Chapter Text
MK was a lot of things. Most, but not all, were good. We all have bad traits, to be certain, and if you ask Sun Wukong, MK’s bad traits were absolutely perfect.
The word to describe MK in Sun Wukong’s mind is ‘amazing’... followed quickly after by ‘grubby’. Fingers that were dirty and often sticky in his fur, tangling his carefully groomed curls and attracting bugs into his hammock. That same, dirty shirt that MK either had 15 messy, stained versions of or wore every single day (Wukong suspected it was both). Worn sneakers and a well-loved jacket, and those big, big eyes. That round face with the cutest wide nose that wrinkled when he didn’t like what Wukong had planned for training in a show of pure disrespect that Wukong would murder any other for. But not his kid. His messy, grubby, amazing kid.
Sun Wukong loved MK in spite of, or perhaps because of, his grubbiness, like a mother with a toddler. He couldn’t help but laugh as the thought of being MK’s mother filled his mind. Pigsy would have his head for even daring to think that, but Wukong could entertain it by himself.
It was most likely that thought—the one of being his kid’s parent, mother, or whatever—was caused by a particular occurrence on the eve of March. He remembered that his Master had called it a ‘monthly water’, but Wukong (who never actually knew what that meant) just referred to his phenomenon as Once A Decade. (Maybe it’d be best to find a new term so his kid understands?) He was the only monkey in the troop with Once A Decade, as some of the other monkeys got it every month (which Wukong couldn’t imagine).
His Once A Decade (monthly water?) came, of course, at the end of the decade. Except for recently. Wukong wasn’t actually sure when the last one happened, but he thinks it might’ve been twenty years ago. This time, though, instead of just the blood, an… interesting feeling came up.
He didn’t want to train MK at all (it was tiring to train the kid on a normal day), but instead, just wanted to… cuddle? Cuddle the kid. He wanted to cuddle the kid, put his baby—the kid—against his stomach, and pick through his hair. He wanted baby—successor—bonding so bad it was starting to weird him out. He wanted to let the kid grab onto his fur, no matter how dirty his hands were.
(Wukong only realized upon this interesting feeling that he was calling MK ‘his’ kid too much. MK wasn’t his. Wukong didn’t have any kids, and would never have any kids because he was Wukong. It’s not like anybody would have a kid with him either. Because he was Wukong, who didn’t have and never would have kids. Of course.)
That, most likely healthy, line of thinking was cut short when those filthy hands were being waved in his face. “Monkey King! Hello? Yo-hoo! Earth to Monkey King! I finished the taolu!”
Wukong found a fond smile tugging at his lips, “Yeah, I know. I’m trying to figure out what to do next.”
MK’s dirty hand went onto his chin and– okay, fine. You win, Baby-Loving Inner Wukong. Wukong grabbed his hand and got off of his cloud, pulling the kid along.
“Where are we going?” MK asked, surprised by the sudden action.
“The stream.” Wukong hummed.
“Why?” MK’s voice got excited, “Are we gonna do like– an epic water battle!? The kind where like you skid across the riverbed and the mist comes up and-”
“I’m washing your hands.”
Despite MK’s obvious deflation, he didn’t complain as Wukong brought him out of the cave and onto the mountain. He did that (adorable) nose scrunch as he noticed Wukong was taking him away from the waterfall and its small lake. They followed the river until it broke off, and then the smaller stream ran into a peach tree grove. MK watched as Wukong pulled off only the ripest peaches from the trees they passed. How did he know which ones were perfect?
Wukong sat MK down on a rock beside the widest part of the little stream and set the peaches beside him. He gently took MK’s hand and brought it down to the water, rubbing the grime off of them. He hummed as he washed each of MK’s fingers individually with the utmost care.
Wukong had cared for baby monkeys before, but this was… something far more special. This isn’t Old Grandpa Wukong entertaining his subject’s children, this was… something between him and his kid, something he’d never felt before (or cared to feel) until he was doing it.
