Chapter Text
They’re sparring when Satoru first brings it up, “Suguru~”
“What, Satoru?”
“You know you can tell me about your hookups,” Suguru almost gets punched in the face in shock, but quickly blocks and counters with an uppercut, also blocked. Being on the same level in hand-to-hand combat usually means they have to get creative to land blows, but based on the start of the match, neither is trying that hard, easily settling into an attack-block-counter pattern.
“Fucking what?” asks a bewildered Suguru. He tries to sweep Satoru’s leg to end the match quickly and get Satoru on his back, to no avail.
“You think I don’t notice that every Tuesday and Thursday, you sneak out of your dorm and return three hours later? And you always seem… glowy when you come back,” There’s a stunned silence while they grapple for the upper hand. “Not to mention how much you whine about being sore on Fridays even though Thursdays are usually our easiest days, physically.” The sound of heavy breathing fills the air and the conversation slows to accommodate the increased intensity of their fighting. “I know the signs of a fresh nut.”
Dutifully ignoring everything Satoru’s saying, Suguru grunts out a response, “Shut up and focus on fighting.”
Satoru whines, “But Suguru~ tell me about your love life! I want to hear about all the hot girls my best friend is banging!” Then tries to (unsuccessfully) roundhouse kick Suguru, getting his leg caught so Suguru has the chance to mutter,
“I’m not sleeping with women,”
Satoru twists out of the hold to try and land a hook to his jaw “Men then?”
Suguru ducks and quickly tackles his friend to the ground, then sits back on his heels to quip, “Yes, Satoru. Are you jealous?” Suguru says with an exasperated eye roll, finally recovering some of his sarcasm from the win. He offers up his hand and Satoru replies,
“You could’ve just said no, smartass.”
“Dumbass,” Suguru scoffs, “Does it upset you that someone who might like men has no interest in boning you?” Suguru laughs good-naturedly, dodging Satoru’s playful jab aimed at his nose and using his position to send an uppercut at Satoru’s chin, but only barely clips him because Satoru already knows his next moves; they’ve been doing this a lot recently.
Satoru retorts, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you change the subject.”
“Drop it, Satoru,” Suguru glares at him.
“Fine, should I roll over, too?”
Suguru does something Satoru doesn’t expect and knees him in the balls.
Satoru almost completely forgets about the conversation until five days later, when he hears the mysterious opening and shutting of Suguru’s door. He left, again. Satoru let him leave. He figured he had a few hours until Suguru came home, and what’s the harm in searching your most trusted friend’s room? Suguru hid something from him first, he reasoned with himself. It’s not like he hadn’t been in Suguru’s room without him there before: he was a prankster, and the number of times he had to sneak an anime body pillow into a random place in the room to surprise Suguru is more than one.
He creeps down the boring hallway into the room, slowly peering in the door. It’s…. A normal room. Nothing jumps out at him at first glance. What is he even looking for, anyway? Better yet, why didn’t he just sneakily follow Suguru to where he was going? He answers his own question when he trips over one of Suguru’s yoga mats and lands square on his face. Good thing he’s not a spy. He picks himself up to continue snooping.
There’s a twin bed pressed against the right wall, a closet and dresser across from it, and an ensuite bathroom doorway next to the dresser. The wall opposite the entry door has a large window with a desk under it, covered in a PC and an obscene amount of paper. Seriously, those poor trees. Overall, mostly neutral colors and furniture that came with the dorm already. Personally, Satoru decided to decorate his dorm much differently. Suguru describes it as “A mixture of ‘money can’t buy taste’ and ‘emo kid Teletubby fever dream.’” It’s not his fault his MCR poster got Cheeto dust on it after he used it as a tablecloth for three months. Yes, he did still hang the poster up after that, and yes he did frame it in a real 24-carat gold plated frame. It’s an original art piece, it deserves only the best. The only thing defining the bland room as Suguru’s was the unmade bed and the various colors of the same baggy pants he wears. There were a few pictures of him and Suguru on the walls, doing random things like the one time they dragged Shoko to see the It movie at a classic theatre, and Shoko took a picture the next morning of their reaction when Satoru found a red balloon tied to his desk. He immediately jumped into Suguru’s arms and started frantically waving his limbs around and yelling in panic. Or that time Yaga was coming out of a meeting and Hibara caught a picture of them right after the two had dropped water balloons and Satoru had started giggling while Suguru just rolled his eyes.
