Work Text:
✦
The kikufuku mochi is still as delicious as Satoru remembers. The rich filling coats his mouth, cold, sugary and creamy. Yuuji's practically moaning in bliss from the flavor of it, even chewing slowly to savor everything about the mochi, making Megumi roll his eyes at the display. He’s sitting beside Yuuji, arms crossed and bored expression on his face—not eating any, even when Satoru assured him it’s not that sweet.
“Good, right?”
“Sensei,” Yuuji whines, dragging the ‘i’ like a kid. “This is the best mochi I’ve ever had,” he grabs another one from the tray and plops it into his mouth. The mochi barely fits, rounding his cheeks like a chipmunk, a small drop of ice cream leaking from the corner of his mouth. The happy expression on Yuuji's face—spoiling his students—fills up Satoru with warmth.
They’re waiting for Nobara to finish her shopping-spree at the boutique across the street. She joined not even a month ago and Satoru can already tell how they fit together well. She brings a certain balance for the two—they need her classy confidence and her assertiveness. And Nobara could also help them spruce up their closets. She gives the understanding impression of how dire the situation actually is—judging and grimacing at their outfits, as if they personally offend her. They can all benefit from that. Megumi is in desperate need of a fashion identity (Satoru has tried but it’s not like Megumi is going to listen to him, ever), and Yuuji needs to realize that hoodies are not all there is.
Satoru has a million things to take care of but, well — he never claimed to be a punctual person. He pushes the tray subtly towards Megumi, suggesting he try one before Yuuji eats all of them, but Megumi seems to be too distracted to notice Satoru’s intentions. Honestly, distracted is an understatement, the whole world has stopped existing to Megumi. Satoru is nothing but specks of dust while Megumi's attention lies on Yuuji alone.
Yuuji's lower lip is stained with mochi filling — Megumi looks transfixed in the way it moves, while Yuuji chews, his blue eyes follow the minuscule movements, like a predator. Yuuji takes his time chewing, dopey smile on his face, eyes closed and head tilted back. As if unaware of where he is and who he’s with, Megumi starts to raise his hand towards Yuuji's jaw, thumb ready to clean the offended ice cream that Satoru knows Megumi is jealous of. Personal reasons my ass, he thinks. He has known Megumi since he perfected the stinky glare that Satoru is all too familiar with. Megumi hasn’t been a mystery to Satoru for a long time, and that’s why he knows this is a special grade crush. He was still unsure, but the evidence in front of Satoru is undeniable. Yuuji finally swallows and the way his throat bobs brings Megumi to the present. He retracts his hand, grabs a napkin instead and offers it to Yuuji—who takes it with a big smile at Megumi.
Megumi moves his eyes towards Satoru and scowls immediately, realizing he’s been caught. Satoru has to resist real hard not to laugh at the red coloring Megumi's ears—smirking instead, going for the teasing method.
”So, Yuuji-kun,” Satoru offers a casual smile. “What do you think of Nobara so far?”
Yuuji finishes wiping his mouth and frowns at Satoru, scrunching up his face in that way he does when he’s considering his words carefully. “She’s strong, but could be nicer. I don’t mind carrying her bags but it would be nice to be asked, y’know? I’m not a coat hanger,” he pouts, crossing his arms defensively. Satoru can’t help but laugh, such adorable students he has.
”Of course you’re not, Yuuji-kun. Too bad she’s not Jennifer Lawrence, huh?” Satoru turns to Megumi and the scowl deepens. “That’s your type, right?”
Yuuji seems confused by the question but his eyes sparkle. “Of girls, yeah!”
”Oh?” Satoru asks, genuinely surprised. Megumi drops his scowl at Yuuji's response, wide eyes focused on the table.
Yuuji opens his mouth but gets interrupted by Satoru’s ringtone—he looks at the caller and decides that Yuuji's sexuality is a topic for another day—they have a mission to get to.
“Well, duty calls boys. Go get Nobara, we’re already late,” Satoru ushers them, getting up himself.
”And who’s fault is that?” Megumi grumbles.
Satoru laughs at him, ruffling his hair, earning a moody face accompanied by a series of cut it out's. Satoru notices that Megumi's shoulders are not tense anymore, well, at least not as much. His kid’s too young to be this tense.
✦ ✦
It’s too hot for baseball, Noritoshi is not a person who sweats, his regular Jujutsu uniform keeps him at a comfortable temperature most of the time, but he feels the long-sleeved shirt underneath the white jersey plastered to his back. He tried his best—even when Mai scolded him for not even trying to hit the ball—but Itadori Yuuji is a force to be reckoned with in baseball, apparently. And now that Noritoshi got to ask his question, he can see there’s more to Itadori than just being a vessel.
Thanks to Itadori's physical prowess (and Inumaki’s surprising athleticism), the Tokyo students win the Goodwill Event, leaving Noritoshi feeling fatigued. He goes to sit on the bench that Fushiguro's currently occupying, gaining a greeting nod from him. Noritoshi turns to where everyone is celebrating, Itadori in the center of it, laughing and smiling with the feeling of victory. He scored an impressive home run and is now receiving praise from Gojo, and getting slapped in the back by Panda.
”That was pretty good, right?” Noritoshi hears Itadori ask Zenin Maki, who’s smirking at him, shaking her head.
“You’re a monster,” she says, making Yuuji laugh while Inumaki nods in approval.
