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Getou hated going on missions alone. Of course, it hadn’t always been that way. Solo missions used to be an escape from Gojo’s constant whining, but since Gojo had taken in the Fushiguro’s, when Getou was on assignment he’d just worry about them.
He and Gojo had always been close, and when Gojo decided to look after the two kids he had essentially turned into orphans, Getou had told him that he’d help him whenever he needed it. But Gojo wasn’t really one to ask for help all that much. He was very independent, especially when it came to the kids. Within three weeks of them moving in with the sorcerer, he had learned how to cook. Nothing special, just different types of noodles, soups, and stews. But it was an effort he consciously made so that he didn’t have to ask for help.
So the fact that Gojo was so independent was why Getou had been sent into a panicked frenzy by the text Gojo had sent him. The one that had just said ‘ Help me ’, followed by a complete lack of response afterwards. He’d received it right at the end of his assignment, and he felt his blood pressure rise with his panic levels as he travelled back to Tokyo.
He had never run as fast did from the train station to the three-bedroom apartment the school had given Gojo when he first started looking after the siblings. As he reached the front door, he very briefly considered knocking, choosing instead to just barge in, fully aware that Gojo wouldn’t be able to answer if it were an emergency.
“Satoru!” He shouted as he barged in, his hair a mess and out of breath. He locked eyes with Megumi who was standing in the middle of the hallway, holding his GameBoy and looking at Getou with a confused, furrowed brow. “Megumi-Kun.” He greeted. “Is Satoru here? Are you okay? Is Tsumiki okay?” He asked, trying not to seem too panicked as he didn’t want to scare Megumi.
“Yeah..?” Megumi said, a little uncertain about Getou’s tone. “Satoru-san is in the kitchen with Tsumiki. Are you okay, Suguru-san?” He asked with a brow raised, scanning Suguru’s body. “You’re bleeding.” He observed, pointing at Getou’s chest.
Getou looked down, seemingly only just recalling that he was actually injured and had yet to go and get checked out by Ieiri. He stood up straight, and let out a soft sigh. “Do you know why Satoru texted me?” He asked, and Megumi shrugged, walking into the adjoining living room and taking a seat on the sofa.
With a sigh, Getou kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, making his way to the kitchen, still yet to feel the sting of his injuries. He stood in the archway that led into the kitchen, leaning against the frame, and watched as Gojo helped Tsumiki mix something that looked to be cookie dough. “You’re injured.” Gojo observed, not needing to look up at Getou in order to know.
“You texted me saying you needed help.” Getou retorted. “You don’t look like you need my help.”
Gojo hummed. “Tsumiki here is a bit of a genius.” He complimented and she smiled widely. “She managed to find exactly what I was looking for. Sorry if I worried you.” He apologised, clearly not meaning it. Getou rolled his eyes.
“Do I have any shirts here? This one is ruined.” He complained, and Gojo finally looked up at him, his brow rising on seeing Getou’s state.
Gojo nodded in the general direction of his room. “Shower too.” He stated as he looked back to the cookie mix. “You stink of sweat and curses. And blood.”
“Yeah, I was planning on going to see Shoko but then you sent your cryptic text.” His words sounded annoyed, but his tone was fond.
“Why?” Gojo asked, and Getou chuckled.
“I don’t know, maybe because I’m bleeding, and I’m pretty sure I have at least one broken rib.” He commented, wincing slightly as he breathed in a little too deeply.
“No, I mean why go to Shoko? I can heal you.” He pointed out as he passed the spoon to Tsumiki. “Stir that for me? While I heal Suguru?” He asked, smiling softly at her. Tsumiki smiled and nodded, her little tongue sticking out as she focused on mixing. She’d always been very quiet, but Gojo was slowly pulling her out of her shell.
Gojo approached Getou slowly, a grin on his face as he did. “So, what do you say, Suguru?” He teased softly. “Will you let me heal you?” He tilted his head a little, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he did.
