Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nanami Kento was a Beta. 

His family lineage was in itself a tale of Betas and nothing else. Average. Simple. There had never been a single instance of crossbreeding with the other designations among his blood relatives and for that, everyone seemed thankful. 

No one in the Nanami household was interested in the media storms and feverish gossip that followed Alphas and Omegas. In fact, any and all disruptions to the comfortable routine of life were deemed a nuisance. 

In this mundane environment, Nanami Kento came into sorcery and found a path of trouble before him. 

Being scouted and subsequently enrolled at Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High was not in his life plans and yet there he was in a mournfully dark uniform, prepared to learn the secrets of a hidden world that terrorized the innocent. 

As a person, Nanami was embarking on a dangerous yet fulfilling (probably) journey with his first steps on campus. 

As a Beta, he had just stumbled up the ancient stone steps into a waking nightmare. 

Days, weeks, months, years from now—Nanami would recall the moment his eyes fell on Gojo Satoru for the first time. His initial thoughts were wiped clean by the sight of someone so otherworldly. Ethereal. Deeply and truly unreal.

Before his thoughts could collect, the most excruciating pain thundered through his chest, leaving him curled up and dry heaving on the first day of his new life. 

After several medical examinations on and off campus, he was determined to be a medical marvel among Betas.

He was bonded to Gojo Satoru.

The doctors did not press him when he refused to name the one who triggered the Bond (Nanami would rather choke on his own spit than call that person his fated). Regardless of their patient’s reluctance, they informed him of the nature of Bonds and the unique difficulties involved in being a Bonded Beta. 

Unlike Alphas and Omegas, the nature of attraction for Betas was more complex. It involved more qualifiers and societal conditions and effort. In the world of Alphas and Omegas, scent guided their hearts and bodies. 

It was, apparently, as simple as that. 

Incompatible scents immediately eliminated prospects. Betas, though? They could end up with an incompatible prospect for who knew how long until someone made the logical conclusion to end the arrangement. 

And now, in the case of a Beta being bonded to a non-Beta (Nanami’s useless nose hadn’t been able to discern if Gojo was Alpha or Omega at the time), it would inevitably end in tragedy. 

After all, Betas were scentless and unable to scent. 

“If your Bonded partner is amenable, you may be able to make something of the Bond,” the fifth doctor he visited had advised uneasily. “But at the very least, since you’re a Beta, the nature of the Bond isn’t so extreme. There isn’t enough data on Bonded Betas but it’s unlikely you’ll experience anything beyond mild discomfort in the future.”

Nanami only felt tired after hearing everything. 

“Betas aren’t influenced by pheromones.”

“It’s amazing you even noticed the Bond forming.”

“Perhaps it’s a pre-existing heart condition. Best not to assume the impossible.”

Being bounced around with only pity, disbelief, and condescension from medical professionals made it quite clear that even if other Bonded Betas existed, they would rather deal with this on their own. 

And so that’s exactly what Nanami Kento decided to do. 

He would cope with the existence of Gojo Satoru. 

Just like everyone else.

Being an underclassmen in a school the size of Tokyo Jujutsu High meant that avoiding his Bonded was easier said than done. 

Gojo was everywhere.

If he wasn’t physically disturbing the first years, his name was constantly being spoken by staff and students alike. Everything from slander to heavenly praise was heaped on him—all valid, in Nanami’s opinion.

He learned far too much about the impossible existence of his Bonded and gagged a bit with each revelation. 

Gojo Satoru was a God among Alphas. The Honored One among peasants. An anomaly for the ages. He was carved into the history books from the time of his birth. 

In some ways, Gojo’s overbearing arrogance and obnoxious mannerisms helped Nanami and his unfounded Bond. His chest ached uncomfortably in the early days but the longer the Bond went unattended to, the easier it was to simply ignore the hollowness it caused. Fighting curses and fending for his life also helped distract from the trivialities of the heart.

Haibara Yu was also an excellent distraction. Loud and energetic. Always ready to drag Nanami off to do something other than mull over the ugly swirl of emotion caused by Gojo. It was a friendship founded upon convenience and strengthened by genuine affection. 

“Do you think it’s fun being an Alpha?”

Nanami paused his reading, eyes flicking up to see Haibara gazing across the training field where the upperclassmen goofed off as usual. 

“Exhausting is what it is,” Nanami replied flatly, only managing to read a few more lines before Haibara spoke again. 

“Haven’t you ever wondered about that thing they do?” Haibara whispered. His cheeks flushed from something other than the sun. 

Nanami stared.

“C’mon!” he urged, crouching down to nudge Nanami conspiratorially. “You know what I’m talking about! That thing—the sniffing and stuff.”

“Scenting?” Nanami raised a brow.

“Not so loud!” Haibara hissed, shoving a hand over Nanami’s mouth. “You know they have crazy—”

“—what’s this? Our little Betas are interested in scenting? ”

Nanami swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat from Gojo’s proximity. He was fairly confident his untethered Bond was starting to associate Gojo with disgust rather than delight. Was it a win? Perhaps. At the very least, Nanami felt proud that he wasn’t a victim to the illogical chemistry of a Bond. 

He tensed as Gojo crouched down next to him though and Geto sidled up next to a bright red Haibara. 

“How did you even hear that?” Nanami sighed, trying in vain to scoot away. His book was plucked from his hands as Gojo suddenly wrapped an arm around his shoulders and shoved his face against his neck. 

The violent shivers that wracked Nanami’s body nearly dislodged Gojo but ultimately failed. 

In retaliation, Gojo barked a laugh and held on tighter. “ Relax, Nanami! I don’t bite,” Gojo purred, the brush of an overly sharp canine begged to differ though. “As your senior, it’s my duty to teach you all the things you’re curious about. Isn’t that right, Suguru?”

Geto only smiled.

He’s worse than Gojo.

Nanami closed his eyes in search of patience. “What does that—”

“Listen up! Scenting can be perfectly polite,” Gojo interrupted, lecturing a bewildered Haibara while continuing to rub his nose against Nanami’s clammy neck. “First and foremost, scenting is about determining if a person is trustworthy or not.” 

Gojo inhaled deeply and Nanami was sure his hair was standing on end.

“How appealing their scent is can be factored in after that,” Geto added, trying not to laugh. 

Silence followed and then another long inhale made Nanami freeze. The others also seemed to stop moving as something in the air shifted. It suddenly felt all too intimate and Nanami trembled with the need to get away. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but this was feeling less of a joke and more like an attempt by Gojo to actually scent him. 

Nanami shoved his face away with surprising strength, blood pounding in his ears. 

Dazed, all-too seeing eyes were focused on Nanami’s reddened throat. A pink tongue flicked out between sharp fangs and soft lips. 

Despite all of his restraint training, the Bond tugged at Nanami’s heartstrings. 

“Hmm? Found something interesting, Satoru?” Geto prompted. 

Gojo blinked owlishly. “Not sure,” he trailed off, reaching out for Nanami once more.

This time, Nanami scrambled out of reach, yanking at the wide collar of his uniform. “We have afternoon classes. Let’s go, Haibara.”

Without waiting, Nanami took off.

When he returned to his dorm room that evening, his forgotten book sat on the desk and his favorite sweater was missing.

In some ignored part of his brain, Nanami knew this was the beginning of the end for his denial. 

⸺⸺

Gojo made no secret of claiming Nanami’s things. 

It started with his favorite sweater and escalated to his throw blankets, spare uniforms, pillows and finally stopped only when Nanami demanded his textbooks back. Why would Gojo even take those?

“You spoiled him.” Shoko Ieiri deadpanned. “That’s why this is happening.”

Nanami swallowed a sigh, turning his ire toward the real problem. It was midday and he had already been running late when Gojo called for him from the second years’ classroom. Ignoring him was never an option so Nanami tried to make the interaction short; however, if anyone had ever spoken to Gojo before, they knew the world went at his pace.

That was how they ended up in a tug-of-war over Nanami’s bookbag. 

He gripped one end of the bag while Gojo held the other in a deceptively lax grip. “I believe this goes beyond something as simple as being spoiled.” Nanami gritted his teeth, resigned to being punished for missing class.

“Why bother carrying around all these supplies anyway, Nanami?” Gojo whined. “We’re sorcerers! Give it to your senpai. I’ll dispose of it for you!”

“Where are you keeping all of my stuff anyway?” Nanami huffed, pulling with all his strength and getting nowhere. 

Geto watched them with an easy smile, acting like this was all just a fun game. “I don’t think you want to know, Nanami.” 

Perhaps from the outside it looked innocent enough but Nanami was nearly on the verge of a mental breakdown from the Bond acting up. The proximity to Gojo made his blood boil and his heart race. Any second now, he'd break out in a cold sweat. 

He had almost achieved the transformation of attraction into disgust in the first few months of being in high school. 

…And then Gojo Satoru shoved his ridiculous face into his throat and decided to start stealing his belongings. 

“No one understands!” Gojo pouted, shaking the bookbag between them. “Nanami is the most perfectly unscented Beta ever! It's incredible and I can actually get some rest when I'm surrounded by his things.”

“Just get scent blockers and then everything will smell like nothing,” Shoko grunted, lighting a cigarette. 

“I don’t need scent blockers when I have Nanami.” Gojo resolutely yanked on the bag, sending Nanami lurching forward.

He did not catch himself. He didn't even fall gracefully. 

Instead, he ended up in a disheveled heap—one knee dug into Gojo’s strong thigh, a hand slammed into the desk, and his arm skimmed over a broad shoulder, knuckles cracking against the window.

Geto howled with laughter, chair screeching back. "Satoru, seriously, you should stop teasing Nanami so much. He looks like he's aged since meeting you.”

Somehow, the scolding didn't quite sound like scolding. 

If anything, Nanami felt like Geto was encouraging his friend. Whoever thought Geto was the tame one between the two had clearly forgotten that only someone equally absurd could keep up with Gojo.

Nanami attempted to straighten up but quickly found arms coiled around his waist, yanking him down. On instinct, he shoved back only to be met by immovable weight. 

He sighed and suffered the agony that was sitting on Gojo’s lap while being subjected to any and all nonsense that spilled out of his stupidly pretty mouth. 

“Tell you what,” Gojo began, rubbing his face against Nanami’s shoulder, “I’ll return all your things if you take their place! Easy, right?” Despite the teasing nature of his words, there was something genuine about the way his muscles eased and his breathing slowed while holding Nanami close. 

Was it the Bond? It was clearly the Bond. A small but annoying part of Nanami wanted to blurt out that they were tied together by forces unknown. Of course it felt comforting to be in each other’s space. 

But the bitter reality of how utterly one-sided this was stopped him from speaking. 

Imagine that. The strongest in the world. An Alpha for the ages…and he’s cursed to not even recognize his Bond. 

“I’ll prepare new things for you, so return what you’ve taken,” Nanami muttered. “You don’t want things that have lost my non-scent anymore, right?”

Gojo blinked up at him before breaking into a wide grin. His dark sunglasses slipped down his nose, revealing twinkling blues. “You know me too well, Nanami. Let’s trade tonight.”

Unsurprisingly, all of Nanami’s things were returned unwashed. 

Gojo watched him take the pile of stuff with eager eyes but soon deflated when Nanami did nothing but set it on his desk in order to grab the paper bag of well worn sweaters and shawls. Instead of patiently waiting for and receiving the goods, Gojo brushed past him and flopped down on the bed. 

The blankets and sheets wrinkled underneath Gojo’s weight, turning into a jumbled mess within seconds. If that wasn’t bad enough, he proceeded to bury his face in the pillow, moaning obscenely.

Nanami desperately ignored the flush shooting up his neck. “This is not what we agreed upon,” he snapped, stalking over to pull at Gojo who was quickly making a nest of his bed.

“You’ve never minded before.”

“When did you lay in my—” Nanami stopped himself, taking a calming breath. There’s no arguing with the shameless. “Please go back to your room, Gojo-senpai.”

“You really can’t smell me?” he asked instead, voice muffled but full of skepticism. 

Nanami’s jaw twitched.

At the lack of response, Gojo flopped onto his back, pulling the blanket with him to keep the fabric pressed to his nose. Those ridiculously long lashes fluttered in what could only be described as utterly inappropriate ecstasy. “But I can smell you so well. It seems unfair.” His grip tightened in thought. “I already spread my scent all over your stuff but you didn’t even know, huh?”

Nanami had, in fact, not noticed. 

“You said I’m perfectly unscented,” he repeated. 

“Well, I didn’t want to embarrass you,” Gojo scoffed,” but I guess Betas wouldn’t get it. Rambling on about someone else’s scent isn’t polite among Alphas and Omegas. It’s the same logic that stops people from bragging about their partners beauty or money or status, y’know? No one really wants to hear any of that.”

Nanami grudgingly nodded. “Reasonable enough.” 

“But if you’re curious,” Gojo’s smile grew sly and sweet—a dangerous combination in Nanami’s opinion, “you’re scentless the same way fresh air is scentless. It’s more like a…palette cleanser. A scent that clears your head and makes you wonder if you’ve been underwater all this time.” 

In that moment, Nanami Kento despised not only the Bond but himself as well. 

He had thought himself better than this. More level headed. More realistic. 

But no. He was none of those things.

Instead, he was just like everyone else—a victim of Gojo Satoru’s infuriating charm. Unlike most others though, this affliction would last well into early adulthood and beyond. 

Days, weeks, months, years from now, he would still be at the mercy of this Bond.

Chapter Text

13 years later - Present Day

It was strange to reflect on a quantifiably short life when it felt like centuries had already passed. 

Nanami thought that perhaps this was how Gojo always experienced the passage of time. Simultaneously too fast and too slow. Boring and exciting. Agonizing and enriching. A chaotic study in overstimulation.

The Shibuya Incident had, understandably, been the end of Nanami’s career in the Jujutsu World. 

Walking away with his life had been a miracle in and of itself. Months of extensive medical care and reconstruction surgery gave him back most of his mobility, save for some stubborn patches of scar tissue. His vision and hearing were…fair. Fully restored on a physical level but lacking by sorcerer standards. Perhaps even lacking by civilian standards. 

And so, Nanami had accepted the generous retirement package from Tokyo Jujutsu High and found himself hidden away in a safe house, lost to a sea of memories and regrets.

They fought on without him and tried to refrain from contact. It was for the best. Nanami hadn’t wanted the enemy catching wind of his shriveled existence to use against his students and colleagues. 

A year later, a new era of peace was transmitted to him via coded letter mail. 

Nanami took his first real breath since retiring.

Whether that was due to hearing Gojo Satoru had survived alongside the students, or because the Jujutsu World was one step closer to rebirth—Nanami couldn’t say.

From then on though, he slowly began the process of transitioning from the safe house to a proper home. After thirteen years of gruesome conflict between sorcerers and curses, it was finally time to begin healing.

There were still going to be terrible missions and pointless sacrifices but nothing on the scale of the last decade. The last few years, really. Nanami could feel his head throbbing at the mere thought.

The only silver lining was how the world’s impending doom had thoroughly distracted them from any and all petty concerns about Alphas, Omegas, and mating. 

Now, though, there was nothing stopping anyone from dusting off these age old problems to stir up trouble.

“The elders wanted me to remind you of the other, ah, clause, in your retirement package,” Ijichi trailed off on the phone. 

Packing up and leaving for Southeast Asia permanently hadn’t worked out for Nanami but he could certainly settle for the temperate climate of Okinawa. He purchased a traditionally crafted house near the ocean, believing the fresh air would be good for his health. 

Nanami hummed faintly, phone pressed to his good ear as he shouldered the sliding doors open and entered his home with several bags of groceries. 

“They’re asking if you’ve looked through the most recent prospects?” Ijichi coughed, uncomfortably. 

“I have them organized for review,” Nanami responded, sounding unhurried. “Each one will be analyzed thoroughly and an initial judgment will be made by the end of the week.” He slid his sandals off, groceries landing with a thunk on the polished entryway floor. 

“Ah, yes, sounds great! Oh, and there is one more thing—”

“Na-Na-Min~! ”

His blood ran cold while the Bond jerked violently at his heart. 

Gojo Satoru bounded toward him from inside the house in all of his intimidating glory. His deceptively pretty face had always been at odds with his broad shoulders and gargantuan height but still, he had a way of looking perfect. 

Beaming widely, he threw himself at Nanami who dodged on reflex. Who in their right mind would stay still? As expected, Gojo caught air in his embrace before flying out the open front doors, kicking up dust and leaves. 

Nanami clutched his pounding chest, eyes wide in panic. He reached for his fallen phone but found that Ijichi had hung up. Traitor.  

“How could you dodge?” Gojo whined, barreling back into the house and scooping Nanami up in a massive hug. 

Even after losing quite a bit of his muscle mass in the last year or so as a non-combatant, Nanami was not a small man. His frame was naturally thicker than most Betas, and he towered over lesser Alphas. 

The fact Gojo could lift him off his feet so effortlessly was more terrifying than flattering. 

Gojo hooked one foot in the door, sliding it soundly shut. “It’s been too long since we met! You were supposed to come running into my arms, Nanamin.” He punctuated his complaints with a deep inhale, nose buried directly over where a scent gland would be on anyone but a Beta.

Nanami wheezed. 

Finally loosening his hold, Gojo leaned back enough to let displeasure show on his face “You were taking forever, so I made myself at home! I heard about the retirement package. I’m sure you could’ve gotten an even bigger property—”

“—this is enough for my lifestyle,” Nanami interrupted.  

“A lifestyle where you're crouching to get through doorways sounds awful,” Gojo mumbled, pointedly ducking into the kitchen with grocery bags in hand. “I feel like I’m in a doll house.”

Nanami prayed for patience. 

"Any home in Japan would be unsuitable for your size," he deadpanned. 

Gojo laughed, dropping the groceries on the counter and swinging around to dive back into the comfort of Nanami’s neck. 

He staggered at the sudden weight, grunting in annoyance but helpless to really do anything.

"Well, can't argue with that! They renovated the estate to fit me though so let's just have them do the same thing here," Gojo hummed, pleased with himself. Long arms slithered up and around Nanami’s body, much to his dismay.

At one time in his life, he had turned to the internet in hopes of finding solace with other Bonded Betas. Instead, he found a graveyard of hopes and dreams. 

As such, a decade of pushing and pulling at the Bond left him deeply divided on the existence of Gojo Satoru. 

The world ending had truly been an excellent distraction from this nonsense. 

"Congrats on the retirement!" Gojo rambled on, shoving his face against Nanami’s neck once again. "Can't believe they actually did something sensible instead of y’know, throwing away talent like it's disposable. The world really shifted while I was locked up, huh?" 

Each inhale eased the tension Gojo had been carrying but it stirred ugly memories of their school days more than anything else.

After returning to the jujutsu world, Nanami had been careful about avoiding Gojo’s more invasive habits—whether through avoiding him on campus or simply coordinating missions so they never crossed paths. He hadn't wanted to relive any of those infatuations. He also refused to let the Bond make a fool of him.

Now though, he was retired. His muscles were reduced to what they were when he was still a sedentary salaryman. And frankly, at this point, he also lacked the physical senses to properly evade Gojo with or without Six Eyes activated. 

Being imprisoned clearly hadn't done much to Gojo’s inherited techniques, if anything. In terms of physique, he seemed even bigger than before, shoulders stretching further than Nanami remembered. 

"Not gonna lie though, it would've been nice if someone told me where you were right away."

Nanami tilted his head, but couldn't catch Gojo’s eye. He was still firmly buried in Nanami’s neck with no intention of leaving. 

"They sent me off to battle right after waking up. Give a guy a chance to breathe fresh air for the first time in months, at least." He laughed a bit but it was dull. Tired. "I didn't see you when I got out. I thought you would be in the field."

Nanami’s stomach dropped as the pieces fell into place. 

The arms around him tightened to an almost painful extent. Gojo’s nose rubbed against his shoulder. "But not there either. I tried to ask but no one answered me." 

"It was protocol—"

"— so what?"

Nanami’s lips parted around a soundless reply before slowly closing. He gently ruffled Gojo’s hair, fingers threading into the white locks. "I apologize. Someone should've informed you."

Silence stretched between them. It was, at once, deeply unusual yet comforting. 

Going any length of time in Gojo’s presence without being bombarded by foolish small talk was unheard of. Nanami wasn't even sure anyone would believe him if he said they were able to share a quiet moment. 

Of course, it didn't last long. 

Gojo soon pulled back, arms loosening and fingers drifting down Nanami’s ribs, lingering at his waist, and finally letting go. 

His skin tingled in the worst and best way possible. Nanami cleared his throat. "I should have enough for two. Will you be staying for dinner?"

"I'll be here as long as you'll have me," Gojo replied cheerfully. 

His face fell. How long is that?

"I'm on vacation! So who better to spend it with than Nanamin?" He clapped his hands and threw himself at Nanami again. "I've always wanted to visit Okinawa, too. This is a great chance to try all the local specialities!" 

With that, he unfurled a sheet of paper covered in Okinawan foods. 

Nanami stared. Then sighed. “I'm sure you've already made yourself comfortable in my guest room?”

"I would never!" he exclaimed, wagging a finger at Nanami. "I unpacked in your room, obviously. How else am I supposed to get a good night's sleep?" 

Nanami shot off a text to Ijichi that the review process would take a bit longer than he expected. 

Cooking and cleaning up after dinner were arduous trials. 

Nanami had forgotten how utterly useless Gojo Satoru could be in the kitchen and around the house in general. Although they never lived together, they shared a dorm building. He still remembered the random snack wrappers that would litter the floors and desks.

The single cooking experience they all shared during a school camping trip was so disastrous, Nanami swore off ever sharing a stovetop with Gojo. If this man couldn’t safely handle peeling vegetables and boiling water with ample outdoor space, he couldn’t be trusted in a confined kitchen. 

In the last two hours, that had only been proven true again.

Nanami took a deep breath as he heard Gojo whining a few paces away from him. 

“We should get those kitchen gadgets that just peel and chop everything for you. Wouldn’t that be easier for you too, Nanamin? Seems like a waste of time to stand here for hours.”

“It doesn’t usually take hours to peel a carrot,” Nanami responded, eyeing the patchy job Gojo had done. There were somehow gouges in the flesh of the carrot which shouldn’t have been possible with the tool he had given Gojo. 

“How did you finish all those potatoes already?” Gojo cried, making a show of hanging over Nanami’s shoulders and simpering in his ear. 

Annoying.  

Nanami grabbed an unpeeled carrot. “If you’re going to cause trouble, then just go sit and wait until I’m finished.”

“You should teach me!” 

He ignored the throbbing headache. “Move your arms. I can’t work like this.” Nanami could feel the full weight of Gojo on his shoulders and it was growing old quickly. “If you want to learn, let me focus.”

His arms fell away only to wrap around Nanami’s waist instead, sneaking beneath the apron to cling closer. 

Electric shivers shot straight up Nanami’s spine, the carrot and peeler slipping from his hands. “Gojo-san!” he snapped. 

“It’s not like you’re naked under it! Why’re you fussing?” Gojo rubbed his face against Nanami’s neck, squeezing his waist tighter. The apron bulged and deformed, forced to accommodate Gojo’s arms and searching hands. “If I do it over the apron, you’ll complain I’m blocking the cutting board or something. Besides! I don’t want to be splashed with anything either. The apron can cover both of us now.”

Nanami swallowed hard, losing his train of thought momentarily. He recovered quickly though and tried to halt his movements. “This is not how aprons are used. I can’t work like this.”

