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“Are you sure you gave me the right freaking address?” Satoru hissed into the phone propped between his shoulder and ear.
Suguru replied slowly, “Uh, yeah? Why? Where are you?”
Satoru couldn’t balance the weight in his arms and check his phone at the same time, so he tried to remember. “Apartment 5G? Sterling Building?”
“Uh… Which building? There are two buildings named Sterling.”
He rolled his eyes. That was just fucking peachy. He wanted to cuss out his best friend so bad, but he couldn’t. Not while he was holding a five-month-old who looked like he’d finally fallen asleep in his arms. “Whatever, whatever. Cancel my appointment, I’m not going.”
“Satoru, that’s gonna cost—”
“I don’t care,” he interrupted. “Just cancel it. I can’t make it anymore,” he muttered quietly lest he woke up the baby.
“Why? What happened?”
Suguru sounded concerned but the door behind Satoru creaked—when did the water stop running?—and he quickly said, “I can’t talk right now. Cancel the appointment. Refund it. Hell, pay double. I don’t care.”
“That’s generous coming from—” Suguru’s words were forever lost to the void as Satoru managed to quickly disconnect the call by randomly pressing his nose against the screen. Satoru may not be able to check his messages, but he knew how to hang up hands-free. And he accomplished the feat just in time for a tall shadow to fall on the floor in front of him, signaling that the daddy he’d signed up for was done with his shower.
Satoru turned and he was about to tell the man that he wasn’t the babysitter when his eyes caught the sight of a drop of water traveling down a patch of curling chest hair dusting tanned skin; his throat dried up and so did his explanation.
Since he’d already canceled his plans for the night, he might as well stay…
────── 𓆩༻˚•∘♡∘•˚༺𓆪 ──────
Fifteen minutes ago
────── 𓆩༻˚•∘♡∘•˚༺𓆪 ──────
This wasn’t Satoru’s first customer but the anticipation of meeting someone and spending a few hours together always had his stomach tightening in that pleasant, excited way he liked.
He checked his reflection in the elevator walls; liking the way he was mirrored six times over. That sounded like the perfect number of Satorus to him.
Grinning broadly, he inspected his teeth. He hadn’t eaten in over ten hours, but he always fasted when he had a date. Gotta prepare for getting freaky.
He hadn’t been with anyone in over three weeks on account of a stomach bug he got from eating a bad slice of cake. He’d spent the first two weeks tormented by the constant ache in his middle and the undignified visits to the bathroom, concerned that his one true love—sugar—had betrayed him only to be forwarded a news article saying that Cafe Lulu (from where he’d gotten that cake) had just been closed for failing a recent health inspection. Then he’d been miffed for a whole week.
He grimaced in memory. That place should not only be shut down, but also be burned down for making him, even for a day, doubt his one true love.
Blessedly, he felt perfect today. His hair looked glossy and neat. His recent bout of illness was even making his cheekbones pop more; it was a bit insane for him to admire the result, but he’d take this small win.
Just as the elevator reached the fifth floor, he plucked the rose from its cellophane wrapper and gently placed it between his lips, careful not to get punctured by its thorns. Showing up with blood trailing down his chin and staining his collar wasn’t the kind of look which he was aiming for.
He sauntered down the hallway and found the apartment. 5G. He smiled; that was a nice coincidence. The Go in his name was written in the same character for the number five. Maybe this was destiny working its magic. Maybe the man behind the door, which Satoru had just knocked, was his forever.
That hope was quickly dashed when the door opened to reveal a tall, broad man, with eyes a muted brown behind smudged glasses. His hair was dirty blond, which looked like it’d seen cleaner days. He was about to take a step back, secretly judging Suguru for not properly vetting him when he saw the blond’s full lower lip tremble at the sight of him. Now that wasn’t such a bad reaction—but any hope he might’ve derived from seeing a man weep at the sight of him was dashed by the sharp wail of a baby propped in the man’s right arm. Satoru definitely took that step back.
“Uh—”
“Thank god, you’re here. Finally.” The last was murmured softly, drenched in relief.
With one hand, the man reached out, ignoring Satoru’s rose falling to the floor, and clutched Satoru by the crook of one arm as if he were reaching for the lip of a lifeboat.
