Archive of Our Own ^beta

one

So, maybe Megumi has commitment issues.

It is three in the morning, and he’s currently struggling to tug on his underwear without jostling Yuuji’s (it’s Yuuji, now, if only in Megumi’s head) twin xl bed enough to wake him. He would get up, but it’s November and the world has decided to skip right over his favorite season, with the nice, refreshingly cool autumn breezes, and go straight to the bone-chilling temperatures and visible breath of winter, so he’s unwilling to climb out from underneath the warmth of the duvet just yet. Yuuji, ever the people pleaser, sleeps like the dead next to him, one arm tossed loosely over Megumi’s waist and the other crooked beneath his pillow. If Megumi isn’t careful an ill-placed elbow might result in sad puppy dog eyes and an uncomfortable conversation, both of which he desperately wishes to avoid, so he keeps his movements slow and measured.

He knows he could just fall asleep here. Yuuji wouldn’t mind. He would probably be delighted, actually, but Megumi can’t bring himself to stay. He had tried for the last hour before realizing the bed beneath him felt too small and Yuuji’s arms around him too tight. Breathing shallow, he had quickly decided that he needed to leave. In his head he commits to texting Yuuji when he gets home so he wouldn’t worry, at the very least, but sharing a bed is too much too soon.

Finally, after what feels like half an hour of shimmying and realizing he is ridiculously out of shape and should ask Maki for more sparring sessions, he manages to pull on most of his clothes without rousing the pink-haired man. He waits beneath the covers for another few minutes, letting his and Yuuji’s body heat warm his black slacks and button down before slipping out of bed as silently as he can. Catching himself in the mirror, he groans at the state of his suit. It’s from Armani, but with how wrinkled and askew it is now he wouldn’t fault someone for thinking he’d snatched it off the sales rack.

It takes a moment to locate his socks, having been haphazardly discarded in their rush to Yuuji’s bed after last night’s frat formal. When he does find them he comes a hair's breadth away from Yuuji’s slightly ajar closet door. He’s no saint, so when he sees a glimmer of something shiny he peeks in, pulling the door open ever so gently, still cognizant of the sleeping man not more than three feet behind him.

There, on the floor of Yuuji’s closet, is a pile of glittering presents. The absolutely abysmal wrapping job tells him Yuuji is responsible. Again, curiosity gets the better of him so he leans closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the names written on each gift. Maybe for Choso? Or Nanami?

The label on the first present makes his half-smile drop. Unfortunately, his guesses are wrong.

To: Megumi <3

From: Yuuji :)

Okay. One gift isn’t bad. His birthday and Christmas are both coming up, and Yuuji is a nice guy, so it only makes sense that he would think to get Megumi something. Of course, it’s a little weird to have bought the present this far in advance, considering they are further away from either of those dates than they are from when they started this thing they have going on. But, a nice gesture regardless.

Content with the idea that Yuuji must have been shopping for his friends and family and just so happened to find something to get Megumi, he begins to lean out of the closet. Until he catches sight of Yuuji’s chicken scratch writing on the present directly beneath the first. And on the next. And actually on all of them, he realizes with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Almost all of the gifts are for him.

Scratch that. All of the gifts are for him.

A little crazed at the scene in front of him, he begins to dig through the pile, a vain search for any gift not addressed to him with that stupidly adorable little heart drawn next to his name. He comes up empty. Surely Yuuji hadn’t only bought gifts for him. Surely.

They had only been seeing each other as more than friends for three weeks. Until last week Megumi hadn’t even told Nobara that anything had happened when they’d talked the morning after Halloween, after Yuuji fought his ex and drove him home from that party, drunk off his ass and potentially concussed. It is too soon for gift giving. Gift giving is a strictly committed relationship type of activity, and Megumi can’t even stay the night in the guy’s bed. He’s so distraught he doesn’t even care that he’s begun leaning back against Yuuji’s bag of dirty laundry, in need of something solid to ground him.

He shakes his head. This is dramatic. He’s being dramatic. Yuuji is just a giving sort of guy (as evidenced by what they had been up to no more than an hour before, his brain unhelpfully reminds him). This isn’t a Yuuji and Megumi thing. It’s just a Yuuji thing.

It has to be.

-

Yuuji texts him in the morning, hearting Megumi’s message from hours ago telling him he’d been feeling sick and didn’t want to wake him so he went home. In a slew of about five messages, Yuuji ensures that he wouldn’t have minded, he inquires about both Megumi’s health and his schedule for the day, and he asks if Megumi wants to go see a movie with him later, if he has time.

It’s a lot, since Megumi is running on about three hours of sleep. For some god forsaken reason Yuuji’s frat had decided to have their semester formal on a Wednesday, of all days, so now he’s suffering alone in his early morning o-chem lecture.

He hadn’t even planned to go, originally. Yuuji brought it up a few times before they both confessed, mentioning over coffee or lunch how he wouldn’t mind going stag if his brothers wouldn’t rag on him so much. At one point he had jokingly proposed that Megumi join him for the evening, since people bring friends as their dates all the time, he claimed, and Megumi was his friend. Going forward Megumi had expertly avoided that topic to avoid spilling his guts when confronted with the idea of being Yuuji’s date to something.

Then, Halloween happened, and Megumi and Yuuji became this weird, amorphous thing they are now. Going on dates but not officially dating, sleeping together but not sleeping over, texting constantly but not seriously talking about any of it. It was nice. Megumi had quickly grown accustomed to their carefully balanced connection.

When Yuuji officially asked him to be his date for the formal (in the most Yuuji way possible, with a giant, handwritten poster, a cake, and a handful of balloons), his gut instinct was to say no. It was on the tip of his tongue, a soft rejection of “it’s too soon,” but then Yuuji had smiled at him like he always does, like it's the easiest thing in the world to smile with Megumi around, and he’d turned into a puddle. The most he could muster was a stunned nod, and that had resulted in Yuuji hugging him tight enough to crack a rib, if he wasn’t careful.

The formal had been fine. Good, even. Yuuji was a complete gentleman, picking Megumi up in Todo’s beat up sedan and pinning a boutonniere to his own chest before handing Megumi a corsage. It felt like they were in high school, struck dumb by their feelings and grinning like idiots. Megumi hadn’t even minded that Yuuji got him a corsage instead of his own boutonniere (Gojo rarely taught him the rules of etiquette but Megumi is usually kind of a stickler for them, except where Yuuji is involved, apparently).

They were an odd pair, Megumi in his well-tailored, two thousand dollar suit (bought with Gojo’s credit card for Tsumiki’s fancy birthday dinner the year before) and Yuuji in one borrowed from one of the other frat brothers that clung a bit too tight to his broad frame. Regardless, Nobara had forced them to pose for pictures in the apartment entryway like they were going to senior prom, threatening bodily harm otherwise. Once they’d arrived at the frat house, teeming with people dressed to the nines pounding shots and chugging beers to pregame the event, Megumi’s anxiety had returned. Yuuji was quick to quell it with an easy grin and stupid joke. The frat hired buses to drive everyone to the venue, which was a rented out bar in a fancy hotel, and they’d had a good time dancing and drinking. Yuuji stuck close to him the entire night, turning down offers for after parties and the like with a possessive arm wrapped around Megumi’s waist, making him feel all tingly inside. Megumi had been careful not to get too drunk, knowing that he’d hoped the night would end the way it inevitably did, with him under Yuuji, deliriously happy.

The night had been good. So what if he left after.

But now, he’s sitting here, alone in his o-chem lecture, staring at the empty seat beside him and wishing Yuuji was there to fill it like he had been a few weeks ago. After admitting that he’d completely lied about taking o-chem so he could spend more time with Megumi, Yuuji had stopped attending. He’d offered to continue with a teasing smirk, but Megumi was too proud to admit he liked seeing him there, liked sitting beside him while he doodled across his notebook and stared unabashedly at Megumi’s side profile.

He rolls his neck, hearing it crack and pop a few times as he tries to refocus on what Shoko is saying. Throughout the whole lecture his eyes keep drifting to the empty chair beside him, but he manages to take decent enough notes to feel okay about letting them drift every once in a while.

He doesn’t respond to Yuuji’s texts until after the lecture when he stops at the campus cafe to grab a sandwich and a coffee.

me (12:07 pm)

yea a movie sounds good. i’m free after 5

itadori (12:08 pm)

yay! i'll pick you u up at 6:30 <3

itadori (12:08 pm)

i’m so excited !!!!!

itadori (12:09 pm)

dress warm btw

me (12:13 pm)

looking forward to it

Megumi hearts the first message, feeling his own heart pump quickly beneath his ribs. A stupid smile overtakes his mouth. He brings up a hand to cover his blush, and before he can start spiraling about how his own message sounded like he was responding to an email his phone buzzes again.

noobara (12:14 pm)

look to ur right dumbass

He quirks an eyebrow and does as instructed, eyes finding Nobara’s auburn-dyed hair sitting at a table across the crowd of customers. She waves him over, and as he approaches he sees Maki sitting next to her. He pulls out the third chair at their little round table and takes a seat, unwrapping his sandwich and taking a sip of his too-hot but just bitter enough black coffee. Maki levels him with a suspicious look.

“What are you so happy about, loverboy?”

Biting savagely into his sandwich, Megumi feigns ignorance and attempts to school his expression. “What are you talking about?”

His cousin narrows her eyes and leans toward him. Megumi doesn’t fail to notice how she keeps one arm around the back of Nobara’s chair. Cute. “Cut the shit, you were just grinning like a loon, what the hell is going on?”

Megumi waits for a beat, taking another bite. “Nobara didn’t tell you yet?”

“Tell me what?” Nobara shoots him a death glare as Maki whips around to look at her. “Tell me what?”

“I would have thought you’d appreciate my discretion, Megs. But now I know not to bother.”

Maki groans. “Okay, seriously, someone fill me in or I’ll smack both of you.”

Upon seeing Nobara’s mischievous expression he immediately regrets his decision to allow her to say anything at all about him and Yuuji. “Megumi probably got dicked down by a certain pink-haired frat bro last night, and with how often he keeps looking at his phone I predict he’s hoping it will happen again tonight.”

At the same time Maki huffs out a surprised laugh, Megumi smacks the back of Nobara’s head and fights a blush. “Oh my god! I am never telling you anything about my life ever again.”

Maki whispers something to Nobara that makes her giggle before turning back to Megumi. “You sly dog, you and Itadori finally took your heads out of your asses? I’m impressed, it usually takes you at least another month or two before you’re even ready to admit you like someone at all. So, when’s the wedding?”

He sets down his sandwich and rubs his temples. Nobara, an opportunist at heart, reaches over and tears off a hunk of his meal for herself, and Maki playfully hits her arm in response.

“It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?” Both women look at him, attentive but with an undeniable air of judgment.

“We’re just…it’s casual.”

“Casual.”

“Yes, casual.”

Casual. Because Megumi cannot handle anything more than that right now. Or maybe ever, if he’s feeling pessimistic about it. He gets lost in thought for a moment, remembering how he was so quick to become official with Sukuna the year before. They had barely gone on three dates, all of which ended with them in Sukuna’s bed, when the tattooed man leaned over him and whispered the question into his hickey-ridden neck. In his naivety, he’d taken their commitment to one another seriously. Sukuna became Megumi’s life, and was all too happy to let the then first year fall deeper and deeper into him while giving as little back as possible. He was lucky, honestly, that Nobara stuck with him through those first few months.

They had met during welcome week and had only been friends for about a month when he first encountered Sukuna on that damned couch, so she could easily have left him behind, flitted onto the next lonely soul and been happier for it. But she stayed, and over the course of the school year helped him realize being with Sukuna made everything worse, not better. He’d been isolated, emotionally beaten down, and Nobara helped him pull himself up and out of the dark hole he’d become stuck in. He’d made a promise to himself then, after finally getting the courage to break up with Sukuna just before spring finals week, that he wouldn’t find himself in the same spot ever again. Would not let a relationship become his undoing or let another person dictate who he was ever, ever again.

Keeping things casual with Yuuji makes sense. He’d rushed in before and gotten burned, and now he is learning from his mistakes. Nobara should be proud of him. Plus, it isn’t like Yuuji’s in a rush to define their relationship either. He’s been happy enough thus far as they are, where Yuuji can remain Mr. Notoriously Unattainable and Megumi can avoid drowning in another ill-fated relationship. If Yuuji wanted something more, he would say so.

He’s brought back to the moment by the sound of ice clanking as Nobara chugs her coffee. She snorts. “Because spending every waking minute thinking about each other is casual, sure.” He rolls his eyes. Whatever, what does she know anyway? He occupies his fidgety hands by tearing apart the bread of his sandwich, a little pile of crumbs building on his napkin. His friend’s tone turns serious when she continues speaking. “Megumi. That man is a catch and a half, and for some unknown reason he likes you. He really likes you. And you like him, I know you do! You better not be self-sabotaging right now or I swear to god-”

He cuts her off before she can bring them any further down that path. “I’m not! Both of us want to keep it lowkey for now, trust me. He understands.”

He’s not self-sabotaging, honestly. He’s not. How could this be self-sabotage? It is self-protection, if anything.

No matter that the sight of a pile of gifts had nearly given him a panic attack on Yuuji’s bedroom floor. No matter that his heart starts racing anytime his phone buzzes and he hopes it will be a text from Yuuji, getting disappointed anytime it isn’t, but he still carefully waits to ensure his response is delayed enough to portray nonchalance.

Both women give him a look, but thankfully they let it drop, moving on to discussing the next drama in the friend group (Inumaki and Okkotsu are kind of a thing now, apparently, which seems to please Nobara as she stares at Maki, besotted). He lets himself relax back into the conversation, shoving all those confusing feelings to the back of his mind where they belong.

He isn’t self-sabotaging. He’s being smart.

He is.

—

two

Yuuji arrives at Megumi’s apartment at precisely 6:29 that evening.

me (5:48 pm)

just honk when you get here, i’ll meet you downstairs

The message was read, but Yuuji hadn’t responded other than to say he was on his way at around 6:15. Evidently ignoring Megumi’s instructions, the man must have somehow charmed the building’s concierge into letting him up the elevator (which is honestly somewhat of a security concern), as the sound of his knuckles rapping across the door in a cheery rhythm rings through the apartment. Megumi is lounging in his bed reviewing his anatomy notes when he hears the knock. Shiro and Kuro, who had been curled up at the foot of his bed, startle as he shoots up, loose sheets of paper fluttering in the air around him. He needs to get to the door before Nobara catches wind of what's going on, or he will never hear the end of it.

He slams open his bedroom door and comes face to face with his friend, standing in her own bedroom doorway, whose eyes narrow at his anxious expression.

There’s a moment of hesitation where pure fear overcomes Megumi and Nobara grins wickedly. She shoves past him and cackles, racing to the door. He’s prevented from catching up to her by a stray pair of shoes, an embarrassing yelp tearing from his throat as he half-trips, half-stumbles into the kitchen. Managing to catch his balance before braining himself on the kitchen counter, he rushes to the entryway.

Unfortunately for him, Nobara is already posted up in front of the open door, hands on her hips and head cocked to the side.

Of course, Yuuji is standing there with the brightest smile on his face, dressed in a sweatshirt that at least doesn’t have any visible holes and a pair of faded jeans, and—oh my god are those flowers?

