Chapter Text
Don’t worry Kento! We’ll be back faster than you can yell at us!
When Gojo and Sukuna had headed out to fill their fridge up with enough food to sustain growing boys and walking stomachs, the sky had been summer blue. However, the promise - uttered by the boldest man Sukuna knew - had proven difficult to uphold: the closer they had drawn to the store, the darker the sky had gotten, edging closer to a dirty grey than to any reassuring colour. Faster than they could even comment on it, they had been caught in a downpour. Great.
Now, Sukuna would have considered himself “bold” as well, but meeting Gojo Satoru had drastically changed his perspective. After all, prancing and acting up in front of Nanami Kento was an act of courage that he could only witness from a safe distance. As he stood on the pavement, drenched from head to toe, Sukuna found himself wondering just how much bolder Gojo Satoru could get.
“Ah, we better hurry, Sukuna... “ Gojo sighed, looking up to the sky with a pout, “We’ll catch a cold at this rate…”
Hurry was a feeble word, an understatement. Assuming they went on with their shopping, they would end up home with the food just as drenched as they were, facing a certain blond-haired man that had specifically told them to “take an umbrella, there’s rain up ahead”.
Gojo Satoru was a bit too calm for the thunderstorm waiting at home.
“We should go back,” he muttered under his breath, “Everything will get wet, there’s no point in going.”
Gojo hummed, taking a glance at him, “Ever heard of plastic containers? Pollutes a lot, but it comes in handy~ Now now, let’s be quick, I wouldn’t want you to get sick.”
Sukuna rolled his eyes, pressing his hands deeper into his pockets to try and keep himself warm. He raised his head towards Gojo, annoyance burning on the tip of his lips.
Yet like a cold shower, the sight of his partner was enough to silence him. Droplets of water weighed on Gojo’s snowy locks, framing his face in ethereal softness. Like a contrasting hue in a greyish world, he could guess the sky-like sparkle of his playful eyes behind the aesthetical sunglasses.
Truly, there was no arguing, especially when one look was enough to steal his breath away.
With a groan for all answer, Sukuna hastened his pace until the two of them were hurtling down the small path that led to town.
The familiar bell jingle sounded as they entered the small store, drenched to the bone. As soon as he felt the warmth of the shop on his face, Sukuna’s shoulders dropped, and he realised he had unconsciously tensed up once again. He knew rain often painted him in a morose expression, but it was always washed off his face by Gojo’s comforting presence - or a store heater, in that case.
A small chuckle sounded by his side and Sukuna immediately understood that Gojo had stood witness to the quick change in his attitude. He didn’t need to look at the older man to see the smile growing on his face; Gojo would never stop finding amusement in his despair.
In an effort to hide his embarrassment at being read like an open book, Sukuna extended his hand for the list Nanami had given them. As usual, Gojo made a show of patting himself out before drawing a dripping-wet piece of shredded paper and placing it in his hand. Sukuna’s lip curled up slightly and he lifted an eyebrow.
It was his turn to grin, “Really?”
“In my defence, I never expected it to rain,” Gojo lied as he crossed his arms to his chest in a mock pout.
“Nanami’s gonna kill us if we don’t get what he needs.”
“No, he isn't, you drama queen! We simply have to remember what he’d told us he wanted to make for dinner. He is not that difficult of a man to understand, you know~”
Gojo thought for a second and his eyes lit up in a worrying expression that Sukuna recognized as an indicator that a brilliant idea had come to his mind. He rolled his eyes, expecting the worst.
“How about we make it a competition? Whoever can guess and get the most things he asked for wins!”
“That is an awful plan.”
“Is that a no?” the other cooed, “You scared of a lil’ challenge?”
Sukuna’s brow twitched; not fair.
“Hell no!” he exclaimed, but still paused with a frown, “Are you sure it’s a good idea, though?”
He wouldn’t want to bring the fires of Nanami’s ire upon himself tonight, nor ever. Gojo hardly seemed like he was second-guessing his judgement, which wasn’t as reassuring as it sounded.
“Of course, you worrywart~ Find healthy, boring food and that will probably make him happy. I’ll go and get the condoms!”
Idiot. Sukuna rolled his eyes at Gojo’s stupid wink, and the bastard waved happily as he strolled away in the aisle under his unconvinced glare. He didn’t contest the other man’s decision; he didn’t have any better idea, after all.
Now, time to think. Logically speaking, Nanami would prefer for them to buy fresh food, not canned one, and would definitely get mad if they went home with nothing but the idiot’s condoms.
