Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing he noticed when Macaque woke up that afternoon was how horrendously loud everything was. The dew wetting the blades of grass outside his open window, the shuffling of each curtain’s fabric against each other, the creaking deep inside the walls as his old house continued to settle deeper into the unstable base it was originally built on. And Macaque, in his sleep-fogged state, was in no condition to do any kind of intensive problem solving as to why everything was this loud. However, his reflex of grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his head  to muffle it proved to just make everything worse ; it was as if he tapped on the end of a doctor’s stethoscope, the ringing in all six of his ears sending him into a painful shock.

Wait, six? He was so sure he had put his glamor on just the day before, and they had never had any kind of issue sticking through the night until right this moment. Which would explain the overwhelming amount of repressed noise he was currently experiencing. And it would also explain why the pillow hitting them dead on would cause such a visceral reaction.

Now more awake than any cold shower and cup of coffee could accomplish, he slowly turned himself over and rolled out off the couch onto the hardwood floor. His brain was pounding against the sides of his skull, both parts dehydrated and sleep deprived. Oh, and the sudden onslaught of the noise equivalent to a flashbang was most likely the total opposite of helpful. His first mission: water. His second mission would be to investigate why the hell his glamours didn’t stick.

He picked himself off the floor in a struggle that was totally not pathetic in any way shape or form, and arched his back to crack his stiff and angry vertebrae. Macaque should really stop falling asleep on the couch so late in the night; he just couldn’t help it. It’s not his fault all the good shows are on that late.

At least, that’s what he’d tell anyone who asked why he never got any good sleep.

Trying to grab his glass, Macaque was startled by a display of untamed, white streaked fur on his arm. The cup fell and shattered into pieces on the tiled floor, spreading itself all around the kitchen as if trying to make his life that much more difficult.

But that’s not what he was worried about at that moment. His fur . His fur’s glamours were down. How did that even happen ? He spent barely any time on those, up and done whenever he needed to. And thinking about it, the sleep from his damaged eye hadn’t cleared yet, it was still blurry and…

He raced to the bathroom, ignoring the tiny pinpricks of glass being caught under him as he stumbled into the dark room. He didn’t hesitate to flip the light and panickedly inspect himself. His fur. His eyes. His scars. His.. everything . And when he frantically tried to put it all back up to avoid looking at it all any longer, his image just flickered. Then nothing. Like someone desperately trying to start an old car in the winter when they have somewhere to be.

He tries. Tries again. Tries again and again and still nothing. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Macaque’s mind races, the glass and the water and the sore body completely forgotten as he stands in this bathroom close to tears. His shadow portals worked. Everything else worked fine but damnit what’s wrong with his glamours? Was he cursed? Could someone have found a way to curse him and was just fucking with him by taking the only thing he really even needed right now? Or was this karma for lying about his appearance, his mental health and his confidence, and the universe was just having a big old laugh at his frantic behaviors and helpless repetition of the same failed action over and over.

The sudden onslaught of a new noise stabbing each and every one of his exposed ears almost knocked him back a full step, looking around for the source in fight or flight mode to make it shut up . 

It was Wukong. Of course it was. Godsdamnit, didn’t he have better things to do at 3:40 PM on a Wednesday? In his haste to shut the piercing sound of his ringtone off, he picked up.

“Heyyyy Plum!” Wukong’s voice crackles out from the dinky speaker on his phone. Before Macaque can even say anything back, he just continues on speaking. The dark furred monkey wonders if Wukong would even notice if he hung up; maybe he’d just keep talking for 10 minutes before sending an annoyed text. “I’m gonna be coming over later to drop off some stuff you left over here a long ass time ago. Some scrolls, some cursed artifacts, some this-could-literally-destroy-life-as-we-know-it-if-it-got-into-the-wrong-hands stuff.”

Shit. Fuck. Gods. Fucking. Damnit. The universe really was laughing at him now. That stuff has been there for years . Fucking years! And today is the day Wukong decides to get off his lazy monkey ass and bring his stuff back. Right now. On this day. When his glamours refuse to work and all six of his ears are showing. 

Through his consternation, he managed to say something that didn’t sound like total bullshit. “Oh, uh, sorry Peaches. I’m really super busy today, I’m…you know, training the kid, and I have this super super important and unmissable thing that I’m doing later that I absolutely have to do. No exceptions. You know, duty calls and all that. Bye!” And so Macaque, ever the smooth and intellectual thinking monkey that he is, hangs up without even waiting for any kind of response. And he only realized a few seconds too late that Macaque had trained the kid yesterday , and it was MK’s day off. Fuck .

Maybe he won’t remember, his thoughts tried to comfort him, but he knew Monkey King would. And that means that he would know Macaque lied, and he would try and figure out why , and maybe if the universe hated him enough he would–

The sound of the doorbell ringing made him almost lose his balance in the haste to cover up all six of his ears. Godsdamnit which god did I upset so badly as to make my luck this bad? 

He quickly stepped through a shadow portal into the hall closet. Now, if his glamors were fucking working and he was just trying to ignore Wukong any other time, he would have left his house and hid somewhere more practical. But alas, someone really wanted to ruin his life.

Wukong rang the doorbell again, knowing full well that Macaque was home, and that he was trying to avoid him for some reason. Anyone even remotely normal or adept to social cues would have taken that as a hint to leave the other person alone, but Wukong, ever the annoying and overstepping monkey that he always has been, took that as “immediate danger, please help and save me from the monster that has kidnapped me and forced me to push everyone away!” It’s almost as if his brain couldn’t even begin to comprehend someone not wanting to be in his company.

Which, in part, wasn’t totally untrue. Mac would have jumped at the opportunity to hang out with his sun today if…well, you know. The universe didn’t fucking hate him.

And so, taking the second no response to the doorbell as “the monster is holding me at gunpoint and wants you to go away so they can kill me,” he blasted through the door and stood on the rubble he had pummeled it into. Immediately seeing nothing out of place in the living room, aside from the many blankets on the couch and a few plates and mugs sitting unwashed on the coffee table directly in front of it, he cautiously took a few steps forwards. Something had to be off, somewhere, now what could it be–

Aha! Wukong spotted the broken glass on the kitchen floor. Of course, it’s so obvious now! He painted a picture of what must have obviously happened in his head. Macaque had woken up, on the couch of course, and was too tired to notice an evil presence lurking in the corner of his kitchen. When he started to do his morning routine (roll off whatever he is sleeping on onto the floor, crack his stiff joints, shake his head to loosen his fur, go to the kitchen to get a glass of water, brush his teeth and groom his dark, soft, pretty looking fur…don’t ask him why he knows that; he won’t tell you), he was ambushed by some creepy scary evil monster thing, dropped the glass, and now it was up to Wukong to save him! 

Now with newfound determination to save his moon, he started to walk silently around the house with his truesight. But Wukong was never really a very patient monkey when it came to Macaque, so just when he was about to notice him in the closet, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t here anymore and was kidnapped to somewhere else. “Don’t worry Macaque, I’ll save you!” Was the last thing the warrior heard before the crashing of window glass and the silence of a now empty house.