Getou had known he could’ve asked Gojo to heal him, but he had wanted to go to Shoko. Getting healed was potentially embarrassing, and his wounds ran deep. Deep enough that Gojo would tease him about it, poking fun at his weakness. And he knew that healing cursed injuries required contact with the soul; he didn’t want Gojo to feel his soul, to feel the sticky black goop that he was sure his tainted soul had become. After all, taking in that many cursed spirits must’ve changed it in some way.
Getou took a small step backwards as Gojo got closer, raising a hand slightly to halt him. “I’m good.” He refused, already turning towards Gojo’s room to make use of his ensuite. “I’ll be twenty minutes.” He waved behind him, closing Gojo’s bedroom door and leaning back against it. He made his way to the bathroom, closing and locking the door - on the off chance that Gojo decided he wanted to mess with him.
With an exhale, he unbuttoned his shirt and turned on the shower, pulling his shirt off and looking at himself in the mirror, finally taking in all of his injuries. The wounds on his chest were deep, and he was bruising all over his torso. It hadn’t exactly been a difficult curse to exorcise, but it’d managed to get a good few hits on him before he was able to finish the job. Damned special grades were becoming far too common these days.
He stepped into the shower, wincing as the hot water hit his wounds. It wasn’t all that painful, so he had to assume he was still full of adrenaline. Which meant that at least for now he could deal with it.
Getou liked Gojo’s water pressure. And his shower never got cold. Unlike at his own place. It sucked how little he was paid for what he did, but as one of the only sorcerers that came from a family of ordinary humans, he was undervalued. Even as a special grade sorcerer, he was paid enough to afford the rent for the shitty one-bedroom in the centre of Tokyo that he lived in, but not enough to afford any overly exuberant luxuries.
Gojo didn’t have that problem. The school paid for everything for him while the Fushiguro’s lived with him, on the premise that Megumi would become a sorcerer one day. And they paid him very well for each of his assignments. And he had his family money. Yeah, Gojo was well off. That’s not to say he didn’t work hard, of course he did, but so did Getou. The fact that the amount they were paid was based on family status over general skill or effort was bad business on the higher-ups part.
As he stepped out of the shower, he carefully patted dry his chest then wrapped the towel around his waist, grabbing a second towel and rubbing his hair between it. He opened the bathroom door and wasn’t at all surprised to see Gojo sitting on the bed waiting for him. He barely acknowledged him as he made way to the dresser where he knew one of his shirts would be - Gojo had a habit of stealing them whenever he was over at Getou’s place.
“You’re in pain.” Gojo observed, standing and making his way to Getou, leaning his chin on his shoulder. He snaked his hands around Getou’s waist, tilting his head and looking at his face. “You should let me heal you.” He stated, his breath feeling hot on Getou’s neck.
“No.” He refused again. “I can deal with the pain until I see Shoko. It’s not that bad.” He insisted, and Gojo sighed.
“C’mon Suguru,” Gojo whined. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.” He teased with a small smirk. “Plus if you let me do it, you can stay a little longer.” He bargained.
Getou rolled his eyes and managed to shake Gojo off him for long enough to pull his shirt over his shoulders. “I wasn’t even planning on coming here at all tonight, Satoru.” He stated blankly. “I only did because I thought you or one of the kids were in trouble.” He made clear, and Gojo groaned as he dropped himself off Getou so that he could pull his pants back on.
“You know, your ass looks really great in those pants.” Gojo grinned, leaning back on his hands as he took a seat back on the bed.
Getou rolled his eyes and turned back to face Gojo. “Why’d you send me that text, Satoru?” He asked, leaning back on the dresser, arms folded with his shirt still mostly unbuttoned.
Gojo smiled fondly. “Because I knew you’d come if I did.” He explained.
“I’m injured, you ass. You could have waited until the day after I got back to fuck with me.” He argued and Gojo laughed softly, standing and once again making his way closer to Getou, stopping when his toes touched the others.
“Let me heal you, Suguru.” He requested again. “Please.”
