"May I join you?"

Suddenly her heart pounded ten beats at once, piling them up on her ears and her fingertips, behind her eyes and in her mouth. It took a moment to get them all sorted out and on their way; all the blood to be flowed and all the veins to relax after the rush that left her stupid and speechless.

"You are alone," Shang specified. "May I bathe with you?"

After making sure her heart hadn't attacked her, Mulan's next order of business was making sure her brain didn't leak all of her thoughts out through her mouth. 'I'm naked', 'He will be naked', 'We're alone', 'How do I get out', and 'How do I say no' made a marshmallow pile on her tongue. She began to shiver as the frigid night marshwater swirled around her superheated body.

Oh, my God.

"Um," she said, coughed once, and tried again: "Uh, I was just getting out."

"You are not," Shang said, and in the darkness she couldn't tell if it was an observation or an order.

Mulan kicked farther away from the shore, wild in mind but silent in body.

"I appreciate your deference to my position, but it doesn't have to extend over every minute I'm in your presence. I am your leader, but I am also your brother. We will fight together, under the same flag. Don't cower all the time."

What a diplomatic thing to say. As always. When didn't he know what to say?

Sometimes he seemed so perfect he couldn't be human. He was brave, and serious, and loyal, and never-say-die. Mulan often wondered if his back ever hurt, or if he swore at his superiors, or how he lost his teeth as a child. Thinking of the Great Li Shang indulging in something as lurid as lovemaking was a near-intolerable concept. That was the kind of concept she sometimes forced herself to think of at night. She enjoyed it so much it hurt--was that even possible?

She slunk so low in the water that only her eyes remained clear. She held her breath for as long as she could, and said nothing. This was a disaster.

Shang eyed her for a moment, but said nothing else. He turned his profile to her and pulled the shell of his armor over his head, with his hands on the nape of its neck. God. He was such a man. Even the way he took off his clothes was so manly.

Khan had been cropping grass near the lip of the lake, flicking his ears lazily around. Bugs were bothering him in the balmy country night, but he was content for the moment. When Shang's armor thunked on the ground his silken neck flashed in the moonlight; he raised his head to see who was there with his mistress. After a moment his liquid eyes eased and he resumed his mild grazing.

Traitor, Mulan thought.

"I didn't seek you out tonight, Ping, but I'm glad I found you. I want to talk to you." Shang began unlacing his shirt. His fingers were quick and sure. The muscles of his shoulders were exposed, followed quickly by his stomach and back.

Oh, God.

"When you first came to camp, I didn't have much hope for you. This is true of both you and your platoon. And to begin with, you validated my fears." He draped his shirt over his armor and bent slightly to unhook his calf and shin armor. No part of him was not lined with bulging muscle. No unevenness marred his golden skin. Was this what 'desire' felt like?

"I have since re-evaluated my opinion of you. Whatever change took over you, it was a change for the better. While I'd hesitate to say you are the best soldier in your squadron, I will admit that you've come the longest way."

Mulan realized suddenly that she was staring. She couldn't help it. His body was like a feast for the eyes. She'd seen men's bodies before, mostly since she came to the army. They wandered around naked or in various states of undress; they belched and hooted and complained loudly of disgusting things. She had never, ever seen Shang like that. He stayed dressed and civil every moment she laid eyes on him. She wanted to touch his chest, and run her fingers over the ripples in his stomach. She wanted to do things her ancestors were ashamed she would even think about.

"I know my style of leadership hasn't changed, so the change must have been brought about by something extracurricular. Your example heralded one of many. If you would, I'd like you to explain to me what happened."

Maybe he wasn't looking at her, maybe he was. His eyes were as black as Khan's hide, and Khan's hide was so black Mulan sometimes tried to buff out the ink she was sure someone had spilled on him. Had she just seen his amazing eyes flick to the corner, watching her watch him? Maybe not.

His elegant hands went to his drawstring, and Mulan spun around.

Don't turn your back

Have to

"I," she said, fighting a battle in her mind a hundred times harder than the one she'd fight with the Huns. Surely this fear and this panic couldn't get any worse. Surely this could be the strongest proof these emotions came bottled in. 'You can't see him, you should be more careful' 'He just asked you a question' 'You haven't got an answer that makes sense' and 'MY GOD, YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF THE POOL' began to lay bricks in an even pile at the gates to her mind. "I...I guess I just sort of...clicked," she said. Ping's voice came out, and it still and always sounded stupid. She was a girl playing a boy. And she was naked in water with a fully-grown man.

"Why have you turned around?" Shang asked.

Hoooowee. Would his legs and calves be as laden with muscle as his shoulders and arms were? He could run for miles; ride for days; break ribs with his kicks. She herself had often felt a part of her bearing the impact of one of his limbs.