Once MK’s right hand was clean he presented the other. Wukong flashed him a small smile and cleaned that one too, taking the old band-aids off of it (MK forgot to and usually left them until they fell off). Wukong finished this hand slower, savoring the precious moment.
Precious, delicate moments like that don’t last long, and soon MK’s hands were clean. Wukong hummed and returned MK’s hands to his own space. They stayed there for a second, just looking at each other before Wukong stood up and then pulled MK up with him.
Wukong ruffled MK’s hair before noticing a spot on his face. He licked his thumb and wiped it off, “There, kiddo. All clean.”
MK’s voice was soft (but wonderful still), “Thank you, Monkey King.”
Wukong rubbed the back of his head, “I did it more for me than for you. You kind of stink, you know that?”
“Hey!”
—
MK’s period was his least favorite part of like… everything that has ever ever’d in the history of ever. He was in pain, he was tired, and he felt gross. He hated the icky feeling that permeated his body, the way he had to shove himself under the covers to ignore the way his body felt like it belonged to someone else.
That’s what he was currently doing when he felt a longing spur in his chest. He frowned at the feeling, sitting up and rubbing his arm. He knew when a feeling wasn’t his—it’d been a while since he first got Monkey King’s powers, and he realized that he could always feel the presence of his mentor. Even when he left the mountain, he could just barely feel his mentor still beside him, looking over him.
(When he’d asked Wukong about it, the king had laughed, “Well, yeah, kiddo! It’s my magic, after all!”)
He didn’t think Wukong could feel him in return, but that didn’t really matter… It was comforting. Soon after Monkey King’s presence, came the (ever-so-slight) feeling of whatever his mentor was feeling. These feelings were hardly noticeable, manifesting as extra-long sighs at times when the king was bored, a tiny skip in MK’s step when his mentor opened a bag of his favorite chips, and a heightened pride when he did something right in training.
(MK was pretty sure that Wukong was sad most of the time but it didn’t affect MK unless he focused on it, or had nothing to think about. And currently, he did not want to focus on the pain in his uterus that was threatening to make him hurl.)
Loneliness slammed into him so hard it took his breath.
MK swallowed, hugging himself to try and soothe a feeling he wasn’t even having. It was a starving itch that ran up his spine and made him want to curl up and die in a hole. He found his way out of his bed, worry encompassing him. What was wrong? Could MK fix it? Was he-
MK was supposed to go for training today.
He’d forgotten because of his cramps! Aaaaand because Pigsy urged him back to his room once he recognized the smell of MK’s period. (MK would be embarrassed about that if it weren’t for Pigsy being a demon.)
MK found himself rushing to get his jacket on, stumbling down the stairs, and running past the tarp door, shouting, “Bye Pigsy! I’m gonna go see Monkey King!”
Pigsy yanked him back inside by the arm, “Absolutely not! You’re gonna go lay back down, kid!”
“I have to go! Monkey King’s really upset, I can feel it!” MK pulled away from Pigsy, giving the pig a pleading look.
“Kid-” Pigsy rubbed his temples, “I don’t even let you deliver on your ‘time of the month’, I’m not going to let you go train.”
MK threw his arms in the air, “Dadsy! Nobody else has ever even done that! You’re the only person who makes someone stay inside because of their auntie visiting!”
Pigsy crossed his arms, huffing, “My kid doesn’t work while he’s hurt.”
MK groaned, stuffing his hands in his pocket. C’mon MK, think! Any excuse at all!
MK thought for a second before sighing and looking at the floor. Monkey King would be so mad at him for this, but… he knew he needed to go! He pursed his lips and looked back up at Pigsy. Alright, c’mon, he can do this (please forgive him, Monkey King)!
“I think Monkey King is being visited by his auntie too.” MK cringed, trying not to look at Pigsy.