Noritoshi was quite alienated to the idea of Itadori Yuuji being considered as a regular, common person. He’s currently housing the most hellacious and dangerous curse known to human-kind. But getting to see Itadori these couple of days is enough to give Noritosh a seizure from the whiplash. He’s all smiles and laughs, his behavior is goofy and he seems like the most harmless person on earth. And his reason for becoming a Jujutsu sorcerer resonates with Noritoshi—it’s a good reason.
He turns towards Fushiguro and discovers that he’s too staring at Itadori, although his expression is more fond, the word dreamy seems to fit better, Noritoshi thinks.
Ah he thinks, I get it. Todo was right.
”Your boyfriend seems to be very good with physical things. Congratulations.” Noritoshi is not a sore loser, it was a good game and he thinks congratulations are in order.
Fushiguro snaps towards Noritoshi with wide eyes and promptly chokes on nothing. Coughing and wheezing, he gasps for air. His ears stain red, matching the soft blush creeping across his cheeks in the process. Noritoshi wonders why, thinking Fushiguro’s reaction could be from the earlier exercise.
But probably not.
Unfortunately for Noritoshi, his classmates often tell him his behavior and bluntness can be somewhat awkward, and a lot of the time, people misunderstand the meaning of his words. This realization comes to him along with mentally replaying the words he just said to Fushiguro on his head—he blushes too.
”Pardon me,” he clears his throat, Fushiguro keeps on coughing—not as bad as before—but manages to find the strength to scowl at Noritoshi. “I didn't mean it like that, Fushiguro.”
“We’re not together,” Fushiguro says, clearing his throat several times, the redness on his face still present.
Noritoshi frowns, looking over at Itadori standing at the catcher's box, swinging the bat playfully, and then at Fushiguro. “Oh. My mistake, the way you two act and how you were staring right now, I’d say it’s a fair assumption to make. But I apologize if I was out of line.” He fidgets with the bandages on his head. Noritoshi then decides he will have to work harder on his social skills.
“I will go get you some water.”
Noritoshi rushes, jumping off the bench and making his way towards their bags and refreshments. He grabs two bottles of water from the table—giving himself a minute to drink some before turning back to where Fushiguro is. But Noritoshi notices Itadori’s already there, offering a bottle of his own, laughing lightly. Itadori goes to sit beside Fushiguro, rubbing his back soothingly.
Fushiguro seems to be better now, and Noritoshi thinks Itadori's presence has everything to do with it.
✦ ✦ ✦
Kento is really hoping that Yaga finishes going through Ino’s papers on time, no extra hours today, Kento means it. He’s waiting outside of Yaga’s office—begging him internally to read faster, and the hands on his clock to move slower.
Kento has a new mission to cover, and the fact that Yaga requested his presence on campus, means it’s a delicate issue. After the Goodwill Event, things have been tense between the faculty of both schools and the higher ups, Kento hopes at least the kids are getting the lighter end of the stick.
“Nanami!”
Kento sighs, that has become the auto-response for when Satoru finds himself in the vicinity of Kento, he can already feel the headache coming.
”So good to see you, you’re here because you miss me, of course!” Satoru throws his arm around Kento, turning off his infinity for the sole purpose of being obnoxious. It has been that way since Kento had the displeasure of meeting one Satoru Gojo. “I don’t blame you, my delightful presence is highly solicited,” he nonchalantly says, inspecting his nails.
Kento brushes off Satoru’s arm from around his shoulders.
“I’m here for paperwork. And Yaga asked to meet me.” Kento watches the childish behavior slip from Satoru—like a heavy wet cape—to the floor. Kento knows Satoru’s calculating his own moves, he doesn’t know what they are, and he doubts Satoru would tell him. Not for lack of trust, but he can be very self-sacrificial. Kento can rely on his judgment, that’s why he asks the following question, to make those shoulders lose some tension.
“Where are the kids?” The smile he receives in return appears to be more genuine than every gesture Satoru has done since he spotted Kento.
”Training! I’ll tell you, this generation has a drive unlike what I’ve seen before. Of course, they have an astounding teacher, so it is not that surprising.”
Kento hums noncommittally, already making his way to the track field with Satoru one step behind. When they arrive, he spots Yuuji right away, sparring strenuously against Maki. They’re training in hand to hand combat, with Yuuji apparently having the advantage. The kid has impressive reflexes, and even though Maki is a prodigy with martial arts, it seems that Itadori's instinct is sharper these days.
Kento looks around the track field, catching sight of Panda laying on the grass—breathing heavily. Toge is drinking water while showing something on his phone to a laughing Nobara.
”Ah, yes. Hard training, you’re very strict, Gojo.”
”It's important to take breaks,” he laughs. “You should take a break after your mission, and finally take me to that bakery you frequent.”
”No. If you already know where it is then go by yourself.”
”But I want you to invite me, Nanami!” He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs dramatically. “Why does nobody want to spend quality time with me? Megumi rejected my invitation to that great yakiniku place.” Kento turns to the teen in question sitting on the bleachers at his left.
“That’s sharp decision-making, Fushiguro-kun,” he says, but Nanami realizes Megumi is not paying attention at all to his surroundings, he seems to be enthralled by his classmates training in the middle of the field. Now, Kento knows Megumi is a bright student, eager to improve, and always attentive to new techniques and knowledge, but this might not be the drive that Satoru was talking about. Kento’s clue?—Megumi is practically drooling. Kento turns, his line of sight following to peer at Yuuji on the field. He's focused on Maki’s movements, concentrating fully on his opponent. Kento redirects his attention back to Megumi—still in trance. Kento did not sign up for this, this is even outside of his extra-hours regulations.