“Now who’s making problems?” Gojo clicked his tongue. “First you were upset that I couldn’t peel a carrot and then you say you’ll teach me but now you won’t teach me?” 

“That is not,” Nanami cut himself off and gave up the fight. This was pointless. “If your hands wander, I’m cutting them off.”

Gojo laughed against his ear, sending more shivers coursing through his body. 

The cooking lesson was hardly a lesson. Typical. 

Each time Nanami began explaining something about food safety or the best way to grip a vegetable for efficient prep, Gojo interrupted with off-topic questions about Okinawa, the beach, Nanami’s seclusion. It ranged from pointless to serious to flippant and cycled back. 

By the time the curry cubes had dissolved in the water, Nanami’s apron was loose, his shirt collar had been nudged down from all of Gojo’s nosing around, and he was fairly sure the hem of his shirt had rolled up too. It was difficult to tell between the heat of the bubbling pot and Gojo’s too warm arms.

“Now we wait for it to reduce,” Nanami sighed. He shuffled back from the stove and Gojo still refused to release him. “I need to wash my hands, Gojo-san.”

“That’s fine.”

He grimaced and struggled to turn around with the giant man stuck to his back. Scrubbing his hands thoroughly, Nanami tried to think about less exhausting things. 

A bath sounds nice. 

“You’ve lost a lot of muscle.”

“And you’ve gained quite a bit,” Nanami responded without missing a beat. He felt Gojo smile against his shoulder, a laugh vibrating in his chest. 

“Do you like it?” he teased.

Nanami felt fingers brush the bare skin of his stomach. “What did I say about wandering hands?” he murmured, shutting the water off. 

His hands retreated and tugged the shirt back into place. “It was just a joke, Nanamin! Don’t be mad.” Gojo cuddled him closer. 

For a man of his stature and strength, trying to act cute should’ve been unsettling. Nanami couldn’t stop the Bond from melting his irritation down to affection though. Even without the Bond, he knew Gojo’s charm was impossible to ignore and his pretty face easily got him out of most situations. 

This was one of those situations.

Nanami hated it. 

“Do you have any dessert?” 

“Unless you bought it, no, I don’t.”

“That’s the best part of a meal though,” Gojo huffed. “How are we supposed to end dinner without something sweet?” He finally pulled away, lips brushing across the nape of Nanami’s neck as he did so. “I’ll go get something!”

A flush crept up his cheeks and he refused to turn around to face Gojo. 

“Nothing too sweet,” Nanami grunted, busying himself with a hand towel. 

Gojo’s laughter rang through the kitchen before he vanished. 

Finally lifting his head, Nanami gazed at the spot he had just been and slumped back against the countertop. The Bond was screaming at him in a way he hadn’t experienced since high school. There was a deafening quality to it. 

Thankfully, Nanami still remembered how to properly brush it aside. 

The only problem was that a teen Gojo had apparently been mild in comparison to a nearly 30 year old Gojo. Nanami touched the back of his neck, skin still tingling where soft lips had touched. 

It wasn’t the absent, accidental rubbing he was somewhat used to.

It had been deliberate.

His manners have worsened. Nanami scowled. There was a limit to teasing. He knew Gojo derived far too much pleasure from making others squirm but if he was going to invite himself into Nanami’s home and eat his food, then they needed boundaries.

He nodded to himself.

They would lay down proper ground rules after dinner.

⸺⸺

Zero ground rules were established.

Nanami stared at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, contemplating how he had taken for granted those months of solitude. 

He had a death grip on Gojo’s wrist but could feel himself losing to exhaustion and the innate strength difference between them as they laid in his futon. Even in sleep, Gojo was persistent. At first, Nanami thought he was faking it but the steady rise and fall of his chest was unfortunate proof that he was deep asleep. 

If there was a higher power, it felt like Nanami was being tested. Why else would he be tortured with Gojo plastered to his side, yukata unfurled and face pressed into Nanami’s neck. 

Long, pale fingers had started out innocently curled around Nanami’s arm before migrating slowly across his properly tied yukata. They dipped under the opening over his chest, one bold squeeze away from being harassment. 

Nanami considered just escaping to sleep elsewhere. Perhaps the bathtub. But when he tried to disentangle them, Gojo had growled so viciously that even the oblivious Beta in him froze. He had given it up and Gojo only snaked tighter around him, slipping a leg between Nanami’s, their thighs pressed dizzyingly close together.

There’s no winning.

Nanami could either choose to use his remaining energy to keep the Bond at bay or Gojo’s hand at bay. 

Is there a point when I’ll lose in both capacities?

He shook off the negative thoughts. Closing his eyes, he released Gojo’s wrist and instead threaded their fingers together.

Even if he couldn’t win the war, he could at least prevent Gojo from groping him all night. 

A deep purr rumbled in Gojo’s chest and he tightened his hold on Nanami’s hand. Cracking his eyes back open for a second, he caught sight of sparkling blue. It was sleepy and half-lidded but full of smug pleasure. 

Nanami huffed. 

“Night, Nanami,” Gojo mumbled, warm breath fanning over a throbbing vein in his neck. 

He didn’t know when he finally fell asleep.

The next thing he knew, sunlight was filtering through paper screens. The morning brought very little in the way of reassurances about how the rest of Gojo’s stay would go though. 

Nanami groaned, still exhausted and slightly sweaty. He never got this rumpled sleeping alone, nor did he usually overheat. His yukata was nearly all the way off, sash twisted and undone, If it weren’t for his underwear, he would be utterly indecent. 

“Do these hurt?” 

He rubbed sleep out of his eyes, registering the light touch across his upper arm and shoulder. The tissue was thickest there, having had a hard time healing even with their technology and reverse curse techniques. 

Nanami turned his head to find Gojo propped up on an elbow, gaze roaming over his body shamelessly. 

Whether it was better or worse this way, he was also still equally disheveled. Gojo’s hair was always a wild mess but his clothes were a wreck, too. If anyone had taken a look at them lounging in bed together right now, they would’ve assumed the obvious. 

“No,” Nanami murmured, voice still rough from sleep. “Just stiff.”

Gojo hummed, leaning down and kissing the scars. “Can you feel that?”

Nanami jumped, eyes widening as he scrambled away in a truly undignified manner. 

In response, Gojo just flopped back, laughing brightly. His eyes were shining in the morning light, crystalline and disgustingly dazzling. “Feeling more awake now, Nanami?” 

“Ridiculous,” Nanami grumbled, fixing his clothes and getting up. “Are you just going to lie around all day?”

“I’m your guest, so you should take me on a tour of the area today!” Gojo clapped his hands. “Let’s visit all of Nanamin’s favorite restaurants! And hot springs! The beach, too!”

Nanami rubbed his head. 

It was time to accept it. He had many, many longs days ahead with Gojo Satoru around. 

Chapter Text

They fell into a routine.

Nanami expected the Bond to throw a fit over being teased but it seemed to actually quiet down now that Gojo was constantly fluttering around being a pest. When they were younger and their hormones were more erratic, the Bond seemed to scream regardless of Gojo’s attention. It would go haywire at his presence and absence alike. 

As adults, it seemed the Bond simply wanted Gojo around. Once it acclimated to his presence, it calmed down and had given Nanami greater peace than it ever had before. 

For the past week, he had played tour guide and personal chef. If they weren’t gorging themselves on various local delicacies, Nanami was cooking. Gojo’s “help” was sternly denied and he was no longer allowed in the kitchen during those times. 

It usually resulted in Gojo returning with sweets from different bakeries around the prefecture. 

Nanami would rather have an overfilled pantry of baked goods than to deal with Gojo wrapped around him whining about the cooking process. 

After dinner and dessert, Nanami took a bath first, picked a book, and then poured himself a drink. When Gojo got out of his own bath, he would usually complain like a brat about wanting a drink as well—meaning something non-alcoholic. Two consecutive nights of this led to Nanami buying fruit juices and sweet teas just to make him stop. 

Surprisingly though, after the usual post-bath rambling and whining, Gojo would settle down beside Nanami in his living room. Sometimes he nestled his head on Nanami’s lap and closed his eyes. Other times, he simply leaned on his shoulder and watched videos on his phone. The latter rarely lasted for long. 

Gojo would rub his eyes and mumble something about overstimulation and then ask Nanami to read his book aloud.

At first, he refused with very reasonable reasons. 

“I’m not starting from the beginning,” Nanami had deadpanned, flipping another page.  

“Doesn’t matter,” Gojo yawned and then sighed with a drowsy smile, which usually meant he was breathing in Nanami’s scent. “I just wanna hear your voice.”

The Bond didn’t allow him to refuse, especially when he took note of the fading dark circles beneath Gojo’s eyes. They hadn’t been immediately noticeable when Gojo arrived but now that they were lightening up, Nanami could tell how bad they had gotten.

Being trapped in the prison realm immediately followed by an arduous battle for the fate of the world couldn’t have been remotely simple. The aftermath probably wasn’t even very relieving. 

Nanami supposed the least he could do was indulge the strongest sorcerer however he could. 

And so, he read softly and slowly. 

He knew the words were nonsense to Gojo but the way he slumped against Nanami with such bone-deep relaxation spoke volumes. 

On the nights he preferred to curl up like an oversized cat, head pressed against Nanami’s stomach, it was all too easy to pet his hair. It was an absent, unintentional thing the first time but Gojo soon enough started to complain if Nanami didn’t do it. When he grew tired of running his fingers through soft locks, Gojo would capture his hand and hold his wrist to his nose. 

This strangely laid back lifestyle was finally interrupted on Monday morning when Nanami was hanging laundry in his yard. 

Gojo was sprawled out on the veranda, snacking on a bowl of sweet biscuits. He was reading off vacation destinations on his phone and describing their top attractions while having Nanami rate them for interest. In his words, “everyone needs a bucket list.”

“What about Munich, Bavaria for Oktoberfest? It’s the largest beer festival…,” Gojo trailed off. “Nevermind, pass.”

“Put that on my list,” Nanami replied, pinning a bedsheet to the clothesline. 

“But what will I do when you’re going around drinking and partying?” 

“You can go to another country.”

Gojo made an offended noise. “What about the night markets in Taiwan instead?”

“Both can go on the list.”

“You’re out of spots!”

“I’m not.”

Gojo was cut off by Nanami’s phone ringing. “Why is Ijichi calling you?” he whined, sounds of shuffling followed by very loud phone static and Gojo bellowing out a greeting.

There was silence.

“Ijichi? You there?” Gojo said louder, tapping on Nanami’s phone screen. Nanami had given up on any personal boundaries with his man and continued on with his laundry. 

The speaker phone was on full blast and Ijichi fumbled out a surprised, “Yes! Hello? Gojo-san are you still with Nanami-san?”

“Of course! What do you want?” he chortled, chomping down on another biscuit. 

“Uhm, is Nanami-san there?”

“Hmm…he’s busy.”

“I’m here,” Nanami raised his voice before Gojo could start making up stories and teasing the poor man. “Is it something urgent?”

“Not exactly! If you’re busy with Gojo-san, I’m sure it can wait.” Ijichi went quiet momentarily and then in a rush, said, “The elders are just asking that you take a look at the proposals this week, if possible. Just send me a message when you’ve decided, thank you!” 

He hung up.

Nanami didn’t need to be an Alpha or Omega to sense tension brewing in the air. 

“Proposals?”

Moving his basket of laundry further down the line, he diligently continued hanging sheets. Sweat trickled down his back as the heavy gaze bore into him. 

“Yes. It’s a clause in the retirement agreement.” Nanami forced the words out with an air of calm he didn’t feel. He kept his voice as toneless as possible, befitting of something as mundane as hanging laundry. 

“And what’s the clause say?”

He tried not to tense up as Gojo’s voice brushed against his ear. He did, however, pause in hanging the next sheet. With measured movements, he turned his head to meet Gojo’s Six Eyes. They were always a bit intimidating close up but usually it was tempered by playfulness. Teasing. 

Right now, there was nothing of the sort.

Nanami weighed his options. Lying wouldn’t get him very far. Not only due to Six Eyes but because at the end of the day, Gojo Satoru was the head of his clan and if he wanted to know about the state of inter-clan politics, he would have that information in seconds. 

In fact, Nanami was surprised it hadn’t gotten to his ears yet. This wasn’t necessarily a secret. It was an open bid war amongst the clans who had dried up their reproductive pools. They needed fresh blood in a desperate fight against inbreeding and Nanami had found himself in a peculiar, but severe situation.

The holder of a powerful technique. Zero relations—whether familial or otherwise—to any clans. A pure genetic pool to inject into the power struggle. 

“I’m required to provide offspring for one of the clans. I have been given the choice of a marital spouse among select members of each clan which was surprisingly generous of them to even offer.” Nanami kept his voice as low and even as possible but knew that it was already beyond hope.

The sliding doors clattered shut behind him, knocked off their wooden rails.

Nanami sighed. 

If Gojo hadn’t thought to warp away, then it was most likely safe to assume he was livid.

⸺⸺

The plan should’ve been flawless.

Despite narrowly avoiding the end of the world, the aftermath had been better than anyone could’ve expected. Lives thought lost were saved and sins irreversible found a road to redemption.  

Gojo warped into the dingy old classroom on the Tokyo Jujutsu High campus. 

"Back already?" Geto Suguru stood at the front of the room with a textbook in hand and three students seated before him. 

His forehead bore the faintest of scars but both body and mind were his alone again. It had been part of the negotiations after Geto was recovered, resurrected, and healed. He was bound to the school’s campus until they could be sure he was trustworthy. 

If that day ever even came. 

Gojo had spent more than his fair share of time reaching a compromise with Geto on a shared vision for the jujutsu world. It was still work though to ensure that path remained a steady one.

Things weren’t perfect between them, but he had his best friend back. His students were all alive and mostly intact. Shoko and the auxiliary managers were doing well. Sure, there were more than a few watchful eyes on all of them, but for now, Gojo could breathe easy knowing they were all untouchable. 

Heroes of the world didn’t get questioned. At least, not for a while.  

The political plotting would start up again eventually, but even the scummiest of them would indulge in the illusion of peace for a bit. Right? 

That was naive.  

Gojo’s expression darkened.

"Are you wearing a yukata?" Fushiguro tilted his head. 

“How’s Nanamin?” Itadori piped up. “You said you were gonna go stay with him, right?”

Nobara snorted. “Did Nanami-san actually agree to that?”

Gojo ignored them. He had more pressing matters than humoring the kids right now. “Did you know?” he demanded, full attention on Geto.

Raising a fine, dark brow, Geto closed the textbook and crossed his arms. “Know what?”

“The clans are arranging marriage candidates for Nanami.”

Abruptly, the room filled with shouts of surprise and a noisy explosion of questions. Gojo pointedly did not look away from Geto, searching for any hints of dishonesty. His Six Eyes were great for a lot of things. Discerning emotions and benign motive weren’t necessarily on the list though. 

“Do you really think any of the clans are gossiping with me?” Geto sighed, offering a tired smile. He glanced over Gojo’s shoulder at the students. “Let’s start outdoor exercises early. Go change and I’ll meet you all in fifteen minutes.”

They started to complain immediately. 

Geto’s smile chilled. “It wasn’t a request.”

Grumbling, the trio dragged their feet out of the classroom. Gojo knew his students well enough to know they would probably just linger in the hallway to eavesdrop. It didn’t really matter to him though. Nothing he had to say was a secret. 

It was the exact reason he had gone off to find Nanami.

Not only had they averted mass destruction, he had gotten nearly everything he wanted. 

The last thing on his list was one Nanami Kento—unexpectedly, but thankfully alive. 

“But you’re on campus more than me these days. I don’t believe that you wouldn’t have heard about something like this.”

“If I heard about it, don’t you think you would’ve heard about it, too?” Geto turned away, starting to wipe the chalkboard clean. “Anyway, is it that surprising? Arranged marriages are expected among jujutsu clans. Nanami is also a Beta which means he's unlikely to get involved in any Alpha power struggles among high ranking clan members. It actually makes more sense the longer I think about it.”

“It doesn’t matter if it makes sense,” Gojo snapped. “It’s not happening.”

Geto chuckled. “You can’t stop the clans from throwing marriage prospects at him.”

“I can if I’m marrying him.”

“Are you?”

Gojo gritted his teeth. “Maybe if I had some help with this new problem, I’d be on my way to doing that.”

Geto’s laughter boomed in the empty classroom and he leaned back against the clean chalkboard. “You’ve been staying alone with him for a while already. What’s taking you so long?”

“Let’s just focus on how you can help me get rid of these proposals,” he retorted.

Shrugging, Geto replied, “The most I can do is send a few low level curses around to snoop but it seems pointless. If you’re looking for a ringleader, I imagine there isn’t one. The clans would be foolish to not make use of Nanami.” His nose wrinkled then and he walked over to the window, cracking it open. “You’re an adult, Satoru. Stop smelling like that just because you're not getting your way. Just talk to—”

“—Ijichi!”

“Huh?”

“He called Nanami about the proposals.” Gojo spun on his heel, stalking toward the closed door. “I’ll get him to cancel all of this. ”

Geto caught him by the back of his collar and jerked him to a halt. “Ijichi isn’t the enemy,” he reminded, exasperated. “And you should really go back to Nanami and talk to him about this. He may have agreed because he wants to marry someone.”

“Who wants to marry a stranger?” Gojo yanked himself free. “If it’s Nanami, he’d only do something like this out of obligation and duty.”

“Well, they won’t be strangers after a while.”

Gojo should’ve known talking to Geto would get him nowhere. The man was far too quick to poke holes in his plans. He also got too caught up in the feelings of others. There were so many negligible factors he was considering.

At the end of the day, Gojo only cared about making sure Nanami never slipped away from him again. 

Admittedly, courting him was a slower process than Gojo expected. It had never been difficult to find interested parties when he was in pursuit or even not in pursuit. People gravitated to him on a physical level and he had thought he was using that to his advantage with Nanami.

It also didn’t seem like he was against the physical closeness. If anything, Nanami was encouraging it with his head pats and evening cuddles and sharing a bed. Those were all invitations to be closer, weren’t they?

Even though Gojo hadn’t gotten around to saying anything explicit about their relationship, it was implied that there was more to come in the future. Near future. 

Hadn’t their days together so far been great?

He’s a Beta.

Gojo frowned. Maybe Betas were slow on the pick up? They couldn’t scent after all nor could they smell Alpha and Omega pheromones. Without those things, it felt like courting with his hands tied behind his back. 

“You’re overthinking this, Satoru.”

He warily focused his attention back on Geto. “What?”

“Just use your words. You like talking. Nanami will listen.”

Gojo closed his eyes, giving the advice a genuine chance. He had warped all the way back to Tokyo specifically to talk to Geto about this. They weren’t teenagers anymore and they weren’t enemies either. Even if Gojo was still the strongest, he didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

One chance. 

“Fine. We’ll do it your way and if that doesn’t work, I’m doing it my way.” 

“Fine.” Geto smiled. “Tell Nanami I say hi.”

Gojo opened and then closed his mouth silently. In retrospect, he probably should’ve informed Nanami that Geto Suguru was alive and in control of his body again. It hadn’t exactly slipped his mind—more like, he had been dropped into an Okinawan paradise and just didn’t want to think about anything other than the here and now.

The dealings in Tokyo felt far away.

“Will do. Bye!” Gojo waved a hand and spun away.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was back inside Nanami’s bedroom. Sliding doors were drawn open, sunlight warming the veranda and tatami mats. Beyond that, he saw that Nanami had finished hanging the laundry. 

“Nanami?” he called out, shuffling through the house.

It wasn’t particularly large so it only took a few seconds to get to the kitchen where he found the tall blond in a loose t-shirt and apron. If he let his imagination run wild, he could pretend Nanami wasn't wearing pants behind the kitchen island. 

Gojo sucked in a breath. 

“Welcome back,” Nanami murmured, glancing over his shoulder at him. There was a pot of boiling water on the stove and packs of buckwheat noodles to one side. “The soup still needs to be chilled—”

“Marry me, Nanami.”

Chapter Text

Nanami staved off a headache.

He sat across from Gojo in the modest living area of his house, a low lying table between them. This wasn’t how he had intended to spend his evening. Honestly, he would rather be boiling soba noodles and finishing dinner preparations. 

Marry me, Nanami.

Instead, he was dealing with whatever Gojo was playing at. He hadn’t known what the man would say after warping back into his house after disappearing for nearly half a day. The quiet had been welcome in some ways. Less so in other ways.

The Bond was displeased.

Nanami was very adept at ignoring the whims of it though.

“Gojo-san—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted. “That fulfills the clause, right? You just have to marry someone from one of the clans. Doesn’t matter who.”

The headache was definitely unavoidable. Nanami took a deep breath and crossed his arms. “It’s not that simple,” he explained in a measured tone. “The clause stipulates providing offspring. Unfortunately, neither of us are Omegas, therefore neither of us will be producing anything of the sort.”

Gojo opened his mouth to protest with what must’ve been an insane thought and Nanami put his hand up.

“It’s not possible.”

He pouted. 

The Bond sang affectionately at the sight and Nanami scowled harshly in return. He needed to focus and be the logical one in this situation. Clearly Gojo wasn’t interested in being reasonable—not that he was ever really reasonable. 

“Betas already lack the fertility rates of Alphas and Omegas. An arrangement of this nature necessitates I choose an Omega partner.” Nanami hadn’t yet looked through the prospects but he knew already that they would all be Omegas in their prime. 

More likely than not, they would be mid-ranked clan members or the children of mid-ranked clan members. Even if Gojo was an Omega, it was laughable to imagine his clan would allow a no name, no lineage, crippled Beta to be his partner. Nanami would more than likely end up dead in a ditch with zero regard for whatever his measly genetics could offer. 

“And you’re just fine with that?” Gojo glared at the table, lips curled back. “It was a shitty requirement and shouldn’t have even been allowed.”

“I read and agreed to it. No one forced me to do anything.” Nanami uncurled his fisted hands and uncrossed his arms. He reached for the jug of chilled tea between them and filled two glasses. 

“But you’ll be forced to fuck someone you don’t know.”

“Offspring is the only requirement. Not sex. Not love.” Nanami pushed one glass closer to Gojo. 

Of course, he hoped that whoever he married would be more than tolerant of his existence. A surrogate and sperm donor situation wasn’t preferable. 

If they could develop an intimate partnership both emotionally and physically, Nanami would be quite pleased. He had no intention of closing himself off before even giving the arrangement a chance. With his personal circumstances, finding anyone willing to humor him and his baggage would be a blessing. 

The arranged marriage saved him the trouble of having to put himself out there, too. 

Whoever he ended up with would know from the beginning that he was medically certified as Bonded but not mated, and that he suffered from severe battle scars. Just those facts alone drove away most, if not all, interest.

“Then just return the retirement package.” Gojo pressed his hands flat to the table. “You don’t actually need their support. I’ll give you whatever they offered for free.”

“I won’t accept your pity.”

“You accepted theirs!” he snapped. 

“They requested an exchange of services.” Nanami gave him a long, steady look. “I’m amenable to their proposition because that clause exists. If they were to request something else instead of that condition, I would review and most likely accept it if it was reasonable.” Nanami drained his tea. “There is nothing pitiful about the situation.”

Gojo shut his eyes, jaw clenching. “Fine. It’s still a ridiculous condition though.” He drew back, thick veins running along his lovely hands and fingers as he snatched the glass of tea and downed the entire thing. 

Nanami sighed.

Blue eyes suddenly brightened in surprise. Lowering the glass, Gojo cocked his head. “Why did you add sugar?”

