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The apartment door creaked open, and Itadori shuffled in, muttering under his breath. His jacket was slung over one shoulder, his shoes kicked off with a little too much force. “Stupid curses. Stupid flying concrete. Stupid shopkeeper with her stupid angry cat.”
He dropped his jacket onto the couch and stomped toward the bathroom, his grumbling growing louder.
Steam billowed from under the door, curling into the hallway as Itadori pushed it open without knocking. “Megumi, you will not believe the day I’ve had!”
Inside, Fushiguro was in the middle of rinsing shampoo out of his hair, the water running in a steady stream over his shoulders. He barely flinched, though his tone was as flat as ever. “You know, some people knock before barging in.”
“Yeah, but we’re not ‘some people,’” Itadori shot back, leaning against the sink. “We’re roommates. Boyfriends. Shower buddies—well, not literally. Yet.”
Fushiguro’s hands froze mid-rinse. “Yet?”
“What?” Itadori grinned, unbothered. “Don’t couples do that? Anyway, forget that—listen to this.”
Fushiguro sighed and turned his attention back to rinsing his hair. “Do I have a choice?”
“Nope,” Itadori replied cheerfully, hopping up to sit on the counter. “So, first, the mission was supposed to be simple, right? Just one grade-two curse, maybe two at most. But surprise, there are three, and they’re all huge. One of them even looked like it had been hitting the gym.”
Fushiguro turned off the shower and grabbed for his towel, but Itadori was faster. He plucked it from the rack and held it out, dangling it just out of reach.
“Yuji,” Fushiguro said flatly, giving him a look.
“Say ‘please,’” Itadori teased, leaning back against the mirror.
Fushiguro glared at him, water dripping down his face. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here we are,” Itadori shot back, grinning as he finally handed over the towel.
Fushiguro snatched it and started drying his hair. “Go on. What happened next?”
“Oh, right. So, the first curse is throwing chunks of concrete at me, and I’m like, ‘Seriously? Use your cursed energy like a normal curse.’ But no, it wants to play dodgeball with rubble. And then, the second one joins in and starts swinging pipes around like it’s in a street brawl. And the third one? It runs away. What kind of curse does that?”
Fushiguro paused mid-dry, tilting his head slightly. “Sounds like they were smarter than you.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” Itadori replied, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, after I take care of them, the shopkeeper from the convenience store nearby starts yelling at me because her cat ran away. Like, I’m sorry, but maybe don’t let your cat roam near cursed shopping districts?”
Fushiguro let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re a magnet for trouble.”
“You like to keep me around though,” Itadori said, hopping off the counter and grabbing the blow dryer from under the sink. “Here, let me help.”
“I can do it myself,” Fushiguro said, though he didn’t protest when Itadori gestured for him to sit on the closed toilet lid.
“Shh,” Itadori replied, turning the dryer on. “Just relax and enjoy my expert hair-drying skills.”
As he worked, his eyes drifted to Fushiguro’s face, lingering for a moment on his damp lashes and the faint blush creeping up his neck. “You know,” Itadori said casually, “you look kinda cute like this.”
Fushiguro tensed slightly. “Like what?”
“Flustered. Wet. Adorable.” Itadori grinned, leaning closer. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re blushing.”
Fushiguro huffed, turning his head away. “I’m not blushing. It’s the heat, and there’s nothing cute about this.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” Itadori teased, setting the dryer down. “Would you prefer I said ‘hot’? Because that wouldn’t be untrue either.”
The latter rolled his eyes. As Fushiguro stood to grab a clean shirt, his eyes caught on a thin cut on Itadori’s forearm. His brow furrowed. “What’s that?”
Itadori followed his gaze. “Oh, this? Just a scratch. It’s nothing.”
“Let me see,” Fushiguro said, grabbing his wrist before Itadori could pull away.
“It’s fine—”
“Sit,” Fushiguro interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.
Itadori sighed but sat back on the counter, watching as Fushiguro dug out the first-aid kit from under the sink. “You’re such a worrywart,” he said, though there was no bite in his tone.
“And you’re reckless,” Fushiguro shot back, dabbing at the cut with an antiseptic wipe.
“You care,” Itadori said, his voice soft and teasing.
Fushiguro paused, his hand lingering on Itadori’s arm. “Of course I care.” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.
Itadori blinked at him, the teasing grin slipping into something softer. “I know,” he said gently. “Thanks, Megumi.”
Fushiguro looked away, his ears turning pink. “Shut up.”
The tension dissolved into something lighter as they moved on to gossip about their classmates.
“Well, my day wasn’t as terrible.” Fushiguro asked as he put the first-aid kit away, Itadori stared at him waiting for him to continue. “I did reports, was forced to sit in on Nobara’s rant on an expensive bag she wants but is sold out, and I sparred with Maki for a bit.”
Itadori perked up. “Oh, the almost new lovebirds.”
“Yeah, I tried to be a good friend and talk to her about it but she ended up getting annoyed and going harder on me.” He complained.
Itadori burst out laughing. “I hope they get it together soon.”
“I want both of them to suffer a little longer, actually.” Fushiguro replied, grabbing a comb for his hair.
“Inumaki wasn’t there to spar?” Itadori mused, grabbing the comb from Fushiguro’s hand and running it through his hair for him.
“By the time I finished with the reports, he was already sparring with Yuta.” Fushiguro said, though he didn’t pull away.
“Oh, that’s cute.” Itadori quipped, his grin widening.
Fushiguro grabbed his skincare products from the cabinet on the wall, and began unscrewing the cap of his cleanser, his movements methodical.