Megumi's breath hitches, Kento catches a glimpse of Yuuji discarding his sweaty oversized t-shirt from the corner of his eye, that’s when blue meets Kento’s gaze. The pink blossoming on Megumi's cheeks reminds Kento of Satoru—everytime Suguru purred his name. The teen clears his throat and mumbles “yes, Nanami-san”. Satoru fake-coughs to cover his laugh but Megumi's already scowling at him.
He gets the impression Megumi doesn’t even know what Kento said.
✦ ✦ ✦ ✦
”It was delicious, Toge! You’ll see, I'm going to learn it, and the next time I see you I’ll cook them for you." Yuuta smiles at his computer screen.
”Hmm, shake,” Toge closes his eyes, mirroring his smile.
Yuuta wishes he could brush his thumbs over Toge’s eyelids and cheeks, he misses him immensely, but at the very least he gets to see Toge’s beautiful face through the screen. Not that it does any justice to the real thing, but still, small victories.
”I really miss you, you know that?” Yuuta sighs, smiling wistfully at Toge. Soft looking lips pull to form a small, understanding smile, just for him.
Yuuta opens his mouth to change the subject, lighten the mood—anything not to ruin their video call—but the door of the common room opens and Yuuta spots Megumi, with another person behind him. He knows who Sukuna’s vessel is, and with Gojo’s description of the boy in mind (unmistakable pink hair), he instantly recognizes Itadori Yuuji. Gojo was also somewhat protective when he was informing Yuuta about Itadori, so of course Yuuta caught on. Whatever the higher ups may say, Gojo’s judgment is the one Yuuta trusts and listens to.
Both Megumi and Itadori recognize they interrupted something—pausing at the doorway, with Megumi hesitating and Itadori bumping into him with a puzzle frown.
If he’s being honest, Yuuta’s kind of nervous to meet Itadori, not because he looks intimidating (although he does, a little), but he kind of wants Itadori to like him, for him to know Yuuta’s on their side. And of course, he wants to meet the person responsible for Megumi's pining.
”Hi, Fushiguro!” He waves.
”I’m sorry to interrupt, Inumaki-senpai. Hello, Okkotsu-senpai,” Megumi nods awkwardly.
”How you’ve been? Toge told me all about the Goodwill Event, sounds like quite the game, congratulations!” Megumi squirms, looking from Toge to Yuuta.
”Right. It was good, thank you.” By now Itadori is glancing at the screen curiously behind Megumi's shoulder, so Yuuta takes that as his queue.
”Hi! We haven’t met yet, I’m Okkotsu Yuuta,” he waves again, smiling at Itadori.
Like the flip of a switch, Itadori beams, and Yuuta swears that if he had a tail it would be wagging excitedly, based on the eager and friendly expression on his face. He walks past Megumi, getting closer to the camera. “Hi! Nice to meet you Okkotsu-senpai. I’m Itadori Yuuji,” he bows deeply, and when he straightens Itadori directs a megawatt smile at Yuuta.
”I know, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Itadori's smile falls slightly, noticeable enough for Yuuta to see it on the screen. “Only good things,” he amends.
“Shake, shake.” Yuuta throws his boyfriend a grateful smile.
“Toge loves your onigiri, Itadori-kun, you’re gonna have to teach me, so I can cook them for him.”
”Of course! They’re very easy to make actually!” He leans a little closer towards where Toge is sitting on the couch, Megumi walking around Itadori to stand behind Toge—hands positioned on the back of the couch—looking at Itadori.
”It's all in the rice, you want to shape them while it’s warm but not hot. You have to be careful not to let it cool much. And the salt! It has to be just a little, y’know? Just enough to enrich the flavor of the filling, you don’t want your rice to be salty,” he explains, gesturing wildly with his hands.
Everyone is paying attention to every word coming out of his mouth—Toge looks interested with his beautiful, sparkling purple eyes and slightly raised eyebrows. Yuuta’s not far behind, nodding at Itadori’s words, mentally writing every tip down to cook for Toge in the future. Megumi is radiating fondness. Yuuta knows he has that look too, with anything Toge related, but this isn’t about him.
Yuuta hums, asking Itadori questions about his cooking skills. Itadori is more than glad to respond with a smile ever-present on his face. When Yuuta's phone lights up beside the laptop, he opens the text from Toge.
i can feel the ‘doki-doki’ floating above me
can u take a picture of his face?
Yuuta has to cover his mouth and feign attention to what Itadori is saying, doing his best not to laugh uncontrollably. Toge really is a menace, and it’s a bit contagious because Yuuta decides to open Megumi's chat and send a text of his own.
You’re staring.
Megumi takes out his phone and reads the text, he looks at the screen and promptly scowls at Yuuta. Now he openly laughs at the glare that fails to scare Yuuta, because of Megumi’s reddened cheeks.
“Is something wrong?” Itadori asks, confused, looking between the three.
”Okaka,” Toge chuckles.
”Come on, Itadori. Let’s leave them alone,” Megumi grabs Itadori by the hoodie, throwing a glare at Toge and Yuuta.
”Oh, okay. It was very nice to meet you, Okkotsu-senpai! See you later Inumaki-senpai!”
“Likewise, Itadori,” Yuuta smiles.
Once the door closes behind them, Yuuta and Toge look at each other and burst out laughing. Keeled over, Yuuta clutches his stomach tightly. Megumi is a very serious guy, so to see him with this love-struck expression on his face—followed by the meanest scowl known to man-kind—it’s hilarious to Yuuta.
