Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Suguru squints at Shoko where she sits across from him. She had just spoken, but her voice had been barely over a mumble so he hadn’t heard her. "What did you call me?"

Shoko tilts her head, "A coward." She makes sure to enunciate each syllable, ensuring that he hears her this time.

Suguru lifts his head to lock eyes with the beta sitting in a chair across from his desk. She’s got an eyebrow raised, with a half smoked cigarette dangling from her hand.

“What are you talking about?” He asks crossly. Suguru has been called many things throughout his life. Charming, witty, two-faced, intimidating, handsome, a terrible son, and a bit of an asshole. He’s never claimed to be a nice person, and he’d be the first to admit his personality isn’t the easiest to stomach. But he's never before been called a coward.

Shoko snorts, stubbing the end of her cigarette out on an ashtray conveniently placed near her elbow. “You’ve been avoiding Satoru for three days.”

Suguru bristles, “I haven’t been avoiding him. I just haven’t had a reason to go see him.” The excuse sounds weak, even to his own ears. And from the way Shoko snickers under her breath it doesn’t convince her either.

She leans back in her chair with a sigh, “Look, I honestly didn’t care about the little cat and mouse game you and Satoru were playing.”

Suguru sputters, face reddening at her words as he jolts up in his seat. “We weren’t playing–,”

“But the excessive pining is starting to get on my nerves,” Shoko says, talking over Suguru. She wrinkles her nose before continuing, “Satoru’s acting like a widow who lost her husband at war and I cannot stand another second of his exaggerated sighing.” She then levels Suguru with an absolutely withering glare, one that actually causes him to flinch, “So whatever you did, fix it.”

Suguru sinks in his seat, suitably chastised. Shoko was right; he was a coward. Ever since the kiss they shared, the kiss he’d initiated, Suguru had been avoiding Satoru. It wasn’t hard to do, what with the other boy being stuck in the infirmary until further notice.

“What exactly did you do?” Shoko asks, curious.

Suguru groans, “Something stupid.”

Shoko raises a brow, waiting for him to continue. Suguru taps his foot rapidly, raising a hand to run it through his hair before remembering he put it up in a bun this morning. He aborts the movement halfway through, opting instead to fiddle with his gauges.

“I . . . mayhavekissedSatoru,” Suguru mumbles, staring a hole into the wood of the desk.

Shoko squints, “What?”

“I kissed Satoru,” Suguru repeats, this time louder.

There’s an extended pause, during which Suguru wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He can feel sweat pooling in his palms and his heartbeat is rising as he waits for Shoko’s reaction.

“That’s it?”

Suguru whips his head up to stare at her, mouth gaping open in surprise. “What do you mean that’s it?”

Shoko snorts, “You two aren’t exactly subtle.”

“That’s not true,” Suguru protests. There’s no way Shoko would know how he felt about Satoru, he doesn’t even know how he feels about Satoru yet.

Shoko levels him with a deadpan stare, “Suguru you practically fucked him on the training grounds. And Satoru let you.”

Shoko’s words call back the memory of that day. Satoru’s body underneath his had felt so warm, so soft, so right. His scent had been heavenly, some type of mix between cashmere musk and jasmine. Satoru had been so pliant to Suguru’s advances, had responded so beautifully to the slightest of nudges that Suguru had lost himself for a moment. And when he’d purred? Suguru had been gone, lost in a haze of instincts, alpha hindbrain immediately taking over the reins to respond with a deeper purr of his own, signaling that he was willing and ready. The same thing had happened in the forest, albeit to a much lesser degree. Suguru wasn’t the type to believe in soulmates or anything else along those lines, but Satoru had fit against his body so perfectly that for a moment he truly believed that they were made for each other.

“You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?” Shoko says, disgust dripping from her words.

Suguru shakes his head furiously, bringing himself back to the present. There’s a heat rising in his cheeks, and he digs his nails into his thighs to push it down. “You promised not to talk about that.”

“Yeah, well you two are getting on my damn nerves,” Shoko growls in response, slamming her fist down against the table. “Grow a pair and just confess to him already.”

“It’s not that easy,” he sighs, sinking lower in his seat. “Besides, he doesn’t exactly like me. I don’t even know if I like him.”

Shoko stares at him, head tilted in annoyed confusion. “Did you forget the part where he practically let you hump him in public?”

“That was just his instincts talking,” Suguru dismisses with an embarrassed huff.

Shoko groans, head falling back in exasperation. “Fine, fine. Let’s say it was his instincts. Didn’t he let you kiss him recently though?”

“I didn’t exactly give him a choice,” he mumbles sheepishly. “And I left before he could react.”

Shoko’s face goes through a range of expressions in the span of a couple seconds, finally settling on annoyed disgust. She brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, taking in a deep exaggerated breath before letting it out slowly. “Let’s forget about Satoru for a second. How do you feel about him?”

Suguru pauses for a moment as he considers her words. Until now, he’d never really stopped to consider what exactly Satoru meant to him. If he had to describe the boy in one word, Satoru is . . . frustrating. He’s cocky, arrogant, childish, petty and a huge asshole. But he’s also so much more. Satoru is beautiful, strong, brilliant, an absolute force of nature. He breaks through the mask Suguru wears so easily, pulling out his true self. Around Satoru, he doesn’t need to hide or hold back his emotions. For the first time in what feels like forever, he can be himself. And as much as people revere him as a God, Satoru’s also achingly human.

Suguru doesn’t know what it is exactly, but there’s something pulling him towards the other boy. It’s as if Satoru has his own gravitational pull, grabbing Suguru and dragging him into his orbit with that annoying smirk of his. A star, he decides. Gojo Satoru is a star, one that’s almost blinding in its intensity and Suguru is already caught in its grasp with no hope of ever breaking free. And worst of all, he doesn’t think he wants to break free.

“I like him,” Suguru says softly, staring at his hands as they lie clasped on the table. He gradually raises his gaze to look at Shoko, eyes slowly widening in horror as the full weight of his words hit him. Although he might have already known it on some subconscious level, this is the first time he’s verbalized his feelings. “I like Gojo Satoru.”

Shoko sends him a sympathetic look, “I can’t say much for your taste, but congrats.”

“I like Gojo Satoru,” Suguru repeats, letting his head fall forward into his hands, elbows braced against the desk.

Shoko snickers, grabbing her box of cigarettes from her pocket. “You have my condolences.”

Suguru barely notices, there’s a litany of fucks going through his mind. Of all the people he could’ve grown feelings for, why did it have to be Gojo Satoru? He falls back against his seat with a groan, head dangling over the back of the chair. Suguru brings his hands up to massage his temples, there’s already an ache growing at the thought of what this might mean for him.

He hears Shoko rattle her box of cigarettes at him, “Want one?”

“I shouldn’t,” he grunts, rolling his head around to look at her.

“Suit yourself,” Shoko shrugs before lighting up the one in her mouth.

