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All things considered MK thought it was perfectly understandable of Mei to throw her sword at that woman’s head. 

Like, yeah, okay, sure, it was probably considered “bad etiquette” or “shoddy customer service” to attack a major political figure of Megapolis while she was paying for her bowl of spicy hand-pulled noodles with extra tofu, but she introduced herself to MK as the mayor, and the last time a mayor in a pinstripe suit had strode into Pigsy’s to thank the Monkie Kid for all his hard work, he was–well, he was a lot of terrible things really, but he definitely wasn’t the mayor. So, yeah, MK could see why Mei decided to stab first and ask questions later. 

But this wasn’t some grinning vessel for the newest big bad the Monkie Kid had to take down. No, this was the actual mayor of Megapolis, who had ducked her head with such force to avoid getting skewered that she smacked it against the counter of Pigsy’s Noodles. 

“MEI!” Pigsy shouted “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?! DON’T TRY TO MURDER A PAYING CUSTOMER!” He leaned over the counter to inspect the mayor for any possible injuries, apologizing profusely. She held her head in one hand, trying to rearrange the strands of hair which fell from her tight bun in the other. 

“Sorry Miss Mayor Maam!” Mei shouted from across Pigsy’s Noodles. “Thought you were another demon henchman.” 

The mayor let out a long sigh. “It. It’s fine.” She seemed like she was trying to convince herself of that more than anything. “Just, please do not do that again.”

She turned back to MK, sighing as she stood up from the counter. “As I was saying.” The mayor dusted off her pin striped suit. “As the mayor of Megapolis, I wanted to personally thank you for all you’ve done to protect our city.” She took MK’s hands with a smile practically designed for photo ops. “Without you, Megapolis would be under the tyrannical rule of any number of villains.” 

MK smiled, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, no need to thank me, Miss Mayor Ma'am!” He laughed. “It’s all just part of being the Monkie Kid!’ 

“Oh but I must,” The mayor insisted. “In fact, I've spoken with the city council, and after some discussion we’ve come up with the perfect way to thank you.” She dug her hands into her purse before pulling out a dainty little envelope. 

MK grabbed the envelope from the mayor’s hand and tore it open, pulling out an ornate looking invitation. The mayor continued to speak to him as he did. “The date hasn’t been set yet, but we were thinking about the middle of summer–about three months from now?” 

MK squinted at the paper and its script. He was just barely able to make out the words from the loopy, overly ostentatious handwriting. “…What’s a gala?” 

Mei suddenly shrieked, leaping up from her chair and wrapping her arms around MK’s neck. “A GALA?! Oh those are SO much fun!” MK could feel Mei vibrate in excitement against him. “It’s a super swanky rich people party where you dress all fancy, eat good food, you dance– my parents go to them all the time!” She leaned into MK’s ear, giggling, “I used to go with them, but they stopped bringing me along after I bit a foreign ambassador.” 

“Did someone say a gala?” Tang had stopped eating his freeloader noodles to sidle up by Mei. “I haven’t gone to one of those in ages.” 

“Wait, you people have gone to galas?” Pigsy asked, pointing at them all with his ladle. “Even you Tang?”

“Yes! I was invited to one by my professors back in college, remember?” Tang fiddled with his glasses, sighing fondly at the memory. “The food was divine. ”

“Oh yeah, I remember you talkin’ bout that.” Pigsy snarked. “Although at the time, you were were waxin’ more poetics about the caterer than the food-”

Tang slapped his hand over Pigsy’s mouth “O-okay Pigsy, we don’t have to bring that up around the kids-” 

It was too late. Mei was already leaning up against Tang, demanding he tell her more. Tang was stuttering up a storm, begging Pigsy to help him. Pigsy had just crossed his arms and told him help was for paying customers. 

MK turned away from the chaos to look at the mayor with a small smile. “Is it really that fancy?”

“Well, we’ll be inviting several politicians and elite figures in Megapolis,” the mayor said, adjusting her glasses, “And it is a gala. So yes, fancy would be an appropriate adjective.” 

MK stared down at the invitation, the expensive feeling paper and overly-ostentatious loopy handwriting he could barely read. Something that fancy had to cost a fortune for the city to do. Who knows how much effort would happen behind the scenes for something like a gala to take place. And all of that would be to celebrate…him? 

MK’s grip on the paper tightened, wrinkling the envelope. He felt bad for tearing such pretty paper now. 

“Hey, hi, um, Miss Mayor Ma'am?” Mei was now lying on the counter, head propped up on her hand. “I know this is to celebrate MK and all, and he’s super worth celebrating, he’s our Monkie Man-” Mei cooed out the nickname, “-but we are part of his gang and he wouldn’t have defeated anyone without us, sooooo.” Tang peeked out from behind her, nodding eagerly. 

The mayor sighed, clearly exasperated. “The gala will be focusing on the Monkie Kid. But, as you are a part of the Monkie Kid’s posse, I suppose my invitation also extends-”

“AWWW YEAH!!” Mei’s outburst made the mayor jump. Mei didn’t notice, too busy pumping her first in the air shouting excitedly. 

Tang could barely form coherent words, eyes sparking. He whipped his phone out, almost dropping it from the sheer force of his glee. “I’ll have to call Sandy about the news–he’ll want to know if the venue allows animals, of course, but–ahh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He waved his hand at the mayor. 

Even Pigsy seemed swept up in the glee. “Huh.” He picked at the collar of his shirt and let out a low chuckle. “I’ll have to search through my closet for somethin’ nice to wear.” 

“PIGGY!” Mei grabbed Pigsy’s cheeks and shoved their foreheads together. “We should all get CUSTOM MADE SUITS! My parents have like FIVE fashion designers on speed dial, I can totally get you the SWANKIEST fit-”

The mayor spoke to MK again, drawing his attention back to her. “You’ll be expected to speak at the gala, of course.” She stated. “You’ll need to come up with a speech, I’d say a minimum of seven minutes? Everything else we can take care of.” She handed MK a business card with her name and number in neat font. 

“I’ll be in touch.” With a push of her glasses, the mayor strode out of Pigsy’s, hurrying a little faster when she walked past the Dragon Sword stuck to the wall. 

Putting the business card in his pocket, MK looked down at the invitation in his hand. In one corner of the expensive paper was a small grinning monkey, imitating the one on his jacket. Whoever drew it didn’t quite get the smile right. It made something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

Mei turned to MK with a grin. “MK! THIS IS GOING TO BE SO FUN!! AREN’T YOU EXCITED?!” She grabbed his collar and shook him. “GET HYYYPE!!” 

MK laughed, a grin snaking up his face despite himself. Mei seemed satisfied with MK’s response, because she went back to showing Pigsy all the different tailors she could take him to. Sandy was shouting from Tang’s phone about how he finally had an excuse to put Moe in a little suit and tie. Tang’s speech had deteriorated to little more than a scramble of letters. 

Yeah. Yeah. MK should be excited. MK and his friends were going to go to a fancy gala and eat rich people food and dance together. Sure, MK had to come up with a speech, and sit through a whole celebration just for him, but staring at Mei as she ballroom danced with Pigsy, hearing Sandy and Tang ramble excitedly, he put all those swirling uneasy feelings which snuck up his spine to the side. 

MK slammed the invitation on the counter and grinned. “This gala’s gonna be great!” 

“ You’re what?!”

A loud bang could be heard from under Mei’s sports car, followed by a string of curse words. Red Son rolled himself from under the sports car to stare at MK, slack jawed. 

“I’m going to a gala? It’s supposed to celebrate Monkie Kid saving the city.” MK shrugged. “The mayor said it’s going to be held in like, three months.” 

Since the defeat of the Lady Bone Demon, Red Son had been spending a lot more time with Mei and MK. Or rather, he was spending more time with Mei, which meant he spent time with MK by proxy. Or to really be accurate, Mei dragged Red Son around like a plushie, and for all of Red Son’s fiery outbursts, he still agreed to hang out the next day.  

Today, Red Son had been conscripted with the task of repairing Mei’s sports car. According to Mei, he would moan about how absolutely “garbage” it was every time they went out with it, so eventually she threw a tool box at Red Son’s head and told him to “FIX IT THEN, IF IT'S SOOO GARBAGE!” Red Son decided to do just that, seemingly not realizing that he was doing Mei a favor by working on her car. 

Originally, Mei had been hanging out with Red Son and MK, with her cheerfully making conversation between the two of them. But when her phone rang with a call from her parents, Mei slipped out of the garage to answer, leaving MK alone with Red Son. 

Look, it…it wasn’t like MK and Red Son were enemies or anything. They were long past that. But Red Son was definitely closer to Mei than he was to MK, and to be completely honest, MK had a sneaking suspicion Red Son wanted to keep it that way. 

Still though, MK tried to keep the air in the garage from turning stale with awkward silence, and in his effort to fill the space with noise had accidentally mentioned the gala to Red Son. He figured Red Son would know about the gala already, seeing how it was all Mei had been talking about for the past three days, but apparently not. 

Red Son sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let me get this straight.” he pointed at MK. “The city is celebrating you saving the world by throwing you a gala, which I assume you’ll be attending as the guest of honor?”

“Uhh, yeah? Basically.” MK laughed, sitting on the hood of a different Long Family vehicle. “I mean, I kind of have to go. The gala is for me, and the mayor wanted me to make up a speech-” 

“You have to go to a gala and give a speech?!” Red Son stood up, staring at MK looking downright scandalized. 

“Yeah?” MK tilted his head. “What’s wrong with that?” 

Red Son sputtered. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with that?! Just–just–look at you!” He flicked his hand at MK as if this somehow explained everything. MK frowned, looking down at himself. He looked the same as ever. His t-shirt had a stain from the noodles he had last night, but it wasn’t that noticeable, was it? 

“Tell me something, Noodle Boy,” Red Son strode over to MK, leering over him with a scowl on his lips. “Have you ever been to a gala before?” 

“Well…no, I haven’t.” MK admitted. “But that doesn't mean-” 

“Have you ever been to any formal party or dinner before?” Red Son crossed his arms. 

“N-no.” MK shrunk back a bit at the question, but Red Son continued his relentless interrogation. “Do you know how to speak to other political figures? Do you know the proper way to pour a drink for your elders? Do you have any experience with public speaking?” he leaned over the Noodle Boy, eyes narrowed. “Do you even know how to dance? ” 

Thank goodness-a question MK could answer. “I know how to dance!” MK hopped off the hood of the car to shove Red Son his moves. He shook his hips and waved his hands, converse squeaking against the garage floor as he did a little shimmy. MK finished it off with a spin and some jazz hands.

This did not at all impress Red Son despite the clear show of talent that it was. 

Red Son covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Noodle Boy, how exactly are you going to go to a gala when you can not even begin to make yourself presentable?”

“I’m presentable!” MK protested.

Red Son barked out a laugh. “You’re barely presentable now.” He pointed at MK’s chest with a sneer. “You have two food stains on your shirt.”

MK looked down at his shirt, surprised. Huh. Red Son was right, there were two stains. Where did the second one come from? Must’ve been there longer. 

“Well, if it’s a gala for me, does it really matter if I don’t act all fancy or whatever?” MK shrugged. 

Red Son clicked his tongue. “ Please. It matters more for you than anybody else. If your human galas are anything like demon formals, you would be eaten alive.” Red Son’s smirk looked almost sadistically cruel. “Having the main event of the party stumble his way through even the most basic etiquette will do nothing but sink your reputation. If you want the city of Megapolis to remain thankful for its little hero, you should start worrying a bit more about keeping your food off your clothes and in your mouth.” 

“Oh, because you know so much about parties.” MK narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. 

Red Son barked out a laugh. “Of course I do. I am a demon prince. I’ve been to dozens of dinner parties alongside my mother.” 

To be honest, MK didn’t expect Red Son to say that he did, in fact, go to parties. He had always pictured Red Son as too antisocial to do anything more social than let Mei drag him along to the arcade. He couldn’t even imagine Red Son dancing. But, he supposed it made sense that Red Son actually did have some experience with fancy dinners and galas and the like. He was still royalty, even if his hands were currently covered in oil and he had a ratty apron over his expensive coat. 

Red Son sighed, wiping his hands with said ratty apron. “Look. You clearly won’t be able to come off even semi-respectable without someone showing you the ropes. And I doubt there’s anyone you know who’s gone to more galas than me.” He shut his eyes, crossing his arms and turning his head. “So I suppose I’ll have to be your teacher,”

MK blanched, stumbling over his feet so much that he had to lean against the car hood. There was no way he heard that correctly. “My what? ” 

Red Son huffed, a bit of steam escaping his nose. “ You have no idea how to handle yourself at events fancier than a child’s birthday party, and I’ve been to parties where the host would literally eat you alive if you made a fool of yourself. So there’s no one better to teach you basic gala etiquette than me.” 

Okay, so he had heard Red Son correctly. But that was-that-?! MK sputtered. “Wait, you can’t just-” 

Red Son cut MK off. “Your shift on Sunday ends early at three pm, correct?”

“Well, yeah, but-” MK stammered. How did Red Son even know that?

Red Son continued talking. “I’ll meet you in your miserable little noodle shop to teach you everything you need to know about surviving a gala.” Red Son strode around MK. “You’ll need basic training on eating, small talk, dancing–and of course, I’ll have to look over that speech you plan to make so you don’t completely embarrass yourself-” 

“Dude!” MK shouted loud enough that Red Son had paused, giving a chance for MK to speak. “Look, Red Son, I know you don’t think I’m good enough to impress a bunch of rich people, or whatever, but that doesn't mean you can just make yourself my teacher!” He glared at Red Son, crossing his arms. “I may not live up to your demon prince standards, but I think I'll be just fine at the porty.” 

Red Son raised his brow. “The porty. ” He repeated in a flat, deadpan tone. 

“Yeah.” MK huffed, trying not to let his embarrassment radiate too obviously off him. “The porty.” 

Red Son’s brows furrowed, his lips twitching as he stared at MK with an expression that was familiar as it was infuriating. MK hadn’t been able to put a name to the look Red Son would give him, but every single time they hung out, MK would catch Red Son staring at him with that not quite frown, not quite glare, hair sparking the way they always did before he burst into a fiery tirade, but never quite getting there. 

MK wanted to get closer to Red Son since the Spider Queen Invasion, and after defeating the Lady Bone Demon, MK thought he might finally have the chance. But to be completely honest, he didn’t think Red Son wanted to be his friend at all. Why else would he keep staring at MK with hair that glowed with sparks and embers? 

And frankly, Red Son’s sudden insistence on being MK’s teacher had only proved just how little Red Son thought of him. Yeah, sure, MK was a slob when he ate, and he spoke a bit too loudly, and he never learned any dances beyond the head-bobbing shimmy he did during deliveries, but MK could handle a por-a gala. Really! He could! Did Red Son really think that lowly of him?

Red Son scoffed, picking a piece of lint off MK’s jacket and flicking it to the side. “The first lesson is this Sunday.” He looked down at MK with a raised brow. “I think we’ll start with proper word pronunciation.” 

Well that answered his question. 

MK huffed, blowing the tuft of hair that flopped out his headband away from his face. “‘Ohhh, MK, you need to learn how to pronounce words good,” Mk flapped his hands around, pitching his voice up for a downright offensive Red Son impression, “so I’m gonna teach you how, even though I still call you Newdle Boy. ”

Red Son squawked, surely about to snap back at MK in fiery indignation when the garage door shuttered open and Mei skipped in. 

“Sorry guys! Mom called, it was important, you know how it is.” She slapped Red Son’s back. “How’s my car looking, Red Boy?” 

There was a split second where Red Son didn’t reply. He stared at MK, embers snaking through his hair and making it glow, but the sparks died as quickly as they formed. 

Red Son turned to Mei with a scoff. “It’s looking better with my additions, of course, but it’s still a pile of metal scraps on wheels.” He strode past Mei. “I’m going to grab myself something to drink. Do not touch anything in or on that car. I’ll know if you did.” Red Son glowered at Mei, who only gave him a catty grin. Red Son stomped out the garage, grumbling to himself. 

“Oh, so when he goes to get water, it is fine, but when I do it, I need ‘adult supervision’ because ‘I can’t be trusted in this house.’” Mk grumbled, sitting on the car hood. 

“Well, you destroyed my dad’s prized pinball machine, and Red Boy didn’t.” Mei shrugged, sitting on the car hood next to MK. “So he does kind of have one up on you there.” 

MK groaned, lying back down against the car. Mei rolled over to look at him, a small smile on her face. “Awww, what’s got you all grumpy, monkie man?” She punched his shoulder. “Did Red Boy start making fun of Monkey King: the Animated Series again?” 

“No, not that.” MK puffed his cheeks up in a pout. “Although I still stand by the fact that DBK’s characterization was accurate.” He rolled over to his side to look at Mei. “I told Red Son about the gala, and he told me I would humiliate myself if I went. I guess I’m too much of a messy peasant in his opinion or something. So now, Red Son said he’s gonna teach me how to dance and stuff.” 

MK sat up now, his rant incensing him. “And you know, I get that I’m not used to fancy parties or anything, but that doesn’t mean he can just make himself my teacher. I don’t even know if he knows his stuff. Have you ever seen Red Son dance? Because I haven’t, and he does not look like he can, no matter how many fancy demon galas he’s claimed to go to!" MK laid back down on the car hood, grumbling. “I know he doesn’t like me, but he doesn’t need to be that obvious about it.” 

Mei raised her eyebrow, confused. “You don’t think Red Son likes you?” 

“Obviously not!” MK exclaimed, raising his hands up. “Why else would he agree to teach me?”

“Uhh, he agreed to teach me, and I’m pretty sure that was at least twenty percent because he wanted to hang out with us.” Mei snorted, resting her cheek on her knuckles. 

“But that was different! Red Son isn’t teaching me how to control fire powers, he’s teaching me how to eat right because he saw some food stains on my shirt!” MK exclaimed. “I’ve been trying so hard to befriend Red Son, but he just hasn’t-he never…” The words began to die in MK’s throat. He crossed his arms, turning away from Mei. “You don’t see the way he looks at me, Mei. He’s always just…” MK’s hands gripped his biceps, sadness curling up in his chest. “He always seems mad that I’m even there.” 

MK felt the hood of the car shift as Mei sat up. “Look, MK,” She flicked the back of his head. “You remember when the Spider Queen invaded? And Red Boy tried to steal our ship? You were the one who agreed to work with him–why did you do that?” 

MK shrugged. “I mean, because we had to?” 

“I mean, yeah, we had to, but it was still Red Boy, right? One of our biggest enemies at the time? We were literally convinced he was working for the Spider Queen like twenty seconds before.” Mei pointed out. “But, you agreed to help him anyway. Why is that?” 

There was a reason, of course, but it was one that was truthfully a bit too heavy and vulnerable for MK to admit. So instead he shrugged and scratched the nape of his neck. “I mean…I guess I could tell that he was someone we could trust. Underneath all his…stuff.” 

“Exactly. It’s the same thing here.” Mei cradled MK’s head under her arm to pull him closer to her. “I know you’re used to Sandy’s big ol’ hugs and Pigsy’s shoulder pats and the Monkey King calling you bud. And of course, you’re used to having me, the best friend ever,” Mei nuzzled her face into MK’s cheek, making him laugh. “But you gotta understand. Red Boy’s got a whole different love language.”

“Love language?” MK echoed. 

“Yeah!” Mei sat up. “Come on, you definitely know what I mean. Like, remember when we went to the arcade the other night, and Red Boy was complaining about how stupid the crane games were, but then he spent like a hundred fifty trying to win a horse plushie?” 

“Yeah?” MK remembered that. Red Son had apparently been “trying to prove that he was better than the Dragon Horse girl as these accursed arcade games” which he cursed out as the little horse plushie evaded his grasp for the sixteenth time. 

“Well, that’s not the full story.” Mei said. “I told Red Boy earlier that night that I thought the horse plushie looked cute, but I couldn’t get it. He told me that obviously, I failed to get it because I wasn’t skilled enough, so he proceeded to spend like, waaaay too much money, just so he could ‘prove’ he was better than me. And you know what he did once he got the plushie? He gave it to me and insisted it was supposed to ‘remind me of my crushing humiliation.’” Mei did little air quotes at the phrase. 

“It’s in my room right now.” Mei said. “Red Boy saw it sitting on my bed the other day and stared at it for like three straight minutes. When I snapped him out of it, he started ranting about how’ embarrassed’ I must feel for owning such a reminder of my humiliating defeat, and that he’d be sure to give me more souvenirs of my little peasant status. And sure, Red Boy’s definitely the type to burn through his treasury to prove a point, but you can tell why he did all that, right?” She looked up at MK with wide, knowing eyes. 

And MK could tell. He could see how thin the veil of Red Son’s arrogance was, from the atrocious amount of money he wasted, to the way he froze staring at the little horse plushie. “So he got you a plushie because you found it cute and when he saw you kept it on your bed, got super emotional and decided he should get you more?” 

“Yep!” Mei tapped MK’s forehead with her knuckles. “See, even you can be the Smartie Kid sometimes.” She laughed. 

MK crossed his arms. “I’m the Smartie Kid all the time, Mei.” 

Mei narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that so I don’t have to insult you . ” 

She sat up as MK pouted. “My point is, when it comes to Red Boy, you’ve gotta read between the lines sometimes.” Mei shrugged. “It’s stupid, but he’s easy to read once you look for long enough. And you’ve always been good at figuring out people and junk.” 

“I know all that though.” MK protested. “Just because Red Son secretly likes your company, doesn’t mean he secretly likes mine.” It was fairly easy for him to see Red Son’s affection for others underneath all his bark , but that still didn’t explain his knitted brow, his twitching lip, the sparks in his hair whenever he looked at MK’s way. 

Mei tilted her head and hummed. “Maybe.” She shrugged. “But if he hated you that much, why would he offer to teach you in the first place?” 

MK chewed on that thought as Mei slid off the car hood with a laugh. “I mean, Red Boy and I only got close from all his training exercises and stuff. If you really think Red Boy hates you, maybe you can use your lessons together as a chance to charm his pants off!” 