All of it aside, Yuuta does hope Megumi gets to be happy, just like he is with Toge.
✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦
Itadori opens the door for Nobara and waits for Fushiguro to enter the ice cream parlor, too. Who in their right mind craves ice cream when the night is this chilly? She reaches the booth at the back and claims one of the benches to herself—leaving Itadori and Fushiguro to share the one parallel to hers. Itadori motions for Fushiguro to get in first, he arranges Nobara's shopping bags very carefully on the table, and then joins Fushiguro on the bench—shoulders touching. The waitress approaches a couple of minutes after they settle, a big smile on her face and a spring on her step.
”Welcome! Do you know what you’d like to order?” She looks around the three quickly and then settles her eyes on Itadori. Ugh, okay. Nobara knows Itadori is objectively attractive, but today has been enough. Ozawa and now the waitress? Give Nobara a goddamn break.
“Hi, thank you! I’ll have the caramel fudge basket with crushed crackers on top, sliced almonds and chocolate drizzle,” Itadori orders, giving Nobara diabetes just by mentioning the combo. He turns to Fushiguro and then to the waitress.
”And he’ll have two scoops of ginger ice cream. On a cone.” Fushiguro smiles softly at Itadori, effectively making Nobara roll her eyes. This whole day has been entirely ridiculous from the start—ridiculous Ozawa, ridiculous worm movie, ridiculous waitress, ridiculous Fushiguro—and it’s all Itadori's fault.
”I’ll have the matcha ice cream parfait.”
“Oooh nice, Kugisaki,”
The waitress takes too long to write their order and then stares at Itadori, standing there with her pink apron and pink cheeks, expectant. Itadori realizes she's waiting on him and he turns to the girl with an awkward smile, thanking her. The girl’s blush deepens and she hurries to the counter to prepare their orders. Nobara turns to Fushiguro, watching in satisfaction how his face folds in on itself while scowling.
“So,” Itadori stars, smiling at Nobara expectantly. “Did you like the movie, Kugisaki?”
“It was gross overall, but the theme wasn’t that bad and I did like some of the gory parts,” Nobara puts her chin in her hand, getting ready for the burst-in from Itadori.
Sure enough, puppy eyes shine like a stupid supernova, Itadori leans in and starts to gesture wildly while his voice is filled with excitement.
”Right? It was so romantic! How she was scared of him at the start but when she decided to put her initial judgment behind, she got to know him for real, the human behind that worm exterior. Appearances don't matter and she proved that, by falling in love with him.
”Even though he was seen as a monster, she showed him real kindness, he was more human to her than anybody else. I think my favorite scene was when they cuddle for the first time-“
”Ew no, he must’ve smelled real bad. I wouldn’t cuddle with him even if my life depended on it.”
”Kugisaki! That doesn’t matter when it’s true love!” He exclaims earnestly. “I just think it was nice, she was holding him close, comforting him from the self-deprecating thoughts. Thinking of himself as a monster and all,” he waves his hand around. “I just think it was a nice moment. It must feel so warm to have somebody take care of you that way, or to be the one taking care of the other person,” he shrugs, tone soft and fingers fiddling on the table.
”A real testament that love conquers over all,” Itadori finishes.
Nobara hums, considering Itadori's perspective. Maybe she won’t condone him for being mushy today. Glancing at Fushiguro, Nobara instantly feels the sappy aura enveloping the whole place. Pair that with Itadori's words and Nobara is being suffocated.
Fushiguro's staring at Itadori with such reverence, almost as if in revelation— Itadori's words are the meaning that Fushiguro's life has been missing. Blue eyes roaming over Itadori's face, probably thinking some crap like, I can’t miss a single second. Written all over his face, Fushiguro's expression is surprisingly stoic yet keen on admiring Itadori. His wandering eyes soften with an all-encompassing lovestruck daze, and the edges of his lips curl into the smallest smile that Nobara has ever seen.
She squints, pondering the evidence before her.
Okay yeah—Nobara's decided on the verdict—this afternoon has been proof enough that Fushiguro is undeniably attracted to Itadori, which Nobara kind of knew, but wasn’t entirely sure. Mentally reviewing the facts, she observed his attitude towards Ozawa, monopolizing Itadori's attention the moment he stepped into the cafe. Then, his not at all subtle staring at the movie theater, and she awkwardly witnessed the jealous vibe oozing from Fushiguro's body when the waitress took their order.
But what Fushiguro's face is suggesting to Nobara right now, is that these feelings go deeper than simple attraction.
It’s not that surprising Fushiguro is into guys—he gives off the same queer vibe Gojo exudes, but Nobara didn’t imagine Itadori to be Fushiguro's type. She won’t stroke Itadori’s ego by joking how he’s apparently everyone’s type. But it does make her think, but that’d be a lie anyways. Everyone wants a piece, except for me.
And that has to count for something, dammit.
And to top it all off, Itadori is always unaware of this attention.
Back at the cafe, Nobara wanted to slap herself in the face while watching the ridiculous antics. Ozawa desperately tried to land her flirtatious advances yet they fell flat. Probably because out of the entire population Itadori is the densest human to ever live.
But he's also one of the strongest and kindest too.
She won't admit it, but Nobara can understand some reasons behind Fushiguro's not-so-hidden feelings.
And now, when the waitress arrives with their order, Nobara bears witness to the staff member giving Itadori a shy smile. Then she holds the tray close to her chest with one hand, and tucks her blonde hair behind her ear with the other. She might as well drop the tray, take off her apron, and bend over the table, otherwise Itadori won’t get the hint to save his life.