Pigsy’s face went red and he coughed, “Wha- huh- what?!”
MK hissed through his teeth, “Yeahh…”
“How do you know?” Pigsy brought his voice down to a whisper as if this was confidential. Because it probably was. This was most possibly the most monumental secret the two of them would ever be in the know of.
“Well, the obvious part… He uhhhhh- Wow, I shouldn’t be telling you this-”
“No, you should not.” Pigsy agreed, leaning in closer.
“Okay, so, he’s uhm- ancient and all, yeah? So he’s using those ancient belts and he is not sneaky about it-” MK rambled, rubbing his arm to calm his nerves, “Which isn’t really a problem, it’s not like I use the bathroom there often anyway- and, uh, he’s been taking a lot more naps and-”
Pigsy put a hand on his shoulder, “Alright kiddo, I get it.”
MK pulled Pigsy into a quick hug, “Thanks Dadsy…”
Pigsy held him for a second before pulling back, his hand on MK’s shoulder, “Do ya need money to get some pads for the Monkey King?”
“I don’t think I have the personal strength to teach the great Sun Wukong how to use a pad.”
“Has he ever even heard of a pad?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Ouch.
That’s all Wukong could think. He was invincible, but not against pain coming from his own body. He sniffled and held his middle… His kid was supposed to be here and he was curled up in pain over something that happened almost every decade! He pulled himself up onto his couch.
Knowing MK (his baby with his silly dirty face and his big ol’ smile), he’d want to train today. He could imagine the dimples disappearing from those ruddy cheeks as he told MK that he couldn’t train today, for a reason he couldn’t tell him. MK would be so upset and he’d let him down again and- Wukong forced himself up off of his couch, gasping at his body’s protests. The pain was all new again, in a way, after twenty years without it.
He could get through an hour of this, right? (Over an hour, knowing MK) Wukong let out an involuntary groan as he forced himself to leave his house, squinting at the light. He found his way down the hill and out of the waterfall, rubbing his face as he looked around for a clean menstrual belt. He usually was better about this, but- well… he was too busy worrying about his baby to take care of his monthly water. His baby that was not his baby, that was Pigsy’s baby, not his- oh, fuck it.
He wanted his baby, and he wanted him now. Wukong let out a long-suffering sigh as he set about cleaning the belt he had. He couldn’t reek of blood near a kid. (He knows MK’s an adult, but… still. He was so young to Wukong, hardly a fraction of his lifetime. Hardly a fraction of his retirement.)
Wukong’s whatever-it’s-called was screaming at him to return to his couch, to climb into his hammock. He took a deep breath and finished prepping the menstrual belt. He hated the belts the most out of everything, honestly. He hated the feeling, he hated the smell, and he hated cleaning them!
But that’s how it was done, according to Master. Wukong trusted the monk with human things like this, even so long after he was gone. He didn’t have anybody else to ask, either.
Wukong wrang out the fabric and sighed, setting it on a nearby rock and checking his reflection in the lake. Oh, Buddha, he looked rough. He rubbed his temples before washing his hands and using the water to smooth his fur. Once he looked like he’d woken up from a nap and not like he’d been run over, he fixed his belt and headed back past the waterfall.
Wukong was getting his chest plate on when MK burst through the door, “Sorry I’m late, Monkey King!”
“It’s fine bud-” Wukong paused as he saw the tupperware MK was precariously balancing, “What’s all that?”
“Pigsy made you something to eat!” MK staggered inside, careful not to drop the food.
Wukong frowned, “Uhhh- why? Not that I’m complaining, but…”
MK stared at Wukong for a second, his expression deadpan. Wukong raised an eyebrow and MK shook his head, “No reason.”
“‘Kay then, bud.”
MK deposited the tupperware on the small table in Wukong’s house, putting his hands on his hips in triumph. Wukong went to stand but he was stopped by MK presenting him with a thermos.
