Archive of Our Own

The Six-Eared Macaque appreciated life on the mountain. This had been his home for centuries, after all. After the whole Pillar of Heaven fiasco, Sun Wukong had extended an olive branch, inviting him back to the mountain. For a while, Macaque had resisted, stubbornly clinging to his dingy dojo in the city, but how could he ever turn down an opportunity such as this? Over time, he came to appreciate this proposal as he spent more and more time in the wild, though he'll never admit it.

So there he was, high up on the mountain during a warm spring evening. The sun was setting, painting the sky with a mixture of warm and cool hues like a brilliant watercolor painting, Macaque had just finished building his nest. He curled inside and threw a woven leaf blanket over his head. Since coming back to life, keeping warmth in his body became a constant struggle. The chill seeped into his bones too easily, a constant reminder of what he'd lost and what he could never truly recover. He had to take extra care to line his nest with extra insulation, tucking each and every nook and cranny with shedded fur tufts and soft leaves, forced to build winter nests even during the hottest of nights.

He closed his eyes to sleep as the sun disappeared underneath the ocean waves, allowing the coolness of the night to settle over the vast jungle. Macaque valued his personal space and nested higher up the mountain away from any curious wild monkeys. If ever they found him, he never chased them away, he didn't have the heart to. Instead, he would still sleep, and they usually lose interest and leave on their own sometime in the early morning. The next night, he'll find a new place to hide.

He's used to being alone these days, and he was starting to believe he deserved it. After everything he's done, all the selfish actions he's taken out of fear and priority of his own preservation, it was only right. In solitude he will stay.

Tonight, however, Macaque wasn't as prepared as he'd thought. Wind howled in the distance, but that was never a problem for him. He suspected that rainfall was on its way. Even the strongest monsoons couldn't shake his expertly handcrafted nests, and the only time Macaque retreated to the cave systems at the base of the mountain was during thunderstorms. Rain never seeped in the nest, he was a master at building them, and he was prideful of that fact.

But then it got colder, and colder, and colder. Macaque grumbled stubbornly, he'll just have to stay under the blanket all night. As long as he kept inside the nest, he wouldn't get cold. Macaque clenched his teeth, huddling tighter. It’s fine. With a huff, he pulled the loose bedding closer against his body. 

But something was off. At first, he dismissed the strange shift in the air. The downpour of water never came. However, the wind kicked up, sharper and chiller than usual. He curled up tighter while his long, fluffy hide brushed softly against the knotted layers of vines and leaves. It was fine. The nest cradled him like always, keeping what little warmth his body managed to produce sealed in, while the weather stayed out. The biting wind wasn't much of a problem, however strange it may be.

But then the blanket above him felt heavy, and it kept getting worse. It was faint at first, but the weight grew undeniable after a while. He snarled under his breath and his tail flicked angrily. His body trembled against the invading chill from above, and frustration flared hot in his chest. Had his blanket betrayed him? Why was it getting cold? This never happened!

With a guttural snarl, Macaque sat up abruptly, shaking off the damp, clinging leaves. His blanket was sodden, heavy with moisture that seemed to appear out of nowhere. He could almost taste ice in the air. Fine, he'll just go to the cave system tonight and hope it doesn't fill up with water. He didn't feel like swimming tonight.

"Enough!" He snarled, furiously tossing the blanket off at last. The moment the open air slammed into him, he regretted it, and was shaken to his core. He gasped as powerful gusts of wind carried vast plumes of snow directly into him. Snowflakes stung his eyes as the tiny ice crystals fluttered in his face, clinging to his fur and long eyelashes. Snowstorms were extremely rare on Flower Fruit Mountain, but not unheard of, and he was caught right in the middle of one.

He had to get out of here. Without hesitation, he launched himself from the nest, abandoning it and leaping into the nearest tree. The snow-covered branches were unforgiving, their icy surfaces biting into the sensitive flesh of his bare palms and feet. Each landing sent a fresh wave of stinging cold shooting through his limbs, and his skin protested and angrily turned red. His cheeks burned from the wind’s relentless assault as he streaked through the canopy, his heart pounding in all six of his ears. Snow caked his fur, his only line of defense besides his thick clothing. Even so, the chill was gradually starting to get past.

He forced himself to keep going, gritting his teeth against the growing numbness in his fingers and toes. He likely had frostbite, and he danced on that thought with each leap. He flexed his hands, though the sharp pain only confirmed his worst fears. He was quickly running out of time. Racing against the clock, he descended the mountain at breakneck speed. The caves were his only hope, he just prayed that they weren't snowed in. He didn't know if he had the time or strength to dig through if it came to it. He didn't want to think about that possibility.

He was making great progress, that is, until his limbs started to betray him. He started to shake uncontrollably, movements became sloppy as the wind battered him even more, picking up violently to the point he could no longer see anything ahead as a vastness of white overtook his vision. Even though he could see in the dark, he was lost, and purely relied on his instinctual sense of direction as his night vision became utterly useless.

Then he slipped.

It wasn’t much of a surprise, he knew it was bound to happen, but it was still an unwelcome one. Upon landing on a white branch, he caught onto it yet failed to grasp it, his numb toes simply couldn’t hold on. The slippery surface and his seizing limbs created the perfect catalyst, causing him to fail the leap and slip forward. He crashed head-first through the canopy, snapping through vines and tumbling through leaves and ice, scraping his bare skin. He forcefully smashed into the ground and had the breath knocked out of him, or so he thought. Instead, when he opened his eyes, he realized where he was.