“Why else?” Nanami replied dryly. 

Gojo’s gaze fell, something complicated twisting his features. There was a strange quality to the Bond that Nanami had never quite been able to understand. Even though he could feel a deep, nagging attraction to be near Gojo, he felt nothing in return. Of course, he assumed that due to it’s one-sided nature and the fundamental difference in Betas and Alphas, he simply couldn’t feel Gojo’s emotions, but it still bothered him.

Even for a one-sided Bond, it could feel quite hollow at times. With such a strong pull, he thought perhaps over time it would escalate to being able to feel Gojo’s ups and downs as well. 

Whether for better or worse though, he could only feel the Bond’s feelings. 

“Then let me help you.”

Nanami opened his mouth to once again explain that Gojo couldn’t feasibly help in any way shape or form. This was a deal cut between him and every clan except for the Gojo Clan. What could he possibly offer? Did he want to join Nanami in the marital bed? The honeymoon (if there even was one)? 

“The marriage candidates. Let me help you choose.”

Nanami shut his mouth. Oh. Actual help. He frowned, ignoring the little tugs at the Bond. “What are you suggesting?”

Gojo grinned, having fully bounced back from whatever had stilled him a moment ago. Circling the table, he slung an arm around Nanami’s shoulders and poured himself a second glass of sweet tea. 

“You’re not from a clan, so you’ve never had to deal with them outside of the school. I, on the other hand, have tons of experience with all of them!” Gojo sipped his drink, other hand rubbing circles into Nanami’s shoulder. “Someone might seem great on paper and even in their interview but I can tell you who they really are when the cameras are off.”

“That’s…sensible.” Nanami never thought those words would leave him in relation to Gojo Satoru. 

“Right?” he exclaimed, patting Nanami’s arm. When he settled down, he had pulled Nanami practically against his chest, resting his chin atop Nanami’s head. “So just trust your cute senpai! I’ll make sure we find you the perfect match.”

The words should’ve been reassuring.

Nanami only felt dread pooling in his gut though. It felt like he was being lured into a trap but what could the trap be? Everything Gojo had said was quite true. He didn’t know much about clan politics. He knew there was a lot of maneuvering and scheming but beyond that? His only interactions on a close, personal level were with Gojo and, at times, fellow sorcerers from the branch schools.

He also didn’t have the added benefit of an Alpha or Omega’s scenting abilities. What if he accidentally fell in with someone intolerable? This was a binding contract. He couldn’t just leave if it turned out miserable. 

Gojo is the best bet. 

“I see. Thank you for the help.” Nanami was stuck against Gojo’s side and couldn’t really convey his gratitude appropriately but that was probably fine.

Gojo wasn’t hung up on such things.

“Why don’t we start right away? Where are those marriage profiles?” He jumped to his feet, dragging Nanami after him.

He stumbled, nearly tripping from Gojo’s speed. Jerking free, he huffed and straightened his clothing. “I’ll bring them over. Wait here.”

Why did Nanami ever believe that Gojo could be helpful?

The five candidates Ijichi had sent over to him were currently being scribbled over with red ink. Nanami wasn’t even sure what possessed Gojo to make marks on the papers. They weren’t school exams that needed corrections. Even then, he wasn’t sure if Gojo had ever properly graded an assignment in his life despite being a supposed teacher.

From Nanami’s perspective, it just looked like he had doodled all over the pristine portfolios. Some things were notes. Other things were just crossed out. He drew the line when Gojo started putting demon horns on the only male Omega’s picture.

“If this is your only contribution, I can review these without further help,” Nanami deadpanned, grabbing the files. 

Gojo stopped him, dragging the papers back toward himself with an exaggerated pout. “I’m just making notes so I remember what to tell you! It’s important!”

He raised a brow. “You’re marring their faces.”

“It’s relevant!”

“Are any of these candidates going to receive a pass from you?” Nanami sighed. “If not, then this exercise is pointless.”

Gojo leaned back, arm stretching around Nanami and resting near his hip. The heat of his body should’ve been quite familiar already given how they shared a futon each night, but Nanami still stiffened at the closeness. They could easily pass off clumsy touches in the night. 

This was much harder to ignore. 

“I knew the clans were vicious but I really didn’t think they’d give you such garbage candidates. None of these people are even mid-tier clan members. I’m surprised any of them were even considered. Not because they all suck, but because they’re not invited anywhere important.”

Nanami folded his hands in his lap. “Isn’t that better? I’d prefer not to be married into a family that’s closely tied to the clan.”

“I agree actually,” Gojo admitted, tilting his head back and sighing, “but the options still have to be good even if they’re low rank nobodies. These people?” He waved a hand at the ridiculously tarnished papers. “They’re nobodies with bad attitudes. I imagine their parents probably tossed their names into the pool just to try and make them useful to the clan somehow.”

And hardly cared about their child’s happiness, let alone mine.  

Nanami nodded. “Then how should we proceed?”

“The contract says you get to choose right? No other weird rules?”

“That’s correct. The choice is fully at my discretion. Had I known any suitable candidates, I would have been allowed to name them specifically as well.” 

Gojo’s expression flickered at that but he then nodded and gathered the papers up. “Well, first things first. Let’s throw these out and you can give Ijichi a call.” He flashed a smile that hardly resembled a smile. “The clans are playing you for a fool, Nanamin. Even if we don’t care about a high ranking candidate, we do care about their attitude toward you. If they’re looking down on you now, it’ll only be worse once they start demanding you to act as one of their clansmen.”

Perhaps it was naivete or wishful thinking on Nanami’s part, but he had overlooked the way his life would inevitably change once the marriage was finalized. Although they had promised him a comfortable retirement, it wasn’t out of bounds to expect clan related duties as well.

Would they allow him to continue living here? Most likely not. If they did, it would probably be with the expectation he drop whatever he was doing to assist the clan. 

The alternative was to not accept the contract after all and return everything he had already been given. And then what? Take Gojo’s charity? Search for another salaryman job until he could afford to retire? Go back to the field and die at the hands of a curse immediately?

No matter how he turned it around in his head, it was still the best deal he had been offered.

Nanami took a deep breath. “And what do I tell him?”

Gojo leaned against the doorframe, the pile of marked papers in his hand. “You say none of these candidates appealed to you.”

“He’ll want a reason.”

“He can make one up,” Gojo shrugged. “Not your problem. The winning clan gets to have you . It’s their job to make an effort to woo you, so let them scramble around.” He spun on his heel, disappearing around the corner. 

The sound of paper being thrown down a recycling bin was deafening.

“Smells like dinner is ready! Let’s eat!” Gojo called out.

Nanami rubbed his aching head. Well. Dinner was ready. And it did smell good. Perhaps it was time to take a page out of Gojo’s book—at least when it came to dealing with the clans. 

This was an exchange and Nanami deserved a fair deal.

⸺⸺

When he ended the call with Ijichi, it was with great reluctance and more than a fair amount of guilt. It had taken a full day to summon up the energy and determination to make the call. As expected, the entire stilted affair was uncomfortable.

Ijichi clearly had little say in anything regarding clan politics. He was just a staff member of the Tokyo branch. A messenger caught in the middle. 

Nanami knew that he wouldn’t be able to get away from Gojo’s adamant insistence about advocating for himself either though. If he didn’t call Ijichi, he risked provoking Gojo to get involved and then what?

The entire jujutsu world would know that the Gojo Clan was sticking their nose in the politics of marriage for a no-name Beta.

Ijichi had been very understanding overall though. A friend through and through.

Nanami tucked his phone away. 

A cold drink sounded quite nice. The days were growing warmer rapidly and he wasn’t in the mood to suffer all day. Turning on the air conditioning seemed a bit excessive though and he wanted to avoid that for as long as possible.

“Nanamin!” Gojo’s whining carried through the house, originating from the bedroom where the sliding doors were cracked just a bit. 

He drifted down the hall and pushed the doors open. Immediately, his gaze dropped to Gojo, half-naked on the messy futon and looking very drowsy.

“It’s too warm,” he complained, tugging at the yukata already falling off of him. His boxer-briefs were black and tight and far too—

Nanami looked away and started picking up far flung pillows and random clothing pieces that had been discarded without care. He could hardly recognize his bedroom these days. The bedding was almost never put away anymore, what with Gojo wanting to roll around at any hour of the day. 

He enjoyed cat naps in a way that made Nanami wonder if the overstimulation was worse than he let on. It never seemed to bother him this much and he had known Gojo for most of his late teens and adulthood. For all the Bond made Nanami constantly aware of him, it seemed he was still lacking in many obvious ways. 

“Can we go get something cold? Ice cream sounds good!” Gojo rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin up in both hands. 

Nanami gazed down at him before kneeling and brushing the back of his hand against Gojo’s forehead and cheek. Very warm. He frowned. Maybe turning on the air conditioning wasn’t a bad idea. There was a faint flush growing on Gojo’s face, neck, and chest. 

“Do you feel sick?” Nanami’s hand drifted down to the slightly sweaty column of his neck and Gojo’s throat bobbed. “You’re—”

“—mm, I’m good.” He caught Nanami’s hand, holding it tightly as he sat up and straightened his clothing. “So, how was the call?” 

“Uncomfortable but most likely necessary.” 

Gojo barked a laugh. 

“It’s possible they’ll find this entire agreement too cumbersome to continue,” Nanami murmured while trying and failing to take his hand back. 

Gojo’s grip tightened, pressing Nanami’s hands back against his heated neck. “Nah, they’re stubborn and still want those genes of yours. We’re gonna be getting a much nicer candidate pile next time. You’ll see.”

Nanami sighed. 

The palm of his hand grew uncomfortably warm the longer it pressed against Gojo’s neck—probably in part due to the Bond and their proximity. The closeness was getting easy to manage and predict but there were also times like these where he felt at a loss. 

Gojo nuzzled against Nanami’s palm. For some reason, the skin of his neck was a bit rougher than the rest. Scar tissue maybe? But Gojo had an astoundingly flawless complexion.

Is this his scent gland? 

Nanami brushed his thumb over the patch of skin and Gojo shivered.

“Wanna do that again, Nanamin?" he purred, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting as he suddenly pressed Nanami’s thumb harder against his throat. “Right here is great.”

Heat and chills and a painful twist in his chest made Nanami yank back like he’d been stung. Turning away swiftly, he barked over his shoulder, "Get dressed, Gojo-san." 

Gojo huffed. "Where are we going?" 

"Ice cream." 

He slid the doors shut, listening to Gojo rambling nonsense on the other side of the paper screens. Nanami ignored him, clutching his burning hand in a fist and trying as usual to steadily push down the Bond. 

It had been behaving quite well with Gojo near him. It almost seemed tame for the most part. But there were still times when the Bond acted on it’s own and left Nanami in this state. Volatile and shaky. The Bond made his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. Caused dizziness and dysfunction. 

Nanami took a deep breath and shook off the lingering nerves.

They weren’t easy to ignore but he had had enough practice over the years. It was, arguably, more difficult now that he was an adult and no longer able to blame youthful hormones for how he reacted to Gojo. The Bond alone wasn’t enough to explain away how Nanami wanted to tear the doors back open and feel Gojo shudder against him and purr in his ear again.

Despite all of Gojo’s flaws and annoying habits, he was irrefutably beautiful. Powerful. A sight for sore eyes even when he was being rude. 

Nanami rubbed his face, bristling. Something cold will help. Certainly.

“I’m ready!” The doors rattled back open and Gojo emerged in an unbuttoned tropical print monstrosity and swimming trunks. “Let’s hit the beach, too!” He snatched Nanami’s still tingling hand and led the way out. “I found a nice spot away from all the crowds when I was walking around the other day!”

“Why would you seek seclusion?” Nanami’s brow furrowed. 

“Sometimes I do need it!” he argued, sliding his sunglasses on as they slipped out the front door and down the street. “But more importantly, you do.” Gojo tossed his head back and flashed Nanami a bright grin. “A nice quiet stretch of beach where you can sunbathe or read or do whatever you want.”

Oh.  

Nanami tightened his grip on Gojo’s hand, not quite sure when it changed from being dragged around to holding on tightly. 

The Bond was a nuisance. 

Chapter Text

“What’s your type?”

Nanami had only just wrapped the small white towel around his waist and grabbed his wooden bucket of bathing supplies when Gojo’s question registered. 

They had opted for one of the large public bathhouses after spending another day at the beach. 

Most of the sand had been washed off already, but Nanami hadn’t wanted either of them to stand around in the entry hall or yard while the other finished using the single bathroom in the house. It had been annoying the last few times they did it that way and Nanami was done. 

And so, here they were.

Nanami led the way out of the changing room and into the bath. “My type regarding what?” He set their shared bathing supplies between two shower stools and took a seat. 

“Marriage partners,” Gojo huffed, as if it was obvious he would be talking about that matter. 

If anything, Nanami had been trying to avoid thinking about such things. After sending Ijichi back to the clans, they had mailed him a new set of prospects by the end of the week which looked better at just a glance. More intriguing profiles. Significantly more detailed descriptions of education, employment, and personal interests.

Gojo still tossed them all out. 

Nanami had accused him of being petty.

Regardless, he sent back a more finely crafted email to Ijichi with Gojo’s very critical input. Contrary to the first time, there were no doodles or childish insults this round. Instead, he explained to Nanami how each candidate failed to meet basic standards of decency and the profiles were borderline lies. 

This guy didn’t even study there! He donated a building and bragged about the honorary certificate he got to everyone who would listen.

Yeah, she works for a good company on paper. Her family owns the company though and all of the children are on the payroll. I guarantee none of them work. 

Reading and debate as a hobby? This person can’t even read meeting minutes without falling asleep. I know because we have a system to keep each other awake at clan events.

Nanami’s email was far more professional than Gojo’s ranting, but essentially said the same things. Once he sent it off, he knew that whoever was involved in the candidate process would realize he had insider information now. 

Which brought him to his current feelings regarding the entire matter. He was tired and perhaps a bit annoyed.

Dealing with old, powerful money is tedious.

Warm hands suddenly pressed against his back and he jumped. Gojo’s voice rushed over the shell of his ear, “C’mon, I’m pretty sure their next line of attack is going to be asking you for your preferences since they’ve swung and missed twice now.”

Nanami tried to focus on the conversation but all he could think about was how long Gojo’s fingers were and how wide his palms felt flush against his shoulder blades. 

“Once you tell them what you like, their scheming will get even uglier,” Gojo murmured, massaging a patch of scar tissue near the nape of his neck. He dragged his fingertips down Nanami’s spine, caressing each ridge and massaging the delicate nerves. 

“We’re in public, Gojo-san,” Nanami hissed, jerking away from the deceptively innocent touch. His eyes darted around the bathhouse, but only found an elderly man soaking in the large tub and a stressed salaryman hastily showering and most likely rushing back for overtime. 

“And if we were in private?” Gojo mused, lessening up the pressure of his fingers until it was merely the ghost of a touch. He had drifted to the edge of the towel, thumb brushing over the dimples in Nanami’s lower back. “What would you let me do?”

Nanami twisted the faucet knob and aimed the shower sprayer over his shoulder. 

Gojo yelped and spluttered, scrambling back. “Mean!” he wailed from significantly further away now. 

“Sit down and behave yourself.” He refused to turn around and instead squirted a generous amount of soap into his hands. 

After a few seconds of grumbling, the stool beside Nanami squeaked and Gojo plopped down with a heavy thud. Nanami was pointedly keeping his eyes shut, thinking of very bland things like laundry and scrubbing toilets.

“I wasn’t kidding though,” Gojo stated, the weight of his gaze like a physical presence. “I need to know your preferences so I can figure out how they’ll try and twist it around in their favor.”

Nanami grimaced, letting the cold sprayer wash away the suds in his hair. “And what exactly do you need to know?”

The Bond dictates what my preferences are. End of discussion.

Not that he could say that without sounding absolutely ridiculous. He had been told for more than half his life that this Bond was a fantasy at best and a tragedy at worst. At least if it was all in his head, he could make it go away. 

“Well, what were your previous partners like? They were Betas, weren’t they?”

Nanami opened and closed his mouth, brow furrowing. “How do you…?” He finally glanced over at Gojo, finding the blue of Six Eyes practically glowing. 

“Well, I’ve never noticed other scents besides my own on you. Even if you shower really well, pheromones are sticky.” 

“We spend plenty of time apart, Gojo-san. I hardly think that’s a logical way to make assumptions,” Nanami replied dryly, ignoring how the Bond thrummed.

Gojo smiled a strangely small, amused smile. He closed the short distance between them, pushing Nanami’s wet hair back from his forehead. “I told you. Pheromones are sticky. I’d know if there was someone else. Well, unless they were Betas.”

Warm fingers tightened faintly, water curling down Nanami’s jaw. 

He shoved Gojo’s hand away and stood up. 

Enough.

Grabbing one of the wash cloths they had brought and the bottle of body soap, he circled around to kneel behind Gojo. At least this way he could control his reactions and maybe take a full breath. 

“Alphas and Omegas make poor casual partners,” Nanami explained, stiffly. He lathered the soap and began scrubbing Gojo’s back in steady strokes. This was distracting too but it was a distraction that he could manage. 

The stretch of Gojo’s muscles underneath the wet cloth felt nice. Solid. It eased the Bond’s incessant pulsing, as if reminding it that Gojo wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Betas are uncomplicated. We don’t partake in the courting rituals of Alphas and Omegas, therefore it can feel alien at times to pursue such designations.” Nanami believed these things on a shallow level, of course. None of it was a lie. He just didn’t think it was all true either—not when the Bond had been singing praises to Gojo for a lifetime. 

“That’s true,” Gojo mumbled, rolling his large shoulders back. Nanami swallowed at the feeling of every muscle rippling beneath the cloth. “So it was always casual? No one special comes to mind? Not even a little?”

Nanami pulled back slightly, hovering over soapy skin. “No.”

“Alright, then what sorts of interesting people did Nanami Kento spend his nights with?” Gojo clapped his hands, false cheer dripping in sarcasm. “Tall? Petite? Shy? Suave? Give your senpai all the details so he can help you find a spouse!”

“They varied in stature.” They never varied. They were always tall. 

“Generally reasonable and straight-forward mannerisms.” He only pursued the noisiest, most extroverted man in any bar.

Gojo hummed as if the information were a bore. It was the sort of dismissive noise he would employ when he wanted everyone to know that he was done talking. And yet, it seemed he refused to let up on this discussion of preferences. “What about in bed?”

Nanami darted a look around the bathhouse but found the place had vacated. Sighing, he ran the wash cloth over a tense knot in Gojo’s upper back. “It was a means to an end.”

“Well, what was the end goal?”

To be held by a mediocre replacement. 

“To please and find pleasure. I highly doubt these are questions that clan elders will be interested in though.” Nanami felt the knot loosen in Gojo’s back and finally pulled away to grab the shower spray.

He washed off the suds, allowing a single indulgence as he ran a bare hand over Gojo’s shoulder. 

“What about other things then? Do you want someone who reads books, too? And likes alcohol? Baked goods? Do they need to be good at cooking?” Gojo caught Nanami’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it and refusing to let him pull away. “Should they spoil you? Do you want to spoil them? What about sharing a bed? Do you want separate rooms? And—”

“—Gojo-san.”

He shut his mouth for once, hand trembling faintly when he let Nanami go. 

Silently, they finished washing up. Nanami slipped the small towel from his hips and climbed into the soaking bath. He expected Gojo to follow him, but then he heard the doors to the changing room clatter open and shut soundly.

Taking a deep breath, Nanami sank deeper into the hot water and closed his eyes. 

⸺⸺

“Why are you back again?” Geto laughed, sitting atop Shoko’s desk as she took a smoke break. The windows were propped open, allowing the last rays of sunlight in. 

Gojo blinked a few times, momentarily struck with nostalgia. He stood in the doorway of the infirmary, a memory of a much younger him complaining about a much younger Nanami playing out in his mind. 

It had always happened near the end of the day after the teachers had left for the day or were cooped up in their office away from the students. Shoko and Geto would sneak cigarettes. Gojo would barge in with snacks and usually more than a few things to say about all manner of topics. 

The specifics eluded him now but he knew they always revolved around Nanami’s confusing attitude. Six Eyes told him Nanami’s heart jumped when he was around. It told him that his skin was flushing. It even caught the rise and fall of his voice. 

All signs pointed to a cute little kouhai crushing on his senpai. 

But when they spoke, it was always immediate scowls. Glares. Irritable sighing and curt answers. Avoidance tactics that would impress even the higher ups. Gojo knew there were differences in the courtship of Alphas and Omegas versus Betas as a whole, but were they that different? He always ended up pondering how their signals kept getting mixed up. 

“Satoru?” Geto called out, tilting his head. 

He shook away the memories. They weren’t children anymore and yet he was still stuck in the same dilemma. “Do you think Nanami likes me?” he blurted, throwing himself face first onto the nearest empty cot. 

The silence that followed was filled with exasperation but he didn’t care. This topic was an old one. Well worn and troublesome. He was fairly certain that he had promised to stop asking this question and to just ask Nanami himself.

But somehow, it felt like even when Nanami flatly rejected him in all manners, it didn’t truly feel like a rejection. 

And yet he never got any other answers. It was never a yes so what was he supposed to do?

Give up? That’s stupid.

“Have you ever tried just telling him how you actually feel?” Shoko deadpanned. “It’s been thirteen years.”

“I’ve tried!” Gojo groaned, rolled over onto his back. “I was even asking him about his type earlier when he was washing my back.”

“That’s not how you tell someone you like them,” Geto replied warily. “Also, why was he washing…,” he trailed off, seeming to think better of the question. 

Gojo snorted, not really interested in talking about that either. No one else needed to know the shame of what he did in a public bathroom before warping back to Tokyo. He rubbed his tired eyes, already missing the comfort of Nanami’s calming scent and solid form. 

When he held him at night, it was easy to chase away memories of a world where Nanami wasn’t around anymore. 

“He was so vague, but he did say he likes reasonable, straight forward people.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Gojo shot up, glaring at Shoko who only took another drag from her cigarette. “Hey!”

She shrugged. “Well, you’re definitely not reasonable. And you’re not acting straight-forward right now.” Her eyes shifted to him, judgment heavy in her gaze. 

“I already asked him to marry me and he said no. How much more straight-forward can someone be?” 

The silence that followed was deafening.

Gojo pursed his lips. “Wait, I can explain.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to try it my way? Talking first?” Geto raised a brow. “That was over a week ago and you hadn’t been back so I thought the talking worked. When did you propose?”

He frowned, mouth shut.

Geto crossed his arms. 

Groaning, Gojo grabbed the nearest pillow and buried his face in it. “You weren’t there with him! You don’t understand!” he complained. “He was cooking us dinner and wearing this really cute apron that ties in the back with a bow and it looked so easy to just pull and the counter is pretty high so if I just imagine—”

“—you didn’t even try talking then?” Geto sighed. 

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

Shoko snorted a laugh. “He’s fielding marriage candidates, isn’t he? Anyone would say no if they thought a proposal from an old friend was out of pity.”

Gojo could concede that it was poorly timed. Nothing else had come to mind though. He had just seen Nanami across the kitchen and thought about how this was all he needed. All he wanted. The world had nearly ended not that long ago and Gojo had been convinced there was no Nanami on the other side of it all. 

And then he had been wrong. 

So who was going to blame him for getting a bit caught up in his emotions? Was there anything wrong with fearing that all of this could slip from his hands again? It only took one crazed curse to send the world spiraling. 