Getou paused, thinking for a moment. He knew he would be in pain soon, and if he just caved and let Gojo have his way, then he’d be able to see more of the siblings - something he was never ashamed to admit that he enjoyed - but it’d also mean letting Gojo feel the state of his soul, and he didn’t want the way Gojo looked at him to change at all.
“I’m not letting you heal me.” Getou stood his ground.
Gojo frowned. “But I want you to stay longer.” He complained with a pout.
Getou huffed out a breath. “I’ll stay for dinner.” He agreed and Gojo smiled widely, lifting a hand to touch Getou’s chest, only for it to be intercepted by fingers wrapping around his wrist. Gojo raised his eyes to meet Getou’s, looking a little confused. “I said I’d stay for dinner. Not that you could heal me.” He stated firmly.
“You’re in pain, Suguru.” Gojo said yet again. “Why are you being so stubborn? You’re gonna get blood on that clean shirt.” He argued.
With a deep inhale, Getou pushed Gojo’s hand back towards him. “I’ll make soba.” He said in lieu of answering his question, pushing him a little further away as he made his way back to the kitchen. He smiled seeing Tsumiki crouched and bouncing on the balls of her feet as he watched the cookies baking.
“You know, it takes longer when you’re watching them.” He spoke, ruffling her hair as she grinned up at him.
“But, Suguru-san, if the cookies burn, Satoru-san said you wouldn’t like them as much.” She said innocently.
Getou tilted his head a little, smiling softly at her. “Why does it matter if I like them?” He asked as he squatted down to her level to check on them, grabbing the oven mitts to pull them out on seeing they were perfectly cooked.
Tsumiki bounced a little as she stood, taking a few steps back to make room for Getou. “Well, we made them because they’re your favourite.” She beamed and Getou’s brow furrowed as he looked at her.
“You made these for me?” He asked, feeling touched by the gesture. She nodded with a grin. “How did you even know I was coming here? I didn’t even know I was.” He let out a soft chuckle.
Her smile stayed soft as she stood on the stool next to the counter and started moving the cookies from the baking tray to the cooling rack. “Satoru-san said that you got back tonight and Megumi asked him if you’d come round. He said he could make it happen and I asked him if we could make you something and he said that chocolate chip cookies were your favourite.” She explained, and Getou was ashamed to admit that he wasn’t surprised in the slightest at Gojo’s deviousness.
Getou hummed softly. “They smell amazing, Tsumiki.” He complimented and she flushed slightly as she looked back at the cookies. “Soba for dinner?” He offered and Tsumiki nodded enthusiastically.
As Gojo made his way back into the kitchen, Tsumiki bounded out of the room, skipping down the hall to join her younger brother in the living room, and Getou rolled up his sleeves, pulling out a pan and a chopping board before making his way to the fridge and pulling out the few fresh ingredients he needed.
“Instead of staring at me,” Getou spoke, finally acknowledging Gojo’s presence. “Come and cook the noodles?” He requested, and Gojo hummed, making his way over and prepping the pan, salting the water as he waited for it to boil. He leaned back against the counter next to the stove, watching Getou’s back as he chopped some spring onions, admiring the way his muscles moved and flexed.
“How’re you feeling?” Gojo asked finally, fully aware of the answer but wanting to know if he’d tell the truth.
“I’m fine, Satoru.” A lie. And an obvious one. “I’d be better if you’d given me one night to get some rest before you freaked me out.” He pointed out again . Gojo rolled his eyes.
“You know that you would’ve been over just as fast if I had told you that the kids wanted to see you.” He argued. Getou didn’t respond, fully aware that Gojo was right. “Told you.” He said in a near sing-songy tone.
Getou sighed. “You’re right.” He forfeited. “But if you had told me the truth, I would have gone to see Shoko first.” He said honestly. “And then I wouldn’t be risking feeling like shit right now.” He glanced at Gojo briefly, taking note of the slightly guilty look on his face.
Gojo pushed off the counter, dumping the noodles in the now boiling pot of water. “You wouldn’t feel like shit if you swallowed your pride and let me heal you.” He murmured, freezing briefly when Getou slammed his hand on the countertop. He felt the other turn to face him, focusing on the noodles as he felt the warmth he so craved approaching behind him.
