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Utahime swears she must've done something incredibly bad in her past life to receive this text first thing in the morning.
“Woke up late. Pls take over my morning classes, k. Thnks~ ”
Oh, she will kill Satoru Gojo in the most painful way a man could ever imagine, even if that's the last thing she will do. And that's not a threat, it's a promise.
It's not like it's the first time this exact situation had happened, in fact, she had taken over the physics teacher countless times in the past three months alone so she knows the drill by now. It didn't make it any less annoying, though, her morning was supposed to be free so she could grade some essays and of course the devil reincarnated knew it. She really hates him
Just thinking about the stress she is about to go through makes her head pound and she sighs before heading to the nursery, she knew they hired someone new but in all of the weeks since they started to work in the school she had yet to so much as see them. It’s not impoliteness or anything, she’s just never sick, all she knows is that Dr. Ieiri is terrifying according to one of her students. But then again, they also think that about her, so she doesn’t really know the credibility of it.
Utahime walks with her head down and eyes almost closed, the bright lights making the already annoying pain a bit worse with each passing second. She barely notices getting to a door with a giant ‘doctor’ sign on it in the midst of her mental planning but luckily spares embarrassment by the sound of pen scratching, still looking down and trying her best to not let her voice be tainted with either pain or anger she clears her throat.
“Excuse me, do you have any aspirin?”
“You’re Iori-sensei, right? Nice to meet you.”
At the smooth sounding voice she raises her head and is greeted with a sight she would’ve never expected. Utahime doesn’t know if it’s the dark circles under her eyes, the lab coat completely unbuttoned paired with the navy turtleneck that hugged her figure just right or the really nice looking hands holding a clipboard with nothing more than a couple of fingers. Maybe it was the way she spoke her name, softly, almost purring, like she knows exactly what she’s doing; maybe it’s the way the lights dance on her face, showing off the little mole close to the prettiest brown eyes she has ever seen and casting a soft shadow on rosy painted lips that would look so good touching her neck - and maybe she’s getting a little ahead of herself here.
But Utahime’s world stops spinning at the same time her brain stops working, words just didn't seem like a thing again and she’s sure she forgot about what she's even doing in that office. There are sirens sounding inside her head and she feels heat taking over her whole face. She must look like a stop sign at the moment, yet she just can’t move, can’t stop looking at her.
Only one coherent thought running through her mind.
Oh, she’s hot.
Oh no, she’s hot.
The doctor frowns and her heart starts suddenly beating again, painful against her ribcage and so fast her vision gets slightly blurry. Ieiri gets up with an elegance paired with a cat - or rather a more deadly feline like a panther maybe - and suddenly she's walking towards her, getting close, too close. Utahime is sure her entire blood flow is concentrated on her face and neck, she should take a step back to see if she would start breathing again but her body is stiff and unable to move an inch.
Ieiri's frown somehow deepens and she looks so concerned that Utahime wants to say something just to relieve her of the burden of worry but she just bites her tongue to avoid saying something embarrassing like complimenting the way her long brown hair suits her pale complexion. It's only when the other woman is all up on her face that she says something.
“Your face is red, not feeling well?” God she was close enough for Utahime to smell the mix of woody perfume and cigarettes - it should be disgusting given that it meant she was smoking before seven in the morning, unfortunately, however the teacher can't help but think that it only makes her sexier.
There was a question there that she should maybe answer but Ieiri leaned in closer and ever so gently brushed her bangs from her forehead. Before Utahime could find her voice, a smooth hand is pressing against the now unobstructed space on her face and that velvety voice is driving her insane again by speaking.
“Hmm…you're a little warm too.”
Her eyes are probably so wide it might scare Ieiri a little but she couldn't control her facial muscles just like she couldn't make her lungs work again, with this much proximity she can almost - almost - feel the other woman's breath against her skin and it makes her dizzy. When the doctor steps away she doesn't know if she should be relieved or frustrated so she settles for both.
The moment she's distracted looking for something in her coat pocket Utahime runs as discreetly as she can to the bathroom, praying that it would be empty, she's not in the mood to explain to teenagers why her face is so red and why she's a little out of breath.
Utahime takes a deep breath and washes her face, glad that she chose to not wear makeup that day and stares at herself in the mirror until she's looking a little more like herself. It's okay, she decided, she's got this!