Pushing open the closet door and immediately stumbling out of the claustrophobia-inducing space (he never had a good time with small spaces like that, especially after Lady Bone Demon), he let out a loud noise of anger when he saw the state of both his door and window. “Gods fucking damnit Wukong! Could you have not taken two seconds to turn the doorknob? It wasn’t even locked! ”

Well, now apparently Wukong thought Macaque was kidnapped. Which most likely bought him some time before the others convinced him that no Macaque is not kidnapped. Maybe he would say he’s very sick and didn’t want Wukong to get sick. Or maybe he would fake his own death and move to the other side of the world. Both viable options in this case.

He walked back into the bathroom to examine his reflection again. It had been a very long time since he dropped all of his glamours, and he could feel the coil of dread in his stomach slowly clawing its way up to the base of his throat, the anxiety ever present. It was sad. Kind of pathetic even, to look at himself in this state, all of his battles from the past showing through his skin and his fur. It was singed on the edges, and his eye was the worst part of it all. It wasn’t just the fact that his eye was, well…a little damaged , it was the memories that came along with it. The feeling of his sun's staff hovering above his frightened and pleading face, crying and begging in a desperate display for mercy. He saw it come down. He knows Wukong didn’t look; that was the last thing he was staring at before the staff crashed down through his eye and into his skull. His eyes, Wukong’s beautiful eyes .

Macaque began to run his fingers through his fur, catching the matted areas and wincing. He didn’t groom himself; really, he couldn’t. It took too much energy and it had to be done with his glamorous completely down to get all of the fur he needed. Looking at his unglamoured self for hours , completely willingly, grooming and picking at each and every section of fur, using different mirrors and brushes…practically torture. And it’s not like he could just ask someone else , because he never let anyone close enough to touch him at all, let alone for as long as it takes to fix this mess.

So he glamoured away all the knots and matts in his fur, the color, the singes and burns, his scars underneath and well..basically anything else that made him so unique. And he was completely fine with it. It was how he lived, preferred to live, and how he was planning on living for the rest of his predetermined lifespan. Until this mess. How the hell was he going to avoid Wukong?

-

Wukong, practically drenched in sweat and a furious expression on his face, laid back on a cloud flying high above the city. No destination in mind. MK had kindly informed him (scolded him for breaking into Macaque’s house when there was no clear danger, breaking his door and window, and coming to the conclusion that he was kidnapped and proceeding to interrogate every demon he came across) that Macaque just probably wanted some time alone and didn’t know how to say no. Which was strange; Macaque just wasn’t that kind of person. If he didn’t want to do something, he would deadpan and say no and then explain why. But maybe that was the problem, the reason why he wanted to say no. Something was obviously going on and he had to find out what. What if his friend was actually in danger? Not from any other ruthless demon, but…himself?

It was a dark thought. Picturing Macaque, his moon, curled into a ball in his dark room on his bed, tears running down his beautiful face. But no, no that couldn’t be right, Macaque was the strongest monkey he's ever known. He’s only seen him cry once or twice, and…he stopped his train of thought and derailed it in a different direction. He didn’t need to think about that right now.

Wukong liked to think they built the kind of relationship where Macaque could tell him anything in the world without fear of being judged. But maybe Wukong liked Macaque more than Macaque liked Wukong.

It was a thought that stung more than he thought it would, and he derailed that train of thought too. Before he got too caught up in unrequited feelings.

Deciding to just try and do the obvious thing (call him and apologize for breaking the door and the window, face his wrath, pay the damages, try and figure out what was wrong), he dialed Macaque’s number and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until he got the generic voicemail message, kindly informing him that his call was not answered. Macaque didn’t just immediately decline, he ignored the ringing all together. And that kind of stung a little too.

Did he do something wrong? Was Macaque avoiding him because of something specific? What if he came to his senses and realized Wukong wasn’t a god at all, just a nervous, low life, murdering asshole with too much confidence and not enough intelligence to be anyone of worth?

He texted him. A very simple message, one that didn’t seem too desperate or concerned. The perfect amount of calm, chill, and interest.

plums u didnt answer my call and u werent home earlier r u ok????

Perfect amount. Obviously.

Chapter Text

Macaque sat on his bedroom floor, pillows placed strategically in the corners with a few taped crudely to the walls as some kind of DIY soundproofing system. It had been a very long time since he had all six of his ears out and open to the world; they just weren’t accustomed to being so close to so much noise . The city, the constant hum and whine of electricity in the walls, his own breathing and erratic heartbeat.

His hands trailed across one of the scars on the back of his calf. It was long, and thin; a slight blue hue under the white fur it hid behind. Macaque wasn’t sure if it was just the soundproofing, but he could feel the overwhelming parts of the consistent noise start to fade into  the background, until he could hardly notice it at all. “Well,” he said quietly, “that’s quite convenient.”

Continuing to trace his fingers up his leg he stopped at another. This one. This one wasn’t anything out of malice, it had been his own damn fault in the first place. So long ago that it was before he even cared to do his own glamours at all. 

-

“Wukong!~” The black furred monkey jumped down from one of the trees on Flower Fruit Mountain, landing on the back of the aforementioned god and knocking them both to the ground.

“Macaque, Gods! Why the hell would you- oh Gods you’re going to give me a damn heart attack, watch yourself!” Though Wukong tried to have some form of malice in his voice, it all came out in a string of laughter at the end when he saw Macaque, the warrior , with his front covered in some kind of red mud. Clay, maybe?

Until he realized that meant that the maniac had gotten some on him too.

Quickly reaching his hand back around to the fur behind him, his reason for annoyance was confirmed when he felt the drying-up mud. “What the hell is this stuff? Macaque I swear I’m going to kill you one day!”

That threat hadn’t come true yet, so the receiver of it just stuck out his tongue and winked. “Oh nooo, oh my goodness, how could I have done such a thing! I guess this means we have to wash it out and groom each other’s fur again!”

That bastard, Wukong thought to himself before letting out a huff and turning his clay-covered-back to the insufferable lunatic. “I will not reward this behavior! You can groom your own fur, this is crazy!”

Macaque, still grinning (and knowing Wukong was too, that’s why he turned around), walked up behind him and placed his gentle hands onto his sun’s sides, leaning his head onto the others shoulder and purring very, very gently. Just quiet enough for his lover to hear.

“Stop that…” Wukong didn’t move away, only let out half-hearted protests for the incredibly unfair and borderline cheating way his moon had decided to convince him.

“My love, would you care to join me in washing away this horrible clay that somehow got onto the both of us?” Macaque grinned, knowing full well he had won by the way the other melted gently in his hands. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, like putty. Just to seal the deal, he placed soft kisses on the side of his neck.

“Okay, okay-! You win!” Flustered, he pushed Macaque off of him. “Now hurry, before this shit dries.” 