With a roll of her eyes, Nobara stabs the spoon into the glass of ice cream. The one thing she does have to give Itadori credit for is that he sure knows food. The parfait is fucking delicious! When the cold spoon makes its home on the roof of her mouth— an idea pops into Nobara’s head. Freed of boredom, she eats two more spoonfuls before she speaks.
”Say Itadori, what did Ozawa say at the station?” Casual teasing is Nobara’s specialty.
Fushiguro's eyes narrow at Nobara.
”Uh? Nothing, she was always quiet. And I think she was getting a fever?” Itadori muses, furrowing his eyebrows lightly. “Her face was really red and her hands were shaking a little. But she said she was fine,” he shrugs and returns to eat his monstrosity.
Nobara wants to fucking scream at Itadori’s immense stupidity, but she holds it together while Fushiguro falls apart. Fushiguro's scowl reaches new levels— his lips curl down into a disgruntled frown, which is becoming more entertaining by the minute for Nobara.
“Oh no! I hope she’s okay, she seemed very nice. Wasn’t she nice, Fushiguro?”
Fushiguro silently glares at Nobara, clenching his jaw. Based on his disgruntled face, Nobara is pretty sure that inside of Meguimi’s head, he’s killing her a million times over.
Probably.
Most definitely.
“Why the face? Did you not like her?” She questions, innocently, though her intentions are devious.
Itadori turns to Fushiguro, looking surprised but not upset at the suggestion of Fushiguro not liking Ozawa. Interesting.
”Did you not like Ozawa, Fushiguro?”
”She was fine,” he responds in a clipped tone, stuffing his mouth with ice cream.
”She was more than fine wasn’t she, Itadori? She’s really pretty, and tall. Just. Your. Type.” She claps each word with a gleeful smile on her face—barely holding back the laughter.
”I guess…? She’s not Jennifer Lawrence though,” Itadori grabs one of the almonds and plops it in his mouth. At his comment, both Fushiguro and Nobara roll their eyes.
”We get it. You like her,” Nobara exasperates. “Is that who you compare all women to? Is that your only type?” She eats another spoonful.
”Of girls, yeah.” He says this so casually that Nobara stops working.
She chokes on the ice cream, accidentally knocking the parfait cup over the table. Nobara coughs harshly and grabs a million napkins to clean the matcha leaking from her nose. What the fuck.
”Kugisaki! Are you okay? Do you want me to get you water?” Itadori—ever the gentleman—stands up without waiting for a response. Fushiguro leans over the table to thump her back lightly while cleaning the mess on the counter. He's considerate of Nobara's shopping bags, pushing them away from the melted ice cream. Fuck, her nose hurts so fucking much, it’s so much worse than soda.
”Did he just admit he’s bi?!” Her voice comes out nasally, still holding a couple napkins to her face, looking at Fushiguro for any clue that could assert what Nobara's asking.
”How should I know?” Fushiguro hisses. “Stop fucking with me, you’re an asshole.”
”Oh come on, it was a little funny.”
”Stop. It.” Nobara snorts and immediately winces.
”You’re so far gone, dude. Worse than Ozawa. And the waitress.”
”I am not-“ Fushiguro starts his rebuttal, but before he can finish his thought, they both notice Itadori coming back. “Just- fucking stop, shut up. Don’t say anything. Or ask anything,” he points at Nobara threateningly and sits back down.
”Here, I asked for room temperature water,” Itadori gives her the bottle and Nobara grabs it with a strained exhale of approval. The water helps soothe her throat so much. Then she blows her nose and breathes deeply, delighted to do it properly now—matcha smell and all.
”Now, where were we? Ah yes—type of woman,” she smiles sweetly at Itadori. The murderous look on Fushiguro doesn’t go unnoticed by Nobara. She’s not an asshole—contrary to Fushiguro’s belief—but she’s not going to pressure Itadori to come out. Maybe an olive branch will lead the conversation to where she wants it to go.
”Although I do appreciate Jennifer Lawrence,” Nobara continues, side eyeing Itadori to make sure he is still actively paying attention. “I think my type is more like Shihouin Yoruichi or Trinity, I like my women strong.”
Itadori hums and nods at her words, as he should.
She chimes in again, ignoring Fushiguro's disapproving glare. “And the men can stay away from me, I don’t want to be involved in that sausage fest in any way, shape or form.”
“That’s a great response, Kugisaki!”
“I know.”
”What about you, Fushiguro?” Itadori surprises both of them with the question. Nobara wants to laugh at the conflicted emotion on Fushiguro's face.
“I mean, what’s your type? What do you look for, um, in a girl?” Itadori sounds more nervous with each word he speaks.
Oh, this is phenomenal, Nobara is so glad she gets to be here right now, this is divine retribution.
"I- I don't really have a type, I suppose," he clears his throat, and to Nobara it sounds like chalk on a board—so dry. "As long as the person has unshakable character," he enunciates 'person', looking at Itadori with intent, practically begging the oblivious boy to understand.
Well, Nobara thought Fushiguro was going to pine for eternity. Good for him. That’s if Itadori catches this one though, and that’s a big if.
“You’re such a good guy, Fushiguro,” Itadori smiles warmly at him, bringing into life Nobara's worst fear: being a third wheel. Suddenly she’s intruding, witnessing something she shouldn’t, and while she’s happy these two are not as hopeless as she initially thought, couldn’t they wait till they get to the school?