Satoru threw a bewildered look at the hand on him; surprised even more by the warmth he felt even through his jacket. (He always dressed formally since he liked how he looked in a suit and liked it even better when his expensive clothes were torn off of him in a fit of wild desire.)
“Come in, please,” Satoru heard but didn’t comprehend. He didn’t know how to respond; his tongue was still tied due to the heat swimming in his stomach from the man’s touch. This couldn’t be his date. He must have the wrong address—
“I’m just going to take a shower. Do you think you can be on your own with Yuji for ten minutes?” After a pause that didn’t even last three seconds, he added with a fond tilt of his head at the wailing baby bundled in a seafoam blue swaddle in his arm. “This is Yuji, by the way.”
Yuji looked mad. His whole face was the same color as his hair: bright pink. Satoru squinted at the baby, trying to decide if there was anything visibly wrong with him for him to scream so loudly when Yuji came closer. No. The baby who couldn’t even sit up didn’t come closer; he was being placed directly in his care.
Gently, too. Those warm hands were brushing over Satoru’s arms, readjusting his hold until he, too, felt secure.
“I’ll be quick—” The words died in the man’s throat when a sudden hush fell over the hallway; the previous cause of the riot, also known as the baby, named Yuji now in Satoru’s care, was quiet. “Oh, he’s stopped crying.” The blond guy said it with an awed expression in the form of a slight widening of his eyes behind his glasses and a slackening of his jaw. Satoru gave him an alarmed look. Were those tears in his eyes? Don’t tell me you’re about to start crying? he thought wildly.
But he kept silent, unsure how to proceed.
Until he was struck by the full force of the blond man’s brown eyes, up close, his warm hands gently settling on his shoulders.
A swirl of emotions twisted in his belly. Key emotion being bewilderment. Nobody had ever looked at him like he was vital to their well-being.
Still. He wasn’t the babysitter. This man shouldn’t leave his baby in the care of a stranger.
As Yuji persisted with his new state of quiet curiosity, Satoru cleared his throat and was about to say, You have the wrong person, all that came out of him was a resolute, , “Go shower. You can trust me.”
Huh…? Where did that confidence come from? The man smiled and it was such a startling sight that Satoru felt his knees weakening. He steadied himself, not wanting to fall to the floor and drop the precious baby.
He got a nod in answer and a quick padding of feet as the man, who had introduced his baby but not himself, disappeared further inside the apartment. Satoru took a few steps in; looking around to see small piles of trash bags gathered in spots, a mountain of dirty baby clothes on every piece of furniture, and—when he poked his head into the kitchen—a lot of unwashed baby bottles crusted with formula. The place was filled with the signs that help was desperately needed.
And the help was…Satoru.
He looked down at Yuji—cute name—and sighed. “What have I gotten myself into?” Shifting Yuji to one arm, he quickly fished his phone out of his pocket, dialed Suguru’s number, then shoved it between his shoulder and chin so he could hold Yuji in both arms.
Satoru was jostled back into the present by a twist in his stomach. Where was he? Right. He’d been staring at a drop of water sluicing down a furred, tanned chest and getting a serious case of dry mouth.
Unaware that Satoru was feasting his eyes on his naked chest, the blond said, “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Nanami but you can call me Kento.”
Nanami But You Can Call Me Kento was fine. He was even finer after his much-needed shower. Satoru couldn’t help but stare at him. Hey, it wasn’t his fault Kento stood in front of him dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist. He was practically flaunting his softly rounded torso. What else was Satoru supposed to do but ogle it?
Finally, his brain connected to his mouth, and he said, “Name is Gojo Satoru.” He rolled his eyes like, Can’t offer a hand to shake since I’ve your sleeping baby in my arms. But the real reason he couldn’t offer his hand was because he doubted he could touch Kento and ever let go. So, he settled for a weird half-shrug and half-nod that possibly made him look like he was an untrustworthy jerk. Great.
Unaware of what went on in Satoru’s head, Kento peered closely at his baby—was he his baby or did he kidnap him? Kidnapping would explain the constant crying, but Satoru knew there were a lot of reasons a baby wailed. Besides, a close look at Kento dashed away that suspicion. The guy looked utterly enamored with his son. He looked so fond that it was dripping down his face.