“Well, I can’t walk it back now. I already said what I said. Even if I tried talking I don’t think he’d believe me.”

“A very average expression of your feelings would’ve prevented this situation,” Geto muttered. “Nanami was always fairly mild mannered with me.”

“I don’t think you know Nanami as well as you think you do,” Gojo retorted, shooting him a glare. “You haven’t see him since high school. He’s not that easy to get through to and he’s super stubborn.”

“You are, too,” Geto snorted. 

Gojo pouted deeper. 

Sitting up and tossing the pillow aside, he suddenly grinned at his friends. It was time to focus on the more important issue at hand. “Whatever, we can talk about my mistakes forever but what matters is my plan now. Nanami is letting me vet all of his marriage prospects from the clans.”

Geto opened and closed his mouth silently before waving for Gojo to continue. 

“Once I get the clans to send over real candidates, I’ll tear apart every interview meeting and show Nanami that this entire agreement is terrible.” Gojo stated proudly.

“Why not tear apart the bad candidates?” Shoko asked.

“Because, I’m trying to show him I’m a true friend who cares about him,” Gojo rolled his eyes, “And when all of these good candidate interviews fall through, he’ll know we gave it a real try.” He clapped his hands. “And then he’ll realize that I’m clearly the best option and he should just tear up the retirement offer they gave him.” 

“And then what? You move him back to the Gojo Clan?” Geto’s expression twisted. “The elders are gonna make his life hell.”

“If he wants to stay in Okinawa, that’s fine. I’ll have his place renovated though. The ceilings are too low and we could use a bigger bath. Maybe build a spring? The beach is nice and the weather is mild so his scars aren’t irritable.” Gojo shrugged. “The elders can’t touch him.”

“But they’ll try,” Shoko pointed out. “When you’re not paying attention.”

Gojo just laughed though. “Sure, they can try once, but that’s it.” 

There’s no one left in this world who can defy me. A few crotchety clans folk were hardly cause for concern. 

“Fine, whatever,” Shoko sighed. “I feel bad for Nanami though. He’s a good guy. How’d he get stuck with you?” Her eyes shone with humor now, but the lingering wariness kept a smile from her lips. 

“It’s a convoluted plan, but you already know that,” Geto muttered, taking one of Shoko’s cigarettes for himself. 

“Oh! And one more thing.”

Shoko and Geto were quiet, expressions growing even more exhausted.

“I need a rut suppressant.” Gojo stuck his arm out for Shoko. “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’ll be in pre-rut in less than a day.”

She blinked in surprise but slowly rose to her feet to prepare an injection. “Since when are you off your cycle? I thought you just went through one before leaving for Okinawa.”

“Not sure.” He shrugged, refusing to admit that he had a pretty good idea of how it happened. When they were still students, he had nearly gone into rut more than once in Nanami’s presence, so he already knew that his non-scent did things to him. 

Stealing Nanami’s clothes and belongings for sudden, uncontrollable ruts had been the smartest thing he ever did. Now, if he had tried to tell Nanami that, it probably would’ve ended in a formal complaint with the school. 

But wasn’t that better than trying to jump his underclassman? 

As adults, Gojo had a fairly strong grip on his rut cycle. Even when Nanami was around, he could control it. The only time they had a problem was when they went on joint missions alone together. He knew Nanami purposefully refused those missions at face value, but their reasons had to differ (and Gojo would love to know Nanami’s reasons). 

Regardless, he had generic inhibitors that controlled the cycle. If he was going to be around Nanami for extended periods though, he just made sure to take a double dose or find the nearest willing partner for the night. 

It had been impulsive and foolish going to Okinawa with little more than willpower and his regular inhibitors.

And just maybe, he had been too optimistic about not needing these things because whatever had been building between him and Nanami for half their lives would’ve been resolved by now.

Apparently, it would take a bit more time.

“This is a strong suppressant,” Shoko warned, tapping out air bubbles in the syringe. “I don’t want Nanami calling me with any emergencies.”

“I’d just warp back here before anything bad could happen,” Gojo assured cheerily. 

“Uh-huh.” She injected the pulsing vein in the crook of his arm. “You didn’t warp back before dropping a bombshell proposal.”

“I was only honest!”

“You were impulsive,” she scoffed. “Alright, done. If you have any other issues with rut, let me know. Your hormones shouldn’t be fluctuating at this age.” Shoko gave him a somewhat concerned once over before turning away and snubbing out her abandoned cigarette. 

Geto blew out a puff of smoke. “Are we sure Nanami is a Beta?”

Gojo stiffened, unsure if he wanted Geto to continue that thought or not. It had crossed his own mind more than once. Nanami’s scent wasn’t quite like Alphas or Omegas but it was special. No one else really seemed to get it though. 

Despite both Geto and Shoko being Alphas, neither had ever noticed anything outstanding about Nanami’s scent. 

Nanami didn’t give off pheromones to anyone else it seemed. 

Just Gojo. 

“He’s never shown me his designation paperwork,” Shoko admitted. “Not that I would tell either of you anything about it.” Before Gojo could protest, she added, “Anyway, Betas aren’t required to provide it for their medical check-ups. Just their medical history is enough since they don’t have complications from being Alphas or Omegas.”

Even suggesting that Nanami wasn’t what he claimed to be could blow up in Gojo’s face. Who wanted to be accused of lying about their designation? That also seemed like a ridiculous thing to do anyway. What would be the purpose of pretending to be a Beta?

It’s something else.

There had always been something wrong in their relationship. 

Gojo had been dealing with it since their youth. Mixed signals. Attraction and revulsion. Indulgences that Nanami had no right indulging when he seemed to refuse Gojo’s pursuit. 

It was just finally time to deal with it—whether or not Nanami would do so willingly. Gojo was tired of dancing around each other. 

This would be their final bout. 

He would find out exactly why Nanami seemed to love and loathe him simultaneously, and make sure the correct side won out.

Chapter Text

Two weeks had passed since Gojo threw out the first marriage candidates. 

The back and forth had been tiring to say the least but it seemed to finally be coming to an end. In front of Nanami were three approved candidates. 

Gojo sat on the other side of their living room table, snacking on a parfait. “They’re decent. A little boring and weak but pretty much everyone is, so can’t do anything about that.” He swallowed a mouthful of cream and sponge cake. 

Nodding slowly, Nanami flipped through the first candidate’s profile. It was…extensive. 

Gojo had left much milder notes this time around. Still in red ink but they were genuinely helpful rather than scathing or petty. He pointed out where the clans were trying to potentially hide things. Small details they warped to suit Nanami’s preferences. Negligible but still worth pointing out. Manipulations were unavoidable in this sort of negotiation. 

“The marriage interviews will all take place next week in Naha.” Nanami had confirmed the details over emails with Ijichi who had just sent him back a list of venues and reservations. It seemed each clan was hellbent on outspending the others based on the price tags Nanami had seen on these interview locations. 

He had found Gojo’s methods ridiculous, but no one could argue that the clans were no longer mocking him. Nanami was being treated with respect and that’s all he needed. 

“We should go early and sightsee!” Gojo sat up straighter, whipped cream smeared on the corner of his mouth.

Nanami reached across the table, swiping it away. “We? I’ll be going alone.” He licked up the cream before he could think better of it. 

The way Gojo’s eyes hungrily followed him made his ears burn but Gojo didn’t miss a beat as he retorted, “Alone? No way! They’ll spring a trap on you. What if they try to marry you in a drunken stupor? Or take advantage of you in other ways! You can’t trust any of the clans.”

Nanami resisted the urge to sigh. “I’m an adult, Gojo-san. Aren’t your students waiting for you back in Tokyo? I’m sure you have better things to do than—”

“—Suguru is handling them just fine! I’m free to take as long as I want away. Isn’t that the perk of being the world’s hero? It’s been work, work, work for ages,” Gojo laughed, waving his spoon around. “I’ll be here for who knows how long!”

“Geto Suguru is alive?”

Gojo froze.

Nanami felt his heart thudding against his rib cage and felt even more ridiculous for it. The last he heard, Geto’s body was a puppet master’s minion. Had they found a way to return it to him? Had he been resurrected? 

More than all of that, Nanami wondered why Gojo was spending his time in Okinawa when his best friend had risen from the dead. 

Best friend? An understatement.

Nanami had spent his youth watching Gojo whether he wanted to or not. The Bond made him painfully aware of him at all times. He knew what he looked like when Geto was nearby. He knew what he looked like when Geto was gone. 

There were very few people in Gojo’s life that had ever meant so much to him.

“Right, he did tell me to say hi to you,” Gojo trailed off, laughing. “I just didn’t think it was all that important.”

“Unimportant in what regard? He’s your oldest friend.” Who was dead not that long ago.

“Well, sorcerer stuff isn’t really your business anymore. I didn’t think it mattered.”

Nanami went quiet.

And then he took a slow, steadying breath. 

It was these moments that reminded him quite clearly that the Bond was merely a facet of their relationship. The matter of fate and being fated overlooked the little things and Nanami clung to those. 

Gojo’s flippant attitude. His cutting carelessness. The way he always stood above and gazed down below. Categorizing people and their worth without regard for their feelings. 

He was a deeply insensitive man at times. 

Nanami had always known as much and used that knowledge to beat the Bond back. 

In their very long acquaintanceship, he had seen plenty of Gojo’s good and bad sides. It was always a matter of weighing them against each other and finding ways to accept what he could, but the things he had trouble accepting tended to stick out. Prodding at his patience and feeding him reasons to keep the man at a proper distance. 

In those dark hours when Nanami felt compelled to just blurt out their Bond, he would recall Gojo’s callousness. Even if he did believe him, would it be merely to humor him? To amuse himself with something curious until it became boring? 

Gojo Satoru was a cornerstone of the jujutsu world. 

Just because he was clinging to Nanami after finding out he was alive, didn’t mean he would cling forever. There was no compulsion. There wasn’t even the compulsion to watch his words. 

Why would Nanami ever believe that such an important man would stay? The day would come shortly enough when Gojo returned to his duties and a world where he proudly stood at the top. 

Moreover, Geto Suguru would be right there beside him once again. Perfectly capable of being a partner that could stand at the top with him.

Nanami ignored the throbbing of his scars. 

“Well, we can discuss the trip later!” Gojo dropped his spoon into the empty parfait glass. He stood up, circling around the table and resting a hand on Nanami’s shoulder. “I saw a flier about a food festival by the beach today. I’m sure there’s tons of good food and it’ll all be gone if we drag our feet, so let’s get going!”

He shook off Gojo’s hand. 

“Enjoy the festivities, Gojo-san.” Nanami stood up, brushing past him. “I’ll be taking some time to myself.”

“If you’re not feeling well, I’ll stay—”

“—I want time to myself. Alone.” Nanami did sigh then, unable to look at Gojo’s face. If he did, he already knew how quickly he would crumble under the Bond’s guilt. 

There weren’t many places to hide in his own home, but he supposed the bedroom was safe enough. He slid the doors shut behind him and waited for the sound of Gojo leaving. 

It took longer than he expected. Nearly long enough to strangle his lungs. 

And then the front door finally opened and closed. 

He slumped forward, rubbing his aching head and seeking out a book to get lost in. Although it was highly unlikely, he would appreciate a bit of peace from thinking about Gojo Satoru. 

Nanami didn’t know when he had drifted off, but the bedroom was dark by the time he woke up.

His head didn’t hurt anymore and his nerves weren’t nearly as raw.

The book he had been reading laid across his chest, still opened to where he had left off. Patting around for the bookmark, he slipped it in and rolled over. Nights were still quite warm and humid here but far better than when the sun was beating down. 

He tried to remember if he had taken the laundry in today but couldn’t recall. Sitting up, he crawled over to the sliding doors to the veranda and noted the empty drying bars. 

He shut the doors with a soft clack.

Immediately, there was shuffling from outside the bedroom and then the doors to the hallway cracked open. Bright light filtered in, making Nanami wince. He rubbed his tired eyes and flicked on the nearest floor lamp. 

Gojo hovered in the doorway, looking both excited and hesitant. He was wearing his blindfold and dressed in plain black joggers and a t-shirt. It was a far cry from the gaudy things he had been parading around in since arriving to Nanami’s home. 

Maybe he’s finally leaving.  

Nanami didn’t allow the thought to fester. 

“Good evening, Gojo-san,” he murmured, voice rough from sleep. 

“You slept a lot.”

He frowned, rubbing his scarred shoulder out of habit. The movement wasn’t missed by Gojo who tensed at the sight. He tugged his blindfold up, one blue eye sharp and bright as he gave Nanami a once over. 

After a moment, he relaxed and pulled the cloth back down. 

“Tired?” Gojo grinned.

“Yes.” From many things.  

“I brought back food for you! It’s probably cold by now, but I figured something is better than nothing.”

“Thank you. Did you eat already?” Nanami stood up slowly, making his way out of the room with Gojo at his side every step of the way. 

Gojo shook his head, leaning over the kitchen island where a truly impressive stack of food containers sat. “I just bought it. Figured it would be more fun if we tried them all together.” 

He surveyed the feast, even finding a few sample sized bottles of local sake. 

Ah. Annoying.  

Nanami closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he walked around to Gojo’s side and tugged his blindfold loose. Soft white locks fell down and he shook them out, laughing and seemingly preparing to make a joke of some sort.

Before he could, Nanami guided him to press his nose against his neck. 

Gojo latched onto him without hesitation, arms tight around his waist and fingers buried in the cotton of his shirt. He inhaled deeply, tight muscles uncoiling with each breath. He stifled a moan that devolved into a whimper. 

“It must’ve been crowded. There was no need to visit every food vendor for my sake,” Nanami murmured, stroking his hair calmly. 

“It wasn’t so bad,” Gojo chuckled a bit deliriously. His words slurred near the end as his breath rushed hot and heavy over Nanami’s skin. “I got too comfy with you around all the time to help clear my senses. Guess I shouldn’t rely on that so much.”

Nanami wanted to agree. Tell him that it wouldn’t be long before he was back to Tokyo and would no longer have this to comfort him. 

He can find comfort in others more suitable.  

Patting Gojo’s back gently, he pushed him away. 

Gojo refused to budge at first, lips soft and wet where they pressed over a pulsing vein in Nanami’s throat. “Can we eat like this?” he whispered.

“No,” Nanami retorted immediately. “Neither of us can reach any of the food in this position.”

Making an annoyed sound, Gojo unburied his face and swung them around so Nanami was trapped between him and the kitchen island. He sucked in a sharp breath, hands pressed against the table’s surface as Gojo’s broad chest rested against his back. 

“Does this work?” he mumbled the words against Nanami’s shoulder, sliding the loose collar of his shirt lower so he could nose at his skin properly. 

“Fine.”

Compromise made, Nanami started opening food containers. They were all designed to be easily eaten outside with disposable utensils or with fingers. He picked up a lukewarm piece of fried bread. It was a dark brown with a sweet fragrance. Nanami broke it open, the fluffy inside reminding him of a donut.

He chewed and swallowed. “Not too sweet.”

“Really?” Gojo whined, sounding disappointed. “They told me it was a dessert though.” 

“It’s still sweet,” Nanami murmured, breaking off another piece and holding it up for Gojo to try. He pretended the brush of soft lips over his fingertips didn’t make his stomach flutter. 

Gojo flicked his tongue over Nanami’s fingers, catching crumbs and sugar. “Mm. You’re right.” 

If Nanami allowed himself to lick his own fingers clean after finishing the snack, they didn’t have to talk about it.

They worked their way through each container, jumping back and forth between savory and sweet. Nanami ate more of the former, not the least bit offended that he got fewer sweets. Even though it had lost some crunch, the tempura was still delicious and the fried chicken still filled his stomach pleasantly. 

He cracked open the sake once he discovered the container of fish cakes. 

“Do you like it?” Gojo asked, one of his hands having long since migrated to rest over Nanami’s abdomen. His palm was warm against the soft cotton of his shirt, rubbing absently in gentle circles.

Nanami nodded, mouth full of food. He considered telling Gojo to move his hand away, but it didn’t bother him right now. Not when he was eating well and drinking well. The sake settled in his belly smoothly.

“Did you want to see Suguru that badly?”

The question nearly made Nanami choke. He suppressed a cough, gripping the edge of the counter to regain his balance. Gojo held him tighter, pulling him back to rest against his body. 

“Breathe, Nanamin,” he teased, a hint of worry edging into his words. “The food isn’t going anywhere, y’know.” He nuzzled against Nanami’s cheek, using the change in angle to press flush against his backside. 

“I don’t need to see Geto-san,” he rasped, coughing lightly into a napkin. He rested his head back against Gojo’s shoulder and sighed. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Gojo didn’t respond.

Nanami scowled. “I’m not sure what I would say to him at this point. We have little to discuss beyond exchanging general pleasantries.” If that. He also couldn’t comprehend why they were even discussing this. 

What did his desire to see or not see Geto Suguru have to do with anything?

“Really?” 

“Did Geto-san have business with me?” Nanami raised a cautious brow. 

“No!” Gojo blurted. “No. I mean, probably the same as you. Just normal things.” He squeezed Nanami tighter, rubbing his face against his jaw. “If you want to know about how everyone in Tokyo is doing, I can tell you about them. Yuuji-kun is probably going to show up at your doorstep the second summer break starts.”

Gojo’s chest shuddered against Nanami’s back but his voice remained light and soft as he continued speaking. “I didn’t know if hearing that stuff brought back bad memories. Or if you went so far away because you didn’t want to remember those things.” He lifted his head, hair tickling Nanami’s cheek. “But I guess you’re willing to marry into the clans, so the jujutsu world is always gonna be in your life now, huh? That sucks—”

Nanami shoved a fish cake into his mouth. “Gojo-san, stop talking.” 

He listened to him chew and swallow before feeding him another piece. This exchange continued again and again until half the container had emptied and the vein in Nanami’s head had stopped throbbing. 

“I’m not interested in the painful details of a war already done. The lives of those who still live are of interest to me, but I’m in no rush to hear about everything they’ve done in the time I’ve been gone.” Nanami finished the small bottle of sake and sighed. “I chose to return to jujutsu and have my obligations, so in the future, you would do well to remember that.”

Gojo squeezed his waist and buried his face in his neck. “Easy!”

Nanami stifled another sigh. Regardless, he rested a hand over where Gojo held him tightly. He brushed his fingers over tense, white knuckles until they eased their grip. 

“We should go shopping tomorrow,” Gojo mumbled.

“There are enough groceries for the week.”

His laugh rushed cool and soft over Nanami’s neck. “To get marriage interview clothes, of course! I’ll pick for you!”

“I don’t—”

“—you’re welcome!”

Nanami paused. 

Eventually, he shook his head and downed the rest of the sake samples. 

Gojo rambled on about whatever came to mind as the evening wore one. Things he had seen at the food festival. Clothing styles he wanted Nanami to try. Restaurants he was already mapping out. 

And then they finally fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms just as they had every other night since Gojo’s arrival.

Chapter Text

13 Years Ago — Tokyo, Japan

Nanami did his very best to stay far away from Gojo Satoru at all times. It was a matter of survival in a storm of both teenage hormones and screaming tethers from the Bond. They had reached a truce of sorts though. 

Gojo was allowed to take his things and keep them until he needed them to be refreshed. Whether or not Nanami got everything back was debatable but he didn’t think he wanted to know what happened to those items. After all, he certainly didn’t want Gojo to know how many cold showers the Bond forced him to take. 

The Bond probably made Gojo feel just as disturbed.

“Nanami!”

Waving and jogging through the train station gates was Gojo. He was dressed casually for the weekend. Despite the wealth of his clan and the size of his ego, Gojo often wore plain and unassuming clothes. It was only after being given (forced to receive) one of his shirts that Nanami realized how expensive it actually was and no longer knew what to do with the garment.

Wearing it was out of the question. Hugging it in his sleep also seemed like a waste. In the end, he hung it up in the closet and left that problem for another day.

“Where are the others?” Nanami crossed his arms, scowling deeply at Gojo who stopped in front of him. 

His round rimmed shades glinted in the bright afternoon sun. Grinning widely, he leaned in far too close, bending at the waist to be eye level with Nanami. “They’re on the way! I just took a shortcut. Why’d you come into the city by yourself?”

Nanami lifted a plastic bag dangling from his wrist. 

“A music store?” Gojo blinked curiously, bright blue eyes peeking out from behind his shades. He tugged at the strap to peer inside. “That’s a scary looking album. It’s signed?”

“They were selling limited edition signed copies this morning,” he explained, pulling the bag away. “And if you’re scared, that’s good. You won’t be taking this one from me then.” 

“But you like it, right?” Gojo stepped into his space, fluttering around him to try and get a look at the bag again. He pointedly ignored the very accurate accusation as well. “I wanna listen, too! I bet it’s not that scary.”

Nanami sighed. 

“There’s nothing to do until they get here. We have to wait around so let’s listen to it,” Gojo whined. He was close enough that the air was warmer and thicker between them. Certainly close enough for Nanami to smell the shampoo he always used. “Suguru said their train won’t be in for another thirty minutes.”

Thirty minutes alone together? 

The Bond thrummed so violently, he nearly shuddered from it. Nanami swallowed hard and decided that music was actually a great activity. At least Gojo would talk less that way. And he would be too distracted to annoy Nanami. 

“I only have these.” Nanami shrugged the headphones off of his neck, hooking them over Gojo’s ears. Soft white hair tickled his fingertips but he ignored it. He also ignored the heavy gaze following his every move. Looking away, Nanami scrolled through his music player, finding one of the more popular tracks from that particular band. 

Hopefully it was palatable for the average listener. 

Passing the music player to Gojo, he stepped back and walked ahead. There was no feasible way he could stand there and just stare at someone else listening to music. The train station had plenty of stores and restaurants. 

There were ways to busy themselves for the next half hour that didn’t have to involve actually interacting with each other. 

Surely.

Nanami slowed his steps as they passed racks of clothing and accessories outside of a boutique. The patterns were a bit obnoxious but Nanami found it charming in a strange way. He rather liked noisy things. Clothes. Music. Apparently people, too.

He paused at the sunglasses without thinking. There were more styles than he expected. Rims of different sizes. Various shades of black and multi colored reflectors. Did Gojo have more than one? He seemed to prefer the large round ones most days. Nanami couldn’t remember seeing anything else when he did peek into his dorm room on occasion.

Actually stepping inside Gojo’s room seemed like a recipe for disaster and therefore he had never done so. Something about crossing that threshold felt like he would never be allowed to leave again. 

Do Omegas feel that way in an Alpha’s territory? Do Alphas feel that way in an Omega’s nest?  

Nanami didn’t know.

“You should get a pair.”

Long arms suddenly appeared on either side of him, plucking a pair of dark, rectangular shades from the rack. 

Nanami ignored his suddenly hammering heart and refused to look up. 

It didn’t matter though. Gojo had impeccable aim as he hooked the sunglasses over Nanami’s ears. His fingertips trailed along the shells of his ears and Nanami jerked away from the touch. 

Heat crawled up his neck and face, the feeling of being trapped yet content warred with each other. His stomach turned and adrenaline pumped through his veins. Sweat formed on his back immediately, daring to soak through both his shirt and cardigan. 

“I’d rather wear a hat than sunglasses,” Nanami coughed, clearing his dry throat. 

Gojo’s breath fanned across his cheek as he chuckled. “It’s for curses, dummy.” 

Nanami glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, surprised enough to momentarily forget the torrential storm churning his insides.

“Curses can get aggravated if you make eye contact.” Gojo poked his cheek. “Especially with an aggressive glare like yours.”