They walked, so close that they occasionally bumped into each other, the short way to the bottom of the waterfall. The path there was beautiful, with trees going so high up it almost looked like they kissed the sky. Normally on this walk–because Macaque got them into this situation enough they knew the path by heart–they would stop and pick the different exotic and magical looking flowers on the way there to throw them into the water. But today, they were in a bit of a hurry to get the clay off before it fully dried onto them. Although Macaque wasn’t really too worried about it. It just meant more time gently ministrating his hands through the sun’s fur on his back, listening to the gentle purr and watching that beautiful smile spread lazily across his pretty features. The real sun (Macaque used to refuse to refer to the sun as the “real sun” for a long time, until Wukong had told him how ridiculous it was; it’s not like the monkey king was the actual sun…Macaque silently disagreed–what else could light up his life so suddenly and so completely?) shone down onto Wukong’s back and warmed his hands as they worked. He could never get tired doing it; if, scientifically, dopamine was what gave motivation, and Wukong was his dopamine, how could he ever tire of the action?

When they arrived at the pool of water, Macaque pushed Wukong in so it covered him entirely. The water was cold. It was freezing, really; even if it was somewhere in the 90s outside, the water would always be a little cold at first. Especially if certain warriors wanted to be dicks about it. “Macaque! I swear when I get you I am–”

“Calm down, Peaches. I’m coming in right after you.” He dismissed the playful threat and stepped in much slower, giving his body time to be used to the sudden change in temperature. Going in this way felt nice, like drinking a glass of cool water after a long day outside. Rewarding, refreshing, resetting his body for just a moment. He let out a sigh of contentment as Wukong glared at him. “What’s the matter, Sunlight?”

Blinking in surprise as Wukong suddenly disappeared under the water, he looked around for him. The water was practically clear aside from the bubbling by the waterfall, how could he just–

In one swift movement, Macaque’s head went under the water and he shut his eyes just in time. The air he had been holding in his mouth came out and the bubbles breached the surface right before he did, shaking out (or trying to, because of the clay) his fur of the cold water. The warrior huffed dramatically, obviously not expecting the sudden retaliation.

“Hey now, don’t pout at me, you know full well you deserved that! Now, you got this on me, so you have to get it off.” Wukong spoke while gesturing behind him to the red mud, sounding annoyed, but he really wasn’t at all. He couldn’t be, the light of the moon was looking at him so in love and content in this moment right here. It doesn’t matter how many times they did this, they both remembered and cherished every single one like it was their last. Of course, neither of them knew yet that this would be their last before…everything.

He made his way over to a large rock sticking partly out of the water and laid face down onto the top of it, with his forearms under his head and half of his body still emerged. This was their rock; being young and childish, they took a sharp stone and carved a marking into the side of it, deep enough so it would be there for the rest of Macaque’s life and until the world ended for Wukong. As the ebony furred monkey began to gently wash away all remains of the stubborn clay, he couldn’t help but stand on his toes to leave little soft kisses on the other’s upper back, where the substance had not gotten.

As if knowing the other was struggling to do so, and not wanting to draw attention to how much he enjoyed that little action, he adjusted himself so he was lower on the rock and Macaque could kiss easier. Cute, he thought to himself, watching the great sage move down. And though he was tempted to call him out, he was content with the comfortable silence, drawn like a thick veil around them. Shielding them from the rest of the world.

He pressed his lips one last time to his fur, playfully nipping it to get a startle out of the other, and then went back to fully concentrating on the hardening clay. Even when he continuously placed water back into it, it wasn’t enough. And that was okay; they were in no kind of rush. Really, they could stay out here for days, and nobody would even notice their absence. The entire world was theirs to explore, alone, together, as long as they stayed just a few steps behind it. 

It really was a shame Wukong couldn’t want that.

-

It was about an hour later. His fur, now completely clean again, glistened in the setting sun. “You’re beautiful, Sun Wukong.” Macaque said softly. Even when there was no one around for miles and miles, the trees the only living breathing organism in their vicinity, he still kept his voice quiet. He still spoke to just him .

Wukong, ever the amazing conversationalist, just sputtered and buried his face further into his hands. Macaque was not having that.

He spun the golden monkey around on the rock in one swift movement, gripping both his hands in one of his own and holding them above his head in a playful manner. Macaque, before the other could even fully react, then pressed their lips together in a soft and sweet gesture.

It wasn’t the first time they kissed; not even by a long shot. But this felt just so much more real , because Macaque had been feeling this kind of irrational anxiety for the past few days about losing the other. And even though there had been nothing to suggest that would even be any amount plausible, and Wukong had assured him until he couldn’t help but go back to shyly smiling at the playful (but genuine) comfort he provided, he just… knew. So he was going to use all the time he had with the other to absolutely spoil him in every way that he could.

Throwing him in the water was just to make sure he didn’t notice. Obviously. Not because it was fun.

Surprisingly, Wukong was the one to break the fervent kiss. Which was alright with Macaque; after nipping gently at his bottom lip for the shudder it sent through the other for a few minutes, he was ready to move onto his neck and collarbones. Again, his sun stopped him, giving him an impatient look as if he was waiting for something. All the other could give was an absolutely clueless look in response, starting to wonder if he had done something wrong.

It must have been obvious that he was starting to second guess himself, because without warning Wukong’s expression softened and went from playfully teasing to gentle encouragement. “Come on, you didn’t think I wasn’t going to return the favor, did you? You still have that annoying mud on you.”

Wukong was right, and the dark furred monkey had forgotten about it entirely. Deciding that he didn’t want this moment to turn so serious just yet, he gave a small smirk. “Why don’t you make me swap with you, huh, Mr. Great Sage?”

“Oh you are so on, Mango.”

-

And that was how he got the scar, being pushed back in their tusseling match into a particularly sharp rock that sliced through the skin under his fur as easily as a knife through butter. Immediately, Wukong pulled him out of the water, placing him down and forcing him to lay still as he covered the wound in some fabric. Macaque remembered feeling terrible, ruining their fun because he misstepped. But his sun, the light of the world himself, just kissed the fabric that tightly wrapped the wound and gave a soft, apologetic smile. If they both blamed themselves, then it must cancel out, and nobody was to blame. Of course. Obviously. That’s how math works.

Macaque looked at the scar as a permanent reminder of that moment. Like a tattoo with a significant other. And now, now that everything had changed, some days he wanted to cut off his entire leg at the mid thigh just to get rid of it. And other days, like today, just laying in his room, he wanted to go back so badly, more than anything in the entire world.

He began to cry.

-

It had been days since Wukong had sent that message, and there was still no response. Sure, it sounded a little desperate, and sure , if Wukong was ignoring someone, he wouldn’t respond to it either, but he just needed to know if the other was alright. What if something had actually happened to him, and instead of being there to help him through it, he was uselessly lounging around his house thinking about helping?

That was all the excuse he needed to get on a cloud and fly over the city to Macaque house. And even if Macaque was safe, he couldn’t just ignore Monkey King like this, he was going to lose his mind. Macaque was all he thought about; he got distracted during training thinking about when he used to do the same things with the ebony furred monkey, he would be making something to eat (sans hair, he was trying to get better at cooking) and immediately gravitate towards the other’s favorite meals.

One could call this obsession, but truthfully it wasn’t. He just wanted what they used to have back so badly that he was willing to do anything and everything to try and bring it to the same level. Maybe one day. If only he hadn’t left, if only he hadn’t fucking killed him, if he was a better lover, a better friend, a better soul on this Earth…

He looked down over the city, slowing down above a crowded cafe with a large amount of outdoor seating. Wukong saw couples holding hands across the table, all smiling for the most part, giddy to see each other. First dates, fifth dates, thousandth dates, all in the same space with the same energy.

