Chapter 1
“What the fuck?!” He exclaims as the tiger lady just- keels over. Macaque almost believes she's died if not for the quiet, unsteady beating of her heart.
His instincts begged him to simply leave. He feels the shadows tug on their bond, just waiting for the word to swallow him up and whisk him away.
He should. He should go.
He has one foot in the portal before he looks back at his assailant.
Gods damn it. He sighs, rolling up his sleeves. Curse his bleeding heart. Hoisting her up, he’s mildly surprised by how light she is.
He just couldn't bring himself to do it. Something about her… maybe it was the disdain in her eyes, the snarl that curled at her lips like some vicious animal or maybe even the way she had practically spat out Wukong’s name gave him pause.
Or maybe the kid was rubbing off on him.
The portal spits them back out in his apartment above the theatre, snapping shut.
He gets the feeling the shadows are mildly displeased. Or perhaps intrigued. The things were finicky like that.
Looking down at the woman he currently had cradled in his arms, the thought strikes him. What… what's he going to do with her?
Was it socially acceptable to put her on the couch? Did he have to offer up his bed? He really didn't want to do that. Why did he even bring her along in the first place, that was the stupidest decision he'd ever made in his entire life- she just tried to kill him for heaven's sake!- maybe the kid really has rubbed off on him more than he thought, he’s usually not nearly as impulsive. That was Wukong’s thing.
He puts her on the couch.
Now that he was really looking at her, she looked…worse for wear. Clothes were dirty and unkempt, eyes rimmed with red underneath that orange and black fur. He had to assume she was some sort of tiger demon. Jade bracelets and anklets weighed down the limbs a hefty amount.
Slowly, he moves to remove the heavy jewelry. Maybe she used them to train.
Or maybe it was like the circlet.
His movements pause, a jade bracelet halfway being shimmied off. Would it be wise to take them off in that case?
No. No it wasn't.
He slides the bracelet back on.
He was sure he could handle her. She looked malnourished and with the erratic rhythm of her heart he doubted she could do much against him. Worse comes to worse he could just dump her back onto the streets and pretend it never happened.
Should he call someone? He was never really good at first aid, that was always Yellow Tusk’s job. He didn’t see any injuries that really needed to be attended to nor did he hear anything. He sure as hell wasn’t about to undress her after effectively abducting her to check.
… She’ll be fine. Probably.
Who would he call anyways? Surely not Wukong, if not for the clear hatred for the ginger simian she’d go as far as to attack him, who only vaguely looked like monkey king, then for the honest reason of: he’d rather eat his dishware than call on him for help.
So, Wukong was out, he doubted MK knew much about first aid and would probably bombard the poor lady with tons of questions the second she awoke, Mei too. That was half the roster gone. The scholar seemed the squeamish type, so not him either. That left Pigsy and Sandy. Hm, Pigsy was probably busy, with running the restaurant and all.
So, Sandy then. Oh, or the demon bull family. Surely they had servants that could help?
Would they even be willing to help if he asked? Sure, he was loads closer to DBK among the other three and he’d never personally did anything. Surely that had to count for something.
Well, couldn’t hurt to try he supposed.
Nodding to himself, decision made, he sets about making himself some dinner, he was feeling a little peckish.
He kept an ear on the woman on his couch the entire time as he cooked. Cracking an egg open on the side of the pan, listening to it sizzle in the oil.
Idly, he fiddles with a tuft of ginger fur he had braided into his hair, humming.
The eggs are done in record time.
He grabs a plate, his hand hovering over the pile for a moment, deliberating. Yellow eyes flicking over to the lady on his couch. He grabs another plate.
He made too much anyways.
He slides about half of the eggs onto the empty plate before grabbing a mosquito basket and covering it before settling into a chair, chewing on his eggs pepper sprinkled in.
They sent a bull clone to his apartment.
Originally, he was planning on heading over to their palace but a firm knock on his door revealed a bull clone, medical kit in hand, so that was that.
He chewed thoughtfully on his last remnants of food on his plate, watching the automaton attend to the woman. It was silent, moving mechanical as it gave her a general checkup.
There is a faint click somewhere within the bull clone's vocaliser. He glances up.
“What're you going to do with her?” It splices together near seamlessly. If not for the faintest hint of static that reached his ears, he may have believed it was really Princess Iron Fan speaking.
“I didn't really think that far.” He frowns, crossing his arms.
Even emotionless, the automaton levels him with an unimpressed look.
“Look I- what do you have any ideas?” He retorts.
It says nothing, shrugging.
“Great.” He grouses. Was it too late to dump her back onto the streets?
“You cannot.” The bull clone supplies helpfully.
“I didn't say anything.” He defends.
“You- thunk- it.” Oh, that was MK's voice. Well, he was the only one who would use “thunk” he supposed. Either way, he scowls at the thing.
“She’s sleeping on your- COUCH!” It continues. The last part was very clearly PIF, likely to DBK. He did not envy him. “You must take care of it.” That was much gentler, whispered, he was assuming to baby Redson, if the quiet babbling at the tail end of that recording was any indicator.
“I'm not a babysitter.” He grouses.
Unimpressed, it repeats itself. “You must take care of it.”
To be fair, he had been planning on atleast offering her food or something, so it wasn't like he had no plan at all.
“Sheesh, “It” is a bit much, isn't it?” He huffs, rolling his eyes.
“-pronouns- are unknown.” It supplies.
He arches a brow at it.
It seemed to slump into itself, “breathing” out a sigh.
“Redson- giving- lectures.”
Ah. “Makes sense.” He nods sagely.
It nods back at him, turns on it's heel and takes it's leave. Silence reigns for a moment or two, uninterrupted even by the sounds of the city below, heavily soundproofed as his home was. Granted, if he truly wanted to, he'd need only concentrate. But he liked the peace the meagre muffling allowed. It gave him the illusion of a normal life.
Settling himself against his kitchen island, he resigns himself to doomscrolling on twitter until she wakes up.