With a sigh, Sukuna headed over to the fruits and vegetables part of the store. He’d half expected Gojo to follow the same direction, knowing the heartbreakingly beautiful man knew Nanami like the back of his hand, but he couldn’t say he was surprised to see him venture down the toy alley. If he got Yuuji another one of those pistols with painful little beads, he would tackle him…
Alone, he strolled around, shoving his hands into his pockets and hunching over to hide the tattoos that covered his body the best he could. Public strolls rarely differed, and this one was no exception: a few unwanted and unwelcome stares pierced through his skin, reading through him in a painfully inaccurate analysis of the inked symbols. What they saw they interpreted as violence and disrespect, and through his avoidant gaze and rounded back, they concluded that he was of the lowest forms of life. In truth, sometimes he did wish he could disappear, go lower and lower under the very ground on which they walked whenever Gojo took him out of the house. Yet no matter his dreams of solitude and transparency, Satoru insisted that he needed the fresh air. Ironic, considering living with such an airhead was enough of an oxygen source for a lifetime.
It was only once he reached the fruit stands that Sukuna remembered that he was incapable of picking out ripe fruits, washing his other issue away. Not that he was particularly dumb or lacking in observation skills, but he had simply never been taught. When he’d been living in the suburbs of the vibrant city, both the tasks of choosing ingredients and cooking them had been left to Itadori. Indeed, Sukuna had always been too busy juggling a handful of small jobs to prepare decent meals for the growing boy, and hence he had taught him how to cook pasta and canned food quite early on. However, Yuuji had quickly caught up and learned to improvise, including in the art of picking out ripe fruits and vegetables. And while they had occasionally found themselves eating salty cakes or sugary curry, there was no denying that the boy was a lot better in the kitchen than Sukuna was.
A certain feeling of powerlessness stole his energy away for a heartbeat. The fresh fruit alley was kept at a low temperature for preservation purposes, and a shiver ran up Sukuna’s back when a gush of cool air caressed his soaked clothes.
As “fun” as wandering through the supermarket with a bold man like Gojo could be, Sukuna loathed the way it reminded him of his status. Fancy people, fancy food, fancy methods to pick out fruits, meat, cereals… Everything proper seemed “fancy” to him, for the simple reason that he was new to the entire concept of “purchasing power”. He’d never been in an organic store for he had never had the means to buy such quality food for Yuuji, and that despite working four jobs to tie loose ends. He’d never had to think about what a proper, perfect, impeccable man like Nanami would require as dinner ingredients for the simple reason that they used to be lucky if they could even afford fully home-cooked meals once a month.
And that was the source of the sudden drop in Sukuna’s mood: Nanami.
Picture-perfect Nanami, with his calm eyes, poised voice, proper stance. Nanami who cooked, Nanami who cleaned, Nanami who dealt with taxes and maths homework. Nanami who had been living with Gojo for a little over three years, while Sukuna had only barged into their lives less than a year ago.
No matter how many times he looked at it, Sukuna knew Nanami was simply better, whether it be at dealing with the storms Gojo managed to bring to life, or with the simple task of picking fruits.
A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, startling him into opening wide eyes, all senses alert. Gojo stared back at him, confusion on his face as his hand floated in midair where Sukuna’s shoulder had been a few seconds before. Heat rushed to his face and Sukuna turned his head away to hide the flush in his cheeks. A small smile played on Gojo’s lips, and a glimmer shone in his crystal blue eyes as they bore holes into the side of his head.
“Well what got you so jumpy, my good sir~?”
Sukuna gulped, trying to offer him a casual smile, “Ah, nothing sorry… Didn’t see you coming…”
He knew his voice sounded a bit too dry, but he decided to ignore it. He turned his attention to whatever was in front of him, suddenly captivated by the glossy red sheen of the apples. He reached out to them, taking one in each of his hands and inspecting them as though he knew exactly what he was doing.
He did not. But that would not stop him from admiring them until Gojo left for-
“Kento’d love those apples.”
This time, Sukuna flinched, accidentally letting one of the apples escape his grasp. He immediately tried to grab it back, but the ridiculous fruit made a show out of humiliating him, rolling over his fingers and bouncing from one hand to the other. Ah, it was red with hilarity, surely…
In a last effort, Sukuna threw himself after the fallen fruit and found himself face to face with Gojo, who caught it effortlessly in his hand. Sukuna swallowed dryly, watching him with an embarrassed blush.
Gojo smiled and cocked his head ever so slightly, his snowy locks flirting with his dark glasses.
