Chapter Text
“Itadori, try this,” Nobara pushed an average-sized shot glass into his hand, wagging her eyebrow mischievously. They were huddled up in Megumi’s dorm room, sitting cross-legged around the kotatsu with a bubbling hotpot in the middle.
Yuuji frowned, “What is it?”
“Soju!” Nobara beamed, prying his fingers open and pressed the glass into his palm, looking smug, “It’s rice wine all the way from Korea , all the cool kids drink it.”
The pink-haired boy eyed her skeptically then lifted the glass to his nose.
“It smells kinda,” he sniffed, nose scrunching, “...fruity.”
“Yeah, like you,” Nobara chided, rolling her eyes dramatically, “I bought the peach flavored one, because it’s the best one obvi . Now are you gonna drink it or shall I?”
Yuuji shrugged, then shot a glance at Megumi, who was watching the whole exchange in disinterest. The dark-haired boy caught Yuuji’s questioning look, then shrugged as he stuck his chopstick into the pot and fished out another meatball.
Yuuji focused his eyes back on the glass, eyeing the clear, peach-flavored liquid.
“It’s not poison, drama queen,” Nobara smacked his arm, “unless you drink like, 5 liters of it.”
“Drinking 5 liters of anything would instantly turn it into poison,” Megumi pointed his chopsticks at them, “Case in point: mayonnaise.”
“‘Why would you even think of mayonnaise as something to drink’ is my immediate question,” Nobara glared at him.
The dark-haired teen was about to protest when the other boy in the room interrupted him.
“Fine, I’ll drink it,” Yuuji suddenly exclaimed, startling both of his friends. He held the glass in front of him, then downed the whole thing in one loud gulp.
The other two stopped their bickering and stared at Yuuji expectantly as he swallowed the alcohol, Adam’s apple bobbing as the fiery liquid made way down his throat. He coughed once, then his brow furrowed, focused.
“So?” Nobara urged impatiently, “How is it?”
“It’s... nice,” Yuuji grinned, eyes glinting, “it’s very nice. Kinda sweet, fruity. Gimme one more.”
“Okay, alright, chillax ,” the brunette chuckled, reaching for the green bottle of rice wine, “Let’s drink, all three of us, yeah?”
Crystal clear liquid filled their glasses as they clunk messily in a cheer. Megumi sipped his alcohol while Yuuji and Nobara threw their heads back and downed the entire thing in one smooth drag.
“Woo,” Nobara cheered as she upcapped the bottle, refilling their now empty glasses, “Maybe you guys ain’t that much of a loser.”
“Itadori swallowed a thousand-year-old finger whole,” Megumi chuckled, swaying the alcohol in front of him, “one would think he’d have no inhibition on what kind of liquid he ingests.”
“What about you, then?” Yuuji huffed, pouting at the subject of his peculiar ‘eating’ habits being brought up. “Can you drink?”
“I almost got alcohol poisoning as a kid,” the dark-haired boy shrugged nonchalantly, “Gonna take much more than this to get me drunk.”
“Hold up,” Nobara held up her hand, “Elaborate on the alcohol poisoning part? Emphasis on how the heck ?”
Yuuji nodded next to her, scooting closer as he poured himself another drink.
“Oh, you know,” Megumi waved dismissively, “thirsty kid, clear bottle.”
“You didn’t realize immediately that it wasn’t water?” the pink head interjected, voice incredulous.
The other boy finished the alcohol in his glass and held it out for another. “I was thirsty so I thought the water was just…” he paused, searching for a word, “a little bit spicy.”
Nobara snorted, falling back on the wooden floor laughing. Yuuji spilled half of the bottle into Megumi’s dripping glass as he tried to hold his laughter.
“Spicy, he said,” the brunette wiped a tear at the corner of her eye as she clutched her midriff, “I can’t breathe.”
“Neither could I when I almost inhaled that bottle,” sighed Megumi as he sipped his soju, “I thought I drank a third-grade curse.”
“Oh my god,” Nobara practically sprawled across the floor, her head pillowed on Yuuji’s thigh as she shook with laughter.
“Wow,” Yuuji refilled his now empty glass, feigning a frown at his friend, “And you have the nerve to judge me for my eating habits?”
“Just the fact that you referred to ingesting a special-grade curse object as ‘eating habits’ is alarming enough,” Megumi deadpanned.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Totally.”