Wait, no. That wasn’t fondness. That was a tear. Oops. Make it tears.
Kento, realizing the moisture wasn’t just his wet hair dripping down his neck, wiped at his face. “Sorry, I… I haven’t had a moment’s quiet in three weeks now.”
“Three weeks?” Satoru asked, a little horrified. He glanced down at the baby sleeping soundly. Yuji didn’t look like he’d spent three weeks terrorizing a whole adult. He looked like a cherubic baby. Chubby cheeked and fluffy haired. “Really?”
Kento nodded, a sleepy look coming over his face. It seemed that once he had tasted some semblance of peace, his body was crashing. His eyelids began to flutter, as if fighting the urge to drop right where he stood and doze off.
Before it had cleared it with his brain, Satoru’s mouth said, “You go and take a nap if you like. I can… take care of Yuji.”
He may as well. He had nothing else to do. And something about the grateful smile Kento gave him was sending a riot of butterflies into his throat. He chomped down on them, munching them to smithereens. This was just a job, an albeit odd job but a job, nonetheless.
“Are you sure? I was thinking of doing some laundry and cleaning since you’re here to look after Yuji,” Kento murmured, looking around the detritus of his horrid three weeks with a wailing child.
Satoru had heard of his cousins being difficult babies, but he was never put in the position of caring for one. Luckily for him, he was clearly a natural. He nodded, and in a voice so convincing that even he believed in himself, he said, “For sure, dude. Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
Kento’s eyebrows lifted at the dude, but he didn’t argue. “He has a bassinet, so you don’t have to hold him the whole time.”
“Oh, that’s good to know, because my arms are getting numb,” he said with a faint chuckle, glancing down to smile at Yuji. He was impossibly cute, in a squished, exhausted way. His cheeks were two perfect little round dangos. Taking a bite shouldn’t be a temptation but it was.
He heard a soft laugh, and he looked up to see a full-blown smile directed at him, accompanied by a puff of air escaping his neat nostrils. (Satoru had never once noticed a guy’s nostrils so he filed this away as part of the weirdness of tonight.)
“Thank you so much,” Kento said, and his hand lifted to neatly tuck a finger in the space between Yuji’s swaddle and his cheek. He gave it a caress. “I’ll leave him to you for… an hour?”
“Take two,” he offered quickly, then at the wide-eyed look Kento gave him—a look filled with wonder that he could have a two-hour nap—added, “I’m getting paid to be here, aren’t I?”
Kento nodded. “There’s an envelope on the kitchen counter. I hope a check is all right. I didn’t have time to withdraw any cash.” He sounded far too apologetic. Satoru was getting paid and Kento was sad he was paying it in a slightly archaic form.
“No problem. I don’t mind checks. Cashing it will make me feel fancy.” Satoru threw him a wink in hope of hearing that soft chuckle again. There it was. Damn. There was something so healing in making a person laugh. Make that person a handsome, exhausted dad with a hairy chest and a soft belly and it was like a balm to an ache Satoru didn’t even know existed within him.
He watched Kento retreat slowly, head turned over one shoulder, his eyes flickering from Satoru to Yuji until he finally walked into a dark room. He kept the door ajar, which Satoru thought was a wise move. He probably wanted to be able to hear it if his baby began to cry again.
With Kento in his bedroom, Satoru found the bassinet mentioned (under a pile of washed blankets, which he promptly and gently kicked to the floor) and lowered Yuji into it. He stayed bent over, holding his breath for any sign that Yuji would wake up. After five seconds of this, he straightened up. He ignored the way his arms felt weirdly—a bad weird—empty.
Looking around, he immediately found something to occupy him. He could…tidy up a little while Kento rested.
He took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and went hunting for trash bags big enough for all the crap he saw. Not to brag but after only ten minutes, Satoru managed to collect all of the garbage. There were empty metal canisters of formula, take-away containers, a stuffed diaper genie, and other miscellaneous items that a sniff test deemed as trash. After filling up two trash bags, he placed them by the entrance. He didn’t want to take them out while Yuji slept. He didn’t want to leave him in case he woke up and needed a slightly-familiar face.
