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Sukuna’s never been one for roommates. Sure, he put up with it freshman year of college, and even (begrudgingly) came to call Geto Suguru a friend, but that didn’t stop him from bolting as soon as he was permitted to live off campus and shelling out for a studio apartment for one. Doesn’t matter if his roommate is chill — he needs his space. He doesn’t want to go home and have to tiptoe around another human being, worry about cooking dinner at the same time, police every little noise he might make. He does enough of that out in the wild; his own space should be his.
The one problem that arises from this, though, which even he can recognize is… Who the hell is going to eat the fruits of his baking labors?
***
The first time Sukuna brings in baked goods to the office isn’t entirely unprompted.
Nanami walks with him between meetings, from one conference room to another. “If I’m late tonight, my partner’s going to have my head,” he tells Sukuna tiredly.
“Haibara doesn’t seem the type,” he comments.
“He’s not, but he gets real hung up about his cooking. 30 seconds off the heat and it’s gotta be eaten, and all that.”
“Yeah?” Sukuna perks up, interest piqued.
“It’s souffle night,” Nanami says, by way of explanation.
“...What.”
“Yeah. He’s basically a gourmet chef.”
“Damn. Yeah those have to be eaten right away. What kind of souffle? Cheese or what? Stilton? Or a dessert? Chocolate?”
Nanami slows down slightly, peering at him over his teeny, tiny glasses. Sukuna swears he has those specifically to look over the edge intimidatingly at people. “...Stilton. With those… cracker things.”
“The lavash crackers,” Sukuna blurts.
“...Yeah.”
Sukuna clears his throat. “Cool. That’s… cool.”
“You cook?”
“Sure? I mean, guy’s gotta eat, right?”
“Well, not souffles.”
“I suppose not necessarily.”
Nanami crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at him. They’re literally standing outside their next meeting room. Again, those glasses — they’ve got to be for this express purpose of accentuating every little movement around Nanami’s increasingly sharp gaze.
“I like baking,” Sukuna confesses. “Cooking I enjoy too, but baking is my, hm, guilty pleasure, I suppose.”
“You don’t say.”
He shrugs. He’s used to that kind of reaction by now. He knows what he looks like, but if Great British Bake-Off has taught him anything, it’s that literally anyone could be into baking.
“You should bring something in sometime. I’m sure folks would love that.”
He rocks on his heels. “I’ll try. It would be nice to actually bake for a larger group for once.”
Nanami nods at him shortly and promptly heads into the conference room. He’s good at that, ending conversations. There aren’t really awkward conclusions with him.
***
He decides on rosemary shortbread, about a week later. It can’t be literally the day after his conversation with Nanami, because he has a life, right? But he’s also not going to pass up the opportunity to follow through; he’s not a man of empty promises, even if it was, strictly, an objectively in-passing conversation.
Rosemary shortbread is easy to divide, easy to share, simple, and inoffensive. The only time he ran into trouble with it was when his neighbor confessed she had an irrational aversion to rosemary, a la cilantro or something. Not her fault, nor his. It’s a risk he’s willing to take, because 9.9 times out of 10, it’s a hit.
His plan is just to quietly leave it in the gleaming kitchen with a note and hightail it back to his desk, but just his luck, Gojo is there and kicks up a massive racket.
“Oh Sukuna, what’s this?! You brought in treats? Didn’t know you had it in you, you little bag of surprises!”
Sukuna straight up glowers at him. Executive vice president or not, Gojo is a fucking menace and knows it.
Gojo doesn’t even wait for him to say anything. He flutters about and immediately snatches up a perfectly squared off corner piece. “Hmmmmmm, mmmmmm,” he makes unnecessarily loud assessing noises. “Well, aren’t you a dab hand in the kitchen! Wife material, you are. Suguru never told me, but then again it’s not like we talk about you much,” he rambles on, not bothering to chew with his mouth closed. He promptly plucks up another piece and flounces away without even a second glance back at Sukuna (nor a thank you, mind you ), and sings out, “Oi, shortbread in the kitchen from your resident baked goods fairy!”
Sukuna looks around, baffled. Whom is he even talking to…?
Yet apparently, Gojo must operate some kind of homing device powered by his sheer insanity, because no fewer than six people come wandering in immediately while he’s just standing there, still reeling from Gojo’s unbearable energy (which is the usual reaction he has after coming into close contact with the man).