Nobara angles herself so Megumi can slide in to stand next to her. She gives him a look then puts on a megawatt smile, aimed straight at their guest. “Itadori! To what do we owe the pleasure of your joyful presence on our doorstep this fine evening? I presume it has something to do with my dear sweet companion Megumi here?” She punctuates the sentence by throwing an arm across Megumi’s shoulders. It’s a little awkward, as he’s forced to hunch over to make up for her shorter frame. Not a position that puts him at an attractive angle for Yuuji, surely.

Either uncaring or unaware of her sarcasm, Yuuji beams. Megumi has half a mind to interrupt before he can answer her, but Yuuji is quicker to the punch. “Yeah, I’m here to pick him up for our movie date.” At the conclusion of his statement he holds the flowers out toward Megumi, who has to pinch his inner arm to avoid letting out a groan at Yuuji revealing their plans to his insufferable roommate. Even so, his cheeks feel hot. “These are for you!”

Said roommate elbows him, making him wince. “A date, huh? How sweet!” She grabs the flowers before Megumi can. “I’ll put these in a vase, be right back.” She goes to leave, but doubles back and briefly grabs Megumi by the collar. “Do not leave before I return.”

Megumi grumbles an agreement and the redhead turns on her heel and practically skips down the hall. Yuuji starts to shift on his feet, one hand on the opposite elbow, and the movement snaps Megumi back to the moment. “Uh, sorry. Did you want to come in? I’m pretty much ready to go but Nobara might stab me in my sleep if I don’t listen to her so we have to wait a second.”

Immediately Yuuji crosses the apartment threshold. He goes to toe off his shoes when Megumi stops him, ensuring they’ll leave in a minute. He grabs his keys from the bowl on the entryway table just as the sound of water filling glass emanates from the direction of the kitchen.

Yuuji’s eyes scan up and down his body, and for a moment Megumi thinks he’s getting checked out, but then Yuuji rapidly proves Megumi to be a narcissist. “Do you have another jacket? It’s cold outside.”

Megumi cocks an eyebrow. He’s wearing black jeans and a sweater, plenty warm enough for a movie theater. “I’ll be fine. You ignored my text.”

The pink-haired man frowns for a moment, but doesn’t press further. Almost instantly the smile is back and he sidles up to Megumi, clasping both of their hands together and leaning into Megumi’s personal space. Against his own self-preservation instincts, Megumi lets him. “You thought I would pick you up for a date and not come to the door? Who do you think I am?” He doesn’t wait for Megumi to answer, continuing on and bouncing on his toes like a kid on too much sugar. “I’m excited to hang out, I missed you.”

He snorts. “You saw me like sixteen hours ago.”

“Yeah, sixteen too many.”

“You’re insufferable.” Any venom in Megumi’s words is neutralized by the fact that he interlaces their fingers and bumps their noses together. Yuuji takes the bait, closing the gap and pressing a series of close-mouthed kisses onto Megumi’s smile-stretched lips. He’s about to deepen the kiss, tongue trailing over Yuuji’s bottom lip, when an exaggerated retching noise causes them both to jolt, teeth and noses knocking together painfully.

“Please, no homosexual PDA in my good Christian home.”

Putting some space between himself and Yuuji (but keeping one pair of hands linked), Megumi rolls his eyes. “You’re an atheist. And a lesbian.”

Nobara crosses her arms, now flowerless. “And you’re a loser. Are we just stating facts for fun now?”

“Whatever, we’re leaving. Don’t wait up.” He reopens the front door and ushers Yuuji out. Maybe Nobara isn’t planning to embarrass him like he thought she was.

“Trust me, I won’t. It’ll be nice to have a night free of your loud-ass snoring.”

And, there it is. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. See you later.”

Before he can follow Yuuji out the door, Nobara tugs him into a hug, forcing him to drop Yuuji’s hand to accommodate her. Hugging is weird for them even on a normal day, so he’s stiff, expecting a jab to the ribs or maybe a yank on his hair. Instead, she only squeezes him tight, burying her head in his neck for a moment. Surprised, he slowly wraps his arms around her waist, giving her a single squeeze back. The weirdly tender moment is ruined when she twists her head, lips grazing Megumi’s earlobe as she whispers.

“Casual my ass. Don’t fuck this up, idiot, he even brought flowers.” She pulls back, giving him no time to process her words or respond as she uses her hands on his shoulders to maneuver him out the door. Her next words are loud enough for Yuuji to hear them, now a few steps down the hall. “Only do everything I would do, lovebirds!”

Laughing (in that wonderful, musical way he does), Yuuji regrabs Megumi’s hand and leads them to the elevator. “Come on, the movie starts soon but we should have enough time to get some snacks beforehand if we hurry.”

When they get outside Megumi scans the block for Todo’s beat up sedan, but Yuuji pulls him toward a large pickup truck parked across the street. It’s newer than Todo’s car, surely, and expensive-looking. He hauls himself into the passenger side seat (after Yuuji very graciously opens his door and keeps his hand on the low of Megumi’s back to help him up). “Did you buy a truck?”

“No! No, it’s one of the guys’. No way I could afford this. Not everyone can be Mr. Moneybags like you.” Yuuji pokes his side then shuts the passenger door, jogging around the front of the truck and pulling himself into the driver’s seat. His muscles strain against the sleeves of his sweatshirt and Megumi has to squeeze his hands between his thighs to distract himself.

He shifts in his seat. “Todo needed his car or something? And It’s Gojo’s money, not mine.”

At the mention of Gojo Yuuji shifts a bit, face twisting for a moment, but then it’s gone and he’s grinning once more. He slaps the dash like a car salesman and Megumi snickers. “Or something! But it’s fine! This baby’ll get us there just as fast.” With that Yuuji starts the car, one of his hands finding its way to Megumi’s thigh and the other guiding the wheel with an open palm as he reverses out of the spot. “Let’s rock and roll.”

Megumi’s nose scrunches. “Please, never say that again.”

The drive is short, maybe ten minutes, but Megumi’s nerves feel haywire the entire time. Yuuji’s hand on his thigh burns, but everytime he considers pushing it away his gut sinks and his nails dig into his palms, so it stays there the whole time.

It’s not that Megumi is uncomfortable with the idea of going on a date with Yuuji, not really. It’s just a lot. Coming to the door, the flowers, opening the car door for him. It’s all very…coupley. And sure, they’re literally going on a date right now (he isn’t delusional enough to pretend that’s not what this is), but Yuuji is putting in effort for some reason and it’s making Megumi anxious.

Maybe his unease is evident in his body language because suddenly Yuuji is rubbing a comforting thumb into Megumi’s leg in slow, calming circles, his other fingers tightening their grip ever so slightly. Megumi’s breath catches, but he thinks what the hell! and rests his hand over Yuuji’s. Saying nothing, Yuuji flips over his hand and lets Megumi hold it, thumb restarting its movement on the back of his hand instead of on his thigh.

Eventually they pull into a big, dirt lot full of other cars, an enormous blow up screen tied to the ground a few rows ahead of them with random advertisements projected on it. Megumi feels his stomach flip.

“I thought we were going to see a movie.”

“We are seeing a movie.” They stop at a booth and Yuuji rolls down his window to speak to the attendant. Megumi lifts his hips to grab his wallet, attempting to lean over Yuuji and offer his card. The pink-haired man pushes his hand down, quickly giving the attendant (who looks entirely too bored at this entire interaction) two of what look to be paper tickets and a few bills to cover the parking fee.

“I mean, I thought we were going to a movie theater.”

He hums, turning the wheel. “Did I say that we were going to a movie theater?”

“...No.”

Chuckling, Yuuji drives off from the entry gate, eyes locked on the road as he searches for a good spot. He has to be careful, since there are dozens of people walking around between the cars, many carrying food and drinks as they head toward the front of the lot, where Megumi can see some picnic benches set up next to a small snack bar. Yuuji’s eyes light up and he mumbles that he’s found the perfect spot. He parks, briefly releasing Megumi’s hand to put it on the back of his seat and looking over his shoulder as he backs into the spot so they end up facing away from the screen. Megumi raises a questioning brow, but Yuuji only gestures to the until-now unnoticed pile of pillows and blankets in the back seat of the truck.

They clamber out of the car and Yuuji directs him to stand by the back of the truck. He’s handed an assortment of plush items and told to set them in the truck bed. Catching onto what Yuuji has planned, Megumi begins to arrange the items. He lays out a few blankets to provide some cushioning and builds a wall around the edge so they don’t have to lean against the metal of the truck. When Yuuji is finished moving things from inside the car, he helps Megumi set everything up. After a few minutes they have a veritable sanctuary from the cold.

Yuuji hops down and points over his shoulder to the snack bar Megumi noticed earlier. “I’m gonna go grab us some grub. Be right back!” Megumi isn’t quick enough to tell him what he wants before the man is shooting off, pace somewhere halfway between a jog and a run.

Thankful for the moment alone, Megumi takes a second to collect himself before finding a nice spot within their fort to tuck into. A cool breeze washes over him, and he pulls his chosen blanket closer. It isn’t even five minutes later that Yuuji returns, snacks in hand.

He climbs back into the truck bed with little effort and unceremoniously dumps an assortment of sweet and savory snacks onto Megumi’s lap (though he is more careful with the two sodas and what look to be hot dogs). Megumi looks down at the feast in front of them as Yuuji settles in beside him, leaving a respectable gap and wrapping himself in his own blanket. To his surprise, Yuuji has selected multiple of his favorites without prompting.

Speaking through a small smile, Megumi chastises him. “You didn’t let me tell you what I wanted.”

Yuuji hesitates, hands stalling as he reaches for one of the hot dogs. “You don’t like any of it?”

Megumi shakes his head. “No, I do. Thank you. Although it is a little creepy that you know all my favorite snacks already.” He even bought ginger candies, which Megumi thought were only available in the purses of old ladies or at the one old corner store thirty minutes from campus.

“You say creepy, I say thoughtful.” Yuuji is only half paying attention to him, now too busy fiddling with what looks like a small speaker (maybe a radio?).

Shifting a few inches closer, Megumi knocks their shoulders together. “I would have grabbed an extra jacket if I knew we would be outside.”

He’s expecting Yuuji to say I told you so or maybe poke fun at his comparatively scrawny and thus colder body. What he isn’t expecting, though perhaps he should have, is Yuuji to completely drop what he’s doing and look at him with eyes full of so much concern it’s almost laughable. “I’m sorry, I wanted it to be a surprise. Are you really cold?”

With a laugh Megumi leans toward his date (his date!). “Just a little.”

Yuuji is still looking at him. His face twists, and then he’s shrugging off his hoodie and holding it out for Megumi to slide into. Megumi’s eyes widen. “Here.”

“No, no. I swear I’m fine! It’s my own fault for being so desperate to avoid Nobara earlier that I didn’t really listen to you.” He pushes the sweatshirt back toward Yuuji, but the pink-haired man holds fast.

“Take it. I run warm anyway.”

Sensing that Yuuji won't be taking no for an answer, Megumi lets out an exaggerated groan (as if he’s the one being put out by this) and tugs on the hoodie. It’s still warm from Yuuji’s body heat, and almost on instinct Megumi nuzzles his cold-reddened nose into the collar. As subtly as he can he inhales, and is pleased to find the fabric holds the lingering woody, caramelly scent of Yuuji’s cologne (an improvement on the Axe body spray he usually wears). A shiver runs down his spine, though he doesn’t think it’s from the cold.

He wants to complain about the gesture, but Yuuji looks so damned pleased that he just mutters out a soft thanks and huddles closer. They aren’t quite cuddling, Megumi is too nervous to take that leap just yet, but they are pressed together from shoulder to hip.

He isn’t really sure why he feels so nervous. They’ve been hanging out alone together for weeks, and this isn’t really any different. For god’s sake they’ve fucked about as many times as they’ve kissed by this point. He has literally nothing to hide, no reason to be nervous at all, but his body is alight where it touches Yuuji’s and his palms are sweating as he glances at Yuuji’s hand, sitting loosely in his lap after having successfully tuned the radio to the proper frequency for the movie audio.

The silence between them isn’t exactly uncomfortable. Yuuji seems fine, eyes bright as he hums along to the backing track of whatever commercial is currently being displayed. So why does Megumi feel like his stomach is in his ass?

He runs his tongue over his teeth beneath his lips, considering. Feeling uncharacteristically brave, he reaches over and takes Yuuji’s hand into his own. “So, what movie are we watching then? Something old?”

Yuuji laces their fingers together and Megumi thinks his chest may cave in. “It’s a marathon of all the Human Earthworm movies, actually! I couldn’t believe our luck that it was happening tonight.”

His grip on Yuuji’s hand tightens. He attempts to freeze his face into something that doesn’t look absolutely appalled at the idea of sitting through any number of the not one, not two, but five Human Earthworm movies. Yuuji looks at him, honest excitement painted on his face, and for some reason Megumi really doesn’t want to make him sad. His eye twitches, but he manages to keep something akin to a smile on his face. “Oh. How lucky!”

His date bites his lip before bursting into uproarious laughter, leaning his head on Megumi’s shoulder as the sound wracks through his body. Megumi stiffens for a second, confused, but leans into the touch. “I’m totally kidding! Oh my god, you should have seen your face. I think they’re playing Die Hard, since I guess it’s too early for traditional Christmas movies,” he leans back and taps a finger on Megumi’s temple, “so don’t worry about forcing your pretty eyes to stoop down to my level and watch ‘wormo man.’”

Megumi is caught between blushing at Yuuji calling his eyes pretty (his favorite compliment to give, it seems) and groaning at being made fun of. Settling on being annoyed, he shoves Yuuji away. “You’re such a dick.”

Immediately, Yuuji tugs him back into his side. Megumi feels a little flustered at the ease with which Yuuji maneuvers his body to his liking. No longer satisfied with just sitting beside each other, the pink-haired man pulls Megumi’s legs to lay across his thighs and wraps an arm around Megumi’s waist while the other rests lazily on his lap. Despite his ploy at acting annoyed, Megumi curls into the hold. He rests his head on Yuuji’s shoulder and plays with the strings of the hoodie he now wears. He shivers when Yuuji pushes a hand beneath his sweater and drags his idle fingers up and down Megumi’s spine. Megumi is sure that if you took an x-ray right now, his insides would look like those plasma balls, bolts of electricity shooting to his skin at every touch.

The floodlights which had been lighting the parking lot start to dim, and there’s the sound of shuffling feet as people rush to their cars before the movie starts. Yuuji places the speaker in a spot for optimal sound distribution and they collect their snacks and drinks, creating a little pile between themselves.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as the movie opening plays. Bruce Willis gets off his plane in LA just as Megumi decides to give up on the pretense of actually watching the film, choosing instead to stare at his date. Yuuji is enraptured, eyes alight with the glow of the giant screen and hand digging into a bag of chips.

Since Yuuji was the one to break the cuddling-barrier (after Megumi broke the hand-holding one) Megumi feels more confident in shuffling closer. Yuuji barely moves, only slightly adjusting to accommodate more of Megumi in his lap.

So, Megumi shifts again, this time dragging his hand down Yuuji’s chest so it comes to rest on his lower stomach, right above the waistband of his jeans. Again, Yuuji doesn’t take notice. He briefly takes the hand he’d been using to shovel chips into his mouth and squeezes Megumi’s, but then goes right back to munching. Megumi frowns.