“Didn’t Yaga-sensei say you can’t smoke in the school?” Suguru asks halfheartedly.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Don’t be such a snitch. Besides, you’ve got bigger things to worry about than a little second-hand smoke.”

“Don’t remind me,” he sighs, crossing one ankle over the other under the desk.

“So, what’re you planning to do about it?” Shoko prods.

“Let my feelings sit and fester until I die,” Suguru deadpans with a self-deprecating smirk. “That’s my go-to solution. It’s worked out pretty well for me so far.”

Shoko raises a brow, staring at him for a second before abruptly changing the subject. “You know his heat is soon, right?”

Suguru’s brows furrow, “Yes?”

“I already told him, but it’s gonna be pretty bad,” Shoko continues conversationally. “This first one after getting off his suppressants is gonna be short, like a day or two at most, but it’s gonna hit him like a train.”

Suguru stiffens as he feels something inside him stir in distress at the thought of Satoru in pain.

“Managing it on his own is gonna be hell on earth probably. I can’t imagine having to deal with something like that alone, especially after everything he’s already been through,” Shoko says, taking an idle puff of her cigarette as she leans back in her chair, acting as if the matter doesn't concern her. “However, I do think that the presence of an alpha, especially one he likes, would help a lot. From a medical standpoint, of course.”

There’s a twinge in his chest, and Suguru raises a hand to rub at it softly. The stirring has become more of a roar now, his instincts practically screaming at him to do something about his omega’s pain.

“First of all,” Suguru starts, leaning forward with a finger pointed at her menacingly. “Fuck you for trying to use my compassionate nature as well as my inherent need as an alpha to nurture against me. That’s really shitty of you.”

“Oh please,” Shoko snorts. “You’re an even bigger asshole than Satoru. Is it working though?” She asks, almost as an afterthought.

“Yes.”

Shoko smirks, “Good. He’s in the infirmary. Go get him, hotshot.”

Suguru gets up angrily, fists clenched at his sides as he marches towards the door. Before leaving, he turns back around to face Shoko. “I hope both sides of your pillow are warm tonight and you wake up 20 minutes before your alarm,” he announces before promptly leaving and allowing the door to shut behind him.

* * * * *

When Suguru finally arrives in front of the infirmary, he stands in front of it in silence. His left foot is tapping against the floor and he rubs his sweaty palms dry against his pants. It’s just Satoru, he’s seen the boy so many times before. Yet somehow, after acknowledging his feelings, seeing him feels so much more . . . intimidating. Suguru feels a need to impress the other boy for some reason. He doesn’t want to do this, would much rather bury his feelings so far that they never resurface, but his instincts wouldn’t let him live if he didn’t. Suguru raises a hand and curls it into a fist, hesitating before actually rapping at the door.

“Just come in already,” Satoru’s annoyed voice calls out.

Suguru jumps a little, he didn’t think Satoru would know he was there, before slowly reaching a hand out and opening the door. He walks through the frame and stops in his tracks, breath catching in his throat at what he sees. Satoru is sitting on a cot in the room, propped up against some pillows. His face is turned away from Suguru, but the light coming from the window next to him lands on his hair, lighting it up in a stunning halo.

‘Did his hair always look so soft?’ Suguru wonders, a little hysterical. Satoru turns to face him, and Suguru knows instantly that he’s a goner. Although Satoru’s brows are furrowed down and his lips are set in annoyance, Suguru’s first thought is ‘how cute.’ There’s a slight sheen to them, as if he’d just put on some type of gloss alongside a healthy pink undertone to his pale skin. Bathed in sunlight, Satoru looks almost angelic. That is, until he speaks.

“Look what the curse dragged in,” Satoru drawls. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Suguru shakes his head furiously, trying to clear the haze that had suddenly descended in his mind at the sight of Satoru. “Sorry,” he manages to rasp, walking forward to gingerly set himself down in the chair beside Satoru’s bed. Satoru eyes him expectantly, but Suguru simply stares back, hungrily taking in the other boy's features. Satoru’s eyes are beautiful, twin pools of blue that Suguru could drown in if he looked too deeply. They’re a shade of crystalline blue he’s seen only in his dreams, with pale streaks resembling the reflection of clouds. Beautiful doesn’t even come close to describing them.

“Well, were you?” Satoru demands.

“What?”

“Avoiding me!”

“No,” Suguru lies. “I was just . . . busy.”

Satoru frowns, but accepts the excuse. For a moment Suguru thinks that’s it, that maybe Satoru was asleep during the kiss and he’ll escape this encounter without having to explain himself. But he should know better by now.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

Suguru freezes, brain short circuiting at the words. A thousand scenarios fly through his mind in seconds, consisting of all the choices he could make in that moment as well as their individual aftermaths. He should tell the truth, confess his feelings. What’s the worst that could happen? You could lose him. And that single thought is sobering enough to have him bury the confession lying on the tip of his tongue.

“Old habits,” is what he finally blurts out, immediately cringing at how it sounds.

Satoru frowns, “You have a habit of kissing people?”

Suguru immediately backtracks, “No! Just. Back home. When I’d put my little sisters to sleep, I’d kiss them on the forehead.”

“Oh,” Satoru responds, looking almost disappointed. His fists are clenching and unclenching on his lap in front of him and Suguru remembers how he’d held those hands the other day, and how warm they’d felt in his. Suguru releases a small sigh, relieved that he’d averted the crisis for the moment. There’s a small voice in the back of his mind sounding suspiciously similar to Shoko’s calling him a coward, but Suguru ignores it.

“How are you feeling?” Suguru asks tentatively.

“Fine,” Satoru grunts, avoiding eye contact. His cheeks are tinged slightly, as if he has a fever.

“Are you sure?” Suguru asks worriedly, standing up and reaching a hand out to feel the other boy’s forehead. Just before his hand makes contact though, Satoru lunges back to avoid him. Suguru’s arm is left hanging in between them, Satoru looking at him with his eyes wide, almost as shocked as he is.

“I’m fine,” Satoru grits out.

“Oh.” Suguru brings his arm back to his side, sitting down awkwardly in his chair. Satoru slowly goes back to his former position as well, lips pursed. Suguru scents the air discreetly, but it smells almost suspiciously neutral. Despite their intimate conversation a few days ago, it feels as if an even bigger chasm has opened up between them and Suguru is desperately fishing for some way to cross it.

“I just realized,” he starts abruptly. “I’ve barely told you anything about myself yet.”

Satoru eyes him warily. Suguru notes the way the omega rubs at his eyes, Shoko had mentioned that the Six Eyes were still giving Satoru trouble. He tucks that information away for future reference.

“I never asked,” Satoru says mildly.

Suguru forces a smile, “Anything in particular you’d like to know?”

The other boy pretends to think for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin in an exaggerated fashion. “Nope.”