“I don’t want to charm his pants off.” MK gagged. 

“It’s an expression, MK.” She shook her head. “I gotta get you and Red Boy into some literature classes. First the peaches and now this?” 

If Mei was still talking, MK didn’t hear it. He sat on the hood of the car, frowning as he thought to himself. Maybe Mei was right. Maybe MK just had a blind spot when it came to how Red Son felt about him, and he just needed to dig through the sparks and embers to find the Red Son who spent over a hundred dollars to buy his cheap friend a plushie, who was so touched she kept it that he stood in her bedroom frozen at the sight. 

And if it took learning how to slow dance to meet that Red Son, then…he would do just that. 

The door to the garage opened up. Red Son walked in drinking from a tall crystal glass of water. “Alright,” Red Son cracked his neck as he approached the sports car. “Back to work.” He looked up at Noodle Boy with a raised brow. “You and the Dragon Girl didn’t touch anything, did you?” 

“Nope!” MK grinned. “We were just talking about how you’re going to teach me how to fancy people party.” 

Red Son’s eyes widened for a moment, sparks running up his ponytail before they vanished quickly. He crossed his arms and scoffed, flipping his hair with a sharp tilt of his head. “Well then,” Red Son laid back down, placing the cup next to one of the sports car tires. “Hopefully you're a better student than the Dragon Horse Girl.” 

“I can turn this car on and run you over!” Mei jeered at Red Son, who merely rolled his eyes before rolling back under Mei’s sports car. Whatever expression Red Son was making now was completely unbeknownst to MK, but judging from the way the sound of car tinkering didn’t start for a solid three minutes, MK figured Red Son was still batting the sparks out of his split ends. 

Mei had told MK about Red Son’s lessons before. She had spoken about them fondly, with a giggle on her lips. 

“Red Boy’s sooo bossy.” She would laugh. “Super strict and by the book. I think I’ll hear ‘focus Dragon Girl!’ in my nightmares for like, forever. It was fun to annoy him though. He always got so angy whenever I went off the lesson plan. But I could tell he was having fun.”

Mei spoke about her training with Red Son with a smile, but for all her jokes and jeering, MK could tell that Red Son had put her through the gambit. But Mei was strong and stubborn. She has been holding the fate of the world in the palm of her hands and the world-ending True Fire of Samadhi within her chest. Red Son couldn’t afford to fail her, and she couldn’t afford to fail. 

MK was not holding the fate of the world in the palm of his hands. He was currently holding a pair of cheap wooden chopsticks. 

Red Son placed a small rice bowl in front of MK along with a platter of sliced duck and steamed bok choy. “We’ll start with the baseline.” Red Son said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall of the empty noodle shop. “I want to see exactly how much I’m going to have to teach you.” 

 MK jutted his nose up into the air in a haughty expression. “Well, I’ll have you know that I am great at eating food good.” He said in the snootiest voice possible. 

“It’s eating food well. And there’s a stain on your jacket, how well could you be eating?” Red Son deadpanned, clearly unamused by MK’s antics. 

MK grumbled, taking his chopsticks and dipping his head down to eat the rice-

Red Son’s hand smacked the counter, jolting MK. “What are you doing?!” Red Son snapped. 

MK looked up. “Eating the rice?” Was he supposed to eat the duck first?!

“Why are you dipping your face down to eat the rice?!” Red Son asked, irritation radiating off him in literal waves of heat.

“Because that’s easier!” MK exclaimed. “And it’s how I always do it!”

“Well then you’ve been eating like a dog this whole time!” Red Son shouted. “Take the bowl and lift it up to your mouth!” 

“Okay, okay!” MK grabbed the bowl and tipped it back dramatically as he brought it to his face. “Are you happy, teach-” 

MK tipped the bowl a bit too far back and in the process half of his rice fell onto his lap. 

“Wait! Wait! I can totally still salvage this!” MK raised his hand before Red Son could yell at him. 

MK scooped the rice on his lap back into the bowl with his bare hands, setting it back on the counter. He stabbed his chopsticks straight into the rice bowl to pick the spare grains off his legs and shoved them in his mouth. He was saving food, that was totally respectable, right?  

MK looked up at Red Son with a wide smile only to be met with a dark scowl. 

Red Son plucked the chopsticks out of the rice bowl and gripped them so tightly MK worried they’d snap or singe in Red Son’s hands. “I was wrong.” Red Son said. “You don’t eat like a dog. You eat worse.” 

MK’s face flushed red, embarrassed by the insult. He reached out to grab one of the steamed bok choy from the platter to eat only for Red Son to smack his hand with the wooden chopsticks. 

“ Now what are you doing?!” Red Son shouted. 

“I’m hungry and I failed the lesson.” MK pouted. “The least you can let me do is eat my feelings.” He reached his hand out only for Red Son to smack it away again.

“The lesson isn’t over, moron!” Red Son’s hair plumed in frustration. “And why would you try to grab steamed bok choy with your hands?! ” 

“YOU HAVE MY CHOPSTICKS!” MK pointed at the chopsticks in Red Son’s hands. 

“YOU COULD HAVE ASKED FOR THEM BACK! !” Red Son shouted. “Or even better, you could have gotten another one from the massive jar of wooden chopsticks over there!” Red Son jabbed his finger across the counter to where Pigsy kept a jar filled with wooden chopsticks.

Okay, that may have been on MK, not going to lie. He grabbed another set of wooden chopsticks, broke them open, and dipped his head down to eat some rice. 

A warm hand grabbed MK’s forehead and shoved him back from the bowl. “Don’t eat from that, they’re table scraps!”

“They’re not table scraps!” MK protested, moving his head from Red Son’s grip. “The rice fell on my lap and I put them back in the bowl!”

“IF IT FELL OUT OF THE BOWL, IT’S TABLE SCRAPS!” Red Son’s hands twitched like he wanted to choke MK out. “And the rice wouldn’t have been table scraps if you had eaten it properly.” 

MK picked up a piece of duck. “Well if you had let me eat the rice the way I wanted to, none of this would have happened.” He tried to take a bite out of the duck, but it slipped out from between his chopsticks and fell onto the ground. 

Red Son banged his head against the wall. 

MK expected eating to be the end of it. Or rather, he hoped it was, considering how every single decision he made added another burn mark to the ceiling of Pigsy’s Noodles, and that would definitely come out of his paycheck. But regrettably, once the platters of food were cleaned, Red Son continued his lesson plans.  

“One of the most important aspects of any gathering is small talk,” Red Son explained. “You will be meeting with several human elites within your city, and while they are nothing compared to the power of any proper demon, they are powerful to you mortals, so you will have to refer to them with an inappropriate level of reverence for one of their kind.” 

Red Son stood in front of MK. “Now, I will pretend to be some human political figure, and you will greet me accordingly.”

Red Son cleared his throat before speaking in the most miserable, monotone voice that MK had ever heard. “Good evening. You must be the Monkie Kid. I am Peasant Borne, the president of some completely irrelevant corporation which will inevitably fall under the might of the Demon Bull King and his family.” he jutted his hand out to MK. “Aren’t we having such lovely weather.” 

MK tried his very hardest not to laugh, but he couldn’t help the chuckle which escaped his lips. Red Son wasn’t a particularly inspired actor. The only thing worse than his performance was his script. 

Red Son narrowed his eyes. “It’s rude to laugh when introducing yourself to someone new.” He said through gritted teeth. 

“Right, right, sorry, okay.” MK wiped a tear from his eye and caught his breath, sitting up straight to wave at Red Son. “Uhh, hey there dude.”

Red Son raised his brow with a scoff. “Dude?” He sneered. “Was that really the best thing you could come up with?” 

“Okay, not dude. Hi there, sir. Or ma'am? Or…boss?” MK cringed a bit in his seat. “What’s the gender of your character? ‘Peasant’ isn’t really a common name for humans, so it’s not really obvious.”  

“Just get on with it already,” Red Son snapped, jutting his hand further out. “I am Peasant Borne, a name perfect for a human despite it apparently being uncommon. Aren’t we having such lovely weather.” 

“The weather’s been okay.” MK shrugged. “I mean, honestly, it is been a bit rainy lately, but the nights have been really cool and windy, and it’s been nice to open up my window and feel the breeze-” 

Red Son gripped MK’s shoulders. “Just. Say the weather is fine.” His grip tightened on MK’s shoulders and MK could fell Red Son restraining himself from shaking him violently.  

“But what if the weather isn’t fine that night?” MK asked, tilting his head. “What if the weather’s terrible? I don’t want to just lie to this guy, especially if he’s someone important-”

Red Son gave into the urge to shake MK violently. “IT DOESN’T ACTUALLY MATTER WHAT THE WEATHER'S LIKE!” He let go of MK to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It’s small talk meant to exchange pleasantries and allyship, it is not an honest conversation between two people.”  

Red Son tried to compose himself again despite the clear aura of irritation around him. “Now, let’s try this again.” Red Son stuck his hand out in front of him. “Hello, my name is Peasant Borne. I will not make any comment about the weather, because that seems too advanced for your Noodle Brain to handle.” 

MK’s eye twitched at the unnecessary jab, but he forced a wide grin onto his face anyways. “Nice to meet you, Peasant Borne!” MK slapped Red Son’s hand like it was some sort of sideways high five. 

Red Son had to leave Pigsy’s Noodles for a solid five minutes to scream in the alleyway. MK could smell the smoke wafting off Red Son when he returned.

It took several more failed attempts to converse with Peasant Borne before Red Son decided to just move on to something different. He sat down on one of the booth seats, running a hand through his hair with a long, heavy sigh. “How much of your speech have you written?” 

“Oh, uh, a little bit actually!” MK dug his hands through his pockets before pulling out a small set of index cards. “Check it.” He handed Red Son the index cards. 

“I’ll definitely have to reword a lot of it.” MK admitted. “I’m not super happy with it, but I think that it’s a good start for-”

“Is this a photo of you…shooting finger guns at the audience?” Red Son flipped one of the index cards over to point at a tiny doodle of MK in a fancy suit, standing in front of a fancy podium sticking his tongue out and pointing his index fingers at the audience with a wink. 

“Yeah. I figured it would be a fun way to end the speech. You know, let everyone know that the Monkie Kid is fun and cool and approachable. And maybe I’d even end it with my catchphrase, you know? Like-” MK stuck his tongue out and winked, snapping his fingers at Red Son. “Here comes Monkie Kid!” 

Sparks flew from Red Son’s hair, his lip twitching so much he had to cover his mouth with one of his hands. The other hand was gripping the index cards so tightly MK genuinely worried Red Son might pop one of the bones in his knuckles. He turned away from MK, curling up in the booth seat. 

“Uh. Red Son?” MK could hear a small string of murmurs Red Son was whispering underneath his breath, but he couldn’t actually discern what any of Red Son was saying. “Are you-”

All the index cards burst into flames. They crumpled up in Red Son’s hand, turning into black and gray bits of ash. Red Son dropped the ashes onto the floor of Pigsy’s Noodles. MK looked down at them with a frown. He was going to have to clean that later. 

Red Son turned to him with a gaunt expression. “Change the speech.” He said in a grave tone. 

“Aww, what?!” MK’s shoulders slumped. “You didn’t even read the other index cards-”

“I didn’t need to.” Red Son stood up. “Change the entire thing.” 

Red Son started heading towards the exit of Pigsy’s Noodles and for a moment, MK thought that Red Son had finally given up on teaching him and was leaving. But then Red Son looked back at MK with a snarl. “Are you coming or not?” 

MK groaned, following behind Red Son with a dramatic groan.

Red Son climbed up the steps of the fire escape, MK trudging along behind him. Red Son didn’t stop at MK’s apartment floor, instead hoisting himself up onto the roof of Pigsy’s Noodles. MK watched him baffled as Red Son reached out from the roof, fingers wiggling at MK. 

MK gave Red Son a weak and very confused sideways high five. 

“Wha-No you Noodle brain!” Red Son snapped, the tuft of hair which grew from his widow’s peak flaring up. “Grab my hand so I can pull you up here!”

“Oh.” Yeah that made way more sense. 

MK grabbed Red Son’s hand, propelling himself up the wall with his feet. When he reached the top of the roof, MK’s foot hold stumbled. MK gripped Red Son’s hand tighter as he tripped, praying he didn’t collapse on top of Red Son and ruin his chances even more. But before he could fall, Red Son grabbed his waist, securing him.

“Wonderful.” Red Son glared at MK, his hair practically glowing from the sparks which coiled around its locks. “There’s nothing more comforting for a dance lesson than seeing you stumble on your feet not even a single second in.” MK straightened his posture, trying to wiggle out of Red Son’s grip, but Red Son held his hand, the one on his waist gliding up his back. 

“This is the typical posture needed for your standard waltz.” Red Son explained. “You hold hands on one side. On the other, the leader places their hand on the left shoulder blade while the follower holds onto the leader’s shoulder.” 

“I thought you were supposed to put your hand here when you slow dance.” MK placed his hand on Red Son’s waist to hold it. 

Red Son smacked his hand away, sparks bursting from his hair like firecrackers.  “Even if we were dancing like that, you still would be holding my shoulder. I’ll be leading.” 

“What?” MK protested. “But if I’m the guest of honor for this gala or whatever, shouldn’t I be leading the dances?” 

“Right,” Red Son snorted, “And how exactly are you supposed to lead right now when you don’t know what you’re doing?” 

MK tried to snap back, but he couldn’t come up with anything. Grumbling under his breath, he gripped Red Son’s shoulder. 

Red Son winced under MK’s grasp. “Softer. You’re nor trying to kill your partner.” Red Son snapped. MK loosened his grip, trying his best to get comfortable in Red Son’s hold. 

“We can begin with a box step.” Red Son said. “All you have to do right now is follow me.” Red Son took a step forward with his left leg. MK also took a step forward with his left leg and stepped on Red Son’s foot which made him hiss. “I said to follow, not copy.” Red Son moved his leg back with a sigh. “Now, try again.” 

Red Son moved his left forward. MK moved his right leg forward and immediately stepped on Red Son’s foot. Red Son shouted in pain, grip tightening so hard on MK’s hand that he yelped.

“You can’t be this stupid, right?!” Red Son glared at him. “You don’t try to squash your partner’s feet when you dance. Now, when I move my left leg forward, you move your right leg back, got it?” 

 “Okay, okay, left leg forward, right leg back.” MK looked down at their feet.

Red Son moved his left leg forward and MK moved his right leg back. He tried to take another step back, but Red Son’s grip kept him steady. “Why’re you trying to lead?” Red Son snapped. “You didn’t magically learn the box step in three seconds, did you?” 

“I don't know!” MK yelled. “I just figured you’d forgotten to move or something!” 

“IF I DON’T MOVE, YOU DON’T MOVE EITHER, NOODLE BRAIN!” Red Son’s fire shot three feet out of his hair. “ I’m the one leading, remember?! When I move, you follow me. When I don’t move, you stay put. You don’t just assume I forgot the steps that, need I remind you, YOU DON’T KNOW!” Red Son let go of MK and stepped back, his hands bursting into flames. 

After a moment, Red Son took a deep breath, letting the fire in his hands and hair die out. “Let’s try this again.” Red Son placed one hand on MK’s shoulder blade and took MK’s hand in the other, intertwining their fingers. MK stared at their hands, confused. Were they supposed to intertwine their fingers like that? 

“Got it?!” Red Son asked a bit louder now.

“Got it, got it!” MK yelled, “You lead, I follow.” He rested his hand on Red Son’s shoulder, thumb running across the fabric of his scarlet coat without any real thought. “Do you actually know how to dance, Red Son? Because you haven’t been teaching me all that well.” 

For a moment, Red Son stood still, staring at MK’s thumb absentmindedly running across his coat. His brow furrowed and lip twitched into that unnamable expression. Red Son’s hair seemed to glow a soft shade of orange from the flickering sparks and embers running through it. MK almost would have called it pretty if he didn’t know it was a sign that Red Son probably wanted to bite his hand off. MK stopped his thumb’s movement, grabbing Red Son’s shoulder a bit tighter. He didn’t need Red Son more annoyed than he already was. 

Stopping the motion seemed to work, because Red Son blinked, shaking his head like he was escaping a trance. “Let me try to explain it more slowly.” He sighed. “When I move my left leg forward, you move your right left back.” Red Son stepped forward and MK stepped back, 

“Then, slide your left leg parallel to your right–further apart. You move your right foot closer to your left in the third step.” Red Son was slower now, softer in his instructions. He used his feet to push MK’s into the right place. “ Now you bring your feet together. From here, you do the same thing, but mirrored. So you bring your left foot forward-”

MK immediately stepped on Red Son’s foot. He hissed, whatever patience he had built up immediately running thin. “You move when I move, Noodle Boy. You’re still following.” 

MK flashed a smile for an apology, which only made Red Son roll his eyes. This time, MK moved forward as Red Son stepped back. 

“Now bring your right foot parallel, put them together, and we’re back where we started. Is that simple enough for your Noodle Brain?” Red Son asked. MK nodded, staring down at their feet. He didn’t want to step on Red Son a fourth time. 

“Good. Then we just repeat what we did.” Red Son began to move slowly. “This step is to a 3-count tempo, so you do each step for each count. Step,” One leg forward, one leg back, “Two,” the other leg swung over to parallel, “Three,” Feet were brought together. 

“Step, two, three,” MK punctuated each count with the words. His foot scraped Red Son’s at the step , but this time, Red Son didn’t say anything. 

“And then, you continue.” Red Son moved his left leg forward and a little more naturally now, MK moved his right leg back.

MK stared down at his feet, trying his hardest not to step on Red Son or move ahead of him. It was a struggle at first. MK’s kept trying to lead the dance or speed the tempo, and as a result he’d often clip Red Son’s shoes. But over time, MK was able to slowly get into the rhythm, the two of them swaying in a slow circle around the rooftop of Pigsy’s Noodles. Step, two, three. Step, two, three. Step, two, three. Step, two, three. Step, two, ugh . This was getting so boring.

MK groaned. “Can I learn something new now?” He asked as Red Son’s grip shifted on his waist. “Because we’ve been doing the exact same thing for forever now.” 

“Shut up and follow me Noodle Boy.” Red Son sneered, looking down at MK as his glasses glinted in the setting sun. “We can try something more complex once you master this.” 

MK looked back down at his feet, at the steady step two threes for about ten more seconds before looking up at Red Son. “Hey, Red Son?” Red Son looked down at MK from the rim of his glasses. “I wanna try something.” 

“You are not going to try a thing, I lead, and you foAAUH!” MK tried very shoddily to spin Red Son. MK didn’t lift his hand over Red Son’s head high enough and Red Son didn’t loosen his grip on MK’s hand, a horrific combination which resulted in Red Son smacking his head into their interlocked fingers. 

“Noodle Boy!” Red Son’s hair ignited once again. “What part of I lead and you follow do you not understand?!” He shouted. “Why do all my teaching ventures wind up with me getting hurt?” 

Red Son continued to grumble to himself as he held his head in his free hand. His other hand was still firmly interlocked with MK, which MK was becoming more and more acutely aware of.

It wasn’t that MK was particularly upset about holding Red Son’s hand. It was more calloused than he’d expected for a demon prince, but it was warm against MK’s palm. Honestly, it felt kind of nice to hold. The heat traveled across MK’s skin a lot more comfortably than he expected. That being said, it was getting kind of weird how long Red Son had been holding his hand considering they weren’t even dancing now. 

“Hey, uh Red Son? Should I get you an ice pack? ” He tilted his head to meet Red Son’s gaze. “Or did you still want to do this?” MK shook the hand which Red Son still held tightly in front of Red Son’s gaze. 

Red Son wrenched his hand out of MK’s hands, a horrified expression plastered across his face. He shoved that hand in his pocket, coughing into his fist with the other. MK raised his eyebrow at Red Son, whose hair glowed so brightly it almost looked yellow. MK snorted to himself. Holding hands wasn’t that bad. 

“Your dancing requires much work.” Red Son straightened himself up. “As does every other field.” He ran a hand through his hair and scoffed away all his frantic flurrying from the moment before. “We will continue your lessons next week, Noodle Boy.” Red Son looked over the rim of his pince-nez glasses at MK. “Try to grow a few more brain cells between now and then.” 

With a swirl of fire, Red Son left MK alone on the rooftop. 

MK flexed his hand, now weirdly cold without Red Son’s fingers intertwined between him. He headed over to the fire escape, hopping off the roof to head back into his apartment. 

If teaching was really how Red Son showed his affections, then MK had some concerns. Red Son was about as good of a teacher as MK was a student. He lay down on his bed, holding his hand up in the air and flexing his fingers. 

The next Sunday rolled around a bit too soon.

If MK wasn’t convinced Red Son hated him before, he was definitely convinced of it now. 

For weeks now, MK would come back from his Sunday shift to see Red Son sitting at a booth with a sneer on his face and finger pointed at each stain on MK’s clothes. If MK was making any progress in his lessons, Red Son certainly wasn’t letting him know. He was too busy criticizing absolutely everything MK did. 

“Stand up straight,” Red Son would grab MK’s shoulders and push his back into his hand. “Your slouch is atrocious.” 

“My posture isn’t that bad!” MK tried to say but Red Son only pushed him harder. “For a sloth, maybe, but for a gala it’s atrocious. You realize they take pictures of you at these parties, right?” Red Son snapped MK’s back straight, the crack of his spine reverberating through Pigsy’s.

“You’re describing your adventures with too much detail.” Red Son’s face was aghast. “Even demons don’t appreciate this much description.” 

“But you told me I was too vague before!” MK shouted, leaning over the counter dramatically. 

“Yes, because ‘I hit the Spider Queen, like, wham,’ isn’t good story telling, Noodle Boy.” Red Son snapped, “but vividly discussing your various injuries will do nothing for a bunch of squeamish little mortals, so stop showing off all of the weird ways you can bend your arm from all the times you broke it!” 

“But isn’t it kind of a cool party trick?” MK took off his coat to show Red Son the definitely unhealthy way his arm could bend again. “I mean, come on, you gotta admit that’s sick-”

Red Son grabbed Mk’s coat and launched it into his face. He let it hang on top of his head for the rest of the lesson.