Normally, he finds Yuuji’s love for movies adorable. His (well, not his) cute film studies major, with big aspirations to be a producer on blockbuster horror flicks and the talent to match. It’s truly admirable, the way he can dissect a film so precisely. Yuuji may be anything but precise in his day to day life, and he may be a complete bonehead when it comes to pretending to understand anything Megumi mentions about his own classes, but he notices everything about movies. In the short time they’ve known each other, Megumi has learned that Yuuji can tell you the name of a film’s cinematographer based on only a few frames, or list the five best movies in any working director’s repertoire at the drop of a hat, and Megumi loves it. He does. He loves hearing about Yuuji’s passions and watching his face shift as his brain processes a new movie. But, Megumi also loves that whenever they watch movies together in private (huddled over a laptop while cuddled up in Yuuji’s bed after a round or two, or on Megumi’s couch when he can get Nobara to leave the damn apartment for once), it takes embarrassingly little effort to distract him.

Usually, all Megumi has to do is rub a hand across Yuuji’s thigh or press a kiss to his neck and he has all the attention he wants. Then, because he’s a brat, he’ll huff out something stupid like ‘watch the movie, idiot’ and Yuuji will respond with something even more stupid like ‘you are way more entertaining’ or ‘I prefer watching you,’ and his earnesty never fails to make Megumi feel fuzzy. More often than not it ends up with them making out and missing the entire film, to Megumi’s delight.

But now it’s like Yuuji is making an effort not to look at him.

Megumi knows they’re in public, but what’s the point of making this cozy little lounge if not to make good use of it and make out like a couple of teenagers?

It’s about fifteen minutes into the movie that, with a furrowed brow, he scoots even closer. At this point, he’s basically sitting in Yuuji’s lap. Again, Yuuji adjusts. This time he at least turns a questioning eye to Megumi, who murmurs out an “‘s cold” that makes Yuuji hum in agreement and squeeze him tighter before turning back to the screen. A minor success, but still not enough.

He’s about ready to give up and just start sucking a hickey onto Yuuji’s neck when the man speaks.

“How come you never talk about Gojo?”

Megumi freezes, lips an inch from Yuuji’s collarbone. Gojo is the last person he wants to be thinking about right now. “Huh?”

Yuuji shifts, turning so he’s looking straight at Megumi. He pulls up his legs before resettling them on either side of Megumi’s hips, so Megumi is forced to either bring his knees to his chest or rest his legs on top of Yuuji’s. The latter seems rather lewd and the mention of his not-dad has killed his mood, so he opts for the former, hugging his arms around his shins. Yuuji frowns but rests his hands on Megumi’s ankles.

“Gojo? You mention him, sometimes, and everytime it seems like you don’t mean to. Even though you barely ever talk about him, he pays for everything for you, and I remember you spent fall break at his house when you visited your sister. Who is he to you?”

To the untrained ear it might sound like Yuuji is jealous, but Megumi can tell that isn’t what this is. The brown eyes that are locked on his blue ones betray nothing but pure curiosity. It’s disarming, so Megumi can’t help it when he responds, “Why do you ask?”

Yuuji’s face scrunches up, like he’s embarrassed. “Well, you’re important to me, and he’s obviously important to you, and I want to know about people who meet your high standards and become important.” He pauses, like he’s considering his next words. “Is he your dad or something?"

The declaration that Yuuji views Megumi as important is almost enough to distract him, but the follow up makes Megumi’s eyebrows raise to his hairline and he can’t stop the snort he lets out. “Gojo is not my dad.”

Yuuji nods, like he expected that. “Okay, then what is he?”

This line of questioning coming out of the blue is making him uncomfortable. In the back of his mind he remembers Yuuji asking about his dogs, and how Megumi refused to show him a picture at first because it felt too personal. He holds the people (and pets) he cares about close to his chest, and for as much as Yuuji means to him (because he does mean something, even if Megumi can’t figure out what yet), Megumi isn’t ready to share this. For one, his messy history and childhood trauma aren’t exactly date-worthy topics, and for another, he rarely talks about his family with anyone, even Nobara. She only met Gojo because the man dropped by their apartment unannounced a few days after they moved in and refused to leave until Megumi let him meet his roommate, and she only met Tsumiki when his sister came over to check on him after the breakup with Sukuna. Both circumstantial and not at all intended. He’s pretty sure some of his friends might not even know he has a sister, let alone a weird not-dad/parental figure who’s only about a decade older than him.

So he settles on, “It’s a long story.”

He expects, or maybe hopes, Yuuji will drop it. He’s sure he couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he tried as he curls in on himself and hides his face in the hood of the sweatshirt. But Yuuji doesn’t give in. He only looks at Megumi expectantly, ready to hear more. “We’ve got—” he looks at his phone “—a little under two hours left of the movie for you to tell me about it.”

“Don’t you wanna watch?” Megumi is grasping at straws to avoid this conversation.

“I’ve seen it probably thirty times.” As if to prove his knowledge, he recites the next few lines of dialogue in tandem with the actor on screen, even going so far as to mimic the sound effects when they apply. Despite himself, Megumi grins. Because Yuuji is cute. “And, anyway, I’m way more interested in you than some action flick.”

Megumi groans, his earlier desire to hear such a stupid line out of Yuuji coming back to bite him in the ass. “Can we talk about something else? Like…how is studying for finals going?”

Yuuji cocks an eyebrow. “You want to talk about school right now?”

“If that will get us off this topic, then yes.”

Yuuji inches closer, hands pushing up to Megumi’s shins. “Come on, I just want to get to know you a little better.”

Okay, now he’s a little annoyed. When Yuuji had confessed his feelings, he’d mentioned being bad at boundaries, but Megumi had never known that to be true. In fact, he’s gotten used to Yuuji being able to read him like a book. Somehow the pink-haired man always knew when Megumi didn’t feel like talking, or didn’t want to be pressed on a topic. So why is now any different? Why won’t he drop it?

“Itadori, I would rather do literally anything other than talk about my family with you.”

That seems to do it, though Megumi hates the brief flash of surprise mixed with disappointment on Yuuji’s face. But he hates the idea of talking about this more, so he doesn’t take it back.

Yuuji doesn’t say anything else. He just nods and turns back toward the screen, disentangling their legs. He doesn’t pull Megumi closer like before, but he also doesn’t push him away when Megumi crawls over and leans back against his chest, head tucking snugly into the crook of his neck.

He has every right to keep his private life private. He doesn’t owe Yuuji an auto-biography just because he asks for one.

Even with those self-assurances, Megumi feels like he’s made a mistake. He keeps quiet, and the movie plays on with silence crackling between them.

—

three

Everything is fine the next day. Well, everything was fine about ten minutes after their disagreement (argument?) when Yuuji gave in to Megumi’s whining and kissed him like he’d wanted all along. The rest of the date had been good, until he was crawling out of Yuuji’s bed long past midnight and the pink-haired man was frowning at him, eyes lidded and on the verge of sleep.

“You can stay, y’know. I don’t mind.”

Megumi had waved him off, blaming an early morning. Yuuji didn’t push, though he did try his darndest to tempt Megumi back into bed by stretching in an obscene manner while settling into his sheets. Megumi had been moments away from caving before he remembered the presents sitting, unassuming, a few feet away behind Yuuji’s closet door.

Still, he hadn’t seemed very upset by the time they parted, which Megumi was glad for. And he woke up the next morning to the normal deluge of texts.

He actually is quite busy the rest of the week and going into the weekend, with multiple club meetings and an ever-growing list of final projects piling up on his desk. He sees Yuuji twice, once to grab lunch and another when Yuuji finds him at the library at a quarter to two in the morning, bearing the gift of black coffee and somehow still warm pastries.

The next week, his schedule opens up a bit and they manage to make more time to see each other. Yuuji picks him up after his Tuesday morning o-chem lecture (he finally confesses that it’s two times as boring without Yuuji there, to which Yuuji says “only two times?”) and they decide to spend the day together in a totally cool, totally casual way.

Now they’re lounging on Megumi’s couch with their legs entangled, Yuuji editing some scene for a student film on his laptop while Megumi attempts to decipher Shoko’s final study guide. Nobara had been on her way out when they came in, and she gave Megumi another look and flicked Yuuji’s forehead before telling them not to defile any common surfaces and trotting out the door. He isn’t sure when Nobara and Yuuji became close enough for her to behave like that, but then again it’s Nobara so when isn’t she crossing the line?

Maybe crossing my lines is what they bond over, he thinks, then immediately regrets it. Yuuji pushed him on something he didn’t want to be pushed on one time, that doesn’t make it a habit nor does it make it something to dwell on.

They’ve been sitting in a comfortable silence of mutual productivity when Yuuji breaks it, shutting his laptop and placing it on the coffee table. “We’re having a mixer tonight at the house.”

Megumi’s eyes stay scanning the study guide. “Again?”

“Yeah, I mean we have them like every other week I think.”

Megumi hums, but he doesn’t look up. Yuuji clears his throat.

“Do you wanna come?”

That makes Megumi set down his notes, raising an eyebrow. “Is there some stupid theme again?”

“Probably,” he shrugs. Megumi considers the offer, then looks into Yuuji’s honey-brown eyes and thinks fuck it. His studying can wait. Even so, he makes a show of thinking it over. He rubs his chin and taps his fingers to his lips, tilting his head this way and that. Eventually Yuuji groans and rises onto his knees to shuffle toward Megumi. He collapses on top of him, burying his face in Megumi’s chest and hugging him. Then he looks up and has those damn puppy dog eyes locked and loaded. “Baby, please?”

The term of endearment is new, but Megumi doesn’t hate it. He thinks he loves it, actually, if the way his stomach is doing cartwheels says anything. He chuckles, running a hand through Yuuji’s unruly yet soft hair. “Alright, fine. But I’m not putting on any type of costume regardless of the theme.”

“Yay!” Yuuji squeezes him tighter and Megumi grunts.

“You are a grown man, do not say ‘yay’ like that.”

Yuuji wrinkles his nose. “Don’t hate on my whimsical personality, baby.”

Megumi leans down to kiss him quiet.

-

By Megumi’s estimations they’ve been at this party for approximately way too fucking long.

They had spent the rest of the day relaxing, ordering in for a combined lunch/dinner before heading over to the frat so Yuuji could help set up. While waiting for Yuuji to finish he nurses a cocktail (generously made for him by Todo as an apology for being a dick after saying “Unfortunately I have to respect you if Yuuji is your type”). He finds himself chatting with the girlfriend of one of the other guys, a girl with blue hair, and he must have been in a really good mood for some reason because he is likable enough for her to invite him to her sorority’s weekend brunch. They exchange instagrams, which is completely out of character for him, but her sweet disposition and the lingering ‘Yuuji Effect’ (as he’s decided this feeling is called) brought his walls down enough to do so.

Thankfully the party is somewhat normal, as normal as frat parties can be at least. The only weird thing he notices is the variation in cup colors. Some were the normal red, but there were also green and yellow ones floating around. He doesn’t care enough to ask why that is and Yuuji finds him and hands him a normal red cup anyway. They dance for a bit, then make out against a wall, and then twenty minutes ago some guy tapped Yuuji on the shoulder with a serious expression and whispered something in his ear. The pink-haired man groaned and promised to be right back, leaving Megumi with a peck on his nose and a sunshiny grin.

That brings him to now, where he is sitting on a wooden swing on the back porch of the frat, still clutching the drink Yuuji had given him. It’s cold outside, but he’s wearing Yuuji’s sweatshirt (just because he hadn’t remembered to give it back after the movie and Yuuji hadn’t asked for it) so he puts down his drink and snuggles into it a bit more in search of warmth. Down the porch steps there's a group of guys smoking weed. They offered him a hit a few minutes ago and he’d declined, but he’s starting to regret it as the seconds tick by with no sign of Yuuji.

Despite recent events that might say otherwise, he really isn’t a party person. Normally he would have Nobara or someone to cling to, even if she was distracted trying to hit on Maki without being obvious about it (why she cares about impressing her when they’d practically eaten each other’s faces on Halloween, he doesn’t know), but when he’s alone he finds it hard to enjoy the atmosphere. The music is too loud, the floor too sticky, the people too handsy. He would much rather be at home reading than be sitting alone at a frat party like a damn loser, but he’d agreed to make Yuuji happy. And now Yuuji’s abandoned me, he thinks, petulantly.

His eyes fixate on the trail of smoke coming out of the joint. He watches it dissipate as the source is passed along, momentarily entranced by the way it melts into the darkened night sky.

Someone sits beside him on the swing, causing it to shift. Instinctively he steadies his cup, which is sitting on the opposite side of him from the new person. He naively hopes it’s Yuuji, but knows he’s wrong based on the fact the person didn’t sit with their sides pressed together, instead opting for a respectable distance between strangers.

Looking up, he’s faced with a stoic looking man. His eyes are almost closed (had he been part of the smoking circle?) and he’s wearing a long-sleeved, black compression shirt. He’s got spiky dark hair and a faded scar in the shape of an ‘x’ over one eye. Megumi distantly thinks he’s someone he might’ve pursued in the past.

The guy doesn’t exactly smile, but his expression brightens as he introduces himself. “Hey, I’m Kamo.”

Megumi doesn’t feel much like talking, and he’s still hoping Yuuji will miraculously aparate in front of him like he sometimes does, but the ‘Yuuji Effect’ is still somewhat active so he decides to be polite. “Fushiguro.”

Not too polite, though.

The guy is holding one of the green cups, he notices. He gestures around them, at the fact they’re sitting outside rather than partaking in the festivities inside. “Not much for parties?”

Shaking his head, Megumi brings one leg up so he can rest his chin on his knee. “Not usually.”

“You’re not in this frat, though, I would know you otherwise.”

“Right, I’m not.”

Scar guy (as Megumi has deemed him, since he’s already forgotten his name) gives him an appraising look. He scoots an inch closer, but there’s still a gap so Megumi doesn’t really notice. He lets his eyes drift back out to the backyard, and they catch on someone puking into a bush which makes him sneer. Scar guy laughs. He’s got a deep voice.

“Can I get you a drink?”

Megumi remembers the half-full drink Yuuji had given him. He grabs it and holds it up. “I’m good, already got one.”

The guy’s eyes widen when he sees the cup, and he shifts backwards, undoing his earlier movement. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see your cup. My apologies.”

Megumi raises a brow and thinks it’s a little weird that this guy apologized twice when he’d literally done nothing wrong. “Don’t sweat it. You’re all good.”

Scar Guy goes to stand, and Megumi stops him with a hand on his elbow. He isn’t sure why, but he does. Maybe he just doesn’t want to keep sitting alone waiting for Yuuji like a lost dog. “No, it’s fine. Seriously. Stay, if you want.” His new companion looks unsure for a moment, but sits back down, leaving the same amount of space. “So, you’re in this frat?”

They get to chatting, and eventually getting on the topic of hometowns, which becomes the topic of family. Megumi is saved from having to be rude when the guy (Kamo) says his own name again while discussing his weird clan. Megumi doesn’t share it at first, but he thinks about his own connection to the Zen’in, to Maki and Mai, and how shitty it all is, so he sympathizes with the guy. He says as much and Kamo shoots him a small smile. Megumi finds himself caving. Not for any particular reason, he doesn’t think. Kamo hasn’t done anything to show that he is or isn’t a trustworthy guy, but Megumi also has no cause to believe he gives a damn or would see Megumi’s family drama as anything more than an attempt at a shallow connection, at bonding over similar but not shared trauma. The lack of pressure almost makes it easy. He divulges his secrets to this near stranger, explaining how he also had expectations placed upon him by a clan, and how every adult in his life has made it their mission to keep him away from them but they somehow find their way in anyway, like maggots. Kamo nods along, humming his agreement and adding his own stories when they fit with Megumi’s.