He slipped the shades off, frowning up at Gojo. “Is that why you wear them, senpai?”

Gojo stared back at him for a long moment, bright eyes flickering behind his shades. His pupils blew wide and then rapidly shrank back down. Gazing into Six Eyes was always unsettling yet Nanami found himself doing so far too often. It was all-consuming in a way that the Bond craved.

If making uncomfortably long eye contact fed the hunger of the Bond, then Nanami would deal with it. Better than doing something even worse.  

Gojo shook his head and abruptly turned the music up. “Nope! Your cute senpai wears them for other reasons.” He bopped his head to the song playing and stepped away from the stand as well as Nanami.

The relief was short lived though.

In one smooth motion, Gojo caught Nanami’s slack hand. 

He stumbled in surprise, barely having enough time to put the sunglasses back on the rack before Gojo swept him down the street. “Let go—!”

“I like this band!” Gojo called out, voice too loud as he yelled over the blasting headphones. “Gets me all pumped up!”

Nanami stared after him. 

Shit.

“You wanna go to a concert sometime?” Gojo yelled, throwing him a bright grin over his shoulder. “You gotta know where they play, right?”

Nanami pursed his lips but couldn’t stop the chuckle that tumbled out. 

And then the laugh. 

And then more and more until he was holding his stomach and tugging the headphones off of Gojo’s head while struggling to say, “Shut up, you’re so loud.”

If Gojo’s hand tightened around his and didn’t let go until the others arrived, Nanami didn’t complain. 

13 Years Later — Tokyo, Japan

The feeling of being warped through time and space was something you simply didn’t forget nor was it something you generally wanted to repeat. That is, if you were of sound mind. Nanami had never believed Gojo was of sound mind but he believed it even less so after he warped them both to Tokyo. 

Nanami’s stomach was still roiling and he had been crouched by a vending machine for the last ten minutes. Every small sip of tea eased the nausea but he was already dreading the return trip. 

“We’re flying.”

“Huh?” Gojo crouched down, swirling his can of juice. 

Nanami glared up at him. “We will fly back tomorrow. End of discussion.”

“That takes hours!” he whined, throwing his arms around Nanami’s shoulders and nearly knocking him over. “You’re exaggerating anyway. It can’t be that—”

“—I’ll fly back alone then. You may do whatever you please.”

Gojo pouted and somehow Nanami could envision the furrow between his brows behind the blindfold. He opened his mouth to protest more but then just burrowed into Nanami’s shoulder, rubbing his face against his neck. “I get to choose where we stay tonight then!”

Sighing, Nanami tried to shove his face back but only succeeded in Gojo rubbing his cheek against his inner wrist. “You can pay as well.”

“Deal!”

Nanami pursed his lips, having momentarily forgotten who exactly he was talking to. Money was no object to the Gojo clan. Gingerly, he rose to his feet with Gojo still clinging to him. At least his annoying behavior was a distraction from the dizziness. 

He hadn’t expected Gojo to want to go shopping in their own town but he also hadn’t expected him to choose Tokyo of all places. The sheer distance should’ve been a deterrent (and then Nanami remembered no distance was a deterrent ever for this man). It had seemed obvious they would take a train to the nearest major metropolitan area.

Clearly that was foolish thinking. 

“There’s a few shops I want you to visit,” Gojo explained, finally backing away enough to walk properly. Instead of hanging off of Nanami, he settled for taking his hand and locking their fingers together as they strode down the street. “We need a whole line of outfits! A new suit for the meeting and some casual things just in case things go well.”

“And where do you presume we’ll be going should things go well?” Nanami prompted. He was prepared to give these marriage interviews a chance but he wasn’t particularly hopeful of any relationship beyond respectful tolerance. 

Especially with how the Bond was purring these days from Gojo’s proximity. It was at peace and Nanami was feeling very fulfilled whether he liked it or not. 

Introducing a new partner and ejecting Gojo from his every day life was essentially welcoming in an emotional hurricane. After over a decade of this though, Nanami was quite familiar with the ebb and flow of the Bond. He knew what it felt like to be at his most miserable and now he knew what it was like at the most peaceful.

There’s no need for both of us to be trapped. 

Not that Gojo had any inkling of such a feeling. Nanami often envied his ignorance.

“Maybe a cafe? Or a walk by the ocean? Those are pretty normal dates,” Gojo hummed, swinging their hands back and forth as they walked. “What if they enjoy eating as much as you do and want to have dinner at a casual place by the water? You’ll need an outfit for that! Or maybe they’ll want to go swimming and then you’ll need a new swimsuit. Something small and tight would show off—”

Nanami drowned him out.

It was the first time since this all started that Gojo actually seemed excited about helping him navigate these interviews. Although Nanami had hoped for this sort of attentiveness and genuine assistance, there was something truly unpleasant about hearing Gojo speak fondly of Nanami’s future with someone else. 

The Bond is truly inescapable. He shook off the feelings, knowing better than anyone how deeply the Bond could warp his emotions.

“I own clothing, Gojo-san. There’s no need to purchase an entirely new wardrobe for—”

“—but those clothes aren’t new,” he interrupted. 

“And why are new clothes important?” Nanami sighed. “Spending money frivolously in an effort to start fresh is irresponsible. Beginnings are successful not due to the material goods but the nature of those involved. If I desire to get off on the right foot with these candidates, then I will do so regardless of my attire.”

Gojo was quiet but his grip on Nanami’s hand tightened. 

He walked a few paces ahead, long legs taking lengthy strides. Although it wasn’t difficult for Nanami to keep pace, he tended to prefer a more leisurely stroll. Gojo, on the other hand, was buzzing with energy constantly and very much struggled with slow ambling. Knowing that though, this didn’t feel like he was simply antsy. 

What wasn’t he saying?

“That’s not why,” Gojo mumbled after a long silence. 

Nanami tried to demand what the reason was then, but was cut off as they stopped in front of a tailor shop. 

The doors opened immediately for them and half a dozen employees in finely tailored suits bowed at the waist. Crisp, loud greetings echoed through the glittering store and Nanami found his thoughts swept away, replaced by bone deep exhaustion.

“Gojo-sama, thank you for your patronage,” the store manager came forward, bowing even more deeply than his employees. “Our humble store has been blessed with your continued support.”

Waving off the flattery, Gojo tugged Nanami forward. “Here’s the one I mentioned in my message. He needs a suit by the end of this week.”

“Easily done,” the manager assured. 

Nanami knew it couldn’t have been easily done in any sense. They were mostly likely already calculating how many sleepless nights it would require to meet Gojo’s unreasonable request. “There’s no need to honor such ridiculous demands,” Nanami murmured, catching the manager’s surprised gaze. “Whatever stock garments you have available will do just as well.”

“We could never disgrace Gojo-sama’s beloved Omega like that,” the manager replied with a nervous laugh. “Please don’t worry about our well-being. He provided us with plenty of guidelines including fabrics and cuts before your arrival. We’ve already prepared some samples to make the process go smoother.”

Nanami blinked slowly. 

He felt a few employees surround him and start shuffling him toward the fitting area. They were speaking as well. Perhaps even providing instructions. 

Despite that, Nanami couldn’t focus.

Omega?

Frowning, he peered through the full-length mirror to see Gojo chatting happily with the manager. 

“Please lift your arms, Nanami-sama.”

He reluctantly obeyed, still trying to catch Gojo’s eye through the mirror. It became clear that he was purposefully ignoring him. That ridiculous blindfold was a poor excuse for why he couldn’t acknowledge that Nanami wanted answers. Now . 

“Would you like a higher neckline?”

“Higher neckline?” Nanami repeated, trying to pay some semblance of attention.

The employee wrapped a measuring tape across the thicket part of his chest and nodded. “We noticed neither you nor Gojo-sama are collared. A higher neckline will provide the same coverage as a regular collar and we’re ensuring scent blocker technology is woven into the fabric.”

“There’s no need. I’m a Beta.”

The employee barely missed a beat, nodding and smiling. “Of course, of course, pardon my language, Nanami-sama.” They rattled off measurements to someone on standby with a notepad and pen. “We do recommend the high collar for all mated partners and have found that it’s almost as effective as traditional pheromone scent blockers. You would only benefit from it.”

Nanami grimaced, almost hesitant to say what he was about to say. It wasn’t possible was it? Why was this person being blatantly obtuse? “You don’t believe I’m a Beta?”

This time, the employee stilled, tension forming at the corners of their polite smile. “I apologize. I had no intention of coming across that way. Please allow me to…”

Nanami tried to make sense of the long-winded apology but eventually dismissed it. There was something going on here that he wasn’t understanding. Consider the situation. He quietly assessed the store that was designed for the ultra wealthy. Powerful people were often eccentric, weren’t they? Gojo was living proof of that. 

He had just brought an unknown man into this place and demanded a tailored suit in mere days. It was obvious that he would be mistaken for a lover. Why an Omega though? If anything, Beta would be the default option purely based on his lack of a scent.

Wait.

A cold sweat broke out on his back and a fierce heat boiled up from his gut. 

“How strong is his scent on my clothing?” Nanami asked, willing away the mortification.

The employees startled, exchanging confused, somewhat embarrassed looks. Quietly, one of them whispered, “It’s unlikely anything could wash it out at this point.”

Nanami resisted the urge to turn around and test the durability of Gojo’s infinity. 

“Gojo-sama has a very lovely scent though!” Another employee assured, as if that was ever a concern. “Uhm, since you can’t smell it, does that mean you’re actually a Beta? Like a real one?” 

He nodded.

She blushed, hastily bowing her head. “We receive quite a few guests here that enjoy alternative lifestyles. It’s not often we serve real Betas so we only assumed.”

“I gathered as much,” Nanami murmured. What business did a Beta have in a store this elite? He certainly didn’t know many or any . They were essentially the invisible masses. “Therefore, don’t concern yourselves with any extra tailoring for an Omega. A simple suit will do just fine.”

They both smiled at him through the mirror, shoulders easing. 

“You’re staring.”

Nanami hummed an acknowledgement but did not stop staring at Gojo across the cafe table. They were seated for lunch with several shopping bags around them. It had been a productive morning and Nanami hoped they were done now. 

Despite enjoying shopping for himself, he didn’t know how to feel about the current situation nor the revelation that he was apparently running around smelling like a mated Omega. 

Gojo pouted, swiping one of the sweet potato wedges from Nanami’s plate. “What is it? Normally you’re quick to scold me if something’s bothering you.”

That was true.

Nanami didn’t think he had ever struggled with telling Gojo exactly how he felt about his inappropriate behavior or aggravating antics. This was different though. 

Are you erasing your presence to help me marry someone else? If they were purely friends, Nanami wouldn’t have thought anything of the gesture.

It was quite thoughtful, actually. 

After giving Nanami such trouble and using him as an air purifier for the majority of their relationship, this would’ve been a sign of true friendship. On the other hand, Nanami was Bonded and that changed everything. 

“You’ve insisted on purchasing all new clothes to erase your scent.”

Gojo paused, straw pressed between his lips and ice crackling at the bottom of his very sweet pink drink. He slowly pulled back, searching Nanami’s face for something. Evidently not finding what he was looking for, he replied, “Close but try again, Nanamin.”

Raising a brow, Nanami crossed his arms and leaned back. “What else is there to say? It’s a fact that these clothes lack your scent.”

“And does that bother you?”

“I find it uncharacteristically thoughtful of you to provide me with an appropriately scentless wardrobe for my upcoming marriage interviews.” 

Gojo smiled, soft and sly and far too teasing to put Nanami at ease. “It really isn’t like me, huh?”

Scowling, Nanami began to retort but was halted by a mouthful of sweet bread. He glared indignantly at Gojo who only laughed. 

“They bake their bread fresh here every day! The custard filling is famous,” Gojo explained, rambling on and on without any signs of stopping.

Meanwhile, Nanami struggled to bite and chew. Once he could speak again, he tried to interrupt and bring their conversation back on track but Gojo wasn’t listening anymore. After three failed attempts, he just shook his head and finished the custard bun. 

They finished their meal and hit the streets once again.

“There’s one more store I want to go to!”

Nanami tightened his grip on the plethora of shopping bags he was already carrying. “No need. We’ve purchased more than enough.”

“No, this one is the best one!” Gojo whined, draping himself across Nanami’s shoulders. “We have to go!” 

“Gojo-san, there is—”

“—I’ll scream and make a fuss right here if we don’t go.”

Nanami gave him a long suffering look. 

In return, he merely beamed brightly, even pushing his blindfold up to bat those ridiculously long lashes of his. Nanami had zero doubts that Gojo actually would make good on his promise of screaming. 

The man had no shame. 

“This is the last one.”

Gojo cheered.

Chapter Text

Contrary to what Nanami assumed, the last store was a far cry from what he expected.

It also wasn't a store.

He sighed, rubbing his head as they stood outside of a music venue. There was a modest line already halfway down the street and the sky was finally darkening in the early evening. 

After lunch, Gojo had led them back to the hotel to check in and put their things away. He had then demanded a nap that Nanami was required to partake in. ("How can I rest if you're not there?" Gojo had loudly and stubbornly reminded). 

And so they took a nap that was probably much needed after such a long morning and warping from Okinawa. 

Nanami hadn't woken up until half past five in the evening, slightly delirious and hungry. His shirt had also been unbuttoned at some point to make room for Gojo's searching hands. Long fingers wrapped around his uninjured shoulder and a large palm flattened over his stomach. 

It had been warm and comforting in the fading daylight. 

They requested room service after Nanami failed to get Gojo up in a timely manner. He had insisted that the two of them needed to be dressed and ready by 7pm at the latest and Nanami did not enjoy being late—even if he had no idea where they were going. 

"Is this the real reason why you purchased casual clothing?" Nanami murmured, searching for some sign or poster announcing the name of the performer they were about to see. 

Gojo smoothed a hand down Nanami's shoulders and settled at the small of his back. The dark cardigan was soft to the touch beneath Gojo's hand. "There's some stuff leftover for the marriage interviews, don't worry!"

It was obvious that what was leftover was just that. Leftovers. Undesirables. Nanami hadn't cared much about what exactly Gojo wanted to buy for him but from a glance, it was now clear that one set of plain trousers and a loose button down were the only things allocated to the interviews. 

The black leather jacket. The fitted jeans. The trendy shirts and sleek shoes. Those had all been prepared for this moment.

Nanami leaned into Gojo’s space as they squeezed through the doors, bypassing the long line. His nose brushed over Gojo's leather lapel and he breathed in deeply on instinct. It immediately drew him back to high school. Late nights in Tokyo. Concerts that he had reluctantly allowed Gojo to attend with him. Crowds of people that pushed them too close together.

The venue's corridor was darker than outside. 

Wall art and graffiti covered every bit of brick and strobe lights flashed at the end where the main hall must have been located. Nanami tried to lean away to walk properly but found Gojo's arm locked around his waist. 

"I got us the VIP tickets but there’s only standing room or seating in the second floor lounge," Gojo explained. "I'm guessing you don't wanna be front row getting your eardrums blown out?"

"Where are we, Gojo-san?" Nanami closed his eyes, a vein throbbing in his head as annoyance bubbled up. He had been patient this entire time and it seemed Gojo wasn't sharing anything important. "You have been insisting on this place since lunch and have yet to provide any details on why we’re here…despite…," he trailed off, finally catching the melody of a very familiar song. 

He blinked slowly, stopping at the foot of a set of stairs leading up to the second floor. 

Gojo was grinning at him, so infuriatingly smug. 

Nanami found his annoyance vanishing as he finally made sense of the large logo at the back of the stage. "I didn't know they still performed live shows."

He honestly didn't know they were still a band at all. Although he held fond memories of these songs and groups, it had been far too long since he thought about any of them. 

It was…nostalgic.

"They don't do many shows anymore. And definitely don't scream like they used to," Gojo replied, thumb rubbing lazy circles into Nanami's hip. "But I thought you'd like it anyway. Y’know, now that you're retired and don't have to hunt curses every night, I thought you might wanna do something fun."

Nanami nodded faintly, confused about how and why some little punk band from high school could make his heart tremble. 

No. It's not due to the band. 

He glanced up at Gojo, finding blue eyes seeking him through the shadows. 

Nor is it due to the Bond. 

"Why this group?" Nanami turned away, ascending the steps and shaking off the tingling sensation where Gojo's fingers had pressed into his bare hip. "I believe you stole my music player enough times to have known all the bands in it."

"You used to listen to them before every mission." Gojo trailed just behind him, speaking as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "At least every mission I supervised. It was also the only group that sang—"

"—ballads. Yes, I remember," Nanami replied, catching Gojo’s smile out of the corner of his eye. "I started listening to them more after you said my gaze was aggressive and irritating the curses." He reached the top floor, seeing small tables lining the balcony railing. 

"Did you think it'd mellow you out?" Gojo laughed. 

"I thought it would be worth trying."

It never really helped but it became a habit and it calmed his nerves before the mission began. That simple routine had never been something he told others about or made a point to discuss. He had purposefully not taken Gojo’s advice to get a pair of sunglasses back then. A simple, petty rebellion against the Bond. 

Nothing about this music should've caught Gojo's fleeting attention.

“I don’t know if they’ll play any slow songs tonight, but with all this marriage stuff going on, I figured a night out would be good for you.” Gojo took the seat across from Nanami, hooking their ankles together beneath the far too small table. 

One night to ourselves is nothing. It’s fine.  

“Yes,” Nanami mumbled, “I can see your point.”

Peering over the railing, Nanami had to admit the view was quite nice. They could clearly see the stage and the slowly filling floor. The sound system reached them perfectly, avoiding static and deafening bass. Nanami could truly appreciate these little details now at his age and with his particular ailments. 

“I’ll get us drinks.” Gojo suddenly got up, untangling their legs and rattling the table in his attempt to stand up. He squeezed Nanami’s shoulder lightly as he passed him by. 

“You don’t drink,” Nanami began to say, but his voice was drowned out by the music and chatter. Gojo was already long gone, messy white hair a beacon in the darkness. He also stood a head taller than everyone around him which often made it incredibly easy to find him.

We shouldn’t even be here.

Nanami closed his eyes and exhaled, leaning back in the somewhat rickety chair. This wasn’t how a shopping trip was supposed to go. Living with Gojo and dealing with his antics somehow felt easier than whatever they were currently doing. 

The Bond was pleased but what concerned him was that he also felt rather content. There were plenty of times when he struggled to discern what the Bond was forcing him to feel and what he truly felt. More often than not, it was a muddled mess. 

But right now, Nanami knew with full certainty that he was truly and terribly charmed. 

His skin prickled. His heart thundered in his chest. It was as if he was a teenager again and realizing that even without the Bond’s blinders, Gojo Satoru was a breathtaking sight.

But the same problem had always persisted and wouldn’t stop persisting. 

His interest is nothing more than the Bond. 

If it wasn’t for Nanami’s scent, Gojo would have no reason to cling to him. No need to crave him. Desire him. Despair over the loss of him. The Bond had fabricated a reason for Gojo’s interest and no one else could even perceive of this apparent scent. 

At least, that was the narrative that Nanami repeated to himself regularly. Even more regularly as of late. 

But then why this outing?

This one night in Tokyo?

Nanami clenched his fists, fingers digging into the sleeves of his cardigan. 

The Bond was a force to be reckoned with. Nanami understood the powerful influence it held over his emotions and thoughts. What it didn’t do though was force the Bonded pair to establish a genuine connection. There was carnal attraction, yes, but nothing much beyond that. 

It didn’t make Gojo remember something as silly as a song Nanami listened to before missions as a teenager. It certainly didn’t make him hunt down a concert schedule 13 years later. 

This was a rare instance where Nanami could trust that not only himself but Gojo was acting without the pressure of the Bond. Half of Nanami’s life had been spent suffocating and overthinking and finally he was breathing fresh air. 

Was that how he felt the first time he scented me?

Nanami supposed it must’ve been so.

“They make Cinderellas!” Gojo slid a fruity orange drink in front of him as he sank back into his chair. He had a matching drink that he took a long sip from immediately. 

Nanami huffed a laugh. 

“Hmm? What’s so funny, Nanamin?” Gojo leaned over the table, elbows propped up. 

“Is this the only drink you know?” he mused. Old memories flitted through his mind of a Hokkaido mission gone terribly wrong. Not due to the curse, but rather due to the fact he had been stuck alone with Gojo for an extended period. 

Back then, the idea of being alone with him was more stressful than the actual experience. At least, until the Bond started screaming at him when they inevitably had to part ways. 

“It’s delicious!” Gojo argued. “Who needs alcohol to enjoy their cocktails?” He flashed a bright grin and took another sip. 

The corner of Nanami’s mouth tugged up.

“You’re in a good mood,” Gojo drawled, brushing his fingers over the back of Nanami’s hand. He traced thick veins and teased the delicate bones in his wrist. “I should’ve taken you to a rock concert sooner.” 

It was spoken with Gojo’s usual playfulness but Nanami found himself unable to control the emotions swelling inside of him. Perhaps tomorrow he would scold himself for getting carried away, but right now he couldn’t stop himself.

“Thank you for arranging this,” Nanami stated, swallowing around the lump forming in his throat. He kept his gaze steadily on the swirl of the Cinderella and ignored the burning of Gojo’s eyes on him. “I had forgotten…” many things. 

Gojo threaded their fingers together, squeezing and laughing. His voice was muffled as the crowds one floor below began to cheer. The lights dimmed further to illuminate the stage and Nanami looked up, intent on distracting himself with the music.

Nothing could really distract him from Gojo’s intent gaze in his periphery though. Even if he hadn’t been watching Nanami like that, he would’ve been just as attuned to Gojo’s presence. 

Anywhere. Everywhere. Always.

At some point in the night, Nanami was pulled to his feet as the crowd grew raucous even on the second floor. Most of the guests were of a similar age to him and that didn’t stop them from becoming enamored with nostalgia. 

Nanami found himself pressed to the metal railing, bracketed in by Gojo who gripped the rail on either side of him. His broad chest pressed flush to Nanami’s backside, at once too close and not close enough. He hadn’t made any excuses for caging him in but it would’ve been easy to make up any number of flimsy reasons. 

The crowd. Protecting my scars. Ensuring a good view.

Nanami knew those excuses were growing weaker and weaker as Gojo stopped singing along near his ear and instead nosed along his neck. Hot breath ghosting along his jaw turned into wet kisses trailing down his sweaty neck. He could’ve pushed Gojo off but instead he leaned his head back, giving him even more area to work with.

It felt like regret and relief all at once.

The music was deafening. Even the screams around them were muffled. Nanami had the vague thought his hearing would suffer tomorrow morning but couldn’t focus on it when Gojo curled a possessive hand around his hip and sucked on a pulsing vein in his throat.

Nanami trembled, wondering if it was the bass of the sound system or Gojo’s heart hammering against his back. 

“Gojo-san,” Nanami rasped, feeling his mouth forming the words but hardly knowing if he said it aloud. 

The lips, tongue, and teeth abusing his neck suddenly pulled back and a large hand caught his jaw, turning his head and—

“Gojo-sensei?!”

They froze.

Nanami shoved him back as he saw three very familiar and very young heads bobbing through the crowded second floor. 

Yuuji popped up, waving wildly before he caught sight of Nanami. His face lit up and he doubled his efforts of squeezing through throngs of people. “NANAMIN?”

Disappointment morphed into exasperation and then affection very quickly. Nanami smiled softly as Gojo stepped back to make room for Yuuji to barrel into him. It had been a year and some months since they last saw each other, but in such a short time, he had grown taller and stronger.