“Stop speaking with your mouth full!” Red Son clamped MK’s jaw shut before he even had the chance to speak. “No one wants to see your half-chewed food.” 

“Buh I wanna tahk!!” MK protested. 

Red Son clicked his tongue. “Well if you want to die suffocating on fried rice, that’s not my problem.” 

MK swallowed the rice in one gulp. It burned the inside of his mouth and hurt going down his throat. 

If MK was completely honest, whatever hope he had of getting closer to Red Son had completely died. Red Son spent most of the lessons criticizing everything MK did, and he spent the rest of them staring at MK with sparks in his hair. It was starting to drive MK insane how often he would catch Red Son watching him with that unnamable look while he practiced bow posture, while he went over proper ways to pour his elder wine, while he stuttered his way through his newest speech draft. That combined with the snarl of Red Son’s lip whenever he did even the slightest thing wrong was sending MK over the edge. 

It all came to a head late one lesson. The sun had almost set. The sky was a dark scarlet that edged into indigo hues. The city streets bustled as the Megapolis night life began to stir awake, neon lights flickering on to make a multicolored whirl of buildings, all while Red Son had been making MK do the fucking box step for over an hour and a half. 

The goal of this particular session was for MK to do twenty minutes of box step. Every time MK would stumble a bit, or accidentally move too fast, or clip Red Son’s toes, Red Son would announce he was adding an extra five minutes to the box step time. And now, it had been nearly two hours of step two three, step two three, and if MK heard Red Son groan out Noodle Boy in his stupid irritated voice one more time MK was going to step, two, three, right off the roof. 

“How much longer do we have to do this?” MK groaned. 

“As long as it takes for you to learn.” Red Son snorted. “Which, judging by how long it’s been taking, means we may be here until Tuesday.” 

MK was about to retort back when Red Son elaborated, angling his chin in a smarmy little sneer, “ Next Tuesday.” 

“Wow Red Son!” MK gave Red Son a wide grin, his eye twitching. “Has anyone else told you how encouraging of a teacher you are?” He gripped Red Son’s shoulder tighter. “Because if they have, then let me tell you, they were definitely lying, probably to get out of doing the box step for you for almost two hours!” 

“Or maybe I never had a student who required as much constant coddling as you.” Red Son sneered, angling his head to leer over MK. “If you focused on the actual steps instead of how long it took you to learn them, neither of us would be here right now.” He huffed, shaking his head. "If I knew any better, I would have quit the first day." 

Something inside MK snapped. 

“Well then why don't you?!” MK stopped dancing to glare at Red Son.

Red Son blinked looking down at MK. He almost looked surprised. “I’m sorry?” 

“No, no, I’m sorry, Red Son,” MK let go of Red Son’s hand and shoulder, stepping away from him and finally freeing himself of that accursed box step. “Because apparently I’m such a terrible student that you’ve wanted to quit from the very beginning. So why not just do that?!” 

"That wasn't what-" Red Son's brow furrowed as he tried to defend himself, but MK cut him off. 

“You can go back to doing whatever you do when you’re not hanging out with Mei, and I can make an absolute idiot out of myself at the gala." MK paced around the roof. "I mean, if I really am that impossible of a student to teach, then what difference is teaching me even going to make?!” 

“I get it, okay?” MK snapped, turning to look at Red Son. “I’m a slob, I can’t talk to people for five minutes without ranting about the Monkey King, and I definitely can’t do the box step! And if having you remind me that every twenty seconds is you coddling me, then I’d rather be all those things than get coddled by you!” 

Red Son frowned, and MK honestly could have tricked himself into thinking Red Son was concerned, worried, maybe even hurt. But then, he saw those familiar sparks wisp out of Red Son’s split ends as he gave MK that look, and MK wanted to tear his hair out. 

“You know what?” MK strode up to Red Son, a wild expression on his face now. “I hope I look like an idiot at the gala.” He gripped his shirt, right over the spot where Red Son pointed out the smallest blemish of ink when the lesson first started. “I hope that I stain my fancy new duds, and I hope that every time someone shakes my hand, my arm bends weird and it freaks them out, and I hope my speech is the worst thing anyone’s ever heard!” 

“MK-” Red Son was drowned out as MK continued to rant. “I hope the day after the gala, it’s all over the news: MONKIE KID ACTS LIKE A TOTAL MORON!” he waved his hands above him like he could already see the headlines in the sky above. “Maybe they’ll even ask you for an interview, and you can tell everyone how you totally called how much I’d embarrass myself, and that I ruined everyone’s night, and how this is just another one of my many, many mistakes, which only make everyone else’s lives worse! ” 

That last part…wasn’t supposed to come out. 

MK didn’t know when his hands had started to shake, but now that he had spilled everything out on the rooftop in an ugly, toxic bile, he couldn’t stop their violent tremors. 

“So. Yeah. Just give up.” MK sat down on the door, curling himself up onto a ball and leaning against the ledge. “I’m sure you’ll have a blast reading all the articles about how stupid I looked.” He mumbled into his orange jacket and the little hole Red Son had picked on while MK was eating earlier. 

MK sniffled, trying to wipe away the tears that had begun to form. Really? He couldn’t at least wait to cry until Red Son had teleported off? Now Red Son had even more ammo to use against him, to hold over his head and sneer about. Miserable, sniveling Noodle Boy, crying because he can’t do anything right. 

MK heard the sound of shuffling next to him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Red Son had sat down next to him. He didn’t say anything to MK. No snarky comment, no condescending jeer, nothing. He just sat there in silence, staring out into the horizon with a knitted brow. 

It was a quiet moment, watching the city street enveloped in the last bits of sunlight. It felt like it should’ve been awkward, considering MK had just spilled all that bile on the rooftop, and yet, there was something tranquil about it. Steady and silent, the two of them stared down at the busy street of Megapolis as the sky continued to darken. It was just peaceful enough that MK decided to open his mouth and spill some more. 

“I didn’t even want to go to this gala.” MK admitted, lifting his head up. “I was so close to telling the mayor no. But Mei and Pigsy and Tang and Sandy were all so excited. And I didn’t want to ruin that fun for them.” He buried himself back in his arms again, curling up even tighter. “Even if I don’t deserve any of this.” 

“Why don't you deserve it?” Red Son asked, his tone void of the typical irritated slant. 

MK laughed, turning to Red Son with a miserable little smile. “I’ve destroyed this city so many times.” 

Red Son scoffed, looking over at MK. “Your collateral damage control could use some work, but that’s not a reason to outright say you destroyed the city-” 

“No. I destroyed the city.” MK stood up, placing a hand against his chest. “ I lost the staff to the Demon Bull King. My hair gave Spider Queen the power to start the Year of the Spider. I basically gave you the key for the Lady Bone Demon!” 

MK paced around the roof. “All those villains, all those times the world was put in danger-it was all because of me.” His grip on his was tight, twisting the fabric between his fingers the same way his heart twisted in his ribcage, so scared and miserable that MK always tried to keep it buried deep inside him.

“And now, the mayor wants to give me some fancy ball where I can’t even begin to act like a respectable citizen, much less the guest of honor, hero of the city, Monkie Kid!” MK waved his hands around in the air, shaking his fingers in mock cheer. “But of course I can’t act like that. I’m not any of those things. I’m just…” 

MK’s voice began to fade away as he looked over at Red Son. He was still staring at him with that unreadable expression. In the early evening, the sparks which escaped Red Son’s hair were bright–an obvious reminder to MK that he was ranting to someone who didn’t care. He was too tired to call Red Son out on it, to ask him why he had even bothered to sit with him, why he had even bothered to teach him at all. 

“If you want to use this as emotional blackmail for when your super temporary truce with us ends, go ahead.” MK practically fell back down onto the rooftop, staring down at his hands. “You don’t have to coddle me anymore.” 

There was a solid minute where Red Son said nothing at all, but MK could still see embers flickering in the early evening air. Not wanting to be reminded of Red Son’s opinion on him, MK looked down at his hands. 

They were covered in calluses from the months of fighting and training and fighting again, more and more mistakes making his hands unrecognizable from the noodle delivery boy he had once been. He flexed his fingers in and out again. If he tried, he could still feel the weight of the staff in his palms. 

“You never gave me the key.” 

MK blinked out of his thoughts, looking up at Red Son. “What?” 

“You never gave me the skeleton key.” Red Son propped one knee up and leaned his arm against him to point to MK. “In fact, after I’d stolen the key from you, you were the one who stopped me in my tracks. If Mother hadn’t been there, I would have returned home empty handed that day, but even if I did, I likely would not have stopped until I had that key in my hands.” 

“And you never gave my father the staff.” Red Son rolled his eyes, gaze boring into MK. “My mother defeated you easily because you were a pathetic little Noodle Boy with zero fighting experience. And I doubt you had ever given the Spider Queen your hair willingly for her diabolical purposes, so the fact that she used your hair for her spider slave venom is entirely unrelated.” 

When MK didn’t say anything, Red Son moved closer to him. “Let me take a moment to remind you something, Noodle Boy.” Red Son put a hand on his own chest, his voice low. “ I built the gauntlet which freed my father. I pulled the staff. I made him the armor which could harness the power of the Monkey King’s staff. Not to mention, my family and I were the ones who released the Lady Bone Demon from her prison. 

“So seeing how all of that is indisputable, tell me something:” Red Son crossed his arms, leaning back. “Why do you spend time with me?” 

MK tilted his head, completely lost now. “Why do I wha?” 

Red Son groaned, “Two out of three threats you're irrationally blaming yourself for are explicitly my doing.” Red Son explained. “Yet you and the Dragon Girl call me your friend without an ounce of guilt. Why? Shouldn’t you blame me for all the terrible, world ending catastrophes that occurred?”

MK let out a small laugh, glancing away from Red Son and scratching the back of his head. “I mean, I don’t know, Red Son. You’ve done some bad stuff, and you’re right, some of this stuff is definitely on you, but I just don’t…think about that? When I hang out with you? You’re just not a bad guy to me.” MK confessed. “I haven’t really thought of you as an actual villain in like, forever.”

“But all these things are my fault, aren’t they?” Red Son asked. “So why not hate me?” 

“I said I don’t know!” MK exclaimed. “Because it’s hard to hate you when you’re basically Mei’s grumpy cat?”

To MK’s surprise, a low chuckle escaped Red Son’s throat. “Right. Well, if you, the Monkie Kid, can’t hate me or blame me for what I have done, how can you expect the city to hate you or blame you for someone you haven’t? ” 

MK’s mouth bobbed as he tried to think of some kind of retort. His insecurities scrambled as they tried to find some way to rationalize MK’s worldview, where all the cackling grins and glinting eyes and power hungry hands had succeeded because of MK’s mistakes. And yet, he found his words failing him, his mind drawing a blank. 

Red Son turned to look at MK. “Even if you played some hand in everything, you never intended to harm the world, did you?” 

“No.” MK breathed out, his brow furrowing at that revelation. 

“No,” Red Son echoed. “You want to help people.” 

Red Son placed a warm hand on MK’s shoulder, his grip pulsing across MK’s bones and warming his body. “You saw you could wield the power of the Monkey King and you chose to protect the flimsy little mortals who couldn’t protect themselves .  There's not much that's more heroic than that." Red Son said the word heroic like it had a bitter aftertaste. MK couldn't help but laugh a bit, his heart slowly untwisting in his chest. 

“Know this, Noodle Boy.” Red Son announced, lifting his free finger up into the air. “I know better than you and any other pathetic little peasant. Even if the whole world goes mad and decides you're some sort of villain, I’ll know better. 

“And if you can not believe that you are a hero worthy of celebration-” He looked over at MK, that small, endeared smile morphing into something MK couldn’t quite discern beyond the warmth that etched itself across Red Son’s lip. “Then I’ll be sure to remind you.” 

It wasn’t like MK’s insecurities would vanish with a warm smile and some comforting words. Even though MK knew on an intellectual level that Red Son was right, his mistakes still clung to him, a bile which whispered in his ear and pinched the back of neck. But still, MK couldn’t help but take comfort in Red Son’s words, his touch, a smile so warm and soft that for a moment, that misery was melted by the warmth of Red Son’s palm on his shoulder. 

Suddenly, Red Son jolted back, like MK had shocked him. Red Son’s cheeks flushed as he stood up.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and was decidedly trying not to look at MK, but kept meeting his gaze regardless. “Get up.” He snapped. “It doesn't suit you to mope.”

All this time, MK thought Red Son hadn’t liked him, but that couldn’t be it, could he? Red Son had held his shoulder, smiled at him, and spoke with such warmth that for a moment, all of MK’s insecurities melted onto the rooftop. Who would do that for someone they hated? Maybe Mei was right. MK just had to read between the lines, find a chink in the veneer, a crack that he could slip into so he could truly get to see how Red Son felt. 

“If you don’t want to have this gala, you can always cancel, you know.” Red Son said, dusting off his coat. “You don’t owe your friends or the mayor an explanation. You certainly don’t owe them your time just to make them happy” He looked down at MK with a raised brow. “I hadn’t realized that your spine was as noodly as the rest of you.” 

Back when the Spider Queen invaded, MK had agreed to trust Red Son, despite everything. And sure, it was the best plan they had, the last thing the Spider Queen would see coming. But there was another reason too, one that MK had always quietly kept to himself. 

When Red Son’s hands had curled into fists, lips trembling as he confessed what had happened to his father, MK saw a part of Red Son he wasn’t sure he had ever seen before but in retrospect must have always been there. It was a terrified vulnerability, a frantic love, which was willing to do anything to bring his father back home.

MK watched Red Son bicker with his friends, and he wondered to himself, wasn’t that why Red Son did everything? Because of that frantic love, that terrified vulnerability, the desire to have his family safe and secure and happy? MK understood that desire, the need to protect his loved ones. It burned in him so powerfully that sometimes it consumed him entirely.

Watching Red Son in that moment, something in MK’s chest shifted. It was a sudden realization, which changed the way MK looked at his old enemy forever. Red Son burned the same way he did. 

“Nah. I think I will go to the gala.” MK placed one hand on Red Son’s shoulder and interlaced his fingers with Red Son's in the other. “I mean, I’ve already been dancing with you for this long, right? I can’t let your teachings go to waste, so I might as well go.” 

Red Son’s eyes widened, the hair in his ponytail flaring up violently. He turned away from MK, staring pointedly at the horizon. “It's getting late.” He said. “We should end our lesson for today.” 

MK snorted. “I thought you were going to make me do the box step until next Tuesday?” He tilted his head, a lopsided smile forming on his face.

“You know it decently enough.” Red Son stepped back, trying to shake MK off, but MK held on tighter, stepping forward. “Okay, that’s a step.” MK said, “So now that we’ve started, we might as well just keep going until I get it right, right?” 

Bafflingly enough, as Red Son’s gaze dashed between their interlocked fingers and MK’s grin, his hair sparked in the evening air. Huh. MK had assumed Red Son wanted to fight him whenever those embers flickered off his ponytail, but if Red Son didn’t hate him, then that had to mean something else. Something MK couldn’t even begin to translate. 

He’d worry about that later though. Today’s lesson was heavy enough. “Are you sure you didn’t forget to move?” MK leaned closer to Red Son, raising an eyebrow with a quick little smile. 

Red Son huffed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Noodle Boy, I didn’t ‘forget to move.’” His grip on MK tightened as they shifted back into a slow dance. 

For the first couple minutes, MK kept staring at his feet again, his lips mouthing to himself step two three, step two three, but after a while, MK didn’t have to look down anymore. Instead, MK let himself give in to the sway of the movement, the warmth of their hands, the embers he didn’t understand which seemed to swirl around them. 

They danced for forty minutes. MK didn’t make a single mistake. 

It wasn’t like Red Son had magically become a nicer teacher. He was still quick to critique MK whenever he failed to reach his expectations. But whenever Red Son flicked his forehead and called him a slob or a moron, MK found that he couldn’t really take offense to it.

He was genuinely improving. It was all sad little baby steps that shouldn’t have happened in the first place, according to Red Son, but they were steps nonetheless. He didn’t spill any food, or high five any political members, or explain some niche Monkey King story in the middle of his speech. Red Son had been teaching him all sorts of different spins, and while MK would clamber back into his apartment dizzy, he would do it with an eager grin, excited for Sunday to roll around again.

Because sure, MK was getting better, but honestly? The real reason Red Son’s insults didn't bother him was because he was finally beginning to read through the lines. 

MK knew that Red Son enjoyed his company, despite constantly complaining about it. He could tell by the way Red Son would toss a towel at his face when he spilled some sauce. He could tell by the way Red Son would let MK tell his niche Monkey King story even if it wasn’t speech material. He could tell by the way Red Son would grab his hand to pull him up onto the roof for dance lessons, and how whenever MK was too dizzy, Red Son would help him get down with only an excessive amount of complaining. 

He still made that weird expression, sparks flying off his ponytails whenever he watched MK. MK still wasn’t sure what that look meant, but he knew that it wasn’t a sign that Red Son hated him, because when MK grinned and waved, Red Son would roll his eyes and wave right back. 

Still though, their new found comradery didn’t mean that lessons were any less unhinged.

Red Son covered his face in his hands, groaning. “I have never met someone who ate baozi incorrectly. And yet somehow, you’ve found a way.” Red Son looked up at MK with a dead look in his eye. “I would call you a genius if you were not so brain-meltingly stupid.” 

“Don't knock it till you try it, Red Son,” MK said, reaching for another steamed bun. 

Red Son snatched the plate away. “Tonight, you’re calling the mayor to let her know there will be no baozi served at the gala.” Red Son sneered, “Even I can’t correct your ways.” 

“You just don’t appreciate my refined palette.” MK jutted his nose into the air with a hmph. 

Red Son raised his brow as he took a bite out of the baozi . “ Refined palette? I’ve seen you eating those dried instant ramen noodles RAW-!”

“AH! AH! STOP TALKING!” MK launched himself across the counter, a finger to his lips. Red Son’s eyes widened at MK’s sudden outburst, hair coiled with embers as MK leaned close to his face. “Pigsy might hear you!”

Red Son. placed his half-eaten baozi on the platter. MK swore he saw a flame flicker in the pupils of Red Son’s eyes as his mouth curled into a cruel, toothy smirk. 

“What’s wrong, Noodle Boy? ” Red Son leered over him with a downright villainous grin. “The Pig’s not allowed to hear me say that I’ve seen you eat those disgusting instant noodles as a snack-?!” 

MK clambered over the counter to shove his hands against Red Son. Red Son grabbed his wrist with one hand and tried to push his chest with the other, but MK was persistent, practically climbing on top of Red Son to keep a steady grip. 

“Hands to yourSELF, NOODLE BOMPH!” Red Son tried to shout, but MK grabbed the lower half of Red Son’s face, clamping his jaw shut and turning him to MK. 

“This stays between you and me, Red Son!” MK leaned so close to Red Son their foreheads were touching. Red Son’s hair glowed with embers, radiating an almost uncomfortable heat, but MK didn’t move away. He couldn’t help the wide grin that split across his face despite the gravity of the issue. “Pigsy's not gonna know a thing!"

“What don't I know exactly?” A familiar voice made Red Son and MK both whip their heads around. Pigsy had poked his head out from the kitchen, his arms crossed and his wooden ladle tapping against his shoulder. 

“Nothing Pigsy! We were just talking about how much I love your noodles! Right Red?” MK squished his cheek against Red Son’s. Red Son growled in protest, his skin burning against MK’s touch, but MK still flashed a grin like nothing was wrong. 

“Anyways, Red Son and I have to go to the roof for more fancy people class,” MK stepped backwards, dragging a thrashing Red Son along with him. “I’ll be down for dinner later, let me know if you need anything, okay byeeee!” MK tugged Red Son out of the restaurant, just in time for Red Son to make his decision and bite down on MK’s fingers. 

“OW!” MK pulled away from Red Son, waving his bitten hand around in the air. “I was going to let go eventually, you didn’t have to BITE me!” 

“Well you didn’t have to put your filthy peasant hands on my mouth, but you did.” Red Son sneered. 

MK gave Red Son a glare without any real malice. “Well if my filthy peasant hands are so filthy and peasant-ish, why’d you bite them, huh?!” He waved his bitten hand at Red Son, who leaned away from it in disgust. 

“Don’t touch me with that hand!” Red Son shouted. 

“Why not? It’s your germs!” MK yelled in response. MK tried to move his hand towards Red Son only for him to grab MK’s wrist, preventing any more movement. 

“Maybe if you stopped acting like such an animal, I wouldn’t have to stoop down to your level to get you off me.” Red Son sneered. 

MK tried to pull himself out of Red Son’s grip as he kept ranting, but his hand held tight, long fingers wrapping around MK’s wrist. There were little knicks and scars along Red Son’s hands that MK had familiarized himself with through touch, but had never really taken the time to look at.

MK could only imagine where they came from–cut wires, explosions in the workshop, lost fights. Maybe he’d made one of those scars, or maybe he’d made a scar somewhere else along Red Son’s body. He would have to apologize for them, at some point. 

Still though, even with those scars, Red Son had pretty hands. Or maybe not pretty. They were pretty, sure, but there was definitely a more specific word for it.  

“Are you even listening?!” Red Son snapped. “I’m trying to talk to you.” His grip on MK’s wrist tightened. Maybe elegant fitted better for Red Son’s hands, slender and strong. But, that wasn’t quite it either. “What thought is so important inside your little Noodle Brain that it requires your undivided attention?

No, MK knew the word for it. Weathered. But in a good way, like an artist’s bumpy fingers or a dancer’s aching feet. It was a word for bodies which morphed themselves to better suit their passion, a beauty made of calluses and dedication. And wasn’t Red Son more passionate than anyone he knew? 

That realization was a bit overwhelming for MK to even think about, much less tell Red Son, so instead he opted to stand on his tip toes and bite Red Son’s weathered hand.

The bottom of the sign for Pigsy’s Noodle was singed. Red Son refused to pay for repairs. 

MK discovered a weakness of Red Son’s. 