The moment she leaves the bathroom is the moment Dr. Ieiri decides to leave her office without her coat and the way her heels make her legs look neverending is just unfair. Her throat feels constricted and she's sure there's a swarm of butterflies flying around her entire body.
Oh, she so did not have this.
After she got over the embarrassment from that disastrous first meeting, everything was okay until she decided to pass the last of her forced morning classes to another teacher and take a second to breathe. Rushed mornings like that always brought Utahime to the school's rooftop, is usually the only place in the building devoid of loud teenagers and the view isn't half bad so it's really the best place for her to turn off her brain for a little.
She opens and closes the heavy doors silently, the lock hasn’t been working since she first started teaching there, so it's rather easy to come and go without anyone ever noticing.
In her fogged mind she almost misses the figure leaning against the railing. Almost , because the smell of cigarettes reaches her nostrils as she breathes deeply to get rid of her nasty temper, her nose scrunches and she probably wouldn't say anything if she didn't recognize the long brown hair and white coat from earlier that morning.
Fixing the very few strands of hair out of place, she makes her way to the doctor, feeling her face hot when the woman hears her footsteps and turns to look at her. The small tug on her rosy lips makes Utahime need to clear her throat before speaking.
“You know these things will kill you, right, Ieiri-san?”
The woman rolls her eyes playfully and shrugs. “Eh, it's alright,” she takes another puff and drops her cigarette, effectively putting it out with the sole of her heels. “Also, please call me Shoko, Iori-sensei.”
She nods, feeling that tingly feeling in her stomach with Shoko's undivided attention now on her. “Call me Utahime then.”
“Really pretty name, suits you.” She says and Utahime swears she's about to combust. “Did you get that aspirin you wanted?”
She's ashamed to admit that it took her a couple of seconds just staring at Shoko's face dumbly before remembering their encounter early in that same morning. “Yes, don't worry about it.” She didn't, but her headache was barely present anymore.
Shoko nods and takes a good look at her, just like earlier her gaze wasn't clinical at all, more warm than anything and made her breath get caught up in her lungs.
Then she smiles, small, soft and Utahime feels the world being swept off her feet or shifting on its axis or something she doesn't know but it surely feels like a life-changing experience. She scolds herself for feeling like this because of a woman she barely knows.
A beat passed, then. “Wanna grab lunch from that place down the block?” Shoko says.
“Yeah.” Utahime answers and if it comes out a little breathless, both decide to ignore it.
If she had a little less self control she would have probably invited Shoko for dinner, as her brain-mouth filter was working for once, Utahime manages to just open the rooftop door and wait for the doctor to fall in step with her.
It quickly became routine and one time when they're having lunch together on her classroom she notices how Shoko analyzes every inch of her face, how her honey brown eyes skirt across her skin and seemingly get lost in the scar marring her cheeks and nose, tracing and retracing as soon as she reaches the thinner edge on the end of it. Utahime allows it to happen, waits for the questions that she always gets and rolls her eyes when she notices the internal conflict in her friend's face.
“You can just ask, you know that, right?”
Shoko just shrugs. “Don't wanna be insensitive, sorry,” at the raised eyebrow shot her way she presses her lips in a thin line and sighs defeated. “How'd you get it?”
“Car accident.”
“Ouch.” She winced in sympathy.
Utahime just waves her hand in dismissal and clicks her tongue, displaying it was nothing to be actually worried about. Usually she tells a different story depending on who asks, to some she got it fighting an armed robber while he tried to take her computer, to others her face was slashed in a home invasion.
She normally hates gossip involving her name but this is the only aspect that she doesn't really mind being talked about, it sucks to have it but the speculations made it sound more fun than it actually was so she likes to fuel them. A girl is allowed her hobbies after all.
This time, however, she decided to tell the truth, maybe it's the way Shoko looks at her in an almost fond way or maybe it's just because she doesn't really like to lie to her friends. Who knows.
“Does it still hurt?” Shoko asks sympathetically.
“I've had it for almost a year now.” Utahime replies, confused as to why it would still be sensitive if it was already completely healed.
“Some people still feel pain in their scars even years after an accident,” she answers, shrugging.
“Must be psychological then, I feel no emotional pain whatsoever remembering about it, it's just annoying.”
Shoko nods in understanding but still stares at it, at this point Utahime thinks she might memorize every single spot of her face - she's not complaining, far from it, in fact being interesting enough to capture the attention of the woman in front of her like that makes her feel butterflies all over. She kinda had a fleeting thought about getting more scars, but quickly realized how stupid that sounds.