Nobara grabs her wallet and gets up from the table, walking to the counter to pay. She considers this her last altruistic act of the day—she did so many today—to end it on a good note. She swipes her card, giving the waitress a fake smile, pointedly looking at the direction of Itadori and Fushiguro. Their shoulders are closer than before, leaning towards each other until Itadori laughs at something and throws his head back, earning a loop-sided smile from Fushiguro.
The machine beeps and Nobara accepts her receipt with a smirk towards the frowning, unlucky girl across the counter.
✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ + ✦
This is a good movie, really.
Nothing against the plot, nor the actors, nor the score.
It’s fine.
At least that’s what Megumi assumes, Yuuji knows movies so it is safe to assume that what they’re watching is a good piece of media. But honestly, Megumi has no idea what they’re watching. It's not that he doesn't care about Yuuji's taste in film, Megumi is just incapable of paying attention for one single second, and it’s all Yuuji’s fault. They’re sitting on the couch of the common room, shoulders and knees touching, while the dip of the cushions creates more pressure on those two points of contact.
It’s been a week since Megumi came out to Yuuji. Kind of. He’s pretty sure Yuuji caught the meaning behind his answer that day at the ice cream parlor, and he got the feeling that Yuuji was okay with it.
Again, it’s fine.
Except it’s not fine.
Megumi can’t get that look out of his head— Yuuji's softening gaze illuminated under the fluorescent lights, the way Yuuji blinked slowly, his eyes wandering up and down Megumi when he said you’re such a good guy, Fushiguro. Like a stuck reel, that moment has replayed day and night inside of Megumi's head. He’s been on edge lately and the fact that he doesn’t know if it meant simple understanding, acceptance, or reciprocity, is not helping at all.
If it's the latter, Megumi might just implode.
A whole week later and for the most part Yuuji has been acting as typical as usual, with few exceptions. Little instances here and there have caught Megumi's attention, like how Itadori has been more generous with physical touch. For example, Yuuji’s hand has constantly been on Megumi's shoulder, almost as if he knows the added weight is welcomed. Or when he occasionally places his hand on the small of Megumi's back when they enter a place. Finally, that one time Yuuji grabbed Megumi by the hips to pull him away from the stove.
The fervid touch of Yuuji's fingertips also won’t leave his head.
And Yuuji has asked Megumi to hang out every day since then. Every day that Megumi has had to restrain himself not to violently shake Yuuji's shoulders for clarity before pushing his tongue down Yuuji's throat.
So, if Yuuji were to ask Megumi what the movie is about, he would say he has absolutely no fucking clue. He’s looking at the screen but his brain has no registration of the events unfolding before his eyes.
Yuuji's warm presence is literally a more pressing matter. Radiating around Megumi is the smell of blueberries from the muffins Yuuji baked them, the softness of his sweatpants against Megumi's bare knee and shorts, the richness of his contagious laugh, and his calloused fingers mindlessly playing with the strings of his hoodie.
Megumi prays to the deities that Yuuji doesn't do something sexy, because the last thing he wants is to pop a boner with these thinner than air shorts.
He tries to pay attention to the screen, one of the guys is fighting another guy on a skateboard, but there’s like, video game graphics? Something about evil exes? What is he watching?
Yuuji normally talks throughout whatever they're watching, he should be explaining this right about now, but he’s been surprisingly quiet since they sat down.
Megumi turns his head to check on him, and their gazes lock. Caramel eyes stare back at his own with intensity and something more, enough to have Megumi squirming slightly. Shoulders pressed together, in this new position, their faces are just a few measly inches away. He can appreciate the light freckles scattered over the bridge of Yuuji’s nose.
“Is something wrong?”
Yuuji shakes his head side-to-side, not once taking his eyes off of Megumi's. “Nothing’s wrong, just- the lights from the TV really suit you,” he responds, faintly. “I’m kind of jealous, they get to touch your face.”
Megumi tries to swallow despite his dry cotton mouth, to calm the erratic beating of his heart, and to suppress the heat that rises to his face. He fails each one. Yuuji’s making Megumi's life really hard, he’s been keeping his feelings to himself, but it’s really difficult when Yuuji goes and says things like these.
But maybe, maybe it was reciprocity.
”You can touch my face,” Megumi suggests, whispering in the dark room, watching how Yuuji's eyes darken and a glorious shade of pink cover his cheeks.
“Yeah?”
”Yes.”
And so Yuuji does, he raises his sunkissed hand from between them and pushes the fringe out of Megumi's face—his fingertips ghosting on Megumi's forehead—resting his palm on his cheek. Yuuji's thumb brushes back and forth across his cheekbone, Megumi senses the calloused finger leaving white streaks over his scalding face. The bronze of his eyes sparkle with the lights of the TV, not once straying from Megumi's own indigo. Yuuji smiles, slowly and fondly. Megumi is so not ready for it. But he offers one smile of his own, milder, a pull on his lips Megumi can’t and doesn’t want to stop.
Like a red string that connects him to Yuuji's heart, Megumi inclines closer, glancing lower—Yuuji's soft looking lips, plump and rosy, so tantalizing. His eyes peer at Megumi's own, he brings his other hand to Megumi's cheek, making it impossible for him to think of nothing but Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji, trapped in a daze.
“Megumi?” Yuuji gulps. Megumi nods encouragingly, because whatever Yuuji wants from him it’s Yuuji's already. “Can I kiss you?”
