Chapter Text
The first dance session ends in more or less a fit of exhausted frustration. It’s better than when they started, but Yuuji knows it’s a long way to go before anyone’s doing twists and twirls and snappy poses.
He still counts it as a success when Maki announces that they’ll be clearing their schedules and meeting every Wednesday and Sunday night to keep practicing. Even Megumi is nodding along, eyes a little distant as if he’s mentally moving things around.
Yuuji wonders if he can get Megumi in a pair of heels. He vows to bring it up with Maki and Nobara another time. For now they go their separate ways to soak feet and bandage ankles and do whatever it is Megumi does.
His own feet ache in a pleasant way, a familiar burn that tells the story of many sleepless nights spent tossing and turning because he was too restless.
Arms thrown wide, Yuuji flops backwards in his bed. Upending pillows and earbuds and fluffing the comforter up around him. A good heavy part of him wants to sleep, to tiptoe into whatever void awaits him on the other side.
A much smaller part doesn’t want to see what might be hiding for him in the shadows.
There’s a deep echo of laughter, it makes Yuuji grimace.
“Do you have to be such an asshole?” He gripes quietly and can practically feel Sukuna’s amusement as his cheek bows and splits into a wide grin.
“Child you’ve barely seen me when I’m bored, you don’t know me when I’m an asshole.” Sukuna’s tone is sugar sweet, lilting in its mockery. “But I can be generous, perhaps if you perform for me I might go easy on you tonight.”
Suddenly the ceiling looks very interesting as Yuuji’s gaze all but zeroes in on a particularly noticeable fleck of blue paint in a sea of white.
“I don’t know any dances you’d know,” he settles on saying and adds just as sugary, “cuz you’re so incredibly old.”
Something like a groan of annoyance rattles Yuuji’s rib bones and Sukuna spits out one final, “fine, don’t say I never offered my help,” before he winks back out of the mortal realm.
Help? “What kind of help?” Yuuji asks, but he’s already managed to annoy Sukuna into submission and is left back with his thoughts.
Thoughts that are now a million miles from sleep, turned back on their head to dancing. Different dances, different eras. What kind of things would Sukuna have seen?
What kind of things would Gojo sensei have seen?
A flush races across Yuuji’s skin and he’s helpless to stop it or the sudden onslaught of thoughts about his beloved sensei.
Did he know how to dance? Gojo sensei was perfect so even if he didn’t, he’d be a quick study. What kind of music did he like? The little tunes he’s always humming are nonsensical symphonies of his own creation.
Would he like to see Yuuji dance?
This time the groan that explodes out of him is entirely of his own making and with a quick turn, Yuuji plants his face into his pillows.
It doesn’t matter, even if Gojo sensei saw him do anything like that he would probably just laugh and take a video of Nobara falling on Megumi and run away before she could stab him. This isn’t about just Yuuji, or his definitely-not-a-crush on his sensei.
This is about his new little team.
Something in that statement makes his body feel heavy and warm. Yuuji has a new dance team, and maybe it’s just the three of them, but that doesn’t really matter. They’re still his and he’ll nurture them and cheer them on and love them even if they get bored and leave him too.
He closes his eyes and tries not to let that be the last thing before he sleeps.
_________________
Every Wednesday and Sunday for the next month come and go with increased enthusiasm and begrudging bonding. At least Nobara pretends she’s put out, but Yuuji is more perceptive than he’s given credit for and he sees every time she beelines to him or Maki or Megumi for interactions or affections.
Megumi has surprisingly become a permanent fixture in their practices too.
Every time Yuuji shows up to start prepping his choreography book or do his warm ups, Megumi is always the next one to appear. He’s worn a soft groove into the corner of the couch, a neat pile of books steadily growing in the space above his head with every session he’s present for.
Yuuji still hasn’t gotten him into heels, but Megumi has learned to help both Maki and Nobara strap theirs up with swift ease and he thinks that’s also progress.
Right now though, it’s Friday afternoon and Yuuji is alone in the common area. His team is progressing in little mouse steps but soon they’ll get faster and further and Yuuji still needs to change the choreography for Nobara.
