Chapter Text
In Macaque’s not so humble opinion, there were very few things worse than sleep paralysis. He would rather be stabbed, hit, electrocuted or burned than be trapped between dream and reality, aware but utterly unable to do anything about it except lying helplessly on Wukong’s sofa. His body was refusing to listen, paralyzed from fear, from dread, from guilt. But, even worse than that, his mind refused to budge from the excruciating loop the nightmare got him into.
The hills were cold, freezing, Lady Bone Demon’s powers making the very air feel like icicles. He was fighting Wukong, possessed, mindless Wukong, his eyes void of his usual burning passion or even terrifying anger, face wiped of that stupid cocky smile, and Macaque almost missed it. It would feel much better to wipe it off his face, than defeating him in this possessed state. Every hit hurt like fire, but he kept fighting, kept hitting back, rage and vengeance defeating any semblance of self-preservation he had.
He would get that bastard, he'd have his revenge one way or another. It didn’t matter that Wukong was possessed, less satisfying sure but he would get at him! He would fight the annoying kid, the one who trusted in the Great Sage so fully, so foolishly. Maybe that would get to Wukong, having another one of his hurt because of him.
He could feel the kid’s powers racing through his veins, the golden power mixing with his shadowy one and with the powers LBD gave him.
Wait! What do you mean the kid!
And he directed the hit, aimed his staff, everything he had through it!
No, wait, something was off!
He aimed, rage and fury adding to his power, to LBD’s power, landing a strong hit that would be deadly even to an immortal, hitting the brown-furred monkey with all his might…
Wait, wait, WAIT!!!
“Nothing personal…”
And there he was lying.
Not Wukong, but the kid.
MK lay on the ground, limply, his clothes singed, in a pool of blood, surrounded by LBD’s crystals.
NO!
And then he woke up in cold sweat, the scream lodged in his throat, guilt and shame burning in his chest.
He won.
And MK wasn’t moving.
And the worst part was, this wasn’t just his mind jumbling events from his life into something new and even more tortuous than his life usually was. He almost made this one a reality once.
His body burned, the scars from LBD’s crystals worse than anything. And yet he was cold. So, so cold, as if he was still on that mountain overtaken by LBD’s powers. He had a blanket, but it fell when he was startled by stupid Wukong. Now it lay on the floor and he was unable to reach for it. Typical.
He could hear Wukong still shuffling around the house. What the asshole was doing at this hour, Macaque neither knew nor cared. He was, however, perfectly aware that Wukong must’ve noticed him. He was stupid, not blind. Noticed him, and left him alone with his nightmares, freezing on the sofa!
As if he could expect anything more from the self-centred dick that was Wukong! As if he would ever want anything more!
Except…
No, he couldn’t hope. As if Wukong cared for him. He may have put on a good act around the kid, maybe he even showed some kind of camaraderie with him during the fights against Azure, and Peng, and heaven and Nine, but Macaque knew that Wukong held about as much care for him as he cared for the lint under the very sofa he slept on. Besides, if Wukong knew why Macaque was in this state, he would tell him it was his own fault he’s feeling like that and leave him. Deservedly so.
But knowing that and having proof of that, as he definitely would, once Wukong would inevitably finish whatever he was shuffling about and went to sleep, were different things. But that’s what Macaque got for being an idiot and falling asleep on his sofa.
And for what? To avoid one single teleport to his dojo because he was a bit tired? No, never again. He would never again allow himself to be like this around Wukong. As if he didn’t see him weak enough in the pillar aftermath. But at least then he had an excuse of having just gotten out of multiple fights in a row.
This, whimpering on his sofa like a child, unable to move, unable to teleport away, was downright pathetic. And just when he thought that their sparring sessions showed just what he was made from!
What was more pathetic is that a part of him, a weak, ridiculous part of him, wanted comfort. Something he knew he would never have again, as amicable as things between him and Wukong could be these days.
But he extended his hand to you at the pillar. He included you in the group of people he trusted. He was concerned when you got yourself hurt to free everyone from Nine. It was more than just working together out of necessity.
Maybe it was pathetic to hope. But, damn him, Wukong did give him some reason for it.
Suddenly, Wukong was by the sofa again, placing snacks and tea on the coffee table. What was he doing? If that idiot sat down next to him to watch a film or play video games….
So much for hoping!
Actually, Mac could hope for one thing. He could hope that, if Wukong sat down next to him in distress to have fun, he would get pissed enough to snap out of his terrified stupor, punch him in his stupid face and teleport away.