Panic and adrenaline shot through him like a lightning bolt, momentarily warming his frozen limbs. He's underwater, he must've fallen into one of the mountain streams! The powerful current dragged him under, slamming him into the jagged rocks of the riverbed as he tried to gain his bearings. He thrashed against the torrent and his muscles screaming for relief. He’d always been a strong swimmer, but the cold had sapped what strength he managed to preserve. His flailing claws scraped against a large boulder, and he latched on with everything he had. He kicked off, bursting to the surface with a desperate, gasping inhale.

The current pushed him relentlessly, trying to drag him back down, but somehow he fought his way toward the shoreline. Every stroke of his limbs was a battle against exhaustion. At last, he crawled onto the frozen bank, collapsing in the gravel. He heaved for air, his chest rising and falling in shallow, frantic gasps. But the relief was short-lived. The icy wind greeted him, piercing into his soaked fur and clothing. What had once been his one line of insulation was now a death sentence, trapping the cold against his skin underneath.

He gasped as a grim realization settled over him. He could die here. 

The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through his body, but he had no strength left to act on it. Shivering violently, he forced himself upright, digging his long claws into the frosty dirt. He had to move because if he didn’t, there's a good chance that no one would even know he was gone until it was too late. Now, the storm had evolved into a blizzard, burying anything and everything on the ground in snow.

After everything, after clawing his way back to life, defying the laws of nature, battling the infamous Lady Bone Demon and her very own deadly ice magic, was this how it would end? Caught in just a little too much snow? All his struggles, his endless fight to avoid being dragged back into the merciless, unforgiving depths of Diyu, were about to be in vain.

Macaque slumped with his back against a tree, body trembling as he pulled his knees to his chest. He buried his hands in the hollow space between them, clutching at the faint heat still lingering in his core. His sharp teeth chattered as he clinged to the last bits of warmth he had left, and his long tail burrowed in between his legs. He had to at least try and do something, anything!

The wind screamed, and so did he. In one final, desperate attempt to get help, he let out alarm calls as loud as he possibly could. Loud, piercing cries echoed into the darkness as he pleaded for help. For a fleeting moment, hope flickered with the thought that maybe someone, anyone, might hear him. Hell, the only person on this mountain could possibly drag him to safety straight up despised him, so maybe there was no point in hoping after all.

No matter how much he broadcasted his distress, the howling blizzard quickly stole his voice, carrying his cries off into the sky. Macaque’s throat burned as he forced more calls past his raw, closing trachea. The cold was suffocating now, his lungs refusing to draw in the air he so desperately needed. He gasped, wheezing as a dizzy spell settled in his head, much like the thick blanket of snow that was starting to bury him.

Still, he tried to stand. His legs quaked, threatening to give out beneath him, and his vision swam. He fell back heavily against the tree, smashing directly onto his spine, the impact was jarring yet oddly distant, as if it were dulled. Panic clawed at his chest, his instincts screaming at him to keep going, to fight. With a last-ditch surge of willpower, he strained his lungs, crying out again and again into the night. The sound was broken and hardly resembled an alarm call. It gave way to strangled sobs before long, and that was all he had left before his voice gave out entirely.

Macaque began to feel hot despite the biting cold seeping into his bones. He was no fool, he knew what was happening. His body was giving up, tricking him with a final, fleeting sensation of overwhelming heat before the end. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his clothes on, even as an irrational urge to rip them off screamed in his head. He intended to keep some dignity, especially if he died tonight.

But dignity felt like a distant dream now. His arms and legs began to tingle, the faint sensation soon giving way to a terrifying numbness that crept inward. To his utter dismay, he felt heavy and lifeless, his limbs felt more like dead weight than a part of him. The numbness was now at his shoulders and rose into his stomach. Each shallow, jagged breath sent painful shudders through his frame, and his chest tightened as he started to grieve.

It's not fair. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them. He didn’t want to die, not after everything he had survived, not after fighting so hard to stay alive against the very laws of nature, and against the multitudes of enemies that wanted him back six feet under the earth. Why now, and why like this? His fists clenched weakly with frustration.

"No…" He wheezed, though his voice was hoarse and he tasted something coppery on his tongue. "N…o..!"

Maybe there’s a way he could keep going. Someone might find him, if only he can get up and climb to the top of a tree. But the hope was as faint as the weak stutter of his heartbeat. His sharp amber eyes could no longer make sense of his surroundings as everything became a disorienting white blur. He couldn’t see, and he could barely feel. How was he supposed to climb a tree like this?

Maybe if he just tried harder. He struggled to move, to rise onto trembling legs, but the effort was futile. Unlike before where he was able to stand, albeit briefly, he couldn't even shift his weight onto his numb, unresponsive legs. His body was betraying him now, refusing every demand. Each erratic breath sent fresh waves of despair crashing into his chest. His teeth clenched as he tried again. But he knew deep down that no amount of effort would be enough.