She wants a cute finger gun move, and Yuuji knows he can do better than adding it in at the end like a cop out.
Maybe he should be doing this with everyone else present, but Yuuji still can’t get Wednesday's session out of his head and it burns his ears to think about it.
Everything had been progressing like normal. Nobara was doing stretches with Megumi’s help, Maki was fiddling with the music and Yuuji had been carefully going over the routine in slow swooping arcs.
He freezes mid-step when Maki turns to him suddenly and asks, “So, you gonna show off to that blindfolded idiot? I’m sure he’d love to see you dancing in heels.” Every single thought in Yuuji’s head flees like frantic mice.
Somehow he had forgotten that bonding also meant gossiping.
“Well, um” Yuuji moves even slower now, trying valiantly not to stumble over himself. His first mistake was letting a self deprecating laugh escape as he says, “why would Gojo sensei wanna see me in heels? It’s not that special!”
There’s a snort from Megumi.
“You’re joking right?” He stops Nobara mid stretch, waiting for her back to pop. His look is no nonsense, “Gojo has been drooling over you since you enrolled. He’d probably die of a stroke if he saw you like this.”
If only the floor could have opened up and swallowed Yuuji whole. “Why are we talking about this?” He asks and tries very hard not to sound desperate, “Gojo sensei would probably just ask what we’re doing then go steal snacks from the fridge!”
When Megumi let’s Nobara up, she slots herself between his legs, lazily looping her arms around his calves.
She whistles, “denial doesn’t look good on you Itadori. You can’t be serious right? We’ve all seen how he looks at you.”
A frown screws up Yuuji’s face, “Gojo sensei doesn’t look at anyone, he’s wearing a blindfold,” he mutters back. Studiously ignoring the annoyed glares sent his way. Yuuji had ended that conversation with a hard, high pitched announcement of- “sensei wouldn’t do anything!” Before promptly exiting stage left with a well timed spin.
The Yuuji of now still wants the floor to open up, but he’s at least glad no one is around to witness the flush that blossoms from his ears down to his shoulders.
It was a huge shock to be the focus of their first group gossip. Yuuji still can’t fathom why they all think Gojo sensei would be even remotely interested in him.
He’s just Itadori Yuuji, Sukuna’s Vessel, the dumb kid from the country.
“Ugh!” Yuuji smacks his cheeks hard enough to sting, hoping it’ll jolt him out of his funk and back into his usual headspace. There’s no time to pine or lack self esteem, Nobara is counting on Yuuji whether she knows it or not.
Yuuji is her leader, and he’s going to take care of her.
So with a little shake of his hands, Yuuji cracks open his choreography book and blasts ‘Bang, Bang’ on repeat as he valiantly tries to spruce up the moves.
Much to his dismay, it’s hard to weave them in with the original move set. It all happens so fast, Yuuji thinks he could salvage it if they all did finger guns in rapid succession.
But that also doesn’t feel good enough, so with inspiration and stubborn pride holding him aloft, Yuuji scraps most of the dance and starts from square one.
As the saying goes, Rome wasn’t built in a day but Yuuji thinks he’s making a decent amount of headway for a new rough outline. It has to be smaller, tighter, more focused on a trio rather than a large group with several moving components.
Yuuji wants them to move like one, like the interweaving motion of a folklorico dress.
He idly wonders if Nobara would like a folklorico dress but smacks his cheeks again, “focus!” he chirps.
So on and on he goes. Letting the music loop into a mindless infinity, only paused so Yuuji can sit and mark up his book with little notes when he thinks he’s on a good lead.
Almost all the others are out on missions, so Yuuji goes from morning till early afternoon. Taking little snack breaks and leisure strolls when he gets too wound up or tired.
It’s roughly four when he decides to try running through his reformed dance. The ache in his feet is fierce and all encompassing but the sheer stubbornness to succeed keeps him going.
“Just this one last time,” Yuuji promises. Afterwards he’ll go take a boiling hot shower and crash out in bed.
Feet poised apart, head angled slightly, he waits for the loop to come and lets the music guide him once again.