His breath hitched as a hand landed on the counter either side of him, and Getou was so close that Gojo could feel his breath on his cheek. “How can you be so cocky, yet so nervous when I get this close to you?” He asked, his tone teasing. Gojo could feel the grin on his lips.
Turning off the stove then turning in his spot so he was almost nose to nose with Getou, Gojo grinned. “I’m not the one who’s getting all flustered.” He teased right back, smirking at how red Getou’s face seemed.
“I-” Getou murmured, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by all his senses. “I think the adrenaline is wearing off.” He confessed honestly as he dipped his head forward, landing it on Gojo’s shoulder.
Gojo suddenly felt panicked, Getou’s weight leaning heavier on him. “Suguru.” He said softly, placing his hands on the others hips to support his weight. “Suguru, hey. Get a hold of yourself.” He said, a little louder this time. Getou collapsed forward in Gojo’s grip, and Gojo had to drop slightly with him to hook his arms under the other’s knees, picking him up.
He carried Getou through to the lounge, the kids instantly moving off the couch on seeing the sight, and Gojo laid him down, then turned to the pair gripping one of their shoulders in each hand. He smiled, but the concern on his face was still obvious. “I don’t want either of you to worry.” He stated firmly; securely. “Suguru got a little hurt at work today. So I need the two of you to help me look after him.” They both nodded, looking around him at the flustered, panting Getou lying on their couch, his breaths a little shallow. “Megumi, I need you to get me a bowl of cool water and a cloth so we can cool his fever a little bit. And Tsumiki, I need you to call Shoko and tell her that Suguru’s hurt and she needs to get here as soon as she can. Can you guys do that for me?” They both scampered off without another word, and Gojo turned back to Getou. He wasn’t completely out cold anymore, but he was clearly uncomfortable.
Gojo placed his hands on Getou’s chest, inhaling deeply and preparing to heal him, only to stop when Getou gripped his wrist. He met Getou’s eyes, and the aforementioned shook his head. “I’m okay, Satoru.” He panted out.
“You’re clearly not okay.” He stated firmly. “Tsumiki’s calling Shoko, but she could be busy, or she could take ages to get here. Please Suguru.” He practically begged, but Getou shook his head.
“No.” He refused as firmly as he could muster. “Not you.”
Gojo looked ready to cry. “For fuck sake, Suguru.” He bit through gritted teeth. “You’re so fucking stubborn. Why can’t you just-” He was interrupted by Megumi appearing next to him, a bowl of iced water in his hands and a washcloth over his arm. Gojo smiled softly at him. “Thank you, Megumi.” He said sincerely, placing the bowl on the floor and dipping the washcloth in it, placing it gently on Suguru’s forehead.
Tsumiki came into the room a few moments later, placing Gojo’s phone on the table. “Shoko-san is on her way. She said she wouldn’t be long.” She confirmed, and Gojo felt relieved.
He smiled at Getou and placed his hand on his forehead. “You hear that, you stubborn prick.” He said with a small smirk. “Shoko’s coming to heal you. So just be okay a little longer, alright?” He requested, and Getou hummed.
Ieiri knocked on the door not long after that. She looked pissed when Gojo answered, glaring at him as she kicked off her shoes and shrugged off her coat. “Last I recall, you had the ability to use the reverse curse technique.” She stated simply. “Why am I here, Satoru?” She asked.
Gojo nodded in Suguru’s direction. “He refuses to let me do it.” He said, arms crossed and pouting. Ieiri insisted he wait in the hall as she healed Getou, and Gojo reluctantly agreed.
As she stood over Getou, he cracked his eyes open. “You look like shit.” She observed, and he let out a single huffed chuckle.
“Can you make me feel less shit?” He requested with a croak. Ieiri hummed in confirmation.
“Of course I can.” She said with confidence. “But Satoru could’ve done this. Any reason you wouldn’t let him?” She asked, laying her hands over Getou’s chest.
