Chapter Text
"Where'd he gooo?"
"Oh, I'm sure we'll find him eventually!"
"Eventually? That's too long!"
'Impatient bastard,' Liu'er sniffles, barely swallowing down a slimy glob of spit.
Unfortunately, it catches their attention.
"Liu'er?" a lion's gentle voice rang out, accompanied by the gentle crunch of leaves beneath footsteps. "Are you alright?"
The dark-furred monkey in question sniffled in response, curling in further on himself. He was shoved against the bark of a tree, barely managing to stay underneath the shadow of a large leaf overhead.
"Liu'errrr!" another voice rang out, this one's tone more sing-song in comparison to the other's. It didn't take much brain power for him to clock it as Wukong's.
At first, he did not grant them with a response, simply resorting to sniffling harder and pressing himself closer to the bark. However, upon noticing that the two were not going to move unless he said something, he let out a sigh that bordered on a cough.
"What," he finally responded, trying to sound stern despite the quiver in his voice, "do you guys want."
He raises a shaky hand, huffing as he removes the dip of the leaf from his vision. Almost immediately, bright light takes the opportunity to assault his vision. He hisses, the figures of his two companions—Azure Lion and Sun Wukong—slowly piecing themselves together in the sunlight.
"W-Well," Azure stumbles, not sure how to approach the agitated monkey. "We were—"
"—In the middle of a meeting," Wukong cuts in, already pouting. "We turn around for one second and you're gone! What happened—sun too much for you?"
Liu'er rolls his eyes, not bothering to hide his glare at the other. "M' not hot."
The two standing brothers share a look, THE look—the one where they know someone is lying. Liu'er tries his best to mask his uneven breath as they evaluate him.
"Look, Liu'er," Azure tries again, dropping down on one knee before the other. Liu'er greedily drinks up the large shadow he makes above him. "We're…worried. Yellow Tusk says he'd like to checkup on you, and I too would like to at least take a look at your temperature—"
"Don't need it," he shuts it down instantly. Azure frowns.
"But Liu'er, you really should consider—"
"I said I don't need it—"
"Well I think you do!"
Wukong, already fed up with his attitude, proceeds to rip the leaf above him from its stem, allowing the light to spill over the shadow demon. Before he can control himself, he lets out a disproving whine and instead tries to curl into Azure's shadow.
Wukong pauses, gazing at the torn leaf in his hand and back towards Liu'er.
"…Huh."
He glides it over his form, watching as his body relaxes momentarily before immediately puffing up the moment he pulls back.
"…Hm."
Azure tests his reaction as well—rising off the ground slightly and causing his shadow to shrink. Unfortunately, Liu'er lets out an embarrassing growl of discomfort that forces him back down to his knees.
He feels his fur begin to heat up in a way that has nothing to do with sickness.
Both Wukong and Azure share a look.
Liu'er swallows dryly.
"I…" he starts, but a snicker from Wukong quickly snaps his mouth shut.
"What, this one of your weird shadow demon tendencies?" Wukong grins, tilting his head in mock confusion.
"Wukong…" Azure gently chastises, clearly reaching his limit. "Though, that seems to be the case, Liu'er."
"Don't know what you're talking 'bout," he stubbornly sucks back a glob of snot. "I'm fine."
Wukong's face twists in disgust at the display. "Eewww! Seriously, you're disgusting!"
Liu'er glares up at him, still desperately trying to stay in Azure's shadow. "Oh, really? When's the last time you—" he coughs, biting down on his sleeve to muffle it, "—the last time you washed your fur?"
The ginger squawks. "Oh!? You little—" he makes a move to gently grab (claw) at Liu'er, but is stopped by their lion companion grabbing him by the scruff of his collar.
"Please, stop fighting!" Azure pleads, struggling to both keep a steady shadow for Liu'er and prevent Wukong from causing a battle. "This can be easily resolved!"
"Then tell him to shut up!" They both say in unison.
Azure sighs, his grip tightening on Wukong's collar. "Do you want me to call DBK, or dare I say—Peng, to help resolve this issue?"
Both monkeys pale. "No!"
"You're really cold…"
"Shut up."
"Does the bark of this tree not hurt your back? Can we move to ours by the shore—"
"I said shut up."
By the time Wukong stops attempting to bite his head off, night has already fallen over Flower Fruit Mountain. Little monkeys ran about the island, giving the two simians one last glance before scurrying off to some corner to finally rest.