Again, they exchange Instagrams (Megumi is on a socialization roll today) when Kamo bids him goodbye. He makes some joke about finding another green cup for the night that Megumi doesn’t understand, and then he’s gone and Megumi is alone on the swing again, still gently rocking from the earlier force of Kamo standing up to leave.

It’s been about an hour since he last saw Yuuji, and he’s getting kind of annoyed. Granted, it’s not like he has any right to dictate what Yuuji does or how he spends his time, but Yuuji had invited him here, so.

Deciding that enough is enough, he heads back inside.

The house is fuller than it had been earlier, with an abundance of green and red cups and a handful of yellows. He thinks his best bet is to head for the kitchen, since it’s usually pretty empty and would give him a chance to find Todo (resident bartender for the night) and ask after Yuuji. Pushing through the growing crowd (why are so many people here? it’s a Tuesday!), he makes his way to the kitchen. Luckily, Todo is there, refilling the ice chest to bring to the bar in the next room.

“Todo, have you seen Itadori?”

The large man looks up in surprise, but that quickly shifts to recognition when he realizes Megumi is the one speaking. He stands, ice chest abandoned on the floor, and claps a hand on Megumi’s shoulder. “Fushiguro! Do not fear, my brother should be back any minute, he had to drive someone home.”

Megumi frowns. “He didn’t say he was on sober duty tonight.”

Todo goes back to filling the ice chest. “He isn’t but he hadn’t had anything yet and our designated sober brother was busy with someone else.”

“Ah.”

The man gives him a wide grin that’s a little scary and heaves the cooler onto his shoulder. He points at Megumi’s cup and winks, then turns and exits the kitchen.

Megumi stands there for a moment, unsure how to proceed. If Yuuji had driven someone home then he must be almost back, so he reenters the party to go wait by the door. He really feels like a dog now, waiting at the door for its owner to come home from work. Is it a little pathetic? Maybe, but the promise of seeing Yuuji trumps the embarrassment.

It’s another five minutes of awkward loitering before Yuuji re-enters the frat house. He looks annoyed, gesturing wildly as he rants to the person who entered with him, but he smiles the moment they make eye contact. It’s infectious, and Megumi fights back the matching one tugging on the corners of his lips.

Yuuji practically skips over to him, and whatever issue made him upset is forgotten at the door. He knocks the breath from Megumi as he gathers him in a constricting hug, arms snug around Megumi’s waist. Megumi feels him press a light kiss on his pulse point and then begin nosing along the column of his throat, inhaling.

“Did you just smell me?”

“Gotta get the smell of puke out of my nose, and you always smell good ‘cuz you buy fancy cologne.” Red cup abandoned on a table behind them, Megumi grimaces but doesn’t pull back, letting a hand rest on Yuuji’s nape so he can twirl his fingers through the overgrown undercut while the other traces along his spine. Humming, Yuuji begins rocking them back and forth. He doesn’t try to match the rhythm of the music, just casually shifts their weight side to side as he drinks Megumi in. Very aware that they are standing in the middle of Yuuji’s frat house surrounded by dozens of students with gossip-hungry stares (he notices Kamo out of the corner of his eye, and the man gives him a knowing look that is somewhat disquieting), Megumi tugs on Yuuji’s hair so they can face each other and he can get out a coherent sentence.

Yuuji grins, rubbing their noses together, which makes Megumi laugh in surprise. “Are you drunk? I thought they asked you to help since you hadn’t drank anything yet.”

“‘m not drunk, just happy to see you.”

“It’s been under an hour and you're behaving like you just came back from war.” He doesn’t say that he feels the same. That he’d waited for Yuuji like a wife waiting for her soldier in one of those cliche war films Yuuji hates.

Nose wrinkling, Yuuji squeezes him. “Kinda did. Don’t judge until you’ve had to stop two drunk sorority girls from getting into a fistfight and then somehow get them both home when they refuse to sit in a car together.”

Megumi cocks an eyebrow. “Because you're the authority on not getting in fistfights at frat parties?”

Yuuji throws his head back and groans. “Baby, that was one time.” The music is particularly loud in this spot so Megumi has to lean in to hear him. The pink-haired man’s eyes narrow, and one of his hands drifts lower on Megumi’s back, almost resting on the top of his ass. Not quite inappropriate for being in public, but definitely suggestive. “Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining about my suave rescue at the time. Face it, I was practically your knight in shining armor.”

“Punching my ex was not a ‘suave rescue.’”

“Mhm, whatever you need to tell yourself. You thought it was hot, don’t lie.”

He rolls his eyes and lightly tugs on Yuuji’s hair again just because he likes the way Yuuji’s mouth parts a little when he does it. Then, willing to play dirty to get what he wants, he leans close and nips at Yuuji’s ear, voice a whisper. “I am very tired of this party. I wonder if there’s any hot knights here to rescue me from it?” He punctuates the sentence with a kitten lick on the sensitive spot under Yuuji’s earlobe.

Groaning now for a different reason, Yuuji lifts a hand to look at his watch (Megumi didn’t know he even owned a watch, and he hadn’t noticed that he’d put one on as they got ready earlier). “Yeah, we’re gonna have to shut down soon anyway.” He turns his head and Megumi watches as he locks eyes with Todo and communicates something by wiggling his brows in an erratic rhythm, inadvertently making Megumi giggle. Todo squints as he deciphers the coded message, then nods sagely and cuts the music by unplugging the cord attached to the soundsystem.

The song cuts at a weird spot and the drone of people poorly singing the next lyrics is suddenly loud, though it fades as people realize what’s happened. Upset murmuring erupts around them in response to the interruption.

Pulling away from their embrace, Yuuji grins. He presses a kiss to Megumi’s forehead, softer than sin, before clambering onto a nearby table, paying no mind to the game of beer pong he’s just interrupted by knocking over numerous red, yellow, and green solo cups. Instantly, Megumi knows his not-boyfriend (guy he’s dating? man whose bed he ends up in more often than not? he still isn’t sure) is about to say the dumbest thing imaginable.

Yuuji cups his hands around his mouth in a makeshift megaphone and shouts through his smile.

“If you aren’t a brother or currently fucking a brother, get the hell out of our house!”

Then, he looks down at Megumi and winks.

A chorus of groans starts up as people begin to shuffle past him and trickle out the door, the gross sound of sneakers pulling away from the sticky floor echoing in his ears. A girl who’s being half carried by her friends bumps into him, but Megumi barely notices. His mouth hangs open as he watches Yuuji hop off the table and trot back over as if nothing happened.

“What the hell was that?”

Yuuji shrugs and grabs Megumi’s hand. “There’s way too many people here for a mixer, and cops’ll be here to shut us down soon anyway since it’s nearly two. Wanna come upstairs?”

“Itadori! You can't just shout that sort of thing!”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Megumi yanks back his hand, searching for an answer that isn’t because it makes me feel weird and wonder if I’m not the only one who wants more even though I know I can’t have it. “Because it’s lewd.”

The pink-haired man snickers. “Lewd? What are you, twelve?”

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I don’t. Wanna show me?” He nods his head toward the staircase and steps into Megumi’s space, planting both his hands on Megumi’s ass which makes Megumi yip. God, he really is behaving like a dog tonight. “I’m more of a hands-on learner.”

The heat that had started to slowly swell in his belly evaporates, and he shoves a hand into Yuuji's shoulder. “That was terrible.”

“Maybe, but did it work?”

Megumi’s face scrunches up. “Unfortunately. Let’s go upstairs, you oaf.”

-

It’s about an hour later that Megumi finds himself in the frat house kitchen, dressed in a pair of Yuuji’s boxers and another one of his hoodies as he digs through the considerably disgusting fridge in search of unboiled and unbroken eggs. There’s no one else downstairs, as far as he can tell, with cleanup being left as a tomorrow (well, technically later today) problem, so he’s not quiet as he shoves aside meal prep tupperware and various strange liquids.

He’s humming a tune to himself, only interrupted by a barely audible “yes!” when he discovers the damn egg carton (buried beneath a clear bag of miscellaneous lunch meat). He finds the rice much easier and sets to looking for a clean pot and pan with which to make omurice. Yuuji had complained a few minutes ago when he pulled himself out of bed, but was placated when Megumi explained he was only hungry and was going to make them a snack since that afternoon’s lunch/dinner was going on eleven hours ago. Yuuji had refused to let him get up for a moment more until a deep grumble in his belly made them both laugh.

Luckily, he finds some clean-appearing crockery hidden behind the army of protein powders in the pantry, and he gets right to cooking.

He isn’t really a chef, by any means, but he’s able to follow directions well enough and this is a dish he’s made a hundred times after late nights studying or going out with Nobara, so it takes little to no time at all for him to start finishing up.

Just his luck, then, that someone barges into the kitchen behind him right as he’s carefully pouring his delicately crafted omelets onto their beds of rice. He jumps, and the egg slumps onto the plate with no semblance of shape left to it. Frowning, he turns to confront the intruder (though he is fully aware this literally isn’t his house, and it probably is the house of whoever came in).

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised to see Scar Guy (Kamo) standing there rubbing his eyes in the fluorescent lighting.

“Oh, hey Fushiguro. Didn’t realize you were still here.”

Megumi nods unhelpfully.

Kamo steps into the room, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a jug of milk. “What are you doing here, I should ask?”

Stuttering as he searches for the words, he gestures to the omurice. “Cooking. For Itadori.”

Kamo hums, pouring the milk into a bowl of cereal. “Ah. Should have guessed, I suppose.” He gestures for Megumi to move so he can grab a spoon from the drawer behind him. “You know after I saw you with him I realized I should have known your name before we introduced ourselves, you're practically the frat sweetheart.”

Megumi’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. “Huh?”

The man chuckles lowly, seemingly still half asleep. “Well, I guess you won’t be officially until next year, since Todo’s still president, but you might as well be since it’s not like he’s got a partner to fill the role.” He takes a seat on one of the barstools by the island in the center of the kitchen.

Feeling like an idiot, Megumi just repeats himself. He is completely lost. What the hell is a frat sweetheart?

“A frat sweetheart is like a frat’s designated girl representative. Or, I guess, designated guy in your case. They’re usually in their third or fourth year, usually dating the president or someone else in leadership, and they help out with philanthropy events and attend house dinners and stuff. Itadori hasn’t told you?”

Belatedly, Megumi realizes he must have accidentally said his question out loud. “Why would he need to tell me that?”

Kamo frowns, brow raised, but then he shrugs. “Since Itadori will probably be president next year, and you’re always with him so the guys will get to know you and you’ll end up as the sweetheart. At least if tradition holds.”

“Huh?” God, could Megumi sound any dumber right now? He looks at his omurice, now sagging down the sides of his carefully molded rice mounds. Truly representative of his current emotional state.

Face shifting unintelligibly, Kamo keeps eating his cereal. “Well, you guys are together, right? That’s why you had the red cup?”

His response is delayed (he knows because Kamo has to clear his throat to get one), but he eventually jerks his head to the side. “We aren’t.”

“Aren’t what?”

“Together. Not like that.”

His deja vu is insane right now as he remembers having a similar conversation with Nobara and Maki. Why does everyone act like he’s speaking a different language when he says that?

Now it’s Kamo’s turn to look confused. He pauses with a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth, milk dripping onto the counter. “You aren’t? Hm. Then why did you have a red cup earlier?”

“What? Why does that matter?”

Kamo puts his spoon back into his bowl, the bite of cereal abandoned. He looks at Megumi like he isn’t sure what to say, like Megumi’s question is what’s weird about this conversation, not Kamo’s. “Because red means taken.”

“Red means taken.”

Slowly, Kamo nods as if he’s trying to explain something to a toddler. “Yes. And green means single, and yellow means ‘it’s complicated.’” He attempts another bite of cereal, eyes dropping down to his bowl for a second before going right back to staring into Megumi’s own. “Like traffic lights? That was tonight’s theme.”

Megumi wants to say ‘huh?’ again but he’s afraid Kamo might chuck the bowl at him, so he stays quiet.

Silence hangs between them for a moment. Megumi turns back to his omurice and finishes plating. He hopes it hasn’t gone cold. He grabs two forks and places one on each plate, then picks both up. Kamo’s face is contemplative. “Apologies for assuming, then.” He pauses, head tilting to the side. “I guess I didn’t see what color Itadori’s cup was, so.”

Neither had Megumi, to be fair, since he isn’t sure if Yuuji ever even had a drink in his hand the entire night. He remembers how Yuuji had given him his drink, in the stupid red cup. Now what the hell was that supposed to mean?

“I’m gonna…” He gestures to the door, in the direction of the stairs. Kamo’s eyes widen, then he nods and utters a quiet goodbye, turning back to his cereal.

In a bit of a daze, he makes his way back to Yuuji’s room. He pushes the still-cracked door open with his back, and, upon seeing Yuuji sprawled across his too-small bed with his legs up on the wall and head hanging off the side, bare chest and thick thighs on display, he decides that he does not have the mental or emotional capacity to process his conversation with Kamo right now.

At the sound of the door Yuuji’s head perks up like a meerkat. He rolls onto his stomach and then sits up, patting the bed beside him. Megumi hands him a plate and sits, their knees brushing against each other.

The pink-haired man digs in immediately, making happy little noises as he devours the meal. “That took a while.” He doesn’t sound annoyed, more curious if anything.

Megumi picks at his own plate. He’d kept the ruined one for himself, letting Yuuji have the pretty one. It’s still warm enough to taste good, at least. “Couldn’t find the eggs.”

Yuuji nods in understanding. He sets his plate down on the bedside table for a moment, and Megumi gives him a confused look. Yuuji then reaches over and pulls Megumi into his lap before stretching to grab his plate, hooking his arms around Megumi’s waist and continuing to eat like normal. Megumi settles into the embrace, leaning his temple onto the top of Yuuji’s head and closing his eyes so he can focus on absorbing the man’s warmth.

And if he ends up staying the night for once, who’s gonna notice?

—

four

After giving it some thought, Megumi had been sure that either Kamo was bullshitting when they’d talked in the kitchen, or that Megumi had been too tired to properly remember the conversation, because there is no way Yuuji would be priming him for a position like the frat sweetheart without talking about it. He’s too much of a blabbermouth not to.

That weekend he gets brunch with that blue-haired girl, Miwa Kasumi, under the encouragement of Nobara. When he messages her on Instagram to see if she was serious about brunch (a big step for him), she responds with about a dozen smiling emojis and sends the place and time. Turns out she’s sort of friends with Todo and Kamo, and is dating another member of the frat he hadn’t yet met named Muta, and that’s why she’d been at the mixer early in the first place. He remembers she was holding a red cup when they’d talked. He doesn’t correct her when she assumes he was at the party because of Yuuji, partly because she isn’t exactly wrong since he was there with Yuuji, even though it isn’t the same as her being there with her boyfriend, and partly because he gets a little bit of a thrill when the other sorority girls at their table seem surprised and a little disappointed to hear that Yuuji may be off the market.

For the first time in weeks, Megumi remembers Ozawa, the girl from Yuuji’s instagram and the girl who had sent him on a shame spiral of convincing himself Yuuji was straight (hilarious, in hindsight). He wonders if Yuuji has talked to her lately. He kind of hopes he has, since he doesn’t want his own insecurity to be the reason Yuuji cuts off a close friend. That isn’t who he is. He makes a mental reminder to ask Yuuji about her in a totally nonchalant way later.

