Work Text:
Gojo-sensei: megumiiiiiiiiiii
Gojo-sensei: come get meeeeee
Megumi rolls his eyes at his phone, heart sinking to the floor. He knows what these messages mean. They mean that Gojo has decided something was bad enough to drive him to forget, and now he’s off somewhere with god-knows-who doing god-knows-what and refuses to teleport himself home. He sighs, staring at the messages, pondering what to do.
At first, he tries to just ignore them. He could be asleep right now. In fact, there’s no reason for him to be awake. It’s after 2 AM, and for all Gojo knows, he very well could miss these messages until morning.
He manages to ignore the messages for seven minutes, diligently keeping his eyes closed despite his thundering heart, until a slurry of new messages come in.
Gojo-sensei: i know ur up, megumi-chan!!!!
Gojo-sensei: we both know u don’t sleep
Gojo-sensei: come get me please???? 🥺 i’ll buy u a treat!
Megumi lets out a long-suffering sigh and rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. Frustrated and bracing himself for the hurt that’s sure to come, he gives in.
Megumi: You know I don’t like sweets.
Gojo-sensei: MEGUMI
Gojo-sensei: MEGUMI COME GET ME PLEASE I MISS YOU
Gojo-sensei: i don’t have a ride back to campus!!!
Megumi: Have your date bring you home.
Megumi fidgets while he waits for the response. The three-dot indicator shows up, disappears, shows up again, disappears again. Finally, a response comes through that makes Megumi feel sick.
Gojo-sensei: he already kicked me out 🥺🥺🥺🥺
Gojo-sensei: PLEEEEASE megumiiiin
Gojo-sensei: i need you 🥺🥺🥺
It’s the nickname that finally breaks Megumi. Gojo doesn’t usually use cutesy nicknames when he speaks to Megumi, preferring just to call him by his name, but on the rare occasion that he does, it’s like a shot straight through his heart. He can’t help it. Something about the intimacy of a nickname that no one else would dare call him hits differently, especially coming from Gojo.
With a defeated huff, he begins the process of dragging himself out of bed. The trains are no longer running at this hour, so he’ll have to hail a cab or call a car service to get to wherever Gojo is. He would just send one straight there, but he doesn’t actually trust Gojo to get into the car if Megumi doesn’t physically put him in it.
Megumi: Send me your location.
The pin pops up seconds later, and a few minutes after that, Megumi is in a car with a stranger on his way to Gojo’s latest hookup.
“Megumiiiii~!” Gojo coos when the car pulls up in front of the luxury apartments Gojo is seated in front of. “I knew you would come!”
As expected, he doesn’t bother to get up from his place on the curb, opting instead to lean back on his hands and gaze up at the sky. He looks ridiculous, sitting out on the street in the middle of the night with his sunglasses on, but to Megumi’s severe regret, he also looks beautiful, all stretched out and bathed in moonlight.
“Get up,” Megumi says without a hint of kindness in his voice. “You woke me up for this, so let’s go.”
Gojo hums a little to himself, obviously still under the effects of whatever he’s on. “Pajamas?”
“Huh?” Megumi looks down at himself and realizes that, yes, he is actually still in his pajamas, having forgotten to change earlier. He shrugs, trying not to show his embarrassment at being outside in his bed clothes. “Like I said, you woke me up. Move. Or I’m leaving you here.”
He squats down behind Gojo and slots his arms beneath Gojo’s underarms, hefting him up with all of his strength. Gojo doesn’t weigh much, but he does weigh more than Megumi, and when he’s like this, he’s almost entirely dead weight.
“Get up,” Megumi grunts again as Gojo lazily gets his feet beneath him. “Get in the car, Sensei. Now. Before I tell the driver to drive away without you.”
“So mean, Megumin,” Gojo whines, and Megumi’s heart flips unpleasantly at the second use of the nickname tonight. “Don’t you like Sensei?”
“No.”
He manages to all but toss Gojo into the backseat after several minutes of struggle. Once they are seated and the driver has the return address of the school, Megumi lets himself relax into the seat.
“If he throws up, one of you will have to pay to clean the interior,” the driver says a few minutes into the trip. He’s been throwing furtive glances back at Gojo through the rearview mirror since they began driving.
Megumi shrugs. “Don’t worry. He’s loaded. If he causes you any trouble, I’ll make him pay you triple.”
The driver seems to accept this, and the rest of the trip passes without incident. It’s not until they return to the school that Gojo begins his whining again, first about having to get out of the car, and then about having to walk back to his room.
“You could just teleport,” Megumi grouses. “Like you could have from his place.”