"I can’t..." He whimpered, his voice cracking as his head fell back against the tree. "I… can’t…"

Why even try? The faint flicker of hope that had pushed him this far snuffed itself out like a burnt wick on a melting candle. No one was coming. Even if they were, they wouldn’t care enough to save him. He's done so many terrible things. No one cares, no one ever has, and no one ever will. Well, maybe except MK. Macaque might have done the most injustice towards the Monkie Kid. The youngster liked him very much, although Macaque most definitely didn't deserve that kind of love.

His chest heaved with quiet, bitter sobs. What had it all been for, anyway? He had been trying to build a life in a world that seemed determined to crush him. It had moved on without him, and he had to adapt to city life. He managed to conquer some of the technology, even making a video game. But he had been lying to himself, he never belonged here. He was chasing a purpose that didn’t exist, a place that wasn’t meant for him. He’d fought so hard to stay in the present, and in the end, he’d lost anyway.

This is it, this was the end. He was out of time. His tears stopped flowing and his body stopped convulsing. The shivering ceased, an eerie reminder of what was about to happen. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the cold that always bothered him didn’t seem to matter anymore, and he couldn't feel anything at all. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. There would be no more pain. Maybe he should have given up a long time ago, accepting whatever punishment the Diyu forced upon him. He would be reincarnated, he could be happy in a new life. His precious memories he held dear would fade, which down in his heart, hurt more than dying. Keeping them was one of the biggest reasons he had kept going for so long.

His breath hitched as his heart slowed further and the cold finally reached his chest, seizing his most important vitals. His thoughts grew distant and fragmented and became barely coherent. He let his head tilt forward as his body grew heavier with each passing second. His lips parted as he exhaled a final, shuttering exhale. He closed his eyes, waiting for the final embrace of death.

Time was up.

…

…

…

"M…c…..e…"

…

…

"Mac…que…"

…

"MACAQUE!"

…What was that?

The shout struck through his hazy stupor. His mind struggled to form any thoughts or sensations, like a lucid fever dream. Had he even heard it? Everything was muffled and muted, there was no way to tell. Was he hallucinating now? Hells below, was he dead? Then again, hell wouldn't be "below" anymore now, would it?

But then he heard another shout, and then another, breaking through his muddled mind. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard it. Perhaps it was just his imagination trying to comfort him before fading away. For a split second, the noise made his chest flutter, like it reached the last fragile spark of warmth left inside him. He wasn't sure how, but it jolted him, even if his body refused to respond. He couldn't even open his eyes anymore, he was too tired.

Even so, he still felt nothing. His body was gone, it belonged to the ice now. Then, something changed. The first thing he noticed was warmth. A strange, intrusive heat pressing into the center of his chest and only his chest, the last place he still felt like himself. It spread inward towards his heart and lungs, radiating in a way he wasn’t sure he liked. The warmth wasn't comforting, it felt foreign, clashing uncomfortably against the cold void that had claimed him. He whined faintly, instinctively curling in on that warmth, though his body responded awkwardly and out of sync. His numb limbs didn’t comply with his intentions and remained underneath a pile of snow.

"Don’t you dare give up on me, Macaque!" The voice again was unbearably loud and directly in his ears. It was so clear this time.

Awareness began trickling back, bit by bit as his heart gained the heat it needed to pump blood to his brain, allowing him to open his eyes. He knew that something was pressing close against him, firm and solid. The source of the heat wasn’t his own, it was far too intense and too alive. Through the fog, he registered movement, and the sensation of being held tightly against something fluffy. The cold slowly ebbed away from his core, replaced by a blessed heat radiating from his savior. A golden blob filled his flickering vision, and something soft brushed against him. Was this what dying felt like? Was an underworld creature here to drag him back to hell?

Macaque groaned faintly, his chin lifting as he tried to focus on the figure. Everything felt so surreal. His mind refused to keep up with his surroundings, stuck in limbo between awareness and nothingness. Yet even in his disoriented state, something about the golden figure felt familiar, infuriatingly so. He felt like he knew who this was. He's been dead before, maybe this creature tortured him before in an attempt to cleanse his soul of sin. That's just how the Diyu worked for naughty monkeys like him.

And then, through what little information he can gather about his surroundings and his own body, a strange realization slipped through his sluggish awareness. He was… no longer wearing anything. His heart thudded angrily as he noticed the sudden absence of his clothes. Seriously? So much for dying with dignity.

In their place, he felt something thick and soft wrap around him, cocooning him tightly. The warmth from the golden figure was overpowering, almost stifling, yet Macaque’s frozen skin happily took it all in. As the fog in his mind started to give way to half-formed thoughts, he tried to form words but could only manage a low rasp of confusion.

"...Why?"

When Macaque closed his eyes again, the mystery person leaned closer to his face. Their voice was as strong as it was concerned, making noisy demands in his ears.

"HEY! Stay awake, damn it!"

Macaque finally realized that he wasn’t alone. Yes, someone was holding him tightly, shielding him from the cruel blizzard. Even through his dazed state, he couldn’t miss the tone of this person's commands. Their voice wasn't just strong and demanding, there was a frantic mix of concern and desperation. Even so, Macaque refused to open his eyes.

"Mihou… please!"

Ugh, fine. He opened his eyes. This person sounded absolutely pathetic, begging for him to stay awake. As he did what they asked, he felt himself being hauled upward, strong arms wrapping around him. They were warm, very warm.