Suguru’s brows furrow, he can feel Satoru retreating within himself once again. They’d made so much progress the other day, Satoru had opened up his heart and become vulnerable in front of him by laying bare his twisted past. Suguru knew it must’ve taken a lot of courage on the omega’s part, but something he’d said had caused Satoru to immediately clam up again. He just didn’t know what. Suguru feels a headache coming on so he reaches up a hand to undo the bun he’d made earlier in an attempt to lessen the strain on his scalp. His hair comes down in waves, and Suguru runs a hand through it to straighten the wayward locks. He looks up just in time to catch Satoru staring at him, slightly slack jawed and hazy. As soon as the other boy notices his gaze though, he snaps his head away to look out the window, cheeks tinged again with a slight dusting of pink. There’s a scent drifting in the air, something sweet but with an undertone of sourness, almost embarrassed? But that doesn’t make sense, what could Satoru have to be embarrassed about? Suguru’s still trying to work out what it could mean.

“The first time I saw a curse,” he begins abruptly. “I was five.”

Satoru still doesn’t look at him, but Suguru notices how the omega tilts his head slightly in his direction.

“It was hiding in my closet,” he continues. “I cried and ran to my parents. They came to my room and looked it over but couldn’t find anything. So, they got mad at me for kicking up a fuss over something that wasn’t there.”

Suguru’s eyes glaze over as he recalls the memory. The terror he’d felt at finding the mishappen creature huddled within the closet, how he’d run as fast as he could to his parents, and how angry they’d been at having been woken in the dead of night. They’d left him in his room after that, with a stern warning not to call them again for something so minor. He couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, and stayed awake staring at his closet door while listening to the curse mutter nonsense throughout the night. It was a minor one, barely even able to keep its form so thankfully it was gone by the morning.

“I still check my closet twice before I go to sleep at night,” Suguru chuckles hollowly. It wasn’t a pleasant memory by any means, but Satoru is finally looking at him now so Suguru counts that as a win.

“I learned from an early age to ignore the curses because no one liked it when I pointed out things they couldn’t see, least of all my parents.”

“Are you close to your parents?” Satoru asks curiously, head tilted slightly.

Suguru considers the question, rolls the words over in his mind and thinks about the people who gave birth to him. “My parents are very traditional. They value appearances above anything else, even their children. So no, I wouldn’t say I was close to them.”

Satoru hums in response, probably very familiar with traditional families.

“They definitely can’t compare to yours in shittiness though,” Suguru adds, looking up at the omega from under his lashes.

Satoru cracks a smile at that, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s hard to compete with my scumbag of a sperm donor.”

There’s a small pause, before Suguru continues. “Since my parents value appearances I learned to act the part of the prodigal first son. I was polite, well-mannered, I got great grades, and I was class-president all throughout middle school. I never stepped a foot out of line, and if I did I was met with strict discipline.”

“I can’t imagine you putting up with that,” Satoru snickers, body fully turned in his direction now.

Suguru looks at him in amusement, he can feel his eyes soften at Satoru’s mirth. “You’d be surprised. My dad runs a dojo, which is why I’m so good at martial arts. But it also meant he had a pretty heavy hand, and he didn’t hesitate to use it.”

Suguru looks away then, clenching and unclenching his fists. “It felt so . . . suffocating having to wear a mask at all times. Acting the way other people wanted me to, pushing down my emotions and pretending I was someone I’m not. I felt like I was going to explode.”

“They probably didn’t take your gauges well, did they?” Satoru asks softly.

Suguru chuckles humorlessly, “I got them done at the end of middle school, when I felt like I had to do something to release the tension. It was either the gauges or throwing myself off a roof and you can see which one I chose. They were worth the beating I got after.”

Satoru reaches out a hand, touching his finger to one of Suguru’s earlobes. He feels his breath catch in his throat, Satoru had to lean forward to make contact, so Suguru gets a direct whiff of jasmine and he feels himself go slightly lightheaded as a result.

“They look like they hurt.”

“I barely felt them,” Suguru chokes out.

Satoru hums in response before leaning back to settle against his pillows. “What about your sisters?”

Suguru jolts out of his haze as he realizes he’s barely talked about his sisters since he got here. Instantly he’s overwhelmed by the huge feeling of guilt that he’d been holding back. He didn’t want to leave them behind, they were one of the only things that made his life bearable. But at the same time, he had to get out of that hellhole before he lost what remained of his sanity and sense of self.

“Mimiko and Nanako,” he says, voice choked with grief. “They’re twins, both ten years old. Mimiko has a creepy ass doll she carries everywhere by a rope tied around its neck while Nanako is obsessed with her toy phones. ”

Satoru studies his expression for a moment, “You really love them.”

“Yeah,” Suguru exhales. “My dad had a funny mantra, ‘the strong protect the weak.’ I never really believed in it, until my sisters were born. I was only eight, but the moment their fists latched onto my fingers I knew I’d kill to keep them safe.”

“But you left them,” Satoru notes.

Suguru flinches, “You really know how to hit where it hurts.” He takes in a deep breath, leaning back in his chair to stare down at his limp hands. “I’m not proud of it, but I felt like if I didn’t leave I was going to lose myself. And that they’d lose me too.”

“I don’t have any siblings,” Satoru says conversationally, pulling his knees up to wrap his arms around them. The omega leans his head forward to rest against them, and Suguru can’t help but think he’s cute. “But you seem like a pretty amazing big brother to me.”

Suguru’s breath catches in his throat, “Thanks.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Satoru says tentatively. “I like you better when you’re not holding back.”

Suguru bites his lip, swallowing back against a ball of emotion that wells up at the back of his throat. “It . . . it’s worth a lot.”

“But you know,” Satoru continues, brow raised. “For someone so well-mannered you were awfully ready to fight me the first day we met.”

Suguru studies the other boy’s expression, Satoru’s lips are pursed in petulant annoyance. With a start, Suguru realizes that the omega is pouting. Without meaning to, Suguru laughs deeply, eyes crinkled in mirth, doubled over with a hand pressed against his abdomen. He can’t remember the last time he felt this happy. It takes him a little bit to gather himself, but when he finally does and looks at Satoru, the omega has his brows furrowed indignantly, fists pressed against the bed in righteous fury at some perceived slight.

Suguru smiles, eyes softening unintentionally. “Because you’re strong. I don’t need to hold myself back when I’m with you.” And being around Satoru feels like finding himself again, but Suguru doesn’t say that part out loud.

“You’re damn right I am,” Satoru huffs, titling his chin up haughtily. The attempt at coming off calm and indifferent is somewhat ruined by the fact that he also flushes so red he almost looks like a tomato. Suguru half expects steam to come blowing out of his ears at any moment. At the same time, he finds himself strangely smitten with the realization that Gojo Satoru is weak to compliments. It’s almost refreshing and Suguru wants to see more of this embarrassed, bashful Satoru.