Surprisingly enough, he has a good time at brunch. It’s a little weird to be sitting in a sorority house at eleven am on a Sunday surrounded by people he doesn’t know, but the sisters are mostly really welcoming to him for some reason. One of them keeps shoving more food onto his plate, going on about how he’s too thin and “what is Itadori feeding you!” and how he should try the new meal supplement she’d picked up that was supposed to help your gut biome or something. Miwa, in her grace, distracts her by asking about an upcoming philanthropy event. Also, he’s pretty sure the woman sitting directly across from him has been picturing throwing daggers at his head for the past forty minutes, but it’s easy enough to ignore when he actually recognizes the blonde to her right from his o-chem class and they make small talk about the upcoming final. Plus, the food is pretty good. He learns that most sororities have a private chef, and the sisters laugh good-naturedly at his shocked face. It’s fun. He resolves to stay in touch with Miwa.

Go him, expanding his social circle by about thirty percent in one morning.

He debriefs about it with Nobara over coffee. She says he should be careful lest they secretly induct him into the sorority and he’s forced to swallow a goldfish or something. Megumi says that sort of hazing is more of a fraternity thing, anyway. Nobara smirks and asks if he knows that from Yuuji. Megumi smacks the back of her head.

-

The next week, the first full week of December, Megumi relents and agrees to help with the joint philanthropy event for their fraternity and sorority, respectively, after being relentlessly pestered by both Yuuji and Miwa during a finals study session. He regrets it soon after he gives in, because when he asks what the event is the two of them look at each other, giggle, and say, in tandem, “it’ll be fun, just wait and see.”

Yuuji told him to get to the frat house around noon, so that’s what Megumi did. Now, he’s standing on the frat’s front lawn, jaw dropped and eyes bugging out of his head.

“Your philanthropy event is…a car wash.”

Completely shirtless and wearing only the smallest yellow swim trunks Megumi has ever seen and a backwards snapback, Yuuji tosses an arm around his shoulder with a bright laugh. “A sexy car wash!”

In the house’s circular driveway stand about thirty scantily-clad people, some from Miwa’s sorority and others from Yuuji’s frat. Half of them are soaked and covered in soap suds while they rub sponges (and themselves) onto windshields and car hoods. The other half run around spraying each other with hoses or wait at the entrance to the driveway to collect donations from the approaching cars. The event must have started at least a bit before he’d arrived, since the entire front lawn and half of the road were already darkened by water.

Yuuji himself is drenched from head to toe, so Megumi shoves his arm off his shoulder. He digs his fingers into his temples. “You want me to help you with a ‘sexy’ car wash. In December. Right before finals.”

Before Yuuji can respond, with something surely idiotic, Miwa is bounding up to them, wearing a bikini top and a pair of cutoff jean shorts. How are these freaks not freezing? “Fushiguro! You came! How are you?”

Megumi doesn’t respond with any pleasantries of his own. “How the hell is a sexy car wash in any way philanthropic?” He grimaces as one of the participants flings a sopping wet towel around and gets soapy water on his jeans. Nobara will never let me live this down. “And why the fuck did you think I would find this fun?”

Like an actual dog, Yuuji shakes out his hair, spraying Megumi in the process and dislodging the hat from his head. “Don’t be a wet blanket, baby!” He slides his arm around Megumi’s waist, grip tight so Megumi has no choice but to suffer the damp contact, and plops the hat on Megumi’s head instead. He notices how Miwa’s eyes dart to Yuuji’s hand on his hip before she makes eye contact, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. He ignores her.

“Do not pun at me right now or I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

Yuuji only laughs again, nuzzling his nose into Megumi’s cheek before whispering into his ear, “What if I want to find out?”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Megumi tries to fight back a blush, rolling his eyes. “But seriously, you expect me to participate in this?” He gestures to the scene unfolding in front of them, which might as well have been straight from a b-grade porno opening. He watches as Todo picks up two women and places one on each bare shoulder. They giggle and dump buckets of soapy water over him. “I mean, come on. That girl’s just pushing her boobs against the driver side windows, and Todo is basically naked.”

Squeezing Megumi’s hip, Yuuji whines. “It’s only a few hours, and you don’t have to be half-naked. You can stay clothed and dry and help collect donations, if you’d prefer.” He pauses, eyes raking up and down Megumi’s body as he bites his lip. “Though I wouldn’t be opposed if you want to join me at the window washing station. Say, do you happen to have your playboy bunny costume from Halloween with you? I think it would really help us meet our donation stretch goals.”

Miwa smacks Yuuji’s shoulder. “You don’t have to participate like that if you don’t want to, Fushiguro. We could use someone on soap bucket refill duty as well. Plus, it’s for a good cause! All proceeds go to the animal shelter on the other side of campus.” Megumi turns his glare toward Yuuji’s side profile. The pink-haired man wears a self-satisfied grin, but it falters momentarily under Megumi’s icy gaze.

“An animal shelter, huh?”

The blue-haired woman either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about the annoyance in his tone. “Yeah! They’re trying to raise funds for the winter since that’s when they need the most resources. So many people get puppies and kittens on Christmas and then abandon them out in the cold a week later, it’s so sad.” Miwa’s lip wobbles as she explains the philanthropy of it all. Megumi tunes her out (though he doubts she notices since she cuts herself off when a man with bangs and a top knot comes up to wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her shoulder). He raises a brow at Yuuji.

Yuuji briefly greets the man and then smiles at Megumi, placatingly. “See! You love animals, so I thought you would have fun raising money for them!”

“Uh-huh.” Megumi pries Yuuji’s arm off of him. “I’m sure that’s what you were thinking about.”

“It was! Honestly.” Though Megumi isn’t normally one for dramatics (at least, not in public), he makes a show of turning to leave. Yuuji grabs his elbow and tugs him back, which is exactly what Megumi was hoping for, though he’ll never admit it. “Please, you don’t have to join if you really don’t want to but even if you just sit on the porch and watch I’ll be happy.”

“You want me to watch you wash cars in your underwear?”

“Not like that! I just mean, I want to hang out but I’m required to be here, so I’d like it if you were here too. Kill two cars with one sponge, yaknow?”

Megumi attempts to ignore the butterflies at Yuuji’s casual admission of wanting to spend time together, even though it’s totally normal. “I don’t think that’s how that saying goes.”

“Baby.” Yuuji is pouting now, complete with the positively lethal puppy dog eyes and lip biting combo. Throwing his head back, Megumi groans as his resolve crumbles. He heaves out a heavy sigh, keeping the act of being put out going a bit longer.

“Fine! I’ll stay. For the animals, not for you.” Yuuji doesn’t bat an eye at the insult, hugging Megumi close and covering his face in little pecks as thanks. “But I’m not stripping for random strangers. Miwa, where can I get set up for refill duty?”

Miwa, who had been distracted with who has got to be her boyfriend, turns back to them with a smile. “Oh, yay!” She points toward the side of the house where a few women are forming some sort of assembly line to fill buckets. “Over there. I think Momo is about to leave for some lunch thing so you can take her spot. The one with blonde pigtails from brunch.”

Megumi nods, smacking away Yuuji’s hand as it drifts onto his ass. “Alright.” He looks at Yuuji through the corner of his eye. “You and I are gonna have words later. I cannot believe you conned me into doing this.”

The pink-haired man just smiles, so Megumi, feeling bold, leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. He immediately whips around to walk away, embarrassed. Before he can take two steps, Yuuji pulls him in by his wrist and plants a wet, too-much tongue kiss onto his mouth. They get lost in it for a moment before someone wolf-whistles and Megumi jerks back, suddenly embarrassed at being perceived through the public display of affection. He flicks Yuuji’s forehead and mutters a “you idiot” as they part, Yuuji heading back to the line of cars and Megumi walking toward the house.

He spends the better part of the afternoon getting progressively more damp as he fills buckets using the spigot on the side of the house and hands them to another girl who dumps in soap and takes them to the cars. It’s honestly pretty wasteful, since most of the water ends up on the people instead of the cars, but c’est la vie, he figures. Thankfully, his task is a mind-numbingly easy job so he can spend most of his time ogling Yuuji.

In those hours he gains a new appreciation for his not-boyfriend’s physique. He has to take off his sweater, leaving him down to a thin t-shirt despite the frigid December air, because he gets hot under the collar when Yuuji wrings out a towel directly over his pecs like he’s in Magic Mike or some shit. Obviously he knew Yuuji was ripped, for absolutely no reason, mind you, since this man doesn’t play any sports, but seeing him in this setting is a totally different experience than seeing him under the sheets.

It’s not that it’s better (very few things are better than being under the sheets with Yuuji), it’s just different. This time there’s other people there, other people looking at Yuuji. The people in the cars are coming specifically to see this. There’s a good variety, lots of guys from other frats coming to see the women in Miwa’s sorority, but there’s a surprising number of women rolling up too. Many more than he would expect for such a vulgar activity.

He hears whooping as Yuuji (unnecessarily) climbs onto the hood of a car to clean the windshield. What the fuck. What the fuck!

Who cares if other people are looking at Yuuji? Megumi has no right to be jealous right now, just like he had no right to be jealous when he thought Yuuji was seeing Ozawa. If Yuuji wants to parade himself around for anyone to make eyes at, that’s his prerogative. Megumi isn’t his boyfriend, he has no leg to stand on even if he wanted to hoard Yuuji to himself. Which he totally doesn’t. Because he’s a casual kind of guy.

Sucking in a deep breath, Megumi fills another bucket.

That isn’t the point of this, he tries to remind himself. It’s for charity. For an animal shelter no less. Megumi is a fucking veterinary science major! Get your head in the game, Megumi.

Regardless of his self-affirmations, Megumi spends the entire event anxiously watching Yuuji (at some point the anxiety overtakes the arousal), in fear that someone else would see what is his and want it for themselves. Which is ridiculous, because Yuuji isn’t his. And also Yuuji is his own person, not just an extension of Megumi.

God, he’s acting like Sukuna right now, getting worked up over just the idea of someone else being interested in Yuuji. He knows there are other people interested in Yuuji. There probably always will be! He thinks about brunch at Miwa’s sorority, the girl that kept glaring at him anytime someone brought up that he was seeing Yuuji. He thinks about how vehement Yuuji was in his assurance that he was single when Megumi thought he was with Ozawa. Why is Yuuji even wasting his time with Megumi, when he clearly has all these options?

Maybe he isn’t acting like Sukuna, but like the worst parts of himself, because this line of thinking is exactly the sort of spiral Megumi would find himself in when Sukuna didn’t respond for a few hours on a night out, or was cagey about Megumi going on his phone.

It’s hard to admit that this is exactly why he wants to keep things casual. Not just because he’s afraid of getting hurt again, but because he’s afraid that Sukuna fucked him up so bad it would make him hurt someone else in the same way. Hurt Yuuji in the same way, which he wants to avoid at all costs.

He pushes the dark thoughts away and decides to try to enjoy himself. There is a sinfully hot man practically oiling himself up ten yards away who is interested in Megumi. Now is not the time to ponder, it is the time to leer like frat bros do. When in Rome, or whatever.

At some point his day gets worse because he sees Maki’s car pull into the driveway, and watches Nobara lean out of the passenger side to hand a wad of cash to one of the other frat brothers. He attempts to hide behind the pipe that feeds the spigot to no avail, because Nobara is shouting at him almost instantaneously.

“Fushiguro Megumi! Get your ass over here!”

He sighs, handing a half-filled bucket to the soap girl and slinking over to Maki’s slowly forward rolling SUV. “Hello, Nobara. Maki.” Nobara throws her empty coffee cup at him. “That’s littering, you know.”

“Oh, shut up. Why didn’t you tell me this was happening? And why aren’t you in your undies like the rest of them, I paid good money for this you know.” She ignores Maki saying “actually, I paid” and glares at Megumi.

“First of all, I couldn’t have told you because I only found out when I got here. Yuuji didn’t tell me. Second of all, I didn’t think you were that interested in seeing me naked. If you wanted to, you could just ask.” He winks, overly lascivious, and picks up Nobara’s abandoned cup.

His friend’s eyes narrow. “Whatever, loser. Where’s Yuuji? I want to make him wash my car like a pleb.” Again, Maki’s utterance of “it’s my car, babe” (which, ‘babe’ is new! good for Nobara) is ignored. Megumi gestures to where Yuuji is leaning over the front of a car, ass protruding, while he uses a sponge to clean bird shit off someone’s wipers. Nobara whistles. “Damn, Megs! Your man is hot!”

“That doesn’t mean much since you're a lesbian.”

“Don’t I know it,” she sings, glancing at Maki, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the rest of the menu from time to time.”

The line of cars inches forward, so Megumi has to walk to keep alongside them. At the movement Yuuji spots them and skips over, vaulting another car like it’s nothing and, in doing so, making Megumi’s eye twitch with sexual frustration.

“Kugisaki! Maki! Welcome, welcome. How can we service you today?”

Nobara smirks at the double entendre while Maki leans over to answer. “The works, please.”

Yuuji nods, his smile forcing his eyes shut. He calls over a few others, including Miwa, and they get to work on the car. It’s less overtly sexual than the other washes, since Nobara and Maki groan with disgust anytime one of the men does anything and they’re too respectful or too enamored with one another to stare at the sorority women. Megumi thanks god for small mercies.

While the pair is distracted by Todo trying to get Maki to roll down her window so he can spray her with a hose, Yuuji grabs his hand and pulls him a few steps away. His hands settle on Megumi’s hips, so Megumi puts his own on Yuuji’s (glistening) biceps.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Yuuji grins impossibly wide. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been thirty feet away from you while you’ve been acting like a slutty concubine for the past two hours.” There’s no bite to his words, just an embarrassing amount of fondness. He rolls his eyes when Yuuji wiggles his eyebrows.

“Can I be your slutty concubine?”

“Shut up.”

Yuuji laughs, bringing a hand up to tangle his fingers in the hair at Megumi’s nape. “But seriously, you okay? I know this isn’t really your thing and I really appreciate you helping out, it means a lot to me that you’re here.”

Megumi is struck by Kamo’s words from a few days before.

“A frat sweetheart is like a frat’s designated girl representative. Or, I guess, designated guy in your case. They’re usually in their third or fourth year, usually dating the president or someone else in leadership, and they help out with philanthropy events and attend house dinners and stuff.”

Help out with philanthropy events. Megumi’s only in his second year, but Kamo had made it seem like a foregone conclusion that he would still be with Yuuji next year, and that Yuuji would be president, making him the would-be frat sweetheart.

“Hey, what’s a frat sweetheart?”

He can tell the question throws Yuuji off, since it comes at the expense of an answer to his own question. The pink-haired man looks suspicious. “Uh, why do you wanna know?”

Megumi shifts on his feet, hands sliding up so his arms hang loosely around Yuuji’s neck. “Are you trying to make me into one?”

Fortunately, Yuuji just laughs. “God, no. Why would I do that?”

Megumi shrinks. It’s what he wanted to hear, so why is he suddenly overcome with the desire to pout? “Oh.”

Yuuji, always so perceptive when it comes to Megumi, gets serious. “I didn’t mean it like that, baby. I just didn’t think you would have any interest in something like that, it doesn’t really seem your style.” He huffs out a laugh. “You aren’t really one to do free labor just because a guy asks you to.” Megumi doesn’t say that that is exactly what he’s doing right now, and Yuuji continues. “Would you want to? Trust me, I would not mind. I would love it, actually. But I never want to make you do anything you don’t wanna do just to please myself. Plus, it’s kind of an outdated tradition anyway.”

Yes. Yes, I want to be connected to you like that. I want people to know I’m connected to you like that.

