Work Text:
- Make a friend.
- Kill a curse (at least one.)
- Get married (after retirement.)
Nanami Kento walked into Jujutsu High on his first day of school with a blank expression on his face, a headache already forming, and a list burning a hole in his pocket.
The list, which was on a piece of scrap paper he had quickly stolen on the way out of his parents’ house, was short and to the point, leaving ample room for other words to be written below. He had hastily written the three lines on the train to the school, his mother’s parting words still echoing in his head.
It’s good to have goals, Kento, something to work towards!
He originally wasn’t going to brotherーwhether out of unplaced embarrassment, the affirmation that he’s far too old for some child’s activity, or the thought that he may not live long enough to cross off even the first line, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that one moment he was sitting there, watching the station plaque outside the window announce that he had arrived in Tokyo, and the next he was grappling for the paper shoved hastily in his pocket, grabbing a pen from an outside pocket on his bag, and writing the few lines he needed.
He ended up taking the train a station too far, but it was fine, the walk allowed him to mentally prepare for the worst.
The list sat unbothered throughout the meeting of Yaga, his new principal, Haibara Yu, the only other classmate in his year, and the stupid party the second years threw for themーwell, more like the party Gojo Satoru threw for themーbut he didn’t forget about it once. It wasn’t until he was unpacking inside his dorm room that night that he bothered to move the note, placing it in the left breast pocket of his uniform.
Since that day, he had only opened the note up twiceーboth times to cross out one of his goals.
Haibara was an easy friend to make. He made up for Nanami’s frequent silences, was a constant presence when dealing with both curses and the annoying upperclassmen, and frequently talked about the futureーso much so that it made Nanami hope, made him think that one day, maybe his third goal could actually be achieved.
Killing a curse was abysmally easy to cross off the list too. His first mission with Haibaraーand Yaga as a supervisorーwas to take out a grade four, slimy, blob-like curse. Nanami barely had to lift his cleaver, finding the weak point easily and striking without looking back. Haibara had insisted they celebrated, somehow roping Gojo in as a co-planner. The party was fine, but Nanami found that the best he felt all night was when he crossed the second line off his list, and didn’t even feel like the third goal was daunting.
And then everything fell apart.
Haibara died, Geto defected, Gojo was always gone on some mission, Shoko spent every day in the infirmary, and Nanami left. It was a terribly easy decision, there was practically nothing tying him to the Jujutsu world left, and he told himself that he could still complete his list, just in a different occupation. Thus came the corporate world, and simultaneously Nanami’s zombie yearsーas Gojo dubbed it years later.
Working as a salaryman was dull, uninteresting, and draining. If sorcery was a fast way to the grave, then corporate work was a slow one. He had left one soul-crushing occupation for another, and he truly didn’t know which one he preferred more. He had no off time, no time to enjoy the hobbies he used to have, no time to rest. At the rate he was working, he would’ve had the ability to retire at thirty, possibly, but he didn’t know if he would even make it that far.
He was caught in a sort of limbo for a year, stuck between staying as a salaryman and losing himself and his goals along the way, or leaving the job altogether, not unlike the first time. In the end, it was his favorite bakery that changed his mind, the cursed energy running through his arm as he batted away the small curse was the most alive he felt in years.
And so back to the sorcery world he went.
Killing curses wasn’t as fun as it was during high school, when Haibara was by his side and he was hopeful about what his future could be. He still didn’t have a lot of free time, and the time that he did have off was spent mostly sleeping, but the Jujutsu world was still leagues better than the old one. It had more freedom, it had better paying gigs, it had purpose.
And it had Gojo.
Gojo, who served as Nanami’s only tie to the Jujutsu world after he had leftーin the form of his phone number, which neither of them ever took advantage of until Nanami called that one fateful day. Gojo, who had apparently adopted two children while Nanami had been awayーthough, sometimes it feels like the two Fushiguros adopted him instead. Gojo, who invited Nanami into his home, his office, and his life without thinking twice about it, without any malice about the man’s abandonment of the Jujutsu world.
Gojo, who Nanami’s pretty sure he loves.
Nanami’s always been a romantic. Ever since he was young, he’d hoped for the sort of love he read about in books, and watched in movies, and heard through songs. He hoped that one day he could feel the comforting weight of a wedding ring on his finger, and possibly hear the clink of his own against somebody else’s. He used to want to be a writer, just so that one day, when he did fall in love with someone who wholeheartedly loves him back, he could immortalize it on paper for everyone to see.