Thinking about the video games made his brain circle back to MK. MK in a desperate fight against Macaque, and then, his body limp on the floor…
He knew his glamours were unsteady and he hated being so vulnerable around Wukong more than anything. Why wouldn’t he just go to fucking sleep?
Despite himself, memories of the distant past flooded his brain. The time when he and Wukong would comfort each other after nightmares. It was worse than pathetic to wish for it again. Even if it wasn’t, even if somehow he and Wukong were close enough for it again, this wasn’t a regular nightmare. This one was entirely on him. What he did to MK was his action.
MK’s face when he almost struck him would forever be seared into his mind. And now it was worse, because he grew to care for the kid. Curse him and his kindness sneaking into Macaque’s heart. He should’ve never allowed himself to get close.
And yet, he didn't regret it.
Wukong still stood next to the sofa like an idiot that he was. Was he enjoying this? Basking in Macaque’s weakness? Was all of that care in the early days after the Pillar just feelings running high?
But then, the Great Sage sighed and Macaque saw him very slowly, carefully picking up the blanket of the ground. “I’m just going to cover you, ok? Please don’t freak out,” Wukong said quietly and then the blanket was placed back on Macaque. He tensed, but Wukong simply did what he said he would. It was then that Macaque noticed plums and mangos on the coffee table. Not Wukong's favourite fruit but…
Was the moron actually trying to help?
“You picked the thinnest blanket you could find, bud,” Wukong said, “How about I get you another one?” Mac’s eye managed to follow him around the room, watching him go over to the chest in the corner, pull a bundle of fabric out, and walk back to the sofa, “Ok, so, you can chew me out in the morning for offering you a Monkey King The Movie merch blanket but it’s the warmest clean blanket I got here. I know, I know, it’s an insult to cover you with something with my stupid face on it, but trust me, it’s comfortable. Supposedly it’s made with some super-special wool, though don’t ask me about it, I’m no tailor or knitter or whatever…”
Wukong was rambling. Mac could easily recognize that. It was like the moron had no shut-off button so would spew whatever randomness came to his mind when there was nothing of substance to say. And Macaque hated how familiar his annoying voice was. Another blanket was placed on Macaque and he’d lie if he claimed it didn't feel better. It was easier to chase the memories of Lady Bone Demon and her cold when he was warmer under the blankets.
Instead of going back to bed, Wukong sat next to the sofa and, bewilderingly, kept talking. It was a story about some demon who attacked his TV series studio. Mac didn’t listen much. As if he needed more of Wukong’s bragging in his life, especially about his ridiculous TV show! But his voice was oddly comforting. So he just focused on the sound.
Finally, he relaxed enough to move. He stretched, trying to get the feel of his body. Still sore, still stiff. His magic was still unfocused enough for him to simply dip.
Wukong turned to him, a hopeful expression on his face, “You’re back!”
“Why’d you do that?” Mac asked.
“Do what?”
“This,” he pointed to the blankets and to the food on the coffee table.
Wukong shrugged, “You seemed upset. Wanted to help.”
Mac scoffed. Yeah right.
“Oh please! What other motivation could I have? Or do you think that setting the table up with snacks in the middle of the night is a habit of mine?”
“Gee, sorry to be a bother!”
Wukong sighed and rolled his eyes, “That's not how I meant it and you know it!”
Mac simply scoffed instead of an answer, feeling his powers again. Teleporting away would be a dumb decision. Firstly, he could simply fail to even open a portal, or fail to teleport further from Wukong’s stupid porch, which would be embarrassing. Secondly, he was too tired and still too shaken to focus his powers properly. Even if he managed to teleport to the city, nothing guaranteed he’d be precise enough to get to the dojo. He could end up in some random alley, or in someone’s living room or, as his luck would have it, in a secret lair of another demon with homicidal intentions under the city.
Wukong was insufferable, but at least he knew what he was dealing with here. He still wished he would leave, “You don’t even know what the stupid nightmare was about!”
Wukong looked confused, “Does it matter? It upset you!”
“Tsk! And you suddenly care!?”
“Well I…”
“Would you still care if I told you it was about MK? See I was fighting him except this time you, hero didn’t stop me! Made him a bloody splatter on the ground!” He snarled, hoping this would make Wukong leave.
The Great Sage looked startled. This was it, Macaque thought. He would leave him be or, better yet, kick him out. But, after a moment, his disposition softened, “Well,” he said, “good thing it was just a nightmare then, right?”
