#flyer response

Mr. Ping is whispering pitifully beside his ear, eyes closed against a powerful vertigo and what Shifu is certain is a preemptive hangover. He dutifully refills the cup beside the goose with water and prods him until he drinks from it, but he’s starting to doubt its efficacy.

Whoever had seen it fit to give Mr. Ping alcohol had either been very cruel or exceedingly clueless, Shifu finds himself musing at some point, when Mr. Ping’s babbling has dissolved into tears. He is about to sigh and pat the goose’s hand again in awkward sympathy, but a certain line catches his attention before he can.

“-without you..! I-I became my father and I didn’t even rellee- realize it,” Mr. Ping says this more quietly, and finally pushes himself away from Shifu, wobbling on his seat and rubbing at his eyes. “O-oh, it scares me so mmmu- s-so much, uh? To think about Po nnever finding- never meeting… to have him just never find someone t’ listen to ‘im- I-I… ’m sorry, was I using you azza perch..?”

This (drunk, but genuine) praise makes Shifu uneasy, enough so to drop the deadpan, exasperated answer he’d usually have for the goose at such a question.

“I… Mr. Ping, are you saying… you believe I listened to Po when you didn’t..?”

“Mm-hmmm,” the goose hums, sounding a bit more drowsy than before. “Iss why I love you… You seddit… a-a llllong time ago. Pretendened I didn’ hear you… an’ then you, hmmm, acted like you didn’ say it either… I lied, though.”

A great, dreadful weight drops to the very base of Shifu’s chest at that: he thinks he knows exactly the line Mr. Ping is talking about. It had slipped out at the time, completely unwanted and unnecessary, and the relief when Mr. Ping hadn’t heard it had been more satisfying than all the inner peace of every master in all the world.

Sometimes I feel we are both a father to Po.

He doesn’t want to hear this. Mr. Ping is respectful but blunt when he’s sober- in this state? Shifu can’t even imagine what words he’ll have to say about such a selfish, misguided observation when his usual paper-thin reservations are floating away in alcohol.

“Wouldn’t you rather tell me some… amusing stories about your son’s childhood?”

Mr. Ping shakes his head with a sunny smile.

“Still think aboutid… sometimes. Thoughdit was sweet.”

Shifu finds himself staring at the goose.

“You… did?”

“Mm-hmmm…” The goose gives a soft sniff, and Shifu prepares for another bout of tears, but they don’t come this time. Maybe that ‘hydration’ shtick isn’t just a bunch of nonsense. He watches Mr. Ping rub at his eyes for a moment before continuing, hesitant.

“…I must admit… I thought it might offend you.” He had worried it might sound like he was seeking praise as well for Po’s upbringing, for whatever strength (…or folly) that had encouraged a goose to adopt a panda in the first place. For instilling that same determination in his son.

Mr. Ping snorts and waves his hand, quickly bringing it back down to lie on top of his other, nervously ruffling the feathers on the top of that hand. Shifu recognizes the gesture (when did that happen?)- he sees it often when the goose is thinking or making decisions or flustered. He sees it very often restrained during their games.

“…atchully… it made me a lllittle happy t’ hear you say that.”

Shifu doesn’t interrupt, unsure if he should prompt Mr. Ping to continue or if a reminder of his presence will be just the thing to snap him out of this sudden heart to heart. Thankfully, the goose continues on his own, smiling over at Shifu with a decidedly uncertain, embarrassed air.

“…I always thought… well, maybe n-no one else wann'ed Po, budeye did. I did. Oh, I did. Mm, but I always worried. Y’ can’t find ev'rything you need in one person. He’d need more ‘n me bud no one else wanted him.”

Now the tears came.

“No one else wanned- oh, but- but I was wrong..! ’M jus’… so happy you feel that way… love you… a lot. So happy ever-thing has worked out for Po.”