It was a complete accident. MK was washing the dishes after a surprisingly easy lesson on table manners when Red Son peeked outside and made some offhand comment about the depressing state of the Noodle Cart. Of course, Red Son and Mei both had a tendency to rib on his Noodle Cart, but MK was protective of his baby, so he looked over his dishes and snapped, “Oh, and how would you suggest I fix her?!”

He expected some curt answer like throw it out and buy a new car, but to MK’s surprise, Red Son began to explain in depth which wheels and engines and batteries would be ideal for a new and improved Noodle Cart. And what was wilder was that Red Son was really into it. 

Red Son’s eyes seemed to almost shine as he spoke, describing the importance of wheel traction with such genuine delight that it almost convinced MK the subject was interesting. His hands flew across the air like some frenzied, joyful dance. At some point Red Son started grinning over lug holes like a child at a candy store . MK put his plates down to watch in amazement, completely speechless at the unbridled joy which seeped out of Red Son, the stars which twinkled in his eyes. 

But then, Red Son had noticed MK staring at him and his smile vanished. “My apologies.” He coughed, the stars quickly dying in his eyes. “I hadn’t intended to speak that much-”

“No no no! Keep going! You were talking about the ideal amount of air to put in your tires, right?” MK moved closer to him, wanting to see constellations that sparkled in Red Son’s dark eyes. “Tell me more about that.”

“We have more lessons to go over. I can’t just waste time discussing… whatever. ” Red Son waved his hand away as if the topic was a menial thing, even though it was clear it wasn’t menial to him. 

“It’s not whatever to you, so it’s not whatever to me.” MK grabbed Red Son’s hand. “You clearly like talking about it, and I want to hear, so there’s no time wasted.” MK gave Red Son a warm smile, squeezing his hand. “I mean, you listen to me rant about Monkey King all the time, and you hate the Monkey King, so the least I can do is listen to you too.” 

Red Son flushed, his hair sparking at the ends of ponytail as that slurry of emotions ran across his face that MK still wasn’t able to properly name. He pulled his hand away, turning to the side to clear his throat. “Back to our lessons, Noodle Boy.” 

MK didn’t get the chance to see Red Son rant again that night, but over time MK was able to pull that side of Red Son out more and more–the Red Son whose hands moved in a flurry as he discussed his newest invention, who could intricately explain different screws and lightbulbs like he was revealing the secrets of the universe, who did everything with a drive and a passion unrivaled by anyone. 

MK wasn’t sure if anyone had really seen this side of Red Son. Even Mei seemed to underestimate just how dedicated Red Son was to his passion projects. But with a couple of questions and a smile, Red Son seemed to open up into MK’s hands, warmth and stars and flickering embers lighting up MK’s Sunday evenings.  

And to be honest? MK really loved seeing Red Son like this. He enjoyed seeing how animated Red Son was, face always wildly expressive as he told MK everything he thought. Even if sometimes the topic was beyond MK’s understanding, he enjoyed seeing the sheer joy it brought Red Son to talk about the things he loved. Whenever he sensed a rant coming MK would get himself nice and comfy to watch the stars in Red Son’s eyes come to life. 

That night, Red Son was pacing back and forth in MK’s apartment. After a few too many burn marks on the ceiling of Pigsy’s Noodles, Pigsy had finally banned the lessons from inside the premises. But MK didn’t mind. It let him have a quick snack break before dance lessons. 

As MK sat down on his bed, watching Red Son clear his throat to begin his terrible human impression. Today’s lesson focused on proper discussion of current news events, and apparently Red Son had gone so far as to look through human new sites, which was apparently a deeply mortifying task for him. 

“There’s been news of a new kind of car battery. What’s your opinion on it, Mr. Monkie Kid sir?” Red Son deadpanned. 

“Hmm.” MK stroked his chin like it was a beard. “Well Doctor Plebeian, I wouldn’t know. Buuuut, you know who probably would?” He smirked. “My good friend Red Son.” 

Red Son’s frown somehow deepened. “You shouldn’t bring me up at your gala.” 

“But why not?” MK asked with a frown. “We are good friends, aren’t we?”

“Th-that’s not the point!” Red Son crossed his arms, the tips of his ears just a bit more pink. He always got so flustered whenever MK called him his friend. It was really endearing. “It’s a gala about thanking you for saving the city. Bringing up a villain who destroyed it won’t go over well.”

“Yeah but, you also saved the city. And the world.” MK pointed out, a fact which made Red Son sputter. “And if anyone would know about some brand new car battery, it’s definitely going to be you.” 

“Well of course I’d know about the car battery, but why would I bother talking about it?” Red Son scoffed, a hand splayed on his chest. “Anything those mortals make is rudimentary compared to the things I’ve created.” 

MK tilted his head, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Well, what about your car battery is better than the human ones?” He asked. 

Red Son chuckled, a cocky grin stretched across his face. “Well, that’s simple, Noodle Boy,” He said, stretching his arms. “it’s all about the materials.” 

MK grinned, grabbing his monkey plushie to hug as he settled in. Perfect. 

By the time Red Son had finished the various intricacies as to why his car batteries were superior to even the newest human models, a solid two hours had passed and the sun had set. Red Son had only realized that much time had passed when the natural sunlight which had lit up the apartment had disappeared, the room now cast in a royal blue. 

He clamped his hands over his mouth, turning to MK was a horrified expression. “Why do you keep letting me speak about nothing for so long?!” Red Son hissed between his fingers. 

“Because it’s fun to hear you talk.” MK said with a smile. 

Red Son groaned, sitting down on the bed and covering his face with his hands. “This is mortifying. I should be a better teacher than this.” 

“Well, a great teacher answers the questions his students have. And I have a question.” MK leaned over to look at Red Son with a smile. 

Red Son peeked out of his hand, an unamused expression on his face. “Are you going to ask me something about speaking with political elites and general etiquette, or do you want to ask me about cars?”

MK’s smile grew so wide it nearly split his face in half. 

Red Son groaned, tipping his head so far back that he lay back onto MK’s bed with a fwump . “You get one question.” Red Son said, raising a single finger up in the air for emphasis. “ One. And then we go back to small talk.” 

MK scooched closer to Red Son with the largest puppy dog eyes he could muster. “Can I paint one of your cars one day?” He asked. 

Red Son lifted his head to look at MK, baffled. “What?” 

“I want to do a paint job on one of your cars!” MK exclaimed. “I think it’d be totally sick. I can come up with a bunch of different ideas, and you can choose whichever you think is coolest– it’ll be like a real commission, except you’re not paying me!” 

He leaned over Red Son’s face, trying to pout his lip the way he used to when asking Tang for candy as a child. “Come on, I know you like my art, Red Son.” Red Son looked away, lip twitching at hair sparking. MK chose not to think about what that implied. “Wouldn’t you want it everywhere you go?” 

Red Son snorted, looking at MK with a sneer. “All you draw is Journey to the West fan art. Any car with the Monkey King plastered all over it worth less than even that miserable hunk of metal you call a noodle cart.” 

MK gasped in mock offense, throwing his monkey plushie at Red Son. “Stop insulting my cart! She just needs some more love.” 

Red Son grabbed the plushie with a snarl. “That cart needs more than love. It needs a miracle. ” 

Red Son launched the plushie back at MK with much more force, smacking MK in the nose. “Oww!” MK clutched his nose in his hands. “That actually hurt, you jerk!” 

“There’s no way you’re actually hurt from a stuffed animal.” Red Son sneered. “These things are made for children.” 

MK tipped his head up to stare at the ceiling. “Well one, the head of it is basically a fancy bean bag, two, you’re a demon who threw it at me with all your strength, and three, can you get me like a towel or something because my nose is bleeding.” 

Red Son sat up with a scoff. “Your nose isn’t actually bleeding. Stop being such a-” 

MK retracted one of his hands to reveal the blood on his fingers. 

Red Son leaped off the bed, all snideness gone. “Where’s your first aid kit?” 

“Under the sink.” MK plugged his nose with the heel of his hand. Red Son ran through the apartment and returned after a moment with a paper towel and a first kid. He tossed the paper towel to MK, who ripped off a little piece to twist and put in his nose. 

‘If anything is broken, I can have it fixed, of course.” Red Son sat down on the bed next to MK. “Move your hands so I can look.” Red Son took MK’s chin to angle his head, inspecting MK’s nose with a surprising amount of care. 

It was weird feeling Red Son’s hands cup MK’s face so carefully. He had felt Red Son’s hands before. Between colliding fists and intertwined fingers, MK figured he’d be used to the touch by now. But the feeling of rough calluses gently holding MK’s jaw was an entirely new feeling. He was reminded again of how nice Red Son’s hands were, to look at and to have against him. 

Red Son sighed with what MK had a sneaking suspicion was relief. “It doesn’t look like anything worse than a nosebleed.” His hands slipped away from MK’s face, and MK almost mourned the warmth. Red Son stretched his back on the back, cracking his neck as he did. “At any rate, we can still continue our lesson.”

“Uh, I’m sorry,” MK leaned over to Red Son, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “You just severely injured me, and now you want to continue the lecture?” 

“I did not severely injure you, Noodle Boy,” Red Son sneered. 

“Yeah you-!” An idea popped into MK’s head. One that, while incredibly stupid, would mean he didn’t have to spend another hour conversing with Doctor Plebeian. 

MK leaned closer to Red Son, eyes wide and voice low. “You’ve done worse than injure me, Red Son. You’ve killed me.” 

There was a beat of silence between the two of them. Red Son blinked. “Wait, what-”

MK let out a loud gasp, dramatically flopping on top of Red Son. He laid the back of his hand against his forehead like some swooning maiden. “I’m dying. I’m mortally wounded. My soul is going to Diyu. So I guess that means we can’t continue the small talk lesson.” MK tried his best not to crack a grin.

“Get. Off me.” Red Son said through gritted teeth. “Now.”

“Can’t hear you. I’m a corpse now.” MK barely opened his lips to speak as he shut his eyes, laying his head under Red Son’s chin. 

“Noodle Boy-this really isn’t-you should stop-! MK! ” Red Son tried to protest, but MK only continued to press against him, forcing Red Son lie down, sandwiched between the mattress and MK’s corpse. 

“Oh nooo, rigor mortis is setting in. Guess you’re just stuck here not doing the small talk lesson with me. How terrible .” MK choked out, trying his best not to laugh as Red Son sputtered. 

“I’m surprised you even know what rigor mortis means. ” Red Son grumbled.

MK lifted a purposefully shaky finger up into the air. “Tell Mei she gets all thirty five monies in my bank account.” 

To MK’s surprise, Red Son laughed at that, a low and warm rumble against MK’s chest. He could feel the tension in Red Son’s body begin to relax as his hand wrapped around MK’s back to rest on his left shoulder blade, where he always put it when they danced on the rooftop. There was something securing about Red Son’s hand resting there, even if this particular position was entirely new.

MK could feel Red Son’s heart pounding against his chest. He was surprised by how quickly it beat. MK knew from the times when Pigsy would take MK to his doctor’s appointments that Pigsy’s heart beated around the same beats per minute as any mortal, but Red Son’s seemed to flurry in his chest. Maybe it was because Red Son was a fire demon? Or maybe MK’s body weight laid entirely on Red Son was causing Red Son’s heart to pump more blood in a desperate attempt not to lose feeling.

MK wondered if he would open his eyes to see sparks flickering through the air. Maybe if he pulled his head away from its place between Red Son’s jaw and collarbone he’d see a knitted brow, a twitching unreadable frown on Red Son’s face. Or maybe he’d see the illusive warm smile and starry eyes that MK seemed to crave more and more. 

“MK!” The door to MK’s apartment swung open, a bright yellow light steaming in. Mei bounded in, grinning ear to ear. “Who's ready for some anti graaa-” Mei’s voice dropped. “What are you guys doing?”

“Hi Mei!” MK opened his eyes and smiled. “I’m going through rigor mortis.” 

Red Son shoved MK off him, nearly leaping out of the bed. “Dragon Girl!” He dusted off his coat. “I-ignore the Noodle Boy, he’s been–he’s been acting even more moronic than usual.” 

“Hey! I’m not the moron here! You’re the one who gave me a bloody nose.” MK stuck his tongue out. 

Red Son scoffed. “It’s not my fault your face is so weak and pathetic that it lost a fight against a stuffed toy.” He leaned over the bed with a raised brow, crossing his arms behind his back. 

MK sat up on the bed, eyes narrowed into a playful jeer. “Well maybe you shouldn’t have insulted my noodle cart.” 

When Red Son laughed, MK caught a glimpse of his fangs, “And maybe you should get a functioning vehicle.”

“And maybe you guys should stop flirting right in front of me.” Mei deadpanned as she checked her phone. 

Red Son sputtered, vaulting back away from MK. “We were NOT-” His hair glowed so brightly it almost looked white, but as quickly as it came it left. Red Son cleared his throat, crossing his arms behind his back. “It’s almost dinner. I’ve been here for far too long.”

“Awww, are you sure you can’t hang?” MK pouted. “Mei and I are going to the anti-grav arcade. It’s gonna be fun.” 

“No, not tonight.” MK’s smile fell at Red Son’s curt response. “Mother and Father are expecting me for dinner. I was planning to leave earlier to get some work done, but someone distracted me.” Red Son glanced at MK and a small spark flew up the tuft of hair which grew from his widow’s peak. “Don’t bleed out on the arcade floor.” In a swirl of flames, Red Son disappeared. 

That night, Mei and MK went down to the anti-gravity arcade. The arcade was bright and busy, all noise and light and energy and joy. Mei grabbed MK’s hand and pulled him through the long halls of games as music blasted from the speakers. And it was fun, sure, but Mei’s hands were freezing, and Red Son’s were warm, and right now MK’s hand’s couldn’t help but feel cold without those slender fingers interlaced with his.

MK frowned, looking up at Mei. “Hey, uh, I have a question about earlier.” Mei turned to MK with  a smile. “Why did you think that Red Son and I were flirting?”

Mei snorted. “Because I walked in on you guys cuddling on your bed?”

“We weren’t cuddling!” MK protested. “And even if we were, that doesn’t mean we were flirting. I mean, we cuddle all the time, right?” 

“Okay, but you and me cuddling isn’t the same as you and Red Son cuddling.” Mei whipped out her phone to scroll online. 

MK laughed. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

Mei looked up from her phone looking genuinely confused. “Wait, MK, do you seriously not-” 

“OH OH!! MEI! LOOK!!” MK ran to a claw machine and jabbed his finger at the glass, pointing to a very angry looking chicken plushie. “It’s ADORABLE! I’ve gotta get it right now.” 

Mei tilted her head. “A…chicken plushie? Why a chicken? There’s a perfectly good monkey plushie right next to it.” She pointed to the plushie she was referring to. “Monkeys have kind of been your style for forever now.” 

“Oh, well, yeah, but this isn’t for me. It’s for Red Son.” MK explained. When Mei’s eyes widened, he elaborated. “He didn’t ask for a plushie or anything, but a little while back he told me one of his favorite animals is chickens, so of course I have to get him this. And I mean, look at its face.” MK tapped the glass excitedly. “Doesn’t it look just like him?” 

Mei squinted at the plushie. “How does it look anything like–WAIT,” She whipped her head around to Mk. “Are you saying Red Boy’s adora- ?!”

“It’s all angry and stuff, and its feathers are ruffled like Red Son’s hair when he’s mad!” MK cooed, shoving his tokens into the crane machine. “Plus, I gotta get him something for when we go out to dinner next week, so this works out.” 

Mei blanched. “You guys are gonna WHAT-?!”

The lights of the machine whirred as music began to play, drowning out Mei’s words.

MK tugged on his shirt collar. It felt stiff and awkward, but he figured that made sense for how long it’d been collecting dust in the back of his closet. MK hadn’t worn this outfit since…well, since ever, really. Tang had gotten him a nice button up shirt, slacks and a blazer a few years ago. He told MK that one day he’d find a reason to wear it, but MK never really did. 

Well, until now. 

The slacks and blazer were a chocolate brown. Tang thought it complimented MK’s eyes and hair, but MK thought it was a bit dull, personally. But, Red Son had specified that it was a formal restaurant, and this was the nicest outfit he had. At least his bandana was giving a pop of color. Maybe he should consider wearing jewelry? He didn’t have a lot, but it could be a nice touch. Ah, well, Red Son was coming any minute. Maybe next time.  

MK snorted as ran a hand through his hair. Why was he thinking about a next time? He hadn’t needed to wear this outfit ever, and after tonight, MK doubted he’d ever have to again. With a final dust down on his body, MK grabbed the angry little chicken plushie and left his room.

MK had peeked into Pigsy’s Noodles to say goodbye to Pigsy only to see Tang sitting at the counter. “Well hello there.” He looked MK up and down in surprise before his expression shifted into disgust. “Why are you wearing your converse?” 

“I don't have other shoes!” MK blushed. “It’s fine, though, no one’s going to notice, probably.” MK frowned, mumbling to himself, “I mean, he’s definitely going to notice, but that’s besides the point-”

“ Wait wait wait, did you say he?” Tang’s eyes widened. “Are you going out with someone tonight?”

“Uhh, yeah?” MK adjusted the blazer. “I’m going to some fancy restaurant with Red Son. Apparently it’s known for being demon and human friendly, so that's pretty neat-”  

Tang practically fell out of his seat. “MK!” Tang ran over to him and gripped his shoulders. “You’re going out with Red Son?! ” 

A loud bang could be heard from the kitchen. “HE’S WHAT?!” 

Pigsy stomped out, frying pan on the offensive. “Is that why you haven’t eaten any dinner?!” 

“Yeah.” MK confirmed. “Sorry about that, Pigsy. At least you know it’s not because your cooking got worse?”

Pigsy didn’t seem to take this as a compliment. 

“And the chicken plushie’s because…?” Tang poked the chicken plushie.

“Hmm? Oh!” MK held the plushie out to Tang and Pigsy. “I figured it’d be a nice gift for him!” 

Tang and Pigsy exchanged a look with each other that MK couldn’t quite discern.

“You’re uh. You’re getting pretty close with that Red Kid, aren’t you?” Pigsy ran his free hand across the circumference of the frying pan. “I mean, he was already spendin’ time with you and Mei, and now he comes over every week just ta’ be with you.” 

“Yeah!” MK smiled. “I’m honestly super happy. I’ve been wanting to become closer to Red Son for a while, so I’m glad he’s finally starting to open up to me.” MK looked down at the chicken plushie, squeezing it slightly. 

“Right, right.” Tang sat back down at the counter seat, glasses glinting. “And you mentioned it was someplace fancy? That sounds pretty expensive.” 

“Oh, Red Son’s paying for everything.” MK said. “It’s part of the reason why I got him this plushie. To thank him.” MK shoved the plushie into Tang’s face, but Tang’s expression seemed to harden more. 

“Paying for everything, hmmm? That’s quite serious.” Tang said. Pigsy patted his frying pan against his hand. 

“I mean yeah, I guess. But if I fail the test, I’ll probably pay another way.” MK laughed at his own joke. 

Tang and Pigsy both blinked, the frowns on their faces dissipating into confusion. “Wait, test?” Pigsy asked.

“Yeah?” MK smiled, putting one hand in his pocket. “Red Son decided he wanted to test my dining etiquette, so he’s taking me out to some fancy demon restaurant.” 

Tang and Pigsy exchanged a completely different look with each other.

“Wait, so, Red Son’s your friend? ” Pigsy raised his eyebrows, tapping his frying pan against the counter. 

“Uh, yeah? It’s pretty great.” MK replied. 

“And…that’s all?” Pigsy lowered the frying pan, brow furrowed like this was some baffling statement.

“What else would we be?” MK asked with a smile. 

Tang took off his glasses to rub his eyes with his hands. “He’s worse than the caterer.” 

Before MK could ask what Tang meant, he felt warm air waft from outside Pigsy’s Noodles. “Oh, Red’s here, gotta go.” MK ran around to give Pigsy and Tang a hug. “I’ll be back before midnight, I’ll let you know if the food is worse than Pigsy’s, okay byeeee!” With that, he ran out of Pigsy’s Noodles. 

Red Son was waiting just outside of Pigsy’s Noodles, fiddling with a gold necklace that had his family’s insignia carved into it. It took a moment for MK to actually recognize him.

He was still in the same sleeveless turtleneck and chunky belt, but now Red Son had exchanged the baggy indigo pants for burgundy slacks which clung more to his legs and elegant black boots with a golden buckle and a low heel. Draped over Red Son’s shoulders was a burgundy blazer to match his pants. The fabric looked more expensive than half the treasures in Monkey King’s storage room. 

What really threw MK off, however, was that Red Son had let his hair down. MK had seen Red Son’s hair down on a few occasions, but those were usually sleepovers, and by the time MK woke up Red Son would have already put his hair into the usual high ponytail. But tonight, Red Son has let his hair down on purpose, long scarlet locks falling over his shoulders in graceful waves.

Red Son had told MK for all he liked his hair, it was impractical to have it down the majority of the time. And yeah, that made a lot of sense, but to be honest, Red Son looked really nice with his hair down. MK almost wanted to touch it. 

When Red Son noticed MK, he looked him up and down, nodding before his lip curled into disgust. “Do you not have any other shoes?” He pointed at the ratty converse. “And do you have to wear that bandana?” He flicked MK’s forehead. 

“I don’t have any more shoes actually, but it’ll be fine, right?” MK laughed. “Also, the bandana is a must, always and forever. I’ll wear it to my grave.” 

Red Son rolled his eyes. “What’s with the chicken?” He leaned the side and pointed at the plushie in MK’s hand.

“Oh!” MK held out the plushie to Red Son. “It’s for you!” 

Red Son blinked, brow knitting into a baffled expression as he took the plushie from MK. “Last week, when Mei and I went to the arcade, I saw this and I thought of you. Sooo I won it.” MK rocked on the balls of his feet as he explained it to Red Son. “I know it’s probably not a fancy person gift, but I figured it’d be nice.” He frowned. “What would a fancy person gift be? Maybe like, wine, or flowers?” 

Red Son sputtered, gripping the plushie tight. “Flowers and wine are unnecessary, Noodle Boy!” He snapped. 

