Chapter Text
Macaque has been aware of his own limitations since he was much smaller, weaker in every way. When he was only capable of running and hiding and watching from afar, lest he be caught in some mortal’s grasp and locked in some cage or worse. But he was crafty, he was clever, and always one step ahead of his foes. He leaned into perfecting his speed and agility, having a slighter physique and natural flexibility. He honed his magic to be deceptive, sly, and potent. He sharpened his mind, honeyed his voice, and stretched his sense of hearing to reach unfathomable depths and range. He knew he’d never be strong in other ways, but he was strong in this, this was what he knew himself to be.
Even now, with the many years it took to be a force to be reckoned with, he was considered flighty and skittish, too hesitant to be wrathful in the face of danger. As if thinking twice about a fight was a cowardly thing, as if it wasn’t the only reason he’d survived so long.
This mindset was to be expected by demons who were much bigger and broader than him, ones who favored frontal attacks and preferred to be the first to strike. Even Wukong, who was the closest to his size – albeit still taller – was considered the powerhouse among them, quick to strike and was dealing the final brutal blow. It was in this way that Macaque complimented his companion, where Wukong was a bright, blinding strike of raw light that scotched the land in his blazing trail, Macaque was the dark pits where any who fled of forfeited their chance to face him would instead face him, as he sunk them into the dark abyss and silently stole their lives. Macaque was content with his role in Wukong’s life as his own, as he could appreciate the duality of the two monkeys. He was the warrior to his hero, the moon to his sun. Of course, he was fit in the places even Wukong couldn’t fill, where that immortal light couldn’t shine. He knew his limitations…
“And where were you throughout that whole fight, Macaque?” Peng sneered, chalice gestured in their direction so the rest would follow and stare.
… And so did his sworn brothers, though now in the same way.
“I was doing my job, of course,” Macaque ground out, forcing himself to sit flush against the chairs obscenely tall back so he doesn’t lean forward and be tempted to vault over the table to strangle that damn chicken’s neck. They’d deserve it, of course, but Macaque knew he could get in trouble for it.
“Really? I hadn’t known you’d been given the duty of hide-and-seek, while we were out there playing chase with a bunch of beasts!” Peng slammed their cup on the table for emphasis, though their tone was far too mocking to have Macaque think they were actually angry. They’d played this song and dance plenty of times before, so there was no reason to think anything would come of it.
“While I don’t assume you were just waiting on the side lines,” Yellow Tusk speaks up, sounding placating despite his next words, “I do wonder where you were in the midst of all the chaos.”
Oh gods, not this again. He sees Peng puff their chest at this, like they’ve already won the argument. Azure is just watching, focused on his drink but clearly paying attention, seeing where this’ll go. Demon Bull King just works on his fourth- fifth drink? And Wukong, in a spur of drunken decisions, decided to go pick more fruit to feast on and not here to back Macaque up. Figures.
“I said,” stresses Macaque, forcing himself to sit back straight, forced neutrality, “I was doing my job. Specifically, the one I’ve been doing every time, with every battle, which every time we’ve won.”
Peng snorts into their drink, and Macaque silently wishes they’d choke on it. “No thanks to you.”
“Yes, thanks to me,” Macaque nearly squawks, but doesn’t, because he’s better than that. “How many more enemies do you think were hiding in the shadows which I took out before they could show themselves? How many scouts were there that had nearly invaded our territory before I took them out? How many times have I stayed back so anyone that was running for help or away could be taken out?” None of them are actual questions, just statements, but some of them seem to actually be considering what he’s said (that would be a first) before Peng speaks back up.
“Sure, you claim you’re such a big help to the group, but are you really all that important if we forget you’re there most of the time?” Macaque tights his grip on his pantleg, hidden under the table. “I mean, really, you keep to your little shadows so often, it’s hard to know if you’re even there or just another shade following behind.”
At this, Macaque growls, because he is in fact not better than that, leaning to set both of his forearms on the table. “Least I’m not high in the skies shotting stray shots like an amateur.”
Now Peng leans forward, smile jagged and mean on their sharp beak. “Wanna say that again, simian.”
