fic_variations | Drink (Mulan, Shang/Mulan) (Reply)

Title: Drink
Author: lightbird
Rating: T
fic_variations Prompt/Claim: sweet
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count:1,582
Disclaimer: Anything from the Disney movie belongs to Disney.

Cross posted to lightbird777

Li Shang never drank wine or liquor of any sort. As a boy growing up, he’d learned to loathe the smell with a passion. His father’s breath and clothing had always reeked of rice wine and Du Kang, and to this day he couldn’t abide the scent.

Vivid memories of the general that he preferred to forget stubbornly remained with him and probably would throughout his life. Images of his father’s red face heated and flushed to a fevered hue from the liquor. The wild, feral fury in his eyes when he was in the throes of a drunken temper. And the sickening stench of liquor on his breath when he grabbed the small boy by the collar, bringing his face within an inch of his. Shang’s body would tense against the revulsion that rose into his throat as his father’s warm, odious exhalations rushed into his mouth and nose like a gust with each epithet that he cast at him.

It was so bad on some occasions he would become dizzy.

Eventually his father managed to find his way to his bedroom and Shang wouldn’t see or hear him until late the next morning.

When he was sober, General Li was an even-tempered, disciplined Imperial officer, renowned for his bravery, leadership skills and charisma. He was one of the Emperor’s most trusted generals and military advisors, who’d had success after success in military campaigns. It was almost impossible to believe that the crazed, enraged drunk was even the same man, so profound was the change in temperament and personality when he drank even just a couple of glasses of wine.

The general’s drinking became worse when the signs of his aging began to appear, Shang realized when he reflected back on it now as a grown man. When grey streaks began to appear in his head, when he noticed his reaction time slowing and his endurance waning ever so slightly. And when he saw the younger generals who were coming up, beginning their own brilliant careers and not even near their peak.

He hated the taste of it as much as the smell, Shang discovered one day. Succumbing to the pressure of his classmates at the Imperial Academy one night, he joined them in a night out on the town. Du Kang nearly set his chest on fire. And rice wine was much too nauseatingly sweet. It didn’t take much to get him drunk and he felt so ill the next day he thought he was going to die. It was the first and last time he would ever drink alcohol.

To this day he was sickened by the sight of drunken men, and when he’d had occasion to witness drunken women he was horrified. And tonight was no different. He stood in the opening of his tent, weight leaning on his back foot, arms folded, and scowled in disgust at his soldiers gathered around the fire in the middle of camp; particularly one of them. Shang regarded her with an odd mixture of utter disdain and fascination. She was handling herself better than any of them despite her petite size and light weight.

It was all Yao’s fault. And Ling’s. The two of them couldn’t go a day without causing mischief of some sort. He didn’t know the details, but he’d managed to gather that the two of them had decided to bet on who could out drink the other. Somehow Chien-po and Mulan got involved, and the rest of the men followed suit, betting on the four of them. They were gathered around watching the four drinkers, cheering each time one of them downed another cup and remained sitting up. After each round of drinks they were tossing more money into the pot.

The smart ones bet on Chien-po, based on his size, but to everyone’s surprise it was now down to the giant soldier and Mulan, the tiny woman warrior.

“How is she matching Chien-po?” Shang quietly wondered, awed. She didn’t even seem to be the least bit unsteady! Unlike the large rotund man who was already swaying ever so subtly. It wasn’t enough that anyone else would notice; he could discern it only because of his experiences with his father.

Another round went by and Chien-po picked up his next cup. The men cheered as he drained it dry and set it down. He remained sitting up for only a moment though, before keeling over to one side with a loud thud in the dirt. Mulan’s fans began to cheer and clap her on the back, until one of the losers behind Chien-po protested, announcing that she had to drink one more cup to at least match the number that he’d had.

Shang watched in disbelief as she drained one more cup, set it down and raised her arms in victory amidst loud cheering. As they dispersed for the night, some of the men picked up the three losers, now sprawled on the ground, and carried them to their respective tents. It took four men to carry Chien-po.

For a moment he watched Mulan as she sat and gathered her winnings, still unable to believe how unaffected by the drink she appeared. Then he grabbed the lit lantern from the table in his tent and strode forward to join her, beginning to kick dirt on the campfire to put it out while getting a good look at her. She glanced up at him curiously, her dark eyes glassy and shining in the moonlight, and smiled.

“You’re still leading the troops in training tomorrow, Lieutenant Fa. And you’re on the early shift.”

“Since when?”

Her speech was slightly altered, he noticed, and her voice was a bit louder than usual.

“Since now,” he replied coolly.

She stood up abruptly, clearly about to challenge him, then stumbled and nearly fell face first into the ground. Instinctively he quickly stepped in front of her and caught her with one arm. So, she wasn’t made of iron after all. He set the lantern down on the ground, then hooked both of his hands under her armpits and lifted her off of her knees.

“Come on,” he growled, annoyed. Putting an arm around her torso and pinning her against his body, he scooped up the lantern with his free hand and began to half-walk, half-drag her toward her tent. She leaned limply against him, her head against his shoulder.

“You’re mean,” she murmured through the sweep of hair that fell forward and covered her face.

As he turned to look at her, the clean, floral scent of her hair wafted into his nostrils and he felt his stomach flip.

“And the four of you are idiots,” he muttered gruffly, consciously pushing aside the discomfort he felt. “How many cups of that did you drink?”

“I don’t know. We went through two bottles, I think.”

“Hmph, mostly you and Chien-po,” he retorted disdainfully.

They reached her tent finally. He led her to the pallet and set the lantern down on the small table beside it. She clung to his shoulders now, giggling as she threw them both off balance and caused them to go crashing onto the bed, he on top of her. He quickly went to raise himself up.

“You forgot to tie your tie,” she teased, gazing up at him like a playful kitten. Her face was so close to his and he could smell the wine on her breath. Strangely enough it didn’t bother him the way it always had. She smelled floral and sweet, and that mixed with the alcohol had a strangely intoxicating effect on him.

He shook his head and sat up.

“What?”

Before he could stand her hand was at the back of his head and he felt her tug at the red tie that held his topknot in place. His hair tumbled down around his face and a moment later she grinned up at him, triumphantly flaunting the prize that she’d obtained and beginning to twirl the red ribbon playfully on one finger.

“Mulan…go to sleep.” He reached out to take back the tie but she snatched it back and wouldn’t let him. “Mulan.”

“Only if you take it back.”

“Take what back?”

“What you said. Your sudden decision to put me on the early shift.”

His jaw dropped. Was this some sort of act after all?

“You’re impossible,” he spat back in disgust.

“So are you. There’s no reason for you to suddenly change my shift, other than you have something up your…”

“Don’t you dare,” he cut her off with a hiss.

She stared at him defiantly and he heaved an impatient sigh. He knew she was right. Springing that on her was unfair; he’d only decided to change her shift in that moment because he was furious at her for drinking. He so loathed drinking.

“Fine. You’ll be on your original shift. But you better be on time, Lieutenant Fa.”

“Yes, sir,” she mock saluted him. She held out the red tie then pulled it out of his reach when he went to grasp it. After taunting him a few times in this way she finally surrendered it, sensing that he was on the verge of killing her.

“Goodnight, General Li.” The silky tone and inflection of her voice as she drawled those words made his stomach flip again and he felt his face and torso become warm.

Without answering her he turned on his heel and strode out of her tent.