“No, you’re right, it’s not my thing. It’s just something someone said and I was wondering about it.”

The pink-haired man smiles softly. He’s back to being able to read Megumi’s discomfort like a book, it appears, since he moves to a new topic seamlessly. “Alright, fair enough. Now, are you tired of pruney fingers yet? Because I am, and I could really go for some ramen right now.”

Megumi chuckles, pulling back from their embrace but interlinking their hands so there is still a point of contact. “I actually think my fingers aren’t pruney enough. I’ve got another three hours of this in me.”

Yuuji groans, but his words are light. “Do you always have to contradict everything I say?”

“No.”

He groans again, tugging Megumi into a kiss. “Let’s get the hell out of here before Todo tries to make me help him flip a car.”

—

five

It’s a week later when Megumi is once again confronted by how uncomfortable the undefined nature of his and Yuuji’s thing now makes him feel.

He’s been careful, since the night he stayed over, not wanting to get in too deep and lose track of the lifeboat like he had in the past. Yuuji seems none the wiser, still texting him every morning and every night, still needling him into hanging out at both normal and odd hours in his charming, good-natured way. Megumi doesn’t stay the night at the frat again (somewhat out of fear of running into Kamo and having to have another baffling conversation), but Yuuji starts staying over at his apartment semi-frequently instead.

He’ll show up on nights he knows Megumi is studying for his finals, act sad that Megumi doesn’t really have time to hang out, then reveal that he came armed with fresh black coffee, energy drinks, and protein-heavy snacks before settling in on the couch and staring at Megumi while he works at the dining table or watching a film with the sound turned off, just happy to be in Megumi’s presence. Sometimes he’d even take Shiro and Kuro for their nightly walk if Megumi was especially down bad.

On those nights, Megumi doesn’t care enough about his own self-preservation to risk stripping the smile off Yuuji’s face by asking him to leave when he finally heads to bed. And Yuuji. Yuuji is all too happy to take advantage, even if he doesn’t realize that’s what he’s doing by smiling his stupidly adorable smile and melting Megumi with puppy dog eyes when he asks if they can shower together or if Megumi will read to him while they cuddle in bed (“I like listening to your voice, baby”).

But on other nights, he’s careful. He doesn’t drop everything to see Yuuji when he asks, he doesn’t ignore Nobara in favor of staring at his phone agonizing over word choices in texts and potential hidden meanings, he doesn’t fall behind on his schoolwork because Yuuji wants him to go to one of his parties (of which there are far, far too many). He barely even dwells on the knowledge of the presents in Yuuji’s closet, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind when they show up during particularly vulnerable moments.

So, all together he thinks he’s doing a good job at the whole ‘keeping it casual’ thing.

That is, until he gets a text from his sister.

miki (1:11 pm)

Hi Megumi!!! Can you call sometime tonight so we can discuss birthday/holiday plans?

miki (1:13 pm)

Also you should bring your boyfriend!!! If you want!!! I wanna meet him :)

Megumi stares at his phone. He’s just gotten out of his anatomy lecture and is on the way to meet Nobara for lunch before Yuuji (who is not his boyfriend, as he’s established) comes over later so they can watch one of the films he’s been assigned for a paper on Megumi’s flat screen (leagues better than using a laptop or the frat’s shitty communal TV, Yuuji told him) while Megumi studies for his anatomy final (“do you want me to quiz you? I know a lot about anatomy…” followed by a smack and a “shut up”).

me (1:16 pm)

yes I can call around 5

me (1:17 pm)

wdym boyfriend

The bubbles showing that Tsumiki is typing appear and disappear a few times. Her response takes long enough that Megumi arrives at the restaurant and sees Nobara waiting inside.

miki (1:24 pm)

Itadori Yuuji, right? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were seeing someone again :(

Megumi peers inside, and decides Nobara can wait a few more minutes. He clicks the call button and Tsumiki picks up half a ring in, sounding cheery as ever.

“Hi Megumi! How are you?”

He loves his sister, but he doesn’t really care to waste time with pleasantries right now.

“How do you know about Itadori?”

Tsumiki is quiet for a second. He can hear the sound of the road, so he thinks she must be driving.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Answer my question first, Miki.”

He can imagine the face she’s probably making, brow furrowed as she bites her lip. It’s the same face she always makes when she’s torn between being honest and being kind, two of her most closely-held values. Once upon a time he hated it, thought it made Tsumiki weak, vulnerable maybe. He’s since grown to see and thus love it as a fundamental part of his sister, though he could never have the same conviction to see the good in everyone. “Nobara told me.”

Case in point. “Nobara told you.”

“Mhm.”

He sighs, glancing through the window at Nobara once more. She’s frowning at her phone and Megumi feels his phone buzz against the side of his face. He’s gonna make her wait for real now. “I should have known. You shouldn’t listen to everything she says, Miki, she’s a shitstirrer.”

Silence, again. “I know but…” Her voice dips as she trails off. “So he’s not your boyfriend?”

Megumi knows he should respond fast, knows that if he doesn’t Tsumiki will pick up on his hesitation and he won’t hear the end of it. But something stops him for a second, the words ‘no, he’s not’ catching in his throat. He coughs to clear it out. “Right.”

He knows instantly that she’s clocked his pause as what it was. But, since his sister is an angel (at least, most of the time), she doesn’t say anything about it. “Alright, well.”

It should be the start of a sentence but it isn’t. Megumi sucks against his teeth. “Yep.”

“Well, you should invite him anyway, if you’re close. Regardless of if it's romantically or platonically. Gojo will want to meet him, and I do, too. Nobara tells me he makes you happy, which makes me happy, so I want to thank him in person, if I can.”

“Does Gojo know anything?” Megumi picks at the skin around his thumbnail.

His sister clicks her tongue. “Not yet, as far as I’m aware. You should probably tell him though, he’ll find out eventually and it would be better coming from you.”

“There’s nothing to find out.” He winces as he pulls too hard on a frayed cuticle and a bead of blood starts to pool there. He is aware his statement is hypocritical, since if there was nothing to find out then there would be nothing for Gojo to already know, but he’s too annoyed to deal with the semantics of it all. “And Gojo needs to mind his business before getting involved in mine.”

He can hear her disapproving frown through the phone. “Megumi. Be respectful.”

“Tsk, whatever. I’ll call tonight to discuss plans. They won’t involve Itadori.”

The sound of her turn blinker is loud over the receiver. She probably has her phone clicked into the little holder Gojo got her that attaches to the dash. “Okay. Talk later, then. Love you.”

“Love you.” And he hangs up, wishing he was holding an old-timey landline so he could hear the satisfying click as he smashed the receiver onto the base instead of the completely unremarkable and silent action of swiping across the screen.

He loiters outside for a few minutes to let Nobara stew before heading in. When he reaches the table she’s about steaming. “Hey! Dickhead! I’ve been waiting for hours, where the hell have you been?”

Megumi doesn’t deign her anger with his own, settling into the seat opposite her and opening his menu. “I was on the phone with Tsumiki.”

Nobara speaks before she processes his words. “Oh, and that excuses being late because—oh. You were on the phone. With Tsumiki.”

Humming to confirm, he flips to the next page of the menu and takes a sip of the water already waiting for him.

“What did you guys talk about?” To Nobara’s credit, she sounds properly regretful without him even having to chastise her. But, when does he get the chance to chastise? Not often enough, in his opinion.

“Just about my plans for my birthday, and for Christmas. Oh, and about my boyfriend.”

“Your…boyfriend.”

“Yes, the ‘boyfriend’ you so conveniently made her, and probably Gojo soon, aware of on my behalf? The one that doesn’t actually exist? Or don’t you remember?”

Nobara’s face pales. She winces. “In my defense, I’m pretty sure I didn’t actually use the word ‘boyfriend.’”

“Pretty sure, huh? That’s comforting, I suppose.” He taps a finger on his chin. “Oh wait, I changed my mind. No, it isn’t.”

Getting tired of his pettiness, Nobara puts up her hands. “Look, if I didn’t tell them, they would never find out. I did you a favor, since now you don’t have to be the one to break the news.”

“There isn’t any news to break, Nobara. That’s the problem here, or have you forgotten me explicitly saying Itadori is not my boyfriend?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, whatever. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted in like that.”

He hums again, eyes focused on the various sandwich options. Nobara kicks him under the table. “I said I’m sorry! You have to accept it.”

“Oh, I have to?” She kicks him again. He rolls his eyes and sets down the menu. He always gets the same thing at this place anyway. “Fine, I accept your apology.”

His friend grins, tearing into one of the bread rolls in the center of the table.

“But you’re paying for lunch.”

She drops her roll on the tablecloth. “Whaa? No fair! You use Gojo’s card anyway!”

“You should have thought about that before tattling on me to my sister.”

-

Now that the thought of his family and Yuuji meeting has been presented to him like an inevitability, it won’t leave his brain. Not that he wants it to happen, no, more so that he wants to do everything possible to avoid it.

He knows Yuuji would probably appreciate it for whatever reason, since he’s sentimental like that, and he’s sure Tsumiki would at least try to respect Megumi’s privacy when they talk. If this were a month ago, he would be worried about his family’s reaction to Yuuji’s interesting wardrobe choices and lack of etiquette, though he couldn’t care less about that at this point. But, no. The real problem is Gojo.

When (because it’s always a ‘when’ with him, never an ‘if') Gojo catches wind of the fact that he’s seeing someone, regardless of the fact that it isn’t a serious relationship type of deal, he will become insufferable. It will take all of Megumi’s energy and more to hold him back from finding out everything there is to know about Yuuji and using it against him in an interrogation of some kind.

Megumi had gone on one (count ‘em, one) date in the period of time between his breakup with Sukuna and when he first met Yuuji. It had been some girl Nobara knew, and she’d set them up under the premise that “a little change never hurts!”. Said girl, Kurusu if he remembers correctly, had been perfectly nice, cute and friendly to a fault, and clearly into him, but anything they might’ve had together had been summarily undermined by two key issues: one, Megumi really wasn’t interested in seriously dating at the time, just as he still isn’t, and he was even less interested in changing that for Kurusu; two, Gojo found out about it and spent a week practically stalking the girl before he would let Megumi go out with her. When they finally did meet up Gojo sat a table over with a terrible disguise (complete with a fake mustache) and made no attempt to hide the fact that he was listening in the entire time.

After their one and only date, Megumi had explained that he wasn’t ready to see anyone. Kurusu had seemed upset, but confessed that she was a little freaked out by his family and if he ever changed his mind on dating he should warn whoever he ends up with to be prepared.

The memory makes Megumi sigh. Gojo hadn’t always been like this with him. Before Sukuna, Gojo was like any other exorbitantly wealthy, not-quite-parent, not-quite-stranger. He would do a cursory background check on anyone Megumi or Tsumiki seemed to value, as rich people tend to do, but rarely if ever went beyond that, trusting their abilities to pick a good partner. Then, when everything with Sukuna went to shit, he broke down and apologized for failing as a guardian and “letting this happen to my little Megumi” (ignoring Megumi’s stilted attempts to console him, which were hilariously bad since Megumi himself needed consoling). Since then he’d become fiercely overprotective. For the first few months he’d tried checking in with Megumi directly, but when Megumi continually left his texts unanswered and calls unreturned, he enlisted Nobara as an informant and started randomly showing up twice as often. It’s a wonder, actually, that he’s yet to find out about Yuuji. He supposes he has Gojo’s increasingly insane work schedule to thank for that.

All that to say, he’s being weird around Yuuji and he knows it. Finals are next week, and he’s been using that as an excuse to get some distance.

itadori (5:45 am)

fushi

itadori (5:45 am)

r u awake

Megumi shouldn’t be, honestly, but to avoid thinking anymore last night he’d gone to bed before nine. On a Friday, no less.

me (5:47 am)

yes

As usual, there is virtually no gap between when his message shows as delivered and when he receives a response.

itadori (5:47 am)

oh!

itadori (5:47 am)

didnt think u wud b lol

me (5:57 am)

so are you gonna tell me why you’re texting me before the sun is up?

In a very unusual turn of events, there isn’t an immediate response. He stares at his phone for a while, curled up as he is beneath his duvet as he tries to maintain the charade of going back to sleep for a few more hours.

After five minutes, he gives up and starts to get ready for the day. He leaves his phone on the bed and heads to the bathroom, figuring Yuuji will have responded by the time he’s done and showering will keep his mind off it.

It’s not that Yuuji never texts him early in the morning. He always texts early on Tuesdays and Thursdays when he knows Megumi will be up for o-chem, and he often sends selfies during his morning runs in some twisted effort to give Megumi heart palpitations. So it’s not uncommon. But something about their stilted messages was settling weird in Megumi’s gut.

He tries to shake it off and proceeds with his normal morning routine. Recently Nobara had gotten way too into skincare and forced him to buy a bunch of products (“so what if this serum costs more than a month’s worth of groceries, it’s not like you can’t afford it you nepo baby”), so it takes a bit longer than normal.

When he gets fully dressed and there’s still no response from Yuuji he starts to feel anxious, completely contradicting his totally cool and casual nature. Is this how Yuuji feels every time he delays responding in some weird ploy to appear like he isn’t waiting by the phone like a fifties housewife? It’s terrible. He should probably stop that.

When half an hour has passed he starts to worry that he’s done something really wrong, that maybe Yuuji had noticed him being weird and gotten fed up putting in so much effort for someone as unimpressive as Megumi.

By the time Yuuji texts, Megumi has made himself a coffee (using their expensive coffee machine, which was fixed by Yuuji when he came over, saw Megumi slumped over his notes complaining of a lack of caffeine, and immediately asked for a box of tools and a flashlight), cooked, eaten, and cleaned up breakfast, and, because he’s starting to feel kind of insane, begun to draft a text to Maki asking for an impromptu sparring session at seven on a Saturday.

itadori (7:14 am)

do you want to meet my brother?

Yuuji’s use of proper grammar rather than singular letters and shortened words with missing vowels causes Megumi’s brow to raise involuntarily, but he doesn’t dwell on it, too relieved that he responded at all.

me (7:14 am)

i already know most of the guys in your frat

He doesn’t know why they would need to plan for Megumi to meet one of Yuuji’s frat brothers. Most of them he’s already met in passing, at parties or what have you, and none of them—save Todo—had necessitated formal introductions. His phone buzzes before he has time to think about it. He jolts, having been half-expecting another long wait.

itadori (7:15 am)

no like

itadori (7:17 am)

my actual brother

itadori (7:17 am)

Choso? i’ve mentioned him before

itadori (7:21 am)

he’s visiting for winter break and i was hoping you guys could meet

Oh.

Yuuji wants him to meet his brother. His real brother. Like, his sole remaining family member, spend the holidays together, each other’s emergency contact brother.

me (7:32 am)

why?

He can picture Yuuji scoffing at his response. It’s a weak one, he knows. Megumi isn’t dumb, it’s obvious why anyone would want to introduce someone to their family. But for the life of him Megumi doesn’t understand why this is happening now, with him. Meeting the family is not very casual at all.

If he thinks about it, it shouldn’t be so surprising. Yuuji has said it before, in a different way. He told Megumi directly that he sees him as important, when he’d asked about Gojo at the drive in. And he had been visibly—albeit momentarily—upset when Megumi had instantaneously shot the conversation down, like maybe he’d been angling for this all along. Plus, he’d expressed how happy he was to just spend time with Megumi so many times over the words almost lost meaning.

