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Sun Wukong, the great sage equal to heaven ™ , did not pout.

A god, destroyer of all the other gods’ sanity, and righteous ruler of monkeys had nothing to ever sulk around over. Nothing at all, not even being absolutely betrayed by his cherished successor, absolutely not! But what a cruel and harrowing betrayal it had been, sticks and stones may dent his bones, but words cut him to his very core. The events flashed through his mind like a scratched CD, constantly jumping back and forth with no real rhythm. 

This complete and utter distress led Wukong to his current situation, draped over his couch with a hand pressed to his forehead. The very image of someone dying of a broken heart… Who on Earth could have taught that kid such cruelty?

A cold feeling slunk into the room, it felt awfully familiar. Felt like fake cackles, like truer and quieter giggles, like teasing words laced with a honeyed tune. Felt all too similar to a certain somebody who would teach his impressionable kid fiendish tricks without a moment's hesitation. 

The door to his house kicked open with a crack, by what Wukong could only assume was a freak gust of wind. Feeling far too stuck in his depressive slump to even consider closing the door, Wukong let the winds assault the once warm interior. Melted into the couch, his clothes had melded into the soft cushioning. 

Light footsteps encroached his house. 

“You,” He grumbled, tail flicking in faux annoyance. He could tell who had just whisked themselves in without permission just by the tapping of their shoes against wooden floors. The aura gave it away too, a slightly chilly sensation clinging to their presence like a bad smell. 

“Me!” That rich and enigmatic voice cheered.

Wukong muttered under his breath, throwing an arm over his eyes and rolling to his side. The footsteps continued until they stalled behind the couch. There came but a few moments of reprieve before the intruder leaned heavily over the back, hands grasping onto Wukong’s shoulder and middle and shaking him.

“Hey! Why do you look so glum?” He continued to rattle Wukong until he finally moved to batter his arms away. 

Groaning, Wukong sat up, resting his spine against the arm of the couch, “What do you want?” His heavy eyes looked up to make contact with a Cheshire grin. The tip of an ink-coloured tail slapping him in the nose.

“I could hear you sulking from my house.” He flopped completely over the couch, teetering dangerously towards falling on top of Wukong, “Going ‘oh, woe is me! I am going to be oh so miserable!’” 

Wukong roughly shoved the unwelcome guest away, snorting as he scrambled for purchase before careening to the floor with a thud. 

“Did you come here just to annoy me?” Wukong swung his legs off, pressing his weight against the carpet beneath him, “Or are you going to steal my stuff again?”

A mock gasp from behind the couch, “How dare you accuse me of such things!” A puddle of shadow grew at his feet, revealing the face of a grinning figure, “I am much smarter than to steal with you still in the house.” Wukong tried to push at his face again, but he dodged swiftly.

Instead of entertaining the intruder’s words any longer, Wukong retreated to the kitchen. He was allowed an estimated five seconds of silence before the cold aura overtook the cosy warmth of the room.

“Do you want coffee,” He turned back to finally face the one sharing space with him, “Macaque?”

A huff, “Ew no, only you drink that disgusting crap.”

“Well looking at those eyebags, I don’t think you need it anyway.”

“You’re one to talk, oh Great Sage, you know they recommend eight hours of sleep every night, right?”

Wukong snorted, “What’s that saying about the pot and the kettle, again?”

Macaque ignored him, choosing to instead raid his fridge.

“Everything on the top right is off limits,” Wukong told him, resigning himself to the fact Macaque would rather die again than listen to him. He swore he heard the little thief mutter something like ‘He has no idea I don’t know my lefts and rights’ but that might have just been the wind. 

Wukong leaned against the counter, staring at the slowly dimming lightbulb on the ceiling. Macaque eventually slammed the fridge closed; some of Wukong’s leftovers were trapped between his fangs. Not long after, Macaque slumped into Wukong’s side, pressing their heads together and wrapping his arms around him in a loose embrace.

“So, what’s got you so down in the dumps?” Wukong shoved his face away.

“First of all, don’t talk with your mouth full,” The half-broken coffee machine behind him whirled, “Second, I haven’t woken up yet. Give it a minute.” 

Macaque scowled, “You have a caffeine addiction.”

“And your face is ugly, so I guess we’re even in character flaws.”

Wukong ignored the offended noise strangled out of Macaque’s throat in favour of his drink. It was barely lifted to his lips when the arms lightly binded around his torso tightened considerably. He could feel Macaque’s breathing in his ear which annoyed him and Wukong was about to flick his face away.

“Do you really think I’m ugly?” Macaque pouted; bottom lip jutted out in an expression that made him look like a kicked puppy. 

Wukong rolled his eyes, “Of course not, don’t be an idiot.” He pressed a quick peck to his cheek before finally being able to drink his damn coffee. 

Taking one look out the dusty and ajar window, the sun shining mellowly in the sky made it clear it was around afternoon. Wukong had already spent hours wallowing in his misery over the words the kid had spoken to him, cutting through his soul and leaving shards everywhere… He slammed the breaks on his rueful thoughts when Macaque pressed his face into his shoulder, Wukong couldn’t hear what he mumbled out but could feel the vibrations and movement of his mouth through the thin layers of clothes. 

“What was that?” He prompted, shifting his mug from one hand to the other to gently scratch Macaque’s scalp. 

Lifting up slightly to speak, “You awake yet? I’m bored.”

A raised eyebrow, “You’re bored ? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well whatever you’re whining about seems entertaining.”