They glared at each other.
“I never thought,” Nobara sat up gleefully, popping a potato chip from the bag on the table in her mouth, “Drunk Fushiguro would be this entertaining.”
“I’m not drunk,” came Megumi’s protest as Yuuji huffed out a disgruntled, “Speak for yourself.”
They were half way through their second bottle of soju when Nobara slammed her glass on the table.
“This is getting boring,” she slurred, swaying a bit as she pushed Yuuji’s shoulder, “let’s play a game.”
“What kind of game?” the pinkhead asked, already intrigued. He was in a similar state of intoxication as Nobara, a full flush adorning his cheeks all the way down to the base of his neck.
The brunette narrowed her eyes, racking her brain.
“I know,” Megumi dragged an empty bottle they’d long discarded under the kotatsu, “let’s play spin the bottle.”
“What, with the three of us?” Nobara frowned, “We’d get better luck with rock, paper, scissors.”
“I’m down,” Yuuji shrugged, scooting closer to face Megumi, “Are you playing or nah?”
“Fine,” she sighed, taking the seat opposite them, completing a triangle of drunk idiots.
They cleared the empty bags of chips and dried kombu off the tables, making space for the bottle. Yuuji filled their glasses with even more soju as the other two used a napkin to wipe the crumbs off of the wooden surface.
“Damn,” exclaimed Nobara as she picked up an empty bag, “who ate all the Karamucho?”
“I did,” the pink-haired boy flashed a toothy smile, seeming rather pleased with himself.
“Itadori,” she gawked at him, “this is the hot chili kind. Like, the hottest one. How did you not burn your mouth off?”
“Leave him be,” Megumi said before Yuuji could even gloat about his spice tolerance, “it probably tasted like Sukuna’s fingernails to him.”
Nobara almost choked on her kombu while Yuuji fumed, throwing a wet piece of paper towel at the dark-haired boy. Numerous immature profanities were mentioned by both parties until the brunette put her foot down and picked up the bottle.
“Quiet down, I’m spinning first,” she glared at the two, then paused, “wait, what happens if the bottle lands on you?”
“I don’t know, truth or dare?” Yuuji shrugged.
“How original,” came Megumi’s remark.
“Holy crap I got it,” Nobara jumped excitedly, rummaging under the table for an empty bottle of soju, “You two wait here.”
She skipped over to the cupboard, filled the bottle with water, then came back with two identical glasses three times as big as the ones they’re using.
“Right,” she slammed the new glasses on the table, filling one with soju, one with water. Just from looking, it was impossible to distinguish which one contained the alcohol. The boys exchanged a puzzled look.
“Whoever the bottle lands on,” Nobara grinned, “has to answer a question from the other two, or they have to take a drink.”
“From this gigantic mug?” Yuuji echoed, holding up the heavy glass.
“Oh please, don’t be such a drama queen, Itadori,” she waved dismissively, “it’s just a bit above average, that’s all.”
“If we die from this, it’s on you,” Megumi said as he sat up straight and handed Nobara the empty bottle. They’ve gone through three of those.
“Right, I’m spinning, boys,” Nobara exclaimed excitedly as her fingers spread to hold the bottle firm on the table. “I suggest you start praying.”
The dark green bottle spinned wildly on the smooth wooden surface. The trio turned silent, only the sound of glass clattering remained as the bottle slowed down and finally came to a stop.
“It’s Itadori,” Megumi pointed to his flustered friend, who was subtly scooting away from his seat.
“No?” came the pink head’s petulant protest. He gestured dramatically at the empty spot next to him, “it’s clearly pointing at the space between me and Kugisaki.”
“That’s because you moved away from it, dumbhead,” Nobara yanked him forward, slinging her arms around his shoulders menacingly, “Now you either drink or answer our question.”
“Fine,” the boy slumped against Nobara, “ask away.”
“Fushiguro,” she turned to the other teen sitting opposite them, “anything you wanna know about our dear friend?”
“You have a crush on someone,” Megumi blurted, almost too quickly for his liking.
“That… was a statement,” the other boy stared at him, confused.
“Who?” came Megumi’s reply, short and to-the-point.
Nobara hooted, “Right off the bat, huh, Fushiguro. Not bad.” She turned to Yuuji, “Well? You heard him.”
