Chapter Text
When Yaga found his students holed up in Shoko’s room (by far the most inconspicuous, considering it was on the opposite side of the school from the boy’s and men’s dorms), reeking of alcohol and surrounded by empty bottles, he couldn’t necessarily say he was surprised.
They weren’t the most responsible kids, and so it wasn’t shocking that they hadn’t chosen somewhere less easy to get caught when drinking for the first time. Not only that, but Yaga had found the fake ID Shoko must’ve used to purchase the stuff in the first place. It had been lying very obviously on the coffee table in the lounge room, just staring him in the face when he’d gone to look for them.
Shoko was slumped over her desk, drooling as she slept, Haibara passed out on the floor beside her. Kento was curled up and dozing on the tiny, circular rug, and a snoring Suguru had wedged himself between Satoru and the wall in the lone female’s bed. Satoru, rather peculiarly, was shivering as he clung to Suguru, face flushed like the rest of them but unusually pale, a hardly-damp, warm cloth across his forehead.
The white-haired boy was the only one to stir at the sound of Yaga’s entrance, his eyes blinking open before he squinted, shutting them yet again. He groaned and threw an arm across his eyes, seemingly trying to fall back asleep.
“Gojo,” Yaga addressed him sternly. “Did you all get drunk last night? You know that alcohol is strictly prohibited, not to mention you’re all under-“
Satoru cut him off with a loud moan, turning over slightly as he shivered yet again. “Mmm… be quiet,” Satoru croaked. “Head hurts…”
Yaga scoffed and approached the bed, carefully traversing around Kento’s upper body and Haibara’s legs. “I’m sure it does. I bet you have one hell of a hangover,” Yaga responded, a small smile dancing across his lips. If they were going to break the rules, they were going to have to face the consequences.
“M’no,” Satoru slurred, voice strained. “M’not… hungover.”
Yaga shook his head and removed Satoru’s warm arm from his eyes, watching him squint with glassy vision as he groaned yet again, staring at Yaga angrily.
The older man knelt down to pick up one of the empty bottles. His voice was laced with a thick coat of sarcasm. “Oh, yeah? Then what are all of these doing here? Did they just, I don’t know, drink themselves?”
“No,” Satoru insisted. “Those are theirs. I didn’t drink, sensei,” he explained, his voice a little clearer as he woke up more, but still hoarse and exhausted.
If he hadn’t drank any alcohol, then why was he so drowsy? Why was he flushed, eyes glassy and unfocused? Why was he slurring his words? These all certainly lined up with the symptoms of a hangover.
“Wasn’t… wasn’t feelin’ up to it,” Satoru admitted, sitting up a little, tipping sideways and almost falling back over if not for Yaga catching him. His body was quite warm, as he’d just been wrapped up in a bundle of blankets next to Suguru, the human space heater.
Now, he was concerned. If Satoru was telling the truth, then… What was wrong with him? He definitely looked hungover. Besides, it was unlike Satoru to turn down a good time.
“Are you sure? You certainly look quite hungover, Gojo,” he said. “Headache, sleepy, unsteady, slurring words - all common signs.”
Satoru yet again shook his head, persistent. “I’m not hungover,” he told Yaga, voice almost a whine as his eyes slipped shut again. “Just… sick, I think.”
Sick? That explained the cloth… and Satoru’s odd behavior. He was also quite unusually warm, now that Yaga thought more about it. Perhaps he wasn’t lying, as the man had first suspected.
“Hmm. Is that so? What about everybody else?” Yaga questioned.
Satoru nodded this time. “Yeah. They had… few bottles, I think. Wasn’t really paying attention…”
As he gained more awareness, his eyes still closed, he began to wince at the slightest movements and sounds, clear signs of a bad headache. Yaga felt bad, suddenly, about pestering him so much about the whole situation. He pressed a gentle hand to his student’s forehead, finding it quite hot, and then felt even worse.
“You’re burning up,” he told the boy on the bed, who nodded.
“Told Shoko I had a bad headache last night, but… she threw a wet cloth at me and told me to sleep it off, that… that I was being lame for not drinking,” Satoru explained. It sounded enough like something Shoko would do that Yaga was inclined to believe him.
The man sighed, sitting Satoru up in bed, his expression softened. “Why don’t we get you somewhere quiet so that you can rest a little bit easier, like your own dorm?”
Satoru tilted his head slightly, like a curious puppy, and said, “I can rest in here pretty well, though.”
Yaga smirked and chuckled softly as he looked forward at his poorly pupil. “Maybe for now, you can,” he replied.
“But trust me, you won’t sleep so soundly once I begin scolding them for their irresponsibility,” Yaga explained. “For once, you won’t be on the receiving end of my wrath.”
Satoru smiled a little bit at that, his tired eyes brightening an inch, likely at the thought of his classmates’ scolding. It was rare that Satoru wasn’t the one being yelled at for misdemeanor.
“Oh, come on, I’ll be fine for a few more minutes, sensei,” Satoru insisted.
He smirked quite sloppily, his face so flushed and tired-looking that it just appeared goofy. “At least let me watch.”
Yaga sighed, his lips curling up slightly. He nodded and patted his ailing student on the shoulder.
“Okay, Gojo, but then it’s right to bed with you; I want you in top shape for your mission on Wednesday,” he replied.
Satoru nodded and yawned. “Mmhmm. Sounds good to me…” he slumped forward, eyes drifting shut, and Yaga’s eyes held fondness as he caught his loopy student.
Despite his promise to Satoru, Yaga was forced to surrender the boy to bed as he fell back asleep, shivering and fire-hot against the man’s chest. Yaga took the boy into his arms, quietly traversing around his other students as he carried Satoru to his dorm.
Maybe he would hold off on scolding the others until another day - perhaps one where Satoru was well enough to see it.