“You know I really admire you,” Suguru continues, not a single lie exiting his mouth. “Because life dealt you even shittier cards than mine, but instead of letting it overwhelm you, you rose up to meet it. I’m jealous of your courage, and wish I had the strength to be more like you.”

Satoru is beginning to look almost queasy now, not used to someone praising him so honestly. But Suguru doesn’t miss the way the omega’s body unconsciously turns toward him, eager to hear more. “Ok, that’s enough.”

Suguru grins, leaning forward and resting his arms on his thighs. He can smell the soft scent of Satoru’s pleasure drifting in the air. As much as he pretends not to, the omega is enjoying this and Suguru is enjoying the sugary sweet scent of Satoru’s happiness. “Being around you is frustrating as hell, and sometimes you’re childish enough to make me want to cry. But at the same time, you bring out the be–,”

“Suguru!” With a shout, Satoru lunges forward and smacks his palm over Suguru’s lips. He’s breathing hard, and Suguru has a front row seat to watch an endearing blush spread across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Satoru’s mouth is set in a severe line, but the corners are slightly upturned. Each breath he takes brushes over Suguru’s face and at this distance he can smell the omega even more clearly, absolutely doused in the scent of Satoru’s reluctant delight. Unbidden, Suguru’s eyes dart down to glance at Satoru’s lips, soft, glossy and plump. He finds himself riveted by the sight, and when Satoru’s tongue flashes out to lick them in nervousness he feels a croon building up in his throat. In that moment, Suguru wants so badly to lean forward and kiss the gorgeous boy sitting in front of him. His gaze meanders back up to lock eyes with Satoru, and he notices a similar fire in the omegas eyes. There’s a tension building between them, thick enough to cut with a knife and Suguru can practically taste Satoru’s scent, absolutely saturating the air. He leans forward slowly, Satoru’s elbows bending easily as he allows Suguru to close the infinite distance between them. Suguru is so close now that he swears he can count each individual eyelash fluttering on Satoru’s pale cheeks, flushed rosy with want. He reaches up his hands to clasp Satoru’s arms, ready to pull the omegas hands away from his mouth and–

~TIGHT AS A VIRGIN BOY DON’T GET NERVOUS (TIGHT)~

~I’M HERE TO SERVE YOU CUSTOMER SERVICE (RIGHT)~

Suguru lunges back at the same time Satoru does, shocked by the explicit sound of rapping. He watches as Satoru scrambles frantically at the bedsheets, cursing under his breath as he hunts for his phone.

~I SAVE DICK BY GIVING IT CPR~

~(I save dick by giving it CPR, yes)~

~PUT MY MOUTH ON IT LIKE CPR~

~(Let's make porn and watch it on VCR)~

Suguru takes the moment to quickly right himself, brushing his hair back and pinching his thigh discreetly in an attempt to get rid of his rising hard-on. Satoru finally finds his phone and turns off the alarm, practically glaring at the screen.

“It was a viral tik tok sound,” Satoru rasps, defending his alarm choice. He looks appalled by the sound of his own voice, clearing his throat to get rid of the hoarse timbre.

“For your heat?” Suguru tentatively asks, trying to fill in the awkward silence that had descended.

“Yeah,” Satoru responds, once again fiddling with his bedsheets. They both avoid each other's gazes, simultaneously deciding to pretend nothing happened. Shoko’s disappointed face flashes across his mind, but Suguru can’t bring himself to care. She’ll probably lecture him after this, but that’s something for future him to worry about. Suguru brings a hand up scratch at his head, desperately trying to think of something to say.

“Speaking of–,”

“Well I sho–,”

Both of them halt,

“You go first,” Suguru smiles, and thankfully Satoru doesn’t call out the way the expression sits strangely on his face.

“Speaking of my heat,” Satoru says slowly, still not looking up from his hands. “I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

It’s an easy question to answer; Suguru can’t picture himself refusing Satoru much. “Yeah, of course. What do you need?”

Satoru hesitates before his face sets into something arrogant, chin tilting up so that he can look down at Suguru. “Give me some of your clothes.”

Suguru freezes, mind short-circuiting at the request. His immediate emotion is exhilarated pride and satisfaction bordering on conceit. Suguru’s instincts roar to the surface, extremely pleased with his omega’s continued acceptance of him. But he grapples with himself, trying to control his reaction and turn it into something more tame and less aggressive, face flitting over several expressions rapidly. The silence has gone on for too long however, because he sees Satoru’s previously haughty expression fall slightly, barely visible to someone who wasn’t paying attention as closely as he was.

Suguru jolts into action, throwing his hands out as if to physically stop Satoru’s racing thoughts. “Yeah, of course you can have them all if you want!”

Satoru eyes him warily. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he scowls, crossing his arms in front of himself as if warding away harm. “I asked Shoko and Yaga-sensei for something too. Shoko said it would help if I had the scents of people I feel . . . safe with around me.”

“Yeah,” Suguru rasps, mind practically feral at the thought of Satoru surrounding himself with his scent during the omega’s heat. “Like a, like a nest.”

Satoru grimaces at the word, “Yeah. A nest.”

Suguru clears his throat, once again pinching his thigh discreetly. “I’ll bring something over the next time I come to see you.”

“Don’t avoid me again,” Satoru warns with a pointed look. “I don’t know how much time I have left before my heat starts.”

“I’ll make sure to give it to you by the end of the day,” Suguru promises, tilting his head to meet the other boy’s eyes.

Satoru eyes him distrustfully, “Good. Now get out. I have to take my medicine.”

Suguru raises a brow and smirks, “What, are you a blushing maiden or something? Afraid I’ll steal your virtue?”

The other boy’s eyes narrow in annoyance, a tinge of red visible on his cheeks. “There’s a cream I have to apply to some private areas. So you need to leave because I know you can’t afford me.”

A flash of heat runs through Suguru’s body, he honestly wouldn’t mind a free show but of course he doesn’t say that. Instead, he splays his hands out in front of himself in a calming gesture and gets up from his seat. “Don’t worry Princess, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

He ducks through the exit before giving Satoru a chance to respond, but he can imagine the look of haughty indignation on his pretty face. Suguru lets the door click shut softly behind him and leans back against it with a long sigh. He can already imagine the pitying expression Shoko would level him with, but he had more pressing concerns. Suguru neatly compartmentalizes his thoughts, and shakes off the lingering urge to bury his face in Satoru’s stomach. Suguru has a call to make and little sisters to talk to.

* * * * *

When Suguru finally finds her later that day, Shoko is in the morgue busy dissecting some poor soul who was unfortunate enough to end up on her table. He doesn’t look too closely at the body, isn’t keen to find out whether it’s a human or a cursed spirit, but the sounds of her scalpel sliding through flesh and muscle is enough to make his stomach turn.

“Lemme guess, you ran away with your tail tucked between your legs?” Shoko asks without looking up from her work.