“Ooh, yum!”
“God this is buttery as fuck.”
“Is this a Melissa Clark recipe? I love her.”
“I love Great British Bake-Off but I’ve always been too intimidated to bake!”
Sukuna crosses his arms and nods along, murmuring yeah I like the show too, and Melissa Clark’s recipes are pretty much foolproof so it’s a great place to start, and then he spots the head of IR stride in with her coffee mug and stop by the tray of shortbread and makes sure to nod at her; and if he responds a little more enthusiastically to her light inquiries about his interest in baking and where he got the recipe, well, he’s just being polite to his superior, isn’t he?
Nanami comes in at some point and raises his eyebrows (both this time), and barely smirks. Efforts acknowledged.
Sukuna’s not about to stand around all day guarding his shortbread, though, so he does eventually head to his desk to work on his latest report. He clocks a couple solid hours making notes and getting his deck outlined, before he decides to stretch his legs and get some water. Naturally, his eyes stray over to the baking tray. There are only two pieces left. Damn, he thinks.
Sukuna is no sentimental sap, but he’ll admit, there are few simple things in life better than people actually eating what you made and putting your dish firmly in the clean plate club.
As he’s filling his water bottle, two people come in, chatting quietly. He pays them no mind until he catches a low timbre, and he swears his ear twitches. It’s him. Belatedly he realizes the other person is Nobara, a data analyst with a brash attitude. Honestly, it’s amazing he didn’t hear her sooner, but he was pretty zoned out.
They grab the last two pieces as Sukuna watches from the corner of his eye, and Nobara makes eye contact with him. “Hey, these from you?”
He nods, slowly stepping back from the water dispenser and screwing back on his water bottle top.
“Thought I recognized your shit handwriting.”
He scowls. “Hey. You can read it, can’t you?”
“Low-ass bar.”
“Not like yours is any better, with your chicken-scratch notes. Gotta ask you to email everything to me instead of relying on your shitty post-its.”
“Shut the fuck up, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. You need my data for your stupid reports.”
Sukuna rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat to it. He turns his attention to Fushiguro.
Fushiguro Megumi. Beautiful, gorgeous, elegant Fushiguro Megumi, who’s quietly nibbling at a piece of shortbread — his shortbread, that he made! Him, as in Sukuna! Fushiguro Megumi was eating something that he made with his own hands, with all the love and care and sweat and tears…
OK fine, the shortbread seriously isn’t hard to make at all. But it’s like, 1:1 flour and butter so it’s not exactly a poor man’s treat either.
“What do you think?” he asks, glancing at The Most Beautiful Person in the World, Fushiguro Megumi, through his lashes.
“Not half bad,” Nobara pipes up immediately.
“I wasn’t asking you,” Sukuna rolls his eyes again, and he swears one of these days his eyes will get stuck in the back of his head. I’m surrounded by idiots… a wise man once said. Lion. Wise lion.
Fushiguro grants him a barely-there smile, and Sukuna nearly swoons. “It’s good,” he says quietly. “Buttery. Tender. And the rosemary… it’s nice. I like it.”
Sukuna preens. Distantly, he registers that Nobara is miming puking before she tromps away. Good. He rarely gets time to talk to, or even see, really, Fushiguro. On paper, they’d interact more, but Sukuna more often deals with Nobara and Momo for his projects. And Sukuna is still newer to the company, so he hasn’t made the regular rounds at company happy hours and whatnot.
Fushiguro’s eyes follow Nobara as she leaves, and he seems to lilt a bit towards the direction of the exit.
Desperate, Sukuna blurts, “What else do you like? To eat, I mean.”
His eyes flit back over to Sukuna. Green. So green. I always thought they were blue, he thinks dazedly. “Mm, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. But I’m not picky. I like most things.”
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Rice,” Fushiguro says immediately.
Sukuna almost laughs because god, can he be any more adorable? “OK, what’s your favorite… fun food?”
Fushiguro scrunches his nose slightly. Yep, confirmed, he can be more adorable. “I like bread?”
He laughs quietly under his breath. “OK, fair enough.”
