Archive of Our Own ^beta

It all happens during the seventh inning stretch, when she's busy bickering with him insisting that her prediction for how the game will end is wayyy more plausible than his, when a spectator next to her grabs her attention, and points to the huge screen at the center of the stadium.

She looks out into the distance then, her gaze landing on her baseball cap first, then her own face, magnified and giant on the screen outfield. Suddenly she's watching her confusion unfold in realtime. She catches the un-pleasant twist of her mouth, realizing that the Utahime on the screen has a border around her. Gaudy and pink, with the ugliest font she has ever seen in her life that reads: Kiss Cam.

"No freakin' way."

The voice next to her is Gojos. Utahime feels her stomach drop when she realises that the cheap heart border in the distance also extends to him. Framing his stupid face, the expression of which turns from surprise to amusement. He waves at the camera, flashing a charming grin.

"Hello Senpai!" He calls.

She hears him laugh next to her, incredulous and vibrant even in this unruly noise. She watches it grace his features on the giant screen for all to see. His head tilts back as he continues to lose it - handsome, even in his idiocy - she can feel the tremble of his shoulders next to her after all.

There are mutters behind her, people mumbling and and a few people pointing their way. Just do it! Someone behind her yells.

Yeah just kiss him!

Utahime shoots the dirtiest look in that general direction.

But the crowd grows rumbustious in seconds. Loud, anxiety inducing.

Her face is burning, her scowl is etching itself deep into her face and she can feel the tension grow between her brows.

Gojo is certainly close enough to kiss isn't he?

She can't think. She can't speak.

This is insane. This will ruin baseball for her forever. She will not- she cannot even-

No. No.

She's a grown-ass woman, this is stupid. Gojo isn't even that bad. He's not the worst, not even close. Not by a long shot.  In the deepest, truest, chambers of heart where she entertains the possibility, she knows this. But to acknowledge it in this way, this publicly is downright preposterous.

Ugh.  

"Gojo."

She turns to him.The Real-life him. The one next to her. The intolerable, insufferable one. The smug looking, whispy haired maniac. The one she's known for a good chunk of her life. The one she wants to-

Kiss! Kiss!

Best to get it over with then.

It takes alot to smother her thoughts. The noise and commotion helps. So she doesn't think when she reaches over, her fist twisting easily into the collar of his jacket. Dark blue denim, unlike the pale, glistening color of his eyes when she pushes his glasses up and searches his face.

Gojo looks exactly the opposite of how she feels, calm and still. A little surprised maybe, but amused nevertheless. Of course he would be, nothing fazes him does it?

His demeanor strikes her as familiar, and surprisingly soothing in all the ruckus.

Aren't you nervous too? She wants to ask.

There's no reason why he would be, but the question weighs her tongue down, caught at the back of her throat. She's quite parched now that she thinks about it. The air  feels stifling. Her bangs are starting to stick to her forehead under her cap.

Utahime grimaces, hoping it is enough as a an apology for what she is about to do. She exhales -probably the biggest sigh of her life- letting his sunglasses drop. Her hold on his collar tightens, then she pulls.

She doesn't kiss him with the same force (obviously, she actually likes her teeth thank you very much.) She makes sure to be gentle and careful.

The deafening uproar behind her is not.

There's the striking eruption of applause, people are shouting - someone actually whistles - and then it wanes. It wanes and her mouth is tingling.

She unfurls her fist, registering the sensation of warm fingers brushing her neck, letting her go when she leans back. She doesn't open her eyes until she's properly back into her seat.

Then she really does tug down her cap all the way, slumping over in embarrassment, trying do deal with her wild hammering heart. That, and an onslaught of (stupid! stupid, dammit!) thoughts of how not-terrible a certain white haired man is, and how not-terrible kissing him was.

And when Gojo tries to speak to her, poking her in the arm incessantly, she ignores him completely.

If she has to continue do so for the rest of the game, then so be it.