Wukong was very, very tempted to smack him away. Somehow, Macaque picked this up in the tensing of his arm and melted away, turning into a sludge of shadow and swimming across the floor. The air continued to grow colder and colder still, Wukong grabbed the window’s latch with his tail and slammed it shut. A figure doused in a hazy purple mess reappeared beside the calendar Wukong had hung up on the opposite side of the kitchen. 

“Kittens?” Macaque flicked through the bright images displayed for each month, “Thought you’d be more of a monkey calendar guy given–” He turns back and looks him up and down, “The title.”

Wukong shrugged, “The kid gave it to me.” Perhaps it came out more bitter given the taste in his mouth, but Macaque smirked like the cat that got the cream. 

“What happened with him this time?”

“Stay out of it,” He grumbled, “None of your business.”

Macaque went back to scrutinising the calendar, “I don’t know if you know this, but drama kind of is my business.”

“How could I ever forget.” Wukong drawled, curling a strand of hair around his finger, recalling just how much Macaque liked to remind him and anyone else who would listen, which wasn’t a lot of people. Macaque pretended not to hear, tracing his finger over the marked off days. Only half the days were actually properly marked, that was when MK did it, Wukong has long since forgotten the stream of time. In all honesty, he doesn’t have the foggiest idea what year it is.

“Hm,” Macaque tapped against the thick paper, “It’s almost Halloween.” Wukong stiffened, and Macaque, ever the bloodhound, caught that slight movement, “I see .”

“You see nothing, fiend.” Wukong snarled, it did not dampen the smug look woven into Macaque’s face. 

He hummed, approaching slowly, “Hm, I don’t think so Great Sage. I think I see plenty. So–” Macaque leaned in uncomfortably close, “What happened with the kid and Halloween? Oh don’t tell me, let me guess! Um, he didn’t want to dress up as you?”

Wukong sighed, and then grumbled a bit, and finally relented, “It wasn’t that. It was just that I wanted to hang out with him or something on the holiday, but, ” He pushed aside Macaque’s face to wipe that devilish look away, “He said he was going to go with Mei and the Red kid instead.”

“What, the dragon girl and that demon bull imp?” Macaque seemed almost offended for him before breaking out into giggles, “Oh dear, so you’re all very alone for the best holiday of the year?”

A stretched-out groan, “He learnt this cold-hearted barbarity from you. You’re a terrible influence.”

Macaque hopped away from him, arms flailing, “No, no! Wait, I just got a fantastic idea.”

“Oh no, don’t think too hard, you might strain something.”

“I’m not taking that from someone who has never had a fully baked thought in his entire life, anyway– Get this. You’re totally alone for Halloween, and I need someone to be my partner in crime. What do you say?”

A laugh came unbidden from his chest, “Macaque, we’re literally dating, you don’t need to ask to hang out with me like it’s a business proposal.” He flung his mug into the sink, “I’m also just going to hazard a guess that the crime in question is terrorising anyone and everyone?”

Macaque scoffed, like that was obvious, which definitely was knowing him, “Uh, of course . Now, where’s your costume?”

“Oh, I don’t have one. I was just gonna go as myself.”

Silence so thick you could try to cut through it with a knife and it would break.

“You… Don’t ?” His face was twisted between confusion and utter disgust, “Ok, that needs to change right now.”

“Hey! The people love Monkey King, you know how many people compliment me on how realistic my cosplay is?”

Macaque rolled his eyes, “That’s pity praise, you look terrible.” Before Wukong could butt in with a retort of his own, Macaque dramatically pointed towards the door, “Now, to the costume store!”

Getting off the mountain took more time than it should have, with Wukong and Macaque bickering between which mode of transportation was better.

“A shadow portal is quick and easy, unlike your clunky little cloud.”

“It’s not clunky, it's actually very smooth, unlike your vomit inducing portals.”

Macaque had his hands on his hips now, “It’s not even that bad, it's so much faster.” This argument had been going on for twenty minutes now, not a single point had been made and the direction the conversation was going was more circular than the wheel. 

Growing increasingly irate with this, Wukong grasped Macaque by the wrist and whirled up his cloud, chucking the both of them on it and speeding off. Wukong only put a pause on the speed when Macaque gagged.

“And you say mine was vomit-inducing, gods .” He flopped over, one hand over his forehead.

“I’ll slow it down for you, you baby.” Wukong merely chuckled when Macaque kicked him.

They ended up in the city not a few minutes later, dispersing the cloud in a secluded location before breaching into the public. The streets were swarmed with people, some hanging up stringy white clumps of fabric to pass off as cobwebs, others sitting together bringing knives to the pocked flesh of ripe pumpkins. The entire city held fumes of cedarwood and squash. 

Wukong tucked his tail away and flicked his hoodie up to cover his face, he wasn’t particularly fond of being recognised in public, no matter how he was perceived. Macaque didn’t share the same sentiment, tail waving behind him cheerfully, drooping down to brush at the shed reddened autumn leaves. The only thing he did hide in public was his face, covering his ears and scars under layers of glamour and illusion, just the sight of it made Wukong want to pinch his face until it dropped.

Macaque wormed his hand into Wukong’s, squeezing tightly, if Wukong wasn’t made up of rock DNA and also being a god, he might have lost the blood flow to his hand. A swift kick to the back ankle made Wukong yelp.

“Walk faster,” Macaque chastised, “There’s too many people here.” He sneered at all the crowds loitering on the same sidewalk as them. 

“This was your idea,” Wukong recalled, “But whatever.” Picking up the pace, they sooner found themself ending up at whatever location Macaque decided.

The building was somewhat familiar, but also not. There were massive banners covering the place and an abundance of Halloween-esque decor.