He really hates Suguru’s bedsheets. They’re so scratchy. Not to mention ugly. They’re off-white in a way that might’ve used to be white, but nobody knows their true color because of how old they are. Satoru offered to get him a more comfortable set, but Suguru insisted on the school-provided ones. Satoru fully walks into the room to examine it closer. If Suguru were hiding something, what would it be? He looks under the bed. Nothing. Just darkness, dirty socks, and….. is that his kazoo that he lost three months ago? He pockets the kazoo (of course) and moves to the next area.
He wonders what Suguru could be hiding. He was pretty adamant that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone, and he doesn’t really have reason to lie to Gojo about his sexual exploits (Satoru certainly doesn’t lie about his). Could Suguru secretly be a yakuza? Maybe a stripper?
He checks the closet for any secret compartments, and as he does this, his mind wanders. What doesn’t Geto trust him with? They’ve been best friends for a couple of years now, shouldn’t Suguru know that Satoru wouldn’t think any less of him for anything short of murder (honestly, even that can be excused with a valid reason)? Focusing back on the closet, he only sees his uniform jackets and shoes, nothing out of the ordinary in there. God, it’s as depressing as the rest of his room. Suguru only owns three pairs of shoes. They’re all the same too! He owns too many pairs of black boots, even for the baby emo he is. He notes the closet as a hiding spot for his Hatsune Miku body pillow; surely she’ll brighten that place up.
Satoru finishes up his search of the closet and turns to his last hope: Suguru’s dresser. It’s fairly plain and sparsely decorated, just like the rest of his room. He seriously needs to make a tastefully nude poster for Suguru to hang on his walls or something to make this room feel personalized. He opens the top drawer. Just neatly organized socks and underwear, in surprising contrast to the messiness of his room. Nobody really expects Suguru to have a disorderly room, based on his monk-like restraint and overall put-togetherness. He also owns a large amount of fuzzy cat socks socks. Huh. The boots must be uncomfortable. He picks up a pair with a tabby cat on them, they’re adorable. And say ‘me-wow’ on the bottom. He wonders why Suguru never shows off his socks. Probably because Satoru would end up “borrowing” them, he muses to himself.
He opens the next drawer down, it’s a bunch of civilian clothes. Maybe Suguru secretly has a job as a barista. That’d be so cute. Satoru can imagine Suguru in a little apron, with his hair in his usual bun, attempting not to throttle rude customers. It (almost) makes Satoru wish he knew Suguru in a different context. One where they could have a strangers-to-lovers 150k word Coffee Shop AU. But alas, he, no they, must be the most powerful sorcerers in jujutsu history. There’s a significant amount of tank tops in the drawer. Which is… weird. He always took Suguru for a T-shirt kind of guy. Come to think of it, he’s never even seen him in anything but his uniform, let alone a tank top. Satoru images that his best friend would look delectable in a tank top. In an objective, straight man admiring another man way.
The bottom drawer, the last place Satoru is looking tonight is unopened. He grabs the knob, not expecting much at this point. He’s gotten bored of the whole mystery and is fully willing to wait until Suguru feels comfortable telling him why he disappears consistently at the same time each week, just as soon as he finishes snooping. He pulls it open, and what does he find? A bunch of… spandex pants and athleisure. Understandable, they work out a lot. The skin-tight stretch pants are unusual, but he figures they’re no weirder than the fuzzy cat socks on his best friend. Satoru’s not one to judge, after all, he wears plenty of women’s button-ups all the time. They’re just so much softer and more comfortable. Further to the left in the drawer, Satoru notices a short stack of shirts, and he wonders why they aren’t in the second drawer or closet, so he picks one up. Is that a crop top?
Satoru.exe has stopped working.
Satoru examines the top a bit further, trying to imagine Suguru in it, for scientific purposes. It looks awfully short, would that even cover…. Nope, thinking respectfully. A bit further to the left, he sees a bag. It’s a medium-sized bag, appearing moderately full. He removes the bag from the drawer and examines it. Debating on whether he should open it. He decides to open the smaller pocket, and if it’s some weird sex stuff, he’ll close it and respect his friend’s privacy. He decides to just open the smaller pocket. If it’s some weird sex stuff, he’ll leave it alone.
For the moment of truth, he unzips the pocket to reveal…..
….. makeup? It’s makeup. Okay. Satoru is seriously trying to process what’s going on. He’s trying to connect the dots, but he’s pretty sure he’s only got about a third of the parts necessary to make the dinosaur, so his conclusion-drawing abilities are severely limited by the fact that it just looks like the ankylosaurus (if you could even call it that) just has a fat ass instead of a tail.
Final Conclusion after the snooping session: Suguru’s either someone planted to spy on him and has to hide his true personality in order to get close to him, or he’s a stripper.