The next thing he knew, movement shook his dull senses. The person holding him launched skyward, shifting and bounding through what felt like the treetops. Macaque growled softly, as his eyes struggled to focus. He was hit with a whirlwind of sensations as his body tried its damndest to recover. Each jolt from landing, every lurch with every leap, he found himself waking up with flashes of clarity. Then they stopped, perched high in the uppermost canopy, facing the storm head-on.

The person yelled something before jumping into the air. And suddenly, they were soaring. Wind roared past them as they raced through the night, leaving the ground behind. Macaque was alarmed, obviously. Even though the snowflakes dusted his face, the warmth from the stranger enveloped him, shielding him from the storm that kept trying so hard to claim him.

"Stay with me!" The voice commanded above the rushing wind.

The shouting was getting on his nerves. A faint memory flickered as he recalled irritation, arguments, endless back and forth banter. 

"...You’re loud." He complained, the barest hint of a smirk of a smirk curled at the ends of his lips. 

Even though this person was annoying, some good memories also surfaced. Macaque lifted a hand to what he believed was the person's chest, detecting a rhythmic thrum beneath his palms. He can feel again. The golden blur in his vision started to make more sense now as vague familiarity trickled in more and more, but the dots still refused to connect.

Time felt meaningless as the sensations around him began to take hold. He was dimly aware of slowing momentum and a quick descension from the sky. They came to a halt, and a new sound tore through his drifting thoughts, and he recognized the roar of rushing water. It filled his sensitive ears like thunder. At least his hearing was returning, however annoying it chose to be.

They were on the ground, the person carrying him was now running on foot. They entered a bright area, and Macaque was laid down on something soft. He slumped against it, too tired to care and too weak to protest, mourning the warmth from his rescuer's body as they separated. A few seconds later, they returned.

"Drink."

The word was firm yet urgent. His lips twitched as something smooth and cool pressed against them. Glass? His breath hitched at the sudden contact, startling him. Macaque groaned, tilting his head away stubbornly.

"...I can’t…" He rasped, his words slurring together. 

"Yes, you can." the voice shot back, their desperation barely disguised under an authoritative tone. Before Macaque could even think of a snarky rebuttal, the glass was shoved more insistently against his lips.

"Drink."

Macaque parted his lips to complain but found himself swallowing instead. Liquid trickled into his mouth and cascaded down his throat, pooling into his frozen belly. Unfortunately, it wasn't actually very pleasant. It was rather painful. Then, the person retreated somewhere before returning a second later with a full glass.

"What if I don’t wanna?" Macaque groggily grumbled, but his unwilling caretaker wasn't having it.

The glass was back, insistently pressed against his mouth once more, cutting off any further protests. Wonderful, so he barely avoided death and was now being treated like a sick cub. Reluctantly, he parted his lips, sharp teeth lightly clinking against the rim as he drank.

This time, when the warm liquid slid down his throat, it felt like fire spreading through his body. The sensation startled him as it was significantly stronger than last time. It burned, spreading out into the icy depths of his limbs with every swallow. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until the warmth hit his stomach, and the ache in his throat eased with every gulp.

"What is this?" he muttered between sips, his voice still raw but slightly clearer.

"It’s just water." The person snickered with a small grin. "Relax."

His vision began to sharpen after a while. Shapes gave way to texture, and soon he can make out details and the outline of objects. He recognized this room, though he couldn’t place why or how. He had been here before, many times, in fact.

His caretaker left once more, and he listened to the sound of water as they refilled the glass for another round. When they returned, it was pushed against his lips once more. No demands, no argument, just silent understanding. This time, he drank without hesitation, though he was sure to visibly pout the entire time.

Finally, he was left alone, and they didn't return. Perhaps he can sleep now. He closed his eyes with a yawn, alas, he can't ever have his way. Without warning, he was lifted up, still wrapped in blankets. Macaque opened his eyes and found himself being carried into a humid, warmer environment.

The crisp air from before melted into thick steam. The blankets were taken off of him, leaving him feeling quite embarrassed. In a twist of irony, he could feel heat rush to his face and ears. He was lucky his body was covered in fur, but he still couldn't help feeling exposed regardless. He was lowered down, dipped into warm water. He tensed, expecting it to sting. But instead, it was welcoming, bringing the perfect balance of warmth that was enough to melt the last bits of frost from his fur.

A small, relaxed sigh escaped him as he leaned his head back against the basin. He became aware of hands carefully scooping water to pour over his head. The touch was tender and gentle, combing through damp fur tangled by twigs, leaves, ice flakes, and river debris. He would’ve flinched or growled on any other day, but here, it was soothing as he felt claws groom his unruly fur. His breaths deepened as his body fully succumbed to the comfort of his surroundings. For the first time in what felt like eternity, Macaque thought that perhaps he'll live after all.

"How are you doing, bud?" 

Macaque tensed at the word. Bud? Oh no. Nooooooo, no, no.There's only one person he could possibly think of that ever used that stupid nickname.

"Wukong?" He rasped, though it came out more cynical than intended.

The golden figure paused, glancing up from where they knelt beside the bath. Their tail twitched, and though Macaque couldn’t fully make out their expression, there was no mistaking the deep sigh of relief hidden under their calm facade.

"Yep. Finally caught on, huh?" Wukong said with a light chuckle, though his tone betrayed a hint of exhaustion. "I was worried you wouldn't snap out of it."