Kento was either an angel or desperate for entrusting his baby to a man dressed in a suit to a babysitting gig and a rose between his teeth. Either way, he deserved some kindness. On his way to the kitchen to resume his mission to turn this hovel into a proper home befitting Kento and Yuji, Satoru popped his head in the vicinity of the bassinet. He watched Yuji until he saw his tiny chest rise and fall with a soft grunt in his throat. His face might have melted into a silly expression of eyes creasing into crescents and lips lilting up in a grin. Yuji remained successfully asleep.
Since both of his ‘boys’—it was silly but technically true; for the next hour and twenty-five minutes, Kento and Yuji were Satoru’s responsibility—were sleeping, he began tackling the dirty dishes. There weren’t many. Just a lot of bottles. He ran a quick search on his phone to figure out the best way to sterilize the bottles and nipples—and lo and behold, he only snickered once when he typed in the word nipple. He was the most mature person on earth, really.
He didn’t snoop to find out if there was one of those bottle-washing contraptions as the web informed him existed (for only ¥45,500!) or a dishwasher. He resolved to wash everything by hand but in the end, it felt like a good experience. He hadn’t hand-washed dishes since he got his own nifty dishwasher.
All dishes placed to dry on the now-full drying rack, he did a little scan of the living room. He was picking up baby clothes encrusted with milk when his phone buzzed on the couch. He lunged for it, hoping the soft vibration wasn’t enough noise to wake Yuji up; it was only when he whispered, “Hello,” that he thought that the sound of running water might have been far noisier.
A voice drenched in worry asked, “Where are you?”
“Suguru?”
Impatient, he clicked his tongue. The fuck. “Who else? I’m here to pick you up.”
“Why?” he demanded in a quiet hiss, which undermined how little he cared for Suguru’s attempted heroics.
“Uh, you showed up at the wrong address and sounded very panicked when you told me about it?” He didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. He was about to tell him to go home when Suguru asked worriedly, “Satoru, are you in any danger?”
He snorted. “Does it sound like I’m in any danger?” He was being awful, he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. Suguru allowed him this much awfulness so he might as well take full advantage of his Best Friend privilege. “I’m fine, Suguru,” he said seriously. “Go home.”
“No. Not before I see you with my own eyes and make sure you’re all right and not being held captive by a criminal who wants to cut you up into tiny pieces and store you in a freezer to consume later,” Suguru said, sounding so determined and confident in his ability to wrest Satoru from the arms of danger. Details of which he’d conjured all on his own. He had to stop listening to True Crime Podcasts.
He had to admit that it felt nice to hear his best friend be determined to rescue him. It almost made Satoru believe good men existed. It was just his luck that he was already married to Satoru’s other best friend: the best person on earth, Shoko. He’d never seduce Shoko’s husband, she also knew how to dispose of a body, and he had a fondness for breathing and getting horizontal for cash.
“I’m here, too!” Speak of the devil.
“Shoko? What’re you doing there?” He sounded so happy considering the duo were hell-bent on ‘rescuing’ him.
“Suguru said you might be in a dire situation, so I came along.” She was speaking directly into the phone so she must have wrestled it out of Suguru’s fingers. The image of that kerfuffle made Satoru smile.
He sat down on the couch and contemplated putting his feet on the table but decided against it. It wasn’t good manners. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Then you won’t mind if we came to check up on you,” she reasoned.
He rolled his eyes. “Trust me, ending up at the wrong address wasn’t so bad. You don’t need to come—”
“Let them come,” a voice interrupted Satoru’s nonchalant statement.
He startled but clamped his lips shut before he shouted and woke up Yuji. He looked behind him to find Kento, sleep rumpled and perfect and sadly dressed, raising a hand to adjust his glasses.
“I— How much of that did you hear?” he asked.
“Who is that? Is that your kidnapper?” Suguru demanded. His voice was loud enough that Kento lifted one eyebrow.
“Calm down, babe, you’re practically buzzing,” Shoko said.
Satoru sighed. “Fine. It’s 5G in Sterling.”
“Which Sterling?” Suguru asked.
“The wrong Sterling.” He hung up shortly after.