The Great Sage continued on, trying to force the image of Macaque looking at him like that again out of his mind as he arrived in front of the now-replaced door. He cringed when he saw it, wondering how much it cost, and vowed to repay him for it. Plus a tip, because, well, supposedly it’s rude to pulverize people’s doors from time to time.

He knocked. Waited a few seconds, looking at the fur on his tail to make sure it wasn’t sticking up from nervousness. He picked some fuzz off of it and continued awkwardly standing. Nothing.

He knocked again, this time a sinking feeling going from his neck to his stomach when he realized that maybe Macaque wasn’t even here anymore. Maybe he left them all, went somewhere new to leave his past completely behind him, and didn’t want anything to do with anyone. He heard from MK that Macaque wasn’t texting him back either.

Taking a deep breath and preparing for a completely empty house, he grasped the handle to the door and pushed it open.

Except, it was almost exactly how it was when he was here last, but some stuff had obviously been moved around. There was a different blanket and pillow on the couch, the glass was cleaned up in the kitchen, and there were fresh dishes in the sink.

“Macaque? …Mango, are you here?” He called out softly, not wanting to get sucker punched for breaking in (again). Even if he kind of deserved it. “Macaq– moon!” He let out a chirp of surprise and concern, immediately running over and sitting in front of the crying Macaque. A…completely without glamours, crying Macaque, with all six of his ears out, his fur with white streaks, his eye…well, his eye completely uncovered. 

Macaque, obviously startled and lost so far in his own mind he didn’t hear the other suddenly felt like he was underwater. Shit, godsdamnit can he not take a hint?

Reacting very calmly and logically to the entire situation, Macaque pushed Wukong so hard that he went flying through the open door and 5 feet away from it before Macaque slammed and locked it, opting the best course of action would be him sitting in front of it rather than a dresser. He knew that if Wukong was aware that Macaque was sitting in front of it, he wouldn’t try to break it down.

At least, he really and truly hoped so.

Chapter Text

Macaque leaned his head against the door, trying to tune out the sound of Wukong gently coaxing him into opening it again. This was the one thing he was trying to avoid, and somehow he had managed to make it happen even worse than he imagined it would. Like a self fulfilling prophecy of sorts. 

“Leave me alone Wukong. I don’t want to see anyone right now.” His voice was soft, despite him trying to go for a more threatening and serious tone. He needed to leave, but Mac didn’t know how to express that to him without just saying it outloud. And he couldn't do that either.

“No, I can’t just leave you right now, you’re obviously in some kind of distress or situation or…I don’t know. I don’t know because you won’t tell me,” The golden monkey resisted the urge to slam his fist against the door, knowing that would have the opposite effect. Wukong needed to help him. In his eyes, Macaque needed his help, more than anything in the world, so why wasn’t he letting him inside?

The black furred monkey was tired, overstimulated, frustrated and overwhelmed. He couldn’t control his words even if everything he loved depended on it. He just needed to say it, the anger bubbling up in his throat and coming out through tears in his eyes. “You lost the fucking right, Sun Wukong! You lost the right when you left me, when you fucking killed me! You can’t just mess up like that and expect things to be normal. I know that for all of time, whenever you ruined things, made a mistake, hurt people, ruined lives and marriages and buildings and homes and families, somehow, someway things just…went back. It’s turned you into a spoiled, ungrateful soul with no regard for anything you say or do because deep down you know that no matter how badly you mess things up, it will always be fine again. And I'm not saying you haven’t been through shit. But you are not allowed to treat what you put me through as if I got over it as quickly as you did. You may keep awake at night, crying because of how bad you hurt me, but I was the one who got hurt. I was the one who died.”

Macaque heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side, wobbly and unstable. “I stay awake at night because I’m godsdamn terrified of loving again, because there’s always going to be some part of me, buried so far inside that even I can’t reach it, that just knows that it’s going to end just as bad or potentially worse than we did. I wish I could convince myself you never loved me, that everything we had wasn’t real, because then I could tell myself you did what you did out of hate and someone who really and truly loves me will never ever even try and hurt me the way you did. But it’s worse because I know it was genuine what you felt for me. So now I can’t trust anyone who tried to get as close as you were. You ruined not only the life I could have had, but you will forever taint the life I will make for myself. So why don’t you respect me for the first time in your unending existence and leave me alone.”

There was silence for a bit. But he knew the monkey king was still outside the door, completely frozen. Maybe, he thought, somebody took mercy on me and turned him back into stone.

Finally, after what felt like minutes upon minutes of pure silence, he heard the other slowly walk away from the door, down the hallway, and hesitate at the front. As if waiting for the other to call him back. As if waiting for some kind of an apology. After another moment he opened the door and walked out, shutting it softly behind him.

Macaque would have preferred a slam. A reason to continue fueling this anger, the only thing holding him back from falling apart. But it was the gentle closing of the door, holding down the handle so the latch didn’t click loudly and echo across the tall walls and ceiling of the house, that broke the dam. He sobbed; practically wailed in the soundproofed bedroom, completely isolated from anyone and everyone around him. Not just physically; but emotionally. He couldn’t train MK anymore no doubt, the king would tell all of them about every little awful thing he had said and spin (was it really spinning, or had he gone too far?) the story of how Macaque was over dramatic and vengeful. “I was just trying to help him, and he lashed out at me,” he can hear the other sneer inside his mind. He can see them, plain as day in front of him; stilled photos of their reactions to his words, disgust lacing the tips of their tongues in their sympathy towards their idol. And it made Macaque sick.

Before he could get up and race for the toilet, he retched and gagged and threw up the empty contents of his stomach onto the dark hardwood floor instead.

Even his sick was pathetic. He fell to his knees, crawling to the bed before slowly rolling himself into a ball under the covers and making arrangements to stay there for as long as it took for the Earth to stop spinning and the sun to explode.

–

“You may keep awake at night, crying because of how bad you hurt me , but I was the one who got hurt. I was the one who died .”

Gods. What was Wukong supposed to say to that? Maybe that was the point. Maybe the point was to get the other to leave, to say the most absolute outlandish shit he could think of to get the monkey king to leave him alone, to get him to stop investigating what was going on. Maybe Macaque didn’t know what he was saying; he could be hit with some kind of curse that filled him with unbelievable rage at the sight of Wukong and some god somewhere was doing their hardest to mess with them both. To ruin what they were rebuilding because the god was jealous, or mad, or…

He started crying, right there in front of the door to his home, unable to make it the extra ten feet inside. It wasn’t some kind of curse; his deflection and irrational thoughts just proved that Macaque was right. He was completely, fully, unwaveringly correct in every single syllable he uttered. If he had kept going, he would have still been right, he could have kept talking until the sun stopped shining and he wouldn’t have said anything even slightly wrong about his real character.