Of course, it was Wukong, who else? He knew Wukong was the only person on the mountain from the start. And though the resentment that had long simmered in his chest threatened to resurface, he couldn’t argue. Wukong had saved his life, pulled him back from the brink when no one else would, or even could. As much as he didn't want to believe it, he knew Wukong was well-versed in medicine. He was safe.

Still, that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Wukong might've saved his life, but it was the least he could do after ending it the first time.

Macaque cursed under his breath and tried to shift back into the warmth of the water, though his newfound revelation made relaxation harder. Wukong didn’t say anything else. Instead, he resumed his work with uncharacteristic gentleness. His claws sifted through Macaque’s tangled fur, pulling out bits of debris with care. Despite himself, Macaque couldn’t deny how nice it felt, however infuriating it may be.

As the heat soaked into his limbs, he finally noticed the return of feeling. His arms and legs twitched faintly as a stinging discomfort giving way to sensation. He winced as he watched his fingers and toes, their discolored tips and harsh pain unmistakable signs of frostbite. Wukong glanced at his reaction, pausing.

"Does it hurt?"

Macaque didn’t reply. He turned his gaze away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an answer. He was a celestial monkey demon, his body would heal quickly without any long-term effects, but the pain now was enough to make him bite back even more vile curses. Still, he stayed silent, letting Wukong resume his work. It infringed on his pride, letting the Great Sage care for him like this. But what was there to say? For once, Macaque found himself begrudgingly grateful, even if the words refused to leave his lips. So, he sat there, enduring the pain and soaking in the heat.

An hour or so passed, the steam in the room thinned as the water in the tub gradually grew colder. Macaque’s discomfort became more evident by the way he shifted and occasionally shuddered. Wukong sighed, standing and pulling the plug to let the water drain. Macaque had no idea how this shimmy shack had electricity and plumbing.

"Alright, that’s enough. Let’s get you outta there." Wukong muttered, stepping closer.

He reached down to lift Macaque out of the tub, his arms supporting the dark-furred monkey under the shoulders. Macaque winced as his frostbitten toes touched the floor, a sharp hiss escaping his clenched teeth. He barely managed to keep upright, the pain making him tremble.

"Easy, bud. I got you." Wukong caught him before he fell, wrapping an arm firmly around his waist. 

"Great, I feel soooo reassured." Macaque groused, his pride taking yet another hit as he willingly leaned into the support.

Wukong handed him a towel to dry off. But with numb fingers and the lingering ache in his body, what should've been a simple task felt impossible. Macaque tried for a moment before his frustration boiled over. He turned sharply and shoved the towel against Wukong’s chest, looking anywhere but at him. 

"Guess that’s my cue, huh?" Wukong arched an eyebrow at the gesture, then giggled with a cheeky grin.

Without a word, Wukong began drying him off. Macaque bristled at first but allowed it, standing stiffly as Wukong worked through his long fur. His thick coat was pristine and fluffy once again by the time the Monkey King finished.

"There, all done." Wukong announced cheerily, tossing the towel aside. He picked up a nearby blanket and began wrapping it around Macaque’s waist. With a few twists and tucks, he fashioned the ends into a makeshift outfit.

"Mhmm." Macaque hummed.

"Not bad, huh?" Wukong stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"Really? This is your solution?" Macaque scoffed, giving himself an unimpressed glance. "Where are my clothes? Don't you have any?"

"What? It’s practical. Plus, I don’t exactly have extra clothes lying around. Haven’t washed mine in a while, y’know how I am." 

"You didn't answer everything." Macaque narrowed his eyes, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "My clothes?"

"Uh, yeah. They’re kind of by the stream where I found you. I might have abandoned them."

"Of course."

"Hey, you’re alive, aren’t you? That’s what matters." Wukong rubbed a hand on Macaque’s exposed shoulder, ignoring the death glare he gave him.

But Macaque said nothing, returned to silence. He tugged the blankets tighter as he begrudgingly leaned into Wukong’s support once more. The near-death experience had drained every ounce of his patience and strength. Wukong carefully helped Macaque hobble into his room, guiding the dark monkey toward his own bed. The sight of the plush mattress and colorful blankets immediately earned an unimpressed glare from Macaque.

"I’m not a fan of beds." Macaque muttered.

Wukong sighed but stepped back, watching with mild amusement as Macaque began rearranging the pillows and blankets, forming a nest. He tilted his head curiously but quickly realized what was happening. Without a word, Wukong started helping.

"I didn’t ask for help." Macaque paused, narrowing his eyes at him. 

"No, but you’ll take it anyway." Wukong replied nonchalantly, fluffing a pillow and carefully positioning it on one side. "You didn't ask me to stop you from freezing, right?"

Macaque deadpanned at the king's utter audacity, making Wukong laugh. Once they were finished, Macaque curled up in the center, his body sinking into the pile. He sighed quietly as his stressed, battered body finally began to relax. Wukong straightened up with a hum of satisfaction.

"Sweet dreams." Wukong whispered, turning toward the door.

But he stopped in his tracks when he noticed Macaque starting to shake, just slightly. It was hardly visible, but he was trembling. Nope, can't have that happening. Macaque caught the look on his face and immediately snarled at him, baring sharp teeth as a clear warning. 

"Don’t even think about it, Wukong."

Wukong stuck his tongue out, creeping closer on his tiptoes, making a show to look Macaque up and down.