“That’s a relief,” MK laughed. “I heard bouquets are expensive.” 

Red Son didn’t respond to MK. He stared down at the toy. “The material is cheap.” He said. “And some of the stitching is uneven on the beak.” Despite the criticism, Red Son didn’t look angry or disgusted at all. There was something quiet there, his hair glowing from the embers coiling around it. He held the plushie tighter, frown twitching at the corner of his lips. 

“You remembered my favorite animal.” He murmured. “Useless information in the long run.” Red Son’s voice sounded heavy, like he was trying to push an inferno of emotions back. “But considerate, nonetheless.” 

Red Son snapped out of his haze, clearing his throat. “Come on. We’re going to be late.” Red Son grabbed MK’s hand and tugged him so close that MK’s head smacked against Red Son’s chest. MK was about to pull back when a swirl of fire surrounded them. 

MK yelped, grabbing onto Red Son in fright. “What’s happening? Are we dying?!” He shouted.

“Would you quit that?!” Red Son snapped, the flames already dissipating. “You’ve seen me teleport enough times that I figured you knew what I was doing, but apparently not.” 

“Oh, right, because I was just supposed to automatically know about the fire swirls you were teleporting us.” MK narrowed his eyes at Red Son. “A little warning would be nice next time.”

Red Son sighed. “Let’s just go.” Even though the fire was gone and they were both standing in front of their destination–an ornate teal blue building with its name written in golden characters. 

According to Red Son, this particular venue was well known among demons for being human- friendly, a fact which mattered greatly considering how many circles of demons apparently viewed humans as a delicacy. This restaurant, however, went so far as to allow human guests, so long as they were chaperoned by a demon. 

Perhaps that was why Red Son held his hand so tightly as a purple skinned waitress with curling horns led Red Son and MK to their reserved tables. He probably wanted to make sure MK didn’t wander off to stare at the art which hung along the walls. It was a bit frustrating to have Red Son drag him along when he wanted to stop and ogle, but when Red Son eventually let go of his hand to sit down, MK couldn’t help but feel a little sad at the loss of the heat. 

“The food here sounds really expensive.” MK said as he parsed through the menu. “Are you sure you’ll be alright paying for all this?” 

“I’ll be fine, Noodle Boy,” Red Son shook his blazer off to rest against his chair, “And don’t bother suggesting to chip in. Your meager delivery boy savings would take a lifetime to recover from this.” He placed the chicken on the table between them, his gaze softening as he looked at it. 

“Okay, you’re not wrong, but that blow still hurts.” MK admitted, pressing his hand against his chest, trying to imitate offense despite the smile on his face. “Still though, I should pay you back somehow.” He leaned over the table and wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I can do something for you in return? Like, I dunno, paint your car?” 

Red Son looked over at MK. “You can repay me by showing me that my teachings had some effect on you.” He deadpanned, leaning back in his chair. His eyes kept glancing over at the plushie. 

For all of Red Son’s talk about lessons and teachings, that dinner very quickly stopped being a test and started being…well, it started being a nice dinner. MK told Red Son about all the weird customers he’d seen and the new training routines Monkey King had introduced. Red Son complained about a rut he was in with one of his projects. When food came they recalled old comfort meals of zha jiang mian from Pigsy’s and mushrooms tossed in peppers so spicy most humans couldn’t even look their way. It felt easy, talking to Red Son over a warm meal. It made MK almost wish this wasn’t a test. 

At one point, Red Son was sipping expensive wine in a slender glass and MK had made a joke either so funny or so stupid it made Red Son do a spit take. Wine dripped down his chin and onto his expensive blazer as he scrambled for a napkin.

MK’s eyes widened as he stared at Red Son fret over himself, dabbing the napkin at his clothes with a string of curses under his breath. That was…unexpected. 

“Uhh, teach?” He leaned over the table, a wily grin curling up on his face. “I know I’m just a humble student and all, but that didn’t seem like proper table etiquette.” 

“Sh-shut up!” Red Son sputtered, face as red as his hair as he grabbed a napkin to wipe his chin. “I didn’t expect you to say something that moronic while I was drinking! And we’re not testing ME, Noodle Boy! We’re testing YOU!” 

Red Son shouted just a bit too loudly for the restaurant, a couple heads turning to look at him in disdain, but MK didn’t mind. Not then Red Son was making the same face as his new chicken plushie. 

He grinned at Red Son as he lifted up his rice bowl to eat. 

MK parked the Noodle cart where he always did, right in front of Pigys’s. He yawned, stretching his arms out as he slipped out the cart. Saturdays were always hectic, between the dinner rush hour and the intensive training with Monkey King. But, it was all over now. He strode over to Pigsy’s Noodles, humming as he turned off the music in his head phones. 

MK didn’t even take three steps into the store when Mei spoke up from her phone. “So, you and Red Son are definitely dating now, right?” 

MK immediately tripped and fell to the floor. “You think we’re WHAT?!” 

Mei didn’t even bother looking up from her phone, taking a sip of noodle broth from her chicken soup between sentences. “You and Red Son. You’re dating.”

“Red Son and I aren’t dating!” MK shouted, sitting up to look at Mei slack jawed. “We’re just friends!”

“But, didn’t you go to that super fancy restaurant a while back?” Mei placed her phone on the table, her full attention on MK now. “I mean, not going to lie, Red Son bringing you to some swanky restaurant and paying for the whole meal? Doesn’t sound all that platonic.”

“Wha-we’re not a couple, Mei.” MK stood up, shaking his head. “Red Son was just testing me on my skills and abilities at being a fancy person.” He cradled his head between his thumb and index finger. “Which, I passed, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah, you passed all right.” Mei nodded. “You passed as partners .” 

“Oh come on!” MK exclaimed. “Red Son’s not even into me!” 

Tang snorted into his noodles. MK swiveled his head to look at him. “What?! It’s true! He’s not.” 

“I dunno, MK.” Tang said, tilting his bowl back to sip at the broth. “You spend hours every Sunday out dancing. That seems a bit more than just friendly behavior.” 

“We don’t go dancing, we practice dancing.” MK corrected Tang. “It’s totally friendly behavior.” 

“Oh, and you don’t go on fancy dinner dates, you go on fancy dinner tests,” Mei waved her hands around. “And you don’t flirt or cuddle, you just distract him from the rich people lessons.” 

“You are pretty touchy with him, kid.” Pigsy pointed out as he wiped a plate clean. MK groaned. Even Pigsy was in on this?!

“That doesn’t mean anything! I’m touchy with everyone!” MK wrapped his arm around Tang and pressed their cheeks together for emphasis. Tang narrowed his eyes at MK and pushed him away. 

“Well, you might be touchy, but ain’t it weird that Red Kid doesn’t complain about it?” Pigsy asked. 

That actually was a fair point from Pigsy, but MK was quick to rationalize it. “I dunno, maybe he’s just getting comfortable with physical touch?” MK shrugged. 

“That’s news to me.” Mei snorted. “Half the time I try to hug Red Boy, he tries to set me on fire.” 

Wait, Red Son wasn’t okay with touching Mei? But Mei had been his friend for way longer, they sparred together and everything. They were pretty physically affectionate now, weren’t they?

Well, Mei was. Red Son would give in with a frown and a string of curse words, and after about twenty five seconds he’d smack Mei off. But with MK, he didn’t really do that, did he? If anything, he’d initiate the touch. 

MK didn’t actually need Red Son to help him up onto the roof, but every time, he extended his hand anyways. He’d guide MK’s body through each new complex dance move, weathered hands running up his arms and across his back. And MK had done some research–you don’t actually intertwine your fingers when you ballroom dance. But, Red Son always did. And even though MK knew that wasn’t right, he still hadn’t brought it up to Red Son, instead just tightening his grip. 

Okay, this was getting weird to think about. His face was beginning to grow a bit warm, probably from being thrown into the hot seat right when he’d gotten home. 

“Of course he’s comfortable touching me! We literally go dancing–we practice dancing every week! He has to be comfortable with it!” MK tried to ignore the phantom feel of fingers between his. “It’s not like he-he likes me or something.” 

“Ohh, so he’s only comfortable touching you because you spend so much time touching each other that it’s natural to him.” Tang nodded, pushing up his glasses. “But you’re not dating.” 

“EXACTLY!” MK shouted. Tang, Pigsy, and Mei all groaned in unison. 

“Guys! Come on!” MK cried out, voice cracking just a bit. “Just because Red Son and I hang out a lot doesn't mean we're-that we’re anything ! He only sees me as a friend!”

Mei narrowed her eyes at MK, lips pursed into a small frown. “You know what, you know MK? Okay.” She tossed a piece of chicken into her mouth. “You’re not dating Red Son. He’s not into you.” 

MK sighed, his shoulders loosening a tension he didn’t realize had built up during the conversation. “Thank you. I’m glad at least someone here believes me-”

“Do you wanna date Red Son?”  

Every thought in MK’s head came to a halt. “Do I what?”

“Well, if you were dating, I kind of doubt you’d hide it from me, so you’re definitely not a thing. You keep saying that Red Son isn’t into you. And we can debate that all day, but it’s not like he is here to confirm or deny it.” Mei shrugged, waving her chopsticks around. “But you are here. And even though you keep saying Red Son doesn’t like you, you haven’t said whether or not you like him. So spill: do you want to date Red Son or not?” 

That was an easy answer. MK would grimace and roll his eyes and maybe even gag at the question. The thought of dating Mei made him want to barf. In fact, MK had always been generally uninterested in dating anyone, so why would he want to date Red Son? It'd just make things weird. 

Well, maybe weird wasn’t the right word. But the thought did make something in MK’s stomach turn. It made his brain feel like stuffing or tv static. The back of his neck seemed to heat up, like Red Son was pressing his hand against MK’s nape. 

If they were dating, he’d be able to touch that part of MK, wouldn’t he? Well, not without MK’s permission, obviously, but MK was always comfortable with physical touch, so he’d probably be fine with it. If anything, Red Son would probably be more embarrassed.

MK could imagine Red Son’s hair flaring around him as warm, slender hands with weathered skin and elegant fingers carefully cradled the back of MK’s neck. Maybe he’d do it while they were dancing. Or instead of his neck, maybe Red Son’s hand would slip down to hold his shoulder blade, his back, his waist, as they swayed on the rooftops. 

Whenever Red Son danced with MK, he would always intertwine their fingers, even though they weren’t supposed to. But MK didn’t mind. He liked the warmth of it, the strange and quiet and lovely intimacy. If they were dating, would holding hands be different? Would it feel different? Would there be some subtle difference in the touch, something which separated from the times they’d held hands before? 

Or maybe, there wouldn’t be anything different about holding hands with Red Son. Maybe it would be just as warm and comforting as always. Maybe that was the whole point of dating someone. 

It suddenly occurred to MK that he’d been standing there in complete silence for two minutes. 

“Uhh, kid?” Pigsy waved his hands in front of MK’s eyes. “Are you alright?”

“HAHAHA.” MK put one hand on Pigsy’s shoulder and grinned. “I’M FINE. I’M FIIINE. Just, y’know, super tired from all the work I’ve gotta do.” He let out a very loud, very forced yawn. “I think I’m gonna tuck in for the night.” MK turned to the door. “Need all the energy I can get. Red Son’s coming over to teach me more stuff. You know, platonically! Because he doesn’t like me. And I don’t either! Haha!”

“MK?” Mei started to reach her hand out to MK’s shoulder but he promptly marched out of Pigsy’s Noodles with a loud “G’night!” before she could ask him anything. 

Despite MK’s excuse to sleep in, he spent most that night wide awake, Mei’s question floating over his head, along with images of hands running up MK’s back and neck, finger intertwining with his, touches that changed everything and nothing at all. Warm hands and warm smiles. Eyes with stars in them. Hair which sparked like fireworks, even though MK knew Red Son hadn’t wanted to fight him in a long, long time. 

“You’re less chatty today,” Red Son noted as he held out a plastic cup. He had just come over and hadn’t even begun to discuss the lesson plans when he honed in on the shift in MK’s mood.

“I uh, didn’t get much sleep.” MK admitted as he began to pour Red Son some water. 

“Both hands. I’m your elder and your superior, show some respect.” Red Son pointed at the pitcher, which MK was holding with his right hand. “You clearly didn’t sleep last night if you forgot that.” 

MK rearranged himself immediately as he poured Red Son’s glass, apologizing with a wide smile.

“You’re a terrible liar, by the way.” Red Son narrowed his eyes as he took a sip of his cup. “Something’s clearly bothering you.” 

MK guffawed, scratching the back of his neck as heat began to coil there. “I mean, it’s not really bothering me, it’s just something that-Look, it’s not anything bad.” MK said, tapping his cup with his fingers. “I’ll get over it, really!” He gave Red Son his best grin.

Red Son raised his brow, clearly unconvinced. MK chugged his water in an effort to avoid eye contact. Shit. It hadn’t occurred to him that Red Son would learn to read between his lines too. 

Luckily though, Red Son didn’t press it. He put the cup down and stood up. “Open your window. We’re going to the roof.” 

“Wh-but what about small talk? And speech drafting?” MK looked up at Red Son as he strode to the window. 

“We can focus on that next time. Today, we’ll need to focus heavily on dancing.” Red Son stated.

MK opened up the window with a frown. “Okay, but can I ask why? I thought I was getting better.” 

“You are.” Red Son said as the two of them clambered out the window. “Which is exactly why this time, you’re going to lead.” 

By the time MK processed what he’d said, Red Son had already climbed up to the roof. “Wait!” MK looked up at Red Son, wide eyed and bushy tailed. “Seriously?!” 

Red Son sighed. “Yes, Noodle Boy. You’re officially decent enough at dancing that I trust you to lead instead of follow. But!” He raised a finger in the air. “That doesn’t mean you need any less teaching. Hence why for the rest of today’s lesson, we’ll be dancing.” 

Red Son reached his hand out to MK. It was a familiar gesture now. Red Son would always help MK clamber up to the rooftop. But now, the anticipation of Red Son’s touch made MK’s brain sizzle. 

MK gulped, taking the hand in his. It didn’t feel any different–still warm and calloused and comforting–but he was acutely aware of the way Red Son’s slender fingers gripped around his hands to pull him up. 

“Now, the steps are a bit different for a lead,” Red Son explained as he placed his hand on MK’s shoulder. “For one, you’ll be moving your left leg forward instead of your right leg back. Then, instead of moving your other foot parallel, you’ll move your left leg up to bring them together. After that, you move them apart, move your left leg back, and so forth.” 

“That doesn’t seem too hard.” MK mumbled more to himself than anything. He was focused less on Red Son’s words and more on the warmth of his hand against his shoulder, the fingers intertwined with his. 

Without thinking, he put his hand on Red Son’s waist. Red Son’s hair glowed almost white hot at the touch. “ Shoulder blade, Noodle Boy.” 

“Sorry! Sorry. Shoulder blade, got it.” MK moved his hand up. “So…do I just move now?” 

“Whenever you’re ready, you can start to dance. Be sure to stay on a proper tempo.” MK wasn’t sure if he was imagining Red Son’s grip on his hand tightening. “I’ll follow your lead.” 

It was easy, to be honest. MK had been dancing with Red Son for months now, basically, and this was just the basic step two three. Well, technically it was step, three, two considering the steps were swapped for the lead, but that was just overthinking it. It was a good, old, uber-boring box step, nothing to freak out about! 

And he didn’t freak out. MK kept his cool, leading Red Son in a careful slow dance. He had to keep his eyes on his feet most of the time so he didn’t step on Red Son’s shoes but after a few minutes, they were waltzing on the rooftop to MK’s steady tempo. 

An idea popped into MK’s mind as they danced. He grinned, which made Red Son raise his brow in suspicion. “So, I have a question.” MK said. Red Son looked apprehensive but he nodded, urging MK to continue speaking.

“Because I’m leading, I’m the one in charge of when we do all those spins and stuff, right?” He asked. 

“You would,” Red Son responded, “But we should make sure you master the basics here before we do anything compLICATEEEH-!” 

Before Red Son could even finish his sentence, MK launched Red Son into a spin, making him twist out of their hold until the only thing connecting them was their intertwined fingers. 

“What do you think you’re doing, Noodle BOAAH!” MK yanked Red Son back in, trying to twirl them back into position. This, however, didn’t work, and Red Son tipped a little too far back, his feet stumbling from under him. 

MK moved without thinking, taking his free hand to cradle Red Son’s waist. MK’s arm and their intertwined fingers were the only thing keeping Red Son from falling down completely. 

“What is wrong with you?!” Red Son grabbed onto MK’s collar with his free hand, nearly choking him. “You need to at least warn your partner before trying a move like that, which you shouldn’t have done in the first place, because I haven’t taught you how yet!” 

“Okay, but it was getting boring, and I thought it’d be fun!” MK said. “It’s dancing! Shouldn’t I try to sweep my partner off their feet?” 

Red Son glared at MK. “Sweeping someone off their feet doesn’t mean almost making them FALL!” 

Red Son continued to yell at MK, but to be honest, he wasn’t really focused on that. He was more focused on the position they had found themselves in. 

Despite insisting that MK was being an idiot for almost making him fall, Red Son hadn’t bothered trying to stand up at all. His hand had gone from clutching MK’s collar to holding onto his clavicle, fingers grazing the back of MK’s neck.

It didn’t really look like MK was saving Red Son from a fall. If anything, it kind of looked like... 

MK chuckled, making Red Son stop mid-rant. “What?” Red Son sneered. “What about this could you possibly find funny?” 

“Well, the fall wasn’t intentional, but if you really think about it, this was a teaching moment.” MK leaned over Red Son with an optimistic smile. “I dipped you!” 

Red Son blinked, all his anger dissipating. For a moment, MK thought Red Son’s rage would bubble back up again once he fully processed what MK had just said. He expected a torrent of insults his way, and as Red Son’s hair began to glow and spark at the ends, MK was practically bracing for it. 

But then, Red Son’s lips twitched up into a smile as he started to laugh. 

Not some haughty guffaw or villainous cackle, but a real laugh, that MK could feel rumbling against his arm. Red Son moved his hand away from MK’s neck to cover his mouth, completely unable to stop the giggles from escaping his lips. At one point, he even began to snort, an unseemly little noise which sent a thrill up MK’s spine. 

“It-” MK’s own mouth began to curl up into a smile. “It really wasn’t that funny.” 

This didn’t seem to deter Red Son, who was beginning to wheeze from laughing so hard. MK’s own smile grew wider at the sight. He’d never seen Red Son act like this before. It was. It was kind of incredible? 

“You’ve got a weird sense of humor, Red Son.” MK watched as Red Son continued to giggle. 

Even though Red Son had been complaining about MK nearly making him fall just a moment ago, now Red Son didn’t even bother holding onto MK. All that kept him from falling was MK’s arm around his waist and their intertwined fingers. He seemed too lost in his own stupid glee to recognize this, but MK wasn’t. His fingers curled around Red Son just a bit tighter. 

He looked pretty like this. Red Son had always been pretty. MK had always sort of known that from an artistic standpoint. But Red Son was happy here, hair and voice and smile so warm it seemed to burn through MK’s insides, and so it really struck MK in that moment just how gorgeous he was. His cheeks were flushed a light shade of pink. His hair glowed a vibrant shade of orange, sparks coiling around the locks. And of course, Red Son’s smile stretched across his face, his elegant features morphed by wild laughter. 

MK wanted to see Red Son like this all the time. He wanted to peel back every layer and have the Red Son who snorted when he laughed by his side. He wanted Red Son to rant to him without a hint of shame whenever they hung out in his bedroom or on the rooftop. He wanted to learn about every scar on those warm and weathered hands, feel them tenderly holding his jaw. But mostly, MK really wanted to just lean a little closer and press Red Son’s wide grin against his own. 

That…wasn’t really friendly behavior, was it? 

Maybe he did want to date Red Son. 

…Shit. 

MK dropped Red Son. His head smacked against the rooftop, the laughter dying immediately.

Ok, so MK would admit, he wasn’t taking this new information well.

That wasn’t the right way to phrase it. That made it sound like MK didn’t want to feel this way. He didn’t mind being into Red Son, it just kind of completely knocked him off his feet. 

MK had never made romance a priority in his life. On the rare days Tang or Pigsy joked about him finding a partner, he always waved it away. Whenever he’d hang out with Mei and someone assumed they were a couple, it always grossed MK out to no end. There were a very small handful of times people approached him for a date, but MK always refused with a polite smile. Frankly, MK was pretty comfortable not having a partner. 

So to actually want to date someone? And for that someone to be Red Son? It was uh. It was all very new territory. 

MK wasn’t particularly sure how long he liked Red Son, but now that he knew for sure, the fact had a tendency to hit him in the back of the head. It made everything all weird and fuzzy, and to be completely honest, MK had always thought people were exaggerating when they said their crush gave them butterflies, but in retrospect those were completely accurate descriptions. 

MK constantly had to look away from Red Son to make sure his face wasn’t too red from how much he overheated, his thoughts scrambling into territory all completely new to him. To MK’s horror, he was starting to understand why people wanted to do things like hold hands and kiss. And worse, he was starting to long for it. MK would look at Red Son and he’d catch himself thinking about running his hands through Red Son’s hair, or cuddling over a movie, or kissing the x-shaped scar on his cheek. Every now and then, MK would have to stare at the ceiling until he could force his grin down. 

MK thought about Red Son all the time now. He would draw a picture and he’d think about how gently Red Son looked at his art. He would eat something spicy and imagine the kind of rant Red Son would have over how bland it tasted. He would go to the arcade and he’d wonder if Red Son would like any of the prizes lodged in the crane matches. He would hear music and imagine himself slow dancing with Red Son, even if the song didn’t match the tempo. 

But, wait, didn’t MK get Red Son a plushie like, way back, because it reminded MK of him? Wasn’t that kind of the same as all the stuff he was doing now? Because if that was the case, that would mean-it would mean-wait, had MK been into Red Son for that long and only just realized? That, that, that couldn’t be, all this love stuff felt way too intense for MK to just not register. And yet, that honestly seemed like it could be the case?