The thing is, he doesn’t know if Gojo loves him back.
There’s this… thing between them, one that doesn’t have a name. This thing where they kissーoccasionally, sometimes with the excuse of one of them being tipsy, most of the time done silently, without words of explanation. This thing where they each have a spare key for each other’s housesーa small, lived in house at the edge of Jujutsu High for Gojo, and a mid-size apartment further into Tokyo for Nanami. This thing where they text every single day without failureーsometimes about dumb things, like a cat Gojo saw on the street, and sometimes about serious matters, such as updates about the students, or a new cafe they should check out.
And then there’s this.
“So… what should we make for dinner tonight?” Gojo’s practically hanging off of Nanami, his arm over his shoulder and his weight resting on the blond man, his voice soft and low. Gojo’s supposed to be supervising sparring matches between his students, while Nanami was simply here to monitor Yuuji’s progress, but Gojo’s clearly not watching Maki and Megumi’s fight, and Nanami’s too busy focused on the warmth seeping through his clothes from all of the points Gojo is touching him.
“You mean, what should I make for dinner tonight?” Nanami’s voice is carefully blank, not wanting to alert Nobaraーwho’s standing off to the side of them, actually watching the fightーthat he might actually like Gojo and his stupid inability to cook. The aforementioned man, however, can hear the teasing undertones Nanami tried to cover upーperks of knowing each other for over a decade now, and maybe the effect of being whatever they are.
“Wha- I helped last week! I boiled the water! Don’t act like you didn’t appreciate it.” Nanami could practically hear Gojo’s childish pout, and he had to fight back a fond smile.
“You’re truly remarkable, maybe next week we can move on to you cutting vegetables.” Gojo whined, leaning his weight more onto Nanamiーif that was even possibleーas he muttered about how he could definitely cut a vegetable, and how he’ll definitely show Nanami next week.
They’ve had this conversation almost every week for nearly six years now. Ever since the first Friday after Nanami came back to the Jujutsu world, they’ve had dinner togetherーwith Nanami doing most of the work while Gojo keeps him company. The Fushiguro children joined them every time in the beginning, before Tsumiki got cursed, and Megumi moved into the dorms. Occasionally, Shoko or Ijichi joined them, but those instances were few and far in between.
For a while now, it’s just been the two of them, and they’ve yet to miss a single one. Nanami’s pretty sure that if the world was falling apart, he would still show up at Gojo’s doorstep at five pm on the dotーand he’s positive that Gojo would do the same. Maybe if Nanami was younger, and still had hope that one day, he’ll be able to leave the Jujutsu world again through retirement, and finally get married, he would’ve believed them to be dates. But as he stands now, he’s pretty sure they’re simply friend-get-togethers.
… Where they occasionally kiss sometimes.
“Ugh,” Nobara’s voice breaks Nanami out of his thoughts, and he realizes that Gojo has stopped complaining, simply resting against Nanami, “you guys are like an old married couple, it's revolting.” Nanami doesn’t know Nobara very well, but he’s heard Gojo talk fondly about herーas he does with every one of his studentsーso he’s sure the disgust in her voice wasn’t authentic, but it wasn’t the tone that threw Nanami off guard; it was her words themselves.
Suddenly, he feels as if the note in his breast pocket was burning a hole through his shirt. Ever since graduating Jujutsu High, when he could finally wear more than one uniform, he had started transferring the note to his breast pocket each time he got dressed in the morning. He would grab it off his bedside table, along with his wallet and phone, and place it properly in his shirt, before leaving the house.
It’s so instinctual that he barely thinks about it anymore. But suddenly, the third and final goal, the only one not crossed off, is a line burnt into Nanami’s brain.
Truthfully, Nanami had never thought of marrying Gojo. When he was still in school, his future partner was some faceless, unattainable figure he had made up in his own head, one that he has forgotten the details of now. Then, Gojo was simply his annoying senpai, and he had only felt an overwhelming sense of irritation for him. Once he came back, and he actually saw Gojoーin all forms, in all emotions, in all settingsーhis view of the man changed, but by that point, marriage was already out of the picture for him.
Yet now, he can’t think of anything else.
He stared at the ground in front of him, mind running through scenario after scenario of standing at the altar, going on a honeymoon, clinking his ring-clad finger against another, all with Gojo as the primary subject. It was vaguely mortifying how quickly his brain conjured up such images, but the longer they continued, the more Nanami found himself falling for them.