"DON'T." 

"Yeah, because you really think I’d leave you to freeze."

"I’m fine!" Macaque insisted.

"Oh please, I have eyes, the same as you, just about anyone can see you're still cold. Don’t kid yourself, Mac."

"Then maybe you need a new pair of ears as well, because I said I'm fine! Get out!"

Wukong groaned, stopping in his tracks and turning towards the exit, and Macaque settled back in the nest. About time. Then again, he really should've watched Wukong leave, because before he knew it, the golden monkey practically crashed beside him with mischievous cackles.

"Come on, you know you love me!"

Before Macaque could protest further, Wukong snuggled in close, ignoring the other monkey’s rabid snarling as the king's curly golden fur got in his face. He carefully slid into the space beside Macaque, curling up just near enough to share his warmth.

"You’re incredibly annoying, Tianchan Shihou." 

"Ouch, Full name? Oh, Liu’er Mihou, you wound me so!" Wukong whined, feigning offense. 

"Stop that!" Macaque spat, his complaint softer than he intended.

"Stop what? Keeping you comfy?" Wukong snorted as he settled in. "Yeah, no, I'm not leaving you like this."

Despite himself, Macaque didn’t shove Wukong away. He let out a frustrated hiss, but his eyes were already drooping with exhaustion. The steady warmth emanating from the golden monkey's body was nice, as much as he hated to admit it. Wukong snickered triumphantly, but said nothing further. Instead, he closed his eyes, content to remain there, ensuring Macaque wouldn’t start shaking again. But before any of them could fall asleep, Macaque spoke.

"How’d you find me?" His amber eyes flicked over to Wukong. "The wind was too loud, and the snow nearly buried me. It wasn’t just luck, was it?"

Wukong hesitated, his tail flicking slightly as he avoided Macaque’s gaze. For a moment, it seemed like he might deflect the question with one of his usual remarks or straight up lie, but he just sighed instead.

"I may or may not have been keeping tabs on you." he admitted, flicking the tip of his tail haphazardly.

"What? Seriously? Wukong-"

"Let me explain!" Wukong cut him off, holding up a hand. His golden eyes softened as they met Macaque’s. "Ever since you moved back to the mountain, I’ve been worried about you, especially after MK pointed out something I had missed."

Macaque frowned, but he stayed silent, allowing Wukong to continue.

"He told me how hard it is for you to stay warm, even in perfect weather, so I began to watch from afar. I’ve seen the way you build winter nests every night, how you’re always careful about keeping heat in." Wukong exhaled, his voice dropping. "So, when the blizzard hit out of nowhere, I got really worried, so I threw on some warm clothes and grabbed the thickest blankets I could find before heading to the spot I know you like to sleep."

Macaque’s eyes widened slightly, his mind replaying the moment he had frantically been shouted at multiple times, vaguely remembering the warmth that had enveloped him after being pulled out of the snow grave.

"I didn’t know if you’d even be there," Wukong continued, "But I had to try. I called for you the entire way, and…" 

"...You heard me." Macaque finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah." Wukong nodded. "but just barely. I could just make out your panicked shrieks and alarm calls over the wind, so I followed them." He gestured to Macaque with a small, grim smile. "That’s how I found you. That, and dumb luck, I guess."

Macaque stared at him, speechless. Wukong shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, chuckling nervously.

"So, yeah. That one decision saved your fluffy butt from freezing." Wukong said, forcing out more laughter. "I can't believe you fell in the river."

"...I guess you’re not completely useless." Macaque said, glancing away.

"Not completely useless, huh? I’ll take it." Wukong grinned at Macaque’s reluctant response, his tail swishing smugly behind him. 

"Don’t even try to test my patience right now." Macaque growled half-heartedly. "I'm not in the mood to deal with your shenanigans."

But Wukong wasn’t so easily deterred.

"C’mon, Mac." He teased, leaning slightly closer, "You’re grateful."

Grateful? Sure, let’s call it that." Macaque scowled. "Grateful you didn’t just leave me to die… again."

"..."

Now it was Wukong's turn to go silent. His grin disappeared entirely, thinking of his next words carefully. 

"I’m never leaving you again." He said quietly, the strangled sincerity in his voice catching Macaque completely off guard. He could've sworn he heard a sob somewhere in there.

"Yeah, well…" Macaque cleared his sore throat. "You’d be the one stuck cleaning up the mess, anyway. Too much work, right?"

"Uhh, yeah... too much work." Wukong echoed absentmindedly. "Can’t have you haunting me, telling me that I'd let you down again."

"Exactly." Macaque smacked Wukong with his tail, which had been spared from frostbite.

The two fell into silence for a moment, the sound of the distant waterfall and howling wind filling the space between them. Wukong broke the silence this time.

"You scared me, you know."

"What do you mean?" Macaque opened his eyes and raised a brow inquisitively.

"You’re not invincible, Mac." Wukong sighed. "When I found you, I thought I was too late."

"You're lying." Macaque looked away, his six ears flattening against his head. "You wouldn’t have cared that much."

"Of course I would’ve." Wukong shot upright. "Why wouldn’t I? You- You’re still important to me, even after everything,even though I know you despise me."

