Chapter Text
Macaque woke slowly, slower still when his body realized that he was in unfamiliar territory. The sheets beneath him were soft, warmed with his body and the early rays of the rising sun. Warmer still was the body in his arms, curled up on his chest, soft fur against his hands. He peeked his left eye open, internally grumbled when he noted it was smushed to the pillow, tried to figure out a way to shift without waking the body in his arms, and opened his blind eye in the process.
Except it wasn't blind.
He could see.
Macaque stared at the far wall of the room, a preserved flower crown meeting his gaze from its place on a shelf.
His gaze shifted downwards.
Wukong was in his arms.
A softer Wukong that reminded him of their youth, but never had they reached this level of intimacy then.
Wukong shifts in his hold, one golden eye peeking open before shutting again with a sleepy whine muffled into Macaque’s chest. "Mihou… let's go back to sleep… I was having a good dream."
Wukong shifts again in Macaque’s hold, this time pressing closer. The other nuzzles against Macaque’s neck, as if trying to soothe him back to sleep.
But Macaque can't sleep, his thoughts racing, tail unconsciously thumping against the sheets behind him. He races through several possibilities before settling on one that seems maybe possible given his track record and Wukong’s usual shenanigans— Macaque’s in another world.
Wukong seems to sense his stress, or perhaps he just feels the light thumps against the bed, because he lifts up his head a bit, eyes Macaque, then pushes himself up on his elbows. "What's wrong, love?"
Love. Something his Wukong would have never called him. Macaque schools his expression, calling upon centuries of acting and masking. He needs a way to fish for information, a way to not be suspicious if he messes up or doesn't remember things he's meant to… so he can gather just enough information to return to his world.
An idea, an old trope, slides into his mind, calling for his attention. He eyes Wukong’s expression— which is slowly growing more and more worried the longer Macaque stays silent— and considers.
"...who are you?"
Wukong’s expression shifts to confusion, then worry, making him furrow his brow, before he frowns. "You're joking right, Mihou?"
He doesn't let Macaque say anything, words spilling out in a rush, "is this about about the other day? I'm sorry for making a mess in the treasure room, but I thought you weren't angry about it, beside maybe some grumbling while we cleaned it, but definitely not enough to play a prank or pretend you don't even know me—"
The words only come to a stop when Wukong’s out of air, the inhale sounding too much like he's pushing down a lump in his throat.
"Mihou," Wukong whispers, "don't joke, please. I'm sorry."
Macaque lets himself frown. "I'm not joking, I really don't know who you are."
Wukong looks at Macaque like he just reached into his chest and shattered his heart in his hands.
"It's me, it's Wukong," he says, and when there's no hint of recognition, he continues, "your best friend? Your love? Mihou, we're married, we've been together for years now—"
Macaque tried not to let the shock show on his face. This version of him was married? To Wukong?!
"—our anniversary of when we met is tomorrow too, you had snuck into the peach orchard to eat the peaches, but I found you and your ears shone so bright under the sunlight—"
If nothing else, different as he was, this was definitely still Wukong, even if a very different married version. No one else could yap this much…
Macaque cut him off before he could keep going, moving to sit up now that Wukong had gotten off him entirely. "Yeah… I don't remember any of that."
And he didn't. Whatever this version of him had gone through was completely different from Macaque’s own experiences— to start with, he'd never snuck into Flower Fruit Mountain to steal peaches.
What kind of idiot tries to steal this guy's peaches? Macaque couldn't help but think. His view of his alternate self lowered… it was pretty low already seeing as his other self had married Sun Wukong of all people.
Wukong’s face crumples at Macaque’s words. He moves to sit up too, hands reaching towards him but stopping as Macaque's frown deepens.
Wukong moves his hands back to his chest, pressing his hands together again and again in an effort to ground himself— Macaque can tell by the other's breathing, the erratic heartbeat rising by the minute from distress.
…Macaque would feel bad, but this isn't even his Wukong. And he wouldn't even feel bad if it were.
Probably.
He eyes the other, Wukong’s eyes are glassy, his heartbeat quickening, his hand movements growing more erratic—
Macaque sighs and opens his arms.
Wukong all but launches into them, hands curling into Macaque’s fur as he shakes, sniffling, the tears flowing freely now. Macaque rubs slow circles into Wukong’s back— this, at least, is familiar to him from their younger days.
Wukong was quick to cry and quick to be soothed. But only ever by Macaque.
Macaque recalls one of Azure's attempts to calm a distressed Wukong— it had ended with Wukong almost tearing off Azure's arm if Macaque hadn't managed to intervene, biting Wukong’s ear in reprimand.
Macaque had always been the only one who could get him out of these states.
…a part of him wondered how his version of Wukong had coped all those centuries by himself.
Eventually the tears stop and Wukong shifts, golden eyes peering up at Macaque.
"What do you remember, Mihou?"
Macaque lets himself shrug. "Just my name."
It was the easiest answer.
Wukong frowned, gaze roaming Macaque’s face, as if trying to spot any differences, or any signs of an injury. His gaze stays on Macaque’s right eye for a long moment, but he doesn’t say anything.
He leans his head against Macaque’s chest, as if in thought. The distress has left him now, only the quiet emptiness remains, the tiredness that stays trapped inside a body's bones, dragging them down.
"You're not injured, and you were fine yesterday. We ate the same meal too…"
Wukong lets out a few more quiet mumbles, whispers of thoughts said out loud as his mind works to figure out both a cause and solution.
Wukong had always been smart, he just often rushed into things without thinking. But when he stopped and actually thought, well.
…Macaque tuned out his mutterings, knowing Wukong wouldn't find a solution when the problem wasn't even real. It was just the easiest act Macaque could come up with that would let him investigate and make it back home without turning this version of his ex-friend into an enemy.
He still couldn't believe they were married…
"Are we actually married or are you just joking?" Macaque asked, because despite how close they had been in their youth, he seriously doubted there was a version of them that ended up together.
Wukong puffed out his cheeks, frustrated, "of course I'm not joking!"
"You seem the type to pull pranks," Macaque snarked, then, with a soft smirk and raised eyebrow, clearly intending to get on Wukong’s nerves, "so what, you're my wife?"
Wukong’s cheeks tinted slightly pink and Macaque stilled, his heart skipping a beat. What..?
Wukong rapidly nodded, eyes lighting up, though the blush didn't leave, "yes! We're married."
"I'm the one that you love… and you're the one that I love…" A soft smile, eyes curving slightly, so much softer than the Wukong that Macaque was used to.
Cute…
He smacked the thought out of his head. No way! This was Wukong!
He reached forward to pull at Wukong’s cheek, earning a whine from him. "Mihouuuuuu…"
"...I was teasing, please have some shame."
Macaque would find a way back to his world… even if he had to deal with this shameless lovestruck version of his rival the entire time.