You're a mean one

[lady_fister]

WHO: Wu and Orson
WHERE: Fisting House
WHEN: Tonight?
WARNINGS: None Kissing. Adorable, saccharine kissing.
SUMMARY: All heroes in the City liked Christmas a lot

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[honorindeath]

He's sitting in a mockery of the lotus position, back slouched, legs folded, and a half-empty beer bottle resting on his thigh. Orson arches his eyebrow and shrugs, universal language for 'yeah, so?'.

"//Not possible,//" he replies briskly, capping the thought with a swig of beer. "//He is powered by sunshine and good will toward men. He could use some toughening up.//"

It's only half a joke. He feels that Wu should understand his position, being his elder and all.

[lady_fister]

Wu snorts and stands over him, hands on her hips and eyebrow raised.

"//For some reason, I feel that you are exaggerating. Elsewise, he wouldn't need to eat nearly as much as he does.//"

She understads his position... but also feels like he's being unnecessarily grumpy.

"//I thought that this period of the year was for cheer and joy and peace among men?//"

[honorindeath]

Orson rolls his eyes when she parrots the words of some translated Christmas carol at him, finishing off his beer.

"//Not my religion or my home,//" he says, a little more tightly than he meant to. It's needling-sharp jabs at weak points of his that Wu doesn't even know exist. "//I don't feel the need to indulge when it's nothing but a reason for buying and buying and buying. Parents buy the love of their shallow children. This time---//" And now he point to Wu, almost in rebuke. "//---is not ours.//"

[lady_fister]

Wu almost gets angry when Orson starts scolding her for going native.

"//As far as I know, my time is whatever time I am living.//"

She snips at him archly, but then Wu reminds herself that she's supposed to be cheering Orson up, not emasculating him for the nth time this week. In that frame of mind, she sighs and rolls her eyes, muttering up at the heavens, "//The things I do to keep the peace...//"

In one smooth movement, Wu takes the beer from Orson's hand and slides into his lap. Settled, she stretches her legs out across the sofa and reaches behind her to deposit the bottle on the coffee table, just out of Orson's reach. With her other hand, she taps Orson on the nose, deceptively cheerful in demeanour.

"//So. I think you and I need to have a talk about your general disposition, oh grumpy one.//"

[honorindeath]

To say that he doesn't know how to treat Wu Ao-Shi is an understatement in every way. She is, to him, something of a childhood hero. He'd heard the stories of Shou-Lao's one female champion all through his training, her name and her sex nudging her up above the dozens of Iron Fists that had come before her and since. She was an anomaly, impressive enough to take on the dragon despite her elfin body. He's not sure how to treat her, since she is his elder and...deserves respect for being one of the most singular of their kind.

But she isn't what he'd expected, thumbing through the shimmering scale-gold pages of the Iron Fists' history. He'd expected her to be bigger, for one, and to be less of a woman and more of a warrior. She was every bit an Iron Fist, but she's still...

He doesn't have words for it or for her, so he just sort of gives her a disgruntled look as she oozes into his lap like a favored child.

"//I do not see it as needing discussed.//"

[lady_fister]

"//Hmm, well, I do. And seeing as how I am the one in your lap at the moment, it looks like a discussion is imminent.//"

It's not that Wu isn't mature, because she has seen horrible things and lived through hardship and adversity... it's just that she has different standards when it comes to how to live life. Face is all well and good, but her defining rule has always been that love is honour. In comparison to that, a little loss of dignity is nothing.

Plus, flustering Orson is rather entertaining. He makes the best faces.

"//I am told that after peeling back all of the waste and the glitter, this is a time for celebration. You really ought to at least make an effort. After all, it's a tradition. Those are important.//

The little smile on her face ought to clue Orson in on the fact that Wu is plotting something.

[honorindeath]

There's something childlike about her---or something that's just light, though she has every reason to be just as loaded-down and heavy as Orson is. He's read her stories in and out. He knows exactly what she's done.

Her fingers are very small and callous-rough. This bothers him, but he doesn't know why. Maybe it has to do with those tiny hands being every bit as powerful as his own. She flops like a kitten, though, like she forgets the dragon that she beat in hand-to-hand combat and stole chi from.

He's too busy watching her fingers flex against his knee to catch her devious smile. Women always have been his weakness.