Azure had left the moment Wukong confirmed that "No, I will not attack Liu'er under any cir-come-stans," finally leaving the two monkeys alone to reassure their brothers he was okay.
Or, as far as "okay" could describe.
"Get off of me," he grumbles, turning his head away to prevent himself from sneezing on the monkey laid against him. "You're heavy."
"Nope," Wukong deadpans, forcing his fluffy tuft of hair into his collarbone. His tail was wrapped tight around Liu'er's middle, keeping them knit together.
"I'm going to get you sick." Wukong grins.
"So you are sick."
Liu'er flinches, but doesn't say anything else after that, instead focusing on tightening his tail around his ankle. Wukong's eyes widen in surprise, clearly expecting the instant witty retort, but instead finds himself frowning when he tries to mask another cough.
"It's the shadows, isn't it?"
…
"…Maybe," he mumbles, not bothering to hide how weak his voice sounds anymore.
Wukong sighs. "You're not very subtle, y'know." He reaches up to brush fur out of his face. "I'm sure Azure picked up on it too." he pauses, a small chuckle making its way through. "No doubt he told Yellow Tusk already."
Liu'er groans, sluggishly dragging his hands down his face. "I know. I've got an earful tomorrow."
The ginger monkey doesn't respond, but he turns to face the other. The frown tells him everything he needs to know.
"…Sorry for not saying it earlier," he tries his best to avoid his gaze. "It's just…embarrassing."
Wukong scoffs. "Really? Y'think I'd get mad over you of all people getting sick? That sound trivial to you?"
…True, but ouch.
"I know," he sighs. "Not my best thought."
Wukong just rolls his eyes. "Don't do that again."
Liu'er huffs, turning to raise a brow at him. "Since when did you care?"
That gets him a visceral reaction from the ginger. Wukong's eyes practically bulge out of his head the moment the words leave his mouth, his tail now entering a vice-like grip around Liu'er's middle that had him sucking in a breath.
"Excuse me!?" Wukong fully turns to face him now. "D'you think I just do this with anyone?"
He blinks. "Yes?"
A bright red flush overtakes the Monkey King's face, causing the gears to turn in Liu'er's head as he wonders what was so taboo about his wording.
It doesn't take long for something to click.
"W-Wait! I didn't mean—"
"You think I'm some kind of flower-heart devil!?"
"No!" Liu'er insists, a flush spilling across his own features. "I just thought you were affectionate with everyone!"
…
Something else clicks.
"Wait, when did I ever say you flirt with anyone—"
To his complete and utter despair, genuine hurt crosses over Wukong's features. "You don't think you're special to me?"
He freezes.
This was steering out of control.
Liu'er frowns. "I know I'm special to you! Or well, I'd hope so—"
The glare Wukong gives him makes him put a pin on that thought.
"—but it's just you're so…kind with all your other monkeys and stuff that I thought—" the words cut off, and Liu'er barely had enough time to take a breath before they're abruptly replaced by a series of coughs that has him clutching at his chest.
Wukong flinches at the force of them, hurt giving way to concern when his body shudders violently. His tail loosens its grip nigh-instantly, giving the shadow demon room to move, but Liu'er uses this to avoid his gaze as best as he can.
"S-Sorry," he stumbles, throat dry as more coughs force their way out. "I-I-"
"Shut up."
"What—"
"I said shut up!"
His eyes widen.
Wukong's arms wind around his middle, smoothly replacing his tail. To Liu'er's horror, his body accepts this change without reaction, simply relaxing into the hold as if it were a heavy blanket. His voice works to warn Wukong that he'll definitely get sick with this amount of closeness—but another quiet "Shut up" has him doing just as the King says.
"Idiot. You're an idiot." he mutters, tightening his grip. "Can't believe I put up with you."
Liu'er lets out a humorless chuckle. "I should be saying that—"
"I told you to shut up."
Liu'er rolls his eyes but obeys the command anyway. They sit in silence for a moment, the sound occasionally interrupted by the chirp of a nearby monkey or the flutter of leaves. Finally, he allows himself to get more comfortable, putting his full body weight against the ginger monkey. Wukong sighs in content at that, maneuvering his body so that Liu'er could lay his head against his chest.
It doesn't take long for Liu'er's eyes to feel heavy after that.
"…Wukong?" he tries.
"Hm."
"I think we should go to our tree. This one does hurt my back."
"I told you—fine, whatever. Are you gonna do your shadow teleport thingy?"