Megumi eagerly closes the distance between them, enveloping their lips in a soft embrace—the pressure of Yuuji's lips against his own makes him float and ground him at the same time. It’s everything Megumi has been yearning for since he met Yuuji—yellow hoodie, brightest grin to ever bless this fucked up Earth, and the desire to do good, bigger than the whole sky.
Megumi angles his head to deepen the kiss, slotting his lips against Yuuji's, savoring the feel of their mouths moving in tandem. Yuuji's hands are hot on his face, Megumi sighs contentedly into the kiss. He brings his own hands to Yuuji's chest—bunching up the offending hoodie—bringing him closer.
Desperate, Megumi wants to be sure— needs to be sure, that despite everything he’s seen, Yuuji is really here, alive, and next to him.
One of Megumi's hands lets go of the hoodie, instead, dipping under the garment and pushing the fabric up to touch Yuuji's blazing skin. Yuuji gasps and Megumi rushes to thrust his tongue into Yuuji's mouth, coaxing him into the kiss—Yuuji groans, the noise traveling down straight to Megumi's navel. He keeps kissing Yuuji with fervor—splaying his hand on Yuuji’s hard chest, finally feeling his heartbeat below his fingers, rapid and wild underneath the scar in the middle of it. Megumi releases a harsh breath, his shoulders sagging, losing the heavy tension he’s been carrying around since that day. Yuuji comprehends the implication of Megumi’s reaction and softens the kiss.
”Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, Megumi, I'm not going anywhere,” Yuuji caresses his jaw, kisses his cheek and then his brow, peppering kisses on his jaw forming a trail down to his neck.
”You promise?” Yuuji chuckles and laces his fingers on the back of Fushiguro's neck, looking at him seriously.
”I promise,” he pecks Megumi once, then twice.
On the third time it transforms into a proper kiss.
When Megumi's other hand joins underneath that awful hoodie, Yuuji hums approvingly, licking his bottom lip, asking for entrance that Megumi eagerly grants. Megumi tugs on the hoodie, urging Yuuji to raise his arms, their lips loose contact for a second, but Yuuji finally takes it off, leaving all that bronze skin on display—mouth watering abs, dusty nipples, toned pecs that Megumi squeezes reflexively. He drinks in the sight like a thirsty man wandering in the desert, pushing Yuuji against the couch and swiftly straddling him. Megumi claims those lips once more, with more intensity, more desire.
He pours everything that he has been feeling about Yuuji into the kiss—all of his pent up needs including every time he’s wanted to touch, to taste, to look. The way Yuuji makes Megumi emotional, as if not all is lost, that there are plenty of reasons to keep on living. How can one person contain so much good and be cursed with all of the evil that humans feel?
Megumi knows firsthand that the world isn’t fair, it’s cruel, it takes and keeps on taking. But he will not let this world take Yuuji away from him. Megumi will do everything he can—everything, if it means Yuuji can be safe by his side, with that smile that lights up Megumi's days.
Yuuji's hands lay themselves naturally on his hips, only to ascend up till they reach his waist—tugging his shirt upwards. Megumi shivers, leaning back, tugging up the edge of his t-shirt but Yuuji halts his movement.
”Let me, please.”
Megumi nods, arms still raised, Yuuji pushes the garment up slowly, his fingers brushing Megumi's torso, always in contact with his skin. Yuuji's thumb accidentally brushes a nipple while Megumi's breath hitches, making eye contact with Yuuji, who raises an intrigued eyebrow in response.
Megumi feels the shift in Yuuji, pulling his shirt off almost frantically—throwing it to the floor—kissing his mouth once again with force enough to bruise, all tongue and spit, biting Megumi’s lip viciously. Roaming his hands over Megumi's chest, Yuuji pinches one of his nipples while his left hand travels up to his neck—thumb putting a light pressure on his throat, earning a shivery gasp from Megumi.
Yuuji teases Megumi's tongue in a dance that makes his whole body feel incandescent, his rough fingers abusing his nipple—subsequently roaming down his waist, passing over Megumi’s hip until it settles on his left cheek—Yuuji immediately squeezing—pulling a loud moan from the deep ends of Megumi's chest. Yuuji's fingers around his neck feel scorching, and Megumi can’t help but grind his pelvis down into Yuuji's, achieving a deep rumbling groan from him that prompts Megumi to smirk into the kiss. Yuuji’s left hand joins his backside, gripping Megumi's ass with new found ferocity, thrusting his own hips up into Megumi’s insistently. He can feel the outline of Yuuji's cock and it makes Megumi's head spin. He wants to taste it, to have it inside him—relishing in the sting that the thickness of his dick would bring—Megumi feels it against his own and the sheer size brings a tremble of euphoria and desire.
”Yuuji,” Megumi gasps—breaking the kiss. It’s so loud even to his own ears, full of lust and delirium.
Megumi’s vaguely aware of the movie playing in the background but he can’t hear any dialogue. When did Yuuji mute it? It doesn’t matter, certainly not worth a dime of his attention. Not like Yuuji's hands on his tender skin, drawing him impossibly closer, leaving open mouthed kisses on his neck, sucking on Megumi's collarbone. With every thing Yuuji does—Megumi feels a new wave of heat flow through him.
It’s too much, too fucking much for Megumi to handle. Breathing hard, Megumi's long fingers tangle in soft, pink locks—tugging relentlessly—everytime Yuuji grinds their hips together just right, biting hard on his neck. Yuuji's moans bring a sweetness to Megumi's ears, one he never thought he’d be able to experience, not in his wildest dreams. With their chests touching, Megumi can feel Yuuji's rapid heartbeat against his own, the rhythm of their hips losing synch, becoming faster, sloppier. Megumi can feel his orgasm start to build, his shorts warm, stained with hot precum, joined by Yuuji's damp sweatpants.