He was a teeny bit afraid to look at Kento to be honest, so he fiddled with the apps on his home screen. Moving them around until Kento pointedly cleared his throat.
“Would you mind answering a few questions, Gojo-san?” he asked.
Satoru put down his phone and gulped noisily. Damn, I’ve been demoted to Gojo-san, he thought with a despondency too acute to ignore. “Ask away,” he chuckled nervously.
Kento’s face was lined with calm curiosity. “Let’s begin with: Who are you?”
“I’m an escort.”
“An escort?” The question was accompanied with widening eyes and quickly blushing cheeks. Then he was being examined from head to toe. Was this the time for Kento to check him out? No. But Satoru stood up straighter just to show off how tall he was, as if his height would make him omitting the truth any better. “Why is an escort posing as a babysitter?”
“I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to, but you mistook me for one and—Hey, you don’t have to do that, I won’t do anything to Yuji-chan,” he blurted out the last when he saw Kento inch to stand between Satoru and the bassinet where Yuji was sleeping. Still.
Kento’s eyes were unreadable, even though he’d cleaned his glasses. The doubt in his expression pierced through Satoru. “How would I know that? You’re an escort.”
His breath caught at the note of derision in that escort. Which, in true Satoru fashion, turned into immediate insolence. “Wow, are you seriously judging the man who helped put your baby to sleep, Kento?”
He couldn’t help the tone of hurt in his voice or reminding Kento that he’d already allowed him use of his first name; he allowed no take-backs.
Even when Kento’s face was washed with remorse, Satoru kept up his glare. He had zero tolerance for people who looked down on his profession/hobby. He was a consenting adult; he could do whatever he liked.
“I’m sorry, Satoru.”
The sound of an apology paired with his given name doused the fire of indignation in Satoru’s gut before it had a chance to roar. He deflated, watching Kento as he once again pushed the frames of his glasses higher on the bridge of his rather attractive nose. Is that his nervous tick? Somehow that endeared him to Satoru just enough to forgive his callous tone of voice.
He was an escort, and Kento wasn’t the first man to use the word like an accusation, but he was the first person to realize what a nasty thing it was and apologize for it. So, as a result, all was good in Satoru’s opinion. He showed his teeth to signify he held no grudge against Kento, but Kento was unchanged; now there was a line cutting through the space between his dark, thin eyebrows. No. Don’t frown, Satoru thought, it only makes you more attractive.
“Why did you stay?” Kento asked quietly.
Satoru blinked. He’d expected more interrogation regarding his occupation. The answer was simple: “You needed help, and I was in the position of helping.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Kento sounded more perplexed.
Shrugging away the sudden need to smooth the furrow between Kento’s eyebrow, Satoru said, “Why not? Consider me a good Samaritan who showed up at the wrong place but at the perfect time.”
Kento deflated. “That makes even less sense. Why am I ending up with more questions than when I started?”
“Is that question directed at me or the universe?”
He was asking genuinely but the corner of Kento’s lip curled into a smile. “Both, I suppose.”
“I don’t know about the universe,” Satoru began, rolling down his sleeves, “but I think it’s good that I came.”
“What about the babysitter?” Kento frowned.
“What babysitter?” He blinked owlishly.
“The one whose job you kindly took on.”
Satoru shrugged. “I don’t know. And honestly, I’ve been here for an hour already and whoever it was is still a no-show, therefore… it’s a win-win situation.” He threw up his arms in celebration but quickly put them down when he saw Kento’s wary expression darken.
“How’s that a win-win— actually, never mind. I need a drink.” His arms bunched up when he rubbed his face; the sight so fetching that Satoru was filled with the need to bite them.
“I can make you one! I’m great at mixing cocktails though it’ll have to be a virgin.”
Satoru was still rambling about his bartending skills when Kento paused in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes scanning his surroundings like he’d walked into a new planet. His voice came out strangled. “Did you clean?”
“Uh, yeah?” He didn’t like pointing out the obvious, but Kento loved his questions.
“Why?”
It was his turn to frown and be confused. “You really want to know why I washed your dirty dishes?”