“Alright, that’s enough, both of you,” Azure interrupts, tone final. He looks at the both of them with a scolding expression, which Macaque appreciates for all of two seconds until it flicks in his direction which, really? He didn’t even start this stupid argument. Still, he takes the loss and leans back, slouching slightly. He wishes Wukong was here, so he’d have someone on his side. How long did it take to get some more fruits?
“Now, I understand our last fight was… less than favorable, but Macaque is right; we won, and we’ll keep winning as long as we work together.” Those last words were stressed to both him and Peng, which Macaque could accept well enough. He worked fine enough with all of them, but Peng was the hardest to deal with, with Demon Bull King just above him.
“With that said, I believe our teamwork could use some, well work. It’s imperative he perfect our form and methods, lest we get into something less favorable than some injuries.” And yeah, Macaque can understand. While no one was injured too severely, most were left with enough scrapes and bruises to be wary, especially having ridden the high of success for a time. Macaque was always wary, constantly paranoid for himself and others, but he could admit that he’d gotten too comfortable for his tastes as of late.
“I agree, Azure,” Yellow Tusk spoke, sighing in relief at avoiding the brewing fight at their table. “Perhaps we should discuss our own strengths and weaknesses, what we would want to alter in our strategies, maybe even possible teams.”
Well, that was reasonable enough. Macaque had his own opinions on this, but he chose to let the others speak up first, get a sense of what everyone thought of themselves and the others before inputting his own thoughts.
Yellow Tusk described himself quite plainly as support with a helpful strength, which was true, but Macaque figured he’d bring up his skill with potions and healing too. He’d become the main reason most of their injuries were healed so fast after all, but he guesses the focus was on active battle and not pre or post battle skills, so he let it slide.
Azure described himself as a frontal force, skilled with primarily swords and spears. Demon Bull King had piped up that he was a noble leader to boot, one who could command armies with voice alone, which everyone nodded along too. Macaque thought to commend him on his strategy too, something everyone rarely placed with the image of the azure lion, as proud and virtuous as he came off. But Macaque knew just how devious and cunning the cat could be, having created strategies that even Macaque had shivered at, but these were usually ones he’d asked Macaque to preform alone and in secret, while Macaque could respect. So, with that in mind, he kept quiet on it.
Peng described themself as the fast as lightning and sharp as a blade, both of mind and body. They were skilled from afar as they were up close, able to slip between the two ranges faster than most could process. Macaque wanted to deny this on principle, but could admit begrudgingly that it wasn’t untrue. Peng was crafty enough to trip Macaque up now and again, and their speed was nothing to be laughed at, though Macaque may also have them beat there, if only because as fast as lightning was, darkness was always there before it would reach it. So, he stayed quiet, because he wanted to end this dinner without another fight between them.
DBK described himself as ‘a dominant strength not unlike a mountain’ which was fine enough, but then he kept his force on strength and little else. Which was true enough, but as much as it pained Macaque to admit it, the demon was a bit more complicated than that. While physical strength was his obvious specialty, there was something to be said about his influence. Where Azure could inspire courage and comradery in his army, Demon Bull King could inspire fear and servitude in his. He’d seen it first hand, and while he’d never let himself be cowed by any other king but his own, he can understand the shivers and sweats that take over others beneath his feral gaze. But he says nothing, because the guy needs an ego boost the least right now.
Then, because Wukong isn’t here to discuss himself, the others decide to discuss their sworn brothers’ strengths for him. And boy, were there plenty of them.
“A fine leader in his own right,” Azure spoke first, ever one to sing Wukong’s praises.
“Obviously the strongest among us, more so in raw power,” Yellow Tusk said, nodding sagely.
“Quite crafty too, though I can hardly understand half the crazy ideas he comes with,” Peng jokes, though still more of a compliment than they’d ever offer Macaque, so that’s that.
“A worthy sworn brother to all here!” DBK’s voice boomed, muzzle flushed with drunkenness, raising his chalice in a sloppy toast, which the others joined in on, some more composed than others. Even Macaque raised his, just enough to be involved, before sipping his drink. He was still on his first cup and had no plans for a second.
When Macaque peered past his drink, he was choked to find all eyes on him. Oh, apparently it was his turn to say something. Okay, fine.
