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Of the many, many thoughts and impressions Peng had of Macaque, the main one was that the rat was a coward. Not because he was the youngest, or because he was clearly not as attractive as the rest of the group, no.
It was because he held back.
All that power… Peng would never admit it, but the idiot had potential, and he did nothing with it. It was like he was ASKING to be treated like a child. They had even tried to approach the monkey, but every time Peng tried to reach him, everything suddenly became about Sun Wukong. Don’t get them wrong—Peng liked the King, but every time they saw Macaque cling to him like a dog on a leash, their feathers puffed in indignation.
Like they said, Macaque was asking to be treated the way he was.
Even now, Peng watched as Macaque drank from his cup of wine, smaller but strong hands holding the object as the monkey watched the others talk amongst themselves… Why did his silence make them so angry?
The eagle demon rolled their eyes, bringing their own cup to their beak and taking a sip, feet resting on the table as they leaned back in the chair.
At some point, Wukong had managed to throw up on the entire table—very disgusting—since he always tried to keep up with the others despite his smaller frame.
Azure held Wukong by the back of his shirt, clearly not wanting to make contact with whatever he had thrown up, and left with the others to calm the King down. Thankfully, Peng and Macaque had been sitting far enough from the mess at the end of the table.
But now it was silent.
Peng sighed, looking around the forest before glancing down at their cup of wine with a bored expression. Their vision was dizzy, body relaxed from the alcohol in their system.
They risked glancing beside them. Macaque didn’t seem much better than Wukong—shifting constantly, covering his ears with his hair nervously—especially after the King had managed to convince him to drink an entire bottle of wine.
Peng snickered. “Someone’s not feeling so good.” They eyed him up and down. “Shouldn’t have drunk so much, y’know. Unlike your King, you clearly can’t handle it, dear.”
The black-furred demon blinked, brow furrowing. “How come? He’s the one who had to be dragged away… He made that mess, not me.”
“True, but he drank a lot more than you… and besides, we’re used to his antics.” They leaned forward slightly. “Imagine if you did it? Oh—you’d be the new joke of the bunch—”
Macaque frowned a little.
“—like you always are. The weaker one, the youngest, and the biggest coward too.”
Macaque looked away. “You’re just trying to mess with me, again” His tail flicked in irritation. “You always… do this. Compare me with Wukong for no reason, make me think about stuff that’s not real just to make me feel bad about myself—”
“Is it working?”
Macaque paused, lips parting in surprise while Peng eyed him with a curious, smug expression.
“Tsk.” The monkey stood up, but when he was about to leave, Peng grabbed him by the tail and shoved him back into the chair with a low growl. Macaque fell back with a grunt, too drunk to properly stop them. “Keep that ass on the chair, we’re speaking!”
The shadow narrowed his eyes, tail flicking away from Peng’s sharp talons.
“You always do that,” Peng whispered, words slightly slurred. “Leave after I finally get your attention, like giving it to me isn’t worth it in the first place.”
Macaque raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Forget that.” They waved a hand dismissively. “I meant you always leave, like having a conversation hurts you or something—” Macaque watched as Peng poured more wine into both their cups without him even asking. “Doesn’t matter how many times you do it, it makes me mad every single time.” They offered him a cup.
The monkey looked down at the purple liquid before taking it. “Maybe you should stop paying attention then,” he muttered. Again, he touched his ears beneath his hair nervously.
“I can’t,” Peng said, maybe too quickly. “You have the power to ruffle my feathers.” They sipped their wine.
Macaque didn’t answer, too focused on looking anywhere but them.
Peng’s eyes narrowed. “Fine! Don’t talk to me, stupid rat.” They scoffed. “Can’t even speak. Imagine finishing a cup of wine.”
A beat passed, and just as Peng expected—Macaque slowly gulped the wine down. They crossed their arms beneath their head, whispering, “It’s too easy.”
When they turned their head to comment on another one of Macaque’s many flaws, they paused.