The boy next to her bloomed bright red, as if the alcohol hadn’t already made his complexion a different shade than normal. Yuuji casted his eyes to the floor and shook Nobara’s arm off of his shoulder. He leaned forward to pick a tall glass.
“Oooh,” Nobara cheered as Yuuji squeezed his eyes shut and tipped the glass forward, “what is it?”
The pink-haired boy shuddered as he swallowed the liquid.
“Alcohol,” he croaked, mouth gaping, “damn, that’s a lot.”
“Nice!” The brunette winked as she clasped her hands together, “It’s your turn to spin now, Itadori.”
Yuuji reached over to the table, having quite a hard time focusing and controlling his movement. His limbs felt heavy, bogged down by the effect of the drink. He spun the glass bottle with difficulty.
It spun around, staggering a bit then finally slowed down as it pointed at…
“Itadori again!” Nobara clapped as the boy next to her let out a disappointed Not again .
“Question!” Megumi exclaimed as he slammed his glass on the table. He too was slurring his movement at this point into their drinking night.
The ravenhead narrowed his eyes at Yuuji, “Since when did you have a crush on Gojo-sensei.”
Nobara hooted next to them, cackling wildly as she downed more soju.
Yuuji gaped, “I-,” he swallowed alcohol flavored air, “I don’t have a crush on Gojo-sensei.”
“And Fushiguro is not a wannabe emo. We don’t accept lies here, Itadori,” Nobara sing-songed next to him, wagging her finger disapprovingly, “Deceit is a bad look on you.”
Megumi filled the glass, pointedly ignoring the brunette’s comment.
“Well?” he nudged Yuuji’s shoulder, raising his eyebrows expectantly, “or do you wanna drink another glass?”
“God, no,” Yuuji dragged a hand over his heated cheeks, avoiding the wickedly eager pairs of eyes that belonged to his friends, “fine.”
Nobara squealed.
“Answer the question, Itadori Yuuji!” she demanded, slapping the table as she did, sending the empty green bottles rattling against the wooden surface, “since when did you have a crush on Gojo-sensei?”
Yuuji sighed in defeat. He wondered if he pretended to pass out right this moment, would they let him get off scot-free. But knowing them both, he would be better off getting this over with right here when the possibility of them (and him) forgetting about this night is high.
“Ever since I saw him fight the Mt. Fuji-head curse,” the boy admitted shyly, head down, fingers twiddling as he tried to distract himself from his friends boring their eyes at him, “he told me to stay close, and he made me feel safe, that’s all.”
He heard Nobara hum.
“I guess that makes sense,” she shrugged, “he’s still an ass though.”
At Megumi’s approving nod, Yuuji surged up to make his protest known.
“You’re wrong!” he was too drunk to remember if he was pouting or not, “Gojo-sensei is actually really sweet.”
“His food certainly is,” Megumi slurred, pointing a finger at the pinkhead, “but his personality?” He faked gagging.
“Excuse you!!” Yuuji yelled a tad too loudly for three drunk idiots in a tiny dorm room, “Sensei is caring and generous and smart and gentle and hmmmpph-”
“I need you to stop thinking aloud with your dick, Itadori,” Nobara clamped her hand on his mouth, shutting him up, then turned to the other boy in the room, shaking her head, “He’s down bad .”
“Horrendous,” Megumi nodded.
They clinked their glasses and downed the alcohol as Yuuji let out an indignant squeak.
A few spins and many trips to the toilet later, all three prospective jujutsu sorcerers were now sprawled across the floor.
“Yuuji and Gojo, sitting in a tree,” Nobara started from her spot on the carpet as the boy in question let out a horrified Oh God no. This had been the fourth time she sang this in the past 30 minutes. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” she finished with a cackle.
“Real mature, Kugisaki!” Yuuji protested without getting up just as Megumi let out a tired ‘I hate both of you’ .
“Oi,” Yuuji nudged him with a socked foot, “What did I even do?”
“I’m blaming everything on you and your big fat crush on Gojo.”
“Hey, hey, no one said anything about it being big and fat.”
“You’re not even denying the crush part anymore,” Megumi sighed, draping a hand over his face dramatically.
“You guys better not be body shaming anyone over there,” Nobara warned as she sat up, narrowing her eyes at her two male friends, “unless it’s Gojo-sensei.”
“Hey!” Yuuji shot her a pointed look, “Gojo-sensei is smoking hot , don’t even try to deny that.”
