This is a bit of one of the future Whumptober prompt fics. The prompt is "Shackles", the request was for Iron Fist, and I'm doing the good ol' handcuffed together.
"Just ... hang on, I've almost got it ... I think ..."
"No you don't," Ward said between chattering teeth. "No you don't, because there is no way those monks taught you to pick locks. Did they even have locks?"
"I've seen it on TV," Danny mumbled distractedly.
"-- oh great, that improves my confidence immeasurably, but anyway, even if you do know lock-fu, there's no way you can pick a lock one-handed. In the dark. In the rain. With a rusty nail."
He had more to say, plenty more, but just then there was a small screech of metal on metal, and a muttered, "Oops," from Danny, and then no more jerking and tugging at the cuff joining them together.
"Dropped your nail, huh?" Ward said with all the sarcasm he could muster, which by this point was a lot. He would have smacked Danny across the head if he'd been able to use his other arm. Unfortunately he had just one functional arm at this point, and it was the one that was shackled to Danny.
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