Suguru shuffles his feet, gaze straying anywhere but at her. “I wouldn’t quite sa-,”

Shoko interrupts before he finishes his sentence, “Did you, or did you not, confess?”

Suguru’s shoulders drop and he kicks at the floor, feeling like a scolded child. “No.”

“Pity,” Shoko grunts, finally turning her gaze up towards him. There are flecks of blood clinging to her goggles, and she’s still elbow deep in the body before her. “I had high hopes. What do you want?”

Suguru brings forward the soft, well-worn hoodie he’d been hiding behind his back. It’s one of his favorites, and has been through the wash enough times that the cuffs are fraying. But it’s also the one most saturated with his scent, he’s had it long enough that his pheromones have sunk into the very fibers of the fabric. When he’d been hunting through clothes to give to Satoru, Suguru had found himself turning towards it despite the hoodies' less than pristine appearance. And when he’d imagined Satoru wearing it? Suguru had almost been bowled over by a primal sense of pleasure.

Shoko wrinkles her nose, “It reeks.”

“It’s washed,” Suguru says defensively, pulling the hoodie closer to himself as if to protect it from Shoko’s displeasure.

“It doesn’t really matter when you’ve had something long enough,” Shoko scowls, motioning her head towards a table beside her. “Just throw it there. I’ll give it to him when I see him.”

Suguru immediately begins to move, relief coursing through him at Shoko’s quick acceptance. He throws the hoodie onto the table, feeling a twinge of guilt at the thought of Satoru’s disappointed face. It’s far outweighed by fear of losing the other boy and what they’ve already built between them. Just as he’s turning to leave though, Shoko speaks.

“He won’t be happy to see me.”

Suguru’s fists clench at his sides, “I know.”

“I’m assuming you’ve already come up with some excuse?” She continues conversationally, as if Suguru’s heart isn’t breaking in front of her.

Suguru falters, unable to think of something adequate. “Tell him . . . tell him I’m not enough.” And that’s the truth isn’t it? Satoru burns so brightly, practically blinding in his intensity, soaring through the heavens like the god he is and Suguru is just . . . Suguru. Boring, dull, dutiful, selfish Suguru Geto from the country-side, who can barely keep his own mind together.

Behind himself, he hears Shoko speak, “I don’t think that’s something you get to decide for him. But ok.”

* * * * *

Shoko walks in just as Satoru is arranging spare bed sheets and clothes into something that he vehemently refuses to call a nest. He doesn’t turn to look at her, instincts forcing him to become deeply focused on the task at hand. There’s a burning sensation just under his skin letting him know that his heat is just around the corner; time is something he doesn’t have a lot of at the moment. Satoru picks up one of the stuffed animals Yaga-sensei gave him to place towards the head of the bed. He casts a critical eye towards his set up; it’s a bit sparse but for his first time it doesn’t look bad. The bed certainly looks inviting enough, with plenty of blankets arranged into something big enough to firmly hold his body (and maybe even another) in place and ensure he feels secure. But Satoru’s instincts are refusing to abate, insisting that something is missing.

“I’ve got a delivery for you,” Shoko calls out, observing his actions. “Expedited shipping.”

Satoru grunts in response, tilting his head to look more closely at the nest. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, hit by the mixed scents of Yaga-sensei, Shoko and himself. Suguru’s scent is also there, but to a lesser degree. He huffs in dissatisfaction; there’s something off.

“It’s probably what you’re looking for.”

Satoru turns to face Shoko, brows furrowed in annoyance. Shoko pulls out a large zip lock bag, containing a mass of red fabric. Satoru cautiously extends a hand to take it from her, flipping the bag over to look at the item. He can’t make out what it is, so he opens the seal to get a closer look. Instantly he’s hit with the overwhelming scent of musk and a forest after rain. Almost frantically, he snatches the cloth out, throwing the bag somewhere to the side. Satoru brings what he now sees is a hoodie up to his face, greedily taking in a huge breath. His eyes drift shut of their own accord as he gently rubs the soft, well-worn cloth to his face. Satoru is suddenly hit with a sense of longing so sharp that he feels tears welling up in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he grits out, hiding the tears in the hoodie. His emotions are all over the place thanks to his heat messing with his hormone balance.

“Suguru sends his regards,” Shoko says.

“He didn’t come himself?” he asks, voice muffled by the cloth still held to his face.

“Nah, he was being a little bitch,” she responds indifferently. “Said something along the lines of ‘not being enough for you.’”

Satoru’s head snaps up as he looks at Shoko, hands clenching the hoodie tight. “He doesn’t get to decide that for me,” he says, almost viciously. Suguru is a coward who kisses people, throws their emotions into disorder, and runs. Satoru doesn’t need someone like that, no matter how kind they are or how much they feel like home.

Shoko shrugs, “That’s what I told him. But he was too caught up in his teenage angst and didn’t believe me when I told him you were hopelessly in love with him.”

Satoru blushes, “That’s not true.” The words are automatic and unthinking though, and he knows Shoko doesn’t believe them from the dubious look she sends him. Satoru doesn’t even believe them if he’s being honest.

“Everything is ready for your heat. The higher ups are unaware, we never told them about it from the beginning.” Shoko says, deciding not to press the issue. “Yaga-sensei called in some favors from friends and has them guarding the school. I’ll also be outside the door if you need anything.”

Satoru nods listlessly in response, turning around on auto-pilot to place the hoodie into his nest. He sets it down near his pillow, so that he can easily scent it but it doesn’t feel right. Satoru picks it up again, shifts the blankets out of the way and places it to the side. But that also doesn’t feel right.

“It should only last a day at most but it’s gonna be intense,” Shoko warns from behind him. He grunts an affirmative, all of his attention focused on trying to figure out the perfect place for Suguru’s hoodie.

“I’m going to leave now, but let me know if you need anything.”

Satoru once again nods, not turning to watch as Shoko leaves. He instead glares down at the hoodie, frustrated at its fussiness. A thought runs through his mind then, and Satoru reaches out a hand for the hoodie before snatching it back. He turns away from the bed, pacing across the room before he finds himself back in front of it. Satoru bites his lip, slowly reaching out to grab the hoodie. Before he can think too deeply, he quickly tugs his shirt off before pulling the hoodie down. Instantly, a feeling of relief and comfort washes over him as he’s surrounded by Suguru’s scent. The hoodie is wide at the shoulder and chest, but is slightly short lengthwise. Satoru snuggles his chin into the collar, taking in a deep breath. This is what was missing, he can already feel his instincts calming from their former frazzled state. There’s a purr building up in his throat, and he lets it out, too comfortable to police his instincts.

Satoru is ready just in time, the warmth under his skin begins to burn hotter, signaling the start of his heat. He makes his way over to his bed, flopping down onto the blankets and clothes with a groan. Curling up in the middle, Satoru pulls a blanket that smells of Shoko over his head, craving an enclosed space. Almost instantly, he throws it back off again, unable to bear the added warmth. Satoru stares up at the roof, allowing the seconds to tick by.

