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“Satoru, we’re leaving in an hour,” Nanami announces, knocking on the office door. Gojo nods absentmindedly, still engrossed in whatever he’s doing on the computer.
“Satoru, thirty minutes,” Nanami reminds the taller man. This time, Gojo actually turns to look at the clock, surprised at how fast time’s passing by. He’ll just finish this, and then he’ll get ready. There’s still time.
“Okay, Satoru. I’m leaving in fifteen minutes, with or without you,” Nanami threatens. He’s already dressed and ready to leave. He’s known Gojo long enough that he never really expected the other to start getting ready before the last second, regardless of how many reminders he gets.
“Oh, crap, yeah, got it,” Gojo curses, practically jumping out of his seat. How does this always happen? He was just supposed to finish that one little thing, and then another little thing had caught his attention, and then another, and… maybe he can sort of see how this always happens, actually.
“I was supposed to shower, too, shit,” Gojo mutters, shutting off the computer haphazardly, a tornado in the making, headed for their bedroom. Nanami calmly moves out of the doorway for Gojo to rush on.
“You have time for a quick rinse. Your clothes are ready on the bed,” Nanami tells the panicking mess of a man who’s already halfway across the house. Indeed, he’s known Gojo long enough. The last minutes before leaving to go anywhere have to be devoted to getting Gojo ready, or they’ll both be late. Nanami thanks his lucky stars that at least one of them has the foresight and organizational skills to get them ready on time, and that Gojo is capable of moving quickly when it counts.
“You’re an angel!” Gojo calls out to the corridor. He’s leaving a trail of clothes behind him on the way to the ensuite. He’s been horrible with time all his life, so he knows that getting ready in fifteen minutes should be possible, even if it’s always a bit of an ordeal. Nanami chuckles fondly, not bothering to respond. He can already hear the shower running, so the other wouldn’t hear him anyway.
In an astonishingly precise five minutes, Gojo steps out of the shower. Nanami is already waiting for him at the sink, armed with a hairdryer. Gojo’s makeup is set up in front of the mirror for him. Moisturizer, concealer, colorless mascara and lip gloss.
“You are an actual godsend and I love you to the moon and back,” Gojo breathes out gratefully, toweling himself down quickly. He gets in front of the sink, fast hands working on years of muscle memory to get the products on his face at inhuman speed. Nanami is behind him, styling his hair for him. It’s routine at this point, considering how frequently this needs to happen. Five minutes go by in a flash.
The pair set down their tools at the same moment, both well adjusted to the amount of time they can spend on their tasks. Gojo plants a quick kiss on Nanami’s cheek, chucking away his towel to go get dressed. Why do suits have to have so many parts? Once again, Gojo considers wearing dresses just to save time getting ready. But then he’d want to shave his legs, too, and that’d take more time, he muses while buttoning up his shirt.
Nanami picks up the towel left behind on the bathroom floor and sets it to dry on the rack neatly instead. Half his life is managing the chaos left behind by the destructive phenomenon that Gojo is. Sometimes he wonders how he ever let that happen, but one smile from his husband always answers that question. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
There’s two minutes left on the clock and Gojo is almost ready, miraculously. He turns to Nanami with a tie in hand, a silent request to tie it for him. Nanami complies, just the same as he always does. It frees up Gojo’s hands so he can adjust his cufflinks at the same time.
“I have the keys and our wallets,” Nanami says, already predicting Gojo’s next actions. The other smiles and nods, giving him a loving little peck as thanks. Then they’re off to the entryway to get their shoes on and leave. It looks like they’ll actually leave when they were supposed to this time, miraculously. Gojo is halfway through tying up his left shoe when he bolts up with a curse.
“Shit! I forgot my cologne,” Gojo mutters, toeing the shoe off to sprint back to the bedroom. He knew he was forgetting something. He always forgets something.
“It’s fine, Satoru, we’re out of time,” Nanami tries to call out after him, but it’s useless. To be honest, it always is. It’s a faster and more pleasant experience for all those involved to just let Gojo do whatever he’s decided has to be done. Nanami shakes his head and sighs. His shoes are already on, his coat hanging on his arm. He shouldn’t have thought they’d be on time. He jinxed it.
Nanami leaves out the front door. He knows Gojo will follow. He might as well start up the car and reverse out of the parking space already while he waits. They should still make the reservation on time. A moment later, Gojo bursts into the car, collapsing into the passenger seat.
“Sorry, thank you, love you, Kento,” Gojo says apologetically. Nanami rolls his eyes and sighs. God, he’s such a mess. And really, Nanami’s no better for enabling him like he does. He shifts the car into gear and drives off. Hopefully, this will be the most chaotic part of their date night, but knowing Gojo, he really can’t be certain.
“Love you too, Satoru,” Nanami replies fondly. He’s never going to get tired of this man, he’s sure.