Title: Pandemonium
Fandom: Guardian
Rating: General
Length: ~1400 words
Notes: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan pre-relationship. AU set during episode 8. Also for forestofglory's Teeth and Bones: A Guardian Dire Pandas Challenge. Much, much thanks to trobadora for reading-through and mergatrude for beta. No Warnings.
Summary: Shen Wei helps an ailing Zhao Yunlan home.


Helping the ailing Zhao Yunlan up to his apartment involves a lot more bodily contact that Shen Wei is prepared for. Halfway up the first flight of stairs, Zhao Yunlan stumbles and, apparently reflexively, loops his arm around Shen Wei’s neck, though his other hand keeps cradling his stomach.

Shen Wei tightens his grip on Zhao Yunlan’s waist, chastises himself for the inappropriate thrum of awareness he can’t quite suppress, and soldiers on to Zhao Yunlan’s door.

When they get there, Zhao Yunlan digs into his front jeans pocket for his keys. This involves squirming his hand into the place where their hips are pressed together, for much longer than Shen Wei considers reasonable. Is Zhao Yunlan deliberately toying with him, or is it Fate’s idea of a joke? He tilts away slightly, and Zhao Yunlan finally produces the keys, which Shen Wei then confiscates and employs. He opens the door and bundles them across the threshold. Zhao Yunlan, staggering slightly, reaches back to smack on the light, and Shen Wei glances around and stops dead.

Zhao Yunlan’s apartment is—

To say it’s indescribable would be lazy and imprecise, and Shen Wei is neither of those things. Nonetheless, the exact style of decoration is impossible to categorise. There are some stone lanterns, and a lion skull; a small decorative robot made of pieces of machinery, and other novelty knickknacks; random exercise equipment littered across the floor, and a fish tank with three goldfish; a dramatically lit shelving unit crammed with lurid bottles of alcohol, and a worn leather couch. Pervading it all, a stink like damp, rotting vegetable matter and unwashed clothes, and a faint sweet scent Shen Wei identifies as Zhao Yunlan’s hair product.

Most of all, though, there is bamboo.

It grows in terracotta planters, in half-barrels, and in round ceramic pots, haphazardly arranged. There’s a plastic tub on the kitchen counter crowded with bright, new shoots barely a foot high, whereas the farther, dimmer reaches of the bedroom alcove give the impression of an established forest. From their depths comes an intermittent grumbling, interspersed with a low rumble that sounds like someone or something passing wind.

The outlines of a bed are vaguely discernible through the leaves, and it’s that horizontal surface that Zhao Yunlan lurches towards now. Shen Wei doesn’t help him—he’s still rooted to the spot, caught in an eddy of bewilderment. “This isn’t—”

Zhao Yunlan shoves carelessly past the living screen of plants and falls to the mattress, curling up on his side and groaning.

It’s no way for a human to live. He’d be better off in a bus terminus. How on earth can he manage like this? Shen Wei looks around, trying to take it all in. Where’s your medicine? he means to ask, but instead he says, “Da Qing?”

Zhao Yunlan breathes a laugh, then winces and burrows his head into the pillow. “You know he’s Yashou, don’t you?”

Shen Wei does. He remembers well. He just hadn’t realised they were sharing a flat, nor what the practical implications of that might be. “I was under the impression dire pandas were carnivores.”

“Oh, they are,” says Zhao Yunlan.

“I’m the ten-thousand-year-old king of the forest,” says a voice from beyond him. There’s a crashing, lumbering sound, and then a huge, shaggy black-and-white head appears through the greenery, grinning open-mouthed to show off a truly impressive array of teeth that must have evolved specifically for the efficient rending of flesh from bone. “Meat is most delicious, and Lao Zhao always brings me the juiciest morsels. The bamboo’s just a garnish.”

There’s no subtlety to the threat at all.

Where others might have quailed and flinched back, Shen Wei stands his ground, but his hand tenses at his side, ready to summon his weapon if the situation escalates. He’s reluctant to do so for several reasons—it would reveal his secret, and no doubt end any possibility of a personal relationship between himself and Zhao Yunlan, not to mention the fact that dire pandas are all but extinct and he’d be loath to cut one down. On the other hand, if this turns out to be a trap, he will not feign helplessness.