"Bullseye~" he purred - as if he’d asked a question Sukuna had inadvertently answered - before offering the fruit to him in a casual gesture, “You’re thinking about my Kento again~”
Gojo had this way of toying with people that Sukuna had learnt both to love and fear. Between the devilish grin and the soft hand, he was not sure which reaction would lead him to play right into a trap or a hug.
Lost for lost, Sukuna would at least save his pride. He snatched the apple away and shoved it in his bag, "I wasn't thinking about Nanami for the reasons you're thinking about, Gojo. I was merely trying to remember what he had told us he was going to cook this evening… I wouldn't want to get yelled at because you weren't even able to keep some piece of paper dry."
Gojo's smile did not falter, and it ignited a fire in Sukuna's stomach; now was it anger, or a more endearing passion, he couldn't tell.
Denying he was ever immune to Gojo's charms would be an awful lie, and since he was a terrible liar anyway, he had enough self-respect not to bother himself with such troublesome things as partial truths.
Maybe it was this funny pride of his that had barred him from refusing Gojo's advances, a year back; maybe was it even this immutable honesty's fault if he had been unable to refuse his proposition to "move in, why dontcha? It'll be fun, and I'm sure Yuuji will be terribly happy to have a friend his age!"
Or maybe was it simply love. Now that was an embarrassing thought. On paper, it was better to simply call it pride: “Yes, we'll move in. But only because I am in no way scared of commitment. And I shall prove it by moving in with my adopted kid, despite the fact that you already have a partner and a child. And we'll fit right in, you know why? Because we're full of spite ."
Long story short, a few months passed, and Sukuna was standing in front of a batch of apples, ears as red as the fruits were, and very much refusing to acknowledge that, maybe, in fact, he wasn't totally confident in his ability to woo the most proper half of the joyous couple he had so casually barged in on.
So much about immutable honesty…
By the time Sukuna escaped his own thoughts, Gojo had already moved to another stand a few feet away, and was carefully analysing the gentle purple sheen of the eggplants. He passed a large one from one hand to the other, as though judging its weight.
Sukuna didn’t join him immediately, fearing that the other might try to talk about Nanami again, but rather observed the way each of his movements seemed so completely and utterly effortless. With a groan, he shook his head, wondering how low one must have fallen to find sensuality and beauty in the way someone examined an eggplant. Some people were simply gifted with all the grace of the world while others had to make do with what was left. It really was quite unfair.
Gojo was an eccentric man, rarely silent, rarely still. Sukuna had understood quite early on that these small moments of observation were to be cherished, and so he focused on painting the image on the canvas of his memory.
Unfortunately, silence and adoration always brought the darkest thoughts to his mind: once again, Sukuna found himself wondering why Gojo had chosen him. Him out of everyone else, out of all those amazing people he must have met. Him, despite already having Nanami to himself. This man who had everything, who caught every gaze when he walked in a room, who succeeded at everything he attempted, had approached him, Ryomen Sukuna, an overworked low-life who lived in a shitty apartment in the suburbs and struggled to bring up his adopted boy.
The reason behind this ridiculously miraculous affection still escaped his understanding.
Was it charity? Was it curiosity? He would probably never truly know. All that mattered was that Sukuna felt out of place and awkward, stuck between Gojo’s overwhelming boldness and cheerful attention and Nanami’s kind harshness and unreachable emotions. They stood worlds apart from him and he feared he would never properly fit in. How could he, after all? They were the perfect couple, two of the best real estate agents in Tokyo. They understood each other with one look, loved each other with a single word.
Sukuna would never be able to understand Nanami’s strange and cold love, and surely had it been a mistake on both Gojo’s and his own account to believe he could be anything more than a third wheel.
With a sigh, Sukuna forced his feet to move until he was by Gojo’s side. Without even glancing at his face, Sukuna knew that the white-haired idiot was smiling; Gojo simply had this way of knowing exactly how he would react, behave, and when he would do so. Chances were he was waiting for him to approach.
“Meat’s the last thing we’ll be needing, I think,” he simply noted.
Sukuna blinked, not expecting such a casual comment, “Huh?”
The other man turned to him with an amused smile.
“Why, I didn’t know my beauty was so distracting! I’m flattered!” Lies. Gojo chuckled as he patted Sukuna lightly on the cheek. The other man felt the heat rise in his face, and he scrunched up his brows in annoyed embarrassment as Gojo continued, “I said: all we need now is some meat.”
Sukuna rolled his eyes and slapped his hand away.
“I knew that,” he growled unconvincingly, “I’ll go get it.”