"//What is there to celebrate?//"

[lady_fister]

"//Well we're alive, aren't we?//"

Wu pats Orson's cheek. She does that a lot, actually, because most of the men she's known haven't had very much facial hair at all, and the prickly feeling of stubble is novel. She likes the sensation.

"//If you need another reason to be joyful, perhaps I should pull another one of these foreign traditions up.//"

She digs into her pocket for her secret weapon, then dangles the little bit of greenery above their heads.

"//Or is this mistletoe thing another one of those customs that are a waste of time and resources?//"

[honorindeath]

The topography of his frown shifts, stony jaw unclenching a little as a grin tugs at his lips. He'll never tell her, but a fourteen year old version of him might have had a wet dream that started something like this. Wu Ao-Shi, the Pirate Queen and Iron Fist, teasing her way into his lap---what teenager enraptured with the stories of the past wouldn't have fantasized about her?

"//Not a waste of resources,//" he deadpans, trying not to smirk. She looks so proud of herself. "//Mistletoe is poisonous and a parasite. No great loss to see it plucked.//"

[lady_fister]

Most of the teenagers of her time period, actually. Wu knows that she's a strong fighter, certainly, but that's not what the men of her time look for in a mate.

To be fair, she hasn't ever let this affect her way of doing things -- she's the Iron Fist, after all -- but it means that Orson's attraction to her is novel and flattering.

"//Yet the loss of any life is a sad thing. We ought to make sure that this plant's death was no in vain, yes?//"

She leans in, then, tipping Orson's chin up with her free hand so that she can kiss him softly on the lips.

[honorindeath]

Her kiss is soft and uncharacteristically hesitant. Then again, Orson's level of boldness isn't one that's matched by many other people. He has a whole gamut of first kisses to judge hers against, an entire mental encyclopedia of women he remembers kissing. There's Galatea and the other Queens in California, his blue-eyed and sharp-tongued ex-wife, Contessa, and any number of whores and tricks and nurses and farmer's daughters that he's had along the way.

He's old. He's lost count, all the lesser kisses falling away into a muddle of sexual memory while only a few stand out bright.

Even chaste, Wu Ao-Shi's kiss is one that he won't forget soon.

"//How charitable,//" he drawls when she leans away from him again, her curtain of dark hair sliding from over one shoulder.

[lady_fister]

Orson is only the second man that she's ever kissed like this and it shows. When Wu leans back again, there's just a touch of extra colour to her cheeks, barely noticeable, but enough to add to the strangely vulnerable expression she has on her face. It's strange. She hadn't thought that a simple brush of their lips would affect her this much.

The moment Orson speaks, though, the light in her eyes shutters over and she reverts to her normal state of being, raising an eyebrow as she smooths her hand over his cheek.

"//Well, it is the season for that, is it not?//"

[honorindeath]

He's disappointed enough women to know exactly when he's said something wrong. Her expression falls as soon as he opens his mouth and he feels the tingling stirring of regret for having ruined something for her. It's probably because of the way she is---how charmed she is by new experiences. He doesn't want to screw that up, even though it looks like he has. That's not new.

"//Thank you for offering such kindness to an old man,//" Orson says in his most formal Mandarin. "//Truly, it is a season of gifts.//"

There's a brassy ring of sarcasm to his tone, but he tries not to let it carry.

[lady_fister]

Wu smiles, and if it's not quite genuine, it's not really fake either. She wasn't expecting anything to happen, so why should she feel disappointment?

"//Oh, the kindness wasn't for the old man.//"

She starts to slip out of his lap, dropping the mistletoe as she does so. Perhaps she will go bother Danny into teaching her how to use the new oven in this place.

[honorindeath]

"//Not for the old man?//" Orson echoes, picking the mistletoe up from where it dropped by his knee. He tweaks it between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the stem. "//Then who was that kindness for? There are no gods or dragons or demons to please with offerings this season.//"

[lady_fister]

"//Maybe it was for me.//"

Wu tips her head to the side a little, playfully tucking her hair behind her ear. Although she acts flirtatious, her stance is loose, ready to run if she decides that this game is going the wrong way.

"//Kisses aren't the kind of offerings that gods or dragons or demons look for anyway.//"