Liu'er raises a brow at the name. "No, I'm sick. I'M pretty sure I'll accidentally take us to the moon or something."
"So you want us to walk? Booooring!"
"Oh, I can't walk either. My legs hurt."
Wukong slowly turns to face him. "So you want me to carry you?"
He grins. Bingo. "It'd make it easier for me. You know, since you care so much."
…
"You're annoying."
"Thanks."
And so, Liu'er allowed himself to be hauled upon Wukong's back, happily wrapping his arms around the other's neck while his legs were held up by strong arms. Under any other circumstance he would've cursed Wukong to hell and back for daring to lift him up—but he figures Wukong earned this opportunity.
Plus, his legs did hurt.
"Wukong."
"What?"
"G'night."
"You can't seriously be going to sleep—"
"M' tired."
Wukong lets out a rugged sigh, though it sounds more fond than the previous ones. "Fine. G'night, Liu'er."
He pauses.
"Love you."
…
Liu'er pretends he didn't hear.
Sometimes Macaque wishes the coldness of the Diyu would claim him again.
"Mac! Why wont'cha come in the water with us?"
"I'm allergic," he says, crouching beneath the shadow of a palm tree.
It's been a couple of months, give or take, since things had settled down enough for MK and his colorful friends (that, unfortunately, included him at some point) to have a rest. After the last world-ending scenario, every demon had simply decided to screw off for the time being, seemingly taking their own sort of vacation.
Not that he cared all that much, honestly—if anything, he was grateful! Megapolis had become more quiet recently due to the lack of attacks, meaning Macaque was free to roam the city properly without having to jump out the way of a certain kid running around, bashing stray demons unfortunate enough to come across his path.
"Y'scared of the sun or somethin'?"
"No."
Okay, maybe he wasn't that grateful. Because of this sudden peace, MK had decided that everyone, including Macaque, was due for a well-deserved rest. He wasn't wrong, technically—they had been through enough battles to write another Monkey King-esque novel. However—
"Come with us to the beach, Maccy!"
Macaque hates the beach.
"Oh, and you have to come since MK's expecting you! Wouldn't want to disappoint, right?"
He hates the fact that convinced him more. Screw dragon-horse girl and her ways of coercion.
So unfortunately, he found himself stranded on the outskirts of Megapolis, crouching low under a too-short palm tree whose shadow barely fit over his form, watching three groups of idiots scramble along the shore.
The first group was MK, Mei, and Red Son; the trio stood skipped along the shallow edge of the ocean, lightly splashing each other with loud giggles that made Macaque's ears twitch with barely concealed irritation. At some point, Mei acquired a water gun, landing devastating blows that had both boys ducking for cover.
He declined all invitations to join their silly game. He wasn't quite ready to conquer the nauseating smell of salt-water yet, plus, Mei seemed to actually have good aim with that gun.
The second group was Pigsy and Tang; the duo had stole a secluded spot near the edge of beach, both sprawled beneath a canopy of leaves that left them comfortably shaded. Lucky bastards, Macaque thinks, swallowing down a wave a nausea.
They were engaged in deep conversation, the pig demon watching Tang ramble on and on about something Macaque didn't care to label. Though, he did make sure to take note of the way his eyes seemed to soften with adoration. He could use that later.
(Blackmail is blackmail, after all.)
The last group was Sandy and—
Oh.
Wukong was there too.
…It wasn't like Macaque hadn't noticed him—he'd picked up on the King's presence the moment he set foot on the sand, ignoring his suspicious gaze and scurrying to the nearest tree. Though, he'd thrown the thought of Wukong so far back in his mind he forgot he was still there after the first thirty minutes.
Wukong and Sandy sat crouched in a mountain of sand, both engaged in a fierce sand castle competition. From the looks of it, the water demon was winning by quite the gap, as Wukong could barely get a solid foundation without the tower collapsing on itself.
Macaque couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face, watching how the King's brows furrowed in concentration, golden eyes drifting over lumps of sand with frustration and confusion alike.
(He knows, or rather, knew that look—)
"Y'anno, he's gonna notice your gawkin' soon enough."
Macaque yelps, briefly slipping from under his tree's protection before anchoring himself back. He shoots a glare up at his perpetrator, fully prepared to give them an earful, but his gaze morphs into an annoyed glance upon noticing it was only Pigsy, holding an empty plastic plate.
"…It's you," he says slowly, a frown replacing the thin line of his lip. "What do you want?"