Oh, they would be ashamed.

"I wish to respect your privacy," Mulan said, then scrunched up her face. That was an answer Mulan would give. It was a timid girl's answer. Shang saw the men parade around with their balls hanging out just as well as she did. Men didn't pick up on these kinds of things.

"You are strange, Ping," Shang said. Oh, that wasn't good.

There was a liquid sound that would normally be gentle and comforting. Water swirling up to meet his feet and legs, lapping gently with adulation as he waded deeper. Mulan kicked with one leg and turned around again. Shang was up to his waist in cold water, covering all the parts she wanted and didn't want to see. He stopped. His face was hard, but it was always hard. His eyes were glittering, but that was the moonlight. Was this some kind of weird dominance thing men did with each other? Of course he was glorious, looking awfully fine in a way that would make any matchmaker drool and wag her butt. Nothing about him wasn't perfect. Like he wasn't real. He was technically 'bathing' right now--and still his muscles didn't lose that definition.

He was raised as a prince, Mulan thought. You were raised as a bumpkin. There are so many worlds between you. Even if he knew you were a girl...you're leagues beneath him.

The silence lengthened. This was not good. There was tension here that shouldn't be here. She knew she wasn't looking at him like a soldier should look at his commander, and she couldn't be sure he wouldn't figure that out. She couldn't be sure of his experience with women, of his experience with the way women looked at him--the way she must be looking at him. The lake was as still as glass. If she bent her head she could see her own reflection; her features would be small and smooth and goofy, as a boy's. Large eyes, round shoulders, long hair unbound in the water and swirling around like lines of calligraphy...

She needed someone. She needed someone right now like a savior from the spirits of her ancestors, someone to hop up and down and break the spell and say 'Fo Godssakes, child, get yo skinny ass out the water and bring your not-a-boy's body back to yo tent before I crisp that little white ass. What chyoo thinkin?'

Ancestors, I am here to honor you, she thought. Consider this a prayer. I have come to save your son's life; to spare my father the pain of serving his country again when the first time nearly killed him. Please, save me from disgrace. Help me get out of the water. Before I jump into Shang's arms.

Khan's small ears stopped flicking and zeroed in on something. His neck flew up and his fiery nostrils flared. Shang's head turned in the same direction, for whatever reason, tracking something Mulan couldn't catch.

He should take his hair down, she thought, even though she didn't mean to. The bricklayer seemed to take malicious delight in laying bricks that appalled her. Visions of his hair sheeting sharp black rivers around his face. Practicing archery bare-chested, covered in a sheen of delicious perspiration. The way his eyes would burn as he abandoned himself to the forfeit of lovemaking. Would he hold her face between his hands as he thrust above her? Oh, ancestors.

Ohhhh, ancestors.

Was the water around her boiling?

"HI!" said Chien-po.

Well thank God for Chien-po.

Yao and Ling burst out of the treeline behind the lake, naked as jaybirds with--predictably--their balls swinging wild and free. Yao tried to do some strange leap-frog thing over Khan's hindquarters, and Khan cowkicked hard enough to break bones.

Either Ling couldn't see it was Li Shang in the water with her or Ling was too exuberant to care, but he broke the surface with a shallow dive a few feet to Shang's left. Shang jerked away but still got splashed, and his perfectly gorgeous features twisted into a moue of irritated disgust. His teeth were very white in the semi-darkness.

Mulan made a break for it.

She ducked underwater and kicked hard away. Not for the beach behind Shang and Ling; there was much too much commotion there. Instead she angled to come up behind a large gray boulder that lay soaking in the surf, hoping it would disguise her naked body long enough to grab some cloth nearby.

Khan had been unnerved by the action and again when he lost sight of her. With a neat bound he leapt the knee-high boulder and stood quivering before her on the sand. She touched his velvet muzzle and grabbed a handful of his stiff mane, using it haul herself up and pull her body behind his. When she peeked over his broad, shining back, she spotted Ling, Yao and Chien-po in a bit of an awkward situation with the newly-discovered identity of Li Shang. They were gross parodies of his godly form; half the man he was though some of them 'seemed so much more'. None of them had seen her.

And thank God for the darkness, too, she thought.

Khan turned when she turned and they both headed at a quick step for home. Her clothing was hanging on the low branch of a tree and she snagged it as they went by.

Her hands were trembling as she fought to pull the fabric up over her wet skin. Tonight had not gone well. Her simple bath had not gone as planned. Shang would be watching her closer than ever, now, and for many reasons.

She would go back to her sagging tent, bundle herself in her sleep clothes, and go over ever hot inch of Shang's body in her mind while her body throbbed in reminder. And she would enjoy herself. But in the morning...in the morning, she really needed to think about acting with more discretion.

"Oh, Khan," she sighed. "What am I going to do?"