiring his work.
“It is done.”
Chung Myung turns, eyebrows raised as he takes his hair into his hand, the green thread dangling off of his palm.
“How is it? Pretty right?” Tang Bo’s lips widened into a grin, yet Chung Myung continued to glare at the thread.
A soft hum eventually leaves Chung Myung’s lips as he lets the braid go. Red eyes now focused on Tang Bo. Due to their position, Chyung Myung had to tilt his head back in order to get a full view of Tang Bo’s face.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
Tang Bo leans down, not breaking their eye contact. How many chances does one ever get to admire the Plum blossom sword’s features so close without getting hit? How many people will have the chance to do his hair like Tang Bo? Just thinking about it has his chest swelled up in pride.
“Where did you learn this from?” Chyung Myung asks in a commanding tone. Like he is owed an answer and under any other circumstance, Tang Bo would have given the answer without a fuss.
However…
“I practiced.”
“On whom?”
Seeing the older man’s face twist into something uncomfortable, Tang Bo can not help but bite his tongue in order to keep his composure. He could never let go of the chance of getting under Hyung-nim's skin. No matter how much the payback hurts.
“Could be anyone, Hyung-nim. Why?”
Tang Bo leaned in closer, smiling as he placed his palm on top of Chung Myung’s hand. Shivering as he is met with a cold sensation. It sends a shiver down his spine.
“Is the Sword saint perhaps-”
Wait, cold ?
In a startle, the Tang elder grabs Chung Myung by his shoulder, almost shaking the dazed man.
“H-hyung-nim! Did you grab alcohol from the pantry?!”
“Huh?”
“Quick! Did you?”
“The fuck you screaming for..might have, not…sure. Eh.”
The Sword saint blinks his eyes slowly, sleepiness clouds his red eyes. Despite of the Tang Bo shaking him vigorously, it isn't hard for Chung Myung to start dozing off.
“S-stay awake!! Hyung-nim!”
Why did you grab a bottle of alcohol haphazardly, inside a family that deals with poison!?!?
–
“...give it a name.”
Chung Myung’s eyes glanced at the Tang family head, then at Tang Jo Pyung. The red plum blossom that was engraved on the cold iron felt nice to tough, neat. But the man holding the sword could only focus on the green thread dangling from the hilt. Green, to display the artwork of the Tang family.
If the sheath was like a plum blossom that bloomed in the dark, then the sword was like a plum blossom that shined in the daytime.
Words, predetermined from the start, rolled off his tongue with ease.
“Dark fragrance Plum blossom sword.”
Dark Plum Blossom.
As if acknowledging the name, the green thread fluttered alongside a gentle breeze.
-end.