He knows he sounds bitter, but he doesn’t give a shit. Gojo probably won’t even remember this idiocy in the morning, and even if he does, that’s fine. This will be the last time this happens. Megumi is sick and tired of having his heart broken over and over again by someone who is supposed to care for him.
It’s nearly 3:30 by the time Megumi finally dumps Gojo onto his own bed.
“Oh NO,” Gojo wails. “I promised you a treat! I didn’t get you a treat!” He tries to stand, but Megumi pushes him back down again. “Come on, Megumi, we have to go get you a treat! I promised.”
“I don’t want a treat,” Megumi says. “I want to go to sleep. And I can’t do that until you stop trying to escape and just lie the fuck down.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then a pout forms on Gojo’s lips. “Megumi is mad at me.”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“You should know why by now.”
More silence, and then: “I don’t. You should tell me. Otherwise how will I know not to do it again?”
Megumi rolls his eyes, still fighting to keep Gojo horizontal. “You always do it again. But this is the last time, Sensei. I promise. Next time you need to go out and fuck someone, don’t call me to pick you up. I won’t come.”
The look Gojo gives him is full of shock and awe, as if he’s never heard Megumi speak that way or even considered the idea that this might be somehow painful for him. It makes Megumi’s already fraying edges feel raw and exposed, and he decides that this is as much as he can take for one night.
He turns and leaves the room, dodging Gojo’s attempted swipe at him, presumably to make him stay and chat, or worse, cuddle. He slams the door behind him a little too loudly for almost 4 in the morning, and he spitefully hopes that it gives Gojo a headache.
He returns to his own room with yet another crack on his heart and has a terrible, fitful night of sleep.
Gojo-sensei: Megumiiiii~~~~ 💖
Megumi: No.
Gojo-sensei: PLEASE Megumi i forgot how to use the phone
Megumi: You’re typing on it now. I told you not to call me if you did this again.
Gojo-sensei: u didn’t mean it
Gojo-sensei: don’t u want sensei to get home safely??
Gojo-sensei: don’t u miss me Megumi????
Megumi: Make your date drive you home. I’m done.
Gojo-sensei: he won’t take me
Megumi: Not my problem.
Gojo-sensei: DON’T U LOVE ME MEGUMI-CHAN
Anger and hurt burn through Megumi in equal measure. Yes, he does fucking love Gojo. That’s the entire problem. And he’s starting to think that Gojo knows it and that’s why Megumi is always the only person he’ll call when he decides to act like a jackass.
It’s been a few months since the last time this happened—thankfully it’s not a totally regular occurrence—but Megumi’s resolve has not faltered since then. Gojo never brought up the encounter, and neither did Megumi, but he knows from the look in Gojo’s eyes the following morning that he remembered what Megumi had told him. So Megumi is not at all impressed with this little display, and it only further strengthens his resolve.
Megumi: I’m not coming. Don’t bother me again. I’m turning my phone off. Goodnight, Sensei.
The next morning, he’s awoken by someone coming into his room. He knows instantly who it is and sighs even before opening his eyes. Gojo could have easily come in without making a single sound, could have teleported directly to his bedside, but for some reason he decided to be considerate enough to announce his presence by intentionally stepping on the squeaky floorboard by the door. That’s something, but it’s certainly not enough.
“Go away.”
“Aw, Megumi, don’t be like that!” The sound of something being placed on his nightstand alerts Megumi to how close Gojo is now, and he instinctively tenses.
“Get out,” he says. “I’m sleeping.”
“After all that sleep you got last night?” Gojo says. He’s obviously going for teasing, but Megumi is so far beyond any willingness to be teased, especially about this. He’s far too raw from years of putting up with this shit and sidelining his own feelings to take care of the one person who is supposed to be taking care of him.
Gojo must get the picture, because the next time he speaks, he sounds much more sober.
“I brought you breakfast,” he says. “Thought you might be hungry. There’s coffee, too.”
Reluctantly, Megumi sighs and sits up, propping himself against the headboard of his bed.
“What do you want, Gojo-sensei?” he asks, tired and resigned.
Gojo sits down at the foot of Megumi’s bed and gives him a serious look, glittering blue eyes intense over the rim of his sunglasses. “I want to talk with you about last night.”
“Look, if you’re here to scold me—”
“I’m not,” Gojo says. “Actually I’m… here to apologize.”
That catches Megumi off guard. To say he’s surprised would be an understatement. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Gojo apologize for anything over the decade they’ve known each other.
It must show on his face, because Gojo takes whatever he sees as a sign to continue talking.