Fushiguro absently polishes off the last of his shortbread and swiftly licks the crumbs off his thumb and index finger. Sukuna swears his heart stops for a second, and he silently counts his blessings that he’s not an easy blusher because otherwise he would’ve been firetruck red in that moment. “Well, your girlfriend is a good baker. And it’s nice of you to bring in her stuff for us to try.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” he mumbles, brain still catching up before it screeches upon registering what he said. What?! “Um — ”
“See you, Ryoumen,” Fushiguro ducks his head slightly and pulls his sleeves over his hands as he leaves the kitchen. Sukuna can only stare after him, mouth agape, not even caring he must look like a blatant idiot with his arms hanging at his sides, because at that moment all he can think is, what. The. Fuck. Just. Happened.
***
Two weeks later, he brings oat pecan cookies — which sound basic, but are really a bit of a faff, considering they’re just cookies . But they’re a brilliant creation (courtesy of Claire Saffitz) that get their touch of genius from a pecan toffee brittle, half of which is ground up with the flour mixture to infuse the cookies with nutty, carmel-y goodness. He brings in a conservative 12 cookies, and sure enough, when he returns (casually, water bottle in hand) to the kitchen two hours later, they’re all gone.
(He thinks he catches a wisp of spiky black locks and fingertips poking out of an oversized sweatshirt around the corner, but that might just be wishful thinking.)
Next is mochi cake, rendered with coconut milk, ube, and caramelized white chocolate (gluten-free!).
Then it’s palmiers, made with leftover puff pastry kicking around in his freezer (from when he’d made a galette des rois for Geto’s birthday, an embarrassingly long time ago).
After that, he brings in gougères, which might’ve been a bit of a rookie mistake since they deflated a bit on his commute (and no doubt sweating in their container after the morning blast in the oven, stuffed in his backpack on the humid subway) — but it doesn’t seem to matter, since they stir up a frenzy in the office. Lesson learned: Never underestimate the power of cheesy puff-type products. People go feral. Sukuna would’ve been severely put off, excepting the fact that Fushiguro sidles up to him amid the crowd and shyly brushes his arm with his fingers to catch his attention, quietly murmuring, “They’re really good. Thanks.”
He may as well have burst into flames right then and there.
By the time he breaks out the enriched dough — it’s the good stuff, the kind that he likes to put a little bit of elbow grease into by kneading it by hand for the last 20 minutes or so — he’s gained a reputation in the office. It almost doesn’t matter if people think it’s him baking or his alleged “girlfriend”; he’s the bringer of treats, the harbinger of joy, the satisfier of appetites. The general manager greets him by his first name at this point, and the VP of finance has taken to stopping in the hallway to make small talk whenever he sees him, baked goods in hand or not.
That’s all well and good, but the best part? It’s Fushiguro. No — Megumi. Because after bake number who-knows-how-many, he told Sukuna, while averting his eyes, that he could call him by his name. Sukuna hadn’t even tried to rein in how thrilled he was at that, which only caused Megumi to scowl fiercely and threaten to take back his first-name privileges. Which only made Sukuna even more gleeful.
So sure, if he brings in the latest batch of soft milk buns, packed full and swirled with scallions and sesame seeds, with a certain green-eyed, long-limbed, messy-haired man in mind, sue him, OK? What harm is his cringey little motive if it pleases the office as a whole, and ultimately benefits his career (albeit in a rather roundabout, arguably higher-effort-to-payoff-ratio kind of way)?
Maybe he sends a Slack message to Megumi a mere four minutes after setting the tray down in the kitchen… just to make sure the guy gets a portion before the others descend. And maybe he times his trip to the kitchen to get the coffee he “forgot” to make for himself to coincide with Megumi’s “GOING NOW” response.
Sure enough, he catches Megumi scouring each bun with amusing scrutiny, arms crossed, leaning over the tray.
“You inspecting them for any underproving, or something?” he asks wryly, approaching the counter.
Megumi glances up at him, not moving back even a centimeter. “Looking for the best one,” he says, serious as anything.
Sukuna laughs. “I got you. That one,” he points at the third-from-the-left bun, not a single strand out of place, perfectly golden brown and even all around. He knows because that’s the spot in his oven that gets the best heat distribution.
Megumi gifts him with one of his close-lipped, secret smiles. “Thanks.” He plucks it up, napkin already in hand, and folds it smoothly in his palm before starting his adorable little nibbles.
Something Sukuna thinks he’ll never get over is how Megumi never fails to sniff before eating, like a total epicurean. He’s perfect.
“Mmff,” Megumi takes a larger-than-usual bite. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, all jumbled around his mouthful of bread. “This is — wow I didn’t think it could get better than the gougères.”
