[fic] all the pieces there will fit to make you whole
Title: all the pieces there will fit to make you whole
Characters: Wu/Orson, kid!Danny
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1100
Summary: [CnC] An outtake from the timeswap plot. Danny is eight years old. Wu and Orson deal.
AN: To cheer you up. You know who you are c:
and I know where they go
There is a bright red handprint on the doorframe.
Orson Randall is not an easy man to unnerve. As a rule, his life has been one instance of insanity after another. That pattern doesn’t look like it’s going to stop and he should be used to it by now, but there is a handprint on the door, slick and red and fresh and too small to be anything but a child’s.
No. No no no not again.
His heart is thundering in his ears as he bursts in, fearing the worst.
Wu and Danny look up at him from their finger painting, confused. Some other time, the streak of green smeared across Wu’s cheek would have made Orson smile.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Right now, though, the fear and anger rolling through him won't tamp down, so they get redirected to the easiest target.
Danny immediately flinches back, eyes wide. Wu puts her hand on his shoulder and murmurs something quiet in his ear, sending him scrambling down the hall. The soft rush of water through the pipes sounds off moments later, thrumming through the silence hanging between them.
“Well?”
He could say “I was worried” or “I thought something happened” or even “I’m sorry”, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just stares, speechless, as the anger fades to sick disappointment.
“I don’t know.”
“I see.” Wu stands and flicks her hair behind her ear, smearing blue down her neck. “I’ll go make sure Danny hasn’t drowned himself.”
And then she turns on her heel and disappears down the hall.
As he slumps, Orson’s gaze falls to the floor. The sheet of paper has a big yellow sun and wide scribbles of grass and trees and two stick figures - probably Wu and Danny, considering the hair.
He’s not there.
==
Orson emerges from his room much later, having realized that Wu had gone in and stolen everything except the emergency jack stuffed back behind his socks. Now that he’s finished that, he’s buzzed, but not nearly numb enough for his liking. And that means that he’s going to have to go out again.
At least, he’d meant to do that. When he comes out, though, there’s a monstrosity sitting in the middle of the living room. The paints and paper have vanished, replaced by a heap made out of just about every cushion and blanket in the house.
Curious, he wanders up to the side closest to him and listens in. He shouldn’t be doing this. He’s only going to do something wrong again and wreck their fun, but there’s giggling coming from inside and it tugs at his heart in the strangest of ways.
“If you want to come in, you could ask.”
Orson startles back and Wu pokes her head out the makeshift doorway of the blanket fort. At the same time, Danny whines from deeper inside.
“Aw, Wu, why’d you do that?”
There’s still a smudge of green across Wu’s cheek. Orson stares at that instead of meeting her eyes.
“It doesn’t sound like I’m welcome.”
Wu, being Wu, just raises an eyebrow. A muffled squeak from Danny tells him that she just poked the kid in the stomach with her foot.
“I think we can work things out. Especially if an apology is involved.”
“Yeah? What do you think, kid?” As he crouches down, Orson peers around Wu, trying to catch a glimpse of Danny’s face around her back.
“Well... maybe.”
Before Wu can prompt him, Orson leans in. “I am. Sorry, I mean. I shouldn’t have yelled.” He glances over at Wu, then adds, “You left marks on the door. I was worried.”
Wu looks embarrassed then, but Orson doesn’t notice because Danny is peeking his head around her with a serious expression on his face.
“You mean it?”
“I mean it.”
With that, Danny breaks out in a wide smile. “Okay!”
At that, Orson releases the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and runs a hand through his hair. “So...”
“So now you come in, silly bear.” And with Wu tugging at his sleeve, it’s not like he can do anything else.
There isn’t much space inside the fort - they’re always smaller inside than they look - so Orson ends up lying on his back with Wu and Danny sprawled on top of him. It should be claustrophobic, but somehow it isn’t. They aren’t moving much, after all, and Wu makes sure that Danny keeps his knees out of Orson’s kidneys.
Somehow, they manage to kill the entire afternoon in there, filling it with story telling and laughter. Like his father, Danny wants stories about the Iron Fist, and Orson and Wu are happy to oblige him. It’s a little bittersweet, telling Danny the same stories he’d told Wendell, but not in a completely bad way. For one, Danny and Wendell look the same, but Danny is less interested in the fighting and more curious about the whys and the hows of their adventures. He’s not a very aggressive child at all, Orson realizes, and part of him wonders how he goes from this to being the Iron Fist.
This isn’t the time to think about that, though, and it’s easy for Orson to distract himself with Wu stepping in with a story of her own whenever he starts to trail off. He hadn’t realized before just how many of her friends were prostitutes. The Book of the Iron Fist never covered that part of her history.
Eventually, Danny gets tired and curls up for an impromptu nap, using Orson’s arm as a pillow. He grumbles a little, but Orson doesn’t really mind all that much. The kid isn’t that heavy, all things considered.
“That looks comfortable. Maybe I should try it?”
With Danny taking up all the floor space, Wu has settled on Orson’s other side. Orson tips his head to the side and shrugs.
“Be my guest.”
With that, she laughs and stretches out along his side. He takes the chance to curl his arm around her. There is still green smudged on her cheek. When he tells her, she scrunches her nose up and scrubs at it with the back of her hand.
“You are so strange! Why didn’t you tell me before!”
“I don’t know...” Orson tips his head just enough so that he can kiss her on the forehead. “You look pretty anyway.”
With a snort, Wu tucks her head into his shoulder and murmurs, “I guess so. Silly old bear.”
