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Red Son shoots to his feet and throws off whomever has just landed on his back from above, launching them towards the far wall. MK, to his credit, only makes a surprised chirp as he skids to a stop, flailing his free arm, trying to stop himself from crashing into anything. He ends up plopping on the ground, only half covered by his blanket.
“What the f- Noodle Boy?!” Red Son exclaims. “Why- when- how did you get into my house?! And why at this hour?! You should be asleep!” He scolds, straightening his work clothes back into proper position.
MK yawns drowsily, running a hand through his loose hair. “You should be too,” he argues, grumbling slightly.
Red Son sighs exasperatedly. “That still doesn’t explain why , you peasant .” He eyes MK as the little monkey man shuffles closer and headbutts him. “Do you have business here?”
“Jus’ wanted to see you,” he admits, resting his head against Red Son, whose heart melts a little.
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” he retorts, but doesn’t push MK away.
MK rumbles a little, too tired to laugh but too amused not to try. “Are you suuuuuuure?” he drawls, nuzzling Red Son’s arm. “I’m pr’tty sure I’ve said a lotta stuff stupider than that.”
He scoffs. “Stupider isn’t a word. Do I have to- are you going to make me take you back to your house? You are, aren’t you? You insolent gremlin.”
“Nah,” MK goes practically limp against him. “Wanna stay here f’r a bit. Gotta get outta th’ house. Delusions kickin’ in again,” he confesses.
Red Son pauses. “You suffer from delusions?” he asks, raising a brow. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I already knew you were crazy.” After seeing MK wince at that phrase, he softens just slightly. “That…may have been insensitive.” MK figures that’s the closest to an apology he’ll get.
MK sighs, taking a moment to really breathe, and empty his lungs. “Yeah,” he huffs. “‘S okay. I’ve been called worse, and you’re not the most horrible company to have, anyway.” He readjusts his grip on his blanket. “D’you think m’house is real?” he asks, shutting his eyes and basking in the warmth radiating from Red Son, who grunts.
“Of course your house is real. I’ve been there. It’s depressing.”
“M’ house isn’t depressing, you just have really high expectations.”
“Well your expectations are too low,” Red Son counters.
“Sorry, I’m not a rich prince who thinks they should own the entire world,” MK snickers.
“Fuck you.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Pardon?” Red Son whirls his head around to look at MK, face pink and hair sparking embers.
“You know,” he begins, “I really admire you, actually. You’re so driven all the time, so focused and, and…devoted, to whatever you do. You’re always trying to please the people you love, even if it’s partially selfish, because you want to see them happy. You built something that could defy destiny jus’ because you care so much about your father. Even with every time you’ve failed, you keep getting up and trying, even when no one tells you to. I can’t even do that, and I win most of the time. You’re really amazing.” MK headbutts Red Son again affectionately.
Red Son stands there, dumbfounded, speechless, his face upgraded to a bright red and his hair fully aflame. He short-circuits for a solid three minutes before abruptly reaching down and picking up MK, blanket and all, and holding him above his head as he runs straight to one of the guest bedrooms, absolutely slam-dunking him onto the bed and throwing a second blanket over him, positively vibrating with euphoria that he doesn’t know how to handle. He tucks in MK, turns out the light, and sprints down the hall, flapping his hands so hard that it hurts.
He’s not even smiling. He doesn’t think he remembers how to smile right now. There is only energy and it feels weird and good and there’s too much of it, and he’s got to shake it out of his system!
Eventually, he tires himself out enough that he falls asleep curled up on an armchair in the foyer, still absolutely brimming with giddiness.