Tiny Baby Wukong Fic Part 2: Hungry
Tripitaka had hoped Wukong would sleep for most of the twenty-four hours. It would certainly lessen the distress he would otherwise undergo. To his credit, Wukong stayed asleep for the better part of thirty minutes. He slept peacefully while the others discussed where they would go from here, did not stir when they all got up and walked a short distance to make a camp, and was not even slightly disturbed when the white horse spent a full minute or two snuffling at him and Tripitaka in baffled curiosity. But as Tripitaka sat down and wondered if this would be a good opportunity for some meditation, the infant on his chest began to stir and give some weak, bleating cries.
“Oh, no, Pilgrim,” He brushed his fingers over the tiny shaking body, “Are you still in pain?”
Wukong did not open his eyes nor reply, but kept up that feeble crying while he began to mouth and lick at Tripitaka's cassock.
“What are you doing?!” Tripitaka scrunched up his nose.
Wukong’s cries became even more distressed, and he began to mouth around more desperately and unhooked one of his hands to feel up Tripitaka's chest.
“Pilgrim!” Tripitaka yelled.
Wukong abruptly seemed to snap out of it. He gave Tripitaka an honestly horrified look and immediately let go of him and dropped into his lap.
“Master,” He turned away, covering his little face with his little hands, “I’m so so so so sorry.”
“What’s happening?!” Bajie rushed over with Wujing right at his heels. Judging by the looks on their faces, they were both rather concerned about their brother.
“Nothing, go away!” Wukong snapped, lowering his hands and hugging his belly instead. When his brothers did not move, he eyed them with hostility, “I said go away, so fuck off!”
“Wukong, just calm down,” Tripitaka laid a hand on… on his whole back in an attempt to soothe him, “I’m not upset with you.”
Wukong twisted around to look at him. His eyes were big and round and full of emotion. His chin wobbled and he broke down crying.
“Pilgrim, Pilgrim, it's okay.” Tripitaka stroked the top of his disciple’s tiny head with his thumb.
“No it's not!” Wukong sobbed, and Tripitaka couldn't argue. Of course it wasn't alright. The almighty Sun Wukong was curled up in his lap, as powerless as a baby. Who wouldn't cry in that situation?
“Pilgrim,” Tripitaka attempted to give him what comfort he could, “Pilgrim, I am right here. Your brothers are right here. Just tell us how we can help, and—”
“I'm really hungry!” Wukong burst out.
“Well there's no need to cry!” He said, continuing to stroke Wukong's fur in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, “You should have just asked.”
Wukong covered his face in embarrassment once more.
“I did.” He squeaked, the tips of his ears flushing bright red.
Tripitaka suddenly remembered how Wukong had mouthed at his cassock when he had woken up, and had been distressed when he hadn't found what he was searching for. And how, when he had first been transformed into an infant, his first instinct had been to put his mouth on Tripitaka's thumb.
“...Oh.” Tripitaka found himself colouring too.
Bajie unsuccessfully stifled a laugh.
Wukong gave a shrill whine.
“But,” Tripitaka began to panic, “But I'm not— I can't— Pilgrim, I don't have—”
Wujing placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Unfortunately none of us have been endowed with child-rearing breasts,” Wujing said, “But Elder Brother does have teeth, so, theoretically, he should be able to have solid food.”
“Y-yes!” Wukong raised his head, “Monkey babies can start on solid foods quite young. So. It's fine.”
“Okay,” Bajie got to his feet, “I’ll go find you some fruit or something.”
He summoned a cloud and flew, hastily by his standards, over the horizon.
“Huh,” Wukong said, “Well, that's… nice of him.”
Tripitaka kept idly stroking Wukong’s fur, rubbing his fingertips against the dark tufts atop his head. Wukong leaned into the touch, squeezing his eyes shut, but Tripitaka could tell he wasn't sleeping. Every now and then Wukong opened his mouth and quickly closed it again.
...He must be very hungry.
Bajie came back holding a kiwifruit about half of Wukong's size. Wukong looked up and made little grabby hands for it, but—
“No, I’m gonna peel it for you first.” Bajie said, searching through their cutlery bag until he found a small knife.
“I can eat the skin.” He protested.
“It’s too rough for you.”
“Uh, yeah, you are.” Bajie said, and Wukong fell silent.
Bajie peeled the kiwifruit until every shred of the hairy brown skin was gone. He looked like he was about to cut it up, but Wukong made an ugly, angry little noise in the back of his throat and Bajie quickly handed the whole fruit over.
Wukong tucked in, and Tripitaka had to admit it was rather cute to watch him eat. Taking quick, rapid bites, the infant finished the whole thing in five minutes and went to nestle back against Tripitaka’s belly.
“No,” Tripitaka stopped him, “Your hands are all sticky.”
Wukong gave an indignant shriek, but Tripitaka grabbed a cloth and wiped the pulpy juice from the infant's tiny hands and muzzle. It took a lot longer than it reasonably should have, because Wukong squealed and twisted and batted at his Master in retaliation.
Once he was finally, finally all clean, he tipped straight forward into Tripitaka’s tummy and clung, burying his head into the folds of the cassock, whimpering sulkily. At least, now, he had stopped shaking.
Tripitaka rubbed the infant's back gently.
Twenty-three more hours of this. May Tathagata Buddha have mercy on his soul.
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