“I swear I’ve been here before…” Wukong muttered, “Wait, wasn’t this that one restaurant.”

“Oh yeah, the one we went to once? Yeah they got shut down.”
“What, when?” He spluttered out.

Macaque shrugged, “Yesterday.” 

“And now we got– got whatever the hell this is.”

“Spirit Halloween, it’s got the goods.”

The door jingled when opened, announcing everyone inside of the two monkeys entering. The aura inside could only be described as cheap, there was a faint smell of deodorant covering up what seems to be the distinct scent of something dead. Perhaps it was the employees lounging about the registers, who all looked positively dead inside. 

Racks and racks of plastic sealed costumes lined the walls, each one representing a different trope or fictional character. The names pressed into the preview image were adjusted into something that wouldn’t have the store struck down for copyright infringement. This ended in a long twenty minutes of Wukong and Macaque delighting in pointing out the odd names. Spent so much time giggling over in fact, they forgot to actually look at any of the costumes. 

Sitting around the wide store like horrifying little guards were grotesque looking decorations. Wukong accidentally turned and walked straight into an animatronic with bulging eyes, an unhinged jaw, and fake splatters of blood coating every lanky limb. His reflexes had never rusted over, and Wukong instinctively sent a right hook at the thing's face and sent it flying into the wall, destroying it instantly. Macaque and Wukong shared a knowing look before the former of the two summoned a portal to hide the evidence. 

There were also rows of different props and accessories. Some very fake blood-splattered plastic knives, plastic masks with paint that was smudged away from use, a few other weapons too, all similarly decorated. Macaque picked up a spiked sword, more bright faux blood dappling it. 

“What do you think,” He brandished the sword, pointing it to Wukong’s face, “Do I look scary yet?”

Wukong pushed the point of the sword away, “You look scary enough without any dumb props.”

“Come on, you’re no fun. Humour me.” Macaque placed the sword back onto a random rack and continued flitting around the display. Wukong joined him, sifting through lazily. The weapon props were all extremely light, like feathers in his hold, and were designed poorly. There were scythes made of faux yellowed bone and foam axes. Honestly, if Macaque wasn’t visibly having the time of his life in this dingy store Wukong would have surely left by now. 

“Look!” Macaque grabbed his face and turned his eyes towards another cheaply made accessory. This one was made of plastic, a long pitchfork almost as tall as Macaque himself, painted black with fading dapples of red, “Whaddya think, pretty cool right?”

Wanting nothing more than to get this over with, Wukong relented, “Yep.”

“You need one too!” He insisted, looking quite ready to poke Wukong with his newfound trident.

“I’m good–” He did not get away with that excuse, for some reason Macaque was damn stubborn about this costume business. 

Macaque forced different accessories on him, Wukong just let it happen. They were making a proper mess of the racks, Macaque dropping every prop that didn’t work on the floor. Wukong just stood there, allowed himself to be dressed up with little cheap accessories like a doll. It reminded him faintly of Macaque’s first theatre performance, they were very very young at the time and Macaque had just discovered the art form. Wukong sat basically ragdolled as Macaque dressed him the part, it all went to waste though because the second they stepped to their makeshift little stage Wukong got so scared of the small group watching them he cried. He swore off plays after that, no matter how much Macaque begged him. Still, he would watch all of Macaque’s performances, wondering how he seemed to be unaffected by all the eyes on him (It was interesting, given he seemed to hate that same attention off stage.)

“Why are you so hard to style…” Macaque lightly cuffed him on the ear for the trouble, “I can only imagine you with that dumb staff… Wait.” And in not even a few seconds he was off, Wukong shrugged off the rest of the poorly made accessories clinging to his clothes and fur. Not wanting to put more work on those dead eyed and pale faced workers, he swept up Macaque’s mess and placed them back on the racks. 

Macaque returned moments later, holding something behind his back.

“I got the perfect thing,” He smirked, Wukong wasn’t sure if he believed that mischievous face or not. From behind his back poked out a golden tip, followed by the firm ruby rod of his staff.

“They have my staff here–?” 

“It’s a fake,” Macaque threw it at his face, Wukong’s reflexes were far too honed for Macaque to ever catch him off guard, he was still going to test it every chance he got though, “But it’s your brand, can’t see you with anything else.” The staff was softer and lighter in his hold then the actual one, but he supposed if it was of the accurate weight no one would be able to yield it. 

Finally, Macaque seemed satisfied with props; it was time to return hastily to the sealed costumes. Wukong was admittedly not all that into the idea, why couldn’t he just dress in his usual armour and have people flocking to him absolutely enamoured with the accuracy of his costume. Now he had the fake staff, it seemed like a great idea. 

“I assumed you would already have your own costumes,” Wukong intoned, watching Macaque jump from display to display, “Given how… You are so enthusiastic about this whole thing.”

Macaque didn’t pause, “Oh, I do.”

“Then just use one of your already owned ones,”

“Uh, I need a fresh costume this time, I’ve already used my old ones at least twice, so they’re basically expired now.”

Wukong sighed, and then sighed again even louder so it was well known how bored he was, maybe sighed a third time just to draw a groan out of Macaque. But, he conceded, joining Macaque in his pursuit for a new costume. 

“If I help you with this,” Wukong tapped his nose, “You can’t make me get a new costume, I can just go as myself.”

“ Fine , since you wanna be boring.”

They ended with a few select choices, each spread around the floor like scattered leaves. A cynical looking employee noticed them doing this but seemed to decide this wasn’t their problem and left them to it. 

“Hm, what about werewolf? That’s scary.” He suggested and Macaque scoffed.