Swallowing his mouthful, he considers his words tactfully. “He’s obviously superior in raw power, both physical and magic, and he’s gotten better at spell casting. His layers of immortality give him an advantage on frontal fights, and make him vital for defense, though his Nimbus Cloud and clones allow good range. Overall, he’s got his bases covered, though he could improve if he-”
A loud snort interrupts him, and Macaque finds Peng looking at him, one brow raised mockingly. “What’s so funny?” Macaque asks, hackles raised. He doesn’t think he said anything to deserve it, but he never knows what goes on in the others heads, especially when intoxicated.
“Just funny, as I thought I was about to hear you speak something not-so-perfect of your love,” Peng gives a joking leer, sipping their drink with a grin. “Perish the thought.”
“It’s an observation,” Macaque defends, dismissing Peng’s comment on Wukong being his ‘love’ as it’s none of that blasted chicken’s business. “I observe, I assess, and I act. It’s what I do.”
“Hm, you surely do those first two,” Peng says, tone deceptively light. “I see you follow that monkey around like the good, loyal little shadow you are. So wanting and desperate, but you forget your place.”
Macaque stands at this, drink abandoned to the floor, outright snarling. “I’ll put you in your place-”
This is of course when Wukong finally returns, waddling into the open room with arms full of fruits, some of the monkeys trailing him with whatever he dropped. Macaque instantly softens at the sight, from coiled to strike to lax with warmth, he finds himself dropping to his seat, eyes hooked onto the other monkey. He peeks back at Peng, who looks ever-so smug, and despite silently mouthing with a beak, Macaque can read it as them saying ‘whipped’.
Macaque, of course, flips them off, ducking his hand away when Wukong drops his bounty into the table, fruits rolling about. It’s clear Wukong’s still intoxicated, cheeks flushed and eyes dazed, but his tolerance should have him back to normal soon. He looks over his sworn brothers with a sloppy grin, not catching onto the fizzling mood at all.
“So, Imma back, wh’a up?” Oh yeah, he’s still drunk. Macaque wonders if he can convince Wukong he’s too drunk and should take a nap, so he can join and avoid the rest of the brotherhood for a while longer. He knows he’d like a nap, sober or not.
“Just some talk of battle and what we could improve, little more,” Azure assures him, obviously wanting to move on to something lighter, which is likely with Wukong around.
Perking up at the topic, Wukong stumbles into the seat next to Macaque, who he gives a playful ruffle of his head before settling down. “Cool, so like, battle plans? ‘Cause I was thinkin’ somethin’ with catapults, y’know? Maybe get like, supah big watermelons. Or fire balls. Oh! Watermelons on fire!”
For some reason, DBK seemed pleased with this direction, and brought up all the things that would be perfect to catapult at their enemies. One of which was to catapult out enemies at out enemies, which Wukong thought was ‘the actual best idea ever’.
Curling into his seat with his legs up, Macaque decided to settle in, knowing Wukong could go at this for hours, sipping his drink idly. At some point his tail brushed the others, and naturally hooked together at the ends. Maybe this night wouldn’t be such a shit show after all.
“Wukong, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Peng spoke up suddenly, side-eyeing Macaque with a grin.
Or not.
“Wassup?” Wukong asked, muffled by his mouthful of peach he bit into a second before. Peng scrunched at the manners, but otherwise ignored it in favor of asking his question.
“Well, we had been discussing our own strengths earlier, but I recall now that our dear Macaque hadn’t a thing to say of himself. I wondered what you had to say of your infamous shadow.”
While tense at the direction of the conversation, Macaque can admit he’s curious of Wukongs response, especially with the alcohol loosening his lips. He wasn’t a guarded person when it came to his emotions. Quite the opposite in fact, at least when it came to the more volatile ones, but getting an honest and intimate one out of him was like pulling teeth.
Wukong blinks, seeming to consider the words, before his smile grows soft yet mischievous. “Well, there’s lots to say ‘bout my best bud,” Macaque is already melting at the words, tail swishing to hook with Wukongs again. “Like, he’s the best at hide-and-seek.” Macaque tail freezes before it can find the others, withdrawing with every word. “He’s real sneaky, like a snake in the grass. Hissy like one too. He makes pretty fun stories, with his shadows an’ stuff. Oh! The monkeys love him, like, like a mom kinda love, always grooming and fussing on the babies. So cute.”