“Not only that. You picked up all the nappies and take-away containers,” Kento said, like Satoru had handled biohazardous waste, not a few dirty diapers. There wasn’t even any mold to deal with. Satoru would’ve carried that out with a few yelps of disgust.
He shrugged for a lack of a proper answer. Kento had managed to do the impossible: render Satoru speechless.
“I just did it. No particular reason.”
Never mind. He still had some words in him after all.
Not that these words in particular seemed to satisfy Kento. He was still frowning, which amped up his hotness. When he folded his arms in front of his chest, Satoru had to look away before he started salivating. At least Kento wasn’t shirtless anymore. Otherwise, the slut might have jumped out. And pounced directly onto Kento. Which Satoru believed would constitute the sort of behavior unfitting an excellent one-night nanny such as himself.
“Anyway, since my friends are on their way, I shall too be on my—”
He was stopped by a warm hand curling around his elbow and Satoru was so pleasantly glad to feel its touch on him again that he stood stock-still and waited to see what was going to come out once Kento loosened his pursed lips.
“Thank you” was the last thing Satoru expected so he excused the gaping mouth he had to physically close with his hand.
“Uh, you’re welcome. I hope, uh, Yuji sleeps through the night. And… uhm, here’s my card if you ever need me again.”
He moved slowly for his coat pocket, wanting to drag out these final moments he was having with the totally wrong guy—false, his heart sang—but eventually, his card (designed on Canva with a garish shade of purple for the font and a rather long explanation of his services) ended up in Kento’s hand.
Satoru was almost sad to let go because now Kento was holding the small paper rather than his elbow.
Do not rub the spot he touched.
“I, uh, all right. Thanks again.”
Satoru gave a low, performative bow because he just had to be an idiot and ruin Kento’s slowly recovering impression of him. When he lifted his head with an apologetic half-smile, he found that a soft smile was adorning Kento’s lips, not another scowl. Huh?
Did he not think Satoru was an idiot? It might be the baby-handling superpowers he’d awakened tonight. Kento’s ability to judge him could also be faulty from only getting very little sleep after three weeks of deprivation.
A knock on the door startled them both but thankfully not Yuji. Unconsciously, they’d both moved in the same direction and were leaning over the top of the bassinet, checking up on him, when their heads knocked together.
“Oof, sorry,” Satoru whispered.
“It’s entirely my fault,” Kento insisted.
“No, really, he’s your baby, I shouldn’t have even been here.” He plucked his jacket from the now clean couch.
He continued walking backwards, eyes roaming Kento’s everything, and it was only by the grace of a much higher power that he was not bumping into furniture. He just didn’t want to look away from the sight of a man who’d looked at him like he was heaven-sent. But eventually, he had to find his shoes.
Satoru was about to slip into his shoes when he felt a presence—he let out a silent yelp as Kento crowded him against the door.
In a voice far more determined than Suguru’s voice over the phone, and far nicer, Kento said, “At my time of need, the right person showed up. I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me, Satoru. I could say thank you a thousand times but I don’t think they would ever be enough.”
A kiss would suffice, Satoru thought. Or one million, the beast inside him roared. He swiftly shut the gates on the beast lest it possessed him and began committing heinous crimes.
He smiled wide instead and fought the urge to curtsy this time. “You’re welcome. You have my number if the need for Super Nanny arises again.”
Kento lifted the hand holding his card and read aloud, “The Right Guy For All Your Needs.” His eyes locked into Satoru’s face, “That doesn’t sound like it includes babysitting.”
“Oh, you’re wrong, Kento. It very much does. Now it does, anyway.” He gave him his best smile, his most genuine, laugh lines on full display and premature lines webbing out of the corners of his eyes, and murmured softly, “Say bye to Yuji for me?”
“How about ‘see you soon’ instead?” Kento suggested.
Satoru’s heart performed a little flip at that. He bit down on his lower lip and nodded.
He turned and left before he was tempted to give Kento a hug. Shutting the door behind him, Satoru came face to face with a mildly concerned Suguru and the perpetually amused Shoko who were pacing the hallway in search of him.
“What’s that goofy smile for?” He didn’t know which one voiced the question; they were sickeningly in sync.
“No reason,” Satoru said like the liar he happened to be. He laced his arms behind his head and walked away, with a little pep in his step.