"Nothin' much from you," Pigsy scoffs, rolling his eyes. He holds the plate out to Macaque without sparing him a look. "Take this."
He raises a brow. "Why?"
"I'm going to grill. Save your plate."
Macaque frowns. "I'm not hungry—"
"Didn't ask if you were, all I said was to take th'a plate."
His nose scrunches in confusion but he takes the plate anyway, folding his legs so he can balance the item atop them. He stares down at it with furrowed brows, still trying to decipher the meaning behind the demon's actions. Pigsy sighs at this.
"M' not trying anythin'. It's just that some people," he glances at the trio ahead and Tang from the corner of his vision, "have a bigger stomach to feed."
Macaque blinks. "I…see?"
Pigsy snorts, leaning against the tree he sits under. "You'd be gagged by how much ribs that girl can eat," he gestures towards Mei. "She loves 'em."
Macaque hums, allowing himself a small nod. "I'm not surprised. Those kids are energetic, obviously they'd need more food than most."
That causes Pigsy to let out a genuine chuckle, now raising a brow towards his direction. "Huh, surprised you of all people'd know that."
He shrugs. "Guess I pay attention."
Pigsy doesn't respond for a while, but his gaze lingers on the shadow demon, dragging over his form slowly.
His eyes glide across his face, briefly meeting Macaque's own pair before they snap away, instead going back to look at the kids playing in the ocean.
"Ocean's pretty today, huh?"
Macaque's gaze hardens. Suddenly, he's swallowing down a heavy glob of something that wasn't spit. "I guess."
(The churning in his stomach suggests otherwise.)
"Thought you'd appreciate it more."
Macaque's tail flicks in confusion. "Why?"
"I dunno, you seem like someone who'd like to appreciate pretty views."
He thinks that over, his shoulders slumping slightly. Pigsy was right, Macaque was always one for scenery; he liked to linger on the small details of environments that made them…themselves. It was a habit he'd picked up long before he met this group, and instead formed when he was still with—
…
His gaze drifts to Wukong.
The Monkey King's face twists with irritation, still struggling to make a sand castle that rivaled the water demon's. Sand clings to his fur like parasites from his frequent trips to the shore and back, carrying bundles of the wet grains that slipped through his palms before he sat back down.
What an idiot. The bucket was right there.
"You're not very subtle, you know."
Macaque's stomach practically leaps into his throat. "What?"
"You're not subtle," Pigsy repeats, his eyes still on the shore. "Keep starin' at Monkey King like he owes you somethin'."
Macaque frowns, his grip tightening on the plate. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't."
His frown deepens. "What, so you came here to analyze me or something? Because I'll say, you're doing a pretty bad job—"
"Nah, y'look like you're about to keel over—or pass out. Which one is it?"
He pauses.
"Excuse me?"
"Look, Macaque," Pigsy says, his voice suddenly turning stern. "I know a sick person when I see 'em, and you look exactly like that and worse."
The plate bends. "You're seeing things wrong. Demons don't get sick—"
"I'm a demon," Pigsy interrupts, "and even I get my sick days."
Macaque rolls his eyes. "Okay, but you'd know I'm not exactly 'average' like you lot."
That causes the pig's eyes to narrow in frustration. "You—fine. Point is, demons get sick, and lookin' at you right now, you clearly are."
Macaque chuckles mockingly, tossing the now inwardly bent plate to the side. "Since when did you pay attention to what I look like?"
Pigsy growls. "Don't have to, it's real easy to notice."
Macaque smirks. Gotcha.
"Oh? Easy enough that only you noticed it?"
His eyebrow twitches. "I'm not! M' just the only person who actually approached you—"
"Yeah, because your sudden infatuation with how I look on the beach is that important."
Macaque could've sworn his eyes flashed red, fully prepared to respond to the jab with an insult when suddenly they're interrupted by yelling.
"Pigsyyyy!" Tang's voice rings out, nearly swallowed by the crashing waves nearby. "Hurry up and start grilling! My stomach's not gonna fill itself!"
The pig demon glares at the sound of the voice, letting out a deep, ragged breath but following anyway, sparing Macaque one last glance in his direction (and the bent plate) before huffing and walking off. Macaque lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, absentmindedly raising a hand to cradle his middle.
He huffs. Pigsy was wrong, completely and utterly so. Macaque wasn't sick—far from it! Nausea is a small, fickle thing for a demon like him. He'd get over it like he always did.
Macaque sighs, lightly knocking his head against the palm tree.
One more hour, he told himself. He could endure that much.