Ah. It hits Shifu in a gradual wave, just what this all boiled down to: relief. Of course Mr. Ping would have known his son was awkward and unconventional. He knew Po would always have a hard time fitting in in the Valley, and he also knew he wouldn’t be around to keep his son company, to act as a buffer between Po and solitude forever.

That Po was now surrounded by others who cared for him, who loved him, who would stand by him long after the goose was gone…

With a jolt, Shifu realizes he’d never given the same thought to Tigress. His daughter had rarely been alone as a child or a teen or even now as an adult. Not since he’d adopted her. She had made it very clear as a child (in her quiet, steadfast way), that she would not be left alone, and he hadn’t seen any reason to argue otherwise.

Perhaps, he realizes, in a very dark, lonely spot inside, he had already supposed his loss would not hurt her as much. That Tigress would get along just fine without him, alone or not. Now he finds himself wondering if that assumption was unfair of him. He’ll have to remedy it at some point.

…And the Five? What about them?

“You c'n rely on me, yanno… I mean… not righ’ now, ’m too sleepy now… please don’ leave the children wiv me now…”

Mr. Ping’s suddenly drowsy ramblings drag Shifu back to the present, make him realize he’d accidentally turned a dear ear to the goose again. He quickly realizes Mr. Ping is leaning heavily against him again, head flattening one of his ears.

“I’m sorry, pardon?”

“Wazzaying… you can trust me. I c'n watch the kids… if you can’t… I will.”

Shifu can’t help the lopsided, affectionate smile at that, even though Mr. Ping can’t see it. The kids. The kids.

“Alright,” he says, “I won’t dump the children on you tonight or tomorrow morning… if you promise you’ll be there if I can’t.”

“…course…”

“...and I promise the same.”

This is spoken very softly. But not weakly. Steadfast like his daughter.

jesus christ this was supposed to be a drabble

no lie, i had something along these lines written loooong before kfp3 came out. i might upload it someday, but it’s made a little obsolete with this one-shot now.

also honestly i have written tipsy or drunk mr. ping like 1000 more times than i would have ever thought i would when i first started this account

It will well up inside him when two much smaller hands settle on top of one of his own. When he is embarrassingly hunched over near in half just to reach the top of Mr. Ping’s head. When he brushes his lips against feathers and wings in cloud-soft kisses and sneezes at the unfamiliar sensation of them. When he hovers over the goose nervously with a few uncertain, helpless chuckles because they simply do not match.

Mr. Ping will seem careless and flippant to him in comparison- always laughing, constantly reassuring. Li doesn’t understand how to gracefully reflect this confidence, not when he can not figure out how to make this all feel right, like it should. Like it had.

“I’m sorry,” he says, over and over, anticipating and dreading the day when pleading apologies are no longer enough.

“…You just have to give it time,” Mr. Ping murmurs back to him on a rainy day with an open, warm smile. He is holding his unusually bare wings out in a beckoning gesture with his head tilted to the right, almost smugly. He is perched somewhat precariously on Li’s belly. It will take just a second or two for the goose to lose his balance and fall, so Li sits up, wraps his arms around Mr. Ping before he can slide off, and falls to the side with him instead.

This merits a small puff of laughter from the goose when they hit the bed together; he wiggles against Li’s loose grip until he is far enough up to comfortably lay his head beside the panda’s own, snugly wedging his beak against the crook of Li’s neck and shoulder with a heavy sigh.

Li shivers with a snort, laying his head to the side so his chin is resting over Mr. Ping’s beak.

“You love me,” Mr. Ping still manages.

“I love you,” Li agrees, and then, because that one sounded so quick and hollow to him, he says again, “I love you,” more firmly, more emphatic. Mindfully, like he’s never said the words before and won’t ever get the chance to again.

He catches movement from the corner of his eyes and glances down to Mr. Ping, eyes open again, gazing up at him with more than a bit of mist and glitter in his expression and the feathers of his cheeks puffed out in an unmistakable smile.