“Um…” Shoko starts. “Can I touch it?”
Yeah, Utahime swears to every god out there that this woman will be the end of her brain activity. Gladly, however, her body seems to be acting on its own accord and she nods, already feeling the tips of her ears hot just from thinking about those fingers on her skin again.
Shoko moves her chair to face the right where she stands, leaning towards her with one hand raised and the other on the armrest to hold her body, hovering just close enough for Utahime to curl her own hands into first as a way to stop herself from pulling the doctor to sit on her lap by the waist.
With the delicacy of an angel, Shoko drags two of her fingers across the entire extension of the enormous scar on her face, her fingertips are smooth to the touch and leave a trail of pure fire behind them.
Shoko's eyes are so focused, her eyebrows furrowed, she's barely blinking and Jesus Christ is that how her patients usually feel? If Utahime wasn't already blushing she sure is now.
The doctor gets to the end of it on her other cheek and instead of dropping her hand she just changes paths. Going towards her ear and when it gets there, she moves down to her jaw, her chin, her slightly parted lips.
It's only when Utahime lets out a shaky breath that Shoko snaps out of her trance and takes a wobbly step back. She should ask her out, if her mouth was actually connected with her brain she would have, instead an almost awkward silence greets them until Shoko clears her throat with a cough and sits back on her chair.
“So,” Shoko says. “How did that baseball game end last night?”
Utahime doesn't know if she should be glad for the change of subject or if she should be annoyed by the blown chance. Remembering that she didn't even know if Shoko likes women helped her decide that this was not the time and only a few blinks later she launched herself into a full rant about how this season was a joke and the referee was totally cheating - she swears she has proof.
The second time she finds herself inside of Shoko's infirmary it's no one's fault but her own. A series of poor choices involving walking the long way for 'exercise' since she missed working out and getting rained on because why would she pay for a cab when her legs work perfectly fine.
She wakes up with a slight fever and a scratchy throat but decides that it's alright, she just has to supervise tests for the entire day so being a tad weaker than normal wouldn't be a problem. Maybe.
Second period tells her she was awfully wrong, her entire body feels simultaneously heavy and so light that she can’t feel herself touching the ground. Truth be told, she only stepped back from her classes because she was forced and dragged to the infirmary, no matter how many times she claimed that she was fine enough to get the metro back home or head to an ER by herself if necessary.
Utahime is grumbling until a door to her left opens, Shoko takes one good look at her, shakes her head and immediately pulls her in.
“Satoru said you’re sick but I didn’t think it was this bad.” She sighs discouraged.
“I’m fine.” Utahime crosses her arms and unconsciously pouts like a child.
Shoko gives her a flat look and pushes her to one of the beds near the wall of her office, already starting the whole examination process. A light shines here, a stethoscope touches her back there, she blushes when a hand gently feels her forehead before the thermometer comes in, breathe in then breathe out, she notices how Shoko hands feel on her shoulder, breathe again and feel butterflies on her stomach because Shoko giggled at her droopy face, take the medicine from a gloved hand and smile at the pressed lips barely concealing a laugh.
After she’s done, Shoko forces Utahime into laying down and covers her body with a spare blanket.
“Just rest here a little and you should be alright for your afternoon classes, Hime.” She says.
“Hime?” Princess? Surely her feverish brain is hallucinating this, there was just no way this was real, she is officially delirious.
“Don't like it?” Shoko asks, tilting her head to the side and Utahime swears she will either explode or melt, her face feels so hot that the answer it's probably the latter. “Aww, you're blushing.”
“I have a fever, shut up.” She grumbles in retaliation, trying to maintain at least a little bit of dignity.
“You sure?” The small raise on her left eyebrow can't be described by anything other than teasing.
“You just said that a few minutes ago.” She deadpans and breathes deeply to make the redness on her face go away.
“Alright then, Hime.” She says and pats her head gently.
And she feels herself getting hotter, she can't believe she has such a traitorous body. Shoko giggles - since when she giggles, Utahime has no idea, but she isn't complaining either, it's adorable - and she bites her bottom lip to stop herself from blurting out a 'go out with me' or something worse.
Instead, Utahime closes her eyes and allows the drowsiness of the medication to kick in and her consciousness to slip away.