The theme is energy, vibrant and playful in the face of an unsuspecting suitor. Fingers flutter against hips as Yuuji prances backwards, as if to say ‘follow me.’ There are flirty winks and little bounces that bring him just outside the reach of imaginary fingers.
A flash of snowy hair and blue eyes comes along with them, stubbornly forming Gojo sensei in his mind's eye as he teases and twists to do the first set of finger guns.
Imaginary sensei is smiling, pretending to stagger backwards with the shots. Yuuji blows off his finger and winks, ignoring the way he has to course correct when his feet try to follow the original routine.
The past is dead, Yuuji knows that. He understands that he can never have anything that once was his. So it’s time for new things, new groups and new dances and new love.
New love
The very concept brings a brilliant smile to his face as he moves into the next set of finger guns. This time Yuuji twirls towards the door, mumbling “bang, bang!” as he fires.
It goes as expected.
But what doesn’t go as expected, is that there’s someone standing in the doorway, fully lined up so that Yuuji’s pointing directly at them.
It only takes Yuuji a microsecond to realize it’s the real Gojo who’s the victim of his aim, and his brain promptly fizzles out.
Of all the way he expected this to happen, doing flirty finger guns at his sensei certainly wasn’t on the list.
“Uh,” Yuuji tries to say as he stumbles to a stop, “hi, Gojo sensei?”
Gojo doesn’t respond immediately, he looks frozen like an animal in a trap. Yuuji can only see that his lips are slightly parted, moving quickly as if he’s mumbling something before he asks, “Yuuji, what are you doing?”
It swoops out of Gojo in a quiet, breathy way and for a moment Yuuji can only blink dumbly. Why wasn’t sensei laughing? Or teasing him?
His lack of response seems to spur Gojo on, his fingers fly up, curving under a silky blindfold and yanking it down so owlish blue eyes can zero in on Yuuji.
“I said,” Gojo repeats slowly, “what are you doing?”
There’s something about the way it’s said that positively raises the hair on Yuuji’s arms, He does his best not to shiver or stutter as he tries to find his words.
“Um,” Yuuji sort of flutters his arms uselessly, settling for a shrug and a smile. “Kugisaki and Zenin-senpai wanted me to teach them how to dance in heels! So, I am! I was just working on the routine did-” Yuuji doesn’t know why his mouth suddenly goes dry, “did you see any of it?”
A heat has settled into the room with the setting of the sun. Casting hues of orange over the common area, making Yuuji’s hair burn brighter and Gojo’s eyes shimmer like prisms.
Before Yuuji can blink Gojo is moving, his footsteps quick and purposeful and his voice tumbles out of him now in his usual excited eagerness. “I did, I walked in when you started, you looked-” up close Gojo’s eyes are radiant hellfire, “ gorgeous .”
Color rises to Yuuji’s skin before he can stop it. No one’s ever called him that before, no ones ever looked at him the way Gojo sensei is now.
We’ve all seen how he looks at you.
Nobara’s words are suddenly thrown back into Yuuji’s face and he does his best not to listen, to put on a smile instead. “I’m glad sensei, I’ve been working really hard on that new routine!”
A hand reaches for his jaw, skimming along the soft skin there before curling like a vice and catching Yuuji’s entire focus.
There’s something predatory lurking behind those eyes, enthralling and alarming and Yuuji really should be afraid. Instead he leans a little further into the hold, watches as pupils blow wide in a ring of ice.
“Sensei?” the word sticks in Yuuji’s mouth, tapering off into nothing as Gojo slowly tilts his head back and forth.
“Why don’t you do it again?” Gojo says, but there’s no room for disagreement in his tone. “I want to see it from a front row seat.”
This doesn’t stop Yuuji from whimpering, shifting on ankles that now shake lightly with his mounting exhaustion. “But sensei, I’m tired. I’ve been doing this all day, can,” Yuuji feels his face flush, “can I do it for you again tomorrow?”
It’s the wrong thing to say and Yuuji knows it the second Gojo’s mouth tightens in displeasure, the way the very air around him grows cold.