“You already know.” Getou grunted and shifted uncomfortably beneath her as she started flowing her technique through him. “Fuck, this hurts.” He groaned, his head hitting the arm of the couch as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“These are really fucking bad, Suguru.” She commented as he huffed out a strained breath. “The fuck happened out there?” She asked. “I thought it was an easy exorcism.” She recalled what he had claimed on the phone to her earlier.
“It was.” He panted. “I just… I got a little distracted at the end.” His breathing felt a little easier.
Ieiri raised a brow. “The hell managed to distract you ?” She asked in all seriousness. “You’re usually so focused.”
“Satoru…” He murmured softly, once again shuffling beneath her. “Said he needed me.” He let out a discomforted groan. “He never… he never asks for help. I wanted to make sure he knew he could.” He mumbled. “I was trying- ah-” His face scrunched up again. “I tried to text him back. The bastard wasn’t dead yet.” He explained, clearly still uncomfortable beneath Ieiri’s palms. “I made a mistake. A shitty judgement call.” He panted, soft and pained noises escaping his throat.
Ieiri looked concerned, worried about Getou’s state. He passed out completely at some point during Ieiri’s process, and when she finally made her way back into the hall, she found Gojo waiting impatiently. She gestured towards the kitchen, knowing Gojo wanted to speak about it.
Ieiri picked up one of the cookies on the cooling rack and hopped up onto the counter, crossing her ankles as she swung her legs. “So,” She started, taking a bite. “What’s with the face?” She asked, gesturing her finger in a small circle pointed at his face.
Gojo leaned back against the wall opposite her. “It was my fault.” He murmured guiltily. “He got distracted because of me .” He added and Ieiri could actually sense the spiral that was coming.
“Don’t do that.” She interrupted him. “Don’t close yourself off just because of one mistake. He got hurt because he wanted to help you. He is desperate to be someone you feel comfortable turning to. So don’t close off. Open up to him instead.” She advised but followed it with an exasperated sigh on seeing the still unsure look on his face.
“He didn’t want me to heal him, Shoko. Me .” He stated bluntly. “And it’s probably because I was the reason he got hurt, so he clearly didn’t trust me to fix it.” He concluded. Ieiri found it hard to believe that someone so intuitive could be so dense .
She tutted, making it clear that she thought Gojo was being stupid without so many words. “Did you ever think that maybe it’s because he’s scared?” She posed, having already figured out why Getou wouldn’t want Gojo of all people to sense the curses that were slowly ravelling themselves around his soul. “Healing someone from a curses injury means to touch their soul. To see them at their barest, unable to hide a thing.” She explained, and Gojo just tilted his head, questioning. Ieiri sighed again. “ Maybe Suguru is worried about what you’ll think of him after seeing that part of him.” She suggested, hoping Gojo would understand without any further elaboration.
It seemed he did, at least partially, with the way he fell silent. “So… Suguru’s worried?” He said finally.
Ieiri rolled her eyes as she hopped off the counter. “Stop thinking so hard. You’ll hurt yourself.” She chuckled softly as she poked his forehead gently. “Suguru’s going to be fine. Let him recover a little before you wake him, okay?” She suggested softly. “He was pretty badly hurt. He needs his rest.” She told him and Gojo nodded.
“Leaving so soon, Shoko?” He asked with his trademark smirk. “You just got here. Hot date?” He teased. It was an obvious defence mechanism, one that Ieiri had become painfully aware of since high school. Gojo needed a distraction and the easiest way for him to do that was to deflect with teasing.
Ieiri smiled, laughing softly at Gojo’s pathetic attempt at teasing. “I have paperwork to do.” She said honestly. “Unlike you , I actually have to work hard at my job.” She jabbed with a smile.
Gojo pouted slightly. “I work hard!” He defended quickly, smacking his own hand over his mouth on realising how loud he’d just been. They both stayed silent for a moment, making sure he hadn’t woken Getou, and the both of them let out a sigh of relief when there were no signs of his movement.