“Not without me you won’t. If I let you go alone, I’m pretty sure you’ll manage to buy something disgusting.”
Sukuna immediately cocked an eyebrow, “You’re as terrible as I am in the kitchen, you know. How come you’re the leader now?”
Gojo flashed his usual enchanting smile and his eyes twinkled with mirth as he leaned forward, stopping centimetres away from Sukuna’s face. Had he had better control over himself, Sukuna would have been able to stop the flush from spreading any further than it already had. Unfortunately for him, his self-control was more or less non-existent when in Gojo’s presence.
“Because I’m taller~”
The words broke the enchantment spell, and Sukuna grew as red as the apples that had troubled him minutes earlier.
“Asshole,” he groaned as he rolled his eyes.
Despite his annoyance, Sukuna wasn’t against spending more time with said asshole, and so he waited for Gojo to finish picking out the fresher vegetables. The only task he was entrusted with was weighing the vegetables and fruits the other had chosen. He would take a few steps down the alley to set the bags on the scale, type in their content in the machine, and wait for the small tag to print out. A tedious chore, really, but not one he had the luxury to refuse; he had to make himself useful somehow. Gojo had insisted he give up on all of his jobs, arguing that his employers were assholes who overworked him, and that his and Nanami’s salaries were enough to sustain the five of them. Sukuna had been able to argue that keeping one job wasn't going to ruin his health, but he still knew that his poor salary as a drive-through employee couldn't compare with the two others' earnings.
Now, Sukuna wasn’t exactly sure Gojo understood how terribly embarrassing and humiliating this was, especially considering that Nanami and him barely knew each other. He’d met him and Megumi a few times at the cinema he worked at as a janitor, or even at the drive-through, but truly, no “courting” had happened between them. The fact that Nanami was expected to simply waste his earnings away on a virtual stranger made him sick to his stomach.
A few minutes and five bags later, the pair were making their way to the meat section of the store. For some reason that Sukuna failed to understand, having Gojo attached to his arm like a happy schoolboy was enough to stop people from staring at him and his tattoos.
Soon enough, he was able to tell why he had suddenly become a random citizen to the other customers: their eyes were drawn to Gojo’s ethereal presence and simply overlooked him as they struggled to come to terms with the other man’s grace. Their awe didn’t bother Sukuna nor trigger any kind of jealousy; if anything, he was actually grateful for the stolen stares. Being able to walk by Gojo’s side enabled him to feel almost “normal”.
“What are you in the mood for tonight?” Gojo suddenly asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully as he studied the rows of different meats laid out before him. “We could have steaks, pork ribs, chicken, or… duck!”
Gojo clapped his hands like an overexcited child and turned to Sukuna with big sapphire eyes, cocking his head as he did so to plead.
Sukuna rolled his eyes before his antics, “Whatever you want, but remember you’re paying.”
“Nah, Kento is.”
On these words, he whipped out Nanami’s card and waved it in front of Sukuna’s face, a wide grin plastered on his lips as the tattooed man groaned; they were going to get murdered once they got home.
“Nonsense, Kento’s not going to kill us.”
Sukuna frowned, raising a confused and slightly worried gaze to the other man. Shit, had he spoken aloud? Was Gojo a medium? Yet the idiot simply shook his head and winked at him, very proud to have “guessed” what he was thinking about once more. With a sigh, Sukuna lifted his hands in the air, and thus relinquished all control of the situation to Gojo. If they got told off, he would be the one doing the talking. And the dying.
Trusting Gojo with choosing the meat was an idea that Sukuna soon came to regret. The bag that hung off Gojo’s arm was filling up at a worrying pace for a family of five, and after a while, he started putting some of his picks in Sukuna’s bag instead. As the white-haired man absentmindedly handed him different packets, Sukuna was able to catch a glance at the prices of what they were going to buy.
He almost choked. The cost of a single one of these meats would have been enough for him to work overtime for at least a week if he wanted to pay the rent. The pair of real estate agents never ceased to astonish him, be it by their open-mindedness or their excessively high purchasing power.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to find Gojo looking at him quizzically.
“You alright?”
Sukuna forced a smile and nodded. Gojo didn’t look very convinced but he didn’t push the subject, something Sukuna was actually very thankful for. The white-haired man seemed to understand fairly easily which boundaries could or couldn’t be crossed, and he never pried too much, simply trusting Sukuna to open up if things got too rough. That was probably the only reason why Sukuna allowed himself to entrust him with the newest chapter of his worthless life…
“Let’s go pay then.” He stared at Sukuna for a second before continuing, “And let’s hope it’s not raining anymore...”
