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The early morning sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, casting soft, golden beams across the cluttered bedroom. Itadori Yuji blinked awake, his mind foggy with sleep but warm and comfortable. His first instinct was to stretch, but a familiar weight on his chest stopped him.
Megumi.
Fushiguro Megumi was curled into his side, one leg slung possessively over Yuji’s hips, and his face pressed firmly into Yuji’s chest. His hair was a wild mess of dark spikes, made even more unruly by sleep.
Yuji blinked in surprise. It wasn’t unusual for them to share a bed—they were long past the awkward phase of their relationship—but this… this was new. Megumi, notorious for his stiff posture and unwillingness to linger in bed, was clinging to him like his life depended on it.
The corners of Yuji’s mouth lifted into a grin. Slowly, he ran his fingers through Megumi’s hair, marveling at how soft it was despite its usual chaos.
“Good morning, Megumi,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
A muffled grunt was his only reply.
Yuji chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Hey, I’ve gotta get up,” he said, attempting to shift.
“No.”
Itadori froze. Megumi’s tone was unusually… whiny. He blinked down at him, barely able to make out the flush on his boyfriend’s face as Megumi buried himself further into Yuji’s chest.
“Wait, are you… whining?” Yuji teased, his grin spreading wider. “The stoic, composed Fushiguro Megumi is—ah!”
Megumi’s arm tightened around his waist like a steel band, cutting off Yuji’s laughter.
“Shut up,” Megumi mumbled against his chest. “Stay.”
Yuji’s blinked, his heart doing a weird little flip. This side of Megumi was rare—so rare, in fact, that Yuuji wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Megumi,” he started, his voice softer now. “You know we’ve got training in an hour, right? Gojo-sensei will—”
“Gojo can wait,” Megumi interrupted, lifting his head just enough to glare at Yuji with half-lidded eyes. Despite the grogginess, there was something almost mischievous about his expression.
Yuji squinted. “Megumi… are you pouting?”
“I’m not pouting.”
“You’re definitely pouting.”
“Yuji.” Megumi’s voice dropped, his tone slow and deliberate. “I said. Stay.”
The way he dragged out the words sent a shiver down Yuji’s spine. He was so caught off guard that he didn’t notice Megumi shifting until their faces were just inches apart.
“You’re too cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” Megumi smirked, the corners of his mouth tilting upward in a way that was both smug and fond.
“Wha—?” Yuji’s brain short-circuited as Megumi leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Megumi!” Yuji yelped, turning his head away. “I probably have morning breath or something!”
Megumi huffed out a laugh, the sound warm and uncharacteristically light. “You do,” he admitted shamelessly. “But I don’t care.”
“Liar,” Yuji muttered, his face flushing pink.
Megumi tilted his head, studying him. “If I really cared, would I do this?” he asked, leaning in to press another kiss to Yuji’s lips—slow and deliberate, leaving no room for protest.
Yuji melted into it, despite himself. The kiss was lazy, unhurried, and full of a warmth that made his chest feel too tight. When they finally pulled apart, Yuji was breathless, his face burning.
“You’re acting weird today,” he stammered, his voice higher than usual.
“Am I?” Megumi smirked again, his tone teasing. “Maybe I just like the sight of you in the morning.”
Yuji groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “You’re dangerous when you’re flirty, you know that?”
Megumi chuckled, tugging Yuji’s hands away so he could thread their fingers together. “I thought you liked it,” he said softly, his voice dropping back into that familiar, understated affection.
Yuji’s heart did that annoying little flip again. “I do,” he admitted, squeezing Megumi’s hand. “But if we don’t get up now, Gojo-sensei is going to—”
“I don’t care about Gojo,” Megumi interrupted, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against the younger’s neck.
Itadori sighed dramatically, though he didn’t push him away. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered.
Megumi’s lips curved into a small, secretive smile against his skin. “Maybe,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you’re worth being late for.”
And just like that, Itadori found himself giving in, letting Fushiguro tug him back down into the warmth of the blankets. He sighed in defeat as Megumi’s arms slid back around him, pulling him closer. “You’re seriously bad for my punctuality, you know that?”
Megumi hummed, his lips brushing against Yuji’s collarbone. “Not my fault you’re easy to convince.”
Yuji laughed softly, a sound muffled by the pillows. “Oh, so now you’re admitting to being manipulative?”