*

Coaxing Utahime out of her mortifying embarrassment had been difficult for Gojo.

She was so hell bent on pretending he didn't exist that he eventually decided not to bother her too much, lest she decide to rip his jacket to shreds altogether. Not that he would actually let that happen, but still.

But she left her self inflicted bubble of silence as soon the game started back up again. She even grabbed his arm in her excitement - cheering - only to snatch her hand back and grumble something he couldn't make out. He's pretty sure he caught the words infinity and useless, which he took as a good sign.

And when they made it out of the stadium Gojo was quick to suggest that they take the scenic route towards the actual exit to the complex, which was through a small park outside the stadium, built for tourists and the like. Much to his surprise, Utahime had agreed. So they ended up on a well paved trail snaking through the green, where a gleaming sun was beginning to set behind the metropolitan horizon.

They had been discussing the game, squabbling along, going so far as to argue about whose post-game analysis was better and more accurate than whose. (His obviously, even though Utahime made some serious points.) When they tired themselves out and the conversation tapered, Utahimes awkward silence returned.

It felt heavier this time around, stretching longer and longer with nothing to distract them but trees and flowering shrubs. Gojo was intently staring at a weird, chicken (or was it a horse?) shaped bush in the distance when Utahime tugged at his sleeve, ushering him over to a bench a few metres off to the side of their pathway.

So now when Gojo finds himself sitting underneath a lush, whispy tree with her, he has the feeling he knows exactly what Utahime will talk to him about.

Her kiss.

The one she planted on him. Even though in all and any scenarios he's ever imagined that actually happening - in another, luckier life - it is much much.... quieter for one thing.

Because when Utahime kissed him the atmosphere had been noisy and annoying and... not the best. If the circumstances had been up to him...well...

But Utahime had kissed him so sweetly, so softly despite everything. Nevermind that she had yanked him with enough force to rattle his teeth, and for all the the times in his life when he had been vying for her attention, actually getting it was unbelievable.

He could not puzzle out why she felt the need to look at him before she pulled him in? He couldn't forget the intensity of her gaze. What had she been seeking when she lifted his glasses, turning his heart restless and thrumming against his ribcage, loud and insistent?

Then there had been the sensation of her nose brushing his, and the sweet flower softness of her mouth. It was all over too soon, and all he could try to do was memorise the exhilarating, indescribable feeling.

Now Gojo leans back, blinking the memory away in want of something else. Something more, as if that simple, fleeting kiss had lit a bright fire within him, but then again, ( if he were to be honest) the fire had been burning for quite some time now. Flickering, fluctuating, but never put out.

He rests his elbow over the back of the bench, crossing his legs, as laid back as can be. As if he isn't dying to know what Utahime wants to say.

To his right, he watches her fretting with her bangs, then with the baseball cap in her lap, as if she does not know what to do with her hands. She settles with overlapping her fingers on her knee, after smoothing down the fabric of her culottes.

Then she turns her head to face him and begins to speak, but falls short in a way that only makes him curious. On the other end of this he finds himself willing her to say something. Something along the lines of how much she would like to try the whole kissing thing again, because she would want to.

With a swell of impatience, he figures he might as well save her the embarrassment of bringing it up. 

"Is this about the kiss-cam?" Gojo offers bluntly. 

Utahime frowns immediately, as if he's said something  crass.

"Yes...actually." She affirms. "Don't worry, it's not a big deal."

"Hm.Then why are you trying to take responsibility?"

He's only guessing, but the way she straightens suggests that it rings true. He wonders to what extent she would want to, or what she'll say. He holds her gaze for a moment, wanting it to be a big deal. Hoping for it to be.

"Because I should. It's the right thing to do isn't it?" She answers, matter-of-fact. "And according to you, we're friends aren't we?  I don't want you to uh-"

"Wait wait wait- According to me? Okay, Utahime what do you think we-"

She interrupts him in a rush.