“Yeah?” Sukuna can’t hide how pleased he is.
“Mhm. And I mean, the gougères were so good they could make someone nut. Seriously. I mean, sorry,” he offers, when Sukuna nearly chokes. “But like, this is… oh my god.” He licks his fingers in that way that drives Sukuna crazy.
“You can take another one,” he says weakly, trying his best to come off as a perfectly normal, not totally head-over-heels human being.
“Well…” Megumi is definitely eyeing the tray with undisguised longing. Sukuna wishes he’d look at him like that. Upon second thought, that’s probably how Sukuna looks at Megumi. He might need to keep himself in check.
“I won’t tell,” Sukuna promises.
Megumi shrugs, apparently shedding all reservations as he snags another one. “Bread is my favorite. I mean, usually I’m more of a pain de campagne kinda guy, but this is next level.” He’s already taking a massive bite, consuming basically half of the bun.
Sukuna picks his jaw up from the floor. “Oh, uh, are you like, more of a crusty loaf person?”
“Yeah, I love sourdough. Plain. Whole wheat. Maybe some seeds, like, for texture. That’s usually my favorite.”
He hums. He does have a sourdough starter… Admittedly, he’ll sometimes go three weeks without feeding it, and more often than not it adds a kick to his pancakes rather than yielding a literal loaf, but maybe it’s time to revitalize his sourdough habit.
“What about your… girlfriend?” Megumi asks hesitantly, peeking up at him.
“Huh?” Sukuna starts. Oh, right. “Um… I mean… Are you asking about favorite bread or something?”
Megumi nods, back to his small bites.
Vaguely, Sukuna registers others flocking to the kitchen, accustomed as they are at this point to the semi-regular appearance of baked goods. He nods absently at their acknowledgement of his undeniable prowess (or his girlfriend’s, same difference to him in all but one case), and watches with barely-concealed chagrin as Megumi slips away in the cresting crowd, offering Sukuna just a fleeting “oh, I should get back — see you” as he goes.
“Embarrassing,” someone murmurs next to him.
He twists around. It’s Nobara, who’s squinting after Megumi’s retreating back, clad as usual in a black hoodie. “Excuse me?”
She glances at him. “What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“What?”
“Your girlfriend,” Nobara says slowly, as if speaking to a very slow, very uncooperative imbecile. “What’s her name?”
He bristles. “Why should I tell you?” OK, maybe he is behaving like a very uncooperative imbecile.
She shrugs, unfazed. “What’s the big deal? She’s the one making all this stuff right? Seems like a pretty cool person. You should bring her to the next happy hour. It’s next week, yeah? Let us all compliment her in person for once instead of giving you all the praise.”
He narrows his eyes at her. “I can ask.”
She raises an eyebrow. It doesn’t quite have the same effect as Nanami, but it’s unnervingly piercing all the same. “Uh-huh. See that you do.”
***
Obviously he doesn’t bring his girlfriend to the happy hour. Because she doesn’t exist. (And frankly, even if she did, he probably wouldn’t be the type to bring a plus-one to such affairs, because boundaries. )
Nobara catches him with her beady gaze as he walks in, and he promptly rolls his eyes, pointedly walking the other direction to where, unfortunately, Gojo is standing with Nanami.
“Nice of you to join us, Sukuna-san,” Gojo crows immediately upon spotting him.
Sukuna merely grunts, and nods at Nanami, who silently gestures towards the bar for him to flag down the bartender.
“So how’re you settling in?”
Sukuna squints at Gojo. “It’s been like, eight months.”
“And? You’re still one of our newest employees.”
He shrugs. “It’s fine.”
“Fine?!” he flings out his arm dramatically, which Nanami neatly dodges with a well-practiced sidestep. “You wound me, Sukuna.”
“Cut the act,” Sukuna snorts. “I know you don’t give two shits as long as we’re performing.”
“Performing, must you make everything so clinical? I have feelings, you know. I do care.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” he deadpans.
Gojo huffs. Then he perks up. “Oh Megumi, Megumi! ” he practically sings out, fluttering his hand well above their heads as he frantically waves the man over.
“What.” Megumi comes to a stop next to Sukuna, looking thoroughly uninterested.
“Megumi-kun, so nice to see you at one of these! You never show up.”
“Yeah, because you’re always there.”
