Chapter Text
CW: mention of vomit/throwing up
Megumi woke up feeling full of cotton wool. His ears were blocked, his nose was blocked, his head hurt, and his mouth tasted like Gojo’s lethal risotto. He couldn’t even hear Itadori clattering around like he normally could, which meant one of two things: one, he was going deaf, which at this point might be a gift; or two, Itadori had been kidnapped and it was up to Megumi to find him.
“Ugh,” Megumi groaned, rolling until he fell off his bed. He lay there for quite some time, debating whether or not to get up. In the end, he decided it wasn’t worth it, but since he couldn’t roll back onto his bed from the floor, he reached up and tugged his pillow and duvet down with him.
“Why are you on the floor?” someone asked from the doorway. Megumi groaned again in response and rolled himself up in his bedcovers like a taco. Whoever it was made a quizzical noise and went away, which was exactly what Megumi wanted.
“Why’s he on the floor?” another voice asked. This one came into the room and prodded Megumi with their toe. “He’s still alive, at least.”
“I know he’s still alive!” the first person replied. “I told you, he just rolled himself up like that and didn’t say anything. Not even a middle finger.”
“Oh, that is serious,” the second agreed. “He’d always at least flip us off. Hey, Fushiguro, you with us?”
“No,” Megumi said simply, burrowing further into his cocoon. “Leave me alone.”
“Problem solved, he’s back to normal,” the second voice, which Megumi was beginning to recognise as Kugisaki’s, announced. “Get dressed, Itadori, we have training today.”
“He doesn’t look normal,” Itadori observed, coming to stand by Megumi’s side. “He looks kinda red.”
“It’s the hatred. It builds up inside you or whatever.”
“No, like, seriously, he doesn’t look so good. Shouldn’t he at least be on the bed?”
“And how you suggest we manage that, Einstein?”
“I’ll do it.”
Megumi felt arms slide underneath him, and then he was being hoisted up and rolled back onto his bed.
“Thanks,” he muttered, not bothering to un-taco himself. Itadori laughed.
“Woah, dude, you really are out of it. You need anything? Medicine? Soup?”
“Sleep,” Megumi answered. And then, “You left my pillow on the floor.”
“Here, you big baby,” Kugisaki sighed. The pillow hit Megumi in the face, hard. He didn’t move it, just waved vaguely in what he hoped was her direction.
“You can leave now.”
“No ‘thank you’?” Kugisaki complained. “I see how it is. That’s blatant favouritism.”
“Hm, so you’ve noticed.” Megumi burrowed further into his mattress. “Goodnight.”
“I still think we should take his temperature or something,” Itadori maintained. He tried to pull the pillow away from Megumi’s face, but Megumi held on tight. “Fushiguro, let me take your temperature.”
“No.”
“Why not?!”
“Because.”
There was a silence; some shuffling, and a loud bang that was probably Kugisaki shoving Itadori into a wall for being annoying. Another pause, and then:
“Are you gonna finish your sentence?” Itadori ventured.
“No.”
“Right, that’s it, I’m not wasting any more time here,” Kugisaki decided. “Get dressed, Itadori, and I’ll get Gojo to come tell Fushiguro to get up.”
Gojo had never succeeded in telling Megumi to do anything, but Megumi decided to keep that to himself. Less talking meant more sleeping, and his head really hurt.
“Bye, Fushiguro,” Itadori chimed. Megumi barely heard him, already drifting out of consciousness.
“Well, maybe ‘goodnight’ is more appropriate,” was the last thing he heard, before he finally fell asleep again.
“Woah, you’ve really done yourself in this time, Megs,” said a vaguely impressed voice.
Megumi’s eyes fluttered open, saw Gojo, and immediately closed. “Not today, thanks.”
“Awh, Megumi, open your eyes for a sec,” Gojo whined. “I wanna check your temperature.”
“You can do that with my eyes closed,” Megumi argued, eyes still closed. “I don’t have to look at you. My eyes already hurt.”
“So you really are sick,” Gojo observed, whiny tone completely gone. “You won’t even tell me I’m being dramatic.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Too late now. Yuji, get the thermometer.”
Itadori, who Megumi didn’t even know was there, scampered off, soon returning. Gojo hummed in acknowledgement.
“’Kay, Megs, open wide! Say ahhh~”
“Ah,” Megumi said unenthusiastically. He screwed his eyes tighter closed in case Gojo shoved the thermometer into them by mistake. It’d happened before.
“No need to look so terrified,” Gojo muttered, placing the thermometer delicately under Megumi’s tongue. “I’m not trying to kill you.”
Megumi wanted to point out that Gojo wasn’t being exactly reassuring, but he couldn’t, due to the thermometer under his tongue.
“All done.” Gojo removed the thermometer; Megumi could almost see the flourish in his mind’s eye. “You’ve got quite the fever here, Gumi. No wonder you were mean to Yuji.”