By the end Peng is chuckling, a mean edge to it. Even the others have a mirth to them now, like this is all some joke. Macaque wonders if it really is a joke and he’s just not in on it. Maybe he’s the joke.
“Heya, bud,” Macaque speaks, forced gentleness in his words but enough to get Wukongs attention. When the other monkey looks at his, the picture of innocence, he clarifies, “Think they meant strength in battle, not- that other stuff.”
Blinking to process that, Wukong perks up. “Oh yeah, duh, that’s makes sense.” Macaque breathes a sigh, then promptly chokes on it as Wukong jumps onto his lap like he’s his new seat. “You’re my shadow, so you do the rest.”
Macaque… isn’t sure what to make of that, and by the others confused expressions, neither do they.
“Um, Wukong,” Azure speaks, too curious for his own good. “Could elaborate on that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Wukong says, like it is just that obvious, but explains himself anyway. “It’s like the sun and the moon stuff you always go on about,” this he directs at Macaque, then back at everyone. “I’m like the sun all bright and lots of power, and you’re my moon, all cold and shadowy. Whatever I can’t do, you do for me. It’s what makes us perfect together!” He hugs Macaque whom he stays seated on, and Macaque reels with the flurry of mixed feelings he’s getting from this exchange.
Ever the bird of prey, Peng strikes. “But Wukong, can’t you do everything already? Are you claiming to be weak at something?”
“Nuh-uh, not me! I’m the best at everything.”
“Then wouldn’t that mean that Macaque, who you say does what you can’t, doesn’t do anything? Worth less than that, even.” It’s said like a casual observation, but he gives Macaque this look like he’s beat him at something, and in a way, he has, when Wukong just shrugs at his comment instead of actually answering, barely paying attention to anything but playing with Macaques hair.
Macaque, on the other hand, is paying too much attention to everything, so much so his ears are starting to ring. This is… this is too much.
Dipping into his own shadow, he appears beside the seat he was just in, leaving Wukong in his spot with a surprised expression, like he forgot Macaque could do that. Maybe he did. “It’s late, I’m tired, I’m leaving,” Macaque grits out, turning away. It’s all true too. It’s well past dark, he’s emotionally tired, and he is leaving, so help him Buddha.
But Wukong, ever one to defy the gods, grabs his hand, his loosen control on his strength having the grip make him nearly wince. “Ah bud, what’s wrong? I just brought all this food. Did you want something else?”
“What I want,” Macaque hisses, low enough to be heard to hopefully just Wukong, despite how not-private this moment is for them, “is for you to defend me when someone calls me worthless.”
Wukong still, something in his sobering, but even sober Wukong’s never been the best at wording things well. “That’s not true, not when we’re together.” Then he drags Macaque closer, tracing the others palm lines lightly. “Isn’t that enough?”
And that… that should be, it should. And yet…
“Goodnight, Wukong,” Macaque speaks softly, sinking into his shadow despite the others grip.
He finds himself appearing with little thought to the tree by the shore, their tree. It’s late in the night, so the stars are especially bright against the blackness of the sky, the waters glittering with softly churning waves. It’s a beautiful night, truly, but Macaque can’t find it in himself to enjoy it.
He knows what he is, what he brings to the table. He knows they appreciate him in their owns ways, when the chips are down and the tables need to be turned, but it never feels good to be told how what he has to give isn’t as good as what they have. Isn’t really wanted. Isn’t needed.
But Wukong needs him, he’s said as much. He needs him like the sun needs the moon, but it’s it only the moon that’s in need, while the sun stays just as bright and beautiful without that other. Maybe Macaque is looking too much into those damned metaphors. Maybe he’s had too much to drink and his ears and head are paying for it. Maybe he’s just tired.
He's just... tired.
Time catches up, and so does Wukong, who tries to be subtle in his approach in the best way Wukong can. Which is not at all. He stumbles on the slope, flailing on a branch and trying to make it all seem purposively, or maybe to get a laugh from Macaque with his antics. Macaque doesn’t laugh.