Gojo gasps. Sukuna laughs.
“I thought you weren’t coming to this one,” Megumi continues, totally uncaring of Gojo’s theatrics as he feigns fainting against the bar counter.
“Well, Suguru’s working late tonight so I figured I’d show up,” he shrugs, straightening back up.
“I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t show up to these either if I felt like I had a choice where Gojo’s involved,” Sukuna leans down slightly, murmuring in Megumi’s ear.
“Yeah? Why do you, then?” Megumi half-whispers back, eyes shifting over to him. Sukuna thinks he catches a glimpse of a slightly reddening ear before Megumi leans back, unruly hair covering the tips of his ears. Interesting. Wishful thinking, still, perhaps?
He shrugs. “I’m new, you know? Feels like I have to rub shoulders, make the rounds, all that kind of stuff.”
“Well, it doesn’t come off forced, if it’s any consolation,” Megumi offers.
Sukuna lets out a short bark of laughter. “Thanks. I was in investment banking before this, so I’ve had plenty of practice.”
“You don’t say?” Megumi raises his eyebrows. He flits his gaze up and down Sukuna in a way that leaves him feeling a bit hot around the collar. Why does everything this man does get him all riled up? It’s got to be a special skill, Sukuna thinks. “Actually, I can see it.”
“I feel like that’s an insult,” Sukuna says wryly.
“No,” Megumi protests half-heartedly, a smile creeping onto his face.
“Sure, very convincing,” he teases. “It’s fine, it is what it is. I knew what I was signing up for.”
“That life wasn’t for you?”
“Nah,” he shrugs. “I don’t think it’s really for anyone. At least most of the people I know, we typically move on after a few years.”
“Make bank, go on, make more bank.”
Sukuna winks. “Exactly.” He takes a sip of his drink.
Megumi scoffs, but the corner of his mouth is still curled softly upward, and this time Sukuna is sure Megumi’s high cheekbones are lightly flushed — not a trick of the light.
“Oy,” Nobara wedges her way between the two of them. Sukuna immediately scowls down at her. “You drinking?”
Megumi shakes his head. “Not in the mood.”
“You want me to get you something else?”
“It’s OK. Water’s good,” he holds up his water bottle.
Nobara turns her attention to Sukuna. “No girlfriend tonight?”
He wrinkles his nose. Of course. “Obviously,” he replies shortly. He keeps an eye on Megumi, who shuffles a bit in place.
“Girlfriend?!” The sheer pitch of Gojo’s voice has more than one person in the vicinity wincing.
Great, Sukuna thinks sourly.
“Sukuna! Are you dating? ” Gojo bounds back over to him, and wow, personal space, much? “How can this be the first I’m hearing about it?”
“Why would I tell you anything?” Sukuna growls.
“But that can’t be right,” Gojo continues, as if Sukuna hadn’t said anything. “At Choso’s birthday, Suguru said you were six months dry, and then Yuuji made that comment about how you were a ‘volcel’ not an ‘incel,’ and that you preferred dating guys anyway most of the time — ”
“Dude!” Sukuna sputters, conscious of Nobara and Megumi’s widening eyes, and no shortage of others’ attention being drawn to Gojo’s (as usual) way too loud voice.
“And then Yuuji said the last time you got laid was when you still had that friends-but-not-really-friends-with-benefits situation thing going on with what’s-her-name, and then you said she was too catty even though she was really kinky — ”
“Oh my god,” Sukuna resorts to pushing Gojo back, back, back towards the bar counter, in an appropriately dark corner away from prying eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses.
“What?” Gojo asks innocently, batting his eyelashes. His trademark sunglasses are perched on his head, pushing his fringe up so he can utilize the full power of his startlingly bright blue eyes.
“You know what, even you aren’t that dense.”
“Hm?” he glances around. “Oh bartender, yoohoo — ” he points at his empty glass and sets it on the counter, nodding in satisfaction.
Sukuna groans. “Can you not televise my sex life, or lack thereof, at a work function?! ”
Gojo shrugs. “We’re all friends here.”
“We are not!”
“Well you’re friendly enough with Megumi-kun.” And his eyes dart up to catch Sukuna, frozen. “Right?”
“Excuse me?”
“You like him, right?”
“What?” Fair to say, he’s feeling the effects of some whiplash.
“Even though you have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t — ” he starts reflexively, before he clamps his mouth shut.
