Work Text:
Mark liked Sundays.
Sundays meant sleeping in, lazy mornings, late breakfasts, and no rush to be anywhere. Sundays meant catching up on all the sleep he had missed during the week when he had stayed up too late studying and gotten up too early because of work.
Or at least, that’s what today being a Sunday should mean.
Mark felt himself being roused from sleep and the peaceful, relaxing dream he had had – even though he had forgotten what it had been about the moment he left it – when something landed on the pillow next to his head with a soft thud.
His thoughts were still too slow and drowsy to comprehend what was happening, and somehow, he was unable to open his eyes. They wanted to be asleep just as much as he did. His head felt as if it was stuffed full of wool.
A moment later, something tugged on his blanket, and he seriously contemplated opening his eyes – if Youngjae had let Coco into his room again because that was his idea of a prank, someone was going to die – but then a small, warm body wriggled in next to him, and Mark relaxed.
“Jackson,” he sighed. “What are you doing?”
The kid didn‘t reply, only fussed and tugged on Mark’s arms until he was satisfied with the way they were placed around his body, his head on Mark’s arm, and curled up with a pleased sigh.
Mark shifted a bit, adjusting and tightening his hold on the toddler next to him who just made soft snuffling noises in response and hid his face in Mark’s armpit, so Mark got ready to drift back to sleep. Jackson was like a living, breathing heater, and it did nothing to chase away his sleepiness. Also, Jackson seemed content with cuddling, for now at least, and Mark was just fine with that.
He felt himself dozing off in no time, with Jackson small and warm and bundled up in his arms.
But of course, the peace was just a pretense and didn’t last long. In what Mark would swear couldn’t have been more than three minutes, Jackson began to stir against him, fidgeting, then turning and stretching, and Mark should have known it had been too good to be true.
“Jackson,” he groaned, trying to keep the toddler from tugging on his fingers. “Hold still, would you?”
In response, he got something soft and furry mushed into his face, and a high-pitched giggle when he jerked back with a yelp, his eyes finally snapping open.
He was greeted face to face by Jackson’s giant squirtle plushy, inches from his nose. It was almost as big as Jackson was, and Mark honestly thought it was kind of impressive that Jackson carried it anywhere he went. Ever seen a squirtle waddling around? Yeah, that was probably Mark’s kid brother. Foster brother. Whatever.
“Maaaaak,” Jackson whispered, loudly. “Mak, play with me.” He blinked up at Mark with giant, round eyes, one hand wrapped around squirtle’s leg, the other tugging on the collar of Mark’s shirt, and Mark firmly believed that Jackson knew exactly that he had most people wrapped tightly around his tiny chubby fingers when he made that face.
“No.” He closed his eyes resolutely, hoping that if he just ignored the little menace, his problem would go away.
“Maaaak,” Jackson whined, nuzzling his face into Mark’s chest and digging his fingers into the elder’s side.
Mark flinched back and pushed Jackson away until those pointy fingertips were nowhere near his ribs anymore, then turned around so that his back was facing Jackson, still resolved to not get out of bed before he had woken up by himself instead of being assaulted by a certain someone.
Not that that would stop a just as determined, very bored toddler. Only moments later, Mark had a small, Chinese body draped all over him, Jackson’s head only inches from his ear. “Maaaaak,” he whispered. “Mak, wake up, it’s so late!”
Mark groaned and tugged Jackson down by the sleeve of his fluffy baby blue pajamas from where he was lying on him, feet digging into his back, until the toddler was starfished in front of him, giggling delightedly.
“What time is it?” he mumbled, opening one eye and poking Jackson’s chubby cheek. “Can you read the clock, dwarf?”
“I’m not dwarf!” Jackson protested, sounding offended. The barely existent effect was even more softened by the way he had to work his tongue around ‘dwarf’. ‘Dwaf’. ‘Daaf’. “I’m Jackson. And it’s six-one-two. I waited a looong time.”
“Oh yeah?” Mark yawned. 6 am. On a Sunday. Nice. “Since when?”
Jackson seemed to think about that for a moment, his forehead crinkling. His hair was sticking up in weird directions, too. “Five-three-nine,” he declared proudly.
Mark raised an eyebrow in honest surprise. “Half an hour? Wow.”
“Yes!” Jackson agreed. “I’m very patient. So now play with me.”
He puffed his cheeks up like a blow fish and jutted his lower lip out in a pout that had every girl and occasionally Jinyoung squealing over him, and no, Mark wasn’t immune either.
He couldn’t help the fond smile on his face, and he reached out to tickle the little guy’s sides, provoking a high squeal of laughter and a lot of flailing which earned him a chubby hand in his face.
“Fine,” he relented. “Because you were so patient.”
It was worth it just for the way Jackson's face lit up, brighter than the rising sun.
Yeah, Mark really liked Sundays.