Somewhere on the tatami mat, Megumi gagged again. They faintly heard the sound of wooden doors sliding open when Yuuji continued.
“He’s literally the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” the boy sat up suddenly and regretted his decision as the room began to spin, “Like, have you seen his eyes?”
Yuuji was expecting an onslaught of protests from his two friends, but instead was met with shocked silence.
“Aw, you’re making me blush, Yuuji-kun,” from behind Yuuji came a voice eerily resembling Gojo’s.
Refusing to turn around to check, Yuuji kept his head straight forward and blinked wordlessly to his two equally drunk friends, who now looked like dears caught in headlights.
“H-he’s,” the boy stuttered, face getting exponentially hotter by the second, “Gojo-sensei is not behind me, isn’t he?”
Nobara’s eyes locked with his, then with someone behind him, then she shook her head.
“Does that mean ‘No, Gojo-sensei is not behind me’,” Yuuji let out a shaky laugh, “or ‘No, I’m wrong, he’s right here.”
Megumi opened his mouth to say something, but the pink-haired boy felt strong arms (that belonged to neither of his friends) wrap around his shoulders first.
“It means I caught you guys drinking,” Gojo seemingly materialized beside Yuuji as he glared at the other two from under his blindfold. Then he turned to look down at Yuuji with a warm smile and a finger stroking his cheek, “but I’ll let it slide since Yuuji-kun is so cute~”
Yuuji considered passing out the second time that night.
.
“I’ll take Yuuji-kun back,” the older man announced as he stood up, pulling a sluggish Yuuji along. The boy swayed on his feet, eyes barely open. He vaguely registered strong arms guiding his head to rest on a warm chest, and his rational thoughts were screaming at him not to take advantage of his teacher, but Yuuji, for once, was too drunk to care. “You two wrap this up and back to your dorm you go, got it?”
Nobari looked as if she was about to protest, but Megumi waved her off.
“Got it,” he nodded.
Gojo then turned to look at the boy beside him with a bemused smile.
“What am I to do with you, Yuuji-kun?” he tutted, “Can you walk?”
“Of course I can, sensei,” the boy huffed. He took a deep breath to clear his muddling head and confidently stepped forward to prove his point, but the floor seemed to be made of cotton candy as he lurched forward.
He let out an eloquent squeak before landing between Gojo’s arms.
“Alrighty, graceful duckling,” the man chuckled teasingly, “let’s get you back.”
Yuuji then felt his slightly spinning world tilted on its axis. With an arm under his knees and the other under his shoulders, Gojo lifted him up with ease. It would be a bald-faced lie to say it didn’t make the boy’s stomach flutter, but Yuuji argued it could have been the effects of alcohol.
Don’t drink and let your crush catch you red-faced, kids.
Either way, the boy let out an embarrassed cry as he hid his face into the crook of Gojo’s arm, willing himself to go unconscious. He could feel the rumble of his teacher’s refreshed laughter when he stepped outside the dorm room.
The clatter of Gojo’s shoes echoed through the hallway as he carried Yuuji in his arms, walking leisurely as if trying to stretch this moment out as much as possible. The silence was suffocating, but at the same time Yuuji didn’t want it to end.
“Did you mean what you said earlier, Yuuji-kun?” Gojo looked down at him with what he assumed to be gentle blue eyes behind the dark fabric. He mused, “they say drunken words are sober thoughts.”
“Senseiii,” Yuuji whined in embarrassment, his face must have rivaled a tomato by now, “please forget everything I said.”
“Everything?” the man echoed. And with a small movement of hands too quick for Yuuji to notice, he was gazing down into amber irises with cerulean blues that seemed to shine in the dark hallway, blindfold forgotten, “even the part where you said you have a crush on me?”
Yuuji practically shrieked.
It seemed counterintuitive to hide from Gojo’s piercing gaze by tucking his head in the crook of the man’s neck, but Gojo was warm against his overheated skin and the scent of salted caramel lingering on his clothes was the least helpful with Yuuji’s drunken state.
He felt himself drifting to sleep.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured, voice muffled by the fabric of the man’s uniform, barely audible, “but I like Gojo-sensei.”
Footsteps halted.
“Like, like him like him,” Yuuji continued, and passed out.
Before sleep claimed his consciousness, he could have sworn he heard a distant voice.
You really shouldn’t, Yuuji-kun.