“I don’t miss him,” he stubbornly says, as he brings the cuff of his hoodie closer to his nose. Satoru shifts restlessly in bed, trying to find a comfortable position and trying not to think about the moment when Suguru opened his hair and let it fall in gentle waves down his back. It’s too late though, and the moment pops into his mind unbidden. He pinches his thigh hard, annoyed at his mind's betrayal. But Satoru’s instincts are antsy, anxious over the absence of a specific alpha, and are dreaming up any and all scenarios to relax themselves.

The warmth is beginning to feel stifling now, and his clothes feel practically abrasive on his body. His skin is incredibly sensitive thanks to his heat, and Satoru kicks off the sweatpants he’d been wearing. But he can’t bear to part with the hoodie, his instincts revolt at the very thought. Satoru groans as he wraps his arms around his stomach, he bites his lips in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain resonating throughout his body but it’s to no avail.

He feels like he’s burning up from the inside, there’s a furnace in the pit of his stomach and his whole body is hurting. His emotions are going absolutely haywire, one moment he’s furious and the next he feels ready to sob at the touch of a feather. Satoru desperately wants his suppressants, he wants chocolate croissants with caramel drizzled over them, he wants Hanako-san, he wants . . . he wants Suguru. And that’s what brings tears to his eyes, the acknowledgement that his mind and body both ache for Suguru. He desperately misses the sensation of being held in the alpha’s arms, the scent of his body, the breath of his chest, those ridiculous bontan pants of his and Suguru’s gentle and indulgent smile, the one specially reserved for Satoru. He turns his head into the pillows and whimpers, covering his eyes with an arm.

In front of others he puts up a strong front, but Satoru is undeniably aware of the fact that despite his title as the strongest, he’d been jerked around by Jujutsu Society from his childhood. His strength, the very thing that made him extraordinary, was at the same time a curse. It caused him to be isolated from his childhood, revered and shunned by all around him. They put him on a pedestal, pointed fingers, placed their oppressive expectations on his shoulders and expected him to carry their burdens for them, because he was the strongest after all. And, although he never let it show, it was lonely up there at the top. Agonizingly lonely. So when he woke up one day and looked beside him to see Suguru there, he’d been furious and confused. But a small part of him had been relieved, because Satoru realized that he wasn’t alone.

He’d done his best to push the other boy away, but despite the short time they knew each other, Suguru had a way of squirming through the cracks in the walls he built, and Satoru was afraid to admit that he actually enjoyed the other boy’s presence. Suguru evoked feelings in him, feelings that he’d never experienced before. To someone like him, cursed with all the power in the world yet at the same time none, Suguru’s very existence was a blessing. And for the first time in his life, Satoru wanted to be selfish and welcome that blessing.

“Shoko?” he rasps out.

“Yeah?”

Satoru pauses, “Can you . . . call Suguru for me?”

There’s a pause, and he hears rustling from the other side of the door as Shoko comes closer. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

And there’s a lot of things Satoru could say in response to her question. That yes, it is a good idea. That he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. That there’s an ache in his chest that only Suguru can fill. That if he doesn’t feel the alpha’s arms around him within the next few seconds he will do something insane. But Satoru’s mind is too strung out to form proper words, the only thing he can focus on is the thought that Suguru can fix this. That his presence will make it better somehow.

“Please,” he finally manages, voice cracking. Shoko must hear the desperation in his voice, because she doesn’t ask anymore questions after that.

* * * * *

For the rest of the day after he left Shoko, Suguru finds himself suspended between guilt and longing. There’s nothing he’d like more than to run to Satoru’s side, soothe him through his heat, cradle the omega close and murmur sweet nothings into his ears. But that’s not something he deserves, and Satoru also deserves so much better. He tries to distract himself, but each time he finds his mind drifting to Satoru. Is he eating properly? Is he keeping himself hydrated? Does he need more clothes for his nest? Does he . . . miss Suguru? Because Suguru misses him; there’s a Satoru sized hole in his chest that aches whenever he thinks about the other boy. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Suguru is finding that to be painfully true. He even finds himself missing the things he’d once hated about Satoru, like his infuriating smirks, haughty demeanor and petulant attitude. Maybe he should have given the hoodie to him by hand. Just thinking of Satoru’s grateful smile is making something warm bloom in his chest.

If you weren’t such a coward, a small voice whispered. You’d be able to see it.

Suguru shakes his head, trying to rattle the voice out but it persists in its rebellious thoughts.

Did you ever ask him what he wanted before you made the decision for him? Maybe he wants you too.

“He doesn’t,” Suguru says stubbornly. Entertaining these hopes would only hurt him in the end, he knows this. But they still manage to weasel their way into his mind. What if Satoru does want him too? What if Satoru likes him as well? It’s not a completely baseless thought, with the way Satoru acts around him. But on the off chance that he’s wrong, if Satoru doesn’t like him, then Suguru would lose whatever it was that they’d managed to build between them. It’s such a delicate thing too, painstakingly cultivated and infinitely more precious because of that. Suguru thinks he’d shatter if he lost it. After all, he’d only recently begun gathering the scattered pieces of himself, a painstaking task.

Suguru leans back in his seat, closing his eyes and picturing Satoru’s face. He thinks of the boy’s presence; so vivid, so expressive, so larger than life. Gojo Satoru is in a league of his own, so far above Suguru’s that he’s practically in space.

A star, he reminds himself. Gojo Satoru is a star. Beautiful, strong, brilliant, and an absolute force of nature.

He thinks of the curve of Satoru’s cheek, how he knows it would fit perfectly against the palm of his hand like the two were made for each other. He thinks of Satoru’s pale skin, surprisingly soft for someone in their line of work. No doubt thanks to infinity, he chuckles to himself. But Suguru wouldn’t put it past Satoru to not have a whole skincare regime, with how vain the omega is.

Suguru thinks of the stubborn jut of Satoru’s lips, the furrow in his brow whenever he’s frustrated, the way he fidgets with his hands when he’s nervous. Suguru thinks of his eyes, a shade of crystalline blue he’d only seen before in his dreams, flecked with silver throughout. So deep and bottomless that Suguru thinks he could drown in them. And he would, if Satoru asked him to. That’s the part that scares him the most. The startling realization that despite the fact that he’s only known the other boy for a couple weeks, Suguru would burn down the world for him if asked. Which is exactly why he decides to stay silent, and bury these feelings deep inside. Because what they have between them is too precious to lose.

