Work Text:
The bell jingled over the shop door. It took Mulan mere seconds to find Shang.
The man was bent over a client, placing the finishing touches on a calf piece. His brow was furrowed and lips pursed in deep concentration. He hadn’t even noticed Mulan’s entrance. She leaned over the low wall that acted as counter space, watching him work and relishing in the buzz of the tattoo gun.
“Mulan, you’re back! All your clients canceled.”
“All of them?!” she cried. Mushu nodded, and she realized he was already bundled up in a heavy coat and scarf.
“So did Shang’s, if that makes you feel any better.” She pouted. It did not make her feel better. “So anyway, can we go home early? I still gotta do all my Christmas shopping and I don’t wanna get caught in the storm.” She glanced back at Cri-Kee. He was half-asleep at the register. There’s really no point in all four of us being here if there aren’t any clients. Shang and I can mind the place on our own…
“Yeah, alright, go home. It’s Christmas.”
“Oh, thank you, Mulan!” Mushu said, throwing his arms around her. She rolled her eyes and hugged him back.
“Yeah, yeah. Just get going before Shang finds a reason to keep you after all.”
“Roger that boss lady! Let’s go, Cri-Kee!”
Cri-Kee leisurely donned his coat and trailed after Mushu, waving goodbye. The bell jingled behind them, marking their departure.
“You could have run that decision by me, you know,” Shang muttered, sidling up next to her while the client checked his work in the mirror.
“And what would you have said? No?” He frowned, which meant she was right, and she shot him a smug little smirk as she took the client’s former seat. Shang made the transaction himself and saw the client off, the door jingling again.
“Fa Mulan, why are you sitting in the chair?” he asked, exasperated.
“Well, last I checked, you owe me a free tatt and neither of us have any clients.”
Shang’s frown deepened. If there was one thing he hated, it was being reminded of his failures. Even if that “failure” was as insignificant as losing a hot sauce-eating competition to Mulan.
He came back around and planted himself down on his rolly-stool, readying new needlesand ink.
“You never told me what you wanted.”
“That would be because I don’t know what I want.” Shang raised a brow. Mulan could only smirk again. “I was gonna let you pick.”
He tried to hide it beneath a veneer of irritation, but the way the back of his neck blushed betrayed him.
“That’s foolish. For all you know, I could freehand a massive-”
“Don’t!” she interrupted. It was his turn to smirk now. “Just do something pretty. I like color.”
“I know what you like. Where do you want it?” She pulled up her shirt, revealing the old scar in her side.
“Here.”
Shang blinked. Then blinked agan.
“Would you like to cover it, or frame it?” he asked, pretending to be completely unaffected.
“You pick that, too.” He nodded a few times. His eyes were sharp and analytical, taking in the shape and size of the scar, calculating the amount of ink he’d need and what colors.
“Do you want to see it on a stencil first?”
“No. I trust you,” she said, rolling onto her other side so he could work. He nodded, taking just one, very deep breath.
“Very well. Let’s begin.”
The needles jarred her bones. The buzz of the gun was electric, equal parts painful and satisfying. Shang took his time, his hand strong and steady, designing with rather than around her body. Usually Shang stressed over keeping up the conversation with his clients, but Mulan enjoyed the quiet. It was easy with him. She just watched the snow begin to fall outside, marveling at the way it covered the city streets in a hazy white silence.
It took maybe twenty minutes for him to do the linework.
“Time for color,” he mumbled. Mulan nodded, shifting a little so her arm wouldn’t fall asleep.
“Shang, what-?”
She gasped as the lights suddenly went out. The tattoo gun shut down. The radio- which had quietly blared hard rock this whole time- went silent.
“You’re kidding,” Shang deadpanned, setting down the gun and feeling around for something in the dark.
“What’s-?”
“Don’t move yet. I’ll patch you up and continue this another time.” A flashlight turned on. He wiped down the fresh wounds and covered it with seran wrap, taping it to her skin. She pulled her shirt back down over it, sitting up gingerly and shaking out her numbed arm. She listened to Shang disappear into the back and fiddle with the circuit breaker.
“You need help?” she called.
“No, it’s just- damn it!”
She rolled her eyes- probably shocked himself - and the flashlight swung back around the corner as he returned.
“Alright, upstairs. You’re staying the night.”
“Oh, am I? I didn’t realize you called all the shots now.”
“Mulan, it’s three degrees outside, the power is out on the whole block, and we’ll be snowed in ten minutes from now. Would you please just listen to me?” She snorted, hopping off the chair and feeling her way around the low wall toward him.
“You make a compelling argument. But no funny business, mister!” He gave an affronted gasp.
“Fa Mulan, how dare you! I’m a gentleman !” She snorted again, grabbing the railing and guiding herself up the stairs.
“That’s not what Chen Bao said.”
“What did Bao say?!”
“Oh, nothing important. Just that you made a move on the first date.”
“I did not! Where would she have gotten that impression?!”
“She said you did a lean.”
“A lean?! What does that even
mean
?!”
“Shang, you gotta chill. I don’t hold it against you. She’s a pretty girl, you were young, why shouldn’t you have made move?”
“I did
not
make a move!”
“Okay, okay. Whatever you say.”
Shang let her into his apartment. She’d been here several times before, but it was still weird to think about the fact that they were walking above the very same place they worked, that Shang spent a majority of his days on these two floors.
The apartment was dark and cold. Shang led her around with a hand on her wrist, guiding her to the bedroom.
“Bringing a lady to the bedroom right away? You sure you’re a gentleman?”
“I should have tattooed a monkey’s ass on you.”
She laughed boisterously.
“You love me too much for that.”
“You hush. Here,” he said, placing what felt like a thick blanket on her lap. “We’ll need to get under the covers to stay warm.”
“You’re a dog, Li Shang!”
“I’m just thinking practically! For our survival!” She laughed again.
“Calm down , jeez. I remember doing a lot of weird things to survive back in the service. I’m just teasing.”
Shang grunted, and Mulan took that as the end of the bickering. She still couldn’t see in the dark. His windows were always kept shut. She felt the mattress dip, and his body wriggle close to hers, spreading another blanket on top of them. She counted four layers. He formed a cocoon with them around both their bodies, nuzzling against the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He was careful not to drape his arm over her new ink.
“If I ask what you drew on me, will you answer?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“What did you draw?”
“A cherry blossom branch. The scar forms texture on the bark. I was going to leave it empty and just color in the flowers.”
She found herself smiling.
“That sounds beautiful. Perfect, even.”
“Just like you.”
Warmth spread from her heart outward. He twisted her hair around his fingers.
“Fa Mulan, I think I love you.” She couldn’t help but laugh. The words were so familiar now, but she could remember clearly the nervous way he said them that first time all those years ago.
“Li Shang, I think I love you, too.”
The snow continued to fall and the wind howled raucously outside, but inside there was nothing but warmth and laughter as they talked and cuddled. Before they knew it, night had fallen.
“I believe it’s Christmas Eve now,” Shang noted. “Though I can’t be sure. There’s nothing in here to tell time.”
“I’m willing to believe it’s Christmas Eve.”
“Then Merry Christmas,” he said, placing a chaste kiss on the hinge of her jaw. She twisted to hover above him, smiling.
“Merry Christmas,” she replied, leaving her own kiss on the tip of his nose. For a few moments, they just gazed into each other’s eyes in the dim light from the snow outside. I couldn’t ask for anything better than this. A perfectly imperfect day with a perfectly imperfect man-
“Mulan.”
“Hm?” she mumbled, kissing his forehead.
“I think you’re bleeding on me.”
“Wha- OH NO!”