Macaque stiffened, the weight of Wukong’s words sinking in. He opened his mouth to argue, to deflect, but nothing came out. Instead, he tightened the blanket around himself, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

"Just… don’t scare me like that again, alright?" Wukong pleaded. By the eighteen hells below, this guy was so pathetic sometimes.

"No promises." Macaque grumbled under his breath. 

"I’ll take it." Wukong settled back into his spot beside Macaque.

The room fell into a heavy silence, only broken by the rustle of blankets as Macaque adjusted himself in his nest. Despite the warmth seeping into his tired body, his mind refused to rest.

"You’re seriously staying?" Macaque huffed after a long pause.

"Wasn’t planning on going anywhere." Wukong glanced over at him, his tail swishing lazily behind him. 

"You’re always trying to get as far away from me as possible." Macaque yawned, his voice tinged with slight bitterness. "What makes this time different?"

"You almost died." Wukong shifted, propping himself up on one arm as he met Macaque’s gaze. "Forgive me if I’m afraid you're gonna spontaneously combust or turn into a simian popsicle. Or something. You might even get hit by a random lazer from outer space."

"But I’m fine now."

"Doesn’t mean I’m going to risk it." Wukong shot back. "If you think I’m leaving you to fend for yourself right after hauling your freezing carcass back from the brink, you’ve got another thing coming."

"Uh-Huh, those are some mighty big words from someone who couldn’t find me until I was practically iced over!" Macaque suddenly snapped before slightly regretting the venom in his tone. 

"...You’re right." Wukong winced, pain and regret flashed in his eyes before he let out a heavy sigh.

"Just drop it, I don't care anymore." Macaque grimaced, rubbing his head. "What do you want, a damn kiss goodnight?"

"I don’t want anything from you, I’m just making sure you’re alright." Wukong said simply. Macaque glared at him for a moment more before relenting with a tired sigh. 

"Then you're a flea-ridden fool."

"I know." Wukong replied with a lopsided grin. "I kinda realized that during the journey."

"Hold on, did you say you were watching me earlier?"

"Does it really matter?" Wukong said with a shrug. "I was worried. Isn’t that enough?"

"No." Macaque shot back, though without his usual bite. "It’s weird. You’re weird."

"I’ve been called much worse, keep trying." Wukong smirked, resting his head in his palm. "But if it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t spying, just keeping tabs. You know, like old times, before I first got the courage to speak to you for the first time."

"Alright then, you're a freak." Macaque snorted. "Was that any better?"

"Eh, a little." Wukong chuckled faintly at Macaque’s insult.

Wukong started acting weird, or at least weirder than normal. His tail twitched constantly as an uncharacteristic nervous energy radiating from him. Then, without warning, he shifted, bringing himself up onto his knees in front of Macaque. The move startled Macaque, pulling his attention away from the idea of sleep for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

"What the hell are you doing now?" He groaned, which was quickly followed by a yawn.

Wukong didn’t respond right away. His eyes, usually glinting with mischief and the occasional arrogance, now held something else entirely. He took a deep breath before looking directly at Macaque, his expression unusually serious. 

"I need you to hear me out, okay? Just this once."

"Huh?" Macaque breathed, his tail flicking with unease. "Well, fine. Say your peace, then."

"I just-" Wukong started, then paused, raking a hand through his fur. His usual confidence seemed to falter, the words he was looking for caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. "I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but… after what happened to you, I… I missed you. A lot."

"Oh. Umm…" Macaque blinked, taken aback. "That’s a bit random."

"It’s not random." Wukong insisted. "I’ve been carrying this guilt around for centuries, Mihou. Losing you, losing us, it nearly broke me. I’ve made mistakes, sure, but after what I did to you? That’s the one thing I can never forgive myself for, even though you're back now. I still have nightmares from… That day."

"You really waited until now to bring this up?" Macaque muttered uncomfortably. "I’m half-dead and exhausted over here."

"Terrible timing, I know. But I can’t keep this bottled up anymore, okay?" He looked down, his hands curling into fists against his thighs. "Do you have any idea how much I regretted everything? I wanted to go back, to fix it all, but I couldn’t. I'd trade places with you if I could. And when you- When you were gone, I realized how much I really needed you."

"Needed me for what?" Macaque’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. "Need me to fight your battles as your warrior?"

"No." Wukong flinched at the bitterness in Macaque’s tone but didn’t back down. "I needed you because… because you’re my best friend, and maybe even more than that. Or you were, and I ruined that. I ruined us. I'm sorry. I'm… so sorry."

The room was quiet save for their beating hearts and heavy breathing. The wind had calmed down, at least. Macaque considered Wukong's apology for a moment before finally sighing. 

"Look, I’m too tired for this level of emotional shit right now. However," He paused, his gaze softening just a fraction, "You’re right. You ruined it. Doesn’t mean you’re not trying to fix it, though."

"Does that mean..?" Wukong blinked at him, a small flicker of hope lighting in his golden eyes. 

"It means shut up and let me sleep." Macaque muttered, rolling onto his side. "But thanks for saying it, I guess."

Wukong’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles, sitting back on his heels as Macaque laid down on his back, closing his eyes again. For the first time in centuries, the space between them wasn’t filled with fear, anger, or regret, just a quiet, fragile truce.

"You're still cold, aren't you?" Wukong chirps.

"Please just shut up.

"You're cold, right?"

"...Yeah."