And wait a second, this wasn’t love was it?! MK had been calling it love in his brain, but this wasn’t like, love love, right? Love was way too big a word at this point, there was no way this was- but that- wouldn’t it-?!

MK thought that usually, he was pretty good with understanding his emotions. But love was a very, very new field, so thinking about it made his brain steam. 

Despite everything, though, MK enjoyed the feeling. It was nice to feel weird and fuzzy and full of butterflies. It was nice to think about Red Son all the time. It was nice to want. When MK stared at Red Son, his chest would pang and ache, but there was something pleasant about the feeling. He would find himself staring more and more. 

Red Son hadn’t noticed a change in MK, thankfully. He remained seemingly oblivious to MK watching him through the measuring room mirror. Then again, he was currently too busy bickering with Mei about whether the honey colored suit or the burnt orange suit worked better for MK’s gala fit. 

“Of course the honey’s better!” Mei shouted. “MK always wears yellow! It’s Monkie Kid branding at this point.” 

“Do you want the Noodle Boy to look like some sort of traffic sign?!” Red Son sneered. “This isn’t some cheap jacket for fighting villains-it’s a suit for a gala.” 

“Well even if the yellow is bad, it doesn’t make your choice any better.” She pointed at Red Son with a scowl. “Burnt orange is just the brown of reds!” 

Red Son’s flames nearly hit the ceiling. “NEITHER OF THOSE COLORS ARE ORANGE!” 

Mei had been going through each member of the Monkie Kid gang to get them a custom made set of fancy duds. When she finally got around to MK, however, he was pleasantly surprised to learn that Red Son would be accompanying them. Apparently, Red Son had insisted he would join Mei to get MK the right clothes for him. 

“My job is to make sure the Noodle Boy is presentable,” Red Son had explained, adjusting the collar of his coat, “And so I need to make sure you don’t dress him in something completely atrocious.” 

MK had found this to be incredibly sweet at first. He walked into the tailor’s with a dopey grin, excited to spend the day with his favorite people. But it very quickly devolved into Red Son and Mei bickering over what MK should wear for hours. A Suit or robe? A Bow, or a tie? Which button down had better fabric? They had spent at last a half an hour bickering over what color belt buckle MK should have.

When they finally settled on a suit, MK had made the mistake of mentioning he didn’t want to wear anything black or brown, and now Red Son and Mei had spent the better part of an hour arguing between the two different colors. The tailor had finished getting MK’s measurements ages ago, so he didn’t have anything to do other than sit there, picking at his new button down shirt while listening to them argue. 

“You know Dragon Girl, the only reason I’m here is to make sure the Noodle Boy doesn’t look like a fool at your little gala,” Red Son jeered as he loomed over Mei. “So I’d suggest you listen to me and throw that suit in the garbage where it belongs.” 

“Oh, because you know sooo much about fashion with your shants! ” Mei pointed down at Red Son’s steel toed shoe-pants. 

“Don’t call them shants. ” Red Son snapped, clearly offended. “And they’re not meant to be fashionable-they’re for work!”

“Uhh, you wear those like, all the time, Red Boy.” Mei pursed her lips, looking up at Red Son skeptically. “I think they’re a little more than just work shants.” 

“Would you STOP calling them shants?!” Red Son shouted, ponytail flaring. 

“I mean, to be fair, they are shoes-pants.” MK leaned his head on his hand. “And shants is way better than phoes. ”

“NOT HELPING, NOODLE BOY.” Red Son snapped his head to MK, gritting his teeth. MK only hummed, leaning over to flick the steel-toe of the shants. It made Red Son’s hair flare up in indignation. MK knew he was supposed to be scared of Red Son when he was mad, but to be honest the perpetual frustration had grown on him. Another weird side effect of wanting to date someone, he figured. 

“See? MK agrees with me.” Mei wrapped her arms around MK’s shoulder, bringing him so close that their cheeks squished together. “Two against one. Besties for life.” 

“I-I mean, I didn’t say I agreed. O-or disagreed!” MK elaborated when Mei swiveled her head to glare at him. “I just think that shants is an accurate word for Red Son’s shoe-pants.” MK leaned so far away from Mei’s touch he basically lay on the floor. He did not want to get into this particular argument, even if it did concern him. 

Red Son sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alright Pony Girl. How about this?” He leaned over Mei and extended his hand. “If you admit the yellow suit is inferior, and if you never say the word shants again, I…” He pursed his lips like it was a genuine struggle to get the words out in the open. “I will let you…drive…my car.”

Mei’s eyes widened as she let out a huge gasp. She jumped up, rocking on the balls of her feet as she grinned at Red “You mean the big monster car that gives birth to your sports car?!” 

“DON’T CALL IT GIVING BIR-” Red Son stopped himself before he accidently set off the fire alarm. “Yes. That car. I will let you drive it for a full 24 hours.” 

Mei let out a shriek of joy, the smallest tuft of samadhi fire flickering out her mouth from sheer excitement before she coughed, trying to imitate Red Son’s stuffy demeanor. “We have a deal, Red Boy.” She grabbed Red Son’s hand and shook it so firmly that Red Son actually winced in pain. 

Mei grabbed the burnt orange suit. “Alright, I’m gonna go grab the tailor to let him know we figured everything out. They were supposed to be here, do either of you know why they left?” 

“I think they’re on their lunch break.” MK replied. “You guys were kind of distracted talking about cufflinks though.”

“Well YEAH, Red Boy was being super picky about all of them!” She turned to Red Son and narrowed her eyes at him. “And considering we wound up not choosing any cufflinks, that conversation isn’t over.” 

Mei smiled like she wasn’t just glaring death threats at Red Son. “Aight, I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t be weird!” With a wave she left the measurement room. 

Red Son let out an anguished moan the moment she shut the door, covering his face in both of his hands. “She’s going to destroy that car.” 

“It’ll be fine. Mei’s a great driver! Ignoring all the times she destroyed your cars.” MK waved his hand. He stood up and strode over to the honey colored suit, picking up one of the sleeves. “If you’re really worried though, then why’d you offer it up in the first place? The honey isn't that bad-”

“It’s garish.” Red Son retorted before MK could even finish. “You would be seen from the celestial realm.” 

“That’d be kind of cool,” MK laughed. “I like the color you picked for me though, so it all works out.” He played with the suit sleeve. 

The temperature of the room began to rise, warm against MK’s back. MK was sure if he turned around, he would see the sparks thread through Red Son’s ponytail. He heard Red Son clear his throat a bit before speaking. 

“Well, of course the color I chose would be superior,” MK heard Red Son step towards him. When MK looked at Red Son, he was digging into his pocket, “But other than the obvious issues with the Dragon Girl’s choice, the yellow would clash with this.”

Red Son pulled a small burgundy box out of his pocket and held it out to MK. 

MK took it from Red Son’s hands carefully, running the expensive-feeling material of the box against his fingers. He opened it up carefully. 

“Uhh, Red?” MK narrowed his eyes at the small gold pins which sat on soft. “I don’t have my ears pierced.” 

“They’re not earrings, you idiot!” Red Son snapped. “They’re cufflinks!” 

Oh. It was the thing Mei and Red Son were arguing about when the tailor gave up and decided to grab some street food for lunch. MK was barely listening to the argument at that point, so to be honest, he had no idea what cufflinks were or why they mattered. “Uh. Is that just a fancy word for earrings? Because my point still stands.” 

Red Son huffed, plucking the cufflinks out of the box. “Give me your arms.” MK complied, holding his arms out to Red Son. 

He took MK’s left wrist in his hand, carefully slipping the cufflink into a button hole. “These are to fasten the cuffs of a shirt. Or to put it more simply, link them.” He explained. “It’s a glorified button, really, but considering you don’t wear many accessories and I refuse to buy you a stupid head band–”

“It’s a bandana.” Mk corrected as Red Son shifted to the right wrist. 

“Considering the only accessory you own is a piece of cloth,” He rolled his eyes at MK’s interruption, “I figured it would be best to give you these.” Red Son moved his hands away once he put on the cufflinks. “The Dragon Girl had insisted on finding you cufflinks here, but obviously I couldn’t allow that. Even if I hadn’t made you cufflinks, I would have refused them all-they were garbage.” 

MK held his wrists up to stare at the cufflinks. They were small, golden circles from afar, but if MK looked just close enough he could see something engraved in them. It-it kind of looked like-

MK gasped. “WAIT.” He looked up at Red Son with wide eyes. “Is this my jacket logo?” He lifted his wrists up to Red Son. “On the cufflinks?!” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice earlier.” Red Son snorted, folding his arms. MK was practically vibrating with excitement looking at the cartoonish grinning Monkey King on his cufflinks. “That’s so cool!” MK shouted. “They look just like my jacket! Where did you even get–WAIT!” MK gasped. “Earlier, did you say you made these?!” 

Red Son scoffed, turning his head away. “You say that like it’s hard, Noodle Boy. A mortal bauble like this was child’s play for me.” Red Son’s voice had a pompous tone to it, but he kept glancing over at MK from over the rim of his glasses. His hair kept flicking with sparks. 

MK looked down at the cufflinks, golden and glittering and made just for him. By Red Son. MK could imagine Red Son in his workshop in the dead of night, carefully detailing the cufflinks. For all of Red Son’s talk about how easy it was for him to make things, MK knew that Red Son put everything he had into his work. And that meant he put everything he had into something…something for him. 

MK ran his thumb over one of the cufflinks, an increasingly familiar warmth running across his face. He still wasn’t completely sure about the gala, but having Red Son’s support made it easier to look forward to. As annoying and boring and tedious Red Son’s lessons were, as many scorch marks MK had to clean and as many muscles ached from dancing on the roof, they were a source of comfort now, a reliable warmth which he could lean on after a long and difficult week. 

“Noodle Boy?” Red Son waved a hand in front of MK, but he was more focused on the way the cufflinks sparkled from the ceiling light. “If you don’t like it, you can just say so.” 

It was honestly a shame Red Son wasn’t coming to the gala, considering all the work he’d done to make MK presentable. It would be fun to have Red Son there. He could already imagine him in some fancy outfit, leaning over MK to ask him to dance. MK had to fight the smile itching up his face imagining it. It was a silly fantasy, but one that brought him comfort. 

…It didn’t have to be a fantasy, did it? 

“MK?” Red Son asked, voice a bit smaller now, hands clasped together.

“Come to the gala.” MK murmured. 

Red Son leaned closer to MK. “Speak up Noodle Boy. I thought I taught you that it’s rude to mumble.” 

To be completely honest, MK hadn’t fully intended to say that out loud. But now that he did, a surge of adrenaline rushed through him as he straightened his back and looked at Red Son. “You should come to the gala.” 

Red Son blanched. “What.” 

“I think it’d be fun. We could hang out at the party and stuff.” MK smiled. “Plus, it makes sense for you to go, right?” 

“It does not!” Red Son crossed his arms. “Why would I go to a gala funded by a city I tried to conquer twice?!”

“Okay, yeah, you did that, but you also saved the city–twice actually. Three times if you count saving your dad from getting possessed.” MK pointed out. “Three’s bigger than two, so you should come.” 

“That’s not how it works, Noodle Boy!” Red Son pressed his hand against his chest. “I’m a villain. And even if you don’t think I’m a villain, they do. There’s a reason why your little mayor never extended her invitation to me.” 

“Well, I’m inviting you,” MK said, determined now. “I’m the guest of honor, right? So if I want to bring you as my plus one, there shouldn’t be any issues.” 

“Just because you're a guest of honor doesn’t mean you can just- plus one? ” Red Son’s volume dropped significantly, eyes widening. “You want me to be your plus one?” 

Burnt orange wasn’t nearly bright enough to describe the way Red Son’s hair glowed with embers. 

Crap. All of MK’s courage drained out of him. He didn’t think inviting Red Son would make him react like that. Were mortal gatherings that much of an insult to him? Would he really prefer sitting in his family’s fortress doing maintenance on bull clones over partying with MK? 

Or maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe Red Son was reading between the lines. It wasn’t like MK knew how to be particularly subtle about his new feelings. MK hadn’t intended to make this a date or anything, but maybe that’s how it came off. 

MK laughed, scratching the back of his ear. “Okay, might have been a bad idea on my part.” 

It was fine. It was fine! MK already knew Red Son didn’t like him back. He’d just walk this back as a joke and lick his wounds when he got home. MK tried to ignore the pang in his chest, the pleasantness which once came with it now replaced with the searing hot feel of embarrassment. “I know, I know, it was pretty stupid of me. I guess you’d call it noodle brained -”

“I’ll go.” 

Before MK could ask Red Son to repeat himself, Red Son grabbed his hand, warm fingers over his own. Red Son’s hair still glowed with embers, and his lip almost trembled from how often his frown tugged, but he stared at MK with a fierce determination.

“I’ll go.” Red Son repeated. “If you want me to come with you to this gala then…then I will. For you.” 

His voice was careful, almost even fragile, but his hold on MK’s hand was firm. Out of habit, MK intertwined his fingers with Red Son’s. Red Son watched their hands, that unreadable expression on his face. For all MK could read between Red Son’s lines, he still hadn’t been able to figure out just what that look meant. But he agreed to go with him, hadn’t he? So maybe the sparks in his hair were a good thing. 

When Mei entered with the tailor, she groaned. “I told you guys not to be weird!” 

The night of the gala, MK was fully planning on driving Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy to the venue in Pigsy’s noodle truck, but the moment he stepped outside, a sleek black limo came to meet him. 

A man stepped out of the car, dressed in a black suit and sporting a short crew-cut. His glasses glinted in the street light. “The Monkie Kid, I presume?” He tilted his head to MK. 

MK laughed. “Uh, yeah. Hi.” The man nodded, opening up the side of the limo. “The mayor has arranged for your transportation. We’ll be going to the Long Family House to pick up your friend before we get to our venue.” 

Pigsy’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Sandy had to push him in the limo while trying to smuggle Mo in his suit (The venue didn’t allow animals, but like that was going to stop them.)

“Wow, MK.” Tang leaned over to whisper. “You should defeat bad guys more often.” He slipped into the limo with ease. 

The plan, according to the limo driver, was to pick up “Miss Long” from her family home before going to the gala’s venue. Which worked out just fine–When Mei learned Red Son was coming she practically dragged him by the hair to do his makeup. Apparently, she’d been begging to give him a makeover since Red Son was her teacher. 

The ride to Mei’s house was quick, thankfully–the limo had just managed to make it through rush hour. Before the limo driver could even open the door, MK had booked out the limo, racing to the palace doors.

The security measures were immediately triggered, a dozen lasers pointed at the crown of MK’s head. He gave the camera his best grin and waved frantically, hoping that Mei would check the CCTV for a security breach and find MK. Luckily, the security shut down and the door to the Long Family house creaked open. Mei poked her head out the door, hair adorned with gold and jade combs and a mint green eyeshadow to compliment. 

“Hey, Monkie Man.” She grinned, throwing the door open. “You ready to porty ?” She struck a pose in an elegant white dress with shimmering gold dragons and emerald green flames curling around her skirt. 

“Mei you look amazing!” MK gasped, smacking the sides of his face, 

“Oh I know.” She bragged, tossing a bit of her hair. “We’re gonna be the best dressed at this gala by a long shot. ” Mei put her hands on her hips while MK buzzed with excitement. 

“Where’s Red Son?” He asked, peeking his head around to try and see from behind the door. 

“He’s grabbing his things.” Mei said. She leaned over to MK with a groan. “I regret asking to do his makeup. Red Boy’s been acting like a total diva. ”

“I heard that!” A familiar voice rang down the hall, along with the click clack of heeled shoes. MK frowned. Red Son’s shants didn’t click. 

Red Son slammed open the other door, growling at Mei. “Forgive me for wanting to look presentable when everything you own is cheap human made garbage. ” He huffed, clutching onto the strap of a small indigo purse. “If I had known you had such low quality products, I would’ve brought my own.” 

Oh. Red Son wasn’t wearing his shants. Or his coat. He was wearing a dress. 

A dark purple, almost black dress which seemed to shimmer, with a high neck and no sleeves and a cinched waist and a long slit on the side with ruffles running down it in vibrant shades of orange and scarlet, like a bonfire lighting up the night sky. 

And half his hair was in a tight bun while the other half was down, flowing over his shoulders like a scarlet waterfall. And he had bright red eyeshadow and sharp eyeliner and shiny lip gloss. And he had heels. Tall black heels with a little strap at the ankles, that click clacked against the floor. 

MK expected Red Son to dress up for something like this, of course, but it turned out one of the side effects of wanting to date someone is your brain turning to mush any time they looked even vaguely pretty. And don’t get him wrong, Red Son looked pretty all the time, but right now? He was-he was-uhh-

“For the love of-are you actually going to wear that stupid bandana to your own gala?” Red Son sneered. He flicked MK’s forehead and oh wow, he painted his nails indigo and there were golden rings wrapped around his hands. His hands looked gorgeous. And so did his toned arms and his strong shoulders and his slender neck and Red Son was gorgeous, how did MK not put that together sooner-?

“Come onnn!” Mei grabbed Red Son and MK, dragging them away from the door. “We’ve got a party to go to, so legooo!”

MK laughed, turning from the Long house to head back towards the limo, but his eyes kept flickering towards Red Son, his ears paying close attention to the click clack of Red Son’s heels. It suddenly occurred to MK that he had never seen Red Son’s ankles. He had never seen Red Son’s legs at all. They were peppered with scars, just like the rest of him, from workplace accidents to brutal battles alike. MK wondered if Red Son would get mad or embarrassed if he asked for the story behind each scar on his body. He wanted to know. 

The limo driver was opening the door when the three of them reached the parked car. He raised his eyebrow. “I was told we were here for Miss Long.” He said, tilting his head towards Red Son. “And only Miss Long.”  

Red Son glowered at the driver, but before he could set anything on fire MK popped up. “Oh, don’t worry!” MK raised his hand to point at Red Son. “He’s my plus one.” He flashed a grin at the limo driver as Mei dragged Red Son into the car. “And considering how huge this limo is, I’m sure we’ll be able to fit him, right?” 

The limo driver only grunted in response. MK laughed awkwardly as he slipped into the car. He’d informed the mayor about inviting Red Son, so it was kind of weird for her to forget about him. Maybe she thought he’d get his own ride?

Whatever. He was here now, playing with the rings on his fingers. He was surprisingly quiet for the ride, especially given how bombastic everyone else was being. While Mei and Tang raved about the potential dessert options, MK sidled over to Red Son. “I’ve never seen you wear rings before.” 

Red Son looked up, looking surprised MK had noticed at all. “They impede my work.” Red Son responded. He sneered at MK. “Unlike you, I know when to accessorize.” He picked at the bandana. 

“Hey, I already told you, this bandana’s coming with me to the grave. Plus, it matches the ruffles on your dress!” MK pinched the scarlet fabric of Red Son’s dress. The fabric felt impossibly nice against MK’s fingers. That dress was probably worth triple his life’s savings. 

Red Son swatted MK’s hand away from his dress. “It really doesn’t.” He sneered. “Just because the colors are similar doesn’t mean we’re somehow matching. ” 

“I mean, it sort of does?” MK shrugged. “Well, maybe it doesn’t. But I think it’d be cool if we had matching outfits.” A spark ran up the tuft of Red Son’s widow’s peak at that. He rolled his eyes with a huff. 

MK’s gaze softened as he watched Red Son’s hands pick at the ruffled fabric of his dress, a small frown on his face and strands of hair curling around his ear. The street lights illuminated his profile in a soft halo as his nails drummed against his purse, responding with a roll of his eyes whenever Mei asked him a question. 

MK still hadn’t quite mastered the art of staring without being noticed, and while most times Red Son didn’t seem to catch on, right now they were too close together for Red Son to ignore it. After about a minute, Red Son huffed, turning his head MK “What? You’ve been staring at me for half this ride.” He tucked some hair behind his ear and grumbled. “And considering how slow this human vehicle is, that’s something. At this point, it would’ve been faster to walk-”  

“You look nice.” MK muttered soft enough that the others wouldn’t hear, even though they were too caught up in their own chaos to notice the two of them. “Nice” of course, couldn’t even begin to describe it, but MK was worried that if he elaborated, the truth would spill out all over the plush seats of the limousine. Even now, he could feel his own emotions bubbling in his throat as he pushed out his words. “You look really nice.” 

Red Son’s hair glowed warm in the car. He raked his hands through it, the sparks bouncing off his hair and running down his forearms. “Shut up.” 

“But you do look nice!” MK bumped their shoulders together with a smile, voice a bit louder now. “I mean, you look nice all the time, but you went, like, all out for tonight. Your dress is super cool.” MK pinched the fabric of Red Son’s dress, pulling it up slightly from his shoulder. 

“What, this?” Red Son looked down at the dress. “I’ve had this stuffed in the back of my closet for centuries.” 

“Centuries?” MK echoed. “I’m surprised you don’t wear it to stuff like this more often. You look-” gorgeous, breathtaking, warm and pretty and elegant and weathered, “It really suits you.” 

“There’s no point in me wearing it.” Red Son shrugged, resting his head in his hand as he leaned over in the limo seat. “I haven’t had anything to wear it to.” 

MK took a moment to process what Red son had just said. He hadn’t had anything to wear this dress too, but Red Son said he went to these sort of galas all the time. Maybe it had been a while since he’d gone to a party? But Red Son said it was in the back of his closet for centuries, and  he didn’t sound like he was exaggerating. Did he just wear something else and only wore this for very specific occasions? That didn’t seem all that practical, and while MK knew nothing about demon fashion, the dress seemed too nice to just shove away only for hyper-specific occasions like this. 

Before MK could ask Red Son what he’d meant by that, the limo came to a stop. The door to the limo opened. 

“You ready for this?” Mei reached across the limo to punch MK’s arm playfully. 

“Yeah!” MK laughed as she filed out the car with a grin. He glanced back at Red Son. To his surprise, Red Son looked nervous, lip skewed up in a small frown as he stared intently at the limo floor. 

MK’s hand slipped over Red Son’s. It made Red Son snap out of his trance, turning to meet MK’s gaze. MK couldn’t help the soft affection which bubbled through him. “You ready?” MK asked, voice brimming with love or love love or whatever bundle of sentimentalities MK felt towards Red Son. 