Now that took Macaque by surprise, “You and I both know that’s not the case,” he muttered bitterly.
“Well, good thing I stopped you then, right?”
It made Mac’s fur bristle and he growled, mad. He was right of course, it was a good thing he stopped him, but it still pissed him off. There he was, typical Wukong, kicking him while he was down.
“Shit! Sorry, didn’t… didn’t mean to rub it in I…not how I meant it,” Wukong sighed, once again leaning against the sofa, “I’m too tired to think straight.”
That was…new.
An apology.
If Mac didn’t know any better, he would be convinced he was still asleep. Because this was unbelievable. Sure, the words pissed him off but Wukong wasn’t the type to apologize for anything ever. Let alone when he wasn’t the one who was supposed to apologize here, not really.
“It’s…it’s fine.” Mac muttered, sitting up.
They sat like that for a bit in awkward silence. Mac was on the verge of bolting and he could notice the tension in Wukong’s shoulders.
“Why are you on the floor?”
“Erm… didn't want to…didn’t know if I could sit next to you.”
“It’s your sofa, dumbass!”
“I was trying to give you space, jerk!”
“Just sit on the fucking sofa!”
Wukong frowned at him, and it seemed like he would snap back, but in the end he just shook his head, as if in disbelief, and slowly stood up, sitting next to Mac. The two sat in awkward silence for a while, Mac wrapped in the ridiculous blankets and Wukong was literally twiddling his thumbs.
“Erm,” the great sage finally broke the silence, “would- would you like some tea?”
“No.”
The silence, somehow more awkward then before, returned and he just wished his power would return so he could fucking leave.
Finally, Wukong sighed heavily. He placed a hesitant hand on Macaque’s shoulder, making him tense. How dare he? But on the other hand, his touch was, so, so warm. And for the uprteenth hime, Mac was annoyed at himself for finding something of Wukong’s comforting. He should show him away, and leave, even if he had to walk to his fucking lair, but he couln’t.
Pathetic.
“Look,” Wukong said, eyes darting left and right as if he was looking for something, “I…what you did sucked.”
Mac couldn’t help but snort, “Really? Sucked? That's the wording you’re going with?”
“I’m tired, ok, give me a break! It sucked, it was…”
“Evil?”
“I… I was going to go with callous. The point is,” sigh, “you clearly regret it. I know it because, well, one doesn’t have nightmares like that over stuff they don’t regret.”
Well fuck. Mac had a feeling he knew what Wukong was talking about. But he couldn't admit it. Not now. Because if Wuong regretted that, what did it mean for them? It was a can of worms he wasn’t ready to open.
No, no, Wukong was probably talking about the Samadhi fire incident? Lying to MK, right? That must’ve been it. After all, Mac brought up that he had a nightmare about the time he hurt MK. It only made sense that Wukong related to the time he did the same, even if it was on an objectively smaller scale.
“Wukong, I can’t even claim that I didn’t mean it! That we were caught on the opposite slides or whatever. I targeted him, to get to you!”
“You…have a point there,” Wukong frowned.
“And after…” he trailed off. After was selfish, he knew that. Did he regret it? Partially. He regretted not finding another path, hurting MK and Mei in the process, messing with MK again and again. But he couldn’t regret freeing himself from lady Bone Demon’s grasp. And if he had to do it again… “Look, if it led to my freedom…I can’t say I would do things differently. It’s rather…complicated."
Wukong’s face was unreadable, but, after a short silence, he spoke in a calm voice, “Well, as someone who was under LBD’s influence, as someone who screwed up because I was,” he swallowed, “because I was so terrified of her even before she possessed me…I can’t fully blame you. I mean, having her in here,” he knocked on his head, “Yeah, not fun.”
“You’re full of euphemisms today.”
“What can I say?” Monkey King shrugged, “I get it. You had her in your ear. You wanted to stop her from hurting you further.”
“Tsk, didn’t have to hurt the kid in the process. Or try to break him. Not like that,” it was a realization he had way too late.
The look Wukong gave him was so full of painful understanding and Macaque hated it. In that moment it would have been easier if Wukong punched him and told him to get his ass off the mountain. At least that would be familiar.
This awkward sympathy from the Great Sage was, maybe not entirely new, but unfamiliar, forgotten. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. If his feelings regarding LBD, the whole situation with MK, and Mei and Samadhi fire were complicated, what he and Wukong had were a few gordian knots tangled together.