Wukong seized his opportunity and crawled on top of him. With the sudden proximity, Macaque tensed as the other monkey settled down. His ears fluttered madly as Wukong started purring. Macaque can hear the king's heart thudding loudly, which was also racing for some reason.

"I'm not asking for much." Wukong murmured. He shifted slightly, his ear now pressed softly over Macaque’s heart, against the rising and falling of his chest. "I just-"

Macaque exhaled, feeling warmth that shouldn’t have been this comforting. He didn't know if he liked this or not. He could just push him off, and Wukong would leave him alone, but…

"I really did miss you." Wukong whispered, wrapping his arms around Macaque’s waist.

Macaque froze for what felt like an eternity, caught between his stubborn pride and the undeniable warmth that was quickly seeping into his cold body. Wukong’s arms were firm yet gentle, encircling him with utmost care, as though testing how far he could push his luck.

Wukong buried his nose into Macaque’s shoulder, letting out a steady purring sound that vibrated through them both. His tail, usually restless and always moving, wrapped itself loosely around Macaque’s right thigh. Macaque gritted his teeth while his ears refused to settle down.

"You're clingy, you know that?" Macaque hissed. Wukong let out a low hum in response, his cheek fur tickling the crook of Macaque's neck. 

"Good." Wukong purred.

Macaque rolled his eyes but didn’t shove him off. Instead, he let out a grumble, more noise than protest, as Wukong shifted even closer, not knowing when to quit. Their legs tangled awkwardly at first, Wukong’s knees bumping against his in an overeager attempt to get comfortable. After a few growls and complaints, they finally settled, with Wukong somehow managing to half-pin Macaque in place.

"You're literally the worst." Macaque sighed.

"Yup, I sure am." Wukong's claws dug in Macaque’s floofy mane. "But you’re not exactly pushing me away, so who’s the real problem here?"

Macaque cursed a word under his breath not even the world's best soap could clean. He turned his face into a blanket, trying to ignore how nice Wukong’s heat was. The king was practically melting against him now, with one hand tucked securely between them and the other tracing down Macaque’s spine between the mattress.

"Why is your heart racing?" Macaque asked accusingly, though his posture remained slack. Wukong stilled for a moment, the steady pur faltering before he covered it with an airy laugh. 

"Maybe it’s because I’m sharing a nest with a guy who’s been glaring daggers at me all night?"

"You’re always been a terrible liar." Macaque snorted, his lips quivering upward. 

"And you’re always been needy. I guess some things never change."

Eventually, he relaxed further into Wukong’s hold, dipping down to rest his chin on the top of the other's head.

"I still hate this." He mumbled, half-asleep.

Wukong chortled, his purring resumed as he tightened his grip just a fraction, as if to ensure Macaque wouldn't wriggle away. 

"Sure you do, bud."

Wukong adjusted his arms, lifting them up around Macaque’s torso, sliding the hand that was trailing his spine to rest just beneath his ribs. Macaque tensed immediately, like he suddenly just now realized how intimate their positions were. His hands instinctively twitched toward Wukong as though to push him away, but something about the way Wukong relaxed into him, his legs tangling possessively with Macaque’s as if to keep him in place, made the fight drain out of him. What the hell were they doing?

"You’re smothering me." Macaque choked out as the king's peachy scent filled his lungs.

"I know." Wukong chirped, his breath warm and ticklish against Macaque’s fur.

Macaque opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat when he felt Wukong nuzzle him more, his ear pressing harder against his chest like he was trying to drown himself in the sound of his heartbeat. It took Macaque everything he had to slow his heart down, but it wasn't enough. 

"Now your heart’s racing, bud."

"Shut the hell up." Macaque turned his head away, teeth bared in a grimace.

"You smell like a mint patch in the rain." Wukong muttered, shifting his nose to burrow underneath into Macaque’s neck fur. He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply. "Gods, I missed you."

"Wukong…" Macaque’s voice wavered as his claws gripped the blanket beneath them. "It's just because I'm cold that I'm allowing you to do this, don't you forget it."

"Sure." Wukong murmured, his hand curling tighter. His purring returned. "Cuz you're cold."

"You’re literally impossible." Macaque yawned.

"I have that effect on people." Wukong replied simply, his tone surprisingly tender. He adjusted slightly, brushing his fingers through the tangled fur near Macaque’s face. His grip tightened, and he whispered, "And I’m not letting go, not this time."

Macaque closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. Slowly, hesitantly, his tail moved, brushing Wukong’s before looping the tips. He could feel Wukong’s heart beating against his abdomen, strong as it was steady.

"This doesn’t mean I forgive you." Macaque said, his words muffled by exhaustion.

"I thought as much." Wukong whispered, his head rising and falling with each of Macaque’s breaths. "But I’ll wait."

The room fell silent, save for the mingled sounds of their breathing and Wukong’s persistent purring. Wukong held on like Macaque’s continued heartbeat was the only thing that mattered, and for the first time in a long time, Macaque let him. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was too tired to fight or because, deep down, he wanted this. Maybe both.

Neither of them made any effort to move. Considering how close he’d come to freezing to death, this wasn’t the worst outcome. In fact, with Wukong holding him so tightly, Macaque might even admit, just to himself, that he actually enjoyed his company like this. That way, he wouldn't have to worry about freezing ever again. Because he was cold as the moon, while Wukong was as hot as the sun.