“I heard you the last time you picked me up when you said it would be the last time. I knew you meant it, and yet I called you anyway. I assumed you would come get me even though you said you wouldn’t. I took your kindness for granted. I’m sorry, Megumi.”
Megumi swallows around the lump that has suddenly formed in his throat and nods.
“Is that it?”
Gojo’s eyebrows rise in a look that says he wasn’t expecting to be challenged on this, or maybe he was expecting a more gracious forgiveness, but Megumi isn’t going to give it to him.
“Should there be more?”
Megumi shrugs. “Figure it out.”
There are several long minutes of silence, in which Megumi stubbornly stares at his fingernails while he can feel Gojo staring, in turn, at him.
Eventually, Megumi can’t take the silence, and his curiosity and swirling thoughts get the best of him.
“How did you get back?”
“I teleported,” Gojo says with a shrug.
Megumi scoffs. “Told you. That’s what you should always do. Then you won’t have to bother me anymore.”
There’s another beat of silence and then Gojo sets a hand on Megumi’s knee, over the blanket still covering his lap.
“That won’t be necessary,” he says, and finally, Megumi looks up.
Sincerity shines through on Gojo’s handsome features. It’s a rare look, but one Megumi recognizes from when he was a child, whenever Gojo fucked up badly and he knew it. Suddenly, Megumi feels nervous, heart pounding and chest uncomfortably tight.
“Why not?”
“Because,” Gojo says with a squeeze to Megumi’s leg, “I’m going to put that behind me.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Well,” he says, drawing out the word, “I had a little chat with Shoko this morning, and she may or may not have used the words ‘jackass’ and ‘ungrateful little shit’ with reference to certain people and certain things those people might feel. And I have to admit, even with all of my infinite strength and wisdom and knowledge, I may have missed some things.” With one long finger, he tilts Megumi’s chin up so that their eyes meet as he leans in close, forcing intense eye contact. “Or maybe,” he amends, “I purposefully decided not to see them, because I wasn’t sure what those things meant for me.”
Megumi is sure that Gojo must be able to feel his racing pulse through the finger under his chin, but he can’t bring himself to move away. Gojo is so close, his eyes so blue, his lips so pretty. He’s so pretty, so ethereally beautiful, even after a night of doing whatever the hell he gets up to, and it’s painful to think that so many strangers have gotten to have him—that one of those strangers had him just last night. Megumi is jealous, so terribly, heartbreakingly jealous, and if Gojo keeps looking at him with those ridiculous eyes framed by those stupidly long, white lashes, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself from acting on that.
“Megumi,” Gojo says, interrupting the thick tension that has fallen over them. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer me honestly. Can you do that?”
Megumi swallows. “I—”
“Yes or no, Megumi. It’s important. Can you be completely honest with me? Do you trust me?”
And, well, the answer to that is easy. “Yes.”
“Megumi,” Gojo says again. “Do you have feelings for me?”
At that, Megumi screws his eyes shut tight, bile threatening to climb out of his throat as his heart continues to beat uncomfortably fast.
“Yes,” he whispers, and then he waits.
He waits for the rejection he’s always expected. He waits for the hand to leave his chin, for the space to grow wider between them, for everything he has grown to rely on and need and want to disappear from his life, just like it always does.
But then, something unexpected happens. Something crazy happens.
The finger on his chin trails along his jawline, up the soft skin of his cheek, and along with four others, tangles into his messy hair. Before he can even begin to guess at what that means, he finds himself caught in a kiss that steals all of the breath from his lungs.
It’s soft, tender, full of emotions that Megumi has no idea how to deal with. The lump in his throat grows larger, but the kiss keeps going, and before long, he finds himself kissing back. Years of pent-up emotions—love, fear, anger, hurt, longing, desire, betrayal, joy—come flooding forward all at once, and Megumi can’t hold them back any longer.
He tips forward, taking Gojo’s head between his hands and kissing him with all he has. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to get what he wants from it, right here and now, in case this is the only chance he’ll ever get. In case this is Gojo’s sick way of giving him a taste before he finally rejects him.
But to his shock, the kiss doesn’t end. The rejection doesn’t come. And minutes later, when they are both out of breath and panting, lying beside each other with their legs tangled together in Megumi’s sheets, Megumi can’t help but ask.
“What does this mean, Sensei?”
And Gojo responds, “It means you can call me Satoru when we’re in private. And it means you won’t get any more unwanted messages from me in the middle of the night.”
“No?” Megumi asks, full of hope.
“No,” Gojo says. “From now on, I’ll spend my nights with you.”