These last words were uttered with a contagious grin that Sukuna couldn’t help but match. Damn this easy-going idiot…
Gojo led the way, navigating agilely through the crowd, and before long they were standing before the cashier, waiting for her to ring all the food up.
Her glare immediately made Sukuna uncomfortable. No matter what he did, her eyes would follow the lines of his tattoos, stabbing into him as her lip curled up in distaste. She evidently did not approve of his appearance. Like almost every person he encountered in his day to day life, she had already labelled him as problematic and was wearily expecting him to cause a fuss. So he ignored her and avoided her gaze the best he could, hoping that this would make her stop staring. If anything, his silence and passivity only seemed to infuriate her more, and she started ringing the purchases in with quick and aggressive gestures.
“Sukuna, you’ll be paying, right?”
Gojo’s voice tore through the silence, and punched the blood right out of Sukuna’s heart.
He turned his head a bit too quickly, seeking an explanation in the other man’s eyes. They shone with barely contained annoyance, outlined by a frown that disguised his anger as inquiry. Evidently, he had noticed her staring daggers, and judging from the pinching of his lips, he did not tolerate any of it. Gojo placed a hand in the small of Sukuna’s back and gently pushed him forward, slipping Nanami’s card into his hand and leaning towards his ear to whisper the code. The soft warmth of his breath blew another fatal strike to Sukuna’s heart.
He looked at the other in inquisitive distress, but Gojo merely smiled in encouragement, cocking his head towards the machine and pushing him a little more forward. The cashier read the total aloud - and surely Sukuna’s blood pump wouldn’t have survived the amount had his brain not been reeling with anxiety. She scanned Sukuna in disapproving annoyance as he advanced forward with the card.
With slightly shaky hands that he cursed internally, he fed it into the machine and hesitantly typed in the passcode. The small screen lit up as it processed the transaction, and it was only when the receipt started printing that Sukuna realised he’d been holding his breath.
The cashier clicked her tongue and plastered a fake smile on her face as she ripped the paper out of the machine and held it out for him. As he reached out to take it, almost accustomed to the rudeness she displayed, Gojo pulled his hand away and yanked the receipt out of her hand, much to her astonishment.
“Thank you,” he uttered, voice dripping with barely restrained fury, “That’ll be all.”
And with that, he grabbed the bags, Sukuna’s hand, and stormed out of the store.
Sukuna’s brain fell victim to the distressing down-swirls of his mind and the follies of his heart, leaving him insanely conflicted. On one hand, he was thankful that Gojo had stepped in, sparing him from the shame of having to deal with the lady without letting his anxiety get the best of him. But on the other hand, he was furious at himself for appearing so weak and spineless, hence forcing Gojo to defend him and fight his battles. Twelve years of living in the suburbs, six of raising a kid, and the moment he was facing someone whose only achievement was to know social norms better than he did, he faltered.
The pair walked in silence, the fresh early evening air brushing against their drying clothes and sending a shiver down Sukuna’s spine. While it wasn’t raining anymore, the breeze was gradually growing stronger as they walked up the path, and Sukuna found himself sneezing. In the quiet night, the sound may as well have been a gunshot. This day was a fucking wonder…
Gojo started at the noise, and he let go of Sukuna’s hand, turning around to stare at the shorter man. Sukuna wished he could disappear, at times.
“You alright there?” he tried with a soft smile, head cocked as his eyes scanned him from head to toe, “Kento will kill us if you do catch a cold…”
“I’m fine, it’s just freezing out there,” Sukuna shrugged. He lifted the bags and continued, “We should hurry up and get back; all this needs to go in the fridge.”
“I think you mean freezer, love,” Gojo snorted, “I doubt the ice cream will survive a trip to above zero temperatures~”
Sukuna rolled his eyes, “Same thing, different name,” he muttered under his breath, “You’re being fussy…”
“Mmh sure. Just like a microwave is the same thing as an oven~”
Sukuna thought for a few seconds, before throwing him a glare that meant “Well to me, they also used to be the same thing before Nanami and you taught me that money makes people act like brats with stylish tastes”.
His threatening aura had for only effect to make Gojo’s expression soften. Teasing, speaking, observing… Gojo Satoru had many tricks to assess his family’s mental state. And as annoying as being read like an open-book was, Sukuna also knew that if someone was to make this expansive little circus turn into a functional household, it was him.
Sukuna smiled to himself as the other man - his lover - beckoned him forward.
“Let’s get you home now.”