“That’s overdone.”

Huffing, he continued, “Fine, what about zombie? Would make sense given, you know.”

“Don’t be an ass.” Macaque glared at him, so Wukong quickly dropped it.

Wukong examined a few more poorly named costumes before tossing them aside. 

“Pirate? No, let me guess, already done before? Maybe get less predictable costumes next time,” Macaque flopped on the floor, Wukong was about to warn him that maybe he should stay off the ground given it seems like no one cleans it but was cut off when Macaque made a hasty grapple for something next to him. 

“Look,” That something was soon shoved into his face. Wukong had to pull it back to actually be able to see it. 

“Vampire? Well, I can see that. Dramatic, theatrical, only seen during the night.”

Macaque pulled it back to himself, “Yeah see, perfect fit.” What was visible on the inside, past the stock image of a young man posing in the outfit, and the copyright-free name, what was inside didn’t seem that well manufactured. Wasn’t like that was Wukong’s problem though, he could suffer through a bit of Macaque’s complaining about how poor quality it is.

Then it was back to being dragged around the store, it was at this point Wukong had fully zoned out and was just nodding along to whatever Macaque was currently infatuated with. And finally, finally , it was over. Only then was it that Wukong realised what was being held in his arms, a knock off of his own armour.

“What the hell is this?” He hissed, moreso to himself, the packaged-up costume had its own copyright name printed on ‘Primate royalty’, dear lord. 

“That is your costume.” Macaque informed, “You said you would go as yourself, and you are.”

Wukong was baffled, “I literally have my own costume, it’s called my actual fucking armour.”

“Yeah well, it smells bad.” Which just totally wasn’t true, probably. 

“ You smell bad.”

“I’ll have you know I smell like goddamn roses, and you have the stench of a wet dog.”

Wukong snorted, “Oh please , you stink like cow manure. Don’t even get me started–”

A fight almost broke out in the Spirit Halloween, one that would have no doubt brought the building down into ashes, leaving only the bare foundation left in the plumes of smoke. By the power of self-control and sheer will, they relented. Macaque did manage to sneakily box the back of Wukong’s neck, disappearing into a puddle of shadow giggling his head off before Wukong could think to retaliate.

Eventually, they got to the registers to check out. Wukong had for a moment considered just stealing, it was entirely possible and not like anyone could stop them. However, MK had tried convincing the two of them to actually follow the laws, and well who wouldn’t fold under those puppy dog eyes? 

The hollow faced employee scanned each item with a shrill beep, with each click of the scanner Macaque started sweating more and more.

“Is the noise bothering you?” Wukong whispered. Macaque stared at him with wide eyes.

“You have money on you, right?”

“...Goddamn it.”

Wukong dug through his wallet, shelled out all the money in it, and let it flutter out like leaves in the wind onto the counter. The employee gaped at him, looked at the money, then back at his face.

“You have to be kidding me.” So, it turns out the only cash Wukong carried on himself were one dollar bills and some monopoly money. He must have been way out of it when stuffing this thing… Maybe he should lay off the immortal wine, huh?

So the employee went through the painstakingly long process of counting up the bills and sifting through various sheets of monopoly money. Wukong could feel Macaque staring at him.

His mouth opened, “I-”
“Don’t even say anything.” And Macaque’s mouth closed quickly. 

A line started forming behind them, various humans and demons with props and costumes tucked under their arms. A second employee showed up to divert the line to a second register, but some stayed in their spot behind Wukong and Macaque, a horrible idea. It took twenty minutes for the employee to count up all the bills. Finally, they reached their total, a number Wukong chose not to stray on it long. Just as they were about to ring them up, a vengeful gust of wind blew through the closed windows, somehow sneaking through the tiny gap between glass and wood. The resulting breeze took off with the sorted cash, leaving it scattered everywhere. Wukong shot them a sympathetic glance, the poor employee looking like they were about to break into tears. 

“Just take it, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” 

So, as it turns out, sometimes stealing is ok. 

The following day, Macaque broke into his house again. 

Well, break in was an overstatement. Wukong left his door wide open, basically inviting the fiend in. It’s not as if he could keep him out anyhow, Macaque had a spare key that he stole from Wukong’s doormat. Plus, Wukong never took his access to the waterfall gate away. So technically it was less of a break in and more of Macaque inviting himself in. 

Wukong was lying in his bed, head pressed to a soft pillow and body entangled in a thin blanket, both gifts from the kid after he discovered Wukong just slept on a bare mattress. He felt Macaque standing in his doorway before he saw him, demons carry their own personal aura around like a warning flare or a welcoming scent. Macaque’s aura was cold like the infinite chill of death, Wukong would describe the faint fragrance as earthy, which was just a kind way of saying dirt. The overwhelming haze of ozone and rotten fruits tarried at his door, it was silent but it felt less of a considerate pause, waiting for Wukong to awaken, and more of a predator waiting to spring on their prey. 

He had but a few moments of grace to brace himself before the springs of the mattress dipped under the new weight. Macaque slowly crept up on him, Wukong lay completely still, the very image of someone still deep in repose. The foggy sensation of frost overtook him briefly, knowing Macaque was kneeling above him, leaning down and then…

“BOO!” Macaque yelled into his ear. To his credit, despite being aware of his presence from the very moment he stepped foot onto the sandy shores of the mountain, he did scare the everloving shit out of Wukong. Unfortunately, even half swathed in sleep, Wukong’s reflexes when frightened are sharper than a blade. Which is how Macaque ended up smacked so hard he formed a monkey-shaped crater in the wall. 