“As much as I adore being your entertainment, I really do have to go.” Ieiri said apologetically. “Shoot me a text when he wakes up, yeah?” She asked and Gojo agreed.
“Thank you for coming so fast.” Gojo said sincerely. “Seriously, I really appreciate it.” He smiled softly.
Ieiri rolled her eyes and shoved Gojo’s arm slightly. “Shut up.” She murmured, and Gojo could’ve sworn he saw her blush. “It’s Suguru. Of course I came.”
Leaving Gojo in the kitchen, she left without another word. Gojo sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. Getou being injured to begin with had stressed him out, and the fact that it had been his fault that Getou had gotten distracted really didn’t help the throbbing headache that had made its way through his skull.
He glanced at the mess in his kitchen, the pots that he and Tsumiki had used to make cookies, as well as the pot on the stove with the half-cooked soba noodles and the chopped up veg on the kitchen island. If nothing else, this would at least be a distraction.
He’d fully cleaned all the counters and rearranged all the cupboards by the time he decided to finally wash the dishes. His mind wandered so far as he was cleaning that he didn’t even notice Megumi until he tugged on the bottom of Gojo’s tshirt. He jumped a little as he looked at the boy he had been raising for almost two years now and smiled softly at him. “What’s up kiddo?” He asked, knowing Megumi didn’t tend to initiate a conversation unless he needed something.
“Can I get a glass of water?” He asked, his voice small and soft.
Gojo hummed, looking back at the dishes in the sink briefly. “Are there any bottles in the fridge?” He asked, not wanting to drain the sink at all if he could avoid it.
Megumi made his way to the fridge, reaching his little hands up and just managing to pull it open. “I can’t reach.” Megumi complained with a pout. “Can you get me one?” He asked and Gojo tutted and shook his head with a slight smirk.
“What’s the magic word, Megumi-Kun?” He teased, and Megumi rolled his eyes.
“ Please. ” He said through gritted teeth.
Gojo smiled at his success. “Just give me two minutes, let me finish these dishes first, okay?” He requested and Megumi shrugged as he closed the fridge.
“I’ll let Suguru-san know.”
“What?!” Gojo exclaimed, dishes clattering as he abandoned them and practically jumped to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. “Why didn’t you tell me he was awake?” He snipped, sounding a little harsher than he’d intended.
Megumi didn’t seem to care though. “You were doing the dishes.” He murmured as an excuse, following Gojo back through to the lounge.
Getou was still lying down when Gojo looked over the back of the couch, one arm strewn across his eyes but his consciousness was obvious. “Tired?” Gojo asked, and Getou lifted his arm slightly to look at Gojo. Getou took the bottle of water from his hand, sitting up as he did, and Gojo took a seat on the couch next to him, stretching his arms across the back as Getou leaned forward.
“Exhausted.” Getou croaked, taking a sip of the water after doing so. Gojo couldn’t help but watch the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and gulped quietly himself.
Tsumiki and Megumi were seated on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, both distracted by whatever game Megumi was playing on his GameBoy. Getou leaned back, allowing his head to rest on Gojo’s outstretched arm and Gojo allowed his fingers to card through Getou’s still damp hair.
“What time is it?” Getou asked softly as he watched Tsumiki try and grab the device from Megumi, who retorted by pushing her away by the face, the two of them quietly bickering as they did.
Gojo glanced at his watch. “Shit, it’s almost nine.” He said quietly. “Alright you two,” He spoke a little louder and the Fushiguro’s both looked over at him. “Time for bed. Go get ready, I’ll be in to check on you both in twenty minutes. You better be in bed.” He grinned, gesturing his head in the direction of their rooms.
The two mumbled their complaints as they made their way to their rooms. “Goodnight you two.” Getou said simply as they walked away.
“Goodnight, Suguru-san.” They both said in unison, and Gojo chuckled softly at the sound of complaint in their tone, then looked over at Getou.
“How’re you feeling, Suguru?” Gojo asked as he continued carding his fingers through Getou’s hair.