It’s late by the time he’s brought out of his thoughts by a gentle ping. Suguru listlessly pulls out his phone to check the home screen, noticing a couple recent messages from Shoko. He opens them up.

heat started

its bad

hes asking 4 u

Before he’s even thought about it, Suguru is on his feet and out the door. It’s instinct, his own thoughts put on the backseat as his base desires take over. All the teenage angst in the world couldn’t stop him at that moment, adrenaline rushing through his body as he makes his way single-mindedly over to where Satoru is. As soon as he steps into the hallway leading to the infirmary, he’s bombarded by heat scent, practically bowled over by its intensity. He staggers into the wall, desperately cupping a hand over his nose to prevent his thoughts from becoming muddled. The scent itself is amazing, it smells like Satoru’s natural scent mixture of cashmere musk and jasmine except intensified by a hundred fold. He reaches into his pocket and shakily brings out a packet of rut suppressants, popping three quickly into his mouth. Suguru also pinches his nose shut and breathes through his mouth, he can’t afford to get distracted. Satoru needs him.

Suguru makes his way over to the infirmary door haltingly, the scent growing thicker and thicker as he gets closer to the source. By the time he reaches the door, he can practically taste it. Suguru leans against the wall beside the infirmary entrance, sliding down until he falls to the floor. The door is locked and reinforced with cursed energy; there’s no way Shoko would’ve let him through without those precautions in place. Suguru raises his hand and hesitantly knocks on the door. “Satoru?”

He’s answered by silence, long enough that he begins to worry that something may have gone wrong before hearing rustling behind the door.

“Suguru?”

Relief courses through him when he hears Satoru’s hoarse voice. He leans forward, resting his forehead against the door. Suguru feels tears welling up, and he’s ridiculously glad that Satoru can’t see him.

“Yeah,” Suguru chokes out. “It’s me. How are you doing?”

“Suguru,” Satoru breathes out. Suguru hears some more rustling behind the doorway before there’s a thud against the heavy wood as Satoru too falls against the door. “It hurts.”

Suguru’s fists clench beside him as his instincts roar in frustration. His omega is in pain and he can’t do anything about it.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks desperately. Being helpless is so frustrating.

“This is something I’ve gotta push through on my own,” Satoru responds grimly.

So Suguru sits helplessly and listens to the sound of Satoru’s labored breathing. It’s a humbling experience, grappling with his own insignificance. Satoru groans on the other side of the doorway, and Suguru’s on his knees before remembering that he has no way of helping.

You could be in there with him if you weren’t such a coward, a voice whispers. And Suguru has no reply, because it's right. If he wasn’t so caught up in his own self doubt he could be in there with Satoru, actively helping the omega through his heat. He has no one to blame but himself.

“Relax will you,” Satoru rasps, startling Suguru out of his thoughts. “You smell so in distress that I almost think you’re the one in heat.”

Guilt rushes through Suguru’s body, “I’m sorry.” He desperately tries to dampen his scent, pinching his thigh to distract himself with pain.

Satoru chuckles, but it sounds painful. There’s some rustling behind the doorway as he tries to get into a more comfortable position.

“You know it wasn’t all bad,” Satoru says abruptly.

Suguru is startled by the sudden change in topic, “What?”

“My childhood,” the omega clarifies. “It wasn’t all bad.”

“Satoru this isn’t the ti-,”

A groan from behind the door stops Suguru in his tracks, “Just shut up will you. And listen to me.”

Sugurus swallows his words, and waits for Satoru to speak. There’s a long silence, during which the sound of Satoru’s heavy breathing sounds deafening.

“When I first presented,” Satoru starts. “My father assigned someone to teach me how to be a proper omega. Her name was Hanako-san and she was an alpha.” There’s the sound of strained coughing from behind the door, and Suguru is halfway standing before it abates.

“Hanako-san was kind,” Satoru continued, voice strained. “Unlike what my father probably expected, she taught me everything I needed to know about being an omega and tried to get me to embrace that side of myself. It didn’t work but she never stopped trying. My old man didn’t like her thought, and kicked her out when he found out.”

There’s another pause, during which Suguru assumes that Satoru attempts to gather his thoughts. There’s a rustling sound as Satoru once again shifts his position.

“She loved me like a son,” Satoru reminisces. “And was probably the best thing that ever happened to me back then.”

“What happened to her?” Suguru tentatively asked, afraid for the woman. From what he’d heard about Satoru’s father, he wasn’t the forgiving sort.

Satoru snorts, “You don’t have to worry, she died peacefully in her sleep surrounded by her children and grandchildren. They buried her on top of a hill under a sakura tree.”

“Oh,” Suguru said, not quite understanding the point of the story. Satoru sighs, as if annoyed by his obliviousness.

“She was the first alpha I ever felt safe around,” Satoru clarifies, voice hoarse. “And you’re the second.”

Suguru furrows his brows, and then his mouth falls open as the omega’s words and their significance finally dawn on him. “Satoru . . .” his voice trails off, unable to think of the right words to say. Satoru liked him. Satoru liked him and Suguru was an idiot. Satoru laughs from the other side of the door, more of a croaking than anything, but it’s practically music to his ears.

“Talk to me Suguru,” Satoru rasps. “I wanna hear your voice. It makes the heat and emptiness more bearable.”

So Suguru talks. He talks about his childhood, about growing up in a small town where everyone knew everyone and you could never get any peace. He talks about the first curse he ever saw, and all the ones he saw after that. He talks about his father and mother, their list of unending expectations for him and how he felt so insignificant in front of their eyes. He talks about the first time he ever ate a curse, the disgusting taste, like a rag used to wipe up vomit and how they slid down your throat like rocks.

Suguru talks about piercing his own ears at the end of middle school, when he felt so small and overwhelmed he was almost consumed by it. He talks about his sisters, Mimiko and Nanako and how much of a nightmare they were to look after. Nanako was the one you had to worry about, Suguru hears himself say. Mimiko was simply a follower, Nanako was the one who got them both in trouble.

Suguru talks until his voice is hoarse, until his throat is parched and his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth. Even after he hears soft and steady breathing indicating that Satoru is asleep, he continues to talk. Even after his voice is nothing more than a whisper, he continues to talk. Suguru’s words don’t stop until he falls into a restless sleep against the door.

* * * * *

Suguru is rudely jerked out of sleep when his bed gets pulled out from under him and he falls against the floor, disoriented. He slowly pushes himself up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. Suguru looks forward groggily, noticing the door he had been leaning against while asleep is now open, which explains the rude awakening.

Suguru blinks slowly, noticing a rapidly tapping foot in front of him. He follows the foot and its twin to a set of pale, shapely legs that lead to the bottom of a frayed, well-worn red hoodie.

Suguru squints, there’s something he’s missing. He tries to put his finger on it, but the lack of sleep ensures it keeps eluding his grasp. Suguru continues to turn his gaze upwards, finally settling on the face of the individual in front of him. It’s Satoru, wearing a familiar red hoodie and nothing else. He looks like shit, hair damp with sweat, eyes red with black circles underneath and exhaustion dripping from every limb. He’s also never looked more beautiful.