“No, you didn’t,” Wukong sighed. “We both fumbled big time during that time. You were right about me back then, you know.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. But…you never attacked Mk to get at someone else. That was entirely me!”
Why was he saying this to Wukong off all people? What was it about late night that made the two open up and talk as if they were anything close to friends?
“Maybe. But…for what’s worth, you’ve been making up for that.”
“Yeah right!”
“Don’t deny it! MK told me, you jumped on the chance to help, the moment he offered you to join, didn’t you? For heaven’s sake, you fought possessed me, not to brag, but you know,” Wukong said, making Mac roll his eyes almost instinctively, “I- I know I hurt you. I tried not to , but…she had me. I was still partially awake and…anyways, not the point. Point is you tried to help, and you’ve been doing nothing but help ever since. I…I never thanked you did I?”
“Nope. Only for a small part, “ Mac said, bitterness seeping into his voice as he remembered that conversation they once had with the sleeping MK next to them. He hated the regret in Wukong’s voice. He hated this nuance. And he hated how much he loved it. The comfort conversations like this brought, despite everything.
“Well, anyways thanks. For LBD stuff and, well, for the scroll stuff. For…not showing MK the worst of it.”
There it was, dancing around the issue again. They were experts at it. He shook his head, “I didn't do it for you. I did it for the kid. Showing him some things, or presenting it differently…it would hurt him more than you. And also, I really didn’t want the hassle of having to explain it to him,” he added in the end.
“Still. Thanks.”
Mac nodded.
They shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be doing this, opening up, letting Wukong in, relying on him in his weak, vulnerable moments. As nice as it was-if anything about the whole deal with his nightmares could be described as nice-it w as dangerous. None of the fun, silly or sweet moments could erase their past.
But…
Maybe…
“Wukong?”
“Huh?”
“Erm…thank you. For…this.”
Wukong nodded, “You’re welcome.”
The silence grew from awkward to oddly comfortable, as if some big hurdle was removed from between them. He was tired, and cold and he could feel heat, as always, radiating from Wukong. He missed the hand that was on his shoulder a few minutes ago. It was a moment of weakness, he couldn’t deny that, but, despite himself, he leaned against him.
The Monkey King stiffened for a moment, before he relaxed as well, clearly settling so Mac could lean on him more easily. Gods, he forgot just how warm Wukong was. And that was all this was, right? It was pure practicality. He was freezing, and Wukong was warm. It would be the same thing if Wukong left and placed a heat lamp there, right?
His heart skipped a beat because of the residual feelings from the nightmare, and not because Wukong reached to fix the blanket, making him think he’d embrace him, right?
“Mac?”
“Mhm?”
“About your scars…”
“Don’t!”
“I know, you didn’t mean to show them. I won’t push. But…I saw the ones where…”
“LBD’s crystals were. And her shackles, burned by Samadhi fire that also burned me, yes, what of them?” he bristled, very close to pulling away. Who did Wukong think he was to address this?
You’re the one who leaned onto him, genius, some part of him reminded him.
“I…” Wuong sighed “Well, those are burn scars, right? Which I know a thing or two about. I have some tinctures, you can borrow them, that’s it.”
“As if I don’t know how to take care of my own scars!” Mac grumbled.
“I know. I was just…nevermind.”
“I…” he seethed for a moment. He wanted to stay mad, to tell Wukong to shove it, to push him of that sofa with a cutting remark or two.
But he didn’t want to ruin whatever this little bubble of comfort was, even if it was just to keep Wukong’s warmth close, so he allowed himself to realize what Wukong’s offer was: a desperate attempt to help, coming from an idiot who didn’t know how to do it.
“Thanks for the offer. I guess. But I got it covered. If my stuff stops working I’ll…I’ll think about it,” he sighed. “By the way, this blanket is ridiculous!” He said, staring at the offending item and dozens of Wukong’s logos staring back at him. “Utterly so!”
“Oh, here we go…” Wukong rolled his eyes.
“No, no, you don’t get to roll your eyes at me! Only someone as self-absorbed as you would have this much of their own merch! Besides, you said I can call you out in the morning, so you can only blame yourself!”
“Pah! Does it look like morning to you?”
“Oh, I sincerely apologize! Give me a few hours, then I’ll roast your blanket, oh Great Sage of Ugly Blankets!”
“It’s good quality products!” Wukong claimed and Mac scoffed. “What? I don’t see you complaining! It’s warm isn’t it?”