"Listen Gojo, what I'm trying to say is just, that I- that I'm-" she takes a breath. "Sorry."

"What?"

Why?

"For the whole kiss-cam fiasco. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. It was stupid. The whole thing is, as a cultural practice.  Frankly, I think it's very disrespectful to people in general. That kind of co-ersion and social pressure... It should be outlawed."  She grumbles.

"But nevermind that, what I'm trying to say is" she continues, her voice taking on a waver. "If you uh, felt uncomfortable or anything else of that sort  I just... I'm sorry. For the whole..." she waves her hand vaguely, "or that it happened, I guess."

"Sorry that it happened..." Gojo repeats, registering the deep disappointment that rattles in his chest.

Not only is she apologising for kissing him of all things, Gojo is struggling with the reality that Utahime probably thinks they have a strictly professional (Proffessional!??? Coworkers?? Colleagues!!??? In this lifetime??) relationship.

Especially now that he knows what it's like to have had Utahime so close, he doesn't think he would like for things to go back to the way they were before this baseball match.

Even though it is touching that she's dignifying him with the apology. Her propriety in the situation doesn't escape his notice, but the silence between them feels off kilter, and Gojo can't say he's particularly fond of it.

He looks up for a moment, thinking of how to respond, watching the orange tinged sky peek through twisting, knotted branches when a sudden urge swells up within him to make light of this, so that Utahime doesn't worry too much.

"Are you sorry it happened, or-"  He quips, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "Are you sorry that it was me?"

Utahime looks so bewildered he can't help but laugh. The need for a sincere answer tugs at him, but his mouth is quick and reliably stupid.

"Jeez, Utahime. If you were saving your first kiss for someone special you could've just said so!"

She sputters. "What? That's not my first- I'm not saving anything for anyone you idio-"

"Honestly, fifty years is a long time to wait for a first kiss isn't it?It was bound to be stolen! Don't worry, I don't need an apology. It's alright. I didn't mind."

"Hah, because kissing a fifty year old crone is on your bucket list I'm sure." She retorts, rubbing her temples.

"Oho! Flattering ourselves now are we?"

Utahimes face changes color so fast Gojo has to peek over his glasses to double check.

"Shut up! You know that's not what I meant!"

"Right."

"It's not! I'm thirty-one!"

"Same difference."

Utahime doesn't respond to that, falling silent in her irritation when she leans forward, planting her elbows on her knees and resting her face in her hands. Her hair catches the breeze, dark inky strands that spill over her shoulder. Even her ribbon sways gently, and Gojo observes it for a long moment before giving it a tug.  

"Are you mad?"

"No."

"You sound mad."

"I'm not mad. I'm just thinking. You know what thinking is, right?"

The fact that she hasn't swatted his hand away is sound proof then, of her not-mad-ness, he thinks. So the end of her ribbon stays between his forefinger and thumb.

"What about?"

He watches her, gaze tracing the lines of her elegant profile in the setting sun when she answers.

"You, Gojo."

His heart rate picks up. He clears his throat, but his voice is uneven and quiet.

"What about me?"

"...What do you think?"

She regards him out of the corner of her eye. When she turns her head his way he can't decipher her expression at all. The crease between her brows is gone, for one thing. Her scowl is missing, and her gaze is hooded as if she's still thinking, pondering things in that smarty-pants head of hers.

I think, that I'd like you to kiss me.

He coughs. "I'd rather not say actually."

She blinks.

"What? Why not?"

"I don't wanna assume things, and you- you started this! I'm not telling you my thoughts about your thoughts about me, Utahime. Frankly, I don't even know what we're talking about. And-" he tugs gently at her ribbon again,for emphasis. "I'm. Right. Here. Whatever you're thinking, just say it to my face. 'S not like it ever stopped you before."