And then, there’s always the presents. Carefully wrapped and labeled with his name and signed by Yuuji like some kind of contract saying ‘here is a visual representation of the depth of our relationship, please find the terms of the deal enclosed.’

Sukuna hadn’t been one for gift giving. Megumi had only ever gotten something tangible from him when they’d had a fight and Sukuna would skulk around outside his apartment armed with a bouquet of red roses and the demeanor of someone who would be tossing pebbles at Megumi’s window if said window wasn’t ten stories up. In contrast, when Sukuna wanted to do something to prove the solidity of their relationship, to make Megumi remember he was his, he was more prone to grand gestures. He would threaten a guy hitting on Megumi at a party, or dress Megumi in his clothes, or—

Megumi looks down at himself. His outfit. He’s wearing Yuuji’s hoodie. One of many now residing in Megumi’s closet.

So maybe, since Sukuna’s form of commitment was different, Megumi hadn’t been wary enough of Yuuji’s, hindering his ability to fend it off.

Megumi’s stomach sinks. He’d thought they were on the same page about this. Had he not been clear enough at the drive in? Had crossing that line of staying the night been as big of a mistake as he’d feared it to be?

His spiral is interrupted by a buzz.

itadori (7:40 am)

r u home?

Yuuji’s return to his normal text form should comfort him.

(draft) me (7:45 am)

no, I’m at the gym with Maki right now

His thumb hovers over the send button as he cocoons himself more securely in a blanket on his couch. He hesitates a second too long.

itadori (7:47 am)

2 late im outside let me up

me (7:48 am)

what?

me (7:48 am)

can’t charm your way onto the elevator like usual?

That sounded casual, right?

itadori (7:48 am)

not the normal guy in the lobby

me (7:49 am)

omw down

When he opens the lobby door and ushers Yuuji in, he notices Yuuji is panting. He must have run here again. Megumi’s reminded of that day, those weeks ago after the Halloween party, when they’d been in much the same spot. That had ended with them confessing their feelings. Megumi doesn’t think this conversation will be the same.

Yuuji pulls him into a kiss, normal and casual as ever. “Hey, baby. Good morning.”

“Did you run here? Again?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he lies.

They move to the couch, Megumi reclaiming his blanket nest, though he allows Yuuji to shove his feet into the warmth. “Why’d you come over?”

“Because I thought we should have this conversation in person.”

Are you breaking up with me?, he wants to say, though that’s ridiculous because they can't break up if they were never really together, and Yuuji literally just kissed him hello. Megumi hides his anxiety with a grin. “That sounds serious…”

Yuuji chuckles. He tries to intertwine his toes with Megumi’s like a freak, and receives a kick to the shin in response. “No, no. Not that serious. I just know how you are with texting and I’d rather talk.”

Megumi hums, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. Despite often playing the dumb not-jock, Yuuji is so observant. Unnaturally so. He always just knows things. “Okay. Talk.”

The pink-haired man takes a deep breath. He’s avoiding eye contact, which is strange, though it’s helpful for Megumi who thinks one look will have him crumbling at Yuuji’s every whim. “I want you to meet Choso, and I want Choso to meet you.”

“So you said. Still don’t know why you ran here over it.”

“I want you guys to meet, and I want you to want to meet him. I’d also like to meet your family, if you want me too.”

The number of ‘want’s in that sentence makes Megumi’s head spin. “Huh?”

Yuuji inhales sharply. “You always get so weird anytime I bring up family, yours or mine, and I don’t know why, so I figured asking directly would be best. Are you interested in meeting my brother? Not just because I want you to, but because it would make you happy to?”

Megumi frowns. He cocks his head. “Why do you want me to?”

Graciously, Yuuji lets him delay answering the question at hand. “I’ve already told you. It’s because you are very important to me. Choso is important to me too, and it’s also important to me that the people I find important know and like each other.”

Megumi can tell Yuuji is nervous. When Yuuji gets nervous, he starts rambling and reusing words because his brain can’t think of alternatives. It’s usually cute. Now, it puts Megumi on edge. “Okay…”

His lackluster response seems to frustrate Yuuji. The pink-haired man sucks in a breath. “God, Megumi. Why can’t you talk about family? It’s a completely normal topic for two people to talk about. I mean, you’ll spill your family secrets to Kamo, of all people, but not to me?”

So Kamo must have told Yuuji something about their conversation. Great.

“It’s hard for me.” He starts to pull on a loose thread in the seam of the blanket.

“But why? Is there some trauma or something you don’t want to dig up? Do you hate them? I don’t see why you can’t share the burden with me.”

“My family isn’t a burden.”

Yuuji nods encouragingly, like that scrap of a confession is something to hold dear. “Okay, then tell me about them. The most I know is that your sister is named Tsumiki and there is an older man named Gojo who plays some role in your life that you can’t or won’t explain to me. I don’t expect you to tell me everything right off the bat, but I want to know things about you. And I want you to know things about me.”

Megumi tugs harder at the thread and more of the seam starts to unravel. “Is this really what you want to talk about right now?”

Yuuji lets him deflect. “No, it’s not. Do you want to? Meet Choso, that is.”

He shifts in his seat. What the hell is it with him and having hard moments on couches? It’s like a curse. He should burn this couch, and the one at Yuuji’s frat, and maybe every couch he’s ever sat on. Though, this couch was very, very expensive, so he hopes his curse theory is wrong. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just don’t understand why you want me to.”

Yuuji’s nerves seem to shift to frustration as he buries a hand in his hair. “I just told you why.”

Biting his lip, Megumi tries to think of a way to explain himself. “It’s just…isn’t that kinda a long term thing? Meeting the family?”

Well, that was possibly the worst way he could have worded it. But, whatever. It’s out there now. Yuuji wears a frown now, and Megumi aches with how much he hates that he put it there, even though he didn’t mean to.

“Now I don’t know what you mean. Of course it’s a long term thing, why is that a question?”

Megumi is silent, hoping Yuuji can just read his mind like normal.

“You don’t understand why I want you to do something that’s a long term thing.”

He nods.

“Now, baby, I’m gonna need you to use your words or else I’m gonna think I’m right in assuming that you’re implying we aren’t a long term thing.”

He squeezes his eyes shut so hard that he sees little flecks of color when they open again. “I mean, aren’t we?”

If Megumi was forced to pick one word to describe the expression on Yuuji’s face, it would be flabbergasted. With a side of devastation, if he’s allowed two words instead of one.

“The hell do you mean ‘aren’t we’? If we aren’t a long term thing then what the hell are we doing here?”

“I thought we were on the same page.”

“So did I! But evidently not!” Yuuji grunts, dragging a hand down his face. “Have I not been clear about what I want? What the hell have you been saying we are, then? Saying I am?”

Megumi’s face scrunches up. “I’ve been calling you my not-boyfriend.”

Yuuji stills. “Your ‘not-boyfriend.’”

His head might fall off with all the nodding he keeps doing. Hearing it out loud like this, it makes him feel stupid. Yuuji barks out a laugh, though it sounds more like a pained screech.

“That’s stupid.”

The thread he’d pulled opens a hole in the blanket. It’s big enough to fit a finger through, so that’s what he does, shoving his pinky through and watching as the tight thread cuts off his circulation, turning the top of the digit pink. “I know.”

Because he does. He does know. He’d been lying to himself, acting like he and Yuuji were together in seeing their togetherness as casual, and now it’s coming back to bite him. Yuuji couldn’t have been more clear that he wanted more unless he’d directly said ‘Megumi, I want to be your boyfriend and I want you to be my boyfriend, and I want us to be in an official, serious relationship.’ But he would never do that, always one to speak with actions instead of words.

He thinks about the red solo cup. Yuuji had been so clear in his intentions, in his own way, that it had scared Megumi.

To his surprise, Yuuji laughs, this one full-bellied and strong rather than high-pitched and meek like before. It’s disbelief. “God, Megumi. You have all these nots. Gojo is your not-dad, I’m your not-boyfriend…” Bitterness sharpens his words. Megumi recoils slightly at the venom, but it’s gone almost immediately, replaced by something that might be categorized as anguish. “Why won’t you let yourself have something?”

“Itadori…”

“Don’t ‘Itadori’ me. I know you care about me, and I know you know I care about you. Why won’t you let yourself be happy with me?”

Because of course Yuuji knows he’s happy with him. Of course he knows that Megumi has actually never been happier than when he’s been with Yuuji, no matter how much he tells himself that isn’t true. Megumi doesn’t respond, though it seems Yuuji wasn’t really expecting him to since he continues on.

“I mean, aren’t you the one who called me an asshole because you thought I was going on dates with Yuko without committing?”

“That’s different.”

“How so? How so, Megumi? If we—” he gestures between their chests, desperation evident in the movement “—aren’t a long term thing to you, then how aren’t you being the asshole, by your own damn standards?”

Megumi doesn’t want to confront that particular truth, so he decides to pick another fight instead. He sits up, fisting his hands in the blanket. “You’re the asshole! You keep pushing me. You always have been, from the moment we met.” He knows the words aren’t true before he even says them, but they tumble out anyway. It’s like he’s vomiting up all the anxiety and fear that has been bubbling within him since they met on that stupid couch. “You practically stalked me for weeks! I kept telling you no, and you kept coming back. What kind of person does that?” Yuuji’s breath hitches, but Megumi can’t stop.

“And then when you finally wore me down enough to get what you wanted, you just trampled over everything. I mean, I feel like I can’t breathe without you texting to check in, or showing up here.” He’s projecting. It’s obvious. But again, he can’t stop. “And I saw those presents in your closet, you know. We’ve barely known each other for three months, why the hell did you buy me so much shit? Are you trying to assert your claim or something, like when you gave me the red solo cup at your stupid mixer? Did you think I didn’t notice that? Do you want to make sure no one touches what’s yours? Be honest, I want to know!”

By the time he finally gets his own damn mouth to close, he’s practically panting from the exertion of flailing his arms around. He finally makes eye contact, and he thinks he can hear his heart crack in two. But Yuuji doesn’t take the bait. He doesn’t yell back, doesn’t try to defend himself from the insults Megumi had just hurled at him.

Yuuji just. He just crumbles.

He’d confessed, once before, about how he thought he had a habit of overstepping boundaries. In the same breath that he said he liked Megumi, he’d been convinced he’d messed it up by pushing Megumi too far, too fast. And now Megumi is throwing that honesty back in his face when all Yuuji has done is care about him, whole-heartedly and honestly care about him.

“Yuuji…”

Unfair. He’s being unfair.

The noise Yuuji let’s out is strangled. His voice is a whisper. “Do you really think that about me?”

Now that it’s out, Megumi has never been more sure that he doesn’t believe any of it, and that it was a total mistake to let any of it out. Not because he feels bad for hurting Yuuji, although he does, but because it just isn’t true. “No. No, I don’t know why I said all that,” he whispers back.

“You wouldn’t have said it if there wasn’t some truth to it.”

Megumi shifts uncomfortably. He relaxes his hands so they no longer hold the blanket in a vice grip. No, he hadn’t meant what he said, but Yuuji was also somewhat right. There was some truth to it, even if Megumi didn’t want to admit it.

He sighs. “You’re right. There is some truth there.” Yuuji flinches, and Megumi’s heart cracks again. “But not how you think. I could keep lying and say that you push me too far, and that I hate it, but I don’t know what good that would do either of us, at this point.”

Pausing to consider his words, he reaches out to grab Yuuji’s hand. Yuuji, the saint, doesn’t resist and lets Megumi cradle their hands in his lap. “You do push me sometimes. Further than anyone ever has, probably. But I like it. I like that you make me uncomfortable. It’s a good discomfort. But it’s not all there is because…” He wants to be careful here. He hopes the damage already done isn’t irreparable. “Because you just know, you always do. You know when to push and when to step back. I think if you never pushed at all we would still be back in September living as perfect strangers, but I also think if pushing was a bad thing, or if that was all you did, I wouldn’t like you so damn much.”

Yuuji is silent, his palm clammy where it meets Megumi’s. Suddenly and painfully, Megumi feels it in his chest as whatever roadblock that had been prohibiting him from spilling his guts to Yuuji gets cleared.

“Have I ever told you about Sukuna? About my relationship with him?”

Yuuji shakes his head, his grip on Megumi tightening.

“I’m not gonna get into the gorey details. I don’t know if I ever will, to be honest. I’ve barely even told any of it to Nobara since it’s so fucking embarrassing, but I think it would help us both if you knew a little bit, at least.” He feels an encouraging squeeze, and thinks to himself why is he comforting me when I’m the asshole here? “Obviously you know Sukuna was a dick. Is still a dick, I’m sure. But our relationship was pretty bad, beyond just normal dickishness. He was really manipulative. And possessive”

Again, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts.

“You know, if he’d had it his way, I probably would have never talked to Nobara or Maki or Tsumiki again after the two month mark. We certainly would never have met.” He waves his hand between their chests as a sardonic chuckle escapes him. “I’d be locked up in a metaphorical cage in his apartment while he galavanted around town doing whatever the hell he pleased. And when I got fed up, he would probably hand me a bunch of roses without ever actually saying sorry, and I would accept that. I did accept that, for about nine months.”

He isn’t sure when he started crying, but he breathes deeply when Yuuji reaches out to wipe a tear from his cheekbone. He lingers for a second, cupping Megumi’s chin, before withdrawing.

“Basically it was really shitty, and I think it really messed me up, even if I don’t want to admit it. So when you…when you were so unshakeable, so steady in your convictions about me, about us, it scared me. And I know you aren’t Sukuna. You could never be Sukuna. But…I don’t know. There’s something fucked up in me and I don’t know how to fix it well enough to make my heart habitable for you.”

The last word is interrupted by a sob that surprises Megumi into a fit of them. He drops Yuuji’s hand, only so he can bury his face in his palms to cover his shame.

“Megumi…Baby, come here.” He doesn’t protest, letting Yuuji pull him across the couch so their legs are interlocked and Yuuji can hold him close. He puts a hand on the back of Megumi’s head, guiding it to rest against the pulsepoint in his neck. It’s a sad imitation of the last time they’d talked like this on Megumi’s couch, so happy about finally confessing to one another, but it comforts Megumi nonetheless. “This is why you never want to talk about personal stuff? You’re scared I’m gonna use it against you?”

Megumi doesn’t answer directly, though he supposes what he does say is answer enough. He has to restart a few times, sobs and hitched breaths interrupting his words. “God, I’m so sorry, Yuuji. I can’t believe I’m letting him do this to me, it’s so fucking embarrassing. I like you so much, but I’m so scared that you’ll hurt me, even if I know, logically, that you wouldn’t be capable of it, not like he was. And I’m scared because I don’t want to hurt you the way he hurt me, and I think I might. I’m sorry I can’t be better for you. You deserve so much better. You deserve everything and I can’t give it to you. You’re just perfect.” He digs his forehead into Yuuji’s skin. “I don’t even know why you waste your time with me.”

“Trust me, you have no reason to be embarrassed, and I am far from perfect.” Yuuji’s voice warbles like he’s also on the edge of tears. “And, if you think that’s enough to scare me off then you are not as smart as I thought you were. I put in work to get closer to you for a reason, and if you think I’m gonna stop now just because you’re a little commitment-phobic then you’re shit out of luck.”