But it’s gone as quickly as it comes, almost as if it never happened and suddenly Gojo’s cheeks are warm and his lips are curved up and his pupils have almost completely narrowed to pinpricks.
“Yuuji,” Gojo coos, the hand gripping Yuuji’s jaw now slides across his cheek, thumb trailing as it moves to rest against his neck in a loose hold. “It’s the heels right? They hurt your feet.”
No noise can squeak past Yuuji’s lips as he’s suddenly backed up into the couch, flailing and falling with a small “mfph!” as he’s all but shoved back onto it.
“Why don’t I take them off for you.”
The sudden pot of emotions is spilling over and Yuuji is helpless against it. He can only watch with wide, doe eyes as his sensei settles at his feet, lifting one of his heels so that it’s resting in his lap and begins to undo the straps.
The lack of pressure is nice. With each little clip coming undone Yuuji finds himself sinking deeper into the couch. His feet are tender to the touch, a little swollen and when Gojo grips one too hard Yuuji whimpers.
“Sorry,” Gojo hums, fingers pressing harder until Yuuji is squirming to get away. He’s trapped and powerless right now though, helpless to let his sensei touch and squeeze until Yuuji is shaking from the pain.
Eventually the pain gives way and Yuuji thinks maybe Gojo is trying to help so he can dance. Or maybe his sensei is punishing him for something he can’t even begin to fathom. To his knowledge, he’s done nothing worth grievances lately.
With one foot complete, Gojo moves on to the other one, repeating his work and asking idly, “how long have you been able to do this?”
Yuuji’s thoughts are made of cotton and it’s hard to really focus on what he’s being asked but his mouth is moving all the same. “Since forever probably,” Yuuji’s voice comes out as a low slur, heavy with exhaustion, “but mostly middle school.”
Time crawls into a light silence as Gojo’s long fingers flutter and pick at the clips against Yuuji’s skin. When he finally presses harder into Yuuji’s foot just like with the last one, Yuuji barely jerks choosing instead to scrunch his face up and whine.
“Sensei that hurts.”
Soft laughter tumbles out of Gojo as his hands move higher, rolling along one of Yuuji’s tender ankles. “Right, right, I know. But I’m done, so won’t you dance for me now Yuuji?”
It doesn’t feel like there’s much of a choice but Yuuji is still valiantly stubborn as he tries to beg one more time, “I’m so tired sensei, are you sure I can’t do it tomorrow?”
Something heavy lands on his lap, and when Yuuji’s eyes flutter back open he sees his sensei, head resting along Yuuji’s thighs with those eyes hyper focused on his face.
Before Gojo can reply, a thought pops into Yuuji’s head and tumbles quickly out of his mouth. “Why don’t we dance together tomorrow, sensei? Just the two of us.”
It feels like a loaded thing to offer, time alone with his beloved sensei when he’s already acting so weird. When his gaze is alight with dark excitement and his movements are on the border of aggressive.
But it’s in moments like these that Yuuji feels most wanted, so he carefully reaches out and tangles his fingers in soft white hair.
Gojo blinks, lashes fluttering against Yuuji’s bare skin. “You want me to dance with you?” He looks curious, like the very idea of dancing has never once occurred to him. Then in a lightly playful way, Gojo smiles and asks, “do I have to wear the heels too? I might be too tall for you then.”
With the heels Yuuji is roughly his sensei’s height, if but a sliver shorter and he jerks up a bit, accidentally squeezing Gojo’s head between his thighs. “No! I wanna be the same height as you! Besides you’d never make it through a single doorway if you were like almost seven feet tall!”
If Gojo’s original height was bad, then that would be even worse.
His legs flex again on instinct and Gojo makes a quiet strangled noise before bursting into laughter.
“Okay, alright you win,” his voice is a bit hoarse, “how about we meet at my place at noon?”
The basement comes to mind, with the comfy couch and the nice floors and the sound system. A little smile curls on Yuuji’s face and his fingers flutter a bit against his sensei’s cheeks. “Okay,” he says, “it’s a deal!”
Hands slide along his calves and Gojo smiles back all teeth, “right,” he replies, “it’s a date.”