And that’s how Orson ends up with a back ache the next morning from sleeping on the floor. Not that he minds.
Characters: Wu/Orson, kid!Danny
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1100
Summary: [CnC] An outtake from the timeswap plot. Danny is eight years old. Wu and Orson deal.
AN: To cheer you up. You know who you are c:
and I know where they go
There is a bright red handprint on the doorframe.
Orson Randall is not an easy man to unnerve. As a rule, his life has been one instance of insanity after another. That pattern doesn’t look like it’s going to stop and he should be used to it by now, but there is a handprint on the door, slick and red and fresh and too small to be anything but a child’s.
No. No no no not again.
His heart is thundering in his ears as he bursts in, fearing the worst.
Wu and Danny look up at him from their finger painting, confused. Some other time, the streak of green smeared across Wu’s cheek would have made Orson smile.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Right now, though, the fear and anger rolling through him won't tamp down, so they get redirected to the easiest target.
Danny immediately flinches back, eyes wide. Wu puts her hand on his shoulder and murmurs something quiet in his ear, sending him scrambling down the hall. The soft rush of water through the pipes sounds off moments later, thrumming through the silence hanging between them.
“Well?”
He could say “I was worried” or “I thought something happened” or even “I’m sorry”, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just stares, speechless, as the anger fades to sick disappointment.
“I don’t know.”
“I see.” Wu stands and flicks her hair behind her ear, smearing blue down her neck. “I’ll go make sure Danny hasn’t drowned himself.”
And then she turns on her heel and disappears down the hall.
As he slumps, Orson’s gaze falls to the floor. The sheet of paper has a big yellow sun and wide scribbles of grass and trees and two stick figures - probably Wu and Danny, considering the hair.
He’s not there.
==
Orson emerges from his room much later, having realized that Wu had gone in and stolen everything except the emergency jack stuffed back behind his socks. Now that he’s finished that, he’s buzzed, but not nearly numb enough for his liking. And that means that he’s going to have to go out again.
At least, he’d meant to do that. When he comes out, though, there’s a monstrosity sitting in the middle of the living room. The paints and paper have vanished, replaced by a heap made out of just about every cushion and blanket in the house.
Curious, he wanders up to the side closest to him and listens in. He shouldn’t be doing this. He’s only going to do something wrong again and wreck their fun, but there’s giggling coming from inside and it tugs at his heart in the strangest of ways.
“If you want to come in, you could ask.”
Orson startles back and Wu pokes her head out the makeshift doorway of the blanket fort. At the same time, Danny whines from deeper inside.
“Aw, Wu, why’d you do that?”
There’s still a smudge of green across Wu’s cheek. Orson stares at that instead of meeting her eyes.
“It doesn’t sound like I’m welcome.”
Wu, being Wu, just raises an eyebrow. A muffled squeak from Danny tells him that she just poked the kid in the stomach with her foot.
“I think we can work things out. Especially if an apology is involved.”
“Yeah? What do you think, kid?” As he crouches down, Orson peers around Wu, trying to catch a glimpse of Danny’s face around her back.
“Well... maybe.”
Before Wu can prompt him, Orson leans in. “I am. Sorry, I mean. I shouldn’t have yelled.” He glances over at Wu, then adds, “You left marks on the door. I was worried.”
Wu looks embarrassed then, but Orson doesn’t notice because Danny is peeking his head around her with a serious expression on his face.
“You mean it?”
“I mean it.”
With that, Danny breaks out in a wide smile. “Okay!”
At that, Orson releases the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and runs a hand through his hair. “So...”
“So now you come in, silly bear.” And with Wu tugging at his sleeve, it’s not like he can do anything else.
There isn’t much space inside the fort - they’re always smaller inside than they look - so Orson ends up lying on his back with Wu and Danny sprawled on top of him. It should be claustrophobic, but somehow it isn’t. They aren’t moving much, after all, and Wu makes sure that Danny keeps his knees out of Orson’s kidneys.
Somehow, they manage to kill the entire afternoon in there, filling it with story telling and laughter. Like his father, Danny wants stories about the Iron Fist, and Orson and Wu are happy to oblige him. It’s a little bittersweet, telling Danny the same stories he’d told Wendell, but not in a completely bad way. For one, Danny and Wendell look the same, but Danny is less interested in the fighting and more curious about the whys and the hows of their adventures. He’s not a very aggressive child at all, Orson realizes, and part of him wonders how he goes from this to being the Iron Fist.
This isn’t the time to think about that, though, and it’s easy for Orson to distract himself with Wu stepping in with a story of her own whenever he starts to trail off. He hadn’t realized before just how many of her friends were prostitutes. The Book of the Iron Fist never covered that part of her history.
Eventually, Danny gets tired and curls up for an impromptu nap, using Orson’s arm as a pillow. He grumbles a little, but Orson doesn’t really mind all that much. The kid isn’t that heavy, all things considered.
“That looks comfortable. Maybe I should try it?”
With Danny taking up all the floor space, Wu has settled on Orson’s other side. Orson tips his head to the side and shrugs.
“Be my guest.”
With that, she laughs and stretches out along his side. He takes the chance to curl his arm around her. There is still green smudged on her cheek. When he tells her, she scrunches her nose up and scrubs at it with the back of her hand.
“You are so strange! Why didn’t you tell me before!”
“I don’t know...” Orson tips his head just enough so that he can kiss her on the forehead. “You look pretty anyway.”
With a snort, Wu tucks her head into his shoulder and murmurs, “I guess so. Silly old bear.”
And that’s how Orson ends up with a back ache the next morning from sleeping on the floor. Not that he minds.