“Well, good morning to you too.” Wukong grumbled, sitting up groggily. Macaque groaned, pulling himself from his personalised hole.

“Did you enjoy your wake-up alarm?” He smirks, brushing over bits of debris clinging to his clothes.

Wukong rolled his eyes, holding out a hand for Macaque to grab onto, “It was totally unnecessary.” He moved a second hand to also brush bits of broken wall off Macaque’s face and fur.

He only shrugged, “It’s Halloween, figured this was the only way I could scare you.” There were probably quite a few other ways he could have gotten the jump on Wukong, like shining a flashlight on him and saying ‘look, it’s a spotlight!’ which he has done before and laughed at how Wukong squeaked and looked around in fear like a scared rabbit. Macaque is horrible. (But Wukong did end up getting his revenge with a laser pointer later)

A soft thump of a tail pattering against the floorboards, “Well anyway, you still have all our costume stuff, right? Well, I brought those little pumpkin buckets for trick or treating.”

“Aren’t we too old for that kind of stuff?”

Macaque smirked, the very image of poking the bear, “Is the great sage scared of a little candy?”

“Of course not, you jerk.” It was more the judgement, which felt a little silly for someone like him to say out loud. Then again, they were monkeys and not exactly human-tall, in the dim lights of night time there were bound to be a few humans in desperate need of glasses who would mistake them for large children. 

From the endless expanses of his scarf, Macaque hoisted out two buckets. One was purple and the other a peach-pink.

“Colour-coded them.” He informed brightly, “Here, here. Take it.” Wukong picked up the handle between his fingers, it was incredibly lightweight.

“So, this is tonight, right?” Wukong tossed the bucket behind him, “What do we do in the meantime?”

A mischievous look glinted across Macaque’s face, “I brought real pumpkins.”

By real pumpkins, Macaque meant he carried a wheelbarrow full of various stolen squashes to the mountain. Wukong didn’t have the energy to chastise him for the theft, he also didn’t want to indulge in arguments of double standards and fairness, so he left the issue to rest. Macaque snuck back into the kitchen to pull out various knives from inside. 

“I don’t know how well I trust you with a knife.” Wukong muttered, Macaque only raised a brow and attempted to stab him in the arm. The second the blade made contact with his fur it exploded into ribbons of metal, “Point made.”

The problem arose when the two of them realised neither of them had any experience in carving pumpkins. To be fair, Wukong never really cared too much about holidays like Halloween until his successor came around, he simply wasn’t partial to its simplicity and lack of impact. Holidays where parades roamed the streets, banners were hung everywhere, shops were alive and bustling, and fireworks were painting the sky; that was a good holiday. On the other hand, Macaque had simply not bothered with pumpkins, given the things ended up rotting eventually and he was not eating that. Wukong had a bottomless pit instead of a stomach, so that issue was solved before it even began. 

Macaque dug his knife into the bottom of the first pumpkin, quickly shelling it out. Webbed insides and piles of seeds came pouring out of the emptied fruit. Wukong was already drooling, he had not been given the time for his meticulously planned breakfast meal, which consisted of silver plates topped with his own hairs. He shook his head free of hungry thoughts, mimicking Macaque’s actions.

Once there was nothing but a stringy pile left of the insides, Macaque moved to the actual carving. He dug the knife in harshly, creating jagged and uncontrolled lines into the flesh. His lines were uneven, crafting something that couldn’t even be registered as anything even slightly resembling a face. 

“Look at it,” Macaque spun the disfigured pumpkin to face Wukong, “My masterpiece.”

“It looks like if sleep paralysis was a vegetable.”

“Pumpkins are fruit, Wukong , plus if it’s scary that means I’m doing something right.” 

“Scarily ugly.”

Macaque glared at him, face like a cat denied food after just being fed. Wukong watches, giggles bubbling in his chest, as Macaque continues to scowl. He leaned down, never once taking his eyes off Wukong, and scooped the pumpkin insides into his hands, and then promptly lobbed it straight at Wukong’s face.

Macaque tittered on like a child while Wukong slowly wiped the pumpkin remains from his eyes, slowly removing the orange filter to reveal Macaque clutching his stomach, overcome with barely restrained laughter. Wukong balled up the mess of fibre and seed in his hand, smushing it together again as a glower flashed across his face. The mocking laughter that had been blooming from Macaque quickly died off, blanching as Wukong threw the pumpkin back with twice the force. 

It splattered loudly on impact, covering every inch of Macaque’s face with mushy pumpkin entrails. His hands scrambled to wipe it off, spitting indignantly. Instead of tossing it back, Macaque shucked it off his skin to the ground. Both their faces were covered in sticky juice and seeds, the fronts of their hair also brunting the attack. Macaque calmly walked to the wheelbarrow brimming with pumpkins, and gently picked one up. 

“Come on now, we can talk about this.” Wukong started to slowly creep backwards, chuckling nervously as Macaque pivoted to face him, large and ripe pumpkin in hand.

“You know what you’ve done, this is war .” Without a further moment of hesitation, Macaque reared his arm back and slammed the pumpkin against Wukong’s head. Instead of exploding, as expected, the pumpkin held its form, swathing Wukong’s entire head. 

Wukong fumbled for a moment or two, not deciding whether holding himself up on his arms or clawing at the pumpkin encasing his head were more important. 

“Hm,” Macaque hummed, dipping down to his level, “Now that’s a scary pumpkin.” Wukong said something, or maybe made an indignant noise, but it was muffled by the obscuring object. 

After a while of blindly grappling around, Macaque finally pulled the offending pumpkin off. Wukong’s face and fur was completely soaked, he swiped his eyes clear and stood up.