“Goji berry and jujube tea.” MK smiled as Wukong took it and smelled it. His ears perked up at the berry scent and he took an experimental sip, settling onto the couch again. MK grabbed a bowl and sat on the couch, opening it for the Monkey King.
“Sweet Wine Rice! With eggs.” MK handed it to Wukong, “Pigsy also made you Jujube and Lotus Seed Porridge and some tangyuan!”
Wukong took the sweet fermented rice and the tiáogēng, his brow furrowing in confusion, “Kid, seriously-?”
MK ignored him, grabbing his chest plate, “You can’t wear this.”
Wukong jolted back, “MK-?”
“You got anything comfier?” MK peered over the edge of the couch, worrying his lip.
“Not in here-”
“Oh, do you have, like, a cool magic wardrobe?”
“Kind of-”
“I’ll go get you a comfier shirt.”
“You really don’t have to-”
And with that, MK was gone, taking Wukong’s chest plate with him.
Wukong contemplated as he ate a spoonful of the fermented rice. Oh, wow, that was good! A smile crept onto his face as he continued to eat the treat, the natural sweetness filling his mouth. He let the warmth make him giddy, tucking his knees against his chest and curling his tail around himself. MK didn’t even know where Wukong’s wardrobe was, so he doubted the kid would walk in on him in this embarrassing position.
He couldn’t imagine why Pigsy made this specifically for him–unless he didn’t, which was always an option. Maybe the pig just had food left over or Wukong forgot he ordered something (which would explain why MK was looking at him like he had 2 heads).
He took another spoonful and decided he’d rather pretend this was meant for him than figure out why he was actually given it.
MK returned what had to be 45 minutes later with a grocery bag, looking impossibly tired. Wukong peeked up from his place on the couch, prompting MK to let out a long, over dramatic sigh, “I couldn’t find any clothes in the cave, so I just bought you some.”
MK handed over the bag, and Wukong looked inside to find soft satin pajamas embroidered with peaches. Wukong chuckled, “Very nice, kiddo. But, uhm, how do you know these are the right size?”
MK flopped onto the couch, voice muffled by the cushion, “I dunno, guy. Medium just felt right.”
“I think I’m a small…”
“Monkey King-” MK turned his head to the side to look at Wukong “-don’t lie to yourself.”
“Ouch.” Wukong took out and sniffed the pajamas, “Do you think these have a tail hole?”
“Uh…” MK sat up, “I don’t think the kind of clothes stores I go to have clothes with tail holes.”
Wukong scoffed, “Humans.”
“Hey!”
It didn’t take MK and Wukong long to get comfortable (the kid pressuring Wukong to put the pajamas on instead of just inspecting them). MK took Wukong’s remote at some point and turned on the cable. So there they were, flicking through channels together on the couch, MK with his knees tucked to his chest and his chin resting on them and Wukong on his stomach with his arms crossed under his head.
Wukong sighed, his eyes drifting to MK. He looked tired, his eyelids half-lidded as he looked to see if there was anything interesting on. This was probably the most comfortable the two had ever been together. Wukong knew he’d treasure this memory for eternity. (He wished desperately they could spend the rest of the time in the world like this.)
“I’M CALLING YOU, KID! PICK UP!” Pigsy’s voice suddenly blared from MK’s phone.
Wukong shot up as MK began to fumble for his phone, the little device slipping from his hands as Pigsy’s yelling cut through the silence.
“Crap, crap, crap-” MK still couldn’t get a hold of the phone, and the sweat on his hands from being spooked certainly did not help.
Wukong finally grabbed it from the air and handed it to him, smiling just a bit smugly.
MK bowed his head a couple of times before picking up the phone, “Yeah, Dadsy?”
“How’s it going with M-” Pigsy’s voice started, speaker phone making his words clear in the small space.
MK quickly turned off speaker phone and slapped the phone to his ear, smiling sheepishly at Wukong. The monkey stifled a laugh as MK nodded into the phone.