“Damn Panda, stand down,” groans Zhao Yunlan into the pillow. “The professor was kind enough to bring me home. Threatening to eat him is just rude!”

Da Qing swings his huge muzzle down and sniffs at Zhao Yunlan. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Only tea,” says Zhao Yunlan, defensively. Then he covers his eyes and groans again. “Forgot to eat. Fuck.”

The enormous, ferocious dire panda exchanges a glance with Shen Wei, and Shen Wei relaxes into shared exasperation. This is Da Qing, after all. Shen Wei’s almost tempted to sink his hands into the thick fur of his neck and give him a good scratch. But before he can take his life in his hands to do so, the panda folds down into human form, dressed in his usual black overalls and white t-shirt. He crouches on the bed and pokes Zhao Yunlan with a finger. “You’re hopeless.”

Zhao Yunlan makes an unhappy noise. It’s impossible to gauge how much his discomfort is physical and how much chagrin. “Shut up and get my medicine.”

“Where is it?” Shen Wei will do whatever he can to ease Zhao Yunlan’s suffering, no matter how self-inflicted.

“Can’t remember,” says Zhao Yunlan.

“Try the fridge,” suggests Da Qing, as if it’s a test.

The reason soon becomes clear. The fridge, when Shen Wei opens it, is even more alarming and malodorous than Da Qing’s maw. Shen Wei recoils instinctively, but manages to retrieve the medicine without gagging. He brings it to the edge of the bamboo grove. “If you haven’t eaten, perhaps you should take this with food.”

Zhao Yunlan’s eyes are screwed shut, and at the mention of food, he rolls over, so his back is to Shen Wei.

Shen Wei transfers his attention to Da Qing, handing him the medicine bottle. “He should eat.”

“At this stage, it’s better if he just sleeps it off.” Da Qing’s casual air is both reassuring and infuriating. How often does Zhao Yunlan get into this state that his friend can brush it off so lightly? Da Qing climbs over Zhao Yunlan, being careful not to jostle him, at least, and steps out of the greenery. He strips off a bamboo leaf in passing, and uses the stem to pick his teeth. “Besides, how do I know you can cook? Badly prepared food would only make him feel worse.”

“I can cook.”

Da Qing folds his arms. “Prove it.”

Despite Zhao Yunlan’s miserable condition, Shen Wei bites back a smile. This, then, is the real trap—not danger to life and limb, but being pressed into service to feed a Yashou panda and his human. The manipulation is unnecessary—Shen Wei would gladly feed them both, would have liked to disinfect the refrigerator, too, while he was at it, and clean up some of the mess—but Da Qing isn’t to know that. Perhaps there’ll be future opportunities, if he can win Da Qing’s trust.

“I believe I have all the ingredients for beef shank and tendon stew, in my apartment, if you provide the bamboo shoots. Would that suffice?”

Da Qing’s eyes widen. He licks his lips, but then shakes his head reluctantly. “It would be too rich for Lao Zhao.”

Behind Da Qing, Zhao Yunlan is breathing deeply, already asleep or close to it.

“The stew would be for you,” offers Shen Wei. “I’ll make congee for him, when he wakes up.”

He thinks for a moment that the deal is done, that Da Qing’s stomach will override his concern for Zhao Yunlan, but Da Qing squints at him suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”

“I enjoy cooking,” says Shen Wei. “And the SID works hard to protect the city—it’s the least I can do.”

It’s not a compelling argument, but Da Qing’s stomach must weigh in on the matter. He nods.

“Then I’ll be back in an hour.” Shen Wei goes to the door, then looks back. “How hungry are you?”

Da Qing tilts his head, his expression unmistakably that of a ravenous panda. “However much you’re thinking of making, double it,” he says. “And don’t expect any leftovers.”



END


Note: So according to wikipedia, the Chinese word for Panda literally translates to Bear Cat. :D :D :D