It was impossible for the monkey king to do any real good. He was not an idol, or a friend, or a lover. He manipulated the people around him, changed himself like a malleable piece of slimy clay to fit whatever container he needed to put himself in to get his way and to make people believe that he was pure and kind and loving, generous and believable, trustworthy. He would lie and lie and lie until he was construed as the perfect god, to whom people would give offerings to and ask for things that even the lord in the bible himself wouldn’t be able to snap his fingers and generate. Besides himself and his conscience, nobody would find out about it. The lack of sleep was worth it, as long as he got what he set out for.

That was what he believed he was, anyways. Whether that was what his former lover had meant or not, Monkey King had these things thought of as fact.

But to find out Macaque knew all this time, he knew how bad of a person he was and just put up with it. It hurt. It hurt so bad he could feel it in every drop of blood in his system, he could feel it tingling in the bottom of his throat like a dense mass of grief for the loss of what he thought he had. He could see it now; Macaque telling them everything he had done, how terrible of an idol he really was, how he lied and cheated just to get his way and he was a bad person no matter how much he tried to love and care and be kind. He couldn’t face them ever again; the other could have already done it, with just a long and carefully typed out angry text it would be done. And Macaque wouldn’t even need to prove it, they would put the pieces together themselves and never even look in his direction. He thought he had found his family, and he himself caused the loss of it. Maybe that was what he deserved though; one could-be life for another.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that Macaque would be right to do it, he couldn’t even be mad about it. He couldn’t force away all the pain with anger and rage, with hatred and denial of his own problems. Because once he accepted what he had done as wrong and unforgivable, he couldn’t just go back and act like he isn't who he is.

Sure, the text would engender a few hours of controversy; who is right, who is wrong, why would he do this? But in the end they would gently coax Macaque out of his room, help him with whatever glamour problem he had going on, and continue on without the god. 

The monkey king had already chosen his successor. Macaque was clearly capable of training MK. What did they need him for at that point, if they didn’t want him around?

–

“There, all better. How do you feel, love?” Sun Wukong smiled down at Macaque, who couldn’t help but return it, just softer and a bit more reserved.

“You don’t have to be so protective of me, I can take care of myself sometimes you know.” He inspected the makeshift bandage covering his leg. Yeah, that was definitely going to scar, but he didn’t care much. It was a tattoo, a physical and permanent reminder of this exact moment. Soon, he was going to want to go back to these seconds, going to want to be in this time again. But right now he tried his best to live in the moment instead of worrying about it being over. “You always rush to be my knight in shining armor. I’m not a damsel, you know.”

The golden monkey just continued beaming at him, picking him up without a word and placing him onto the rock he himself was laying on a while before. “Yeah, well, sometimes I just want to help you out a little. Now I caught you fair and square, it’s your turn for me to get this stubborn mud out.”

He saw the other nod and allow him to begin, so the monkey king began to cover the clay in the water and start to gently pick it out with his claws. “Gods, where did you even find this stuff? Couldn’t you have gone with dirt like last time? This stuff is impossible! ”

“Oh, so you like when I do this, huh? I thought you got so mad every time I dirtied your precious fur!” He grinned into his forearms, allowing himself to relax as his tail lazily wrapped around his lover’s wrist. He already knew Wukong loved when he did idiotic things like this; he just really enjoyed teasing him about it as well.

“Shut up,” Wukong replied simply as his face flushed. Godsdamnit it, he normally would watch his words a little better to avoid flustering himself, but things just kind of…slipped out around Macaque. It was so freeing but it also made him slightly anxious at times.

Macaque smiled again, too busy praising his own ability to deflect questions to continue teasing him. Wukong didn’t ask again, knowing that if Macaque had wanted to tell him he would, and just played off his acknowledgement of that as forgetting the question itself and letting the other have their little win.

After a few hours they were completely done, and Macaque had fallen asleep, tail still wrapped around the other as if completely aware of Wukong’s presence even when fully asleep. The other smiled, unraveled the tail as gently as he could, and carried the still-sleeping Macaque on his back and out of the waterfall. Now with the added weight of the bandage, and the water, it was significantly more difficult to keep carrying him…but he crushed all thought of setting him down. What kind of lover would he be if he somehow hurt Macaque?

Not a very good one.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Macaque did nothing. He didn’t eat, he hardly drank anything that wasn’t coffee, and his fur was beginning to really matt up from twisting and turning in his bed. Though, if he was telling the truth, his fur had been in pretty bad shape for a few years; you never really think about how useful glamours are until they decide to completely stop working one day and leave you fending for yourself to push away the people who love you. Funny.

Gods damn it, I can’t keep doing this to myself. He thought every couple hours, recognizing the cycle he was in all over again like some giant unthinkable epiphany. “I need to stop, I need to just call him and get it over with. I need to have a real conversation with him.” And he would imagine how he would do it, what they both would say, fidgeting with his hands while planning out all his talking points like a professional debater.

Then he would get scared.  His hands would grip harshly onto his forearms, knuckles turning white and bruising the delicate muscle there. It wouldn’t go well, no way, absolutely not. It can’t . It would be better if they just cut each other off entirely now, Wukong could have his stupid friends, and his stupid successor. And his stupid pride and love and generosity and fame . Gods, fuck it, he could have those stupid eyes; a sun of their own, bringing heat and light whenever he went like a collaborative effort with the star in the sky. He could have his fur, so golden, so meticulously taken care of. Taken care of without Macaque’s help. And he could have his voice, soft and rough all together, so capable of a range untapped by even the king himself. And Macaque could draw such pretty noises from his lips, such words and phrases, his vocabulary so stupid but so charming .

Wukong could keep it all. Macaque didn’t want it one bit. Not in the slightest. 

–

“MK no! I can’t just talk to him , you guys don’t understand the situation.” Wukong paced in his living room, with his back to MK, who was annoyedly sitting on the couch next to an equally frustrated Mei.

“Maybe if you told us, Monkey King, we could actually get somewhere with this. All you said is that you and Macaque had some kind of fight or whatever. What’s new?” Mei yelped as MK elbowed her in the ribs. Not helping, he mouthed, and she rolled her eyes before slinking further down the plush sofa.

Wukong groaned loudly, deciding to just lay down on the cool hardwood floor to chill off his overheating body. Rage, shame, and frustration flowed through his veins.

It’s not like he didn’t want to call Macaque, figure things out and talk about it, but whenever he picked up the phone or got on a cloud to go there he just couldn’t. Last time he tried to fix things, Macaque very clearly did not appreciate the gesture. “I can’t tell you. Me and Macaque, we…we just go back a long time, and some stuff happened that I won’t get into. All you need to know is he is mad and it’s like it was triggered by nothing!”

“There had to be something that triggered it. Think, Monkey King, did anything happen recently?” MK offered hopefully, deciding to stop pressuring Wukong into telling him. It wasn’t going to work, obviously.

“No, nothing, I don’t–” He paused. Mei’s eyebrows raised at the hesitation, waiting for him to continue. “That’s it! That’s– yeah! His glamours!”

“His glam-er-what-now?”

“His glamours! It’s like a thing we can do, use our magic to create illusions and change the way we look. I wear them for scars, Macaque wears them for…other reasons. Too personal, not my place. Anyways, when I was there they were down. And he doesn’t do that . Ever. Maybe something happened with that.”