Nanami had to brace himself against the sheer strength of his grip. 

“Yuuji-kun, play nice with Nanamin. He’s retired now,” Gojo called out, prying him off of Nanami just as he began to try and swing them back and forth. 

Undeterred, Yuuji tried to yell over the music. He asked half a dozen questions without waiting for answers, eyes bright and warm and painfully happy. It was the sort of face that someone could only make if they had known too much loss. 

Leaning over, Nanami spoke directly into Gojo’s ear. “We should go. It’s too loud here.”

Gojo pouted so hard that Nanami wondered if he was about to make good on his promise of screaming if he didn’t get his way. The moment bright blue eyes flickered to Yuuji’s eager gaze though, the childish pout vanished and he reached out to ruffle his hair. 

“Come on, get outside!” Gojo shouted, tracking down Megumi and Nobara who were hanging back. He wrangled all three of them and started herding them toward the stairs. 

No one complained, seemingly ready to abandon the concert in favor of spending time together instead. 

The moment they staggered out of the venue, Nanami had two armfuls of students again. He blinked in surprise but gently patted all three heads. 

“It’s very good to see you all,” Nanami murmured.

“He’s been bragging about spending all this time with you while we’ve been stuck at school,” Nobara complained, shooting Gojo an annoyed glare. She pulled back first, crossing her arms. “It’s okay to tell us if he’s bothering you, Nanami-san.”

“Did he make you come back to Tokyo?” Megumi prompted, raising a brow and stepping back as well. 

Yuuji was the only one who didn’t let go immediately and Nanami sighed. Once in a while, he could spoil them. He rested a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder. “Yes, but I agreed. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”

“That soon?” Yuuji complained, tilting his head back to frown. “Did you just come for this concert? I didn’t know you liked rock music, Nanamin. Or did Gojo-sensei make you come here, too? We only came because Nobara thinks the drummer is hot—!” 

He was promptly dragged away by furious hands.

Nanami watched the trio arguing amongst themselves, heart settling at the sight. Of course he had thought about them quite a bit when things were dire and unknown. It was almost surreal though to see them healthy and happy and still innocent enough to be embarrassed over trivial things. 

All children should be allowed this.

“We’re blocking the street,” Gojo piped up, pulling them all apart and redirecting them toward a glowing barbecue shop sign. “Let’s go eat. My treat! You can all bother Nanamin for,” he glanced at his watch, “the next two hours and then I get him to myself again, okay?” 

Immediately, they started complaining. 

Nanami trailed after them, content to watch the way Gojo handled their bickering and banter. He could blame the Bond, but he knew it wasn’t at fault for this particular emotion. It was one thing to be alone with Gojo. It was another thing to be with the former first years and Gojo all together again. 

They strolled down the busy street and entered the barbecue shop. Nanami found it relaxing in spite of the chaos that came with teenagers chattering around him.

“So what’re you two doing in Okinawa?” Yuuji asked as the grill sizzled in the middle of the table. 

“He said you’re getting married,” Nobara added. 

Nevermind. I don’t like their chatter. Nanami sighed, adjusting his disposable apron and crossing his arms. “It’s quite normal at my age.” 

Megumi nodded toward Gojo who was cooking the meat. “Why isn’t he getting married then?”

“You never know!” Gojo chimed in. 

The three students exchanged a baffled look. Before they could lay into their teacher, Nanami spoke up, “How are your lessons and training going?” 

Energy abound and attention spans nonexistent, they switched gears to fill Nanami in on school changes and Geto Suguru being their substitute while Gojo was away and all the things that made up their lives for the last year. 

Nanami nodded along, asking follow up questions as they came up. He and Gojo took turns passing out cooked meat and getting refills on side dishes. At one point, Nobara was telling a story about an annoying curse user and Nanami had run out of hands while trying to move an excess of meat off the grill.

Have I eaten any yet?  

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a slice of beef was pushed into his mouth. He glanced up at Gojo who was smiling at him, a pair of chopsticks in one hand.

Chewing and swallowing, Nanami opened his mouth for more and Gojo dutifully fed him while he passed out the rest of the barbecue to the kids. It was quite efficient in Nanami’s opinion. If he could eat without needing to put down the serving tongs, then everyone would be able to eat more. 

That all seemed very sensible until he noticed Nobara had stopped talking and three sets of very intent eyes were watching him. 

Megumi’s nose was wrinkling. Nobara was grinning. Yuuji was humming and reaching for another slice of meat while looking between him and Gojo. 

“Do you always…,” Nobara trailed off, waving at them vaguely. 

Nanami set the tongs down swiftly, barely making it in time to cover Gojo’s mouth before he could answer. “No. Gojo-san is being helpful for once.” He scowled at wide, innocent blue eyes. “And I expect that he will continue being on his best behavior on this rare occasion where we have been able to all meet.”

A whimper vibrated against Nanami’s palm but he merely glared harder at Gojo. 

Eventually, Gojo huffed against his hand and batted it away. “Of course, Nanamin! Who do you take me for? I’m always on my best behavior around the kids.”

The unspoken promise of what he would be like once they parted ways with the kids was loud and clear. 

Nanami stifled a sigh. 

“Where are you two staying? Can we stay?” Yuuji prompted, eagerness tensing the line of his shoulders. “I don’t think we’ll catch the last train back to campus at this rate.” 

“Yeah,” Megumi agreed. Although his expression was flat and unchanging, amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m tired. We should just stay the night.”

Gojo’s smile stiffened. “Megumi-chan….”

“Tomorrow is still the weekend! I barely got to do any shopping today, so I can do that in the morning now,” Nobara chimed in. Her grin was just as mischievous as Megumi’s words. “Where are you staying? It’s gotta be somewhere nice if the Gojo Clan paid for it.”

Before Gojo could reply, Nanami nodded and stifled another heavy sigh. “It’s a suite. There are plenty of rooms and beds.”

“Nanamin!” Gojo gasped, eyes wide and betrayed.

“It’s late, Gojo-san. I think it would be best for us to send them back to the school in the morning when there are fewer curses looking for trouble,” Nanami murmured. 

He pouted and whined and finally threw a proper fit in the barbecue shop.

It would be a very long night.

Chapter Text

“You’re less rugged than I was led to believe.”

Nanami had been in his first marriage interview for precisely thirty seconds before those words left the prospect’s mouth. He hadn’t even exchanged names or general pleasantries yet and was now left with a shriveled up greeting on his tongue. 

The Omega was as lovely as her profile boasted. It was one of the selling points emphasized multiple times over. Aside from this fair bit of self-confidence, she seemed normal. Or, as normal as someone from the clans could be. Gojo had insisted she had a strange personality but Nanami wasn’t going to turn away a prospect over something as vague as that. 

Particularly when Gojo was generally quite harsh with his critiques. Nanami couldn’t help but be mildly curious about how strangely this person would present.

“Pardon me?” Nanami cleared his throat.

She narrowed her eyes and pinched her perfectly painted lips. “Well, no, I mean they gave me your profile photos but I sent one of my men to collect more natural ones. They showed me how you looked with all the…,” she pointed at her own face to indicate where Nanami’s thick burn scars had been before reconstruction surgery. “It’s a pity you got that fixed. Battle scars are a true testament of a husband’s worth.”

He busied himself with pouring iced tea while trying to come up with an appropriate response. Of all the things to disappoint his prospects with, he didn’t think it would be a lack of facial scarring. 

“Not all of the reconstruction surgery is quite as well-done as this,” Nanami offered. He immediately wanted to take it back, a cold sweat breaking out beneath layers of cotton and silk. What had gotten into him? How was that in any way a proper response to her statement?

“Hmm. That’s promising.” She smiled, lashes bowing in a way that Nanami recognized from Gojo’s own coy flirting. 

Although he was usually allowed to scowl and bark complaints at such lewdness, he once again felt like a deer caught in headlights. Would that be considered a rejection in her eyes? He glanced at his watch discreetly and nearly sighed upon seeing less than five minutes had elapsed.

Suddenly, she laughed. “Forgive me, I say things without thinking. I’m sure you read my profile enough times to know I can be a little impulsive. Most people find it charming though.” She offered up her wrist without a word.

Nanami stared at it for a long moment. 

When he didn’t do anything else, she blinked and slowly pulled back. “Oh. You really are a Beta.”

“Yes.”

She clicked her tongue and took his wrist without hesitation. Pushing his sleeve up a bit, she pressed her nose to the warm skin beneath his watch. “I see. Do you wear cologne though? I can smell something lingering on you.” She released him without waiting for an answer and picked up her tea. “Well then, enlighten me, Nanami-san. How does a Beta determine compatibility without scenting?” She cocked her head, grinning in a way that was both intrigued and condescending all at once. 

Are all clan children like Gojo?  

Nanami tried to banish the thought. He clearly wasn’t capable of going even one conversation without thinking about that man. 

It had become even more difficult after their close encounter the other week. Although they were alone after returning to Okinawa, the mood had passed and he refused to bring it up. Gojo knew better than to try and bring it up either. 

Nanami appreciated the care Gojo took in not pushing all of his boundaries, but found that he was disappointed that nothing else came of it. That disappointment lasted all of one day before he reminded himself of how they had dodged a mistake. The relief he felt when Gojo marked his neck and held him close was just the Bond once again interfering. 

That’s what he needed to convince himself of and the efforts were currently in vain.

Stop thinking about that. He should be focusing on making at least one of these interviews a success. The sooner he did that, the sooner they could end this codependency born from fate. 

“Maybe you just test out other forms of compatibility?”

Nanami’s head snapped up, an apology on the tip of his tongue for having lost himself in his own thoughts. 

When he lifted his head though, the prospect was plopping down on his side of the table. She rested a hand on his arm and made a soft noise of interest before squeezing the thick muscles. “You’re hiding a lot under that suit,” she mumbled. 

“Excuse me,” Nanami fumbled for what to say, hesitating to push her off. “I—” Chills were curling up his spine and setting his hair on end. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had other partners. He knew what it was like to fall into bed with someone else. 

The Bond didn’t cause physical distress like this.

 “I can’t get to know you the normal way, so I’m trying to meet you halfway,” she complained, hooking a finger in his tie and expertly popping the top two buttons of his shirt. 

“Wait,” Nanami finally attempted to scoot away, flushed and very much out of his depth now. He hadn’t been prepared for this. He had run enough scenarios through his mind and outloud with Gojo, but he didn’t think someone would actually be bold enough to undress him within minutes of talking. “We haven’t reviewed the portfolios yet.”

The excuse sounded weak even to his own ears.

She giggled. “Come now, Nanami-san, there’s no need to be shy. We’re both here for our own reasons. At the very least, we can find out this much before some silly paperwork.” She unfurled his tie with such grace that he found himself rather clumsily trying to bring the ends back together. “Weren’t you just tempting me? With your scars?” her voice dropped, manicured nails gliding over his collarbones. “Let’s see if they’re as thick and raw as you suggested—”

The door burst open as Nanami fell to his elbows in an attempt to slide away.

“Good afternoon! I’ll be your personal attendant!” 

Nanami’s head whipped up at that voice. His eyes zeroed in on Gojo in— a maid uniform?  

“What are you doing here, Gojo-san?” he hissed, now doubling his efforts to get his clothes back in order. 

Cold blue eyes narrowed. A smile plastered itself on Gojo’s lips. The frilly headband and ankle length black dress did little to mask his form and height. No one would mistake him for a meek servant. Nanami had no idea what the thought process was behind that disguise. 

There were obviously better ones if he wanted to fool someone. 

Nanami quickly dismissed that line of thinking though. The real issue is why he’s even here.

From beside him, he heard a gagging noise. Spinning back around, he found the prospect covering her nose with a handkerchief and struggling not to dry heave. She was staggering away from him and fumbling for her purse. 

“What’s going on? Why is the Gojo Clan here?” she demanded.

Nanami gave up on his tie and then gave up on the interview once Gojo opened his mouth.

“I’m Nanamin’s chaperone,” he gasped with all the theatrics of someone born for the spotlight. “How could he not tell you? How could your clan not tell you? Who do you think went through all the intimate details of your profile with him?” 

She spluttered.

“More importantly, I didn’t think if I ran a few minutes late that I’d have my work cut out for me.” Gojo sighed loudly. Too loudly. “Usually it’s the young ones who need a true chaperone but maybe you need one, too? We can’t have any consummation on the first meeting!”

Nanami thought perhaps death was better than whatever was happening right now. 

“Who could consummate anything with you stinking up the room?!” she screeched, outrage embedded in every word. “And now I see what that putrid ‘cologne’ I smelled earlier was!”

It was a mistake but Nanami lifted his head. He regretted it the moment he met her furious eyes. 

“I was prepared to hold my breath since you look tasty enough,” she ranted, feeling no shame in giving Nanami a truly lascivious once over, “but now that I’m aware of the circumstances, I’m glad I didn’t have to suffer through a territorial Alpha’s filthy piss markings.” 

Nanami opened his mouth to—apologize? Ask a question? Something?

Before he said anything, she snatched the iced tea on the table and launched it, cup and all, at Gojo’s face. The infuriating barrier of Infinity left him utterly untouched.

Reddening, she snatched the other cup and proceeded to splash it in Nanami’s face. 

It hit the mark. 

Satisfied, she slammed the empty cup down, spun on her heel, and headed for the door. “You’re welcome, Nanami-san! That tea should cover up your chaperone’s horrible stench and maybe give you some flavor. Betas are so bland, why did I even bother?”

The door slammed shut.

Nanami heaved a sigh. 

Silence swelled between them.

Gojo shuffled closer after a minute and offered a hand towel. Reluctantly, Nanami took it and began dabbing at his dripping wet face. At least they hadn’t ordered hot tea. That would’ve been a disaster. 

“Why a maid, Gojo-san?” Nanami murmured, voice muffled by the towel.

“Honestly, I thought I stole the other uniform set. By the time I started changing, it was too late to go looking for the right one.”

Nanami snorted a laugh. 

“If you think it’s funny, does that mean you’re not mad?”

“No,” Nanami chuckled, running the towel through his soaked hair. “I’m still very upset. You’re sleeping alone tonight.”

Gojo whined loudly and it was the most satisfying headache Nanami had ever had. 

⸺⸺

The rental house they were using for the week in Naha was roughly twice the size of Nanami’s own home. It was right on the beach and smelled of woven grass, sea salt, and sunshine. He had wandered down to the sand with a bottle of sake after dinner to both enjoy the evening and to get his mind off of the disastrous interview. 

Gojo had made himself surprisingly scarce which was never a good sign. 

There was no point in trying to figure out what he was plotting. Nanami had no control over him. He had no control over the Bond either. It seemed that all he was learning through these marriage interviews was that his life was completely and utterly out of his control.

Ever since he climbed those stone steps thirteen years ago, he had experienced nothing but helplessness. 

What else could he do though? 

He had tried being a regular person, grinding away in a corporation for nothing while running away from fate. That hadn’t worked. He had then returned to jujutsu and been permanently crippled for it. 

This retirement package was perhaps the first good thing he had been offered in the last decade—even with all the strings attached. 

“Still mad?”

He’s finally here.

Nanami closed his eyes and laid back. He twisted the sake bottle into the sand beside him, securing it in a makeshift mound before answering, “Yes.”

Gojo sank down beside him, leaving little space between them. “I probably didn’t need to intervene if I knew she was gonna jump your bones immediately.” He laughed but the sound was strained. “Off to a great start, huh?”

Maybe it was the alcohol but he was feeling slightly more willing to speak. “It wasn’t.” Nanami gazed up at the winking stars. The city was still too close, polluting the night sky with light. There were still a few constellations twinkling overhead though. “I was at a loss on how to stop her without offending, so your appearance was beneficial in some ways.”

“So you do want me to chaperone the next ones—”

“— however, any disruption would’ve been just as helpful. One that didn’t result in having tea thrown in my face would’ve been ideal.”

Gojo made a soft, wounded noise and flopped over, burying his face against Nanami’s chest. The sudden weight made him grunt and he instinctively tried to pry Gojo off. Every attempt was met with increasing resistance though until Nanami was trapped on all sides by octopus-like limbs. 

“Gojo-san.”

“I didn’t think she would do that,” he mumbled, hot breath almost too warmth against Nanami’s chest. He had only loosely buttoned the linen shirt he had thrown on to go outside and now regretted that lazy decision. Gojo burrowed against bare skin like he couldn’t find peace anywhere else. “I told the clan about her behavior. They’re sending you apology gifts.”

Nanami tilted his head back, searching for patience in the stars. “You mean gifts to ensure silence?”

“What else?”

He scoffed. “I have no intention of sharing what happened this afternoon with anyone ever.” Where could he even begin with that humiliation?

“Was it that bad? I know she was aggressive but I really did try to pick a decent candidate. It also seemed like she only sort of went off the deep end in those last few minutes though.”

“And whose fault was that?”

Gojo huffed. “I know I said she was strange before but it wasn’t because I thought she was going to do all of that! Maybe I miscalculated. She’s got a bit of a reputation for being spontaneous but I’ve never heard of her being short-tempered.” 

Nanami managed to get an arm free. Instead of using that momentary leverage to try and wriggle free again, he found himself exhaling deeply. And then he threaded his fingers into Gojo’s soft hair. 

“Despite her shortcomings and your obnoxious interruption, I found myself also lacking in this meeting.” Nanami tried to steady his heartbeat but that had always been impossible when Gojo was close by. “She came with the genuine intention to test our compatibility, albeit in a way that was highly inappropriate. I realized very quickly that I had not prepared to the same level.”

Gojo tensed.

“I’m unsure if I’ll be capable of answering the next candidates either,” Nanami admitted, “but I will make a concerted effort.”

“You shouldn’t force yourself if you really don’t want to do this, Nanami. There are other ways to retire comfortably.” Gojo hugged him closer. “I meant it back then and the offer stands. I’d take care of you.”

Nanami considered saying what he said last time. Hurl accusations of pity and obligation at him. Force him to back off with harsh words and stubborn refusal. 

But then he remembered that moment in the concert hall. 

He could still feel the squeeze of Gojo’s fingers around his jaw and the sharp intake of breath they shared. His neck still bore the yellowing bruise of a kiss that bled too deep. 

“I’m well aware, Gojo-san,” he replied, allowing this much vulnerability on an empty beach just shy of midnight. “Should these interviews fail, I will consider it.”

As much as he feared fate and the obligations of destiny, there had been something different that night at the concert. It was something he was willing to venture into if Gojo was also willing. He couldn’t be sure that this bravery would last much longer than the time it took for the sake and starlight to work their way out of his system, but that’s why he had spoken it aloud.

He should also consider the weight of what this would mean.

“Really?”

Nanami felt the vibrations of that single question in his ribs before he really heard them. After only a moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Yes. Conditionally.”

“Ugh, always with the contracts,” Gojo grunted, but there was levity to his tone. A playfulness that spoke of hope. He finally unburied his face from between Nanami’s pecs to smile at him. Under moonlight, his hair nearly glowed. 

Six eyes has always shone in the dark.

Nanami brushed sand out of Gojo’s hair, hand sliding down to the nape of his neck. He tugged him close, catching the flicker of surprise in his eyes before eagerly dipping down until their foreheads touched. 

“Do I still have to sleep in the other room?” His voice was nearly inaudible, the words formed barely a breath from Nanami’s lips. 

Nanami cracked a faint smile. “Yes.” And then he pushed Gojo back into the sand. 

He grunted in surprised, the sounds of fumbling limbs echoing behind Nanami’s retreating backside. “Mean!” Gojo shouted after him.

Nanami ignored him in favor of retrieving his sake and finishing it off. “Good night, Gojo-san. If you attempt to interrupt my interview tomorrow, please consider this entire proposition void.”

“So mean!” he cried. 

Nanami smiled all the way back to the house.

Chapter Text

In Gojo's defense, he hadn't sought out the next candidate. In fact, he had been cornered while innocently picking up bakery goods in a thinly veiled attempt to get back in Nanami's bed. 

Sleeping alone was awful. Practically unbearable now that he'd known what it was like to be lulled to sleep with lungfuls of Nanami's scent. There was nothing that could compare. No sleeping aid. No amount of exhaustion or boredom. Nothing could give him the kind of rest that Nanami's presence afforded. 

His scent was certainly the first relaxant. Very similar to aromatherapy. But it was his warmth, too. 

The way their bodies fit together even when Nanami complained it was too hot to be that close. It was waking up knowing that Nanami's heart was beating beside his own and in a few moments, tired brown eyes would glare at him while mumbling about breakfast. 

Gojo had never known a more perfect life. 

And now he was at risk of being caught up in something messy with this male Omega who Gojo had tried very hard to get removed from the candidate list but ultimately failed at. 

Nanami had been adamant that if Gojo couldn't think of a better reason than being prejudiced against male Omegas, then they would proceed with the interview. Whining and complaining about how male Omegas weren't allowed just because— fell on deaf ears. 

Releasing predatory pheromones had gone even worse considering Nanami couldn't even smell them. Gojo was throwing a very loud scent tantrum that probably disturbed the entire neighborhood and Nanami had already moved on to discussing the new sourdough bread he saw at the local bakery. 

Consequently, Gojo had been helpless to express the absolute blinding disdain he had for the idea of letting Nanami be in a room alone with a male Omega. 

He was already reluctant to allow any candidates but he could comfort himself with the fact he had never seen Nanami show a romantic or sexual interest in women. Men were a different story and men, in turn, tended to eye Nanami like fresh meat. 

It wasn't hard to understand why. He was tall and handsome and built. And has pecs to die for. 

So obviously, presenting him with a male Omega was dangerous.

For Gojo.

"Satoru-sama?" 

He stared down at the second candidate whose name was lost to the piles of portfolios.

His face was burned into Gojo’s memory though. He fit the classic Omegan beauty standards rather than anything that might be praised in the world of curses. Supple skin. Sweet scent. Inviting eyes. 

Prey at its finest. 

Gojo backed up on instinct when the young man stepped forward. He didn't fear a confrontation. He only feared sneezing and accidentally sending the kid flying. It felt like if they shook hands, he'd break every delicate finger bone without trying. Even his neck seemed frail enough that a strong wind would snap it. 

"You're Satoru-sama, right? I've had my men tracking you and Nanami-san since you got to Naha," he explained, smile widening. 

"Okay," Gojo replied warily.

"I've actually followed your career for a long time. Our clans are close but you've always been away when we had events together." He bashfully tucked a short strand of dark hair behind his ear and Gojo wondered if this was Nanami's type. 

He's a natural protector. He'd like this wouldn't he? 

"I thought this would be a great chance to meet and chat with you after finding out Nanami-san is your close friend!" He leaned in again and suddenly Gojo felt the brush of a wall behind his back. He clutched his baked goods a bit tighter to his chest. "I think it's amazing you're trying to help him find a good marriage partner."

He nodded, biting his tongue and doing his utmost not to say something that could ruin things for their interview that evening. Gojo had the assurance of a future together if they could just get through these stupid marriage candidates. 

All he had to do was show Nanami that he was taking this whole process very seriously and wasn't sabotaging or meddling. If he did that and things still went to shit (which they would) then they could talk. 

The sort of talk Geto kept griping about. 

"You know, I was really surprised and awed by Nanami-san being so willing to find a partner. His situation is really unique. I had to do some research because it was so unbelievable actually," he laughed softly. "But now I'm just excited to meet and talk to him about all of it. I'd love to know the story behind everything."

"What are you talking about?"