Shoko hums when she works on reports, Utahime finds out one afternoon. Every once in a while both of them have nothing to do so she sits on one of the infirmary chairs and works alongside the doctor mostly in silence, though usually the teacher wears headphones, this time around she forgot them in her classroom.
Is a pleasant surprise the moment she hears the first sound coming from her right, she conceals her smile as if the other woman could hear the curve of her lips and that of all things would make her stop. It doesn’t, thankfully and in no time she finds herself humming along.
Usually they would do this in her classroom, Shoko barely had actual crisis to deal with so she didn’t mind being out of her workplace, however today a few too many kids were getting injured in the morning because of some stupid challenge going viral online and both of them decided it was smarter to not leave the only infirmary in the whole school alone. In fact, Utahime wasn’t even going to disrupt Shoko that afternoon if she hadn’t received a text almost begging for her company because Shoko had to have at least a few minutes with an intelligent form of life.
Utahime noticed how much an environment can affect a person in those minutes spent together, Shoko looked way more relaxed like she was in her element and even if all she did was paperwork it was still so interesting to just keep her gaze trained on her. She’s so effortlessly charismatic it would be infuriating if wasn’t so attractive.
Utahime has always been fond of people watching and lately Shoko has proven herself as a great subject for her musings. She knows she’s being stared at, yet doesn’t seem to mind. She asked once and apparently hearing that studying people’s behavior is just a hobby was enough for her to not even tease Utahime about it.
So she watches the way Shoko’s brown eyes skirt through her computer screen, linger on little bits of information, widen almost imperceptibly every couple of minutes and narrows slightly when her vision eventually gets a little blurry. Her nose scrunches when she has to read the same paragraph over and over again and Utahime feels her heart tugging at her chest.
She focuses on Shoko’s mouth next, how she bites her bottom lip in concentration sometimes, how her cheeks hollow out in an effort to soothe her oral fixation because Utahime complained one too many times about the smell of smoke coming from her, how she either moistens her lips with her tongue or presses them in a line just to have something to do. The teacher pulls out a lollipop from her purse and the smile she gets in return makes breathing sound like a hard task.
Next she descends to the bouncy knees, the movement never ending but still silent despite the heels that Shoko seems to never stop wearing, Utahime thinks it might have something to do with the fact that she has yet to take a smoke break from all of this, maybe that’s why she’s keeping her twitchy hands so busy.
Since she's on the topic, she watches as Shoko sorts some papers, her dexterous hands skimming through several different reports and whatever she keeps on her desk. Utahime is captivated, her brain can't not come up with images of those fingers unbuttoning her own dress shirt, tracing the outline of her bra and she mentally scolds herself before her imagination goes too far.
Utahime averts her gaze to the papers she needs to grade and takes a deep breath before focusing on them, Satan will not tempt her today.
In the past six months or so since they met they've made a habit of drinking at Utahime's apartment every Friday and tonight was no different, with a football game playing in the background Shoko took the liberty of taking care of their dinner while the teacher yells at the stupid men running around the stupid ball.
Utahime doesn't know if it's the beers she already drank or the fact that Shoko decided to cook, the very same Shoko that usually survives by either ordering an obscene amount of take out per week or eating ramen pretty much every night, but she feels bolder for some reason. It could be the way her hair shines beneath the warm light in her apartment or it could be the way the doctor effortlessly moves around her kitchen like she's done that a million times before but she can't not touch her somehow, whether it's just by letting her hand rest on the other's knee or just pressing her body on Shoko's. She just can't get enough.
Utahime is sure she's staring more at Shoko than watching the game but who can blame her, really. She successfully avert her eyes when the other woman walks to the living room holding one of her biggest plates filled to the brim and two pair chopsticks hanging from the middle of her fingers.
“This was supposed to be yakitori,” Shoko starts, setting the dish on the coffee table already littered with empty cans and sitting leaning her back on the couch. “But you have no skewers, so it's just scallions and grilled chicken.” She finishes by shrugging even if there was a nervous edge on her voice, Utahime decides it's better not to comment on it and focus on the food.
“I didn't know you could cook,” she says before blowing on the chicken she gathered and preparing herself for the first bite.
“I can , as in, I'm able to,” Shoko answers, smiling softly and chuckling under her breath at the little moan of appreciation her companion lets out. “I just choose not to.”
Utahime shimmies her shoulders in a teeny tiny happy dance before speaking. “Well, you're stupid, this is so good.”