“Heya, bud,” Wukong starts, forced casual and clearly wrong footed. Macaque almost feels bad for ruining the night for him, but not quite. “I was hoping you’d be here. You’re usually hard to find.”
Settling down, hesitant as if Macaque will launch him away but ultimately sitting close, Wukong rustles at his robes to pull out a peach, a little bruised but no less meaningful in its gesture. It’s an apology, a reassurance, a question. “Are we okay?” it asks, and Macaque isn’t sure what to say.
No, that’s a lie. He knows exactly what he’ll say.
He takes the peach gently, sighing in resignment as he bites into the flesh. “It’s fine,” he says without saying anything, and Wukong smiles, leaning into Macaque’s space entirely.
“I’m sorry,” Wukong actually apologizes, and isn’t that something? The way two simple words can make Macaque feel so soft and sour at once, like all his feelings are mush in the face of what Wukong feels for him. Pathetic, really. “I’m not super sure what I said to make you like that, but I’m sorry. I’m sure they were teasing up a storm, but I know you’re more serious than that. I’m sure they didn’t mean whatever that was.”
Macaque considers just taking it, letting the sound of the shore and Wukongs breathing lull him to sleep, but if he sleeps now this’ll feel like a dream, and he can’t just let this be one.
“Do you really think I’m worthless,” Macaques asks softly, bitter in his words, “when I’m not with you?”
“What? No!” Wukong gets heated all of a sudden, eyes flashing to defend himself, in defense of Macaque. “I think you’re great! You’re so cool and aloof and like, you’re all edgy and stuff, but I know you’re really sweet and nice too.”
“But am I worth anything,” Macaque stresses, expression cooling Wukongs own. “I know what I’m worth, with or without you and the others, but it’s hard to remember myself when you’re around. It’s hard to feel like I’m enough when you’re more than that. I just- I feel so…” Worthless. Inadequate. So, so stupid.
“No- that’s not. I didn’t mean- argh!” Wukong growls to himself, scratching aggressively at his head, like he’s trying to tear out the words he’s looking for. “Why is it so hard to talk to you! You make me feel so stupid and fuzzy, then my brain says dumb stuff and you get med, then I get mad and say more dumb stuff!” He’s ranting now, more to himself than anything, but Macaque is rapt with attention. “Why can’t I just say something cool, like ‘you’re worth so much to me, so shouldn’t that be enough’? Or like, ‘hey, you shouldn’t feel that way ‘bout yourself, cause it’s wrong, cause I say so’. Or how you should kiss me instead of getting upset, because one of those things is way better than the other! Gods! I’m so bad at-”
Macaque kisses him, because really, all he had to do was ask.
It’s barely anything, just a second’s worth of a press on lips to cheek. It’s not even the first, and he hopes it won’t be the last, but it’s enough to freeze Wukong in his little tirade. He slowly turns to Macaque, eyes swirling with confusion and nerves and something else that makes Macaque shudder, but the other just speaks cooly. “Should’a started with that, dumbass.”
Sensing the shift in tone, Wukong laughs, pushing Macaque away playfully, only to pull him back in for a hug, squeezing and warm. Macaque laughs too, light and subdued, but it serves to make that sour feeling in his gut lessen. Or maybe it transfers to Wukong, who hiccups only to clutch his middle, faces twisting. Macaque sighs, knowing something like this would happen. Wukong’s just lucky his mood has lightened, lest he be shot out into the salty waters to be shocked back to wakefulness.
Instead, Macaque scoops up the other who, while still taller and a literal stone of weight, is carried with ease in Macaque’s sure hold. Wukong sighs wistfully, taking his role as drunk idiot seriously as he dazedly swirls his fingers in the exposed fur poking from Macaques robes, giggling stupidly. Macaque knows he could just portal them directly to his room, but he knows how nauseous Wukong gets and he doesn’t wanna risk his own clothes. And maybe, he wants the time to just be here like this, to be needed so blatantly and desired so obviously. It’s nothing really, nothing compared to what he’d give to Wukong if the other asked, but it’s what he has to give now.
He just hopes Wukong can appreciate it, what he does for him.