MK and Mei looked at each other, mutually agreeing to pretend to understand any of that. “Alright…so, you think his makeup-thing not working has something to do with him hating your guts?” MK elbowed Mei again in the side for her bluntness. She ignored him.

“Yeah. Yes. Maybe. What do I do, what do I– should I just go see him and keep that in mind? It’s been a few days, maybe he’s not as mad anymore and I can help! I know some magic and whatnot, so–”

“Monkey King, I think you’d make it worse.” Mei grabbed MK elbow before he moved it this time. It needed to be said.

“No, I’d be helping him, that’s what I want to do. How would I make it worse by fixing it?” He grumbled defensively.

“Maybe he doesn’t want you to swoop in and fix all his problems.” MK this time, catching on.

Wukong scoffed. So what, Macaque just wants to sit in his own sorrows forever?

“No seriously! How would you feel if you were complaining about something and they just tried to fix your emotions? Took over your situation and tried to solve the problem for you?”

When they put it that way…

MK sighed. He was beginning to get fed up with this. “Monkey King, how about you just say you’re sorry and then shut up. Just listen to him; don’t get defensive, listen, and understand . You struggle with emotions, I know, but you’ll never understand him unless you try.”

“Yeah, how are you guys supposed to date or whatever with no communication?”

Wukong spit out the water he took a sip of while MK startled cackling.

–

“How the hell am I supposed to do this?” Wukong sat at the coffee table, a pen in his left hand hovering shakily above the jankily ripped-out paper he stole from a wide-ruled notebook. Dear Macaque was crudely written at the top of it, overly formal for what he wanted to say. Maybe it was best to keep it that way, keep it as objective and estranged from personal bias as possible. He was just writing down how he felt.

Wukong thought back to all the things he had read on the “Internet”, “I statements” and “listening skills” and whatever else those people had told him to do. For the most part, it was all common sense; at least, it really should have been. From what he had learned about himself, he apparently had a “God Complex.” Pff, he was a God, of course he had a “God Complex.” Stupid people. 

Everytime he set the tip of the pen down to the paper to start writing, it’s like his mind went completely blank. What was he supposed to say that he had never said before? Hey, sorry for killing you, my bad. Yeah, sure, that would go great. Macaque would be overjoyed to receive something like that.

Maybe he didn’t have to say exactly what for. Gods know he is sorry for a lot of things. Breaking and entering, yelling, fighting, screaming, being passive aggressive, breaking and entering again, being bad at boundaries, killing him, leaving him, breaking and entering again …

Wukong groaned loudly and set his head down on the table, letting the pen drop from his grip and land on the carpet. This was so hard; not just putting his emotions down on paper, but apologizing and admitting he was wrong. Maybe the internet wasn’t so wrong about his faults.  Narcissism, a need for control, willing to do anything to make things go his way. 

He felt a cold shiver of anxious realization flood his nervous system. Like his blood had just turned to ice, trudging along his veins forcefully. A lump formed at the base of his throat and Wukong felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m…a bad person.” Every syllable he pushed out through his teeth felt like he was carving it into stone. It was true, he knew it was true, and all it took was pushing away the love of his life again to realize it. 

To realize that maybe Macaque just wanted Wukong out of his life for good this time. They tried to make it work, but no matter what things always ended in some kind of fight. Verbal or lethal. And every time it was Wukong’s own damn fault. Sure, Macaque was an asshole, he did some fucked up things, but so did he. He himself ruined lives. He hurt people. He made people go homeless or worse. All Macaque did was… was try to help.

The tears were flowing freely down his face now. In the lonely, deafening silence of the living room, his wreaking sobs bounced off the walls helplessly. Slowly, carefully with a shaking hand, he picked up the dropped pen and started writing again, his incoherent thoughts and crude writing combining into something incomprehensibly vulnerable and real .

–

Macaque shuddered as he felt the rain bat against his fur, instead of sliding off as it was supposed to. It seeped into the matted areas and tangled it a little more. Annoying, but what could he do about it now? He’d rather destroyed fur than bald spots.

He sat at his open window, head leaning out longingly. His glamors still hadn’t come back. He still couldn’t apologize to Wukong. The warrior wanted to pretend the only reason he didn't was because it was hard, he was scared, it wouldn’t go well. But the main reason was he couldn't stand the god seeing him in this state. It was really, truely, completely pathetic. A sight to behold; impossible to keep from pitying or laughing at, whichever the audience was more inclined to react. And he felt miserable at the knowledge that it was his fault he was like this.

What if there was no curse at all? No evil intent from any outside being? What if Macaque was dying again, slower, painfully. First his glamor magic, then his shadow magic, then his health and his heart and his brain…the sheer prospect of morality seeped into his mind. He would die again. This was it. He was going to die like this and nothing could stop it, it was out of anyone's control. He just didn’t know why or what was happening.

“Godsdamnit.” He breathed out. Macaque was incapable of crying. The tears welled in the back of his skull, pressed against his brain. The headache swelled and thumped and banged from it. Cry , his emotions pressured and pleaded, cried and coaxed, cry just one more time, please. He did not. He could not. If he could, gods know he would be a sight to behold. But he could not.

How pathetic.

The warrior whipped around and faced the empty space behind him. Who..?

What’s wrong, my love?

Wukong’s voice. He knew exactly where it was from; a memory. A memory of when young Macaque was hiding under the shade of the biggest tree he could find, hiding from the rest of the world as his ears twitched with every shaky hiccup. Hiding as sobs broke from his throat, and tears like rivers dampened his cheeks. And Wukong had found him, loved him back to life.

Back to life.

And then…

SUN WUKONG, PLEASE.

That was himself. Gods, what the fuck was happening? His memories, his life, auditorily playing around him from seemingly no source. “Stop…stop it. I don’t want to hear this..”

M-My love, my love , please please please don’t kill me. Please, P-PLEASE–

“ Why…why why why… who…please just–” He was cut off by his own forceful sobbing sound. The still lack of tears was humiliating.

You are nothing but an obstacle , Macaque. Nothing but a ghost in a room full of people with purpose. A shadow behind me.

“I am not , please just stop it… ” He remembered those words. They burned into his mind every night. They stabbed his heart and his ability to ever love again. The words Wukong said to him right before he took his staff and brought it down with more determination than he’d ever seen the golden monkey have in his life. Before he brought it down into his eye, crushing his brain through his skull. And Macaque remembered all of it.

I love you.

He was unable to decipher who’s voice that was, too hurried to leave the room and make it stop. Jumping up and tripping over his own tail onto the floor, he scrambled to open the door and bolt out. As soon as he left, it was silent. He crawled his way to the kitchen and hid in one of the corners, hyperventilating.

But still no tears.

–

Wukong groggily lifted his head up off the desk, feeling his cheek stick to something rough and thin. Ripping it off, he felt the skin make a sickening noise as it peeled off. Oh. It was the letter he wrote. Thankfully not smeared from his falling asleep, and surprisingly no drool on the ink, he set it back down and stood up to stretch from the uncomfortable sleeping position. At this point it was night, and it sounded like there was a really rough storm out. 

If he didn’t do it now, he never would. Storm be damned he needed Macaque more than he needed water, more than he needed life. He loved Macaque more than he loved himself, and was willing to throw away his pride to make this work.