“Hi,” Suguru breathes out, slightly dazed.

Satoru snarls, teeth bared and Suguru quickly rifles through his memories trying to think of anything he might have done wrong. Before he can figure it out, Satoru quickly leans forward and shoves him. Suguru is caught unaware, so he falls onto his back easily with Satoru following him down, gripping the front of his shirt in both hands and landing on Suguru’s stomach.

“You’re going to shut up,” Satoru hisses, brows furrowed in anger. “And listen to me. Do you understand?”

Suguru eyes his bare legs nervously, “Sato-,”

“Yes or no?” Satoru interrupts, shaking him roughly.

“Yes, yes!” Suguru answers, eyes wide.

Satoru glares down at him, looking for all intents and purposes as if he is about to beat Suguru senseless. Which is why what he says next leaves Suguru baffled. “Suguru Geto you insufferably handsome idiot. I like you.”

Suguru’s eyes go wider than before if possible, jaw slack with shock. And once again, Satoru roughly shakes Suguru by the grip he has on his shirt, “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Suguru answers, voice breathy and soft.

Satoru nods in satisfaction, “Good. I’m going to kiss you now. Punch me if you don’t want it.”

“Yes,” Suguru manages after a slight pause, nodding his head in a daze. Satoru smiles, robbing Suguru of what little brain cells he has left, before leaning forward and connecting their lips.

It’s not the best kiss, neither of them have any experience after all. Satoru’s angling is off, causing him to land too high and to the side, not quite meeting Suguru’s lips directly. Their teeth clash against each other and there’s more saliva than there needs to be, both of them trying to introduce tongue too quickly. But that’s okay, they have plenty of time to practice after all.

* * * * *

“What the hell are you two doing?”

Satoru blinks, turning his head to face Shoko as she enters the classroom. Beside him, he feels Suguru do the same. Shoko stands frozen in the doorframe, mouth open in shock. Sure it’s rare for him to be early or even on time to class, but Satoru doesn’t think it requires the theatrics she’s putting on.

“Waiting for class to start?” Satoru responds, confused at her tone. He turns his head to look at Suguru and finds the alpha nodding in agreement.

“You’re almost late Shoko,” Suguru cautions, looking just as confused as he does.

“I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about this,” she says, motioning aggressively at the two of them.

Satoru tilts his chin curiously, "Shoko, what exactly are you talking about?"

“Fine,” Shoko grits out. “I’ll bite. Why the fuck are you sitting in Suguru’s lap?”

Satoru blinks, he’d been so comfortable he’d almost forgotten. “Oh, that’s what you were talking about.”

Shoko’s glare sharpens, “What the fuck do you mean ‘oh’? You’re not gonna explain yourself?”

Satoru shrugs, “I’m just more comfortable here.” He shifts a little, as if to demonstrate his point, and lets himself sink more fully into the warmth of Suguru’s chest. Satoru tilts his head so that he can lean onto the alpha’s shoulder and tuck his nose into the crook of his neck. Suguru's scent is so much more potent near his gland, Satoru thinks he could get high on it. From his vantage point, he can see first hand the way Suguru’s ears turned red at his words, and Satoru presses his lips against the alpha’s neck just to feel him shudder.

“This is the thanks I get for giving you advice?” Shoko accuses, turning her ire onto Suguru. “Giving you both advice?”

Suguru squirms underneath him, “And I’m really grateful for that, it’s jus-”

“He can’t keep his hands off me,” Satoru finishes, sending her a smirk.

Shoko wrinkles her nose, “You’re both disgusting.”

“Disgustingly in love,” Satoru shoots back, sticking his tongue out at her.

“Satoru,” Suguru chides, attempting to deescalate the situation. But there isn't any real steel to his words, Satoru notes with satisfaction.

He turns his gaze to the alpha, tilting his head slightly so that he can meet the other boy's eyes. Satoru furrows his brows, widens his eyes and purses his lips in a pout. Instantly he sees Suguru’s expression soften, and mentally pats himself on the back. Satoru leans down and presses a soft kiss to Suguru’s lips. When he pulls back, Suguru follows him and molds their lips together more fully. Suguru’s tongue swipes across Satoru’s lips and he opens his mouth to the alpha with a soft purr. Their tongues meet and move against each other gently, still new to this whole thing. Suguru's hands wander down to his waist, pulling him more securely against the alpha.

“I’m done,” Shoko calls out behind herself as she turns to leave. “Tell Yaga-sensei I’m sick.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, pulling back from their kiss to look down at Suguru adoringly, an emotion he's tentatively begun to call love, overflowing from inside his chest. He brings a hand up to cradle the alpha’s cheek, and Suguru leans into it, nuzzling into the palm of his hand. Satoru feels so much more stable, so much happier, and so much more comfortable in his own skin than he's ever been. A part of himself that he didn’t even know was missing has finally slotted into place.

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” Suguru murmurs, lips still pressed against Satoru’s palm.

“Don’t care,” he grunts, leaning down for another kiss. Satoru thinks he’s addicted to Suguru’s lips now, and can't imagine going a day without them.

But Suguru pulls back and Satoru can’t help the whine that leaves his mouth. Suguru’s eyebrow twitches, clearly not unaffected by Satoru’s discontent, but he holds strong.

"She helped me a lot, you know," Suguru chides. "If it wasn't for her I probably never would've figured out my feelings."

"Yeah, yeah," Satoru responds impatiently, staring at the cupids bow of Suguru's lips as they flex to form words. "I'll PayPal her enough for that bone saw she's been wanting. Happy now?"

Suguru's perfect lips turn down in a frown, and Satoru can practically see the gears turn in his head as he tries to calculate whether a three hundred thousand yen power tool is enough to pay back Shoko for her service. So Satoru decides to sweeten the deal, leaning down to trail his lips against Suguru's neck.

"The bone saw and I'll throw in one of the grade one cursed daggers we have sitting in the clan vault," he murmurs against the warm skin, resting them against the jut of the alpha's collarbones.

Suguru tilts his head, bewildered at the way Satoru is so freely offering up clan treasures. He shouldn't be, Suguru should know already that he doesn’t do anything by halves. When Satoru loves, he puts his whole heart and soul into it.

"And the elders would just let you do that? Without any pushback?"

Satoru grins, pulling back and baring his teeth in what's practically a snarl. "They will if they know what's good for them."

He turns his gaze back down to Suguru, roping his arms around the alpha's neck and leaning forward to rest his forehead softly against Suguru’s. "Besides, if things go south I've got you for back-up. We're the strongest, aren't we?"

“Yeah,” the alpha breaths out, voice achingly soft. “We are.” Suguru leans up to close the remaining distance between them, and giddily Satoru complies, meeting the alpha’s lips with his own. For the first time in what feels like forever, Satoru finds himself looking forward to, and even welcoming the future. Because he’s no longer alone, and that makes a world of difference.