“You know,” Itadori started, grinning lazily, “you’re probably the only guy I know who does a full skincare routine every night. It’s kind of hot.”
Fushiguro didn’t even glance at him, squeezing some moistroizer onto his fingers. “Taking care of your skin is normal, Yuji. You should try it sometime.”
“I do take care of my skin!” Itadori protested, sitting up. “Look at this face. Flawless. Smooth. Practically glowing.”
Fushiguro gave him a sidelong glance, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “You’re delusional.”
“Delusional? Megumi, I’ve got fanboys and fangirls swooning over me on the daily. Meanwhile, you’re over here acting like a skincare model. Bet you could make half the people in Tokyo faint with just one glance.”
“Shut up,” Fushiguro muttered, his ears turning red as he worked the cleanser into his skin.
Itadori leaned closer, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Fushiguro rub small circles across his face. “Seriously, though. You’ve got great skin. And great hands. And great shoulders…” His gaze drifted downward, trailing over Fushiguro’s collarbones and toned arms. “Honestly, how did I get so lucky with you?”
“Is this your idea of flirting?” Fushiguro asked.
“Depends,” Itadori replied, smirking. “Is it working?”
Fushiguro didn’t answer, but the blush creeping up his neck said enough.
Itadori watched him for a moment before grinning again. “Speaking of flirting, do you always do your routine with just a towel wrapped around your waist, or am I just lucky tonight?”
Fushiguro froze mid-motion, his hand hovering near his cheek. “…Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” Itadori replied, leaning back on his hands. “I mean, look at you. You’ve got this whole ‘brooding yet effortlessly hot’ thing going on, and now you’re just standing here like it’s no big deal, being all… you.”
Fushiguro rolled his eyes and set his serum bottle down, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, here you are, letting me sit here and ogle you,” Itadori teased, his grin widening.
Fushiguro sighed, picking up his moisturizer. “I should’ve locked the bathroom door.”
“Too late now,” Itadori said, inching closer. “You’re stuck with me, Megumi. Forever and always.”
Fushiguro paused again, his eyes flicking to Itadori’s face. For a moment, the teasing atmosphere softened, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “I guess I could do worse.”
“You guess?” Itadori said, pretending to be offended. “Wow, I pour my heart out, and this is what I get?”
“You’re pouring your heart out to get into my pants.” Fushiguro rolled his eyes but there was no malice, he pointed to the small jar. Itadori grabbed it and placed it in Fushiguro’s hand, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
“Anything else, your majesty?”
“Yeah,” Fushiguro said, unscrewing the jar. “Stop talking.”
As Fushiguro finished his skincare routine, he moved to their bedroom where he put on his grey sweatpants and a baggy shirt on. Itadori flopped back onto the bed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes.
“Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you to help me do my own reports.
Fushiguro paused, considering. “I’m fine doing them for you, you know.”
“Hmm, I know,” Itadori said, tapping his chin. “But you already do your own reports, our group mission reports, and Gojo-sensei’s.”
“Thanks for my daily reminder of how much that man irritates me.” Fushiguro deadpans. “If you want to so bad, we can work on some together next time. They aren’t that hard.”
“That’d be great, thank you.” Itadori groaned. “You know what?”
“What now?”
“I’m too tired to even think about dinner. My solo mission totally drained me. If you want to eat tonight, Megumi, you might have to cook for once.”
Fushiguro glanced over at him with a raised brow. “You’re usually too stubborn to admit when you’re tired.”
“I’m not stubborn,” Itadori protested weakly, his voice muffled by his arm. “I’m just—ugh—so done with today. I just want to lie here and let my beautiful boyfriend pamper me.” He peeked out from under his arm with a teasing grin. “How about you whip something up, huh? You’d look really cute in an apron.”
Fushiguro rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’d regret that the moment you took a bite of anything I made.”
“True,” Itadori said, chuckling. “But the thought counts.”
There was a brief pause before Fushiguro sat down beside him on the bed, his expression softening. “You really had a rough day, huh?”
“Yeah,” Itadori admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I handled it, but it was just one thing after another. Obviously, we’ve been through worse, but even little things like what happened today can send me ovee the edge. Plus, I was looking forward to coming home and relaxing with you, but now I’m too tired to even enjoy it.”
Fushiguro was quiet for a moment, then stood, brushing his hands on his pants. “Get up.”
“Huh?” Itadori blinked at him, confused.
“Get up and get ready,” Fushiguro said, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Ready for what?”
Fushiguro crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “We’re going out. I’m taking you to dinner.”
Itadori’s eyes widened, and he propped himself up on his elbows. “Wait, seriously? Like… a date?”
“Yes, Yuji. A date,” Fushiguro replied, his tone as calm as ever, though the corners of his mouth quirked up in a way that made Itadori’s heart skip a beat.
Itadori sat up fully, a grin spreading across his face. “Wow, Megumi, I didn’t know you had it in you to be romantic.”
“Don’t push it,” Fushiguro said, though his faint blush betrayed him.
“Where are we going?” Itadori asked, already sliding off the bed to grab a fresh shirt.
“Somewhere with good food and no flying rubble,” Fushiguro replied, heading toward the closet.
“That’s a low bar,” Itadori joked, pulling on his shirt. “But I’ll take it.”
As they got ready, Itadori couldn’t help but glance at Fushiguro, his chest warm with affection. “Hey, Megumi?”
“What?”
“Thanks,” Itadori said softly, his grin now more genuine.
Fushiguro turned to look at him, his eyes meeting Itadori’s for a moment before he nodded. “You’re welcome. Now hurry up.”