A series of expressions ghost her face, unrecognizable and conflicting. If it's because of him then perhaps that's... understandable. Unfortunate, but understandable.

She crossess her arms.

"Fine. I am sorry that I kissed you."

The same sinking disappointment returns, this time with great offence. He turns his head the other way adamantly, as snootily as he can. So Utahime can know what that feels like for once.

"Oh my god Utahime. Yeesh! I get it, we've been over thi-"

She suddenly touches his arm, turning herself more his way so that she is facing him on the bench entirely. Their knees touch and it works at shutting him up.

"I am sorry that I kissed you under those circumstances, but I'm not-" she meets his eye, face earnest, color bright on her cheeks. "I'm not sorry that it was you. Far from it, actually."

Gojo stares at her.

Somewhere in his mind he is propelling himself into the sky - boundless as he feels-  doing cartwheels and a little dance. He has half a mind to actually do it, since her admission is enough to have him feeling more than a little reckless. Utahimes fingertips are burning a hole in his jacket anyway, but she's busy rambling.

"I know I did apologise just a second ago, and I know you were joking when you said it earlier but I thought I shou- W-What are you looking at me like that for? You're the one that asked, didn't you? If I was sorry that it was you? Well Gojo, I'm not and that's that and honestly-"

"Then kiss me." He says, feeling breathless, wishing it.

Again.

His elbow on the back of the bench has managed to slide all the way past her shoulder. He could put an arm around Utahime if he wanted. He could sweep the hair away from her neck if she would welcome it, trace the edges of her scar, sweep a thumb over her cheek.

Not that this would be his first time thinking all this.

Maybe it's that first kiss that emboldens him so, instead of his habitual recoil and deliberate avoidance.

He has the nagging sense that if they had been anywhere else, at any other time, he would've broken off this tether between them. Utahime probably would have too.  It didn't take much after all, they were always one quick turn of the head, one snarky comment, one stupid sentence away from changing the subject.

And yet they kept coming back - or so it felt to him - to that same tethered feeling that would come up again, over and over, even when all they did was snark at each other. At times even the sarcasm would linger on the periphery of some kind truths, but they always moved on. There was always something bigger, urgent and more important.

A moment like this he could ruin (like  he's done a million times) with a joke or something dumb like Oh my my my Utahime! You're so inappropriate! Gotcha! Ha! And Utahime would probably let him do it too, all while recoiling in disapproval and not even batting an eye when she would turn away.

But he doesn't do that, and that's definitely not what's happening. Utahime doesn't move an inch within the distance that Gojo shortens. 

The cool lilac twilight is seeping into the space between them, and a lamp nearby flickers awake to welcome the oncoming evening.  

Gojo notices how it softens Utahimes face,  glittering in her dark eyes as she stays exactly where she is. No more than a few inches from his face, doing nothing but observing him.

Other than the intense focus in her gaze, Gojo senses something else, a heated glint that wasn't there before. New and certain, something he can't decipher yet. It's as if she's decided something.

"What did you just say?"

Gojo reminds himself to breathe.

"You heard me, Utahime."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Depends. Do you really think we're just co-workers?"

She regards him briefly, before pushing his glasses up, settling them on top of his head. Everything around him is brighter because of it. Her fingers are reaching past his collar, curling around the back of his neck, her thumb grazes the underside of his jaw. It is enough to send a searing heat all over his body.

Utahime leans in closer, eyelids fluttering when her nose brushes his for the second time today. Her voice is whisper soft.

"No."

And then she kisses him, and Gojo feels that exact same exhilaration he had been on the brink of when she had kissed him the first time. A near impossible feeling, coloring his senses, blooming in the space of his chest.

Except, now he can reach for her, like he's always wanted to. He can press his fingertips to the back of her blouse, stop thinking and return the favor. Properly.

He does this, and more.

His arm ends up around her, he feels her hand slide down, stopping to rest over his shirt, over his wild, racing heart.

