Dragon and Lotus?, a kim possible fanfic

"Dragon and Lotus?"

By Eoraptor

AN: wrote this last year about this time as part of a KP Slash challenge… enjoy…

Lynne groaned and sucked on her third bottle, occasionally rubbing her side and grumbling into the beer. Another week, another three episodes of "Incredible Win Money Obstacle Challenge!" in the can. That was the one good thing about working in Japan, good beer and very cheap hotels.

Well, that and no one knew or cared about her past. She was just "Blonde American Dragon Woman" who beat the shit out of the contestants who made it to the last two rounds of the obstacle course. That was the other good thing, no need to worry about lawsuits here. She would work out her aggression to her heart's content. And boy did she have a lot of it to work out.

["Give me the strongest thing you've got. And I mean the one beneath the counter."]

Lynne looked up, in a year and a half, she'd picked up enough freaky rice talk to figure the guy walking up to the bar had ordered something expensive. She purred faintly, 'cause man was he stacked, a lot taller than the average dwarves she dealt with every day. And he was filling out his black leather jacket.

And then he turned to look at her and sneered. "Great, another blond American. Just what I need."

Lynne looked around, frowning at the unveiled disgust in his voice. But she didn't see any other blondes on the bar, or on the street, either genuine Americans or 'Yankee Girl' rip off sluts. Taking affront, and standing right up to the tall twerp, clearly violating about every cultural custom she could think of with the gesture she threw at him.

"What's it to you, slant eye?" She glared at him, stepping right to him.

"Wait… I know you…" He frowned, looking at her as he accepted his saucer full of drink, quickly downing it.

"Yeah, I know, from the stupid fucking show." She sneered waving her hand dismissively. "I get that all the time. And no, I will not give you English lessons, so zakenayo, bub."

"No," he scowled at the mouthy little westerner.

Then he remembered. It was his time on the run, after being expelled from Yamanouchi, researching ways to get back at the yellow haired buffoon who had stolen his little sister and his rightful place at the school.

"You! You were the one who was unmasked by the chosen fool." He jabbed her in the chest with a finger and grinned. ["Bar tender! Bring her another of whatever she wants!"]

It sounded even more like gibberish than the usual freaky rice talk, and she just stared at the oily stud for a long moment. "What are you on about?"

Fukashima scratched his head and frowned. Surely his English wasn't that bad? After a moment, he tried again, having to force the pretender's proper name through his lips, "Stoppable-bozu."

Lynne's eyes hardened and she growled, her entire body tensing at the name of the little nerd who had published those pictures of her. "What do you know about that freaky little turd?"

He arched a brow at her, and then started laughing loudly, making everyone in the bar who had been avoiding looking at him and his prominent tattoos pay attention. "He did to me what he did to you! Exposed my shame and betrayal and forced me from my home."

Lynne's eyes narrowed, but she carefully lifted the brand new beer up to her lips as she eyed the big boy. "So, you know Possible and her boy toy too, huh?"

"Possible? The dragon wench who through her folly by claiming the buffoon saved my sister from a fate worse than mine?" He arched a brow and shook his head, "I've never met her. But I know the blonde foolish fool too well."

"Well, pull up a stool, big boy, I think we have something to talk about." Lynne sat back down, indicating the place next to hers.

The next few hours went as all planning sessions held in bars typically did. They started with a workable plan to find and lure out Stoppable and his so-called girlfriend and humiliate him. And maybe kill him, and his rat, and something about some little girl that Lynne wasn't quite sure she understood. By the end of the night though, it was a blur of drunken ranting and shouting, and only Fukashima's prominent tattoo on his left hand prevented them being ejected from the bar.

They found another later, and another, and the ranting degenerated further, into the grievances of all drunken people.

A high pitched, sheery electronic tone began buzzing at Fukashima's somnolent mind as he rolled over, muttering at the pain in his mind, and the dryness in his mouth. He muttered dully and felt around for his jacket, ["kuso…"]

"Hey, watch the hands Bucko…"

Frowning with consternation, the enforcer and ex-ninja looked around the small tube he was in, and realized for the first time that he was not alone, and not clothed.

The American dragon girl. She looked… surprisingly good unclothed. Very fit.

"Good morning?" He tried not to startle her further, for fear one of them would not exit the small tube hotel in one piece. She had proven, some time in the night, that she was more fearsome than she looked, when one of his delivery boys had tried to… something… a hand on her?

"Well, no morning is a good one when my head feels like this." She groaned, running a hand through her short hair, "Come on Slant Eye, I got a serious urge for some hair of the dog, and you're buying since I paid for the tube. Then we can get back to Stoppable."

"…indeed?"

"Yeah, it's a freaky small world after all." She smirked at him and began gathering her things from inside the little plastic basket at the foot of the tube. "And it needs to get one freaky blue boy smaller."