Really jazzed with how this is coming along, so here’s a preview of the first chapter for my next LMK fic.
When Monkey King got a new phone at the humble, totally not using his puppy dog face request of his successor, he made the firm rule that only MK would have his number. His reasoning being he was already harassed enough through his email address, and he liked to keep a low profile.
That was broken within the first week as Mei somehow, oh so mysteriously got his contact info, and he only made 15 attempts at blocking her number before he gave in and muted her texts- because every convo ended up the same.
[Mei, pls only text me if its important :/] 8:55 AM
[Kk monkie dad! ⊂((*＞⊥σ))⊃ Dragon horse’s honor (≧ω≦)ゞ] 8:55 AM
[Thank you] 8:56 AM
[Link: Top 10 Funniest Viral Videos This Week…] 9:01 AM
[This is super important] 9:01 AM
It’s not that he wanted to avoid talking with her, she was a good kid!... It was her erratic schedule of messages that more often than not came well after nap o’ clock, or I Wanna Sleep In AM..
So, with Mei being Mei and his phone number unlisted, Wukong only ever heard from MK when he made the once in a while call in lieu of using Mystic Monkey Messaging.
He was thinking of giving the kid a ring now, as it was almost half an hour past their scheduled meet up at his mountain for their (now mandatory) heart-to-heart talk and training. MK was hardly ever late to their sessions, and if he was, he at least gave a heads-up. It was starting to give him a small, eensy teensy bit of emotion he couldn’t quite name.
Monkey King checked his phone again, and saw no missed calls or messages from his student, which only made the wiggling crumb of… something, settle deeper into his already hungry belly. No one would blame him for worrying about MK after everything that’s happened, but turning into an overbearing parent- which, no, could he call himself that? Was he allowed to?- wasn’t going to help. A nice snack would though.
Just as Wukong was walking into his kitchen to get some chopped peaches from his freezer to settle his stomach and redirect those thoughts, the Super Monkey Mech theme chimed out from his sash.
“Speak of the demon,” he chuckled with relief as he fished out his phone from the folds of his belt. Wukong flicked his thumb, accepted the call, and went rooting for his snack. “Hey bud! What’s the hold up?” he asked casually.
“Ah, hey Monkey King,” came a gruff, clipped voice. Wukong snapped straight up, a terrible move as he thumped his crown harshly on the inside of the freezer. Beyond the sudden discomfort as he held the top of his head, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, was that shred of emotion now knotting his guts. “First off-”
“What’s wrong.” he interjected. The momentary pain was shunted away- now on high alert, he marched out of his house with purpose. He could hear a creaking noise beyond the grumble of Pigsy’s words.
“I’m trying to tell you- yes, MK, we ARE doing this.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No, he’s not hurt. If you’d both stop-”
“Do I need to-”
“Would you two quit talkin’ over me at the SAME TIME?!” the irate pig shouted. Wukong halted his forward momentum right as his foot met the first step out of his home. There was a crackling sigh and a distant cough before Pigsy continued. “Monkey King, the kid’s fine. Sittin’ right next to me. Now listen before you come flyin’ over here. Please.” he groused.
“Alright, I’m listening.” Wukong deadpanned as he leaned on the railing of his porch, tail swishing.
Another cough met his ears before Pigsy spoke again. “Alright, I’ve got ya on speaker. Kid, say hi to Monkey King, SLOWLY, so he knows you’re alive.” Wukong wanted to jab right back, but for the moment he felt it would be a little tasteless on his part.
“Hey, Monkey King,” MK rasped after another small cough, sending a warning flag up in the monkey’s mind, “Sorry I didn’t call. I couldn’t find my phone after, uh, I accidentally broke a couple booths at the sh, sh, sha, shop!” His words broke off into hacking, which quickly rose in pitch. What Wukong heard after the “Hu-geugh!” he would possibly describe as someone slapping their hand across a sound board.
There was shouting- probably Pigsy- some crunching, definitely property damage, and what sounded like glass breaking amongst the cacophony. That new insurance money was gonna go fast.
Wukong waited, eyebrows drawn low as curtains, as nothing but white noise and a withering groan came over the speaker. “Ummm,” he drawled after he heard neither pig nor kid speak up, “Eeeverything good over there?” the king asked, halfway expecting to not get a response.
A grunt was his answer. “Eh, not the worst it’s been,” said a very resigned sounding Pigsy. There was a noise of frustration, along with more wheezing that sounded like a laugh, and Wukong could practically hear the chef massaging a behooved finger between his eyes. “As I was sayin’, MK’s sick. His coughing is making his body freak out, and I need you to come pick him up and take care of him ‘til he’s feeling better. You’re gonna be able to help him more than me right now, and I’d like my shop to at least go one month this year without getting a remodeling.”
“Freak out? Like- No, wait- backtrack,” Wukong frantically waved his free hand, totally visible over the audio only phone call, “MK’s sick? Sick with what?” he asked urgently.
“It’s just a cold,” MK tried to assert, throat sounding strained, before he was interrupted by Pigsy gently shushing him.
“Kid, you’re a bad liar, and you’re gonna bust a lung at this rate.” he chided, though his voice was far warmer than it was before. Wukong waited for the chef to speak to him again, tail practically swatting a quick rhythm now as he listened impatiently to more shuffling. “Monkey King, just, come over. I’m not gonna be able to make the kid budge without your help, and I think this is something you gotta see in person.”
At that he heard an overly offended ‘hey!’ that lost all of its power when the kid’s voice cracked. It eased the tension in his shoulders and abated some of the worry that replaced the foreign feeling from earlier. WIth a chuff, he said “You know, there’s this thing you’re using right now that I’m pretty sure can also take and send pictures, if the lens isn’t busted anymore.”
There was another noise of indignation from MK that bubbled off into a grumble, which was almost entirely obscured by Pigsy’s terse rebuttal. “Alright smart guy, I’m hanging up and helping the kid pack. See you in 10.” Monkey King gave an affirmative hum, tucking his phone back into his sash as the call disconnected.
He let himself droop and fold dramatically over the railing, deflating further as he released a long, suffering, groan. Wukong couldn’t see anything past the legs of his pants, but he heard the light tap-tap-tap of one of the monkeys coming around the porch. With a thump and a graceful landing, his subject sat on his back and let out a questioning chitter.
“Well,” he huffed, scrubbing a nervous hand through his mane. “Looks like we’re not gonna catch a break just yet.”