“ I am going to go take a bath. You carve the rest of these pumpkins, and touch nothing else you absolute heathen .” He punctuated each word with a poke to the chest. Macaque only giggled as Wukong sulked off. 

One pumpkin-cleansing bath later, Wukong returned. Macaque had yet again disregarded each and every word Wukong spoke, given he was now fully dressed up in his costume. The fabric, although poorly constructed, seemed to shine when draped over Macaque. It was almost like an illusion how the thin fabric of the inky black cape seemed to be of the finest silk, how the hurried stitches of his ruffles now seemed seamless. His tail flicked to and fro lazily, his fangs glinted in the dying sun.

“Oh, Wukong. Remember your own costume.”
Wukong huffed loudly, “There is nothing wrong with my armour.” Macaque looked him up and down, then his nose scrunched up.

“Uh, it smells.”

Wukong tried to protest more but Macaque shoved him into his room to change and left no more room for argument. 

“I don’t even know why you’re bothering me if I’m so impossible about this Halloween stuff.” Wukong yelled through the door.

“Maybe I just want to hang out with you, ever consider that? God, you make everything difficult.”

Ignoring how his heart skipped a beat at that, Wukong chortled incredulously, “Oh, I make everything difficult? Look in a mirror for once.” 

The outfit was as terrible as he expected. The fabric was nothing short of itchy, tight in odd places, and it felt like it was falling apart at the seams. However, when he shuffled out the door, face pulled into a grimace, Macaque was delighted . Fawning over this shitty costume with stars almost shining in his eyes. 

“Wow, finally! I haven’t been able to dress you up in centuries !” Of course referring to the one time he was allowed to for the theatre performance, and after that trauma he never let Macaque dress him up again. Well now here was, a fool played into the spider's web. Fool me once, fool me twice… Wukong would get his revenge, eventually. Maybe in the form of eating all of the food he knew Macaque was storing in his fridge. Would that earn him a few swipes to the face? Perhaps, but it would be so worth it.

The night was creeping in, it was evident in the way the peach skies gave way to a darker display. Paints of ink and charcoal began to slather the endless expanse of sky. Wukong pulled at the collar of his itchy and unflattering costume. Well, it probably won’t be as fun as hanging out with the kid… But it would do.

This time there was no room for any argument about transportation, Macaque gripped his wrist so hard that if he were anyone else the bones in his arm would have turned to dust, and then swung them into an open shadow portal. The method of travel Macaque specialised in was nauseating , he had the gall to look smug standing above Wukong as he heaved on the sidewalk.

“Told you, easier!” Quicker maybe, but it felt like every one of his organs were flipped the wrong way. 

Macaque was already meandering off, velvet black cape swishing behind him in time with his tail. Wukong grumbled, fumbling for his fake staff and feeling like an imposter of himself. Which is absurd, given that was Macaque’s job, but whatever. 

The streets were even more prepared for the holiday than what it had been before. The lights were low, slight dim orange lights peppering the streets, casting a foggy atmosphere over the once lively city. Wukong eventually caught up with Macaque, who was seemingly starstruck with the whole ordeal. Their plastic buckets clicked as they collided against each other.

“So,” Wukong looked around, eyes darting from one shop to one house, never loitering in one place, “Trick or treating, huh?”

“Yep, I’ll lead the way since I have way more experience than you at this.”

Utterly offended for reasons Wukong didn’t quite understand, he interjected, “Uh, actually . I will lead the way. You know, people used to call me Halloween King, instead of Monkey King. That’s how knowledgeable I am about this.”

“No one called you that.”
“Yes, they did .”

So that was how Wukong ended up leading the both of them, unfortunately Wukong has absolutely terrible knowledge of the city’s layout, given he never really left the mountain until recently. He kept his face schooled into something neutral, the second Macaque caught on he had no clue what he was doing he would sink his teeth in (granted. Macaque knew this quite well; he was simply biding his time.)

The first house Wukong tried was an utter disaster. He knocked once, waited about three seconds before unleashing a barrage of knocks. Eventually, the door did open, and a singular candy bar was chucked straight at Wukong’s forehead. He was expecting some mocking laughter from Macaque, but he was oddly silent, turning around he realised that was because he had already stolen the candy bar and was devouring it. 

The second house was more of a success. The door was creaked open on the very first knock, greeted on the other side with a very elderly lady. Before Wukong could say a word, she reached at him and grabbed his cheek, squishing his face between her spindly fingers. Macaque snickered behind him, but that laughter was cut off when she repeated that same action on him. Apart from the face squishing, she was absolutely loaded with candy. 

Third house and everything collapsed. The door opened and Wukong stood there, silently holding onto his bucket. The guy at the door raised an eyebrow, Wukong tilted his head in confusion, shaking the bucket to remind him ‘hey man put the candy in the bag.’ Macaque stepped in by shoving Wukong to the side, he said some sort of phrase that unlocked the action of getting candy. The door closed, and Wukong had not gained a single chocolate.

“You really haven’t done this before, have you?” Macaque smirked, that asshole, “You have to say trick or treat, or no one is going to serve you.”

“I don’t want a trick though.”

Macaque shrugged, “Most of the time you just get candy, rarely is there an actual trick .”

Wukong scrunched his nose in confusion, “So what’s the point? Why even say ‘trick’ if there is no trick?”

“I know right! Which is why I have established my own trick or treat system.”

“Oh no,” Sickened curiosity poked at him, causing him to prod on whatever horrible system Macaque must have set up, “What have you done.”