Red Son took a deep breath, his grip on MK’s hand tightening. 

They stepped out of the limo hand in hand. 

MK would admit, he was kind of nervous about how he’d act at the gala. 

Red Son had taught him well, of course, but that didn’t necessarily mean MK would remember all his lessons. He would admit, he was a bit nervous about talking to the revolving door of city officials. What if he said something weird? Or spoke with such force he spat on their fancy clothes? What if they shook his hand so hard his arm bent weird, or he gripped their hand so tight it hurt them? 

But MK…wasn’t doing those things. He was actually…kind of nailing the party? 

Okay, MK wasn’t sure if “nailing the party” was the right way to phrase it, but the point is, people seemed to really like his company. 

People flocked around MK as he recalled stories. His jokes always landed with at least a handful of other gala-goers. Even when MK didn’t quite understand what the others were discussing, he was able to actively listen and even ask a couple insightful questions. His pockets were stuffed with business cards. He’d shaken so many hands he was starting to wonder if he should’ve packed hand sanitizer. He was the perfect guest of honor, considerate and charismatic all at once. Red Son’s training had worked perfectly. 

Ironically, the only real issue was Red Son.

Not that MK thought Red Son was an issue. He was perfectly happy to have Red Son by his side while he bumped shoulders with politicians and CEOs alike. But Red Son hadn’t left his side once. His hand either pinched the back of MK’s blazer sleeve or intertwined their fingers. And while MK didn’t mind Red Son hanging around him, it was a bit weird that he wasn’t engaging in the conversation as much as he was actively glaring at anyone who looked over MK’s shoulder. 

Now, it wasn’t like the various gala-goers were particularly friendly to Red Son. MK was never the most observant person, but even he could see the coldness of their smiles when they turned to look at Red Son. But you weren’t supposed to openly show disdain at these sorts of events. Passive aggression was the point. It was something Red Son himself had explained. 

“No matter how paper-thin their veneer of politeness is, showing anger is unacceptable.” Red Son’s hands crossed his back when he had explained this to MK, the two of them sitting in his apartment. 

“Well, what if I called them out on it?” MK hugged his monkey plushie. 

Red Son guffawed. “That’s as bad as getting angry.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Any emotional reaction implies they got under your skin, meaning it worked .” 

He shook his head. “The best you can do is to try and out-wit them, but seeing how we’re talking about you, it’s better for you to try and disengage immediately.” MK nodded, choosing to ignore the venomless barb. 

Right now, Red Son was doing neither of those things. He glowered at each official who made a snide comment, lip curling to show off his fangs. The few times Red Son would speak, it would be to outright insult someone who had sent some passive aggressive comment his way. The not-so-quiet sneer of “peasant” was so venomous it made the air itself sour. 

A few times, MK could feel heat against the back of neck, and he knew that Red Son had actually gotten angry enough to flare up, which definitely wasn’t acceptable considering the sheer number of smoke alarms in the venue.

Even when officials weren't being outright hostile to him, Red Son's face was still permanently etched into a glare, staring down everyone who approached the two of them. It got to the point that some gala-goers wound up avoiding MK just to keep away from Red Son, whispering and pointing at the snarling demon from afar. 

Those rare handful of times people weren’t talking to MK, Red Son’s anger simmered down significantly. But  there was a tenseness to him. His shoulders were hunched, his lip was tugged into a frown, he barely spoke, and he gripped his plate of finger food so tightly MK genuinely worried it would shatter in his hand. 

MK wasn’t sure what had happened to set Red Son off like this. He seemed fine at Mei’s house, and even though he was quiet in the limo, it wasn’t bad enough that it concerned MK. Right now, Red Son looked like a cornered animal. 

“Hey, Red Son?” MK leaned over to Red Son after he scared off a third city official. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” Red Son snarled, teeth glinting. He took a bite out of a deep fried shrimp, tearing the tender flesh. MK watched Red Son as he chomped down on the shrimp, his concern only growing. He’d never seen anyone eat with that much violent intent. Weren't you supposed to try to eat more...politely at galas?

“Oh!” MK snapped his fingers. “Are you hungry?” MK didn’t know Red Son was the hangry type, but maybe that explained his mood? Sometimes Red Son would be too busy working to get a full meal in, so maybe he just hadn’t had the time to get food. “Dinner’s going to start soon, but I can get you some more shrimp in the meantime, I think the guy serving it is around here somewhere-” 

MK started to walk off to get Red Son to find the waiter giving out shrimp when Red Son grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him back. 

“I said it’s fine, Noodle Boy!” Red Son snapped. His voice was just loud enough that a few heads turned to look at him. He whipped his head right back to them, eyes flaring. MK laughed awkwardly, flashing a grin so wide it honestly hurt the sides of his face.

“Dude!” MK said through his teeth. “I thought you said it was bad to make a scene!”

“It is -!” Red Son stopped himself before he could keep speaking, biting his lip and furrowing his brow. He ran a hand through his tuft of hair, letting the fire extinguish itself. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” He took a deep breath before grabbing MK’s arm. “Come get more shrimp with me.” 

“Oh-okay?” MK scrambled to keep up with Red Son striding across the hall. “Don’t eat too much though,” MK said as he shifted his arm back to grab Red Son’s hand. “Mei says the dinner courses at these galas are the best part.” 

Red Son glanced down at their hands. MK could see the tension in his shoulders loosen, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Is that supposed to comfort me? The Dragon Girl could eat anything and call it a delicacy,” he snarked. “When we trained together, I saw her eat an orange by biting straight through the peel.” 

“I mean, she said orange peels are technically edible.” MK stated, pointing his free hand in the air. 

Red Son snorted, a small smirk running up his lips. “Of course you’d defend her. The only thing more horrific than her fruit consumption is how you eat baozi. ” 

MK gasped in mock offense, which only made Red Son’s smile grow wider. He was about to joke back when someone pulled his free arm. 

“MK!” The mayor grinned, pulling MK away from Red Son’s grip. “Your speech is in about fifteen minutes. I’m having the stage set up for you now. You haven’t met the other members of the city council, have you?”

“I-I haven’t but-” MK jerked back as Red Son tugged his sleeve. “He’s busy.” Red Son scowled. Whatever tension MK relieved had returned tenfold. 

The mayor disregarded what Red Son was saying.  “Well, they’ve been dying to meet you. They just haven’t had the chance to converse with you given your-well-” Her eyes flickered over MK’s shoulders, “Unexpected company.” 

Red Son came in aggressive–a bad idea, according to MK's lessons. “So you’re the little worm in charge of this city.” He leered over her, practically growling as he spoke. “No wonder you set up this paltry little get together. If the Noodle Boy hadn’t defeated my father, he would have eaten you alive.” 

“Right.” The mayor’s smile thinned. “Well it’s a good thing the Demon Bull King wasn’t strong enough to defeat the Monkie Kid. Otherwise I’d probably be stuck taking orders from you! ” She laughed, high pitched and superficial the way most of the politicians in this gala laughed. 

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Red Son’s glasses glinted in the chandelier light. “When I said my father would eat you alive, I meant that literally. ”

The mayor hummed. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m sure that if the demon bull king tries to act up again,” She checked her nails. “I’m proud to say the buildings in Megapolis are big enough to rival mountains.” 

Red Son shoved MK away to grab the mayor by her dress collar.

“How DARE you, peasant?!” He shouted, hair a raging inferno. The small talk died as everyone in the gala turned to look at Red Son.

He raged at the mayor, eyes flaring. “You only think you’re safe because the Noodle Boy is here. But you won’t have him by you forever, and once you’re alone, I’ll find the things you love and TURN THEM TO ASH for insulting my father, the GREAT DEMON BULL KI-!”

Water began to spritz down from the ceiling. Red Son had gotten so angry he activated the sprinkler system. 

Red Son hissed like a cat the moment the water hit him, his fire extinguishing immediately. He let go of the mayor to run out of the ballroom to find some dryer part of the venue, shoving past people and even leaping over a table to get out. 

That was…definitely not polite gala etiquette. 

“Are you alright?” MK reached out to the mayor, but she slapped his hand away. She gave MK a dirty look. “Why would you possibly bring someone like him to this?!” 

“He’s not a bad guy!” MK defended Red Son. “He saved this city, he helped defeat the Lady Bone Demon. And you did kind of threaten to lock away his dad again-” 

“And what, that makes it okay for him to assault me?!” She shouted. 

MK stammered on his words. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Red Son tonight. Even if what the mayor said was cruel to him, Red Son knew better than anyone not to get physical at these kinds of parties. He knew better than to act the way he’d been acting all night. So what was up with him?

The mayor pointed her finger to where Red Son had run off. “Make sure he’s out of this venue so I don’t have to worry about doubling you as security.” She turned away from MK, straightening out her dress. “And come back quickly. You still have a speech.” 

MK nodded, running through the ballroom. He hoped that Red Son hadn’t just teleported away once he left. The gala’s venue was a very large building, and the more MK ran through the halls and slammed open new doors, the more lost he was getting. 

He did find Red Son, eventually. Red Son was sitting by a windowsill, looking at himself through a small mirror and cursing as he shakily reapplied his eyeliner. 

“Red Son!” Red Son jumped at his name, nearly poking his eye out with his eyeliner brush. He put the mirror down to look at MK. Some of the makeup on his face had been smudged by the water. Red Son’s face contorted into some mixture of shame and misery, which he tried to mask with anger. “Leave me alone.” 

“Tell me what’s wrong first.” MK walked over to him, concern clear on his face. 

“What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong?!’” Red Son snapped. “That peasant had the audacity to threaten my father in front of me, and she thought she could get away with it?! She thought she could just-just!” Red Son’s hands shook as he spoke. 

“Hey,” MK grabbed those hands, kneeling down. “She can’t do anything to your dad. You know that, right? And she can’t make me seal him away either.” MK didn’t think he could ever bring himself to seal away DBK, even if he decided to go back to world conquering. Not when MK had seen the glimpses of just how deeply his imprisonment had shattered Red Son. He cared about Red Son too much to hurt him like that. 

“I know all that!” Red Son shouted. “But that doesn’t mean she has the right to-to-AUGH!” His hair flared up as he yelled incomprehensibly. “If I had my way, I’d have all those pompous little mortals incinerated by my own hands.” 

“I mean, I don’t think I could let you incinerate every politician in Megapolis. But, I get why you’d want to. They’ve kind of been the worst to you,” MK rubbed small circles over the back of Red Son’s hands. “I thought that everyone here would realize you’d changed. I at least thought they wouldn’t be so hostile.”

He breathed out a small laugh. “It was probably stupid of me to think like that though. If I’d known that you’d have such a bad time here, I wouldn’t have invited you at all.” 

Red Son stared down at MK, the fire in his hair dying down to those glowing embers. “It’s not stupid. Just unreasonably optimistic.” He sighed. “It’s alright though. It’s not your fault.” He leaned over a bit to watch MK’s thumbs rubbing the back of his hands. “None of this isn’t exactly new for me anyways.” 

MK’s thumbs slowed their tempo as he looked up at Red Son. “What isn’t new for you?” 

“All of this.” Red Son gave MK a small shrug. “Going to a party and being miserable. Having some nobody insult my father or mother. Nearly burning them to a crisp. Exiting in a wholly unbecoming fashion.” A smile with no joy curled up Red Son’s lip. “To be completely honest, I handled myself better tonight than I ever did before.” 

MK balked. “Wait, this is the best you’ve ever handled yourself at a party?” He let go of Red Son’s hands and stood up, baffled. “But you were terrible! ”

He paced back and forth in front of Red Son. “Like, yeah, everyone here sucked, but you said to ignore when people were being terrible, and you did not do that! You yelled at people, you threatened them, you assaulted the mayor– even when people weren’t immediately mean to you, you’d glare at them anyways!

“You’ve been super tense all night, even when no one was around for you to literally growl at, and I definitely saw other people eating those shrimps with little toothpicks, but you were going in there with your bare hands. You don’t have any napkins either, so where’d you wipe the shrimp oil?! Probably on you, or me, or the wall !” MK waved his hands around spastically. “And that’s the best you’ve ever acted at a party?!” 

“Well-erm-you see.” Red Son’s hands were curled into fists. "Yes." He chewed his lip, unable to look back at MK. “I told you that I went to parties. I never told you I did well at them.” 

The floor practically fell under MK’s feet. 

“Wait, so you are bad at parties?!” MK shouted. 

Red Son crossed his arms, brow furrowed with a frown. "'Bad' doesn't even begin to describe it." 

The room felt like it was tilting. “W-wait,” MK ran a hand through his hair, “But didn’t you say you went to a party where the host would eat you if you embarrassed yourself?!”

“He tried to eat me alive. I got out mostly unharmed.” Red Son moved his dress back to reveal a bite mark on his calf, the scar faded from time but still visible. 

“But-but you said you went to dozens of parties!” MK’s hand tightened in his hair. 

Red Son scoffed. “ Dozens is barely impressive for a human. For a demon prince, it’s pathetic.” He moved his dress back in place to cover his calf. “Mother stopped bringing me along to parties once she realized it’d save more face leaving me at home.” 

“But when you told me about the parties, you said ‘dozens’ like it was a GOOD THING! You were BRAGGING to me about it when you offered to teach me-!” MK’s eyes widened as a realization set into him. 

“You…” MK turned to Red Son. “You tricked me.” Red Son flinched visibly at the statement. “You acted like you were so good at parties, and you offered to teach me how to handle myself at them like you knew what you’re doing, but-but you’re worse than me!” 

MK stepped towards Red Son. “All the times you insulted me, and criticized me, you were doing it knowing that you’re terrible at parties?!” MK grabbed onto his shirt, rumpling the expensive fabric in his hands. 

“It’s not that I tried to hide it!” Red Son protested. “I just knew it would…it wouldn't…”

“If I knew you sucked at parties, I wouldn’t let you teach me. Right?” MK crossed his arms. Red Son looked down at his feet, curling into himself. “Because you wouldn’t have the credentials for it?” 

“I still have credentials, Noodle Boy.” Red Son snapped without any real bite to it. “I’m a demon prince. I was raised learning how to act at these sorts of events. I just..."

Red Son combed his hands through his hair, brow knitted in frustration. “I could never apply my lessons to the real world. I couldn't properly fit in, and whenever that was pointed out to me, my behavior would only get worse." His gaze hardened. “It's another shortcoming of mine that I have yet to overcome.

"Still though, you’re right.” Red Son dropped his hands to look at MK. “I misled you. I’ve humiliated you at your own party. I’ve failed you. As a teacher, and as a friend.” Red Son’s words got caught in his throat. He coughed into his fist, shoulders hunching up. “I…I’m sorry. For everything.” 

The frustration in MK’s stomach melted away as he watched Red Son’s hands tremble. He looked so small at that moment, the fire in his chest completely extinguished. It didn’t suit him at all. 

He turned away to stare out the window, hands gripping his purse tightly. “Go back to your gala, Noodle Boy.” Red Son whispered in an all too quiet voice. “That mayor said you’d be making a speech soon.” 

“Red, I’m-” MK started to reach out to Red Son, but he cut him off. “I said go.” He curled up against the window. “Don’t let me ruin your night anymore than I already have.” 

MK stammered, trying to come up with some sort of argument for why he should stay, but Red Son curled into himself more, signaling for MK to leave him alone. He wanted to talk to Red Son about all of this, to figure out why exactly he’d even started teaching MK in the first place, but his disheartened feet slowly dragged him away.

He wasn’t exactly sure how to get back to the gala. When searching for Red Son, he’d gotten lost within the hallways of the sprawling venue. But still, he tried his best to remember where he had ran from. 

The speech was probably in about , what, six, seven minutes? He didn’t bring any notes or flashcards, but he didn’t need them. After weeks of shoddy drafts and hastily drawn plans, Red Son had cast all the papers aside. 

“I know you can write a better speech than these.” Red Son had said, standing over MK as he groaned on his bed. “You practically make up a new ode to friendship and heroism every other week.” 

“It’s not like I wrote that stuff down before saying it!” MK sat up on the bed. “When I’m fighting a bad guy or cheering up my friends, the words just come to me!” He grabbed a pillow and slammed his head into it. 

Red Son was quiet for a moment, but MK could feel his gaze on him as he groaned into his pillow. He heard Red Son sigh. “I should’ve predicted this. You’re best when you don’t have to think for too long.” 

“HEY.” MK lifted his head up from the pillow to glower at Red Son, who had crossed his arms behind his back.

“It’s a strength, Noodle Boy.” He poked MK’s forehead. “You’re best when coming up with a plan on the fly, not when you’re coming in with one. Trying to write the perfect speech won’t work because you can only come up with the perfect speech when the moment calls for it.” 

“So then what do I do?” MK asked, hugging his pillow. 

“You make it up at the gala.” Red Son said like it was obvious. “Whatever sappy speech you want to make about heroism or friendship, say in the moment. There will still be some boundaries you can’t pass since it’d be a formal speech, obviously, but you can come up with the meat of it right then and there.” 

MK chewed the inside of his cheek with a knitted brow. “But it’s not a fight or anything. What if I can’t come up with a speech on the spot?” 

“You have an imagination, use it.” Red Son waved his arms around. “Imagine the Dragon Girl is fighting some powerful demon. Or that you’re trying to convince me to be a hero with you.” 

A smile crawled up onto MK’s lips. “You are a hero, Red Son. You came up with the plan to defeat the Spider Queen, saved my best friend from the Lady Bone Demon-” 

Red Son groaned, dragging his hands down his face as embers danced in his hair and made it glow. “You don’t have to practice coming up with a speech on me right now!” He turned away from MK, striding across the apartment to grab a cup of water. 

MK watched Red Son’s back as he poured himself a cup of water, studying the way his coat fabric cinched and stretched with each movement. Warmth spread across his chest watching him drink from MK’s favorite mug. Normally, he didn’t let anyone touch his limited edition Monkey Cop mug, but there was something fantastically domestic about the moment, and MK couldn’t help but want to see Red Son drinking from that mug more and more. 

“Hey, wait a second.” MK’s eyes widened with realization as he slipped out the bed. “You like my speeches.” 

“No I don’t.” Red Son put the pitched back in the fridge, kicking the door behind him. 

“Yeah you do.” MK walked over to him with a grin. “You said you knew I could write ‘better speeches’ than the ones I’ve already written AND you admitted I come up with perfect speeches when the moment calls for it.” He put his hands on his hips proudly.

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT, YOU IMBECILE!” Red Son shouted. 

“Nope! Too late. You love my speeches and I’m keeping that information forever now.” MK leaned over to grin at Red Son as he sputtered, embers dancing in the kitchen as he stifled a groan. 

The door to the gala was just ahead. MK could see the golden lights peering out from beneath the door frame. He was supposed to slip in through the door, quietly letting the others know what happened, and then…then what? Come up with a speech about the importance of helping others when he’d left Red Son alone? 

He never even wanted to go to this gala. MK just wanted to make his friends happy. And then, he just wanted to get closer to Red Son. Wasn’t that why MK brought him here in the first place? To bring all their lessons to fruition? To spend time with him? To dance with him? 

In the dim light behind the door, MK's cufflinks shined.

He could still do all of that tonight. 

Red Son had taught MK the importance of letting the host know if you were leaving early. But MK had completely forgotten that lesson as he bolted back. He didn't owe her an explanation anyways. 

Red Son was still sitting where MK had left him, rubbing the fabric of his dress between his hands. MK sighed with relief. He was thankful Red Son hadn’t opted just to leave. 

“Hey,” Red Son looked up when MK called out to him. He raised his eyebrow. “What are you doing here, Noodle Boy?” Red Son crossed his arms. “Don’t you have a speech to go to?” 

“Well, yeah, but that’s not important.” MK said. “I wanted to tell you something.” 

Red Son sighed. “Could this really not wait until after-”

MK stepped closer to Red Son, his smile widening. Red Son looked at MK for a moment, seemingly going over all his options. Eventually though, Red Son tilted his head, curling his hand behind his ear. MK learned into Red Son’s ear, using one hand to cup the front of Red Son’s ear and the other to press between his shoulder blades. 

“I stuffed my blazer full of those fried shrimps you liked.”

Red Son pulled away from MK. MK grinned, sure enough pulling out one of the deep fried shrimp Red Son had been devouring earlier, wrapped in a single napkin. 

Red Son’s mouth dropped open in disgust. 

“I was trying to look for you, and I got lost, so I accidently ran into the kitchen, and they had a bunch of these shrimps left over. All the chefs were out-I think it’s their break?- so I pocketed them. Want one?” MK wiggled his eyebrows, offering one to Red Son, who immediately smacked it away with the back of his palm. 

“WHY WOULD YOU-?!” Red Son reached his hands out, unable to choose between gripping MK’s shoulders or strangling him. He chose instead to clench his hands into fists. “Why would you possibly fill the pockets of your incredibly expensive, tailor made blazer, with deep fried shrimp?!”

“Because you liked them.” MK smiled. “There’s a bunch of cake in the kitchen too. If we go now, we stuff them in your purse before the cooks get back. I don’t think we’d get in trouble if they caught us, but we should go now to be safe.” 

MK grabbed Red Son’s forearm to drag him, but Red Son stayed put. “Why would I possibly want to shove cakes into a designer purse?!” He hissed. 

MK pointed behind him using his thumb. “So we can leave with them, obviously.” 

Red Son blinked, all his frustration disappearing. “So we can what-” 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” MK’s smile softened. “We could just go back to Pigsy’s and hang out.” He started to put his hands in his pockets to swing back and forth, but then remembered the shrimp and immediately placed them along his sides. 

Red Son’s brow furrowed. “I know that I’m not enjoying myself here, but you don’t have to leave this gala for me. I can just head out on my own.” Red Son stood up, dusting himself off. “This isn’t my night, Noodle Boy. It’s yours. Go celebrate it.”

“Yeah this gala’s for me,” MK’s hand slipped down Red Son’s forearm to hold his hand. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “But I never wanted to go. You know that.” He looked down at Red Son’s hand with half-lidded eyes, gently running his fingers over the back of Red Son’s hand. 