The healthiest thought process? Not exactly. But they were both getting there. Getting to where they needed to be.

He hopped onto a cloud and flew to where he hoped Macaque had holed himself away from the world. Looking down at the vegetation zipping behind him in blurs, he was reminded of one of his favorite and least moments they ever had together.

–

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Mac.”

They laid together, facing the sun as it tingled and warmed their skin. Hands and tails intertwined they bathed in the comfortable silence that washed over them every time they ran out of things to say or the sudden blurt of a thought was over. 

Everytime Wukong snuck a glance at his lover, he was again reminded of how lucky he was. His lover's colorful 6 ears that made him stand out so much; but also every little feature that made him so ordinary. He wanted to worship the ground he walked on, a king brought to his knees for every laugh that etched itself into his brain. Every smile that warmed his own skin and blush that he could get out of the stubborn, teasing warrior.

And every cool night they spent together, familiarizing themselves with each other’s skin and fur, every gesture that could break the thick air with a loud gasp for it.

And every kiss that felt like they were the first ones to ever do it. The first ones to find joy in connecting their lips and brushing fingers through freshly groomed fur. They were kings, gods themselves. Equals.

At least, Wukong thought they were. He painted Macaque in a way that made him to be just like him . He couldn’t fathom not being on the same level, refused to acknowledge he was in love with someone less. Macaque, however, admired the differences. Admired how much power the other had and the weaknesses that came with. The balance he put on display for Macaque to use in the best ways over and over again.

They bickered about it a lot.

“We’re not equals, Sun Wukong! Stop treating me like I’m another version of yourself, I’m not you , okay?” He paced back and forth, tail whipping at the end angrily to subconsciously emphasize his point. 

Wukong got defensive. He always got defensive. “I am not saying that you’re another version of me! Six ears, and you can’t listen with even one of them.”

Wukong regretted it immediately. The silence was worse than any kind of smart comeback from the other, and the way Macaque immediately put his right hand over 3 of his ears made it sting more.

“No, I didn’t– I’m sorry, okay? I love your ears, you know I do, I don’t know why I–”

“What the hell is your issue? I talk about how I feel one time, and your immediate response is to insult me!”

“I just said I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t care whether you meant it or not, you still said it and–”

“You know I would never–”

“But you did!”

Wukong grit his teeth and didn’t respond. Macaque sighed.

“Maybe you should be with someone who is on your level.”

The level of sincerity proved to Wukong that Macaque was serious. He wasn’t saying this to be an asshole. He really thought that. “No, Macaque, I love you. I love you so much I couldn’t imagine being without you.”

“Then start being with me! This whole…whatever we have, has been nothing but you taking what I do and twisting it in your head to like it more! Sun Wukong, I am not a God or a King or anything above a warrior. And if you think that’s an insult to myself then you need to find someone better than me.”

Wukong snapped out of the memory when he felt a certain Monkey’s head fall onto his chest. 

A head not attached to the rest of its body. A head with an eye missing, brains spilling, tear stained lifeless cheeks and green skin.

–

“Holy fuck. ”

Wukong cut that memory as quickly as he could think to do so. That wasn’t right, that’s not what happened, but for some reason all of his memories, all of his dreams, all of his thoughts ended with Macaque’s lifeless body staring back at him.

All their good times. All their love, tainted by what he had done.

If this was what he dealt with, he wondered what Macaque lived like. Did he also have tainted memories? Did he get phantom pains? Could he see out of his eye with the glamours on?

Wukong’s train of thought, thankfully, was cut short when he arrived at Macaque’s door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked as loud as his shaky hands could muster.

A few seconds went by. Then a minute. Then two. And just as he was about to try again, the door opened a few centimeters and he could see the outline of Macaque's beautiful iris staring back at him.

–

Macaque stared at the wall in a numbed state. He could feel nothing, see nothing, think nothing. The concept of time was lost on him after the experience he had a few hours before. And in the corner of this dingy kitchen, the hard tile and the dishes in the sink, the glass still on the floor, nothing could find him. He was okay. And he was planning on staying there until…

A much too loud knocking sound on his door. Who the hell was that, the police? He didn’t know anyone else who would knock so violently. So, nervous that he was in some kind of trouble that he didn’t have the ability to get out of, he took a few minutes to gather the strength and air he needed and got up.

And when he cracked open the door, he saw a soaking wet Sun Wukong with tears in his eyes and…laughably terrible posture. He looked miserable, nervous, scared. And the sight of it was so frightening to Macaque he almost slammed the door back shut, until the golden monkey spoke.

“Macaque… please. ”

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Neither said a word for a few seconds. They weren’t even really looking at each other, just taking in the fact that this was all new territory for the both of them. Vulnerability, despite being so highly encouraged from the both of them to MK and Mei, were things they never really cared too much about. Their time with each other was so fleeting , limited, the only good thing they could have until the next time they could steal each other away, they just ignored everything that was wrong to force it to be right.

Wukong, gathering his senses, thrusted a crudely folded letter into Macaque’s hand. Admittedly shocked, considering his hand wasn’t even outstretched and prepared to grab anything, he fumbled it before grasping it tightly.

“I…” Wukong’s voice was weak, a little nervous but still admittedly himself. It held that confidence, that booming king-like base that lodged itself into his throat whenever he knew what he was doing was important. A kind of confidence he forever held, even if the right thing was the thing he really really didn’t want to do.

That was enough for Macaque to gently peel the paper apart, leaving Wukong to stand there a bit awkwardly as he did so, never bothering to finish his earlier sentence.

Macaque,

I am very sory four wat I did too you. I wish I culd rite well enof four this to be as rowmantick as it is in the movies butt I do not no how. You may be wandering why I didn’t just get MK or Mei to rite it four me. And that is beecuz it would not be as geenyouin jenyouyn jeenuine real as it needs too be.

I am in love with you.

And I am hope that mayb with lots of tyme I can prove that I hav changed.

-Wukong

Macaque started cackling .

“Mac– Macaque stop it!” An embarrassed Wukong ripped the note out of his hands and shoved it into his pocket, the rain practically sizzling every time it hit his burning red face.

“Oh my Gods, Wukong, how long did it take you to write that?” He wiped the tears of mirth away from under his eyes, gaining his composure after a few minutes, although slight snickers could be heard every few seconds as he calmed himself down.

“Like…I don’t know, okay? I tried! I tried really hard, and you know I can’t write very well, but I needed you to know that…that…”

Macaque knew what he was trying to say. But he pretended as best as he could that he didn’t, because he needed to hear Wukong say it.

“I am kinda sorta a little bit in love with you and it’s really stupid and you’re so stupid and this is all stupid and you know what it was a mistake coming here because confessing is stupid and goodbye you stupid, stupid pretty monkey I hate–”

“Wukong if you say stupid one more time–”

“Piss off, I'll say it as much as I want to!”

“You came here because you wanted to tell me, that’s not stupid!”

“Yeah well I wrote it, why should I have to say it too?”

“Because I can’t just say I love you too after you write it. That’s stupid.”