Yet, he’s still a sorcerer. He still could die at any moment. He could still leave Gojo a widower with one slip upーthat was why he wanted to wait until he was retired, so that the chance of dying instantly wouldn’t be so high. As much as he enjoyed the scenes his brain produced, he knew it would be a bad idea to pursue themーeven if just thinking that caused a spike of pain in his chest.
It’s a bad idea, yes, but Nanami’s never had strong willpower when it came to Gojo.
The rest of the day continued as normal, and Nanami tried to act like he wasn’t in the middle of a never-ending mental battle. Nobody seemed to notice, all interacting with him normally without concern shining in their eyes. He managed to give Yuuji some pointers without stuttering, and he managed to congratulate Megumi on his singular win against Maki, but his heart wasn’t in his words.
The only one that noticed was Gojo.
He expressed as much concern in his Gojo-esque way as he could without drawing attention to Nanamiーmuch to the blond’s approval. He poked at the space between Nanami’s eyebrows until he unwrinkled his forehead, he frequently squeezed Nanami’s shoulder as a sort of comforting gesture, and he kept his flirting to a minimumーwhich, much to his displeasure, Nanami missed.
It wasn’t until later that night, while Nanami was cooking the chicken for their dinner, that Gojo voiced his concern. “You’ve been weird, Nanamin.” Gojo was, once again, draped over him, this time standing directly behind him with his arms wrapped around his waist and his chin resting on his shoulder, so his voice was directly next to Nanami’s earーhe had to fight down a shiver. The chicken was going to burn at this rate, with Nanami’s mind focused on marriage and his body focused on Gojo against him.
He wasn’t going to respond, not prone to letting Gojo know that he’s caught in a stand-still between stupidly asking the white-haired man if he wants to get married right here, right now, or putting a stop to the weird limbo between friends and relationship the two have found themselves in. He wasn’t going to respond, but then Gojo was placing a barely-there kiss on his cheek, and simultaneously smoothing a thumb over the bottom of Nanami’s breast pocketーright where the note laysーand suddenly, Nanami found himself loose-lipped.
“We should get married.” All at once, the rest of the world fell away from Nanami; the chicken, the clock ticking rhythmically on the wall, the tv faintly playing in the background, all became invisible to Nanami’s senses. All he could focus on was every one of Gojo’s movements stopping, his breath audibly catching in his throat right next to Nanami’s ear. Nanami stood stock still, not moving, barely breathing, and hyper-focused on the man standing directly behind him.
“... What?” Gojo finally spoke, his voice choked, as if he could hardly find the breath to speak. Nanami, who finally came back to himself, and concomitantly felt a wave of mortification, stayed where he was, staring down at the chicken unseeingly. “Nanamin,” suddenly, Gojo removed his hands from around his waist, and Nanami felt a surge of panic, but before he could do anything, hands were grasping at his shoulders to turn him around.
Gojo didn’t look like he had just gotten proposed to out of nowhere by someone he maybe-wasn't-even-dating. His shoulders were lax, his hands still resting on Nanami’s shoulders, his mouth set in a slightly-upturned line, but when Nanami’s hands, working without him realizing it, removed the man’s blindfold, Gojo was suddenly laid bare in front of him. Bright blue eyesーlacking the usual glow due to infinity being down, but still stunning nonethelessーbored into Nanami’s own, wonder and confusion swirling together like those cocktails Gojo occasionally drinks when they go out, just intoxicating enough to hit, but still stone-cold sober.
Nanami feels like he can’t breathe.
Gojo was clearly waiting for him to say something, but Nanami didn’t know what to say. He shouldn’t have said that in the first place, for the obvious reason being that it would be a terrible idea in hindsight, but also because he doesn’t even know if Gojo loves him. While his actions say yes, Nanami doesn’t want to assume only to get his heart broken when Gojo admits he doesn’t feel the same. So, he’ll stay silent, hoping that Gojo will take that leap first.
He does, finally, after searching Nanami’s warm face for at least half a minute. “Marriage, eh? At least take me out to dinner first.”
And so, because Nanami is stupid, and Gojo’s eyes are too pretty in the low lightning of his home where traces of the Fushiguros lay, and where Nanami keeps multiple pairs of spare clothes in the case of being too tired to take the train home, and where they’ve spent so many nights simply in each other’s spaces as they are now, the blond glances over his shoulder at the still cooking chicken, and says, “there’s dinner right here.”