Her name is the first thing he manages when she pulls away. It comes out incredulous, and wanting.

How could it not? When Utahime looks as wide-eyed as he feels? His gaze flits over the kiss-stung shade of her mouth, the brilliant darkness of her eyes. Another moment to add to all the instances before this - when he was younger, more foolish and just as taken - where he keeps realising over and over again just how beautiful Utahime is, even though it's not like he ever forgot in the first place.

With a tentative, careful hand he touches her cheek,  brushes his thumb at the edge of her scar. He sweeps her silken hair over her shoulder, just a little bit amazed that he gets to.

Maybe he's struggling with the whole reality of it, now that it has invariably shifted like this, all because Utahime crossed that invisible, somewhat undefined line, acknowledged it and told him she didn't mind. Which was the biggest shock of all.

And she hid it so well??

Which meant that if the kiss-cam hadn't happened then-

There's a thought that pushes through his mouth, quick and fervent.

"How long?"

Utahimes eyebrows furrow.

"Pardon?"

"How long have you been keeping this," He gestures between them, "from me? Would you have ever even told m- Ohmygod Utahime I can't- Okay wait. Wait- I got this. I can put this into words wait-" Gojo takes a deep breath - for effect, and because he needs it -  steepling his fingers and locking his gaze on her.

"Under what circumstances, were you going to tell me about this? If ever?"

Utahime somehow understands what he means, because she doesn't even hesitate.

"I don't know okay?" She replies just as vehemently, "Your deathbed maybe?"

Not anytime soon then.

"Utahime that was never gonna happen!"

He complains - just short of a tantrum at the thought - as he throws his arms up in exasperation.

"I mean,"  he huffs "Such a cliché! The sweet fair maiden weeping over her lost love, who is obviously, the most handsome, incredibly heroic and most noble mph!!-"

Utahimes palm lands on Gojos mouth, stifling his words. "Nope. I don't know anyone like that." She insists, and Gojo frowns at that, wrapping his fingers around her wrist to tug her hand away. When he manages this he intertwines their fingers, leaning his cheek against their hands.

"Whatever." He mumbles, turning the mesh of their fingers to kiss the back of Utahimes hand, watching her fading blush renew itself as she thwacks his arm.

"And what," He drawls, stubbornly clenching their hands tighter, "was that for?"

"S-Sorry. Reflex." Utahime actually looks sheepish when she says it, tucking a strand behind her ear which is just so-

He leans forward quickly, kissing Utahime square on the mouth before pulling back laughing at her surprise.

"Sorry Miss tomato-face," Gojo shrugs, grinning. "Reflex."

"Miss tomato-face?" Utahime scoffs, "you're one to talk. Look at the sight of you."

Utahime brings her fingers to his chin as if to inspect him - the casual touch drawing heat to his face -  narrowing her eyes until she breaks into a smile. An arresting, mischievous little grin.

"You're so pink." She smirks. "It's such a ... hmm, pig-like shade."

P-Pig-like??

Pig!!?

He blinks, feeling his mouth twisting into a flustered pout and what's worse is that he knows that what she said is making him flush harder, ears, neck and all.

Pig!?

Never, ever in Gojos entire life-

"Goin' around kissing pigs then Utahime?"

"No." She laughs, gauging his expression, looking amused to no end, patting his hand as if to mollify him."Just the one."

What's insane is that the fondness in her voice melts his instinct to be bratty, but it doesn't stop him from draping an arm over her shoulder and complaining.

"Must you wound me this way? Meanie."

"Fool."

The silence that settles between them now is better and more amiable than they've been all day, and Gojo, filled to the brim with thoughts of all kinds of new beginnings and possibilities, doesn't let it last long.

"Wanna date Utahime?"

"I'll...uh, think about it."

"You-You're joking right?"

"Depends. Do you think we're coworkers?"

"No way in hell!!"

"Well then," Utahime muses."I suppose you have your answer."