“I’m only here because of you.” MK murmured, looking down at their hands. “So if you’re not having fun, then that’s the only reason I need to leave.” He interlocked their fingers. It was a warm, familiar gesture that made MK feel safe, made MK feel secure. And maybe Red Son felt that way about it too, because he sighed, lip twitching as he tried to bite his smile back. 

“Your hands are oily from your disgusting pocket shrimp.” Red Son spat, but there was no venom. How could there be, when the ends of his lips kept curling up into a grin? “You’re going to make my hands smell like shrimp.” 

“Well, either we leave for Pigsy’s or I just stay here holding your hand. And then we’ll really smell like shrimp.” MK gave Red Son a wide grin, getting his face so close to Red Son that he started to actually laugh. 

“Fine! Fine. You win, Noodle Boy. Like always.” Red Son looked up at MK with a smile that made his chest pang, paradoxically pleasant and painful all the same. “Let’s go.” 

MK grinned. “Okay.” MK reached his other hand down and gently pried Red Son’s purse from his hand. “But first, I’m filling this purse with cake.” 

Red Son’s soft smile immediately was wiped away, replaced by a snarl. “You are not putting cake in this purse Noodle Boy!” He tried to swipe the purse out of MK’s hand, but before he could, MK dashed off, making a beeline for the kitchen.

Red Son could only watch in horror as MK shoved as many tiny bite sized cakes into his purse, just barely wrapping each one with a napkin. He had covered his face in his hands, but as MK turned to give him a grin, a smile creeped up Red Son’s face, exhausted and endeared all the same. 

As MK and Red Son ran through the gala venue towards the exit, MK could just barely hear the mayor’s booming voice on the microphone, calling for him to stand at the podium. MK didn’t even bother looking back when throwing open the doors and running down the steps with Red Son. 

There was no limo to take MK and Red Son back to Pigsy’s, but the walk wasn’t too awful. Although they still ran a third of the way there like they were committing some sort of egregious crime by running away with shrimp and cake and each other. 

MK popped one of the deep fried shrimp into his mouth, an action which made Red Son gag. “You know, I filled my pockets with deep fried shrimp for you,” MK pointed out, waving the ends of the shrimp tail at Red Son before popping it into his mouth. 

“Well I don’t like my shrimp with lint as a seasoning.” Red Son sneered. 

MK shrugged. “Your loss. I think it adds flavor.” 

Red Son sputtered, his hair bursting out in indignation. “Your palette is deplorable.” Red Son snapped. He grabbed MK’s hand, interlocking their fingers. MK squeezed tightly.

MK was thankful he knew where Pigsy kept the spare key as he and Red Son made their way in through the back of Pigsy’s noodles. MK poured his remaining shrimp out onto the counter and tossed his blazer onto the back of the chair. Red Son was, regrettably correct–shoving deep fried shrimp into the pockets of a blazer was a terrible idea. The oil went straight through the flimsy little paper napkins and probably ruined the fabric. But, eh, whatever, MK wasn’t exactly going to use that blazer ever again. 

Red Son began to take each carefully wrapped cake out of his bag, grumbling to himself. “If there’s even a bit of icing in here, I’m making you pay for a new purse.” Red Son snapped as he plopped another cake onto the counter.

“I don’t think I can afford that, Red.” MK admitted, walking over to him. 

Red Son snorted. “You say that like this is somehow my problem and not yours. I’m sure being the Monkie Kid brings in some sort of revenue.” he unwrapped one of the cakes to pop into his mouth with a snide grin. 

“You would think it does!” MK exclaimed, sitting down to eat one of the cakes, “But no! All the merch for me is completely unofficial. I got like, one lipstick ad planned, and don’t get me wrong, the lipstick’s great and you should totally buy it, but that’s it! ” MK grumbled, laying his head on the counter. “And now I have to buy you a new purse.”

Red Son snorted, a hand reaching out to run through MK’s hair. “Don’t worry, Noodle Boy.” He opened the purse with his spare hand. “Miraculously, you didn’t get any icing in the bag. So your financial future is in its same dreary position as ever.” 

Putting aside Red Son’s miserable faux-attempt at comfort, MK had to admit that it was nice, the feeling of Red Son’s fingers carding through the dark brown locks of MK’s hair, scratching his scalp every now and again. He sighed into the touch. MK swore he could hear Red Son  humming to himself as he continued to run his hand through MK’s hair. 

“Can I ask you something?” MK opened up his eyes to look at Red Son hazily. Red Son tilted his head, nodding for MK to carry on with his question. 

MK sat up as Red Son's hand fell away from his hair. MK mourned the touch, but carried on with his question. “So why did you even offer to teach me all this fancy people stuff if you can’t do it yourself?” 

Red Son’s lip quivered, wincing like he had expected MK to ask that question. “The answer is-” Red Son looked down at his hands as they folded and unfolded their fingers. “I was-” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m still technically more knowledgeable about these sorts of things than you, right?” Red Son asked MK. 

MK nodded, confused but still listening. “So, while I personally had trouble with parties, I still figured I had something to teach.” Red Son ran his hand across the fabric of his gown. “I always knew you were a fast learner. It was infuriating how quickly you mastered the Monkey King’s powers. So, I knew despite your atrocious baseline that you’d learn everything with ease. And unlike me, you'd be able to apply your lessons in real life.”

MK smiled so wide his cheeks hurt. For all the insults of moron and Noodle Brain, learning that Red Son actually believed in him warmed his heart. Red Son huffed, rolling his eyes and looking away from MK.

“But that doesn’t really answer my question.” Red Son frowned as MK spoke. “Yeah you knew you could teach me, that I’d learn quick, and that it’d be easier to convince me if you lied about totally sucking at parties-”

Red Son couldn’t refute that, but he angrily chomped down on another piece of cake anyways. 

“-but none of that explains why you wanted to teach me.” MK said. “It doesn’t tell me why you did any of this in the first place. So…why’d you do it?” 

Red Son opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words didn’t come out. He sighed, hands tightening into fists, lip tugged into that unreadable expression while his hair glowed with sparks and embers, like he was prepping for a fight-

But, that wasn’t how Red Son’s hair looked when he was angry. When something bothered him, his ponytail would flare up instantly, fire exploding from his roots and eyes and palms. Red Son didn’t glow when he was mad. He didn’t simmer. Even though MK knew Red Son didn’t want to fight him anymore, he kept assuming the embers in Red Son’s hair meant he was angry, but that couldn’t be the case, because Red Son looked completely different when angry. 

Right now, Red Son looked…contained. Barely contained, but contained nonetheless. His split ends sparked and his mouth twitched and his knuckles were white curled up in a fist, like Red Son was trying to keep something in. 

Somehow, MK was reminded of his own emotions, the overwhelming want that made him stare at Red Son from across the room. That made him have to stare at ceilings to hide his grins. That made him terrified to even speak, to say anything beyond you look nice and it suits you. 

But, that was a silly comparison. MK stared at Red Son because he wanted to date him. All those times Red Son stared at MK was because he…because he…

Suddenly, that storm of emotions began to unfurl in front of MK, unknotting itself in front of his eyes. He knew that this was. He knew that expression. He knew the hitch of the shoulders, the breath that stuttered in the lungs, the smile that Red Son kept trying to force down with a tug of his lips. 

Oh. Oh wow. This whole time?

Maybe in retrospect, this was more obvious. But MK was so very new to love. All things considered, he thought it was perfectly understandable of him not to realize the real reason Red Son stared at him with sparks in his split ends.

“Red Son,” MK leaned over to him, eyes wide. “Did you decide to teach me how to act fancy because-”

Red Son’s face flushed, “Don’t say it."

“ All of this,” MK got up from his seat now, “It was all because-” 

Red Son groaned, covering his face in his hands. “Don’t!”

MK couldn’t help the grin on his face as wild, ecstatic hope pulsed through him like a lightning bolt. “You wanted to spend time with me? Because you had a crush?!”  

“Don’t call it a crush!” Red Son looked up from his hands, face burning crimson. “It’s a miserable human word!”

“But it’s an accurate miserable human word, right?” MK leaned closer to Red Son’s face, which only made him fluster up and hide in his hands. Affection burst in MK’s chest at the sight. “Awww, you don’t need to be embarrassed!”

“Of course I do! This is humiliating! ” Red Son’s hair bun was practically steaming. “Do you know how many projects have fallen behind? Do you know how many times Mother and Father asked me why I was late for dinner? How was I possibly supposed to explain to them that I was late over-over this!” Red Son waved his hands at MK like he had personally offended his family. Which, to be fair, he definitely had. 

MK wrapped his arms around Red Son as he continued to rave, still talking even as MK pressed Red Son’s face into his chest. 

“Well, I think it’s cute.” MK said, swaying the two of them. “I think you’re cute.” He added after some thought. Red Son let out an undignified squeak into MK’s shirt, a sound which MK knew would replay in his head for a solid week. 

MK looked up at the ceiling, a wide grin on his face. “I can’t believe you had a crush on me all this time. I can’t believe you did all this just so you could hang out with me once a week-you’re terrible at flirting!” He couldn’t stop himself from laughing “Honestly, at first I was convinced you hated me.” 

Red Son groaned. “I miss the days when I hated you.” He grumbled into MK’s shirt. “Loving you  is infinitely worse for my mental state.” 

The word love sent a jolt up MK’s spine. The warmth it left behind spread through MK’s bones, swelling up in his chest. He threaded his hands through Red Son’s hair, resting his head on top of Red Son’s. Maybe love was the right word for how he felt. Even if it wasn’t, MK was sure it was only a matter of time before he loved Red Son too. 

“Do you want to dance?” He murmured so softly he worried Red Son wouldn’t actually be able to hear him, but Red Son looked up at him. “We never got to dance together at the gala, so do you want to dance now?” MK asked. “We can push the tables back and find some songs online for us to dance to.” he smiled. “It could be fun.” 

Red Son sighed, unable to properly bite back his smile anymore. “Alright. Why not?” He smiled at MK, warm and lovely. “Let’s dance, Noodle Boy.” 

They pushed the tables back to one end of Pigsy’s Noodles. MK promised himself he would rearrange the restaurant before Pigsy came home, but to be completely honest, that wasn’t on MK’s mind as Red Son scrolled through MK’s phone to find a song. 

Eventually, he settled on a song, placing the phone against the counter. Red Son approached him, intertwining their fingers with one hand slipping the other on MK’s shoulder. 

MK blinked. “I thought you were going to lead?” 

Red Son snorted. “Why would I do that? You’re a better dancer than I am.” 

As delightful as it was to hear that confession, MK still protested. “But I like when you lead!” MK smiled, taking Red Son’s hand in one of his and interlocking fingers. “It’s fun memories, you know?” 

Red Son squirmed, unable to look MK in the eye as he beamed at him. “We can take turns.” Red Son spat out. MK laughed, swinging their interlocked hands. Red Son’s cheeks turned bright red and he coughed into his fist, and wow, was it always that obvious or was Red Son just hiding it less now that MK had put the pieces together? 

Red Son placed a hand on MK’s shoulder blade as MK’s hand rested on his shoulder. The song was slow and steady, matching the same tempo they used to dance with on the roof of Pigsy’s Noodles. Step, two, three, step, two, three. Step, two, three. 

MK leaned his head against Red Son’s chest. “So, if you never were all that good at dancing, why did you try to teach me?” 

Red Son sighed, looking down at MK. “Why do you think, Noodle Boy?” 

MK tilted his head, thinking for a moment before a large grin split across his face. “Aw!” He tightened his grip on Red Son, running his thumb along the fabric of Red Son’s dress. “Did you just want to hold my hand?” 

MK gasped loudly as he realized something.  “Wait, is this why you keep holding my hands like this?” He shook their intertwined hands together. “Because I looked it up, that’s not how you’re supposed to waltz-” 

“Uhg-!” The embers in Red Son’s hair made it look almost bright yellow now. His face burned as he looked away, unable to meet MK’s eyes. MK laughed, swaying as they danced. 

“I mean, if you do want to learn how to dance properly, I saw an ad for a dance studio a while back.” MK said. “They do lessons every other Saturday. And it’s not just waltz either! They’ve got dances from all over the world, it’s honestly pretty neat–”

Suddenly MK had been swooped down, the world rolling back, as Red Son dipped him. “HEY!” MK clung onto Red Son’s shoulder. “I thought you were supposed to warn your dance partner before doing stuff like that!

“Well, it’s what you deserve for suggesting I take dance lessons from a human. ” Red Son sneered over him. 

“It wouldn’t be just you!” MK protested. “It would be the both of us! I thought we could go a few times for fun!” MK’s hand climbed up Red Son’s shoulder, his fingers threading through some of the loose strands of scarlet hair and grazing the nape of his neck.

MK murmured his next words, but with nothing but the quiet song in the background, they rang loud and clear. “The ad even said couples get the first lesson free.” 

Red Son’s eyes widened, a blush running across his face as his hair glowed around him. “You-I-that’s-” He stumbled on his words, for a moment, brow knitted as he searched for what to say. 

“I humiliated you tonight.” He whispered. “I was a terrible plus one. And I was a terrible friend, who made you think I was someone I’m not.” MK tried to protest each word Red Son, but Red Son carried on. “I criticized you on things I knew I couldn’t do half as well as you. I was your enemy. I’ve seen the scars that I gave you. And you still-”His eyelids fluttered as his gaze met MK’s. 

“You still want me?” He asked in a quiet voice.

Red Son’s hair fanned around his shoulders, curtaining him in a warm scarlet. His eyes seemed to glitter even in the dingy ceiling lights of Pigsy’s Noodles. His lip trembled as he waited for MK's response. And he loved MK. He loved him. 

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” MK said, his hand slipping from holding onto Red Son’s shoulder to carefully caressing the nape of his neck. He pushed his head up, angling his head so his lips just barely breathed his words onto Red Son’s  “You sweep me off my feet.” 

He angled his head, just a little higher, capturing Red Son’s lips in his for just a second.

It would have probably been a little longer than a second if Red Son hadn’t dropped him. 

MK yelped, his head smacking against the tile floor of Pigsy’s. “Ow, okay, yeah, no more sweeping off feet, I get it now.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve learned my lesson for-Red Son?” MK looked up at Red Son. 

Red Son was standing up straight, hand covering his mouth, eyes wide as he stared at MK. His hair hadn’t burst into flames, but it did steam at the edges, making MK worry just a touch about the smoke alarm. 

“Uh, Red?” MK got up from the floor. “Red Son, are you okay? Dude? If that was a bad time to kiss you, I’m super sorry, I just thought it would be romantic or something, and-” 

“Do that again.” Red Son had said it so softly that MK swore he hadn’t heard him. His cheeks flushed. “You want me to what-”

“Do that again.” Red Son repeated louder this time, placing his hands on MK’s shoulders. He could feel the way Red Son’s hand shook, he could see that stormy expression of want and love and wonder peering at him. “Kiss me.” Red Son whispered, the smoke at the ends of his hair only thickening at the request. “Please.” Red Son leaned his head on top of MK’s forehead, hands slipping from MK’s shoulders to his waist. “Before I get too embarrassed to ask.” 

MK lifted his hands to caress both of Red Son’s cheeks. Red Son didn’t bother suppressing his smile, doting and lovesick. Red Son’s hair seemed to almost glow, lighting up the air around them. He finally knew what it meant to see embers dancing in Red Son’s hair. 

MK grinned, just as warm and sticky and sweet. “You got it, teach.” 

MK was sitting on his bed blinking the sleep out of his eyes when his phone rang. He yawned as he answered the video call. “Hey Mei.” 

“Hey Monkie Man.” She smiled sleepily at him. Her hair was a rat’s nest and she was in a bright green sweater as she laid down on her bed. “You left early last night. You missed me getting kicked out of the gala." 

MK balked, much more awake now. "How did you get kicked out?"  

“Well, I asked the mayor if she was okay, but then she started badmouthing you and Red Boy, so I might have bit her.” Mei chuckled in a low voice.

"I mean, Red Son did threaten to burn down everything she loved, and I did defend him, so it's kind of fair of her to be mad at us." MK reasoned.

"Well, insulting my besties in front of me is unacceptable. So she got bit." Mei said with a proud grin. “I have a feeling the mayor’s not throwing galas for us anytime soon.” She laughed.

MK laughed back, laying back down on the bed, lifting his phone above him to talk to Mei. “Good. They’re kind of overrated.” 

“Yeah, you've got a point.” Mei nodded her head. “The food wasn’t even that good. Next time I want to dress you up fancy I can just throw my own party.” 

“I’d like that.” MK said, a wide sleepy smile on his face. Mei smiled back, the two of them giggling to themselves until Mei's eyes widened at something on MK's end. 

“Whoa,” Mei brought her phone closer to her face, pointing. “What happened to your pillow?” 

“Hmm?” MK looked over at the pillow next to him, the white case smudged with makeup. “Oh! Red Son forgot to wipe his makeup off before he went to bed.” MK explained. “The only reason I was up when you called is because he got off the bed to clean his face. If you hear any background cursing, it’s probably him.” 

Mei narrowed her eyes. “Wait, you and Red Son had a sleepover without me?” 

“I mean, it wasn’t supposed to be a sleepover?” MK shrugged. “Dancing’s just kind of exhausting.” 

“You danced? And then you two slept in the same bed? ” Mei moved so close to the phone only one of her eyes could be seen through the screen. 

“Neither of us wanted the other to sleep on the floor.” MK said as the door to his bathroom swung open. “Red Son! Say hi to Mei!” Despite Red Son’s mumbled protests, MK turned the phone camera so Mei could see Red Son. 

Red Son groaned, covering his face in his hands. “I’m not nearly presentable or coherent enough to talk to the Dragon Girl.” He spat, shuffling to the counter. “Do you have anything I can drink with caffeine?” 

“There’s some oolong and green tea in the cupboards.” MK pointed. Red Son opened the cabinet and groaned. “Miserable peasant. You don’t even own loose leaf.” He grumbled to himself as he got a pot ready. 

“Hey, uh, MK?” MK angled the phone so he could see Mei again. “Quick question. Why is Red Son wearing your clothes?” 

“I wasn’t gonna make him sleep in his dress.” MK laughed. He looked back at Red Son, who was cleaning a mug out of the sink. MK’s shirt fit just fine, but the basketball shorts had hips just a bit too wide for Red Son, so he had to take his hair tie to knot the side of it. Now, Red Son’s hair flowed over his shoulders in a messy wave, whatever he did in the bathroom to freshen up seemingly not enough. 

“Plus, that’s a boyfriend thing right? Giving your partner your clothes?” MK laid his head in his hand as he watched Red Son. “I didn’t see the appeal before, but I completely get it now."

Mei gasped so loudly MK worried it blew his phone speakers. “WAIT, so you ARE dating now?!” She shouted. 

“Yep! ” MK laughed. “You were so right about me liking Red Son. You were even more right about him liking me though. Apparently he’s been into me since-” 

Red Son snatched the phone and ended the call. 

“Aww, what? I was in the middle of talking!” MK protested, reaching his hands out for the phone. 

“You were in the middle of sharing confidential information.” Red Son snapped. “Everything we discussed last night stays between you and me. No one else.” 

“Awww, but why not?” MK crawled out of the bed as Red Son placed the phone on top of MK’s tv. “Mei’s our best friend! And she figured this out like, way earlier than I did, she deserves to know.” 

“You’re more than welcome to talk to her about how much of a moron you were.” Red Son said. “The Dragon Girl doesn’t need any more ammo against me.” 

“Okay, okay. My lips are sealed.” MK wrapped his arms around Red Son. “But now that I’m up,” He laid his chin against Red Son’s chest, staring up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster. “Do you wanna dance?” 

“You’re kidding, right?” Red Son snorted. “We spent most of the night dancing. Aren’t you tired of box step?” 

“Well, we don’t have to do the box step.” MK said. “We could just do what we want.” He began to sway them in a sleepy tempo as he threaded a hand through Red Son’s hair. “Yeah, waltzes have careful steps and stuff, but when I dance with you, I don’t want to worry about that. I just want to be with you. If we’re happy and we’re moving together, isn't that all dancing has to be?" 

There was a quiet, contemplative expression on Red Son’s face as he took in MK’s words. He placed one hand on MK’s waist, using the other to carefully cradle his jaw. “I always forget that you have a brain underneath all the noodle dough.” 

MK gasped. “Are you saying you think I’m smar- ?”

Red Son cut him off with a kiss. MK’s lips ticked up into an involuntary smile as he kissed back. Red Son’s hand slipped off MK’s face and down his arm to intertwine their fingers. 

He moved away from the kiss as he looked at MK with a fond, unrestrained smile. “Don’t push your luck.” 

Red Son brought their intertwined hands to his lips to kiss MK’s fingers. "You have nice hands." Red Son murmured, his lips not moving away from MK's knuckles. "They're strong." The compliment sent a thrill up MK's spine, spreading a warmth through his skin. 

"I love your hands too." MK couldn’t help smiling as he kissed Red Son’s knuckles right back.

Red Son flushed. "There's nothing to love about my hands." He snapped, pulling away from their intertwined fingers. "They're littered with calluses and mistakes." 

"Mine are too." MK pointed out. "But, if you can love my hands, then why can't I love yours?" He angled their hands so he could kiss the back of Red Son's. Red Son's hair glowed a warm shade of orange. He looked away at MK, but his grip on him grew tighter. 

There was a warmth to Red Son’s weathered hands and soft lips which swirled around MK in a fuzzy halo as they danced in the morning light of his apartment. It was a quiet sway, their torsos more often than not pressed together. Sometimes, MK would pepper kisses along Red Son’s jaw line to see the way his hair glowed. And sometimes, Red Son stared at MK with such an intensity that it made him flush from ear to ear. But their hands stayed intertwined, and they didn’t crush the other’s toes. 

The kettle’s whistle marked the end of their dance. Red Son let go of his hand and walked over to the oven. But as Red Son filled two mugs with oolong tea, mixing in MK’s preferred three teaspoons of sugar, MK smiled, wrapping his arms around Red Son from behind him. He knew there’d be plenty more dances to come.