“Uhm, yeah-” MK’s eyes flickered to Wukong “I delivered everything.”
Wukong could hear Pigsy’s voice buzz on the other side.
MK scratched his chin, his eyes dancing back to Wukong, “Everything’s fine. Yeah, he got the food-”
Pigsy’s voice buzzed quieter and MK’s face went red and he suddenly coughed, “Uhm- Yeah, I’ll be ready to go home in a bit, me and Monkey King are busy.”
Wukong sat back, letting the conversation drone on in the background. MK wasn’t very good at being inconspicuous, but it wasn’t like Wukong was a master at it anyway. (Maybe they could learn together. Probably not.)
“Yeah, I’m not overworking.” MK hummed, “We aren’t even training, don’t worry.”
Wukong caught a snippet of Pigsy’s words as MK shifted his sitting position: “-did you get him into something comfortable?”
“Yeah, I got it covered. Any other deliveries coming in?” MK raised his eyebrows, taking another glance at Wukong. He nodded, “Yeah, I can do that.”
Pigsy’s voice picked up again, just to the point where Wukong could hear him, “Alright- and how are you holding up, kiddo?”
“I’m alright, Pigsy. Just sleepy.” MK yawned as if to accentuate his point, “Me and Monkey King are trying to watch some TV but everything’s boring…”
“Cooking with Chang'e is on.” Pigsy noted.
MK rolled his eyes, “There’s no point in watching it, you’ll just tell me everything she said when I get home.”
“Mind your manners, kid.”
Wukong tuned out the conversation after that, finishing off his tea and getting the container of tangyuan. He cracked open the container and popped a rice ball in his mouth.
Oh wow. Wukong’s eyebrows shot up and he looked at MK. He pointed at the rice balls, his words muffled by the food in his mouth, “These are really good- Is that black sesame paste?”
MK smiled fondly, “Wukong likes the rice balls, Pigsy.”
He clicked speaker phone on again. Wukong could hear him cooking in the background now.
“He better.”
“Say hi, Monkey King.”
“Uhhh-” Wukong swallowed, “Hey?”
The pig grunted in response. Wukong looked away from the phone and set the container on the couch, trying to turn his attention back to whatever was going on on the TV. It seemed MK had stopped on some kind of ad break-
“The darker ones have chocolate in them.” Pigsy broke through Wukong’s anxiety.
Wukong grabbed a rice ball, stuffing it in his face.
MK snorted before furrowing his brow, “Wait, are monkeys allowed to have chocolate?”
“I’m immortal, kid,” Wukong licked his fingers, “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve gotta get back to work.” Wukong could just about hear Pigsy roll his eyes over the phone. “Did the Monkey King drink his tea?”
“Yup!” MK chimed, going for a rice ball. Wukong swatted his hand and took the one he was going for, sticking out his tongue. “Monkey King!”
“My food, kid. Get your own.”
“I brought it!”
“Tough, buddy!”
MK groaned as Pigsy snorted again, probably shaking his head. “See you later, kiddo.”
“See ya, Dadsy!”
The pig hung up and Wukong hummed, “So, why’s your ringtone him yelling at you?”
“It keeps me on my toes.”
Wukong chuckled at that and eased back onto the couch, putting his arms over the back. MK scooted closer to him and let the silence settle over them comfortably. The kid yawned big (like a tired baby monkey) and Wukong let his eyes flutter closed.
“Hey, Monkey King?” came MK’s voice, thick with the want to sleep.
“Yeah, buddy?” Wukong cracked an eye open.
“Can you get a blanket? ‘M cold…”
“Sure, kiddo.” Wukong pulled out one of his hairs and it poofed into a blanket that settled comfortably over MK’s shoulders. “Good?”
MK frowned before shuffling closer and throwing half of the blanket over Wukong. He fit himself against his mentor’s chest and got comfortable before letting out a sigh.
“Good.”