The silence was…loud. Their normal bickering halted as Wukong’s slow mind and rusted cogs churned against each other, firing up the critical part of his brain, trying to process the fact that–

“You love me too?”

“I am going to wring your neck out like a moldy wet kitchen rag. Yes I love you too, Wukong! When did I ever stop loving you?”

He didn’t have any kind of comeback to that, eyes and expression blank like he was just factory reset, standing rigid as if he was just told when the world would end and the sun would explode.

“The great sage equal to heaven, defeated with 4 words.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more~”

They had gotten closer in their back and forth, awkwardness melting away as Macaque ran his fingers through Wukong’s fur. In turn, Wukong (albeit gentler because he could see the rough state the other was in, at least physically) did the same. The unglamoured parts were rough, matted, dirt and mud sticking to it. Ripped pieces stuck on with only a prayer, and he could clearly see the failed attempt of maintaining it as it was this far gone, and where the other gave up.

“Do you…want some help? Maybe?”

“I, uhm, yes. Yeah. I do. Thank you.”

Wukong stalls for a moment. He didn’t expect for Macaque to actually agree to letting him groom and pick at his fur. It had been hundreds of years at this point, and his hands were tingling with the phantom feeling already.

“Do you wanna…sit? Or lay down?” Wukong fiddled with the end of his tail a bit nervously, hesitantly walking into the other’s home and shutting the door behind him. The lighting from the moon to the overhead lamp made him blink once, twice, then three times, before his eyes truly adjusted.

Macaque saw none of this. It had been so long since he felt as if he could really, honestly, unabashedly admire the god without feeling guilt or resentment for it. And he was drinking it all in. His eyes, the way they glowed underneath his shaggy and ungroomed fur, still a little puffy from crying but beautiful nonetheless. How perfectly his face was shaped, sculpted with the love of the heavens so tenderly but with the passion of a warrior that outshines even Macaque’s expertise. And if Mi’hou didn’t know that one bold, romantic move would make the king too flustered to even speak, he would maybe be a little intimidated. But he isn’t anymore; it’s been centuries since he felt this relaxed, and the urge to tease and mess with the other was becoming more irresistible by the second.

“Mac?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll sit down.” He moved quickly to hide the embarrassed flush overtaking his features, his six ears twitching with sheepishness. Macaque sat down on his couch, front facing the armrest so Wukong had time to work behind him. He didn’t know how well he could handle any unforeseen, accidental eye contact right now, especially with the nostalgia he knew would be flooding back. “You wanna start back there?”

Wukong could only nod, the eagerness of his moon making him relax a considerable amount.

“Alright, stay still, I know how much you like to squirm.”

“I do not!”

“Oh you stubborn– you just did! Stop defending your nonexistent pride and let me work!”

Macaque followed the other’s instructions. For about 5 minutes.

“Okay okay you’ve been working on that spot forever , is it done yet?”

“Quit your whining, it’s matted and it’ll take more than 30 seconds .” Still though, Wukong willed his fingers to move more gently. Not that he would say that out loud.

Out of defiance, Macaque squirmed a little more harshly, and Wukong placed both hands on his sides to still him. “I said be still .”

Oh.

They both paused at his tone, Wukong frozen for fear of being too harsh and potentially scaring away Macaque, and the other for…

Macaque’s entire face and neck heated up, bringing his hands up to his cheeks and feeling the hot surface there. Was he really so lonely that the slightest lilt of that in his partner’s voice enough to rile him up?

Wukong let go quickly, moving his hands to his own chest and trying to backpedal from the situation. Mi’hou let out a small whine at the loss of contact, before about throwing himself into a shadow portal because what the fuck was that?

“Did you just–”

“Shut the fuck up Wukong I will fucking end you–”

“You did! You just whin–”

“Wukong I swear!”

The excited, teasy ginger monkey quickly flipped Macaque around to face him (when did he get so strong?) and see his blushed-red face. When Macaque made a move to hide it, the Great Sage swiftly held both of the other’s wrist in one of his hands to get a better look.

Macaque should have known this would happen. The past never really goes away. Is he really complaining, though?

“You asshole, this is– this is…” His voice trails into nothing as he feels Wukong leave slow kisses on his collar, arms going limp in his hold as a full body shudder runs through himself.

Wukong grins, grooming completely forgotten.

–

“Do you think they actually worked it out?” MK asks Mei while hitting a ping pong ball in her direction. While it flies over the net and hits the other end of the table, he takes an inhumanely large bite of noodles, before returning to position to hit it back in time.

“Well, I hope so. They kinda deserve it. I don’t know what happened between them, but jeez, they need to work out their issues bad and just kiss already.” She hits it back with ease, rolling her eyes at his multitasking antics.

“Do you ever think that maybe they had something going on in the past? Oh my gods, what if they were married?!”

Mei scoffs, the action making her miss the ball completely and calling game over to actually talk. While they were both chaotic, she was never as good at balancing 20 different things as he was. With that source of mental stimulation lost, MK immediately runs to the floor to mash buttons on his video game console. Mei just sits on the couch and thinks for a moment.

“You know, sometimes I get that idea. But I just never had any soundproof evidence other than just a feeling. I’m glad you feel it too.”

“It’s weird. I wonder what they’re hiding. Oh! Maybe they had a shotgun wedding in Vegas and they’re too secretly in love to get a divorce, so they just pretend it’s for tax stuff, and then–”

“MK, they are thousands of years old. This falling out had to have happened before Vegas was even a place. Besides, why is that the first thing your mind goes to?”

“I dunno, I saw a movie about it yesterday.”

“You are insufferable.”

“Wanna play?” He gestured vaguely to the other controller, ignoring her comment. It wasn't true anyways, they both knew that. She sighed and soundlessly picked it up, ready to beat him in whatever game he chose.

“Game on, loser.”

–

Macaque panted, too exhausted to squirm after…earlier. Wukong seemed perfectly fine, if not a bit happier, but that’s because he wasn't the one slammed against a–

“Done! That wasn’t so bad, just took some magic fingers.”

“I hoped you washed those ‘magic fingers’ after you–”

“Heyyy Macaque! Guess who’s here for some emotional…oh my gods! ” MK and Mei, walking in with an obnoxious amount of balloons and a cake to seemingly lift his spirits, had two different shocks at once. First, why was Wukong here, why were they that close, and two , why did Macaque look so different?

“Oh hey, that must be that makeup glam-er-doo-hah thing Wukong was talking about! What’s up Mac, can you finally hear the bullshit you’ve been spewing about not being in love with Wukong with those new ears of yours?” Mei cracked a joke. Of course she did, but it was so sudden, and about his ears…

Wukong expected Mac to throw her through a wall. Instead, he started laughing so hard tears of mirth formed, the relief washing over him. Accentance.

“I swear to gods if you pop any of those stupid balloons in my dojo, I will personally pop you in the same way!”

He stayed laughing for only a few seconds, though, before he realized the loud-sound-death-machines floating up to the ceiling in his previously spotless living room.

Wukong just sighed, watched, and tried to get used to the new normal. He kinda liked it.

He hoped Macaque wouldn’t go looking too hard for where his glamours went…maybe Wukong will give them back in a few weeks, when it all blows over and he loves himself a little more.