The young man blinked, confusion twisting into shock and then settling on concern. None of those emotions felt particularly genuine. 

Gojo felt a vein pop in his neck. 

"Oh. He didn't tell you? I thought since you were so involved in the process that you would've known."

"You got five seconds to spit it out, kid."

Rather than the scent of fear, the air filled with arousal. 

The Omega’s pupils dilated and pink flushed his cheekbones. "If you're into giving orders, I love taking them."

Gojo didn't have any hands to block the sudden slide of thin fingers over his hips. He yelped and squirmed away hastily, bakery goods jostling.

What is with all these handsy candidates? He swore that he had picked semi-decent people. Was something in the air? Was Naha infected with a horny curse that only targeted marriage interviews? Gojo couldn’t sense anything off but he was positive that an Omega was currently trying to undress him with sheer force of will on a public road. 

"We were talking about Nanami," Gojo reminded, laughing nervously. Polite. Be polite. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been polite a day in his life. "So what's the big secret?"

"If you come over here, maybe I'll tell you," he teased, clasping his hands behind his back and gazing up through his lashes. 

Gojo nearly rolled his eyes. He practically invented that move. A brat, no matter how ideally beautiful, could never pull it off as well as him. Nanami falls for it every time. Albeit, with some reluctance, but Gojo knew that it worked. It’s what made Nanami so cute. His glaring and scolding was all lip service. At the end of the day, he always gave in.

Except for last night. Gojo was still put out from…being put out. His back and neck also somehow hurt. Maybe he had been too tense even in sleep.

Gojo forced a smile and tried not to pay attention to the churning of his stomach as he said, "Thought you were good at taking orders."

Without missing a beat, he hurried forward and back into Gojo's space—utterly uncaring of how they now blocked part of the sidewalk. His scent was growing sickly sweet now and his gaze was hungry. 

Gojo didn't know what scent he was giving off but he hoped it wasn't intimidating. Or maybe it was and this kid liked that. 

"Nanami-san is Bonded. It’s a requirement to disclose things like that during marriage interviews. It’s right on his portfolio so it’s pretty much public information."

Gojo was silent.

"He's also unmated. Obviously, that's why he's looking for a partner."

"What's wrong with his Bonded partner?" Gojo blurted even though he didn't really want the answer. 

"I read that Beta Bonds don't work like ours. It feels one-sided since only the Beta can recognize it. Sure, there might be some kind of feeling from the Alpha or Omega they're bonded to, but who knows? It's so rare that no one ever really studied it." He smiled up at Gojo, brimming with the desire to be praised. Even if he didn't smell like an iced cake, Gojo would be able to tell what he wanted. 

Instead of indulging that, Gojo turned and warped away. Any thoughts about being polite were gone. 

⸺⸺

Nanami didn’t see Gojo all day.

Not when he woke up. Not at lunch. Not when he left for the second marriage interview. To put it simply, it was unpleasant and Nanami was at a loss for what happened. He had known kicking Gojo out of bed would make him pout but not disappear for an entire day.

He had predicted to find Gojo in his bed regardless but when that didn’t happen, he had expected something else. Like clinging and perhaps an afternoon nap together on the couch. 

The fresh pastries he had found waiting in the kitchen told him that Gojo was somewhere but he still hadn’t been able to figure out where. At one point, he tried to ping his location and remembered he had turned it off in a fit of petty annoyance after they returned from their trip to Tokyo. Something about making sure the kids didn’t come knocking without permission.

Nanami leaned back in the stiff chair, eyes glazing over as he took in the impressive feast laid out before him. It was a very nice restaurant with private rooms. He had arrived a bit early yet the staff was still prepared and led him inside.

He glanced at the marriage portfolio sitting just beside him. It had been a heavy weight on his way here and now felt even heavier. The contents had been skimmed over more than once. 

Nanami knew the important details like his name, age, and career. He knew that he was a male Omega descended from the Fujiwara Clan. He also did not participate in clan business due to an unsuitable physical constitution and personal disinterest in the world of curses. He had some skill in seeing curses, but overall had no talent for it. On paper, Nanami couldn’t have asked for a better candidate. This type of person wouldn’t run afoul with the clan and in turn, that meant Nanami wouldn’t have to be pulled into clan politics either.

It was a wonder why Gojo had been so adamantly against this one.

Perhaps it’s too good.

Nanami couldn’t tell if Gojo had been helping or hindering him in this whole process. They had wasted a lot of time bothering the clans for better candidates and in the end, got them. But after the recent developments in their relationship, Nanami had to wonder what the purpose was in Gojo helping at all.

It wasn’t unwelcome though. Admittedly, Nanami found it quite…endearing that Gojo had exhausted such efforts in this whole process. 

“Awh, I thought Satoru-sama would be joining us!”

Nanami jolted, straightening up and getting to his feet as the paper screen doors slid open. A beautiful young man stood in the threshold, looking around the intimate room with obvious disappointment. He locked onto Nanami and smiled brightly. 

“Hello, Nanami-san! So happy to finally meet you.” He approached Nanami with all the warmth and affection unbefitting a jujutsu clan member and reached for his hands immediately to shake. 

It was hardly a handshake. More like holding hands. Gently. Nanami gazed down at their clasped hands and found himself more concerned than charmed by the size difference. 

There was no denying that he had preferences. Bond-forged, Gojo-shaped preferences. Hands that felt too large around his own. A need to tip his head back to make eye contact despite being significantly taller than the population of Japan. In a world where he felt determined to protect every small, innocent creature he could, there was only one person he could rely on without worry. 

He felt most safe with cocky grins and blindfolds. 

“I heard that Satoru-sama came to Naha with you? Did he decide to get dinner alone?” Fujiwara questioned rapidly, running soft thumbs over Nanami’s knuckles. “I ordered enough for all three of us, actually.”

“I was unaware of your gracious consideration,” Nanami responded, stiff and formal even to his own ears. “Let me call him and see if he’s available.”

Fujiwara beamed and released his hands. “Of course! I could never show such disrespect to the Gojo Clan. Our families are very close. I was told to take good care of him.”

Nanami nodded, ignoring the strange twisting in his chest. He didn’t know enough about clan politics to confirm or deny that claim but wouldn’t any smaller clan desire the Gojo Clan’s protection and partnership? There was nothing wrong with the situation so why was he so uneasy? He stepped out of the room, dialing for Gojo.

It rang longer than usual. Almost long enough that Nanami was beginning to consider leaving the interview in order to go find Gojo. 

“Nanami?”

He sighed, relief warring with annoyance now. “Gojo-san, where have you been?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be having dinner with that guy now?”

Nanami brushed over the surprisingly rude form of address. He knew Gojo didn’t like this candidate specifically, though the reasoning was lacking. “I am. He informed me that you were invited as well. Would you like to join us?”

Silence.

The sounds from other private dining rooms began to fill the quiet and Nanami stepped further away from his own room. A few staff members scurried past him with bowed heads and heavy wooden trays of delicacies. 

“Gojo-san?”

“Who are you running away from?”

“No one. Where are you?” He frowned, relief long gone and replaced by growing concern.

“STOP LYING!”

Nanami ripped the phone from his ear, wincing at the volume. He could hear the sounds of chatter and clanking glasses in the background. Static and heavy breathing as well. Carefully, Nanami brought the phone back to his ear and asked, “Are you drunk?” 

“You drink all the time. Why’s it a problem when I do?” he sniffled.

“Because you can’t hold your liquor. Where are you right now?” Nanami was already furiously speed walking to the exit. A dozen excuses flashed in the back of his mind on how to explain away a second failed interview. This time, he imagined he would be providing the apologetic gift basket. 

Gojo was mumbling incoherently about something but Nanami couldn’t make heads or tails of it. 

“Just turn your location on,” Nanami snapped.

“For what?” Gojo mumbled, hiccuping rather pathetically.

“Turn it on or you will be sleeping on the beach.”

Gojo hung up. 

Nanami felt a very familiar throbbing headache coming on. Just as he was about to call him back and tell him off for being a child, a message from Gojo came through with a pinged location. He sighed heavily and stepped out into the night to call for a taxi.

“Is something wrong?”

He turned around to find his marriage partner gazing up at him. 

Nanami hesitated with an apology on his tongue. Was that the best place to start? He’s close to the Gojo Clan. “There’s a problem and I need to go retrieve Gojo-san. If you’re willing to reschedule, I have time tomorrow. Please accept my deepest apologies for the inconvenience, Fujiwara-san.” His final marriage interview wasn’t scheduled until their last day in Naha, so he had a bit of cushion for apparently a disaster.

“Is he alright?” Fujiwara was immediately on high alert. 

“I’m unsure, but he sent me his location so I’ll know soon enough.”

“Can I come with you? My personal driver is right over there,” Fujiwara pointed at a discrete black vehicle at the curb. “It’ll be much faster than walking or waiting for a taxi.”

Nanami was torn once again. It was more than gracious at this point. He should’ve been grateful and yet all he could think about was why this person was so intent on joining him. Seeing Gojo. “Thank you. Please allow me to inconvenience you more then.”

Fujiwara chuckled and led him to the car with a smile that made Nanami more wary than relieved. “Don’t worry! I’m happy to help. Let’s just make sure Satoru-sama is alright, okay?”

The car ride was agonizingly long for being only ten minutes. 

He couldn’t stop the Bond from screeching in his brain. 

It was more than upset. Hysterical, really.

This level of contempt hadn’t invaded his mind since Gojo was caught in the prison realm. Well, perhaps not that severe, but Nanami hadn’t had to deal with the Bond fearing for Gojo’s safety in a very, very long time.

Even now though, he had no idea why the Bond was throwing a fit. Gojo had been fine on the phone moments ago. He was too physically powerful to be harmed by some booze and rowdy bar guests. So why the fuss?

Because he’s hurt.

Nanami inhaled deeply, crossing his arms tighter across his chest. Emotional distress was nothing to scoff at. He knew that. Had experienced it well enough. In another situation, maybe he would have the patience and focus to really digest how Gojo was upset enough to turn to alcohol. 

But right now, there was another reason he couldn’t give all his energy to worrying about Gojo.

“How did you and Satoru-sama meet?”

Nanami suppressed the urge to sigh. “I was his underclassman in high school.”

“That’s right! You’re actually a year younger than him,” Fujiwara laughed lightly. “I forgot even though I read that in your profile. He has a really youthful face, so I think it always slips my mind that he’s quite mature.”

An unpleasant chill crawled up Nanami’s spine and he snorted without thinking. “Gojo-san is not mature.”

Fujiwara scooted closer, moving in like he had just caught interesting prey. “Oh? Playful people like Satoru-sama can be mature too though, right? I mean, of course he doesn’t have the same air as you, Nanami-san. I feel a little like I’m with my grandpa when I speak to you.” He giggled.

If Nanami cared to impress at the moment, he probably would’ve noted the jab. If he cared at all about being seen as a potential marriage partner, he would’ve tried to undo that impression and perhaps come across as charming husband material.

But his head was aching and the Bond was shrill and the GPS tracker hadn’t moved for the last two minutes because they hit some traffic.

“You probably saw him go on a lot of dates, right? Satoru-sama seems like he would be the type who has a hard time rejecting people,” Fujiwara spoke with increasingly fewer filters. “That’s sort of charming too, isn’t it though? The cute player type. I think it makes things more exciting.”

“He’s not like that.”

Fujiwara curled delicate hands around Nanami’s bicep. “He’s not?” Hope swelled in the words and Nanami’s jaw clicked. “But he must have some experience. He’s at a bar right now after all.”

“That’s also unlike him.” 

“How interesting. I doubt many people know the Head of the Gojo Clan can’t hold his alcohol,” Fujiwara mused, trailing fingertips up and down Nanami’s tightly clenched muscles. “Enemies might take advantage of that.”

“It’s pointless information. He’s never behaved like this before,” Nanami retorted. “It’s also unlikely he will ever do this again.” If I have a say in it.

Fujiwara hummed. “So you said he doesn’t go out much? Then what does he usually do?”

“He’s a workaholic. Obsessed with fighting strong opponents to the detriment of public safety and infrastructure.”

“Awh, so he really doesn’t go on many dates?” Fujiwara thumped his head against Nanami’s arm. “That’s okay. There must be things he does outside of missions. He joined you for these interviews, so he really cares about his friends, right?”

Nanami resisted the screaming Bond that told him to firmly stake his claim. It was terribly loud and his teeth nearly rattled with the force of it. There was nothing subtle about this interrogation according to the Bond. 

Why else would he be here in Okinawa? Why would he meddle to this extent?

“Yes. He cares deeply for those he cares about.” Nanami closed his eyes, exhaling through his teeth. “But he’s also prepared to part with anyone at any time.” He slowly peered down at Fujiwara who had tensed against him. 

For the first time, there was silence in the car.

Nanami savored it, voice dropping to a murmur, “That is the resolve of the strongest.”

When they arrived, it was a short walk through a rather colorful red light district. The bar was tucked away in a bustling alley with flashing colors and people dancing to music in the streets. 

There seemed to be an event of sorts. Something that had all the guests bobbing around in bright outfits and carrying even brighter drinks.

Nanami didn’t have a hard time pushing through the crowds to find Gojo slumped over an outdoor table. There were no drinks to be found. Not even an empty glass. Contrary to how things usually went when Gojo was in public, absolutely no one was near him. It seemed that half of them were desperate to approach though while the other half were nauseated at the idea of getting closer. Regardless, no one was making a move.

Nanami came up behind Gojo and grabbed the back of his tropical print shirt. 

When he was met with actual Infinity, his grip slipped but the sudden movement startled him enough to turn around.

The moment he looked up, Nanami felt a deep urge to block Fujiwara’s view.

Gojo’s cheeks were flushed pink and his pretty blue eyes were wet. There was something truly wrong with the genetic roulette if someone like Gojo could exist. No one should’ve been allowed to be this striking. 

Nanami sighed as the Bond stopped yelling at him and the throbbing in his forehead eased. The tension headache was still there but it was negligible now. “Gojo-san, let’s go—”

“—Satoru-sama, I’m so glad you’re alright!”

Fujiwara launched himself into Gojo’s arms, clearly unperturbed by whatever was keeping strangers at bay. His face was flushed even in the dim lights and Nanami was beginning to wonder if he was once again missing something in the world of Alphas and Omegas. 

Confused and very clearly not in his right mind (was he actually drunk? Nanami was no longer confident), Gojo stared down at the sudden lapful of Omega. 

Eventually,  Gojo patted Fujiwara’s back clumsily and looked up at Nanami over his shoulder, mouthing, “Who is this?”

Nanami rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “We’re here to take you home,” Nanami stated flatly. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Gojo was just drunk and overheated.

Blue eyes sharpened and a frown marred his face. “No. I’m not going anywhere.” Pushing Fujiwara off, Gojo stalked back toward the entrance of the bar.

Nanami caught his wrist, annoyed to find Infinity still active. His fingers slipped off so he took two long strides and swung him around by the shoulder. “You’ve had enough to drink. We will discuss this at—”

“—what home? There is no home to go back to,” Gojo interrupted, leveraging those centimeters he had on Nanami to glare down at him. 

“Then you’ve decided to go back to Tokyo finally?” Nanami snapped.

“That would make things so easy for you, wouldn’t it?” he spat. “Is that what you actually meant when you said you were giving this a chance? You were gonna let me be some stand-in?”

Nanami paused. 

Gojo’s neck was red, veins pulsing. 

“What?” Nanami tilted his head, no longer following. Was it just the ramblings of a drunk Gojo? They were more nonsensical than usual. He didn’t remember Gojo being an angry drunk either. 

“All of us are stand-ins, aren’t we?” Gojo laughed, looking over Nanami’s shoulder to where Fujiwara was hovering nearby. “Him, too! But at least he knew about it.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Nanami clenched his fists, patience paper thin.

Gojo’s lips curled back. “Were you ever going to tell me that I’m just another consolation prize? Why were you hiding it?”

“Start from the beginning, Gojo—”

“—Then tell me everything from the beginning, too!” 

Nanami fell quiet, too confused to even respond.

Fujiwara came up beside Gojo, stroking his arm in what looked to be an attempt at comfort. For a moment, Nanami feared he was going to be thrown back. This wasn’t the Gojo that Nanami knew well. This was someone who was hurt and upset and truly unpredictable. 

But Gojo didn’t do anything but look down at Fujiwara with wariness.

“Sorry, I think I can explain,” Fujiwara spoke up, embarrassment pursing his soft lips. He batted his lashes at Nanami but the somewhat dazed look on his face only made Nanami uneasy. It was as if he had grown drunk just from being in the presence of other drunkards. “Satoru-sama and I ran into each other this morning and I mentioned your Bonded status…I thought it was common knowledge since Satoru-sama has been working with you on these interviews?”

The easiest emotion to latch onto was fury. Anger and outrage at this outsider getting involved and saying unnecessary things. 

But the most genuine emotion was the fear and uncertainty and self-loathing. 

This was a situation that was inevitable and yet Nanami had tried to deny it for as long as possible. Perhaps even forever with the way he had been shielding this information even when—

“I don’t have any problem with your status, Nanami-san,” Fujiwara assured, tucking himself even closer to Gojo who looked ready to burst if he didn’t get a proper explanation in the next few seconds. 

Fujiwara inhaled shamelessly, ecstasy parting his lips and making Nanami’s jaw clench. “That’s why I agreed to the marriage interview!” Fujiwara went on, “But I don’t know what I think of you hiding and lying about things to your close friends…that part does worry me a bit. That’s true for you too, right, Satoru-sama? It’s hard when trust has been broken.”

Gojo barely acknowledged the goading. For that, Nanami was disgustingly pleased. The Bond purred in his mind as Gojo’s eyes hyper focused on Nanami. “Who is it? Do you love this person?”

“I—don’t know.” The words tasted like ash. Lies that he had been telling himself for more than a decade. No, that’s not true. He had known at some point. Between Cinderellas and mindless banter, being burned alive and crushing embraces after the end of the world. 

He had known for a long while already.

“But you think about them constantly, don’t you? That’s what being Bonded means. You want to be with them but you’re just running away.” Gojo no longer looked drunk nor dazed. There was fire in every line of muscle and heat practically rolling off his body. The warmth in his pale skin and the tension in his frame were suddenly predatory as Nanami floundered to explain himself. 

Growing impatient, Gojo took a step toward him. “Did they reject you? Are you just filling the hole with other people?”

“Let’s speak in private.” Nanami forced the words out, struggling with the comedic tragedy that his life had become. 

A disaster of my own making.

He should’ve dealt with this sooner but for all the ways he tried to approach life with an unwavering attitude, matters of the heart always had a way of taking him on a long and winding road of avoidance. 

“Are you sure you want to give him the time to make up more lies, Satoru-sama?” Fujiwara pointed out, words coated in so much sugar that Nanami almost did gag. “If he has anything to say, it should be now. Or if you’re tired of listening to him, we can go first.” 

Gojo’s gaze flickered. 

Nanami took a step forward, catching the sheen of sweat that had developed over Gojo’s skin. His eyes were bright and wide. Feverish almost.

Fujiwara whimpered quietly, practically melting against him where he still clung to Gojo’s arm. For the first time since they began to speak, Nanami surveyed their surroundings to find a growing audience. Not only that though.

A hungry audience.

Nanami’s eyes snapped back to Gojo who was breathing heavily now. He pushed a hand through his sweaty locks, brows furrowed, nostrils flared. Jaw clamped shut. 

Nanami’s stomach dropped.

“Are you in rut?”

Chapter Text

A few options immediately ran through Nanami’s mind. 

And all of them were shut down just as quickly.

Calling someone in Tokyo would be pointless even if he would’ve preferred it. Convincing Gojo to go with him to a doctor for a suppressant seemed impossible. Nanami couldn’t smell anything but he could see quite clearly that Gojo was not in a reasonable state of mind. If he tried to forcibly remove him from the situation, it almost felt like he would be attacked by one of the many interested parties eyeing Gojo.

He had no idea how the mating practices of Alphas and Omegas worked when an Alpha like Gojo went into rut in public either. Were they bound to jump him? Or had Fujiwara staked a claim by clinging to him?

If Nanami dragged them apart, would some other Omega try to fill the spot?

“Nanami-san is right,” Fujiwara suddenly spoke up, visibly aroused and squeezing Gojo’s arm. “I think you’re in rut, Satoru-sama. We should leave before it gets worse.”

Helplessness wasn’t a new emotion for Nanami but in this situation, it was more humiliating than any other time. He couldn’t even properly gauge Gojo’s state. In the future, he wouldn’t be able to either. If there was something off about his pheromones, Nanami wouldn’t be able to sense it. 

He was a Beta after all.

The Bond means nothing.

Fujiwara was still trying to tug at Gojo. Trying desperately to make him move how he pleased. Nanami was sure an entire conversation via scent was currently happening. A war of wills battled out while he stood there utterly ignorant. 

Gojo inhaled sharply.

Nanami felt his patience snap. 

Before he could think better of it, he shoved Gojo back, knocking Fujiwara’s grip loose in the process. It was rude. More than rude, he was sure. 

The moment he pressed his hands to Gojo’s shoulders, he felt the tension in both of their bodies release. Heat radiated through the thin tropical shirt Gojo wore and Nanami fisted the material. 

Gojo dropped his head to Nanami’s neck, breathing in roughly.

“Warp, Gojo-san. You have my permission.”

They disappeared in an instant.

Unlike when they warped to Tokyo, Gojo did not allow Nanami the luxury of a moment to orient himself. The world had been condensed and expanded in mere seconds, bringing them back to their dark, humid, but deeply familiar home. 

The streets outside were quiet save for chirping crickets and the buzz of cicadas. 

Nanami dry heaved but then was catching his breath as he was suddenly slammed back against the nearest wall. His vision spun but he managed to figure out they were in the entry hall. That was where Gojo always tended to warp to and from on his outings. Perhaps that was his beacon in the home?

What am I thinking about right now?  

He shook his head and opened his mouth to begin with an apology.

Before he could utter a single sound, Gojo surged forward, crushing their mouths together. 

For the first time in Nanami’s life, the hum of the Bond went silent. Not a single thought other than his own rattled through his mind. It was a peace that he hadn’t known since before he met Gojo Satoru. 

His mouth and hands were too hot. Nearly searing. 

A moan of relief slipped from Nanami’s throat, swallowed by straining lips and clacking teeth. The hands pinning his wrists slid up, locking their fingers together. 

Gojo withdrew only long enough tilt his head and bite down viciously on Nanami’s bottom lip. He pushed his way inside, tongue pushing forward with all the frustration of a man denied of every basic need. 

Nanami felt the back of his head grind uncomfortably against the wall but couldn’t stop long enough to complain. Not when the Bond was unbelievably satiated and his heart screamed for Gojo to let go of his hands so he could pull him closer. 

His mind was quickly losing all reason. Explanations lost substance. Emotions shifted from anxious regret to desperate hunger. 

“If they don’t want you, just give up on them,” Gojo panted, Six Eyes furiously glowing in the darkness. His canines had extended and were scraping Nanami’s skin with each rushed kiss, teasing a mark but never biting deep enough.

Nanami’s tongue flicked across one sharp tip.

Gojo tore off Nanami’s suit jacket and tie, a growl rumbling up his chest. He snatched his jaw, snapping it back and baring his throbbing throat to Gojo’s mouth. 

Pain rippled up Nanami’s neck but the aftertaste of pleasure was undeniable. He shuddered, uncaring if Gojo had broken skin. 

“There’s no reason to even think about them. I’m here. Just think about me.” 

