Chapter Text
Wukong had always been the more affectionate one in their relationship.
She was the one making dinner reservations, reaching out to hold her hand without hesitation (even in public), and casually pressing kisses to her temple as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She gave flowers—so many kinds of flowers—and gifts Macaque never once asked for, but somehow, they always matched her ever-changing tastes. No matter the colors, shapes, or even textures—Wukong remembered things Macaque sometimes forgot about herself.
In other words, she was doing the most for their relationship, while Macaque remained the receiver of it all.
It’s not like she didn’t appreciate it. Quite the opposite, actually.
Macaque cherished every single thing her beloved Sun had given her, treating the gifts as if they were part of her own soul. She handled each one with care and such precision that if you took a closer look at her closet—where she would store all of the gifts—you would've thought that they were all brand new despite having been there for ages.
It was just how things worked between them. Macaque showed affection through quiet actions, while Wukong was the gifter, the talker, the one who loved out loud. It worked. Especially when Wukong had enough love to fill in the silences Macaque couldn’t yet bring herself to speak.
However, as time went on and this little tradition of theirs flourished, Macaque couldn’t help but feel like she was doing something wrong. A part of her consciousness constantly reminded her that she wasn’t doing enough for Wukong, and that it almost felt painfully one-sided.
"Am I giving enough? Or is it always her doing the most?"
Macaque hates that.
She doesn’t want that.
She knows Wukong deserves more than what she’s been giving. Hugs and kisses were standard—nothing to be embarrassed or nervous about. But for Macaque, who had only recently grown comfortable with affection and social interaction, those gestures still felt like huge steps.
After all, it took a whole lot of love, respect, and trust just for the shadowed monkey to communicate.
And she did love Wukong.
Gods, did she love her.
Enough to try. Enough to change—if it meant making Wukong feel as adored as she deserved.
Which is why today—with Wukong out running errands across the city and their somewhat shared penthouse all empty and quiet, Macaque found herself pacing in the kitchen, her heart was already hammering in excitement and her palms were slightly damp. But that didn't matter—because today, after months of preparation and brainstorming at the airport—she was going to do something for Wukong.
Something romantic.
Something loud and obvious and stupid in the way Wukong always loved things to be.
A surprise dinner.
A home-cooked meal tjat's hopefully edible, a peach-based dessert (because of course.), and maybe even candles. Yes, candles. Scented, even.
...Not that she had any clue where Wukong kept those, but she’d burn down the whole complex if she had to.
Macaque was determined.
More than determined.
And it might not be perfect, but it would be hers.
—♡—
"Where is it?" Macaque murmured as she let out a sigh of exhaustion, her tail twitching in visible frustration. Time had definitely passed since she began her little plan, and yet she hadn’t even started cooking.
God, she still hadn’t started anything yet!
The tofu she bought for the Honey Garlic Tofu she was planning to make was still in its container, untouched. The vegetables were chopped—that was good. However, some of the ingredients were still in their grocery bags from earlier, when she’d done a last-minute run to the supermarket because she’d forgotten half the list. And the romantic playlist she’d spent thirty minutes curating was only on its second loop, echoing softly through the oversized kitchen.
She ran a hand through her unruly dark hair/fur and looked around as if the room might answer her panic. It didn’t. She sighed again and stepped away from the countertop she’d been awkwardly climbing on to reach something in the cabinet—only to come down empty-handed.
When her feet hit the ground, she stumbled slightly—Why is it so tall, damn.—but managed to grab the peninsula for support just in time.
"Not even one hour in and I'm already struggling," Macaque chuckled helplessly, her nervous grin faltering with every shaky breath.
And then—her ears twitched.
Ping.
That absurd ringtone—one Wukong insisted suited the both of them—echoed through the giant open kitchen. Macaque jumped a little before hurrying over to the table, grabbing the phone nestled between a bowl of peaches and a lighter she still didn’t know how to use properly.
She unlocked it with Wukong's birthdate and blinked at the familiar name flashing on the screen.
Peachyy🍑
Hey hotstuff!! I’m going the D.I.Y store rn😎 ya want anything while I’m here picking up supplies?
Perhaps scissors? (Wink wink ok im sorry) glitters? ...Or maybe smthn gay??? Cuz yk it's our month 😚😚
I can mail u all the stuff dw.
BTW. I miss u so much💘 feels so lonely without u:((
Macaque snorted before she could stop herself.
Gods, she was in love with an idiot.
MYmacake😝
don’t buy anything dumb but ok.
Buy new scissors while your still there. Yours kinda broke.
Don't ask.
I miss you too, peaches :)
Also, I'm at ur place rn.
She didn't even need to wait because as soon as she sent the first text, the typing dots appeared, but after the last text was received and seen—the dots disappeared almost instantly, pausing in hesitation before it reappeared again, then disappeared, and then it reappared again—
This time, it looked as if the other person on the other side was in a rush.
Peachyy 🍑
WA8T ur WHAY.
WAIT*
WHAT*
Macaque choked on a laugh, her hand immediately flying up to cover her mouth as she tried (and failed) to muffle her silly chuckles. With a sly smile tugging at her lips, she locked the screen and gently tossed the phone back onto the table.
She may or may not regret revealing things too early—like her being in Wukong’s place in the middle of the afternoon—but at least she didn’t tell her about the surprise. Besides, Macaque, herself, would always barge into the other's place unannounced anyway—even before they started dating—so she probably wouldn’t think much of it.
Still, Macaque had to cook. Quickly.
The decorations were already set. Gods know where Wukong kept the fancy candles, but that was fine—Macaque bought her own. They smelled good, too. Something soft and peachy, subtle enough to blend into the background without making it too obvious.
All that was left now was to cook the specific meals she’d found off Pinterest—and maybe, just maybe, plate them to look a little gourmet. Wukong always said presentation didn’t matter, but Macaque knew the truth. Her girlfriend had a whole photo album dedicated to food pics on her phone. If the lighting was good and the plate was pretty, it went on her story.
So, yes. Taste mattered. But aesthetics? it was a necessity.
The best was for her peaches, after all.