They blinked twice, but all they saw was a white-furred monkey demon, hair as white as snow—maybe even more than their own feathers. Six pointy ears appeared too, resembling flower petals. The appendages looked strange… but oddly enough, they couldn’t stop staring.
When Peng straightened up to rub their eyes, the simian flinched, and their talons stopped mid-motion immediately. Macaque’s wide purple eyes almost burned into Peng’s soul as they stared at each other, like he was trying to make them disappear just from looking.
“I—”
“Stop!” Macaque turned his face away before Peng could even speak. “I don’t wanna hear it, just—ugh! Pretend this never happened!”
For the first time, Peng genuinely didn’t know what to say. They had been staring at Macaque’s new appearance like an idiot for the past thirty seconds.
“I’m serious, Peng. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll—I don’t even know what I’m gonna do, but I’ll ruin your life!” He gripped his white hair tightly. “Don’t tell Wukong.”
Peng’s eyes widened slightly, mind racing with thoughts as Macaque kept threatening them.
'Don’t tell Wukong’?
Did he not know about his best friend’s true appearance, or was he just embarrassed? How could he not know? The two of them were always glued together… how… why...
Macaque pointed a finger at their face. “Are you listening!? I said I’ll—”
Peng grabbed his wrist, careful with their sharp talons as they moved Macaque’s accusing finger away from their face.
“Are you done?” they sighed. “Stop acting like you just revealed you have a second head.”
The white-furred monkey stared, eyes narrowed and tail swaying like an angry cat.
“Soo… does your magic stop working properly when you’re drunk? That’s interesting.” They whispered, turning Macaque’s wrist palm-up. “Is that why you rarely drink, or do you just use it as an excuse to be a lightweight?”
Macaque opened his mouth to speak, but Peng didn’t let him.
“Anyway, I don’t understand why you’d keep that a secret… it’s just a color.” They glanced at the six twitching ears. “That, however… is understandable.”
“Don’t fucking dare.” Macaque narrowed his eyes.
“I never said they were ugly, I said it’s understandable.” They rubbed their thumb over Macaque’s pulse, right over a vein. “The Six-Eared Macaque… the name makes a lot more sense now. Tell me… are you ashamed of them?”
Macaque stayed silent.
“Is that why you don’t want me to tell Wukong?” They snickered, the sound making the sensitive ears twitch.
When Macaque didn’t answer, they slowly let go of his wrist, their talons brushing his fingers a little too long before withdrawing. Peng’s gaze softened slightly, though Macaque couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just another manipulation.
The eagle smiled faintly. “I won’t tell him.”
Macaque’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Come again?”
“I won’t tell him if—” They leaned closer, breath brushing against Macaque’s nose slightly. “You promise not to tell anyone either.”
That only made Macaque more confused.
Their voice lowered, meant only for Macaque’s sharp hearing. “I want this to be… our secret. Something only the two of us know about.”
With a tilt of his head, Macaque thought silently about it, though he could only wonder why it felt like Peng was getting closer inch by inch.
“I’m not lying, if that’s what you’re wondering, dear.” Peng imitated Macaque, feathers shifting as they tilted their head. “I know you can tell.”
Silence lingered for a moment, Macaque’s wary, thoughtful gaze fixed on Peng’s magenta eyes. Their expression almost looked soft, if not for the sharpness still lingering underneath.
“Fine…” Macaque muttered, unable to find another excuse.
Peng withdrew with a smirk. “Not so hard now, was it?”
Macaque rolled his eyes, pushing his unfinished cup away. “Whatever. I’m not staying here any longer though. It still smells like vomit, and my nose is stronger than yours.”
Peng laughed, drinking the rest of their wine. “That’s a better excuse to leave, I suppose.” There was no bite in their tone this time.
When Macaque left, Peng stayed longer than they should have—sipping from someone’s unfinished cup as they stared up at nothing in particular, lost in thought.
“Hm… we share something now,” they whispered quietly. “Just us.”