That startles a laugh out of Megumi. He sniffles as Yuuji cradles his head, pulling it back so they’re face to face. “I love you, Megumi. I love everything about you. Your face, your brain, your humor. I think it’s unhealthy how much I love you. If you wanted me to jump I’d say how high, if you wanted me to run I’d say how far. I think you could tell me to do anything and I’d do it just to see you smile. So if anyone has the power to hurt someone in this relationship, it’s you, but not because you’re broken, but because you’re you, and you are the most important person in the world to me.” Megumi gapes at him, eyes welling with even more tears, but Yuuji just snorts. “I sound like I’m in a shojo manga or something, jeez.”

Megumi chuckles wetly. “We’ve only known each other for three months.”

“Feels like a lifetime.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“It’s honest.” Yuuji smiles, longing in his eyes. He brushes the pad of his thumb under Megumi’s eye. And because Yuuji knows him, he knows him, he keeps that smile throughout what he says next. “You don’t have to say it back, not right now. Not ever, if it’ll make you happy.”

Megumi presses his face against Yuuji’s hand. It’s warm and steady. “You might have to wait a while.”

Yuuji kisses him. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

—

+one

It’s a week later that Megumi caves. An embarrassingly short amount of time considering the severity of their argument.

After their talk, Yuuji held Megumi for hours as they traded comforting affirmations. Blowing up over his own issues had drained Megumi, mentally and physically, but Yuuji was there to keep him upright. He’d left around noon, when Megumi, in need of a nap, complained of a headache and Yuuji confessed that he had a commitment later in the day that he couldn’t reschedule. Megumi had waved him off when he’d tried to stay anyway, with the promise of calling later to check in, so Yuuji had tucked him into bed (forehead kiss included), fed and walked Shiro and Kuro, and left with a sunshiny smile goodbye.

As soon as Yuuji was out of the apartment, Nobara had slammed her bedroom door open and stormed into Megumi’s bedroom. She’d smacked Megumi across the back of his head and then pulled him into a bone-crushing hug (“you’re such an idiot, Megs, oh my god” and “he calls you baby? and you thought that shit was casual, ha!”). After he napped away his headache, they’d spent the rest of the afternoon binging shitty reality TV together, and Maki eventually came over bearing the gift of pizza.

Since that day, he hasn’t spent much time with Yuuji. Not because he hasn’t wanted to, but because it’s finals week and they’re both insanely busy with assignments and exams and projects. For one twenty-four hour period, Yuuji doesn’t respond to any texts because he is literally watching and analyzing a film every minute of the day for a take home exam. He apologizes profusely when he’s done, and Megumi takes four hours to respond and assure him it’s fine because he himself only just finished his o-chem and anatomy finals which left him hearing colors.

Maybe whoever said ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ was onto something, because after two days of minimal contact Megumi is bouncing off the walls. After three days, he’s staring at Yuuji’s instagram in every spare moment he has (his feed is now covered in pictures of and with Megumi, to Megumi’s delight, although he isn’t sure when the hell they’d been taken) so he can imagine being with him. By Friday, the last day of finals, he’s got absolutely no idea why he ever wanted ‘casual’ in the first place, because he is so totally, irrevocably, head over heels for this stupid pink-haired boy that, frankly, it’s a little ridiculous.

He keeps repeating Yuuji’s admission in his head like a selfcare mantra.

“I love you, Megumi. I love everything about you. Your face, your brain, your humor. I think it’s unhealthy how much I love you.”

And damn, if that ain’t the truth, then Megumi doesn’t know what truth is.

When he finally hits submit on his last project of the semester, he wastes no time in texting Yuuji. Their texting over the week has been sporadic, so he’d prepared himself to wait a while for a response. Said preparation proves unnecessary when Yuuji responds thirty seconds later.

me (2:01 pm)

are you done yet?

itadori (2:01 pm)

yes

me (2:02 pm)

can you come over?

itadori (2:02 pm)

omw

This time, Yuuji does manage to charm his way up the elevator, even though it’s a new person working in the lobby. Megumi is cooking a late lunch while Shiro and Kuro playfight in the living room. The dogs bolt to the entryway when they hear footsteps in the hall, and start whining when there’s a knock on the door. They don’t behave like this for just anyone but they absolutely do for Yuuji, so it must be Yuuji at the door.

He cuts the flame to the pot of pasta he’s boiling and drains it quickly, trying to maintain some level of composure, before going to the front door. As soon as he opens it, he gets an armful of frat boy and a faceful of pink hair.

They stand in the doorway for a moment, just holding each other. Yuuji exhales, breath fanning across Megumi’s neck.

“I missed you.”

For once, Megumi doesn’t poke fun at the statement. He buries his fingers in Yuuji’s hair. “I missed you too. So much.”

Yuuji squeezes him and, without separating, Megumi starts to walk them backwards, further into the apartment. He keeps going until he bumps into the couch, letting his knees bend so he can flop backwards. Yuuji goes with him and ends up laying half on top of Megumi, half over the edge of the couch. Shiro and Kuro are nosing at them in concern, wet snouts pressing into Megumi’s bare legs. He waves them off and chuckles. “This is ridiculous. It’s only been a week.” He’s talking about himself too, this time, not just Yuuji.

“I don’t care.” Yuuji pulls him closer.

They just lay there for a while, basking in each other’s presence, and it’s so, so nice. He feels warm and gooey inside, like with one word he would collapse into a puddle if it meant Yuuji would smile.

“If we’re gonna keep this up then we’re gonna need to learn how to spend time apart from one another.” He brushes his hands through Yuuji’s hair as the man rests his chin on Megumi’s chest, their eyes locked. There’s something like hope in his expression. “We can’t always become this useless every time we don’t see each other for a few days.”

The pink-haired man sighs, content. “And do you want to? Keep this up.” He tightens his grip around Megumi’s waist as if to clarify what he means, and he smirks like he already knows the answer. Although, Megumi thinks he detects a twinge of insecurity underlying his words. He hates that he’s the reason for it. “Because last we talked you weren’t so sure.”

Megumi rolls his eyes and tugs on the strands of pink threaded through his fingers, smiling when Yuuji’s lips part ever so slightly. “Shuddup.”

Yuuji stretches forward and presses a kiss to Megumi’s nose, then his cheeks, then his lips. Megumi lets him, hands sliding down to grip the base of Yuuji’s skull and pull him in. He doesn’t deepen the kiss yet, so they’re basically just resting their lips against one another’s. It’s silent save for the sound of their breathing and the dogs playing with a chew toy in the hallway. Thankfully, Nobara is out for a celebratory post-finals shopping trip with Maki so he doesn’t have to worry about her walking in and making fun of them.

He thought there would be more build up, maybe. That they would have some long, emotional conversation before they got around to the problem at hand and addressed their last time seeing one another in person. He’d been prepared for it, had spent hours cringing at himself as he recited what he wanted to say in the mirror before bed. In hindsight, he should have known he wouldn’t be able to wait for a perfect moment or be able to say the perfect words. Because he’s never had a spine when it comes to Yuuji, in the best way imaginable.

He leans back a bit so they can make eye contact. “I do, though. To answer your question.”

“You do what?”

He narrows his eyes. Yuuji looks mischievous, like he knows exactly what Megumi is trying to say but wants to hear him say it out loud anyway. Megumi figures he owes him that much, at least. “I want to keep this going. Like, I see us as a long term thing.”

For a second it’s quiet as Yuuji stares at him, eyes wide and soft. Then—

“Yippee!”

The noise Yuuji lets out to accompany the childish exclamation is so absurd it should make Megumi want to kick him out, but it only makes his heart swell. He throws his head back in mock annoyance. “Don’t say ‘yippee’ when I’m confessing to you. God, you’re such a dork, I don’t know why anyone believes you're cool.”

Yuuji stands up quick as a whip, seemingly filled with a burst of energy. Megumi makes a questioning noise but then he’s getting picked up by the waist and swung around like a ragdoll. The motion forces a yelp out of Megumi as he clings desperately to Yuuji’s shoulders for fear of falling to the ground. His legs scramble for purchase on Yuuji’s hips and, once he’s satisfied enough to stop spinning, the taller man slides his hands to the underside of Megumi’s thighs, helping him get situated. Megumi thumps his hand on Yuuji’s chest, brow furrowed as he mutters half-hearted admonishments for the manhandling.

The pink-haired man only grins, releasing one of Megumi’s thighs so he can dig his fingers into Megumi’s side and tickle him until he’s overcome by a fit of giggles. “You love it, don’t lie.”

Megumi lets out a drawn out sigh, but despite his best efforts he can’t keep a smile off his face.

How could I ever have thought you could hurt me?

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” And it’s not quite a love confession, not yet, but Yuuji freezes anyway, the one hand halfway under Megumi’s shirt and the other slowly migrating to his ass (because he’s still a frat bro, beneath it all) both stopping. The dark-haired man is suddenly overcome with a flood of emotion and he feels water welling in his eyes. Immediately Yuuji is sitting down with Megumi in his lap so he can free up his hands to wipe away the tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He’s cupping Megumi’s face now, and Megumi places his own hands atop Yuuji’s. “What’s wrong, baby?”

His voice catches when he speaks. “I just love you so much, Yuuji. I don’t know why I didn’t say it before.” Megumi sucks in a breath, not giving Yuuji time to respond. “You’re everything to me. You’re the most important person in my life, too. I can’t believe I let you leave without knowing that last time.” His head hurts from the self-induced emotional whiplash, but just like before he can’t stop the words as they pour out. This time, though, they’re all true, because if there’s one thing he’s sure about, it’s that he is irrefutably, madly, stupidly in love with Itadori Yuuji.

“I feel so stupid for thinking this wasn’t love, that I could ever only just give part of myself to you. I’m so sorry for ever doubting you, for letting Suku—my ex have that power over me and almost ruin this. I love you. I don’t care that it’s only been three months, because I love you anyway. So much, it’s crazy. I might just be crazy, actually. My heart aches when you aren’t around and I definitely need to find a way to cope with that because you can’t always be around, but I want you to be anyway. I want to meet your brother, and everyone important to you. I want you to meet Tsumiki and Gojo and I want them to like you, love you, as much as I do, because I want my important people to like each other, too. God, Yuuji, I feel insane with how much I love you.”

Yuuji appears awestruck, for a moment, his jaw hanging open as he stares at Megumi throughout his chaotic ramble. Megumi would have kept going with his declaration, unable to shut the hell up for some reason, but then Yuuji is kissing him.

It’s a messy kiss, sloppy with emotion and spit, but it’s the best kiss Megumi has ever been lucky enough to receive.

Megumi pushes into it, hands finding their way to Yuuji’s undercut while Yuuji’s dig bruises into his waist. He licks into Yuuji’s mouth and moans when Yuuji fights back, quickly dominating the kiss. He shifts them, moving Megumi so he’s laying on his back on the couch and Yuuji is hovering over him, forearms bracketing his head. Their lower halves are pressed together but neither of them pay any mind to the growing arousal, too focused on just tasting each other to put any attention elsewhere.

Groaning, Yuuji starts kissing a trail down Megumi’s chin and throat, in a circle around his collar bones and then back up to his mouth. Each kiss punctuates a word, “I, Love, You, I, Love, You, I, Love, You,” over and over and over until Megumi is dizzy with it, the phrase rattling around in his startlingly empty skull. Megumi thinks he’s probably babbling the same, he can hear it even if he isn’t sure what the hell he’s saying, but it seems to make Yuuji happy because he keeps lauding Megumi with praise and declarations of love.

Eventually, after who knows how much time passes of them completely enthralled with one another, Megumi regains some semblance of self-control. His lips feel swollen from overuse, and they ache a bit because his smile is much wider than he normally lets it get. “I think we’re a little pathetic,” he whispers, not wanting to break whatever spell was allowing him to feel this happy.

“Maybe. But you say pathetic,” Yuuji pecks him again, “I say romantic.”

Another minute passes, maybe two, of just lying there together.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Yuuji that gets them back on track.

“We still have some things to talk about, baby.” He sits up, now straddling Megumi, but his adorably stern expression is anything but sexual.

Megumi groans, throwing an arm over his eyes and pressing his head back into the couch. “Do we have to?”

“Don’t worry, the first thing’s easy,” Yuuji sing-songs. Megumi peeks out from behind his arm, unable to quell his smile. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Well, I don’t know, I’ve been calling us boyfriends for the past month, but I guess that was wrong so I just wanna be sure this time.”

Megumi winces, removing his arm and interlacing his fingers with Yuuji’s. “You can be sure, now.”

“Sure of what?” Yuuji trills, mirth in his eyes.

“Are you really gonna make me say it? I’m already so embarrassed about last time you don’t have to rub it in.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”

He closes his eyes, sighing. “I said yes, I’ll be your boyfriend. But only if you’re mine, too.”

“Well, duh.”

“Hey!”

“Okay, next thing!

“Hey, no fair, you don’t get to skip over saying it back—”

“About meeting Choso. Do you really want to? Or did you just say that to butter me up?” Yuuji looks bashful as he brings up their joined hands and fiddles with Megumi’s fingers.

“I want to. And I meant it about you meeting my family, too, although I think you’ll regret asking to meet them once you do. Gojo is a terror.”

Yuuji leans down to press a kiss to Megumi’s nose, like it’s a reward for being honest or something. “Yay. Next—”

“Do I get a say in what we talk about?”

The pink-haired man raises an eyebrow. “If I let you lead this conversation it would have taken three business days before either of us said the word boyfriend.”

Megumi pauses, considering. “Yeah, fair enough. Go on.”

“Okay. Now that we are boyfriends…” Yuuji blushes at the word, and it’s so fucking adorable Megumi can’t help but poke his cheek to feel the warmth. Yuuji bats him away, restarting his sentence, “Now that we’re boyfriends, I think we should talk about what that means. I don’t wanna accidentally trigger you, or whatever, so I think you need to explain a bit more about what things were like with Sukuna so I can be cognizant of it.” He pauses when Megumi winces, recoiling at the name, and since he knows Megumi better than Megumi knows himself, he adapts. “That conversation doesn’t have to be right now, but if he messed you up enough to where you thought I wasn’t serious about you—me, of all people, with how big a fool I made myself trying to get your attention—then I think it warrants a longer discussion.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Megumi forces a laugh. “Those are some big words for a film studies major. Cognizant?”

Yuuji raises an eyebrow. “You know, I’m not as dumb as you think I am. I got a fifty percent on one of those o-chem quizzes, which is pretty impressive for someone who didn’t know what o-chem stood for until you said it.”

Megumi grins. “I know.” He doesn’t mention how, on that particular quiz, he’d conveniently left half of his own answer sheet uncovered while he spent a ridiculous amount of time sharpening a pencil. “I don’t even know why Shoko bothered grading yours.”

“You think she cared enough to check the roster every time she shoved the scantrons into the machine?”

“Good point.”

“Great. Next topic: winter break. I will be staying in town, and I would like to spend most of the break with you. During that time I would like for us to meet each other’s families and exchange gifts. Do you have any input on this proposal?”

“Why do you sound like you’re in a business meeting?”

“Answer the question, Fushiguro.”

Megumi snorts. “I’m amenable to that plan.”

Yuuji beams, dropping the professionalism and diving forward to hug Megumi close. “Okay, I’m done being serious now.” He wiggles until they’re somehow lying side by side on the couch, legs entangled at the knees and foreheads pressed together.

“I guess I have some shopping to do, if we’re doing gifts. I’ve gotta catch up with you.”

“I wasn’t going to give you all of them. I couldn’t decide what to get so I got everything I thought you might like. I was just gonna pick one at random from the pile and return the rest. Well, two, one for your birthday and one for Christmas.”

Unable to help himself, Megumi kisses him. He smiles into his mouth. “I don’t believe that for a second, you idiot.”