Gojo leans back against the bar and clicks his tongue. “I’m not sure why anyone would believe you have a girlfriend.”
Sukuna is rather offended. “I could totally have a girlfriend. Maybe I do have a girlfriend. It’s not any of your business, nor is it frankly Choso’s, or Suguru’s, or Yuuji’s.”
“Is that right?”
“Believe it or not, I do not tell my brother everything.”
Gojo snorts. “I believe that. I also believe that if you did have a girlfriend, you wouldn’t hesitate to slap us all round the heads upon insinuating you’ve been celibate for seven, going on eight months now. Celibate and mooning over your pretty coworker.”
Sukuna bristles. “I do not moon. ” Except he totally does. Specifically for Megumi. But it’s not, like, obvious, is it?
OK, it’s probably pretty obvious.
“Hey, uh…” Sukuna whips around, only to catch Megumi jerking back a bit, eyes wide and hands held up in a placating gesture. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to see if everything was OK over here.”
Sukuna sighs, deflating. “Yeah, fine,” he says dejectedly, resigning himself to the fact that he’s a pathetic man who couldn’t even muster up the balls to fess up to a nonexistent girlfriend and stop fawning over his perfectly respectable, competent coworker who just happens to like his bread on occasion.
“Fine,” Gojo echoes. He slaps Sukuna on the shoulder unnecessarily hard, to which he lets out an oomph. “Great. Just a bit of a catchup between old friends. Making sure I didn’t miss anything important.” He smiles at Megumi, all shiny white teeth and unveiled mischief. Then he wanders off, hands in his pockets, not even bothering to take his newly brewed cocktail with him, sweating in its glass on the edge of the bar.
Sukuna rolls his eyes and lets out a blustering sigh. “God, he’s exhausting. I’m sorry about that, by the way. That was…” he shudders. “I don’t know how I’m going to pretend like everyone didn’t hear him blasting my personal life to all our coworkers. Thank god tomorrow’s Friday and we can work from home.”
Megumi chuckles softly. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Sukuna peers at him. “Are you kidding? That was about as bad as it gets. It would’ve been worse only if he whipped out a megaphone and repeated it all over to make sure everyone caught every last word.”
Megumi laughs fully this time, barely bringing up a hand to cover his mouth. God. So pretty. And how am I supposed to not moon over him? “OK fine, it was pretty terrible. But everyone knows that’s just how Gojo is. It’s practically a rite of passage to get embarrassed by him at a public function. That’s how you know ‘you’re in.’”
“Oh really? Am I playing with the big boys now, then?”
“Shut up. Who even says that?”
Sukuna shrugs, grinning. “I dunno. It’s a song in The Prince of Egypt. ”
Megumi reels. “You watched that? That’s… unexpected.”
“It’s a decent movie. Some good songs. Kinda underrated.”
“Hella underrated.”
“‘Hella,’” Sukuna mocks him. “What are you, a Californian?”
“Shut up,” he mutters again, pushing him halfheartedly with one of his sweater paws. But he’s smiling through pursed lips.
“So uh, about the girlfriend.”
“Oh. Right.” Megumi straightens up, folding his arms over his chest.
“The ‘girlfriend’ kind of…”
“Doesn’t exist?” Megumi supplies.
Sukuna gawks at him.
Megumi’s eyes are brimming with mirth. So green. So… sparkly. “Nobara kind of stalked you on the socials.”
“What? ”
“Yeah. She’s kind of an expert at that.”
“Why am I not surprised,” he grumbles.
“She told me just now. Kinda confirmed it, after what Gojo pulled. I really did think you had a girlfriend this whole time.”
“Ah,” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah… that first time you kind of just darted off before I could say anything, and then after that, I dunno, we just never really had the chance to talk ever, and once we did, it seemed too awkward to take it back — and oh god, it’s stupid, isn’t it?”
Megumi smiles, teeth and all. His right canine is ever so slightly crooked. “It’s OK. So…” he inches closer. “I take it you were the one who baked all that stuff, then?”
Sukuna snorts. “Duh.”
“Don’t ‘duh’ me, you just pretended you had a girlfriend for the past four months!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, raising his hands in surrender.
“Are you?”
“Hm?”
“Are you sorry?”
“Uh — ”
“Because I think you owe me an apology for making me think you had a girlfriend all this time.” When did he get so close? Oh my god. OH my god. Sukuna tries to act like he’s breathing normally.