Nanami tried to breathe, but found it impossible no matter how many times he inhaled. There was nothing different about the scent in the air nor the shampoo and sweat clinging to Gojo’s hair and body. 

Yet somehow, he was drowning. 

Buttons flew every which way, rattling across the hardwood floors. Warm air hit Nanami’s bare skin and rough hands dragged up his abdomen and chest. 

“I won’t be a replacement, Nanami,” Gojo breathed, nipping at the tender mark on his neck. “I don’t care who it is anymore.” 

Nanami closed his eyes, breath shaky as soft lips sucked harshly at his fluttering pulse. 

“Besides, it doesn’t matter when you won’t even remember their name after this.”

Nanami wasn’t sure where the fleeting logic came from, but it was truly fleeting. Perhaps it was the idea of anyone insinuating he could forget his Bond. Perhaps it was because Gojo had been the one to say it. 

Whatever the reason, in that brief moment before lust made him drop to his knees for Gojo, he blurted out the only reasonable thing he could think of. 

“It’s you.”

Gojo stilled.

Nanami took the opportunity to try and put some distance between them. He managed all of one foot out of line before Gojo crowded him against the wall again, leaving little space between their faces.

“What did you say?”

Nanami felt the reality of his confession sinking in and suddenly very much needed the lights on and a strong drink. 

He gripped Gojo’s wrists, trying to pry his bruising hold loose. The dig of long fingers into his hips was almost distracting enough to make him give up on the effort. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline now overtaking the haze of lust, he probably would’ve encouraged him to hold on tighter.

Instead, Nanami sighed and pushed Gojo back. “Let’s sit down.”

For once, Gojo actually did listen, hands slipping away. 

Nanami knew it was too much to ask for any form of privacy right now, so he dealt with being watched from the open doorway of their bedroom. He shrugged off the pathetic remains of his suit and pulled on an old, worn shirt that he no longer knew the owner of. 

What did it matter though at this point?

He began to unbuckle his belt, but Gojo’s growl from the doorway stopped him.

Warily, Nanami glanced over his shoulder. 

“It’s better that you don’t do that unless you want to do more than talk,” Gojo explained, voice tight and muscles straining where his arms were crossed over his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “You smell too good right now.”

He’s still in rut.

“Do you have medicine?”

“I was on it already,” Gojo grunted. “The strongest dose available. Do you think I can sleep in your bed every night without it?”

Nanami ignored the heat creeping up the back of his neck and turned away once more. He touched the fresh mark over his pulse, tracing the imprint of teeth. “Then what’s happening now?”

“Nanami.”

He was quiet. Stop stalling.

Wordlessly, Nanami slid open the doors to the backyard and nodded for Gojo to follow him out onto the veranda. 

Although he had meant for Gojo to take a seat beside him, he instead found himself wrapped up in long arms, Gojo’s face tucked against his neck, right over the mark. His body warmed Nanami’s backside. Slowly, teeth dragged back over the bruised skin.

Nanami took a deep breath. 

At least he wouldn’t have to look Gojo in the eye in this position. 

One hand drifted down to Nanami’s own, curling their fingers together again. “So? What did you mean by that?” Gojo spoke softly, hesitation in the tremble of his lips pressed against skin. 

“It’s exactly as I said,” he stated as flatly as he could manage. “It’s you.”

“We’re Bonded?”

Nanami nodded. 

“For how long?”

“Since I first saw you.”

“Love at first sight? I didn’t take you for a romantic, Nanamin!” Gojo joked, but the thick emotion in his voice was impossible to hide. 

Nanami couldn’t tell if it was disappointment, elation, frustration, or something else. But it was…heavy. 

“Not love,” Nanami corrected, deciding it was better to speak on the things he could rather than pick apart the things he didn’t yet understand. 

Gojo burrowed closer.

“That came much later.”

His breath caught, teeth digging into Nanami’s neck again. “When? You still think I’m annoying.”

“You are annoying. That’s not an opinion, it’s fact.”

Gojo made a strangled noise, pout loud and clear in his voice as he complained, “Is that how you treat the love of your life? Your Bond?” 

Nanami sighed. 

“Is that why you never said anything?” Gojo was barely audible, strangely uncertain for a man who stood above all others. 

If it was as simple as finding Gojo Satoru annoying and not wanting to be with someone so aggravating, then Nanami wouldn’t be in such a pathetic position right now. He wouldn’t have been consumed with enough uncertainties to bury someone.

“No.” Nanami suddenly felt indescribably tired. “You are more than well aware of your position in the world, Gojo-san. I don’t believe you need me to remind you of that. It should be very obvious why an inconsequential one-sided Bond would be hidden rather than celebrated.”

“You’re talking about it like it doesn’t involve you.” Us.

“I wish it didn’t.”

Gojo’s hold didn’t falter. “So? Is that your problem? You think it’s one-sided?”

“I did .” His gaze dropped to their hands. The faint scars and callouses that never quite faded with time stood out against Gojo’s nearly translucent skin. The rough pads of Nanami’s fingers curled over Gojo’s blunt nails. “Bonds operate on a biological, instinctual level. They do not compel affection as we understand it in society. It cannot force you to take an interest in your Bonded partner beyond the desire to breed.”

“You want to breed me, Nanamin?” 

He pinched Gojo’s wrist, not letting up until he yelped unhappily. “Can you be serious for one second of your life, Gojo-san?” he snapped, finally releasing his fingers and smoothing over the faint red mark left behind. 

Gojo whimpered in his ear like a kicked puppy and nuzzled closer. It wasn’t possible for Nanami to determine how the rut was treating Gojo right now but it certainly seemed like he had gotten it under control. Or perhaps the tether of the Bond was calming it down.

The press of their bodies was almost uncomfortably close but Nanami found that it was more distressing to be apart. 

Gojo worried at the mark on Nanami’s neck once more, as if it was the only thing grounding him. Giving him a sense of himself in a haze of rut. “You said you did think it was one-sided. Past tense?”

“It was in Tokyo. When you…,” Nanami tilted his head slightly, throat dry as his cheek brushed soft white hair. 

“That recently?” he blurted. “I’ve done way more obvious things than that before!”

“It was different,” Nanami argued, huffing. 

“It wasn’t!” 

He rolled his eyes, turning back around and rubbing circles into the skin of Gojo’s wrist as he continued speaking. “For me, it was different. I understood that you had been looking at me properly for much longer than I had ever considered.”

Gojo dragged wet kisses away from the mark and down the nape of his neck, a puff of laughter sending heat curling up Nanami’s spine. His free hand slid over the loose fabric of Nanami’s shirt before twisting in the threadbare collar.

“Do you know why I wanted to buy you a new wardrobe for those marriage interviews?” 

Nanami’s breath hitched. 

Gojo muffled a laugh against the back of his neck. He kissed him again. And then again and again until his lips were merely parted over hot skin. Nanami swallowed a soft noise, hyper aware of the soft tongue and teeth lazily dragging over him. 

“It was so I knew that you were wearing all the things I chose for you,” Gojo murmured, sliding the loose collar of Nanami’s shirt down past the scarred ridges of his shoulder. “That you were meeting all these suitors while dressed up exactly how I wanted.”

Nanami arched at the sharp bite to a thick bundle of scar tissue. “Gojo—!”

“And when you were finally done with these stupid meetings and came home to me,” he released his grip on Nanami’s shirt, instead slipping beneath it to press his palm over his rapidly beating heart, “I could burn all those outfits covered in other scents.”

He was wrong. This wasn’t the right position to be sitting in for this conversation.

Nanami tried to say as much and attempted to put some distance between them, but he only succeeded in being dragged back. Their bodies were flush from hip to chest. Gojo enclosed him from behind, strong thighs pressing him in. 

“I’m happy you’re Bonded to me.”

Nanami stopped struggling, heart nearly stopping along with it.

“Maybe it feels one-sided to you,” Gojo laughed roughly, teeth digging into the meat of his scarred shoulder once more, “but it does for me, too.”

He tightened his grip on Gojo’s wrist. 

“Your scent is just for me. No one else can smell it. No one else understands how good it is,” he took a shuddering breath, inhaling deep and long in a way that brought waves of heat to Nanami’s face. “But it’s not the same as an Alpha or Omega. Your scent belongs to me but it doesn’t tell me anything.”

“I don’t know when you’re upset. I don’t know when you’re happy. I can’t tell if you want me or if you want to be alone. You could be yelling at me and you still smell like the best place on earth.” Gojo smiled against the curve of his spine. “You’re a Beta so you wouldn’t get how that really messes with our heads. That must be the Bond though, huh? It kept telling me that you’re my home, but it was silent about everything else.”

Nanami lifted his gaze and his shoulders slumped. “One sided on both sides. How unamusing.” He sighed.

“Were you really trying to find someone else?”

“Haven’t we agreed that the Bond is more of a nuisance than anything else?” Nanami murmured. “It takes away your freedom to choose.”

“That clan kid said Betas feel the Bond differently than we do. That most Alphas and Omegas can’t feel it at all.” Gojo stated. “Then that means I’ve always wanted you with or without the Bond. It existed this whole time and I didn’t know it.”

“You wanted my scent.”

“I want your scent like someone wants a nice smelling candle or a white noise machine to sleep,” Gojo quipped. “I don’t need it.”

Nanami snorted. “Liar.”

He nipped at the shell of Nanami’s ear, annoyed. “It’s only a lie because you’ve been spoiling me! I survived without your scent for a long time and I still can. Probably.” Gojo shifted their positions a bit, trying to catch Nanami’s eye. 

The flicker of blue in his periphery made Nanami soften even more. He closed his eyes as Gojo’s mouth descended on his own. 

Their legs were a tangled mess, Gojo’s arm bracing Nanami’s shoulders as he tried to rip the wind from his lungs through the sheer force of a kiss. 

Gojo spoke softly against his lips. “Thinking that you were Bonded to someone else,” his fingers hooked into the loop of Nanami’s belt, “that some faceless loser could pretend they were closer to you than me,” the clink of metal and leather releasing made Nanami gasp, “all because of some stupid biological claim,” Gojo’s fingers brushed over the seam of his pants, “I was ready to break your Bond even if I didn’t know how yet.”

Nanami caught his hand and forced his own hips to stay still beneath the teasing pressure. 

“I don’t care about Bonds,” Gojo murmured, trailing kisses up his his nose, cheeks, and finally pausing against his forehead. “I’m just happy that you’re Bonded to me.” 

“Why?” Nanami cupped his face, guiding him back down for another kiss. 

“Because we’re in love,” Gojo replied easily, rubbing a soothing hand over Nanami’s thigh. “If you’re going to be Bonded to anybody, it should be the one you love.” 

Nanami resisted the knee-jerk reaction to deny it. 

Everything in him burned with the urge to scold Gojo’s arrogance. How dare he say whatever he pleased? What right did he have to confess in place of both of them? Making declarations as if they were fact—

“Yes.” Nanami heard himself speaking. Could feel the way his face muscles loosened. But if anyone asked him about how this night ended, he would never admit to the words that left his mouth next. 

He curled his arms around Gojo’s neck, body jolting at the grounding weight of hands gliding over his bare skin. The shirt bunched up, exposing his back to the humid night as he stole another kiss. 

“What was that?” Gojo teased. “I don’t think I heard you.”

Nanami pushed him back, straddling his hips and leaning in to press his lips to Gojo’s ear. “I said you’re correct.” He bit down, tugging at his ear lobe. “It’s lucky to be Bonded to the one you love.”

“That’s not what you said!” Gojo whined. 

“It’s the same.”

“It was cuter the first way! Say it again!”

Nanami shut his mouth, grimacing.

Gojo grinned back and rolled them over, strong hands gripping the backs of Nanami’s thighs. “You shouldn’t tease an Alpha in rut, Nanamin .”

“We’re Bonded,” Nanami turned his head away and silently marveled at the weight of freely admitting that fundamental fact. He felt Gojo still above him, but instead of letting nerves stop him, Nanami pressed up and into Gojo’s hands. 

The grip on his trousers tightened almost painfully. 

Nanami thumbed over the button and zipper of his pants, gaze lifting up to meet feverish blue eyes. “Your ruts are my responsibility, Gojo-san.”

“Ah, what did I just say?” he groaned, the seams of his trousers straining under Gojo’s grip. “You can’t tease an Alpha in rut.” He dug his canines into Nanami’s thigh, expensive fabric tearing under the pressure. “If you take responsibility, I can’t go easy on you.”

“There’s no need to go easy.” Nanami didn’t yet realize that he would regret issuing such a challenge. “Do as you will.”

Gojo’s smile was breathtaking.

Chapter Text

It was an ambush.

Gojo Satoru shouldn’t have expected anything less from them. They were brats with zero respect for authority. If they wanted to wreak havoc, they would do it with smiles on their faces. That was good though. 

For fighting curses.

Not for this.

“How could you?” Gojo accused, glaring at his best friend across the polished dining table. He had invited Nanami to lunch at a very nice restaurant in Naha. This was their long awaited date after a week spent in rut together, another week spent recovering, and a third week issuing apologies and gift baskets to grubby clans. 

There may have also been a lengthy lecture from several different people regarding the absolute mess left behind when they escaped the hoard of ravenous Omegas and Alphas. At the time, neither of them had been able to process how warping away and never coming back could be a bad idea—particularly when they were then tangled up in bed for days on end. 

It all turned out fine though. 

Gojo, at least, heard that it was covered up…decently so. The crowd being drunk and in heat or rut helped immensely with convincing them they hadn't seen two men disappear. 

Besides, it was very difficult to feel guilty about leaving a public disaster when he finally mated with his Bond. 

Still feels strange to have one. He had no reservations but it was almost too good to be true. A world where he was allowed to love? Encouraged to hold something dear that wasn't on the battlefield? 

And to even share a rut together. 

The memory alone made his skin hot.

As satisfying as it had been for Gojo, he knew that it was an endeavor for his partner. Omegas and other Alphas had the luxury of getting drunk off his pheromones. For a Beta though? Once Gojo regained some of his senses, he was able to question how strenuous that had been on Nanami’s body. 

Especially after he said something like that… Gojo wanted to blame Nanami for spurring him on with talk of making a family together but he knew he should’ve had more self control. Just a bit more. 

That indulgence was probably why Nanami had come down with a very not sexy fever after the rut finally ceased.

Gojo had warped a very confused Shoko over with little explanation. She had cursed him out but still examined Nanami properly (with some griping about how he stunk of Gojo even worse than usual). After prescribing some medicine and providing Gojo with a list of foods, she demanded to be sent back to Tokyo.

And then what followed was the most stressful week of Gojo’s life, nursing Nanami back to health. 

So cute though. He supposed it wasn’t so bad when Nanami cuddled up to him and acted spoiled for once. 

That was neither here nor there though. 

Once they were both back in good health, Gojo insisted on apologizing by taking him to this new restaurant in Naha. Nanami’s eyes had sparkled at the menu and Gojo knew it was the right choice. 

They booked their train tickets and were off for a few days.

So why was he sitting across from three somber teens and a smiling Geto Suguru instead?

“I took them on a field trip for good behavior,” Geto explained. “They passed all of their exams and I promised to bring them here if they managed that.”

Gojo’s lips curled back. “Aren’t you spoiling them, Suguru?”

“We heard about everything,” Nobara cut in, slapping a heavy leather portfolio against the table. 

“You’ve been vetting Nanami-san’s marriage candidates,” Megumi stated, crossing his arms, “while plotting to take the final candidate position for yourself. But who vetted you?”

Gojo’s jaw slackened. 

“Nanamin deserves to know all the facts before you get married, so we’ll be conducting the final interview,” Yuuji explained with an uncharacteristically serious expression. He flipped open the portfolio while setting a pair of glasses on his nose. The lenses had been punched out of both frames.

“Wait, wait, wait, this is silly,” Gojo laughed. “What’s the point? We’re Bonded and already together! Suguru or Shoko must’ve already spread that around.”

Gojo hadn’t exactly been quiet about letting everyone and anyone know that he was ringing the wedding bells already. In between pointless clan lectures and negotiations for Nanami's retirement settlement (and hand in marriage), he had bragged about everything from their Bond to Nanami’s stunning career in the jujutsu world. 

Not that he needed to convince anyone else. He was the Head of the Gojo Clan after all. 

“What was the point of all those other marriage candidates?” Nobara raised a judgmental brow. “You’ve been pining all this time and set up a whole stupid interview ploy that wasted a bunch of resources.”

“If anything, we might find out that you’re not suitable after all and Nanami-san should know that,” Megumi added. 

“Do you hate me, Megumi-chan?” Gojo whined. “Who raised you?”

He gave him a long suffering look.

Suguru chuckled. “What’s there to be afraid of, Satoru? It’s just some questions. You can humor them. Well, unless you’re actually scared they’re going to find something that makes Nanami hate you?”

Gojo scowled. “Fine. What do you wanna know?”

Yuuji cleared his throat. “Would you say your sugar consumption is high?”

“What?”

“The answer is yes,” Megumi deadpanned, using a pen to mark the profile. 

“I eat a variety of things, too! Lots of people have a sweet tooth.”

“Nanamin said he’s looking for someone with a balanced diet and who appreciates a variety of foods,” Yuuji explained, pushing the very fake pair of glasses up his nose. “Fail.”

Gojo opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted as Yuuji moved onto the next question.

“Are you more likely to bottle things up or communicate openly?”

“Nanami doesn’t communicate openly either!” Gojo blurted.

“The question is about you, ” Nobara reminded, rolling her eyes. She snatched the pen from Megumi and scribbled on the paper. “Fail!”

Suguru sipped his tea, smiling. 

“Would you consider yourself more independent or dependent in a relationship?” Yuuji finished reading the question and then scribbled in the answer before Gojo could even respond. 

“What? What did you write down?” Gojo tried to sit forward but the trio yanked the portfolio away, glaring at him over the edge of it. 

“Well, it felt like an obvious answer,” Yuuji shrugged, waving a vague hand around. “You’re hogging all of Nanamin’s time and I don’t even know the last time you went on a mission.”

Gojo gaped. 

“They have a point,” Geto agreed. “But I actually think it’s good you’re taking on less work. No reason for the strongest to run around doing missions unless they’re special grade. Even then, Yuta-kun is doing great fielding those.”

“Oh, then just put that he fails the next question too,” Megumi nodded at the portfolio, the scrape of the pen grating on Gojo’s ears. “He doesn’t have a reliable job. That’s important to Nanami-san.”

The trio nodded to each other in agreement.

“Might as well fail him on that one too,” Nobara pointed, eyes scanning the sheet. “He’s sloppy and leaves candy wrappers everywhere.”

“He probably doesn’t know how to do housework either.”

“Nanamin loves cooking and wants to share his hobbies, it says.”

“Fail.”

“What about physical appearance?”

“He’s not too picky about it. Says that he likes tall people though.” Nobara eyed Gojo warily and sighed. “Well, can’t argue with that. He passes.”

Megumi and Yuuji also gave him a once over, reluctance clear on their faces. 

Gojo hopped to his feet. “C’mon! I’m clearly—”

The door rattled open. 

Nanami stood in the threshold, expression flipping through several emotions rapidly. Eventually, he settled on annoyed and turned to frown at Gojo. “I’m aware you enjoy surprises, Gojo-san; however, you should have told me if the kids were flying in. I haven’t prepared proper accommodations yet.”

“No! They invited themselves!” Gojo glared at the three teens who were smiling and waving innocently at Nanami. “Don’t believe a single thing these brats say, either! They’re plotting against me—”

“Geto-san is here as well?” Nanami interrupted. 

“Long time no see,” Geto stood up, stepping a bit too close to Nanami. He tilted his head and gave him that kind, mature smile. “Satoru’s telling the truth. They wanted to celebrate passing their exams and I promised to take them here. We have a place in Naha we’re renting for the week, so don’t worry about it.”

Nanami relaxed. “I see. Thank you.”

“We should catch up though,” Geto spoke softly, looking for all the world like he was quite harmless. “If you’d be willing to speak after all this time. I’m sure there are things that would be better discussed in person.” 

Gojo felt his blood boiling. Is everyone out to get me?

“Geto-sensei is tall!” Nobara suddenly shouted.

Megumi nodded quickly. “That’s true. He’s tall and he cooked well on our camping trip.” He turned back to the portfolio, eyes darting across the page. “He’s really independent, too. And has a balanced diet.” 

Nobara hung off his shoulder, reading alongside him while Yuuji squished in on Megumi’s other side. 

“He’s a teacher, so his job is reliable,” Yuuji piped up.

The other two hummed in agreement.

“I’m a teacher!” Gojo cried. “I’m your teacher!”

“Haven’t taught us much in the last few months,” Nobara muttered. The judgmental murmurs of agreement that followed made Gojo twitch. 

“Sounds like the better candidate is right here,” Megumi drawled, looking up to Nanami who was watching them all in utter confusion. “Nanami-san, we have something to show you—”

“—you all fail!” Gojo slapped a hand over Megumi’s mouth and wrangled the other two who were trying to escape. “We’re going back to Tokyo right now and changing your exam grades.”

“You can’t do that!” Nobara struggled to break his chokehold. 

“Suguru is just a substitute. I’ll overwrite his grades if I want to,” Gojo threatened. 

“Nanamin, are you sure you want to marry this guy?!” Yuuji whined, kicking his feet in a feeble attempt to get away. “Seems like you could find someone better!”

“Yuuji-kun!” Gojo gasped. “I thought I was your favorite! How could you?” 

Nanami stifled a laugh, but the gentle sound was enough to stop the fighting. They all turned to him and Gojo felt his hold on the kids loosen by accident. 

He met warm brown eyes. 

Nanami tilted his head, smile faint but full of affection. He didn’t come closer and his scent was still just a comforting scent yet Gojo could read him just fine. Maybe even better than if he was relying on his nose and pheromones.

“So? You won’t reconsider?” Nobara pressed.

He shook his head, arms crossed and shoulders relaxed. “No. I’m quite sure no one else can put up with Gojo-san for a lifetime.”

“Hey!” 

“Is it because you’re Bonded?” Yuuji asked quietly, fake glasses curled in a tense fist. 

Nanami shook his head again. “The Bond is irrelevant.” He took a step toward the table, brushing past Gojo with a gentle pat on his shoulder. “I understand that now.”

The way all three students seemed to deflate with relief might have been insulting on some level, but Gojo knew what it really signified. Many more people love him than just me.  

And for that, he was grateful.

“Enough about silly Bonds!” Gojo exclaimed, clapping his hands. “We’ve decided to start a family! So all of you need to scurry on home to Tokyo so we can get back to—”

Nanami chucked the marriage portfolio at him.

It bounced harmlessly off of Infinity as Nanami rounded up the teens and Geto. “Let’s request a room change. I’m sure there are quieter dining areas where we can properly catch up.”

“What?!” Gojo scrambled after them. “Did you want it to be a surprise, Nanamin? You kids just forget what I said! We’ll make an official announcement in twelve weeks—”

“—Gojo-san!”

He only laughed in response, grinning at Nanami’s pink ears and flustered glare. Draping an arm around his shoulders, he pressed a fleeting kiss to the crown of his head. 

Huffing irritably, Nanami gave him one more scathing look but did not shake him off. Instead, he leaned back into Gojo’s body as the three teens argued over the menu with Geto watching over them patiently. 

Not for the first time since arriving in Okinawa, Gojo wondered if retirement was always this peaceful.

Maybe I’ll try it out sooner than I thought.

An impossible Bond and an impossible family. 

That sounded just right.

.End.