“I wasn’t mean to him!”
“That’s true, he wasn’t mean to me,” Itadori volunteered. “He was just mean to Kugisaki.”
“Oh, well, he’s always mean to Nobara,” Gojo shrugged. He put his hand to Megumi’s forehead. “Yeesh. Poor Megumi. I hope you feel better soon.”
“So do I,” Megumi agreed. “Now leave before you say something embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? I would never, how dare you-“
“Gojo.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Gojo pressed lightly on Megumi’s forehead, then lifted his hand. “Would you like some medicine?”
“Please.”
Gojo made a sympathetic noise, and tucked the covers tighter around Megumi’s shoulders. “I’ll be right back. Come on, Yuji, you’ve got stuff to do.”
“But Sensei-“ Itadori whined. “Can’t I take a day off?”
“Nope,” Gojo replied cheerfully. “Now shoo.”
“Ugh.” Itadori began shuffling slowly towards the door, making a point of looking back every two steps. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”
“Very,” Gojo beamed, beginning to herd him gently.
“Fushiguro-?”
“Get out before you catch something.” Megumi tried to glare, but he was finding it harder and harder to focus.
“Yessir,” Itadori saluted. Gojo pushed him out the door.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Gojo, over his shoulder. “I’m sure we’ve got something for colds around here,” he added, probably to himself. Megumi flipped himself onto his other side and tried to get comfortable.
He listened to Itadori and Gojo chatter their way down the hall, knocking on doors as they went to make sure the other students got up in time. He also heard them on the floor below, taking their lives in their hands by waking up Maki. Itadori probably got attacked, judging from his scream and Gojo’s hysterical laughter (which soon died off as Maki turned on him). Kugisaki yelled at them to “SHUT THE HELL UP!”, and then Gojo started climbing the stairs again while the others went out to the training grounds. Some people would probably think it was weird to be able to recognise people by their footsteps, but Megumi could.
“Megumi~” Gojo called softly. “You still awake?”
“Mm.”
“Aw, you’re so cute when you’re sleepy,” Gojo chuckled. “Sit up, I found medicine.”
“Is it safe?” Megumi asked apprehensively. Gojo looked offended.
“Anyone would think you didn’t like me! Look, I even checked the date and everything.” Gojo presented the ‘best before’ date to Megumi with a proud grin.
“I can’t read that, it’s all blurry,” Megumi said. Gojo frowned.
“That bad? You’ll just have to trust me, I suppose. I’ll get Shoko after this.”
“No, don’t bother.” Megumi hauled himself upright. “It’s just a cold.”
“A cold where you can’t see, you can barely sit up-“ Gojo caught Megumi just before he tipped off the bed. “Your fever’s at an all-time high, you were nearly mean to Yuji, you tried to sleep on the floor, you-“
“Okay!” Megumi sneezed violently, as if to prove Gojo’s point. “Still.” He took the spoon Gojo had measured the medicine into and swallowed the liquid. “That was disgusting.”
Gojo laughed. “I bet. I suppose you’d better go to sleep-“
Either the universe hated him or the universe hated Gojo; either way, Megumi chose that moment to throw the medicine – and last night’s dinner – right back up.
“Things were going so well,” Gojo sighed, rubbing Megumi’s back. “Mind that part of your fringe, Megs,” he added, swooping it out of the way.
“This sucks,” was all Megumi could say, coughing a little.
“It could be worse,” Gojo reasoned. “At least you’re not throwing up blood or anything.”
“Don’t jinx it.” Megumi put a hand to his own head. “I feel like my head’s about to split open.” He closed his eyes and let his head tip back, wincing at the stabbing pains in his skull.
He must have really looked bad, because all Gojo said was, “Oh, sweetheart,” before pulling Megumi into his arms.
“Don’t squeeze me too hard,” Megumi said, but he rested his head on Gojo’s shoulder all the same.
“Hey, at least you aren’t dying of measles this time,” Gojo offered, stroking Megumi’s hair.
“I was never dying.”
“Could have been, though. You’d never had your vaccine.”
“Oh, yeah. You were raging when you found out.”
“You bet I was! Who did he think he was, having a kid and not even getting them a measles shot-“ Gojo cut himself off at Megumi’s wince. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll try not to be so loud.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad I’m not dying of measles.”
“Not half as glad as I am, Megs.”
“I liked it though.”
“What?”
“The attention. You never left the room.”
“What, was I supposed to leave my kid to die of measles in his room by himself?”
“Toji would’ve.”
“I guess that’s the difference between me and him.”
“I guess that’s what makes you my dad, and not him.”
“Aw, that was really sweet. I love you too~”
“Shut up.”
Gojo smiled, and kissed Megumi’s forehead. “It’s true.”
“Doesn’t mean you should say it.”
“I love you.”
“Stop.”
“I love you.”
“No.”
“I looooove yoouuuuu-“
“Oh my god, shut the fuck UP-“