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"Love, a moment of your time, if you please."
Shuǐ knows from that tone that she's better off ignoring Jack entirely. "If you hadn't noticed, dear heart, I'm a bit preoccupied with other things," she replies, marking up one of the harbors on the map of Singapore she fished out of his crowded shelves earlier in the day. She just has to recall the movements of her father's watchmen, and…
A sprig of leaves and berries dangles in front of her eyes. She swats it away without another thought.
From behind her, Jack yelps and goes chasing after it. When Shuǐ finally looks up, Jack has picked up the sprig and is dusting it off. Meeting her gaze, he gives her a slightly miffed glare. "Must you always scoff at tradition?"
"You're one to talk about tradition," Shuǐ snorts, glancing back at the chart. Then she pauses and turns to him again. "What tradition?"
"You don't know?"
Shuǐ shakes her head, despite herself. She oughtn't to invite his distractions when she has a heist of great proportions to plan. But what kind of conformist practice would Jack devote himself to, and so entirely that he wishes to make her a part of it?
Jack grins in a way that has her cursing her unceasing curiosity. "Well, since you're so interested," he muses as he saunters toward her (she is grateful that they are at least in the privacy of his quarters and not subjecting the rest of the crew to this nonsense), "I'll tell you. This wonderful plant is mistletoe, and during the holiday season, one is allowed to cast away respectability underneath it and steal a kiss from a lucky beau."
"Shirking tradition for tradition?" Shuǐ replies humorously.
"And," Jack goes on, clearly pretending not to have heard her, "I hear refusing curses one with the most terrible luck."
"Well, that seems quite regrettable for the beau, should they be stuck beneath with a perpetrator of mal-intent."
Jack's face drops into an annoyed pout, and Shuǐ has to try her hardest not to laugh at him. "Are you going to let me kiss you or not?"
Shuǐ looks away, feigning a moment of serious reflection. "Love," Jack drawls, almost whines, leaning across the table until he's practically lying atop of it and her maps. "Shuǐ…"
"Oh, alright. Just this once."
Jack perks up instantly, raising the sprig and holding it above their heads. Shuǐ grabs him by the collar and pulls him in. Jack hums against her lips, his hand brushing against her face to the back of her neck. He gives chase when she leans away, but Shuǐ covers his mouth with her other hand. "Don't be greedy. I'm still trying to work."
"Y'know, there's a variation of the tradition where the couple must kiss until the branch has been plucked free of its berries," Jack mentions as he takes her hand in his, kissing the back of it before moving up her arm.
"Jack, don't you have a ship to run?" Shuǐ retorts, unable to conceal the laughter in her voice now as she lightly pushes his shoulder. "At least let me finish with this chart. Later."
Jack harrumphs as he slides off the table like a particularly scorned cat. "Fine. I'll go find something productive to fill my time with."
"Good idea," Shuǐ replies, slightly amused. She knows that won't last long—he'll be back within the half-glass to try his best to distract her again. She should try to get as much work as she can done before he comes up with another scheme.
…
An hour passes, and then a half-hour, without a single sign of Jack. Shuǐ leaves the completed markings on the chart to dry in the cabin while she goes to find him herself. She comes across Bill first, managing the sails, but questioning him is all but fruitless. "Last I saw of him, he was stringing up mistletoe wherever he could—well, trying to," he says with a slight chuckle. "Some of the others started protesting because they didn't want to be stuck under it by mistake. I think they knew it was meant for you. He probably went off to take the rest down. Lucky they were able to talk some sense into him before Miss Jia caught wind of it—I doubt she would've been too pleased by the idea."
Shuǐ sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Part of her is glad that they don't have to put so much effort into keeping their affections from the rest of the crew, but another, more selfish part longs for the days when Jack was obligated to practice a semblance of discretion. "If you could somehow spread chatter about how I would not have put him up to that, it would be appreciated. Where could he have even gotten so much of one plant? We're in the middle of the ocean."
Bill shrugs, tying off the line. "Last port, I reckon. Mistletoe is used in plenty of decorations, especially among those who can afford to be garish with their garnishes. I'd imagine there are some exports going to the colonies and their governors."
Shuǐ raises a brow and leans against the mast. "So, it's a real tradition?"
"Oh, certainly! I used to put mistletoe up around the house for Dahlia the night before the season officially began to surprise her. Well–" Bill pauses and smiles sheepishly. "I did, until our boy got hold of the berries one year and made himself ill. Mistletoe is good for decor, but not so much in the way of snacks."
Shuǐ hums to herself thoughtfully. Bill finishes with the last of the sails and turns to her again. "How go the plans for Singapore?"
"Quite well, actually. I think I have a fairly accurate memory of where the guards at the dry-dock are stationed—and how often they abandon their posts," Shuǐ states, straightening up. "The map I marked up should be dry by now. Why don't I bring it to you to look over, and we can talk strategies?"
"Sure. No rush."
Shuǐ smiles at him before she heads for the hatch, and she gets a ways down the passage before she pauses in her path.
What does he mean, "no rush?"
Shuǐ is braced for mischief when she reaches the captain's quarters, and mischief is exactly what she gets. Vinettes of mistletoe are hanging from every available inch of the ceiling boards, so that no matter where one stands, they're stuck beneath it. There's an especially thick cluster above the bunk, beneath which Jack is lying seductively, already half-undressed, his triumphant smirk slightly obscured by the branchlet between his lips.
"I was gone for less than twenty minutes," Shuǐ says, shutting the door behind her.
Jack speaks around the mistletoe in his mouth. "Mm uh fasht werker."
Shuǐ holds back a grin. Well, now she knows why Bill seemed chattier than usual. He must've given Jack the idea, and then Jack employed him in distracting her. It isn't much of a surprise—Bill was Jack's ally before he was Shuǐ's, after all.
She has to keep him humble, though. Shuǐ leans against the door and tilts her head thoughtfully. "You know, I think I have heard one thing about mistletoe. I seem to remember that it's also known for being poisonous."
That's purely going off of what Bill mentioned about his son, but it does the trick. Jack's face drops and he spits out the mistletoe, coughing as he wipes his tongue off with his hand. "But that might only be if you eat it. I can't recall specifics," Shuǐ goes on as she walks over to him.
Jack gives her a look as he sits up. "Why can't you ever let me do anything nice for you?"
Shuǐ takes his face in her hands and kisses him before he can say another word. Jack instantly leans further into her, his hands sneaking around her waist to pull her down. Shuǐ breaks away to drag her fingers through his hair. "Happy?"
Jack nods, leaning back until he's flat on the bunk, with Shuǐ hovering overtop him. "So much for not bending to tradition," he taunts, reaching up to swat at one of the braids swaying in front of his face.
Shuǐ smirks, then glances at the abandoned sprig of mistletoe that Jack had tossed aside. She reaches for it and dangles it above their heads.
"I think I could make room for just one."