title: a human of his own
fandom: Guardian
relationship: Da Qing & Zhao Yunlan
words: ~400 words
contents: exploration of character history, vague spoilers for Da Qing's backstory

summary: Humans are the worst.



Humans are the worst. Da Qing knows this from the tip of his nose all the way down to his tail: humans cannot be trusted.

One minute, they’re friendly and skritching under your chin. The next, they're screeching and running away from you, calling you a demon. Then they burn down their neighbor's house, as if it has to be another human's fault that Yashou exist at all.

If he finds it easier to just steal their food and sleep in their barns for a thousand years, so what?

By the time he meets Zhao Yunlan, though, he's long since gotten used to humans and their cities. They're fun, about half the time, and their cooking excuses a lot of stupidity. He doesn't have to trust them for that.

So he doesn't understand why he's here in Zhao Yunlan's dorm room again. It's the fourth night in a row Da Qing's feet have led him down to the university and in through this window. It feels like fate -- something else that absolutely can't be trusted.

The boy was already sleeping when he got here, which is about the most boring thing a human could possibly be doing, and Da Qing's already eaten the fried shrimp Zhao Yunlan left out for him. He should go. He should want to go.

He doesn't want to go.

Four days ago, the boy had walked into SID headquarters to talk to the Chief -- someone well worth calling a demon, human or not -- and Da Qing's entire world pitched sideways like someone pushed him off a roof. Humans largely didn't interest him, but this one... there was something about this one he couldn't resist.

Four nights ago, he'd shown up outside this window, and Zhao Yunlan had let him in. Like people came to see him on the fire escape all the time. Like Yashou were people, and sometimes cats, and it didn't bother him which shape Da Qing wanted to be in when he came over. He shared his dinner, and talked about his classes, and fell asleep mid-sentence like an over-excited kitten.

Humans can't be trusted; Da Qing knows that. Even humans know that.

But what he wants is to curl up on the pillow next to that boy's head and take a nap. Maybe purr, if it feels as good as he thinks it might. Doing it probably counts as stupidity, but hey, the kid's asleep, and he'll never know.

Da Qing steps softly onto the pillow, and it sinks under his paw. But the boy doesn't wake up, and the cat lets himself relax.

He doesn't remember what it was like, having a human of his own. Ten thousand years blurs a lot of memories. But he thinks, maybe, possibly, it felt a little like this.