She's sure she looks a little stupid at the moment, but when she notices the fond brown eyes staring at her she finds that she really couldn't care less. Her cheeks feel hot when Shoko doesn't avert her gaze and before she could stop herself her brain is remembering a conversation that took place not more than two days before.
“Utahime and Shoko, sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Gojo's singing voice suddenly resonated in her classroom, she was having such a peaceful day but now there's the signs of a headache already making her massage her temple and sigh.
“Shut up.” Not ten seconds in his presence and she's already frowning, he should give her financial compensation for worsening the already premature wrinkles on her forehead.
“What? Can't I talk about my dear friend and her girlfriend?”
She wishes she had an assault rifle under her desk, it would be so satisfactory to just shoot him multiple times - the world would be a better place.
“She's not my girlfriend.” Her scowl deepens.
He just shrugs. “You should ask her out then, she's always talking about you,” he grimaces. “It's disgusting.”
Utahime sighs again, deciding not to give his words too much credit. “Go fuck Geto on the janitor's closet and leave me alone, freak.”
He sputters and leaves before she throws the ruler aimed at him, thankfully. Unfortunately, regardless of what she thought she had decided, what he said didn't leave her mind for the rest of the day. It managed to distract her enough that she just gave her students pop quizzes for the rest of the afternoon, much to the kids' chagrin.
She shakes her head to focus on the food again and drinks more, the alcohol would either make her forget that exchange or give her the courage she needs to finally say something. She really should have opened the wine sitting prettily on her cabinet, it would be a much better encouragement.
If Shoko notices her distraction she doesn't comment on it, instead, once they finish eating she lays her head on Utahime's shoulder and scrunches her nose at the players taking each other down on the tv - she never really understood the point of football and whenever someone explained the rules she just shook her head and claimed it was stupid either way.
Utahime feels a little bit tipsy from the beers and a little lightheaded from the additional weight on her shoulder, the smell of Shoko's shampoo mixed with the perpetual smell of smoke from her clothes. The soft tv light made her look ethereal and the angle where she looked from made her dark circles under her eyes blend in with the rest of her skin so effortlessly that it barely seemed like they were there. She likes them, if she's being awfully honest, the more tired those eyes look the more charmed she feels, but no one had to actually know that.
Point is, she's feeling brave, her heart hammering on her ribcage tells her that she should just go for it and if the rejection comes she will accept it like the mature adult she is - she'll cry in the bathroom for two hours straight and drink herself into a coma.
“Hey, Shoko,” her voice is as soft as a whisper. She hopes the red on her face could be mistaken for one of the many effects alcohol has, even if she would still consider herself sober. “Do you wanna go out one of these days?”
If Gojo wasn't right, she was going to murder him.
“Are you asking me out on a date, Iori-san?” She says, in a perfect mix of teasing and coy, the same tone she uses to mock the life out of Utahime.
“Yeah.” She almost squirms while answering but manages to keep her composure at the last second.
Shoko finally raises her head and now their noses were touching and Utahime could feel the woman's hot breath on her lips, it slowly was driving her insane.
“So you've finally noticed I've been flirting with you this entire time?”
“Wha-” and before she could finish the stupid question, Shoko's lips are firmly pressing on hers, for one second she just sits there, wide eyed and frozen. In the next, she's kissing back with the same intensity, her hands going from the couch to the back of Shoko's head, fingers tangling themselves into long brown hair and a content sigh escaping from her mouth only to be swallowed by the other woman. Her hips being held possessively with one hand and the other cradling her cheek delicately - the contrast in behavior was making her as dizzy as the lack of air.
“So I take that as a yes?” Utahime says, lips still brushing Shoko's and one hand massaging her scalp.
She just rolls her eyes and kisses her again in the lieu of actually answering that. The hand on a scarred cheek dropping to squeeze full thighs and granting a gasp with it, Shoko uses the opening to introduce her tongue to the mix and when they notice, Utahime is straddling her lap and they're getting a little bit too carried away.
They pull apart, just slightly and Shoko is smiling again, Utahime thinks her heart is so full it might actually burst somehow. Her entire body feels hot and she can’t do much except for tugging on the doctor’s hair and pulling her in for another heated kiss.
“Bed?” She asks, no fear of coming off as overeager, life’s too short to pretend you haven’t got the hots for your co-worker.
“Bed.” Shoko pants back.