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Itadori Yuuji was gone. Absolutely plastered. The kind of drunk that made you wonder how someone so loud could become much louder.
“I just love him so much!” he declared for the fifteenth time that evening, voice carrying over the chatter of the bustling izakaya. He had a faint flush across his cheeks, and his wide grin was as unapologetic as ever.
Kugisaki groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she leaned back in her seat. “We get it, Itadori. You love Fushiguro. Can you shut up about it now?”
“But I do!” Itadori insisted, slamming his palms on the table for emphasis. The drinks on the table rattled. “Do you even understand how amazing he is? Like, he’s so smart. And strong. And—”
“—and broody,” Maki mumbled, her voice deadpan as she sipped on her drink.
“And broody!” Itadori agreed enthusiastically, completely missing the sarcasm. “But, like, in a cool way, you know? Not a depressing way. He’s, like, mysterious and I find it so sexy—oh! Did I tell you about the time he saved me from that cursed spirit in Shibuya?”
“You’ve only told us about it five times tonight,” Kugisaki muttered, twirling a toothpick between her fingers.
“But did I tell you about how he looked so cool when he did it?” Itadori persisted, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “I thought to myself, ‘Wow, I’m dating the best person in the entire world.’”
Yuta, ever the peacekeeper, chuckled nervously and offered, “Maybe you should drink some water, Itadori. Pace yourself a bit?”
“Water can’t contain my love for my boyfriend!” Itadori exclaimed dramatically, throwing his arms up as though he were making a declaration to the heavens.
“God, I’m gonna kill him,” Kugisaki muttered, looking like she was two seconds away from smashing her beer glass over his head.
“Salmon,” Inumaki said in agreement, though his expression was amused rather than irritated.
Itadori leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was somehow still very loud. “You guys don’t understand. Megumi is, like, the best person I’ve ever met. Did I tell you he makes me lunch sometimes? He’s so thoughtful like that. Even though it’s practically inedible, I swear I told him to leave the cooking to me. But he pretends he’s all grumpy about it, but I know he secretly likes taking care of me so I let him.”
“Sounds like you’ve got him wrapped around your finger,” Maki remarked, smirking.
“No way! It’s the other way around!” Itadori said earnestly, shaking his head. “I’d do anything for him. Literally anything. He could tell me to fight Sukuna in a fistfight right now, and I’d do it. That’s how much I love him.”
“Sukuna is dead, you killed him.” Maki deadpanned.
“With the power of love for Megumi!” Itadori grinned.
Kugisaki buried her face in her hands, letting out a muffled scream. “Why did I agree to come out tonight?”
“Because you secretly enjoy the chaos,” Maki teased, nudging her.
“I don’t enjoy this chaos,” Kugisaki shot back, gesturing toward Itadori, who was now dramatically recounting a time Fushiguro had given him his jacket when he was cold.
“And it smelled like him,” Itadori was saying, his tone dreamy. “Like pine and fresh laundry. It was the best thing ever. I wore it for three days straight.”
“You’re disgusting,” Kugisaki deadpanned.
“Romantic,” Itadori corrected, winking at her.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling Fushiguro,” Kugisaki announced, pulling out her phone.
“Wait, don’t!” Itadori panicked, reaching for her phone. “He’ll think I can’t handle my alcohol!”
“Guess what? You can’t,” Kugisaki said flatly, shoving his hand away as she dialed. “Hey, did you just finish your mission? Oh great, don’t go home yet, I’ll send you my location so you can pick up your boyfriend. No, no he’s fine, just annoying. Okay, great. Thanks, see you in ten.”
Itadori wrapped his arm around Kugisaki, with a big pout on his face. “Why did you call him? I’m having so much fun.” He hiccuped before getting shoved away by the brunette.
“Well, I’m not.”
By the time Fushiguro arrived at the izakaya, Itadori had somehow managed to move onto serenading his friends with a song he’d made up on the spot. It consisted entirely of the words “I love Megumi” sung to the tune of an old pop hit.
“You called?” Fushiguro asked dryly, walking up to the table where everyone else looked like they were ready to jump ship.
“Oh, thank God,” Kugisaki said, slumping in relief. “Take him. Please. I can’t listen to another second of this.”
Itadori’s eyes lit up the moment he saw Fushiguro. “Megumi!” he cried, leaping up from his seat. He stumbled slightly, but Fushiguro caught him with ease.
“You’re drunk,” Fushiguro said, his tone exasperated but fond.
“I’m in love,” Itadori corrected, grinning up at him. “With you. Did I tell you that tonight?”
“About fifty times, apparently,” Fushiguro muttered, glancing at the others, who nodded vigorously.
“Come on,” he said, guiding Itadori toward the exit. “Let’s get you home.”
As they walked away, Itadori continued to ramble about how much he adored Fushiguro, his voice fading into the distance.
“Well,” Maki said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “At least he’s Fushiguro’s problem now.”
“Salmon,” Inumaki agreed, raising his glass in a silent toast.
Fushiguro sighed as he unlocked the door to their shared apartment, practically dragging a giggling, unsteady Itadori inside. “Shoes off,” he ordered, leaning down to tug off his boyfriend’s sneakers when Itadori just stood there swaying.
“You’re so strong,” Itadori mumbled, grinning dopily as Fushiguro removed his shoes. “Like, wow. You could totally carry me to bed right now, and I’d let you.”
Fushiguro shot him a tired glare but didn’t comment. “Come on. You need to change,” he said, guiding Itadori to their bedroom.
“Don’t wanna,” Itadori whined, flopping onto the bed face-first.
“You’re not sleeping in those clothes,” Fushiguro said, tugging at his shirt.
“Wait, wait!” Itadori protested, rolling over and grinning up at him. “You’re not trying to take advantage of me in my weakened state, are you?”
Fushiguro stared at him, unimpressed. “You reek of alcohol and grilled meat. I’m doing this for me, not you.”
Itadori laughed loudly, making no effort to help as Fushiguro wrestled him out of his shirt and jeans. Eventually, after much grumbling and a few slurred declarations of love, Itadori was dressed in soft pajamas and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Stay here,” Fushiguro said, leaving the room briefly. When he returned, he was carrying a glass of water and a plate with a couple of slices of bread.
Itadori’s eyes lit up. “Are you feeding me? That’s so romantic.”
“Don’t push it,” Fushiguro said, pressing the water into Itadori’s hands. “Drink this. All of it.”
Itadori obeyed, though he paused halfway through to give Fushiguro a lopsided smile. “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”
“You do,” Fushiguro muttered, placing the plate of bread in Itadori’s lap. “Now eat, the bread will help.”
As Itadori clumsily stuffed bread into his mouth, Fushiguro sat beside him, watching to make sure he didn’t choke. When the plate was empty, he nudged Itadori toward the pillows. “Lie down.”
Itadori collapsed onto the bed, pulling Fushiguro down with him. “Stay with me,” he murmured, already half-asleep.
Fushiguro sighed, brushing a hand through Itadori’s messy hair. “You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered, settling in beside him.
Itadori’s sleepy grin widened. “Told you I was the luckiest guy in the world.”
With one last exasperated sigh, Fushiguro let him drift off, vowing to make him suffer in the morning—but for now, he’d let it slide.