Getou hummed softly, his eyes remaining closed. “Like shit.” He said honestly. “Just give me until you say goodnight to the kids. I’ll get out of your hair then.” He decided, leaning into Gojo’s caring touch.
Gojo laughed a little. “Don’t be stupid.” He argued quietly. “You’re staying here, idiot.” He insisted.
Getou’s brow furrowed as a soft smile displayed on his confused face. “As much as I appreciate the offer, Satoru, I’d much rather sleep in my bed than on your couch.”
“I wouldn’t make you sleep on my couch in this state, Suguru.” Gojo chuckled lightly. “Just sleep in my bed with me.” He shrugged.
Getou didn’t look any less confused. “We haven’t shared a bed since our second year.” He pointed out and Gojo shrugged.
“And?” He said simply and Getou’s brows raised. “I don’t have a problem with it. I never did.”
“It was you that stopped coming into my room in the middle of the night.” Getou argued. “For a while, I thought you were done with me.” He confessed softly.
Gojo’s face changed to something unreadable. “Because I thought you needed space.” He retorted. “You’re my best friend, Suguru. You always have been. I never intended for a rift to form between us.”
“And, yet, here we are.” Getou said, his voice quiet but his words honest. “It never was the same after Toji, huh?” Gojo held his eye contact in silence before sighing out a chuckle and lulling his head back on the rear of the couch.
“The bastard managed to turn my life completely on its head.”
“Do you regret any of it at all?”
There was a small pause, one that Getou could sense was full of Gojo’s thoughts. “I’m twenty years old and raising a seven-year-old and a nine-year-old. I never thought this would be my life, but, fuck Suguru, I love those little rugrats with my whole damn heart, and I wouldn’t change that for a second.” He said, his tone more genuine than Getou had heard it in a long time. “My only regret…” He inhaled deeply, once again meeting Getou’s eyes. “My only regret is not telling you how much I love you before they came into my life.” There was a pause that Getou chose not to fill, knowing that Gojo had more to say. “Because to tell you now would risk more than just our friendship. If I told you now that I was in love with you, I’d risk losing you, not just for myself, but for them too.”
Getou smiled. “You should tell me.” He said simply. “Not now.” He added before Gojo could open his mouth again. “But when you’re ready. When you’re prepared to let me in completely; when you feel like you can rely on me again. When you can once again trust me enough to ask for my help, that’s when you should tell me.” He clarified.
With a deep and staggered inhale, Gojo nodded once. “Suguru?”
“Hm?”
“Why didn’t you want me to heal you?”
There was a small pause, and Getou exhaled and leaned his head back, closing his eyes again. “I know that you can see cursed energy, and that you can see the abyssal of curses that is mine. But… my soul…” He hesitated briefly, glancing at Gojo to see him listening intently. With a soft sigh, Getou continued. “When you take in cused energy the way I do… I don’t know how much that could have affected my soul. I don’t know how damaged, or affected my soul is by everything I’ve consumed. What if you see that part of me, and find that I’m not who you thought I was?” He asked.
Gojo frowned, then pulled Getou closer by his head, bringing his head to his shoulder. Getou followed the pull, partially because it would have been uncomfortable to stop, but also because the warmth exuding from Gojo was enticing, and he didn’t want to resist it. “I know you well enough to not be put off by your soul, Suguru. No matter how tainted you believe it is, I’m fully aware of who you are as a person.” He said softly, confidently.
That was true, for the most part. Though Gojo didn’t know about the darkest point he’d ever faced; was blissfully unaware of the time Getou had been hauntingly close to massacring an entire village in the days following Haibara’s death, only stopping when one of the two little girls that had been locked up gripped his wrist and asked him what he was about to do. And in that moment, he’d regained his senses, handed the girls over to the higher-ups to decide on their future education. He was glad he had stopped that day. If he hadn’t, he would’ve missed out on all of this; on meeting Tsumiki and Megumi, on watching Gojo become the strongest and growing alongside him. He would have missed out on being well known as part of the strongest duo. And he didn’t want to tell Gojo that he had been harrowingly close to having gone down a completely different path.