He babbles Megumi's name over and over, reverently, full of awe and devotion.
“Megumi- so gorgeous, Megumi” Yuuji sighs into his sweaty skin—hips canting up against him hard, hands burying inside of his shorts, clawing at Megumi’s naked skin with bruising force. Megumi's arm tightens for purchase around Yuuji's broad shoulders, his left hand yanking Yuuji's head to steal his breath away with a languid kiss—their heavy breathing making it difficult for their lips to lock but not impossible. Megumi feels spit dribbling, while Yuuji's tongue caresses the roof of his mouth.
“Yuuji,” Megumi breathes, looking at Yuuji’s lust-ridden honey eyes. “I’m so clo- I’m so fucking clos- ah!” Megumi tries to form full sentences but Yuuji's clutching his ass and won’t let him. Yuuji bites his neck again—Megumi's sensitive skin being subjected to his insistent desire to mark all of him—pushing him over the edge. Mouth opened in a silent cry, lost into Yuuji's awed gaze, cum spilling inside his flimsy shorts, the fabric soaking further more with each streak of Megumi’s release.
Yuuji's not far behind. Looking at Megumi while thrusting up a couple more times, he groans and buries his face on Megumi's neck, mumbling his name—ejaculating inside his black sweatpants. The warm feeling of Yuuji's heavy load makes Megumi's mouth water.
He already knows what he wants to try next time.
That last thought fills him with joy— being close to Yuuji is something Megumi will never take for granted. Well, he never did before but he's not about to start now. But this is different, so much better.
Megumi pets Yuuji's head lazily, untangling the knots he did with his persistent tugging. Their chests rise and fall, breaths regulating together to a slower pace. Yuuji’s hands withdraw from the inside of his shorts—Megumi mourns the loss internally—and move to Megumi's waist, caressing his back, shoulder blades, and making home on his hips. Yuuji's thumbs rub in soothing circles.
Megumi hums, burying his nose in Yuuji's hair, inhaling deeply that sweaty smell mixed with the mango aroma of his shampoo. He drops a kiss on the top of his head and leans back to grab Yuuji’s face, leaning in to kiss him, just because he can. Megumi kisses him gently, sweetly—enjoying how Yuuji smoothly matches the pace.
They kiss until Yuuji's growing giggles stop them—but Megumi doesn’t care and kisses his smile, his cheeks, his ears—anything to keep him laughing.
He is grossly, exceedingly, incredibly, beyond measure in love with Yuuji.
Megumi will train hard, learn every technique, form any pact to keep Itadori safe. He won’t let anything happen to Yuuji.
”Stop- Megumi, stop,” Yuuji giggles, stopping Megumi's barrages of kisses with both hands on his face. “We should clean up, it’s getting a little uncomfortable,” he suggests, squirming under Megumi's weight.
”Fine,” Megumi stands, reluctantly, wobbling the moment both his feet touch the ground—Yuuji's strong hands tighten on his hips, steadying him. It makes Megumi blush. Stupid.
He turns to the TV and the movie is still playing, a girl with blue hair is fighting a blonde one holding a… hammer? Seriously, what is this movie?
”Do you want to finish it?” Yuuji asks, propping his chin on Megumi’s shoulder, wrapping his strong arms around Megumi's middle. His forearms muscles shift against Megumi’s waist, and he has to close his eyes—taking a second to center himself. He turns in Yuuji's arms, lacing his fingers behind Yuuji's neck, caressing his undercut with his thumbs.
”Yes, I do.”
”You’re gonna like the ending,” Yuuji says with a smile, motioning Megumi towards the bathroom.
”Does he get the girl?” Megumi's not even sure what the movie is about but that’s what happens in every movie, right?
“Just like I got the guy,” Yuuji slaps his ass and Megumi yelps, his cheeky laugh wrapping around Megumi like a cozy sweater.
“Is my memory failing me? I don’t remember you asking me on a date,” Megumi challenges, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. Yuuji stops him by the wrist, before he enters the bathroom, with a deadpan look on Yuuji's face.
”Oh I’m sorry, I thought the line between bros and boyfriends was me coming while moaning your name. And I did that.” Megumi groans, covering his heated face at Yuuji’s shamelessness, while Yuuji bursts from laughter.
”I’m sorry,” Yuuji takes Megumi's hands off his face—still laughing at him softly—interlacing their fingers. “Teasing you is so easy, I can't help it.”
”You’re going to kill me.”
“Stop pouting,” Yuuji comes closer.
”I’m not pouting.”
”Will you be my boyfriend?”
”Yes. Obviously.”
Yuuji laughs and leans in to kiss his cheek, tenderly—Megumi closing his eyes to bask in the contact—Yuuji's lips stray from his cheek to kiss Megumi's own, biting his bottom lip gently and soothing the sting with a lick, lovingly.
Megumi is not going to survive him, he’s going to perish, he has no fucking chance of making it out alive from the experience that is Itadori Yuuji.
”Stop,” Megumi pushes Yuuji away. “It’s getting itchy,” he turns to enter but before he can step in fully, Megumi feels Yuuji grope his ass. Squeaking, he slaps Yuuji's shoulder with a glare but finds himself unable to suppress a playful smile. Megumi slams the door closed on Yuuji’s face leaning against it, while he drowns in the rattling, sweet sound of Yuuji's laughter on the other side of the door.