There’s a grin growing on Gojo’s lips, and like a pavlovian response, Nanami feels the corners of his mouth tick up. Soft laughter fills the air, a sound that Nanami never wants to stop hearing, and Gojo leans forward to rest his forehead against the blond’s shoulder. His arms have dropped back down to Nanami’s waist, so he wraps his own arms around Gojo’s upper back in response.
Suddenly, as they’re standing in Gojo’s kitchen with their heartbeats sinking, Nanami’s note of goals stuck in between them, marriage doesn’t feel so scary. If marrying Gojo is anything like standing in the kitchen wrapped up in each other, then it would be worth whatever may come in the future. Suddenly, he doesn’t care about waiting for retirement, or until he is guaranteed to be safe, all he cares about is never letting this go.
“I love you,” Nanami whispers, his words half hidden in Gojo’s hair. The words don’t feel as daunting if he’s practically hiding in white locks when he says them, and when the air around them is warm and comforting. He doesn’t feel an ounce of the nerves he once held simply thinking about this moment, and abruptly he wishes he had said it much earlier.
Gojo laughs against Nanami’s shoulder, a delighted sound he probably couldn’t keep inーeven if he could, Nanami wouldn’t want him to. “I love you too, my Nanamin!” Gojo pulled away then, a large grin on his face as he cupped the blond’s cheeks, leaning forward for a kiss that Nanami was grateful to provide. It was hardly a kiss, more so an occasional brush of lips, both too busy smiling to fully complete the actionーneither of them cared, and again, Nanami yearned for this to never end.
“Nanami, I-” the aforementioned man cut the other off with a kiss, feeling more than hearing Gojo laugh after a few moments of their lips pressed together, “I- I think the chicken might be burnt.” Gojo could barely get his sentence out, too busy laughing, the sound only growing in volume as Nanami swore and turned back to the stove, quickly shutting the burner off and placing the pan off to the side.
Sure enough, the chicken breast was visibly charred on the bottom, the top pink, and Nanami knew there was no saving itーand he found he didn’t care. He hates wasting food, always has, but he could care less about the chicken breast at the current moment, not when Gojo was still laughing behind him, and a happy glow still clouded Nanami’s mind.
“Want to order pizza?” If Nanami from his salaryman days could see him now, laughing in a kitchen with a burnt chicken breast, asking about pizza, he would probably think he finally lost his mindーand maybe he has, but he couldn’t care less.
“Oh my, Nanamin, engagement has already changed you,” Gojo gasped in fake bafflement, his smile still lingering in the crinkle beside his eyes, and the lift to his words. “I’ll go get my phone, be right back!” Gojo patted his chest once, right over the note, before teleporting to the living room where he left his phone.
Nanami stays standing there, his heart pounding against the note, watching the doorway which Gojo will walk through in only a few seconds, with a burnt chicken breast behind his back, and thinks, you’ve changed me, Gojo Satoru, not engagement.
His second thought is, more goals might be in order for the future, and he only feels excitement.
-
Nanami opens the note for the thirdーbut not finalーtime on the last day of his honeymoon with Gojo.
The two are sitting on a beach in Kuantan, Malaysia when Nanami finally remembers the note. Gojo is laying on a towel directly next to him, underneath the largest umbrella they could find, when Nanami carefully unfolded the weathered piece of paper. He had previously rooted around in the bag they brought for a pen, finding one that Gojo must’ve stolen from the hotel, but when he brought it up to the piece of paper, his hand stopped.
He never thought he would make it to this point, and with how long the third goal has been written on the paper, he thinks the world might collapse when he crosses it off. Nevertheless, he’s never been a coward, and after a moment more of staring holes into the paper, he crossed the last line out. The line he made was careful, opposite to the careless way he had crossed the other two out, and after staring for a moment longer, he made an edit to the already-finished list.
- Get married (after retirement.)(Failed.)
“We should get a vacation house out here.” Gojo must’ve rolled over during Nanami’s note-staring, for his voice was muffled from where his face was stuck into his crossed arms, his pale back on display. Nanami softly smiled, making another addition to his note, leaving ample room below the now-four lines for future goals.
- Make a friend.
- Kill a curse (at least one.)
- Get married (after retirement.)(Failed.)
- Buy a vacation home in Malaysia
Future goals he was excited to set, and even more excited to fulfillーthis time, with Gojo by his side.