“Join me in saying goodnight to the kids?” Gojo asked after Getou’s mind had been wondering for gods knew how long.
Getou smiled as he tilted his chin up to meet his best friend's eyes. “Really?” He asked, unsure about the offer. “Would that be alright?” He questioned.
Gojo smiled as he stood, offering a hand to help Getou up - one that he took since he was still completely drained. He winced slightly as he stood, and Gojo adjusted his stance, prepared to catch Getou if needed.
Getou raised a hand slightly, stopping Gojo’s movement. “I’m okay.” He said with a confirming smile. “Just a little wobbly.” He chuckled, and Gojo nodded once. He followed behind the other to Tsumiki’s room first. Gojo entered as Getou waited by the door, leaning against the frame and watching as Gojo sat on the edge of her bed, gently carding his fingers through her hair.
“Goodnight, princess.” He smiled, and Tsumiki hummed softly.
“Can you check my closet for curses?” She asked nervously and Gojo chuckled softly, pulling off his glasses and folding them onto his t-shirts collar.
Getou smiled as he watched Gojo make his way to the closet, opening it and fully stepping into it himself. “If there are any curses in here, they’ve somehow managed to completely hide from me…” He stuck his head out the closet, looking back at Tsumiki. “Which is impossible.” He grinned confidently. Tsumiki looked at Getou, as if she were asking him for confirmation. He simply gave a single nod, and she relaxed back into her bed. “Do you need anything else?” Gojo asked, sitting on her bed again. “A glass of water or anything?”
Tsumiki shook her head. “I’m okay.” She confirmed with a smile. “Thank you, Satoru-san.”
Gojo smiled. “Goodnight Tsumiki.” He said after placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
“Goodnight Satoru.” She murmured in response, closing her eyes and pulling her quilt up beneath her chin.
After leaving Tsumiki’s room, they made their way to Megumi’s, smiling on finding him already curled up with his eyes closed. “Goodnight, Megumi-kun.” He whispered as he pulled the door closed.
Gojo then gestured to his own room, and Getou smiled, making his way in without argument. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d ever slept in the same bed as Gojo, but the last time was when they were in high school, and it was different now. Now that Gojo had practically confessed, and Getou had practically reciprocated those feelings.
But Getou was far too exhausted to overthink any of it. As he sank down on the obviously unused side of Gojo’s bed, he briefly considered just remaining dressed to sleep - it’d be easier to leave in the morning if he did. But then Gojo handed him a single oversized tshirt and, with a sigh, Getou pulled his mostly buttoned shirt off over his head and replaced it with the soft cotton, pulling his pants off not long after.
Finally in just his briefs and one of Gojo’s shirts, Getou slid under the sheets. They were just as soft and inviting as he expected, exactly like everything in this large apartment. He allowed himself to sink into the bed just as he always let himself sink into Gojo’s home.
When Gojo finally slid into the bed next to him, Getou found himself naturally drawn to his body heat, not even thinking before curling into Gojo’s side.
Gojo didn’t stop him, though. Instead he wrapped an arm around Getou’s waist, holding him there as if he was worried Getou would run if he didn’t - as if that were even a possibility.
Getou awoke in the early morning in darkness on his side with Gojo curled into the back of him. When his eyes adjusted he found a small face staring at him. “Hey kid.” He greeted softly, reaching a hand out and ruffling Megumi’s hair. “Are you okay?” He asked, mildly concerned about why he was just staring at them.
“Can I join you guys?” He asked smally.
Getou smiled and lifted up the duvet in front of him. “C’mon then.” He insisted and Megumi clambered in, instantly cuddling into Getou’s chest. He was glad it didn’t hurt anymore - the last thing he’d want would be Megumi thinking he’d accidentally hurt him.
He easily fell back to sleep, comforted by the warmth of Gojo behind him and Megumi in front of him.
Maybe perfection didn’t exist, but this little slice of life? The things he felt in this apartment? The feeling that bloomed in his chest when the Fushiguro’s smiled at him? That was something he would argue was close to perfection.