"I have clones out for the trick or treaters, they have a," He gestures vaguely, "50/50 sort of thing for trick or treat."

"Please don't tell me your clones are out there killing people..."

Macaque punched his arm, "Of course not! Who do you take me for? The trick is getting a clone possessing their shadow for a whole night, the treat is a signed autograph!"

"You cannot be serious."

"Oh, I am so serious Sunny boy," He sneers, "I am a successful showrunner I'll have you know."

Wukong punches him back, “Oh please, if you’re successful in your theatre shit then I’m the ‘Halloween king.’”

Macaque looks offended for half a second before splitting into a grin.

“So you admit it . Either you acknowledge I’m successful or you acknowledge no one called you that dumb name!”
“Fuck…” Wukong needs to watch his big mouth. 

Humiliated, pride absolutely and utterly destroyed, Wukong trailed behind Macaque like a kicked dog. Now he knows Wukong knows absolutely nothing about this dumb, stupid holiday. Why did he even agree to this?

His ear flickered at the harsh sound of plastic rubbing against itself. Turning his gaze to the side, he watched as Macaque let the bucket travel down his arm to elbow. Macaque pulled a single piece of candy apart, struggling with the stubborn wrapping. Wukong looked away, letting himself be led by Macaque. 

Something pressed against his lips, his eyes sharply focused on the candy Macaque was pressing to his face.

“You look grumpy,” His voice was teasing, maybe a tad worried, “Eat. Will feel better.” Wukong opened his mouth, let Macaque push the candy inside. It was flavourful and sweet, definitely dampening the steadily growing sour mood. After swallowing the first candy, Macaque pushed another one against his mouth. Wukong didn’t think to question it, just let Macaque hand feed him candies. 

It was a sweet (hah) moment until Macaque shoved a horrifically sour candy into his mouth, Wukong couldn’t find the time to scowl at Macaque’s clear delight at how he spluttered and spat at the sourness. Wukong was torn towards spitting the damn thing out, but his ego had been bruised enough, so he stuck it through and swallowed it. At the rageful glare he received; Macaque merely laughed.

“There, now you’re not moody anymore!” Before Wukong could enact his revenge, Macaque had already run off. 

After ten minutes of chasing Macaque down the street while the latter laughed maniacally, they finally returned to the whole trick or treating deal. It seems with experience Macaque has picked up the tools of the trade, putting on his best puppy dog eyes and in turn being rewarded with too much candy. Without even waiting to get home Macaque was just shovelling every piece of candy into his mouth, Wukong was not excited for the sugar rush and the following sugar crash to come. 

They were soon stopped in the middle of the street by a brigade of angry children, flooding the sidewalks like riled up protesters. Each one with fists brimming with candies, yelling and red in the face. Wukong looked at Macaque, Macaque looked at Wukong.

“I know how to clear a crowd of kids fast.”

“Do not do this shit again.”

“I thought you would be my partner in crime, besides, it's all part of the Halloween spirit… Get it? Get it? Ok.”

Macaque meandered over to them, leaning over with his hands on his thighs.

“What are you kiddos complaining about?”

One of them sniffled, pointing at the house before them, “They stopped giving us candy– But we want more !”

“Oh, such is the woe of a trick or treater. How about this, ask me trick or treat? You got a 50/50 chance, what’s there to lose?”

The kid thought it over, “Ok! Trick or treat?”

Macaque smirked, the very look of someone who lured another into a masterful trap, “ Trick .” In a flash his glamours were gone, ears spreading out in a mimic of blooming frilled neck lizard, his jagged scar and gauzed white eye on display. The poor kid shrieked at the sudden change, clambering away and bringing the other children with them, who looked more confused at being pulled away than scared.

“Ah, works every time.” Macaque wiped his glamours back on, “I truly am a terrifying sight.”

“Maybe to young children, in my opinion you look scarier without all those atrocious glamours.” Wukong rubbed at his face as if he could brush it away.

“Hmph.” Macaque tried to pout at him, but ended up smiling, tail wagging behind his back.

They visited one last house; Macaque got his brimming bucket topped off with surpluses of chocolate bars and candies. Wukong rolled his eyes, snatching one off the top with his tail and pocketing it in his own bucket. Then Macaque pricked up.

“MK is here.” His ears twitched once, twice, “Oh and the other kids too, of course.”

Wukong jumped, “What, where?” More ear flickering ensued.

“Like, five streets over.” He pressed his hands to his forehead, clearly deep in thought, “Give me a minute. I’m gonna try and figure out their costumes.”

“How the hell are you going to do that just by listening–”

“Context clues, gods, I’m eavesdropping you dense bitch.” And then he went stock still, barely even breathing, as he tuned his hearing towards the trio. 

Wukong was so stunned, so bamboozled, absolutely flabbergasted at these mean words. Only for a moment though, then he stuck his hand into Macaque’s bucket and pulled out handfuls of his candy, silently placing it into his own.

“Hm, I’m back to report my findings.” Macaque jolted back to his own body, ears fluttering wildly, “MK did not go as you; he went as Hatsune Miku.”

Wukong made a confused hum, “A what? What the hell is a Miku?”

“Excuse me, you don’t know? Whatever, you old fart. The dragon girl is–”

Wukong gasped, “You did not just call me old. You’re not that much younger than me!”

Macaque shrugged, “I’ll stop calling you old when you stop acting your age.” Wukong took a few seconds to realise that’s the first time someone told him not to act his age. Clearly, he’s been doing something right recently.

While he was very tempted to finally get some semblance of revenge, fighting Macaque in public (again) Wukong was quickly cut off by a mortal person approaching him. Immediately, he stressed he would be told off about planning to fight his partner in a public area, but the mortal was all smiles.