Now this? The bickering, messing with each other? This was familiar, comfortable even, “It’s ruined by your face is what it is! Is this really the only spare blanket you have?”
“If you haven’t noticed, I live on my own! Plus, ever since I made his room, MK has taken a few for himself. So this is the only clean one I have. I mean, you can use the red one from my bed,” Wukong said and Mac’s ears didn’t flush because of the implications, “but you’re the one who keeps saying I smell!”
“Well, that’s because you do smell!” Mac grumbled. “You reek!”
“I do not! I showered!”
“Oh? First time in how long?”
“Jerk!”
Macaque chuckled at Wukong’s offense. Truthfully, his smell wasn’t bad. It was even familiar. But he'd rather fight Wukong while possessed again than admit it.
His eyes fell on the tea in front of him. He could have a cup but he had a feeling that, if he reached for it, or asked Wukong for it, the moment of ease between them would break and, frankly, he didn’t want that. He tried reaching for the polka-dotted cup of tea with his tail, only to knock the mug off the table, sending the ceramic shards and spilled tea everywhere.
“Oops.”
Wukong laughed, “What are you trying to do?”
“What does it seem like?”
“It looks to me like you’re trying to destroy my stuff!”
“If I was going to purposefully destroy any mug on that coffee table, it would be the one with your stupid face on it, not the normal one!”
Wukong rolled his eyes, as one of the small monkeys went to investigate the damage, “Hey, don’t touch it, you'll hurt yourself!” Wukong said, “But could you hand us the other mug?”
The little monkey chirped affirmatively and handed Wukong the requested item.
“Here,” Wukong handed him the mug.
“Ugh!” Mac scoffed at Wukong's photo logo on it.
“It’s your own fault you broke the other one, bud!” Wukong chuckled and Macaque was tempted to pour the hot tea on his lap. But he was too comfortable, so he turned the mug so he saw Monkey King: The Movie logo instead and took a sip.
“It’s your fault for owning, like, one normal mug, bud!” He grumbled, and considered pulling away fromWukong because his presence was becoming annoying but then the monkey that handed them the cup landed on his lap. Following his example, a few others joined too, lying all around Mac, curling up on his shoulders and chest, lying next to him, one even sitting on his head, and quickly, started to fall asleep, functionally trapping him where he was. He may have been a jaded (former) villain, but he wasn’t a monster. If the little guys fell asleep on him, he would have no heart to move them. Even if it meant he was stuck next to Wukong.
“Still their favourite, huh,” Wukong chuckled, and Mac couldn’t help feeling a bit smug about it, “Plum?”
He almost choked on his tea at the mention of the ancient, nearly forgotten nickname, blood surging to his cheeks, “What!?”
“I asked you if you want a plum?” Wukong said, holding the fruit in question with his tail in front of Macaque.
Well, now he just felt like an idiot, “Oh…that…yeah…yeah sure.”
Wukong leaned back and handed Mac the cup and the fruit. This was nice.
“So, what happened to that awful director?”
“Ooooh, so you’re interested in my story?”
“Erm…no I just…fine, you got me curious!”
“Well I told you, but I’m assuming you weren’t in a state to fully follow. Anyways, I fired him. Or rather, I refused to work with the company until they fired him.”
“Wow, Sun Wukong, champion for the film industry workers!”
“Hey, mortal animators need 8 hours of sleep and actual free time like every other mortal! Even I know that! Especially the ones tasked with the outmostly important job of capturing my likeness in all it’s glory!” Wukong said and Mac rolled his eyes, “But anyway, we fired the guy, but he still gets jobs and is still famous. I guess when you have enough notoriety, even the Monkey King himself defaming you won’t do shit!”
“Hmm…do you know the director’s address?” Mac asked, a mischievous ide in hie head.
“Um…why??”
“Well, I was thinking I could send a few friends to visit him,” he extended his hand and made three small shadow figures. A man and two monkeys, and had the monkeys harass the dude.
"You'll haunt his house?”
“You could call it that,” Mac shrugged.
“Since when are you such an altruist?”
“What can I say? I basically run a theatre, I get it. Call it artist solidarity!”
“Pppft, you? You keep making fun of my drawings, so much for solidarity!”
“Oh yeah, I don’t extending to annoying idiots like you!”
“Hey!”
“I’m just calling it as I see it…”
“Ugh you-”
Their bickering turned into Wukong challenging him in video games. Which turned into Mac winning. Which turned into more bickering and they kept going like that until the morning.