“Um, sure, yeah, I can — I can try to make it up to you,” he stutters out.
“Yeah?” Megumi breathes out. Thick lashes… freckles on the bridge of his nose… pretty. So pretty, Sukuna thinks dazedly. “How?”
“I can… um.” He swallows. “I can make you those scallion buns you like?”
Megumi smiles, and then Sukuna feels a light touch stroking up his left pinky. Oh my god. He can’t even bring himself to look down as Megumi slowly pinches his pinky and ring fingers, before sliding his palm around to take his hand in his. “I think you can do better than that. Four months is a long time, Sukuna.”
“Uh-huh, yeah, a long time,” Sukuna says faintly.
“You wanna ask me anything?”
“Ask… you?”
“Mhm.”
“Um. How can I make it up to you?”
Megumi laughs, a soft, delighted sound that causes something warm and tickly to flutter in his chest. “Not the question I was thinking.”
“Oh. Um, can I have your phone number? Please?”
“Hm. Yes.” And he glances down at their entwined hands before he flips Sukuna’s hand over, fishing out a pen from his pocket to write down his number on the back of his hand. “Don’t smudge that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sukuna says fervently.
“Good.” Megumi beams at him. “And I won’t say no to those scallion buns either. I just wouldn’t be opposed to something new, too.”
“Something new?”
“Yeah. Surprise me.” He takes a couple steps back, and Sukuna’s chest loosens a little bit even as he mourns the loss of an unfettered view of the shades of blues and grays reflected in Megumi’s eyes.
“OK. Yeah, I can do that.” He smiles, looking down finally at the neat row of numbers on his hand. He looks back up at Megumi, who’s definitely blushing now.
Emboldened, Sukuna darts out a hand to catch Megumi’s arm gently before he leans in to brush a feather-light kiss on his forehead. “I’ll text you.” He steps back, and Megumi is — oh. His ears are bright red, and the blush on his face has spread over the tip of his nose. He chucks his chin lightly before he takes another step back and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Get home safe, Megumi.”
“You too,” he squeaks out, clutching his sleeves over his palms.
Sukuna barely stifles a chuckle as he makes for the bar exit, a pep in his step. As he leaves, he catches Nobara’s eye, and she (very obviously) gives him a thumbs up, nodding in approval. He rolls his eyes, but he still shakes his head and smiles. After all, all’s well that ends well. And even Gojo kind of contributed. He has Megumi’s number, and it doesn’t matter that half their office floor knows he had a long dry spell and a penchant for kinky bedfellows; all that matters is that he has Megumi’s number and the most beautiful person in the world is… what? Happy that he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He almost laughs at himself. He really is a goner.
Before he turns in for the night, he pulls up his contacts to find the newest one yet.
Sukuna
Hey
It’s Sukuna
What do you think about this? https://www.kingarthurbaking.com/recipes/mission-fig-bread-recipe
A loaf all for yourself? :)
Megumi
Hey
Looks good.
But I was thinking something more like this: https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/kouign-amann
Sukuna laughs out loud upon seeing the page load. Kouign-amann. Of course.
Sukuna
For you? Anything.
Megumi
You’re an idiot lol
But you’re gonna make it right
Sukuna
Hell yeah
I’ve made them before you know
Megumi
… Are you serious
Sukuna
[photo attached]
Megumi
Nice photo, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you made it.
Prove it
Pun intended
Sukuna
Challenge accepted
Come over on Sunday for dinner?
Megumi
Kouign-amann for dinner??
Sukuna
I’ll cook you dinner
Kouign-amann for dessert
Do you like plain or do you want like black sesame or jam or something inside
Megumi
… oh my god
I like plain
Sukuna
Cool
6 pm?
Megumi
Yeah that sounds good
Sukuna
I’ll text you my address tomorrow
Megumi
OK
Can I bring anything?
Sukuna
Nah
Just yourself
And prepare to be impressed
Megumi
Full of yourself aren’t you
Sukuna
I know my strengths
Megumi
We’ll see about that
Sukuna
I feel like you’re being contrarian just to rile me up
Megumi
Can’t prove it
(Unlike the kouign-amann)
Sukuna
It’s fine I like it ;)
Megumi
You’re ridiculous
OK I’m going to bed
Goodnight
Drink water
Sukuna
Thanks <3 you too
Goodnight
See you soon :)