“I love your Monkey King costume!” The mortal exclaimed, “It’s so realistic. Your tail is also so realistic.”

Before Wukong could thank the mortal for the compliment, Macaque piped up, “Yeah! Super realistic tail!” This time his reflexes weren’t sharp enough to stop Macaque yanking on his tail, causing Wukong to yelp in pain. 

Wukong held off on the fighting until the mortal was well out of sight, then immediately engaged in hand-to-hand combat with Macaque. For some reason, none of the other humans questioned their battle, some even cheering them on and throwing candy at their faces.

“You’re so mean to me, that hurt .” Wukong complained, wiping the pain from his tail in between dodging punches.

“You’ll deal.”

The fight was brought to a close when they both collided and began to roll downhill, completely intertwined with each other and with no way out. In the end, Macaque ended up using his shadow portals to make a quick getaway, leaving Wukong to roll into a tree. 

With sticks piled into his fur, leaves somehow in his mouth, and a definite bruise growing, Wukong instantly decided Halloween was the worst, actually. 

Macaque helped him to his feet, not without lamenting over the crushed-up candy that ended up as collateral damage.

“You’ve had enough candy for one day anyway.” Wukong muttered, brushing himself off.

Macaque pouted at him, “ Not enough. Candy is like the best part.”

“Fine, I will get you more candy, only if we take the cloud home.” Finally, an offer Macaque couldn’t refuse.

“Only if it’s not made of hair.” Fuck .

The ride back was peaceful, Wukong kept it slow so Macaque could continue shoving sugary candies in his mouth without choking. He was giddy, giggling while rolling on the fluffy cover of the cloud. Wukong could almost feel the sugar rush condensing inside him at the moment. It all exploded like a smacked pinata when they finally made it home. 

The very second they were in the door Macaque was running around like a headless chicken. This is definitely not the first time this has happened, he heard MK call this his ‘zoomies’ before, whatever that means.

Wukong stood in the middle of the room, arms outstretched, until Macaque ran straight into him. Not even teetering, Wukong encased Macaque in his arms. 

“That’s enough, you’re going to run my house into the ground again .”

“I need to keep moving, you don’t get it .” Macaque writhed around in his grip, clearly, he would need to escalate to put an end to these ‘zoomies.’

Sighing, Wukong pulled Macaque away from himself by a slight margin, lifting him up so his feet were no longer touching the floor. Macaque appeared somewhat confused until Wukong started spinning. Feet planted firmly to the ground, Wukong whirled around with Macaque firm in his grip, he was absolutely thrilled, cackling wildly as Wukong continued to go around faster and faster until he was sure they would start kicking up wind. 

After a few minutes of this, Macaque tapped his arm, completely out of breath.

“No more!” He huffed, still caught in the throes of uncontrollable giggling. Wukong slowed to a still, lowering Macaque down to the floor, chuckling as he wobbled dizzily around. 

“Out of your system now?” Wukong smirked, Macaque nodded, stumbling around to find the couch.

Now they were entering the sugar crash, Macaque fell into the couch, melting basically off it. Wukong joined him, slumping into his sides.

“How about ending this holiday right, horror movies?” Wukong nudged him.

“Mhm, yeah.” His voice was about as drowsy as he looked. 

He flicked something on, something that looked scary and dramatic, something that looked right up Macaque’s alley. Unfortunately, they didn’t even make it two movies in when Macaque started to yawn loudly. Wukong clicked the TV on when Macaque’s eyelids started to falter and his glamours were whisked off.

Shaking Macaque awake, they moved to the bathroom and bedroom to change out of costumes. In the haze of exhaustion, Wukong didn’t bother to kick Macaque out back to his house. Just let the tired demon wrap his arms around him and pull the both of them to bed. 

The reason he normally kicked him out became apparent in but a few moments, Macaque sprawling across the majority of the bed and crushing Wukong under his body. Not having the energy to nudge him away, Wukong simply sighed and pulled in closer to Macaque.

It was a peaceful three and a half hours of sleeping before Wukong was rudely interrupted. He felt something dig into his gut sharply, blinking sleep from his eyes he watched with half lidded vision as Macaque scrambled away from him. Blearily, Wukong watched Macaque pull out his staff and stumble to the door.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” He grumbled, a look at the clock showing it was around four in the morning, “It’s too early.”

“I need water.” Macaque spoke tonelessly, “But the bear from that one horror game MK made me play is gonna be in the kitchen… I know it .”

Wukong was too tired for this, “Alright. Well, I’ll go with you.” And that tiredness was why he wasn’t about to start a debate over it.

Macaque hid behind Wukong the entire walk from the bedroom to kitchen, jumping like a scared kitten at every noise. Maybe the horror movies weren’t a great idea after all. They did make it to the tap unscathed, there was also a surprisingly lack of video game bears in the room, shocker . Macaque chugged his water like a man dehydrated in the desert, and then promptly fell asleep again. While standing. 

If Wukong didn’t swoop in to grab him Macaque would have hit his head against the sink. He ended up having to carry him back, Macaque wasn’t heavy by any means, especially not for a stone monkey with the strength beyond gods, but he would bitch and whine the entire time as if he were. The things he does for this demon are immense and underappreciated…

He dropped the both of them back to bed, wheezing out a short breath before rolling over. A few seconds later, he felt Macaque unconsciously curl in closer to him, turning to face him with a fond chuckle, Wukong ran his hands through Macaque’s fur, who sleepily leaned into it. 

Well, maybe Halloween hadn’t been that bad.