“Not manipulative. Just persuasive,” Megumi countered, leaning up to press a kiss to Yuji’s jaw. His lips lingered there, warm and soft, as he trailed up to Yuuji’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth.
Yuji turned his head to capture Megumi’s lips fully, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of Megumi’s neck. The kiss started slow—languid and sweet—but quickly deepened as Megumi shifted, half-draping himself over Yuji. His hand slid along the latter’s side, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, and Yuji felt himself sinking deeper into the moment.
The world outside their little bubble faded away—training schedules, Gojo’s annoying antics, even the rumbling in Yuji’s stomach. Nothing else seemed to matter except the way Megumi’s lips moved against his, the way his fingers curled into Yuji’s hair, the way his breath hitched when Yuji’s hands wandered to his waist.
It was Megumi who finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Yuji’s. His cheeks were pink, his hair even more of a mess, and he was wearing that tiny, self-satisfied smirk that always drove Yuji crazy.
“You’re unbelievable,” He muttered, his voice breathless.
“You love it,” Megumi shot back, his smirk widening.
Yuji opened his mouth to argue, but the words died on his lips as he caught sight of the clock on the nightstand. “Megumi! It’s already 8:30! We’re supposed to be out the door in fifteen minutes! I didn’t even get to make us breakfast.”
Megumi glanced at the clock, utterly unbothered. “So? We’ll just pick something up for breakfast.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Megumi tugged him back down, his fingers lacing through Yuji’s. “Fifteen minutes is plenty of time.”
“For what?” He asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
Megumi leaned in, his lips brushing against Yuji’s ear as he murmured, “For this.”
And just like that, he captured his lips again, effectively shutting him up.
By the time Yuji finally managed to pull himself free, it was 8:45. He groaned loudly, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Megumi, we’re going to be so late!”
“Then stop wasting time complaining and get in the shower,” Megumi said calmly, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stretched lazily, completely unconcerned about the impending wrath of their friends—or worse, Gojo.
“Fine, but I’m going first,” Yuji huffed, making a beeline for the bathroom.
Megumi grabbed his wrist before he could escape. “No, we’re showering together. It’ll save time.”
Yuuji froze, his face going red. “Together? Are you sure you can handle that, in the state you’re in now?”
“You’re acting like we haven’t done it before,” Megumi said with a roll of his eyes. He tugged Yuji toward the bathroom, smirking when Yuji didn’t resist. “I can resist the temptation.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts,” Megumi said again, cutting him off as they stepped into the bathroom. “Unless you want to explain to Gojo why we’re late.”
Yuji groaned, but the blush on his face didn’t fade.
By the time they arrived at the practice grounds, it was well past 9:30. Panda was the first to spot them, and his groan was audible from across the field.
“Finally!” Nobara shouted, her hands on her hips as she marched over. “You’re thirty minutes late! What were you two—” She stopped abruptly, her gaze flicking between their rumpled hair and suspiciously flushed faces. “Oh, ew. Never mind, I don’t want to know.”
Panda shook his head dramatically. “Seriously, you two have no shame.”
Maki, leaning against her staff, raised an eyebrow. “You realize Gojo’s going to milk this for the rest of the month, right?”
“Too late for regrets now,” Nobara muttered, glaring at them. “But just so you know, you’re not sitting anywhere near me at lunch.”
Yuji scratched the back of his neck, his face burning with embarrassment. “It’s not what it looks like—”
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Megumi interrupted smoothly, his expression unreadable. He walked past the group, his usual stoic mask firmly back in place, and Yuji could’ve sworn he caught the faintest smirk on his boyfriend’s face.
As if on cue, Gojo appeared out of nowhere, clapping his hands together. “Ah, young love! So inspiring.”
“And somehow you arrived later than the lovebirds.” Nobara deadpanned.
“Details, details,” Gojo waved her off, grinning like a proud parent. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s see if all that bonding time improved your teamwork!”
Yuji groaned, already dreading whatever humiliating training exercise Gojo had planned.
Megumi, however, looked completely unfazed. He met Yuji’s gaze briefly, his expression softening just enough for Yuji to catch it.
And despite the teasing, the embarrassment, and the inevitable chaos of the day, Yuji couldn’t help but smile.
Omake
Nobara leaned over to Maki, whispering loudly, “Ten bucks says they’re late tomorrow, too.”
Maki smirked. “Make it twenty.”